TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5739, 5 December 1896, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

THE STORY OF MAG. (American Paper.) Just above this little mountain village there is a place known as Lost Creek Waterfall The name is not a specially romantic one, but it has at least the merit of describing the place which it designates. Lost Creek is a typical mountain stream that comes roaring, bra«rling down the mountain until it reaches a certain high cliff, over which it plunges in a graceful, quivering column. It throws up a shower of silvery spray from the rocks below, but instead of flowing on down the surface of the mountain it phznges into a dark, smaßmouthed, subterranean cavern, and i 3 in all verity " lost " to human sight, aa the | name implies. Occasionally a wayfarer ■will throw a rock inside and listen to the hollow thud! thud! as it seems to hound from ledge to ledge into the awful darkness of the earth's interior. Almost half a mile further down the mountain the stream emerges from its underground course as abruptly as it disappeared. There are vague rumours that soldiers, hard pressed by their foe 3, traversed this awfnl passage way during the dark days of the war; but these are only rumours, and no one now cares by actual test to prove or disprove their possibility. Only one person is really known to have passed through this journey, and that one brought no news as to its mysteries. The lips were sealed for ever, and the eyes, unwavering, stared up at the sun before them. The memory of the awful exit gives the subterranean passage way a horror deeper than its own; but the self-engrossing heroism of the entrance gives the waterfall a grandeur greater than that of its rocks, purer than the snowy whiteness of its foam, and more soul refreshing than the coolness of its spray. Tom Houston was one of the pleasantest, most industrious young farmers on that slope of Cumberland Mountain, and Mag Lassiter was one of the wildest, most worthless of the mountain belles. The neighbours all said a great deal of good about Tom, and very little of bad, beyond the fact that he was rather easily iuflnenced. The best that could be said about Mag was that she was pretty and full of life, and that she generally stuck to her friends through thick and thin— as long as she cared to. As to the evil said about her, there was almost no end of it. The whisperings that connected her name with certain moonshining operations could hardly be included under this head, for public opinion on the mountains •in those days was far from unanimous in declaring such things evil. Far more serious were the rumours that 9he had. used the power of her beauty to lure numerous young men on to destruction. Many, rather- serious misdeeds were supposed to have their origin with her influence, but nothing definite was ever known aboxit them. When she first began to make friends with Tom Houston everybody said that no good could come of it. Several of the older men and women took it on themselves to warn Tom, but he refused to be warned. As usual, the voice of youth and life and beauty had more influence than the voice of old age and experience and ugliness. The crash came sooner than any one expected. One night at a dance Tom called out the 'two Dickens boys, and, seemingly in cold blood, shot them dead. The Dickens boys were members of one of the most prominent families on the mountain, and the excitement which followed the killing was intense. Everybody remembered that Mag had formerly had a fierce quarrel with the elder of the brothers, and that he was said to be the only young man on the mountain who had successfully resisted her wiles. Everybody suspected that the murder was instigated by Mag, but nobody knew it. Only Tom Houston could know it, and it was recognised by all that Tom would never tell. Besides, after the killing, Tom had fled and was now somewhere in hiding. There was reason to believe that he had not gone far away, but it was hard to find him. The mountain was thoroughly aroused. The prominence of the murdered men, and the cold-bloodedness of the deed, made every one feel an interest in bringing the slayer to justice. Pickets were scattered in a line that surrounded the whole slope of the mountain where Tom •was supposed to be hiding ; but still the task was no easy one. The numntain side at that place wa3 so full of deep ravines and holes in the rocks that a dozen men might easily elude anything but the most careful search. Still, it was only a question of time. One evening several days after the killing Mag walked into the Sheriff's office at Jasper. Without even glancing at the group of loungers hanging about as usual, she looked defiantly at the Sheriff and addressed him in harsh, strident tones, very unlike tho3e in which she generally spoke. " I've come to tell you 'uns that your men has got Tom Houston penned in safe and sound," she said. "Thar ain't no possible way out for him. I guess you already knowed that, though." "I sorter guessed it," replied the Sheriff, as he chuckled and looked around in some uncertainty. " Ef you think yoa'll have an easy job to take him, you're mistaken, though," continued Mag. " That mounting is ez full of little ol' gullies an* holes a3 an old kitchen is of rat holes, and I don't reckon any man in Tennessee knows 'em better than Tom does. It may bs a month bef ore you ketch him. Besides, Tom's got shootin' irons, an' he knnws how to use 'em, too. There'll be the d jvil to pay before you take him — unless you get help." "Help?" repeated the Sheriff rather vaguely. "Ain't I got half the. men on the mounting to help me now ? What kind of help do you mean ? " "Gimme* 50 dol, an' I'll take you, right where he is to-morrow morning, an' lll gyarantee he don't fire nary shot neither." The Sheriff uttered a low, long-drawn whistle of surprise, and the loungers about the office exchanged remarks in an undertone. They had always known, that gal ■was no good, but darned if they'd ever have believed she was low-down enough to get a fellow into trouble and then sell his life to the officers for 50 . dol — darned if they would. "There's some conditions about it," continued Mag, haughtily, and without heeding these comments. " Them 50 dol must be in my hand in bills in the mornin' before I badge ary step of the -pray. After 1 take you where he is, you must give me two minutes by the watch to talk to him tefore you do anything. Then if he tries to run 'you must give him at least fifty yards' start before you begin shootin'. I ain't a-going to see him shot down like a doo-, without no chance at all. After it's allTover, I'm going to leave this here Godforsaken country myself, an' you've got ter promise me that nobody'll try ter follow or t«r see which way I've gone." " I don't blame her for that last part," ■whisperered a bystander, winking signifiThe Sheriff thought the matter over. He went out and talked to several of the friend 3of the murdered men about it. All atrreed that Mag's plan, though an unspeakably base one on her part, might result in saving several weeks of time, and possibly several human lives p f. r^ a P 3 + l1; pas the cheapest way out of the difficulty, r Md man Dickens readily agreed to furnish | he money. The result of the consultation;

■was that Mag was informed that her terms ■were accepted. The next morning before sunrise, when Mag met the Sheriff's posse at the meeting point agreed upon the evening before, it was noticed that she had a big:, black bruise under her right eye. "Have you been in a scrap, Mag?" asked one of the posse, with a clumsy attempt at jocularity. "I seen 'Tom last night/ replied the girl with a forced laugh, " an' he whacked me in the eye with his fist and cussed me for getting him into trouble, as he saift. I didn't mind the lick — but the cussin' !" Here the girl's voice quavered, and those nearest to her thought they, saw the glimmer of a tear in her eye. "I soon made it all right with him,, though," she continued, regaining her self-possession. " But I didn't tell him what a nice lot of visitors I was goin' to bring him this morning-. He! he!" There were some black looks exchanged, and some remarks made in an undertone as to the baseness of the girl's- treachery, but she ideigned no reply until she came within hearing of the Lost Creek Waterfall, to which reference has been made before. " Call in all your pickets ! " she exclaimed imperiously. " Tom's mighty ni gh here soinewheres, an* you nns is such pore shots that you'd better have a lot of men ready to shoot." The pickets had spent the night before on the mountain, as they had also spent several nights preceding. Word was now sent out and all of them were summoned down to 1 the spot in question. " Now stay where you are, and remember about them two minutes you promised to give vs — for our last interview, you know.. He ! he !" With these words Mag cautiously • advanced until within about fifty yards of the fall. Then she stepped out of sight between several large boulders. The posse grasped their rifles and waited in silence. The Sheriff held in hand a watch with which to tell the passage of the two minutes. " Do you reckon he's been hidin' all this time in that hole ?" asked one man in a low whisper. " What do you reckon she's a eayin' to him ?" asked anothei 1 . Then all was quiet save for the "tick, tick," of the Sheriff's watch. When the time lacked but a few seconds of being out a woman's figure hurriedly glided from behind the rocks and hastened up tho mountain side. The left hand pressed a handkerchief to the eyes, but the right pointed backward toward the rocks. Scarcely a moment later a man's figure emerged and made a wild dash for Lost Creek Waterfall. There was no mistaking the apparel. It was the same suit of well worn " butternut" jeans, and the same old brown peaked slouch hatthat Tom Houston had worn when he disappeared. Perhaps it waa the recollection of their promise, or perhaps it was only the suddenness of the apparition; at any, rate, not a shot w"as fired until the figure made a final leap before disappearing into the deep, dark hole into which the water fell. Just as it was poised in mid air half a dozen rifles rang out loud and clear. High above the multitudinous mountain echoes which they -woke, a wild, shrill scream arose. Every man in the posse rushed pell niell to the black hole, but when they peered into its depths, nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to Jie heard save the roar of the fall and the swish of the foam. "Those rocks on that side would give a fellow plenty of foothold," remarked one man to the Sheriff. "Air yo a-goin' in?" "Naw !" answered that official. " I ain't hankering to run afoul of Tom Houston's shootin'-irons in the dark." Howevex*, he put his face in at the dark opening and shouted " Surrender ! " though his voice was well-nigh drowned by that of the water. Then very cautiously he pushed a big revolver into the darkness and pulled the trigger. A long, reverberating cavernous bellow was the only response. "Jeeminy!" he ejaetdated. "It sounds like a million of devils might live down there ! " Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. " See here ! " he shouted. " About half of you fellows run down the mounting — quick! — and stand guard at tho place where Lost Crick comes out again." His meaning was comprehended in an instant, and about half the posse dashed away to execute his orders. "So that was Mag's little game, wa3 it ? " continued the Sheriff. " She thought I'd call in my' picket lines an' then Tom could slip out the lower end of this hole — guess nobody knows it better than him — and she'd have her SOdol besides 1 . She was sharp to get hor money beforehand. I wonder where she is now/ She was nowhere to be seen. It seemed bhat during the tumult she had slipped away xinobserved. The Sheriff made no attempt to follow her ; perhaps he remembered his promise not to do so. "It don't make no difference," he remarked. " We've got Tom in a hole this time, sure, with both ends of the hole guarded. It's only a question of a little time now. If we don't drive him out we can easily starve him out. I think some fellow winged him when he jumped, anyhow." That night three men, with rifles in their hands, stood guard at the lower opening of the underground passageway of Lost Creek, and three stood at the upper one. The nest day they were relieved by others, and so 'it continued for a full week. Tom Houston did- not appear. One afternoon, at the end of that period, Tom's big peaked, slouched hat floated out into the sunlight at the lower entrance. The watchers examined it with all the eagerness of intense excitement. "Something else is goin' to float out pretty soon now," exclaimed one in an awestruck whisper. Sure enough, not half an hour later,' "something else " did float out. "Lookout! Ifscomin'!" exclaimed the fir3t one who saw it. As it reached the first faint rays of daylight the watchers peering in cculd recognise the well-worn suit of " butternut " jeans which T-jm Houston had been used to wear. When it reached the full \ight of day, they saw that a wealth of soft brown hair had fallen back from the marble brow of a woman. They had to take a second glance to realise that it was Mag. The old, radiant beauty was unconquered, even t>y death ; but the old look of haughty defiance was gone, and in its place was a look of tender restfulness that was new to them. The only sign of a struggle was the black welt on the face, where Tom had struck her when she went to him to unfold her plan for saving his life. As the watchers gazed at tho placid featoires, the various details of her self-sacrifice came to them, one at a time. " I bet she had him hid in thi3 place all along," whispered one. " The only trouble was that the lines was drawed so tight around that she couldn't get him out." " She changed clo's with him mighty quick that evenin'," said another. "Tom slipped off with her clothes on, but I bet she had some others hid out somewheres for him to put on. I wouldn't doubt but she gave him them fifty dollars to go on. Lord knows where he is by this time — in Halifax, mebby." " She thought .she could make her way W Strange and Co. are now offering exceptional value in blankets and flannels.

down here and slip out before we'd think to head her off. She might a' done it, too, if some fellow hadn't winged her when she jumped," said one of the guards, lifting her right arm; it seemed to have been shattered by a rifle ball. "She was a powerful sinful woman," aaid another. "Yes, but she loved Tom Houston an awful sight," said the third. And in the lapse and flash of water against the rocks it seemed as if one could almost hear the voice of Him who said : " Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much."