XXXVII.

CARL KEEPS HIS ENGAGEMENT.

Of the two forms that had been seen on the ledge, the female was not Virginia, and the other was not Penn. A word of explanation is necessary.

Filled with hatred for her husband,—filled with shame and disgust, too, on hearing how he had caused his own mother to be whipped (for the secret was out, thanks to Aunt Deb at the stove-pipe hole),—resolved in her soul never to forgive him, never even to see him again if she could help it, yet intolerably wretched in her loneliness,—Salina had that afternoon taken Toby into her counsel.

"Toby, what are we to do?"

"Dat's what I do'no' myself!" the sore old fellow confessed; even his superior wisdom, usually sufficient (in his own estimation) for the whole family, failing him now. "When it comes to lickin' white women and 'spec'able servants, ain't nobody safe. I's glad ol' massa and Miss Jinny's safe up dar in de cave; and I on'y wish we war safe up dar too."

"Toby," said Salina, "we will go there. Can you find the way?"

"Reckon I kin," said Toby, delighted at the proposal.

They set out early. They succeeded in reaching the woods without exciting suspicion. They kept well to the south, in order to approach the cave on the same side of the ravine from which Toby had discovered it, or rather Penn near the entrance of it, before. He thought he would be more sure to find it by that route. At the same time he avoided the burned woods, and, without knowing it, the soldiers.

But, the best they could do, the daylight was gone when they came to the ravine; and Toby could not find the place where he had previously crossed. He passed beyond it. Then they crossed at random in the easiest place. Once on the side where the cave was, Toby decided that they were above it; and, owing to the steepness of the banks, it was necessary to go around over the rocks, at a short distance from the ravine, in order to reach the shelf behind the thickets. It was in making this movement that they had been seen to descend the ledge and pass behind the bushes at its base.

"Now," said Toby, "you jes' wait while I makes a reckonoyster!"

Salina, weary, sat down in the shadow of a juniper-tree.

Toby made his reconnoissance, discovered nothing, and returned. She, sitting still there, had been more successful. She pointed.

"What dar?" whispered Toby, frightened.

"There is somebody. Don't you see? By those shrub-like things."

"Dey ain't nobody dar!"—with a shiver.

"Yes there is. I saw a man jump up. He is bending over something now, trying to lift it. It must be Penn, or some of his friends. Go softly, and see."

Toby, imaginative, superstitious, did not like to move. But Salina urged him; and something must be done.

"I—I's mos' afeard to! But dar's somebody, shore!"

He advanced, with eyes strained wide and cold chills creeping over him. What was the man doing there? What was he trying to lift and drag along the ground? It was the body of another man.

"Who dar?" said Toby.

"Be quiet. Come here!" was the answer.

"What! Carl! Carl! dat you? What you doin' dar? massy sakes!" said Toby.

"I've got a prisoner," said Carl.

"Dead! O de debil!" said Toby.

"I've knocked him on the head a little, but he is not dead," said Carl. "Be still, for there's forty more vithin hearing!"

Toby, with mouth agape, and hands on knees, crouching, looked in the face of the lifeless man. That jaunty mustache, with the blood from the nostrils trickling into it, was unmistakable.

"Dat Sprowl!" ejaculated the old negro, with horrified recoil.

"He won't hurt you! Take holt! I pelief Ropes is coming, mit his men, now!"

"Le' 'm drap, den. Wha' ye totin' on him fur?"

Carl had quite recovered from his stupefaction. His wits were clear again. Why did he not leave the body? His reasons against such a course were too many to be enumerated on the spot to Toby. In the first place, he had promised to take the captain to the cave; and he felt a stubborn pride in keeping his engagement. Secondly, the man might die if he abandoned him. Moreover, the troops arriving, and finding him, would know at once what had happened; while, on the contrary, if both Carl and the captain should be missing, it would be supposed that they had gone to make observations in another quarter; they would be waited for, and thus much time would be gained.

Carl had all these arguments in his brain. But instead of stopping to explain anything, he once more, and alone, lifted the head and shoulders of the limp man, and recommenced bearing him along.

"Toby, who is that?"

"Dat am Miss Salina."

Carl asked no explanations. "Vimmen scream sometimes. Tell her she is not to scream. You get her handkersheaf. And do not say it is Shprowl."

"Who—what is it?" Salina inquired.

"Our Carl! don't ye know?" said Toby. "He's got one ob dem secesh he's knocked on de head."

"Has he killed him?"

"Part killed him, and part took him prisoner,—about six o' one and half a dozen o' tudder. He say you's specfully 'quested not to scream; and he wants your hank'cher."

"What does he want of it?"—giving it.

"Dat he best know hisself; but if my 'pinion am axed, I should say, to wipe de fellah's nose wiv."

Having delivered this profound judgment, Toby carried the handkerchief to Carl, who spread it over the wounded man's face.

"That prewents her seeing him, and prewents his seeing the vay to the cave."

"Who eber knowed you's sech a powerful smart chil'?" said old Toby, amazed.

A new perception of Carl's character had burst suddenly, with a wonderful light, upon his dazzled understanding. In the terror of their first encounter, in this strange place, he had comprehended nothing of the situation. He had not even remembered that he last saw Carl in the guard-house, with irons on his wrists. It was like a fragment of some dream to find him here, holding the lifeless Lysander in his arms. But now he remembered; now he comprehended. Carl had saved him from torture by engaging to bring this man to the cave; whom by some miracle of courage and valor, he had overcome and captured, and brought thus far over the lonely rocks. All was yet vague to the old negro's mind; but it was nevertheless strange, great, prodigious. And this lad, this Carl, whom Penn had brought, a sort of vagabond, a little hungry beggar, to Mr. Villars's house—that is to say, Toby's; whom the vain, tender, pompous, affectionate old servant had had the immense satisfaction of adopting into the family, patronizing, scolding, tyrannizing over, and tenderly loving; who had always been to him "Dat chil'!" "dat good-for-nuffin'!" "dat mis'ble Carl!"—the same now loomed before his imagination a hero. The simple spreading of the handkerchief over the face appeared to him a master-stroke of cool sagacity. He himself, with all that stupendous wisdom of his, would not have thought of that! He actually found himself on the point of saying "Massa Carl!"

Ah, this foolish old negro is not the only person who, in these times of national trouble, has been thus astonished! Carl is not the only hero who has suddenly emerged, to thrilled and wondering eyes, from the disguises of common life. How many a beloved "good-for-nothing" has gone from our streets and firesides, to reappear far off in a vision of glory! The school-fellows know not their comrade; the mother knows not her own son. The stripling, whose outgoing and incoming were so familiar to us,—impulsive, fun-loving, a little vain, a little selfish, apt to be cross when the supper was not ready, apt to come late and make you cross when the supper was ready and waiting,—who ever guessed what nobleness was in him! His country called, and he rose up a patriot. The fatigue of marches, the hardships of camp and bivouac, the hard fare, the injustice that must be submitted to, all the terrible trials of the body's strength and the soul's patient endurance,—these he bore with the superb buoyancy of spirit which denotes the hero. Who was it that caught up the colors, and rushed forward with them into the thick of the battle, after the fifth man who attempted it had been shot down? Not that village loafer, who used to go about the streets dressed so shabbily? Yes, the same. He fell, covered with wounds and glory. The rusty, and seemingly useless instrument we saw hang so long idle on the walls of society, none dreamed to be a trumpet of sonorous note until the Soul came and blew a blast. And what has become of that white-gloved, perfumed, handsome cousin of yours, devoted to his pleasures, weary even of those,—to whom life, with all its luxuries, had become a bore? He fell in the trenches at Wagner. He had distinguished himself by his daring, his hardihood, his fiery love of liberty. When the nation's alarum beat, his manhood stood erect; he shook himself; all his past frivolities were no more than dust to the mane of this young lion. The war has proved useful if only in this, that it has developed the latent heroism in our young men, and taught us what is in humanity, in our fellows, in ourselves. Because it has called into action all this generosity and courage, if for no other cause, let us forgive its cruelty, though the chair of the beloved one be vacant, the bed unslept in, and the hand cold that penned the letters in that sacred drawer, which cannot even now be opened without grief.

As Toby had never been conscious what stuff there was in Carl, so he had never known how much he really loved, admired, and relied upon him. He stood staring at him there in the moonlight as if he then for the first time perceived what a little prodigy he was.

"Take holt, why don't you?" said Carl.

And this time Toby obeyed: he secretly acknowledged the authority of a master.

"Sartin, sah!"

He had checked himself when on the point of saying "Massa Carl;" but the respectful "sah" slipped from his tongue before he was aware of it.

Among the bushes, and in the shadows of the rocks, they bore the body in swiftness and silence. Salina followed.

In the cave the usual fire was burning; by the light of which only Virginia and her father were to be seen. The sisters fell into each other's arms. Salina was softened: here, after all her sufferings, was refuge at last: here, in the warmth of a father's and a sister's affection, was the only comfort she could hope for now, in the world she had found so bitter.

"Who is with you?" said the old man. "Toby? and Carl? What is the matter?"

"I vants Mr. Hapgood, or Pomp, or Cudjo!" said Carl, laying down his burden.

"They have gone to bury the man in the rawine," said Virginia.

Carl opened great eyes. "The man in the rawine? That's vair Ropes and the soldiers have gone."

"What soldiers?—Who is this?"

"This is their waliant captain! I am wery sorry, ladies, but I have given him a leetle nose-pleed. Some vater, Toby! Your handkersheaf, ma'am, and wery much obliged."

Salina stooped to take the handkerchief. A flash of the fire shone upon the uncovered face. The eyes opened; they looked up, and met hers looking down.

"Lysander!"

"Sal, is it you? Where am I, anyhow?" And the husband tried to raise himself. "Carl, what's this?"

"Don't be wiolent!" said Carl, gently laying him down again, "and I vill tell you. I vas your prisoner, and I vas showing you the cave. Veil, this is the cave; but things is a little inwerted. You are my prisoner."

"Is that so?" said the astonished Lysander.

"Wery much so," replied Carl.

"Didn't somebody knock me on the head?"

"I shouldn't be wastly surprised if somepody did knock you on the head."

"Was it you?"

"I rather sushpect it vas me."

Lysander rubbed his bruised temple feebly, looking amazed.

"But how came she here?"

"It vas she and Toby we saw going into the cave."

"What's that?"—to Toby, bringing a gourd.

"It is vater; it vill improve your wysiognomy. You can trink a little. You feel pretty sound in your witals, don't you? I vas careful not to hurt your witals," said Carl, kindly, raising Sprowl's head and holding the water for him to drink.

Lysander, ungrateful, instead of drinking, started up with sudden fury, struck the gourd from him with one hand, and thrust the other into the pocket where his pistol was, at last accounts.

"Vat is vanting?" Carl inquired, complacently.

Lysander, fumbling in vain for his weapon, muttered, "Vengeance!"

"Wery good," said Carl. "Ve vill discuss the question of wengeance, if you like."' And drawing the pistol from his pocket, he coolly presented it at Sprowl's head. "Vat for you dodge? You think, maybe, the discussion vould not be greatly to your adwantage?"

Lysander felt for his sword, found that gone also, and muttered again, "Villain!"

"Did somepody say somepody is a willain?" remarked Carl. "I should not be wery much surprised if that vas so. Willains nowdays is cheap. I have known a great wariety since secesh times pegan. But as for your particular case, sir, I peg to give some adwice. There is some ladies present, and you must keep quiet. Do you remember how I vas kept quiet ven I vas your prisoner? I had pracelets on. And do you remember I vas putting some supper in my pocket ven you took me to show you the cave? Veil, I make von great mishtake; instead of supper, vat I vas putting in my pocket vas them wery pracelets!"

And Carl produced the handcuffs. At that moment Penn and Cudjo arrived; and Lysander, observing them, submitted to his fate with beautiful resignation. The irons were put on, and Carl mounted guard over him with the pistol.