Here the woman's emotions overcame her, and she would have fallen from her chair had not Judge LeMonde caught her. He hastened to a table and, filling a glass with water, brought it to her. This revived her, and again she sat up straight with the blazing fire in her eyes.

The Judge tried to comfort her, saying: "Be composed, woman, and finish your story, and I will help you all I am able."

Jemima replied: "I did not cum here to git help, but revenge. Sam Wiles, Zibe Turner, and der crowd have bin busy for a long time makin' 'licit whisky. I know whar dey make and store it, and I'm willin' to tell you'uns how to git to de place."

"To discover where their still is will greatly please the revenue officers," said Judge LeMonde, "but won't you get yourself into trouble if you tell on your friends?"

"Dey ain't my friens'," she fiercely replied. "I cast off de hull lot; and as to trouble nuthin' can't be so hard to bear as de load I carries now. I wish in my soul I war dead."

Again her feelings almost overcame her; but the Judge spoke kindly to her, and in a few minutes she recovered her composure once more. He then requested her to continue her story.

"Dey make der whisky in Wind Cave," she said and proceeded to describe its location as recorded in a former chapter. "To capture de 'shiners and de whisky de officers must 'sprise both openin's to onct," she continued.

The Judge asked: "Would you be willing to tell me how to find the two ways into the cave?"

"I would tell anything to git even with Sam Wiles," was the reply.

"I am sure the capture of these lawbreakers will be a blessing to all this part of Kentucky," remarked Judge LeMonde, "but I am sorry for the reason you have to tell where they may be found."

At this point he got writing material and, asking the woman clearly to describe the way to the cave's mouths, he wrote as she dictated. We will write the account in her own words: "De big openin' is 'bout twenty feet below de top of Bald Knob. You'uns 'member you'uns kin see from de knob's foot his bald head, whar is great rocks and not ary trees. Well, de cave's mouf is in er straight line below dat twenty feet. To fin' de odder openin' you'uns walk from de rocky head of de knob 'long his backbone east for 'bout one hundred feet, and you'uns cum to a tall poplar tree. Go down de hill to de souf fifteen feet, and you'uns'll find a thicket full of brambles, bushes, and leaves. De hole is dar, covered with underbrush and leaves."

Having thanked her for the important information given, Judge LeMonde courteously led her to the door and bade her good evening.

Early next morning he took steps to profit by what he had heard. He sent his son George to tell Jasper Very the news while he himself rode to the county seat to notify the sheriff and revenue officers of the outlaw's rendezvous. That very day a keen, trusted employee of the government was deputed to go over the ground and learn whether the woman's story were true or false. In a day or two he reported that he had discovered the two openings to the cave. It was known that the attempt to capture the moonshiners would be dangerous. They were fearless, desperate men, well armed. It would require skill and courage to take them.

The sheriff and chief revenue officers, knowing that the moonshiners were so formidable in arms, numbers, and location, were anxious to have as large an attacking party as possible. Hence they were glad when Long Tom, Jasper Very, honest David Hester and his sons, Hans Schmidt, the German, John Larkin, George LeMonde, and others were sworn in as constables.

Long Tom's case was peculiar. We will let him put it in his own drawling tones: "Friens, it am like dis. Though I has bin a Christian for months, I could not bring myself to gib away de hidin' places of my ol' pals. It looked too much like treachery and betrayal. P'raps I'm wrong but, if so, you'uns will pardon me. But now de case am diffrunt. Thar hidin' place am knowd, an' it is for de good of de neighborhood an' der own good dat dese men should be caught an' der bizness brok up, an' I'm willin' to be one to bring dis about. So I jine yer company, not to kill dose men, but to try to save der souls."

It was decided to divide the attacking company into two parts, one to approach the large opening of the cave and the other the smaller one. Larkin, Grimes and the Hester men were with the former crowd, and Long Tom, Jasper Very, George LeMonde, and Hans Schmidt with the latter. All felt that the best way to begin the attack was to take the moonshiners by surprise, and it was thought that early morning was the most favorable hour, when the outlaws would probably be asleep.

Soon after midnight of a Wednesday morning the men gathered noiselessly at the knob's base, having left their horses far up the road. Just as the first streaks of day were appearing the two groups of men about one hundred feet apart began climbing the steep elevation. The slope was fully forty-five degrees, and in some parts much steeper. The men had to brace their feet against trees and saplings, and near the top to pull themselves up by holding on to branches of trees and shrubs above them.

At last the larger party reached the level, which, extending inward, formed the floor of the cave. The revenue officer peered over the top and saw a man with a rifle by his side asleep with his back braced against a wall. He was near the cave's mouth. Farther he could dimly behold the forms of men lying along the sides of the cave. A smoldering fire was beneath the still, which stood some fifteen feet from the entrance.

The officer gave the signal to advance, and sprang upon the ledge with several others. At the same instant the sleeping sentinel awoke, taking in the situation at a glance, seized his rifle and attempted to fire it; but before he could do so the revenue officer was upon him like a tiger upon his prey. Though he could prevent the firing, he could not control the voice, and the man gave one mighty shout, which awoke every sleeper as though the crack of doom had come. They all sprang up in amazement and confusion, and just at this moment the leader called out, "Surrender!" The attacking party, close to their commander's heels, rushed into the cave, and before the outlaws could offer resistance sprang upon them and overpowered most of them.

But Wiles, Turner, and a few others were not to be caught so easily. They were sleeping farther in the cave, and, though awakened so suddenly, did not lose their wits and nerve. They jumped to their feet, and the answer they gave to the summons to surrender was a blaze of rifles, with an instant retreat into the darkness of the cave. The noise of the rifles' discharge reverberated in the cavern like repeated rolls of thunder.

The leader's hat was pierced by a ball, one of his deputies fell shot through the lungs, and honest Hester's second son, Edward, shot through the brain, sank at his father's feet a corpse.

Before the echoes of these shots died away another volley rang out, fired into the darkness at the retreating outlaws. It wounded two or three of them, but most escaped, having turned a corner of the cave before the bullets struck.

Those unhurt, led by Wiles and Turner, made their way as fast as possible through the darkness to the second opening, for they had no idea that this too had been made known to their pursuers. It was their intention to rush into the forest and then, scattering in several directions, to elude pursuit, and thus escape. Their very precipitency saved some of them in this way. The second company was in its place near the second opening when the men heard the shots of the first attack. Rightly surmising that the moonshiners would try to escape through the second aperture, the men on guard were ready to fire; but they were not prepared to see the renegades rush through the underbrush so swiftly, and, not wishing to shoot them down in cold blood, the leader called: "Halt! Halt! Surrender!"

The outlaws were startled by the cry; but, being desperate, most of them gave no heed to the words. Bending low, they ran with great rapidity to the shelter of the great tree trunks which rose everywhere around. However, some were too late, and the volley which was fired slew several and wounded others.

Wiles, Turner, and three others succeeded in getting behind trees without being injured. The monster dwarf was terrible to behold. He had the quickness of a cat and the fury of a lion. Though the odds were so much against him and the rest, he yelled defiance at the revenue men and volunteers, and cursed them with bitter oaths. They resorted to Indian tactics. They shot from behind trees at any man in sight, and soon had wounded a number. However, the struggle was unequal, for the revenue officer sent his men out in the form of a fan, and thus they would soon have succeeded in making an enfilading fire upon the moonshiners; and the latter could not retreat rapidly, because in running from tree to tree they were in danger of being shot. Besides, in a short time their ammunition was exhausted, and they were at the mercy of their pursuers. When called upon to surrender, all but Wiles and Turner complied. These refused.

Then spoke Long Tom with his well known drawl: "Pardners, it would be nuthin' but murder to kill defenseless men, an' I move dat we'uns surround 'em an' bind 'em an' tote 'em off to jail."

This advice was heeded, and Long Tom was the first to move forward. The monster dwarf stood like a wild beast at bay with his clubbed rifle in his hand. As Long Tom came near he swung it with terrible force, attempting to break his adversary's skull; but Tom was too quick and the blow passed by. Instantly Long Tom caught the dwarf around the arms to hold those members, for he well knew their power. But in a moment Turner, like a snake, twisted his right arm loose, and reaching under his short coat, drew out a sharp hunting knife, and hissing the words, "Traitor! Dat's my holt," between his clenched teeth, drove it into the back of the reformed moonshiner.

One man, however, had been on the alert for some dastardly act of the dwarf. This was young George LeMonde. Ever since his horse had been stolen, and his sister had been kidnapped, he was on his guard against this man for himself and his friends. So now, while the struggle between the two men was going on, George was standing with his rifle ready for use. He saw the flash of the knife, the descending stroke, and knowing the design, made his rifle speak, only a moment too late to save Long Tom. The bullet sped on its way and penetrated the brain of the dwarf, and the two men fell to the ground locked in each other's arms.

In the meantime a crowd had surrounded Sam Wiles, who had backed up against a giant oak tree and stood holding his rifle by its barrel, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. Again Jasper Very became his good angel. In a firm voice he pleaded with his companions not to redden their hands with a fellow creature's blood.

However, some resisted his plea. One planter cried: "You saved his worthless life once before and said the law would punish him. How has he been punished! By shooting down some of our best neighbors. I say a bullet ought to let daylight through his onery carcass, and I'll be the one to fire it." With this remark he raised his gun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger; but before the weapon went off Jasper knocked the barrel up in the air, and the lead went flying among the leaves.

"Man, that was a reckless and cowardly act," expostulated Very. "It is true Wiles escaped from prison, but he will not do so again. He will be more closely guarded, and if he is found guilty of murder, will be properly punished." Then, turning to Wiles, he said: "You see, Wiles, resistance is useless, and by showing it you will throw your life away. Surely you are not ready for death, and I beseech you to lay down your rifle and submit to be made a prisoner."

Life is sweet, even to ruffians at bay, and Wiles, changing his decision, made with Turner not to be taken alive, said: "If you fellers will not hurt me, I'll put myself in yer hands." The crowd consenting, Jasper Very promised that no harm should be done him, and then Wiles threw down his weapon and a constable placed handcuffs upon him.

In the fighting Wiles and Turner had become separated more than a hundred feet, so that the crowd which arrested Wiles did not know of the tragedy by the other tree. When they came up with their prisoner, they saw the two men lying in the shade of an oak. Some one had thrown a coat over Turner's body.

When Jasper Very looked upon Long Tom, he knew that death was near. His eyes were becoming glassy and his sallow cheeks were of an ashen hue. That mysterious shadow thrown by the wings of the approaching death angel settled on his face. John Larkin was kneeling over him, trying to administer what ease and comfort he could. He was suffering great pain, but he bore it with utmost patience. Jasper Very was greatly moved at the sight. Kneeling by his side, he took his knotted and powerful hand in one of his and rubbed it gently with the other. Tears came to his eyes as he saw this rough but reclaimed moonshiner in his last agony.

The sufferer spoke, and his naturally slow speech was slower still; "Good-by, cumrades, I'm goin' home. Long Tom has lived a wicked life; but God is merciful, an' he has put away all my sins. I ax pardon of all I hev hurt, an' forgive ary who has harmed me." Then his mind began to wander, and he thought himself in the church where he had found peace in his soul. "You'uns is right, Preacher Very, whisky makin', sellin' an' drinkin' is wrong; and I'll quit it for good frum dis night on. O dat sweet music, how good it makes me feel!

'Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly. Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.'

"Hush! Dey air singin' ag'in, an' how her sweet voice leads all de rest:

'Other—refuge—have—I—none; Hangs—my—helpless—soul—on—thee.'

"Dat—is—my—prayer—my—only—hope. Long—Tom will—go—home—home—to—God—on—dat—prayer."

He straightened his tall form on the grassy slope under the kindly shadow of the mighty oak. A look of peace and pure content came into his face, as though he were glad to have his discharge; he gave one look through the leafy top of the tree, as if beholding some form in the upper air, then slowly closed his eyes. A shiver ran through his frame, a gargle in his throat, a gasp from his lips, and all was over.

In low reverent tones John Larkin said: "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord."

Again the captain of the moonshiners, Sam Wiles, was taken to the county jail. This time he did not escape. In process of time he and the other prisoners were tried for the illicit distilling of whisky, were found guilty, and sentenced to the penitentiary at Frankfort for a term of years. The charge of murder was not pressed against them. So they pass from this history.



CHAPTER XXIV.

"I Thee Wed."

The golden month of September saw Viola much improved in health. Her wound had healed nicely, thanks to her strong constitution and to the care she had received from the physician and nurse. Now she was rapidly convalescing, and as the fine autumn days went by she was able to ride in her carriage, and even visit the mission school, though unable to teach her class of girls.

By Christmas time the roses had indeed reappeared in her cheeks, and her step was almost as elastic as ever. June found her fully restored to health. This month was to be forever memorable to her, for her wedding to Jasper Very was set for the eighteenth day.

The whole plantation was in a fever of excitement quite a while before the event was to transpire. All was bustle and commotion. Every one seemed to have a personal interest in the affair. The slaves talked and sang about it as they worked in the fields, and renewed the gossip in the evening around their cabin doors.

Aunt Nancy, the cook, attired in a dress spotlessly clean, a bright red bandanna tied around her head, was more pompous and dictatorial than ever. Her helpers had been increased for the event, and she issued her commands with a force which would have done credit to a skipper on a quarter-deck. Often she scolded those around her, but her anger was more apparent than real, and while she smote right and left with one hand, with the other soon after she patted and petted the object of her wrath.

To her children: "You, Dick and Jim, git away frum under my feet. If yo' little niggers don't cl'ar out frum dis room, ah'll beat yer wooly heads togedder. How kin Ah see dat dis cake gits jest de right brown, if yo' keep askin' me fer cookies an' things! Take dat—boxing their ears—an' march out doors."

The boys ducked a second blow, and rushing into the yard, each turned a somersault, and grinned the content he felt. Then they began to sing:

"O Miss Lu! sugar in 'er shoe, Show me de hole whar de hog jump fru."

For days the preparations for the marriage feast went on. Such baking, boiling, and every form of cooking, was never seen in "Mount Pisgah" before.

Judge and Madam LeMonde had many things to occupy hand and brain, but still they gave much thought to the time when they should be parted from their only daughter. She and George were the idols of their hearts. To lose one from the home even to gain a preacher-son was an experience bringing pain and sorrow. Still their judgment confirmed the step; for, if they were to have the sadness of separation, they were to have the deep satisfaction of giving their daughter to a greater service.

Miss Viola was busy most of the time preparing her trousseau. Many of the garments were made to order in Lexington, but much fancy work on delicate fabrics was done by the bride-to-be.

The great day dawned at last. A holiday had been given to all the slaves on the plantation. The Judge decided to spare no expense in making the occasion as pleasant as possible. He had instructed his black people to have a barbecue at their quarters. Some of our readers are benighted as to the meaning of that great word. How shall we enlighten their ignorance? Words are insufficient to set forth the joy and glory of this feast. We may try our best, but much must be left unrecorded.

Two very long wooden tables were stretched on the ground behind the slaves' cabins, under the splendid natural forest trees which Kentucky boasted. The day before an ox was killed, and a deep pit dug in the ground. Early on the eighteenth, the ox was suspended in this hole and a great fire lighted under the carcass. There for hours the body roasted in its own fat. Besides the ox, succulent roasting pigs were cooked whole, chickens were prepared in various ways. All vegetables common to the season were gotten ready in unlimited abundance. Bread enough for all and much to spare appeared on the tables. Pies and cakes of many kinds lay in beautiful companionship with the other good things. Steaming coffee in abundance for all was on hand. And plenty of "Adam's ale"—pure spring water.

This barbecue feast was to be eaten after the marriage ceremony was performed.

The wedding feast for the white folks was spread on tables which had been placed under the pine trees some distance east of the great mansion. It was impossible to accommodate all the invited guests in the dining-room of the house, and Viola decided to have the dinner served in the open air under the trees. As to the quality and quantity of this feast it is only necessary to say that Aunt Dinah and her satellites had been preparing it for days, and the proud cook was intending to stake her reputation as to ability on it for all time to come. The result was worthy of the effort she had made.

On the morning of the eighteenth came the great event. Let us try to picture the scene. It was to be an open air wedding. Viola had requested that all the colored people be permitted to witness the ceremony. There were hundreds of them, big and little, old and young. They were disposed by Mose and others under the pine trees nearest to the river.

Grouped nearer to the mansion were the members of the mission school, many planters and their families, some guests from Lexington and other places. Just by the pavement in front of the piazza a chair had been provided for Madam LeMonde.

The principals in the ceremony were in a bedroom upstairs.

And now the strains of a wedding march floats out over the great company, played by a pianist from Paducah.

With slow and measured step the wedding party descend the broad stairway. We see Susanna Spink walking before. In her hand is a basket of magnificent roses. These with leaves of others she strews in the way before the approaching persons.

First come George LeMonde, best man, and Miss Stella Nebeker, bridesmaid, with her arm linked in his. Then follow arm in arm Rev. Jasper Very, bridegroom, and Rev. John Larkin, the officiating minister. In the rear we behold the lovely bride, Miss Viola LeMonde, beautifully dressed, leaning upon the arm of her father, Judge LeMonde. Under the shadow of the pine trees, near the piazza, the wedding company take position, and the ceremony begins.

The minister asks: "Who gives the bride away?" The Judge replies: "I give the bride away," and he walks to the rear while the bride steps to the side of the bridegroom. The ceremony, brief but most impressive, is conducted according to the ritual of the church, and the minister solemnly pronounces them husband and wife.

Presently the black people under the leadership of Mose and others go to their quarters to enjoy the great barbecue feast. The white people are invited to take seats around the loaded tables placed under the pines trees. As we glance over the company we behold many kind friends whom we have met in the course of this narrative. A large number from the mission school were there, including the whole Spink family, and some members of the Sneath and Wiles families. They were under the care of Miss Henrietta Harvey, who was now their capable and devoted superintendent.

Jolly Costello Nebeker and his good lady were present. He seemed to thrive in every way by running his tavern on cold water principles. His hearty, hilarious laugh was as contagious as the measles. Honest David Hester and his folks were given seats near the head of the table. The other planters were also well represented: Abner Hunt, the fiery little man from down river, and Hans Schmidt, the large, fair-faced German, with several others. Hiram Sanders, the herculean blacksmith of Bridgewater, had a place at the table.

When the great feast was nearly over and ices were being served, Judge LeMonde arose and thus spoke: "Dear friends, I do not wish to interrupt the meal, neither do I wish to make a speech, only to say that Madam LeMonde and myself count this one of the greatest days of our lives. It surely has a tinge of sorrow in it but the joy far surpasses the sadness. I am very glad indeed to behold you enjoying the felicities of the occasion. There is a bit of the program to take place that nobody on the grounds knows anything about except Mrs. LeMonde and myself. I request at this time that my son George go to the slaves' gathering and bring back with him my servant Mose."

Without a moment's hesitation George started to do the errand his father asked. By the time the ices had disappeared the white man and the black man came on to the lawn. A look of curiosity and wonder passed over the company, and all gazed in the direction of the Judge and his servant.

As to Mose he was much taken aback. He appeared confused and bewildered. He thought it was not possible that his master would blame him for neglecting some duty or doing a bad deed on such a day and before such a company.

The Judge, calling his servant to come near, arose and said: "I have decided on this memorable occasion to repay in some measure the devotion and sacrifice of a very faithful and trustworthy servant. I have found Mose honest, obedient, kind, and always willing to do his part of the work. More than this he has risked his life to protect his young mistress from falling into the hands of desperate outlaws. Because of this heroic endeavor I have decided, Mose, to set you free. I hold in my hand the paper properly made out, and from this hour you are free to go where you will. But we do not want to lose you from the plantation. If you stay, I will pay you suitable wages for your work. I will also give you three acres of good land near the negroes' quarters and will build a nice frame house upon it. I am sure my daughter Viola will be glad to furnish the house as a reward for the service you rendered her. In due time you can bring the young woman to whom you are engaged to the house as your bride.

"What do you say, Mose, will you go or stay?"

The poor black man was almost too overcome with emotion to answer a word. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he could scarcely stand. However, he managed to say: "Mas'r LeMonde, how kin Ah thank you fur yo' kindness! Leave you an' dis plantation? Not while de sun shines in de heavens. As Ah was willin' to die fer Miss Viola, I would any time lay dow my life fer you, Judge, or ary one of de fambly."

"Well, you are a good boy, and," after handing him the paper, "now you can go to your friends at the quarters."

When the curtain was rung down on this scene, in a metaphorically sense, it rose on another of much interest.

The wedding party and guests were still sitting at the tables when honest David Hester, arising to his feet, said: "I move that we all drink a toast to our newly married friends, and that we drink it in pure cold water. Also, that John Larkin speak to the toast in behalf of the company." This motion was seconded by more than a dozen voices, the glasses were filled from the living spring, and the toast was drunk in the best liquid the world has ever seen.

John Larkin arose and said: "It gives me great pleasure to speak a few words on this happy and auspicious occasion. First, I wish to thank Judge and Madam LeMonde for the sumptuous repast they have provided for all who are present. (Loud applause all down the line.) Next, I desire to say some true words respecting our honored bridegroom. I have known Jasper Very for several years, and have been his colleague most of the time. I do not overstep the mark when I declare that he is the greatest preacher in Kentucky today. (Cries of "That's so," and applause.) He stands foursquare for righteousness seven days in the week. He is a terror to evil doers. It is by such men's work and sacrifices that we shall stamp out ruffianism, and lift our State to a high respect for law and order. (Clapping of hands.) His career is yet before him, and I believe his name will be handed down to coming generations as an eloquent, zealous, fearless, and successful preacher of the gospel. (Loud applause by the whole company.) My only ambition is that I may be his traveling companion in the ministry as long as possible, for he is to me an inspiration, a help, and, best of all, a devoted friend. (Cheers by all.)

"What shall I say concerning the lady who this day becomes his wife? He might have searched the State over, and not found so suitable a life companion. She was the originator of the mission school, and its prosperity is seen by the number of its members who are here today. (Much hand clapping by the people from the hills.) Yes, and she would not let the fear of highwaymen keep her from the straight path of duty. By an outlaw's bullet, she was brought to the verge of death, but God in mercy spared her in answer to our prayers. God surely intended her to be a preacher's wife. He gave her a voice to sing which melts the stony heart, he gave the opportunity for culture so that she can lift up the minds as well as the morals of the people. Her graciousness is surpassed only by her humility, and her beauty of face and form only by the loveliness and perfection of her spirit. To high and low she is the finest type of American womanhood." (Long continued applause, especially by the hill crowd.)

The after-dinner speeches were ended, and the bride and groom retired to their dressing-rooms in the mansion, where the wedding garments were taken off and traveling suits substituted. Soon they appeared on the front piazza, most of the invited guests still remaining on the lawn.

By a previous arrangement Mose was to be the honored driver of the carriage, to take them to the railway station. Never was there a prouder or happier negro. He showed the importance of his duty in every turn of his body. He was dressed in a new suit of clothes, and a tall silk hat ornamented his woolly head. He held his whip and lines like a master of horse.

Some fond good-byes, a few tears like April showers with the sun shining, a crack of the whip, and Velox and Prince are off on the happy journey.

So we leave them as with

"Two souls with but a single thought, Two hearts to beat as one,"

they set out on their life work.

"We have heard that our hero became a mighty preacher, whose praise was in all the churches. His fields of labor widened with the years. His reputation went before him, and he was known in many States as an original and marvelous genius, but to us he will ever be remembered as The Kentucky Ranger.

THE END