Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 79, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 March 1920 — The Devil’s Own [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Devil’s Own

A Romance of the Black Hawk War

By RANDALL PARRISH

Aether W tmntit" "SkM W *• Mb Sri«»fa." "Wfcee WHimn Vm tin «*. ILLUSTRATIONS BY BkWIN MYERS

CHAPTER X—Continued. —11—“ «gwiM to be a mighty populonrf" •Her up this way, hey, Mapes?” he wtfrnl genially. "Castaways round •very bend." -What do yon mean? Have you gAcha t" up othemT* ■ "Certainly have. Hit a keelboat twenty milee below." -A keelboat operated by steam?" •'Couldn’t say as to that. Was It, feUpes? The craft had gone down Mm I got on deck. Had four aboard, bnt we got ’em all off an* stowed ’em beck there la the texas. Ton better get alone now and shuck those wet The captain turned rather sharply •way, and I was thrust through an tpm cabin door by the grasp of the mate before I could really sense the true meaning of this unexpected news. Mspss paused long enough to gruffly Indicate a coarse suit of clothes Craped over a stool, and was about to retire without further words when 1 {•covered sufficiently from the shock l» halt him with a question: *T suppose you saw those people picked up from the keelboat?" "Sure; helped pull 'em aboard. A d' ■■"■■d queer combination. If yon ask me; two nigger wenches, Joe Kirby an* a deputy sheriff from down CL Louee way." •Two women, you say? -Both negresses?" "Well, thefa whut Joe said they, wan an* I reckon he knew. However, aae or ’em looked es white as anybody I ever sew. The deputy he tol' ther same story—sed they wus both slaves thet Kirby got from an ol* plantation dawn below; some French name. It wna. Seems like the two wenches bed ran away, an’ the deputy hed caught ’em, an’ wus a-taking ’em back. Kirby earn long ter help, bein' as how they belonged ter him.” "Ton knew Kirby, then?” "H—l, ov course. Thar ain’t many river men who don’t, I reckon. What la It to you?" '~r ~ r TT '"

•nothing; It aounds like a strange story, thafs aIL I want to get this wet stuff off, and will be out on deck preaently." ..1; 'I was shivering with the cold, and lost no time shifting Into the warm, dry clothing provided, spreading out my own soaked garments over the edge of the lower bunk, but careful first to remove my packet of private papers, which, wrapped securely In oiled silk, were not oven damp. Fate bad played a strange trick, and I knew not how best to turn It to advantage. One thing only was clear: whatever was to be accomplished I would have to do It alone —nowhere could t turn for help. In the first place Kirby undoubtedly had the law with him, and besides was among friends —those who would naturally believe him and were loyal to the institution of slavery. The vary fact that this was a Memphis boat we were on precluded any possibility that the crew would sympathise with a nigger-stealer. Nor could t anticipate any assistance from without. Steamboats were few and far between on these northern waters, and at tola time. If the report of war was tree, everything afloat would be headed upstream, laden with troops and provisions. That the report was true I bad no doubL The probability of an outbreak was known before I left Fort Armstrong; the crisis bad come earlier than expected, that was all. This, then, was the situation—through an odd Intervention of Providence here we were all together on this steamer, which was steadily

churning its way northward, every turn of the wheel bearing us deeper fata ths wilderness, The chances ware that we should thus be aboard for several days; certainly until da encountered some other boat bound downstream, which would accept ns Meanwhile what should I dot Bow escape observation ? Bow teach Bene, without encountering Kirby? The answer was not an easy Sf"£ yet by «M«plaa m hvttt of'tlit- conric-

Mon If we met face to face. Still, would he? The daring hope that he might not came to me In a flash. Might it not be possible to so disguise myself as to become unnoticeable? 1 sprang up to stare nt my features in the small mirror hanging over the washstand The face which confronted me In surprise was almost a strange one even to my eyes. Instead of the smart young soldier, smoothly shaven, with closely trimmed hair, and rather carefully attired, as I had appeared on board the Warrior, the glass reflected a bearded face, the skin visibly roughened and reddened by exposure, the hair ragged and uncombed. Even to my view there remained scarcely a familiar feature—the lack of razor and shears, the exposure to sun and water, the days of sickness and neglect, bad all helped to transform me Into a totally differentappearing person from what I had formerly been; the officer and gentleman had, by the mystery of environment, been changed Into the outward semblance of a river roustabout Nor was this all. The new character was emphasized by the clothes I wore —far too large to fit; also the texture and ooinr, not to mention the dirt end grease, speaking loudly of a rough life-and the yfdSßltudes of poverty. The metamorphosis was complete; so complete that I laughed aloud, assured by that one glance that the gambler, confident that I was dead, would never by any possibility recognize me In this guise, or while habilitated In such nondescript garments.

But the girl—Rene? And so this was how I had appeared to her. No wonder she questioned me; doubted my first explanation. I had approached her confident that my appearance as a gentleman would awaken her trust; I had felt myself to be a most presentable young man, In whom she must Instantly repose faith. Yet this had not been true at all — Instead I came to her with the outward bearing of jl worthless vagabond, a stubble-bearded outcast. And yet she had trusted me; would trust me again. More: she could never be deceived, or fall to recognize my presence aboard if she had the freedom of the deck. Kirby might be deceived, but not Rene. If I eould only plan to meet with her first alone, the peril of her recognition would not be extreme. But I must also figure upon the other woman. Who could she be? Not Eloise Beaucalre surely, for the mate had only mentioned one of the two as sufficiently white to be noticeable. That one would surely be Rene, and It was scarcely probable that with no drop of negro blood In her veins, could appear colored. Perhaps this second woman was Della, the quadroon mother. But If so how did she chance to fall aloue into Kirby’s clutches? Was she aboard the keelboat. locked below in the cabin, when it rammed into us? If she had been captured at Shrunk’s camp during their murderous raid, what had become of her companion? Where was Eloise Beaucalre?- The harder I sought to straighten-out this mystery the more Involved It became.

With every additional glance at the face reflected by the mirror my confidence strengthened in the ability to encounter Kirby and- pass unrecognized. Convinced as he undoubtedly was of my death In the black waters of the river he could not possibly imagine my presence aboard the Adventurer, while my personal appearance was so utterly changed as to suggest to bis mind no thought of familiarity. The conditions were all In my favor. I was smiling grimly at this conceit, well pleased at the chance thus afforded me, when the stateroom door was suddenly flung open and the hairy face of the mate thrust within. *T reckon yer better tote them wet duds down ter the boiler room,” he said gruffly, “an’ then git sum grub. Likely ’noogta yer wouldn’t mind eatin’ a bit. Be yer adriver man?” “Tve never worked on a steamboat, if that Is what you mean."

“No; well, I reckoned not, but the captain he thought maybe yer had. I to!’ him yer didn’t talk like no steamer band. Howsnmever, we’re almighty short o’ help aboard, an* maybe yer’d like a Job ter help pay yer way?” My fingers involuntarily closed on some loose goldpleces in my pocket, but a sudden thought halted me. Why not? In what better way could I escape discovery? As an employee of the bdat I would go about the decks unsuspected and unnoticed. Kirby would never give me a second thought or glance, while' the opportunity thus afforded of speaking to Bene and being of service to her would be immeasurably increased. I withdrew my band, swiftly deciding my cottrse of action." “I suppose I might as well earn a bit," I admitted, hesitatingly. "Only I bad about decided rd enlist If the war waa still going on when we got up there.” .’ -7 “That'll be all right Well keep yer busy till then, enybow. Go on down below now an’ eat an' when yergit through climb up the IniKfier an’ report ter me. What’ll I call y««T _

“Steve —hey; sorter handy man, ain’t yer T* “Well, I’ve done a little of everything iu my time. I’m uot afraid to work." During most of the remaining hours of the morning the mate kept me employed below, in company with a number of others of the crew. In sorting over thb miscellaneous cargo, which had evidently been very hastily loaded. The work was hard and dirty, and after a few hours of it I mps‘ have looked my assumed part to perfection. The overseer gave me a hat which added little to my personal appearance, and by the time we were called to knock off for the noon meal I was thoroughly tired an<l disgusted, feeling as much a roustabout as I certainly looked. The meal was served on an unplaned plank, the ends resting on kegs in front of the boilers. I was still busily munching away on the coarse, poorly cooked food when Mapes, prowling about, chanced to spy me among the shadows. “Hullo; Is that you, Steve?” he asked gruffly. “Well, when yer git done eatln’ I got another Job fer yer on deck. Yer Tiear me?" I signified that I did, nnd Indeed was even then quite ready to go, my heart throbbing at this opportunity to survey other sections of the boat. I followed him eagerly up the ladder, and ten minutes later was busily employed with scrubbing brush and a bucket of water, In an eodedvor to improve the outward appearance of the paint of the upper deck. I was engaged busily scraping at the dingy paint of the pilot house, when a negro, evidently a cook, from his dress, came up from the lower deck, bearing a tray well laden with food in one hand, and disappeared aft He did not even notice my presence or glance about, but I instantly shrank back out of sight, for I became Immediately conscious that someone was closely following him. This second man proved to be one of the fellows in civilian clothing I had previously noticed at the table below, a tall, sallow individual, attired In a suit of brown jeans, his lean, cracker face ornamented by a grizzled bunch of Chin whiskers.

“Yer wait a minute thar, Jim,” he called out “till I unlock that thar door. I ain’t ther kind thet takes chances with no nigger.” I recognized the peculiar voice Instantly, for I had listened to that lazy drawl before while hidden in the darkness beneath the Beaucaire veranda — the fellow was Tim, the deputy sheriff from St Louis. The negro rested his tray on the rail, while the white man fumbled through his pockets for a key, finally locating It and Inserting the instrument Into the lock of the second cabin from the stern. I heard no words exchanged with anyone within, but the negro pushed the tray forward without entering, sliding it along the deck, while Tim, evidently satisfied that his charges were quite safe, promptly reclosed and locked the door, returning the key to the security of his pocket. After pts£ng a moment over the rail at the shore past which we were gliding he disappeared after the negro down the ladder. Eager as I certainly was to make the poor girl •ware of my presence on board, the chance of being seen, and my purpose suspected by others, restrained me. Besides as yet I had no plan of rescue ; nothing to suggest., Even as I hesitated, industriously scrubbing away at the paint, Kirby and the captain appeared suddenly, pansing a moment at the head of the ladder in friendly conversation. Parting at last, with a hearty laugh over some joke exchanged between them, the latter ascended the steps to the pilot house, while the gambler turned aft, still smiling, a cigar between his lips. I managed to observe that he paused In front of the second cabin, as though listening for some sound within, but made no attempt to enter, passing on to the door beyond, which was unlocked. He must have come to the upper deck on some special mission, for he was out of my sight scarcely a moment, returning Immediately to the deck below. This occurrence merely served to make clearer In my mind the probable situation — the after cabin was undoubtedly occupied by Kirby, perhaps In company with the deputy; while next to them, securely locked away and helpless to escape, were confined the two slave women. In order to reach them I must operate under the cover of darkness, and my only hope of being free to work, eVen then, lay «n the faith that the gambler might become so Involved in a card game below as to forget his caution. So far as Tim was concerned I felt perfectly capable of outwitting him; but Kirby was dangerous. CHAPTER XI. The Story of Elsie Clerk. The next two hours dragged dreadfully slow, in spite of my pretense at Steady work, and the fact that my thoughts were continuously occupied, j

•t my very ear. caused me to glance up quickly, startled at the unexpected sound. I eould perceive nothing, although I Instantly felt convinced that whispering voice had issued from between the narrow slats defending the small stateroom window. No one was In sight along the deck, and the rag I was wielding hung Ump In my band. “Who was It that spoke?” I ventured, the words barely audible. “Ah dld-r-the prisoner In the stateroom. Have both those men gone?” “Yes; I am here alone. You are a woman? You are Bene Beaucalre?*’ “No, Ah am not her; but AH know whar Rene Beaucalre Is.” “You know? Tell me first who you are.” “Elsie Clark. Ah am a mulatto, a free negress. Ah bln helpin’ Massa Shrunk, an’ cookin’ fer him. Yer know whut it wus whut happened down thar?” “I know part of it, at least —that Shrunk has been killed. I was at Shrunk’s cabin and found the bodies. Tell me exactly what occurred there.” '“Whut’s yer name?” 1 “Steven Knox; lam a soldier. Bene must have told you about me.” “No, qah; she never done tol’ me nothin’. Ah didn’t much mor’n see her enyhow, fur as thet goes.”

“Not see herl Then she Is not confined there with - you?” “Wiv me? Dar ain’t nobody confined yer wlr me. Ah Just ain’t set

eyes on nobody since Ah done got on board, ’cept de cook. Ah reckon dem white men aim fer ter tote me souse, an* sell me fer a slave; dat’s why Ah’s locked up yere dls way. But Ah sure does know whar dls yer Bene Beaucalre wus.” ‘‘Where?” “Wal, sah, ft wus 'bout like dls; Long ’bout three o’clock in de manning ol’ Bill Sikes cum up frum de lower pint, a-drivin’ his kivered wagon, an’ made Massa Shrunk git up out er bed fer ter git him anodder team o’ hosses. Den dey done routed me up fer ter hustle up sum grub.” ‘‘Sikes; who was Sikes?” “He lives down by de lower pike, sah; he’s an abolitionist, sah.” “Oh, I see; he and Shrunk worked together. He helped with the runaway slaves.” "Yes. sah. Ah’s bin called up thet way afore. So Ah just nat’larly went ter work cookin’, an’ purty soon dey all ov ’em cnat-stragglin' In ' ter de cabin fer ter eat Dar was four ov ’em. sah,” her voice a husky whisper. “Bill Sikes, totin’ a gun in his han\ a free nigger whut dey called Pete, an’ two wimmin. De bigger one was a quadroon, maybe ’bout forty years ol’, an’ de odder she wan’t much more’n a gal; an’ dar wan’t nuthin’ ov de nigger ’bout her, ’cept it mought be de hair, an” de eyes—dem was sure black ’nough.’’ "You learned who they were?” “Course Ah did. Sikes he ’splalned all ’bout ’em ter Massa Shrunk, an’ Ah heerd whut he sed. Ah was a waitin’ on 'em. We all ov us helped fer tier put ’em in de wagon, hid undeh a lot o’ truck, an’ den Sikes he done drove ’em out thro’ de bluffs. Ah done walked wif de gal, an* she tol' mor* ’bout herself, an’ whar she cum frum; an’ dat wus her name, sah.” “Her name? What name?” “Rene Beaucalre; de.quadroon woman, she wus her mother.”

, I. could scarcely voice my surprise, the quick throbbing of my heart threatening to choke me. “She claimed that name? She actually told you she was Rene Beaucaire?” “She sure did. Why? Wan’t thet her nam^?” “I do not know,” I confessed. “Perhaps I shall understand better, if you go on. What happened after they left?" : “Why, we just went back ter bed, an’ ’long ’bout daylight, I reckon, sum fellars cum ashore off a steamboat, an’ done broke Inter de house. We never done heerd ’em tfll dey bust In de dore. One ob dem he knocked me down, an’ den Ah saw Massa Shrunk kill one, afore dey got him. Ah don’t know just whqt did cum ob de free nigger; Ah reckon maybe he run away. Dar’s a fellar on board, yere whut killed Mama Shrunk; an* he’s de same one whut made me cum 'long wid him. A smooth-faced man, sorter tall like, all dressed up, an’ who never talks much.” “Kirby—Joe Kirby, a river gambler.” “Oat’s de name—Knrby. Wal\ he’s de one whntwas lookin’ fer dls yere gal. Rene Beaucaire. Be wanted her pow*ful bad. Dey hunted all ’round fer ter git hoi’ her, cussln’ an* threatenin’, ah? a haulin’ me round; but ’twan’t no sorter use. So finally dey took me ’long ter in de crick—n keel boat nm by steim. Most de odder men disappeared; Ah never did know wtar dtt went, batOban Murto

done shut me up ia.4* cabin. Ah don’t know much whut did happen after dat. til ’bout de time de steamboat done hit ns; an’ ’bout de next thing Ah wus yanked up yere on deck.” "But there was another woqian on the keelboat when it was sunk—a prisoner also. Surely you must have semi her,” I insisted. “Ah saw her—yas,” eagerly. "But Ah don’t know who die wus, sah, nor whar she ever cum frum.” “Then she Is not there with you?” “No, sab; Ah’s yere all lone. Ah reckon, tho’, she sure mus* be on board sum whar. All what Ah does know is, dat de gal called Bene Beaucalre sure ain’t on board; fer shev an* her mah, am at Beardstown long fore dls, an’ a beadin' right smart for Canady; while Ah’s headin’ fer down souse. Ah’s just told yer all dls. Mister White Man, ’cause you’s a frlen’ ob de Beaucaires —yer wus, wusn’t yer?” “Yes,” I said soberly, *T am; and, If I can find any chance to help you, I am going to do It, Elsie. Don’t talk any more—the captain is just coming out of the pilot house.” As greatly as this brief, hastily whispered conversation had served to clear up certain puzzling matters in my mind, the total result of the information thus imparted by Elsie Clark only rendered the situation *more complex and puzzling. Evidently the other prisoner had not been confined on the upper deck, but had been more securely hidden away below, where her presence on board would better escape detection. For what parpose.? A sinister one, beyond all doubt —the expression of a vague fear in Kirby’s heart that, through some accident, her identity might be discovered, and his plans dlsatranged. I comprehended the part he intended Elolse Beaucalre to play in his future, and realized that he cared more to gain possession of her, to get her into his power, than he did tb obtain control of the slave. This knowledge helped me to understand the predicament which this revelation put him into, and how desperately he would strivd to retain the upper hand. If, in very truth, she was Judge Beaucaire’s white daughter, and could gain communication with others of her class, bringing to them proof of her identity, there would be real men enough on board the- Adventurer to rally to her support We were already sailing through free territory, and even now he held on to his slaves rather through courtesy than law. Once It was whispered that one of these slaves was white, the daughter of a wealthy planter, stolen by force, the game would be up. But would she ever proclaim her right to freedom? If she was indeed Eloise Beaucalre —and even as to this I was not as yet wholly convinced—she' had deliberately assumed to be Bene, doing so for a specific purpose—that object being to afford the other an opportunity for escape. Why, she had not so much as trusted me. From the very beginning, she had encouraged me in the belief that she was a negress, never once arousing the faintest suspicion in my mtod. Nothing, then, I was convinced, short of death or disgrace, could ever compel her to confess the truth yet. Kirby might suspect, might fear, but he had surely never learned she was from her lips—that she was Elolse Beaucalre.

The conviction that this young wornan was white, educated, refined, the daughter of good blood —no fleeing negress, cursed with the black strain of an alien race, a nameless slavebrought to me a sudden Joy in discovery I made no' attempt to conceal. “Elolse Beaucaire, Eloise Beaucaire’* —the name repeated itself on my lips, as though It were a refrain. I knew instantly what It all meant—that some divine, mysterious hand had led from the very hour of my leaving Fort Armstrong, and would continue to lead until the will of God was done. It was not in the stars of Fate that such villainy should succeed; such sacrifice as hers fail of Its reward. Nevertheless, Ito spite of this resolve, and the fresh courage which had been awakened within me by the faith that from now on I battled for the love of Eloise Beaucaire, no immediate opportunity for service came. I could only wait patiently, and observe. I was convinced that Kirby, whatever might be his ultimate purpose regarding the girl, had no present Intention of doing her fnrther Injury. He contemplated no immediate attempt at forcible possession, and would be well satisfied if he could only continue to hold her in strict seclusion. The thing he was guarding against now,, and while they remained on board, was escape or discovery.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

“A P-d Queer Combination, If You Ask Me.”

Kirby and the Captain Appeared Suddenly, Pausing a Moment at the Head of the Ladder in Friendly Conversation.