He had hardly finished when Nap returned with the news that several of the negro children had seen a man go down the avenue and get aboard a passing boat.
"Ah ha!" cried the doctor, jumping up; "and which way was the boat going?"
"Dat way, sah," replied Nap, indicating the direction by a flourish of his right hand.
At that moment Mr. and Mrs. Travilla rode up, and Dr. and Mrs. Balis hastened out to greet them.
"He's gone; took the morning boat," cried the doctor.
"Good!" said Mr. Travilla, "we have only to head him with a telegram, and he'll be arrested on stepping ashore; or on board the boat."
"Unless he should land in the next town, Madison, which the boat, having a good hour's start of us, would reach before the swiftest messenger we could send; probably has already reached."
"Then the best plan will be for me to ride on to Madison, give notice to the authorities, have it ascertained whether our man has landed there, and if not telegraph to the next town and have them ready to board the boat, with a warrant for his arrest, as soon as it arrives."
"Yes; and I'll mount Selim and go with you," answered the doctor. "I probably know the road better than you do. And our wives may keep each other company till we return."
"What do you say, Elsie?" asked Mr. Travilla.
"That I will go or stay as you think best."
"We must ride very fast; I think it would fatigue you too much; so advise you to stay with Mrs. Balis, and I will call for you on my return."
"Do, Mrs. Travilla! I should be delighted to have you," urged Mrs. Balis; "and you can tell me all about last night. What a trial to your nerves! I don't wonder you are looking a little pale this morning."
"Thank you, I will stay," said Elsie; and instantly her husband, giving his horse into Nap's charge for a moment, sprang to the ground and lifted her from the saddle. "Don't be anxious, little wife," he whispered, as the soft eyes met his with a fond wistful look, "I am not likely to be in danger, and you know the sweet words, 'Not a hair of your head shall fall to the ground without your Father.'"
"Yes, yes, I know, and will trust you in His hands, my dear husband," was the low-breathed response.
Another moment and the two gentlemen were galloping rapidly down the avenue side by side. The ladies stood on the veranda, watching till they were out of sight, then went into the house.
"Now, my dear Mrs. Travilla, shall I just treat you as one of ourselves, and take you into my own breezy room?" asked Mrs. Balis, regarding Elsie with an affectionate, admiring look.
"It is just what I should like, Mrs. Balis," Elsie answered, with a smile so sweet that her hostess put her arm about her and kissed her.
"I can't help it," she said; "you take my heart by storm with your beauty, grace, and sweetness."
"Thank you, and you need not apologize," Elsie said, returning the embrace; "love is too precious a gift to be rejected."
"I think Mr. Travilla a very fortunate man, and so does my husband."
"And am not I a fortunate woman, too?"
"Ah, yes, Mr. Travilla is most agreeable and entertaining, handsome too; and indeed I should think everything one could wish in a husband; as mine is," she added laughingly. "I presume neither of us would consent to an exchange of partners. Are you fond of children, Mrs. Travilla?"
"Very."
"Shall I show you mine?"
"I should like to see them, if you please."
Mrs. Balis at once led the way to the nursery, where she exhibited, with much motherly pride and delight, her three darlings, the eldest five, the second three years of age, the third a babe in the arms. They were bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked children, full of life and health, but to Elsie's taste not half so sweet and pretty as Rosebud.
Mrs. Balis next conducted her guest to her boudoir; a servant brought in refreshments, consisting of a variety of fruits, cakes, and confections, with wine sangaree and lemonade. After partaking of these, the ladies had a long talk while awaiting the return of their husbands. The gentlemen were gone much longer than had been anticipated, and I am not sure the wives did not grow a little uneasy. At all events they left the boudoir for the front veranda, which gave them a view of the avenue and some hundred yards of the road beyond in the direction from which the travelers must come. And when at length the two were descried approaching, in a more leisurely manner than they went, there was a simultaneous and relieved exclamation, "Oh, there they are at last."
The ladies stood up and waved their handkerchiefs. There was no response; the gentlemen's faces were towards each other and they seemed to be engaged in earnest converse.
"Unsuccessful," said Mrs. Balis.
"How do you know?" asked Elsie.
"There's an air of dejection about them."
"I don't see it," returned Elsie, smiling. "They seem to me only too busy talking to notice our little attention."
But Mrs. Balis was correct in her conjecture. The boat had passed Madison some time before the gentlemen arrived there, had paused but a few minutes and landed no such passenger. Learning this they then telegraphed the authorities of the next town; waited some hours, and received a return telegram to the effect that the boat had been boarded, no person answering the description found; but the captain gave the information that such a man had been taken on board at Dr. Balis' plantation, and set ashore at the edge of a forest half-way between that place and Madison.
On receiving this intelligence Mr. Travilla and the doctor started for home, bringing with them a posse of mounted men headed by some of the police of Madison.
Dr. Balis had taken with him to Madison the blood-stained coat of Jackson. From this the hounds took the scent, and on arriving at the wood mentioned by the skipper, soon found the trail and set off in hot pursuit, the horsemen following close at their heels.
Our gentlemen did not join in the chase, but having seen it well begun, continued on their homeward way.
"And you did consent to the use of hounds?" Elsie said inquiringly, and with a slightly reproachful look at her husband.
"My dear," he answered gently, "having been put into the hands of the police it has now become a commonwealth case, and I have no authority to dictate their mode of procedure."
"Forgive me, dearest, if I seemed to reproach you," she whispered, the sweet eyes seeking his with a loving, repentant look, as for a moment they were left alone together.
He drew her to him with a fond caress. "My darling, I have nothing to forgive."
In the cabin at whose door Jackson had made his call and remounted his steed, a woman—the same with whom his business had been transacted—was stooping over an open fire, frying fat pork and baking hoe-cake. Bill sat on his bench smoking as before, while several tow-headed children romped and quarreled, chasing each other round and round the room with shouts of "You quit that ere!" "Mammy, I say, make her stop."
"Hush!" cried the woman, suddenly straightening herself, and standing in a listening attitude, as a deep sound came to the ear, borne on the evening breeze.
"Hounds! bloodhounds!" cried Bill, springing to his feet with unwonted energy. "And they're a-comin' this way; makin' straight for the house," he added, glancing from the door, then shutting it with a bang. "They're after that man; you may depend. He's a 'balitionist, or a horse thief, or somethin'."
The children crouched, silent, pale, and terror-stricken, in a corner, while outside, the deep baying of the hounds drew nearer and nearer, and mingling with it came other sounds of horses' hoofs and the gruff voices of men. Then a loud "Halloo the house!"
"What's wanted?" asked Bill, opening the one window and putting out his head.
"The burglar