Elsie's Womanhood

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.

  "Revenge at first though sweet, Bitter erelong, back on itself recoils." --MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.

  At the instant of discharging his revolver, Jackson felt a sharp stingingpain in his right arm, and it dropped useless at his side. He hoped he hadkilled both Mr. Travilla and Elsie; but, an arrant coward and thusdisabled, did not dare to remain a moment to learn with certainty theeffect of his shot, but rushing along the veranda, threw himself over therailing, and sliding down a pillar, by the aid of the one hand, and withno little pain and difficulty, made off with all speed across the lawn.

  But he was bleeding at so fearful a rate that he found himself compelledto pause long enough to improvise a tourniquet by knotting hishandkerchief above the wound, tying it as tightly as he could with theleft hand aided by his teeth. He stooped and felt on the ground in thedarkness and rain, for a stick, by means of which to tighten it stillmore; for the bleeding, though considerably checked, was by no meansstanched. But sticks, stones, and every kind of litter, had long beenbanished thence; his fingers came in contact with nothing but the smooth,velvety turf, and with a muttered curse, he rose and fled again; for theflashing of lights, the loud ringing of a bell, peal after peal, andsounds of running feet and many voices in high excited tones, told himthere was danger of a quick and hot pursuit.

  Clearing the lawn, he presently struck into a bridle-path that led to thewoods. Here he again paused to search for the much-needed stick, found onesuited to his purpose, and by its aid succeeded in decreasing still morethe drain upon his life current; yet could not stop the flow entirely.

  But sounds of pursuit began to be heard in the distance, and he hastenedon again, panting with weakness, pain and affright. Leaving the path, heplunged deeper into the woods, ran for some distance along the edge of aswamp, and leaping in up to his knees in mud and water, doubled on histrack, then turned again, and penetrating farther and farther into thedepths of the morass, finally climbed a tree, groaning with the pain theeffort cost him, and concealed himself among the branches.

  His pursuers came up to the spot where he had made his plunge into thewater; here they paused, evidently at fault. He could hear the sound oftheir footsteps and voices, and judge of their movements by the gleam ofthe torches many of them carried.

  Some now took one direction, some another, and he perceived with joy thathis stratagem had been at least partially successful. One party, however,soon followed him into the swamp. He could hear Spriggs urging them on andanathematizing him as "a scoundrel, robber, burglar, murderer, who oughtto be swung up to the nearest tree."

  Every thicket was undergoing a thorough search, heads were thrown back andtorches held high that eager blacks eyes might scan the tree-tops, andJackson began to grow sick with the almost certainty of being taken, asseveral stout negroes drew nearer and nearer his chosen hiding-place.

  He uttered a low, breathed imprecation upon his useless right arm, and theman whose sure aim had made it so. "But for you," he muttered, grindinghis teeth, "I'd sell my life dear."

  But the rain, which had slackened for a time, again poured down intorrents, the torches sputtered and went out, and the pursuers turned backin haste to gain the firmer soil, where less danger was to be apprehendedfrom alligators, panthers, and poisonous reptiles.

  The search was kept up for some time longer, with no light but anoccasional flash from the skies; but finally abandoned, as we have seen.

  Jackson passed several hours most uncomfortably and painfully on hiselevated perch, quaking with fear of both man and reptile, not daring tocome down or to sleep in his precarious position, or able to do so for thepain of his wound, and growing hour by hour weaker from the bleeding whichit was impossible to check entirely.

  Then his mind was in a state of great disturbance, His wound must bedressed, and that speedily; yet how could it be accomplished withoutimperiling life and liberty? Perhaps he had now two new murders on hishands; he did not know, but he had at least attempted to take life, andthe story would fly on the wings of the wind; such stories always did.

  He had been lurking about the neighborhood for days, and had learned thatDr. Balis, an excellent physician and surgeon, lived on a plantation, sometwo or three miles eastward from Viamede. He must contrive a plausiblestory, and go to him; at break of day, before the news of the attack onViamede would be likely to reach him. It would be a risk, but what bettercould be done? He might succeed in quieting the doctor's suspicions, andyet make good his escape from the vicinity.

  The storm had spent itself before the break of day, and descending fromhis perch with the first faint rays of light that penetrated the gloomyrecesses of the swamp, he made his way out of it, slowly and toilsomely,with weary, aching limbs, suffering intensely from the gnawings of hungerand thirst, the pain of his injury, and the fear of being overtaken by theavengers of his innocent victims. Truly, as the Bible tells us, "the wayof transgressors is hard."

  The sun was more than an hour high when Dr. Balis, ready to start upon hismorning round, and pacing thoughtfully to and fro upon the veranda of hisdwelling while waiting for his horse, saw a miserable looking objectcoming up the avenue: a man almost covered from head to foot with bloodand mud; a white handkerchief, also both bloody and muddy, knotted aroundthe right arm, which hung apparently useless at his side. The man reeledas he walked, either from intoxication or weakness and fatigue.

  The doctor judged the latter, and called to a servant, "Nap, go and helpthat man into the office." Then hurrying thither himself, got out lint,bandages, instruments, whatever might be needed for the dressing of awound. With the assistance of Nap's strong arm, the man tottered in, thensank, half fainting, into a chair.

  "A glass of wine, Nap, quick!" cried the doctor, sprinkling some water inhis patient's face, and applying ammonia to his nostrils.

  He revived sufficiently to swallow with eager avidity the wine Nap held tohis lips.

  "Food, for the love of God," he gasped. "I'm starving!"

  "Bread, meat, coffee, anything that is on the table, Nap," said hismaster; "and don't let the grass grow under your feet."

  Then to the stranger, and taking gentle hold of the wounded limb: "But youneed this flow of blood stanched more than anything else. You came to mefor surgical aid, of course. Pistol-shot wound, eh? and a bad one atthat."

  "Yes, I----"

  "Never mind; I'll hear your story after your arm's dressed and you've hadyour breakfast. You haven't strength for talk just now."

  Dr. Balis had his own suspicions as he ripped up the coat sleeve, baredthe swollen limb, and carefully dressed the wound; but kept them tohimself. The stranger's clothes, though much soiled and torn in severalplaces by contact with thorns and briers, were of good material,fashionable cut, and not old or worn; his manners were gentlemanly, andhis speech was that of an educated man. But all this was no proof that hewas not a villain.

  "Is that mortification?" asked the sufferer, looking ruefully at theblack, swollen hand and fore-arm, and wincing under the doctor's touch ashe took up the artery and tied it.

  "No, no; only the stagnation of the blood."

  "Will the limb ever be good for anything again?"

  "Oh yes; neither the bone nor nerve has suffered injury; the ball hasglanced from the bone, passed under the nerve, and cut the humeral artery.Your tourniquet has saved you from bleeding to death. 'Tis well you knewenough to apply it. The flesh is much torn where the ball passed out; butthat will heal in time."

  The doctor's task was done. Nap had set a plate of food within reach ofthe stranger's left hand, and he was devouring it like a hungry wolf.

  "Now, sir," said the good doctor, when the meal was finished, "I shouldlike to hear how you came by that ugly wound. I can't deny that thingslook suspicious. I know everybody, high and low, rich and poor, for milesin every direction, and so need no proof that you do not belong to theneighborhood."

  "No; a party of us, from New Orleans last, came out to visi
t thisbeautiful region. We were roaming through a forest yesterday, looking forgame, when I somehow got separated from the rest, lost my way, darknesscame on, and wondering hither and thither in the vain effort to find mycomrades, tumbling over logs and fallen trees, scratched and torn bybrambles, almost eaten up by mosquitos, I thought I was having a dreadfultime of it. But worse was to come; for I presently found myself in a swampup to my knees in mud and water, and in the pitchy darkness tumbling overanother fallen tree, struck my revolver, which I had foolishly beencarrying in my coat pocket: it went off and shot me in the arm, as yousee. That must have been early in the night; and what with loss of blood,pain, fatigue, and long fasting, I had but little strength when daylightcame and I could see to get out of swamp and woods, and come on here."

  The doctor listened in silence, his face telling nothing of his thoughts.

  "A bad business," he said, rising and beginning to draw on his gloves."You are not fit to travel, but are welcome to stay here for the present;had better lie down on the sofa there and take a nap while I am awayvisiting my patients. Nap, clean the mud and blood from the gentleman'sclothes; take his boots out and clean them too; and see that he doesn'twant for attention while I am gone. Good-morning, sir; make yourself athome." And the doctor walked out, giving Nap a slight sign to follow him.

  "Nap," he said, when they were out of ear-shot of the stranger, "watchthat man and keep him here if possible, till I come back."

  "Yes, sah."

  Nap went back into the office while the doctor mounted and rode away.

  "Humph," he said, half aloud, as he cantered briskly along, "took me for afool, did he? thought I couldn't tell where the shot went in and where itcame out, or where it would go in or out if caused in that way. No, sir,you never gave yourself that wound; but the question is who did? and whatfor? have you been house-breaking or some other mischief?" Dr. Balis wastraveling in the direction of Viamede, intending to call there too, buthaving several patients to visit on the way, did not arrive until the latebreakfast of its master and mistress was over.

  They were seated together on the veranda, her hand in his, the other armthrown lightly about her waist, talking earnestly, and so engrossed witheach other and the subject of their conversation, that they did not atfirst observe the doctor's approach.

  Uncle Joe was at work on the lawn, clearing away the leaves and twigsblown down by the storm.

  "Mornin', Massa Doctah; did you heyah de news, sah?" he said, pulling offhis hat and making a profound obeisance, as he stepped forward to take thevisitor's horse.

  "No, uncle, what is it?"

  "Burglah, sir, burglah broke in de house las' night, an' fire he revolvahat massa an' Miss Elsie. Miss dem, dough, an' got shot hisself."

  "Possible!" cried the doctor in great excitement, springing from thesaddle and hurrying up the steps of the veranda.

  "Ah, doctor, good-morning. Glad to see you, sir," said Mr. Travilla,rising to give the physician a hearty shake of the hand.

  "Thank you, sir. How are you after your fright? Mrs. Travilla, you arelooking a little pale; and no wonder. Uncle Joe tells me you had a visitfrom a burglar last night?"

  "A murderer, sir; one whose object was to take my husband's life," Elsieanswered with a shudder, and in low, tremulous tones, leaning on Edward'sarm and gazing into his face with eyes swimming with tears of love andgratitude.

  "My wife's also, I fear," Mr. Travilla said with emotion, fondly strokingher sunny hair.

  "Indeed! why this is worse and worse! But he did not succeed in woundingeither of you?"

  "No; his ball passed over our heads, grazing mine so closely as to cut offa lock of my hair. But I wounded him, must have cut an artery, I think,from the bloody trail he left behind him."

  "An artery?" cried the doctor, growing more and more excited; "where? doyou know where your ball struck?"

  "A flash of lightning showed us to each other and we fired simultaneously,I aiming for his right arm. I do not often miss my aim: we heard hisrevolver fall to the floor and he fled instantly, leaving it and a trailof blood before him."

  "You had him pursued promptly, of course?"

  "Yes; but they did not find him. I expected to see them return with hiscorpse, thinking he must bleed to death in a very short time. But Ipresume he had an accomplice who was able to stanch the flow of blood andcarry him away."

  "No, I don't think he had; and if I'm not greatly mistaken I dressed hiswound in my office this morning, and left him there in charge of my boyNap, bidding him keep the fellow there, if possible, till I came back. I'dbetter return at once, lest he should make his escape. Do you know theman? and can you describe him?"

  "I do; I can," replied Mr. Travilla. "But, my little wife, how you aretrembling! Sit down here, dearest, and lean on me," leading her to a sofa."And doctor, take that chair.

  "The man's name is Tom Jackson; he is a noted gambler and forger, has beenconvicted of manslaughter and other crimes, sent to the penitentiary andpardoned out. He hates me because I have exposed his evil deeds, andprevented the carrying out of some of his wicked designs. He has beforethis threatened both our lives. He is about your height and build, doctor;can assume the manners and speech of a gentleman; has dark hair, eyes, andwhiskers, regular features, and but for a sinister look would be veryhandsome."

  "It's he and no mistake!" cried Dr. Balis, rising in haste. "I must hurryhome and prevent his escape. Why, it's really dangerous to have him atlarge. If he wasn't so disabled I'd tremble for the lives of my wife andchildren.

  "He trumped up a story to tell me--had his revolver in his coat pocket,set it off in tumbling over a log in the dark, and so shot himself. Ofcourse I knew 'twas a lie, because in that case the ball would haveentered from below, at the back of the arm, and come out above, while thereverse was the case."

  "But how could you tell where it entered or where it passed out, doctor?"inquired Elsie.

  "How, Mrs. Travilla? Why, where it goes in it makes merely a small hole;you see nothing but a blue mark; but a much larger opening in passing out,often tearing the flesh a good deal; as in this case.

  "Ah, either he was a fool or thought I was. But good-bye. I shall gallophome as fast as possible and send back word whether I find him there ornot."

  "Don't take the trouble, doctor," said Mr. Travilla; "we will mount andfollow you at once, to identify him if he is to be found. Shall we not,wife?"

  "If you say so, Edward, and are quite sure he cannot harm you now?"

  "No danger, Mrs. Travilla," cried the doctor, looking back as he rodeoff.