But the ruffian’s hold was too firm to be loosened. Arab sprung forward like an arrow, with a snort of rage and terror, lifting the villain almost from his feet and dragging him several paces forward. But it was in vain. The gripe now fixed on the bridle was one evidently accustomed to such work, and though the horse plunged, reared, sprang aside, and resorted to other means to get rid of his mistress’ assailant, the effort was to no purpose.
“So ho, so ho,” said the man, in a deep, gruff voice of authority. “Won’t you be still, sir?” Gradually the restive animal subsided into quiet, and stood trembling all over, the sweat oozing out from every pore, till his satin-like coat glistened like glass.
Meantime his mistress, who had continued spurring him till she saw it was useless, sat in her seat as if she had been part of the animal, till even the coarse ruffians about her audibly cried out at her skill. “It’s no use, miss,” said the voice of the disguised leader. “I’ve held worse colts than this, and when once I get my grip on a horse, he’s bound to stand till I let him go.”
The man’s voice, she thought, was one she had often heard. His evident familiarity with horses was another proof of his identity. She looked again at the burly figure, and at once remembered who he was. “James Arrison!” she said, in surprise.
The ruffian made no distinct reply, but muttered an oath between his teeth.
“What do you mean by this rudeness?” she said, with a dignity amounting to sternness. “Let go my bridle, sir.”
The villain had now, however, recovered from his momentary discomposure at the detection of his disguise. He looked boldly up, and said ironically—
“Not if you please, miss. We haven’t come so far or waited so long, to give up our booty in this fashion.”
Kate’s heart, stout as it was, sunk within her. Though she had heard nothing of Arrison’s proceedings since his return to the vicinity of Sweetwater, and did not therefore identify him with the burning of widow Bates’ house, yet she knew enough of his former deeds to satisfy herself that she had fallen into the hands of refugees. The utter disregard of law, both human and divine, exhibited by these outlaws, was well known to her. She was aware that they valued even human life lightly, when it stood in the way of their plans. It was but a few months ago, if report spoke correctly, that a gang of them had attacked a lone farmhouse at midnight, in a neighboring county, murdered the owner and his wife, and sought even the blood of the innocent daughter, who, however, luckily escaped to a neighboring wood. It was within a period, scarcely less remote, that a band, fifty or sixty strong, had assailed the dwelling of Major Huddy, at what is now Colt’s Neck, and carried off the proprietor as their prisoner, after a protracted defence, which was only terminated by the outlaws setting fire to the house. It was less than a twelvemonth since an armed launch, managed by twenty similar ruffians, had cruized off the mouth of a neighboring river, and even ravaged its shores. Innumerable were the tales authenticated of the ruffianly character of these desperadoes. Old age had been assassinated by them in cold blood; and women, it was said, had been not unfrequently violated. Their brutal ferocity had passed into a proverb. At the name of refugee the very children turned pale, and crept closer to their mother’s side. Yet into the hands of a gang of these ruffians Kate saw that she had fallen, and fallen moreover in consequence of a premeditated ambush.
Most persons of her sex would have lost all presence of mind, at realizing her situation. But Kate’s courageous heart rose with the occasion. Others of her sex also, even if they had retained their presence of mind, would have resorted to tears and supplications. She, however, saw that these would be wasted on the hardened ruffians into whose hands she had fallen. She resolved, accordingly, to appeal to their self-interest, supposing that ransom was their real purpose.