Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth I have set my life upon a cast. And I will stand the hazard of the die.—Shakespeare.

It was yet so early in the morning that they drove ten miles out to a small village on the road before they thought of breakfast. There Mr. Berners reminded the officer in charge that Sybil had not yet broken her fast. Whereupon Purley drew up before the one little tavern of the place, alighted, and assisted his charge to alight, and then keeping fast hold of her arm, led her into the house, and ordered breakfast.While the meal was being got ready he kept his party of four well together in the sitting-room where they waited. And as soon as breakfast was over, they all reËntered the wagon and resumed their journey. They travelled twenty miles before stopping to dine at a lonely roadside tavern, where again Purley watched his charge with such vigilance that she had no opportunity to speak privately either to her husband or their friend. Still she hoped this opportunity would be afforded when they should stop for the night. After an hour’s rest they went on again, travelling with moderate haste all the afternoon. They made fifteen more miles before sunset, and then, having driven forty-five miles that day, and finding their horses very tired, they determined to put up for the night at a small hamlet, whose comfortable little hotel promised rest and refreshment.

Still Purley kept close to his charge. They all had supper in a private sitting-room. And when that meal was over and the hour for retirement arrived, Purley himself accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Berners to their bedroom to see that it was secure. It was a front chamber, on the upper floor, with two front windows overlooking the village street, and but one door, which opened upon the passage.

“That is all safe,” said Purley, casting a glance around. “So I may leave you two alone here together, where no doubt, you are glad enough to be. But I’m sorry to say I must turn the key on you; not that I have any right to lock you up, sir, without your consent; but of course you will consent to that, for the sake of staying with your wife.”

“Of course I will; and thank you for the privilege,” answered Mr. Berners.

“All right then. Good-night to you both,” said Purley, closing and locking the door, and withdrawing the key.

And then he took a farther precaution for the security of his charge, by ordering a mattress to be brought and laid down before that chamber door. And there he and his companion stretched themselves to rest like a pair of watch dogs.

As soon as Sybil found herself alone with her husband, she beckoned him to that end of the room which was farthest from the door, and when he was close beside her she whispered in the lowest tone:

“Did you observe anything peculiar in the manner of that younger bailiff?”

“I observed that he tried to attract my particular attention whenever we happened to be unnoticed for a moment. But as we were so very closely watched I had no opportunity of asking, or he of telling, what he meant,” said Lyon Berners.

“Then I will tell you all about it. When Mr. Purley went away with you, and left that young man guarding me, the first thing he did was to make himself known to me, and to place himself at my service even to the death!”

“Who was he?”

“Robert Munson; a boy that I was so fortunate as to be kind to in his childhood and mine. Afterwards he was a private soldier in Captain Pendleton’s company, and served under him for eight years, fighting the Indians on the frontier. At Captain Pendleton’s suggestion, and with his own hearty free will, he volunteered for this service of pursuing me, only that he might more effectually try to free me.”

“Sybil, what are you saying? Have we a friend in one of our captors?” exclaimed Lyon, in astonishment.

“Yes; a friend who will serve us to the death! Listen, dear Lyon, and I will tell you all about it,” answered Sybil.

And she commenced, and related all the circumstances of her acquaintance with Robert Munson; of his motives for entering upon his present avocation, and of his discovery of himself to her in the hotel at Portsmouth.“Now may heaven grant that some day I may have an opportunity of rewarding that good fellow for his willing service, whether it ever avail us or not,” said Lyon Berners, earnestly.

“But dear Lyon, we must be very careful not to betray by any word or look that we have any acquaintance, much less understanding, with Munson, for to do so would be to ruin our only chance of escape,” said Sybil.

“Of course! of course! I understand that perfectly well!”

“But watch your opportunity, and when you feel it to be perfectly safe, communicate with Robert Munson.

“I understand, dear Sybil, and I shall be very prudent and very vigilant,” answered Mr. Berners.

And then they retired to rest.

Very early the next morning they were aroused by their keeper who never left his post at their door until he saw them come out of their room. And then he drew Mrs. Berner’s arm within his own and led her down to breakfast.

After breakfast they resumed their journey.

This first day and night on the road was a type of all that followed. The bailiff Purley never lost sight of his charge except at night, and then he first assured himself that her room was a secure prison, from which it would be impossible for her to escape; and then, to make assurance doubly sure, he always locked the door on the outside, put the key into his pocket, and stretched himself on a mattress across the threshold.

There was no opportunity afforded to Sybil, Lyon and their new friend to speak together in private; and as day followed day and night succeeded night in this hopeless manner, their spirits fell from despondency even to despair.

But as it is said to be darkest just before dawn, and that when things are at their worst they are sure to mend, so it proved in their case.

On the evening of the fourth day of their tedious journey, they stopped to sup and sleep at a lonely farm-house, where for “a consideration,” the poor farmer consented, whenever he got the chance, to entertain travellers.

Here their wagon and horses were comfortably stabled, and themselves were lodged and feasted.

Here, as usual after supper, Mr. Purley accompanied his charge to her bedroom, which, to his perplexity, he found to have two doors; the one opening upon the upper hall, and the other communicating with an adjoining vacant chamber.

After some consideration, he solved the difficulty of guarding his prisoner by saying to his assistant:

“Well, Munson, all that can be done is this: one of us will have to sleep across one door, and the other across the other. And as I hav’n’t slept in a room for three nights, I reckon I’ll take the vacant room, and you may take the hall. But mind, don’t forget to draw the key out of the door when you lock it, and put it into your pocket. And mind also, to be sure to pull your mattress quite up to the door and lay directly across it, so that if the lock should be picked, no one can pass without going right over your own body; and, last of all, mind to sleep only with one eye open, or all the other precautions will be of no use at all.”

“I will be very careful, sir,” answered young Bailiff Munson, touching his hat to his superior officer in military style.

“And now, as your legs are younger than mine, I wish you would run down stairs and ask the farmer to send me up a mug of that home-brewed bitter beer he was talking about.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the young bailiff starting off with alacrity, while the elder remained on guard at the door of his charge.In five minutes or less time, Munson returned with a quart measure of the “home-brewed,” which he handed to Purley.

“Souls and bodies! but it is bitter, sure enough! I have heard of bitter beer, but this beats all for bitterness that ever I tasted! However, the bitterer the better, I suppose; and this is really refreshing,” said Purley, as he drained the mug, and handed it empty to a negro boy, who had just brought in and laid down the mattress upon which Munson was to sleep.

Munson smiled to himself.

Then Purley reiterated all his cautions for the careful guarding of his charge, and at length bade his comrade good-night, and retired to the vacant chamber, to guard the door on that side.

Munson drew his mattress across the hall-door as he had been directed to do, and laid himself down in all his clothes—not to sleep, but to listen and watch until the house should grow quiet; for on this night he was resolved to effect the deliverance of Sybil, or perish in the attempt.

Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Berners had retired to their chamber—not to rest, but to wait for events; for on this night a sure presentiment informed them that Robert Munson, on guard there at their outer door, would be sure to use his opportunities for attempting a rescue. So they quietly coÖperated with what they divined to be his intentions.

First Sybil went and hung a towel over the knob of the lock, so as to darken the key-hole of the door guarded by Purley. Then she slipped the bolt, saying:

“He may guard us if he must, but he shall neither look in upon us, nor intrude upon us, if I can help it.”

And then, instead of undressing for bed, they did the opposite thing, and quietly dressed for an escape. And lastly, they concealed their money and jewels about their persons, and threw a few of the most necessary articles for their journey into one travelling bag, and then sat down to listen and watch on the inside, as their friend was listening and watching on the outside.

Then they heard Purley arranging and re-arranging his bed against his door, and tumbling down upon it, like a man utterly overcome by fatigue and drowsiness; after which all was silent, until the stertorous breathing of the bailiff assured them of the depth of his sleep. After that, not a sound was heard in the house. Lyon looked at his watch. It was but nine o’clock, though the whole house was at rest. In these remote country places, people go to roost with the fowls, or very soon after.

Still for another hour of silent, breathless suspense they waited; and then they heard a faint tapping on the door that was guarded by Munson.

Mr. Berners went up, and tapped gently in response.

“Hist!” breathed the voice from without, through the key-hole.

“Well!” murmured Lyon, through the same channel.

“Take some of the melted tallow on the top of your candle, and grease the key-hole as well as you can, and then I will come in and talk to you, if you will let me.”

“Thanks; yes.”

And Mr. Berners did as he was requested to do, and Munson slipped his key into the lubricated key-hole, and silently unlocked the door.

“Oh, our deliverer!” fervently exclaimed Sybil, as he softly entered the room and closed the door behind him, holding up his finger in warning to them to be silent.

“And now sit close for a few minutes, while I tell you what I have done and am going to do,” said Munson, drawing a stool and sitting himself upon it, before Mr. and Mrs. Berners.

“Go on,” muttered Lyon, fervently pressing the hand of his friend.

“Oh, yes, go on, dear Bob!” eagerly whispered Sybil.“First I put nearly half an ounce of laudanum in old Purley’s bitter beer, which made him think it so uncommon prime and bitter, that he drank the whole quart.”

“Good heaven! Munson, you have killed the man!” said Lyon, in dismay.

“No, I have only doubled the dose I gave him before, which took no effect on him, so this will only put him to sleep for twelve hours or so. Lord, listen how he snores! A thunderstorm wouldn’t wake him.”

“Well?”

“Next, as soon as he was asleep, I went into his room in my stocking-feet, and closed all the solid wooden shutters, to make him believe it is still night when he does awake and feel drowsy, as he will be sure to feel, so that he shall go to sleep again, and sleep until evening, and that will give you nearly twenty-four hours start of him.”

“Right! Quite right,” said Mr. Berners.

“Well, well; but go on, dear Bob,” impatiently murmured Sybil.

“I locked his door on the outside, and took away the key, to make the farmer or any of the family, if they should go into his room to see why he slept so long, think that he had locked himself in. For the rest I shall stay here and pretend to sleep very late myself. In fact I shall sleep until they wake me up, and then I shall be very angry, and tell them they had better not play that game on Mr. Purley, as he would be in a fury if his rest should be broken. And so I will guard these two rooms from intrusion, and your escape from being discovered, as long as I possibly can.”

“But when it shall be discovered, my poor fellow, will you not get yourself into trouble?” inquired Lyon.

“Even if I should, what will my trouble be to this lady’s? But at worst I shall only be cussed by old Purley, and turned out of my place by the sheriff; and as I’m used to being cussed, and don’t like my place, it don’t matter.”“And in any case, you shall be well rewarded, dear Bob. Not that such a service as you are about to render us can ever be adequately rewarded; but, as far as—”

“Oh, dear Madam, don’t speak of reward! I owe you a debt of gratitude, which I am glad to pay. I have told you what I have done, and what I shall do, to relieve you of anxiety; and now we had better quietly leave the house. Are you ready?” inquired Munson.

“We have been quite ready for these two hours, in anticipation of your help.”

“Come, then; but come very silently, though there is not the slightest danger, either, of our being heard. The farmer is a beer swiller, and sleeps heavily, and his women folks all sleep up in the garret. I saw them all go up myself; they passed with their candle, as I lay on the pallet,” whispered Munson, as he quietly led the way out into the hall and softly closed and locked the door, and withdrew the key.

“It is just as well to do this, to guard against the chance of any one opening the door while I am gone,” he added, as he softly preceded the party down the stairs.

He silently opened the front door, and they passed out into the free air.

A watch-dog that lay upon the mat outside got up and wagged his tail, and laid down again, as if to express his willingness that any inmate might leave the house who wished to do so, though no stranger should enter it except over his dead body.

“Sensible dog!” said Munson, as with more precaution he closed and locked the outer door, and took that key also with him.

“You must not attempt to escape with your wagon; but must ride your horses, which will be much more efficacious both for swiftness and for their ability to go through places where you could not take a wagon,” said Munson, as they walked across the farm-yard.But when they drew near the stable, they were set upon by a couple of watch-dogs, who, barking furiously, barred their farther progress.

“There is no other way!” exclaimed Munson, and drawing a double barrelled pistol from his pocket, he shot one dog dead, while the other ran howling away.

Then with some difficulty they forced the door, and while Lyon remained on the outside with Sybil, young Munson entered the stable and led out their two horses.

“Here are several bridles, and here is one side-saddle, which will suit Mrs. Berners, if you have no scruple about borrowing them,” suggested Munson.

“I should have no scruple about borrowing anything from anybody to aid my wife’s escape. Besides, there is my wagon more than double the value of the things that we require; I will leave that in pledge,” said Mr. Berners.

“Just so,” assented Munson.

And all this time he had been arranging the side-saddle and bridle upon Sybil’s horse. As soon as it was ready Mr. Berners came around to lift his wife into her seat.

“One moment, dear Lyon,” said Sybil, pausing to adjust her dress.

While she did so, Munson again spoke to Mr. Berners.

“You have your pocket compass?”

“Yes.”

“Then I advise you to use it as soon as it is light, to direct your course. And do not go toward the east, for old Purley will pursue you in that direction, under the impression that you will try to reach another seaport town, and get off in a ship. But make for the interior, for the West, and get away as fast and as far as you can. Be careful to keep as much as possible in the woods, even though your progress should be slower through them than it would be in the open country. And now excuse my presuming to give you so much counsel; but you know I have been upon the war path, out among the red-skins, and am up to hunting and flying.”

“I thank you—we both thank you from the depths of our souls. And we pray that the day may come when we shall be able to prove our gratitude,” said Lyon, earnestly.

“Never mind that! But put madam into her seat. She is ready now; and, indeed, the sooner you are off the better,” answered Munson.

Mr. Berners advanced towards Sybil, when the whole party was stopped by a terrible event.

“No you don’t, you infernal villain! I have caught you, have I? Stand!” exclaimed a voice of thunder, and the stout farmer stood before them, at the head of all his negroes, and with a loaded musket in his hand!

Like lightning young Munson threw himself before Sybil, drew a pistol from his breast, and levelled it straight at the heart of their opponent, exclaiming:

“Out of the way, you devil! and let her pass. Out of the way this instant, or, by my life, I will kill you! I will! I will kill you, and hang for her sake!”

The man raised his musket, and aimed it at the head of him whose hand pointed the pistol to his own heart. And thus, like two duellists, they stood fatally eyeing each other!