Read Ebook: The phantom hunter; or love after death by Ellis Edward Sylvester

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Young Trafford did not wait for them to recover the use of their tongues, but embraced the opportunity their silence afforded to explain to them the mystery. Lifting his rich, manly voice, he began to speak.

"Friends," he said, "I disclose myself to you to-day, knowing that I am at last out of danger, and once more free to take up my abode among you, in my own name and guise. Until this hour you have supposed me guilty of the murder of my uncle, and also thought you put me to death for the same. I am still alive, as you see. You are struck dumb with amazement, but I will explain all to you in a very short time. I am not a spirit, nor am I other than he whom I now seem to be. I am Russell Trafford, in the full possession of my health. After my conviction and sentence, you all know that I was locked up in the block-house, there to be in durance vile until the day set apart for my execution. Some of you know, likewise, that during my imprisonment, Kirby Kidd, and Wapawah came to the block-house and asked the privilege of a private interview with me. Their request was readily complied with, and the two scouts were shown into my cell. As soon as they were left alone with me, they announced their intention to save my life, if it could possibly be done by artifice. Of course this was wholly unexpected to me, and, at first, I was inclined to be incredulous. But they assured me it was no jest; they had consulted and decided, and they had determined to save me if it lay in their power to do so. Kidd declared that he would not have lifted a hand in my favor, had he thought for a moment that I was the real perpetrator of the crime; but he could not believe me guilty, and knew he was doing right in case I was innocent. He told me his services had already been solicited and engaged for executioner, and that that was vastly in our favor.

"It is needless to tell you that this plan worked to a charm, for my presence here to-day proves that it did. You will remember that it was Kirby Kidd who proposed using a death-cap, and that he furnished the article himself without consulting any one. This was to conceal my face at the last moment, so that its very lifelike appearance would not betray the ungenuineness of my death-struggles. At the time you thought the last breath was forced from my body, I was suspended in comparative ease, and was breathing as freely as any of you. Pretending to fear that the mob would visit some foul indignity upon my body during the night that followed, Kirby Kidd and Wapawah obtained permission to take charge of the supposed corpse, and guard it until the next day. In the dead hours of night we filled the coffin with a heavy stick of timber and some dirt, and fastened the lid securely over them. Next day the funeral services were performed over this stick of wood, with great solemnity, and almost the entire population of our village followed these remains to their last resting-place! I was kept closely hidden until my two friends procured me the disguise which I have just cast off. On the third day after my would-be execution, I made my appearance among you in the character of a Yankee clock-peddler. I went to the house of Mr. Moreland on that same day, and, finding Isabel alone, I disclosed my identity to her, and explained all. I did not deem it safe to impart the secret to her parents, though I think they had faith in my innocence.

"Isabel promised to meet me that night out in the glade where they had made the grave for me. There I could lay aside my disguise and meet her as of old. At a pretty late hour I repaired to the appointed place, accompanied by Kidd, Wapawah and Robbins, who were to keep watch, and warn us if anybody should chance to come that way during the few short moments of our tryst. These three men stationed themselves in the edge of the woods, while Isabel and I stood by the new-made grave and conversed. It seems that this fellow, McCabe, was hanging about the place at the same time. How he approached without attracting the attention of the guards it is impossible to tell, but he did it somehow or other, unless he was there before our arrival. The first intimation we had of his presence was a loud oath, followed by a vow that somebody should die if he had a hundred lives! I presume the "somebody" was myself, for the next instant he came bounding toward me with pistol in hand. Kirby Kidd was too quick for him, however, and caught him by the collar before mischief could be done. While the scouts claimed his attention, the lady and I quickly ensconced ourselves in a large hollow tree that stood near by, and after trying to make him believe he had seen nothing, they let him depart. We continued our meetings there night after night. I knew the nature of McCabe too well to believe that he would subject himself to ridicule by asserting that he had seen Russell Trafford, when everybody would have sworn that I was dead. So we did not change our trysting-place. Sometimes the three hunters would accompany us, but they were often absent from the fort and could not.

"We did not know that anybody besides McCabe ever saw us there together, but you all know that a report got afloat that Isabel was meeting a stranger in the woods almost every night. Isabel herself was ignorant of the existence of this report until the very last moment, on the evening that she was to be taken away from her home. Noble and self-sacrificing as ever, she suffered herself to be traduced rather than betray me. That night, after the Morelands had gone to the river to embark on their brief voyage, Isabel returned to the house on pretense of having forgotten some small article. Her object in thus deceiving her parents was to keep her appointment with me, and to tell me that she was going away--which she did. But it so fell out that McCabe was again lurking about the glade that evening, and he saw us as we sat side by side on the grave. He discharged a rifle at us, but the ball went wide of the mark, and, under cover of the smoke, we ran to the hollow tree that stands on the edge of the glade, and hastily concealed ourselves in its ample cavity. He searched for us for some time, but in vain. For fear he would find us, I quickly donned my disguise and went forth from my hiding-place, to throw him off the track. As Jonathan Boggs I confronted him, and made him believe they were imaginary beings he had seen. When he was gone Isabel joined me, and together we went to the river where her parents were awaiting her. I obtained permission to make one of the emigrant-party, and that is all I have to tell."

For a moment after this explanation was ended that deep silence continued. Then Mrs. Moreland clasped her wronged daughter in her arms and began to weep hysterically, while the former friends of the noble girl went forward to crave her pardon, and offer her their congratulations.

This was but a signal for the men. In an instant cheer after cheer rent the air, and the hardy settlers rushed forward in a body. Lifting Russell Trafford upon their shoulders, they bore him round the spot with shouts of joy, and the wildest confusion reigned. A great many, among whom was Mr. Moreland, shook the hands of Kirby Kidd, Nick Robbins and the Wyandott until the arms of the three champions ached from wrist to shoulder.

The tumult soon subsided. Then Russell, after thanking all for their manifestations of renewed friendship, joined the Moreland family and received the blessings of his future parents-in-law. Isabel was once more smiling and happy, and among those who had looked upon her with scorn a few days before, not one asked her forgiveness in vain. Her dark, luminous eyes beamed with unutterable love and tenderness upon her affianced husband, and the rich color stained her beautiful face and neck as he drew her arm through his, and began to walk up and down in the background.

As soon as an opportunity offered, Nick Robbins stepped forward to address the people. All guessed at once that he had something of importance to say, though none could imagine what it was. Every tongue was hushed, and every ear opened, as the grim old hunter took his position. He gazed blankly at his audience for a moment, and then began to speak.

"I ain't got much to say," he said, leaning on his rifle, "but I reckon ye won't 'spect much from sech as me. I'm goin' to open yer peepers ag'in, same as the young feller did. I don't like to see ye surprised so powerful bad, but then I calc'late the shock'll be a leetle milder this time, 'cause yer gittin' used to it. Prepare yerselves now to see somethin' wonderful, an' don't git it into yer noddles 'ut yer in fairy land, or any sech outlandish place."

As he uttered the last words he dropped his gun, and straightened up. To the astonishment of the lookers-on he then snatched off his coon-skin cap, together with a wig of long hair and the bandage that had covered his eye! Next he removed the patch from his cheek, the coarse red beard from his chin, and then he quickly threw off his buck-skin garments.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

For a moment the people stood aghast at this second revelation. But it was only for a moment. The startling transformation of Jonathan Boggs into Russell Trafford had prepared them for almost any change of this description. When the first shock of surprise was over, the loud, prolonged cheers burst forth again, and shouts and screams of joy, amazement and congratulations, once more filled the air. The excited pioneers gathered round the smiling doctor, as he pleasantly exchanged salutations with one after another, and a hundred inquiries were propounded to him in such rapid succession that he found it impossible to answer any. The ugly, expressionless face of Nick Robbins, the hunter, was gone, and in its place was the very expressive and finely-cut features of Doctor Trafford, the man who all had supposed was long since dead, burned alive in his bed.

The confusion of voices still continued, until the doctor requested the crowd to fall back, and be still, that he might tell them what they were clamoring to know.

The request answered the purpose. They widened the space around the doctor, and quiet was once more restored.

"You need not stare at me as though I were superhuman," began the doctor. "I can explain to you clearly how it happened that I am still alive, and how you were so easily deceived. On the night of the fire, and supposed tragedy, I was not in the house at all. It was about the hour of midnight, as you must recollect, and, being unable to sleep, I had gone out to take a stroll in the open air, which some of you know I frequently did. To be sure my chamber-door was locked, as Mike Terry reported to McCabe, but that need not seem strange. I, being a prime old bachelor, never left the house without first locking the door of my private apartment, as I never could bear the thought of having my things disturbed in my absence.

"After walking about until my nerves were so settled that I thought I should have no further difficulty in winning the spirit of sleep, I bent my steps toward home. But my approach was checked by the sight of somebody prowling around the house. At first I thought it was my nephew, the manner of his dress giving me the impression, but his singular actions speedily convinced me that I was mistaken. I stood and watched the man with some curiosity, wondering what he meant by sneaking around my cabin at that late hour. He went clear around the house in a stooping posture, and when he arrived at the point where I had first seen him, he turned and ran away at the top of his speed. He came straight toward the spot where I was standing. Moved by a sudden impulse, I jumped behind a tree to let him pass without discovering me. The man approached swiftly on tiptoe. I heard him breathing hard, as if with excitement, as he came up. Somewhat to my alarm he stopped within three feet of my hiding-place, and looked back. This pause in his flight was of scarcely more than a moment's duration, but that was enough. Within that moment I distinctly heard him say:

"'It is done--it is done! Doctor Trafford will never leave that house alive! The deed will be imputed to his upstart of a nephew, and my purpose will be accomplished!'

"The next instant he was gone. I had not recognized the fellow, nor his voice, nor had I time to follow him before he was out of sight. A light, flashing in my face, startled me. I looked toward my cabin, and saw that it was in flames. I guessed the truth at once. The unknown had set fire to the building for the purpose of burning me in my bed. The words I had heard fall from his mouth convinced me of this fact, and, as I reflected, I began to suspect that the would-be-murderer was Jim McCabe. I could not think that this man had any direct cause to attempt my life, but I knew that Russell was his rival in love, and I thought it quite probable that he had chosen this circuitous way of getting rid of his rival. The prowler had said, in my hearing, that I could not escape with my life--that my nephew would receive the penalty of the deed--and that thus his purpose would be accomplished. This led me to believe that the blow was aimed at Russell, after all, indirect as it was.

"At last I came upon a solitary hut in the woods. I found it occupied by a good-natured old hunter, who gave me rest, shelter and food. Luckily, I had met with the right man, for the old hunter furnished me with this disguise, with which I have deceived you all. He told me it had been of great service to him while acting in the capacity of spy, in the French and Indian War, and amused me with the recital of many thrilling adventures through which he had passed. Having assumed the appearance of an old rover of the forest, and the name of Nick Robbins, I returned to this place. I arrived here at the very hour that my nephew was to be executed. I was astonished, and thought at first that I would have to reveal myself in order to save him. But I did not. You will remember that I ascended the scaffold, and talked with Kirby Kidd. He told me of the artifice resorted to by which they hoped to save Russell's life, and on hearing that, I concluded to wear my disguise yet longer.

"When the hanging affair was over, I consigned myself assiduously to the task of watching McCabe, and clearing the name of my innocent ward. How I succeeded in my self-imposed mission you have been told. During all, only four persons, besides myself, knew that I was other than what I seemed; those four were Kirby Kidd and his Indian friend, Isabel Moreland and my nephew."

Doctor Trafford ended his explanation with this, and for some time after he had ceased speaking, all seemed to be occupied with their own thoughts. Then a raw-boned, bean-pole-looking individual, who could not get the idea out of his head that he was in the presence of a ghost, drawled out:

"That 'ere's all very fine, doc., but how the de'il are you goin' to account for the skeleton we found in the ruins of your house?"

Doctor Trafford smiled.

"Why, sir," he replied, "isn't it quite natural that one of my profession should have a human skeleton in his house? Moreover, had the bones been mine, it is hardly probable that the flesh would have been entirely consumed by the fire."

This settled that point.

Now Jim McCabe once more became the center of attraction. Some of the most vengeful cried out clamorously for his blood, and the majority were in favor of hanging him on the spot, without any ceremony whatever. But Mr. Moreland earnestly remonstrated against such a proceeding. He told them there was no necessity for haste, and that the criminal should be allowed time to repent before ushering him into the presence of his Maker. Many were loth to wait, but none would disregard the wishes of the speaker.

At this juncture, however, an incident occurred that put an end to the disagreement. All the time that the revelations and explanations were chaining the attention of the whole crowd, Jim McCabe had been struggling desperately with the cords that bound him. Nobody had noticed him, and, by the time Doctor Trafford finished his story, he ceased his squirming and lay perfectly quiet.

All of a sudden he sprung to his feet with the agility of a panther, and bounded into the open space in the midst of the crowd. Here he stood, with limbs entirely free, glaring about him at the mass of people on every side, his face deadly pale, his eyes bloodshot and his nostrils distended.

He whirled round, as he concluded his wild speech, and stood face to face with Russell Trafford! Thrusting his hand into his breast, he drew forth a glittering dagger, and flourished it over his head with a maniacal yell.

Then, before anybody could make an effort to detain the maddened brute, he crouched down and made a flying leap toward young Trafford. For a single instant his bending form was suspended in mid air--the next it fell sprawling on the grass at the feet of the man he had intended to kill! Almost before he touched the ground Jim McCabe was dead!

Then there were screams of affright from the females, mingled with shouts of surprise and alarm from the males, and scores of excited men crowded around the fallen wretch. In his death-spasm McCabe had turned over on his back, in which position he now lay, his eyes fixed and glassy, his features horribly distorted, and his brains slowly oozing out through a small hole in his temple! Every one seemed struck with a feeling akin to awe by the sad spectacle, and a profound silence ensued. It was broken at length by the deep, solemn voice of Mr. Moreland, saying:

"God have mercy on his soul!"

"God bless you, Mike! You have done a noble act, and proved yourself a true-hearted fellow after all."

A great many others echoed these words, and the Irish boy was the hero of the hour. The body of the miserable wretch, Jim McCabe, was now borne away, and, shortly after, the crowd dispersed, and the people sought their different homes, there to muse and remark on the extraordinary events that had occurred in their midst.

Subsequently Doctor Trafford erected another and much larger cabin on the spot where the first one had stood, and Mike Terry was once more installed in his service, now more loved and trusted than ever before. Russell and Isabel lived long and happily together, and in after years were wont to gather their children's children upon their knees, and tell the story of the PHANTOM HUNTER.

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