This, taken in connection with his lolling, awkward gait, and rather excessive expression of simplicity and easy temper, disposed these harsh, rude men, very greatly to sneer at him as a soft fellow, who could be run over with impunity. They even bullied him with taunts—but Jack looked like such a formidable customer to be taken hold of that no one of them felt disposed to push him too far and risk being made, individually, the subject of a display of the strength indicated in the great size of his body and limbs. He was upward of six feet four in height, with shoulders like the buttresses of a tower, a small head, and other proportions developed in fine symmetry. Indeed,—but for a slight inclination to corpulency, and that sluggishness of manner we have spoken of, which made him seem too lazy even to undertake the feat—he looked just the man who could take a buffalo bull by the horns amidst his bellowing peers, and bring him to the ground with all his shaggy bulk.
Finding they could not tempt him to a personal fray, they changed the note and by every sort of cajolery endeavored to enlist the remarkable physical energy and skill he was conjectured to possess in the service of their schemes of brutal violence. But Jack waived all sort of participation in them with a smiling and unvarying good-humor, which, although it enraged the baffled ruffians, gave them no possible excuse for provocation. They would not have regarded this, but there was still less invitation in that formidable person and long rifle; and somehow or other they had an undefined sense that the man was not “at himself,” as the phrase goes in the West—that he had not yet been roused to a consciousness of his own energies and capabilities, and they were, without acknowledging it, a little averse to waking him.
They finally gave him up, therefore, and Jack might have been left in peace to love Molly and the children as hard as he pleased, and indulge his passion for marksmanship only at the expense of the dumb, wild things around him, but that he was led to make an unfortunate display of it.
A few log huts near the centre, constituted the county town. Here was the grocery or store as it was dignified—at which alone powder and lead and whiskey were to be obtained for many miles around. Jack happened to get out of ammunition, and came into this place for a supply. Attracted by the whiskey, this was the headquarters of the Regulators, and they were all collected for a grand shooting-match, and of course getting drunk as fast as possible, to steady their nerves.
When Jack arrived, he found them gathered in a group under a cluster of trees, several hundred yards from the house. It had been some time since there had been any altercation between any of them and himself and though he supposed it was all forgotten, yet he felt some little disinclination to joining them and had resolved not to do it. But as once, and again and again, that sharp report he loved so well to hear, would ring out, followed by the clamors, exclamations and eager grouping of the men around the target, to critically examine the result of each shot, his passion for the sport, and curiosity to see how others shot, overcame a half-defined feeling that he was going to do what, for Molly’s sake, was an imprudent thing.
Hinch, the Regulator captain, had always been the unrivalled hero of such occasions; for, apart from the fact that he was really an admirable shot, he was known to be so fierce, blustering and vindictive a bully, that nobody dared try very hard to beat him, since he would be sure to make a personal affair of it with whoever presumed to be so lucky or so skillful. Now, everybody in the county was aware of this but Jack, and he was either not aware, or did not care for the matter, if he did know it. He knew, though, that Hinch was a famous shot; and noticing that he was preparing to shoot, started to join them, determined to see for himself what they called good shooting.
He came swinging himself carelessly among them, with long, heavy strides, as they were all vociferating in half-drunken raptures over the glorious shot just made by Hinch—and he, in his customary manner, was swearing and raving at every one around him, and taunting them with their bungling, and defying them to try again.
Observing Jack, he jerked the target away, and with a loud, grating laugh, thrust it, insultingly, close to his face.
“Hah! Jack Long-legs! They say you can shoot! Look at that! Look close, will you?” pushing it close to his eyes. “Can you beat it?”
Jack stepped back, and looking deliberately at the target, said very drily—
“Pshaw! The cross ain’t clean out! I shouldn’t think I was doin’ any great things to beat such shootin’ as that!”
“You shouldn’t, shouldn’t you?” roared Hinch, furious at Jack’s coolness. “You’ll try it, wont you? I’d like to see you! You must try it! You shall try it! We’ll see what sort of a swell you are!”
“Oh!” said Jack, altogether unruffled, “If I must, I must! Put up his board thar, men. If you want to see me shoot through every hole you can make, I’ll do it for ye!”
And walking back to the “off-hand” stand at forty paces, by the time the “markers” had placed the board against the tree, he had wheeled, and, slowly swinging his long rifle down from his shoulders to the level, fired as quick as thought.
“It’s fun of mine!” remarked he, nodding his head towards Hinch, who stood near, while he was lowering his gun to the position for reloading. “It’s a trick I caught from always shooting the varmints’ eyes! I never takes ’em anywhar else! It’s a way I’ve got!”
At this moment the men standing near the target, who had rushed instantly with great eagerness to see the result, shouted, while one of the “markers” held it aloft—“He’s done it! His ball is the biggest—he’s driv it through your hole and made it wider!”
Hinch turned pale. Rushing forward he tore the target away from the “marker” and examining it minutely, shouted hoarsely—
“It’s an accident! He can’t do it again ! He’s a humbug! I’ll bet the ears of a buffalo calf agin his that he can’t do it agin! He’s afraid to shoot with me agin!”
“Oh!” said Jack, winking aside at the men, “If you mean by that bet, your ears against mine, I’ll take it up! Boys, fit a new board up thar, with a nice cross in the centre, and I will show the Captain here, the clean thing in shootin’!”
As he said this he laughed good-humoredly, and the men could not help joining him.
Hinch, who was loading his gun, said nothing; but glared around with white compressed lips and a chafed look of stifled fury, which made those who knew the man shudder. The men, who were in reality puzzled to tell whether Jack’s manner indicated contempt or unconscious simplicity, looked on the progress of this scene, and for the result of the coming trial, with intense curiosity.
The new board was now ready, and Hinch stepped forward with great parade to make his shot. After aiming a long time—he fired. The men were around the board in a moment, and instantly proclaimed a first-rate shot. And so it was. The edge of the ball had broken without touching the centre. Jack, with the same inexplicable coolness which marked his whole bearing, and without the slightest hesitation, shaking his head as he took his stand, remarked—
“’Twon’t do yet—’taint plumb—’taint the clean thing yet, boys;” and throwing out his long rifle again in the same heedless style, fired before one could think. The men sprang forward and announced that the centre was cut out with the most exact and perfect nicety. At the same moment, and greatly to the astonishment of every one, Jack walked deliberately off towards the store, without waiting to hear the announcement.
“Hah!” shouted Hinch furiously, after him, “I thought you was a coward! Look at the sneak! Come back!” He fairly roared, starting after him, “Come back, you can’t shoot as well before a muzzle.”
Jack walked on without turning his head, while the Regulator, almost convulsed with fury, shouted, “Ha! Ha! See, the coward is running away to hide under his wife’s petticoats!” and long and loud he pealed the harsh taunt after Jack’s retreat.
The men, who at first had been
greatly astonished at the rash daring which could thus have ventured to beard the lion in his most formidable mood, and felt the instinctive admiration with which such traits always inspire such breasts, now, on seeing what appeared so palpable a “back-out,” joined also in the laugh with Hinch.
They thought it was cowardice! A holy sentiment they could not understand kept watch and ward over the terrible repose of passion. If they only could have seen how that broad massive face was wrenched and grew white with the deep inward spasm of pride struggling for the mastery, as those gibes, hard to be borne by a free hunter, rung upon his ears, they would have taken warning to beware how they farther molested that slumber of fierce energies.
The strong man in reality had never been waked. His consciousness was aware only of a single passion, and that controlled and curbed all others. The image of his wife and children rose above the swelling tumult, which shook his heavy frame. He saw them deserted and helpless, with no protection in this wild and lawless region, should he fall in a struggle with such fearful odds. For all these men were the willing slaves, the abject tools, of the ferocious vices of his brutal insulter; and it would have been a contest, not with him alone, but with all of them. This was stronger than pride with Jack, and he walked on.
But he had incurred the hate of Hinch—relentless and unsparing. To be shorn in so unceremonious a manner of the very reputation he prided himself most upon, in the presence of his men; to be deprived of so fruitful a theme of self-glorification and boasting as the reputation of being the foremost marksman the frontier afforded, was too much for the pride of the thick-blooded, malignant savage; and he swore to dog the inoffensive hunter to the death, or out of the county.
From this time, the even tenor of Jack’s simple, happy life was destroyed, and indignity and outrage followed each other fast.
Shortly after, a horse was stolen from a rich and powerful Planter in the neighborhood of the town. The animal was a fine one, and the Planter was greatly enraged at the loss; for he was one of those who paid “blackmail” to the Regulators for protection from all such annoyances,—immunity from depredations not only by themselves, but from any other quarter. He now called upon them to hunt down the thief, as they were bound under the contract to do, and return the horse.
Hinch collected his band with great parade, and proceeded to follow the trail, which was readily discoverable, near the planter’s house.
Late in the evening he returned and answered, that after tracing it with great difficulty through many devious windings, evidently intended to puzzle pursuit, he had at last been led directly to the near vicinity of Jack Long’s hut. This created much surprise, for no one had suspected Jack of bad habits. But Hinch and his villains bruited far and wide all the circumstances tending to criminate him. After making these things as notorious as possible, attracting as great a degree of public curiosity as he could to the further investigation, which he professed to be carrying on for the purpose of fixing the hunter’s guilt beyond a doubt, the horse was found tied with a lariat to a tree, in a dense bottom near Jack’s hut.
This seemed to settle the question of his criminality, and a general outcry was raised against him on every side. For, though the majority of those most clamorous against him were horse thieves themselves, yet, according to the doctrine of “honor among thieves,” there could be no greater or more unpardonable enormity committed, than that of stealing among themselves.
“He must be warned to quit the county,” was in the mouth of everybody and accordingly he was privately warned. Jack, with great simplicity, gave them to understand, that he was not ready to go, and that when he was, he should leave at his leisure; but that if his convenience and theirs did not agree, they might make the most of it. This left no alternative but force; and yet no individual felt disposed to take the personal responsibility upon himself of a collision with so unpromising a person; and even Hinch, eager as he was, did not feel that the circumstances were quite strong enough to justify the extremes to which he intended pushing his vengeance.
Singular instances of the most vile and wanton spite now began to occur in various parts of the region around. At quick intervals, valuable horses and mules were found shot dead close to the dwellings of the Planters, as it seemed, without the slightest provocation for such unheard-of cruelty. The rumor soon got out that all these animals might be observed to belong to those persons who had made themselves most active in denouncing Jack Long. Then was noticed the curious fact, that all of them were shot through the eye! This was at once associated with the memorable remark of Jack, and his odd feat of firing through a bullet hole at the shooting-match. This seemed to designate him certainly as the guilty man; and as animal after animal continued to fall, every one of them slain in the same way, a perfect blaze of indignation burst out on all sides.
The whole country was roused, and the excitement became universal and intense. In the estimation of everybody, hanging, drawing and quartering, burning, lynching, anything was too good for such a monster. All this feeling was most industriously fomented by Hinch and his myrmidons, until things had reached the proper crisis. Then a county meeting was got up, at which one of the Planters presided, and resolutions were passed that Jack Long, as a bad citizen, should be lynched and driven from the county forthwith. Hinch, of course, dictated a resolution which he was to have the pleasure of carrying into effect.
In the meantime, Jack had given himself very little trouble about what was said of him. He had kept himself so entirely apart from everybody that he was nearly in perfect ignorance of what was going on. The deer fell before his unerring rifle in as great numbers as ever. The bear rendered up its shaggy coat, the panther its tawny hide, in as frequent trophies, to the unique skill of the hunter!
One evening he had returned, laden down as usual with the spoils, to his hut. It was a snug little lodge in the wilderness, that home of Jack’s. It stood beneath the shade of an island grove, on a hillside overlooking a thicket which bordered a small stream. The gray, silvery moss hung its matchless drapery in long fringes from the old wide-armed oak above, and that mild, but most pervading odor, which the winds are skillful to steal from the breath of leaves, the young grass growing, and the panting languishment of delicate wild flowers, filled the whole atmosphere around. These were the perfumes and the sights the coy, exacting taste of a bold rover of the solitudes must have.
The fresh face of nature, and her breathing sweet as childhood’s, could alone satisfy the senses and the soul of one grown thus in love with the freedom of the wilderness.
The round, happy face of his wife greeted him with smiles from the door as he approached, while his little boy and girl, nut-brown and ruddy, strove, with emulous, short steps, pattering over the thick grass, to meet him first, and clinging to his fingers, prattled and shouted to tell their mother of his coming. He entered, and the precious rifle was carefully deposited on the accustomed “hooks” of buck’s horns nailed against the wall. The smoking meal her tidy care had prepared was soon despatched, and the hunting adventures of the day told over.
Then he threw himself with his huge length along the buffalo robe on the floor, to rest and have a romp with the children. While they were climbing and scrambling in riotous joy about him, his wife spoke for some water for her domestic affairs. It was hard for the children to give up their frolic, but Molly’s wish was a strong law with Jack. Bounding up, he seized a vessel and started for the stream, the little ones pouting wistfully as they looked after him from the door.
It was against Jack’s religion to step outside the door without his rifle; but this time Molly was in a hurry for the water, there was no time to get the gun, and it was but a short distance to the stream.
He sprang gaily along the narrow path down the hill, and reached the brink. The water had been dipped up, and he was returning at a rapid pace through the thicket, when, where it was very high and bordered clo
se upon the path, he suddenly felt something tap him on each shoulder, and his progress impeded strangely. At the same instant a number of men rushed from ambush on each side of him, several of them holding the end of the stout rawhide lasso which they had thrown over him. He instantly put forth all his tremendous strength in a convulsive effort to get free; and so powerful was his frame, that he would have succeeded, but for the sure skill with which the lasso had been thrown, that bound him over either arm As it was, his remarkable vigor, nerved by desperation, was sufficient to drag the six strong men, who clung to the rope, after him. He heard the voice of Hinch shout eagerly, “Down with him! Drag him down!” At that hateful sound a supernatural activity possessed him, and writhing with a quick spring that shook off those who clung about his limbs, he had almost succeeded in reaching his own door, when a heavy blow from behind felled him. The last objects which met his eye as he sunk down insensible were the terror-stricken and agonized faces of his wife and children looking out upon him.
* * * *
When he awoke to consciousness, it was to find himself nearly stripped, and lashed to the oak which spread above his hut. Hinch, with a look of devilish exultation, stood before him; his wife, wailing with piteous lamentations, clung about the monster’s knees; the children, endeavoring to hide their faces in her dress, screamed in affright; while outside the group, eight or nine men, with guns in their hands, stood in a circle.
The Gothic Terror MEGAPACK™: 17 Classic Tales Page 7