by Bret Harte
you! Good-bye, Georgey. I heard themajor hint something about whiskey. They say that old pirate,Kingfisher Culpepper, had a stock of the real thing from RobertsonCounty laid in his shebang on the Marsh just before he died. Pity wearen't on terms with them, for the cubs cannot drink it, and might beinduced to sell. Shouldn't wonder, by the way, if your friendM'Caffrey was hanging round somewhere there; he always had a keenscent. You might confiscate it as an "incitement to desertion," youknow. The girl's pretty, and ought to be growing up now."
But haply at this point the sergeant stopped further raillery byreporting the detachment ready; and drawing his sword, Calvert, with aconfused head, a remorseful heart, but an unfaltering step, marched offhis men on his delicate mission.
It was four o'clock when he entered Jonesville. Following amatter-of-fact idea of his own, he had brought his men the greaterdistance by a circuitous route through the woods, thus avoiding theostentatious exposure of his party on the open bay in a well-mannedboat to an extended view from the three leagues of shore and marshopposite. Crossing the stream, which here separated him from theDedlow Marsh by the common ferry, he had thus been enabled to haltunperceived below the settlement and occupy the two roads by which thefugitives could escape inland. He had deemed it not impossible that,after the previous visit of the sergeant, the deserters hidden in thevicinity might return to Jonesville in the belief that the visit wouldnot be repeated so soon. Leaving a part of his small force to patrolthe road and another to deploy over the upland meadows, he entered thevillage. By the exercise of some boyish diplomacy and a certainprepossessing grace, which he knew when and how to employ, he becamesatisfied that the objects of his quest were not THERE--however, theirwhereabouts might have been known to the people. Dividing his partyagain, he concluded to take a corporal and a few men and explore thelower marshes himself.
The preoccupation of duty, exercise, and perhaps, above all, the keenstimulus of the iodine-laden salt air seemed to clear his mind andinvigorate his body. He had never been in the Marsh before, andenjoyed its novelty with the zest of youth. It was the hour when thetide of its feathered life was at its flood. Clouds of duck and tealpassing from the fresh water of the river to the salt pools of themarshes perpetually swept his path with flying shadows; at times itseemed as if even the uncertain ground around him itself arose and spedaway on dusky wings. The vicinity of hidden pools and sloughs wasbetrayed by startled splashings; a few paces from their marching feetarose the sunlit pinions of a swan. The air was filled withmultitudinous small cries and pipings. In this vocal confusion it wassome minutes before he recognized the voice of one of his out-flankerscalling to the other.
An important discovery had been made. In a long tongue of bushes thatran down to the Marsh they had found a mud-stained uniform, completeeven to the cap, bearing the initial of the deserter's company.
"Is there any hut or cabin hereabouts, Schmidt?" asked Calvert.
"Dot vos schoost it, Lefdennun," replied his corporal. "Dot vos deshanty from der Kingvisher--old Gulbebber. I pet a dollar, pyshimminy, dot der men haf der gekommt."
He pointed through the brake to a long, low building that now raiseditself, white in the sunlight, above the many blackened piles. Calvertsaw in a single reconnoitring glance that it had but one approach--theflight of steps from the Marsh. Instructing his men to fall in on theouter edge of the brake and await his orders, he quickly made his wayacross the space and ascended the steps. Passing along the gallery heknocked at the front door. There was no response. He repeated hisknock. Then the window beside it opened suddenly, and he wasconfronted with the double-muzzle of a long ducking-gun. Glancinginstinctively along the barrels, he saw at their other extremity thebright eyes, brilliant color, and small set mouth of a remarkablyhandsome girl. It was the fact, and to the credit of his training,that he paid more attention to the eyes than to the challenge of theshining tubes before him.
"Jest stop where you are--will you!" said the girl determinedly.
Calvert's face betrayed not the slightest terror or surprise. Immovableas on parade, he carried his white gloved hand to his cap, and saidgently, "With pleasure."
"Oh yes," said the girl quickly; "but if you move a step I'll jest blowyou and your gloves offer that railin' inter the Marsh."
"I trust not," returned Calvert, smiling.
"And why?"
"Because it would deprive me of the pleasure of a few moments'conversation with you--and I've only one pair of gloves with me."
He was still watching her beautiful eyes--respectfully, admiringly, andstrategically. For he was quite convinced that if he DID move shewould certainly discharge one or both barrels at him.
"Where's the rest of you?" she continued sharply.
"About three hundred yards away, in the covert, not near enough totrouble you."
"Will they come here?"
"I trust not."
"You trust not?" she repeated scornfully. "Why?
"Because they would be disobeying orders."
She lowered her gun slightly, but kept her black brows levelled at him."I reckon I'm a match for YOU," she said, with a slightly contemptuousglance at his slight figure, and opened the door. For a moment theystood looking at each other. He saw, besides the handsome face andeyes that had charmed him, a tall slim figure, made broader across theshoulders by an open pea-jacket that showed a man's red flannel shirtbelted at the waist over a blue skirt, with the collar knotted by asailor's black handkerchief, and turned back over a pretty thoughsunburnt throat. She saw a rather undersized young fellow in a jauntyundress uniform, scant of gold braid, and bearing only the single goldshoulder-bars of his rank, but scrupulously neat and well fitting.Light-colored hair cropped close, the smallest of light moustaches,clear and penetrating blue eyes, and a few freckles completed a picturethat did not prepossess her. She was therefore the more inclined toresent the perfect ease and self-possession with which the strangercarried off these manifest defects before her.
She laid aside the gun, put her hands deep in the pockets of herpea-jacket, and, slightly squaring her shoulders, said curtly, "What doyou want?"
"A very little information, which I trust it will not trouble you togive me. My men have just discovered the uniform belonging to adeserter from the Fort lying in the bushes yonder. Can you give me theslightest idea how it came there?"
"What right have you trapseing over our property?" she said, turningupon him sharply, with a slight paling of color.
"None whatever."
"Then what did you come for?"
"To ask that permission, in case you would give me no information."
"Why don't you ask my brother, and not a woman? Were you afraid?"
"He could hardly have done me the honor of placing me in more perilthan you have," returned Calvert, smiling. "Then I have the pleasureof addressing Miss Culpepper?"
"I'm Jim Culpepper's sister."
"And, I believe, equally able to give or refuse the permission I ask."
"And what if I refuse?"
"Then I have only to ask pardon for having troubled you, go back, andreturn here with the tide. You don't resist THAT with a shotgun, doyou?" he asked pleasantly.
Maggie Culpepper was already familiar with the accepted theory of thesupreme jurisdiction of the Federal Sea. She half turned her back uponhim, partly to show her contempt, but partly to evade the domination ofhis clear, good-humored, and self-sustained little eyes.
"I don't know anythin' about your deserters, nor what rags o' theirshappen to be floated up here," she said, angrily, "and don't care to.You kin do what you like."
"Then I'm afraid I should remain here a little longer, Miss Culpepper;but my duty"--
"Your wot?" she interrupted, disdainfully.
"I suppose I AM talking shop," he said smilingly. "Then my business"--
"Your business--pickin' up half-starved runaways!"
"And, I trust, sometimes a kind friend," he suggested, with a grave bow.
"You TRUST? Look yer, young man," she said, with her quick, fierce,little laugh, "I reckon you TRUST a heap too much!" She would like tohave added, "with your freckled face, red hair, and little eyes"--butthis would have obliged her to face them again, which she did not careto do.
Calvert stepped back, lifted his hand to his cap, still pleasantly, andthen walked gravely along the gallery, down the steps, and towards thecover. From her window, unseen, she followed his neat little figuremoving undeviatingly on, without looking to the left or right, andstill less towards the house he had just quitted. Then she saw thesunlight flash on cross-belt plates and steel