Guy Rivers: A Tale of GeorgiaSimms, William Gilmore
History
Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia
Simms, William Gilmore
Georgia -- History -- 1775-1865 -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction
"Beef--beef--beef! mere beef! How dull you are to-night! were you in yon
gloomy and thick edifice (pointing to the prison which frowned in
perspective before them), with irons on your hands, and with the
prospect through its narrow-grated loopholes, of the gallows-tree, at
every turning before you, it might be matter of wonder even to yourself
that you should have needed any advice by which to avoid such a risk and
prospect."
"Look you, Guy--I stand in no greater danger than yourself of the
prospect of which you speak. The subject is, at best, an ugly one, and I
do not care to hear it spoken of by you, above all other people. If you
want me to talk civilly with you, you must learn yourself to keep a
civil tongue in your head. I don't seek to quarrel with anybody, but I
will not submit to be threatened with the penalties of the rogue by one
who is a damned sight greater rogue than myself."
"You call things by their plainest names, Wat, at least," said the
other, with a tone moderated duly for the purpose of soothing down the
bristles he had made to rise--"but you mistake me quite. I meant no
threat; I only sought to show you how much we were at the mercy of a
single word from a wanton and head-strong youth. I will not say
confidently that he remembers me, but he had some opportunities for
seeing my face, and looked into it closely enough. I can meet any fate
with fearlessness, but should rather avoid it, at all risks, when it's
in my power to do so."
"You are too suspicious, quite, Guy, even for our business. I am older
than you, and have seen something more of the world: suspicion and
caution are not the habit with young men like this. They are free
enough, and confiding enough, and in this lies our success. It is only
the old man--the experienced in human affairs, that looks out for traps
and pitfalls. It is for the outlaw--for you and me--to suspect all; to
look with fear even upon one another, when a common interest, and
perhaps a common fate, ought to bind us together. This being our habit,
arising as it must from our profession, it is natural but not reasonable
to refer a like spirit to all other persons. We are wrong in this, and
you are wrong in regard to this youth--not that I care to save him, for
if he but looks or winks awry, I shall silence him myself, without
speech or stroke from you being necessary. But I do not think he made
out your features, and do not think he looked for them. He had no time
for it, after the onset, and you were well enough disguised before. If
he had made out anything, he would have shown it to-night; but, saving a
little stiffness, which belongs to all these young men from Carolina, I
saw nothing in his manner that looked at all out of the way."
"Well, Munro, you are bent on having the thing as you please. You will
find, when too late, that your counsel will end in having us all in a
hobble."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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