Tom of the Raiders Part 27

"No-have to get back to the lines."

"But you can't, Tom. You're sick. It's the fever that makes you hot. Oh, Tom...."

"Got to get back to the lines," he interrupted. "Start in a few minutes. I guess ... sleep a little first. Mustn't be captured. You wake me up if anyone comes. Murdock's dogs...."

It was night when his brain cleared again. He was wrapped in blankets, lying comfortably on the ground. Overhead the branches of the trees, black against the sky, waved solemnly.

"You 'wake, ma.s.sah?"

Tom started at the voice. An old negro was sitting beside him.

"Yes-what...?"

"You jes' rest quiet," said the negro. "Ev'thing's all right. Miss Marjorie, she comin' soon."

Tom closed his eyes and began to unravel the tangle of the day's events. He could remember voices which had circled around him, babbling endlessly; two negroes who had taken off his wet clothes, put him in dry things and wrapped him in blankets; and Matty, the cook, who had soothed him and given him hot drinks. Then Marjorie had come. Twice he had awakened and found her sitting there. The afternoon was all confusion, like some half-forgotten thing of his imagination. But he was comfortable now, and he didn't care.

He drifted off into an untroubled sleep, and awoke again with the sound of voices in his ears. In the faint light of the moon, he saw two negroes squatting near him. They were talking in whispers. One of them was saying:

"Ol' Murdock's dawgs is a-cryin' and a-moanin'-"

And the other answered: "Oh, Lor'!"

"An' ol' mammy, she's a-looking at the tea grounds in a cup."

"What she say?"

"She don' say nothing." He paused to give his words effect. "She got a rabbit foot."

"Oh, Lor'!" The negro glanced fearfully about them. "Oh, Lor'!" he repeated. "Oh, Lor'! Oh, Lor'!" It had become a wail of terror now, a wail so piteous and so moving that Tom felt as though an icy cold hand had reached out for him, taking away all his strength. The stark trees of the lonely, shadow-infested woods seemed to press in upon them like an army of fantastic giants. The fear which was torturing the negroes came over him in a spasm, then pa.s.sed away.

"What's the trouble there?" he demanded sharply.

The negroes gasped audibly. "Nothin'," answered one of them presently. It was the negro who had been talking about Murdock's dogs and the rabbit's foot.

"What are you getting scared about?"

"Nothin'," came the muttered response.

"Then don't lose your heads," replied Tom. He sat upright and sagged forward weakly. The strength seemed to flow suddenly from his body; his legs and arms felt flabby and useless. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "I'll have to do better than this. Weak as a baby!" Bracing himself on one arm, he flexed the other slowly. The negroes watched him.

"Oh, Lor'!" wailed the older negro again.

"Shut up!" said Tom.

"O Lor'-der's horses on de road! Now der a-coming!"

Tom listened and heard a faint clatter of hoofs, growing louder and louder. It stopped for a moment as the hors.e.m.e.n pulled up to round the bend into the Beecham's farm. Then a man yelled, "Hey, Beecham! Beecham! Hey, Beecham! Come down for a minute. This is Kirby talking. We're on a Yank hunt. Want you to help." There came a m.u.f.fled response from the house, the yelling ceased and the night was quiet again.

Tom found himself on his feet, without knowing how he managed to get up. He was clinging to the trunk of a tree for support. "Here, you," he said to the negroes. "They're after me. Take these blankets and get back to your huts. If they catch me they won't catch me here." Whimpering, the negroes scooped up the blankets.

"Wait!" ordered Tom. "How about these clothes? Where're mine? If I'm caught in these things...." The negroes collected his clothes, which had been spread out to dry, and he changed rapidly. "Take everything and get back as quickly as you can. Come just as soon as it's daylight to be sure you haven't left anything. Tell Miss Marjorie that I've gone...."

They jumped at the crackling of some underbrush near them. It was Marjorie.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE LAST DASH

"Here we are, Marjorie." He went forward to meet her. "Thanks a thousand times for all you've done. You must go back now. I'm going on-so that they won't catch me here."

"No, Tom, you can't go this way," she answered, crying. "I won't let you. Here!-Joe and Sam-put those things down and stay here. Oh, Tom, they'll surely catch you if you try it." She clutched his arm as though to hold him from running into the woods.

"But, Marjorie, there's nothing we can do," he protested. "Please go back. Don't you see what it'll mean if I'm found near here? If I had my horse, the one I sent back from the ferry that day...."

"It's in the far pasture-three miles away," she answered. "Kirby'll have the whole country looking for you by the time we could get it. You'll have to stay here, Tom. I'll hide you in the house-Matty'll hide you over the kitchen. Let me do that for you-let me take the risk. Please!"

"No! If they get me, they'll get me in the open. No, Marjorie. Go on back."

"Then take a horse from the stable. Take my horse."

"Yours?"

"Yes. Uncle gave him to me, and I give him to you. You must...."

"But they'll know...."

"No, they won't...."

"But tomorrow when they find...."

She was facing him squarely, holding to his arms and shaking him. "Matty's husband is the stableman. He knows about you. He'll say that he turned the horse into the pasture. You must.... Joe! Sam! Go up to the stable and saddle my horse and bring him here. Run!"

"Ya.s.sum," replied the negroes in a breath. They disappeared into the darkness. Tom's protest was smothered under Marjorie's hand. The wave of excitement which had kept him on his feet pa.s.sed, and it was as though he had been caught in a powerful undertow which swept his legs from under him. He sank down on the fallen log where they had been sitting together earlier in the day.

"Can you ride? Are you strong enough?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes-if I once get my legs wrapped around him I can stick there. Marjorie, if you're caught at this, all the raid will seem like an immense failure."

"But I won't be caught, and I will always be proud that you came to me when you needed me, when I could help you."

"You're worth a dozen soldiers!" he exclaimed.

There was a moment of silence. "Poor Tom!" she said softly. "It's all so terrible, isn't it? And so wonderful! You men have left the whole South gasping at your bravery. Even Uncle-and he hates everything from the North-says it's the most daring thing he's ever heard of."

"But you-you're from the North."

"Yes," she answered. "We don't talk about the war. He just takes it for granted that I believe everything he believes. I've been here two years now. When mother and father were alive I lived in Albany. I'm going back just as soon as I can. Listen!"

There were more horses on the road.