The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1898-06-10
WHY JACKSON LIED

we'd better go little farther down."
In this Jackson had knowingly uttered
an untruth. He had seen the fugitive
with his own eyes, had watched him
closely for almost quarter of an hour.
But for all that the lie was a white
one So very white, that the recording
angel made one of those peculiar mis-
takes Of his and registered 1t plus in
stead Of minus. The reason he did SO
| was this.
Shortly after midnight that night,
the great prison bell of the Alabama
State stockade clamored out the alarm
OF an escape. In moment all was ex-
cltement. Guards came running, buck
ing their arms about them and shout
ing out orders to the TRUSTEES" horses
and mules were saddled, and the blood
hounds, one of the fiercest and best
trained packs ID the State, were
brought up from their kennel under
a heavy leash. Almost before the bell
stopped ringing there were ten men,
armed and mounted, and thirty dogs,
keen-scented and eager, ready for the
pursuit. The warden addressed the
group, while negro "trusty" held a
lantern high-up for light. Men," he
said, its young Bud Rafferty,, trusty,
tWo-seVen. You got to move, 'cuz he's
used to runnin' the dawgs. II he gets
to the swamp. make for the river to
head him off. Gone since seven an
still in his stripes That's ALL"
AS If controlled by one rider the
horses whred and galloped away.
The hounds, slipped from their chains,
scattered with yelps and whines and
trotted in widening circles with noses
close to the ground. Suddenly, farpff
to the left, came a doleful note that
needed no Interpretation; that melan-
choly yho-O-O-o-o was the voice of old
Spot, as he told he had found the
trail.
About this time, eight miles to the
southwest, there was a young negro,
stumbling along in the last stages of
exhaustion. Warily he would look
about him, craftily he would seize
behind him a blind trail. He
had run before the hounds more
than once in daily practice, and
now the training stood him in
good stead. He knew that his
pursuers would soon learn the swamp
could be his only refuge and then his
capture would be mere matter of
time. He stopped to listen. One min
ute. Two minutes. Then, as his
breathing became more quiet far off to
the north he heard a sound that again
set him plunging forward through the
water and slime.
That faint musical note that sounds
SO sweetly to one unaware OF its mean
ing, to him had a terrible significance,
1t acted upon him like spur on the
flank Of weary horse. 1t was the cry
bloodhound utters when the trail
is fresh and warm.
But the river was not his destination.
So, when an hour later, the prison
guards had discovered that their hui
man quarry had entered the swamp,
they called off the hounds and started
on dead run for the river, there to
scatter out and shut off the escape of
the fugitive in that direction. But it
happened that young Rafferty, was la
boriously working his way through the
slough, giving never thought to the Il
river.
Toward the eastern extremity of-tis
swamp, near the bank of little stream
that served as one of its feeders, there
lay an old log cabin. Even at that
late hour the solitary window showed
patch of yellow light, and within
there was sounds of wakefulness. For
old Rafferty, lay dying. Born down at
last by the "mizry" he had fought so
long, partly from exposure, partly from
improper care, the old ex-slave was
going to his last emancipation. His
old wife was crying softly at his side,
"Ezry, don yo' cry, honey, he gwne
come"
The old mans voice was all but in
audible. Yes, Lo'd, he gwine come"
He gwine come an see his ole pap
py."
ain got long. Mos crost Jo'dan
now" The old man opened his eyes
and family smiled. "Ha'k, don yo
heah him comm now-De good Lod
promise"
His wife gently stroked back the
gray hair from the black forehead. She
knew his stout old heart had been
broken when Bud had been sent to
prison for cashing a worthless check.
For two long years he had never men
TONED his sons name. These old SER
vitors many of them, possess all the
pride and spirit Of the patricians who
reared them. The old man had been
ielirious for the last two days, calling
for the absent one. And now could
she tell him he would never see their
child again?
blessed is de Lam" quavered the
Did negro. Randy, hep me up" She
stopped to help him to sitting pos
,ure Again he cried out, now loud
md clear, Blessed is de Lam, fer de
vas, for while he was still speaking the
loor opened and in stepped the son.
When Jackson crept up quietly to
he window OF the cabin a half hour
alter and looked stealthily in, he saw
young negro in prison garb, torn and
muddy, kneeling by the side OF a gaunt
I'D African, whose glazing eyes were
He'd with supernal happiness. Be-
ore the fireplace an aged woman, her
ace in her apron, was sobbing.
He heard the old man whisper, de
Io'd done store de widows son, Ran
~"
And then he tJackson) swallowed
nightly and turned away for he knew
hat Randy in truth was a H!,!aw
Don't Tobacco Spit aud Smoke You. Life iua,,