Part 7 (1/2)

”For the man, yes. You should have been the one to pay for your blundering. You failed to carry out your orders, and you had a dozen against three, and one of the three a negro.”

The man started away, but his lagging footsteps showed that he had something on his mind, and in a few moments I heard him coming back.

”'Tain't no use to hunt for the man in the dark, and by sun-up his friends'll be buzzin' around here worse'n a nest of hornets. We are going back--going back,” he repeated, ”and you may report what you please.”

Then the man went away, mumbling and mouthing to himself. As for me, I should have preferred to go with him. Pretty much everything is fair in war, and Jane Ryder was on the Union side. She knew of the ambuscade and had not told me; it was her duty not to tell. She would have made no sign if we had been going to our deaths. I have never felt more depressed in my life than I did at that moment. Something had slipped from under me, and I had nothing to stand on. I came out of the closet both angry and sorry. ”I shall be obliged to you if you will find my hat,” I said.

I tried hard to hide my real feelings, and with anyone else the effort would have been successful; but she knew. She came and stood by me and caught me by the arm. ”Where would you go?” There was a baffled look in her eyes, and her voice was uneasy.

”Call your man,” I said; ”I will go with him; it is not his fault that he cannot find me; it is not his fault that I am hiding here in a woman's closet. Nor shall he be punished for it.”

”Your hat is not here,” she declared. ”It must be where you fell. Do you know,” she cried, ”that you have killed a man? Do you know that?”

Her tone was almost triumphant.

”Well, what of that?” I asked. ”You set them on us, and the poor fellow took his chance with the rest. Gladly would I take his place.” My head was hurting and I was horribly depressed.

She had turned away from me, but now she flashed around with surprising quickness. ”You are the cause of it all--yes, you! And, oh, if I could tell you how I hate you! If I could only show you what a contempt I have for you!” She was almost beside herself with anger, pa.s.sion--I know not what. She shrank back from me, drew in a long breath, and fell upon the floor as if a gust of wind had blown her over; and then I began to have a dim conception of the power that moved and breathed in the personality of this woman. She fell, gave a long, s.h.i.+vering sigh, and, to all appearance, lay before me dead.

In an instant I was wild with remorse and grief. I seized a chair and sent it cras.h.i.+ng into the hallway to attract attention. To this noise I added my voice, and yelled for help with lungs that had aroused the echoes on many a hunting-field. There were whisperings below, and apparently a hurried consultation, and then a young woman came mincing up the stairs. I must have presented a strange and terrifying spectacle with my head bandaged and my wild manner, for the woman, with a shriek, turned and ran down the stairs again. I cried again for someone to come to the aid of the lady, and presently someone called up the stairs to know what the trouble was.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I was wild with remorse and grief.]

”Come and see,” I cried. ”The lady has fainted, and she may be dead.”

I went into the room again, and, taking Jane Ryder in my arms, carried her into the next room and laid her on the bed. There was a pitcher of water handy, and I sprinkled her face and began to chafe her cold hands. After what seemed an age, the landlord came cautiously along the hall. ”Call the woman,” I commanded; ”call the woman, and tell her to come in a hurry.”

This he did, and then peeped in the room, taking care not to come inside the door. ”What is the matter?” he said uneasily.

”Can't you see that the lady is ill?” I answered.

The woman--two women, indeed--came running in response to his summons.

”Go in there and see what the trouble is. See if he has killed her. I told her he was dangerous. You shall pay for this,” he said, shaking a threatening hand at me, though he came no farther than the door. ”You think she has no friends and that you may use her as you please. But I tell you she has friends, and you will have to answer to them.”

”Why talk like a fool?” said the elder of the two women--the woman with whom I had talked in the inner room of the tavern. ”You know as well as I do that this man has not hurt her. If it were some other man I'd believe you. She has only fainted.”

”But fainting is something new to her. He has hurt her, and he shall pay for it,” the man insisted.

”And I tell you,” the woman repeated, ”that he has not harmed a hair of her head. If he had do you think I'd be standing here denying it? Don't you know what I'd be doing?”

”If I am wrong I am quite ready to apologize. I was excited--was beside myself.”

”I want none of your apologies,” I said to the man. ”I have a crow to pick with you, and I'll furnish a basket to hold the feathers.”

”It is better to bear no malice,” remarked the younger woman, calmly.

”The Bible will tell you so.”

”It is better to tell me the cause of the trouble,” interrupted her elder.

”Why, I hardly know. I asked for my hat, and from one word to another we went till she flamed out at me, and said she hated me, and had a great contempt for me; and then she fell on the floor in a faint. I thought she was dead, but when I laid her on the bed there I saw her eyelids twitching.”

The two women eyed each other in a way that displeased me greatly. ”I told you so,” said one. ”It's the world's wonder,” replied the other.

And then Jane Ryder opened her eyes. It was natural that they should fall on me. She closed them again with a little s.h.i.+ver and then the natural color returned to her face. ”I thought you were gone,” she whispered.