“How would you like a hundred dollars, Cato—a hundred yellow dollars? You will be rich, Cato.”
“Golly, Mars’r Cap’n! whew! one hun’ud dollars! golly, sar, I’se do it right good fur dat much. Hi! den Cato am gwine back inter ole Missip’, ‘a berry rich niggah.’”
“I am glad you are satisfied. It is indeed an immense sum—very large. But, Fink is calling me—I must go. Now, just do your duty by me and you will get your money and be a rich man. Now off with you!”
He waved his hand, and Cato, grinning with delight, scudded away at full speed, very unlike his usual lazy pace. Downing saw him vanish in a thick “brush,” then embarked in the “dug-out” and paddled back to the island.
CHAPTER VII.
A TERRIBLE TREE.
Various and many were the threats of the settlers when Cato was not to be found, but they were eclipsed by the settled determination of Walter and Jeffries, who resolved to make him pay dearly for his fickleness and desertion when they met him. And no wonder they were incensed at his conduct. Aside from the delay, which might prove serious, and which was provoking, the thought that this very moment Katie might be suffering terrible evils, was one of anguish to the two who loved her so fondly.
Of the two griefs, Walter’s was the greatest and hardest to bear. While the father was stricken and stupefied by the blow, and was in a semi-stupor, Walter was kept nervously strung to the highest tension by a thousand surmises, suspicions and fears. He well knew, from personal knowledge, Downing’s impulsive and evil character; he well knew, by his actions the night before, that he was very hot-blooded, and plethoric with sinful passions; and were Katie, as everybody strongly suspected, in his power, the worst might happen.
It was also strongly suspected that this gay, handsome Danforth was in league with a band of bandits. Although the country was new and sparsely settled, although the squatters were generally poor and without money of any kind, and so far from genuine civilization, one would think a band of robbers was an absurdly superfluous thing. But it was not so. Across Arkansas, and right on the brink of Shadow Swamp, and bisecting Dead-Man’s Forest, ran what was then known as the “Arkansas trail,” the great wilderness thoroughfare (?) from the Mid-Western States to Mexico. It has long since been abandoned, and is now almost unknown; but along its serpentine course many murders have been committed, many robberies and dastardly deeds, of which the world will never know.
Men laden with wealth—the hard-earned savings of many hard and dangerous weeks’ work—men growing lighter-hearted and merrier at every step, had left sunny Mexico with enough to enjoy forever, and were nearing sweet home. Perhaps they had been harassed on the plains by hostile savages; perchance they had suffered the direful pangs of hunger and thirst in the wilderness, and had stared death in the face and had warded him off many times; but of every ten who entered Dead-Man’s Forest, within the confines of civilization, at least seven never came out on the other side.