it was a clear, gusty night when he emerged on the lawn at the side entrance of the house. for two hours with the faint and freakish light of candle ends he had been rummaging over old chests and boxes in the attic. the aspect of the desolate, deserted place that had held his young master, a tenant dear to his loyal heart, wrung from him a sigh. sometimes he dropped his hands, lifted himself from his crouching attitude to a kneeling posture, looked wistfully about the dreary, dusty silence, shook his head sorrowfully to and fro, and then once more addressed himself to his search. when he began to find the various articles he desired, he grew tremulous, agitated. his breath was fast, and now and again he must needs check himself in his disposition to fluent soliloquy lest some one overhear in his sonorous voice such significant words as would reveal his intention. when these seizures supervened, he became anxious concerning the possible betrayal of his enterprise by the feeble light cast from the windows, and ever and anon he screened the bit of candle behind a trunk or some massive piece of furniture. he knew that the house was[pg 196] a marked spot; the events of the day had rendered the locality of special and suspicious interest to all the camps in the vicinity. many an eye was turned thither, he was aware, as the evening drew on, and in fact he hardly dared to light the tiny tapers till he had heard tattoo sound and taps beat. the tents were lost in darkness and slumber, but there were the camp and quarter guards, and soon would come the patrol and grand rounds. the sentries about the house gave him less anxiety.
"they be 'bleeged to know we-all keep some of our stuff in the garrit—mought be huntin' fur suthin' fur dat ar yankee man's nicked haid. but i ain't!" he soliloquized.
when at last he had found all he desired, he extinguished the light and quietly waited. thus in the darkness the place was even more grewsome with its associations of concealment and flight, the imminence of his young master's capture and violent death. he heard his heart plunge at every stir of the wind, every clash of the boughs, and he muttered: "dat pore chile wuz denied a light. his pa p'intedly wouldn't 'low him a candle, fur fear folks would spy it out. an' here he set an' waited in de ever-lastin' night!"
old ephraim suffered here in the dark from a terror which had loosed its hold on his young master long ago,—the fear of the supernatural. ghosts of many types, "ha'nts," headless horrors,[pg 197] spectral sounds from the other world, direful prognostications of signs, all in grisly procession passed and repassed and crowded the garret to suffocation. it would be impossible to imagine what the old gray-headed negro saw and heard as he crouched on the dusty floor, and listened to the rout of the wind in the trees, and watched the eerie aspect of the old furniture, itself associated with the long-gone dead, as the moon and the gust-driven shadowy clouds flickered and faded and flickered and faded across the dim spaces. when suddenly a shrill sound pierced the ghostly solitude, he fell prone in complete surrender on the floor, terrified, his nerves almost shattered. an inarticulate scream came again and again, and then a low chuckling chatter. a screech-owl, a tiny thing, had alighted on the window-sill, and hearing the stir, turned its head without shifting its body, its great round eyes encountering the reproachful rolling stare of old ephraim as he tremulously gathered himself from the floor. taking a package under his arm under the long coat he wore, he at last went noiselessly and swiftly down the stairs.
he looked out heedfully for judge roscoe, whom he did not wish to encounter.
"marster hes been a jedge, an' dey say he hes set on de bench—dough i dunno whut fur dat's so oncommon, fur mos' ennybody kin set on a bench! he's sot in his own cushioned[pg 198] arm-chair in de lawbrary whut kin lean backwards on a spring, and recline his foots upwards, an' dat's a deal ch'icer dan enny bench i knows on! but he's been a jedge, an' he's got book-larnin', but somehow i 'low he ain't tricky enough ter be up ter dis kink. i ain't gwine ter let him know nuffin'."
when fairly out of the house all suggestion of secrecy and caution vanished. the old darkey flung his feet on the stone steps with a noisy impact, and before he reached the pavement, he had burst into song, marking the time with an emphatic rhythm—a wide blare of melody with a great baritone voice, that sounded far down the bosky recesses of the grove, all dappled with shadow and sheen.
"rise an' shine, children!
rise an' shine, children!
rise an' shine, children!
de angels bid me ter come along!
o-h-h, i want ter go ter heaben when i die—"
he broke off suddenly. he did not wait to be challenged by the sentry as he turned, but greeted him with a sort of plaintive humility and a mendicant's confiding manner.
"marse soldier, could ye gimme a chaw of terbacker, please, sir?"
the soldier would not have allowed even one of his own officers to pass from the house or enter it without the countersign, but he was thrown off his guard by this personal appeal;[pg 199] and although he could not comply with the request, not being given to the bad habit of "chawin' terbacker," he shifted his weapon from hand to hand while he rummaged his pockets for "fine-cut" for the pipe of old ephraim—the fraud, who was amply supplied.
"neb mind—neb mind," the old man said deprecatingly. "thanky, sah, thanky! dere's anodder soldier round de front po'ch—mebbe he's got a chaw!"
and this sentinel, having listened to the colloquy with his comrade, as well as distance would permit, adopted his friendly tactics and was able to produce the requisite "chaw." he naturally supposed the countersign had been demanded and given at the door whence the servant of the house emerged, for after unctuous and profuse thanks old ephraim swung off down the hill with another great gush of song—"i want ter go ter heaben when i die—" echoing far over the grove and the silent camps beyond.
listening to the resounding progress of his departure the first sentry thought of course that in letting him pass his comrade had taken the countersign. it was only a vague thought, however, cast after him. "that old night-hawk is bound for the river, i guess, going fishing," for nocturnal angling was the favorite sport of the darkeys of the region.
the soldier did not even notice when the surge of the chant gave way to a musical whistle, still[pg 200] carrying the air with great spirit and a sort of enthusiasm of rhythm, "an' de angels bid me ter come along." still less did he discriminate the difference in the change of sound, not immediately apparent, so elusive was it, and difficult to describe, when a whistle of a different timbre took up the air and finished the phrase—"i'll shout salvation as i fly!" after a pause uncle ephraim was in the distance, humming now, and soon all sound ceased. both the sentinels would have sworn he had quitted the grove.
but it was not alone the wind among the young firs that tossed their branches to and fro, when trembling, terrorized, casting now and then a horrified, rebuking glance at the radiant moon, as the flying scud drew back and left the sphere undimmed, he sought the spot he had marked when the responsive whistle had apprised him that his signal was understood and answered. at length he paused to catch his breath and wipe the cold drops from his brow.
"lawdy massy! dese yere shines dat dis yere rebel cuts up will be de death ob me—ef dey ain't de death ob himse'f fust!"
he judged from his close observation he was on the spot—yet he could not ascertain it. suddenly hard by the roots of a great lush specimen of a norway spruce, the boughs lying far on the ground, his foot slipped on the thick spread of the fallen needles. he could not recover himself. he was going down—down. his courage[pg 201] all evaporated. he would have screamed if he could. in his terror he had almost lost consciousness till all at once he felt a strong grasp of aid and heard a familiar smothered laugh that restored his faculties with the realization of success and the recognition of a friend at hand.
"hesh! hesh!" he said imperatively. "dat laffin' an' laffin' is gwine ter be de destruction ob you an' all yer house, an' 'fore de lawd, ole ephraim, too!"
he had no response, but he had submitted himself to guidance. he was being led along a downward course in a narrow subterranean passage, his feet shuffling and kicking uncertainly as he ludicrously sought for the ground and to accommodate his gait to the easy accustomed stride of his conductor. they made more than one turn before julius paused and said: "we might as well stop here, uncle ephraim. we can sit down on the rocks. did my father send me any message? is the officer much hurt?"
"do you think you kin pitch folks down them steep steers, an' not hurt 'em, you owdacious, mischievious chile! his head is consider'ble nicked,—an' dat's a fac'!"
"is that all?" said julius, evidently much relieved. "what word did my father send me?"
"no word! he didn't know whar dee is—an' i didn't tell him whar i was goin' ter hunt fur dee."
[pg 202]"oh, but he must know—he must not be left so uneasy. oh, how i wish i had never come to disturb and endanger my good father!"
it was dark, and he did not care that uncle ephraim should hear his sobs.
"now, look-a-yere, marse julius, chile—de less folks knows 'bout dee, de less dey is liable ter be anxious. what you reckon i brung dee?"
"some supper?"
"lawd, no! i ain't hed time ter git ye supper."
"some money? i don't want any money. my father gave me money in case of any necessity when i was to run the pickets—gold!" he chinked some coins alluringly in his pocket.
"'tain't money. it's—cloes!"
"clothes?" said julius, uncertainly.
"'twas dat ar tarrifyin' rebel uniform dat got dee in dis trouble ter-day. ye got ter change dem cloes. ye can't run de pickets, an' ye can't git out'n de lines nohow in dem cloes."
julius hesitated. the uniform was in one sense a protection. to be taken in his proper character, even lurking in hiding, did not necessarily expose him to the accusation of being a spy which capture in disguise would inevitably fix upon him.
"what clothes did you bring,—aunt chaney's?" he asked, prefiguring a female disguise, and reflecting on the ample size and notable height of the cook.
a sort of sharp yelp of dismay came out of the[pg 203] darkness. old ephraim wriggled and shuffled his feet audibly on the rocks in his effort at emphasis and absolute negation.
"marse julius you is gone deranged! surely, surely, you is los' what sense you ever had! chaney wouldn't loan ye ez much ez a apern or a skirt out'n her chist ter save ye from de pit o' perdition! i hes been reckless and darin' in my time, but de lawd knows i never was so forsook by providence as ter set out ter carry off any wearin' apparel belongin' ter dat 'oman, what's gin ober ter de love o' de cloes in her chist. dat chist is de idol ob dat destracted heathen 'oman, an' de debbil will burn her well for de love o' de vanities she's got tucked away dar. chaney's cloes! gawd a'mighty! chaney's cloes! borry chaney's cloes!"
"well, whose clothes, then, uncle ephraim? you know i couldn't get into the citizen's clothes i left at home. i'm three inches taller, and a deal stouter. and it would be dangerous to try to buy clothes."
"lissen; i disremembered dere wuz a trunk in de garret what wuz brung down from de devrett place when de yankees tore down de house an' built de fort. it b'longed ter yer cousin frank's wife's brother, an' wuz sent home atter de war broke out when he died in some outlandish place—i dunno whar, in heathen land. as i knowed he wuz tall an' spare, i 'lowed de cloes mought fit dee. so i opened de trunk—an' de[pg 204] cloes wuz comical; but not as comical as a rebel uniform in dese days an' dis place."
julius had a vague vision of himself, robed in the comicalities of the dress of the orient,—japanese or arabian or turkish,—seeking an escape in obscurity and inconspicuousness, through the closely drawn federal lines.
"oh, uncle ephraim!" he whined, almost in tears, because of the futility of every device, every hope.
"you wait till i show dem ter dee!" exclaimed uncle ephraim, hustling out the bundle from under his coat.
it proved to be a small portmanteau that had been itself enclosed in the trunk. this much was discernible by the sense of touch. old ephraim placed it on the ground, and then, lowering his voice mysteriously, he asked solemnly, "marse julius, is you sure acquainted with dis place?"
"i certainly am," declared julius, the tense vibration of triumph in his voice. "i know it from end to end!"
"den, ef i wuz ter strike a light, could dem sentries see hit at de furder e-end?"
"not to save their souls. we're ever so far down, and the tunnel has already made three turns."
"ef dey wuz ter follow us, dey couldn't crope up unbeknownst on us?"
"they'd break their necks at the entrance if they didn't know the place or have a ladder."
[pg 205]"dere is a ladder ter de stable, dough," the old man urged, vaguely uneasy.
"we'd hear 'em putting it down."
"dat's so! dat's so!" cried uncle ephraim, all cheerful alacrity once more.
he forthwith struck a match and lighted one of his candle ends, which he fixed on the ledge of the rock by holding it inverted for a few minutes, then on the hot drippings placing the taper erect. he had shielded it with his hand during this process, and on perceiving no draught whatever, looked up in amazement at the strange surroundings—a rugged stone tunnel stretching far along into the dense blackness of the distance, fifteen feet in height, perhaps, and of varying width,—about ten feet where they stood; evidently this was an offshoot of some extensive subterranean system, not uncommon in the cavernous limestone country, therefore exciting scant interest, and perhaps never heretofore explored, even in part, save by julius and the devrett boys when it might be made a factor in christmas fun.
"de lawd-a-massy," exclaimed uncle ephraim, looking about in awe and by no means prepossessed in favor of the aspect of the place. "is disher de bestibule ob hell?"
but the attention of julius was concentrated on the portmanteau, a very genteel-looking receptacle, which when open disclosed the garments that uncle ephraim considered so comical. they[pg 206] were, indeed, a contrast with his standard of proper attire for a "gemman of quality"—this being the judge's fine black broadcloth, with a black satin waistcoat and stock, and with linen laid in plaits, the collar standing in two sharp points. but for the first time that day julius had a sudden hope of deliverance. no kaftan, kimono, nor burnoose as he had feared, but he was turning in his hands a soft, rough-surfaced tweed of a dark fawn color, with tiny checks of the style called invisible, the coat bound with a silk braid on which uncle ephraim laid a finger of doubt and inquiry, looking drearily up into the young man's face. for this was a novel finish indeed in those days.
"these are of english make," said the discerning julius, beginning to understand that the foreign "heathen land" to which old ephraim had referred was england. julius now remembered that his cousin's brother-in-law, james wrayburn, had been sojourning there at the time of his death. the garments had lain in the garret for more than a year, but in those days so slow was the transmission of styles across the atlantic that the cut was by no means antiquated, indeed was in accord with the fashion that was familiar on the main street of the town. there was a hat of soft felt of a deep brown, and the old servant had added from the trunk two or three white marseilles waistcoats and some neckties and linen.
[pg 207]"dee got on good new boots," he observed, glancing down at the young man's feet.
"ought to be—cost me six hundred dollars!" said julius.
"lo!—my heabenly friend!" exclaimed uncle ephraim, falling back aghast, unaccustomed to the inflations of the currency of the confederacy.
when the transformation was complete, he looked up from his knees, in which lowly posture he had assisted in drawing down the trousers over the boots, and smiled broadly in satisfaction.
"dar now!" he exclaimed. "'fore de lawd, ye look plumb beau-some in dem comical cloes. dey becomes ye! dat they does—dough i ain't never see no such color as they got, 'dout 'twuz on a cow!"
he made up a bundle of the confederate uniform and stowed it away on one of the ledges. "i don't want dem yankees ter ever git no closer ter dis yere shed snake-skin dan dey is now."
but after the old man had been assisted to clamber out of "the vestibule of hell" by the stalwart arm of his young master and had disappeared among the firs, julius made up the uniform into a compact bundle, packed it into the portmanteau, and, putting out the candle, sat down in the obscurities of the subterranean passage to await the enhanced opportunity for[pg 208] escape that the dark clouds, now gathering about the moon, might bring to the fortuitous collocation of circumstance.
when the sentries next heard any suggestion of uncle ephraim's presence, he was still singing on his return,—now and then humming and whistling as he came. he was approaching the house from the driveway, having indeed been to the river; he was bringing home a goodly mess of fish.
