Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 23: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Tq so neither Auckland nor Peters gave any evidence of it. Not one of us exchanged a word with the others while passing through the wood. Auckland, quite properly, acted as guide, and led the way around a number of boulders and rocks, through masses of matted undergrowth and hol- lows, and over depressions and ridges. We suddenly debouched into a clearing, several acres in extent, that bordered the highway over which all the parties to the encounter just described had been riding only a short time before. In this clearing, and no more than fifty yards from the road, stood the log - cabin of Tom Auckland, with other crude structures at the rear, in which was stowed the hay and fodder intend- ed for his horse (that needed it no more) and his cow. The cleared ground, which was fairly fertile, was cultivated, and later in the season must have pro- duced a considerable crop of vege- tables. Without hesitating, Auckland led the way along a well marked path across the clearing to the side door, pulled the latch string, and entered. I had noticed that a light was burning inside. Zach Peters held back, but only fora moment, when with a certain stolid heroism, he stalked after the leader, and I, with a presentiment that trouble was at hand, stepped hastily forward, so that I almost trod on his heels. * The house which we entered was a typical mountaineer’s home. The structure was of logs dovetailed at the corners, and the chinks filled in with dried clay. A broad fireplace occupied almost one entire side of the room, which was the only one below stairs, serving therefore as a parlor, sitting- room, and kitchen. As I learned after- ward, the upper story was divided into two sleeping apartments, reached from below by a sloping ladder at one corner. The furniture was of the crudest character, consisting of a table, a few chairs, stools, and cooking utensils. There was no stove, the food being pre- THE ARGOSY. pared over the roaring fire in the wide hearth, after the manner of the pioneers of New England. At one side of the room was a row of pegs from which were hung a number of coarse garments, some of which [| observed belonged to a female. A tal- low candle on the table and the ight of the fire on the hearth fifled the apart- ment with a ruddy illumination. Seated at the table, sewing on a gar- ment by the light of the candle, was a tall, bony, angular woman, keen eyed . and alert of movement. Pausing in her work, she looked up, without moving, as the door opened, and recognizing her husband, said in the most matter of fact manner: “ Helloa, Tom! what’s the matter with your arm?” “I met a couple of the Howard gang.” ‘ T reckoned so—wal, my gracious! ” Directly behind her husband loomed the slouch hat and massive shoulders of Zach Peters, whom she recognized as he entered, with me so close that I had closed the door before she could add anything to her exclamation. The naturally self possessed woman was agitated by the sight, as she might well be. She rose as abruptly to her feet as a jumping jack, displaying fully six feet of stature, with her coarse skirts clinging so closely that nowhere below the shoulders was her amplitude greater than that of aman. That our prisoner was an old acquaintance was proven by her next words. ‘Wal, Zach Peters! what brings you here? ” ‘This young man, which his name is Mr. McIntyre, and he’s from Chicago, tuk him prisoner,” explained the hus- band, who, with a wave of his hand, added : ‘Gentlemen, take seats and make yourselves to hum.” Impressed by the grim humor of the situation, | sat down in the nearest <SuG chair, placing my travelin ide me and holding my Reenter wel