CHAPTER 26.
BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER AT LAST
It was the first warm day of spring and the sunshine was very soothingto Melissa as she sat on the old porch early in the afternoon. Perhapsit was a memory of childhood, perhaps she was thinking of the happydays she and Chad had spent on the river bank long ago, and perhaps itwas the sudden thought that, with the little they had to eat in thehouse and that little the same three times a day, week in and week out,Mother Turner, who had been ailing, would like to have some fish;perhaps it was the primitive hunting instinct that, on such a day, setsa country boy's fingers itching for a squirrel rifle or a canefishing-pole, but she sprang from her seat, leaving old Jack to doze onthe porch, and, in half an hour, was crouched down behind a boulderbelow the river bend, dropping a wriggling worm into a dark, stillpool. As she sat there, contented and luckless, the sun grew so warmthat she got drowsy and dozed--how long she did not know--but she awokewith a start and with a frightened sense that someone was near her,though she could hear no sound. But she lay still--her heart beatinghigh--and so sure that her instinct was true that she was not evensurprised when she heard a voice in the thicket above--a low voice, butone she knew perfectly well:
"I tell you he's a-comin' up the river now. He's a-goin' to stay withole Ham Blake ter-night over the mountain an' he'll be a-comin' throughHurricane Gap 'bout daylight termorrer or next day, shore. He's got alot o' men, but we can layway 'em in the Gap an' git away all right."It was Tad Dillon speaking--Daws Dillon, his brother, answered:
"I don't want to kill anybody but that damned Chad--Captain ChadBUFORD, he calls hisself."
"Well, we can git him all right. I heerd that they was a-lookin' fer usan' was goin' to ketch us if they could."
"I wish I knowed that was so," said Daws with an oath. "Nary a one of'em would git away alive if I just knowed it was so. But we'll gitCAPTAIN Chad Buford, shore as hell! You go tell the boys to guard theGap ter-night. They mought come through afore day." And then the noiseof their footsteps fainted out of hearing and Melissa rose and spedback to the house.
From behind a clump of bushes above where she had sat, rose thegigantic figure of Rebel Jerry Dillon. He looked after the flying girlwith a grim smile and then dropped his great bulk down on the bed ofmoss where he had been listening to the plan of his enemies andkinsmen. Jerry had made many expeditions over from Virginia lately andeach time he had gone back with a new notch on the murderous knife thathe carried in his belt. He had but two personal enemies alive now--DawsDillon, who had tried to have him shot, and his own brother, YankeeJake. This was the second time he had been over for Daws, and after hisfirst trip he had persuaded Dan to ask permission from General Morganto take a company into Kentucky and destroy Daws and his band, andMorgan had given him leave, for Federals and Confederates were chasingdown these guerillas now--sometimes even joining forces to furthertheir common purpose. Jerry had been slipping through the woods afterDaws, meaning to crawl close enough to kill him and, perhaps, TadDillon too, if necessary, but after hearing their plan he had let themgo, for a bigger chance might be at hand. If Chad Buford was in themountains looking for Daws, Yankee Jake was with him. If he killed Dawsnow, Chad and his men would hear of his death and would go back, mostlikely--and that was the thought that checked his finger on the triggerof his pistol. Another thought now lifted him to his feet withsurprising quickness and sent him on a run down the river where hishorse was hitched in the bushes. He would go over the mountain for Dan.He could lead Dan and his men to Hurricane Gap by daylight. Chad Bufordcould fight it out with Daws and his gang, and he and Dan would fightit out with the men who won--no matter whether Yankees or guerillas.And a grim smile stayed on Rebel Jerry's face as he climbed.
On the porch of the Turner cabin sat Melissa with her hands clinchedand old Jack's head in her lap. There was no use worrying MotherTurner--she feared even to tell her--but what should she do? She mightboldly cross the mountain now, for she was known to be a rebel, but theDillons knowing, too, how close Chad had once been to the Turners mightsuspect and stop her. No, if she went at all, she must go afternightfall--but how would she get away from Mother Turner, and how couldshe make her way, undetected through Hurricane Gap? The cliffs were sosteep and close together in one place that she could hardly pass morethan forty feet from the road on either side and she could not passthat close to pickets and not be heard. Her brain ached with planningand she was so absorbed as night came on that several times old MotherTurner querulously asked what was ailing her and why she did not paymore heed to her work, and the girl answered her patiently and went onwith her planning. Before dark, she knew what she would do, and afterthe old mother was asleep, she rose softly and slipped out the doorwithout awakening even old Jack, and went to the barn, where she gotthe sheep-bell that old Beelzebub used to wear and with the clappercaught in one hand, to keep the bell from tinkling, she went swiftlydown the road toward Hurricane Gap. Several times she had to dart intothe bushes while men on horseback rode by her, and once she came nearbeing caught by three men on foot--all hurrying at Daws Dillon's orderto the Gap through which she must go. When the road turned from theriver, she went slowly along the edge of it, so that if discovered, shecould leap with one spring into the bushes. It was raining--a colddrizzle that began to chill her and set her to coughing so that she washalf afraid that she might disclose herself. At the mouth of the Gapshe saw a fire on one side of the road and could hear talking, but shehad no difficulty passing it, on the other side. But on, where the Gapnarrowed--there was the trouble. It must have been an hour beforemidnight when she tremblingly neared the narrow defile. The rain hadceased, and as she crept around a boulder she could see, by the lightof the moon between two black clouds, two sentinels beyond. The crisiswas at hand now. She slipped to one side of the road, climbed the cliffas high as she could and crept about it. She was past one picket now,and in her eagerness one foot slipped and she half fell. She almostheld her breath and lay still.
"I hear somethin' up thar in the bresh," shouted the second picket."Halt!"
Melissa tinkled the sheep-bell and pushed a bush to and fro as though asheep or a cow might be rubbing itself, and the picket she had passedlaughed aloud.
"Goin' to shoot ole Sally Perkins's cow, air you?" he said, jeeringly."Yes, I heerd her," he added, lying; for, being up all the nightbefore, he had drowsed at his post. A moment later, Melissa moved on,making considerable noise and tinkling her bell constantly. She wasnear the top now and when she peered out through the bushes, no one wasin sight and she leaped into the road and fled down the mountain. Atthe foot of the spur another ringing cry smote the darkness in front ofher:
"Halt! Who goes there?"
"Don't shoot!" she cried, weakly. "It's only me."
"Advance, 'Me,'" said the picket, astonished to hear a woman's voice.And then into the light of his fire stepped a shepherdess with asheep-bell in her hand, with a beautiful, pale, distressed face, a wet,clinging dress, and masses of yellow hair surging out of the shawl overher head. The ill startled picket dropped the butt of his musket to theground and stared.
"I want to see Chad, your captain," she said, timidly.
"All right," said the soldier, courteously. "He's just below there andI guess he's up. We are getting ready to start now. Come along."
"Oh, no!" said Melissa, hurriedly. "I can't go down there." It had juststruck her that Chad must not see her; but the picket thought shenaturally did not wish to face a lot of soldiers in her bedraggled andtorn dress, and he said quickly:
"All right. Give me your message and I'll take it to him." He smiled."You can wait here and stand guard."
Melissa told him hurriedly how she had come over the mountain and whatwas going on over there, and the picket with a low whistle started downtoward his camp without another word.
Chad could not doubt the accuracy of the information--the picket hadnames and facts.
"A girl, you say?"
"Yes, sir"--the soldier hesitated--"and a ver
y pretty one, too. Shecame over the mountain alone and on foot through this darkness. Shepassed the pickets on the other side--pretending to be a sheep. She hada bell in her hand." Chad smiled--he knew that trick.
"Where is she?"
"She's standing guard for me."
The picket turned at a gesture from Chad and led the way. They found noMelissa. She had heard Chad's voice and fled up the mountain. Beforedaybreak she was descending the mountain on the other side, along thesame way, tinkling her sheep-bell and creeping past the pickets. It wasraining again now and her cold had grown worse. Several times she hadto muffle her face into her shawl to keep her cough from betraying her.As she passed the ford below the Turner cabin, she heard the splash ofmany horses crossing the river and she ran on, frightened andwondering. Before day broke she had slipped into her bed withoutarousing Mother Turner, and she did not get up that day, but lay illabed.
The splashing of those many horses was made by Captain Daniel Dean andhis men, guided by Rebel Jerry. High on the mountain side they hidtheir horses in a ravine and crept toward the Gap on foot--so thatwhile Daws with his gang waited for Chad, the rebels lay in the brushwaiting for him. Dan was merry over the prospect:
"We will just let them fight it out," he said, "and then we'll dash inand gobble 'em both up. That was a fine scheme of yours, Jerry."
Rebel Jerry smiled: there was one thing he had not told hiscaptain--who those rebels were. Purposely he had kept that fact hidden.He had seen Dan purposely refrain from killing Chad Buford once and hefeared that Dan might think his brother Harry was among the Yankees.All this Rebel Jerry failed to understand, and he wanted nothing knownnow that might stay anybody's hand. Dawn broke and nothing happened.Not a shot rang out and only the smoke of the guerillas' fire showed inthe peaceful mouth of the Gap. Dan wanted to attack the guerillas, butJerry persuaded him to wait until he could learn how the land lay, anddisappeared in the bushes. At noon he came back.
"The Yankees have found out Daws is thar in the Gap," he said, "an'they are goin' to slip over before day ter-morrer and s'prise him. Hitdon't make no difference to us, which s'prises which--does it?"
So the rebels kept hid through the day in the bushes on the mountainside, and when Chad slipped through the Gap next morning, before day,and took up the guerilla pickets, Dan had moved into the same Gap fromthe other side, and was lying in the bushes with his men, near theguerillas' fire, waiting for the Yankees to make their attack. He hadnot long to wait. At the first white streak of dawn overhead, a shoutrang through the woods from the Yankees to the startled guerillas.
"Surrender!" A fusillade followed. Again:
"Surrender!" and there was a short silence, broken by low curses fromthe guerillas, and a stern Yankee voice giving short, quick orders. Theguerillas had given up. Rebel Jerry moved restlessly at Dan's side andDan cautioned him.
"Wait! Let them have time to disarm the prisoners," he whispered.
"Now," he added, a little while later--"creep quietly, boys."
Forward they went like snakes, creeping to the edge of the brush whencethey could see the sullen guerillas grouped on one side of thefire--their arms stacked, while a tall figure in blue moved here andthere, and gave orders in a voice that all at once seemed strangelyfamiliar to Dan.
"Now, boys," he said, half aloud, "give 'em a volley and charge."
At his word there was a rattling fusillade, and then the rebels leapedfrom the bushes and dashed on the astonished Yankees and theirprisoners. It was pistol to pistol at first and then they closed toknife thrust and musket butt, hand to hand--in a cloud of smoke. At thefirst fire from the rebels Chad saw his prisoner, Daws Dillon, leap forthe stacked arms and disappear. A moment later, as he was emptying hispistol at his charging foes, he felt a bullet clip a lock of hair fromthe back of his head and he turned to see Daws on the farthest edge ofthe firelight levelling his pistol for another shot before he ran. Likelightning he wheeled and when his finger pulled the trigger, Daws sanklimply, his grinning, malignant face sickening as he fell.
The tall fellow in blue snapped his pistol at Dan, and as Dan, whosepistol, too, was empty, sprang forward and closed with him, he heard atriumphant yell behind him and Rebel Jerry's huge figure flashed pasthim. With the same glance he saw among the Yankees another giant--wholooked like another Jerry--saw his face grow ghastly with fear whenJerry's yell rose, and then grow taut with ferocity as he tugged at hissheath to meet the murderous knife flashing toward him. The terribleDillon twins were come together at last, and Dan shuddered, but he sawno more, for he was busy with the lithe Yankee in whose arms he wasclosed. As they struggled, Dan tried to get his knife and the Yankeetugged for his second pistol each clasping the other's wrist. Not asound did they make nor could either see the other's face, for Dan hadhis chin in his opponent's breast and was striving to bend himbackward. He had clutched the Yankee's right hand, as it went back forhis pistol, just as the Yankee had caught his right in front, feelingfor his knife. The advantage would have been all Dan's except that theYankee suddenly loosed his wrist and gripped him tight about the bodyin an underhold, so that Dan could not whirl him round; but he couldtwist that wrist and twist it he did, with both hands and all hisstrength. Once the Yankee gave a smothered groan of pain and Dan heardhim grit his teeth to keep it back. The smoke had lifted now, and, whenthey fell, it was in the light of the fire. The Yankee had thrown himwith a knee-trick that Harry used to try on him when they were boys,but something about the Yankee snapped, as they fell, and he groanedaloud. Clutching him by the throat, Dan threw him oft--he could get athis knife now.
"Surrender!" he said, hoarsely.
His answer was a convulsive struggle and then the Yankee lay still.
"Surrender!" said Dan again, lifting his knife above the Yankee'sbreast, "or, damn you, I'll--"
The Yankee had turned his face weakly toward the fire, and Dan, with acry of horror, threw his knife away and sprang to his feet. Straightwaythe Yankee's closed eyes opened and he smiled faintly.
"Why, Dan, is that you?" he asked. "I thought it would come," he added,quietly, and then Harry Dean lapsed into unconsciousness.
Thus, at its best, this fratricidal war was being fought out thatdaybreak in one little hollow of the Kentucky mountains and thus, atits worst, it was being fought out in another little hollow scarcelytwenty yards away, where the giant twins--Rebel Jerry and YankeeJake--who did know they were brothers, sought each other's lives inmutual misconception and mutual hate.
There were a dozen dead Federals and guerillas around the fire, andamong them was Daws Dillon with the pallor of death on his face and thehate that life had written there still clinging to it like a shadow. AsDan bent tenderly over his brother Harry, two soldiers brought in ahuge body from the bushes, and he turned to see Rebel Jerry Dillon.There were a half a dozen rents in his uniform and a fearful slashunder his chin--but he was breathing still. Chad Buford had escaped andso had Yankee Jake.