# The Red Mist/Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII
WAITING THE NEXT MOVE
ANSE—Kelly, are either of you there?"
There was the sound of chairs being pushed hastily back from a table, and rapid steps on the floor.
"Yes; what's wrong? Have you found something?"
"Sure; Bill an' I saw them; they were a tryin' ter git the hoss; but afore either of us could fire, they sorter slipped 'long back o' ther fence, an' got away. It's darker'n hell out thar, an' Bill sed fer me ter cum in yere an' tell yer that if you 'en Kelly wud cut across the road, an' sorter head the cusses off we'd bag the two easy."
"Whar's the rest of ther boys?"
"Ridin' the Lewisburg pike accordin' ter orders, I reckon. Leastwise we ain't seen 'em since yer tol' us ter watch ther stable. Bill an' I can't round them up alone."
"All right, Dave. Where are they now?"
"In ther orchard, a creepin' 'long the fence. Bill's followin' 'em up, an' all you got ter do is run 'long ​the road an' git ter the corner ahead o' 'em. They can't go no other way."
I caught a glimpse of the two as they crossed the lower hall hurriedly. The lamp flickered in the draft of the opened door, and one fellow swore roughly, as he stumbled over some obstacle. Then the door closed, and the flame steadied. In the silence we could hear again the beating of rain on the roof over head.
"Who do you suppose they could have seen?" she asked.
"Shadows likely enough. Let them hunt. We know now the house is deserted, and can find more comfortable quarters—perhaps even slip away before anyone returns. You will go with me?"
"Of course; I am not afraid of Tom Wyatt."
"You were once, young lady—down by the old mill."
She laughed, as if the suddenly revived memory had driven the seriousness of the present situation from mind.
"When I thought you an Indian? Oh, I have entirely recovered from that fear. I am even going to confess I liked you then."
"Good! and now?"
"That is my secret, sir. Is it not enough to compel me to companion with a rebel spy, without ​asking impertinent questions? Let me help you with the ladder."
We passed it down slowly, and carefully, until the lower end rested securely on the floor below. If Nichols had recovered from the effect of the severe blow, he had made no sound, and I had almost forgotten his presence. I drew back, and permitted the lady to descend first, holding the upper supports firmly until her feet touched the floor. It was a struggle for me to force my larger bulk through the narrow opening, but I succeeded finally, and stood beside her. In the brighter light I could perceive more clearly the expression of the girl's face, and realized the friendliness of her eyes. My frank confession had won me her confidence; no matter where her sympathy might be in this war struggle my allegiance to the cause of the South was no serious barrier between us; even the fact that I was masquerading there in a stolen uniform, and under an assumed name, had not greatly changed her trust in an old playmate. My heart beat faster to this knowledge, yet, in some way, although I rejoiced, the recognition brought with it a strange embarrassment. To her I seemed to be only the boy Tom Wyatt, grown up. She met me in the same open-hearted, careless manner of our childhood—as though it was only yesterday when we played together. But ​to me she was no longer the girl who ran and laughed—she had changed into a woman; and my heart throbbed to the glance of her eye, my blood stirred to the touch of her hand. The very ease with which she appeared to resume the old careless relationship brought to me a pang of regret. I was not a boy, nor content that she should regard me from that standpoint.
"It sounds as though the storm was harder than ever," she said. "Where shall we go?"
"My choice would be to hide in one of these rooms, for the present, at least. We could scarcely hope to get the horse out of the stable unseen, and, even if we did, we would be likely to ride into some of the gang."
"But they will return to the house."
"Before they leave—yes; but it is hardly probable they will search up here again. Anse will be in ill-humor enough when he decides we have really escaped, but will never imagine that our hiding place is in the house. They will give up by daylight, and then the way will be clear."
"And where will you go?"
"Why," in surprise. "I could not leave you alone until I placed you in the care of friends."
"At Lewisburg, you mean?"
"If that is where you wish to go."
​Her eyes met mine frankly, but with an expression in their depths I failed to fathom.
"Not wearing that uniform," she said quietly, "or under the name of Lieutenant Raymond. Do not misunderstand. There is friendship between us—personal friendship, the memory of the past, a knowledge of the intimacy between your father and mine. More, I am grateful to you for the service you have been to me this night; nor do I hold it against you that you risk your life in the cause for which you fight. But I am Union, Tom Wyatt, and I cannot help you in your work, nor protect you. When daylight comes I am going to say good-by—and forget that I have even seen you."
"But," I protested, "why could we not part, if we must, at Lewisburg, after I know you are safe?"
"There are Federal troops at Lewisburg. They know me, and their commander is aware of my acquaintance with the officer whose name you have assumed."
"Then you knew me for a fraud from the very first moment of our meeting?"
"Yes; I knew you were not the man you claimed to be. I said nothing, for I wished to learn your object."
"Yet, in a measure, at least, you trusted me?"
The eyes into which I gazed smiled slightly.
​"Hardly that, perhaps. Your face is an honest one, and there was a vague familiarity about it which made me determined to learn who you were. Besides—well really, I had no choice; I was alone here, and helpless."
"True; yet you have not confessed all."
"All! What else?"
"My guess is you possessed a stronge desire to protect Lieutenant Raymond."
"Oh, indeed!" she laughed, but her eyes fell. "That might have been an added motive—yes. I naturally desired to discover, if possible, why anyone should pretend to be he. My interest was—was not personal, however; it was patriotic."
"But you are friendly?" I persisted, unable to resist the impulse. "This lieutenant is not a mere acquaintance?"
"I feel under no obligation to answer that question," she returned, her cheeks flushed. "There is no reason why you should ask. My interest in the Union cause is sufficient explanation. I am not a little girl, any more."
"Nor am I a mere boy, Miss Noreen. We have met here as man and woman," I said earnestly. "Our past is a bond between us; to me a pleasant memory—but I do not rely upon it for the future. Even although I am a Confederate soldier, I want ​you to consider me a personal friend—one in whom you feel an interest equal at least to that shown Lieutenant Raymond."
"Why I do," her eyes opening widely. "It is for your own protection I refuse your escort to Lewisburg. I am a traitor to my flag not to take you there, and surrender you a prisoner. If—if I did not care I would."
"You mean memory of the boy restrains you?"
She hesitated a moment, her lips parted, a frown wrinkling her forehead.
"No," she acknowledged slowly, as though the thought had just dawned. "That memory is not even vivid. I—I believe you to be a man I shall be glad to know—Hark! that was a shot!"
"Yes, and another; they sound to the west of the house."
"In the orchard, beyond the stable. Can there really be someone hiding there?"
"They are certainly firing at something—there speaks another rifle farther south. Those fellows will be back presently, and we must be out of their way. What room is that beyond the chimney?"
"It was used by the housekeeper. Do you know where Parson Nichols was left?"
"In the room at the head of the stairs; why yes, your room. Could they have killed the man?"
​I pushed open the door, which stood slightly ajar, and looked in. Nichols had partially lifted himself by clinging to the bed, and his eyes met mine. The marks of the savage blow with which Cowan had floored him, were plainly evident, and the man appeared weak and dazed. Yet he instantly recognized me, and crouched back in terror. His return to consciousness, his knowledge of our presence in the house, only meant increased danger. Anse and his followers might not search again for us, but if they returned they would certainly examine into his condition, and he would immediately confess all he knew. The preacher might feel no eager desire to aid Cowan after the rough treatment received, but fear would compel him to speak, and there was no love in his heart for either of us which would restrain his lips. Our only safety therefore lay in having him completely in our power. If those fellows found him gone, they would naturally suppose he had recovered consciousness, and escaped in the darkness. They would scarcely care enough to search the house. I stepped into the room, and gripped his collar.
"Stand on your feet, man! Oh, yes, you can; you're a little groggy yet, no doubt, but with strength enough for that. Come; I'll hold you. Now, out into the hall. Miss Harwood, may I trouble you to open that door—yes, the housekeeper's room; ​we'll hide ourselves in there. By Jove, that sounds like a regular volley!"
I pushed the man forward, and flung him down on the bed, still retaining my grip on his collar.
"Not a move, or a sound, Nichols! Attempt to betray us, and your life is not worth the snap of a finger. Miss Harwood."
"Yes."
"Close the door, and lock it; is there a bolt?"
"A strong iron one, but it seems rusty."
I stepped across, and forced it into the socket with a sharp click. The same instant a vivid flash of red lit up the whole interior, the light glaring in through the unshaded windows, and reflecting from the walls. Nichols started up with a little cry of terror, but I forced him back.
"It is not the house," I said sternly. "They must have fired the stable. Keep down out of sight. Miss Noreen creep across to that nearest window and take a glance out—be careful that no one sees you. I'll keep guard over our preacher friend."
She left us quietly, crouching close against the wall, until she could safely peer out from behind the fold of a chintz curtain. This so shadowed her face that I could distinguish merely its dim outline. The glow from without reddened the entire room. Nichols began to groan, and mutter, but whether the words ​were those of prayer, or not, I was uncertain. That the fellow's brain tottered on the brink of total collapse was evident, and I was too fearful he might create alarm to desert my guard. Eager to learn what had occurred I called across to the girl:
"Is it the stable, Miss Noreen?"
"Yes," with a quick glance backward. "The whole west end is ablaze; I think it was fired in two places."
"Do you see anything of the men?"
"Not clearly, except two or three passing back and forth between the house and the stable. I think there are horses picketed beyond in the orchard, but am not sure—yes, there are men there with them. The fire, as it blazes up, gives me a better view."
"Can you tell how many?"
"No—they form merely a shadow under the trees where the light streams; occasionally one moves, and stands out separate enough to reveal himself as a man. I cannot really tell anything about them—but—but I didn't suppose Anse Cowan had so many with him, did you?"
"Why, really I cannot tell, for I have no conception either way. There must have been a dozen altogether in the house, and doubtless others were on guard without. Hasn't it ceased storming?"
"Yes; I wonder what time it is; why I actually ​believe the sky is becoming lighter in the east already."
She stared out intently, and then sank to her knees.
"Come over here quick! they are getting ready for something."
I swept my eyes over Nichols, who lay motionless, his arms folded across his face. To my mind the fellow was acting a part, and was not half as badly injured as he pretended to be. However, he could do us no great harm at present, and I stole silently across the room, and knelt beside her. She held the curtain aside, leaving just space enough for my eyes. For an instant the glow of the burning building blinded me, and intensified the surrounding darkness. I shadowed my eyes with my hand.
"Where are the men you saw? To the left?"
"Yes—back under the trees, close to the first negro cabin; see! just where I point."
Once located I could perceive the shadowy outline, which grew more distinct as I gazed. There were men there beyond doubt; it seemed to me twenty or thirty, although it was impossible to judge the number. But the shadow seemed to be disintegrating. Even as my eyes focused it, a section moved to the right, and then another swung into the open, circling along the orchard fence.
"There is a slew of them," I muttered ​unthinkingly. "Anse meant to have company at his wedding."
"Oh, hush!" her hand caught my sleeve. "They—they are coming back to the house now."