The Sins of the Father. Jr. Thomas Dixon
the way in which he told the simple story of each step achieved in the blood-marked struggle for liberty had a punch in it that boded ill for the little man who had set himself the task of dictatorship for a free people.
No reference was made in the Eagle and Phoenix to the Governor. He was dead. The paper ignored his existence. Each day of this ominous peace among his enemies increased the terror which had gripped the little Scalawag from the morning he had read his first obituary. The big black rules down the sides of those editorials seemed a foot wide now when he read them.
Twice he seated himself at his desk to order the editor's release and each time cringed and paused at the thought of the sneers with which his act would be greeted. He was now between the devil and the deep sea. He was afraid to retreat and dared not take the next step forward. If he could hold his ground for two weeks longer, and carry the election by the overwhelming majority he had planned, all would be well. Such a victory, placing him in power for four years and giving him an obedient negro Legislature once more to do his bidding, would strike terror to his foes and silence their assaults. The negro voters far outnumbered the whites, and victory was a certainty. And so he held his ground—until something happened!
It began in a semi-tropical rain storm that swept the state. All day it poured in blinding torrents, the wind steadily rising in velocity until at noon it was scarcely possible to walk the streets.
At eight o'clock the rain ceased to fall and by nine glimpses of the moon could be seen as the fast flying clouds parted for a moment. But for these occasional flashes of moonlight the night was pitch dark. The Governor's company of nondescript soldiers in camp at the Capitol, drenched with rain, had abandoned their water-soaked tents for the more congenial atmosphere of the low dives and saloons of the negro quarters.
The minute the rain ceased to fall, Norton's wife sent his supper—but to-night by a new messenger. Cleo smiled at him across the little table as she skillfully laid the cloth, placed the dishes and set a tiny vase of roses in the center.
"You see," she began, smiling, "your wife needed me and I'm working at your house now, major."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. Mammy isn't well and I help with the baby. He's a darling. He loved me the minute I took him in my arms and hugged him."
"No doubt."
"His little mother likes me, too. I can pick her up in my arms and carry her across the room. You wouldn't think I'm so strong, would you?"
"Yes—I would," he answered slowly, studying her with a look of increasing wonder at her audacity.
"You're not mad at me for being there, are you? You can't be—mammy wants me so"—she paused—"Lordy, I forgot the letter!"
She drew from her bosom a note from his wife. He looked curiously at a smudge where it was sealed and, glancing at the girl who was busy with the tray, opened and read:
"I have just received a message from MacArthur's daughter that your life is to be imperilled to-night by a dangerous raid. Remember your helpless wife and baby. Surely there are trusted men who can do such work. You have often told me that no wise general ever risks his precious life on the firing line. You are a soldier, and know this. Please, dearest, do not go. Baby and little mother both beg of you!"
Norton looked at Cleo again curiously. He was sure that the seal of this note had been broken and its message read by her.
"Do you know what's in this note, Cleo?" he asked sharply.
"No, sir!" was the quick answer.
He studied her again closely. She was on guard now. Every nerve alert, every faculty under perfect control. He was morally sure she was lying and yet it could only be idle curiosity or jealous interest in his affairs that prompted the act. That she should be an emissary of the Governor was absurd.
"It's not bad news, I hope?" she asked with an eagerness that was just a little too eager. The man caught the false note and frowned.
"No," he answered carelessly. "It's of no importance." He picked up a pad and wrote a hurried answer:
"Don't worry a moment, dear. I am not in the slightest danger. I know a soldier's duty and I'll not forget it. Sleep soundly, little mother and baby mine!"
He folded the sheet of paper and handed it to her without sealing it. She was watching him keenly. His deep, serious eyes no longer saw her. His body was there, but the soul was gone. The girl had never seen him in this mood. She was frightened. His life was in danger. She knew it now by an unerring instinct. She would watch the jail and see what happened. She might do something to win his friendship, and then—the rest would be easy. Her hand trembled as she took the note.
"Give this to Mrs. Norton at once," he said, "and tell her you found me well and happy in my work."
"Yes, sir," the soft voice answered mechanically as she picked up the tray and left the room watching him furtively.
CHAPTER V
THE RESCUE
Cleo hurried to the house, delivered the message, rocked the baby to sleep and quietly slipped through the lawn into the street and back to the jail.
A single guard kept watch at the door. She saw him by a flash of moonlight and then passed so close she could have touched the long old-fashioned musket he carried loosely across his shoulder.
The cat-like tread left no echo and she took her stand in the underbrush that had pushed its way closer and closer until its branches touched the rear walls of the jail. For two hours she stood amid the shadows, her keen young ears listening and her piercing eyes watching. Again and again she counted the steps the sentinel made as he walked back and forth in front of the entrance to the jail.
She knew from the sound that he passed the corner of the building for three steps in full view from her position, could she but see him through the darkness. Twice she had caught a glimpse of his stupid face as the moon flashed a moment of light through a rift of clouds.
"The Lord help that idiot," she muttered, "if the major's men want to pass him to-night!"
She turned with a sharp start. The bushes softly parted behind her and a stealthy step drew near. Her heart stood still. She was afraid to breathe. They wouldn't hurt her if they only knew she was the major's friend. But if they found and recognized her as old Peeler's half-breed daughter, they might kill her on the spot as a spy.
She hadn't thought of this terrible possibility before. It was too late now to think. To run meant almost certain death. She flattened her figure against the wall of the jail and drew the underbrush close completely covering her form.
She stood motionless and as near breathless as possible until the two men who were approaching a step at a time had passed. At the corner of the jail they stopped within three feet of her. She could hear every word of their conference.
"Now, Mac, do as I tell you," a voice whispered. "Jump on him from behind as he passes the corner and get him in the gills."
"I understand."
"Choke him stiff until I get something in his mouth."
"Ah, it's too easy. I'd like a little excitement."
"We'll get it before morning——"
"Sh! what's that?"
"I didn't hear anything!"
"Something moved."
A bush had slipped from Cleo's hand. She gripped the others with desperation. Ten minutes passed amid a death-like silence. A hundred