Clasping his outstretched hand, I was loath to let it go, for he did not seem to me to be bad at all. Surely, I thought, there ought to be some way to save such a man, it not being his nature to do wrong, but a habit likely to grow upon him. Thus do the sympathies of the young ever go out to the wrong-doer before the world has taught them to classify men and treat all alike who go astray, without regard to their nature or surroundings; and thus mine went out to Fox that night as we parted in the white road, with the solemn moon looking down on our leave-taking.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE TRAGEDY OF MURDERER'S HOLLOW
Going the way Fox pointed out, I found the road as he had said; but so overwrought were my nerves by the events of the night that if by chance a shadow outlined the fanciful figure of a man across my path, I stood still, trembling and in doubt, until its harmless nature was disclosed. While thus peering ahead and striving to make out the objects in my path, a rabbit ran into the road and stopped, as if disputing my right to pass. This, strangely enough, disturbed me not a little, as if somehow I were discovered. While I stood still, hesitating whether to go on or turn back, so little control had I over myself, the plaintive notes of a whip-poor-will came to me from out the deep forest, as if in comfort of my loneliness. Clear and sweet, it warmed and cheered my heart like the greeting of a friend. For who that has been brought up in the country ever heard the notes of this songster of the night without such feeling or remembrance of it ever afterward? To all such who traverse the woods, or who are in trouble, it is as if some good spirit were awakening the echoes of the place to soothe their thoughts and calm their fears. Coming to me now, out of the slumbering trees, I was enlivened and cheered so that I went on as if in the company of friends. Thus quickly do those who are in trouble accept the semblance of what they wish for for the thing itself.
Going on as directed, I came at last to the summit of a bluff, from which I looked down into a valley filled with moonlight and sylvan shadows. The road descending the elevation, as I could see, there turned and followed the edge of the hill to the opposite side of the valley, where it reascended the height and was lost to view. Looking to know the reason of this strange detour, I saw it was caused by a shallow river, which following along the edge of the valley, crowded the road from its direct course.
Reaching the foot of the descent, the stream had scarce more water in its bed than the Little Sandy at its best; and wearied by my walk, I determined to cross the valley and so shorten the distance I would otherwise have to go. Looking to determine the course I should take, the plain lay spread before me, and midway in its breadth a grove of walnut trees lifted their graceful foliage to the sky, standing out black and clear against the pale grasses of the sleeping valley. Cheered by the sight, for there is no tree more attractive to the eye, its rich fruit bringing it nearer to us in sympathy of life, I went forward in high spirits, stopping as I crossed the little river to drink my fill and bathe my face in its refreshing waters.
Coming presently to the grove of trees, I plunged beneath their depths, to emerge a moment after in a cleared space, on the edge of which a log hut, charred by fire, stood in lonely seclusion. About it, and as if in mockery, rank weeds grew where once a garden had been planted. Wondering why such a spot should have been selected for a home, I went forward, and turning the angle of the ruin, came without thought upon a towering gibbet, from which ropes, frayed with the wind, dangled in the midnight air. Beneath these, and as if to make the story plainer, rude graves lifted their rounded forms in the bright moonlight. Recoiling at the sight, I had nearly fallen; but with my discovery, and as if the spirits of the dead were returned to earth, voices reached me, and seemingly from the shadow of the gallows and its dangling ropes. Questioning if I heard aright and hesitating whether to go forward or turn and fly, the voices came a second time, and now more plainly than before. In doubt of their friendliness, I threw myself down where I stood, and in that way was hidden by the weeds and the shadow of the crumbling ruin. Thus concealed, I was safe, unless, indeed, the course of the speakers crossed the spot where I lay hidden; but coming presently full on the gibbet, they stopped, one of them crying out in a voice of terror:
"In the name of all the spirits of hell, what's them?"
"What's what?" the other answered, softly, as if seeing nothing out of the way.
"Them graves an' danglin' ropes?"