# My Lady of the South/Chapter 28

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE MAN IN THE TUNNEL
I HAD an hour, then, in which to attempt the solving of this mystery, and still retain opportunity for escape. I could rely upon O'Brien to guard carefully the lower hall and prevent interruption, while I thoroughly investigated the upper portion of the house, and again explored the tunnel. Indeed the first portion of this task was already accomplished, for I could recall no nook or cranny which I had not examined. Possibly the woman might have slipped past me in the hall while I was exploring the rooms, but I had left the doors open, and had watched so closely as to make this highly improbable. To my mind there remained only the underground passage to search, and I purposed making my search thorough in every particular. I went back to the front chamber, seeking my revolver, but found no trace of it, and was compelled to proceed unarmed. A bit uneasy at being weaponless I took the precaution of glancing again into each room, to reassure myself of the emptiness of all, before plunging into the tunnel.
The fire-screen moved easily, and I propped it back with a chair, so it could not be closed upon me without human aid, and lit the lantern, which had apparently remained undisturbed since our last trip that way. The ​shaft leading down was black and silent, and I held the yellow flame higher to examine the iron bars, arranged ladder-like along the back wall. I had scarcely thought of this seriously before, but now I observed there were three of these steps, and that the third was a wide strip which extended along the side hall. This rather peculiar arrangement aroused my curiosity, and, slinging the lantern to my belt, I clambered up, discovering a somewhat similar bar at the top of the shaft, which gave me a hand-hold, thus enabling me to walk the lower strip. A single step revealed the deception of the appearance from below. Before me was painted canvas, not rock, and the framework to which it was nailed yielded instantly to my grasp. The lantern revealed nothing but a bare narrow closet, with a door to the right. I clambered in, and opened the latter, looking out into one of those unoccupied rooms which I had previously examined. It was plain enough now how the woman had disappeared so suddenly—she had slipped into this chamber, and, by way of the closet, found entrance to the tunnel. And here must be where she had hidden before.
The discovery put me in better humor, for now much of the mystery was solved, and I could proceed with more confidence. Without doubt she was in the tunnel, or had passed through and escaped to the open air. I must make certain of this, and then block the passage so that her return that way would be impossible. I went back through the hall, and crawled into the shaft once more by way of the fire-screen, the lantern still dangling at my waist as I scrambled recklessly down the ladder. ​The venture did not seem to me a dangerous one; to be sure the woman carried a knife while I was unarmed, yet she could not approach unobserved while I bore the lantern, and my strength would easily overcome her weapon. Besides, she would never attempt an attack in that straight tunnel which afforded no opportunity for surprise. Always she had struck her death blows in the dark, and I felt no fear of her so long as that yellow flame flickered in advance along the stone walls.
Once safely below I removed the lantern from my belt and held it out before me, so as to throw its meagre rays as far as possible, and stepped forward into the gloomy passage. There was nothing to awaken alarm, the silence was profound, no sense of movement anywhere. So complete was my feeling of security that I even came to a pause, exploring my jacket pocket for pipe and tobacco, experiencing a desire to smoke. I found these, and was searching for a match, when something seemed to whiz out of the blackness, crashed against the glass of the lantern, instantly whiffing out the yellow flame. I dropped the pipe, reeling back against the wall, blinded by the intense darkness, and scarcely comprehending what had occurred. I could not even tell where the missile had come from; it was not a bullet for there was no report, yet surely the woman could never have thrown a stone with so precise an aim. This flashed over me instantly, for I was given no time for thought; something rushed at me through the blackness, and we grappled each other in mad, desperate struggle, yet the ​numbing sense of fear left me, as I realized that my adversary was a man.
He was a man, yet he fought with all the ferocity of a beast. It was God's mercy that I caught his wrist in my grip and forced a knife from his uplifted hand. I heard it clatter to the floor, even as I struck him with the lantern. Then it was naked hands, the fellow clawing wildly for my throat, while I drove my fist viciously into his face. I had an advantage in this, even in that darkness, for I knew how to handle my arms, and had him sufficiently located to make under-cuts efficient. I landed twice, the second blow sending him staggering back against the wall; but what he lacked in science he made up in savagery, and in rough bar-room fighting, and he came back, clawing at me in the darkness, and kicking viciously at my body. But for the clutch of his fingers on my jacket collar, screwing it tight in an effort at throttling, I would not have known exactly where to strike. But with this as guide I kept my left busy and felt flesh with my knuckles, driving in short-arm jabs until I had him forced to the wall, his head pounding the stones every time I hit him. Had it been daylight, had I been able to see, I would have known I had the fellow whipped, but in that hole, fearing treachery, or the use of some weapon, I kept remorselessly at him, until he sank at my feet, begging for mercy under punishment. Even then I kept my grip upon him with one hand, while the other groped about for the lantern. I found it, at last, the glass globe shattered, and managed ​to ignite the wick, the flickering flame barely dispelling the darkness for a dozen feet. But it revealed the face of my opponent, and I loosened my grip, staring at him in amazement. His whiskers were torn in the struggle, his face blood-stained, but I could not doubt his identity—Daniels the mountaineer.
What did this mean? It was the feud, then, back of all these murders. The woman had disappeared—vanished as mysteriously as she had come; but here was this man creeping into the house through the tunnel, knife in hand, urged by the same spirit of hatred, the same insanity of revenge. My heart hardened against him; pitiful object though he was, I felt no sympathy, no desire to aid. I could have trampled on him as upon a snake. Even as he recognized me, he read the truth in my eyes, and shrank back against the rock wall, his arms uplifted as if for protection.
"Was it you, Leftenant? By God, I did n't know."
"It makes no difference what you knew," I returned hotly. "You made no effort to find out; you tried murder, and there has been too much of that done here already."
"What is it you mean?—murder, here?"
"Yes, and 1 have no doubt you know more about it than I do; within forty-eight hours three men have been assassinated here in the dark—stricken down by the knife, and the fourth barely escaped with a serious wound."
He stared up at me, his head against the wall, as if scarcely comprehending.
​"Three killed? Who were they?"
"A Confederate Lieutenant, a private of the Third Ohio Cavalry, and Judge Dunn. The man injured but not killed was Jem Donald."
It seemed to me a new light almost of exultation leaped into the gray eyes, but it vanished instantly.
"My God!" he exclaimed incredulously, "Who did it?"
I caught his wrist, staring straight down into his face.
"That is what I want you to tell me, Daniels," I said sternly, "and I want it straight. That feud of yours is at the bottom of this thing. The killing of the two soldiers was accidental; whoever did the dastardly deed was after Dunn and Donald. Now I believe you know the whole story; your being here, your attack on me, is enough to convince me of that, and I am going to have the truth out of you, if I have to choke it out."
"As God is my witness, Leftenant, I know nothing. I did n't even know of the murders until you told me."
"What were you doing in this tunnel? Why did you attack me?"
He sat up, wiping the blood from his face with a red handkerchief, and thrusting one hand through his grizzled hair. He acted like one bewildered, unable to think clearly.
"I can't tell yer that, not just yet anyhow, but I never came yere to hurt any one so long as they let me alone. That's ther truth, sir. I've known of this passage a long while, and I've got reason enough to feel hard against ther ol' Judge, as well as Jem Donald, but ​I've fought 'em fair; that is, fair accordin' ter ther way we fight sich things out in ther mountings. I ain't no murderer, an' I don't come creepin' long in ther dark ter knife anybody. I went fer yer, but yer hed me trapped yere in this hole, an' I s'posed yer was one o' thet outfit, an' thar wasn't nothin' fer me to do but make a fight fer it. But I swear, sir, I never come in yere lookin' fer trouble."
The evident earnestness of the man brought me a certain measure of faith. Yet I could not entirely free him from suspicion.
"Where were you yesterday and last night?"
"Scoutin' Lost Crick," he answered promptly enough. "Las' night I took a notion to look up my own people."
I said nothing, and he went on.
"They're purty well cleaned out, Leftenant—killed an' skipped. Some of 'em are hidin' out in ther mountings an' some hev gone inter ther army. Dern if I ain't 'bout all thet's left fit ter keep matters bilin'. 'Twixt ther war an' hard luck, thet Donald crowd has just 'bout cleaned us up. Burnt my cabin, too." He got up upon his feet, his gray eyes burning like two coals of fire. "But, by God, sir, I'm yere ter be reckon'd with yit, an' ol' Bill Daniels has got a mighty big score ter wipe out. Maybe I never kin do it, but I'll git Jem Donald if I hev ter ketch him in hell."
The utterly unrestrained savagery of the man fascinated me. The feud spirit clutched him, and, as he dwelt on the wrongs done, he had no thought, no ​conception, other than revenge. He would have tortured his victim with all the relentless cruelty of an Indian. Hate held full possession of all the man's faculties—he could die happy taking Donald with him.
"You say they have destroyed your home?"
"Burned it ter ther ground, Leftenant—not a stick left: not even a hawg rootin' 'round."
I laid my hand on the man's shoulder, feeling a wave of sympathy. Perhaps he had been wronged, outraged; perhaps I should be as great a savage under the same provocation.
"Daniels," I urged earnestly, "I understand how you feel, but I know Donald, and I cannot believe him guilty of such an act. No doubt he has fought you in this feud of your fathers', but I guess he has always fought fair after the mountain fashion. I don't believe he is the kind of a man to go out there and destroy your home in that manner. Young Dunn might do it, for he is just cowardly enough, but not Jem Donald. He's a man, and fights like a man. I believe you are wrong. Some of his guerillas may have done it, but never by his order—I'd stake my life on that. I'm your commanding officer, and you have some confidence in me, have n't you? You believe I'm all right, and that I want you to have a square deal? Well now, play this out like a man, and stop being a savage. Come with me to Jem Donald, and let's find out the truth. Will you do that, Daniels?" And I held out my hand.
He stared at me in a moment's silence, apparently ​unable to find expression; then mouth and eyes hardened.
"I reckon maybe yer mean well," he said, "but yer don't understand."
"What don't I understand?"
"This yere affair. Why, Leftenant, we was both born ter a blood feud. Ye can't ever stop that till ther one or ther other is dead. Suppose I did go ter him, he'd shoot me down afore I could speak a word. Why not? By God, if he come ter me I'd do ther same. Besides, thet ain't all: I've hed houses burned afore," his voice choked, "but somethin' 's happened ter my wife an' the kids; I can't find hide ner hair of 'em."
"Surely you do not think they have been injured?—done away with?"
"It wouldn n't be ther first time sich a thing was done. Ther women fight as well as ther men in these mountings."
"Yes," I assented, remembering, "I have reason to believe it was a woman who committed the murders in this house."