CHAPTER XVII.
Belinda Himes was still in hiding in the cave on the river-bank whereshe had taken refuge at the first. She found it a doleful abode, butscarcely dared venture from it except under cover of the night, whenwith the owl and the bat she sallied forth from her lair to prowl aboutthe country in search of food. The supply she had taken with her fromthe raft had long since become exhausted, and she was on the verge ofstarvation.
Thus pressed by hunger, she visited fields, gardens, and hen-roosts bynight, appropriating to her own use such eggs, vegetables, and fruitsas she could lay hands upon and carry away--sometimes even going so faras to abstract a young chicken.
Fortunately there were fish in the river, and having found rod, line,and a hook or two on the raft, she was able occasionally to catch one.So she managed to keep soul and body together, yet not very much morethan that.
It was a dreadful life she led--a life filled with terror, remorse, anddespair. Afraid to be seen by mortal eye, she crouched in her dark,damp, unwholesome den through the long, bright summer days, shut awayfrom all the beauty and fragrance that gladdened the hearts and livesof those whom sin and crime did not compel to hide from the light ofthe sun, and away from the companionship of their kind.
Oh, how wearily the days and nights dragged along! Life under suchconditions seemed little worth, yet death a thing to shrink from inwild affright.
She saw no one and knew nothing of passing events. She supposed herhusband was still living, and wondered if, when he should be able to beabout again, he would make an effort to find her, and have her broughtto trial for the crime of which he had accused her.
She thought much of Phelim, and longed to see and talk with him; but itdid not seem likely they would ever meet again; if convicted, he woulddoubtless be given a long term in the penitentiary; perhaps it would bea life sentence. She was glad it could be nothing worse; hanging was,to her way of thinking, far more to be dreaded.
She would have gone to Prairieville and to the jail, seeking aninterview with him, could she have done so with safety to herself; butshe dared not, lest she should be made to share his imprisonment, boththere and in the State prison.
One day--the same on which Captain Charlton carried to Miriam the newsthat Himes had made a will in her favor--Belinda, lying asleep in hercave, was awakened by the sound of voices at the foot of the bank. Shestarted with affright, a cold perspiration bursting out all over her,and her heart beating wildly. She thought they were climbing up to herretreat; perhaps had dogged her steps as she returned to it some hoursbefore, and had come to arrest her.
But after listening intently for a few minutes, she decided that theywere stationary; probably seated near the water's edge and engaged infishing, which was indeed the case.
Then she lay down again with her ear close to the overhanging vines,that she might catch every word of their talk.
They were speaking of Mr. Himes, and as she listened with breathlessinterest, she presently learned of the second and successful attemptupon his life. She drew a breath of relief, as she remembered that hewould have been the principal witness against Phelim.
But what were they saying now? That Phelim was suspected of havinginstigated the murder, and that there was talk of lynching him, asBangs had been lynched only the day before for shooting Barney Nolandown dead.
Horrible! horrible! She was almost wild with terror on Phelim'saccount. Oh, if she could only warn him! if she could only help him toescape from the jail before the lynchers got there!
Alas! that was impossible; but perhaps there would be no attempt toharm him, and if she were in that neighborhood she might go near to thejail in the night, when his keepers would be asleep, and in some wayattract his attention, so that he would come to his cell window andspeak to her. She would venture a good deal even to hear his voice.
She fell asleep while thinking of it, for she was weary with thewanderings of the past night, and must wait for the sheltering wing ofdarkness before setting out upon the contemplated journey; and she hadno preparation to make in the way of packing, except to gather togetherher few possessions into a small bundle that she could carry in herhand.
She rested through the remainder of the day, and when the sunset glowhad faded from the sky, and darkness began creeping over the landscape,crawled from her hiding-place and started upon her toilsome tramp,following the course of the river, which she knew would finally bringher to her destination.
There was a more direct route, but she was not acquainted with it, anddared not make inquiries.
Feeble from mental suffering and lack of sufficient nourishment, shecould not travel fast. Two nights of journeying, lying by during thedays, brought her at last to the vicinity of Prairieville.
Day was breaking when she arrived. She lay concealed in the woodsthrough that day and evening, till nearly every light in the town wasextinguished, excepting the street lamps, then made her way cautiouslyto the jail, which stood upon the outskirts, partly surrounded by agrove of trees.
All was darkness and silence there; probably keeper and prisoners wereasleep.
Slowly she made the circuit of the building, gazing up at the gratedwindows and trying to conjecture which was the one belonging toPhelim's cell.
She possessed no clew to it, and even could she decide which it was,how was she to attract his attention without betraying her vicinity toothers?
Suddenly she remembered that she could imitate very closely the note ofthe katydid, and that Phelim had once heard her doing so, andcomplimented her on the accomplishment. She tried it now, stationingherself opposite a cell window, which, as it happened, was the one shesought.
She had repeated the note several times, when at last it was answeredin kind; then a voice, speaking in suppressed tones, asked, "Is ityersilf, me darlint?"
"Yes, it's me, Phalim," she replied, in a joyous whisper, steppingclose under the window as she spoke. "Oh, if I could only help you outo' that!"
"Who knows but mabbe ye kin in toime, me jewel," he said. "We'll setour wits to wurruk, me darlint. If I had a file now, to hilp me to gitrid o' wan or two o' these bars, it's not so hard 'twud be to breakjail. Thin we'd fly the counthry together, an' lave throuble behind us."
"I'd risk anything to help you," she responded, "but how or where Icould get a file I don't see, for I daren't venture to show myself to alivin' soul."
"Is that so, me jewel? But what fer darsen't ye?"
"Because he swore I'd a hand in robbin' an' murderin' him."
"Who? that ould divil Himes? Well, he's out o' the way now."
"Yes; but maybe they'll arrest me an' try me fer it, anyhow."
"Bangs'll git ye off if they do," he said, with a low chuckle. "He'spromised to bring me off wid flyin' colors."
"But--but--he--he's dead--Bangs is; they've lynched him, don't ye know?"
"Niver heard a wurrud o' it. Whan?"
"Four days ago."
"An' that's the fuss they wuz makin' down the strate whan I heerd 'emshoutin' an' yellin', loike so manny divils! I axed the jailor what allthe noise wuz about, but he answered me niver a wurrud--jist walkedaway wid his head up an' his mouth toight shut. An' here I've been awonderin' an' scoldin' bekase Bangs didn't show hisself an' lat me knowhow the bizniss was progressin'; how fast he wuz gittin' ready to provetill the coort an' jury that Phalim O'Rourke wuz as innercent o' thatattimpt on the ould man's loife as an unborn babby."
"But he's dead, and who'll clear ye now?" she asked, mournfully.
"I'll have to break jail, an' ye must help me, B'lindy."
"If I only could," she said, and her voice was weak and trembling; "butI'm half dead now; I can hardly stand fer weakness. I've been hidin' ina damp, dark, dirty cave--the one you told me of--an' I'm nearlystarved; haven't had enough to eat since--since that night on the raft.If 'twas light enough for you to see me, you'd never know me; I'mwasted to skin an' bone, an' my clo'es are all rags an' dirt."
"Did I iver hear
the loike!" he exclaimed. "Well, niver moind, mejewel; whan I'm a free man agin I'll soon have ye a wearin' yer foinesilks an' satins an' goold ornamints, an' drivin' in yer kerridge,mabbe, loike anny lady in the land."
She sighed despairingly. "But you'll never be able to break out o'this; an' there's nobody now to defend ye on yer trial. They say 'twassome o' your band that finished Himes; they say 'twas by your orderin'.Is that so?"
"Mabbe," he chuckled; "the byes knowed me moind on that p'int; an' theyknowed the ould divil wad be the wan to swear away me liberty, if he'da chance; but dead men tells no tales."
"I wisht they'd let him live," she sighed; "'twould have been betterfer you."
Then she went on to tell him what she had overheard the men at theriver say about the probability of an attempt to lynch him.
While this talk was going on at the jail window, a wagon filled withmasked and armed men was driving toward the town from the direction ofFairfield, another along the road leading from Frederic, a third comingfrom Riverside, while a fourth waited at the bridge over the river atPrairieville, where the other three presently joined it. Then fallinginto line, they drove up the street that led to the jail.
As they neared the building the creaking of their wheels struck uponBelinda's ear.
"Oh, what's that?" she cried, in startled tones, though half under herbreath. "Wagons--one, two, three, four--and stoppin' right out there,every one of 'em!"
"So they are, an' all's up wid me!" cried Phelim, hoarsely, adding avolley of oaths, as he grasped the bars and shook them fiercely in thefrantic but vain effort to wrench them off.
The men were already alighting and pouring into the jail yard; thencame a thundering knock upon the outer door, accompanied by a demandfor instant admittance.
The trembling pair at the cell window were still listening, Phelimclinging to the bars, Belinda leaning heavily against the outer wall,while her heart beat almost to suffocation and her breath camegaspingly. They heard a second-story window raised and the jailor'svoice in parley with the would-be intruders.
"What is wanted, gentlemen?" he asked.
"Admittance; come down and open the door," answered the spokesman ofthe party.
"We don't admit visitors at this time o' night," said the jailor.
"Come down and open the door, or we'll break it in," was the response,in a tone of fierce determination.
"Who are you?" asked the jailor.
"Himes's avengers. Give the murderer into our hands, and we ask nothingmore."
"Can't do it, gentlemen. He's been committed to my care by the officersof the law, and I've no right to give him up to any one else."
"We don't offer you any choice in the matter; you'll open to us andgive him up, or we'll break in and take him in spite of you."
Again the jailor refused to accede to their demand; then thunderingblows of axes and hammers wielded by strong arms fell fast and thick onthe door, the noise resounding through the building and striking terrorto every hearer within its walls.
At length the door gave way, the assailants poured into the hall andseized the jailor, who had come down, lamp in hand, and would havetried to persuade them to resign their purpose; but they would not heara word from him. As he refused to give up his keys, they bound him handand foot and took forcible possession of them, then hastened to thecell wherein their intended victim was confined.
The noise of the struggle with the jailor, the tramp of heavy feettraversing the corridors, the fitting of the key in the lock of thecell door, all reached the ears of Phelim and Belinda, causing boththeir hearts to quake with terror. Belinda held her breath to listen,while trembling so that she could scarce keep from falling to theground.
The heavy door of the cell swung back, and for a moment the littleapartment was flooded with light from a lamp held high in the hand ofone of the masked intruders.
He stood aside while four or five of his company filed rapidly in, andlaid hold of the prisoner with no gentle hands.
Phelim saw at a glance that resistance was useless. With a face pale asdeath, eyes almost ready to start from their sockets, quivering lips,and in a tone that he vainly endeavored to make steady and defiant,"What are yees afther, sors?" he demanded. "Yees haven't anny roight tobe comin' in here, fer I'm undher the pertection o' the law."
But even while he spoke they had pinioned his arms, and now surroundinghim, they led him out through the corridors, the outer door, thejail-yard, and into the grove, where they halted with him under a largeoak-tree.
A man was seated on its largest branch with a rope in his hand, one endof which he had already attached to the limb; at the other was a noose,which was quickly adjusted about Phelim's neck; then he was forced tomount into a wagon that had been driven up under the tree.
He kicked, cursed, and swore fearful oaths, but found resistance vain;strong hands pulled, pushed, and lifted him into the vehicle and heldhim there.
"Now," said a stern voice, "you have but five minutes to live; betterstop cursing and spend your breath in prayer."
"Yees are murtherin' me; ye're goin' further nor the law o' the State,black-hearted scoundrels that ye are!" he cried, fiercely.
"You are receiving the due reward of your deeds," answered the voice."The minutes are going; better spend your last breath in an effort tosave your soul."
The curses died on the lips of the ruffian; he looked up at the starlitsky, down and around on the crowd of dark figures and masked faces.
"Gintlemen, hain't none o' yees got no pity fer the ould mither andfayther that hasn't niver a sowl to wurruk fer 'em an' suppoort 'em intheir fable ould age, barrin' their only son as stands here wid a roperound his neck?" he asked.
"A son who has supported them by robbery and murder!" cried the samestern voice that had spoken before. "The time is up. Your blood be onyour own head!" it added, and at a signal the wagon moved from underthe culprit, and left him dangling high in air, the noose tighteningabout his neck.
The stern executioners stood watching him by the light of theirlanterns till fully satisfied that life was extinct, then crowded intotheir wagons and drove away as they had come.
At the moment of their entrance into the cell Belinda staggered backinto the shadow of a tree, at some little distance from the one theyhad selected as a gallows, from which, in an agony of woe, shewitnessed the whole dreadful scene. She was in terror for herself, lestshe might be made to share Phelim's fate, yet that fear was almostswallowed up for the time in the anguish of grief for him that wrungher heart, as she looked upon the tragedy that ended the earthly lifeof the man she still loved, deeply dyed villain though she knew him tobe.
She clung to the tree for support, while eye and ear were intent tocatch every expression of his countenance and tone of his voice. Butthe flickering light of the lanterns gave her only fitful glimpses ofhis features, and the oaths and curses that fell from his lips were notsuch words as even she would desire to treasure up in her memory, forthey inspired her with no hope that he was going to a better andhappier world.
When she saw the wagon driven from under him, and knew that the deedwas accomplished, she fell in a heap at the foot of the tree towhich she had been clinging, and knew nothing more till roused toconsciousness by the sound of the wheels of the departing vehicles.
Feebly she raised herself to a sitting posture, then glanced fearfullyaround till fully convinced that the self-constituted executioners weregone not to return; then, getting upon her feet like one who had scarcestrength to move, she dragged herself to the other tree, where the bodywas hanging.
It was swaying slowly in the night wind.
"Phelim!" she cried, hoarsely--"Phelim, speak to me! Oh, it can't bethat ye'll never speak again! Yes, he's dead; they'd never leave himtill they was sure o' that! Oh, me heart's broke! I ain't got nothin'to live fer no more! I might's well a let 'em hang me, too!" andweeping, shuddering, tottering with weakness, she crept away to herhiding-place in the woods.
She had no bed but the groun
d, no covering save the starry canopy ofheaven; she had no earthly friend, and had never cared to seek thefriendship of that One "who sticketh closer than a brother."
How utterly lonely and desolate she felt as she lay moaning andgroaning upon her hard couch, weeping as if she would weep her verylife away, longing to lay down the burdens and sorrows of life, yetshrinking in unspeakable terror from the thought of death.
Some words that she had heard, she knew not when or where, keptsounding in her ears, "The way of transgressors is hard." "The wages ofsin is death." How the truth of those inspired declarations had beenverified in Bangs's case, in Phelim's, and in her own!