War Drums (Sass)/Chapter 18
THEY rested an hour by their fire in the forest. The wolves scented them and made a circle around them in the gloom, invisible except their glittering eyes; but the two men gave them little heed and Jolie knew, without asking, that there was no danger. There was much to be said and the hour passed quickly.
Jolie heard the story of Lachlan's adventures on the Good Fortune—all, that is, that Lachlan felt free to tell her in view of his compact with Lance Falcon. The tale, thus expurgated, puzzled her at times, but she restrained her curiosity and sought no further explanation. Nor did she ask Lachlan about himself, although to her he was still a mystery—himself and his interest in her affairs. She learned that they would join Jock Pearson's pack train next day at a point agreed upon, and she heard, without much interest (for the fact seemed to her of slight importance), that Jock Pearson's wife would be with the train.
On her part she said but little at first, and Lachlan asked no questions of her. But a remark of Almayne's brought from her certain facts. The hunter had kept silence, but when Lachlan had concluded the story of his adventures, Almayne put in a word.
"You will give my young friend credit, Mistress, for one thing," he said, "and I know not whether he will be glad or sorry for it hereafter. It is he that is bringing you on this journey into the wilderness. I should have left you at Stanwicke Hall, or, since we've got you out of there, I should now take you to Charles Town. He was of the opinion that you had best come with us and that you would wish to come. I said that, being a woman, you would be afraid."
"He was right," said Jolie quietly. "I am not afraid of the wilderness. I could not remain at Stanwicke Hall, and there is no one in Charles Town who could keep me safe."
She paused, then continued, speaking very softly:
"I am not sure how much of my unhappiness is already known to you. I came to Charles Town not knowing what my father was. Weeks ago I learned that Captain Falcon had some mysterious hold upon him, that he feared Falcon because of something that Falcon knew. I did not know what this thing was, but now I know—or, at least, I can guess.
"There is a secret passage at Stanwicke Hall, an underground way which leads from the house towards the river. I have not seen it, but a black girl, who was my servant and is more intelligent than most, told me of it. She said that strange men came through that passage at night bringing casks and bales and sometimes gold, and that Falcon came with them. They had come three or four times, she said, for others among Stanwicke's servants had seen them.
"She herself saw them once—one dark night when she had gone down to the river to keep a tryst. The black boy whom she was to meet was not there, and she was mortally afraid because a storm was brewing and all that part of the river bank was known to be haunted. As she waited, trembling, there came a long flash of lightning and she saw the boy coming towards her; but suddenly he stopped and threw up his hands as though in terror, and dark figures rose round him and one of them struck him down.
"She was too frightened to move; and soon, in another bright flash of lightning, she saw men passing close by her—seafaring men with scarves around their heads, and cutlasses and pistols. There were six of them, and Captain Falcon walked in front; and two of them carried the body of the black boy, and she heard the splash of his body as they threw it into the river. She knew then that the stories which she had heard were true—that these men had come out of the secret passage which led from the house nearly to the river and were now returning to their boat, after leaving their booty at Stanwicke Hall."
Jolie was silent, twining and untwining her fingers nervously.
"At first," she continued presently, "I did not believe all this, but the more I thought about it the more clearly I saw that it was true, for the black girl could not have invented the tale. I do not know what these men were or what was the nature of the goods that they brought into Stanwicke Hall by night through that secret passage from the river; but I know that they came by those goods in some evil way—through piracy, perhaps—and my father has been in league with them, and now Falcon holds him in his power and can ruin and dishonour him."
Her voice sank almost to a murmur and her eyes were lowered.
"I think he cares little for his honour," she said, "but his wealth, his gold is his lifeblood. That is why his servants have named him the Golden Spider after that insect which spins golden webs in these woods. There is a story whispered among the blacks at Stanwicke Hall. An old African slave woman, whom he had slashed with his riding whip, pronounced a curse upon him and prophesied that he would die of the sting of that same golden spider for which the blacks have named him. To-night he thought that this prophecy would be fulfilled."
For a moment she stared gravely into the fire. Lachlan saw that her eyes were moist.
"You do not think it strange, do you," she continued in a low voice, "that I left him as I did—without farewell, without pity for his plight? The fear of Falcon hangs over him like a sword, and at times it seems to stab his very soul and he shakes as if with palsy. Oh, I pitied him at first, and I tried to do what he asked so that Falcon would not be angered. But when I realized what he expected of me, what he would presently force me to do—that he would sell his daughter to save himself—then pity died in me."
"He is a black-hearted villain," Almayne exclaimed, "and you are well rid of him. I like plain speech, Mistress, and now I would ask a plain question. Captain Falcon desires you, and to save himself your father would give you to him?"
She nodded.
"I am not such a fool as I look," the hunter grumbled apologetically. "Long ago I guessed it. But I was ever a bungler with women and I wished to be sure."
He jabbed the fire with a broken pine branch.
"This Falcon, now," he continued reflectively. "He is something of a man in his way. He will not give up easily. I think we shall hear from him before our journey is over."
The moon showed her face as they remounted and suddenly the forest was bathed in ghostly light. Jolie, sitting her horse beside the embers of the fire, saw dimly in that pallid radiance the spectral circle that ringed them round—wolves gray and black, long-jawed and bushy tailed, prowling restlessly. Only for a moment did she see them. They had been bold in the blackness and had come close in, ranging themselves just beyond the fringe of the firelight. But as the moonlight brightened, they drew back, fading into the shadows, and when Almayne wheeled his horse and the cavalcade started, scarcely one was in sight. Once, however, Jolie glanced back and saw dim, gaunt forms creeping toward the fire, nosing here and there in quest of fragments of food.
For hours they rode on slowly but steadily, Almayne in the lead. By the magic of the moonlight the forest, which before had been hideous and menacing in its blackness, was transformed to soft and silvery loveliness. Through this shimmering beauty they passed in silence, their horses' hoofbeats muffled by the thick carpet of pine straw covering the ground. A light breeze blew in their faces, so that their scent was not wafted on ahead of them; and again and again they came within sight of grazing deer.
Once, Jolie, glancing down a dim forest aisle between rows of column-like pines, saw a great beast that was like a lioness sitting on its haunches, staring fixedly with eyes that were glowing coals—a panther, Lachlan called it; and once, just in front of them, there was a sudden commotion in the moonlit woods, a bellowing as of bulls, a tossing of sharp, curved horns, a confusion of big, dark bodies lurching upward from the ground and rocking away amid the crowding trees. At this she cried out in excitement, believing that she was looking for the first time on that half-fabulous beast, the buffalo, but Lachlan laughed the notion away.
"Black cattle," he said, "wild black cattle, strays from the plantations. There are hundreds in these low country woods. We'll see no buffalo till we have passed farther inland."
In general they travelled northward, but often they made wide circles to avoid impassable swamps. The forest seemed endless.
At dawn they came to a deep, narrow creek flowing sluggishly through the woods. Without pause, Almayne rode his horse down the steep bank into the water. As the animal began to swim, Jolie saw the hunter turn and throw a curious glance behind him. She flushed as she realized the meaning of that glance, and her horse was halfway down the bank when Lachlan, who had dropped a little behind, rode forward and grasped her bridle.
"Wait," he said, and she noticed that he was frowning as though angry. "There is a boat on the other bank. Almayne will bring it presently. He should have told you."
"He thought that I would be afraid—that I would not venture," she answered quickly, and jerked the horse's head the other way, so that Lachlan lost his grip on the rein. Next moment her horse was in the water, swimming.
She was wet to the shoulders when they reached the other bank. There a path sloped up from the water's edge and wound into the forest, and without a word Almayne led the way along this path. A quarter of a mile farther on he halted suddenly, swung around in his saddle and turned to her a countenance unwontedly melancholy.
"I am both a fool and a brute, Mistress," he said very humbly. "It is my fault that you are wet and cold. I did not think that you would have courage to swim the river."
She laughed at him, finding a strange joy in her triumph.
"You will know me better presently, Mr. Almayne," she replied. "I shall make it my pleasure te teach you something about women."
He glanced at her sharply, and rode on without rejoinder. An hour later she heard the voice of a man singing somewhere ahead of them, and the neighing of horses; and Lachlan, riding abreast of her, said, "It is the camp—Jock Pearson's camp. You can rest and sleep."
She turned toward him slowly, and he saw with surprise that her face was very white.
"I am glad," she whispered. "I think I could not have ridden much farther."
She swayed suddenly in her saddle. For a moment her body leaned against his, her hair brushing his cheek. With his arm about her shoulders, he steadied her, kept her from falling; but almost at once she seemed to recover her strength and drew away from him, sitting upright as her horse walked forward, a slim, straight figure, head high, shoulders back. Lachlan realized with vague astonishment that he was trembling like a reed in the wind.