We were not long in reaching the house of the deputy sheriff. A loud call brought him out to the fence. And when we had quickly told him what was wanted, he whistled to express his gratification or his surprise and I fancied that I saw his hair bristling in the moonlight, for he had come out bareheaded.

“Now let me think a minute, boys,” said he. “I have been an officer long enough to know that it ain’t much credit to take a fellow after he’s dead most anybody can do that. What we want is to capture them and to do that we’ve got to have more men. Alf, I tell you what you do. You and your friend slip over to old Josh’s and keep watch to see that they don’t get away, and I’ll ride as fast as I can and get General Lundsford and your daddy. What do you say?”

“I say it’s a first-rate plan,” Alf answered. “I don’t think the General would like to be left out and I know that father wouldn’t. Come on, Bill.”

The negro’s house was not far away, and hastening silently through the woods we soon came within sight of it, on the side of a hill, at the edge of a worn-out field. We softened our foot-steps as we drew near unto the cabin, and we could hear the ruffians within, singing, swearing, dancing. We halted at the edge of the woods, within ten feet of the door, and listened. “Let us slip up and take a peep at them,” said Alf; and carefully we climbed over the old fence, taking care not to break any of the rotting rails lest we might sound an alarm. We made not the slightest noise, but just as we were within touching distance of the cabin, a dog sprang from behind a box in the chimney corner. I don’t know how much noise it might have been his intention to make or whether he belonged to the stealthy breed of curs whose delight it is to make a silent lunge at the legs of a visitor, but I do know that he made not a sound, for I grabbed him by the throat and the first thing he knew his eyes were popping out between their fuzzy lids. I choked him until I thought he must be dead, and then, with a swing, I threw him far over the fence into the woods. We listened and heard him scrambling in the dried leaves and then he was still. The cabin was built of poles and was old. Many a rain had beaten against the “chinking” and we had no trouble in finding openings through which we could plainly see all that went forward within. Just as I looked in I heard the twang of a banjo, and I saw the old negro sitting on the edge of a bed, picking the instrument, while two white men were patting a break-down and two others were trying to dance. At the fire-place a negro woman was frying meat and baking a hoe-cake.

“Generman,” said the negro, twanging his strings and measuring his words to suit his tune, “don’t want right now to be so pertinence be so pertinence; but, yes, I’d like to know, hi, hi, hi, yes, like to know whut you gwine gimme fur dis yere, yes, whut you gwine gimme fur all dis yere?”

The patting ceased instantly, and the two men danced not another shuffle, and one of them, Scott, I afterward learned, cried out: “What, you old scoundrel, air you dunnin’ us already?”

“Oh, naw, sah, skuze me,” said the old negro, “I ain’t doin’ dat, fur I dun tole you dat I didn’ want ter be pertinence, but dar’s some things, you know, dat er pusson would like ter un’erstan’, an’ whut I gwine git fur all dis yere is one o’ ’em. I has gib you licker an’ I has gib you music, an’ wife, dar, is cookin’ supper fur you, an’ it ain’ no mo’ den reason dat I’d wanter know whut we gwine git fur it.”

“Well, we’ll pay you all right enough,” replied Scott Aimes. “You’ve always treated us white, and you are about the only man in this neighborhood that has.”

“I thankee, sah,” the negro rejoined; “yas, I thankee, sah, fur I jest wanted ter be satisfied in my mine, an’ I tell you dat when er pusson is troubled in his mine he’s outen fix sho nuff. Hurry up dar, Tildy, wid you snack, fur deze genermen is a-haungry.”

“I hope she won’t get it ready any too soon,” I whispered to Alf, and he, with his face close to mine, replied: “You can trust an old negro woman for that. It won’t take Parker very long to ride over to the General’s house, and they can pick up father on the way back.”

“Won’t your mother and and Guinea be frightened?”

“Not much. They’ve seen the old man go out on the war path more than once. Let’s see what they are doing now.”

Scott had taken the banjo and was turning it over, looking at it. We saw him take out a knife and then with a twang he cut the strings. “Good Lawd!” exclaimed the negro, and his wife turned from the fire with a look of sorrow and reproach, for the distressful sound had told her accustomed ear that a calamity had befallen the instrument. “Now jest look whut you done!” the negro cried, and his wife, wiping her hands on her apron, looked at Scott Aimes and said: “Ef dat’s de way you gwine ack, I’ll burn dis yere braid an’ fling dis yere meat in de fire. Er body workin’ fur you ez hard ez I is, an’ yere you come er doin’ dat way. It’s er shame, sah, dat’s whut it is. It’s er plum shame, I doan kere ef you is white an me black.”

Scott roughly tossed the banjo into a corner and laughed. “Sounds a blamed sight better in death than in life,” said he.

“But who gwine pay fur dat death music?” the negro asked.

“Pay for it!” Scott turned fiercely upon the negro and Alf caught up his gun. “Wait!” I whispered.

“Pay for it!” Scott raved. “Why you infernal old scoundrel, do we have to pay every time we turn round? But we’ll make it all right with you,” he added, turning away; and Alf lowered his gun.

“I hopes ter de Lawd you will,” said the woman, “fur we needs it bad enough.”

“You do?” Scott replied. “Well, you’d better be thankful that we don’t blow on you for sellin’ whisky without license.”

“Dar ain’ no proof o’ de fack dat I has sol’ none ter-night,” said the old negro, shaking his head.

“What’s that?” Scott demanded, wheeling round.

“Skuze me, sah, nothin’ er tall. Jest er passin’ de time o’ de day, sah.”

“Didn’t I tell you that we would pay you for everything we got?”

“Yas, sah, an’ you’s er generman, sah; yas, I thanks you fur gwinter pay me.”

“Yo’ supper is done an’ ef you’ll jest gib me room I’ll fix de table,” the woman remarked, taking the bread off the griddle.

“I hear them coming!” Alf whispered. I looked round and saw them at the fence. They had tied their horses in the woods. We stepped out from the shadow and held up our hands to enjoin care.

“I’ll go first, and you boys follow me,” said the General, cocking his pistol and letting the hammer down to see if it worked well.

“Oh, I reckon not,” Lim Jucklin replied. “I’m older than you are and you know it. Come on, boys.”

“Older!” the General exclaimed, with such force that we had to tell him to make less noise. “I am eight months older than you are, and you know it. Come on, boys.”

Old Lim took hold of him. “This ain’t altogether your picnic; the invertations come from my house, and ”

“What the devil difference does it make?” the deputy spoke up. “I’m the only officer present and I’ll go first.”

I thought that it was my time to act, and, telling them to follow me, I reached the door almost at a stride and threw my full weight against it. The door flew off its hinges and fell on the floor broad-side, and the Aimes brothers, now seated at a table, were “covered” with guns and pistols before they had time to stir in their chairs. They appeared to be horror-stricken at seeing Alf and me, and in a moment their hands were in the air.

“Josh,” the deputy commanded, “bring us a plow line. Never mind, you haven’t time for that. Take off that bed cord.”

The woman had squeezed herself into a corner, between a “cubbord” and the wall, but she came out and protested against the use of her bed cord. “Get that cord!” the deputy commanded. “Move that hand again, Scott Aimes, and I’ll kill you. Here we are,” he added, when the negro had tumbled off the bed-clothes and unfastened the cord. “Now cut it in four pieces.”

“Fur de Lawd’s sake!” the woman shouted, “you ain’ gwine treat er pusson datter way, is you? Fust da cuts de banjo strings an’ den yere come de law an’ cuts de bed cawd. Laws er massy whut got inter dis worl’ no how.”

“Keep quiet,” said the deputy. “Here, big man, tie their wrists and don’t be afraid of hurting them. I’ve had my eye on you gentlemen for some time. That’s it, give it to them hard. Tie their ankles, too. But we have only four pieces of rope. Go now and get a plow-line, Josh.”

We put back the table and the chairs and stood our prisoners in the center of the room, sullen and coarse-featured brutes, and waited for the negro to come with the plow-line, and presently he appeared with a new grass rope. “That’s just exactly what we want,” said the deputy. “Cut it in four pieces, and, big man,” he continued, speaking to me, “I must again call on you. Tight around the shank and no feelings considered. That’s it; you go at it in the right way must have tied chickens for the market. I must really beg pardon of these gentlemen for not getting a warrant; we were pushed for time and, therefore, we are a trifle irregular, but my dear sirs, I promise you that you shall have a warrant just as soon as we get into Purdy. You should be satisfied with my admitting that I am irregular.”

The General roared with a great laugh. “Your apology is of the finest feather, the most gracious down,” said he, “but our friends must remember that in an irregularity often lie some of the most precious merits of this life.”

“If we hadn’t been huddled round this here table you wouldn’t be havin’ sich fun,” said Scott Aimes, quivering under my strong pull at the rope. “We never did ask nothin’ but a fair show, but we didn’t git it this time, by a long shot.”

“Silence, brute,” the General commanded. “As low as you are, you should know better than to break in upon the high spirits of a gentleman. Oh, I have understood you all along. You were working your courage toward me. Hush, don’t you speak a word.”

“Got them all strung?” the deputy asked, examining the ropes. “Good. Now, Josh, you run over to my house as fast as you can and tell my wife that you want the two-horse wagon. And hitch it up and come back here as fast as you can. Go on; I’ll pay you for everything.”

“Thankee, sah, I’m gone. It loosens er olé pusson’s feet, sah, ter know dat he gwine be paid. Hard times allus comin’ down de big road, er kickin’ up er dust.”

“Are you going?” the deputy stormed. “Confound you; I’ll put you in jail for selling whisky if you are not back here in fifteen minutes.”

“Gone now!” exclaimed the negro, bounding from the door and striking a trot. “Gone!” we heard him repeat, as he leaped over the fence.

“Mr. Parker,” said Scott Aimes, stretching his neck toward the officer, “I’ve jest got one favor to ask of you. Git that bottle over thar an’ give us fellers a drink. It was licker that got us into this here muss, an’ you ought to let licker help us a little now.”

“Old fellow used to keep a grocery over at Blue Lick,” the deputy remarked, looking at me rather than at the prisoner, “and when a man’s money was all gone he used to say: ’Lord love you, honey, I couldn’t think of letting you take another drop; I’m so much interested in your welfare that I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.’ No, Scottfield” and now he looked at the prisoner “I am too much interested in you to see you throw yourself away. Don’t be impatient. ‘Just wait for the wagon,’ says the old song.”

The old General had sat down, but old Lim continued to stand there, his arms bare and his teeth hard-set. On his countenance lay the shadow of a regret, and I have thought that he was grieved at the spoiling of the fight that he thought should have taken place to reward him for the trouble of leaving home. The prisoners winced under his gaze, as his eyes leaped about from one to another. But he said not a word; just stood there, with his teeth hard-set.

Soon we heard the wagon, rumbling along the road that skirted the old field, and we began to set our prisoners near the door, picking them up and putting them down like upright sticks. The wagon drew up near the door, the woman held a light for us and we began our work of loading. And I was glad when the deputy said that he no longer needed our assistance; I was afraid that he would ask me to drive to town with him.

“Well,” he said, gathering up the lines and glancing back at his load, “a pretty good haul for these hard times. Whoa, wait a minute. Say, General, I suppose you have heard some talk of my candidacy for the office of sheriff, and I reckon you have seen to-night whether or not I am worthy of the trust. It’s always well to put in a word in time, you know. I reckon I’ve got you all right, Alf, and, big man, wish you could vote with us this time. Well, I’ll let you gentlemen know when you are wanted at court.”

Old Lim and the General led their horses and walked with Alf and me; and we heard many a grunt and snort as we told of the burning of the school-house. Old Lim swore that I ought to have let Alf kill Scott Aimes, but the General sided with me. “That would have done no good, Lim,” said he. “It’s far better as we now have it. I am glad to see, Mr. Hawes, that you have so much discretion, a most noble quality, sir. Now as to the loss of the house, that amounts to nothing. It ought to have been set afire long ago. And I’ll tell you what shall be done: A new building shall be put up at once, not of logs, but of frame, and it shall be neatly painted to show people that we are keeping up with the times. Every neighborhood about us has a fine school-house; the old log huts have disappeared, and we are going to march right in the van, sir. But I want to tell you right now that it was in those log school-houses that the greatest men in the nation have been taught; and when I see a pile of logs out in the woods I fancy that I can hear the classics lowly hummed.”

“Gentlemen,” said old Lim, “if it was day time instead of night I would invite you to see some of the finest sport you ever run across, for I’m in the humor for it right now. But chickens have a prejudice agin fightin’ at night. Many a time when I had trouble on my mind and couldn’t sleep I’ve got up and tried to stir their blood, but they want to nod; that’s what they want to do at night nothin’ but nod, unless you’ve got light enough, and then if you stir ’em up they’ll git so mad that they’ll go it smack to a finish.”

“Talking about those chickens?” the General asked. “Confound them, they’d have no attraction for me if it were mid-day. But pardon me. I mean simply that I take no interest in such things.”

Old Lim grunted. “Right here is where I git on my horse,” said he. And he mounted and rode on ahead in moody silence.

I was now walking beside the General and Alf was just behind me. Several times the young man sighed distressfully and I knew that something heavy had fallen upon his mind. Presently he pulled at my coat and as I dropped back he took my place. “General, you said just now that Bill was right in not letting me shoot that fellow, Scott Aimes.” He hesitated and was silent for a few moments, striding beside the General, and the General said nothing was waiting for him to continue. “Said that I was wrong,” Alf repeated, “and I reckon I was, but I hope you won’t say anything about it at home.”

“Why not at home, sir? Hah, why not at home? ’Öd zounds, can’t a gentleman talk in his own house?”

Alf began to drop back. “What he means, General,” said I, taking his place, “is that he has so much respect for you that he does not want you to think ill of him when you are alone, meditating in your own house.”

“Ha, now, a fine whim, but it’s a respectful whim and shall be honored, sir. I don’t understand the young men of this day and generation, but I know what respect means. I don’t know that I condemned you, Alf; I spoke for the most part of the discretion of your friend. Well, gentlemen, here is where I leave you.”

He threw the bridle reins over the horse’s neck and was preparing to mount, when Alf started forward as if to help him, but I clutched him so vigorously that he turned upon me and asked what I meant. “Keep still,” I whispered. “I’ll tell you after a while.”

By this time the old gentleman was astride his horse. He took off his hat, bowed with the air of a cavalier, and, bidding us good-night, galloped off down the road. Then I told Alf why I had held him back, that I had almost insulted the old man by offering to assist him in mounting his horse; and Alf stood there actually trembling at the narrowness of his escape. I know that we should have been burned up had he been half so badly frightened while we were in the school-house.

The nights were shortened by the season’s approach to the first of May. It seemed a long time since the twilight had glimmered on the leaves, and it was past midnight when we reached home. Old Lim had put up his horse and was standing at the draw-bars, waiting for us.

“For a smart man,” said he, “I reckon the General’s got about as little sense as any human now alive. By jings, he’s a crank; that’s what’s the matter with him; and the first thing he knows people will be keepin’ out of his way.”

A light flashed from the passage and we saw Guinea and her mother standing on the log step, gazing toward us.

“It’s all right!” the old man cried. “Go on to bed, and don’t be standing around this time of night.”

Alf and I, leaving the old man at the bars, went to the house. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve all got back,” said Mrs. Jucklin, striving to be calm, but whimpering. “Are you sure that you are all safe and sound?”

Guinea began to laugh. “Of course, they are, mother, don’t you see?”

“But what’s your father still standin’ out yonder for? I jest know he’s crippled. Limuel, are you hurt?” she cried.

“Yes, I am hurt, and by a man that prefers to be a crank. Said that he wouldn’t care anything about ’em even if it was daylight.”

“Oh, but you are not shot, are you?” his wife exclaimed, starting toward him.

“Go in now, Susan, and don’t come foolin’ with me. Who said I was shot? Go on to bed, everybody, and I’ll come when I git ready.”

“But you must be hungry, Limuel?”

“Hungry, the devil excuse me, ma’m. I’ll eat a snack mebby between now and mornin’.”

“It’s no use to talk to him,” she said, with a sigh, and, turning to me, she added: “You and Alf must be nearly starved. We’ve kept the coffee warm. Guinea, go and pour it out for ’em.”

“Will you tell me all about the fight?” the girl asked when we entered the dining-room. “I like to hear about such things.”

I strove to make light of it, but, seeing that this would not satisfy her, I told of the burning of the house and of the capture of the Aimes brothers, colored our danger in the house, to see her lips whiten and her eyes stare; pictured myself as I must have looked when I seized the dog, to choke him, and to throw him far into the woods told her all, except that I had caught the hammers of Alf’s gun.

“I don’t see how you kept from killing them when you got the chance,” she said, leaning with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, musing: “I don’t understand how you could keep from it.”

Alf threw down his knife and fork and struck the table with his fist. “I wanted to kill Scott had a bead on him, but Bill grabbed my gun. Guinea, I’m glad you stand by me, you and father; but the General thinks I was wrong, and I was just about to think that everybody’s heart was right but mine. I am glad you are with me, Guinea.”

I looked at her as she sat there, musing; her hair was tangled as if a storm of thought had swept through her head, and sorely I wondered whether a care for me had been borne through the storm. I forgot the presence of Alf; I forgot everything except that I would have given my blood and my soul to please her, and with bitterness I said: “Oh, if I had known that you wanted him killed I would not only have let Alf kill him I would have killed him myself.”

She looked up from her attitude of musing and met my outbreak with a quiet laugh. “The bigger a man is the sillier he is,” she said, still laughing. “Why, I don’t want him dead. I wouldn’t like to have anyone killed. I merely wondered how, having come so close to being burned up, you could keep from killing him. I thought that I understood most men, but I don’t understand you, Mr. Hawes.”

“Yes, you do!” I cried; “you understand me too well, and that is why you torture me.”

“What!” exclaimed Alf, springing to his feet, “are you on the gridiron? Has she got you where somebody has got me? By there comes mother.”

I looked back as I passed out of the room, and Guinea sat there, musing. Alf put his arm about me as we went up the stairs. We did not light the lamp, but sat down in the dark, sat there and for a long time were silent.

“Bill, oh, Bill.”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Bill, don’t ask me anything. Father may tell you something to-morrow. God bless you, Bill. You have stood by me. Good-night.”