Out of a Labyrinth
Page 2
CHAPTER II.
THE ENEMY MAKES A MOVE.
Three days passed, and of course during that time I heard much about thetwo girls and their singular disappearance.
At night, after work was done, and supper disposed of, Mrs. Ballou wouldsend some one to the post-office. This duty had usually fallen to MissGrace Ballou, or been chosen by her, but since the night when NellieEwing rode away from the door, never again to be seen, Mrs. Ballou hadvetoed the evening canters that Grace so much loved, and so thepost-office was attended to by Master Fred, the spoiled son and heir,aged thirteen, or by the "hired man."
On the evening of the third day of my service, I saddled one of the farmhorses, and rode to the post-office to fetch the widow's mail, and greatwas my surprise when the grim postmistress presented me with a letterbearing my assumed name, Chris Ollern, and directed to the care of Mrs.Ballou.
Stowing away the widow's papers and letters in a capacious coat pocket,and my own letter in a smaller inner one, I rode thoughtfully homeward.
Who had written me? Not the men at the office; they were otherwiseinstructed; besides, the letter was a local one, bearing only theGroveland mark. Could it be that Farmer Rutger or 'Squire Ewing hadforgotten all my instructions, and been insane enough to write me?
I hurriedly put my horse in his stable, unburdened my pocket of thewidow's mail, and mounted to my room.
Locking my door and lighting a tallow candle--the widow objected tokerosene in sleeping rooms,--I opened my letter.
It was brief, very, containing only these words:
CHRIS OLLERN--As you call yourself, unless you wish to disappear as effectually as did Nellie Ewing and Mamie Rutger, you will abandon your present pursuit. A word to the wise is sufficient.
Here was an astonisher, and here was also a clue. I was betrayed, ordiscovered. But the enemy had showed his hand. I had also made adiscovery.
There was an enemy then; there had been foul play; and that enemy wasstill in the vicinity, as this letter proved.
It was a wily enemy too; the letter would betray nothing as regardedidentity. It was _printed_; the letters were smooth and even, butperfectly characterless. It was a wily enemy, but not quite a wise one,as the sending of such a letter proved.
I did not leave my room again that night, but sat for hours thinking.
The next morning as I came from the barn-yard with a pail of milk, Iencountered Miss Grace Ballou. She was feeding a brood of chickens, andseemed inclined to talk with me.
"Did you ever see such fine chicks, Chris?" she asked; "and they areonly two weeks old."
I stopped, of course, to admire the chickens and express my admirationin broken English.
Suddenly she moved nearer me, and said, in a lower tone:
"Chris, did you bring any letters for any one except mother, lastnight?"
"Chris, did you bring any letters for any one, exceptmother, last night?"--page 18.]
Promptly and unblushingly, yet somewhat surprised, I answered, "No."
Her eyes searched my face for a second, and then she said, falling backa step:
"Well, don't say anything about my asking you, Chris. I--I expected aletter."
That night I went to the post-office as usual, and the next morning MissGrace repeated her question:
"Did you bring no letters for _any one, positively_?"
"No, there were only papers that night."
The third night after the receipt of my mysterious warning, however,there came a letter for Grace, which, a little to my surprise, waspromptly handed over by her mother. Whether this was the expectedmissive or not it threw the young lady into unmistakable raptures.
Amy was coming! Amy Holmes; she would be at the station to-morrow, andGrace must go in the carriage to meet her.
Everybody was pleased except Fred Ballou. Mrs. Ballou heartily expressedher satisfaction, and announced that I should drive with Grace to "thestation;" and Ann, the "help," became quite animated.
But Fred scornfully declined his mother's proposition, that he shouldride to town with his sister and myself.
"Catch me," he sniffed, "for that stuck-up town girl; she was alwaysputting ideas into Grace's head; and--he hated girls anyway. And hopedsome one would just carry Amy Holmes off as they did Nellie Ewing."
Whereupon Grace turned, first pale, then scarlet, and lastly, flew ather brother and boxed his ears soundly.
The next day we went as per programme to the town, ten miles distant,where Miss Holmes would be. She had arrived before us, and was waiting.
She was a handsome, showy-looking girl, stylishly dressed, and veryself-possessed in manner; evidently a girl who knew something of townlife.
We found her beguiling the time of waiting by conversation with awell-dressed, handsome young fellow, who was evidently a prime favoritewith both young ladies. He accompanied them while they went about makingcertain purchases that Mrs. Ballou had charged her daughter not toforget, and then he assisted them into the carriage, while I stowed awaytheir bundles, shook their hands at parting, and stood gazing after themas the carriage rolled away, the very model of a young Don Juan, Ithought.
I had hoped to gain something from my ten-mile drive with the two youngladies sitting behind me. I had learned that Miss Holmes was a friend ofthe Ewings, and also of Mamie Rutger, and as she had not been in thevicinity since these young ladies had vanished, what more natural thanthat she should talk very freely of their mysterious fate, and might notthese girl friends know something, say something, that in my hands wouldprove a clue?
But I was disappointed; during the long drive the names of Nellie Ewingand Mamie Rutger never once passed their lips. Indeed, save for a fewcommonplaces, these two young ladies, who might be supposed to have somuch to say to each other, never talked at all.
I had driven the steady old work horses in going for Miss Holmes, and sowhen night came, a feeling of humanity prompted me to buckle the saddleupon a young horse scarcely more than half broken, and set off upon hisback for the post-office.
It was a little later than usual, and by the time I had accomplishedthe first half of my journey, stowed away the usual newspapers, andremounted my horse, it was fully dark; and I rode slowly through thegloom, thinking that Groveland was ambitious indeed to bring the mailevery day from a railway ten miles distant, and wondering what it wouldbe like to be the mail boy, and jog over that same monotonous twentymiles of fetching and carrying every day.
I had now reached a high hedge that assured me that my homeward journeywas half accomplished, when, from an imaginary inland mail boy, I wassuddenly transformed into an actual, crippled John Gilpin. From out theblackness of the hedge came a flash and a sharp report; my horse boundedunder me, my left arm dropped helpless, and then I was being borne overthe ground as if mounted upon a whirlwind!
"From out the blackness of the hedge came a flash and asharp report; my horse bounded under me, my left arm droppedhelpless."--page 23.]
It was useless to command, useless to strive with my single hand to curbthe frightened beast. It was a miracle that I did not lose my seat, forat first I reeled, and feeling the flow of blood, feared a loss ofconsciousness. But that swift rush through the dewy evening air revivedme, and rallied my scattered senses.
As we dashed on, I realized that my life had been attempted, and thatthe would-be assassin, the abductor or destroyer of the two missinggirls, had been very near me; that but for the unruly beast I rode Imight perhaps have returned his little compliment; at least have foundsome trace of him.
My horse kept his mad pace until he had reached his own barn-yard gate,and then he stopped so suddenly as to very nearly unseat me.
I quickly decided upon my course of action, and now, dismounting andmerely leading my horse into the inclosure, I went straight to thehouse. I knew where to find Mrs. Ballou at that hour, and was prettysure of finding her alone.
As I had anticipated, she was seated in her own room, where sheinvariably read her evening pap
ers in solitude. I entered withoutceremony, and much to her surprise.
But I was not mistaken in her; she uttered no loud exclamation, eitherof anger at my intrusion, or of fright at sight of my bleeding arm. Sherose swiftly and came straight up to me.
Before she could ask a question, I motioned her to be silent, and closedthe door carefully. After which, without any of my foreign accent, Isaid:
"Mrs. Ballou, a woman who can manage a great farm and coin money in thecattle trade, can surely keep a secret. Will you bind up my arm while Itell you mine?"
"What!" she exclaimed, starting slightly; "you are not a--"
"Not a Swede? No, madame," I replied; "I am a detective, and I have beenshot to-night by the hand that has struck at the happiness of 'SquireEwing and his neighbor."
The splendid woman comprehended the situation instantly.
"Sit there," she said, pointing to her own easy chair. "And don't talkany more now. I shall cut away your sleeve."
"Can you?" I asked, deprecatingly.
"Can I?" contemptuously; "I bleed my cattle."
I smiled a little in spite of myself; then--
"Consider me a colt, a heifer, anything," I said, resignedly. "But Ifeel as if I had been bled enough."
"I should think so," she replied, shortly. "Now be still; it's luckythat you came to me."
I thought so too, but obedient to her command, I "kept still."
She cut away coat and shirt sleeves; she brought from the kitchen tepidwater and towels, and from her own especial closet, soft linen rags. Shebathed, she stanched, she bandaged; it proved to be only a flesh wound,but a deep one.
"Now then," she commanded in her crisp way, when all was done, and I hadbeen refreshed with a very large glass of wine, "tell me about this."
"First," I said, "your colt stands shivering yet, no doubt, and alldressed in saddle and bridle, loose in the stable-yard."
"Wait," she said, and hurried from the room.
In a few moments she came back.
"The colt is in his stable, and no harm done," she announced, sittingdown opposite me. "How do you feel?"
"A little weak, that is all. Now, I will tell you all about it."
In the fewest words possible, I told my story, and ended by saying:
"Mrs. Ballou, you, as a woman, will not be watched or suspected; may Ileave with you the task of telling 'Squire Ewing and Mr. Rutger what hashappened to me?"
"You may," with decision.
"And I must get away from here before others know how much or little Iam injured. Can your woman's wit help me? I want it given out that myarm is broken. Do you comprehend me?"
"Perfectly. Then no one here must see you, and--you should have thatwound dressed by a good surgeon, I think. There is a train to the cityto-morrow at seven. I will get up in the morning at three o'clock, makeus a cup of coffee, harness the horses, and drive you to Sharon."
"_You?_" I exclaimed.
"Yes, I! Why not? It's the only way. And now, would you mind showing methat letter?"
I took it from my pocket-book and put it in her hand. She read itslowly, and then looked up.
"Why did you not heed this warning?" she asked.
"Why did you not heed this warning?" she asked.--page28.]
"Because I wanted to find out what it meant."
"Well, you found out," sententiously. "Now, go to bed, but first let mehelp you remove that coat."
"Mrs. Ballou, you are a woman in a thousand," I exclaimed, as I roseto receive her assistance. "And I don't see how I can ever repay you.You are your own reliance."
As I spoke, the coat fell from my shoulder and my hand touched theweapon in my pistol pocket.
She saw it, too, and pointing to it, said:
"I have never owned a pistol, because I could not buy one withoutletting Fred know it; he is always with me in town. If you think I haveearned it give me that."
"Gladly," I said, drawing out the small silver-mounted six-shooter; "itis loaded, every barrel. Can you use it?"
"Yes; I know how to use firearms."
"Then when you do use it, if ever, think of me." I laughed.
"I will," she said, quite soberly.
And little either of us dreamed how effectively she would use it oneday.
The next morning, at half-past three, we drove out of the farm yard, _enroute_ for the railway station.
During our drive, we talked like two men, and when we parted at Sharonwe were very good friends. I dropped her work-hardened hand reluctantly,and watched her drive away, thinking that she was the only reallysensible woman I had ever known, and feeling half inclined to fall inlove with her in spite of the fact that she was twenty-five years mysenior.