The Purchase Price - Emerson Hough (the unexpected everything TXT) 📗

the boat party, standing on the deck behind the leader, had fired at a movement seen in the willows twenty yards away. The aim was true. A groan was answer to the shot, even before the exclamation of the leader was made. Young Desha fell back, shot through the body. His friends at first did not know that any one had been hurt, but to lie still under fire ill suited their wild temper. With a common impulse, and without order, they emptied their guns into the mass of dark figures ranged along the beach. The air was filled with shouts and curses. The attacking party advanced. The narrow beach of sand and mud was covered with a struggling mass of fighting men, of which neither party knew the nature of the other, and where the combatants could scarce tell friend from foe.

"Get in, men!" cried Dunwody. "Go on! Take the boat!" He pressed on slowly, Judge Clayton at his side, and they two passed on up the gang-plank and into the boat itself. The leader of the boat forces, who had retired again to the steamer deck, faced them here. It was Dunwody himself who reached out, caught him in a fell grip and took away from him his rifle.

"Call your men off!" he cried. "Do you all want to get killed?"

"You pirates!" exclaimed the boat leader as soon as he could get his breath. "What do you mean by firing on us here? We're peaceable men and on our own business."

Dunwody stood supporting himself on his rifle, the stock of it under his arm. "You call this peace!" he said. "We didn't intend to attack you. We're after a fugitive slave. I'm a United States marshal. You've killed some of our men, and you fired, first. You've no right—Who are you?" he cried, suddenly pushing closer to his prisoner in the half light. "I thought I knew your voice! You—Carlisle—What are you doing here?"

[Illustration: "Who are you?" he cried suddenly.]

"I'm about my business," rejoined that young officer curtly. "I've been on your trail."

"Well, you've found me," said Dunwody grimly. "You may wish you hadn't."

The Northerner was not in the least subdued, and remained fearless as before. "That's fine talk!" he said. "Why haven't we a right here? We're on a navigable stream of the United States, in free waters and in a free country, and we're free to do as we propose. We're under a free flag. What do you mean by firing into us?"

"You're not navigating the river at all," retorted Judge Clayton. "You're tied up to Missouri soil. The real channel of the river is away out yonder, and you know it. We're inside our right in boarding you. We want to know who you are and what you are doing here, an army officer, at the head of men armed in this way. We're going to search this boat. You've got property of mine on board, and we've the legal right to take it, and we're going to take it. You've killed some of our posse."

"You're pirates!" reiterated the northern, leader. "You're border ruffians, and you want to take this boat. You'll have to account for this."

"We are ready to account for it," said Dunwody. "Throw down your arms, or we will kill every man of you. At once!"

He swung heavily back on his support as he spoke. Clayton caught him by the arm. "You're hit, Dunwody!" he said in a low voice.

"Yes, a little," answered the other. "Don't say anything." Slowly he pushed on, directly up to Carlisle, who faced him fearless as ever. "Tell your men to throw down their guns!" demanded Dunwody once more.

"Attention, company!" called out the young Northerner. "Stack arms!"

Silently, in the dark, even in the confusion, the beleaguered men grouped together and leaned their rifles against this or that support. Silently they ranged themselves, some on the deck, some still upon the shore.

"Get lights now, at once!" commanded Dunwody. "We've got men hurt here. We'll have to do something at once. Jamieson!" he cried out. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm all right," answered Doctor Jamieson out of the darkness.
"Not a scratch. But there's a lot of our fellows down."

"Take care of them," said Dunwody. "We'll attend to the rest of this business after that."

CHAPTER XVI THE ADJUDICATION

A dismal sight enough was presented when finally a few half-hearted torches were pressed into use to produce a scant illumination. What had been a commonplace scene now was become one of tragedy. The bank of this willow-covered island had assumed the appearance of a hostile shore. Combat, collision, war had taken the place of recent peace and silence. The night seemed ominous, as though not even these incidents were more than the beginning of others yet more serious soon to come.

Out of the confusion at last there might have been heard the voice of Dunwody, calling again for Jamieson. There was work for the surgeon when the dead and injured of both sides at last were brought aboard the little steamer and ranged in a ghastly common row along the narrow deck. "Take care of them, Jamieson," said Dunwody shortly. He himself leaned against the rail.

"You're hurt yourself, Dunwody," exclaimed Jamieson, the blood dripping from his fingers when he half rose. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—I got a nick in my leg, I think, but I'm all right. See to the others."

Jamieson bent over the body of young Desha, who had been first to suffer here on the debated ground of Missouri. He had been shot through the upper body and had died with little suffering. Of the assailing party two others also were beyond aid, one a young planter who had joined the party some miles back beyond St. Genevieve, the other a sallow example of the "poor white trash" who made a certain part of the population of the lower country. Of these both were shot through the head, and death did not at once relieve them. They both lay groaning dully. Jamieson passed them swiftly by. The tally showed that of the Missourians three had been killed, four badly wounded, besides the slight wound of Dunwody and that of a planter by the name of Sanders, who had been shot through the arm.

Of the boat party, smaller in the first place though well armed, the loss had been slightly less. Two men had been killed outright and three others badly wounded, of these one, probably, fatally hurt. To all of these Jamieson ministered as best he might. The deck was wet with blood. Silent and saddened spectators, the attacking party stood ranged along the rail on the side next to the shore. On the opposite side were the sullen defenders.

Carlisle, the leader of the boat party, stood silent, with lips tightly compressed, not far from where Dunwody leaned against the rail. He made no comment on the scene and was apparently not unused to such spectacles. Occasionally he bent over, the better to observe the results of the surgeon's work, but he ventured no comment and indulged in no recriminations. His slight but erect figure was military now in its formality. His face was not handsome, but the straight eyes showed fearless. The brow was strong, the nose straight and firm. Once he removed his "wideawake" hat and passed a hand through the heavy tangle of his reddish hair. The face was that of a fanatic. It was later not unknown in yet bloodier fighting.

The night faded after all, at last. Along the level of the water's surface came some glints from the eastern sky. The horizon paled slightly. At last a haggard dawn came to light the scene. The shadows of the willow flat opened, and there lay exposed what now was a coast possessed by embattled forces.

"Captain," began Dunwody at last, turning to the commander of the boat forces. "We will be leaving before long. As to you, you will have to turn back. You will take your boat down-stream, if you please."

"It's not as I please," rejoined the other. "You order us back from our journey at your own peril."

"Why argue the matter?" said Dunwody dully. "It would do no good. We're as much in earnest as you are about it, and we have beaten you. You belong to the army, but these are not enlisted men, and you're not carrying out any orders."

"That part of the argument is plain," rejoined the young officer. "But you are mistaken if you think you can order me. I'm an officer, and I'm on my own way, and I am, therefore, under orders. I was following a prisoner late in my charge when I fell in with this party bound up the river, to the Kansas front."

"The courts may take all that up. This is Missouri soil."

"It's no case for courts," answered the other sternly. "This will come before the court of God Himself."

A bitter smile played over the face of the Missourian. "You preach. Yet you yourself are lawless as the worst law-breakers. Who made our laws—you, or the whole people of this country? And if God is your court, why did you have no better aid to-night. It's the long arm wins. You see, we will fight."

"That I agree. It's force that wins, but not brute force. You will see."

"Argument!" exclaimed Dunwody. "The answer is here at our feet—it's in blood."

"So be it then!" said the other solemnly. "If it means war, let it be war. I admit that we have a fugitive slave on board—a young woman—I suppose that was the excuse for your attack."

"It was the cause of it; and we intend to take her," answered Dunwody. "We didn't intend to use violence unless it was necessary. But as to you, will you take your boat below and out of this country?"

"I will not."

"Very well, then, we'll take you from your own boat, and we'll make her pay the penalty."

"By what right?"

"By the right of the long arm, since you insist."

"You would make us prisoners—without any process of law whatever!"

"You can thresh that out in your own courts later, if you like," said Dunwody. "Meantime, we'll see if I can't find a place that will hold you."

"Jamieson," he called out an instant later; "Clayton; come here.
Take the roll of these men," he went on. "If any of them want to
drop the thing at this point and go back, let them give parole.
They'll have to agree to leave and never come back here again."

"That's an outrage!" broke out the northern leader. "You and your band of ruffians—you talk as though you owned this state, as though this river weren't made as a highway of this continent. Don't you know that not even a river can be owned by an entire state?"

"We own this part of it to-day," rejoined Dunwody simply. "This is our judiciary. These are our legislators whom you see." He slapped his rifle stock, touched a revolver butt at his belt. "You left the highway when you tied up to our shores. The temper of my men is such that you are lucky to have a parole offered to you. You deserve not the treatment of soldiers, but of spies. You disgrace your uniform. These men are only fools. But what do they say, Clayton?" he demanded turning to the latter as he finally returned.

"They consider the expedition at an end," returned the Judge.
"Three of them want to go on home to St. Louis. Yates yonder is
in favor of hanging them all. The boys are bitter about losing
Desha."

Dunwody looked the young leader calmly in the face. "You hear," said he. "But you shall see that we are not such ruffians at heart, in spite of all. It's my intention to conclude this matter as decently as possible."

"The others are willing to return," continued Judge Clayton. "They want to know what their captain