The situation was more than unpleasant. I longed for the finale. My antagonist also showed signs of impatience. No longer preserving his statue-like pose, his body began to sway from side to side; while at intervals, he stamped the ground with his heavy heel. From the increasing anger that betrayed itself in his looks, I expected an explosion. It came at length. “Durn them buzzarts!” cried he, with a hurried gesture, “thar agwine to keep us stannin’ hyur till sundown. Durn the sleepy brutes! we can’t wait no longer on ’em. I dare ye—”
The challenge thus commenced was never completed—at all events, I did not hear its conclusion; and know not to this hour what he meant to have proposed. His speech was interrupted, and his voice drowned, by the shrill neighing of my horse—who seemed startled at some sound from the forest. Almost at the same instant, I heard a responsive neigh, as if it were an echo from behind me. I heeded neither the one nor the other. I saw that the birds were aroused from their lethargic attitude. Some of them appeared as if pressing upon their limbs to spring upwards from the tree. The deadly moment had come!
With my rifle raised almost to the level, I glanced rapidly towards my antagonist. His piece was also raised; but, to my astonishment, he appeared to be grasping it mechanically, as if hesitating to take aim! His glance, too, showed irresolution. Instead of being turned either upon myself or the vultures, it was bent in a different direction, and regarding with fixed stare some object behind me! I was facing round to inquire the cause, when I heard close at hand the trampling of a horse; and, almost at the same instant, an exclamation, uttered in the silvery tones of a woman’s voice. This was followed by a wild scream; and, simultaneously with its utterance, I beheld a female form springing over the bars! It was that of a young girl, whom I recognised at a glance. It was she I had encountered in the forest!
I had not time to recover from my surprise before the girl had glided past me; and I followed her with my eyes, as she ran rapidly over the space that separated me from the squatter. Still mute with surprise, I saw her fling herself on the breast of my antagonist—at the same time crying out in a tone of passionate entreaty: “Father, dear father! what has he done? Mercy! O mercy!”
Good God! her father? Holt her father?
“Away, Lil!” cried the man in a peremptory tone, removing her arms from his neck. “Away, gurl! git ye from, hyur!”
“No, father! dear father! you will not? What does it mean? What has he done? Why are you angry with him?”
“Done! gurl? He’s called me coward; an’ ’ud drive us out o’ house an’ home. Git ye gone, I say! Into the house wi’ ye!—away!”
“Mercy! O father, have mercy! Do not kill him. He is brave—he is beautiful! If you knew—”
“Brave! beautiful?—gurl, yur ravin’! What do you know about him? Ye’ve niver seed him afore?”