Under oath. An Adirondack story

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Chapter I. Two To One

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The horse paused involuntarily, and fell back upon his haunches. His rider sat erect and defiant, a flush of anger visible on his handsome face, even in the darkness of the wooded road. He bit his lip savagely, and then demanded, a flash in his eyes like a danger signal :

“What do you want, sirs? How dare you stop a traveler like this?”

Two men held the bridle close to the horse’s mouth. They held, also, each a revolver, set in a deadly aim upon the man eyeing- them so fiercely, though he knew as well as they that he was at their mercy. His rifle, revolver and hunting-knife were comfortably packed at the bottom of his trunk, and his trunk was still at the station in the village he had left. He had no means of defense ; he was not fool enough to attempt a hand-to-hand struggle with those ugly weapons in such close proximity; he was not coward enough to plead for his life, and he cursed himself inwardly for having been such an idiot as to ride that road at that hour, with' out a weapon of some sort.

One of the men laughed at this speech of his. Both wore half-masks on their faces, and were powerfully built ; they were, evidently, used to a rough life ; they would, doubtless, think but twice of murdering him, should there be need.

“ Come, cap’ll !” this man said, shortly ; “ you may’s well do as we tell you. We’re used to bein’ obeyed ! It’s dark enough in all conscience. If you was fool enough to come along this road ’thout being prepared for us, we can’t

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EDITH help it ! Mebby, too, it’s as well you ain’t, for two to one is pretty certain to win. Give up your rein, now. Oh, you may’s well do it!” a scornful snort breaking his speech, as he jerked the rein to loosen the rider’s hold. ‘‘ I’ll lead you safe enough, an’ my comrade ’ll see ’t you don’t make no trouble for us.”

The other muttered some reply, which the rider could not distinguish ; neither could he detect what sort of a voice this man’s might be. His ears were alert for sounds that might betray his assailants at some future time ; though, and he laughed rather desperately at the thought, he might never have the -way to follow up any clew, no matter how clear it might be ! How could he know what the end of this adventure might be ? He had money in his pockets, but not enough to warrant such proceedings as this, and when they had taken such as they could find, might they not murder him out of pure revenge for the little gained ? He was no coward, but such an ending to his journey was not pleasant to consider. Then, too — and his heart throbbed fiercely at this new thought — what would Edith say ? What would Edith lO

Two to One.

think if he never came to her ; never sent her any message ; never again entered her life ?

It was not a pleasant thought, but he shut his teeth over any word, and yielded the rein to his captors, as he knew, and was wise in acknowledging that he was in their power, and the less he angered them the more likely he was to escape their vengeance.

“ Oh,” said the big, burly fellow on his right, who had so far done ,all the talking, and was now dimly to be seen shrugging his broad shoulders as he slipped the bridle over his wrist and started along the constantly darkening road, his companion following just at the rider’s girth with that murderous revolver ready for instant use, should there be need. “You give in, do you, cap’n? Mebby it’s as well for you ! 1 don’t s’pose you’re special

afraid fer your life, biit its more philosophical to take things as you find ’em !”

He laughed, and then they fell into silence. No sound was to be heard, save the tread of the horse’s hoofs and the heavy-booted heels of the men as they tramped steadily on through the ever-deepening darkness, the horse occasionally

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champing at his bit or jerking his head, as though to clear himself and his rider from the dangerous grasp into which they had fallen.

Allan Mansfield had plenty of time for thought, as he was led he knew not whither. Dense woods were on either side of the road, and the twilight upon the level open behind him was displaced here by deepest shadows. He began to call himself a fool to have ventured along the road at that hour. He should have remained at Saranac Lake, instead of attempting to reach Placid that night. He had missed the Placid stage, and the liveryman of whom the animal was hired warned him against attempting to ride the lonely ten miles between the two villages. ' He laughed at the time. He bit his lip, remembering how cowardly he had thought the fellow’ for this warning. As though double ten lonely miles could dismay him, when he had promised to be at Placid that day !

Now he could see the folly of it. He was a stranger to the road, save as he had ridden it the previous summer in company with others. It was a plain road enough in the light of day, but, at that hour and alone, it was not the most desir-

Two to One.

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able of roads to travel. He might as well be among the Spanish banditti, as in the hands of such men as these, with whom he had fallen.

What their object was, he could not of course tell to a certainty. They had made no mention of robbery. They would not hesitate to use those revolvers, he was pretty certain, but they did not shoot him down at once, as they should have done, if murder were their only object. So far as he could remember, he had made no man’s ill-will during his stay in that region the previous summer. He treated the guides with the heartiest good-will ; they had seemed all to be ready at his slightest wish. Yet here these two men had risen from the roadside under the cover of overhanging woods, and each, with a hand on his bridle-rein and a revolver pointed with unfaltering aim at him, had demanded that he do as they should bid.

He could not comprehend it. He had plenty of time to turn the matter over and over during the silent ride through the darkness.

They kept to the road for some distance. The thick woods on either side overshadowed the road, and the rough traveling caused the horse to stumble now and then, but the men did not once waver as to their course. They kept to the road for some distance, and then, without a word passing between them, turned the horse’s head aside, and led the way through an open bar-way to the wood path beyond, pausing to replace the bars; and then marched on as silently and mysteriously as before.

Allan Mansfield kept his eyes open and on the lookout. He could make no objection to any road they might choose. He did not know their intention, but there was no reason why he should not be on the watch for anything that might be of help to him, should there be hope of such. There was not a drop of cowardly blood in his veins, and he had passed through many a dangerous adventure ere that, but none, he acknowledged reluctantly, so strange as this.

The road had been dark enough, but within the wood, the shadows melted into one, and lay over the world around him like a heavy pall, save here and there when an occasional streak of light struck through the heavy boughs.

On and on they went, with no break in the silence save the tread of horse and men or the

Two to One.

rustling of boughs as they brushed them in passing. On and on and on ! Allan Avondered, if they were to travel the night through, and if ever he should escape, how he could discover the way out of this labyrinth of darkness and boughs. The sound of a brook bubbling through the darkness fell upon his ear. They crossed it, splashing the water, and went on still, dark as the darkness, mysteriously and unfalteringly. There could be no doubt that his guides knew every step of the way they were going. No one but one well accustomed to the road could have followed a course so accurately or so unfalteringly as they.

No words passed between the two masked men. They knew, apparently, the work for each to do. But there was no chance of escape there.

Those eyes behind the masks were alert, as well as his. The slightest movement would rouse suspicion on their part, and the bridle-rein would tighten on the horse’s mouth, and the cold muzzle of the revolver in the hand of the man at the saddle-girth against his cheek was certain to follow. He tried it once. He gave up all hope of that, then. He must wait and let fortune, if she would, bring him safely through ; otherwise—

He shrugged his shoulders. It was his own foolhardiness that had brought him into the trap ; he, and he alone, must suffer the consequences. But was it he alone who would suffer from the consequences ? His cheek grew hot as the thought followed upon the other. What would Edith say, and what would she think ? And his mother, whom he left so few hours before — what would she think if he never returned to her, was never again heard of? Foul play they would say, of course ; but there would be the uncertainty and the utter impossibility of ever discovering the truth.

To be sure, he had no claim upon Edith, and that savage biting of the lip continued as he followed the thoughts ; but he was sure of his own heart, and he must be sure of hers when the opportunity should be given him, or he could make it for himself ! He had decided that question on his way up on the train. That summer should not pass, as the previous summer passed, without bringing him some definite reply to the i6 question that had troubled him for so long he could not tell just when it did begin.

But they went on through the darkness, winding in and out, it seemed to him, as well as he could judge, unable to see the way ; and there was no movement of halting, no offer of conversation, or solution of the mystery so suddenly laid around him. If only he had brought his revolver, or even his hunting-knife. But no ; here he was, utterly defenseless, and at the mercy of how deep villains he did not know.

They passed on and on and on. No lighting of the darkness of the wood, no hint of any end to the file upon file of trees before, behind and around them in the heart of that Adirondack forest ! He could do nothing, he could say nothing and know nothing till the time should come when they themselves — his captors — chose to enlighten him. It was mysterious and awful in its very mystery ! Never before had he heard of any band of outlaws in the woods of that region. Not within the past few years. Perhaps in the old days there were many and many p. band of this sort ; but this experience of his own was the first hint he had received of such things in the

^ Who is this Woman f enlightened generation in which it was his lot to be born !

He sat erect in the saddle ; he would not have them think he felt little fear of them. He was a man unarmed, defenseless, at their mercy, but he was still a man.

CHAPTER 11.

WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

They paused suddenly. There was no opening, no end to the route evidently, so far as Allan Mansfield could see ; but his strange guides stopped, not with the uncertainty of those who knew not or were uncertain of their road, but as though this were the end of their way. .All was darkness. Not a ray of light anywhere, look as one would — No, stay! Was that a light yonder where the darkness had seemed so dense but the moment before ? The shadows were so deep that there was not visible any object to make it darker, but this square of light proved that there i8

WJlo is this Woman?

must be some building at hand with a light within. Whether a house or an inn, or a shed as the rendezvous of thieves and murderers, he could not tell. He would know soon enough.

The man at the bridle-rein evidently had no doubt of his vicinity, for he still kept his hold upon the rein as he stepped forward, and struck with the butt of his revolver what must be the door of a dwelling. There was no immediate response, and a muttered curse escaped his lips as once more he knocked, this time with considerable violence. The door opened then, and a woman appeared, shielding her eyes with one hand from the darkness, the soft lamplight at her back showing the slender, graceful outlines of her form.

The man swore at her in an undertone, as he pushed with his boot the door wider open, and then turned to the young man still in the saddle.

It’s time you got down outen that !” he said, in a gruff voice, not the free and easy bravado of the road he had previously used toward his prisoner. “ This is yer destination till sech time as we think it’s best for you to skeedaddle ! Didn’t

Who zs this Womazi ?

think you’d light into no sech hotel, did ye, when ye lit outen ther town yonder ?”

He laughed roughly at his coarse joke, and eyed the young man as he threw one leg lightly over the saddle-bow and sprang down to the ground.

Anything almost was preferable to that silent, •mysterious ride through the darkness. Reality was better than apprehension. The appearance of the woman in the doorway gave him hope. There could not be utter deviltry there if a woman was among them. He had such faith in women since he had known Edith Hallston.

“ Take the critter away. Bill !” the rough man said, as he preceded the other into the house, though the other knew full well he must follow. “Ye can set down in hyar for awhite,” he added to Allan, as he strode through the room toward a door beyond. “ An’ you can git us supper, my woman !” He turned in the doorway to deliver this message at the woman who had opened the door for them, and then vanished beyond, closing the door behind him. But Allan was not deceived. He was pretty certain there could no

Who is this Woman ?

words pass between himself and the woman but others would hear.

The woman placed a chair beside the fire of logs on the wide hearth, for the evening air of that woodland was cold, and motioned him to seat himself. She did not once lift her face full to the light, but the outline, as he could catch it in the uncertain light, was clear and delicate, though touched with an infinite sorrow. What was there in her life to leave such a trace upon such a face ? Allan began to ponder this with the other thoughts, as he seated himself in the chair placed for him, burying his head in his hands for a moment in his utter dismay.

Alone, perhaps, in a den of robbers, and, worse, miles and miles from any assistance, utterly beyond the help of his brother-men. No cry of his could reach other ears than these. No call would sound further than the silent trees at most. His only hope was the presence of the woman. There was always some sort of sacredness in the presence of a woman. To just what class of outlaws his captors belonged he did not know, but there was this woman among them. He wondered if there were more

Who is this Woman?

than the two he had met, and decided that such doubtless was the case. They were, perhaps, but two of a band of outlaws, with this house in the heart of the Adirondack forest as their rendezvous. Little hope for him, indeed. For, after all, what could a woman — and such a frail woman — do to help him ! And Edith —

Harsh voices struck in upon his thoughts. The words were indjstinguishable, but the tones were those of men in no gentle mood. A woman’s voice, low and soft, but firm, mingled with the harsher tones. About what were they arguing? Not a word came to him. The voices rose or died for the moment in their argument, the men’s voices growing momentarily harsher and more discordant, that of the woman still soft and low, but without a trace of faltering.

Allan Mansfield was no eavesdropper, but, with his life at stake, he had no hesitation in doing his best to catch what was passing in the next room. For what was the woman pleading? For what were the men so set? Curses mingled with the others. He could distinguish them. Once he caught the tingle of steel, as though a knife were being sharpened. The color forsook his face. To be caught like a rat in a trap !

Then the voices ceased. Silence again fell upon the house as it lay upon the woods through which they had passed. The crackle of the fire or the falling of a loosened log were the only sounds to be heard through the room.

Presently the door through which the man and the woman had disappeared was opened, and the woman entered. Allan glanced closely at her, to read in her face, if possible, what was to befall him. Her face was pale, and there was a brilliancy in the eyes that made them larger and darker than before. The red lips must have once been sweet for kissing, but it may have been this life that had set the sternness upon them. She did not show any sign of emotion as she crossed the room after closing the door behind her.

She crossed the room quite calmly, and with a step light and full of life. Passing him, her dress brushed against his knee, and she glanced up with a slow parting of her lips, as though she would smile upon him, but stopped. A frightened look came into her eyes ; new pallor spread

Who is this Woman?

over her face. Then, ere he could comprehend this swift change in her demeanor, she turned away to the hearth, and, stooping, brushed the fire into a brisk blaze.

When this was done, and she had brushed up the flying cinders with the broom beside the hearth, she rose, and again passed from the room swiftly, as though fearful she might be detained.

Allan followed her with his eyes as she passed out, closing the door behind her. He wished, vaguely, that one . or other of them would forget to close the door, that he might know what was passing outside. What new mystery was this that had touched the woman to such a show of fear ? Or was it merely surprise, or a new thought of the murder to be done that night amid the silence and sacredness of the woods ?

I wish she’d come back !” . Allan said to himself, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head in the hollow of his hand. Fear of unknown events gave place to astonishment. Why was the woman so moved when she looked in his face? At their entrance she

Who is this Woman ?

had not once looked up, and had not seen him. What was there in his face that had so struck the life from hers ?

He glanced mechanically around the room, as though by so doing the mystery might be solved. Everything was in the most scrupulous neatness. The floor was bare, but shining with the use of soap and water, and clean sand was sprinkled upon it, adding to the quaint effect. There were no pictures on the walls ; everything was blank and bare and staring white. Not a trace of adornment was in the room ; nothing but the most perfect neatness and household care. The plain pine table in the middle of the room lacked a cover, but it was shining and white. The pine chairs were spotless, ranged along the wall as though there was a plenty of visitors to occupy them. There was no timepiece in the room. It was evidently the livingroom, and Allan wondered at this lack of any clock. He took out his watch — a handsome watch it was, engraved, and set with one glittering diamond, with his mother’s monogram upon it, for it was a gift to him from her — and discovered, with a start, that they had been

Who is this Woman?

long upon their road through the woods, and it was close upon nine o’clock.

“ It’ll not be long before I know the worst anyway,” he said to himself, grimly, as he closed the case and held the watch in his hand, as though it were the touch of a friend in that trying time. Then he sat still with his head in his hand and his eyes upon the fire, pondering his strange fate, and what the outcome was likely to be.

“ They will like nothing better than to lay hold upon you,” he said, his eyes upon the watch, turning it over that the jewel should flash in the firelight. “ Mother had better have kept it than have given it to me before I left home, as she did. They will have to pretty well demolish it though, to dispose of it, for it would be easily traced. There is not another like it in the country.”

It was in truth a beautiful thing. The jewel, flashing as he turned it in his hand, was of the purest quality ; the gold was solid and of the finest. It was exquisitely engraved, and around the jewel, in the center enclosing the monogram, was a motto in tiny letters of rubies :

Who is this Woinan?

“ Mizpah — the Lord watch between thee and me till we meet again.”

As Allan Mansfield sat so, his eyes upon the watch, the door opened noiselessly and the woman re-appeared, pausing for an instant upon the threshold. Instinctively following his gaze, her eyes fell upon the watch with its jewel flashing in the firelight. That deadly pallor that struck upon her face so mysteriously a few minutes previously, once more touched it with the look of death, and the eyes were strained and full of horror, as though there were some terrible thing close upon her, or one she loved. The red lips that should have been given to smiling parted in a ghastly fashion over the close-shut teeth crushing down upon them. She stretched out one hand, small and well formed it was, as though to steady herself against the door, and then she regained her self-control with a mighty effort, and shut the door entering the room.

Allan looked up as her step crunched upon the sanded floor, and something in her face

Who is this Woman ?

touched a chord of pity within him. For the moment he forgot himself, forgot the peril that surrounded him, as, replacing the watch in his pocket, he rose and went toward her, intense sympathy on his kindly face.

“You are ill?” he asked, gently, laying his hand upon her arm, his clear, brown eyes upon her agitated face. “ Is there nothing I can do for you ? A glass of water — ”

She stopped further words by a gesture. She shrank from his touch upon her arm. She strove to recall the color to her face, but could not. There was something in her eyes that warned him she was no ordinary woman.

She motioned for him to again be seated, and instinctively he obeyed her. Her motions were quiet, but he knew she must be under some violent emotion. He watched her as she moved about the room preparing the table for supper. Her figure was slender, her step light, a something of nameless grace was about her. Allan watched her with considerable curiosity, for the time forgetting himself.

Presently she turned from the table, with its

Who is this Woman?

neat arrangement for one, and crossing to him, steadied her voice, as she asked, softly :

“ Do you mind telling me your name, sir? I do not ask from idle curiosity, believe me.”

He believed her. There was that air of unmistakable truth and purity about her that forbade unjust thought of her.*

“ Mansfield,” he replied, quietly, with a trace of hesitation in his manner. “ Allan Mansfield. Is there anything I can do for you, madam ?”

She shook her head, shutting those small, white teeth over the red lips. The expression in her eyes hurt him. They were like the eyes of a wounded animal — beautiful eyes, but a heart-pang in their depths.

And your home ?”

How wonderfully steady the voice was.

I am from New York,” said Allan, unable to take his eyes from her face. There was something familiar in her face, though he could not, for the life of him, place where he had ever seen her.

“Were — were you alone, to-night?” Why should that terror come into her voice and face ?

Who is this Woinaji?

“ Yes.” His eyes were alert. Had she a purpose in asking these questions ? Perhaps she meant, if anything happened —

“ But you came up from the lake ?” she asked again. She would know, to the least detail, his plans. He smiled to himself at the thought, but felt there was more than mere idle curiosity in her questioning.

“ I came up from the city on the afternoon train. The train was late — they tell me that is often the case.” He smiled here, though he lost none of his gravity. “ I was on m y way to Lake Placid. I had made my plans for remaining there for a couple of months. I have friends there. My mother was to have come, but was detained for a few days. She will come on later — ”

“ Then your mother did not come with you ?” A flash of light appeared for an instant across her pallid face.

Allan looked at her in amazement. Was she insane? Why should it interest her whether or not his mother accompanied him, or even whether he had a mother at all?

“You will pardon me for these questions,”

Who is this Woman f said the soft, low, tremulous voice, as a sweetness and grace came into her manner. ‘‘ I have not asked them from curiosity, as I told you. Perhaps, in the morning, I may be able to tell you why I have asked them. If not — ” for a moment the low voice died out as though with horror at some thought at strife with her calmness — “ if not, you will — you must — know that it was for the best and kindest motive they were asked ! Will you come to supper?”

She turned from him with the steady step that characterized her movements, and drew up a chair to the table, waiting for him to follow. When he obeyed her, she left the room, presently returning with a plate of smoking ham and potatoes, with a daintily prepared egg, and coffee.

^‘Your ride was cold,” she said, quietly, as she set the dishes upon the table before him.

The coffee will strengthen you. If you would be strong you will eat what I have set before you. Afterward I will show you your room.”

She left the room as noiselessly as she had entered. Mansfield, in considerable bewilderment, but with the common-sense determination

Who is this Woman?

to eat, as the woman had warned him, in case there might be need of strength, ate of what she had brought.

What did the woman mean, he asked himself, by her questions and agitation? Did she know of what was to take place during the stillness of the night, and were these things new to her? She was not a young woman, as that term is understood. Thirty -five years must have passed over her head at the least, though there was a grace and gentleness about her that would make her charming anywhere but in that den of thieves and murderers. What was it in her life that linked her to him ? What was there in her face that awakened some old memory ? He could not solve the problems as they rose and grew confused in his mind, and he soon laid aside the knife and fork, and leaned back in his chair, giving himself up to reverie.