The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1900-08-01
CHAPTER ".

For while it looked as if Vasseur
and Fairfax would be roasted alive in
the burning house, as the leader of
the cavaliers had intended when he
applied the fire; but the servants
rallied from their stupor of fright In
time to come to the rescue.
The two. men, still bound and
gagged, were dragged forth without
any ceremony and left lying at some
distance from the building, while the
excited servants made heroic efforts
to save first the house itself then the
furniture. Their work was quite in
vain, however, for the dry, resinous
pine logs and boards yielded to the
flames as if with delight, finging out
such heat that nothing less invulner-
able than a salamander could have
gone within the doors.
Fairfax lay on his back under fig
tree and watched helplessly and with
what resignation he could command
the rapid and weird changes of the
scene. The negroes had deemed it
best to leave the men tied, seeing at o
glance that to unbind them would re-
quire great effort and much loss of
valuable time, which had better be
spent in efforts to save property.
Meanwhile, the five cavaliers were
speeding on their way to Honey ISL
and. Their ride back along the Black
wolf Trail was far brisker than was
their pace when we saw them going
down to the bay; indeed, by the time
that full daylight was abroad in the
woods, they were far up by the banks
of Pearl River, galloping along single
file, with cane-brake on one hand
and wild jungle of live.oaks and tan
gled vines on the other. The chief
had led them by new route from
Vasseur's to the trail, crossway that
ran past the humble home of Lapin,
the overseer of Mr.. Vernon's planta-
ton. Day was beginning to shoot up
it's first faint simmer as they rode
near the little place, startling pack
of dogs from their slumbers under o
low shed and drawing from them a
broadside of discordant baying. Some
domestic fowls, roosting on rude
grape trellis, cackled Justify.
Two savage-looking bloodhounds
cleared the low yard fence at bound
and came tearing along after the horse
men, as if to drag them from their
saddles.
Don't shoot" commanded the
chief, as one of the cavaliers lifted his
gun. They'll quit when they dis.
cover our scent. Hold your fire."
Sure enough it was SO; the dogs
turned about almost instantly, when
they discovered that it was men in the
saddles, and trotted leisurely back the
way they had come.
While this was going on. singular
incident added significance to what
would have otherwise been scarcely
worth our noting.
At the sound of the chiefs voice,
some one in the house leaped out of
bed and ran to the little square win
dow-hole that overlooked the path
along which the cavaliers were canter-
ing. A moment later, just as the chief
was on the point of disappearing
among the trees, head covered with
long, scattering, disheveled locks of
white hair was thrust out, the face
showing haggard and shrunken with
intense excitement, and the sunken
blue eyes followed in strange wise the
horseman's movements.
The chief glanced back just at that
point, but he did not see the face in
the window-hole; if he had seeni it and
recognized it, the effect upon him
would have been greater than O row of
leveled guns could have produced.
Little note made the grim riders OF
this incident; they did not note it at
all, in fact, but galloped on in reck-
less mood, knowing that there was no
force to pursue them, and that every
bound their horses made bore them
that much nearer to the land of their
comrades, the almost impenetrable
wilderness of Honey Island, where
their chief was king, and where the
division of spoils was the only evil
dence of law.
!. One came upon their track, how
ever-a tail old man on foot and un-
armed. He strobe out from Lapin's
cabin and followed the trail, stepping
slowly and firmly, yet showing as if
from within the window Of his coun-
tenance consuming eagerness and o
great hope.
1t was thus that Alexander Max
Earns once more got glimpse of the
man who had stolen his child. That
mans voice had startled him from his
mornings sleep under Lapin's roof,
and the hurried look through the wiz
dow had photographed on his brain q
picture of terrible significance to him.
For the merest point of time his eyes
had rested upon Kirk MacCollough.
He muttered that name as he trudged
deeper and deeper into the gloomy
forest following the trail of the cav
alters.
What is it that makes our conscious
ness Of an eneny's personal beauty
something appealing and, in a way,
distressing? An old duelist has been
heard to say that he would rather
stand before an ordinary-looking dead
shot than before handsome buugler.
The glamour of II fine, magnetic pres
ence is strangely confusing; and the
effect seems more powerful when the
face is an evil one, especially when
tbs evil is not on the outside and
shows only elusively and by subtle in
direction from within. Max Burns felt
L ~