"My God, Burleson!" cried Gurney, jumping up. "You don't think she'll look at it in that light, do you?"
"Why not? Oughtn't any decent woman to do so, not to say a carpet-bagger's daughter? I vow I shouldn't blame her if she took another shot at you for your impudence!"
"Nor I either, Burleson, that's a fact!" said Gurney musingly.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Burleson. "I understand that rabbit story now. You recognized Miss Lily?"
"Of course," said Gurney simply.
"'Of course,' it is, indeed!" said Burleson. "I might have known it would have taken more than one broken arm to make Mel. Gurney let a rider run his guard unhurt. You recognized her, and galloped after her to prevent suspicion, and on the way invented that story about the rabbit, and your pistol going off. By Gad! it was a gallant thing, old fellow, if we were on a heathen errand. Give me your hand, my boy! It's not so bad, after all. Perhaps Miss Lily might make a decent man of you in time; though we both ought to be hanged, that's a fact!"
"I never thought of it in that way, Burleson; but it is horrible," said Gurney, with a shudder.
"Horrible? — it's hellish, Mel. Gurney! That's what it is! If I were the Yankees, and had the power of the government, I wouldn't see these things go on one hour. By Gad! I'm ashamed of them as Americans! When the war was going on and we met them in battle, there was always one satisfaction, whoever got "fanned out," — it was always our own folks that did it, and one couldn't well help being proud of the job. I tell you what, Mel., there's been many a time when I could hardly tell which I was proudest of, — Yank, or Reb. There was Gettysburg, now! You know I was in the artillery, and had a better chance to see the ensemble of a battle than one in the infantry line. We had been pouring a perfect hell of shot upon the cemetery for an hour, when the charge was ordered, and we ceased firing. We were black and grim, and almost deaf with the continuous roar. I remember the sweat poured down the sooty faces of my gun-mates, and I don't suppose there was a dry rag about them. Some leaned on the smoking piece, and some threw themselves on the ground; but every one kept his eyes riveted on that line of bright steel and dirty gray which was sweeping up to the low wall that we had been salting with fire so long. We thought they would go over it as the sea breaches a sand-dike. But we were mistaken. Those men who had hung to their ground through it all, sent their plague of leaden death in our fellows' faces, and met them at the point of the bayonet as coolly and stubbornly as if it were but the opening of the ball, instead of its last gallopade. Bad as I felt when our fellows fell back, I could have given three cheers for those Yanks with a will. I thought then, that if the worst came, as I always believed it would, we could have a genuine pride in our conquerors.
"And so I had, until this Ku-Klux business came up. I told our fellows on the start, they would burn their fingers; for I could not forget that the men they were whipping and hanging were the friends of those same Yankees, — the only friends they had here too, — and I had no idea that such men would suffer them to be abused at that rate. Some of the boys got the notion, however, that I was afraid; and I went in just to show them I was not. For a time I looked every day for an earthquake, and, when it didn't come, I felt an unutterable contempt for the whole Yankee nation; and damn me if I don't feel it yet. I really pity this man, Servosse! He feels ashamed of his people, and knows that even the white Republicans — poor shotes as many of them are — despise the whining, canting sycophancy which makes their Northern allies abandon helpless friends to powerful enemies. I tell you what, Mel. Gurney, if we Southerners had come out ahead, and had such friends as these niggers and Union men, with now and then one of our own kidney, scattered through the North, we would have gone through hell-fire before we would have deserted them in this way!"
"That is no justification to us, though," said Gurney, who was now walking back and forth across the room, quite forgetful of the pain of his arm.
"On the contrary, it makes it worse," said Burleson. "We are advancing the power of a party to which we are devoted, it is true; but in so doing we are merely putting power in the hands of its worst elements, against whom we shall have to rebel sooner or later. The leaders in these cowardly raids — such men as Jake Carver and a hundred more whom I could name — will be our representatives, senators, legislators, judges, and so forth, hereafter. It is the simple rule of human nature. Leadership in any public movement is the sure pathway to public honor. It has been so since the war. Look at the men to whom we have given civic honors. How many of them would have been heard of, but for their soldiering? In that case, I don't complain of it. They were all brave men, though some were great fools. But when it comes to preferring midnight murderers and brutal assassins for legislators and governors and judges, and the like, simply because they were leaders in crime, I swear, Mel. Gurney, it comes hard! Some time or other we shall be sick and ashamed of it."
"I am that now," said Gurney.
"No doubt; especially since you have thought how Lily Servosse must look at it. Now, I'll tell you what, Mel., I like you, and I like Servosse's little girl too. I believe you can get her, — after a while, you know, — if you've got pluck enough to own up and reform, 'repent and be baptized,' you know. And it will be a baptism to you: you can bet on that, — a baptism of fire!"
"You don't suppose I'd 'peach,' do you, John Burleson?" said Gurney, turning indignantly towards his friend.
"Hell! You don't think I've turned fool, do you?" asked Burleson, with equal indignation. "See here, Gurney, you and I were boys together. Did you ever know me to do a mean thing?"
"Never!"
"Well now, listen. I'm going to bolt this whole business. I'm not going to tell on anybody else (you know I'd be drawn and quartered first); but I'm going to own up my connection with it, tell as much as I can, without implicating any one else, and do my best to break it up. I never thought of just this way of doing it before, and should not have hit on it now but for your sake."
"For my sake?" asked Gurney in surprise.
"Yes, for your sake. Don't you see you will have to own up in this way, before either father or daughter will look at you?"
"Well?"
"Well? I'll just go ahead and break the way, that's all."
"When will you begin?"
"To-day — now!"
"How?"
"I shall go down upon the street, and publish as much as I well can of this raid, and try to laud the pluck of that young lady about half as highly as it deserves. God bless her! I would like to kiss the place where she has set her foot, just to show my appreciation of her!"
"Do you really think you had better venture upon such a course? It might be a very dangerous business," said Gurney.
"The very reason above all others why John Burleson should undertake the job. Some one must do it, and it would not do for you to be the first. It's not often one has a chance to serve his friend and do a patriotic duty at once. It's all out now, in fact. The guesses and rumors that are afloat are within an ace of the facts. There may as well be some advantage gained by that, as not. I shall take the young lady her hat" —
"Let me do that, if you please," said Gurney anxiously.
"All right, if you think you can face the fire."
So down upon the street went John Burleson. The first man whom he met ascending the steps of the hotel was Judge Denton. Extending his hand cordially, he said in a voice that all could hear, —
"Judge, I am ashamed to say I was in that hellish affair last night. I did not know what it was till we got to the Cross, nor did any of them but the Commanders. That made no difference, though. We were in for it, and I do not doubt would have carried it through, but for Miss Lily Servosse. She deserves a statue, judge. I've no excuse to make. I'm not a child, and was not deceived. Any time you want me, I'm ready to plead guilty to any thing I've done. In any event, this is the last raid I shall join, and the last that will be made, if I can prevent it."
He stalked off, leaving the astonished judge to gaze af
ter him, and wonder if he had heard aright. Burleson repeated the same language, with various addenda, to every group of loungers he met on the street, so that in a quarter of an hour the word had gone out that John Burleson had "gone back" on the Ku-Klux. It spread like wildfire. He had occupied a prominent place in the order, and it was known that he knew many fatal secrets connected with it. It was telegraphed in every direction, and went from man to man among the members of the Klan in a dozen counties where he was well known. They knew that he could not be silenced by threats or bribes. A great fear took hold of them when they heard it, and many fled the county without further inquiry. The little town in which they were was almost deserted in an hour. Perceiving this effect, and thoroughly comprehending its cause, John Burleson approached Judge Denton and Colonel Servosse, and said to them, —
"Gentlemen, the train will be here in an hour. I have no right to advise with regard to your movements; but you will allow me to say that I think, after what occurred last night, that the more prudent course would be for Judge Denton to return with us to Verdenton, and then spend a few days at Warrington. It will be only an exchange of hospitalities anyhow.
"On the contrary," said Denton, "I was just trying to persuade Colonel Servosse to send for his wife, and make his visit, despite our contretemps last night."
"It is quite impossible," said Servosse. "Lily says she could never endure to cross that bridge; and, in her present condition, I do not think she should be subjected to any unnecessary excitement."
"Certainly not!" said Denton. "After her heroism of last night, she is entitled to the gratification of her every wish."
"That being your feeling," said Servosse, "I am emboldened to second Mr. Burleson's view by saying that it is my daughter's especial desire that you should come home with us. She is under a terrible apprehension in regard to the future, and especially in reference to you, sir. She thinks, that, if you should go off into the country there, you would be sure to be assassinated. She thinks there is far less danger, if we are together; not only because there would be more hesitation in attacking two, but because, being both men of some prominence, our joint assassination would be more likely to attract the attention, and awaken the resentment, of the government and the people of the North, than our individual destruction. Indeed, she has an idea that the very fact of my Northern birth — my prominence as a 'carpet-bagger,' so to speak — is in itself a sort of protection."
"And in that she is quite correct," said Burleson. "I have wondered that it has not occurred to you gentlemen before, to inquire why it is that so few Northern men of any standing or position have been molested. It's not been from any kindly feeling for them, I assure you; but there has been a notion that if such men as you — Northern men of some prominence — were interfered with, it might stir up a hornet's nest that would make us trouble. This very fact is all that has saved more than one man whom I could name."
"That is her very idea," said Servosse, "and there may be some truth in it. Certainly Mr. Burleson should know" he added, with a meaning glance at Denton; for the judge was too suspicious, and the new fact was too unaccountable to allow him yet to put full confidence in the professed change of that gentleman. His suspicion was increased by the next remark of Burleson.
"By the way," he said, " it never occurred to me before; but how on earth did Miss Lily get information of that raid? I don't reckon she was out riding your pet racing-horse at that time of night just for fun!"
"We do not feel at liberty to speak of that at this time,' said Comfort seriously.
"All right!" responded Burleson. "I only hope it is a hole that will let light in upon the thing. I have always supposed it would come, and have known, that, if one ever pipped the shell, a thousand would try to be the first to get their heads out. If the idea once goes out, Judge, that any one has given the thing away, you will have your hands full taking confessions. They will be full of horrors too, — more than you ever dreamed of. You'll think you've tilted off the lid of the bottomless pit, and that the devils are pouring out by brigades."
"Perhaps," said Denton, with a look of keen scrutiny, "you could tell something yourself?"
"Whether I could or not," said Burleson, "is all the same. You know me well enough, Judge, to know that I will not tell any thing which would compromise anybody else. I am willing to admit that I belonged to this organization, that I was the chief of a county, because I think it is necessary that I should do so in order to break it up; but I do not intend to confess myself into the penitentiary nor on to the gallows. Yet I would go there sooner than to betray those who have trusted their lives and honor with me. So far as I can go without such betrayal, I am willing to act with you. That is one reason I wish you to return to Verdenton: I want it clearly understood that I have renounced the whole business. It is by no means a safe proceeding, and I may have to turn in with you, gentlemen, and fight for my life. If it comes to that, I propose to make every edge cut, and, if I go down, I mean to have lots of good company. I would like to have you go in order to be convenient if the fight comes!"
Judge Denton yielded to these solicitations, and accompanied his friends, first sending word to his family to follow on the next day.
Before the train left, Melville Gurney sent a servant to Colonel Servosse, asking a moment's interview. When Servosse came to his room, and, seeing his injury, asked the cause, he betrayed himself by asking, —
"And has not your daughter told you, sir?"
"My God!" said Servosse, sinking into a chair, overwhelmed with amazement. "Was it you, Mr. Gurney? Can it be that the son of one who has known me so long as your father, even though as an opponent, should have engaged in an attempt on my life? I could not have believed it."
He covered his face with his hands, and shuddered as he spoke.
"I assure you, Colonel Servosse," said Gurney, "I had no idea that such was the purpose of the raid, nor, indeed, did I know its purpose. I was well aware that it must be an unlawful one, however, and can not blame you for the horror you manifest. I am horrified myself, and am amazed that I could ever have regarded it otherwise."
"I can not understand it, — I can not understand it," said the carpet-bagger. "I always thought your father was an honest, high-minded man, and a good citizen."
"And so he is, sir," said Gurney hotly. "There is none better nor purer!"
"And you," said Servosse, rising, and looking keenly at him, — "you are a murderer!"
"I suppose," answered Gurney, with some confusion, "that I should have been, constructively at least, but for your daughter's daring interference."
"Nay, you were already," said Servosse severely. "You had started out on an unlawful errand, and were ready to shed blood, if need were, to accomplish it, — whether it were my blood or another's it is immaterial to consider. That is almost always the mental condition of the murderer. Murder is usually a means, not an end."
"It is a hard word, Colonel Servosse; yet I do not know but I must submit," said Gurney. "I wish to say, however, that I did not engage in this at the wish or suggestion, nor with the knowledge, of my father. Indeed, my greatest trouble comes from the fact that I must inform him of the fact."
"Gad!" said Burleson, who had entered unperceived by both, "you needn't trouble yourself so much about that. He belongs to it himself."
"John Burleson!" cried Gurney, springing to his feet.
"Oh, you needn't mind!" said Burleson. "Colonel Servosse is too much of a gentleman to take advantage of such a statement made by me at this time." He turned, and bowed toward Servosse as he spoke.
"Certainly," said the latter. "I should not think of using a private conversation."
"It is not that!" exclaimed Gurney, — "not that at all! But it is false!"
"H'st! Steady, my young friend!" said Burleson hotly. "I happen to know whereof I speak. I was present, and helped initiate him. Do you believe me now, Mel. Gurney?"
"Great heavens!" exclaimed Gurney. "I did not know that! I would no
t have believed it but upon your assurance."
"I declare," said the Fool, "I can not understand, — I can not understand!"
"Well," said Burleson, laughing, and taking Lily's hat from the bed, "here is something you can understand, I reckon."
"My daughter's hat!" said Servosse in surprise, looking from one to the other.
"For that matter," said Burleson bluffly, "I brought it here. You see, when Miss Lily rode out of the pines last night, she lost this; and so, when she charged on Gurney there, he recognized her, — for it was as light as day: our chaplain could have seen to read the burial-service, — and, being a fellow that has his wits about him, Gurney quietly jogged on behind, her after she had shot him, with that broken arm flopping up and down at every step, until he was sure she had got clean off, when he came back with a cock-and-bull story about a rabbit having scared his horse, and his pistol having gone off, and busted that arm."
"Is that so?" asked Comfort in surprise.
"Lit-er-ally," said Burleson, with distinct enunciation. "Not a man in that camp had any idea that a woman had witnessed its proceedings, until we heard of your daughter having interrupted your journey. Even then it was a mere surmise, except with Gurney here."
"Then," said Servosse, extending his hand to Gurney, "it seems I have to thank you for an intent to save my daughter."
"Indeed, sir," replied Gurney, "with that horse, she had little need of my aid."
"Young Lollard is not easily matched," said Servosse, with some pride. "But that does not detract from the merit of your intention. I suppose," he added, smiling, and touching the hat, "that you wish me to relieve you of this toy."
A Fool's Errand & Bricks without Straw Page 29
