The Death Shot: A Story Retold

In the struggle Clancy has let go his gun, and now vainly gropes for it in the darkness. But two others are behind, with barrels that bear upon the retreating horseman. In an instant all would be over with him, but for Clancy himself; who, rushing between, strikes up the muzzles, crying: —

“Don’t shoot, Sime! Hold your fire, Heywood! His life belongs to me!”

Strange forbearance; to the backwoodsmen, incomprehensible! But they obey; and again Richard Darke escapes chastisement for two great crimes he intended, but by good fortune failed to accomplish.

Chapter Sixty Three.

An oath to be kept

No pen could portray the feelings of Helen Armstrong, on recognising her rescuer. Charles Clancy alive! Is she dreaming? Or is it indeed he whose arms are around, folding her in firm but tender embrace? Under the moonbeams, that seem to have suddenly become brighter, she beholds the manly form and noble features of him she believed dead, his cheeks showing the hue of health, his eyes late glaring in angry excitement, now glowing with the softer light of love. Yes: it is indeed her lover long mourned, living, breathing, beautiful as ever!

She asks not if he be still true, that doubt has been long since dissipated. It needs not his presence there, nor what he has just done, to reassure her.

For a time she asks no questions; neither he. Both are too absorbed with sweet thoughts to care for words. Speech could not heighten their happiness, in the midst of caresses and kisses.

On his side there is no backwardness now; on hers no coyness, no mock modesty. They come together not as at their last interview, timid sweethearts, but lovers emboldened by betrothal. For she knows, that he proposed to her; as he, that her acceptance was sent, and miscarried. It has reached him nevertheless; he has it upon his person now – both the letter and portrait. About the last are his first words. Drawing it out, and holding it up to the light, he asks playfully:

“Helen; was it meant fo’ me?”

“No,” she evasively answers, “it was meant for me.”

“Oh! the likeness, yes; but the inscript – these pleasant words written underneath?”

“Put it back into; our pocket, Charles. And now tell me all. Am I dreaming? Or is it indeed reality?”

No wonder she should so exclaim. Never was transformation quicker, or more complete. But a few seconds before she was, as it were, in the clutches of the devil; now an angel is by her side, a seraph with soft wings to shelter, and strong arms to protect her. She feels as one, who, long lingering at the door of death, has health suddenly and miraculously restored, with the prospect of a prolonged and happy life.

Clancy replies, by again flinging his arms around, and rapturously kissing her: perhaps thinking it the best answer he can give. If that be not reality, what is?

Jessie has now joined them, and after exchanged congratulations, there succeed mutual inquiries and explanations. Clancy has commenced giving a brief account of what has occurred to himself, when he is interrupted by a rough, but kindly voice; that of Sime, saying: —

“Ye kin tell them all that at some other time, Charley; thar aint a minnit to be throwed away now.” Then drawing Clancy aside, speaking so as not to be heard by the others. “Thar’s danger in dallyin’ hyar. I’ve jest been puttin’ thet jail bird, Bosley, through a bit o’ catechism; an’ from what he’s told me the sooner we git out o’ hyar the better. Who d’ye spose is at the bottom o’ all this? I needn’t ask ye; ye’re boun to guess. I kin see the ugly brute’s name bulgin’ out yur cheeks.”

“Borlasse!”

“In course it’s he. Bosley’s confessed all. Ked’nt well help it, wi’ my bowie threetenin’ to make a red stream run out o’ him. The gang – thar’s twenty o’ ’em all counted – goed up to the Mission to plunder it – a sort o’ burglarious expedishun; Borlasse hevin’ a understandin’ wi’ a treetur that’s inside – a sort o’ sarvint to the Creole, Dupray, who only late engaged him. Wal; it seems they grupped the gurls, as they war makin’ for the house – chanced on ’em outside in the garden. Bosley an’ the other hev toated ’em this far, an’ war wait in for the rest to come on wi’ the stolen goods. They may be hyar at any minnit; an’, wi’ Jim Borlasse at thar head, I needn’t tell ye what that means. Four o’ us agin twenty – for we can’t count on Harkness – it’s ugly odds. We’d hev no show, howsomever. It ’ud end in their again grabbin’ these pretty critters, an’ ’s like ’s not end our own lives.”

Clancy needs no further speech to convince him of the danger. After what has occurred, an encounter with the robbers would, indeed, be disastrous. Richard Darke, leagued with Jim Borlasse, a noted pirate of the prairies; their diabolical plans disclosed, and only defeated by the merest accident of circumstances.

“You’re right, Sime. We mustn’t be caught by the scoundrels. As you say, that would be the end of everything. How are we to avoid them?”

“By streakin’ out o’ hyar quick as possible.”

“Do you propose our taking to the timber, and lying hid till they go past?”

“No. Our better plan ’ll be to go on to the Mission, an’ get thar soon’s we kin.”

“But we may meet them in the teeth?”

“We must, ef we take the main road up tother side – pretty sure to meet ’em. We shan’t be sech fools. I’ve thought o’ all that, an’ a way to get clear of the scrape.”

“What way?”

“That road we kim in by, ye see, leads on’ard up the bank this side. I reckin’ it goes to the upper crossin’, the which air several miles above the buildin’s. We kin take it, an’ foller it without any fear o’ encounterin’ them beauties. I’ve sent Jupe and Harkness to bring up the hosses. Ned’s tother side the tree in charge o’ Bosley.”

“You’ve arranged it right. Nothing could be better. Take the trail up this side. I can trust you for seeing them safe into their father’s arms – if he still live.”

Woodley wonders at this speech. He is about to ask explanation, when Clancy adds, pointing to the elder sister —

“I want a word with her before parting. While you are getting ready the horses – ”

“Before partin’!” interrupts Sime with increased surprise, “Surely you mean goin’ along wi’ us?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But why, Charley?”

“Well, I’ve something to detain me here.”

“What somethin’?”

“You ought to know without my telling you.”

“Dog-goned ef I do.”

“Richard Darke, then.”

“But he’s goed off; ye don’t intend follerin’ him?”

“I do – to the death. If ever I had a fixed determination in my life, ’tis that.”

“Wal, but you won’t go all by yerself! Ye’ll want some o’ us wi’ ye?”

“No.”

“Not me, nor Ned?”

“Neither. You’ll both be needed to take care of them.”

Clancy nods towards the sisters, adding: —

“You’ll have your hands full enough with Bosley and Harkness. Both will need looking after – and carefully. Jupe I’ll take with me.”

Woodley remonstrates, pointing out the danger of the course his comrade intends pursuing. He only yields as Clancy rejoins, in a tone of determination, almost command: —

“You must do as I tell you, Sime; go on to the Mission, and take them with you. As for me, I’ve a strong reason for remaining behind by myself; a silly sentiment some might call it, though I don’t think you would.”

“What is’t? Let’s hear it, an’ I’ll gie ye my opeenyun strait an’ square.”