Part 63 (1/2)

By and by he put up the little tool and sat looking out upon the prospect. The time of greatest probability had not come, but the voudou might choose not to wait for that; and so he kept watch. There was a great stillness. The c.o.c.ks had finished a round and were silent. No dog barked. A few tiny crickets made the quiet land seem the more deserted.

Its beauties were not entirely overlooked--the innumerable host of stars above, the twinkle of myriad fireflies on the dark earth below. Between a quarter and a half-mile away, almost in a line with the Cherokee hedge, was a faint rise of ground, and on it a wide-spreading live-oak.

There the keen, seaman's eye of the Capitain came to a stop, fixed upon a spot which he had not noticed before. He kept his eye on it, and waited for the stronger light of the moon.

Presently behind the grove at his back she rose; and almost the first beam that pa.s.sed over the tops of the trees, and stretched across the plain, struck the object of his scrutiny. What was it? The ground, he knew; the tree, he knew; he knew there ought to be a white paling enclosure about the trunk of the tree: for there were buried--ah!--he came as near laughing at himself as ever he did in his life; the apothecary of the rue Royale had lately erected some marble headstones there, and--

”Oh! my G.o.d!”

While Capitain Jean-Baptiste had been trying to guess what the tombstones were, a woman had been coming toward him in the shadow of the hedge. She was not expecting to meet him; she did not know that he was there; she knew she had risks to run, but was ignorant of what they were; she did not know there was anything under the fig-tree which she so nearly and noiselessly approached. One moment her foot was lifted above the spot where the unknown object lay with wide-stretched jaws under the leaves, and the next, she uttered that cry of agony and consternation which interrupted the watcher's meditation. She was caught in a huge steel-trap.

Capitain Jean-Baptiste Grandissime remained perfectly still. She fell, a snarling, struggling, groaning heap, to the ground, wild with pain and fright, and began the hopeless effort to draw the jaws of the trap apart with her fingers.

”_Ah! bon Dieu, bon Dieu!_ Quit a-_bi-i-i-i-tin' me_! Oh! Lawd 'a'

mussy! Ow-ow-ow! lemme go! Dey go'n' to kyetch an' hang me! Oh! an' I hain' done nutt'n' 'gainst _no_body! Ah! _bon Dieu! ein pov' vie negresse_! Oh! Jemimy! I cyan' gid dis yeh t'ing loose--oh! m-m-m-m! An'

dey'll tra to mek out't I voudou' Mich-Agricole! An' I did n' had nutt'n' do wid it! Oh Lawd, oh _Lawd_, you'll be mighty good ef you lemme loose! I'm a po' n.i.g.g.a! Oh! dey had n' ought to mek it so _pow_'ful!”

Hands, teeth, the free foot, the writhing body, every combination of available forces failed to spread the savage jaws, though she strove until hands and mouth were bleeding.

Suddenly she became silent; a thought of precaution came to her; she lifted from the earth a burden she had dropped there, struggled to a half-standing posture, and, with her foot still in the trap, was endeavoring to approach the end of the hedge near by, to thrust this burden under it, when she opened her throat in a speechless ecstasy of fright on feeling her arm grasped by her captor.

”O-o-o-h! Lawd! o-o-oh! Lawd!” she cried, in a frantic, husky whisper, going down upon her knees, ”_Oh, Miche! pou' l'amou' du bon Dieu! Pou'

l'amou du bon Dieu ayez pitie d'ein pov' negresse! Pov' negresse, Miche_, w'at nevva done nutt'n' to n.o.body on'y jis sell _calas_! I iss comin' 'long an' step inteh dis-yeh bah-trap by acci_dent_! Ah! _Miche, Miche_, ple-e-ease be good! _Ah! mon Dieu_!--an' de Lawd'll reward you--'deed 'E will, _Miche_!”

”_Qui ci ca?_” asked the Capitain, sternly, stooping and grasping her burden, which she had been trying to conceal under herself.

”Oh, Miche, don' trouble dat! Please jes tek dis yeh trap offen me--da's all! Oh, don't, mawstah, ple-e-ease don' spill all my wash'n' t'ings!

'Tain't nutt'n' but my old dress roll' up into a ball. Oh, please--now, you see? nutt'n' but a po' n.i.g.g.a's dr--_oh! fo' de love o' G.o.d, Miche Jean-Baptiste, don' open dat ah box! Y'en a rien du tout la-dans, Miche Jean-Baptiste; du tout, du tout_! Oh, my G.o.d! _Miche_, on'y jis teck dis-yeh t'ing off'n my laig, ef yo' _please_, it's bit'n' me lak a _dawg_!--if you _please, Miche_! Oh! you git kill' if you open dat ah box, Mawse Jean-Baptiste! _Mo' parole d'honneur le plus sacre_--I'll kiss de cross! Oh, _sweet Miche Jean, laisse moi aller_! Nutt'n' but some dutty close _la-dans_.” She repeated this again and again, even after Capitain Jean-Baptiste had disengaged a small black coffin from the old dress in which it was wrapped. ”_Rien du tout, Miche_; nutt'n'

but some wash'n' fo' one o' de boys.”

He removed the lid and saw within, resting on the cus.h.i.+oned bottom, the image, in myrtle-wax, moulded and painted with some rude skill, of a negro's b.l.o.o.d.y arm cut off near the shoulder--a _bras coupe_--with a dirk grasped in its hand.

The old woman lifted her eyes to heaven; her teeth chattered; she gasped twice before she could recover utterance. ”_Oh, Miche_ Jean-Baptiste, I di' n' mek dat ah! _Mo' te pas fe ca_! I swea' befo' G.o.d! Oh, no, no, no! 'Tain' nutt'n' nohow but a lill play-toy, _Miche_. Oh, sweet _Miche Jean_, you not gwan to kill me? I di' n' mek it! It was--ef you lemme go, I tell you who mek it! Sho's I live I tell you, _Miche Jean_--ef you lemme go! Sho's G.o.d's good to me--ef you lemme go! Oh, G.o.d A'mighty, _Miche Jean_, sho's G.o.d's good to me.”

She was becoming incoherent.

Then Capitain Jean-Baptiste Grandissime for the first time spoke at length:

”Do you see this?” he spoke the French of the Atchafalaya. He put his long flintlock pistol close to her face. ”I shall take the trap off; you will walk three feet in front of me; if you make it four I blow your brains out; we shall go to Agricole. But right here, just now, before I count ten, you will tell me who sent you here; at the word ten, if I reach it, I pull the trigger. One--two--three--”

”Oh, _Miche_, she gwan to gib me to de devil wid _houdou_ ef I tell you--Oh, good _Lawdy_!”

But he did not pause.

”Four--five--six--seven--eight--”

”Palmyre!” gasped the negress, and grovelled on the ground.