The Devil's Own: A Romance of the Black Hawk WarParrish, Randall
General
The Devil's Own: A Romance of the Black Hawk War
Parrish, Randall
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
"The leftenant has got this thing sized up about proper," he said
gruffly. "He's an army officer all right, fer I saw him back thar on
the island, when we wus tied up at the dock. Now look yere, boys, I'm
fer hangin' both ov them cusses just as much as eny ov the rest ov
yer--a bit more, I reckon, fer they stripped me ov my pile; along with
Beaucaire, only I was easier ter strip--but, as the leftenant says,
that ain't the p'int now. What we want ter do is get back them bills
o' sale, so them two young women won't be left with nuthin' ter live
on. Let's make the fellers cough up furst, an' then, if we think best,
we kin hang 'em afterwards. It's my vote we let the leftenant tackle
the job--what do yer say?"
The rise and fall of voices, although punctuated by oaths, and
indistinct in expression, seemed generally to signify assent. The
faces of the men, as they pushed and crowded about us, remained angry
and resentful. Clearly enough prompt action alone would carry the day.
"Very well then, boys," I broke in sharply. "You agree to leave this
settlement with me. Then I'll go at it. Two or three of you pick up
the body, and carry it to Beaucaire's stateroom--forward there. The
rest of you better straighten up the cabin, while I go up and talk with
Thockmorton a moment. After that I may want a few of you to go along
when I hunt up Kirby. If he proves ugly we'll know how to handle him.
McAfee!"
"I'm over here."
"I was just going to say that you better stay here, and keep the
fellows all quiet in the cabin. We don't want our plan to leak out,
and it will be best to let Kirby and Carver think that everything is
all right; that nothing is going to be done."
I waited while several of them gently picked up the body, and bore it
forward into the shadows. Others busied themselves in straightening
the overturned furniture, and gathered into a small pile those few
scattered coins which had fallen to the deck, and been overlooked by
the two gamblers in their eagerness to escape. No one attempted to
appropriate any of these. McAfee apparently knew most of the fellows
intimately, calling them by name, and seemed to be recognized as a
leader among them. This fact was encouraging, as to all appearance
they were a rough set, unaccustomed to law of any kind, and to be
controlled only by physical strength, and some one of their own sort.
In spite of my position and rank, I was far too young in appearance to
exercise much weight of authority over such border men, but fortunately
I possessed sufficient good sense to rely now in this emergency upon
the black-bearded McAfee, who served well. His voice, strongly
resembling a foghorn, arose in threat and expostulation unceasingly,
and the miners, who evidently knew him well, and perhaps had previously
tested the weight of his fist, were lamb-like and obedient to his
control.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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