Part 24 (1/2)
Philip knew, at the first word, the voice of Ned Faringfield. It took him not an instant to perceive who was a chief--if not _the_ chief--traitor in the affair, or to solve what had long been to him also a problem, that of Ned's presence in the rebel army. The recognition of voice had evidently not been mutual; doubtless this was because Philip's few words had been spoken huskily. Retaining his hoa.r.s.eness, and taking his cue from Ned's allusion to the dragoon cap, he replied:
”'Tis all right. You're our man, I see. Though I don't wear the dragoon cap, I come from New York about Captain Falconer's business.”
”Then why the h.e.l.l didn't you give the word?” said Ned, releasing his pressure upon Philip's body.
”You didn't ask for it. Get up--you're breaking my back.”
Ned arose, relieving Philip of all weight, but stood over him with a pistol.
”Then give it now,” Ned commanded.
”I'll be hanged if you haven't knocked it clean out of my head,”
replied Philip. ”Let me think a moment--I have the cursedest memory.”
He rose with a slowness, and an appearance of weakness, both mainly a.s.sumed. He still held his sword, which, happily for him, had turned flat under him as he fell. When he was quite erect, he suddenly flung up the sword so as to knock the pistol out of aim, dashed forward with all his weight, and, catching Ned by the throat with both hands, bore him down upon his side among the briars, and planted a knee upon his neck. Instantly shortening his sword, he held the point close above Ned's eye.
”Now,” said Phil, ”let that pistol fall! Let it fall, I say, or I'll run my sword into your brain. That's well. You traitor, shall I kill you now? or take you into camp and let you hang for your treason?”
Ned wriggled, but finding that Philip held him in too resolved a grasp, gave up.
”Is it you, brother Phil?” he gasped. ”Why, then, you lied; you said you came from New York, about Falconer's business. I'd never have thought _you'd_ stoop to a mean deception!”
”I think I'd better take you to hang,” continued Philip. ”If I kill you now, we sha'n't get the names of the other traitors.”
”You wouldn't do such an unbrotherly act, Phil! I know you wouldn't.
You've too good a heart. Think of your wife, my sister--”
”Ay, the traitress!”
”Then think of my father; think of the mouth that fed you--I mean the hand that fed you! You'll let me go, Phil--sure you'll let me go.
Remember how we played together when we were boys. I'll give you the names of the other traitors. I'm not so much to blame: I was lured into this--lured by your wife--so help me G.o.d, I was--and you're responsible for her, you know. _You_ ought to be the last man in the world--”
Philip's mood had changed at thought of Ned's father; the old man's pride of the name, his secret and perilous devotion to the rebel cause: he deserved better of that cause than that his son should die branded as a traitor to it; and better of Phil than that by his hand that son should be slain.
”How can you let me have the names without loss of time, if I let you go, on condition of your giving our army a wide berth the rest of your days?” Philip asked, turning the captive over upon his back.
”I can do it in a minute, I swear,” cried Ned. ”Will you let me go if I do?”
”If I'm convinced they're the right names and all the names; but if so, and I let you go, remember I'll see you hanged if you ever show your face in our army again.”
”Rest easy on that. I take you at your word. The names are all writ down in my pocketbook, with the share of money each man was to get. If I was caught, I was bound the rest should suffer, too. The book is in my waistcoat lining--there; do you feel it? Rip it out.”
Philip did so, and, sitting on Ned's chest, with a heel ready to beat in his skull at a treacherous movement, contrived to strike a light and verify by the brief flame of the tow the existence of a list of names. As time was now of ever-increasing value, Philip took it for granted that the list was really what Ned declared it. He then possessed himself of Ned's pistol, and rose, intending to conduct him as far as to the edge of the camp, and to release him only when Philip should have given the alarm, so that Ned could not aid the approach of Falconer's party. But Philip had no sooner communicated this intention than Ned suddenly whipped out a second pistol from his coat pocket, in which his hand had been busy for some time, and aimed at him. Thanks to a spoiled priming, the hammer fell without effect.
”You double traitor!” cried Philip, rus.h.i.+ng upon Ned with threatening sword. But Ned, with a curse, bent aside, and, before Philip could bring either of his weapons into use, grappled with him for another fall. The two men swayed together an instant; then Philip once more shortened his sword and plunged the point into Ned's shoulder as both came down together.
”G.o.d d.a.m.n your soul!” cried Ned, and for the time of a breath hugged his enemy the tighter. But for the time of a breath only; the hold then relaxed; and Philip, rising easily from the embrace of the limp form, ran unimpeded to the road, mounted the waiting horse, and galloped to the rebel lines.