Chapter IX: The Outlaw's Home

But what of the train wending its weary way among the hills, trying, under the guidance of Major Guilford, to follow the blind trail?

Ah, it is a query pregnant with sad events--with tears and sighs--with acts that make human nature seem like demon-nature.

For here, in the outlaw's lair, away up among the hills--in his secret grotto--we find--who?

Why, Lottie Mitchell!

And consoling her in her terrible grief is Mabel, the professed daughter of Major Guilford, but now the acknowledged wife and emissary of Yellow Jack!

And outside we hear the voice of Major Guilford, and learn from his conversation, first, the fact that he is Yellow Jack's first-lieutenant; and second, the particulars of the slaughter of that entire train, which, following his guidance, was led into an ambuscade, and every soul in it ruthlessly slain by the outlaws, as they had destroyed and slain other trains. The diabolical glee which the affair excited in the outlaw camp revealed the nature of the ruffians with whom Guilford consorted.

But he had other matters also to discuss with some of the men. He had rescued Lottie Mitchell and brought her safely into the outlaw camp only to see Yellow Jack take her under his immediate protection. Was he to be deprived of his property? Was not Lottie his own by the laws of the band? And if so, by what right did the captain take her under his protection?

This the "Major" demanded in a manner that showed how bitterly he felt over the event, and his openly announced purpose to have his prize yet, gave little promise of peace or safety to the now distressed and heart-broken captive, whose hours passed in weeping over the awful tragedy which her eyes had witnessed, and whose fears for her own future were even more harrowing than her grief.

For a time Lottie Mitchell was treated more as a guest than a prisoner by Yellow Jack and his household. Even Mabel, though herself scarcely so beautiful, strove to cheer up the sorrowing girl, even while a dull pain knocked at her own heart as she recognized the gradually changing expression with which the outlaw chief began to regard the fair captive.

None knew better than she that Yellow Jack was even more to be dreaded than Charles Guilford--that Lottie, in fleeing from the hawk, had sought protection of the eagle.

With heart crushed and bowed down, Lottie would sit through the long hours in mute despair. She knew now that she was alone upon earth--that not one drop of blood akin to her flowed in human veins. Her loving father had been the last, and now he was no more. He was dead--murdered! And she--oh! why had she been spared? To live on and suffer--to endure worse than death--a shameful captivity in the hands of demons who had love for naught other than sin and crime.

And yet, though knowing all this, Lottie believed that she was safe from harm while Yellow Jack extended his protection. She knew that Mabel was his wife--that a fierce, passionate love seemed to exist between them. Then--what had she to fear from him?

Thus she reasoned, but the mask was soon to fall from his face--the scales from her eyes. The trial, though slow in coming, would lose none of its force on that account.

A brief "scene" had followed the unceremonious despoiling of Guilford. His fiery, untamed nature was not one to submit without a word; besides, he was backed up by the laws of the league, that distinctly said a man possessed the sole power of life or death over any captive he might chance to take unaided.

Guilford waited until the entire band had returned. Then he called them around him in the little square of unoccupied ground near the center of the village. His undaunted bravery and boldness had made him very popular among the outlaws.

In hot, angry words he told them how he had been treated and how the laws of the league had been trampled upon without cause or provocation. He demanded their vote--whether the captive rightly belonged to him, or to Yellow Jack.

The outlaws seemed about to reply--to give the words utterance that would please the orator--when a clear, metallic voice silenced them. The outlaws, bold and desperate men though they were, seemed awed and shrunk silently back, parting before the approach of that one slender, frail-looking man, who so negligently puffed at a tiny cigarette.

"Pardon, gentlemen," he uttered, the words dropping with cat-like softness from his red lips, that curled in a smile at once sweet and cruel. "Hearing my name mentioned, I come to plead my own case. Guilford, what is your grievance?"

"That you took by force from me a captive. By the laws of the league you had no right to do this. She is mine alone--I demand her return."

The words were spoken boldly and without hesitation. Yet the manner in which the flushed face suddenly turned white, told that Guilford by no means underrated his danger. It was like playing with a half-tamed tiger. At first its talons might be sheathed--but who could say how long this would last?

"So you consider yourself an abused man, do you?" slowly drawled Yellow Jack.

"I deem my rights as a member of the band, abridged. By the laws laid down by yourself, you are wronging me in taking away my property."

"And if I return her--this property of yours--you will overlook my mistake?"

"Gladly!" cried Guilford, too excited by the pleasing thought thus presented to read aright the sneering tone and the yellowish glitter of the black eyes.

"You are very kind. But I fear both my wife and your property would object. Besides, I've taken a notion to her myself. And captain before lieutenant, you know."

"Then you refuse to--"

"Bah! why so much to-do about a trifle? you grow tiresome, Guilford. We will have to select another officer from the ranks."

At this sentence--the last--Yellow Jack gave an evidence of his marvelous quickness. A sudden glitter of steel--a flash--a report, and then a death-groan.

Charles Guilford lay upon his face, the blood slowly oozing from a tiny, discolored hole in the center of his forehead.

A low cry rose round the group. A simultaneous movement--and full two-score hands fell upon as many weapons.

The tall, lithe form drew more erect, with head flung back and eyes that seemed like glowing coals. _Click--click_, went the notchlike springs of his pistols.

The sullen roar of two-score voices ceased. The weapons, though still clutched, were not drawn. And the foremost slowly shrunk back. Fear was written upon their faces.

And all this because one man seemed awakened. But that man was Yellow Jack.

"Gentlemen," began the outlaw chieftain, and his voice was as even and gentle as when first he spoke, "I have a few words of explanation to give you why I shot that carrion. It was because he was a traitor at heart--to me, if not to you. I saved him from the hangman's rope, and brought him here. He served admirably as a man; but raising him to be an officer spoiled him. You elected him; I could not refuse, though I knew that this day must come in time. Well, he's dead. There is no use in producing proof of his treachery, unless some of you demand it. Then I will comply, of course. Is any one dissatisfied? If so, let him advance and give in his plea."

No one advanced. Perhaps they deemed it scarcely prudent to do so, with that body still lying before them.

Yellow Jack smiled. He had conquered now, even as he had scores of times before, by sheer audacity. And _now_ Lottie Mitchell was his; no one could dispute his choice, unless--He scowled as he thought of Mabel, his wife.

"Good! I am glad to see you so sensible. Of course, we must have another election. To-morrow will do. Talk the matter over between yourselves. The choice lies with you." And then Yellow Jack walked away, without so much as a glance at his victim.

Meantime, Lottie Mitchell had been aroused from her torpidity--as it might almost be called. And this by one of whom we have had only a fleeting glimpse--the being called by Yellow Jack, "Crazy Joe."

He had glided into the little cell-like apartment adjoining "the grotto," where Lottie was sitting in apathetic despair. She glanced up at his entrance, but recognizing him, again drooped her eyes.

"Lady," whispered Crazy Joe, after a keen glance around the chamber, "cheer up. You have a friend near who will do his best to free you. Be cautious--do not cry out. If they suspect who and what I really am, both you and I are lost," he added hastily as Lottie gave vent to an exclamation of surprise.

This was the first time she had heard him utter an intelligible sentence. To her, as to others, he had been the harmless idiot. For what had he been playing such a part?--for now there was no trace of idiocy, only the sharp, acute decision of a bold and determined man.

"I don't wonder at your surprise," he added, with a kindly smile, as he drew nearer, "I have played my part well, and, indeed, I had need to, since my life depended upon its success. But never mind that now. I fear interruption before I can explain. Listen, now. I am telling you the truth, and placing my life in your hands.

"As you see, I am no idiot. That is my mask, put on the better to enable me to gain my purpose. Instead, I am a spy--a spy of the Government. My purpose now is to learn all the secrets of the place, so that, when the time comes for another attack, they can't baffle us as they did the last time.

"I assumed this disguise, and wandered for days amongst these hills, before I was picked up, almost starving, too. I was brought here, and closely questioned. I was only an idiot--so I made them believe. Only an iron will carried me through, for they tried me in every manner, even waking me from a sound sleep with a quick question. But I had studied my part closely, and foiled them.

"Now it is time for act second. I have learned all I care to know, and must disappear. They will think nothing of that--for I am an idiot," and he laughed silently, but gleefully. "They'll think I've wandered away, or been killed by wild beasts. And then--well, they'll see me again, and with me will be a host of 'boys in blue.'

"Why do I tell you this? Because you are in great peril--not of _death_, but even worse than that--and will need all the courage you can muster. I would take you with me, but that would ruin all. Pursuit would be made--for _you_--and I killed. Then would your last hope die.

"You must wait patiently, and, if possible, gain time. I will be back in two weeks, at furthest. If you can evade the peril until then, we will save you. If not--then we will remember you while dealing our blows. Do you understand me?"

"Partly. But what is this great peril--_he_ is dead, and Mabel is my friend. Surely, she will not let them murder me!" And Lottie paused in genuine surprise.

"I will tell you, then, though 'tis a delicate subject. But this is no time for false delicacy. Then--I allude to Yellow Jack--to his passion for you," hurriedly added the man.

"But he--Mabel is his wife!"

"True--or passes for such. But that matters little to him. Why did he kill Guilford--his best and bravest man? Because that man claimed _you_--whom he wanted for himself. _Now_ do you understand me?"

"I--think I do," faltered Lottie, turning ghastly pale.

"Then--listen. The trial will come--sooner or later. It may come to-day--or it may not come until we return. For _your_ sake I hope not. But you must be prepared for it. You must play a part. You must hide your real feelings, and dissemble. Though keen as steel, you can blind him in his passion with your mother wit. Affect to think of the matter. Tell him you are too heart-sick--that all around is so new and strange that you must have time to reconcile yourself to the change. Tell him any thing--only gain time. Gain two weeks, and I pledge my word--my life, that you shall be saved. I give you the word of a man who never lied unless to an enemy, such as those with whom I am now dealing. Only two weeks, at the most. I may return before, but if I am not here then, you can know that I am dead."

"You frighten me, but--"

"Hist! there is some one coming! Be cautious--hide your feelings, or all is lost!" whispered the man, again becoming "Crazy Joe," as he crouched down upon the floor and began tracing meaningless figures in the dry sand with his fingers, crooning a low, monotonous strain as unmeaning as his blank and expressionless features.

Yellow Jack entered. He gave a start as the dark figure seated upon the floor caught his eyes, but then, with recognition, came reassurance. He cared little whether the idiot heard his words or not.

"Come, dear lady, this will never do," the outlaw chief uttered in a soft, musical tone, as he sunk upon the little pallet beside which Lottie sat. "You are fading your beauty and dimming your eyes by this unceasing grief. The past is past--let it sink into oblivion. Live for the present, for the future--life can be gay and pleasant, if you only will it should. All around will be your servants--and I, the chief of this band of brave men--will be the humblest one of all at your command. You make no answer," he added, his keen eyes seeking to read the inner thoughts of the maiden. "You are not offended at my plain words?"

"No--not offended," hesitated Lottie, at a warning glance from the seeming idiot.

"Thanks. Now I will give you a few words to think over for a time. And think over them carefully you must, for a great deal depends upon your answer. You, among others, are deeply concerned. In fact, upon your decision rests the whole of your future. Thus much, by way of introduction.

"You may not know that by the rules of the band, Charley Guilford really became your master, by his capturing you himself. Well--though he was a good enough man, in the way of duty, he was a devil at heart. He would have killed you with his cruelty in a month. For that reason I took you from him; for that reason, and because your face awoke a memory in my heart that I thought forever dead. Your face then, pale and care-worn, reminded me of my mother, as I last saw her, just before she died. I know now that she killed herself, because--but never mind. I did not come here to speak of the past.

"Well, Guilford objected to my course, and--I shot him to-day. He would have served me so to-morrow, but I was ahead of him.

"Now what I mean is this. You cannot lead this life always. You would die, shut up so close. And were you to walk about the village, you would always be in danger, from what, you can guess. For this reason, more than any thing else, I am here now, to tell you that you must choose between me and one of the men. In other words, you must become my wife."

"You--but Mabel is your wife!"

"Well--she passes for such, and so did the one before her. Never trouble about that--you must decide upon what I have told you. I must go now. You can give your answer to-morrow."

Yellow Jack left the room, and, after a warning glance and whisper, the spy did the same.

That night Crazy Joe disappeared. As he had predicted, this caused little or no comment. It was only an idiot gone.

On the morrow Yellow Jack again visited Lottie. It is useless to repeat his arguments. They were the same in substance as those just recorded, save that they were more vehement and full of passion.

Lottie, frightened and heart-sick, still did not forget the warning of Crazy Joe--or Joe Burleson, as he had told her his real name was--and begged for time. This he granted, though with evident reluctance.

Scarcely had he disappeared than Mabel rushed into the room with a maniacal fury, clutching a long, keen-pointed stiletto. With a half-stifled scream, she strove to plunge it into Lottie's breast. The peril lent the captive strength, and after a desperate struggle, she succeeded in disarming the madwoman.

Then, in hysterical sobbings the truth came out, and Lottie learned what had caused the sudden change in one who had, until that hour, treated her so kindly. She had overheard all that passed between Lottie and Yellow Jack in the second interview.

Fortunate it was that Lottie remembered Burleson's caution never to speak without weighing every word that she said, while in her dangerous position. Only for that she would have told Mabel all: have told her how she loathed the very sight of the monster, Yellow Jack, and that she was only playing her cards to gain time that she might be saved.

Instead, she only disclaimed all thought of winning Yellow Jack from her; that she would far rather matters remained as they were.

Mabel, on the other hand, saw only one hope left her, and that was in the escape of Lottie. While she remained, the outlaw would only stray the further from his rightful allegiance, and with that hope, she declared to Lottie that she would assist her to escape.

Rendered suspicious by this sudden change, Lottie was reserved, though the very thought caused her heart to leap for joy. Thus she calmly listened, without saying yea or nay.

At length Mabel turned and left the chamber. In the passage just without, a dark figure met her and clutched her wrist with a grasp of steel. It was Yellow Jack, and in that moment she knew that he had overheard all, and that her doom was sealed. For a moment she trembled; then her true Spanish courage came to her rescue, and she followed his lead without a word.

Entering their own chamber, Yellow Jack, with a terrible courtesy, led Mabel to a softly-cushioned chair, and waited until she was seated. Then he drew another chair forward, and seated himself before her. Pale and calm, she met his steady gaze with one as unflinching.

"Du you know what is in my mind now, Mabel?" he at length uttered.

"Yes--if, as I suppose, you were listening to what I said to--to _her_ in there."

"I did hear--that you intended to prove traitor to me."

"Not to you--to the man who was about putting his wife from him in favor of a stranger."

"Well--we will not quarrel about trifles. You have known me long enough to guess what such attempts cost. Now I ask you a plain question: would you rather leave me and return to your people, or die here beside me?"

"This is the only choice left me?" Mabel asked, and for the first time her voice trembled.

"Is it not enough?" coldly came the reply.

"Since _you_ say so, yes. For ten years I have been with you, through all, day and night. I will not leave you now, of my own will, because I love you. I will die here, but not by _your_ hand!"

"I am glad that you object to that, because I hate such trouble. Well, to business. First, write a line saying that this is your own deed. The men reverence you so that they might make trouble were they to think I had killed you."

Without a word, Mabel did as directed. Then again turned toward the ice-hearted monster. He knew not what mercy meant, else he would have relented at that look of ineffable love.

"Well--you are waiting for--?"

Mabel moved round and knelt beside him. He frowned, thinking she meant to plead for her life. Instead, she wound her arms around him, and pressed her lips to his, in a long, lingering, farewell kiss.

Then she rose erect. The bright poniard flashed in the lamp-light. It sunk to the hilt in her warm bosom.

Slowly she sunk to her knees, her eyes riveted upon his, and with that look of love, died!