By H. BEDFORD-JONES
Author of
"Splendour of the Gods," "The Kasbah Gate," etc.
London: HURST & BLACKETT, LTD.
PATERNOSTER HOUSE, E.C.
THE WILDERNESS TRAIL
The year 1810 was more commonly known,at least in the Kentucky wilderness, as thethirty-fourth year of the Independence ofthe United States. Backwoods folk aresimple folk, proud of what they and theirfathers have done.
Although split with vexatious questionsof Federal or Democrat, rent asunder byargument over the Great Conspiracy ofAaron Burr, and menaced always by thegathered allied hordes of Tecumthe acrossthe Indiana border, the settlers in andaround Louisville forgot all these things inthe one supreme fact that this was thethirty-fourth year of the United States.
Law had come into the country, to thebitterness of many. Land-titles and sorryscoundrels had in combination ousted manya less famous man than Colonel DanielBoone from his holdings. Whisky andlawless border-life, to say nothing of themore lawless river-ways, had ruined morethan one good man both in morals andreputation. Some said the western countryhad gone to the dogs; others said that thedogs had all come to the western country.Both sayings were true, in a sense.
So, then, in this thirty-fourth year of theUnited States, an old man stood on theBeargrass Creek Road, just out of Louisville,and swore volubly. A horseman hadspattered him with mud. To his right was afringe of trees, to his left the mudhole, andjust beyond him was a bend in the road.
The old man was only five feet ten, butwas thewed like a giant. As he wiped themud from his cheek and glared at thereturning horseman, he displayed a strong,keen-eyed face which sat well above powerfulshoulders and barrel-like chest.
"Consarn the lawyers!" he cried angrily."If I had my way, I'd hang every cussedlawyer in Kaintuck! Hanging's too goodfor 'em. Consarn 'em, I'd——"
The horseman had reined in at the bendand was now back beside the old man. Hewas a large athletic man, dressed in fineblue broadcloth, with pudding cravat andear-high coat collar. He leaned over in hissaddle with a smile.
"Sir, your pardon! The offence wasunintentional. I take it that you have a grudgeagainst lawyers, eh?"
"Huh!" The other grunted angrily, yetwith none of the sputtering fury of old age.His words seemed calculated, in fact."Huh! Hain't lawyers robbed me right and left an'driv me out o' Kaintuck? You're like allof 'em, consarn ye, slick and smooth! Iain't lived seventy-six year 'thout bein'able to read a man's face. Ye black-heartedWyandot, why didn't ye turn out o' theway—huh?"
At these final words the horseman wentwhite to the lips. He was handsome, darkof hair and eye, with thin lips, virilefeatures, and powerful hands. Despite thecareful attire and courtly air, however,there was an indescribably cruel curve tohis thin lips and nostrils, an arrogance inhis bearing, which seemed rather out ofplace in democratic Kentucky.
"Sir, I asked your pardon," he said ina deep voice, twitching his riding-whipagainst his boot. "In deference to your ageI pass over your words——"
"Cuss yer impudence!" broke out the oldman hotly, a flame leaping out in his blueeyes. "You're one o' them Louisvillevultures, huh? I kin tell. Pass over mywords, do ye? Well, ye git down out'nthat saddle an' I'll give ye somethin' betterto pass over. H