Old Fusee

Chapter I. A Southern Sympathizer

It was on the eve of one of the remarkable and decisive battles of the great civil war.

The famous Confederate General Lee had crossed the frontier iuto Maryland, after several conquests, and" the Union army found itself in a condition merely defensive and rather humiliated before the nation.

Dismay was in the shattered ranks of the battalions at the capital after Pope’s disastrous campaign; bht a vast thrill pervaded the weary army when it was known that once again the soldiers’ favorite chieftain, McClellan, was to reassume command of the nearly vanquished troops.

At the date on which our story opens, the brave and able general who now guided the destiny of the blue clad host had been fortunately apprised of Lee’s intention to possess himself of Harper’s Ferry, and even then the former was in a position to succor Colonel Miles — having brilliantly swept open the passes of South Mountain and sounded through the struggle there the signal guns that might have apprised the garrison at the ferry of his formidable proximity.

But Harper’s Ferry had surrendered to Jackson and Walker, McClellan had come too late.

Not too late, however, to. interfere with Lee’s contemplated campaign; for, being aware of the caliber of the general who was now marching against him, Lee now saw that a great battle must be fought, and skillfully began concentrating his forces for the inevitable struggle.

East of Sharpsburg, facing the purling waters of the Antietam, were the stern fronts of the Southern generals whose names for valor history will remember, and the to north, east and southeast slowly approached the long lines of blue in grand array beneath the flowing glorious stars and stripes.

Thus matters were when we take the reader to a commodious

OLD FUSEE.

dwelling to the west of Sharpsburg, on the Shepherdsfcown road, the home of James Bartholemew, a wealthy gentleman whose broad acres extended nearly to the glistening shore of the Potomac river, winding its snaky course at that point.

Bartholomew was one of those who, despite the sample of rags and suffering and perceptible disintegration which pervaded the Confederate host, had partaken of that spirit of enthusiastic support for the cause of the South, which Lee had so confidently, and it appeared vainly to the greater extent, counted upon as in store for him when he began this campaign for the “ restoration of Southern liberties ” in Western Maryland.

A thorough secessionist from the first, he had had no fair or safe opportunity of proclaiming his sympathies until now, when he saw, as he declared, the advent of the movement which would terminate in the complete overthrow of the government at Washington.

A man of small stature, with a fringe of whitish-gray hair, a very nervous temperament, and twinkling blue-gray eyes that contained a cunning expression fairly foxy.

Foxy he was, for at the age of nearly sixty years he had accumulated considerable wealth, by speculation and otherwise in the management of his land thereabout, and long ago had acquired the reputation of being unmistakably miserly in all things excepting what contributed directly to his own personal comfort.

A confirmed bachelor he had ever been, but in the household of James Bartholemew there was the fairest young girl of any in all the country road.

No mere ward was she.

A mystery was woven in the life of lovely Belle Bartholemew, to whom he had given his name; and many in the town of Sharpsburg could recall the night when he had taken under his roof — much to the astonishment of every one— a helpless little infant who came from where no one ever could ascertain, and who seemed to have touched the only tender spot in the miser’s acrimonious nature.

A belle indeed was Belle Bartholemew— known far and near as the most dashing rider at this date, and a rare image of combined loveliness and purity.

A brunette of rosy type, with flashing, penetrating, merry black eyes, an exquisite figure, a hand that dispensed her miserly protector’s money at times so freely among those who deserved charity that the old man was wont to storm at her in a rage that invariably ended in a kiss from her rich lips to bring back the smile to his wrinkled face.

Uncle Jim he had always been called by this bright, winsome vision of beauty.

Night lay over the road that wound its circuit before the house.

The Confederate lines that were marshalled on the west of

OLD FUSEE.

Sharpsburg had drawn in oloser to the town, and only a few stragglers in gray could be detected now and then in the gloom, following carelessly in the wake of McLaws, who had come to unite with Lee from the detour b> way of Shepherdstown.

In the great parlor of this square, stone dwelling, old Bartholomew was pacing to and fro unrestedly. He rubbed his skinny palms together like twining eels, he shook his sparse hair on his jerking head, and from his thin lips, muttered :

“ She’ll be killed ! She’ll plunge her neck into the line of some fool of a picket and have her head blown off — I know it! Forever riding, forever skipping, dashing, flying about when she ought to be shut up out of danger, like any other sensible girl ! I've a notion to help the jade out in her suicidal intentions — no, no, no, I don’t mean that! But she worries the soul and life out of me. Hey, who’s this ?”

For as he half raved about somebody of something which seemed to cause a sort of frantic uneasiness, there was a heavy footstep on the broad porch, and a small darky came running in with the intelligence that a visitor had arrived.

“It’s de Massa Cap’n wot hes de big ’staches,” announced the boy; and with eyes still rolling, and turned in the direction of the person approaching, the boy sidled in a manner of deep awe around the door jamb.

The comer was a tall man of fine physique, attired in a full suit of gray, with great slouch hat, wearing a heavy sword at his belt, and in the belt a monstrous pistol.

His face was not unhandsome, but there was something about the sinister curl of his immense black mustache and in the piercing black eyes, that seemed to repel the beholder.

A doughty Confederate was he— Captain Jack Striker, of Jackson’s division.

As he appeared, old Bartholomew hastened forward to greet him warmly.

“ Ah, my dear captain. You are back among us again. I’m glad of it ; I do not know of any one I would rather see enter my house than yourself, excepting it be General Lee himself. Be seated,” wheeling forward a chair. And he called sharply: “Pomp!— Pomp! you son of night ! where are you?”

“Hyar, Massa James.”

“ Wine, Pomp— bring us some wine — and cigars, too, Pomp. Hurry, there!”

While the negro lad hastened for the refreshments, Captain Jack Striker seated his large form in a chair with the air of a man who feels that he has a perfect right to the fullest hospitality of the house.

But there was a slight frown on the captain’s face as he half-absently answertd to the other’s nervously rattling volley of questions ;

OLD FUSEE.

“Yes, we’ve just got back from that little affair at Harper's Ferry. It was an easy matter to run the Yanks in from the heights, and some blood was spilled. Miles got his death wound, it has been rumored by the scouts— all the better. But I did not come here to talk of that fight, friend Bartholomew. I have something important to say to you ; and if you don’t want your house pulled slam down about your ears, you’ll pay close attention, and take summary action upon the subject I mean to communicate ”

“My house pulled down you say?”

“Precisely so.”

“ Why, what in the world But here is the wine. Have a

sip, my dear captain. Light a cigar. There — what are you talking about? My house pulled down ? Explain.”

And now for the first. The old man noted two items in connection with the visitor which had escaped him :

The captain was rather scrupulously attired for a man who had lately emerged from a battle— for there had been a considerable struggle between the blue and the gray at Maryland and Loudon Heights ere Miles had yielded up the triad of mountains ; and the second item was the frown mentioned, which contracted the brows of Jack Striker in a somberness that had first made itself felt upon the awed negro lad as he entered.

With his own glass poised in hesitancy near his lips, James Bartholomew looked searchingly at the Confederate officer, the exi pression of his countenance one of wondering perplexity.

Chapter II. A Blunt Proposal

The words next uttered by Captain Striker, for some weighty reason, caused the face of James Bartholemew to pale slightly.

“ Do you want that ward of yours to run your neck into a halter, or bring you out before a platoon of soldiers to be shot ?”

“Halter! Shot!”

“I said it.”

“ I do not see what you are driving at?”

“ Listen, then, and you will understand. Perhaps you are not aware of the doings of Miss Bell. But these are times when military people judge a man’s proclivities by his surroundings to some extent, especially if a member of his own family is guilty of strange doings not consistent with the profession he makes aloud ”

“My dear sir” — breaking in nervously — “please tell me what you are getting at? What have I done? What has anybody done ”

“Ah, now you speak it”— dashing off his liquor at a gulp. “ £Tow, you strike the key. What has anybody done ? Miss Belle has done, is doing, something that will bring destruction on you as sure as you stand there.”

“ She ! Impossible ! Belle would not do anything to compromise either herself or me.”

“ There you are wrong. Sit down. Let us discuss this thing quietly.”

With wide eyes, Bartholemew seated himself in an opposite chair, staring at the captain in astonishment.

“ I am afraid,” said the gray-suited officer, “that your ward, Miss Belle, is not so stanch a Southerner as she has led you and me and everybody else to think. Wait, now, I will explain my meaning. We know that ever since McClellan left Frederick, his couriers and spies have been thick all over the locality between here and that place; some of them, fortunately, have been captured and strung up. But there has been one, it seems, that the shrewedest of our army could never trap, and who must be the one who was so cunning as to get possession of the order from Lee to Jackson and McLaws, sending them to capture Harper’s Ferry, and which order was revealed to General McClellan. The spy of whom I speak is a woman — so the scouts say.”

“ A woman !”

“Yes, and no ordinary one, either ;” with an ominous twinkle in the black, piercing eyes.

“ Well, sir, well ?”

“ She is seen, at times, dressed in a riding habit of gray. At other times, it is believed, she has successfully assumed the garb of a farm boy, and numerous masquerades besides; a very smart young girl, in fact, who had better be devoting herself to the cause which she leads everybody to believe is the paramount love of her heart — the good cause of the South.”

“ But I fail to see your drift. There are more women than one, so I have heard, doing just such service for both the North and South. There is nothing remarkable about it, that I can see. You must be keeping something back.”

The captain tilted back in his chair and stroked his long mustache while he gazed fixedly at Bartholemew.

“You are very dull of comprehension.”

“I must admit it.”

“ Have I not said that your ward, Miss Belle, would cause you to be shot as a Yankee sympathizer if you do not put a stop to her doings ! No, I did not exactly say it, either; but that is what I mean.”

“ What!” as the other’s meaning dawned upon him, “you hint that Belle is a spy for the accursed Yankees ?”

“That is just what I declare.”

“ Preposterous !”

“ You will find out to your cost that there is nothing preposter-

OLD FUSEE.

ous about it, but a succession of hard facts. In plain words, Miss Belle is a spy.”

Old Bartholemew seemed too overcome by surprise for utterance. He stared into the captain’s face like one bewildered.

“ But it is not yet common knowledge that such is the identity of this bold young lady’” pursued Striker, letting his chair down and tilting it forward the other way confidentially, while his voice sunk lower. “ I may say that there are not a half dozen besides myself who have penetrated the secret.”

“ But it is a most ridiculous suspicion.”

“No suspicion at all, I say; it is a fact. Now let me tell you that it has not been twenty-four hours since I saw Miss Belle in conversation with a very suspicious character at the Potomac ford to whom she gave a package of papers. Could you swear as to where she was just twenty -four hours ago ?”

A half smiling exclamation broke from the old man.

“ Yes, sir; yes, I can.”

“ Oh, you can ?”

“Undoubtedly. She was here in this house; I saw her at exactly twenty-four hours ago ascending the stairs to the library. I spoke with her.” and as if he had utterly overthrown any suspicions which the captain might have entertained, he rubbed his eely fingers in and out in satisfaction.

“ Have you any proof beside your own word ?”

“ Why, captain!” in astonishment that his own word was not entirely sufficient.

“ Because,” added Striker, “ if there comes an investigation you will need it, the additional proof, I mean.”

“Pomp ! Pomp!” called the old man, a little excitedly.

“ Hyer, massa.”

The white eyeballed negro youth seemed to be ever within sound of his master’s voice.

“When did you see Miss Belle last? For,” to the captain, “ to tell the truth, I have not seen her since last night.”

“ Seen de Miss Belle las’ night,” answered Pomp.

“What time?”

“ Jes’ ’bout dis time, Massa James.”

“Would you swear to that, you little rascal?” put Striker, wheeling frowningly upon the boy.

Pomp must have understood the nature of an oath, for he replied promptly :

“ Deed I would. Gi e -es I knows Miss Belle.”

Bartholemew dismissed him.

“So you see,” laughed Bartholemew, though the laugh was not as free from uneasiness as he would have wished it to appear, “ it would be impossible, my dear sir, for the young lady to be in two different places at the same time.”

Captain Striker seemed to be somewhat puzzled.

OLD FUSEE.

He arose and began walking thoughtfully before the old man and muttered .

“There is a mystery here, then, for I will make oath that I saw Miss Belle at the ford, talking with a man who wore a big white beard. I was within twelve feet of the pair, and I very plainly recognized her voice.

“ If you thought you had discovered a mare’s nest, and came to put me on my guard, I am all the same obliged to you,” said Bartholomew, and it was evident that he was in earnest. “ But you see you must have been mistaken, so there’s an end of it.”

Striker resumed his seat. He regarded the other steadily over the rim of another glass of wine which he filled, and when he had carefully wiped his long-ended mustache, said :

“ Friend Bartholemew, I hope I am mistaken, but my eyes seldom deceive me. I have sharp eyes, let me tell you, Yes, as you suggest, I only spoke of the matter through friendliness to you. And now let me speak of another thinjr.”

“ Yes, let us talk of something else,” agreed Bartholemew, visibly glad to drop the subject of supposed suspicious doings on the part of his dashing and beautiful ward.

“ Take a good look at me. I am not such a disagreeable appearing man, am I?” was the quite surprising question that next came from the captain.

“Well, no; rather a handsome man, if I do not flatter you too broadly.”

“ And I have the honor to stand pretty well in your esteem, I believe, eh, Bartholemew?”

“ High indeed, sir, “ answered the wondering old gentleman.

“ Then, sir, let me say that the chief object in my coming here to-night is to ask that I may have your permission and aid iu securing the beautiful Miss Belle for my wife. I am, as you know, pretty well supplied with the necessary cash to ”

“ Heigho !” breaking in. “ Are you in love with my ward?”

“ That is precisely it.”

“ This is a surprise.”

“ Will you aid my suit with her?”

“ Now that is something,” half whined old Bartholemew, “ that I must hesitate to undertake. Belle is pretty much her own mistress. I have no objection to such a match, but to aid you

Hark ! I think she is coming now. Suppose you try your suit yourself.”

And as if glad of an interruption that just then occurred, he arose and stepped toward the hall.

The interruption was a sound of rapidly galloping horsehoofs on the short path leading up from the road to the house.

Pomp, the negro boy was seen to flit swiftly past the doorway, as if to meet the comer.

OED FUSEE.

Captain Striker stood facing the entrance, stroking his mustache in quiet expectancy.

CHAPTER III. BEEEE bartholemew

While he stood at the door waiting the entrance of some new arrival, James Bartholemew was saying, in his mind :

“Forsooth! this Captain Striker is a blunt fellow— a man with considerable assurance. Hardly a year have I known him, and presuming upon the fact that I have always made him very welcome at my house, he asks me for my ward as a wife as coolly as he would for the loan of a horse. I am glad Belle is here. I think that is she on the path. Zounds ! I hardly knew how to answer him.”

The captain, mentally, as he looked first toward the dark entryway and then at the form of old Bartholemew :

“He evaded me— the rat! but I have made up my mind that Miss Belle is the most beautiful girl I ever saw, and that I shall have her for a wife. I think I have a means of compelling both him and her to listen agreeably to my offer of marriage.”

The something which Striker inwardly promised himself was to insure the success of his suit for the hand of the Southern beauty, has been in a measure shown in his brief conversation of the previous chapter.

In a chapter to follow, the reader will see what good cause the Confederate officer had to believe that the young girl was a spy for the hated army of the North.

Outside was heard the hoofstrokes of a dashing rider who seemed careless whether the horse plunged directly into the house as it came forward.

Suddenly, as if there had been a fierce jerk on the bridle by a master hand, the sound ceased, and simultaneously :

“ Pomp !” rung a cheery, musical voice.

“ Hyer, Miss Belle.”

“Yes, it is Belle,” again muttered Bartholemew, not loud enough for his companion to hear. “ Now, then, let us see what she will say to this bold Captain Striker if he is bold as to ask her to marry him — and I think he is bold enough for anything.”

“ She comes,” passed within the expectant brain of Striker, and he fondled his luxuriant mustache and smiled in anticipations of promise based both upon conceit and the knowledge that, if he chose, he could make considerable trouble in the family of James Bartholemew. “ If she will listen sensibly to an offer that auy other woman would consider an honor,” he mused, “ then it will be plain sailing, and I shall be a very happy individual. If she declines, I— well, let us see if she will decline.”

flit) S’tySEE. li

A quick, firm footstep in the hall, then into the footii Walked a very vision of loveliness.

“ How do you do Uncle Jim ?”

“ * How do you do ? you say, and you have been gone all day. Look, you miss ”

“There, there, now ; don’t scold. Who ’’

She was about to ask who the visitor was, as her eyes rested on him suddenly.

Then :

“Good-evening, Captain Striker.”

The captain bowed his profoundest.

They had not met more than half a dozen times— always under her guardian’s roof — but in those few meetings, Belle had detected, with a woman’s quick wit, a stamp in the features of Captain Striker, which, to a woman, are at once and unalterably repellant.

Bartholemew seemed to be briefly hushed by the smiling admonition not to scold.

But as the lovely brunette slowly drew off her riding gloves, an oppressive silence fell upon the trio.

“ I have done myself the honor to call this evening, Miss Belle,” said the captain, “upon a very important matter which concerns both you and me.”

“ Concerns me ? Important ? What can it be ?”

“ May I hope that you are not too tired after your unusually long ride to hear what I have to say?”

“ Excuse me,” said old Bartholemew, and he whisked out of sight into the hall, mumbling as he went: “Oho! he is bold enough. He will jump right into the business of asking her to marry him. A dashing fighter is Captain Striker. Let us see if he can win a victory here.”

It was evident by the old gentleman’s expression of face that he had no idea of his lovely ward accepting the captain’s suit.

“ What is it. you have to say to me?” she inquired, constrainedly, and taking a seat not far from the still standing officer.

“ You must be aware, Miss Belle, that I am a soldier of no mean reputation. I am also a man of some means. 1 will be plain in what I have to say. I have seen but little of you, but that brief opportunity has resulted in my feeling a very deep regard for you, and I earnestly desire you to become my wife.”

He paused, for she had immediately risen, with brows elevated, and regarded him in utmost amazement.

“ Will you accept the offer of my heart and hand, Miss Belle?”

“ Assuredly — no,” was her ready response.

And she gazed at him very much as if she thought him out of his right senses.

But the captain did not seem in the least disconcerted by this prompt refusal of his offer of marriage.

OLD FUSEE.

He bowed his peculiarly profound bow. and said :

“ It is not altogether unexpected by me— this answer. But be kind enough to listen to me ”

“ Not further upon this subject, sir.”

Calmly he stroked his mustache, pulling the ends" until his lips dragged slightly apart and showed his white teeth disagreeably.

“It will probably be better for yourself. Miss Belle, if you hear what I shall say, since I see that I cannot woo you as a lover might. Will you please tell me how long you have been absent from your home— where you were at about this hour last night?”

“ Captain Striker, I consider this impertinence.”

“ For your own good, answer me,” he urged, in the tone of a man who would compel obedience.

Belle was erect. She gathered her rich, gray hued riding habit up over one arm— the movement displaying a dainty booted foot that wore a glistening spur— and into her cheeks rose an additional color of indignation at the captain’s manner and speech.

Some quick, resentful word was upon the ripe lips but she controlled the impulse and merely gazed at him in naughty silence.

“ For your own good, Miss Belle, tell me, if you dare, where you were at about this hour last ni^ht ?”

“ I decline to answer. Since when were you constituted grand

inquisitor, sir? Excuse me ” She would have swept past him

and from the room, but he detained her with outstretched hand, and the smile on his bold, dissipated features was ominous

“ A moment.”

“Let me pass, Captain Striker.”

“ Not until I have said what I have to say.”

Deeper grew the color in the cheeks of the warm blooded Southern girl.

“ Miss Belle, it pains me,” he said, with a hypocritical tone it was impossible to conceal, “to inform you that in these times there is little attention paid to sex when a spy is taken in the very midst of camp. I am sure it would make me feel sad to see so "beautiful a girl as yourself dangling at the end of a rope.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded, sharply.

“ Ah, Miss Belle, you wear a popular suit of gray, and you make everybody believe that you are a true Confederate. But you are playing a dangerous game— a very dangerous game, I assure you. Come, 1 know, and there are others who know, that you are in communication with the Yankee foe— I myself saw you, last night, handing papers to a ragged fellow, a companion spy no doubt, near the Potomac ford ”

He was abruptly checked.

Belle advanced to a position directly in front of him, and her lustrous black eyes flashed a dangerous fire.

“ You lie, Captain Striker. It is not a pretty speech from a woman’s lips— but I say, you lie ! Stand aside,”

OLD FUSEL.

“ Beware!' 1 he said, sibilantly. ‘ ; I can prove what I am saying. It is in my power to destroy even so lovely a being as yourself. I love you ”

“ You love !” she interrupted, with a cutting sneer.

“ Ay, and so madly that, if you cannot accept an honorable man’s suit, I shall ”

To her bosom leaped one of her plump, strong hands. The next instant she had him covered by the muzzle of a gleaming revolver Her voice was terribly impressive as she cried, in an anger still under a wonderful control :

“ Stand away from that door! Hesitate a minute, and as sure as there is a Heaven above, I will send a bullet through you !”

Reckless soldier though he was, Captain Striker was not exactly a fool. He must have been aware of her nature, for he instantly obeyed the order, while the frowning barrel followed his movements until he had made clear the way to the door.

CHAPTER IY.

A GHOST AT THE STABLE.

At the moment Belle would have passed by and left her insulter, there transpired something that was a little startling, causing her to pause.

From somewhere outside the house there rung up a yell as of some one in mortal terror.

Not a single yell, either, for following the first sound was a succession of cries that were almost blood-curdling.

A step that was recognizable as that of James Bartholemew was heard hastening along the hall.

The next instant he was demanding sternly of some one who approached with scampering feet

“ Hello, here ! what the dogs is the matter? Speak out, you little black imp!”

Following this, the voice of Pomp, wailing, moaning, stuttering in overwhelming affright?

“ Oh, de good Lord ! Oh, sabe me, Massa James ! Oh, de ghost— de ghost! Out dar— oh!”

“ Ghost ? What are you talking about ? Speak ?”

The pair who formed the tableau in the parlor could hear every word uttered.

Both were listening, to catch whatever the singular disturbance might mean, though Belle still held the officer under the aim of her gleaming weapon.

“ I’se done see 1 de ghost, Massa James— fo 1 sure I has. Out dar by de stable!” jabbered Pomp, brokenly.

“ Bah! what kind of a ghost, you scary jackanapes’”

‘‘Miss Belle.”

“Miss Belle? How ”

U OLD FUSEE,

“ Oh, de good Lord ! Hyer I see Miss Belle go in de parlor while 1 took de hoss to de stable, and dar—and dar— oh, Massa James!— dar 1 see Miss Belle ag’in, a»standin’ dar by de do , an’ ’longshle o’ her anoder ghost like debil hisself with ha’ry face, wot skeered de life outen me!”

“Pomp, you little ass, did you put Miss Belle's horse away and give him feed?”

“No, ’ndeedy, Massa James. I jes’ flew away from dar, an’ I can’t go back no more dis night, if youse lick de hide off’n me— ’deed I can’t. De ghost, de Oder presence ob Miss Belle, am a stalkin’ roun’ dar.”

“Bah !”

And here sounded something like a kick, which brought additional wailing from black Pomp.

Into the captain’s eyes had come a singular light as he heard the frightened avowals of the negro boy.

To Belle it contained no import beyond the fact that something had frightened the lad, which he had magnified into a ghost. But she did understand that her horse, an animal she idolized, was being neglected after the hard ride she had given him, and availing of the captain’s prompt obedience to stand aside, she hurried past him, giving him no more thought than if he did not exist.