CAPTAIN ALLEN CLAIMS THE REWARD LEECH OFFERED

Leech had a bad half-hour; but when he left his office his spirits were rising again. He had weathered many a storm before. It would be hard if he could not weather this little trouble. He was satisfied that his wife would keep her word not to divulge his secret to anyone, and if he could but get her away everything would go all right. He would be free to marry a handsome and wealthy woman; and this alliance would give him complete control of the State. With this, what might he not have—wealth unlimited, position, unmeasured power—there was no end to it! It all stretched before him a shining track with, at the end—it appeared before him for only one brief moment—a dazzling point: at the far end of that long track a great white house, with the broad avenues reaching in every direction. Why not? Why should he not be——? The vision made his head swim. He wiped his hand across his mouth as though he tasted something actually material.

He returned to earth, and, locking his office-door, strolled up the hill. The village was all quiet except for the sentries pacing their beats.

As Leech walked up under the clear stars, the thought came into his mind once more; and this time he tried to follow it step by step. Yes, it was possible. He was rich, powerful, fortunate. He would be Governor. What might he not be! His enemies had fallen before him—all but one, and that one could not escape. He would find him, alive or dead; and then—wealth—power—revenge! He raised his clenched hand and brought it down in the intensity of his feeling.

“Yes, by G—d! I’ll have him, alive or dead!” he exclaimed. He was almost at his gate. Two steps brought him to it; and before him in the darkness, waiting for him, tall and silent, stood the man he wanted.

“I hear you are hunting for me,” said Steve Allen, quietly. “I am here.”

The blood rushed back and forth in Leech’s veins as cold as ice, as hot as fire. What would he not have given for his guards! Why had he been such a fool as to dismiss them! He thought of his pistol; but he knew Steve was quicker with a pistol than he. So he resorted to craft. He would keep him until the guards arrived.

“How are you, Captain? Won’t you walk in?” he said, with a show of ease, though his voice quavered. He thought about offering his hand, but feared to do so. If he could only detain him!

“Thank you. I will.” Steve indicated with a wave of his hand that Leech should precede him; and Leech walked before him, knowing that he was his prisoner. Still he hoped help would come. They went into his library. Steve took a seat.

“What did you want with me?”

“I was only fooling,” said Leech, feebly. Steve looked so placid that he began to feel reassured. “You know there’s a warrant out for your arrest; and the best thing for you to do is to surrender quietly. You can clear yourself easy enough, and it’s just a form. You come with me, and I’ll do all I can for you.” His voice was cajoling, and he looked at Steve almost tenderly. “You know I was only fooling about what I said.”

Steve looked at him with cold contempt. “You’ll find it ill fooling with a desperate man. Let’s drop our masks. You have made a mistake to push us so far. You have offered a reward for me, alive or dead. I am here to claim it. You are my prisoner, and you know it.” He gave Leech a glance that made him shiver.”Sit there, and write what I tell you.” He indicated Leech’s desk. Leech, with blanched face, took his seat. As he did so he glanced furtively at the clock. Secret as the glance was, Steve saw it.

“Be quick about it, and don’t waste a word. I have no time to spare. Remember, it was alive or dead you wanted me.” He dictated the words of a safe-conduct:

“To the Commandant of United States troops in District No. —. Pass the bearer and companions, and render them all the aid possible. For reasons of State,” added Steve, with a twinkle in his eye, as he glanced over it. “Now sign it.”

Leech signed slowly. He was listening with all his ears.

“Now another.” Steve dictated the following to the commanding officer in the village: “I have been called away unexpectedly on business connected with the man I want, Captain Allen. Take no steps in my absence, and credit no reports not signed by me personally.” Now sign it, and add this postscript: “I have decided to pursue a more conciliatory policy toward the prisoners. Please make them entirely comfortable, and give their friends access to them.” Sign that, and mark it to be delivered in the morning, and leave it on your table.

“Leave it on my table?” Leech’s face blanched.

“Yes, you are going with me.”

Just then steps were heard on the walk outside, and the murmur of low voices reached them. A gleam of hope stole into Leech’s face. Steve Allen heard too, and he listened intently. As he turned his eyes again on Leech, a new light appeared in the latter’s eyes; fear had suddenly changed to joy.

“Aha! Captain Allen, our positions are reversed again. Let us drop our masks indeed! You are my prisoner now. Those are my sentries. The house is surrounded by soldiers. Ah! ha-ha-ha!” he laughed, leaning back in his chair, eying Steve, and rubbing his hands in glee.

Steve shifted his seat a little, displaying the butt of a revolver.

“You fool!” he said, with that coolness which was Leech’s envy and despair, and which made him in a way admire Steve more than any other man he knew. “Suppose they are your men? You are going with me all the same. If they come in here, you are still my prisoner; and one word—one look from you—one bare suspicion on their part that I am not going on your invitation; that it is not voluntary on your part—and you are a dead man.” He loosened his pistol, and, while he listened, sat looking at Leech with a cool assurance on his face that made Leech gasp.

There was a sharp knock at the outer door. As Steve listened his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Call to them to come in, and remember you were never in greater peril than at this moment.”

Leech called, and there was the slow tramp of several men in the passageway.

“Call them in here.”

Leech was becoming puzzled. But he could not keep down the hope that was dawning on his countenance. He called, and they approached the door. Steve did not even turn. He was keeping his eyes on a big gilt mirror that hung in front of him and showed both the door and Leech.

The men reached the door and knocked again; then opened it, and three men in United States uniform stood in the doorway. Steve’s hand left his pistol, and the eyes in the mirror were filled with a more amused smile as he glanced from them to Leech. A radiant joy sprang into Leech’s face. He gave a dive behind his desk, shouting, “Seize that man. Shoot him if he lifts his hand!”

Nothing of the kind, however, occurred. At a sign from Steve, the three men came inside the room and closed the door behind them.

“Come out, Leech. These are my men, not yours,” said Steve. “You are too big a coward to fool with; come out. Pull him out, one of you.” And the man nearest Leech caught him by the arm and dragged him up on his feet, gasping and white with returning terror as he saw the trick that had been played him.

“Did you think I was such a fool as that?” Steve asked, contemptuously. “Come, we have no more time to lose. Fetch him along, men.” He turned to the door, and the next moment Leech was seized and hustled out at a trot. The sight of a pistol in the hand of one of the men kept him quiet. At the door a gag was put into his mouth, a cap was pulled down over his eyes, and his arms were pinioned to his side. He was conscious that the lamps were extinguished, and the key turned in the lock behind him. Then he was borne to his gate, set on a horse, and carried off through the darkness at a gallop. He gave a groan of terror. “Remember Andy Stamper,” said one of the men, and Leech remembered well enough. How far they went the prisoner had no means of knowing. After awhile the gag was taken from his mouth; but he was told that the least outcry would mean his death. They travelled at a brisk gait all night, and he knew that he had several men in his escort; but though they at times talked together in undertones, they did not address him and were deaf to his speeches. Much of the journey was through woods, and several times they forded rivers, and toward the end they must have left all beaten tracks, for they rode through bushes so dense as almost to sweep him from his horse; then they descended a steep hill, forded a stream, and, a little later, Leech was lifted from his horse, borne, half-dead with fright and fatigue, into a house, down a flight of steps, and laid on a bed. One of the men who brought him in lighted a candle and gave him a drink of whiskey, which revived him; and Leech found that he was in a large room with stone walls, furnished simply, like a bedroom, and ventilated from the top.

The man who was left with him was a stranger to him, and, as he turned to go, Leech asked him to tell him where he was and what they were going to do with him. He felt that it was his last chance.

“Maybe keep you as a hostage, maybe not.”

“As a hostage?”

“That’s the Commander’s idea. As a hostage for those you’ve arrested, and I reckon what the Capt’n says will prevail. Good-by.” He shut the door and bolted it behind him, leaving Leech alone.

This, then, explained what Steve Allen meant by what he said. He was a prisoner, to be held as a hostage for those he had arrested. There was a bed in the room; and Leech was so fatigued that he fell asleep, and slept until he was awakened by the guard bringing him something to eat. This man, like the others, was masked, and he refused to talk at all.

“What will they do with me?” asked Leech.

“Depends on what orders you’ve given about those you’ve arrested,” said the man in a voice which Leech knew was feigned. He was going. Leech determined to make one more effort.

“Wait, please. I’m rich. No, I’m not rich; but I have friends who are who would pay well if you—if I were to get back to them.” His voice had grown confidential.

“Shouldn’t be surprised.” The tone was rather dry; but that might have been due to the fact that the voice was disguised. And as he appeared acquiescent, Leech took courage. He moved a little nearer to him. “I could make it worth your while to let me go,” he said, insinuatingly. The man waited. Leech’s hopes revived. McRaffle had sold out; why not buy this man? He was plainer. “Why not let me out?” The guard was considering. “Help me, and help me get hold of—just help me, and I will see that you and your friends receive full pardon, and will make you rich.”

The guard pulled off his mask. It was Steve Allen himself. “Good-night;” and he was gone, leaving Leech with his heart in his mouth.

There was great excitement in the County over the disappearance of Major Leech; but it was suppressed excitement, and, curious as it may seem, his absence had the immediate effect of quieting the negroes. They were struck with awe at either the boldness or the mystery of his abduction, and almost within a night after he disappeared they had subsided. One who had seen them parading and yelling with defiance and delight the day that Leech led his handcuffed prisoners to the station to ship them off to prison, would not have recognized the awe-struck and civil people who now went back and forth so quietly to their work. It seemed almost a miracle.

All sorts of tales were published in the public press as to this latest outrage, and there was much denunciation; but no action was taken immediately, and for a time, at least, the old County was once more under the rule of its own citizens.

Owing partly to the letter Leech had written just before his disappearance, and partly to the request of the Captain of the company, who was heartily tired of his work, an order had been issued transferring that officer’s company to another post; and he had left with his company before the fact of Leech’s abduction became known. An appeal was made to the Governor to declare the County under martial law; but though he talked about it loudly enough, and made many threats, he did not carry out his threats immediately. Perhaps the Governor was not too anxious to go into an investigation that might, instead of proving Leech to have been murdered, result in bringing back into the field his most formidable rival.

It, however, was deemed by the higher authorities that something must be done to vindicate the majesty of the law, and it was decided to send other troops to the County. The selection of troops, however, had been proved by the history of the County to be a matter of more than ordinary delicacy. Several different bodies had been sent there without accomplishing what had been hoped for.

It happened that Thurston’s command had just returned from the Northwest and was awaiting some disposal. It was remembered that this same troop had once quieted things in the disturbed region, and had given, at least, more of a show of peace than any of their numerous successors had done. This was one view of the case. There was perhaps another view which may have influenced some. So Thurston was unexpectedly dispatched with his command to the place from which he had been ordered several years before. His appearance was a complete surprise to the old residents, and the effect was immediately apparent.

It was not known what it signified. Some thought it meant the immediate placing of the County under martial law, and the arrest of the remaining citizens. Others held differently. Whatever it meant, the excitement quieted down. The whites had had experience with this company, and felt that they could be relied on. The blacks recognized that a stronger power had come among them, and that it meant order and obedience.

When Captain Thurston dismounted from his horse on the very ground on which he had dismounted a number of years before, he had a curious feeling of mingled pleasure and dissatisfaction. There, amid the big trees, stood the old court-house, massive and imposing as it had looked that day when he had guyed old Mr. Dockett about its architecture, and told him that it was finer than anything in Athens; there, were the same great trees; there the same rows of old offices, only a little more dilapidated; there the same moody faces of the few whites, and the same crowd of idling negroes lagging about his troop. He turned and looked at the clerk’s office, almost expecting to see the same rosy, girlish face looking out at him defiantly. Instead, a brawny negro in black clothes, with a beaver hat cocked on the side of his head, was lounging in the door smoking a cigar. It gave the captain an unpleasant shock; and as he made arrangements about placing his camp he wondered where old Mr. Dockett was now, and how his pretty daughter was coming on. He had not heard from her since his last campaign. She was probably married. The idea gave him an unpleasant sensation, he always hated to hear of any pretty girl marrying. It seemed to make the world lonelier. The negro in the door sauntered across toward the camp and spoke to some of the soldiers familiarly, his silk hat on the side of his head, his cigar rolling in his mouth.

“What company is this, men?”

The words reached the Captain. One of the men who was working told him shortly.

“Who’s your Captain?”

“There he is.”

Thurston had grown stouter, and the negro did not recognize him.

“That little man? What’s his name?”

Thurston caught the speech and, before the soldier could answer, bawled at the negro, “Come here and take hold of these things, and don’t stand there interfering with the men.” The darky looked at him in blank amazement.

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Not me; you don’t know who I am!” He reared himself back and stuck his thumbs in his armholes.

“No, and I don’t care a hang either,” said the little Captain. “Sergeant, make that man take hold of those things and put them in place.”

“I’m Senator Ash,” declared the man, surlily, swelling with importance, and turning to walk away.

“Halt, there,” said the soldier, coldly.

Nicholas Ash turned at the tone, to find the sergeant quietly taking his pistol from the holster.

“You come back here.”

“I’m Senator Ash.”

“Well, I don’t give a —— who you are; if you are Captain Jack himself, you catch hold there, as the Captain says, or ’twill be the worse for you. He won’t stand no foolishness. I’ve seen him string a man up for less than you have said already.” And the weather-beaten soldier looked so coldly on the senator that the latter deemed it best to go through the form of obeying, and, swallowing his rage as best he might, took hold and did his first manual labor in some years.

This was the first official act of Captain Thurston on his return, and, though it was an accident, it, perhaps, saved him trouble in the future.

The Captain availed himself of the earliest opportunity to hunt up his old friends. When he had pitched his camp and got settled, he sauntered up to Mr. Dockett’s. As he walked along he noted the changes that had occurred since he went away. The yards were more uncared for, the houses more dilapidated, and the fences more broken. As he entered the Dockett yard, he was pleased to observe that it was kept in its old trim order. The breath of flowers that he remembered so well, and had always associated with the place, met him as of old. When he opened the gate he saw that there were several persons on the porch; but as he approached they all rose and disappeared in the house. There were one or two white dresses in the party. He had not long to wait. At his knock Mrs. Dockett herself appeared, and he thought he could see the firm set of her mouth and the glint in her eyes as she bore down upon him. She looked much older. She did not appear surprised to see him. She invited him in, but did not say anything about her daughter; and at length the Captain had to ask after her. She was very well, she thanked him. She had some young friends with her.

In this condition of affairs, Captain Thurston had recourse to stratagem. He adroitly turned the conversation to Rupert Gray, and began to tell of his success in the West, and of the incident when he had showed such bravery while acting as a scout with him. He was conscious at once of the change in the good lady’s manner, and of the increased interest she betrayed; so he dilated on it at some length. No one ever had a warmer historian. He made Rupert out a hero, and was congratulating himself secretly on his success, when, with a sniff, Mrs. Dockett declared that she was not surprised at Rupert’s acting so. It was only what she should have expected from one of their young men, and she was not surprised that the Yankees should have been obliged to call on him to help them. But she was surprised that Captain Thurston should have exposed a boy like Rupert, hardly more than a child, to such danger. Why had he not gone himself to rescue his men? Thurston could not help laughing at the turn she gave his story. This shot appeared, however, to have somewhat cleared the atmosphere. Mrs. Dockett began to unbend. She “would see her daughter; perhaps, she would come in; she would like to hear of Rupert.” Just then, whether for this reason or one in which the visitor had a more personal concern, the door opened and Miss Dockett walked in unbidden. She, too, had grown older since Thurston went away; but the change was not to her disadvantage. The plump little figure had developed; the round face had in it more force; and she had become, if not a very pretty woman, at least a very comely one. She greeted the Captain distantly, but not coldly. She began by making war at once, and that the little officer was used to. It was only indifference that he could not stand.

“Well, and so you have come back, and I suppose you will expect us all to get down on our knees to you?” she said, her chin a little elevated.

“No, not you. I’ll make a treaty with you, if you won’t insist on my getting down on mine to you,” he laughed.

“To me? I supposed Miss Welch was the only one you did that to.”

This was encouraging, and the little Captain was instantly at his ease.

“Miss Welch? Who is Miss Welch?”

“Come, now, don’t be trying that with me; I know all about it, so you might as well tell me. Perhaps, you’ll need my assistance. All the gentlemen seem to be victims to her charms. Captain Allen thinks there is no one like her. Some men, when they are discarded, take to drink, but here they seem to take to Miss Welch.”

“Well, some men need one kind of stimulant, and some another; now, I like mine with a proper mixture of spirit and sweetening.” The little Captain’s eyes were helping him all they could.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure.” She looked down coyly.

“Say, a sort of peach and honey?”

“You men have such vulgar similes.” The little nose was turning up.

“Well, I’ll be literary, and say ‘a snow and rose-bloom maiden,’” said the Captain, who had been reading Carlyle. “I always think of you in connection with roses and snow.”

The little nose came down, and the Captain’s peace was made. He began to tell of Indian fights and long marches over parched or snow-swept plains, where men and horses dropped. Miss Elizabeth, like Desdemona, to hear did seriously incline, and the Captain was invited to supper.