AARON TROW.
He got to his early in the some of the from St. George, and the day was over, he was joined by two or three of the from the establishment. There was with him also a friend or two, and thus a party was formed, together ten or twelve persons. They were of all armed, and therefore it might be that there would be but small for the man if they should come upon his track. At they all together, from the which had them that he must be near to them; but they spread themselves along the St. George and the ferry, on the road, so that he should not into the island.
Ten times the day did Anastasia send from the up to Morton, him to the search to others, and come to her. But not for a moment would he the of his prey. What! should it be said that she had been so treated, and that others had her? He sent to say that her father was with her now, and that he would come when his work was over. And in that job of work the life-blood of Aaron Trow was up.
Towards they were all on the road near to the spot at which the path off the cottage, when a voice was to them from the of a little hill which the road and the sea on the the ferry, and presently a boy came to them full of news. “Danny Lund has him,” said the boy, “he has him in among the rocks.” And then came Danny Lund himself, a small about fourteen years of age, who was in those parts as the idlest, most dishonest, and most of his race. On this occasion, however, Danny Lund important, and every one to him. He had seen, he said, a pair of moving in a of the which he well knew. He had been in the often, he said, and there again. But not now; not while that pair of was moving at the of it. And so they all up over the hill, Morton leading the way with haste. In his waist-band he a pistol, and his hand a iron with which he had himself. They the top of the hill, and when there, the open sea was them on two sides, and on the third was the narrow over which the passed. Immediately their were the rocks; for on that side, the sea, the earth and of the hill but a little way the water. Down among the they all went, silently, Caleb Morton leading the way, and Danny Lund him from behind.
“Mr. Morton,” said an man from St. George, “had you not let the of the go first; he is a man, and they will best his ways?”
In answer to this Morton said nothing, but he would let no one put a him. He still pressed among the rocks, and at last came to a spot from he might have at one into the ocean. It was a on the sea-shore into which the sea beat, and on every but the one by of stone, which at as though they would have of a path among them to the water’s edge; but which, when more closely, were to be so large in size, that no man climb from one to another. It was a spot, but now well to them all there, for they had visited it over and over again that morning.
“In there,” said Danny Lund, well Morton’s body, and pointing at the same time to a high up among the rocks, but on the opposite of the little of the sea. The mouth of the was not twenty yards from where they stood, but at the it as though it must be to it. The on the of which they all now stood, ran into the sea, and the from the mouth of the on the other was as steep. But Danny solved the by pointing upwards, and them how he had been used to climb to a over their heads, and from by vantages of the till he was able to let himself into the aperture. But now, at the present moment, he was to make essay of his as a cragsman. He had, he said, been up on that thrice, and there had the moving in the cavern. He was sure of that of the pair of eyes, and to the again.
Traces soon visible to them by which they that some one had passed in and out of the recently. The stone, when examined, those marks of which passage and over it will always give. At the spot from the left the and his ascent, the of the had been by the close of a man’s body. A light boy like Danny Lund might his way in and out without such marks him, but no man do so. Thus long they all were satisfied that Aaron Trow was in the them.
Then there was a long as to what they would do to on the hunt, and how they would drive the tiger from his lair. That he should not again come out, to into their hands, was to all of them a of course. They would keep watch and there, though it might be for days and nights. But that was a which did not satisfy Morton, and did not well satisfy any of them. It was not only that they to on the in with the law, but also that they did not that the man should die in a like a dog, and that then they should go after him to take out his skeleton. There was something in that idea so in every way, that all that active steps must be taken. The of the prison that they would all be if they not take their alive. Yet who would that in the of such an adversary? A touch to any man while there would send him among the wave! And then his told to each what might be the nature of an with such an animal as that, to despair, of life, armed, as they knew, at any rate, with a knife! If the should succeed in that ledge, what would be the which he might in the terrible of that cavern?
They called to their prisoner, him come out, and telling him that they would fire in upon him if he did not himself; but not a was heard. It was possible that they should send their to, perhaps, every of the cavern; and if so, in that way they might him; but of this they were not sure. Who tell that there might not be some protected in which he secure? And who tell when the man was struck, or he were wounded?
“I will to him,” said Morton, speaking with a low voice, and so saying he up to the to which Danny Lund had pointed. Many voices at once to him, and one or two put their hands upon him to keep him back, but he was too quick for them, and now upon the of rock. “Can you see him?” they asked below.
“I can see nothing the cavern,” said Morton.
“Look very hard, Massa,” said Danny, “very hard indeed, in dark hole, and then see him big moving!”
Morton now along the ledge, or he was to do so, having put his and arms to make a step in from the spot on which he was resting, when a hand was put from one of the cavern’s mouth,—a hand with a pistol;—and a was fired. There be no now but that Danny Lund was right, and no now as to the of Aaron Trow.
A hand was put forth, a pistol was fired, and Caleb Morton still to a of the with his arms was to falter. “He is wounded,” said one of the voices from below; and then they all to see him into the sea. But he did not fall, and after a moment or two, he to his steps along the ledge. The had touched him, his cheek, and through the light that he wore; but he had not it, though the had nearly him from his perch. And then four or five were from the into the mouth of the cavern. The man’s arm had been seen, and one or two that they had the of his figure. But no was to come from the cavern, the of the against the rock, and the echo of the gunpowder. There had been no as of a man wounded, no of a falling, no voice in despair. For a all was dark with the of the gunpowder, and then the empty mouth of the was again their eyes. Morton was now near it, still creeping. The to which he was was this; that his enemy the might push him from the with a touch. But on the other hand, there were three or four men to fire, the moment that a hand should be put forth; and then Morton swim,—was to be a swimmer;—whereas of Aaron Trow it was already by the prison that he not swim. Two of the had now Morton on the rocks, so that in the event of his making good his entrance into the cavern, and his enemy at for a minute, he would be joined by aid.
It was to see how those different men themselves as they on the opposite the attack. The officers from the prison had no other but of their prisoner, and were on taking him alive or dead. To them it was little or nothing what of Morton. It was their to peril, and they were to do so;—feeling, however, by no means sorry to have such a man as Morton in of them. Very little was said by them. They had their about them, and that every word spoken for the of their would be also by the convict. Their was sure, sooner or later, and had not Morton been so in his pursuit, they would have waited till some plan had been of him without danger. But the from St. George, of some dozen were now there, were quick and and loud in their counsels. “Stay where you are, Mr. Morton,—stay for the love of God—or he’ll have you down.” “Now’s your time, Caleb; in on him now, and you’ll have him.” “Close with him, Morton, close with him at once; it’s your only chance.” “There’s four of us here; we’ll fire on him if he as much as a limb.” All of which as they were by that within, must have to him as the barking of a pack of for his blood. For him at any there was no longer any in this world.
My reader, when has taken you into the hunting-field, has it been your to by on horseback, and watch the out of a fox? The operation is not an one, and in some it is to be in with the of sport. For myself, I think that when the has so saved himself, he should be to the of his cunning; but I will not now discuss the or of that in venery. I can never, however, watch the doing of that work without much of the of the last is being from over his head. There he a yards of his enemy, the huntsman. The thick of the make the air his hole. The of their voices is close upon his ears. His is nearly with the of that which at last has him to his retreat. And then and are above his head, and nearer and more near to him press his foes,—his foes, and canine,—till at last a hand him, and he is among his enemies. Almost as soon as his have the light the of a dozen have themselves in his entrails. Ah me! I know that he is vermin, the after I have been my neck, with a that I might his death-struggles; but, nevertheless, I would have saved him that last hour of hope.
