Brother Against Brother; or, The Tompkins Mystery. Read online

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  THE ABDUCTION.

  The Union forces stationed at Snagtown did not remain there many daysafter the event related in the last chapter. Diggs was paroled, and theregiments ordered into Winter quarters at the Junction. The retirementof the Union forces was followed by predatory incursions of theConfederates, who were encamped just across the Twin Mountains. Smallparties on foraging expeditions frequently crossed the latter, andgreatly harassed the citizens in and around Snagtown.

  Since the last battle of Snagtown and the Confederate defeat, the peaceand quiet of the Tompkins mansion was broken. Mrs. Tompkins openly andwarmly avowed her principles, and Mr. Tompkins, old as he was, hadalmost decided to enlist in the ranks of the Union army and fight forhis country.

  Irene could range herself with neither party; her sympathies were tooequally divided.

  "To think," said Mrs. Tompkins to Irene, in her husband's presence,"that the Yankees, not content with killing poor, harmless Joe, shouldattempt to murder Diggs in cold blood!"

  "How unfair it is," said Mr. Tompkins, "for you to charge the soldiers,who are fighting for our country, with what was purely a mistake in onecase, and what, in the other, was the result of laws which have existedin all armies since military law was established."

  "Don't say _our_ country," said Mrs. Tompkins, bitterly. "They arefighting for your cold, frozen North, not for my sunny South, which theyare trying to desolate and destroy. Sooner than see them victorious, Iwould willingly follow both my sons to the grave."

  Before Mr. Tompkins could reply, Irene interrupted the discussion.

  "Oh, father, mother, do not talk about this dreadful war. It hasbrought us misery enough; let it not ruin our home. It is allwrong--wrong on both sides--and the world will one day say so. TheNation is a great family, and if members of that family are in armsagainst each other, is it any credit to either--can it matter which sideis defeated? I know nothing about either side, but I know it is nothingto take pride or pleasure in. Rather let us pray for its ending, thanrejoice or sorrow over triumph or defeat."

  Mrs. Tompkins went sobbing from the room, and the planter went out andseated himself beneath his favorite maple, in his rustic chair. His facewas clouded. A barrier was gradually rising between himself and hiswife--the wife whose love had blessed his youth and his manhood, thewife whose estrangement he had never dreamed of, between whom andhimself he had thought no obstacle, material or immaterial, could evercome.

  To no one was this sad change more painful than Irene. Left alone in thegreat, silent room, her heart swelled with pain, her eyes grew dim.Clouds were rising thick and fast about her life; it seemed to her thatno ray of light could ever pierce their darkness. She could not stay inthe house, it seemed so cold and empty, and she went out, walking almostmechanically from the garden to the high road leading past the house.

  The road was very pleasant this Autumn evening; great oaks grew oneither side, their brown leaves rustling musically overhead. Irenefollowed it to the grave-yard, and, like one treading an accustomedpath, made her way between the grass-grown graves and paused by the sideof a new-made mound.

  "Poor Joe!" she sighed. "Your life so sad, your death so terrible andswift. No home, no friends, no hope on earth! Then why should I mournfor you?"

  As with soft fingers, the evening air touched her aching eyes, and theevening stillness fell like balm on her aching heart; but on thestillness suddenly fell the sound of horses' feet. She started from thegrave. The tramp of hoofs was approaching. What could it mean? Alarmed,she turned to fly. She had caught a glimpse of a horseman in grayuniform, and she had taken but a few swift steps toward her home, whenthe horseman galloped down the forest path and drew rein at her side.

  "Stop, Irene, it is I," said a familiar voice, and the rider sprang fromthe saddle and stood before her.

  "Oleah!" she exclaimed, in joyous surprise. "How you did frighten me!"

  "You should not be out at this hour alone," said Oleah. "Where are yougoing, Irene?"

  "I am going home," she said.

  "Well, you need be in no hurry to leave me. It is not often you see meIrene."

  "Leave you? Cannot you come with me?" her lovely gray eyes full withentreaty.

  "No," he answered, his head shaking sadly and his lips tremulous withemotion. "When last I was beneath the roof I met an enemy--"

  "Oleah," she said sadly, "I wish that I had never been taken beneaththat roof to bring discord between you and your only brother."

  "A brother once," he cried bitterly; "a brother once, whom Iloved--never loved as brother loved before. But now he has turned thatlove to hate. He is the enemy of my country, the enemy of my happiness,the destroyer of all my heart holds dear. Brother! Harp no longer onthat word. I am not his brother, nor yours. Here, in the face of heaven,I tell you, you must choose. I will not have friendship, or yoursisterly affection. Tell me you cannot love me, and I will leave you andmy home forever. Tell me! I must and will know my fate now!"

  "How hard you make it for me!" she cried. "Do you not see, can you notunderstand, that you ask impossibilities of me?"

  "Irene," he said, in his low, deep, passionate tones, "you cannot saythe words that will send me from you. My life is in danger here. Everymoment that I stand by your side, holding your little, trembling hand inmine, increases my danger. We must go. I will never again leave you tillyou are my wife."

  "Oh, heavens, Oleah! What is it that you mean?"

  "I shall take you to my camp, and our chaplain shall marry us. Come, wehave no time to lose."

  "Oleah!" she cried, in such a tone, so firm and sharp, that he pausedinvoluntarily. "Think what it is you would have me do. Think of thedisgrace, the anxiety, the suffering, you would cause!"

  "There cannot be disgrace for you, when your husband is by your side;and, as to the anxiety of my parents, theirs can be no greater than minehas been. My father cares not how much misery I and mine may undergo;need I care if a few gray hairs are added to his head? My love, mydarling, listen! That old Yankee hunter, Dan Martin, is in the woods,his rifle is certain death five hundred yards away; and every moment Istand here, I do so at the peril of my life."

  "Then, dear Oleah, go! Leave me, and go!"

  "I came for you and I will not go alone."

  "I can not, can not--"

  He seized her in his arms and attempted to place her on his horse.

  "Oh, let me go!" she cried. "I don't love you, no, not even as a sister!Now, let me go!"

  Oleah uttered a sharp whistle and four horsemen, dressed in gray,galloped to his side and dismounted.

  "Help me," said Oleah, briefly.

  The next moment Irene was on the charger, her determined lover holdingher before him. They dashed through the dark woods like the wind, thefour cavalrymen following closely after.

  Irene resisted and implored in vain. From the moment his strong armsclosed round her, Oleah had spoken no word except to urge on his horse.Then she uttered shriek after shriek, which only died out in the greatforest as the little cavalcade thundered on.

  Mr. Tompkins was still sitting in his rustic seat, beneath his favoritemaple, as the sun sank behind the Western hills. He was thinking, andhis clouded brow told that his thoughts were far from pleasant. Fortwenty-five years he and his wife had lived together, and never beforehad the lightest word or deed disturbed their perfect harmony, but nowthe breach, that had divided brothers, yawned between husband and wife;he must either sacrifice his principles or lose the love of his wife.

  The sun had set, and the planter felt the chill of the evening air. Herose with a sigh and was turning to go toward the house, when heobserved a negro, hatless and breathless, running in at the front gate.

  "What is the matter, Job?" he asked, as the black paused breathless infront of his master.

  "Why, marster--oh! it am too awful to tell all at once, unless you areprepared for it," said the darkey.

  "What is it? I am prepared for anything. Tell me, what is the matter?"dem
anded the planter.

  "Oh, marster, I had been to town and was comin' home froo de woods. Iwent that way afoot, kase the seceshers might a kotch me, seein' as deroad is full of 'em all the time. An' Jim Crow, one of Mr. Glaze'sniggers, told--told me as how they jes' hung up a nigger whenever theycould find him. Jim told me that over on tother side o' mountains theyhad de woods hangin' full of niggers. Well, you see, hearin' all demstories I was afraid to go on hossback de roadway, when I went arter demail, but goes afoot froo de woods."

  "Well, go on now, and tell what it was you saw and what is the matter,"said the planter growing impatient.

  "Well, marster, I had been to de post-office and brought you thesepapers and dis letter," producing them, "and was on my way home froo dewoods, when I hears an awful thumpin' and thunderin' o' hosses feetcomin' down the wood path, that leads in the direction o' TwinMountains. I think, may be, its seceshers comin' arter dis yer niggeran' I gits behind a big tree dat had jist been blown down not berry longago, an' watches. I knowed it warn't no use for dis chile to 'tempt torun, kase dey would cotch 'im shua."

  Job paused for breath, and the planter waited in silence, knowing thathe would comprehend the meaning of Job sooner by letting him tell hisstory in his own way.

  "Well, pretty soon I sees five seceshers on hossback, comin' just asfast as dere hosses could go froo de woods. An' de one what was afore deothers had a woman, carrin' her like she was a baby. Just as dey got infront ob me I see dat de woman was fighting an' tryin' to git away. Shehollered, 'Oh! I won't go, I won't go!' an' den I recognize dat it wasmy Miss Irene, an' dat dey were carrin' her off. I knowed her dress, Iknowed her har, an' all de time she scream I knowed it was her. Den Ijist wait till dey git by an' run ebery step home."

  "Oh, pshaw, Job, what an old idiot you are!" said the planter, with alaugh. "You had almost frightened me. It was not Miss Irene."

  "Oh, marster, it war," persisted Job.

  "I just left Miss Irene in the house."

  "But, marster, you is mistaken. I tell you it war her. I know for shua!"

  At this moment Irene's waiting-maid was crossing the lawn. Mr. Tompkinscalled to her:

  "Maggie, is your mistress in her room?"

  "No, sir, she went down the road about an hour ago."

  The planter fell back in his chair, as though he had been struck a blow,and buried his face in his hands, while the terrified maid hastened intothe house to spread the news.

  Mrs. Tompkins hurried out on the lawn, where half a dozen blacks hadalready gathered about their master.

  "Oh, what shall we do? what shall we do?" she cried, all her patrioticfervor swallowed up in terror. "Maggie run to her room and see if she isnot there."

  "No, missus, I have just been to see, an' she is gone."

  "Oh, my poor Irene! In the power of the mountain guerillas! What must bedone?"

  "Be calm, Camille," said the planter, "we will immediately plan apursuit and rescue her."

  The overseer aroused the neighbors, but it was quite dark before theyhad gathered on the lawn in front of the mansion.

  Twenty men, black and white, were chosen, and, with Mr. Tompkins attheir head, they went down the road into the dark forest.

  When morning dawned no trace of the missing girl had been found, and allthe day passed in fruitless search.

  The exhausted men were assembled in the road in front of Mr. Tompkins'house, arranging what should be done the next day, when down the hillcame a troop of Union scouts, headed by no less a personage than UncleDan himself.

  "Well, what's the matter here?" asked Uncle Dan in astonishment haltinghis party.

  Mr. Tompkins told him what had happened.

  "Thunder! Jehoshaphat! Ye don't say so?" were the frequent interjectionsof the old scout during the brief narration.

  "Well, if that don't beat all creation, you may call me a skunk," saidthe old man at the conclusion. "We chaps are jist after sich sorrycusses, as them what carried off the gal; but we are tired out, hevin'been in the saddle ever since daylight and two scrimmages throwed in;so, ye see, we'll have to camp for the night; but we'll have that galafore the sun circles this earth again."

  "There is plenty room for all in the house, and you are welcome to it,"said Mr. Tompkins.

  "We'd ruther hev yer barn," said Uncle Dan. "We don't care aboutsleeping in houses, seein' we don't seldom git to sleep in one, besideswe'd rather be near our hosses."

  The efficient aid of the old scout having been secured, Mr. Tompkins'party dispersed, and the scouts, forty-one in number, were soon in thebarn, their horses being stabled with quantities of corn and hay beforethem; then bright camp-fires were built in the barn-yard. The plantertold them to take whatever they required, and soldiers seldom need asecond hint of that kind. That night they fared sumptuously.

  This scouting party was under the immediate command of Uncle Dan. Theywere all experienced scouts, their rifles were of the very best make,and each was considered a marksman. Uncle Dan placed a careful guardabout the premises, and then, while all the men not on duty lay wrappedin their blankets sleeping quietly on the fresh, sweet hay, he sat bythe side of a smouldering camp-fire, under a large oak tree, smoking ashort black pipe and wrapped in thought.

  A hand was laid on his shoulder. Supposing it to be one of his men, heglanced up at the person by his side. His astonishment can better beimagined than described, when he recognized the mysterious black, whohad frustrated him in the woods during the retreat from Snagtown.

  That copper-face, the grizzled hair, the marvelous, bright, eyes, werenot to be mistaken. It was Yellow Steve.

  Uncle Dan's astonishment for a moment held him dumb. How could that manhave passed the line of pickets? Gaining his voice after a few moments,he said:

  "Well, I must say you are a bold 'un. I would like to know how youpassed the pickets?"

  "Pickets, sir?" said the stranger, seating himself by the camp-fireopposite the old scout, "are very useful on ordinary occasions, but Ihave spent the most of my life in hiding, in avoiding guards, in runningfor my life, and consequently have become very expert in the business."

  "Who are you, and what do you want?"

  "I am called Yellow Steve. You are to start to-morrow in search of theyoung lady who was abducted?"

  "How did you learn that? How did you learn that any lady was abducted?"

  "That, sir, is a part of my profession. I learn things by means whichordinary mortals would never dream of. I came here to give youinformation that will lead to the discovery of the young lady you are insearch of."

  "What do you know of her?" asked the old scout.

  "She is at the foot of the Twin Mountains, confined in the cabin you andCrazy Joe occupied for so many years. There is only ten men to guardher. She is there to-night. I saw her to-day when she saw me not. Whatis more, I know she will be there to-morrow. Then she is to be removedfrom there."

  "Are you laying a trap to catch us?" asked the old man sternly.

  "I am telling you heaven's own truth. Now I have performed my errand, Iwill go."

  Before the old scout could reply, the mysterious messenger rose andstole silently away in the darkness. He waited to hear the picketchallenge him, but no challenge came.