The Courier of the Ozarks

Laughing, Lawrence handed him ten dollars, saying, "I'll bet you a ten against that one that you will be Confed before night. There's a band of Confederate cavalry chasing us."

"Is thar? Then I won't bet," replied the fellow, grinning. "It's too risky. They might p'int a gun at me, and make me yell for Jeff Davis."

"I reckon you wouldn't wait for the gun to be pointed before you yelled," said Lawrence; "but you're welcome to the ten."

"Ought to be fifty," growled the fellow, as he turned and went into the house, and they saw him no more.

That night Major Powell camped on his place, and made free with both his corn and hogs, but he made no objection; neither did he hurrah for Jeff Davis, for he was not there.

The Federals had not gone far from the cabin when the valley narrowed down and the mountains arose steep and precipitous on each side.

"It's lucky," said Dan, "that these hills are not filled with guerrillas, or they would be taking pot-shot at us. I will feel safer – "

He did not finish the sentence, for there came the sharp crack of a rifle from the hillside, and a piece of the crown of Dan's hat went flying through the air. He pulled off his damaged headgear and, gazing ruefully at it exclaimed: "A blame good hat spoiled; but my head is safe."

"Charge the bluff!" shouted Lawrence; but there was no need of the order. A half dozen troopers had already dismounted, and were scaling the bluff to where a small wreath of smoke was seen curling. Before they were half way up, there came the sound of another shot, but this time the whiz of no ball was heard.

Soon the men reached the spot where the smoke had been seen, and their exclamations of surprise were heard.

"What is it?" shouted Lawrence.

"Dead man up here. No signs of any live one."

"Well, look around sharp, and then come down," replied Lawrence.

The men soon returned, and told a strange story.

"We found," said the sergeant in charge, "whom do you think? Our friend who sold us the corn and hogs. He was lying behind a rock; his gun, loaded and cocked, was on the rock, and no doubt he was just going to take another shot at us, when some one shot him through the head from behind. He had just been shot, for the fresh blood was gushing from the wound as we came up. But we neither saw nor could we find any trace of the one who shot him. It's blame curious. I feel creepy. These mountains must be haunted."

"If they are, the spirits who haunt them must be very friendly to us," said Lawrence; "but, as you say, it is a singular circumstance. I can't make it out. Why doesn't the fellow show himself, if he is our friend?"

Many and various were the opinions expressed, but no satisfactory solution was arrived at.

The day closed dark and gloomy; great clouds swept across the sky, and the wind roared through the forest. It became so dark, and traveling so difficult, that Lawrence decided to camp for the night, and risk the chance of being overtaken. The place chosen to camp was a natural amphitheater which ran back into the mountains. It was overhung by the giant trees growing on the mountain.

Supper over, the men sat for some time around their little campfire, talking over the events of the day; but gradually the camp became quiet, and nothing was heard but the stamping of the horses and the roaring of the wind.

It was nearly midnight when the soldiers were aroused, not by the guard, but by Bruno, who came bounding into camp, growling fiercely, every hair on his back erect. He was trembling violently, either from fear or excitement.

"Why, what's the matter, Bruno?" cried Harry. "I never saw you act like this before."

"I believe he is scared," said Lawrence. "Andrew Jackson! Bruno scared!"

"I never knew him to be scared," said Harry, "but I believe he is. See how he trembles."

Before an investigation could be made, the horses began to rear and plunge, and the sentinels called out they were breaking loose.

"See to the horses," shouted Lawrence.

The men were just in time, as several of the horses had broken their halters. As it was, they had hard work to keep them from getting away.

"The horses are badly frightened. They are trembling like leaves," said the men.

"It must be some wild animal," said Lawrence. "Men, stay by the horses; Dan, Harry and I will investigate."

Lawrence took a burning brand from the fire, and all three, well armed, started to find the cause of the trouble. Bruno at first hung back, but when he saw Harry start, he followed; but it was noticed he kept close to his master's side.

The dog kept looking to the cliff back of their encampment. A large tree grew close to the cliff, and an animal could spring into it from the cliff. Cautiously the three men advanced.

"See there," said Dan, pointing up in the tree.

Lawrence looked, and saw up in the tree what looked like two coals of fire.

"Hold your brand where I can see the sights of my gun," whispered Dan.

Lawrence did so. Dan took a quick aim and fired. There came a terrible scream, a crashing among the branches, and then a huge panther lay struggling on the ground, tearing up the earth in his death agony.

Bruno seemed to have recovered from his fright, for he was about to spring on the struggling animal, when Harry cried, "Back, Bruno, back!"

Still Bruno would have rushed to his fate if Lawrence had not struck him a sharp rap over the nose with the burning brand.

At last the beast lay still.

"That was a good shot, Dan," said Lawrence. The ball had struck the panther squarely between the eyes.

"What could have induced him to visit our camp?" asked Harry.

"The smell of the meat the boys roasted for supper," replied Dan. "You know, we brought along some of those pigs we had for dinner."

Some of the soldiers insisted on skinning the beast and taking the skin along as a trophy. As it was, there was little more sleep in the camp, for the horses continued to be restless, and it was hard to keep them quieted.

"The panther's mate may be around," said Dan. "It is well to be on the lookout."

Bruno was of no more use, for he had become sulky and gone and lain down. He could not understand that the blow Lawrence gave him had saved his life.

If there was another panther around, he did not show himself, and at the break of day the troop was once more on the way.

Along in the afternoon, Harry came rapidly riding from the rear, saying the foremost of the pursuers had been sighted. Hardly had he made his report when the faint sound of three or four shots was heard.

"Harry, you, with Dan and Bruno, now take the advance," commanded Lawrence. "That is where we will have to look now for a surprise. Dan, take command, and ride at a good pace. I, with ten men, will look to the rear, and hold back the enemy."

"Why not stop and fight them?" grumbled Dan. "I don't like this idea of running."

"Because I don't wish to have a battle here, if I can help it," replied Lawrence. "If we fight, especially on anything like even terms, some of the men will be sure to be killed or wounded. Think of leaving any of the boys here in the mountains, wounded! It would be better for them to be shot than left wounded, for they would be sure to be murdered by guerrillas."

"Reckon you are right; but it is against my principles to run," sighed Dan.

"Don't be downhearted, old fellow," laughed Lawrence. "I expect to give them a fight; but I want to choose the ground and the manner of fighting."

Dan's face brightened. "That's all right, Captain," he exclaimed. "I might have known you were up to some of your tricks."

Lawrence now rode back to take charge of the rear. Major Powell, knowing he had two men to Lawrence's one, eagerly pressed forward; but his enthusiasm was a little cooled when his advance was driven back with a loss of one killed and two wounded, and he began to be a little more careful.

By taking advantage of every little inequality of ground, Lawrence was able to hold the enemy well in check for some miles; but at length they came to a place where the valley spread out, and flank movements were easy, and it soon became a test of speed and endurance of the horses.

"This will never do," thought Lawrence. "I must find a place to stop and fight them, and that soon."

Leaving the rear guard in charge of a sergeant, he rode rapidly to the front.

"Horses getting winded," said Dan. "We will have to stop and fight."

"At the first favorable place, Dan. Tell the boys to keep up the pace a little longer."

Lawrence now urged his horse to his utmost speed. He rode two or three miles without finding a favorable place for an ambuscade, and was about to halt and choose as good ground as possible and give battle. He had no fears of the result – only that many of his men might be killed or wounded. Just as he came to this conclusion, to his delight, he saw the valley close in front of him. A great hill pushed into it, leaving only a narrow gateway. Beyond this the valley turned, and the force would be entirely concealed by the hill. It took Lawrence but a minute to form his plan of battle. Just before the gateway was reached, the road ran close to the base of the mountain, which was thickly wooded.

Dan, in command of the advance, now dashed up. "Captain, we must fight. The horses are all in."

"Yes, Dan, it's fight now. Dismount your men, and have the horses taken around that point, out of sight. One man can care for six horses. Conceal the rest of your force in the brush along the base of the mountain. Be quick. If I succeed in leading them into the trap, you will know what to do." Thus saying, Lawrence clapped spurs to his horse, and rode for the rear.

Lawrence found the rear guard hard pressed.

"Look out, Captain; they are flanking us, and you are in range," called one of the men.

Just then three or four balls whizzed close to Lawrence's head. Wheeling his horse, he shouted, "Follow me!" and the rear guard went down the road as if in swift retreat. The enemy followed with wild cheers.

The rapid pursuit had strung out the Confederates, and Major Powell had ridden back to hurry up the stragglers, leaving the advance in charge of his senior captain. This officer, thinking the Yankees in full retreat, and that he might gain some honor, pressed the pursuit with vigor.

Straight past where Dan and his men were concealed, Lawrence rode, but he halted his little squad where the valley narrowed.

If the Confederates had not been so eager in the pursuit, they might have seen the bushes tremble or caught the gleam of a gun barrel; but they only had eyes for the flying Yankees. When they saw the Federals had halted, they also halted, taking time to close up, and that was just what Lawrence wanted.

Ordering his men to fire a volley, Lawrence again wheeled as if in retreat.

"Forward!" shouted the Confederate captain. "Charge! Ride over them!"

Suddenly, from the side of the road, there came a crashing volley. The destruction was awful; men and horses went down in heaps.

"Wheel and charge!" shouted Lawrence; and down on the terror-stricken Confederates came Lawrence with his ten men. The panic became a rout. The enemy thought only of getting away. In vain Major Powell tried to stop his men; he, too, was borne back in the confusion.

Quickly as possible, Dan had the horses brought up, and he and his men joined in the pursuit. For two miles it was kept up; then Lawrence ordered a halt. He saw that Major Powell had succeeded in rallying some of his men, and taken a position that could not be carried without loss.

All along the road lay dead and wounded men and horses, and where the first volley was fired the road was filled with the dead and dying.

It was a sight that made Lawrence's heart ache; but he could not stop even to give relief, for Harry and Jack came back with the startling news that there was a large force in front, not more than three miles away.

Lawrence rallied his men, and, to his intense relief, found he had only three men slightly wounded. It was almost a bloodless victory. The question was, what to do now. While debating, one of the men suddenly exclaimed, "Look, there!"

On a rock on the mountain-side, some three hundred yards away, stood the figure of an old man. A long white beard swept his breast, and he was bent with age. He stood leaning on a staff, as if weary.

When he saw he was seen, he beckoned for some one to come to him. Two or three of the soldiers started, but he peremptorily waved them back. Lawrence then started, and the old man stood still.

"Don't go, Captain," cried the men. "It may be a trap."

"I will be careful," replied Lawrence. "Shoot at the first sign of treachery."

A dozen carbines covered the old man, but he did not seem to notice it. When Lawrence was within about fifty yards of him, he motioned for him to stop; then, in a high, cracked voice, exclaimed: "There is danger ahead."

"I know it," replied Lawrence.

"A little ahead, close to that large tree, you will find a faint trail. Take it. It will lead you over the mountain into another valley, where you can go on your way in safety. Delay twenty minutes, and all will be lost. Farewell."

The old man stepped from the rock and disappeared. Lawrence rushed to where he had been standing. Nothing was to be seen. It was as if the earth had swallowed him.

He returned and told what had happened, and the wonderment was great.

"No time to lose," exclaimed Lawrence. "I shall take his advice."

In single file, the men turned into the trail. The way was steep, but not impassable, and soon the forest swallowed them up.

Not until they were over the mountain, was there any opportunity of discussing the strange warning they had received.

"Can it be that old man has been our guardian angel all the time?" asked Lawrence.

"Impossible," said Dan. "We received the first warning when we had hardly left the valley of La Belle. We have come fast. How could that old man have come over the mountains and got ahead of us?"

"And where did he go when he disappeared so suddenly?" asked one.

"And who shot the guerrilla?" questioned another.

"It's a secret only the mountains can tell. I have heard they were haunted," said Dan.

"It's God's hand," said one of the men, a solemn, clerical-looking fellow, whom the men called Preacher. Before he was a soldier, he had been a Methodist class leader; and there was not a braver man in the company.

Argue as they might, they could come to no conclusion. To them it was a mystery that was never solved.

It was weeks before Lawrence fully knew of the danger from which the old man had saved him. Captain Turner, in his swift ride to get ahead of him, had fallen in with a scouting party of fifty Confederate cavalry; not only this, but his force had been augmented by guerrillas until he had fully two hundred men, well armed and mounted. Had Lawrence met this force in the narrow valley, he could not have escaped defeat.

The horror and amazement of the advance guard of Turner's force may be imagined when they came upon the scene of conflict. That the battle had just been fought, was evident; the smoke of the conflict had not entirely cleared from the field. What was more surprising, not an armed man was in sight – neither Federal nor Confederate.

They listened, but could hear no sound of conflict. Captain Turner came up. For a moment he gazed on the scene of carnage, and then cried: "Great God! Major Powell ran into an ambuscade, and his force has been annihilated. The dead are all our men. But where are the Yankees?"

"Doubtless in pursuit of the few of the Major's force that escaped," replied an officer.

"That is so," cried Turner. "Forward, men! Let our war-cry be: 'Powell and Revenge!' Give no quarter! Let every one of the cursed Yankees die."

They rode nearly four miles before they came on to Major Powell and the remnant of his force. They had continued falling back until they were certain they were not pursued.

Of his hundred men, the Major had succeeded in rallying about forty. The rest had been killed or wounded, or had fled. Some of them did not stop until they reached the valley of La Belle, bringing with them the story of the disaster, saying that of all of Powell's force they alone escaped.

"Did you meet and exterminate the Yankees?" was the first question put to Captain Turner by Major Powell.

"I have seen no Yankees," was the surprising answer.

Major Powell could only gasp, "Seen no Yankees?"

"No; not one."

"Then the mountains must have opened and swallowed them."

Full explanations were made, and the force returned to bury the dead and care for the wounded. The only possible explanation they could make for the disappearance of the Federals was that they had hid on the mountain-side and let the force of Captain Turner pass, then come down and resumed their flight.

As they debated, suddenly, above them, on the mountain-side, appeared the figure of an old man, and his voice came down to them, loud and shrill: "Woe, woe, woe to them who raise their hands against the flag of their country!"

"Damn him! Fire!" shouted Turner.

A hundred rifles blazed. There came back to them a mocking laugh, and the old man disappeared. The mountain was scoured, but not a trace of him could be found.

A superstitious fear fell upon the whole force. The old man must have been the devil, they argued, and he had helped the Yankees to escape.

CHAPTER XXII

MARK CONFESSES HIS LOVE

It was a day or two after the appearance of the fugitives from Powell's force that Mark Grafton returned to the La Belle. He seemed tired and careworn, but reported that his trip had been entirely successful.

When told of the disastrous defeat of Powell's force, he was astounded. "Had I expected such a result," he exclaimed, "I would have gone with him. Ran into an ambuscade, did he? I believe, if I had been with him, I could have prevented that, for I am used to fighting just such fellows, and am up to all their tricks."

"You seem to have a good opinion of yourself," remarked Grace, somewhat sarcastically.

What she said, and the tone in which she said it, cut Mark to the heart. "Your rebuke is just, Grace. No man should boast," he said, as he turned away.

That night Mark lay thinking. That Grace had changed, he could plainly see. It must be because he had refused to tell her his secret. "I must go away, and never return," he sighed. "It is the only way. If I could only stay near her, to see her every day, to be her slave, I would be contented."

Then the thought of Big Tom came into his mind. He knew there was real danger from that source. No one knew better than he what the guerrillas of the State were fast becoming – bands of robbers that preyed on friend and foe alike. He felt that Mr. Chittenden's being a Confederate would not save him. To go away and leave Grace exposed to such a great danger would be to him a torture.

Sleep did not visit him that night, and when morning came he was no nearer a decision than he was the night before. He arose; white and haggard. The lines in his face showed what he had suffered.

That night also seemed to have changed Grace. She came to him and, holding out her hand, said: "Mark, I'm sorry I spoke as I did last night. Forgive me." Then, looking at him, she cried: "Foolish boy! I believe you took to heart what I said. Mark, did it hurt you so?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Grace," he replied, gently. "I passed a restless night, but it was not what you said that caused it, but the thought that I had already remained here too long; and yet it is hard to go from those who are so kind to me."

"Why go at all?" asked Grace. "You belong here. Did we not bring you back from the very brink of the grave? I have heard father say he wished you would always remain. He has taken a great fancy to you."

A great light came into Mark's face. He took a step toward her, as if he would clasp her in his arms. "Grace! Grace!" he cried, then stopped and turned deadly pale.

"Mark, what is it? Are you sick?" asked Grace, anxiously.

"No; I did turn a little faint, but I am over it now. I will think over what you said."

He did think it over, and came to the conclusion that he must go; for, if he stayed, the time would come when he would have to confess his love for Grace. He trembled when he realized how near he had come to telling her. But it was not many hours before he was telling her.

A man came riding into the valley from the north. He was burning with fever, and reeled from side to side in his saddle. He was lifted from his horse, and carried into the house.

"I am afraid I am done for," he said, faintly, as he was gently placed on a bed. "I was told I would find a crippled Confederate soldier here, called Mark Grafton, who sometimes acts as the bearer of dispatches. Is he here now?"

"He is," answered Mr. Chittenden.

"I must see him – see him before it is too late. I feel the hand of Death upon me."

Mark was called, and the sick man, between gasps, told his story. He said his name was Paul Dupont, and he was the bearer of important dispatches to General Hindman. "I was sick at the time they asked me to carry them, and tried to beg off, but they said the dispatches were so important they could only be trusted to a brave and trusty man, and they knew I was one. 'Carry them as far as Judge Chittenden's, on the La Belle,' they said; 'then, if you are not able to go farther, deliver them into the hands of a crippled Confederate soldier there, by the name of Mark Grafton.' I can go no farther. The hand of Death is already on me. You will find the dispatches sewed in the lining of my coat. Take them and deliver them into the hands of General Hindman."

"To Hindman!" gasped Mark.

"Yes – don't fail!" whispered Dupont, as he sank back on his pillow, exhausted. He closed his eyes; his breath came shorter and shorter, and he soon passed away, without speaking again.

Mark stood as one confounded. A sacred trust had been committed to him – one that took him where he never wished to go – into Arkansas. No one except himself could realize the dangers that he would run.

When Mr. Chittenden heard of the dead man's request, he said: "Mark, will you go? Those dispatches mean much; they may mean the redemption of the State. But the danger – Mark, I hate to see you go."

Mark thought a moment, and then, drawing himself up to his full height, his face set and determined, he answered: "I will go. It is a sacred trust – it is for my country."

Mr. Chittenden and Mark searched the effects of the dead man, and found the dispatches as stated. They also found he had about one hundred dollars in Federal money and two thousand dollars in Confederate money on his person. Among the papers found was a pass from General Hindman, asking all good Confederates to aid the bearer all possible.

"No doubt Dupont was a trusty spy for General Hindman," said Mr. Chittenden. "Mark, you are stepping into dangerous shoes; yet, if you were my son, I should bid you go. As for the money, keep that; no doubt it was given Dupont for expenses, and you are now in his place."

Mark's preparations were soon made, but the roll which he strapped behind his saddle was much larger than he generally took. When he was ready, he sought Grace, to say good-bye. She was not in the house, and knew nothing of what had taken place.

He sought her in her favorite nook by the side of the La Belle, and there he found her gazing pensively into the water. Mark thought there was a look of sadness on her face. She looked up in surprise as he rode up.

"Going away so soon?" she asked.

Dismounting, Mark hitched his horse, and, going up to her, said: "Yes, Grace, I am going again, and on one of the most dangerous missions I ever undertook. I have come to say good-bye. If I never see you again, God bless you!"

The girl turned pale. "Why go, Mark, if it is so dangerous?"

"It is my duty."

"Mark, don't go!" Tears were gathering in her eyes.

He looked at her, his whole face eloquent with love. All the resolutions he had made were forgotten.

"Grace, I must say what I have told myself a thousand times I would never say. Grace, I love you – love you better than I do my own soul, and because I so love you, it is better that I go away and never return."