CHAPTER XXIX.

BEGINNING OF THE RAID.

The raid into Delaware was all organized when Levin and Hulda were

driven to Johnson's tavern, and the arrival of Van Dorn called forth

cheers and yells, as that blushing worthy threw his trim, athletic

figure out of the wagon and bowed to Joe Johnson, on the tavern porch:

"_O hala hala!_ do you go, son-in-law?"

"I'll ride with ye, Captain, a split of the Maryland way, but sprat for

that Delaware! I'll go in it no more. I'll stand whack with you,

however, fur the madges I give you and fur my stalling ken."

"_Quedito!_" lisped Van Dorn; "we never leave your interests out,

son-in-law. How is Aunt Patty?"

"She's made a punch fur the population, an' calls fur young Levin thar

to lush with her."

"I'll take mine along," Levin cried, "an' drink it in the chill o' the

night."

"No," commanded the voice of Patty Cannon; "it's a-waitin' fur you, son:

a good stiff bowl of apple and sugar. Him as misses his drinks yer we

sets no account on."

As Van Dorn and Levin pushed through the motley crowd on the little

porch into the bar, where Mrs. Cannon administered, she set before them

two fiery bowls, and cried:

"Come in yer, Colonel McLane, an' jine my nug an' my young cousin

Levin."

"No, Patty," answered a voice from the next room within; "I've drunk my

share. There's nothing like a conservative course."

As Patty put her head into this inner room, Levin Dennis, seeing a

window open at his elbow, threw the whole of his liquor over his

shoulder into the yard and smacked his lips heartily, saying,

"Good!"

"Ha!" exclaimed Van Dorn, evidently noticing Levin's deceit; "smart

people are around us, Patty. Beware!"

He took from his pocket the fateful letter and glanced at its

endorsement, and, as he did so, Levin heard an exclamation in the yard

from a man who had received the whole of the apple brandy and sugar in

his face, and was furious; but as soon as he seemed to recognize the

thrower he muttered, apologetically:

"Hokey-pokey! By smoke! and Pangymonum, too!"

When Levin looked at Van Dorn again, the blush was on his face, but the

letter had disappeared.

"Beware of the conservative course, Colonel," lisped Van Dorn, "except

when generous Patty makes the punch; for she holds such measure of it

that she does not see our infirmities."

"Honey," cried Patty Cannon to Levin, giving him an affectionate hug,

"have ye swallered yer liquor so smart as that? Why, I love to see a

nice boy drink."

"But no more for him now, _cajela_," the Captain protested; "two such

will make him fall off his horse. _Bebamos_, Patty! _Esta

excelente!_"--drinking.

"How purty the Captain says them things," the madam cried to the

gentleman within. "Maybe he's a mockin' his ole sweetheart. Oh, Van

Dorn, if I thought you could forget me I would kill you!"

Levin noticed the rapid temper and demoniac face of this not unengaging

lady as she spoke, her whole nature turning its course like a wheeling

bat, and from plausibility to an instant's jealousy, and then to a dark

tide of awful rage, took but a thought.

"_Que disparate! hala o he!_" Van Dorn lisped, sweetly, chucking the

hostess under the chin; "but I do love to see thee so, thou charmer of

my life. Never will I desert thee, Patty, whilst thou can suffer."

Her dark clouds slowly passed away as Levin turned from the place, but

her small head and abundant raven hair showed the blood troubled to the

roots, and the eyes, once rich with midnight depths, now glazing in the

course of time, like old window panes, by age, searched the bandit's

face with a strange fear:

"Van Dorn, time and pleasure cannot kill you: how well you look to-day.

I think you are a boy, to be ruined again every time you love me, you

blush so modestly. Where is that pot of color you paint your cheeks with

even before _me_, whose blushes none can recollect? Why do you love me?"

"_O dios!_" said Van Dorn; "I love thee for these spells of splendor,

dark night and noonday passion, the alternations of earth and hell that

eclipse heaven altogether. I love to see thee fear, though fearing

nothing here, because I see nothing that you fear beyond the grave. You

hate this boy?"

"I hate him worse than wrinkles. Let him not come to me a child

to-morrow; let him see ghosts long as he lives."

"How are the prisoners, Patty?"

"Why, the white nigger, dovey, is sick to-day; blood-loss and blisters

have give him fever. My nigger, that I tied--ha! ha! a good job for

Patty Cannon, at her age!--says t'other's a pore coaster named Jimmy

Phoebus."

"Joe must be ready for a quick departure," the Captain exclaimed, "when

we come back from Dover: it is a bold undertaking, and the whole of the

little state will be aroused like a black snake uncoiling in one's

pocket."

The woman pointed from her shoulder towards the inner room, and spoke

even lower than before:

"Van Dorn, I have a customer."

"For negroes?"

"No, for Huldy. He shall have her."

* * * * *

As Levin Dennis stood at the cross-roads without, he saw a strange man

ploughing in the farm so recently deserted by his hostess for the gayer

cross-roads. The afternoon light fell on the sandy fields and struck a

polish from the ploughshare, and, as the ploughman passed the brambly

spot again, the buzzards slowly circled up, as if to protest that he

came too near their young.

The long, lean servant, who had waited on the breakfast-table, came out

to Levin and watched his eyes.

"Ploughin', ploughin'," he said. "Levin, I kin show you how to plough: I

can't do it, but you're the man."

"Cyrus, Huldy don't hate you. She says you're the nighest to a friend

she's got."

"Oh, I love her like sugar-cane," the lean, cymlin-headed servant said.

"Tell her I'm goin' to be a great man. I'm goin' to spile the game. They

lick me, but Cy Jeems has courage, Levin."

"Cyrus, tell Huldy all that's goin' on agin her. We don't know nothin'.

You kin go and come an' nobody watches you. Huldy will be grateful fur

it."

Putting his long arms on his knees and bending down, the scullion stared

close to Levin's eyes and whispered, looking towards the field:

"Ploughin'! ploughin'!"

Then, turning partly, and gazing over the old tavern with a look of

wisdom, Cy James whispered again:

"Hokey-pokey! By smoke! an' Pangymonum, too!"

"I reckon he's crazy," Levin thought, as the queer fellow turned and

fled.

It was about three o'clock when the cavalcade was reviewed by Captain

Van Dorn from the porch of the hotel, and it consisted of about twenty

persons, white and black; some riding mules, some horses, and there was

one wagon in the line--the same that had been driven to Cannon's

Ferry--intended for Levin, Joe Johnson, and the Captain. Van Dorn stood

blushing, pulling his long mustache of flax, and resting on his cowhide

whip.

"Dave," he called to a powerful negro, "get down from that mule; you're

too drunk to go. Jump up in his place, Owen Daw!"

The widow's son gladly vaulted on the animal.

"Sorden," continued Van Dorn, "you know all the roads: lead the way!

Whitecar, go with him! We rendezvous at Punch Hall at eight o'clock. The

order of march is in pairs, a quarter to half a mile apart. If any man

acts in anything without orders, or halloos upon the road, he may get

this lash or he may get my knife."

"Captain, where do we feed?" asked a small, wiry mulatto.

"Water at Federalsburg," answered Van Dorn; "feed at the Punch Hall."

They rode off in pairs at intervals of ten minutes; Van Dorn's vehicle

went last. A moment before he departed, Cy James touched the Captain's

sleeve and whispered, "Huldy." Turning to see if he was unobserved, Van

Dorn followed to the deep-arched chimney at the northern gable, and

dismissed his guide with a look.

"Captain Van Dorn," Hulda said, her large gray eyes strained in

tenderness and nervous courage, "do that boy Levin no harm: I love him!

God forgive all your sins, many as they are, if you disobey

grandmother's wicked commands about my darling!"

"Ha! wild-flower, you have been listening?"

"No, I have only looked: I know Aunt Patty's petting ways when she means

to ruin, and watch her black flashes of cunning between: she is no

cousin of Levin; he is Joe's gentle prisoner; his very name she made him

hide when she saw you coming this morning."

"_Creo que si_: Hulda, let me kiss you!"

"Yes, if you dare."

She gave him that pure, soul-driven, child's strong look again, exerting

all the influence she had ever felt she exercised over him.

Nevertheless he kissed her for the first time:

"To-day, _bonito_, I dare to kiss thee. Believe me, my kiss is a tender

one."

"Yes, sir. There is something like a father in it. Oh, my father, art

thou in heaven?"

"If there be such a place, wild-flower, I think he is."

"Oh, thank you, Captain Van Dorn. There may you also be and find the

faith I feel in my one day's love on earth. I pray for you every day."

"_Ayme_, poor weakling! Pray now for thyself: if thou canst save thyself

sinless a brief day or two, it may be well for thee and Levin. Thy

grandmother is dreadful in her joys this night."

"I can die," said Hulda, "if Levin be saved."

He kissed her again, and something wet dropped down his blushes.

"Eternal love!" he sighed; "I've lost it."