And so saying, my strange counsellor stepped back under the shadow of the tree; and, gliding into the umbrageous covert of the grove, disappeared from my sight.

I had followed her directions, and was now ensconced upon one of the great limbs of the live-oak--perfectly hidden from the eyes of any one below by festoons of the silvery _tillandsia_. These, hanging from branches still higher up, draped around me like a set of gauze curtains, and completely enveloped my whole body; while I myself had a view of the pond--at least, that side of it on which the moon was shining--by means of a small opening between the leaves.

At first I fancied I was playing a very ridiculous _role_. The story about enemies, and my life being in danger, might, after all, be nothing more than some crazy fancy of the poor maniac's brain. The men, whose shadows I had seen, might be the chiefs on their return. They would reach the ground where I had appointed to meet them, and not finding me there, would go back. What kind of report should I carry to head-quarters? The thing was ridiculous enough--and for me, the result might be worse than ridiculous.

Under these reflections, I felt strongly inclined to descend, and meet the men--whoever they might be--face to face.

Other reflections, however, hindered me. The chiefs were only _two_-- there were _four_ shadows. True, the chiefs might be accompanied by some of their followers--for better security to themselves on such a traitorous mission--but I had noticed, as the shadows were pa.s.sing over the pond--and notwithstanding the rapidity with which they moved--that the figures were not _those of Indians_. I observed no hanging drapery, nor plumes. On the contrary, I fancied there were _hats_ upon their heads, such as are worn only by white men. It was the observation of this peculiarity that made me so ready to yield obedience to the solicitations of Haj-ewa.

Other circ.u.mstances had not failed to impress me: the strange a.s.sertions made by the Indian woman--her knowledge of events, and the odd allusions to well-known persons--the affair of yesterday: all these, commingling in my mind, had the effect of determining me to remain upon my perch, at least for some minutes longer. I might be relieved from my unpleasant position sooner than I expected.

Without motion, almost without breathing, I kept my seat, my eyes carefully watching, and ears keenly bent to catch every sound.

My suspense was brief. The acuteness of my eyes was rewarded by a sight, and my ears by a tale, that caused my flesh to creep, and the blood to run cold in my veins. In five minutes' time, I was inducted into a belief in the wickedness of the human heart, exceeding in enormity all that I had ever read or heard of.

Four demons filed before me--demons, beyond a doubt: their looks, which I noted well--their words, which I heard--their gestures, which I saw-- their designs, with which I in that hour became acquainted--fully ent.i.tled them to the appellation.

They were pa.s.sing around the pond. I saw their faces, one after another, as they emerged into the moonlight.

Foremost appeared the pale, thin visage of Arens Ringgold; next, the sinister aquiline features of Spence; and, after him, the broad brutal face of the bully Williams.

There were _four_--who was the fourth?

"Am I dreaming?--Do my eyes deceive me? Is it real? Is it an illusion?

Are my senses gone astray--or is it only a resemblance, a counterpart?

No--no--no! It is no counterpart, but the man himself!--that black curling hair, that tawny skin, the form, the gait--all, all are his. _O G.o.d! it is Yellow Jake_!"

Note 1. Literally, "crazy wife," from _Haja_, crazy, and _Ewa_ or _Awa_, wife. Philologists have remarked the resemblance of this Muscogee word to the Hebraic name of the mother of mankind.

Note 2. "Chief of the snakes"--the rattlesnake is so styled by the Seminoles, being the most remarkable serpent in their country. They have a superst.i.tions dread of this reptile.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

A PRETTY PLOT.

To dispute the ident.i.ty was to doubt the evidence of my senses. The mulatto was before me--just as I remembered him--though with changed apparel, and perhaps grown a little bigger in body. But the features were the same--that _tout ensemble_ the same as that presented by Yellow Jake, the _ci-devant_ woodman of our plantation.

And yet how could it _possibly_ be he? And in the company of Arens Ringgold too, one of the most active of his intended executioners? No, no, no! altogether improbable--utterly impossible! Then must I be deluded--my eyes deceiving me--for as certain as I looked upon man, I was looking upon Jake the mulatto! He was not twenty feet from where I lay hidden; his face was full towards me; the moon was shining upon it with a brilliancy scarcely inferior to the light of day. I could note the old expression of evil in his eyes, and mark the play of his features. It _was_ Yellow Jake.

To confirm the impression, I remembered that, notwithstanding all remonstrance and ridicule, the black pertinaciously adhered to his story. He would listen to no compromise, no hypothesis founded upon resemblance. He had seen Yellow Jake, or his ghost. This was his firm belief, and I had been unable to shake it.

Another circ.u.mstance I now remember: the strange behaviour of the Ringgolds during the postprandial conversation--the action of Arens when I mentioned the mulatto's name. It had attracted my attention at the time, but what was I to think now? Here was a man supposed to be dead, in company of three others who had been active in a.s.sisting at his death--one of them the very keenest of his executioners, and all four now apparently as thick as thieves! How was I to explain, in one moment, this wonderful resurrection and reconciliation?

I could not explain it--it was too complicated a mystery to be unravelled by a moment's reflection; and I should have failed, had not the parties themselves soon after aided me to an elucidation.

I had arrived at the only natural conclusion, and this was, that the mulatto, notwithstanding the perfect resemblance, _could not be_ Yellow Jake. This, of course, would account for everything, after a manner; and had the four men gone away without parley, I should have contented myself with this hypothesis.

But they went not, until after affording me an opportunity of overhearing a conversation, which gave me to know, that, not only was Yellow Jake _still in the land of the living_, but that Haj-Ewa had spoken the truth, when she told me _my life was in danger_.

"d.a.m.n! he's not here, and yet where can he have gone?"

The e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n and interrogative were in the voice of Arens Ringgold, uttered in a tone of peevish surprise. Some one was sought for by the party who could not be found. Who that was, the next speaker made manifest.

There was a pause, and then reached my ears the voice of Bill Williams-- which I easily recognised, from having heard it but the day before.

"You are sartint, Master Arens, he didn't sneak back to the fort 'long wi' the ginral?"

"Sure of it," replied Master Arens; "I was by the gate as they came in.

There were only the two--the general and the commissioner. But the question is, did he leave the hommock along with them? There's where we played devil's fool with the business--in not getting here in time, and watching them as they left. But who'd have thought he was going to stay behind them; if I had only known that--You say," he continued, turning to the mulatto--"you say, _Jake_, you came direct from the Indian camp?

He couldn't have pa.s.sed you on the path."

"_Carajo_! _Senor_ Aren! No?"

The voice, the old Spanish expression of profanity, just as I had heard them in my youth. If there had been doubt of the ident.i.ty, it was gone.

The testimony of my ears confirmed that of my eyes. The speaker was Yellow Jake.

"Straight from Seminole come. Cat no pa.s.s me on the road; I see her.

Two chiefs me meet. I hide under the palmettoes; they no me see.

_Carrambo_! no."

"Deuce take it! where can he have gone! There's no signs of him here.

I know he _might have a reason_ for paying a visit to the Indians--that I know; but how has he got round there without Jake seeing him!"

"What's to hinder him to hev goed round the tother road?"

"By the open plain?"

"Yes--that away."

"No--he would not be likely. There's only one way I can explain it: he must have come as far as the gate along with the general, and then kept down the stockade, and past the sutler's house--that's likely enough."

This was said by Ringgold in a sort of half soliloquy.

"Devils?" he exclaimed in an impatient tone, "we'll not get such a chance soon again."

"Ne'er a fear, Master Arens," said Williams--"ne'er a fear. Plenty o'

chances, I kalkerlate--gobs o' chances sech times as these."

"We'll make chances," pithily added Spence, who now spoke for the first time in my hearing.

"Ay, but here was a chance for _Jake--he_ must do it, boys; neither of you must have a hand in it. It _might leak out_; and then we'd all be in a pretty pickle. Jake can do it, and not harm himself, for _he's dead_, you know, and the law can't reach him! Isn't it so, my yellow boy?"

"_Carrambo! si, senor_. No fear have, Don Aren Ringgol; 'for long, I opportunity find. Jake you get rid of enemy--never hear more of him; soon Yellow Jake good chance have. Yesterday miss. She bad gun, Don Aren--not worth shuck gun."