Thus far I had carried out my assumed character,
with tolerable success. I had certainly
lied with a natural grace and readiness that did
not need a prompter, and I had the satisfaction to
see that my new comrade, in his own mind, took
me to be as great a scoundrel as himself. I
somewhat blushed for myself, as I became assured
of this, but blushing then was no part of my
policy. I was in for it, and had to go through. I
remembered the counsel of old Yannaker at

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

parting, and salved the hints of conscience by reflecting
that I was in the rogues atmosphere. Every
step I took with my companion left this matter
less in doubt. Though by no means a garrulous
fellow,—really, a fellow of few words, he contrived,
in those few words, to give me insight into
many and very strange things. Assuming that
the circumstances under which I had sought refuge
in the swamp, and my own inclination, had
already made me one of the fraternity, he gave
me a brief but comprehensive history, of their
doings and ways of life. What had been told me
by the Collector was fully confirmed. The region
in which I wandered, was possessed by a
community of rogues. They were numerous and
extensively connected throughout the country,
some of them had absolute wealth; and children,
born in this American Alsatia—so long had it
been a realm of outlawry,—were now grown to
manhood. What a history was here. I asked
myself, while my cheek glowed again,—was my
beautiful unknown, one of these? Had she drawn
her infant breath among such scenes, such rogues—
had such always been her connections,—and
in what degree had she escaped the contaminating
influence of such an atmosphere of crime.
The robbery of the Collector, by persons in female
garments, now struck me—as it did not
when I first heard of it—with a sort of horror.
I could feel the enormousness of the crime, committed
by women, when I thought of her, as one,

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

who might be in training for like practice. But
when I thought of her more particularly—when
I remembered that night—her shy and timid air—
her subdued and gentle accents,—and the tenderness
that spoke out equally in eye and voice,—
I was re-assured. I felt happy in the conviction
that no sort of human training, could pervert
such an exquisite work of heaven.

Enough of this,—and let us hurry forward.
We were on our way together into the recesses
of the swamp. This was an admirable receptacle—
a retreat, in which pursuit of one, familiar
with the region, would be undertaken by a thousand
men in vain. Pursuing a zigzag and continually
changing course for several miles, I yet
conjectured that we were not more than one
mile from the spot where we started. A long
dim avenue, led us as through some lonely corridor,
into a spacious area, a chamber almost surrounded
by water, opening only upon one defile,
which might be guarded by a single man. Here
and there were nooks, closets, as it were, of
forest, which one might select for studio or dressing
room, and be secure from passing interruption;—
and anon, you had larger fields of operation—
halls fit for courtly audience—vast parlors,
of green wall and azure ceiling. But the reader
must conceive for himself, what the rapidity of
such a narrative as this, will not suffer me to
describe. Enough, that love could not easily
contrive such a labyrinthine bower, for the

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

safety of the beloved one, with all the appliances of
art at his bidding, and all the resources of imperial
wealth at his command. Woodstock was a
fool to the swamp city of Conelachita!

By little and little I made new discoveries.
Here was art as well as nature. Sometimes
little tents of bush would appear,—snug cottages
for a single sleeper. Anon came a more permanent
if not a more pleasing hovel, made of logs
and clay. Here a horse would be seen fastened—
his saddle and bridle hanging to the tree above
him; now a face would peer out from the copse
beyond us, as the trampling of our steeds would
become audible; and now a whistle, or the bark
of a dog, would announce our approach, to distant
echos, which would be sure always to be on
the watch, to take it up, and repeat the signal to
others yet beyond. All this was so much romance,
which made me half forgetful of the risks
I incurred, and of the policy I was to pursue, in
order to escape them.

At length, my conductor came to a halt.
“Here,” said he, “let us hitch—we must take
boat here.” I stopped, got down, and followed
his example. We fastened our horses to swinging
limbs, and set forward. I discovered that we
were on a sort of islet, on the edge of a river—a
dark, deep, but narrow stream, which whirled by
us with the rapidity of a four knot current, carrying
along with it reeds and branches, and
sticks, the tribute of numerous shores, on the

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

several creeks above. A neat little dug-out, capable
of carrying two persons only was fastened at
the landing. “You can paddle your hand I suppose?”
said my conductor. Could I not? I
could have paddled both hands. It was one of
my favorite exercises from my earliest youth, on
my own noble river, the Alabama. I answered
him by taking my seat in the little bark, that
danced like an egg-shell upon the whirling current.
“She's a clean critter,” said my companion
with evident satisfaction. His praise was
deserved. A better balanced canoe, of better
proportions for such a stream, I had never beheld.
It was a pleasure to send her forward, and we
found no difficulty in crossing the river;—but,
having made the opposite shore, we followed it
up, until we passed into the mouth of a creek, a
broad but sluggish stream. This we ascended
for half a mile or more, when we drew up to some
tolerably steep banks, jumped ashore, and hauled
the canoe into a crevasse, which might have been
the work of hands. We had not gone far when
we heard a voice. The person did not appear,
and the language used was a sort of gibberish
beyond my comprehension. It seemed to be understood,
however, by my companion, who turned
aside at once, and entered upon another path.
Here we met another person who regarded me
attentively, but went forward without a word.
The next moment we encountered two women,
possibly the very feminine rogues who had robbed
the Collector, but if they were, they had taken

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

care to shave themselves since they shaved him,—
for their chins,—and I examined them heedfully
as they past—were quite as clean as his
pockets. They did not pass in silence, however,
but had a few words of common-place, and a nod
and a smile to me. They were young too, the
jades, but quite ugly enough to have frightened
the Collector, without rendering necessary the
show of pistols. A whistle, once, twice, thrice,
repeated, at stated periods and places, now notified
our approach to higher personages, and emerging
from the avenue into an area, we came upon
a group of five men, who seemed to be busy
about a canoe of considerable dimensions, which
was yet in the log, though the burning and hewing
had been begun. One of them, who was stooping
over the log, seemed to be engaged in describing
the outlines. He rose from his stooping posture
as we approached, and discovered to me a person
not only of large frame, but of imposing presence.
He was over six feet in height, broad breasted,
sinewy and muscular, with limbs of admirable
symmetry, which his costume, which was all of
buckskin, made Indian fashion, showed off to great
advantage. His coat was a hunting shirt thickly
fringed; no longer fresh in its original bright yellow,
but subdued by exposure to the weather, to
an uniform umberous aspect. There was no
covering on his head, the hair of which, though
thick and long, was white as cotton. His beard,
which spread over his bosom in thick curling
folds and masses, was such that, if I had not felt

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

sure that he was only a great rogue, would have
led me to suppose that he was a great patriarch.
His eyes were large, deeply set, and of a clear
dark blue. His nose was Roman, his mouth
small and expressive, and the whole expression
of his face that of benignity, and a conscience
quite at rest with his fellows and the world. I
may add that, as he wore neither stock nor neck-cloth,
there was scarcely anything in his costume
or appearance, to remind me of civilized life, and
yet, even with his habit borrowed from the Indian,
there was quite as little of the savage.
The picturesque in his guise, and its noble simplicity,
according so happily with his features and
his frame, effectually relieved his appearance of
that which might otherwise, in my sight, have
seemed strange and unnatural. He extended his
hand at my approach, a slight change of expression
from interest to civility, being apparent in his
countenance, then, after giving some directions to
the workmen, he drew aside with my late companion.
A few moments only had elapsed when
he returned, having, as it would seem, in that
time, gathered from the latter all the knowledge
which he had respecting me. He again gave me
his hand, and drew me aside from the rest.

“You have been unfortunate, young man,”
said he,—“and I am sorry for you. There can
be no greater misfortune than taking life, particularly
at your age. But Fry tells me you had
provocation. Pray, how was it?”

I had to begin anew the work of invention.

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

Of course, my story, in substantial particulars,
must be the same as I had told before. But
there was a difference, which I soon discovered,
between my present and former companion,—
while, to the latter, I appeared reckless; to the
former, as a man evidently better acquainted
with human nature, I adopted another tone. He
had himself indicated my cue, when he spoke of
the provocation which I had received. He knew
enough of the superior nature and education—
which I felt that I could not, and did not wish to,
conceal—to be aware that no such crime is ever
committed by such in wantonness, or from the
mere brutal instinct of passion. There must be
provocation and hot blood, in the case of the
educated man—with very few exceptions—before
he will do murder. I framed my story accordingly.
He heard me patiently, and I was
particularly careful to say no more than was
necessary. This is the great secret in lying successfully.
When I had done, he took me kindly
by the hand.

“Here you are safe,” said he, “as long as you
choose to remain. You know what we are, and
must abide by our laws. We ask you for no
participation in our practices, unless your own
will inclines you that way,—which I would not
encourage. This affair may blow over—your
friends may succeed in hushing it up, and then
you may return in safety to your family. Nay,
even we may do something towards this result,

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

however strange you may think it. Outlaws
ourselves, we have friends not only among those
who obey, but those who administer the laws.
What is your name, and from what part of
Tennessee do you come? Let me know these
particulars, that we may institute an inquiry, and
see what can be done for you at home.”

Here was a dilemma. But there was no time
for delay. It was necessary to answer promptly.
I gave my name as Henry Colman, of Franklin
County, West Tennessee. It was fortunate for
me that I knew something, personally, of this
region, for it appeared so did my examiner, and he
subjected me to a keen scrutiny, in which I did not
dare to falter. My answers seemed satisfactory.
He pressed my hand, and bade me go along with
him, and we rejoined the persons we had left.

To these I was not introduced, and he only remained
with them long enough to give some
directions on ordinary subjects. This done, he
bade me go with him, and we pursued our way
together through a long wood, occasionally crossing
branch and creek, upon a rude log or fallen
tree. My companion was free of speech, and his
conversational resources, I soon found, were
equally admirable and ample. He was deeply
versed in books—he had seen the world, and was
not insensible to its refinements. His eye was
evidently one accustomed to seek out and discriminate
the forms of beauty in external objects,
and he frequently drew the regards of mine to

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

this or that point of view in the surrounding landscape,
which was either picturesque or fine. All
this, while it increased my respect for him, lessened
the impressions which I had received of his
objects and associates. I found it more and
more difficult, at every moment, to believe in his
outlawry. It was all some pleasant jest—some
queer contrivance of clever people, to produce a
laugh at the expense of the credulous;—and with
this notion. I was more than once provoked to
blurt out the truth in my own case, and my convictions
in theirs, in order to show that I was a
little too sagacious to be fooled further than I
thought proper. But a lurking grain of prudence,
at the bottom of my brains, prevented me from
so precipitate a proceeding. Besides, had I not
an object—was not this Mr. Bush Halsey, and
was not Mr. Bush the brother of Mr. Bud Halsey,
and did not Mr. Bud Halsey have in charge my
beauty of the cloud—my fair unknown—the
dark-eyed, mysterious damsel of whom I was in
search? But where was she and that grisly
personage? Except in size, there was no resemblance
between the supposed brothers. I
confess that when I recollected the rude stare
and deportment of the latter, I was in no great
anxiety to meet with him—but my desire to see
her rendered me comparatively indifferent even
on this head. I was soon to be relieved on some
of my doubts. We had now got into a region
of upland swamp, which bore some of the marks

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

of a more civilized settlement. A corn-field
opened upon right and left, and cattle were lowing
down the lane, wigwams appeared in sight,
and a troop of barn-fowls were strutting to and
fro in all the consciousness of corn and company.
Beyond, might be seen a tolerable log-cabin, from
which the cheerful smoke was arising, in a long
spiral column, through the patriarchal branches
of a clump of oaks.

“Here, sir, is our wigwam. A little rough,
but not without its comforts. If we have not the
laws among us, we are not without those things
which the laws were intended to secure. Here,
too, you will find a few books, and if you are a
musician, there is flute and violin. I keep them,
still, rather as proofs of what I have been, than
what I am now—though the enjoyment of music
is not absolutely inconsistent with the most desolate
of human conditions.”

I had observed, prior to this, that, on mor ethan
one occasion, the remarks of the senior had run
into a melancholy tone; and I now discovered that
there was a subdued expression in his countenance
that looked like a settled sorrow. There was no
unmanly whining, however, in what he said; but
the incidental and unforced utterance of an habitual
feeling, which, at such moments, was an appropriate
echo to the thought which he had occasion
to express. We entered the house together.
It was the ordinary log hovel of the country. The
room or Hall upon which we entered was a small,

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

snug apartment, fourteen by sixteen. Its chinks
were all neatly covered with clapboards. Its
tables were of common pine,—its chairs of domestic
fabric also, seated with skins. Several tier of
rude shelves on one side of the apartment contained
the books of which he had spoken, which were
certainly numerous for such a region. There,
too, were flute and violin. The window—there
was but one in the apartment,—was glazed and
hung with calico, and my eye was fixed upon a
slender rocking chair, which was cushioned with
calico, and stood very near the fire-place Such
a chair could not have supported the huge frame
of my host for ten minutes. By whom could it
be occupied? I looked round and listened in
vain. The dwelling had evidently no tenants but
ourselves. Here was a disappointment. But,
the rocking chair was a promise in which I put
some faith, and there were other proofs of a female
presence around us. There was a bandbox,
speaking volumes of itself; and on one of the
tables I discovered a little open basket full of
squares of calico for quilting, and there was an
unfinished stocking, with the bright needles sticking
in it, peering out from a corner of the aforesaid
basket,—and these were all signs of a feminine
presence, which would not allow me to despair.
But let us hurry through the day. Mr.
Bush Halsey, for I soon discovered that it was
he, indeed, treated me with the most marked attention.
He played the country gentleman to

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

perfection. A servant came at his summons, a
neatly clad old African dame, who proceeded to
set the table, and get us refreshments. At times,
Mr. Halsey disappeared, leaving me to myself.
And when he came in, it was always to renew
some interesting conversation, and display his
own proficiency in all its topics. I began to be
very much pleased with the man, and, but for a
natural anxiety which I felt, as to my situation
and the result, which gave a little dullness and restraint
to my manner,—I should have shown myself
quite as happy and as much at home, as I had
ever done at Leaside. That I was dull, Mr.
Halsey ascribed to my feelings on the subject of
the crime I had reported myself to have committed;
and though he did not discourage such
feelings, he addressed himself more than once to
the task of strengthening me under them. His
kindness was such that, even on his account, I
half repented of the game I was playing. But I
had not the courage to stop where I was. Indeed,
there was no stopping. The cards, so far, were
in my hands—but whether the prize deserved or
justified the venture, is a question to be solved
hereafter. Day passed, the night waned, and my
host showed me my apartment. For an hour after
I had retired, I heard him playing upon the
flute, and in such mournful caprices of sound as I
never could have conceived before. It seemed
to me that, if a heart could ever speak in music,
such would have been the strains poured forth by

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

a breaking one. This ceased, and I must have
slept a little. I was certainly in a doze, when I
was startled by an unusual noise. A door was
grating, there was a bustle, the tread of several
feet, then boxes or trunks were hauled over the
floor, and there was a murmur of tongues,—subdued,
as if to avoid unnecessary disturbance. This
was followed by the opening of another door, and
the voice of Mr. Halsey. “Ah! Helen. Is that
you.” Scarcely had he spoken, when other accents
succeeded, which thrilled through my very
soul.

“Yes, dear father. May I come in?”

“To be sure!” was the reply.

I could fancy the kiss and the embrace which
followed. I could have sworn to that voice among
a thousand. The bustle ceased, the sounds died
away. There was no further stir that night. But
my sleep was gone. Thought was too busy in
my head for sleep; and with the first peep of
dawn I was out of bed; but not sooner than my
host. I saw him from my window, moving off
towards the swamp, accompanied by the grisly
guardian of my fair one. The tripping of light
feet in the adjoining hall, drew my attention thither.
Hurrying my toilet, I entered the apartment, and
as I expected, discovered the object of my search.
She sat in that very rocking-chair which had so
much interested me the night before. Her back
was to me, and she only half looked around as I
opened the door. When she saw me she started

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

to her feet with an exclamation of equal apprehension
and surprise.

“Ah! you here!” she exclaimed. “Oh!
wherefore have you come?”

“Did I not tell you that I could find you out—
that I would follow?”

“Oh! why have you done so?” She spoke in
manifest alarm, clasping her hands imploringly
as she did so.

“And why not?”

“There is so much danger.”

“I do not care for danger.”

“But why risk it?”

“Because I love you.”

“You love me?—oh, no! you must not. I am
not for you to love. I am a poor girl of the
woods. Go,—leave me soon. There is danger
if you stay. You know not—you cannot guess
the danger.”

“No! There is no danger where you are.”

“I!—I, myself, am danger,” she exclaimed,
with a pretty energy. “The people will not love
you here—go home to your own. Fly—leave
us. You cannot go too soon.”

“Your people shall be my people.”

“It cannot be. You have your own father,
your own mother.”

“They shall be yours.”

“No! no! my father is here!”

“He shall be mine!”

“Alas! you know not what you say. You

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

know not me—you know not him. If you knew!
If you only knew!” and she clasped her hands
despairingly while she spoke.

“Nothing could make me love you less. I
know you—that you are beautiful and very dear
to me.”

“Say not so! Leave me. Go your ways
while there is yet time. Alas! I know not if it
is not too late already.”

“It is too late! I know where I am—among
whom I am. Helen—I know all!”

“Alas! alas!”—She covered her face with her
hands.

“But I would sooner be here with you, loving
you as I do, than among the civillest people in
the world. Only suffer me to love you—say
that you do not hate me—that, were it with yourself,
you would not have me leave you.”

“Why should you think I could hate you?”

“I do not think so.

“Do not—do not.”

“Ah, Helen—could you grant me more. Could
you but say that you would receive—return my
love.”

“I know not what it is to love.”

“Let me teach you.”

“No! no! you must go. I am a child—I
must not listen and hear you talk such things.
You do not, cannot know the truth—all the truth
Hear you, stranger—”

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

“Call me not stranger—call me friend—call
me Henry Colman.”

“Henry—is that your name?”

How sweetly did she speak the word! With
what interest! I could almost have renounced
my real name forever after that.

“Yes.”

“Well, Henry, hear me, and believe me.
There are bad men here, very bad men—they
will do you hurt. Go home to your people while
you can. You are not safe here.”

“What! not with your father? He is good.
He will protect me.”

“Yes, he is good. He will do all that he can
for you, Henry,—but he can not do all. My
uncle is a fierce man—very violent—and it is not
always that my father can keep him from doing
wrong. Besides, Henry, my uncle likes you not.
He saw you at Yannaker's.”

“True,—but there's no reason why he should
dislike me because he met me there.”

“No!—but when he frowned, you frowned
too;—and he didn't like that. He spoke of you,
Oh! if he comes back and sees you here!”

“I shall not fear him, Helen.”

“Beware of him—do not make him angry.”

“Let him beware of me!”

“Hush! You know not what you say. He
is the master here. He rules in the swamp. It
is he who has brought my father here. Hark!

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

They come. Oh! Henry, that you were gone—
gone away—a thousand miles from this.”

“You with me, Helen, and your prayer should
be mine.”

She cast upon me but one glance,—but that
was sufficient. I felt, from that moment, that I
was the master of her heart.