It was only half past eight when the search party left Greenfield, but it would be no darker at midnight. The two negroes who led the way down the avenue and out into the public road carried blazing lightwood knots—that is, long thick pieces of "fat" pine cut from the heart of the tree, and, when lighted, burning for hours with a fierce flame fed by the turpentine and resin which were the sap of the tree.
Close behind the torch-men rode Mr. Grigsby, the dogs trotting beside him, and almost upon his horse's heels was the "top gig" containing the Major and Mr. Tayloe. The scene was striking and even solemn, and except that the Major and his companion now and then exchanged a sentence in subdued tones, not a word was uttered until they arrived at the open space surrounding the school-house. There Mr. Grigsby dismounted and Major Duncombe and Mr. Tayloe got out of the gig. The negroes were left with the horses, Mr. Grigsby and the Major taking their torches.
They trod lightly, and the soaked ground made no noise under their feet. Pushing the door further open, they entered, holding their torches high to throw the light into the room. The glare reached the figure of the sleeping girl in the far corner, and with a whispered congratulation to the father, the Major led the way to her. She lay upon her side, facing them, her head pillowed upon her book, her hand under her cheek. She slumbered soundly and sweetly, not stirring when the full blaze of the fat pine struck her closed eyelids.
At the second glance both men exclaimed in horror. Coiled right across her naked ankles and feet was what looked like a striped gray and brown rope. The spectators knew it instantly for a moccasin snake, next to the rattlesnake and copperhead the most deadly of Virginia reptiles. Attracted by the warmth of the child's body, he had curled himself up for his nightly rest, and, raising an ugly head, hissed viciously as the light was reflected from a pair of wicked eyes. Then, instead of striking at the unconscious sleeper, he dropped to the floor and glided swiftly under the benches to a darker corner. Mr. Grigsby sprang after him and planted his heel upon his head. Had he missed him or put his foot upon any other part of the snake, he must have been bitten. He ground his heel into the creature's head with all his might until the convulsed body, that had wrapped itself about his leg and writhed up and down like a curling whip lash, ceased to twist and quiver.
"Bravely done!" said Mr. Tayloe, in honest admiration. "But you ran a great risk."
"I did not think of that," answered the Scotchman, briefly.
He was deadly pale, and his jaw was rigid. The sweat dropped from his chin as he stepped off the dead snake and turned back to the bench where his child lay. It was strange that the exclamations and stamping had not aroused her. Had she been bitten, and was this heavy sleep the stupor of death? The same thought was in the minds of the others while they watched him in breathless silence. He knelt down by the still figure and laid his hand gently upon her head.
"DAUGHTER! FATHER'S LASSIE!" HE SAID, HIS LIPS CLOSE TO HER EAR.
"Daughter! Father's lassie!" he said, his lips close to her ear.