Jos. E. Badger

“ In a few moments a second man appeared upon foot, with his long rifle carried at a trail, and the two men greeted each other as if greatly pleased at the meeting. Again the steely glitter shone in Poynter's eyes, while he bit his lips fiercely as if to repress his emotions, when he recognized the new-comer.
"Ah!" he gritted, as he crouched forward. "Wesley Sprowl! There's deviltry on foot when such men meet together, and by all that's good, I'll scent it out!" ”

“ It was a terrible tale of revenge and injustice, in which an innocent man was made the victim of a villain's plottings, aided by such unscrupulous coadjutors as Sprowl and Jonathan Green.
As the sad incidents of his parent's sorrow and ruin were detailed, Clay Poynter (as we must still call him) bowed his head and wept bitter tears of grief and anguish. Had he glanced toward his companion, he would have seen that "White Crees," the outlaw leader, had bowed his stalwart form, and it shook as if with mortal agony. ”

“ For a few moments Poynter stood gazing abstractedly in the direction they had taken, and then arousing himself, with a little laugh, turned upon his heel and walked briskly along a faintly-defined trail. The woods were open and free from undergrowth at this point, but after crossing a narrow tract of bare ground, and once more entering the timber, the path was thickly fringed on either side with bushes of hazel and oak. ”

“ A few swallows were poured down Sprowl's throat, and thus bathing his face and neck with the pungent liquor, Poynter soon uttered a glad cry. In truth, the patient appeared to be recovering, and in a few minutes the light of reason once more shone in his eyes.
"I know that man," slowly ejaculated Crees, not once removing his gaze, that appeared to attract the other's attention much the same as the fascination exercised by the rattlesnake.
"My God! who are you?" almost yelled the wretch, as he suddenly sat up, staring at Crees, wildly. ”

“ They were deeply affected, as well they might be, and when the first gush of emotion had passed, they sat beside each other, hand clasped in hand, gazing kindly and affectionately at each other.
"It is strange—passing strange!" at length uttered Henry, (as we must now call him, Clay Poynter no longer) . "More like a romance than any thing in real everyday life. I have mourned you as dead since my childhood, and now find you my kindest friend, while I still thought you a stranger. ”

“ The mongrel was not satisfied with such a revenge. His hatred was too intense; he required a death of shame—of degradation; a death that would destroy both the life and honor of his foe, and leave a record at which the finger of scorn and contempt would be pointed.
When the cavalcade plunged into the darkness of the tree-shadowed road, the human bloodhound followed hard upon the scent. His rifle trailed in one hand, his head and neck craned forward, Polk Redlaw sped along with noiseless strides that appeared to be made without an effort. ”

“ As they once more pressed forward in painful suspense, a hollow, unearthly groan sounded from the spot whence the shot had come. Bursting through the bushes, the quartette—for Sprowl had also joined them—beheld a terrible sight.
A man—one of the outlaw guards—was coolly recharging his rifle, with his gaze bent upon a bleeding form before him. There, pale and ghastly, lay the form of James Meagreson; not dead, but apparently dying. ”

“ You can choose another judge, and another leader, for I shall act no longer as either. I thought you were men, not savages."
"What matter?" called out several voices, "he is not the only man that lives. Let him slide, and out with the prisoner."
The crowd surged forward and surrounded the table, yelling and growling like wild beasts. For a moment it seemed as if Poynter meditated resistance, as he drew himself up and grasped the back of his chair, but if such was his intention, it was changed. ”

“ It's strange what choices women will make sometimes!" exclaimed Poynter.
The outlaw leader only grunted, "Just so."
"But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about just now. You have several times promised to tell me your story, and why not fulfill it now? 'Tis as well as to wait longer."
"You are right, and I will do so; although I had intended to wait until after Meagreson had acknowledged his guilt. But what Sprowl has said is enough," slowly replied Crees, passing a hand across his brow, as if to chase away some painful reflection. ”

“ The crimson spray fell upon those who stood closest; some of them giving quivers as it touched their skin, as though it had been molten lead; but the majority yelled and cheered at the sight. Their fiercest, basest passions were fully aroused; they were wolves, not men.
Polk Redlaw, Jonathan Green and Alfred Wigan plied the rods, and as may be supposed, they did not spare their strength. But severe as were their blows, they failed in drawing a single manifestation of pain from the prisoner, however slight. ”

“ You may as well own up now, for your accomplice and tool has betrayed you; has exposed all your plots and crimes. If you are obstinate, we will just hand you over to the vigilance committee, whose aid you are so fond of invoking, and let them deal with you."
"Am I a fool?" sneered Meagreson. "Don't I know that you dare no more show your face to one of them than to kiss a rattlesnake? The only answer you'd get would be a hempen cord and swinging bough!"
"Now that's nonsense, old man," put in Sprowl. "You're the fool. They've got you in a corner, and you may as well come down. ”

“ But Neil McGuire ran along the table and stood beside Poynter, with a cocked revolver in his hand. The next instant, obedient to his call, the jurors gathered around, similarly armed. Then McGuire spoke in a tone that overpowered the tumult.
"Stand back—back with you! By the God that made me, if one of you dare to lay a hand on the prisoner, I will spatter the walls with your brains!"
"Hang the murderer—burn him!" roared the crowd.
"Once more, I say, stand back!" yelled the judge, threatening the foremost with his pistol. "Is he not in our power? He can't escape us. ”

“ Poynter started back in half-alarm at the fearful change a few hours had made in the man's appearance. Dreadfully haggard and sickly looking, with his eyes protruding, his tongue lolling from his parched jaws, the drops of cold sweat rolling over his face, Sprowl looked as if about to give up the ghost in earnest.
"My God! he's dying," cried Poynter, as he sprung forward and severed the cords that bound the poor devil, laying him down upon the ground. ”

“ The prisoner was let down from his position, and Jack Fyffe helped him to adjust his garments, managing to whisper a cheering word without being overheard by the mob. Then Poynter spoke, not a tremor or quaver betraying what he had suffered from the fearful ordeal, in his voice:
"You three devils, mark my words. If you are alive one week from to-day, I give you leave to play this game over again."
"We will live to see you dance on nothing, anyhow," sneered the mongrel. ”

“ It'd spoil the whole thing, you see, if 'John Dement' should come to life again before Poynter was nailed."
"But it seems to me that you'll be in a bad box, my friend, if it is found out that you swore to a lie."
"Oh, that's easy patched up. Besides, the men will be so cut up and ashamed at being greened so, that they'll be glad enough to let the matter drop, and as for the law, I'd die of old age before that could or would do anything here," sneered Sprowl.
"Well, that's your look-out, not mine. But we'd better be moving. Catch my horse for me, won't you?—this cursed ankle is sore yet." ”

“ But understand me: upon no account are you to divulge what you hear or see; nor the places we will take you to, even if your life depended upon it, unless we give you permission. And in return, you will be left free to come and go, as you will. You will not be asked, or expected, to do any thing against your conscience; and if you should need any assistance that we can give, you have but to say as much."
"That is far more than I could expect, and I sincerely thank you for it," rejoined Poynter, warmly clasping the outlaw's hand. ”

“ Poynter—"
"And why not? You are all leagued against me, and so far as I can see, do not intend giving me a chance to clear myself from any charge you may bring against me. If I am to be tried, I demand it shall be according to law, and that I have counsel; that I am informed what crime I am accused of, and allowed time to procure witnesses!" hotly exclaimed the prisoner.
"You shall have full justice, but we have no need for lawyers here. The truth alone shall acquit or condemn you. You can defend yourself, and if any witnesses are necessary, they shall be sent for. ”

“ Even had not his muttered exclamation revealed this fact, there was an eager, ardent tinge to his restlessness that would have betrayed his secret—would have told of an appointment with some one a little more than a mere friend.
A woman would have guessed that he was expecting a sweetheart, whom, for some reason, he could not visit openly, and she would have been right. He was awaiting a sweetheart, and her name was Nora McGuire.
Again Poynter peered through the bushes. He saw a small but neat vine-covered log-house, of only one story. ”

“ But after a cool bath at the creek close at hand, he felt greatly refreshed, and joined White Crees, who was sitting near one of the fires, smoking a pipe.
"Up for all day, Poynter?"
"Well, I hardly know, to tell the truth," laughed Clay. "I can tell you better after I have some grub."
"There's part of a cold turkey, or here's venison; take your choice."
"Hot meat for me, even if I do have to turn cook to get it," said Poynter, cutting several generous slices from the prime saddle that hung suspended from a tree near at hand. "But, hello, I forgot! ”

“ The two men now plunged into a little side-trail, Redlaw leading his horse, and no sooner had they disappeared than Poynter retreated until around the bend, where he glided across the road, and in a few moments struck their trail; keeping just without the path, where, if by any chance the men he was dogging should glance back, he would be out of sight.
They proceeded leisurely enough, and he had no difficulty in keeping within ear-shot of the horse's tread, while his own footsteps were deadened upon the moist soil. ”

“ Well, then, this Clay Poynter, as he calls himself, is in reality none other than Henry Duaber the son of James Duaber, who was hung on a false charge by the vigilance committee!"
"Whew!" echoed Polk Redlaw, with a long-drawn breath of astonishment. "I begin to see into it now. And the old man hates the son for the father's sake!"
"Yes, that's just it. And as you've acted on the square, so far, I don't mind telling that he is the same one who has hunted this young fellow from pillar to post, ever since he was a little shaver," said Sprowl, confidentially. ”

“ After leaving Nora, Poynter walked swiftly in the direction of his own house, that had been closed ever since aunt Eunice had been called in to attend Nora during her sickness. But he kept a good look-out as he proceeded, lest he should be discovered by some of those kind friends whose hospitality he had abandoned so hastily, a few days before. For he well knew that if seen and recognized, a hue and cry would be raised that might end disastrously, as several hours yet remained of daylight. ”

“ The truer depths of his nature were touched; the crust of wickedness was broken, never again to heal over.
"And this Meagreson—do you know nothing of his future plans?" at length asked Poynter, looking up.
"Unless he should hear from me, he was to meet me at the 'Twin Points' Friday night."
"Then you think he will come?"
"I have no doubt of it," was the assured reply. "He will be too anxious to learn the latest news not to come."
"Good! he will probably meet visitors he does not expect," cried Crees. ”

“ Better kiver."
"To the left," muttered Poynter, leading the way. "Hold the reins while I keep the horses from neighing. And mark you, Sprowl, those are your friends, but if you utter so much as a whisper, by the God above me, I will shoot you like a dog! You know I keep my word. They may hunt us, but it would be too late to do you any good!" hissed the young man as he passed by the prisoner.
They were scarcely a dozen feet from the road, upon a little lower ground, from whence they could have a clear view of anybody passing by. ”

“ A dozen hands lifted him to the floor, where he was securely bound, hand and foot—as he had been until now entirely free, so far as bonds were concerned. Then he was lifted bodily upon their shoulders, each man appearing eager to be one of his bearers. In this manner he was conveyed from the room followed by the hooting, yelling crowd; leaving but one man behind—Neil McGuire.
To say that the prisoner was not alarmed, would perhaps be wrong, but he showed no outward sign of being so. He well knew that he was in danger—that his life was in peril ”