The Sins of the Father: A Romance of the South

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER V

  THE RESCUE

  Cleo hurried to the house, delivered the message, rocked the baby to sleepand quietly slipped through the lawn into the street and back to the jail.

  A single guard kept watch at the door. She saw him by a flash of moonlightand then passed so close she could have touched the long old-fashionedmusket he carried loosely across his shoulder.

  The cat-like tread left no echo and she took her stand in the underbrushthat had pushed its way closer and closer until its branches touched therear walls of the jail. For two hours she stood amid the shadows, her keenyoung ears listening and her piercing eyes watching. Again and again shecounted the steps the sentinel made as he walked back and forth in front ofthe entrance to the jail.

  She knew from the sound that he passed the corner of the building for threesteps in full view from her position, could she but see him through thedarkness. Twice she had caught a glimpse of his stupid face as the moonflashed a moment of light through a rift of clouds.

  "The Lord help that idiot," she muttered, "if the major's men want to passhim to-night!"

  She turned with a sharp start. The bushes softly parted behind her and astealthy step drew near. Her heart stood still. She was afraid to breathe.They wouldn't hurt her if they only knew she was the major's friend. But ifthey found and recognized her as old Peeler's half-breed daughter, theymight kill her on the spot as a spy.

  She hadn't thought of this terrible possibility before. It was too late nowto think. To run meant almost certain death. She flattened her figureagainst the wall of the jail and drew the underbrush close completelycovering her form.

  She stood motionless and as near breathless as possible until the two menwho were approaching a step at a time had passed. At the corner of the jailthey stopped within three feet of her. She could hear every word of theirconference.

  "Now, Mac, do as I tell you," a voice whispered. "Jump on him from behindas he passes the corner and get him in the gills."

  "I understand."

  "Choke him stiff until I get something in his mouth."

  "Ah, it's too easy. I'd like a little excitement."

  "We'll get it before morning----"

  "Sh! what's that?"

  "I didn't hear anything!"

  "Something moved."

  A bush had slipped from Cleo's hand. She gripped the others withdesperation. Ten minutes passed amid a death-like silence. A hundred timesshe imagined the hand of one of these men feeling for her throat. At lastshe drew a deep breath.

  The men began to move step by step toward the doomed sentinel. They werestanding beside the front corner of the jail now waiting panther-like fortheir prey. They allowed him to pass twice. He stopped at the end of hisbeat, blew his nose and spoke to himself:

  "God, what a lonely night!"

  The girl heard him turn, his feet measure three steps on his return andstop with a dull thud. She couldn't see, but she could feel through thedarkness the grip of those terrible fingers on his throat. The only soundmade was the dull thud of his body on the wet ground.

  In two minutes they had carried him into the shadows of a big china tree inthe rear and tied him to the trunk. She could hear their sharp order:

  "Break those cords now or dare to open your mouth and, no matter whathappens, we'll kill you first--just for luck."

  In ten minutes they had reported the success of their work to theircomrades who were waiting and the men who had been picked for theirdangerous task surrounded the jail and slowly took up their appointedplaces in the shadows.

  The attacking group stopped for their final instructions not five feet fromthe girl's position. A flash of moonlight and she saw them--six grim whiteand scarlet figures wearing spiked helmets from which fell a cloth mask totheir shoulders. Their big revolvers were buckled on the outside of theirdisguises and each man's hand rested on the handle.

  One of them quietly slipped his robe from his shoulders, removed hishelmet, put on the sentinel's coat and cap, seized his musket and walked tothe door of the jail.

  She heard him drop the butt of the gun on the flagstone at the steps andcall:

  "Hello, jailer!"

  Some one stirred inside. It was not yet one o'clock and the jailer who hadbeen to a drinking bout with the soldiers had not gone to bed. In his shirtsleeves he thrust his head out the door:

  "Who is it?"

  "The guard, sir."

  "Well, what the devil do you want?"

  "Can't ye gimme a drink of somethin'? I'm soaked through and I've caughtcold----"

  "All right, in a minute," was the gruff reply.

  The girl could hear the soft tread of the shrouded figures closing in onthe front door. A moment more and it opened. The voice inside said:

  "Here you are!"

  The words had scarcely passed his lips, and there was another dull crash. Adozen masked Clansmen hurled themselves into the doorway and rushed overthe prostrate form of the half-drunken jailer. He was too frightened tocall for help. He lay with his face downward, begging for his life.

  It was the work of a minute to take the keys from his trembling fingers,bind and gag him, and release Norton. The whole thing had been done soquietly not even a dog had barked at the disturbance.

  Again they stopped within a few feet of the trembling figure against thewall. The editor had now put on his disguise and stood in the centre of thegroup giving his orders as quietly as though he were talking to hisprinters about the form of his paper.

  "Quick now, Mac," she heard him say, "we've not a moment to lose. I wanttwo pieces of scantling strong enough for a hangman's beam. Push one ofthem out of the center window of the north end of the Capitol building,the other from the south end. We'll hang the little Scalawag on the southside and the Carpetbagger on the north. We'll give them this grim touch ofpoetry at the end. Your ropes have ready swinging from these beams. Keepyour men on guard there until I come."

  "All right, sir!" came the quick response.

  "My hundred picked men are waiting?"

  "On the turnpike at the first branch----"

  "Good! The Governor is spending the night at Schlitz's place, three milesout. He has been afraid to sleep at home of late, I hear. We'll give thelittle man and his pal a royal escort for once as they approach theCapitol--expect us within an hour."

  A moment and they were gone. The girl staggered from her cramped positionand flew to the house. She couldn't understand it all, but she realizedthat if the Governor were killed it meant possible ruin for the man she hadmarked her own.

  A light was still burning in the mother's room. She had been nervous andrestless and couldn't sleep. She heard the girl's swift, excited step onthe stairway and rushed to the door:

  "What is it? What has happened?"

  Cleo paused for breath and gasped:

  "They've broken the jail open and he's gone with the Ku Klux to kill theGovernor!"

  "To kill the Governor?"

  "Yessum. He's got a hundred men waiting out on the turnpike and they'regoing to hang the Governor from one of the Capitol windows!"

  The wife caught the girl by the shoulders and cried:

  "Who told you this?"

  "Nobody. I saw them. I was passing the jail, heard a noise and went closein the dark. I heard the major give the orders to the men."

  "Oh, my God!" the little mother groaned. "And they are going straight tothe Governor's mansion?"

  "No--no--he said the Governor's out at Schlitz's place, spending the night.They're going to kill him, too----"

  "Then there's time to stop them--quick--can you hitch a horse?"

  "Yessum!"

  "Run to the stable, hitch my horse to the buggy and take a note I'll writeto my grandfather, old Governor Carteret--you know where his place is--thebig red brick house at the edge of town?"

  "Yessum----"

  "His street leads into the turnpike--quick now--the horse and buggy!"

  The strong young body sprang down the steps three and four rounds
at a leapand in five minutes the crunch of swift wheels on the gravel walk washeard.

  She sprang up the stairs, took the note from the frail, trembling littlehand and bounded out of the house again.

  The clouds had passed and the moon was shining now in silent splendor onthe sparkling refreshed trees and shrubbery. The girl was an expert inhandling a horse. Old Peeler had at least taught her that. In five moreminutes from the time she had left the house she was knocking furiously atthe old Governor's door. He was eighty-four, but a man of extraordinaryvigor for his age.

  He came to the door alone in his night-dress, candle in hand, scowling atthe unseemly interruption of his rest.

  "What is it?" he cried with impatience.

  "A note from Mrs. Norton."

  At the mention of her name the fine old face softened and then his eyesflashed:

  "She is ill?"

  "No, sir--but she wants you to help her."

  He took the note, placed the candle on the old-fashioned mahogany table inhis hall, returned to his room for his glasses, adjusted them withdeliberation and read its startling message.

  He spoke without looking up:

  "You know the road to Schlitz's house?"

  "Yes, sir, every foot of it."

  "I'll be ready in ten minutes."

  "We've no time to lose--you'd better hurry," the girl said nervously.

  The old man lifted his eyebrows:

  "I will. But an ex-Governor of the state can't rush to meet the presentGovernor in his shirt-tail--now, can he?"

  Cleo laughed:

  "No, sir."

  The thin, sprightly figure moved quickly in spite of the eighty-four yearsand in less than ten minutes he was seated beside the girl and they wereflying over the turnpike toward the Schlitz place.

  "How long since those men left the jail?" the old Governor asked roughly.

  "About a half-hour, sir."

  "Give your horse the rein--we'll be too late, I'm afraid."

  The lines slacked over the spirited animal's back and he sprang forward asthough lashed by the insult to his high breeding.

  The sky was studded now with stars sparkling in the air cleared by therain, and the moon flooded the white roadway with light. The buggy flewover the beaten track for a mile, and as they suddenly plunged down a hillthe old man seized both sides of the canopy top to steady his body as thelight rig swayed first one way and then the other.

  "You're going pretty fast," he grumbled.

  "Yes, you said to give him the reins."

  "But I didn't say to throw them on the horse's head, did I?"

  "No, sir," the girl giggled.

  "Pull him in!" he ordered sharply.

  The strong young arms drew the horse suddenly down on his haunches and theold man lurched forward.

  "I didn't say pull him into the buggy," he growled.

  The girl suppressed another laugh. He was certainly a funny old man for allhis eighty odd winters. She thought that he must have been a young devil ateighteen.

  "Stop a minute!" he cried sharply. "What's that roaring?"

  Cleo listened:

  "The wind in the trees, I think."

  "Nothing of the sort--isn't this Buffalo creek?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "That's water we hear. The creek's out of banks. The storm has made theford impassable. They haven't crossed this place yet. We're in time."

  The horse lifted his head and neighed. Another answered from the woods andin a moment a white-masked figure galloped up to the buggy and spokesharply:

  "You can't cross this ford--turn back."

  "Are you one of Norton's men?" the old man asked angrily.

  "None of your damned business!" was the quick answer.

  "I think it is, sir! I'm Governor Carteret. My age and services to thisstate entitle me to a hearing to-night. Tell Major Norton I must speak tohim immediately--immediately, sir!" His voice rose to a high note ofimperious command.

  The horseman hesitated and galloped into the shadows. A moment later a tallshrouded figure on horseback slowly approached.

  "Cut your wheel," the old Governor said to the girl. He stepped from thebuggy without assistance. "Now turn round and wait for me." Cleo obeyed,and the venerable statesman with head erect, his white hair and beardshining in the moonlight calmly awaited the approach of the younger man.

  Norton dismounted and led his horse, the rein hanging loosely over his arm.

  "Well, Governor Carteret"--the drawling voice was low and quietlydetermined.

  The white-haired figure suddenly stiffened:

  "Don't insult me, sir, by talking through a mask--take that thing off yourhead."

  The major bowed and removed his mask.

  When the old man spoke again, his voice trembled with emotion, he steppedclose and seized Norton's arm:

  "My boy, have you gone mad?"

  "I think not," was the even answer. The deep brown eyes were holding theolder man's gaze with a cold, deadly look. "Were you ever arrested,Governor, by the henchmen of a peanut politician and thrown into a filthyjail without warrant and held without trial at the pleasure of a master?"

  "No--by the living God!"

  "And if you had been, sir?"

  "I'd have killed him as I would a dog--I'd have shot him on sight--butyou--you can't do this now, my boy--you carry the life of the people inyour hands to-night! You are their chosen leader. The peace and dignity ofa great commonwealth are in your care----"

  "I am asserting its outraged dignity against a wretch who has baselybetrayed it."

  "Even so, this is not the way. Think of the consequences to-morrow morning.The President will be forced against his wishes to declare the state ininsurrection. The army will be marched back into our borders and martiallaw proclaimed."

  "The state is under martial law--the _writ_ has been suspended."

  "But not legally, my boy. I know your provocation has been great--yes,greater than I could have borne in my day. I'll be honest with you, butyou've had better discipline, my son. I belong to the old regime and aniron will has been my only law. You must live in the new age under newconditions. You must adjust yourself to these conditions."

  "The man who calls himself Governor has betrayed his high trust," Nortonbroke in with solemn emphasis. "He has forfeited his life. The people whomhe has basely sold into bondage will applaud his execution. The Klanto-night is the high court of a sovereign state and his death has beenordered."

  "I insist there's a better way. Your Klan is a resistless weapon ifproperly used. You are a maniac to-night. You are pulling your own housedown over your head. The election is but a few weeks off. Use your men asan army to force this election. The ballot is force--physical force. Applythat force. Your men can master that rabble of negroes on election day.Drive them from the polls. They'll run like frightened sheep. Theirenfranchisement is a crime against civilization. Every sane man in theNorth knows this. No matter how violent your methods, an election thatreturns the intelligent and decent manhood of a state to power against acorrupt, ignorant and vicious mob will be backed at last by the moralsentiment of the world. There's a fiercer vengeance to be meted out to yourScalawag Governor----"

  "What do you mean?" the younger man asked.

  "Swing the power of your Klan in solid line against the ballot-box at thiselection, carry the state, elect your Legislature, impeach the Governor,remove him from office, deprive him of citizenship and send him to thegrave with the brand of shame on his forehead!"

  The leader lifted his somber face, and the older man saw that he washesitating:

  "That's possible--yes----"

  The white head moved closer:

  "The only rational thing to do, my boy--come, I love you and I love mygranddaughter. You've a great career before you. Don't throw your life awayto-night in a single act of madness. Listen to an old man whose sands arenearly run"--a trembling arm slipped around his waist.

  "I appreciate your coming here to-night, Governor, of course."

>   "But if I came in vain, why at all?" there were tears in his voice now."You must do as I say, my son--send those men home! I'll see the Governorto-morrow morning and I pledge you my word of honor that I'll make himrevoke that proclamation within an hour and restore the civil rights of thepeople. None of those arrests are legal and every man must be released."

  "He won't do it."

  "When he learns from my lips that I saved his dog's life to-night, he'll doit and lick my feet in gratitude. Won't you trust me, boy?"

  The pressure of the old man's arm tightened and his keen eyes searchedNorton's face. The strong features were convulsed with passion, he turnedaway and the firm mouth closed with decision:

  "All right. I'll take your advice."

  The old Governor was very still for a moment and his voice quivered withtenderness as he touched Norton's arm affectionately:

  "You're a good boy, Dan! I knew you'd hear me. God! how I envy you theyouth and strength that's yours to fight this battle!"

  The leader blew a whistle and his orderly galloped up:

  "Tell my men to go home and meet me to-morrow at one o'clock in the CourtHouse Square, in their everyday clothes, armed and ready for orders. I'lldismiss the guard I left at the Capitol."

  The white horseman wheeled and galloped away. Norton quietly removed hisdisguise, folded it neatly, took off his saddle, placed the robe betweenthe folds of the blanket and mounted his horse.

  The old Governor waved to him:

  "My love to the little mother and that boy, Tom, that you've named for me!"

  "Yes, Governor--good night."

  The tall figure on horseback melted into the shadows and in a moment thebuggy was spinning over the glistening, moonlit track of the turnpike.

  When they reached the first street lamps on the edge of town, the old manpeered curiously at the girl by his side.

  "You drive well, young woman," he said slowly. "Who taught you?"

  "Old Peeler."

  "You lived on his place?" he asked quickly.

  "Yes, sir."

  "What's your mother's name?"

  "Lucy."

  "Hm! I thought so."

  "Why, sir?"

  "Oh, nothing," was the gruff answer.

  "Did you--did you know any of my people, sir?" she asked.

  He looked her squarely in the face, smiled and pursed his withered lips:

  "Yes. I happen to be personally acquainted with your grandfather and he wassomething of a man in his day."

  "'You are a maniac to-night.'"]