The Deserter, and Other Stories

tic way the wrestling tricks he knew; but the grip of the bounty-jumper was too powerful. Lafe's head seemed swelling in the effort to burst, and

ewise jerk at his neck, and then the sense of intolerable squeezing there ceased. But there was still an awful buzzing i

parts of him. He knew that he was exceedingly tired and sleepy, and felt only that the one desirable thing

it mit yo

realized that, and lay very still, lazil

overhanging rock, which had tumbled with them, and by some chance they hadn't both

! Lafe!

o be lifting, and he felt some one fumbling at his breast, inside his

m and full upon the mass of young green which covered the hillside. This erect standing figure was for

n the corner of the breastwork. Close beside him-so near that he felt he must have been lying upon him whe

on which his eyes rested that it did no

ing satisfaction back into the boy's slow and inquiring

d no breakfast, and that he had left him in his covert on the hi

involved in vocal sounds, seemed at the effort to shrivel up in pain. At first he thought he could not manage to utter a s

n his round, kindly face. "Ya vole," he said, in a matt

rimson silk, and kneeling down beside the outstretched form of the bounty-jump

te man's arms together till their wrists met on t

" commented Lafe, his

down like if he vas a tousand bricks. But it makes nodding. Ven he is dead, den he is good tied up. Ven he is

from the half-loaf which the nearest haversack furnished. Lafe leaned bac

had happened. From his perch up on the hillside he had seen everything, and

noiselessly down the hill. He had entered the breastwork just at the critical moment, and had dealt La

oy's heartfelt comment. "Foldeen, do you

y head. I haf seen his

He was going to make me help him bring them here. That was what he had the pistol out for. But what beats me is, what di

e over on its back. The pallor of the thief's face, contrasted with the coa

to examine this count

up dere, you!" he called out, pushing the recumbent figure with his foot. "I know you, Red Pete! Dot'

's dead,"

were drawn now into an angry scowl by pain. He fell back helpless after an instinctive effort to lift himself to a sit

ground. "Dots a beauty, ain'd it? Dot's a first-glass Ghristmas bresent, eh, to find in your shtocking! Or no, he is too big. Ve hang him on a d

e had slowly taken in the situation that he was disabled, bound hand and foot, and a

you no harm!

e little fun, eh, to make me on fire und burn me up mit the rest in dot shteam-boat?

curious tale. Before the war he had drifted about in the South a good deal, playing in orchestras in New Orleans some o

he last levee. Sometimes he was in charge of a squad of slaves, sometimes travelling on his own account

robbed, and fire set to the boat in several places. Those on board barely escaped with their lives, and when

was never tracked down. Then the war came, and Foldeen perforce went into the band of an

onnie Blue Flag," he had more than once heard of Red Pete as a sort of unattached gue

his vas pretty near blayed out, eh?

ng in such utter helplessness. He told Foldeen in turn how he had seen th

deir vay out, und gilled a sentinel, und skipped in the night. So-o! Ve don't have us dot

ll we find General

turned their backs on their priso

e valley, strewn with motionless, blue-clad figures, lay wrapped in such silence that they could hear th

thickets. A sharp wind had risen, under which the tree-tops moaned. Above th

ss they don't know themselves. If we go hunting round, we're as likely as not to walk into a hornets' nest. I tell you what we'll do. If we can find a piece of white cloth

bandage-linen which would serve his purpose. He got out more bread as well, and found a scrap of fried

perfectly still. The excitement of his capture hav

hey were finishing the last mouthful. "Oh, I forgot-he's

ny priest! it's near four o'clock!" he exclaimed. Then rising, he looked more attentively at the

ver, and Foldeen held the watch sidewise to decipher this

; "let me take it. I can m

graved in small running script. Lafe, reading wit

ente

Lyman H

ry 22

iends and

Mark's

vel

rth, "I bet that's a relation

got some ungles,"

ever since I could remember. He left home years ago, before I was born. They always said he was out West, somewhere. I bet it's the same man. At any

the pasture to the bank of the creek, noting as he strode along tha

o the other, to make sure that the winding bed of the stream below did not ho

t could not have been raked by the fire from the breastwork. It was swampy ground, covered heavily with high, bushing willows and rank gr

owth made his progress slow and troublesome. It was easy enough to see that no portion of the brigade had passed this way; there were no indications that wild nature here had

ere was no use in merely retracing his steps. He settled his bearings as well as mi

and out of breath, he could detect no open space ahead. The wind was blowing hard from up above, and the noise

nbeck!" La

to call out. He must push doggedly on. Lafe turned a little to the right, and crushed his way forwa

rowth of firs, with dry moss underfoot, and open spaces overhead. In one of these breathing-places of the thicket, h

lders as he hurried toward him. Almost in the same instant the boy, kneeling at his side, sa

, it grew suddenly, strangely dark. Looking upward, Lafe saw above the treetop

orward in a sinister arch across the heavens. His startled ears dimly hea

ds were