CHAPTER XIV.

_The Body-Guard’s Sickness and Cure._

SLOWLY the party wended its way back to the mill. Just at nightfall it came in sight of the lowly hut which covered the treasure so dear to the heart of the rescued maiden. How her eager arms longed to clasp her brother’s form to her bosom—how her ears longed for the sound of his voice! The wings of the swallow would have been slow for her pining soul; but the moment of reunion came at last—the dead was made alive, the lost restored. Miss Hayward, gallanted by Wells, pressed on ahead of the troop, and their panting steeds at length stood riderless before the cabin-door, for the riders had disappeared within.

The meeting of brother and sister was one of mingled pleasure and pain. Both had suffered so much that to think of it was pain. Captain Hayward was greatly emaciated. Loss of blood, fever, hunger and exposure would have ended a life less tenacious than his; but, despite his suffering, the presence of friends, the rescue of his sister, the anticipated happiness of her union with the man who had proven himself so well worthy of her—all conspired to give an elasticity to his spirits more potent than the infusions of herbs prepared by the not unskilled hands of old Madge, who, from an enemy, had, “by the force of couldn’t help herself,” as Nettleton declared, become a useful instrument at a critical moment.

And what about Nettleton? All day long after the morning’s experience at the cave, he had plodded on soberly, somewhat absorbed in his own reflections. Behind him sat Fall-leaf, who, from his weak state, was well content to ride. The Indian, though perfectly silent and apparently indifferent to all things, now that his work was done, still was inwardly pleased at the rescue and the thought of the pleasure in store for the captain, of whose safety he had been informed by Nettleton; and he was quite willing to go into camp for a few days before putting out again on his endless scouts.

“Nettle be sick?” he at length asked of his companion.

“Not by a darn sight, Ingen?”

“Nettle _be_ sick—Fall-leaf knows it!”

“You be danged to darnation, you red onion-head of a Delaware!” was the somewhat excited answer, as he turned in the saddle and stared the Indian in the face.

Fall-leaf smiled. “Nettle want physic—Miss Long give Nettle physic,” he obstinately persisted.

“Now look here, Mr. Ingen, ef you wants to fight, jest you say so, and I’ll be catawampussed ef I don’t lick you wuss’n a nigger what’s got a mad woman arter him!”

“Fall-leaf no want to fight Nettle. Maybe whip Nettle—den what Miss Long say?”

“Yoh—yoh! you mean, sneakin’ son of a brick-kiln! Ef you don’t stop that clapper in your head, I’ll be switched ef I don’t put a peg through it!” And he set his face firmly to the front, roweled the horse severely with his spurs, and dashed ahead at a speed quite uncomfortable to the provoking Delaware.

When the cavalcade reached the cabin, Nettleton did not obtrude himself upon the party within. For an hour or more they were alone. At length Hayward asked: “Where is my brave preserver? Why is he not here to enjoy our happiness? And Fall-leaf, too; I would thank him as he deserves, the noble and devoted savage.”

Search was made. Fall-leaf was found out by the camp-fire, undergoing the process of the lotion-cure for his wounds, at the hands of Madge, who was carefully washing the bruised and cut flesh of the red-man. All inquiries for Nettleton were fruitless; he was not to be found. It was ascertained, at length, that his horse also was gone. Many were the surmises as to the cause of his absence, and fears were expressed for his safety.

Morning came, and the party, now rejoined by the entire battalion, prepared to move, by easy stages, from the valley toward the line of march pursued by the retreating army. Captain Hayward was made quite comfortable in a camp-wagon, with his sister for companion and nurse. Fall-leaf pushed out far ahead to scout and secure the command from surprise. Adjutant Hinton and Wells were tireless in their devotion to the comfort and safety of their charge. It was a pleasant journey—that week of slow progress toward Tipton. At length, however, the village hove in sight. The white tents dotting the hills and valleys proved that the division was there. While yet a long way off, a party of horsemen, accompanied by ladies, was seen dashing off at full speed toward the spot where the battalion had halted for its noon bivouac. Wells caught sight of the party, and with his glass made out the gaunt form of Nettleton far in advance. Behind him on the same horse rode a female, whose identity the officer could not fix. Nearer and nearer the horsemen came, until, after an exciting race, they dashed into the camp—Nettleton and Sally Long! They were received with a wild huzza from the entire troop, and none shouted louder than Nettleton himself.

“Hooray! hooray! By the eternal jingo!” he cried, leaping from the horse, and leaving Miss Sally sitting there alone, before the eyes of the joyous and excited troops. Making his way to the captain’s “marquee”—as the men had named the wagon—he was welcomed by Hayward in a manner which quickly turned his servant’s joy to mourning, for the embrace of real affection bestowed quite upset Nettleton’s confidence.

“I’m nothin’ but a great darn skunk, any how!” he exclaimed, as, breaking away from the captain’s embrace, he started for his horse and the neglected Sally.

“Nettle be sick!”

He turned to behold Fall-leaf gazing upon him in mock compassion.

“Not by a danged sight, you infernal lump of glory!” he now shouted, as, clasping the Indian in his arms, he gave the red-man a hug which brought forth a grunt.

“Ugh! Nettle make Fall-leaf sick! Guess Nettle got full of Miss Sally now!”

“Yes, sar; and thar she is, in all her glory!” was the rejoinder, as the “body-guard” pointed, in evident pride, to the smiling woman.

“Gentlemen of the jury! let me present to you my wife—the dangdest sk— no, the most blissful woman you ever saw.”

“Your _wife_!” exclaimed a dozen voices at once.

“Yes, my wife! Hitched to me tighter’n a handle to the jug, by Chaplain Disbrow, two days ago, by the eternal jingo!”

This was enough for the men. All order gave way before the hilarious uproar which followed. They pressed around Sally to offer their congratulations, which the delighted wife received with great good-nature and dignity, still sitting where she had been left—behind the saddle, on the horse.

At this moment the party first descried rode up. It was composed of Mrs. Hinton, Miss Morton and a number of friends eager to welcome the captain and his sister, of whose fortunes Nettleton had most unexpectedly, three days before, brought the news to camp. That it was a joyous meeting may well be assumed.

* * * * *

Does not our story here end? To say that Miss Mamie Hayward soon became Mrs. Wells, in the presence of the whole division—that a grand gala-day followed—is but half the truth, however; for, at the same time, another bridegroom was there in the form of the pale but happy Captain Henry Hayward, who took to be his comforter and his much-needed nurse, the woman who loved him most truly—Miss Nettie Morton. It was, indeed, a most happy consummation of a drama which promised, at one time, to end only in sorrow and broken hearts.

Not the least happy of all that throng, nor the least noted, was

NETTLETON, THE CAPTAIN’S BODY-GUARD.

Transcriber's note:

Punctuation and hyphenation have been made consistent.

The spelling has been retained with the exception of the following:

hight -> height iutruder -> intruder turkle-dove -> turtle-dove disppointment -> disappointment _he’ll_ dirty has hands -> _he’ll_ dirty his hands