V
ON THE WILDERNESS ROAD
The pony fell back almost to his haunches before the boy could draw thereins. The two horses recoiled with equal suddenness and violence. Anunexpected encounter with the unknown in the darkness filled even thedumb brutes with alarm, and brute and human alike had reason to bealarmed; for this time and this place--stamped in blood onhistory--marked the very height and centre of the reign of terror on theWilderness Road.
The boy strained his terrified gaze through the dark, but he could seenothing except those vague, black forms of two horsemen, looming largeand threatening against the lurid glow of the furnace fires whichfaintly lit the forest. The men and their horses looked like monstrouscreatures, half human and half beast, both as silent and motionless ashimself. He felt that they also were listening and watching in tensewaiting as he waited and watched, hearing only the frightened panting ofthe horses and the faint rustle of the sable leaves overhead. And so allheld for an instant, which seemed endless, till a sudden gust of windswung the boughs and sent the glare of the furnace flames far and highthrough the forest. The vivid flash came and went like lightning, but itlasted long enough for the boy to recognize one of the black shapes.
"Father!" he cried. "Father Orin!"
"Bless my soul--it's young David!" exclaimed the priest.
There was as much relief in his tone as in the boy's, and he turnedhastily to the horseman at his side.
"Doctor, this is a young friend of mine--a member of Judge Knox'sfamily. You have heard of the judge. And, David, this is Doctor Colbert.You, no doubt, have heard of him."
David murmured something. He had never before been introduced to anyone; and had never before been so acutely conscious that he had nosurname. The doctor sent his horse forward, coming close to the pony'sside. He held out his hand--as David felt rather than saw--and he tookthe boy's hand in a warm, kind clasp. It was the first time that a manhad given David his hand as one frank, earnest, fearless man gives it toanother--but never to a woman, and rarely to a boy. David did not knowwhat it was that he felt as their hands met in the darkness, but he knewthat the touch was like balm to his bruised pride, which had been achingso sorely throughout the lonely ride. Father Orin now rode nearer onthe other side, and although no more than the dimmest outline of anyobject could be seen, the boy saw that the priest continued to turn hishead and cast backward glances into the dark forest. When he spoke, itwas in a low tone, strangely guarded and serious for him, who was alwaysas outspoken and light-hearted as though his hard life of toil andself-sacrifice had been the most thoughtless and happiest play.
"But how does it happen that you are here, my son?" he asked, almost ina whisper. "I can't understand the judge's allowing it. Can it bepossible that he has sent you--on business? Why--! A man isn't safe onthis part of the Wilderness Road at night, and hardly at midday, alone.For a child like you--"
There it was again, like a blow on a bruise! The boy instantly sathigher in the saddle, trying to look as tall as he could, and forgettingthat no one could see. And replying hastily in his deepest, most manlyvoice, he said scornfully, that there was nothing to be afraid of withhis rifle across the saddle-bow, declaring proudly that he knew how todeal with wild beasts, should any cross his path. As for the Indians, hescoffed at the idea; there were none in that country, and never had beenany thereabouts, except as they came and went over the Shawnee Crossing.
"But you are mistaken; the Meek boys--James and Charles--were killedonly a few weeks ago, just across the river," said the priest. "Andthey were better able to take care of themselves than you are, my child.Come, you must turn back with us. We cannot go with you, and we must notallow you to go on alone."
Saying this, Father Orin turned his horse and moved forward. David madeno movement to follow. Tightening the reins on the pony's neck, he didnot try to turn him. Something in the stiff lines of the boy's darkfigure told the doctor part of the truth. He broke in quickly, speakingnot as a man speaks to a child, but as one man to another.
"There are worse things than wild beasts or Indians to be met on theWilderness Road," he said. "And the strongest and the bravest arehelpless against a stab in the back, or a trap in the dark."
David felt a sudden wish to see the speaker's face. He longed to see howa man looked who had a voice like that. It stirred him, and yet soothedhim at the same time. Every tone of it rang clear and true, like a bellof purest metal. All who heard it felt the strength that itsounded--strength of body and mind and heart and spirit.
David fell under its influence at once. He was turning the pony's headwhen Father Orin in his anxiety erred again.
"I am surprised at the judge," the priest said. "This isn't likehim--forgetful as he is about most things. And what are you here for, myson? Where were you going?"
"The judge has nothing to do with my coming to-night. He merely told meto take this money--"
"Hush! Hush!" cried the two men in a breath. At the instant they pressedcloser to the boy's side, as if the same instinct of protection movedthem both at the same moment. "Come on! Let's ride faster," they saidtogether. "It is not so dark or so dangerous in the buffalo track."
The pony, turning suddenly, pressed forward with the other horses, moreof his own accord than with his rider's consent, and gallantly kept hisplace between them, although they were soon going at the top of theirspeed. Nothing more was said for several minutes, and then the doctorspoke to the boy.
"You will give us the pleasure of your company all the way, I trust,sir," he said ceremoniously, and as no one ever had spoken to David. "Itis a long, lonesome ride, and my home is still farther off than yours."
David murmured a pleased, bashful assent. They had now reached thebuffalo track, which was not wide enough for the three to ride abreast.It was therefore necessary for them to fall into single file, and Davidmanaged to get the lead. This made him feel better, and more of a man,for the darkness was still deep, and the black boughs overhead stillhung low and heavy. Neither of the horsemen spoke again for a long timeafter entering upon the buffalo track. Once more the only sound was thesteady, muffled beating of the horses' swiftly moving feet. The two menwere buried in their own thoughts of duties and aims far beyond theboy's understanding, and he was not thinking of these silent companionsby his side--he was scarcely thinking at all; he was merely feeling. Hewas held under a spell, dumb and breathless, enchanted by the mystery ofthe wilderness at night.
It was so black, so beautiful, so terrible, so soundless, so motionless,so unfathomable. There was no moon. The few pale stars glimmered dimlyfar above the dark arches of the trees. No bird moved among the sablebranches, or even twittered in its sleep as if disturbed by the light,swift passing of the shadowy horsemen. No wild animal stirred in hisuneasy rest or even breathed less deeply in his hunting dreams, at theflitting of the shadows across his hidden lair.
The mystery, the beauty, and the terror went beyond the black border ofthe forest. Out in the open and over the clearing, the mists from theswamp mingling with the darkness gave everything a look of fantasticunreality yet wilder than it had worn earlier in the night. Denseearth-clouds were thus massed about the base of Anvil Rock. Itsblackened peak loomed through the clouds,--a strange, wild sight,apparently belonging neither to earth or to heaven. But far beyond andabove was a stranger, wilder sight still; the strangest and wildest ofall; one of the strangest and wildest, surely, that human eyes everrested upon.
There across the northern sky sped the great comet. Come, none ever knewwhence, and speeding none ever knew whither, it reached on thatnight--on this fifteenth of October--the summit of its swift, awful,arching flight. It was now at the greatest of its terrible splendor andappalling beauty. It was now at the very height of its boundlessinfluence over the hopes and fears of the superstitious, romantic,emotional, poetic race which was struggling to people the wilderness. Asit thus burst upon the vision of the three horsemen, each felt its powerin his own way,--the man of faith, the man of science, and the fanci
fulboy,--each was differently but deeply moved. The men looked at the cometas the wise and learned of the earth look at the marvels of anotherworld. The boy gazed quiveringly, like a harp struck by a powerful hand.He strove to cast his fancies aside, and to remember what he had heardbefore the comet had become visible to this country. He tried vainly torecall the talk about it--not the idle and foolish superstitions whichMiss Penelope had mentioned, and which all the common peoplebelieved--but the scientific facts so far as they were known. Yet evenhis imagination failed to realize that this flaming head, with itsstrange halo of darkness, and its horrible hair of livid green light,was four million times greater than the earth; or that its luminousveil--woven of star-dust so fine that other stars shonethrough--streamed across one hundred million of miles, thick strewn withother stars.
"Listen!" cried the doctor. "Hear that!" A distant roaring, like theoncoming of a sudden storm, rolled upward from the mists and darknesslying thicker around the swamp.
"There it is again!" Doctor Colbert went on, as if he had been waitingand listening for the sound. "There must be great excitement at thecamp-meeting on this last night. Does it still interest you, Father? Itdoes me, intensely. This is not the usual peculiar excitement whichseems to belong to a crowd, though that, too, is always curious,mysterious, and interesting. We all know well enough that for someunknown reason a crowd will do wild, strange, and foolish things, whichthe individuals composing it would never be guilty of alone. But this issomething entirely different and still more curious and mysterious.Those people down yonder keep this up by themselves when they arealone--it attacks some of them before they have ever seen one of themeetings. It is certainly the strangest phenomenon of its kind that theworld ever saw. It never loses its painful fascination for me. I can'tpass it by. How is it with you?"
The priest hesitated before replying. "Any form of faith--the crudest,the most absurd that any soul ever staked its salvation upon--mustalways be the most interesting subject in the world to every thinkingmind."
"It seems so to me," the doctor replied. "And I assure you that there isno irreverence in the scientific curiosity which I feel in thisextraordinary epidemic of religious frenzy; for it is certainlysomething of that sort. It is unmistakably contagious. I have becomemore and more certain of that as I have watched the poor wretches whoare shrieking down yonder. It is a mental and moral epidemic, and sohighly contagious that it has swept the whole state, till it now sweepsthe remotest corner of the wilderness. And it seems to have originatedin Kentucky. It is something peculiarly our own."
"Yes," said Father Orin, "Kentucky is the pioneer in religion, as wellas politics, for the whole West. But my church came first," he addedwith a chuckle. "Remember that! The Catholics always lead the way andclear up the brush, with the Methodists following close behind. I got alittle the start of brother Peter Cartwright; but that was my good luck,and not any lack of zeal on his part. And I've got to stir my stumps tokeep ahead of him, I can tell you."
"He is down there at the meeting to-night, no doubt. He is its leadingspirit. I should like to know what he really thinks of it all. He is bynature a wonderfully intelligent young fellow. And what do you reallythink of it, Father?" the doctor pressed. "Is this the same thing thathas come down the ages? Is it the same that we find in the Bible--makinggreat men and wise ones do such wild things? Is it the same that made adignified gentleman, like David, dance--as those fanatics are doing downthere--till he became a laughing-stock? Is it the same that made asensible man like Saul join his faith to a witch and believe that he sawvisions? And then, just remember the scandalous capers--even worse thanthe others--that the decent Jeremiah cut."
"Tut! Tut! Tut!" exclaimed the priest, in a voice that betrayed a smile."Those were holy men, my young friend. I cannot allow them to be laughedat."
"Oh, come now, Father, be honest," said the doctor, laughing aloud, butadding quickly in a serious tone: "I am quite in earnest. What do youmake of it all? I should greatly like to have your opinion. Is thereanything in the science of your profession to explain it? There isn't inmine. The more of it I see, and the longer I study it, the farther I amfrom finding its source, its cause, and its real character. There! Justhear that!"
"Well, well," said Father Orin, with a sigh of evasion, "if you aregoing on to the camp-meeting, Toby and I will have to leave you here. Wehave a sick call 'way over on the Eagle Creek flats. And it's a ticklishbusiness, going over there in the dark, isn't it, old man?" he said,patting his big gray horse. "The last time we went in the night the limbof a tree, that I couldn't see, dragged me from the saddle." He laughedas if this were a joke on Toby or himself, or both. "But Toby is abetter swimmer than I am. He's better at a good many things. He got meout all right that time and a good many other times. He always does hispart of our duty, and never lets me shirk mine, if he can help it. Well,then, we must be moving along, Toby, old man." He turned suddenly to theboy. "Will you go with me, David? My way passes close to Cedar House."
"Perhaps, sir, you would like to go on to the meeting," said the doctorto David. "It would give me pleasure to have you with me--if you preferto go with me. Afterward we can ride home together. My cabin is not farbeyond Cedar House."
After a little more talk it was decided that the boy should go with thedoctor, and the priest bade them both a cheerful good night.
"Now, Toby, we must be putting in our best licks. If you don't look out,old man, we will be getting into idle ways. Keep us up to themark--right up to the mark, old man!"
And so, talking to Toby, and chuckling as if Toby made telling replies,the good man and his good horse vanished in the earth-clouds round AnvilRock. But the doctor and the boy sat their horses in motionless silence,listening to the kind, merry voice and the faithful beat, beat, of thesteady feet, till both gradually died away behind the night's heavyblack curtain.
Round Anvil Rock: A Romance Page 5