“What justice ever other judgment taught,
But he should die who merits not to live.”
SPENSER.
About the middle of the afternoon, on the day next succeeding the eventful one which was marked by the occurrences narrated in the last chapter, a cavalcade of about a dozen men on horseback, followed by a single wagon, containing some fire-arms, two or three pairs of iron handcuffs, and a few other articles of luggage, came clattering down the road from the west, towards the tavern with which the reader has already been made familiar. The men, who had been dispatched for the shire-town of the county, had ridden hard all night, reached the place at daylight, drummed up the officers of justice, got them started at an early hour, and urged them on with such speed that, within twenty hours, they had arrived at the scene of action. After the halt of an hour at the tavern, for rest and refreshment, and a brief consultation with the settlers, the sheriff, and his posse, now swelled by volunteers from the settlement, set forth, under the guidance of Phillips, for the residence of the supposed criminal, calculating to reach there about dusk,—the hour they deemed most favorable for making the arrest. After proceeding in silence about two-thirds of the way to their destination, they halted, to make their final preparations and arrangements for the onset; when, knowing the great strength and desperate character of the man with whom they would have to deal, they first carefully prepared their fire-arms, and then detailed a half-dozen of their number, most conversant with the locality, to go forward, spread themselves around the borders of Gaut’s clearing, and cautiously advance to the house, so as to head off any attempt he might make to escape, when the main body made their appearance. All the time spent in these precautions, however, as well as this whole jaunt thus far up the river, was destined to be mostly lost; for, as the company were again beginning to move forward, they were met by the scouts, dispatched the night before, hurrying back, most of them in a disabled condition, and with the report that Gaut had escaped about an hour before. They had lain in their coverts all day, and in the fore part of it nothing had been seen to excite their suspicions; but, towards night, they noticed him cleaning his rifle and pistols, as near as they could judge, and then, soon after, bringing out a pack and placing it by the side of his rifle at the door; and scarcely had they time to concentrate before he came out, shouldered his pack, took his arms, and proceeded towards a canoe moored on the bank of the river. They then instantly resolved to intercept him; and, running for the spot, came up to him just as he had laid his rifle in the boat; when he turned upon them with the suddenness and fury of a pursued tiger; seized the foremost, who had laid his hands on the canoe, and, with giant strength, threw him headlong into the river; hurled the second with stunning effect on the ground; knocked down a third with his fist; leaped into his canoe, sent it swiftly across the stream, ran up the opposite bank, and disappeared in the woods, before they had recovered from their confusion, or thought of having recourse to their rifles to stop him.
“Slipped through our fingers and gone!” said the sheriff, with an air of chagrin and disappointment.
“Yes, for this onset,” said Codman, the next to volunteer remarks in the provoking nonplus in which they now all found themselves. “Yes, but I should like mightily to know how he got wind of our movements? If the devil didn’t tell him, I don’t think he done as well by his friend as he ought.”
“Perhaps,” rejoined the sheriff, after the laugh of some and the approving glances of others, which had followed the characteristic remark of the trapper, had passed away,—“perhaps he, or some of his family, caught a glimpse of these scouts round their clearing during the day; or perhaps he has an accomplice, or tool, whom he had engaged to watch public movements, and bring him word.”
“I have thought of some such thing, myself,” remarked Phillips. “In the case of his robbing our camp, last fall, I felt quite confident he must have had some accomplice, or some secret agent, to take off the furs for him. If he has such an one now, I think it must be a Jesuit priest, as I have heard that such a looking personage has, once or twice, been seen at Gaut’s house since he moved into the settlement.”
“Well, if the villain has such a character as that in tow, he would be devil enough for all common purposes,” responded the sheriff. “But, however all that may be, I fear he has struck a line for Canada, and this is the last we shall ever see of him in this country.”
“Not for Canada,” confidently said the hunter; “for I know enough about him to make me feel quite sure that he will never again trust his head within reach of British authority.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the sheriff, “what is it you know?”
“I think it had better not be told just yet,” answered the other, decisively. “Let us first see whether he can’t be caught and hung here, for his last crying offence.”
“But do you think he can yet be overtaken, and arrested?” asked the former.
“Certainly I do,” returned the hunter, with earnest confidence. “He must, and shall, be taken! God’s curse is on the man; and he will never, I tell you, never be suffered to escape us.”
“Well, then,” resumed the sheriff, thoughtfully, “what course do you think he will take, and where secrete himself, so that he can be found? I, on my part, stand ready to do every thing in my power to bring the miscreant, of whose guilt I think there can now be but little doubt, to immediate justice. Now, as you are said to be a man of observation and energy, Mr. Phillips, let us have the benefit of your opinion and advice in the matter.”
“It is my opinion,” said the hunter, in response, after dropping his head a moment in study, “it is very clearly my opinion that the fellow will now aim to reach some of the eastern cities,—ever the Umbagog, most likely, in a canoe that he keeps concealed somewhere on the western shore, which is only a mile or two over this ridge, that rises from the other bank of the river, here against us. He will not be likely to come back to his house, or the river, where he will still suppose we are on the watch; nor will he start out on the lake till after dark, lest he be seen, and his course traced; but lie concealed till that time in some of the difficult rocky steeps that shut down to the lake.”
“Your ideas of his probable aims and movements appear reasonable, Mr. Phillips. Now, what are the steps you would advise to be taken for his apprehension?” asked the sheriff.
“Well, my plan would be something like this,” replied the hunter, musingly. “I would post half a dozen men, for the night,—to be relieved in the morning,—a half mile or so apart, along this river, above and below here, to be walking back and forth, and occasionally firing a gun. The others go back, and a sufficient number get on to the lake before dark to have canoes in station every quarter of a mile along the western shore. Codman, you will be a good hand to manage this company. As for myself, I will wade the river somewhere hereabouts, go over through the woods to the lake-shore, be mousing round the shore a little, in search of his canoe, and, if I find it, be out on the water by the time you get there; if not, I will be within call of some of you, and give, for a signal, the cry of a raccoon, which I can imitate tolerably, I believe.”
“But you don’t propose to go alone?” asked several, anxiously. “It might be dangerous business, if you should happen to encounter him with no help within call.”
“Yes, I think I will go alone,” quietly replied the hunter. “If he can see me before I do him, he will do better than I think he can. And, if I do get my eye on him first, he will stop and yield, or die, as sure as my rifle is true to its old trust; for I should feel it my bounden duty to stop him by bullet, if need be, in case he should attempt to flee, as much as I should to shoot a painter carrying off one of my own children.”
By the approval of the sheriff, and the concurrence of all, the hunter’s plan of operations was immediately adopted. And, accordingly, the designated numbers were told off to man the river, and at once set in motion to perform the duty; while the rest retraced their way to the village, except the hunter, who, seeking a shoal place, waded the river, and was soon out of sight among the thickets of the opposite bank.
On the return of the company to the tavern, every boat to be found on the river, from that place to the lake, was immediately put in requisition, for the service of the night. And by early twilight, eight canoes, each containing two or three well-armed men, led on by the trapper, in a single canoe, were seen emerging from the outlet into the broad lake, and slowly filing off along its western border. Coasting in closely to the shore, so as to keep within the shadow of the woods, they pursued their noiseless way up the lake, to a point where the low, marshy land lying between the lower part of the Umbagog and the Magalloway rises into the gradually-swelling ridge, which, a mile or two farther on, becomes a rocky, precipitous mountain, whose beetling cliffs, overhanging the deep, dark waters beneath, were crowned with their primeval growth of towering pines. Here they paused long enough to station one of their canoes, near a small point, commanding a view across the corresponding coves on either side; and then cautiously proceeded onward, dropping a canoe, in like manner, every five or six hundred yards, till the extremity of the western coast was reached, the line efficiently manned, and the trapper left to cruise alone over the cordon of boats thus stretched along the shore, to carry any needed intelligence, and make independent observations. It was now dark, and, being a moonless night, all within the shade of the mountains, especially, was wrapt in almost impenetrable gloom; so that the ear, rather than the eye, must now be depended on for whatever discoveries were to be made. Nothing as yet, to the disappointment and increasing anxiety of the company, had been seen or heard of the hunter.
“He cannot have been killed, so soon, can he?” whispered the sheriff, in one of the last-stationed canoes, as the trapper glided alongside, to hold communication with the officer.
“No,” was the low-toned reply; “that could not have happened, if there were any fear of such a thing, without one or more rifle-shots, which, in this calm evening, and this favorable locality for conveying sounds to a great distance, we must have heard, even down to the tavern. No, I will risk him. I think he must have got on to the fellow’s trail, and, if near the lake, lies in some spot where he can’t move away without danger of alarming the game. We have nothing to do but wait patiently. Phillips knows we are here in waiting, and he will report himself as soon as he can.”
They did not, however, have to wait long. In a few minutes, a small, shrill, quavering cry, which few could have distinguished from that of a raccoon, rose from a thicket on the shore, a short distance below.
“Ah! that is he,” softly cried the trapper; “I know the thicket he is hailing from. If you will remain just where you are, I will scull my canoe down to the spot, take him in with me, if he has not found a boat,—or at any rate bring him here to make his report.”
Like the gliding of a fish, shrinking away from sight, the light canoe, under the invisible impulse of the dexterously handled oar of the trapper, passed noiselessly away, and disappeared in the darkness. But, long before the expectant officer, who had been vainly listening for some sound, either of the going or the coming of the absent canoe, had thought of its return, it was again at his side, with the anticipated addition to its occupants.
“Here is the man, to speak for himself,” said the trapper, putting out a hand to guard off and prevent the canoes from grazing.
“Well, Mr. Phillips,” said the sheriff, in the same cautious under-tone by which all their communications had been graduated, “we are all looking to you,—what is your report?”
“In the first place, that he is here.”
“Where?”
“Sixty or seventy rods to the north of us, in a secure retreat up among the rocks, about a dozen rods from the shore.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“How did you make the discovery?”
“I will tell you. When I came over, I struck down to the lake, nearly abreast the lower end of the ridge, and cautiously moved along the shore, upwards, in search of the suspected boat; without discovering it, however, till I came to the rocky pass I have alluded to, a short distance above here; when, peering out into the approaching darkness, I caught sight of it run under a treetop lying partly in the water. Your boats had not got on there; and thinking, if I took the boat out on to the water, as I had proposed, he might discover the loss too soon, take the alarm, and conclude to escape through the woods round the upper lakes, I varied my plan, and stationed myself back a few rods, to see if he would not come down to escape by his canoe. I had trailed him to the top of this rocky eastern slope, before I struck down to the lake, and knew he must be somewhere near; so I cocked my rifle, for instant use, and stood ready for his approach. And in a short time I caught the sound of his movements, sliding cautiously down the rocky steeps from the spot above, where I suspected he had housed himself. But, before he reached the bottom of the short ravine he must come down, or could be seen where I stood, a dry stick unluckily broke under my foot, and the sound, as I perceived at once, brought him to a stand. And, though he did not know, and don’t know yet, whether the sound was caused by the step of man or beast, yet he soon seemed to think it safest to retreat; and my ear could distinctly trace his movements, as he clambered and pulled himself along back up the ledges to his retreat. I then went down to the shore; and perceiving, from the slight agitation of the water and the faint sound of its gurgling under oars, that you had got on to the ground, I stole down the shore a piece, and gave the signal, as you heard.”
“Are you familiar with the place where you think he lies concealed?”
“Yes, nearly as much so as with my own door-yard.”
“What sort of a place is it, and how many ways are there to reach it or to escape from it?”
“It is the most curious place in all these parts, and there is but one way, I ever could find, to get to it; and that is, by climbing up the ledgy shelf of the face of the hill, through a sort of ravine that opens from it down to the lake, where there is scarce room enough, on either side, to pass along the shore between the perpendicular cliffs and the water. It is an old bear’s den, in fact, passing horizontally into the rocks twelve or fifteen feet, of varying breadth, and, after you get in, from three to six feet in height. I have taken at least a half-dozen fine bears from it, in my day, and supposed I was the only one knowing of it; but Gaut must have discovered it before this; for I at once found by his trail that he steered directly for the spot, on leaving the Magalloway.”
“He did?” interposed the trapper; “he find it, when he has been here in the settlement less than a year, and knows little about the woods; and I, who have been here a dozen years, knew nothing about it? He never found it without help, and that, too, from the same character that let him know we were coming to his house, to-day. I tell you, the Old Boy is in that man!”
“Then we will hang him and the Old Boy with one rope,” resumed the hunter, “for we are now sure of him.”
“I hope so,” said the sheriff; “but can he be taken to-night?”
“He might, possibly, if we were willing to run risks enough,” replied the hunter, doubtfully. “But I should hardly think it advisable to make the attempt. He could not be drawn from the cave, if we made the onset; while, if we entered it, he could easily kill several of us before he could be secured.”
“What shall be done, then?”
“I have been studying on that, and the best thing I can think of, is, to post men enough to guard him securely through the night; and then have on force enough in the morning to unburrow him, by some means or other, which we will contrive when the time comes.”
“But will he not come down, to escape in his boat, to-night?”
“I rather expect not. After hearing the noise I made, and, then coupling it with my signal, which he will then be suspicious of, as well as of the sounds that most likely have reached or will reach his ears from some of our boats; after all this, he will, probably, be afraid of falling into a trap, and would prefer taking his chances of escape by daylight. But, if he should come down, I will arrange things so that we will have him, to a dead certainty.”
The suggestions of the hunter were again adopted; and he was again requested to take the lead in putting the proposed plan into execution.
Accordingly, after directing the trapper to concentrate those stationed in their canoes above with those in one or two below, he entered the boat with the sheriff and his associate; and, taking an oar, slowly rowed along towards the place he had designated as the retreat of the desperate outlaw, on whose seizure they were so resolutely determined.
After reaching the spot, and waiting till the expected boat-crews arrived, the hunter quietly landed, and stationed two of the men in the narrow pass north of the gorge, with orders to keep a sharp lookout through the night, hail whoever might approach, and shoot him down before suffering him to escape. He next led two more up round the nearest approaches of the cave, and posted one on each side, a little above it, to prevent all possibility of escape over the rocks and ledges in that direction; and then, returning down to the shore, selected the trapper to occupy with him the southern pass to the gorge, thus reserving for himself, and the man on whom he believed he could best rely in an emergency, the post where an encounter would be most likely to occur. After completing these arrangements, and landing a pair of handcuffs from the sheriff’s boat, he dismissed the officer to collect all the rest of the company, not thus retained, and return to the village for the night, and for a fresh rally the next morning.
It was now ten o’clock at night; and from that time, for the next six hours, the stillness and darkness of death brooded over the slumbering waters of the lake. The mute men on guard,—to whom the slowly-passing hours seemed doubly long and gloomy, from the oppressive sense of the duty of silence,—stood immovably at their posts, alternately employing themselves in guessing at the hour of the night, and intently listening to catch some sound which should indicate the presence of the dreaded object of their watch. But, through the whole night, no such sound or indication reached their strained senses; and most of them, at length, were brought to the belief that either he had never been there, or that he had, by some unknown means, effected his escape. The hunter, however, never for a moment permitted his faith to waver. He not only felt confident that Gaut was still in his dark cage in the rocks, but that, the next day, safe means would be found to uncage him, and deliver him over to hands of justice, to undergo the penalties of his crimes. And, as soon as the anxiously-awaited daylight began to make its appearance in the east, he began gradually to work his noiseless way into the mouth of the gorge, and then up over the steeps and ragged ledges, till he had gained a stand under cover of a tuft of clinging evergreens, where he could obtain an unobstructed view of the mouth of the cavern, some six rods above. Here, low crouched behind his bushy screen, with rifle cocked and levelled at the entrance, he lay, silently awaiting the approach of daylight, expecting that Gaut would then, at least, be peering out to ascertain the state of affairs on the shore below. And the event soon showed the correctness of his reasoning. As the brightening flushes of morning fell on the water, and began to throw the reflected light on the face of the mountain, so as to bring its darker recesses to view, the hunter’s practised ear soon detected a movement within the cave; and presently the head, and then the shoulders, of the wary outlaw rose gradually in sight against the rocks, immediately over the low entrance.
“Yield yourself a prisoner, or die!” suddenly broke from the lips of the concealed hunter.
Gaut cast a startled glance around him, and then instantly threw himself to the ground, but barely in time to escape the bullet of the exploding rifle below, which struck the rock in the exact spot that a half-second before was darkened by the shade of his head and shoulders.
“Went through the hair on top of his head, I think, but missed his skull by something like an inch, probably,” said the hunter, quickly gliding down a few feet over the edge of the shelf, where he lay so as to put a rock between him and the mouth of the cave. “But, on the whole, I am glad of it; for I had rather see him go by the hand of the hangman than my own.”
The hunter then quietly reloaded his rifle, and went down among his excited companions; who, the ban of silence being now removed by his example, came forward to talk over this unexpected and startling incident of the morning, which had served the double purpose of demonstrating to the former that Gaut would never surrender himself a prisoner, and to the latter, the doubted fact that the object of their search was there, as represented to them the evening before. With the whole of them, indeed, the affair had now assumed a new aspect. Phillips and Codman put their heads together, and began to start and discuss various expedients for dislodging the intrenched fugitive; while the others, in their excitement and agitation, walked hurriedly about in their confined positions, speaking or thinking of the desperate and dangerous struggle now likely soon to ensue in the attempted capture, and anxiously awaiting the arrival of the sheriff and the additional force, which, it was understood, he would rally and bring on with him.
“They are coming!” at length cried one of the men from the cliff above; “they are coming in troops, and in all directions.”
The men on shore now eagerly ran down to the farthest projecting rocks, or on fallen trees extending into the water, to obtain unobstructed views of the company thus announced to be approaching in the distance; when, instead of the few they had expected, they beheld a whole fleet of canoes emerging from the distant outlet below, and rowing with all speed towards them; while, at the same time, another company of boats was seen approaching from the settlement around the upper end of the lake.
It appeared that, when the sheriff with his attendants reached the village the evening before, and announced the exciting tidings that the desperate man, whom all were so intent on hunting down, had been driven to a stronghold among the rocks of the mountain up the lake, where it might require a large force to take him, men started off in all directions, and rode all night with the news; which, flying like wind over this and the adjoining settlements, threw the whole country, for thirty or forty miles around, into commotion, and put scores of bold men immediately on the march for the scene of action. And the upshot was that, by sunrise the next morning, more than fifty men, hurrying in from all quarters, had assembled at the village, and having appropriated all the boats on the rivers, for many miles above and below, had joined the company of the sheriff, and under his lead were now on their way to the great point of attraction; together with many others entering the lake from other quarters.
In a short time the long retinue of canoes came clustering to the shore; when the motley company, preceded by the sheriff and his immediate attendants, all landed, and, crowding around the hunter and his associates, listened, with many a half-suppressed exclamation, indicative of the deep excitement that agitated the mass, to the recital of the discoveries and incidents of the morning.
“I cannot believe,” said the sheriff, who had been listening with keen interest to the hunter’s account of his bold but fruitless attempt to compel the submission of the desperado, “I cannot believe, after all, that the fellow will be so foolhardy as to persist in his refusal to surrender, when he knows there is now no longer any chance for him to escape. I will try him faithfully before resorting to extreme measures.”
“That may be well enough, perhaps,” remarked the hunter, demurely, feeling a little rebuked for his own hastiness in firing on the man, by some of the expressions of the officer; “yes, that will be well enough. But, if you succeed in drawing him out to be taken by means of words alone, I will try the experiment on the very next wolf or painter I drive into his den.”
“Nevertheless, it shall be tried,” returned the officer.
And accordingly, having called to his side a small band of well-armed assistants, he proceeded with them up the gorge, till he had gained the shelf which afforded the hunter a covert in the previous assault; when he stepped fearlessly out in full view of the mouth of the cavern, and, with a loud voice, calling the name of Gaut Gurley, commanded him, “in the name and by the authority of the State of New Hampshire, to come out, and surrender himself a prisoner, to answer, in court, to the charges set forth in a warrant then ready to be produced.”
The officer now paused; and all listened; but no sound came from the cave. The summons was then repeated, in a still louder and more determined tone of voice. And this time a sound, resembling the growl of a chafed tiger, was heard within, belching out a volley of muttered curses, and ending with the distinguishable words of defiance:
“If you want me, come and take me; and we will see who dies first.”
“Your blood be on your own head, then, obstinate wretch!” exclaimed the excited officer. “Men, prepare to throw a volley of bullets into that cavern. Ready—aim—fire!”
The single report of a half-dozen exploding muskets instantly followed the word, ringing out and reverberating along the mountain like the shock of a field-piece; while, with the dying sound, a hoarse shout of derisive laughter from the cave greeted the ears of the awe-struck and shuddering company around.
“There is no use in that,” said the hunter, who had followed and posted himself a little in the rear of the besieging party, under the apprehension that the besieged might make a rush out of his retreat, in the smoke and confusion consequent on the firing,—“there is no use in any thing of that kind. The entrance, after the first four or five feet, suddenly expands into quite a large space, into one of the corners of which he could easily step, as he doubtless did just now, and be safe against a regiment of rifles from without.”
“Then we will smoke him out!” fiercely exclaimed the sheriff, recovering from his astonishment at finding the culprit had not been annihilated, and beginning to be enraged at seeing himself and his authority thus alike despised; “we will smoke him out, like a burrowed wild beast, and soon convince the scoffing villain that we are not to be foiled in this manner. Hillo, there, below! gather and bring up here at least a cart-load of dry and green boughs.”
With eager alacrity the throng below sprang to do the bidding of the officer; and, in a short time, they came clambering up the steeps, with their shouldered loads of mingled material, to the post occupied by the advanced party; who took, and, keeping as much as possible out of the range of the entrance, carried them up, and threw them over the next shelf on to the little level space lying around the mouth of the cavern. This process was briskly continued, till a pile as large as a haycock was raised against the upright ledge through which the cave opened by a low narrow mouth at the bottom. A fire was then struck, a pine knot kindled, and held ready for the intended application; when the sheriff, proclaiming to the desperate object of these fearful preparations what was in store for him, commanded him once more, and for the last time, to surrender. But, receiving no reply, he then, ordering the men to stand ready with poles to scatter the material the moment the victim should cry for mercy, seized the flaming brand and hurled it into the most combustible part of the pile before him.
Within the space of a minute the appearance of the quickly-catching blaze, now seen leaping in a thousand dimly-sparkling tongues of flame, from layer to layer and from side to side, through the crevices of the loosely-packed mass, gave proof that the whole pile was becoming thoroughly ignited. And the next moment the cave, and the whole visible range of rocks above, were lost to sight in the dense cloud of smoke that deeply wrapt and rolled over them. Expecting every instant to hear the agonized cries of the victim, now seemingly enfolded in the very embrace of the terrible element, calling aloud for mercy and offering submission, the whole company, crowding the gorge below, or peering over from the surrounding cliffs, climbed for the purpose, stood for some time mute and appalled at the spectacle, and the thought of the fearful issue it involved. No sound or sight, however, except the crackling of the consuming fagots and the flaring sheet of the ascending flames, greeted their expectant senses.
“Pretty much as I have long thought it would turn out, in the end,” said the trapper, the first to break the silence as the fire was seen to be slacking away, without any thing yet being heard from the dreaded inmate of the cave. “His master is taking him off in a winding-sheet of smoke and flame. I shouldn’t be surprised at a clap of thunder or an earthquake to wind up with.”
“At any rate,” observed another of the crowd, “he must be suffocated by this time.”
“Yes,” responded a third, “dead, dead as a door-nail; so, there is an end of the incarnate Beelzebub that we have known by the name of Gaut Gurley.”
“I am not so clear about that,” now interposed the hunter, who had stood intently watching the varying aspects of the fire and smoke about the cave. “I thought, myself, that this operation must put him on begging terms, if any thing would; and the question is, whether it wouldn’t now, before he found himself in any danger of smothering. I don’t understand it; but stay,—what is that rising from the top of the rocks, some distance back from the front of the den? Mr. Sheriff, do you see it?”
“See what, sir?”
“Why, that slender column of smoke rising gently out of the top of the rocks, directly over the cave, and growing more visible every moment, as the smoke from the fire down here in front becomes light and thin in the clear blaze.”
“I do see what appears, here, to be something of the kind not proceeding directly from the fire,—yes, plainly, now. What does it mean, Mr. Phillips?”
“It means that the rascal has a chimney to his house, or what, for his safety, is the same. The rocks forming the top of the cavern are piled up so loosely that the smoke rises through them almost as easy and natural as from a chimney. He had nothing to do but to throw himself on the bottom, to be out of its way, and breathe as good air as the best of us.”
“By Heavens, Phillips, I believe you are right! And that is not all there is to it, either: if our smoking-out experiment has failed, it has shown a better one. The same looseness of the rocks that permitted the escape of the smoke so freely, will permit, also, their being removed or torn away. We will now uncage him by digging down into his den. Ho there! my merry men below, go to cutting heavy pry-poles, and look up your crow-bars, picks, sledge-hammers, and shovels. There is work for you all.”
As soon as the unexpected discoveries which had led to these new orders, and consequent change of the whole plan of attack, were understood and fully comprehended by all, the solemn and revolting character of the scene was instantly converted into one of bustle and animation. As the plan thus indicated by the sheriff required the scene of operations to be transferred to the top of the rocks above the cave, to which there was no means of access from the gorge in front, he, leaving a strong guard in the pass now occupied, took the hunter and came down to the shore; when the latter, followed by the officer and a score of resolute, strong-armed men with their various implements, led the devious way back through the woods, and up round the ledgy and precipitous face of the mountain, till they reached a point a little above the level of the cave. Here they paused, and sent the hunter out along a lateral shelf of the declivity, to search for the most accessible path to their destination. While the company were pausing here for this purpose, their attention was suddenly arrested by the heralding shouts of another company of men, evidently approaching from the other side of the mountain. And, soon after, a band of a dozen well-armed, hardy-looking fellows, headed by a tall, powerfully-framed man, made their appearance, pushing their way down the brush-tangled steeps from above.
“Turner!” exclaimed the sheriff, addressing the leader of the approaching band, who was at once recognized to be an ex-sheriff of the county, and one of the most daring and successful felon-hunters ever known in northern New-Hampshire; “General Turner, of all men you are the one I should have most wished to see, just at this time. We have a tough case on hand; but how did you get here?”
“The only way left for us. When we reached the tavern down here on the river, not a boat was to be had; and so we steered up the Magalloway, and came over by land, as you see. I had heard of this desperate character, and your dealings with him, before the present outrage, and have now come to help you put him through. Now tell us the state of the siege,—some idea of which we got from a man we met, a mile back on our way.”
The sheriff then related all that had transpired, and named the new plan of operations, of which they were then proceeding to test the feasibility.
“We will have him!” said Turner, with a determined look. “If we can’t tear away the rocks with bars and sledges, we will send off for a barrel of gunpowder to blow them open; and if that fails, I will go into the cave, myself, and if I don’t snake him out before I’ve done with him, he must be a harder customer than it has ever yet been my lot to encounter.”
By this time the hunter had returned, and now pointed out the best way to the place of which they were in quest; when the sheriff, ex-sheriff, and their respective followers, preceded by their guide, commenced forcing their passage along the craggy cliffs; and, within ten minutes, they found themselves standing on the off-set forming the rocky roofing of the cavern. The appearance of the place was much more favorable for the proposed attempt at excavation than any of them had anticipated. From the front face of the rock, which was pierced by the mouth of the cave at the bottom, and which presented a perpendicular of about fifteen feet, the topmost stones rapidly fell off to a depression over the centre of the cave, which, it was at once seen, must greatly reduce the depth of rock to be removed or broken up, before reaching the interior. And, in addition to this encouraging discovery, the rocks in and around this depression, through which the smoke was yet visibly oozing, appeared to be detached from the main ledge, and, though heavy, such as might be removed by appliances at command. Still, there was a formidable mass to be disrupted and removed before an entrance could be effected in that direction. But the men, impatient of inaction, and eager to be doing something to forward the common object,—like all bodies of excited people anxious to coöperate, but unable to decide on a course of action,—scarcely waited to be told what was wanted, before they all sprang to the work with that resistless union of faith and exertions which requires no intervention of miracles to remove mountains. The moss, earth, decayed wood, and all else of the loose covering of rocks, quickly disappeared under their busy hands or rapidly-plied implements. The smaller stones and broken fragments, as soon as loosened or beat off by the bars and sledges, were seized and hurled in showers over the surrounding ledges; the larger ones, when started from their beds by the long heavy prys, were grappled with the united strength of all that could get to them, rolled up, pitched over the precipice in front, and sent bounding and crashing down the gorge below. And the whole forest resounded with the din of their heavy blows and the mingling sounds of their varied labors.
While all who could find room to work on the excavation were thus briskly pushing forward their operations, a smaller party were engaged in beating down the rocky battlement in front; and so vigorously and successfully were the efforts of these also directed, that, in a short time, the top was so lowered, and the seamy rocks so split down, that, with the mass of stones thrown over, a path of easy descent was formed from the top, down to the shelf below, on one side of the mouth of the cave; which was now securely blocked up, and closely invested by the party previously stationed in near vicinity to guard it.
Thus bravely, and with no token of faltering at the obstacles which they frequently encountered, and which sometimes required their greatest exertions to overcome, did these strong-armed and determined men push on their herculean labors, for the space of nearly two hours; when suddenly a shout of exultation rose from those at work lowest down in the excavation, and the next moment the voice of the ex-sheriff was heard exclaiming to those around him:
“Courage, men! the game is nearly unkenneled. I have driven my bar through, and the hole is so large that the bar has slipped from my hands and gone to the bottom!”
The excitement now became intense; and all crowded round the rim of the excavation, and, with uneasy looks and hushed voices, eagerly peered down into the dimly-visible perforation at the bottom; while those already within the excavated basin began, with beating hearts, carefully loosening and pulling out the shivered and detached stones, lying around the small aperture just effected, and continued the process until all the outer edges of the broad, thin rock, which the crow-bar had perforated, and which appeared to form the lower or interior layer of the roofing of the cavern, were fully laid bare, and brought within the reach of the outstretched arms of those bending down to grasp them. A dozen brawny hands were then seen securing their grip on one side of the rock; when, at the word of the sheriff, a sudden pull was made with a force that raised the whole mass nearly a foot from its bed.
“It comes bravely!” said the sheriff. “Now fix yourselves for another pull; while two or three of you above there come forward with your rifles, and stand with them levelled at the hole, as we open it, lest the desperate dog make a rush before we are prepared. Now all together,—there, now!”
The effort was made, and the sheeted rock was brought to a perpendicular; when it was grappled by the men with might and main, lifted clear from its bed, and thrust aside, letting the sunlight down upon the bottom of the cave through a chasm nearly large enough to permit two men to jump in abreast. There was now a dead pause; and all eyes were turned on the chasm in silent and trembling expectation. But nothing appearing, the hunter and ex-sheriff crept down prostrate to the brink of the chasm, and worked their heads cautiously below, to get a fuller view of the interior. After looking, with slightly varied positions, about a minute, they both rose and came up on the bank; when the ex-sheriff, turning to the hunter, softly said:
“He is there. I caught sight of his legs standing in a corner near the mouth of the cave. Did you get a view?”
“Yes, a better one than that; I saw his legs, and as much of his body as I could without bringing my own head within the line of his eyes. He stands there on the watch, with cocked rifle pointing to this opening, while he has a dirk within his left hand grasping the rifle, and I think a pistol within his other hand, held in a similar manner. I can read his plan.”
“What is it, as you read it?”
“To take the first that enters with his rifle, pistol the second, make a rush through the rest, and stab as he goes.”
“About the truth, probably. But what is to be done? Shall you and I leap down, make a spring upon him, and stand our chance?”
“Why,—yes,” replied the hunter, with a little hesitation; “yes, if we can’t do better than throw away one good life, at least, for a bad one. But if we could contrive to divert his attention suddenly to the mouth of the cave——”
“You are right! Stay here a moment, and I will put matters in train to carry out your suggestion,” eagerly interrupted Turner, taking the sheriff confidentially aside.
In a few minutes the determined ex-sheriff, followed by four or five stout, resolute men, whose special assistance he had bespoken for the occasion, returned to the side of the hunter, and said:
“Get down there in your old position, where you can watch his movements. They have gone down to unblock the mouth of the cave outside, and make a feint of entering. If they succeed in drawing his fire, I will take that as a signal,—if not, then you give me the word, at the right moment, when his head, and with it naturally his rifle, is turned to the supposed new point of attack, and I will leap down and make a spring to get within the line of the muzzle before he can fire; and, the instant I disappear, you and these men follow, and be close on my heels for the grapple.”
The hunter then edged down to his former place of observation, where he lay, while Turner sat crouching on the brink ready for the leap, narrowly watching the movements of the dreaded foe within, who was seen to be still standing motionless in the same position as before. Presently the movements of those outside the old entrance of the cavern, as they began cautiously to remove the blockading stones, became clearly audible, and soon a few straggling rays of light began to gleam into the interior from that direction. On perceiving these indications, the wary desperado began, for the first time, to exhibit signs of uneasiness. Slightly changing his position, he glanced rapidly from the already half-cleared entrance in front to the chasm just opened through the top in the rear. But neither seeing or hearing any thing that led him to expect any assault, except from the front, and evidently supposing it was now the intention of his assailants to drive him up through the top opening, to be seized as he came out, he drew back a step, and, turning the muzzle of his rifle towards the mouth of the cave, stood ready to fire upon the first who should make his appearance. This movement was not lost on the keenly-watching hunter, who saw that it afforded a fair chance for a successful surprise; and he once parted his lips to give the signal for the onset. But, perceiving from the incoming light that the mouth of the cave was cleared from its obstructions, he ventured to await the effect of the feint now momentarily expected from that quarter. He had judged wisely. The delay was not in vain. A rustling sound, seeming to come from some one squeezing through the entrance, was now heard; and soon a dark object, resembling the head and shoulders of a man, making slow and cautious advances, was fully protruded into the cavern; when, suddenly, the whole ledge shook with the stunning report of a rifle, and the next moment, Turner, Phillips, and their chosen backers, had all disappeared in the cloud of smoke that came pouring up through the chasm. Quick, heavy, muffled sounds, as of fiercely-grappling tigers, instantly came from within. And within another minute, the stentorian voice of the daring leader of the onset was heard, shouting for the hand-cuffs and fetters.
The fierce siege was over. The desperate intentions and giant strength of the besieged, after a brief but terrible struggle, had been thwarted and overcome by the intrepidity and equal strength of the ex-sheriff; and he, now firmly clenched round the body, and held down, with every limb in the vise-like grasp of his iron-fisted captors, lay disarmed, helpless, and panting on the ground.
“There!” sternly cried the victorious leader of the hazardous assault, as he rose to his feet, after he had seen the heavy irons securely locked on the wrists and ankles of the silent and sullen prisoner,—“there! drag him out, feet foremost, into the open light of day, where he and his dark deeds have all now got to come, to meet the vengeance of an outraged community!”
It was done, and with no gentle hand; when a long, wild shout of exultation fiercely broke from the closely-encircling throng, thrilling the trembling forest around with the din, and rolling away to the farthest shores of the lake, to proclaim that the first murderer of the settlement—the black-hearted Gaut Gurley—was now a prisoner, and in the uncompromising hands of public justice.
The animated spectacle which now ensued, of trundling, pushing, and tumbling the chafed and growling prisoner down to the shore, amid the unrestrained demonstrations of the exulting multitude; the noisy and bustling embarkation on the lake; the ostentatious display of mimic banners, formed by raising on tall poles, handkerchiefs, hats, coats, and whatever would make a show in the distance, as the long line of canoes, with the closely guarded prisoner in the centre, filed off in gorgeous array, through the glitter of the sun-lit lake, on their way to the great outlet; the pause and concentration there; the rapid descent down the river to the village, where a board of magistrates were waiting to sit on the case of the expected prisoner; and, finally, the loudly heralding kuk-kuk-ke-o-hos of the overflowing trapper, to announce, over a two-mile reach of the stream, the triumphant approach,—this animated and here extraordinary spectacle, we must leave to the delineation of the reader’s imagination. Our attention is more strongly demanded in a different direction, to bring up other important incidents of our story, before proceeding any farther with the actors who have figured in this part of the narrative, or taking note of the examination to which they were now hurrying the prisoner.