XLV.

MASTER AND SLAVE CHANGE PLACES.

The sergeant and his men were several rods distant: the bush through which that menacing visage peered was within as many feet. Augustus reached for his revolver.

"Make a single move—speak a single word—and you are food for the buzzards!" came a whisper from the bush that well might chill his blood. "You know this rifle—and you know me!" And in the negro's face shone a persuasive glitter of the old, untamable, torrid ferocity of his tribe—not pleasing to Augustus.

"What do you want?"

"Give your revolver to that girl—instantly!"

"I have men within call!"

"So have I."

Through the bush, advancing noiselessly, came the straight steel barrel of a rifle that had never missed fire but once: that was when it had been aimed by Augustus at the head of Pomp. Now it was aimed by Pomp at the head of Augustus; and it was hardly to be expected that it would be so obliging as to remember that one fault, and, for the sake of fairness, repeat it, now that positions were reversed. Bythewood hesitated, in mortal fear.

"Obey me! I shall not speak again!"

And there was heard in the bush another slight noise, too short, quick, and clicking, to be the crackle of a twig. Neither was that pleasing to the mind of Augustus. He turned, and with trembling hand made Virginia a present of the revolver.

"Do you know how to use it?" Pomp asked. She nodded, breathless. "And you will use it if necessary?" She nodded again, and held the weapon prepared. "Now,"—to Bythewood,—"send those men away."

"What do you mean to do?"

"I mean to spare their lives and yours, if you obey me. To kill you without much delay if you do not."

"If you shoot,"—Bythewood was beginning to regain his dignity,—"they will rush to the spot before you can escape, and avenge me well!"

A superb, masterful smile mounted to the ebon visage, and the answer came from the bush,—

"Look where the bowlder lies, up there by the ravine. You will see a twinkle of steel among the leaves. There are guns aimed at your men. You understand."

Perhaps Augustus did not distinguish the guns; but he understood. At a signal, his men would be shot down.

"I would prefer not to shed blood. So decide and that quickly!" said Pomp.

"And if I comply?"

"Comply readily with all I shall demand of you, and not a hair of your head shall be harmed. Now I count ten. At the word ten, I send a bullet through your heart if those men are still there." He commenced, like one telling the strokes of a tolling bell: "One——two——three——four——five——"

"Sergeant," called Augustus, "take your men and report to Lieutenant Ropes at the sink."

"A fine time to be taken up with a love affair!" growled the sergeant, as he obeyed.

"Now what?" said Bythewood, under an air of bravado concealing the despair of his heart.

"Come!" said Pomp, with savage impatience,—for he knew well that, if Bythewood had not yet learned of Ropes's death, messengers must be on the way to him, and therefore not a moment was to be lost. He opened the bushes. Augustus crept into them: Virginia followed. But then suddenly the negro seemed to change his plans, the spirit and firmness of the girl inspiring him with a fresh idea.

"Miss Villars, we are going to the cave. Look down the ravine there;—you see this path is rough."

"O, I can go anywhere, you know!"

"But haste is necessary. You shall return the way you came. Take this man with you. If you are seen by his soldiers, they will think all is well. Make him go before. Shoot him if he turns his head. Dare you?"

"I will!" said Virginia.

"Keep near the ravine. My rifle will be there. If you have any difficulty, I will end it. Now march!"—thrusting Bythewood out of the thicket.—"Straight on!—Carry your pistol cocked, young lady!"

Bitterly then did the noble Augustus repent him of having sent his guard away: "I ought to have died first!" But it was too late to recall them; and there was no way left him but to yield—or appear to yield—implicit obedience.

What a situation for a son of the chivalrous south! He had reviled Lysander for having been made prisoner by a boy; and here was he, the haughty, the proud, the ambitious, overawed by a negro's threats, and carried away captive by a girl! However, he had a hope—a desperate one, indeed. He would watch for an opportunity, wheel suddenly upon Virginia, seize the pistol, and escape,—risking a shot from it, which he knew she was firmly determined to deliver in case of need (for had he not seen the soldier's gashed wrist?)—and risking also (what was more serious still) a shot from the rifle in the ravine.

But when they came to the bowlder, there the resolution he had taken fell back leaden and dead upon his heart. He had, on reflection, concluded that the twinkle of guns in the leaves there was but a fiction of the wily African brain. As he passed, however, he perceived two guns peeping through. He knew not what exultant hearts were behind them,—what eager eyes beneath the boughs were watching him, led thus tamely into captivity; but he was impressed with a wholesome respect for them, and from that moment thought no more of escape.

As Virginia approached the cave with her prisoner, the two guns, having followed them closely all the way, came up out of the ravine. They were accompanied by Penn and Carl. In the gladness of that sight Virginia almost forgot her dead sister and her captive father. Those two dear familiar faces beamed upon her with joy and triumph. But there was one who was not so glad. This Quaker schoolmaster, turned fighting man, was the last person Augustus (who was unpleasantly reminded of the conversation under the bridge) would have wished to see under such embarrassing circumstances.

In the cave was Toby, wailing over the dead body of Salina. But at sight of the living sister he rose up and was comforted.

Pomp had remained to cover the retreat. When all were safely arrived, he came bounding into the cave, jubilant. His bold and sagacious plans were thus far successful; and it only remained to carry them out with the same inexorable energy.

"Sit here." Augustus took one of the giant's stools. "I have a few words to say to this man: in the mean while, one of you"—turning to Penn and Carl—"hasten to the sink, and ask Stackridge to send me as many men as he can spare. Bring a couple of the prisoners—we shall need them."

"I'll go!" Carl cried with alacrity.

"And," added Pomp, "if there are any wounded needing my assistance, have them brought here. I shall not, probably, be able to go to them."

While he was giving these directions, with the air of one who felt that he had a momentous task before him, Bythewood sat on the rock, his head heavy and hot, his feet like clods of ice, and his heart collapsing with intolerable suspense. The gloom of the cave, and the strangeness of all things in it; the sight of the corpse near the entrance,—of Toby, at Virginia's suggestion, wiping up the pools of blood,—Virginia herself perfectly calm; Penn carefully untying and straightening the pieces of rope that had served to bind Lysander,—all this impressed him powerfully.

"I suppose," said he, "I am to be treated as a prisoner of war."

Pomp smiled. "Answer me a question. If you had caught me, would you have treated me as a prisoner of war?—Yes or no; we have no time for parley."

"No," said Augustus, frankly.

"Very well! I have caught you!"

Fearfully significant words to the prisoner, who remembered all his injustice to this man, and the tortures he had prepared for him when he should be taken! But he had not been taken. On the contrary, he, the slave, could stand there, calm and smiling, before him, the master, and say, with peculiar and compressed emphasis, "Very well! I have caught you!"

"You promised that not a hair of my head should be injured."

"The hair of your head is not the flesh of your body. No, I will not injure the hair!"—Pomp waited for his prisoner to take in all the horrible suggestiveness of this equivocation; then resumed. "Is not that what you would have said to me if you had found me in your power after making me such a promise? The black man has no rights which the white man is bound to respect! The most solemn pledges made by one of your race to one of mine are to be heeded only so long as suits your convenience. Did you not promise your dying brother in your presence to give me my freedom? Answer,—yes or no."

"Yes," faltered Augustus.

"And did you give it me?"

"No." And Augustus felt that out of his own mouth he was condemned.

"Well, I shall keep my promise better than you kept yours. Comply with all I demand of you (this is what I said), and no part of you, neither flesh nor hair, shall be harmed."

"What do you demand of me?"

"This. Here are pen and ink. Write as I dictate."

"What?"

"An order to have the fighting on your side discontinued, and your forces withdrawn."

Augustus hesitated to take the pen.

"I have no words to waste. If you do not comply readily with what I require, it is no object for me that you should comply at all."

Penn came and stood by Pomp, looking calm and determined as he. Virginia came also, and looked upon the prisoner, without a smile, without a frown, but strangely serious and still. These were the three against whom he had sinned in the days of his power and pride; and now his shame was bare before them. He took the quill, bit the feather-end of it in supreme perplexity of soul, then wrote.

"Very well," said Pomp, reading the order. "But you have forgotten to sign it." Augustus signed. "Now write again. A letter to your colonel. Mr. Hapgood, please dictate the terms."

Penn understood the whole scheme; he had consulted with Virginia, and he was prepared.

"A safe conduct for Mr. Villars, his daughter and servants, beyond the confederate lines. This is all I have to insist upon."

"I," said Pomp, "ask more. The man who betrayed us must be sent here."

"If you mean Sprowl," said Bythewood, "his wife has no doubt saved the trouble."

"Not Sprowl, but Deslow."

Bythewood was terrified. Pomp had spoken with the positiveness of clear knowledge and unalterable determination. But how was it possible to comply with his demand? Deslow had been promised not only pardon, but protection from the very men he betrayed! Therefore he could not be given up to them without the most cowardly and shameful perfidy.

"I have no influence whatever with the military authorities," the prisoner said, after taking ample time for consideration.

"You forget what you boasted to Sprowl, under the bridge," said Penn.

"You forget what you just now boasted to me," said Virginia.

"Call it boasting," said Bythewood, doggedly. "Absolutely, I have not the power to effect what you require."

"It is your misfortune, then," said Pomp. "To have boasted so, and now to fail to perform, will simply cost you your life. Will you write? or not?"

The prisoner remained sullen, abject, silent, for some seconds. Then, with a deep breath which shook all his frame, and an expression of the most agonizing despair on his face, he took the pen.

"I will write; but I assure you it will do no good."

"So much the worse for you," was the grim response.

Mechanically and briefly Bythewood drew up a paper, signed his name, and shoved it across the table.

"Does that suit you?"

Pomp did not offer to take it.

"If it suits you, well. I shall not read it. It is not the letter that interests us; it is the result."

Bythewood suddenly drew back the paper, pondered its contents a moment, and cast it into the fire.

"I think I had better write another."

"I think so too. I fear you have not done what you might to impress upon the colonel's mind the importance of these simple terms—a safe conduct for Mr. Villars and family, the troops withdrawn entirely from the mountains, and Deslow delivered here to-night. This is plain enough; and you see the rest of us ask nothing for ourselves. I advise you to write freely. Open your mind to your friend. And beware,"—Pomp perceived by a strange expression which had come into the prisoner's face that this counsel was necessary,—"beware that he does not misunderstand you, and send a force to rescue you from our hands. If such a thing is attempted, this cave will be found barricaded. With what, you wonder? With those stones? With your dead body, my friend!"

After that hint, it was evident Augustus did not choose to write what had first entered his mind on learning that his address to the colonel was not to be examined. Penn handed him a fresh sheet, and he filled it—a long and confidential letter, of which we regret that no copy now exists.

Before it was finished, Carl returned, accompanied by four of the patriots and two of the prisoners. One of these last was Pepperill. He was immediately paroled, and sent off to the sink with the order that had been previously written. The letter completed, it was folded, sealed, and despatched by the other prisoner to Colonel Derring's head-quarters.

"Do you believe Deslow will be delivered up?" said Stackridge, in consultation with Penn in a corner of the cave; the farmer's gray eye gleaming with anticipated vengeance.

"I believe the confederate authorities, as a general thing, are capable of any meanness. Their policy is fraud, their whole system is one of injustice and selfishness. If Derring, who is Bythewood's devoted friend, can find means to give up the traitor without too gross an exposure of his perfidy, he will do it. But I regret that Pomp insisted on that hard condition. He was determined, and it was useless to reason with him."

"And he is right!" said Stackridge. "Deslow, if guilty, must pay for this day's work!"

"There is no doubt of his guilt. Pepperill knew of it—he whispered it to Pomp at the sink."

"Then Deslow dies the death! He was sworn to us! He was sworn to Pomp; and Pomp had saved his life! The blood of Withers, my best friend——" The farmer's voice was lost in a throe of rage and grief.

"And the blood of Cudjo, whom Pomp loved!" said Penn. "I feel all you feel—all Pomp feels. But for me, I would leave vengeance with the Lord."

"So would I," said Pomp, standing behind him, composed and grand. "And I would be the Lord's instrument, when called. I am called. Deslow comes to me, or I go to him."

"Then the Lord have mercy on his soul!"