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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44387 ***
+
+BROTHERS OF PERIL
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+
+
+
+_WORKS OF THEODORE ROBERTS_
+
+_The Red Feathers_           _$1.50_
+_Brothers of Peril_           _1.50_
+_Hemming the Adventurer_      _1.50_
+
+
+_L. C. PAGE & COMPANY_ _New England Building, Boston, Mass._
+
+
+[Illustration: "A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT NAMELESS
+WILDERNESS"]
+
+
+
+
+Brothers of Peril
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+By
+
+Theodore Roberts
+_Author of_ "Hemming, the Adventurer"
+
+_Illustrated by_ H. C. Edwards
+
+[Illustration: Logo]
+
+_Boston_ L. C. Page & Company _Mdccccv_
+
+
+_Copyright, 1905_
+BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+(INCORPORATED)
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+Published June, 1905
+Second Impression, March, 1908
+
+_COLONIAL PRESS
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+Boston, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+
+During the three centuries directly following John Cabot's discovery of
+Newfoundland, that unfortunate island was the sport of careless kings,
+selfish adventurers, and diligent pirates. While England, France, Spain,
+and Portugal were busy with courts and kings, and with spectacular
+battles, their fishermen and adventurers toiled together and fought
+together about the misty headlands of that far island. Fish, not glory,
+was their quest! Full cargoes, sweetly cured, was their desire--and let
+fame go hang!
+
+The merchants of England undertook the guardianship of the "Newfounde
+Land." In greed, in valour, and in achievement they won their mastery.
+Their greed was a two-edged sword which cut all 'round. It hounded the
+aborigines; it bullied the men of France and Spain; it discouraged the
+settlement of the land by stout hearts of whatever nationality. It was
+the dream of those merchant adventurers of Devon to have the place
+remain for ever nothing but a fishing-station. They faced the pirates,
+the foreign fishers, the would-be settlers, and the natural hardships
+with equal fortitude and insolence. When some philosopher dreamed of
+founding plantations in the king's name and to the glory of God,
+England, and himself, then would the greedy merchants slay or cripple
+the philosopher's dream in the very palace of the king. Ay, they were
+powerful enough at court, though so little remarked in the histories of
+the times! But, ever and anon, some gentleman adventurer, or humble
+fisherman from the ships, would escape their vigilance and strike a blow
+at the inscrutable wilderness.
+
+The fishing admirals loom large in the history of the island. They were
+the hands and eyes of the wealthy merchants. The master of the first
+vessel to enter any harbour at the opening of the season was, for a
+greater or lesser period of time, admiral and judge of that harbour. It
+was his duty to parcel out anchorage, and land on which to dry fish, to
+each ship in the harbour; to see that no sailors from the fleet escaped
+into the woods; to discourage any visions of settlement which sight of
+the rugged forests might raise in the romantic heads of the gentlemen of
+the fleet; to see that all foreigners were hustled on every occasion,
+and to take the best of everything for himself. Needless to say, it was
+a popular position with the hard-fisted skippers.
+
+In the narratives of the early explorers frequent mention is made of the
+peaceful nature of the aborigines. At first they displayed unmistakable
+signs of friendly feeling. They were all willingness to trade with the
+loud-mouthed strangers from over the eastern horizon. They helped at the
+fishing, and at the hunting of seals and caribou. They bartered
+priceless pelts for iron hatchets and glass trinkets. Later, however, we
+read of treachery and murder on the parts of both the visitors and the
+natives. The itch of slave-dealing led some of the more daring
+shipmasters and adventurers to capture, and carry back to England,
+Beothic braves and maidens. Many of the kidnapped savages were kindly
+treated and made companions of by English noblemen and gentlefolk. It is
+recorded that more than one Beothic brave sported a sword at his hip in
+fashionable places of London Town before Death cut the silken bonds of
+his motley captivity.
+
+Master John Guy, an alderman of Bristol, who obtained a Royal Charter in
+1610, to settle and develop Newfoundland, wrote of the Beothics as a
+kindly and mild-mannered race. Of their physical characteristics he
+says: "They are of middle size, broad-chested, and very erect.... Their
+hair is diverse, some black, some brown, and some yellow."
+
+As to the ultimate fate of the Beothics there are several suppositions.
+An aged Micmac squaw, who lives on Hall's Bay, Notre Dame Bay, says that
+her father, in his youth, knew the last of the Beothics. At that
+time--something over a hundred years ago--the race numbered between one
+and two hundred souls. They made periodical excursions to the salt water
+to fish, and to trade with a few friendly whites and Nova Scotian
+Micmacs. But, for the most part, they avoided the settlements. They had
+reason enough for so doing, for many of the settlers considered a
+lurking Beothic as fair a target for his buckshot as a bear or caribou.
+One November day a party of Micmac hunters tried to follow the remnant
+of the broken race on their return trip to the great wilderness of the
+interior. The trail was lost in a fall of snow on the night of the first
+day of the journey. And there, with the obliterated trail, ends the
+world's knowledge of the original inhabitants of Newfoundland; save of
+one woman of the race named Mary March, who died, a self-ordained
+fugitive about the outskirts of civilization, some ninety years ago.
+
+To-day there are a few bones in the museum at St. John's. One hears
+stories of grassy circles beside the lakes and rivers, where wigwams
+once stood. Flint knives and arrow-heads are brought to light with the
+turning of the farmer's furrow. But the language of the lost tribe is
+forgotten, and the history of it is unrecorded.
+
+In the following tale I have drawn the wilderness of that far time in
+the likeness of the wilderness as I knew it, and loved it, a few short
+years ago. The seasons bring their oft-repeated changes to brown barren,
+shaggy wood, and empurpled hill; but the centuries pass and leave no
+mark. I have dared to resurrect an extinct tribe for the purposes of
+fiction. I have drawn inspiration from the spirit of history rather than
+the letter! But the heart of the wilderness, and the hearts of men and
+women, I have pictured, in this romance of olden time, as I know them
+to-day.
+
+T. R.
+
+_November, 1904._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                                      PAGE
+     I. A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME                                 1
+
+    II. THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER                     9
+
+   III. THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW                                16
+
+    IV. OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST                       24
+
+     V. THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR                             34
+
+    VI. THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER                           43
+
+   VII. THE SILENT VILLAGE                                     56
+
+  VIII. A LETTER FOR OUENWA                                    65
+
+    IX. AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION                              73
+
+     X. GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX                                 83
+
+    XI. THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER                               94
+
+   XII. MEDITATION AND ACTION                                 104
+
+  XIII. SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE                              116
+
+   XIV. A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING                                126
+
+    XV. THE HIDDEN MENACE                                     133
+
+   XVI. THE CLOVEN HOOF                                       140
+
+  XVII. THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH                               148
+
+ XVIII. EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS                                156
+
+   XIX. TWO OF A KIND                                         164
+
+    XX. BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER                            174
+
+   XXI. THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN                          183
+
+  XXII. BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS                           190
+
+ XXIII. BETROTHED                                             200
+
+  XXIV. A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN                    207
+
+   XXV. FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT   217
+
+  XXVI. PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST                227
+
+ XXVII. A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS                          233
+
+XXVIII. THE RUNNING OF THE ICE                                241
+
+  XXIX. WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY
+          RECEIVES A VISITOR                                  252
+
+   XXX. MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF                  264
+
+  XXXI. WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED                           273
+
+ XXXII. THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS
+          BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED                                279
+
+XXXIII. IN THE MERRY CITY                                     287
+
+ XXXIV. PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES,
+          AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA                               294
+
+  XXXV. THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE     306
+
+ XXXVI. OVER THE SIDE                                         317
+
+XXXVII. THE MOTHER                                            323
+
+
+
+
+BROTHERS OF PERIL
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME
+
+
+The boy struck again with his flint knife, and again the great wolf tore
+at his shoulder. The eyes of the boy were fierce as those of the beast.
+Neither wavered. Neither showed any sign of pain. The dark spruces stood
+above them, with the first shadows of night in their branches; and the
+western sky was stained red where the sun had been. Twice the wolf
+dropped his antagonist's shoulder, in a vain attempt to grip the throat.
+The boy, pressed to the ground, flung himself about like a dog, and
+repeatedly drove his clumsy weapon into the wolf's shaggy side.
+
+At last the fight ended. The great timber-wolf lay stretched dead in
+awful passiveness. His fangs gleamed like ivory between the scarlet jaws
+and black lips. A shimmer of white menaced the quiet wilderness from the
+recesses of the half-shut eyelids.
+
+For a few minutes the boy lay still, with the fingers of his left hand
+buried in the wolf's mane, and his right hand a blot of red against the
+beast's side. Presently, staggering on bent legs, he went down to the
+river and washed his mangled arm and shoulder in the cool water. The
+shock of it cleared his brain and steadied his eyes. He waded into the
+current to his middle, stooped to the racing surface, and drank
+unstintingly. Strength flooded back to blood and muscle, and the slender
+limbs regained their lightness.
+
+By this time a few pale stars gleamed on the paler background of the
+eastern sky. A long finger-streak of red, low down on the hilltops,
+still lightened the west. A purple band hung above it like a belt of
+magic wampum--the war-belt of some mighty god. Above that, Night, the
+silent hunter, set up the walls of his lodge of darkness.
+
+The boy saw nothing of the changing beauty of the sky. He might read it,
+knowingly enough, for the morrow's rain or frost; but beyond that he
+gave it no heed. He returned to the dead wolf, and set about the
+skinning of it with his rude blade. He worked with skill and speed. Soon
+head and pelt were clear of the red carcass. After collecting his arrows
+and bow, he flung the prize across his shoulder and started along a
+faint trail through the spruces.
+
+The trail which the boy followed seemed to lead away from the river by
+hummock and hollow; and yet it cunningly held to the course of the
+stream. Now the night was fallen. A soft wind brushed over in the
+tree-tops. The voices of the rapids smote across the air with a deeper
+note. As the boy moved quietly along, sharp eyes flamed at him, and
+sharp ears were pricked to listen. Forms silent as shadows faded away
+from his path, and questioning heads were turned back over sinewy
+shoulders, sniffing silently. They smelt the wolf and they smelt the
+man. They knew that there had been another violent death in the valley
+of the River of Three Fires.
+
+After walking swiftly for nearly an hour, following a path which less
+primitive eyes could not have found, the boy came out on a small meadow
+bright with fires. Nineteen or twenty conical wigwams, made of birch
+poles, bark, and caribou hides, stood about the meadow. In front of each
+wigwam burned a cooking-fire, for this was a land of much wood. The
+meadow was almost an island, having the river on two sides and a shallow
+lagoon cutting in behind, leaving only a narrow strip of alder-grown
+"bottom" by which one might cross dry-shod. The whole meadow, including
+the alders and a clump of spruces, was not more than five acres in
+extent.
+
+The boy halted in front of the largest lodge, and threw the wolfskin
+down before the fire. There he stood, straight and motionless, with an
+air of vast achievement about him. Two women, who were broiling meat at
+the fire, looked from the shaggy, blood-stained pelt to the stalwart
+stripling. They cried out to him, softly, in tones of love and
+admiration. Jaws and fangs and half-shut eyes appeared frightful enough
+in the red firelight, even in death.
+
+"Ah! ah!" they cried, "what warrior has done this deed?"
+
+"Now give me my man-name," demanded the boy.
+
+The older of the two women, his mother, tried to tend his wounded arm;
+but he shook her roughly away. She seemed accustomed to the treatment.
+Still clinging to him, she called him by a score of great names. A
+stalwart man, the chief of the village, strode from the dark interior of
+the nearest wigwam, and glanced from his son to the untidy mass of hair
+and skin. His eyes gleamed at sight of his boy's torn arm and the white
+teeth of the wolf.
+
+"Wolf Slayer," he cried. He turned to the women. "Wolf Slayer," he
+repeated; "let this be his man-name--Wolf Slayer."
+
+So this boy, son of Panounia the chief, became, at the age of fourteen
+years, a warrior among his father's people.
+
+The inhabitants of that great island were all of one race. In history
+they are known as Beothics. At the time of this tale they were divided
+into two nations or tribes. Hate had set them apart from one another,
+breaking the old bond of blood. Each tribe was divided into numerous
+villages. The island was shared pretty evenly between the nations. Soft
+Hand was king of the Northerners. It was of one of his camps that the
+father of Wolf Slayer was chief.
+
+Soft Hand was a great chief, and wise beyond his generation. For more
+than fifty years he had held the richest hunting-grounds in the island
+against the enemy. His strength had been of both head and hand. Now he
+was stiff with great age. Now his hair was gray and scanty, and
+unadorned by flaming feathers of hawk and sea-bird. The snows of eighty
+winters had drifted against the walls of his perishable but ever defiant
+lodges, and the suns of eighty summers had faded the pigments of his
+totem of the great Black Bear. Though he was slow of anger, and fair in
+judgment, his people feared him as they feared no other. Though he was
+gentle with the weak and young, and had honoured his parents in their
+old age and loved the wife of his youth, still the strongest warrior
+dared not sneer.
+
+The village of this mighty chief was situated at the head of Wind Lake.
+On the night of Wolf Slayer's adventure, Soft Hand and his grandson
+arrived at the lesser village on the River of Three Fires. They
+travelled in bark canoes and were accompanied by a dozen braves. The
+grandson of the old chief was a lad of about Wolf Slayer's age. He was
+slight of figure and dark of skin. His name was Ouenwa. He was a dreamer
+of strange things, and a maker of songs. He and Wolf Slayer sat together
+by the fire. Wolf Slayer held his wounded arm ever under the visitor's
+eyes, and talked endlessly of his deed. For a long time Ouenwa listened
+attentively, smiling and polite, as was his usual way with strangers.
+But at last he grew weary of his companion's talk. He wanted to listen,
+in peace, to the song of the river. How could he understand what the
+rapids were saying with all this babbling of "knife" and "wolf" in his
+ears?
+
+"All this wind," he said, "would kill a pack of wolves, or even the
+black cave-devil himself."
+
+"There is no wind to-night," replied Wolf Slayer, glancing up at the
+trees.
+
+"There is a mighty wind blowing about this fire," said Ouenwa, "and it
+whistles altogether of a great warrior who slew a wolf."
+
+"At least that is not work for a dreamer," retorted the other, sullenly.
+Ouenwa's answer was a smile as soft and fleeting as the light-shadows of
+the fire.
+
+At an early hour of the next morning the great chief's party started
+up-stream in their canoes, on the return journey to Wind Lake. For hours
+Soft Hand brooded in silence, deaf to his grandson's hundred questions.
+He had grown somewhat moody in the last year. He gazed away to the
+forest-clad, mist-wreathed capes ahead, and heeded not the high piping
+of his dead son's child. His mind was busy with thoughts of the events
+of the past night. He recalled the tones of Panounia's voice with a
+shake of the head. He recalled the sullen smouldering of that stalwart
+chief's eyes. He sighed, and glanced at the lad in the forging craft
+beside him.
+
+"I grow old," he murmured. "The voice of my power is breaking to its
+last echo. My command over my people slips like a frozen thong of raw
+leather. And Panounia! What lurks in the dull brain of him?"
+
+The sun rose above the forest spires, clear and warm. The mists drew
+skyward and melted in the gold-tinted azure. Twillegs flew, piping,
+across the brown current of the river. Sandpipers, on down-bent wings,
+skimmed the pebbly shore. A kingfisher flashed his burnished feathers
+and screamed his strident challenge, ever an arrow-flight ahead of the
+voyagers. He warned the furtive folk of the great chief's approach.
+
+"Kingfisher would be a fitting name for the boy who killed the wolf,"
+said Ouenwa.
+
+The old man glanced at him sharply. His thin face was sombre with more
+than the shadow of years.
+
+"Nay," he replied. "His is no empty cry. Beware of him, my son!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER
+
+
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, dwelt alone at the head of a small bay. His
+home was half-wigwam, half-hut. The roof was of poles, partly covered
+with the hides of caribou and partly with a square of sail-cloth, which
+had been given him by a Basque fisherman in exchange for six beaver
+skins. The walls of the unusual lodge were of turf and stone. Here and
+there were signs of intercourse with the strangers out of the Eastern
+sea,--an iron fishhook, a scrap of gold lace, and a highly polished
+copper pot. Of these treasures the recluse was justly proud, for had he
+not acquired them at risk of sudden extinction by the breath of the
+clapping fire-stick?
+
+The arrow-maker was an old man. In his youth he had been a hunter of
+renown and a great traveller, and had sojourned long in the lodges of
+the Southern nation. He had loved a woman of that people,--and she had
+given him laughter in return for his devotion. Journeying back to his
+own hunting-grounds, he had planned a huge revenge. At once all his
+skill and bravery had been turned to less open ways than those of the
+lover and warrior. In little more than a year's time he had driven the
+tribes to a lasting and bitter war. Even now as he sat before the door
+of his lodge, he was shaping spear-heads and arrow-heads for the
+fighting men of Soft Hand's nation. Some arrows he made of jasper, and
+some of flint, and some of purple slate. Those of slate would break off
+in the wound. They were the grim old craftsman's pets.
+
+One day a young man from the valley of the River of Three Fires brought
+Montaw a string of fine trout, in payment for a spear-head. For awhile
+they talked together in the sunlight at the door of the lodge.
+
+"For the chase," said the old man, "I make the long shape of flint,
+three fingers wide, and to this I bind a long and heavy shaft. Such an
+arrow will hold in the side of the running deer, and may be plucked out
+after death."
+
+"I have even seen it, father," replied the young man, in supercilious
+tones; for he considered himself a mighty hunter.
+
+"For the battle," continued the arrow-maker, "I chip the flint and
+shape the narrow splinters of slate. All three are good in their way if
+the bow be strong--and the arm."
+
+The old craftsman made a song. It was rough as his arrow-heads.
+
+
+     "Arrows of gray and arrows of black
+       Soon shall be red.
+     What will the white moon say to the proud
+       Warriors, dead?
+
+     "Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,
+       Arrows of slate.
+     So, with the skill of my hands, I shape
+       Arrows of hate.
+
+     "Fly, my little ones, straight and true,
+       Silent as sleep.
+     Tell me, wind, of the flints I sow,
+       What shall I reap?
+
+     "Sorrow will come to their council-fires.
+       Weeping and fear
+     Will stalk to the heart of their great chief's lodge,
+       Year after year.
+
+     "When the moon rides on the purple hills,
+       Joyous of face,
+     Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,
+       Heads for the chase.
+
+     "When the chief's fire on the hilltop glows
+       Like a red star,
+     Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,
+       Heads for the war.
+
+     "Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,
+       Arrows of slate.
+     Thus, in the door of my lodge, I nurse
+       Battle and hate!"
+
+
+One evening, as he sat before his lodge looking seaward, his trained
+ears caught the sound of a faint call from the wooded hills behind. He
+did not turn his head or change his position. But he held his breath,
+the better to listen. Again came the cry, very weak and far away.
+
+"It is the voice of a woman," he said, and smiled grimly.
+
+Cheerless and desolately gray, the light of the east faded into the
+desolate gray of the sea. Black, like stalking shadows, stood the little
+islands of the headlands. The last of the light died out like the heart
+of fire in the shroud of cooling ashes. Again came the cry, whispering
+across the stillness.
+
+"It may be the voice of a child, lost in the woods," said the
+arrow-maker. He rose from his seat and entered the lodge. He blew the
+coals of his fire back to a tiny flame. He drew up to it the burnt ends
+of faggots. Then he took in his hand another of his Eastern prizes--a
+broad-bladed knife--and started across the tumbled rocks toward the edge
+of the wood. Though old, he was still strong and tough of limb and
+courageous of heart. Sure and swift he made his way through the heavy
+growth of spruce. Once he paused for the space of a heart-beat, to make
+sure of his direction. Again and again was the piteous cry repeated.
+
+The old man kept up his tireless trot through underbrush and swamp, and
+displayed neither fatigue nor caution until he reached the bank of a
+narrow and turbulent stream. Here he drew into the shadow of a clump of
+firs. He lay close, and breathed heavily. By this time the moon had
+cleared the knolls. Its thin radiance flooded the wilderness. In the air
+was a whisper of gathering frost. The water of the little river twisted
+black and silver, and worried at the fanged rocks that tore it, with a
+voice of agony.
+
+The crying had ceased; but the eyes of the old craftsman questioned the
+farther shore with a gaze steady and keen. There seemed to be something
+wrong with the shadows. A bent figure slipped down to the edge of the
+stream where the water spun in an eddy. It dropped on hands and knees
+and crawled to the black and unstable lip of the tide. Again the cry
+rang abroad, thin and high above the complaining tumult of the current.
+The watcher left his hiding-place and waded the stream. At the edge of
+the spinning eddy he found a woman. She lay exhausted. A long shaft hung
+to her left shoulder. Blood trickled down her bare and rounded arm. The
+arrow-maker lifted her against his shoulder and bathed her face in the
+cool water until her eyelids lifted.
+
+"Chief," she whispered, "pluck out the arrow."
+
+He shook his head. His trade was with battle and death, but it was half
+a lifetime since he had felt the gushing of human blood on his hands.
+
+"Father," she cried, faintly, "I pray you, pluck it out. The pain of it
+eats into my spirit. It sprang to me from a little wood, bitter and
+noiseless--and I heard not so much as the twang of the string."
+
+The old man held her with his left arm. With strong and gentle fingers
+he worked the arrow in the wound. She quivered with the pain of it.
+Blood came more freely. He trembled at the hot touch of it across his
+fingers. He had dwelt so long in the quiet of his craft. Then the barbed
+blade came away from the wound, and he clutched it in his reeking palm.
+The woman sobbed with mingled pain and relief. The old man stepped into
+the moonlight and lifted the arrow to his eyes.
+
+"It is none of my making," he said.
+
+He heard the woman sobbing in the dark. Returning to her he bound her
+shoulder with his belt of dressed leather. Then, lifting her tenderly,
+he again forded the flashing current of the complaining river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW
+
+
+Even while the arrow-maker carried the wounded woman, arrows of the same
+shape as that which had stabbed her tender flesh were threatening the
+little village on the River of Three Fires. For days several war-parties
+from the South had been stealing through the country, raiding the lesser
+villages, and bent on destroying the nation of Soft Hand, and possessing
+his hunting-grounds. It was a laggard of one of the smaller bands that
+had wounded the woman. She had been far from her lodge at the time,
+seeking some healing herbs in the forest, and he had fired on her out of
+fear that she had discovered him and would warn her people. In her pain
+and fright, she had wandered coastward for several miles.
+
+Silent as shadows, the invading warriors drew down toward the little
+meadow. Clouds were over the face of the white October moon. A cold mist
+floated in the valley. The leaders of the invaders, lying low among the
+alders at the edge of the clearing, could see the unguarded people
+moving about their red fires. There was a scent of cooking deer-meat in
+the chill air. The chief of the attacking party lay on the damp grass
+and peered between the stems of the alders. He smiled exultantly. A
+quick slaughter, and then to a feast already prepared. He and his braves
+had enjoyed but poor fare during their long march.
+
+So shall I leave him, sniffing the breath of the cooking fires, and turn
+to Wolf Slayer. Late of that afternoon Wolf Slayer had sallied forth in
+quest of something to kill. The woods had seemed deserted, and in less
+than an hour after his valorous exit from the camp, he had fallen asleep
+on a warm and sheltered strip of shingle. The river flashed in front,
+and on three sides brooded the crowding trees. When he awoke, the sun
+had set, and the river, a curved mirror for the western sky, was red as
+fire--or blood. Down-stream, about two hundred yards distant, a sombre
+bluff thrust its rocky breast into the water. The boy gazed at this, and
+his eyes widened with dismay. Then they narrowed with hate. Out of the
+shelter of the rocks and the shadows, and into the flaming waters, came
+figure after figure. They waded knee-deep, hip-deep, shoulder-deep, into
+that molten glory. Then they swam; and the ripples washed back from
+gleaming neck and shoulder like lighter flames. One by one they stole
+from the shadow, swam the radiance, and again sought the shadow.
+
+The boy trembled. The devils of fear and rage had their fingers on him.
+Spellbound, he watched close upon a hundred warriors make the passage of
+the river. Then he, too, sank noiselessly into the shelter of the trees.
+He was old enough to know what this meant, and his heart hurt him with
+its pent-up fury as he crawled through the underbrush. He was dismayed
+at the sound of his own breathing. He heard the distant rapping of a
+woodpecker, the fall of a spent leaf from an alder, and the soft breath
+of a dying wind; and the familiar sounds filled him with awe. And yet,
+but for these sounds, the whole world might be dead and the forest
+empty. Thought of the hundred fighting men moving steadily upon the
+unguarded homes of his people, with no more warning than the sound of a
+swamp-bird's flight, was like a nightmare. But presently the courage
+that had helped him slay the wolf came to him, and he thought of the
+glory to be won by saving the threatened village. He did not strengthen
+his heart to the task for sake of his mother's life and the lives of his
+playmates; but because the warriors would call him a hero. Keeping just
+within the edge of the woods, he moved up-stream as speedily as he might
+without making any sound. He came upon a brown hare crouched beside a
+clump of ferns. He might have touched it with his hand, so unaware was
+it of his presence. He passed beneath an alder branch whereon perched a
+big slate-gray jay. It was not a foot from his back as he crawled under,
+and it did not take flight. But it eyed him intently, to make sure that
+he was not a fox. Sometimes he lay still for a little, listening. He
+heard nothing, though he started at a hundred fancied sounds. Twilight
+deepened into dusk, and dusk into gloom. The moon sailed up over the
+hills, and long banners of cloud passed across the face of it.
+
+Presently Wolf Slayer came within sight of the fires of the village. The
+red light flashed on the angry river beyond, but left the lagoon in
+darkness. He crawled into the water inch by inch, scarcely breaking the
+calm, black surface. Then he swam, without noise of splashing, and
+landed at the foot of the meadow like a great beaver. He crawled into
+the red circle of one of the fires, and told his news to the braves
+gathered around. Men slipped from fire to fire. Without any unwonted
+disturbance, the whole village armed itself. Suddenly, with a fierce
+shout and a flight of arrows, the alders were attacked. The invaders
+were checked at the very moment of their fancied victory.
+
+The fighting scattered. Here three men struggled together in the
+shallows at the head of the lagoon. Farther out, one tossed his arms and
+sank into the black depths. In the open a half-score warriors bent their
+bows. Among the twisted stems of the alders they pulled and strangled,
+like beasts of prey. Back in the spruces they slew with clubs and
+knives, feeling for one another in the dark. Their war-cries and shouts
+of hate rang fearfully on the night air, and awoke unholy echoes along
+the valley.
+
+In the front of the battle Wolf Slayer fought like a man. His lack of
+stature saved him from death more than once in that fearful encounter.
+Many a vicious blow glanced harmless, or missed him altogether, as he
+stumbled and bent among the alders. At first he fought with a long,
+flint knife,--the work of the old arrow-maker. But this was splintered
+in his hand by the murderous stroke of a war-club. He wrenched a spear
+from the clutch of a dying brave. A leaping figure went down before his
+unexpected lunge. It rolled over; then, queerly sprawling, it lay still.
+An arrow from the open ripped along an alder stem, rattled its shaft
+among the dry twigs, and struck a glancing blow on the young brave's
+neck. He stumbled, grabbing at the shadows. He fell--and forgot the
+fight.
+
+In light and darkness the battle raged on. Wigwams were overthrown, and
+about the little fires warriors gave up their violent lives. At last the
+encampment was cleared, and saved from destruction; and those of the
+invaders who remained beside the trampled fires had ceased to menace.
+Along the black edges of the forest ran the cries and tumult of the
+struggle. Spent arrows floated on the lagoon. Red knives lifted and
+turned in the underbrush.
+
+Wolf Slayer, dizzy and faint, crawled back to the lodges of his people.
+Other warriors were returning. They came exultant, with the lust of
+fighting still aflame in their eyes. Some strode arrogantly. Some
+crawled, as Wolf Slayer had. Some staggered to the home fires and reeled
+against the lodges, and some got no farther than the outer circle of
+light. And many came not at all.
+
+The chief, with a great gash high on his breast (he had bared arms and
+breast for the battle), sought about the clearing and trampled fringe of
+alders, and at last, returning to the disordered camp, found Wolf
+Slayer. With a glad, high shout of triumph, he lifted the boy in his
+arms and carried him home. The mother met them at the door of the lodge.
+In fearful silence the man and woman washed and bound the young brave's
+wound, and watched above his faint breathing with anxious hearts.
+
+"Little one, strengthen your feet against the turn of the dark trail,"
+whispered the mother. "See, our fires are bright to guide you back to
+your own people."
+
+"Little chief, though this battle is ended, there are many good fights
+yet to come," whispered the father. "The fighters of the camp will have
+great need of you when we turn from our sleep. The old bear grumbles at
+the mouth of his den!--will you not be with us when we singe his fur?"
+
+"Hush, hush!" cried the woman.
+
+The boy, opening his eyes, turned the feet of his spirit from the dark
+trail.
+
+"I saw the lights of the lost fires," he murmured, "and the hunting-song
+of dead braves was in my ears."
+
+Wolf Slayer was nursed back to health and strength. Not once--not even
+at the edge of Death's domain--had his arrogance left him. It seemed
+that the days of suffering had but hardened his already hard heart. Lad
+though he was, the villagers began to feel the weight of his hand upon
+them. He bullied and beat the other boys of the camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST
+
+
+In the dead of winter--in that season of sweeping winds and aching
+skies, when the wide barrens lie uncheered of life from horizon to
+horizon--Soft Hand sent many of his warriors to the South. They followed
+in the "leads" of the great herds of caribou, going partly for the meat
+of the deer and partly to strike terror into the hearts of the Southern
+enemy. At the head of this party went Panounia, chief of the village on
+the River of Three Fires, and with him he took his hardy son, Wolf
+Slayer. Grim plans were bred on that journey. Grim tales were told
+around the big fire at night. The evil thing which Panounia hatched,
+with his bragging tongue, grew day by day and night by night. The hearts
+of the warriors were fired with the shameful flame. They dreamed things
+that had never happened, and wrought black visions out of the
+foolishnesses of their brains.
+
+"The bear nods," they repeated, one to another, after the chief had
+talked to them. "The bear nods, like an old woman over a pot of stew.
+But for Panounia, surely the men of the South would have scattered our
+lodges and led us, captive, to the playgrounds of their children and
+their squaws. Such a fate would warm the heart of Soft Hand, for is not
+our Great Chief an old woman himself?"
+
+So, far from the eye and paw of the great bear, the foxes barked at his
+power. The moon heard it, and the silent trees, and the wind which
+carries no messages.
+
+About this time Ouenwa, the grandson of Soft Hand, decided to make a
+journey of many days from the lodges at the head of Wind Lake to the
+Salt Water. He felt no interest in the Southern invasion. His eyes
+longed for a sight of the edges of the land and the breast of the great
+waters beyond. He had heard, in his inland home, rumour of mighty wooden
+canoes walled higher than the peak of a wigwam, and manned by
+loud-mouthed warriors from beyond the fogs and the rising sun. Some
+wiseacre, squatted beside the old chief's fire, hinted that the
+strangers were gods. He told many wonderful stories to back his
+argument. Soft Hand nodded. But Ouenwa smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Would gods make such flights for the sake of a few dried fishes and a
+few dressed pelts of beaver and fox?" he asked.
+
+"The gods of trade would do so," replied the wiseacre. "Also," he added,
+"they slay at great distances by means of brown stakes which are
+flame-tongued and smoke-crowned and thunder-voiced."
+
+"But do these gods not fight with knives--long knives and short?"
+inquired the lad. "I have heard it said that they sometimes fall out
+over the ordering of their affairs, even as we mortals do."
+
+"And what wonderful knives they are," cried the old gossip. "They are
+coloured like ice. They gleam in the sunlight, like a flash of lightning
+against a cloud. They cut quicker than thought, and the red blood
+follows the edge as surely as the rains follow April."
+
+"I have yet to see these gods," replied Ouenwa, "and in my heart I pray
+that they be but men, for the gods have proved themselves but cheerless
+companions to our people."
+
+At that Soft Hand looked up. "Are the seasons not arranged to your
+liking, boy?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"Nay, I did not mean that," cried Ouenwa; "but strange men promise
+better and safer company than strange gods."
+
+Now he was journeying toward the ocean of his dreaming and the ports of
+his desire. His eyes would search the headlands of fog. Out of the east,
+and the sun's bed, would lift the magic canoes of the strangers. But the
+journey was a hard one. The boy's only companion was a man of small
+stature and unheroic spirit, whom the old chief could well spare. They
+took their way down the frozen, snow-drifted lake, dragging their food
+and sleeping-bags of skin on a rough sledge. The wind came out of a
+steel-blue sky, unshifting and relentless. The dry snow ran before it
+over the level surface, and settled in thin, white ridges across their
+path. At the approach of night they sought the wooded shore, and in the
+shelter of the firs built their fire.
+
+During the journey Ouenwa's guide proved but a cheerless companion. He
+had no heart for any adventure that might take him beyond the scent of
+his people's cooking-fires. He considered the conversation of his young
+master but a poor substitute for the gossip of the lodges. The scant
+fare of his own cooking left his stomach uncomforted. He hated the
+weariness of the march and dreaded the silence of the night. The cry of
+the wind across the tree-tops was, to his craven ear, the voice of some
+evil spirit. The barking of a fox on the hill set his limbs a-tremble.
+The howl of a wolf struck him cold. The sudden leaping of a hare in the
+underbrush was enough to shake his poor wits with fright. But he feared
+the anger of Soft Hand more than all these terrors, and so held to
+Ouenwa and his mission.
+
+On the third day of the journey the blue sky thickened to gray, the wind
+veered, and a great storm of snow overtook them. The snowflakes were
+large and damp. The travellers turned aside and climbed the bank of the
+river to the thickets of evergreens. With their rude axes of stone they
+broke away the fir boughs and reared themselves a shelter in the heart
+of the wood. Into this they drew their sledge of provisions and their
+sleeping-bags. Then they collected whatever dry fuel they could
+find--dead twigs and branches, tree-moss and birch bark--and, with his
+ingenious contrivance of bow and notched stick, Ouenwa started a blaze.
+They roasted dried venison by holding it to the flame on the ends of
+pointed sticks. Each cooked what he wanted, and ate it without talk. All
+creation seemed shrouded in silence. There was not a sound save the
+occasional soft hiss of a melting snowflake in the fire. The storm
+became denser. It was as if a sudden, colourless night had descended
+upon the wilderness, blotting out even the nearer trees with its reeling
+gray. The old retainer crouched low, and gazed out at the storm from
+between his bony knees. His eyes fairly protruded with superstitious
+terror.
+
+"What do you see?" inquired Ouenwa. The awe of the storm was creeping
+over his courage like the first film of ice over a bright stream. The
+old man did not move. He did not reply. Ouenwa drew closer to him, and
+heaped dry moss on the fire. It glowed high, and splashed a ruddy circle
+of light on the eddying snowflakes as on a wall.
+
+"Hark!" whispered the old man. Yes, it was the sound of muffled
+footsteps, approaching behind the impenetrable curtain of the storm. The
+boy's blood chilled and thinned like water in his veins. He clutched his
+companion with frenzied hands. The fear of all the devils and shapeless
+beings of the wilderness was upon him. In the whirling snow loomed a
+great figure. It emerged into the glow of the fire.
+
+"Ah! ah!" cried the old man, cackling with relief. For their visitor was
+nothing more terrible than a fellow human. The stranger greeted them
+cordially, and told them that, but for the glow of their fire, he would
+have been lost.
+
+"But what are you doing here--an old man and a child?" he asked.
+
+Ouenwa told him. He explained his identity, and his intention of
+dwelling with the great arrow-maker of his grandfather's tribe to learn
+wisdom.
+
+"Then are we well met," replied the other, "for my lodge is not half a
+spear-throw from the lodge of the arrow-maker. The old man has been as a
+father to me since the day he saved my wife from death. Now I hunt for
+him, and work at his craft, and have left the river to be near him. My
+children play about his lodge. My wife broils his fish and meat. Truly
+the old man has changed since the return of laughter and friendship to
+his lodge."
+
+The stranger's name was Black Feather. He was taller than the average
+Beothic, and broad of shoulder in proportion. His hair was brown, and
+one lock of it, which was worn longer than the rest, was plaited with
+jet-black feathers. His garments consisted of a shirt of beaver skins
+that reached half-way between hip and knee, trousers of dressed leather,
+and leggins and moccasins of the same material. Around his waist was a
+broad belt, beautifully worked in designs of dyed porcupine quills. His
+head was uncovered.
+
+Black Feather seated himself beside Ouenwa, and replied, good-naturedly,
+and at great length, to the youth's many questions. He told of the
+high-walled ships, and of how he had once seen four of these monsters
+swinging together in the tide, with little boats plying between them,
+and banners red as the sunset flapping above them. He told of trading
+with the strangers, and described their manner of spreading out lengths
+of bright cloth, knives and hatchets of gray metal, and flasks of strong
+drink.
+
+"Their knives are edged with magic," he said. "Many of them carry
+weapons called muskets, which kill at a hundred paces, and terrify at
+even a greater distance. But a nimble bowman might loose four arrows in
+the time that they are conjuring forth the spirit of the musket."
+
+The storm continued throughout the day and night, but the morning broke
+clear. The travellers crawled from their weighted shelter and looked
+with gratitude upon the silver shield of the sun. After a hearty
+breakfast, they set out on the last stage of their journey. Their
+racquets of spruce wood woven across with strips of caribou hide sank
+deep in the feathery snow, and lifted a burden of it at every step. But
+they held cheerfully on their way. Black Feather walked ahead, and Pot
+Friend, the old gossip, brought up the rear. The thong by which they
+dragged the sledge passed over the right shoulder of each, and was
+grasped in the right hand. After several hours of tramping along the
+level of the river's valley, Black Feather turned toward the western
+bank and led them into the woods. Presently, after experiencing several
+difficulties with the sledge, they emerged on the barren beyond the
+fringe of timber. They ascended a treeless knoll that rounded in front
+of them, blindingly white against the pale sky. Old Pot Friend grumbled
+and sighed, and might just as well have been on the sledge, for all the
+pulling he did. On reaching the top of the knoll Black Feather swept his
+arm before him with a gesture of finality. "Behold!" he said.
+
+An exclamation of wonder sprang to Ouenwa's lips, and
+died--half-uttered. Before him lay a wedge of foam-crested winter sea
+beating out against a far, glass-clear horizon. To right and left were
+sheer rocks and timbered valleys, wave-washed coves, ice-rimmed islands,
+and crouching headlands. Even Pot Friend forgot his weariness and
+shortness of breath for the moment, and surveyed the outlook in silence.
+It was many years since he had been so far afield. His little soul was
+fairly stunned with awe. But presently his real nature reasserted
+itself. He pointed with his hand.
+
+"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "And the roofs of two lodges. Good!"
+
+Black Feather smiled. Ouenwa did not hear the old man's cry of joy.
+
+"I see the edge of the world," he said.
+
+"But the ships come over it, and go down behind it," replied Black
+Feather.
+
+"That is foolishness," said Pot Friend, who was filled with his old
+impudence at sight of the fire and the lodges. "No canoe would venture
+on the great salt water. I say it, who have built many canoes. And, if
+they voyaged so far, they would slip off into the caves of the Fog
+Devils. I believe nothing of all these stories of the strangers and
+their winged canoes."
+
+"Silence!" cried the boy, turning on him with flashing eyes. "What do
+you know of how far men will venture?--you, who have but heart enough to
+stir a pot of broth and lick the spoon."
+
+"I have brought you safely through great dangers," whined the old
+fellow.
+
+Montaw, the aged arrow-maker, welcomed his visitors cordially, and was
+grateful for the kind messages from his chief, Soft Hand, and for the
+gift of dressed leather. He accepted the charge and education of Ouenwa.
+He set the unheroic Pot Friend to the tasks of carrying water and wood,
+and snaring hares and grouse. He taught Ouenwa the craft of chipping
+flints into shapes for spear-heads and arrow-heads, and the art of
+painting, in ochre, on leather and birch bark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR
+
+
+Spring brought ice-floes and bergs from the north, and millions of
+Greenland seals. For weeks the little bay on which Montaw and Black
+Feather had their lodges was choked with battering ice-pans and crippled
+bergs. Many of the tribesmen came to the salt water to kill the seals.
+Soft Hand sent a canoe-load of beaver pelts to Ouenwa, so that the boy
+might trade with the strangers when they arrived out of the waste of
+waters.
+
+At last summer came to the great Bay of Exploits, and with it many
+ships--ships of England, of France, of Spain, and of Portugal. All were
+in quest of the world-renowned codfish. By this time the ice had rotted,
+and drifted southward. The first craft to enter Wigwam Harbour (as the
+English sailors called the arrow-maker's bay) was the Devon ship, _Heart
+of the West_. Her master, John Trowley, was an ignorant, hard-headed,
+and hard-fisted old mariner of the roughest type; but, by the laws of
+those waters, he was Admiral of Wigwam Harbour for that season. It was
+not long before every harbour had its admiral,--in every case the master
+of the first vessel to drop anchor there. The shores were portioned off
+in strips, so that each ship might have a place for drying-stages,
+whereon to cure its fish. Then the great business of garnering that rich
+harvest of the north began, amid the rattling of boat-gear, the shouting
+of orders in many tongues, and the volleying of oaths. Ouenwa, watching
+the animated scene, was fired with a desire to voyage in one of the
+strange vessels, and to taste the world that lay beyond the rim of the
+sea.
+
+One day, soon after their arrival, three men from the _Heart of the
+West_ ascended the twisting path to the arrow-maker's lodge. The old
+craftsman and Black Feather and Ouenwa advanced to meet them without
+fear, for up to that time the adventurers and the natives had been on
+the best of terms. The strangers smiled and bowed to the Beothics. They
+displayed a handful of coloured glass beads, a roll of red cloth, and a
+few sticks of tobacco. Old Montaw's eyes glistened at sight of the
+Virginian leaf. He had already learned the trick of drawing on the stem
+of a pipe and blowing fragrant clouds of smoke into the air. He said
+that to do so added to the profundity of his thoughts. And all winter he
+had gone without a puff. He produced a mink skin from his lodge and
+exchanged it for one of the coveted sticks of tobacco. Black Feather
+also traded, giving skins of mink, fox, and beaver for a piece of cloth,
+a dozen beads, and a knife. But Ouenwa stood aside and watched the
+strangers. One of them he recognized as the great captain who shouted
+and swore at the captains of the other ships, and pointed out to them
+places where they might anchor their ships--for it was none other than
+Master John Trowley. The young man with the gold lace in his hat, and
+the long sword at his side--surely, he, too, was a chief, despite his
+quiet voice and smooth face. Ouenwa's surmise was correct. The youth was
+Master Bernard Kingswell, only son of a wealthy widow of Bristol. His
+father, who had been knighted a few years before his premature death,
+had been a merchant of sound views and adventurous spirit. The son
+inherited the adventurous spirit, and was free from the bondage of the
+counting-house. The third of the party was a common seaman. That much
+Ouenwa could detect at a glance.
+
+Master Kingswell stepped over to the young Beothic.
+
+"Trade?" he inquired, kindly, displaying a string of glass beads in the
+palm of his hand. Ouenwa shook his head. He knew only such words of
+English as Montaw had taught him, and he feared that they would prove
+entirely inadequate for the purpose that was in his mind. However, he
+would try. He pointed to Trowley's ship, and then to the far and
+glinting horizon.
+
+"Take Ouenwa?" he whispered, scarce above his breath.
+
+"To see the ship?" inquired Master Kingswell.
+
+"Off," replied Ouenwa, with a wave of his arms. "Out, off!"
+
+Kingswell looked puzzled, and made no reply. The young Beothic bent a
+keen glance upon him; then he tapped himself on the chest.
+
+"Take Ouenwa," he whispered. He plucked the Englishman by the coat.
+"Come, chief, come," he cried, eagerly.
+
+Kingswell followed to the nearest lodge. Ouenwa pulled aside the flap of
+caribou hide that covered the doorway, and motioned for the visitor to
+enter. For a second the Englishman hesitated. He had heard many tales of
+the treachery of these people. What menace might not lurk in the gloom
+of the round, fur-scented lodge? But he did not lack courage; and,
+before the other had time to notice the hesitation, he stepped within.
+The flap of rawhide fell into place behind him. Save for the red glow
+that pulsated from the hearthstone in the centre of the floor, and the
+fingers of sunlight that thrust through the cracks in the apex of the
+roof, the big lodge was unilluminated.
+
+"What do you want?" asked Master Kingswell, with his shoulders against
+the slope of the roof and a tentative hand on his sword-hilt. For
+answer, Ouenwa held a torch of rolled bark to the fire until it flared
+smoky red, and then lifted it high. The light of it flooded the sombre
+place, showing up the couches of skins, Montaw's copper pot, and a great
+bale of pelts. The boy pointed to the pelts. Then he pressed the palm of
+his hand against the Englishman's breast.
+
+"Ouenwa give beaver," he said. "Take Ouenwa Englan'. Much good trade."
+
+Kingswell understood. But he saw obstacles in the way of carrying out
+the young Beothic's wish. The other savages might object. They might
+look on it as a case of kidnapping. Lads had been kidnapped before from
+the eastern bays, and, though they had been well treated, and made pets
+of in England, their people had ceased to trade with the visitors, and
+all their friendship had turned to treachery and hostility. On the other
+hand, he should like to take the youth home with him. He tried to
+explain his position to Ouenwa, but failed signally. They parted,
+however, with the most friendly feelings toward one another.
+
+After the interview with Kingswell, Ouenwa spent most of his time gazing
+longingly at the ships in the bay, and picturing the life aboard them,
+and the countries from which they had come. One morning Kingswell called
+to him from the land-wash. He ran down, delighted at the attention.
+Kingswell pointed to a small, open boat which the carpenter of the
+_Heart of the West_ had just completed. Then, by signs and a few words,
+he told Ouenwa that he was going northward in the little craft, to
+explore the coast, and that he would be back with the fleet before the
+birch leaves were yellow. Ouenwa begged to be taken on the expedition
+and afterward across the seas. He offered his canoe-load of beaver
+skins. He tried to tell of his great desire to see the lodges of the
+strangers, and to learn their speech. He did not want to live the life
+of his own people. Kingswell caught the general trend of the Beothic's
+remarks. He had no objection to driving a good bargain. So he made clear
+to him that he was to come alongside the ship, with the beaver skins, on
+the following night.
+
+The sky was black with clouds, and a fog wrapped the harbour, when
+Ouenwa stepped into his loaded canoe and pushed out toward the spot
+where Trowley's ship lay at anchor. He had dragged his skins from
+Montaw's lodge earlier in the night, without disturbing the slumbers of
+either his guardian or Pot Friend. Age had dulled their ears and
+thickened their sleep. He paddled noiselessly. Sounds of roistering came
+to his ears, muffled by the fog. Presently the admiral's ship loomed
+close ahead. Lights blinked fore and aft. She seemed a tremendous thing
+to the lad, though in truth she was but of one hundred tons. Singing and
+laughter were ripe aboard.
+
+For the first time a fear of the strangers took possession of Ouenwa.
+Even his trust in Kingswell faltered. He ceased paddling, and listened,
+with bated breath, to the hoarse shouts of merriment and the clapping
+oaths. Then curiosity overcame his fear. He slid his long canoe under
+the stem of the _Heart of the West_. A cheering glow of candle-light
+yellowed the fog above him. He stood up and found that his head was on a
+level with the sill of a square port. It stood open. He heard
+Kingswell's voice, and Trowley's. The master-mariner's was gusty and
+argumentative. It broke out at intervals, like the flapping of a sail.
+
+Ouenwa steadied himself with his hands on the casing of the open port,
+and lifted to tiptoe. Now he could see into the little cabin, and hear
+the conversation of its inmates. Happily for his feelings, he could
+understand only a word or two of that conversation. He saw Kingswell and
+the master of the ship seated opposite one another at a small table.
+Upon the table stood candles in metal sticks, a bottle, and glasses. The
+old sea-dog's bearded face was working with excitement. He slapped his
+great flipper-like hand on the polished surface of the board.
+
+"Now who be master o' this ship?" he bawled. "Tell me that, will 'e. Who
+be master?"
+
+"I am the owner, you'll kindly remember, John Trowley," replied
+Kingswell, with a ring of anger in his voice, but a smile on his lips.
+
+"Ay, ye be owner, but John Trowley be skipper," roared the other,
+glaring so hard that his round, pale eyes fairly bulged from his face.
+"An' no dirty redskin sails in ship o' mine unless as a servant, or
+afore the mast,--no, not if he pays his passage with all th' pelts in
+Newfoundland."
+
+"You are mistaken, my friend," replied Kingswell. "I'll carry fifty of
+these people back to Bristol, if it so pleases me."
+
+"I'll put ye in irons, my fine gentleman," retorted the seaman.
+
+"You are drunk," cried the young adventurer, drawing back his right hand
+as if to strike the great, scowling face that bent toward him across the
+table.
+
+"Drunk, d'ye say! An' ye'd lift yer hand against the ship's master,
+would ye?" shouted Trowley. He lurched forward, and a knife flashed
+above the overturned bottle and glasses.
+
+Ouenwa emitted a horrified scream, and hurled his paddle spear-wise into
+the cabin. The rounded point of the blade caught Trowley on the side of
+the head, and sent him crashing to the deck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER
+
+
+When Trowley recovered consciousness, he was lying in his berth, with a
+bandage around his head. Kingswell looked in at him, smiling in a way
+that the old mariner was beginning to fear as well as hate.
+
+"I hope you are feeling more amiable since your sleep," said Kingswell.
+
+Trowley muttered a word or two of apology, damned the rum, and asked the
+time of day. His recollections of the argument in the cabin were hazy
+and fragmentary.
+
+In reply to his question the gentleman told him that the sun was well
+up, the fog cleared, and that he was having his boat provisioned for the
+coastwise exploration trip.
+
+"And mind you," he added, grimly, "that the eighty beaver skins which
+are now being stowed away in my berth are my property."
+
+"Certainly, sir," replied Trowley. "An' may I ask how ye come by such a
+power o' trade in a night-time?"
+
+"Yes, you may ask," replied Kingswell. He grinned at the wounded skipper
+for fully a minute, leaning on the edge of the bunk. Then he said: "I'll
+now bid you farewell until October. Don't sail without me, good Master
+Trowley, and look not upon the rum of the Indies when that same is red.
+A knife-thrust given in drunkenness might lead to the gallows."
+
+He turned and nimbly scaled the companion-ladder, leaving the shipmaster
+speechless with rage.
+
+Half an hour later the staunch little craft _Pelican_ spread her square
+sail and slid away from the _Heart of the West_. She was manned by old
+Tom Bent, young Peter Harding, and Richard Clotworthy. Master Bernard
+Kingswell sat at the tiller, with Ouenwa beside him. Their provisions,
+extra clothing, arms, and ammunition were stowed amidships and covered
+with sail-cloth. The sun was bright, and the sky blue. The wind bowled
+them along at a clipping pace. From a mound above the harbour Black
+Feather gazed after them under a level hand. In the little harbour
+Trowley's ship alone swung in her anchorage. The others had run out to
+the fishing-grounds,--for in those days the fishing was done over the
+sides of the ships, and not from small boats. On either side the brown
+shores fell back, and the dancing waters widened and widened. White
+gulls screamed above and around them, flashing silvery wings, snowy
+breasts, and inquisitive eyes.
+
+Ouenwa looked back, and then ahead, and felt a great misgiving. But
+Kingswell patted him on the shoulder, and the sailors nodded their heads
+at him and grinned.
+
+Soon they were among the fleet. The ungainly, high-sterned vessels
+rocked and bobbed under naked spars. The great business that had brought
+them so far was going forward. Along both sides of every ship were hung
+barrels, and in each barrel was stationed a man with two or more
+fishing-lines. Splashing desperately, the great fish were hauled up,
+unhooked, and tossed to the deck behind. As the little _Pelican_ slid
+by, the fishers paused in their work to cheer her, and wave their caps.
+The masters shouted "God speed" from their narrow quarter-decks, and
+doffed their hats. Kingswell waved them gracious farewells; Ouenwa gazed
+spellbound toward the widening outlook; and Tom Bent trimmed the sail to
+a nicety.
+
+They passed headland after headland, rocky island after rocky island,
+cove after cove. The shores behind them turned from brown to purple,
+and from purple to azure. The waves ran higher and the wind freshened.
+Kingswell shaped the boat's course a few points to the northward. The
+stout little craft skipped like a lamb and plunged like some less
+playful creature. Spray flew over her blunt bows, and the sailors
+laughed like children, and called her a brave lass, and many other
+endearing names, as if she were human.
+
+"A smart wench, sir," said Tom Bent to Master Kingswell. The commander
+nodded, and shifted the tiller knowingly. His blue eyes were flashing
+with the excitement of the speed and motion. His bright, pale hair
+streamed in the wind. He leaned forward, to pick out the course through
+a group of small islands that cluttered the bay ahead of them. He gave
+an order, and the seamen hauled on the wet sheet. But Ouenwa did not
+share the high spirits of his companions. A terrible, unknown feeling
+got hold of him. His dark cheeks lost their bloom. Kingswell glanced at
+him.
+
+"Let it go, lad," he said. "A sailor is made in this way. Tom, pass me
+along a blanket."
+
+With his unemployed hand he fixed a comfortable rest for the boy, and
+helped him to a drink of water. For an hour or more he maintained a hold
+on the young Beothic's belt, for, by this time, the soaring and sinking
+of the _Pelican_ were enough to unsteady even a seasoned mariner. As
+for Ouenwa!--the poor lad simply clung to the gunwale with the grip of
+despair, and entertained regretful, beautiful visions of level shores
+and unshaken hills. Tom Bent eyed him kindly.
+
+"The young un has it wicked, sir," he said. "Maybe, like as not, a swig
+o' rum ud sweeten his bilge, sir."
+
+Kingswell acted on the old tar's advice. The rank liquor completed the
+boy's breakdown. In so doing it served the purpose which Bent had
+intended. The sufferer was soon sleeping soundly, already half a sailor.
+
+When Ouenwa next took interest in his surroundings, the _Pelican_ had
+the surf of a sheer coast close aboard on her port side. She was heading
+due north. The sun was half-way down his western slope. Behind the
+_Pelican's_ bubbling wake, hills and headlands and high, naked barrens
+lay brown and purple and smoky blue. In front, and on the right hand,
+loomed surf-rimmed islands and flashed the innumerable, ever-altering
+yet unchanged hills and valleys of the deep. Tom Bent was now at the
+tiller, and Kingswell was in the bows, gazing intently at the austere
+coast. Ouenwa crawled over the thwarts and cargo of provisions, under
+the straining sail, and crouched beside him. His head felt light and
+his stomach painfully empty, but again life seemed worth living and the
+adventure worth while.
+
+About an hour before sunset the _Pelican_ ran into a little cove, and
+her two grappling anchors were heaved overboard. She lay within five
+yards of the land-wash, swinging on an easy tide. Ouenwa sprang into the
+water and waded ashore. It was a dismal anchorage, with only a strip of
+shingle, and grim cliffs rising in front and on either hand. But at the
+base of the cliffs, in fissures of the rock, grew stunted spruce-trees
+and birches. Ouenwa soon found a little stream dribbling a zigzag course
+from the levels above. It gathered, clear and cold, in a shallow basin
+at the foot of the rock, and from there spilled over into the
+obliterating sand.
+
+By this time the others were ashore. Clotworthy hacked down a couple of
+armfuls of the spruce and birch shrubs with his cutlass, and started a
+fire. Then he filled a pot from the little well and commenced
+preparations for a meal. The other seamen erected a shelter, composed of
+a sail and three oars, against the cliff. Kingswell and Ouenwa sat on a
+convenient boulder, and the commander filled a long pipe with tobacco
+and lit it at a brand from the fire. He seemed in high spirits, and in a
+mood to further his young companion's education. Pointing to the roll
+of Virginian leaf, from which he had cut the charge for his pipe, he
+said, "Tobacco." Ouenwa repeated it many times, and nodded his
+comprehension. Then Kingswell pointed to old Tom Bent, who was watching
+Clotworthy drop lumps of dried venison into the pot of water.
+
+"Boatswain," he said.
+
+Ouenwa mastered the word, as well as the term "able seamen," applied to
+Clotworthy and Peter Harding. By that time the stew was ready for them.
+They were all sound asleep, under their frail shelter, before the last
+glimmer of twilight was gone from the sky.
+
+It was very early when Ouenwa awoke. A pale flood of dawn illumined the
+tent and the recumbent forms of Master Kingswell and Clotworthy. Tom
+Bent and Harding were not in their places. The boy wondered at that, but
+was about to close his eyes again, when he was startled to his feet by a
+shrill cry that went ringing overhead and echoing along the cliffs. He
+darted from the tent, with Kingswell and Clotworthy hot on his heels.
+Bent and Harding were on the extreme edge of the beach, with their backs
+to the sea, staring upward. Ouenwa and the others turned their faces in
+the same direction. They were amazed to see about a dozen native
+warriors on the cliff above them, fully armed, and evidently deeply
+interested in what was going on in the little cove. One of them was
+pointing to the _Pelican_, and talking vehemently to the brave beside
+him. In two of them Ouenwa recognized young Wolf Slayer, and his father,
+the chief of the village on the River of Three Fires. He called up to
+them, and asked what brought them so far from their village.
+
+"We are at the salt water to take the fish," replied Wolf Slayer, "and
+we saw the smoke of your fire before the last darkness. But what do you
+with the great strangers, little Dreamer?"
+
+"They are my friends," replied Ouenwa, "and I am voyaging with them to
+learn wisdom."
+
+"What are you talking about?" asked Kingswell.
+
+The lad tried to explain. He pointed to the tent and provisions and then
+to the boat. "Put in," he said.
+
+At a word from Kingswell the three sailors quickly dismantled their
+night's shelter and carried the sail, the oars, and such food and
+blankets as they had brought ashore, out to the _Pelican_. At that the
+shrill cry rang out again, and echoed along the cliffs.
+
+"What does that mean?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"Bad," replied Ouenwa, shortly.
+
+"What is in your fine canoe, little Dreamer?" called Wolf Slayer.
+
+"Our food and our clothing, little Fox Stabber," Ouenwa cried back, with
+indignation in his voice.
+
+"Your dreams must have unsettled your wits, my friend," replied Wolf
+Slayer, "or you would not talk so loud before a chief of the tribe."
+
+Just then, in answer to the cry that had sounded so dismally across the
+dawn a few moments before, five more warriors, armed with bows, appeared
+on the top of the cliff--for the cry was the hunting-call of the tribe.
+
+"Do you fish with war-bows?" shouted Ouenwa. "And why do you summon to
+trade with the cry of the hunt?"
+
+"You ask too many questions, even for a seeker of wisdom," replied the
+other youth, mockingly.
+
+"Does Soft Hand, the great bear, slumber, that the foxes bark with such
+assurance?" retorted Ouenwa.
+
+By this time the _Pelican_ was ready to put out of the cove. Both
+anchors were up, and Harding and Clotworthy held her off with the oars.
+Old Tom Bent was also in the boat, busy with something beside the mast.
+Suddenly a bow-string twanged, and an arrow buried its flint head in the
+sand at Kingswell's feet. Another struck a stone and, glancing out,
+rattled against Harding's oar. Kingswell and Ouenwa backed hastily into
+the water. Above them, silhouetted against the lightening sky, they saw
+bending bows and downward thrust arms. Then, with a clap and a roar, and
+a gust of smoke, old Tom Bent replied to the warriors on the cliff. The
+echoes of the discharge bellowed around and around the rock-girt
+harbour. Ouenwa and Kingswell sprang through the smoke and climbed
+aboard, and the seamen pushed into deep water and then bent to their
+oars. But the _Pelican_ proved a heavy boat to row, with her blunt bows
+and comfortable beam. She surged slowly beyond the cloud of bitter smoke
+that the musket had hung in the windless air. Clear of that, the
+voyagers looked for their treacherous assailants--and, behold, the great
+warriors were not to be seen. Kingswell and the three seamen laughed, as
+if the incident were a fine joke; but Ouenwa was hot with shame and
+anger. He stood erect and shouted abuse to the deserted cliff-top. He
+called upon Wolf Slayer and Panounia to show their cowardly faces. He
+threatened them with the displeasure of Soft Hand and with the anger of
+the English. A figure appeared on the sky-line.
+
+"You speak of Soft Hand," it cried. "Know you, then, that Soft Hand set
+out on the Long Trail four suns ago, when he marched into my village to
+dispute my power. I, Panounia, am now the great chief of the people. So
+carry yourself accordingly, O whelp without teeth and without a den to
+crawl into. Whose hand has overthrown the lodge of the totem of the
+Black Bear? Mine! Panounia's! Soft Hand has fallen under it as his son,
+your father, succumbed to it when you were a squalling babe." He paused
+for a moment, and held out a gleaming knife, with its point toward the
+_Pelican_. "The totem of the Wolf now hangs from the great lodge," he
+cried.
+
+Quick and noiseless as a breath, the edge of the cliff was lined with
+warriors. Like a sudden flight of birds their arrows flashed outward and
+downward.
+
+"Lie down!" cried Kingswell. With a strong hand he snatched Ouenwa to
+the bottom of the boat. Harding and Clotworthy sprawled forward between
+the thwarts. Only Tom Bent, crouched beside the naked mast, did not
+move. The arrows thumped against plank and gunwale. They pierced the
+cargo. They glanced from tiller and sweep and mast. One, turning from
+the rail, struck Bent on the shoulder. He cursed angrily, but did not
+look for the wound. His match was burning with a thread of blue smoke
+and a spark of red fire. His clumsy gun was geared to the rail by an
+impromptu swivel of cords. He lay flat and elevated the muzzle.
+
+"Steady her," he said, softly. "She's driftin' in."
+
+Kingswell sprang forward to one of the oars, thrust it to the bottom,
+and held the boat as steady as might be. Arrows whispered around him. He
+shouted a challenge to the befeathered warriors above him. Tom touched
+the slow-match to the quick fuse. Something hissed and sizzled. A plume
+of smoke darted up. Then, with a rebound that shook the boat from stem
+to stern, the gun hurled forth its lead, and fire, and black breath of
+hate.
+
+"Double charge, sir," gasped Tom Bent, from where he sagged against the
+mast. The kick of his musket had hurt him more than the blow from the
+arrow.
+
+Again the _Pelican_ fought her way toward the open waters, with Harding
+and Clotworthy pulling lustily at the sweeps. Kingswell, flushed and
+joyful, sat at the tiller and headed her for the channel, through which
+the tide was running landward at a fair pace. Bent was busy reloading
+his firearm. Ouenwa stood in the stern-sheets, with his bow in his left
+hand and an arrow on the string. A breath of wind brushed the smoke
+aside and cleared the view. Ouenwa pointed to the beach, and gave vent
+to a shrill whoop of triumph. The others looked, and saw a huddled shape
+of bronzed limbs and painted leather at the foot of the rock.
+
+"One more red devil for hell," muttered the boatswain. "I learned mun to
+shoot his pesky sticks at a Bristol gentleman."
+
+As if in answer, an arrow bit a splinter from the mast, not six inches
+from the old man's head. Ouenwa's bow bent, and sprang straight. The
+shaft flew with all the skill that Montaw had taught the boy, and with
+all the hate that was in his heart for the big murderer on the cliff.
+Every man of the little company narrowed his eyes to follow the flight
+of it. They saw it curve. They saw a warrior drop his bow from his
+menacing hand and sink to his knees.
+
+"The wolf falls," cried Ouenwa, in his own tongue. "The wolf bites the
+moss. Who, now, is the wolf slayer?"
+
+The Englishmen cheered again and again, and the good boat _Pelican_,
+urged forward by triumphant sinews, won through the channel and swam
+into the outer waters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE SILENT VILLAGE
+
+
+As soon as the _Pelican_ was out of arrow-shot of the cliff, the
+Beothics disappeared. Ouenwa laid aside his bow with a sigh of regret.
+Then he tried to repeat to Kingswell what he had heard from Panounia.
+After a deal of questioning, sign-making, and mental exertion, the
+Englishman gathered the information that treachery and murder had taken
+place up the river, and that his young friend hated the new leader of
+the tribe with a bitter hatred. He did not wonder at the bitterness. He
+looked at the young savage's flushed face and glowing eyes with sympathy
+and admiration. His liking for the boy had grown in every hour of their
+companionship, and, by this time, had developed into a decided fondness.
+
+"Sit down, lad, and let your guns cool," he said, with a light hand on
+the other's knee. "Your enemies are my enemies," he continued, "and
+we'll fight the dogs every time we see 'em."
+
+Ouenwa sat quiet and tried to look calm. He was soothed by the evident
+kindliness of Kingswell's tone and manner, though he had failed to
+translate his speech. The men on the thwarts had caught the words,
+however. They nodded heavily to one another.
+
+"Ye say the very word what was in my mind, sir," spoke up Tom Bent,
+"an', if I may make so bold as to say further, your enemies be your
+servants' enemies, sir. Therefore the young un's enemies must be our
+enemies, holus bolus." The other sailors nodded decidedly. "Therefore,"
+continued Tom Bent, "all they cowardly heathen aft on the cliff has to
+reckon, hereafter, with Thomas Bent an' the crew o' this craft."
+
+"Well spoken, Tom," replied Kingswell, with the smile that always won
+him the heart and hand of every man he favoured with it,--and of every
+maid, too, more than likely. "But we can't enthuse on empty stomachs.
+Pass out the bread and the cold meat," he added.
+
+For fully two hours the _Pelican_ rocked about within half a mile of her
+night's anchorage. Kingswell was not in a desperate hurry, and so his
+men pulled at the oars just enough to hold the boat clear of the rocks.
+A sharp lookout was kept along the coast, but not a sight nor a sound
+of the Beothics rewarded their vigilance.
+
+"They be up to some devilment, ye may lay to that," said Tom Bent.
+
+At last a wind fluttered to them out of the nor'east, and the square
+sail was hoisted and sheeted home. Again the _Pelican_ dipped her bows
+and wet her rail on the voyage of exploration.
+
+After two hours of sailing, and just when they were off the mouth of a
+little river and a fair valley, a fog overtook them. Kingswell was for
+running in, but Ouenwa objected.
+
+"Panounia follow," he said. "He great angry. Drop irons," he added,
+pointing to the little anchors.
+
+"Panounia is wounded. You winged him yourself," replied Kingswell. "He
+could not follow us around that coast, lad, at the clip we were coming."
+
+Ouenwa considered the words with puckered brows. They were beyond him.
+The commander pointed shoreward.
+
+"All safe," he said. "All safe."
+
+"No, no," cried the lad. "All kill. No safe."
+
+During this controversy the sail had been partly lowered, and the
+_Pelican_ had been slowly running landward with the fog.
+
+Kingswell looked from the young Beothic to the seamen with a smile of
+whimsical uncertainty.
+
+"Out o' the mouths o' babes an' sucklin's," remarked Tom Bent, with his
+deep-set eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Kingswell's glance rested,
+for a moment, on the ancient mariner.
+
+"Lower away," he said. The sail flapped down, and was quickly stowed.
+"Let go the anchors," he commanded. The grapplings splashed into the
+gray waves. The fog crawled over the boat and shut her off from land and
+sky. With a last dreary whistle, the wind died out entirely.
+
+"Rip me!" exclaimed Master Kingswell, "but here is caution that smells
+remarkably like cowardice." Fretfully sighing, he produced his pipe,
+tobacco, and tinder-box. Soon the fragrant smoke was mingling with the
+fog. The young commander leaned back, taking his comfort where he could,
+like the courageous gentleman that he was. The habit of burning
+Virginian tobacco was an expensive one, confined to the wealthy and the
+adventurous. The seamen, who, of course, had not yet acquired it,
+watched their captain with open interest. When a puff was blown through
+the nostrils, or sent aloft in a series of rings, they nudged one
+another, like children at a show. By this time the walls of fog had made
+of the _Pelican_ a tiny, lost world by itself. Suddenly Ouenwa raised
+his hand. "Sh!" he whispered. Kingswell removed the pipe-stem from his
+mouth, and inclined his head toward the hidden river and valley. All
+strained their ears, to wrest some sound from the surrounding gray other
+than the lapping of the tide along the unseen land-wash. But they could
+hear nothing.
+
+"Village," whispered Ouenwa, pointing landward.
+
+"But we saw no signs of a village," protested Kingswell, gently.
+
+"Village," repeated the lad. "Ouenwa hear. Ouenwa smell."
+
+Immediately the four Englishmen began to sniff the fog, like hounds
+taking a scent on the wind. But their nostrils were not the nostrils of
+either hounds or Beothics. They sniffed to no purpose. They shook their
+heads. Kingswell wagged a chiding finger at their keen-nosed companion.
+The boy read the inference of the gesture, and flushed indignantly.
+
+"Village," he whispered, shrilly. "Village, village, village."
+
+Kingswell looked distressed. The sailors grinned leniently at the
+determined boy. They had great faith in their own noses, had those
+mariners of Bristol and thereabouts. Ouenwa, frowning a little, sank
+into a moody contemplation of the fog.
+
+"This is dull," exclaimed Kingswell, after a half-hour of silence.
+"Tom, pipe us a stave, like a good lad."
+
+The boatswain scratched his head reflectively. Presently he cleared his
+throat with energy.
+
+"Me voice be a bit husky, sir, to what it once were," he murmured, "but
+I'll do me best--an' no sailorman can say fairer nor that."
+
+Straightway he struck into a heroic ballad of a sea-fight, in a high,
+tottering tenor. The song dealt with Spanish swagger and English daring,
+with bloody decks, falling spars, and flying splinters. Harding joined
+in the chorus with a booming bass. Clotworthy and the commander soon
+followed. Kingswell's voice was clear and strong and wonderfully
+melodious. Ouenwa's eyes glowed and his muscles trembled. Though the
+words held no meaning for him, the rollicking, dashing swing of the tune
+fired his excitable blood. He forgot all about Panounia, and the
+suspected village on the river so near at hand ceased to trouble him. He
+beat time to the singing with his moccasined feet, and clapped his hands
+together in rhythmic appreciation of his comrades' efforts. In time the
+ballad was finished. The last member of the craven crew of the _Teressa
+Maria_ had tasted English steel and been tossed to the sharks. Then
+Master Kingswell sprang to his feet and sang a sentimental ditty. It
+was of roses and fountains, of latticed windows and undying affection.
+The air was captivating. The singer's voice rang tender and clear. Old
+Tom Bent remembered lost years. Harding thought of a Devon orchard, and
+of a Devon lass at work harvesting the ruddy fruit. Clotworthy saw a
+cottage beside a little wood, and a woman and a little child gazing
+seaward and westward from the door.
+
+For several seconds after the last note had died away, the little
+company remained silent and motionless, fully occupied with its various
+thoughts. Ouenwa was the first to break the spell of the song. He laid
+his hand on Kingswell's arm with a quick gesture, and leaned toward him.
+
+"Canoe," he whispered.
+
+The sound that had caught Ouenwa's attention was repeated--a short rap,
+like the inadvertent striking of a paddle against a gunwale. They all
+heard it, and, with as little noise as possible, set to work at getting
+out cutlasses and loading muskets. Kingswell crawled forward and
+whispered with old Tom Bent. The boatswain nodded and turned to Harding.
+That sturdy young seaman crawled to the bows and placed his hands on the
+hawser of the forward anchor. He looked aft. Kingswell, who had returned
+to his seat at the tiller, leaned over the stern and cut the manilla
+rope that tethered the boat at that end. Harding immediately pulled on
+his rope until he was directly over the light bow anchor. Then, strongly
+and slowly, and without noise, he brought the four-fingered iron up and
+into the bows. They were free of the bottom, anyway, and with the loss
+of only one anchor. Kingswell breathed a sigh of relief.
+
+The _Pelican_ drifted, and the crew stared into the fog, with wide eyes
+and alert ears. Then, to seaward and surely not ten yards away, sounded
+a plover-call. Kingswell signalled to Bent to man the seaward side and
+Clotworthy and Harding the other. They rested the barrels of their great
+matchlocks on the gunwales. Suddenly the prow of a canoe pierced the
+curtain of fog not four yards from Tom Bent. He touched the match to the
+short fuse. There was a terrific report, and a chorus of wild yells. In
+the excitement that followed, the others discharged their pieces.
+Kingswell grabbed an oar, slipped it into a notch beside the tiller and
+began to "scull" the boat seaward. The men reloaded their muskets and
+peered into the fog. They heard splashings and cries on all sides, but
+could see nothing. Ouenwa, standing erect, discharged arrow after arrow
+at the hidden enemy.
+
+The splashings grew fainter, and the cries ceased entirely. Kingswell
+passed the oar which he had been using to Harding, and told the men to
+lay aside their muskets and row. Ouenwa let fly his last arrow, in the
+names of his murdered father and grandfather.
+
+For a long and weary time the _Pelican_ lay off the hidden land,
+shrouded in fog and silence. A few hours before sunset a wind from the
+west found her out, drove away the fog, and disclosed the sea and the
+coast and the open sky.
+
+"Pull her head 'round," commanded Kingswell, "and hoist the sail. We are
+going back to have a look at that village."
+
+The men obeyed eagerly. They were itching for a chance to repay the
+savages for the fright in the dark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A LETTER FOR OUENWA
+
+
+Two headlands were rounded before the valley of the river opened again
+to the eyes of the adventurers. The brown water of the stream stole down
+and merged into the dancing, wind-bitten sea. The gradual hillsides,
+green-swarded, basked in the golden light. The lower levels of the
+valley were already in shadow. No sign of man, or of his habitation, was
+disclosed to the voyagers.
+
+"A fair spot," remarked Kingswell. "I feel a desire stirring within me
+to stretch my legs on that grassy bank. What do you say to the idea,
+Tom?"
+
+The old fellow grinned. "'Twould be pleasant, sir, an' no mistake," he
+replied--"a little walk along the brook, with our hands not very far
+from our hangers. Ay, sir, Tom Bent's for a spell o' nater worship."
+
+The boat ran in, and was beached on the sand well within the mouth of
+the river. Harding and Clotworthy, with loaded muskets, were left on
+guard, and the other three, fully armed, started along the bank of the
+stream. They advanced cautiously, with a sharp lookout on every clump of
+bushes and every spur of rock. A kingfisher dropped from its perch above
+the water and flew up-stream with shrill clamour. They turned a bend of
+the little river and halted short in their track with muttered
+exclamations. Before them, on a level meadow between the brown waters of
+the stream and the dark green wall of the forest, stood half a dozen
+wigwams. The place seemed deserted. They scanned the dark edge of the
+wood and the brown hills behind. They peered everywhere, expecting to
+catch the glint of hostile eyes at every turn. But neither grove nor
+hill, nor silent lodge, disclosed any sign of life.
+
+"Where the devil are they?" exclaimed Kingswell, thoroughly perplexed.
+
+Ouenwa smiled, and swept his hand in a half-circle.
+
+"Watch us," he remarked, nodding his head. "Yes, watch us."
+
+"He means they are lying around looking at us," said Kingswell to the
+boatswain. "Rip me, but I don't relish the chance of one of those
+stone-tipped arrows in my vitals."
+
+Tom Bent glanced about him in visible trepidation. Ouenwa noticed it,
+and pointed to the seaman's musket. "No 'fraid," he said. "Shoot."
+
+"What at?" inquired Bent.
+
+"Make shoot," cried the boy, indicating the silent wood, dusky in the
+gathering shadows.
+
+"He wants you to fire into the wood, and frighten them out," said
+Kingswell.
+
+"If they be there, I'm for lettin' 'em stay there," replied Tom.
+
+However, he fixed his murderous weapon in its support, aimed at the edge
+of the forest beyond the wigwams, and fired. The flame cut across the
+twilight like a red sword; a dismal howl arose and quivered in the air.
+It was answered from the hilltops on both sides of the stream.
+
+Before the echoes had died away, Ouenwa was inside the nearest lodge.
+Kingswell followed, and found him dismantling the couches and walls of
+their valuable furs. He instantly took a hand in the looting. Soon each
+had all he could handle. They carried their burdens from the lodge, and,
+with Tom as a rear-guard, marched back toward the _Pelican_. They had
+rounded the bend of the river, and the two seamen were hurrying to meet
+them, when old Tom Bent suddenly uttered an indignant whoop and leaped
+into the air. His musket flew from his shoulder and clattered against a
+stone. Kingswell and Ouenwa threw down their bundles and sprang to where
+he lay, kicking and spluttering. The feathered shaft of an arrow clung
+to the middle of his left thigh. He was swearing wildly, and vowing
+vengeance on the "heathen varment" who had pinked him.
+
+Harding and Clotworthy fired into the shadows of the wooded hillside,
+and Kingswell hoisted the struggling boatswain to his shoulders and
+continued his advance on the boat. The old sailor begged and implored
+his commander to put him down, assuring him that he was more surprised
+than hurt. But Kingswell turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, and did
+not release him until they were safe beside the _Pelican's_ bows. Just
+then Ouenwa and the sailors came running up with the looted pelts. All
+were puzzled. Why had the hidden enemy fired only one arrow, when they
+might have annihilated the little party with a volley?
+
+That night the _Pelican_ lay at anchor in the mouth of the river. Twice,
+during the long, eerie hours between dark and dawn, the man on duty woke
+his companions; but on both occasions the alarms proved to be false--the
+splashing of a marauding otter near the shore or the flop of a feeding
+trout. Under the pale lights of the morning the valley and the stream
+lay as peaceful and deserted as on the preceding evening. The voyagers
+ate their breakfast aboard. Then, as soon as the sun had cleared the
+light mist from the water, they got up their anchor and rowed up-stream.
+Harding and Clotworthy pulled on the oars. Bent and the commander
+crouched in the bows, with ready muskets, and Ouenwa sat at the tiller.
+The current was strong, and the boat crawled slowly against the twirling
+sinews of water. Little patches of spindrift, from some fall or rapid
+farther up the river, floated past them. The pebbly bottom flashed
+beneath the amber tide. Leaping fish gleamed and splashed on either
+hand, and sent silver circles rippling to the toiling boat. A moist,
+sweet fragrance of foliage and mould and dew filled the air.
+
+Soon the deserted lodges came into view, standing smokeless and pathetic
+between the murmuring river and the brooding trees. Kingswell motioned
+to Ouenwa to head for the low bank in front of the wigwams. They landed
+without incident, and all walked toward the village, with their firearms
+ready and their matches lighted. They explored every lodge and even beat
+the underbrush. The dwellings had been cleared of pelts and weapons and
+cooking utensils evidently during the night. A village of this size must
+have possessed at least six canoes; but not a canoe, nor so much as a
+paddle, could they find.
+
+"All run in canoe," remarked Ouenwa, pointing up-stream.
+
+"What be this?" asked Tom Bent, limping toward Kingswell with an arrow
+and a small square of birch bark in his hand. He had found the bark,
+pinned by the arrow, to the side of one of the wigwams. Kingswell
+examined it intently, and shook his head.
+
+"Pictures," he said. "I suppose it is a letter of some kind, in which
+their wise man tells us what he thinks of us."
+
+Ouenwa took the bark and surveyed the roughly sketched figures, with
+which it was covered, with a scornful twist of his face.
+
+"Wolf," he said, indicating the central figure. "See! Very big!
+Bear"--he touched another point of the missive and then tapped his own
+breast--"see bear! Him no big! Wolf eat bear." He laughed shrilly, and
+shook his head. "No, no," he said. "No, no."
+
+"What be mun jabberin' about?" muttered Tom Bent.
+
+Kingswell explained that the bear stood for Ouenwa's family, and that
+the wolf was the symbol of the people who had killed his grandfather.
+
+The _Pelican_ continued her voyage before noon, and all day skirted an
+austere and broken coast. She crossed the mouths of many wide bays,
+steering for the purple headlands beyond. She rounded many islands and
+braved intricate channels. Toward evening she rounded a bluffer, grimmer
+cape than any of the day's experience, and Kingswell, who had just
+relieved Harding at the tiller, forsook the straight course and headed
+up the bay. Two hours of brisk sailing brought them to a sheltered
+roadstead behind an island and just off a wooded cove. They lowered the
+sail and rowed in close to the beach. They built no fire, and spent the
+night close to the tide, with their muskets and cutlasses beside them,
+and the watch changed every two hours.
+
+Three days later the voyagers happened upon a ship. They ran close in to
+where she lay at anchor, believing her to be English, and did not
+discover their mistake until the little tub of a brig opened fire from a
+brass cannonade. The first shot went wide, and the _Pelican_ lay off
+with a straining sail. The second shot fell short, and that ended the
+encounter, for the Frenchmen were too busy fishing to get up anchor and
+give chase.
+
+Old Tom Bent was quite cast down over the incident. "It be the first
+time," he said, "that I ever seen a Frencher admiral o' a bay in
+Newfoundland. One year I were fishin' in the _Maid o' Bristol_, in Dog's
+Harbour, Conception, an', though we was last to drop anchor, an' the
+only English ship agin six Frenchers and two Spanishers, by Gad, our
+skipper said he were admiral--an', by Gad, so he were."
+
+But the valorous old mariner did not suggest that they put about and
+dispute the admiralty of the little harbour which they had just passed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION
+
+
+In a cave in White Bay the voyagers traded with a party of friendly
+natives. Farther north they found indications of copper, and collected a
+bagful of the mother rock. In late August a sickness prostrated Master
+Kingswell and Clotworthy, and camp was made on the mainland. For three
+weeks the sufferers were unable to lift their heads. They lost flesh
+until they were little more than skin and bone. Ouenwa undertook the
+dual position of physician and nurse. He had some knowledge of the
+science of medicine, as practised by the Beothics, and treated the
+malady with teas of roots and herbs. He also managed to kill a young
+caribou, and fed his patients with broth made from the meat. But it was
+close upon the end of September when the _Pelican_ again took up her
+northward journey.
+
+Kingswell's real reason for this adventurous cruise was the quest of
+gold. Other explorers had seen gold ore in the possession of the
+natives, and he had heard stories of a French sailor having been
+wounded by a gold-barbed arrow. But the precious metal eluded him. Upon
+gaining the farthest cape of the great island, he wanted to cross the
+straits and continue his search along the Labrador coast; but the men
+shook their heads. The boat was too small for the voyage. Their
+provisions were running low. The northern summer was already far spent.
+So Kingswell headed the _Pelican_ southward. After a week of fair winds,
+they were caught in a squall, and the starboard bow of their stout
+little craft was shattered while they were in the act of winning to a
+sheltered anchorage. Everything was salvaged; but it took them three
+days to patch the boat back to a seaworthiness. Even after this
+unlooked-for delay, the young commander persisted in exploring every
+likely looking cave and river mouth that had been neglected on the
+northward trip. The men grumbled sometimes, but it was not in the heart
+of any sailor to deny the wishes of so charming and brave a gentleman as
+Master Kingswell. Ouenwa's long conversations in his partially acquired
+English helped to keep the company in good spirits.
+
+It was November, and nipping weather in that northern bay, when the
+_Pelican_ threaded the islands of Exploits and opened Wigwam Harbour to
+the eager gaze of her company. The harbour was empty! They had not
+sighted a vessel in any of the outer reaches of the bay. The
+drying-stages and fish stores stood deserted above the green tide.
+
+Kingswell turned a bloodless face toward his men. "They have sailed for
+home without us," he said, and swallowed hard. Old Tom Bent gazed
+reflectively about him, and scratched a hoary whisker with a mahogany
+finger. He had grumbled at the chance of this very disaster, but now
+that he was face to face with it the thought of grumbling did not occur
+to him.
+
+"Ay, sir," said he, "the damned rascals has sailed without us--an' we
+are lucky not to be in such dirty company!"
+
+He spat contemptuously over the gunwale. The colour returned to
+Kingswell's cheeks, and a flash of the old humour to his eyes. He smiled
+approvingly on the boatswain. But young Peter Harding, being neither as
+old nor as wise as Bent, nor as cool-headed as Clotworthy, had something
+to say on the subject. He ripped out an oath. Then--"By God," he cried,
+"here's one man who'd rather sail in a ship with what ye calls dirty
+company, Tom Bent, than starve in a damn skiff with--with you all," he
+finished, lamely.
+
+Kingswell and Ouenwa looked at the young seaman with mute indignation
+in their eyes. But Tom Bent laughed softly.
+
+"Ay, Peter, boy," he said, "ye be one o' these fine, lion-hearted
+English mariners what's the pride o' the king an' the terror o' the
+seas. The likes o' ye don't sail shipmates with men, but with the duff
+an' the soup an' the prize-money." His voice shrilled a little. "Ay, if
+it wasn't that I know ye for a better man than ye sound just now, I'd ax
+cap'n's leave to twist the snivellin' nose off the fat face o' ye."
+
+"Tom be right," remarked Clotworthy, with a knowing and well-considered
+wag of his heavy head.
+
+Harding, who had delivered his speech from a commanding position on a
+thwart, sat down very softly, as if anxious not to attract any further
+attention.
+
+"We'll have a look at the old arrow-maker, lads," said Kingswell,
+cheerfully, "and stock up with enough dried venison to carry us south to
+Trinity, or even to Conception. Ships often lie in those bays till the
+snow flies. At the worst we can sail the old _Pelican_ right 'round to
+St. John's, and winter there. I'll wager the governor would be glad
+enough of a few extra fighting men to scare off the French and the
+privateers."
+
+Despite Master Kingswell's brave words, there was no store of dried
+venison to be obtained from the arrow-maker, for both the old
+philosopher's lodge and Black Feather's were gone--gone utterly, and
+only the round, level circles on the sward to show where they had stood.
+What had become of Montaw and his friends could only be surmised.
+Ouenwa's opinion that the enemies of Soft Hand were responsible for
+their disappearance was shared by the Englishman. All agreed that
+immediate flight was safer than a further investigation of the mystery.
+So the storm-beaten, wave-weary _Pelican_ turned seaward again.
+
+Two days later, toward nightfall, and after having sailed far up an arm
+of the sea and into the mouth of a great river, in fruitless search of
+some belated fishing-ship, the adventurers were startled and cheered by
+the sound of a musket-shot. It came from inland, from up the shadowy
+river. It was muffled by distance. It clapped dully on their eager ears
+like the slamming of a wooden door. But every lonely heart of them knew
+it for the voice of the black powder. They drifted back a little and lay
+at anchor all night, just off the mouth of the river. With the dark came
+the cruel frost. But they crawled beneath their freight of furs and
+slept. They were astir with the first gray lights, and before sunrise
+were pulling cautiously up the middle of the channel. White frost
+sparkled on thwart and gunwale. Dark, mist-wrapped forests of spruce and
+fir and red pine came down to the water on both sides. Here and there a
+fang of black rock, noisy with roosting gulls, jutted above the dark
+current. A jay screamed in the woods. A belated snipe skimmed across
+their bows. An eagle eyed them from the crown of an ancient pine, and
+swooped down and away.
+
+They must have ascended the stream a matter of two miles--and hard
+pulling it was--when Ouenwa's sharp eyes detected the haze of wood smoke
+beyond a wooded bend.
+
+"Cooking-fire there!" he exclaimed. "Maybe get something to eat? Maybe
+get killed?"
+
+He spoke cheerfully, as if neither prospect was devoid of charm.
+
+"We'll risk it," remarked Kingswell, quietly. "Put your weight into the
+stroke, lads--and, Tom, keep your match handy."
+
+At last the bend was rounded, and the rowers turned on the thwarts and
+peered over their shoulders, and Kingswell uttered a low cry of delight.
+Close ahead of them the right-hand bank lay level and open, and along
+its edge were beached three skiffs. About twenty yards back stood a
+little settlement of log cabins enclosed by palisades. From the
+chimneys of the cabins plumes of comfortable smoke rose to the clearer
+azure above. In front of this civilized spot, in mid-stream, a small
+high-pooped vessel lay moored. Her masts and spars were gone. She swung
+like a dead body in the brown current.
+
+Tom Bent swore softly and with grave deliberation. "Damn my eyes," he
+murmured. "Ay, sir, dash my old figger-head, if there don't lay a
+reggler, complete plantation! Blast my eyes!"
+
+"A tidy, Christian appearin' place," remarked Clotworthy, joyously. "An'
+real chimleys, too! Well, that do look homely, for certain."
+
+At that moment three men, armed with muskets, ran from the gateway of
+the enclosure and stood uncertain half-way between the palisade and the
+river. Kingswell hailed them, standing in the bluff bows of the little
+_Pelican_. He stated the nationality, the names, and degrees of himself
+and the other of the little company, and the manner of their misfortune,
+even while the boat was covering the short distance to the shore.
+
+The settlers laid aside their weapons, and received Master Kingswell and
+his men with every show of cordiality and good faith. They were
+strapping fellows, with weather-tanned faces, broad foreheads, steady
+eyes, and herculean shoulders. They doffed their skin caps to the
+gentleman adventurer.
+
+"Ye be our first visitors, sir, since we come ashore here two year and
+two months ago come to-morrow," said one of the three. "Yes, it be just
+two year and two months ago, come to-morrow, that we dropped anchor off
+the mouth of this river," he added, turning to his companions. They
+agreed silently. Their eyes and attention were fully absorbed by Master
+Kingswell's imposing, though sadly stained, yellow boots and gold-laced
+coat. Another settler joined the group, and welcomed the voyagers with
+sheepish grins. A fifth, arrayed in finery and a sword, approached and
+halted near by.
+
+"These," said the spokesman, "be Donnellys--father and son." With a
+casual tip of the thumb, he indicated two rugged members of the company.
+He turned to a handsome young giant beside him and smote him
+affectionately on the shoulder. "This here be my boy John--John
+Trigget," he said, "an' that gentleman be Captain Pierre d'Antons." He
+bowed, with ungracious deference, to the dark, lean, fashionably dressed
+individual who stood a few paces away. "An' my name be William Trigget,
+master mariner," he concluded.
+
+Kingswell bowed low for the second time, and again shook hands with the
+elder Trigget. Then he stepped over to D'Antons and murmured a few
+courteous words in so low a voice that his men caught nothing of them.
+Each gentleman laid his left hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. Each
+bowed, laced hat in hand, until his long hair fell forward about his
+face. D'Antons' locks were raven-black, and straight as a horse's mane.
+Young Kingswell's were bright as pale gold, and soft as a woman's. Both
+were of goodly proportions and gallant bearing, though the Frenchman was
+the taller and thinner of the two.
+
+D'Antons slipped his arm within Kingswell's, and, motioning to the
+others to follow, started toward the stockade. William Trigget
+immediately strode forward and walked on Master Kingswell's other hand,
+as if determined to assert his rights as a leader of the mixed company.
+Ouenwa and the seamen of the _Pelican_, and the Donnellys and young
+Trigget, followed close on the heels of their superiors.
+
+"And who may ye be, lad?" inquired John Trigget of Ouenwa, as they
+crossed the level of frost-seared grass.
+
+"I am Ouenwa," replied the boy, frankly, "and Master Kingswell is my
+strong friend and protector. My grandsire was Soft Hand, the head chief
+of this country. His enemies--barking foxes who name themselves
+wolves--pulled him down in the night-time."
+
+The big settler nodded, and the others uttered ejaculations of pity and
+interest. The story was not news to them, however.
+
+"Ay," said John Trigget, "Soft Hand were pulled down in the night, sure
+enough. The Injuns run fair crazy, what with murderin' each other an'
+burnin' each other's camps. I was huntin', two days to the north, when
+the trouble began. I come home without stoppin' to make any objections,
+an' the skipper kep' our gates shut for a whole week. They rebels was
+for wipin' out everybody; an' they captured two French ships, an' did
+for the crews. They be moved away inlan' now, thank God. We be safe till
+spring, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"There be worse folks nor they tormentin' Injuns around these here
+soundin's, an' ye can take my word for that," growled the elder
+Donnelly, in guarded tones.
+
+"Belay that," whispered John Trigget. "The devil can cook his stew
+plenty quick enough. Us won't bear a hand till the pot boils over."
+
+Captain d'Antons glanced back at the talkers. His black eyes gleamed
+suspiciously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX
+
+
+Inside the stockade, posted unevenly around three sides of a foot-worn
+square, were five buildings of rough logs. From a platform in the
+southeast corner two small cannon presented their muzzles to the river.
+At the back of this platform, on the southern side of the square, stood
+the Donnelly cabin. It was stoutly built, and measured fifteen paces
+across the front. Against the western palisade the Trigget cabin and
+Captain d'Antons' habitation faced the square. On the north side stood a
+fourth dwelling and a small storehouse. In the centre of the yard
+bubbled a spring of clear water under a rustic shed. A tiny brook
+sparkled away from it, under the stockade and down to the river. The
+well was flanked on both sides by a couple of slim birches, now leafless
+under the white November sun.
+
+The visitors were led to the Triggets' cabin, and Skipper Trigget's wife
+and daughter--both big, comely women--fed them with the best in the
+little plantation. After breakfast, Kingswell and Ouenwa were taken to
+D'Antons' quarters. The Frenchman was the spirit of hospitality, and
+took blankets and sheets from his own bed to dress their couches. Also
+he produced a flask of priceless brandy, from which he and Kingswell
+pledged a couple of glasses to the Goddess of Chance. The toast was
+D'Antons' suggestion.
+
+Presently D'Antons excused himself, saying that he had a matter of
+business to attend to, and left his guests to their own devices. The
+house was divided into two apartments by curtains of caribou hides,
+which were hung from one of the low crossbeams of the ceiling. At the
+end of each room a fire burned on a roughly built hearth. Two small
+windows of clouded glass partially lit the sombre interior. Books in
+English, French, and Spanish, a packet of papers, ink and quills, and a
+neatly executed drawing of a pinnace under sail lay on a table near one
+of the windows. Antlers of stags, decorated quivers and bows, painted
+hides, and glossy skins adorned the rough walls. Above the hearth in the
+room in which Kingswell and his young companion sat, hung a musket with
+a silver inlaid stock, a carved powder-horn, and several knives and
+daggers in beaded sheaths. On the floor lay two great, pink-lipped West
+Indian shells. A steel head-piece, a breastplate of the same sure metal,
+and a heavy sword with a basket hilt hung above D'Antons' bed.
+
+Kingswell looked over the books on the table. He found that one of them
+was a manual of arms, written in the Spanish language; another a work of
+navigation, by a Frenchman; a third a weighty thesis on the science and
+practice of surgery; and the fourth was a volume as well-loved as
+familiar,--Master William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." He took up
+this last, and, seating himself with his shoulder to the window, was
+soon far away from the failures and daily perils of the wilderness. The
+greedy, hard-bitted materialist Present, with its quests of "fish," and
+fur, and gold, was replaced by the magic All-Time of the playwright
+poet.
+
+Ouenwa wandered about the room, prying into every nook and corner, and
+examining the shells, the arms, and the decorations. He even knelt on
+the hearthstone, and, at the risk of setting fire to his hair, tried to
+solve the mystery of the chimney--for a fire indoor unaccompanied by a
+lodgeful of smoke was a new thing in his experience. He looked
+frequently at Kingswell, in the hope of finding him open to questions,
+but was always disappointed. At last the thought occurred to him that
+it would be a fine thing to get hold of the great sword above the bed,
+and make cut, lunge, and parry with it as Kingswell had shown him how to
+do on several occasions. So he climbed on to the bed, and, in trying to
+clear the sword from its peg, knocked the steel cap ringing to the
+floor. Kingswell sprang from his stool, with his arm across his body and
+his hand on his sword-hilt, and Master Shakespeare's immortal drama
+sprawled at his feet. "Oh, that's all, is it?" he exclaimed, in tones of
+relief. "But you must not handle other people's goods, lad," he added,
+kindly, "especially a gentleman's arms and armour."
+
+Ouenwa flushed and apologized, and was about to step from D'Antons'
+couch to recover the head-piece, when D'Antons himself entered the
+cabin. Kingswell turned to him and explained the accident.
+
+"My young friend is very sorry," he said, "and would beg your pardon if
+he felt less embarrassed. However, captain, I beg it for him. I was so
+intent on the affairs of Romeo that I was not watching him. He is
+naturally of an investigating turn of mind."
+
+The Frenchman waved a slim hand and flashed his white teeth. "It is
+nothing, nothing," he cried. "I beg you not to mention it again, or
+give it another thought. The old pot has sustained many a shrewder whack
+than a tumble on the floor. Ah, it has turned blades of Damascus before
+now! But enough of this triviality! I have returned to request you to
+come with me to our governor. Neither Trigget nor I have mentioned him
+to you, as he is not desirous of meeting strangers. But he will make his
+own apologies, Master Kingswell."
+
+He stood aside, for Kingswell and Ouenwa to pass out before him.
+Kingswell went first. As Ouenwa crossed the threshold, D'Antons nipped
+him sharply by the arm, and hissed, "Dog! Cur!" in a voice so low, so
+sinister, that the boy gasped. But in a breath the Frenchman was his
+affable self again, and the Beothic, with the invectives still burning
+his ears, almost believed that he had been the victim of some evil
+magic. Kingswell caught nothing of the incident.
+
+Ouenwa was requested to wait outside. Master Kingswell was ushered into
+the governor's cabin, and D'Antons closed the door behind him. The young
+Englishman found himself in a dimly lit apartment very similar to that
+which he had just left. He hesitated, a step inside the threshold, and
+narrowed his lids in an effort to see more clearly. The Frenchman paused
+at his elbow. Two figures advanced from the farther side of the room.
+He ventured another step, and bowed with all the grace at his command,
+for one of the figures was that of a young woman in flashing raiment.
+The other was of a slim, foppishly dressed man of a little past middle
+age, with a worn face that somehow retained its air of youthfulness
+despite its haggard lines and faded skin.
+
+"Welcome to our humble retreat, Master Kingswell," said the gentleman,
+extending his hand and laughing softly. "This is indeed an unlooked-for
+pleasure. We last met, I believe, at Randon Hall--or was it at Beverly?"
+
+"Sir Ralph Westleigh!" exclaimed Kingswell, in a voice of ill-concealed
+consternation and surprise. For a moment he stood in an attitude of
+half-recoil. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the other with wide
+eyes. Then he caught the waiting hand in a firm grip.
+
+"Thank you, Sir Ralph. Yes, it was at Beverly that we last met," he
+said, evenly. He turned to the girl, who stood beside her father with
+downcast eyes and flaming cheeks and throat. The baronet hastened to
+make her known to the visitor.
+
+"My daughter Beatrix," he said. "A good girl, who willingly and
+cheerfully shares her worthless father's exile."
+
+Mistress Westleigh extended a firm and shapely hand, and Kingswell,
+bending low above it, intoxicated by the sudden presence of beauty and a
+flood of homesick memories, pressed his lips to the slim fingers with a
+warmth that startled the lady and brought a flash of anger to D'Antons'
+eyes. He recovered himself in an instant. "To see you in this
+wilderness--amid these bleak surroundings!" he exclaimed, scarcely above
+a whisper. "I cannot realize it, Mistress Beatrix! And once we played at
+racquets together in the court at Beverly."
+
+The girl smiled at him, with a gleam of understanding in her dark,
+parti-coloured eyes.
+
+"I remember," she said. "You have not changed greatly, save in size."
+And at that she laughed, with a note of embarrassment.
+
+"But you have," replied Kingswell. "You were not very beautiful as a
+little girl. To me you looked much the same as my own sisters."
+
+For a second, or less, the maiden's eyes met his with merriment and
+questioning in their depths. Then they were lowered. Sir Ralph moved
+uneasily.
+
+"Come, come," he said, "we must not stand here all day, like geese on a
+village green. There are seats by the fire." He led the way. "Captain,
+if you are not busy I hope you'll stay and hear some of Master
+Kingswell's adventures," he added, turning to D'Antons.
+
+"With pleasure," answered the captain.
+
+"One moment, sir," said Kingswell to Sir Ralph Westleigh. "I have a
+young friend--a sort of ward--whom I left outside. I'll tell him to run
+over to the men and amuse himself with them."
+
+As he opened the door and spoke a few kind words to Ouenwa, there was a
+sneer on D'Antons' lips that did not escape Mistress Beatrix Westleigh.
+It irritated her beyond measure, and she had all she could do to
+restrain herself from slapping him--for hot blood and a fighting spirit
+dwelt in that fair body. She wondered how she had once considered him
+attractive. She blushed crimson at the thought.
+
+Kingswell returned and seated himself on a stool between the governor of
+the little colony and the maiden. First of all, he told them who Ouenwa
+was, and of the time the lad saved him from injury by flooring old
+Trowley with his canoe paddle. Then he briefly sketched the voyage of
+the _Pelican_, and told something of his interests in the fishing fleet
+and in the new land.
+
+"And you found no indications of gold?" queried D'Antons.
+
+"None," replied the voyager, "but some splendid copper ore in great
+quantities, and one mine of 'fool's gold.'"
+
+The baronet nodded, with one of his wan smiles. "There are other kinds
+of fool's gold than these iron pyrites, I believe," he said, "and one
+finds it nearer home than in this God-forsaken--ah--in this wild
+country."
+
+The others understood the reference, and even the polished Frenchman
+looked into the fire and had nothing to say. Kingswell studied the
+water-bleached toes of his boots, and Beatrix glanced piteously at her
+father. For Sir Ralph Westleigh's life had known much of fool's gold,
+and much of many another folly, and something of that to which his
+acquaintances in Somerset--and, for that matter, in all England--gave a
+stronger and less lenient name. The baronet had lived hard; but his
+story comes later.
+
+"I knew nothing of this plantation of yours," said Kingswell, presently.
+"I did not know, even, that you were interested in colonization--and yet
+you have been here a matter of two years, so Trigget tells me."
+
+"Yes, and likely to die here--unless I am unearthed," replied Sir Ralph,
+bitterly, and with a meaning glance at Kingswell. "I put entire faith in
+my friends," he added. "And they are all in this little fort on Gray
+Goose River. My undoing lies in their hands."
+
+"Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, uneasily but stoutly, "I hope your trust
+has been extended to me,--yes, and to my men. Your wishes in any matter
+of--of silence or the like--are our orders. My fellows are true as
+steel. My friends are theirs. The young Beothic would risk his life for
+you at a word from me."
+
+The baronet was visibly affected by this speech. He laid a hand on the
+young man's knee and peered into his face.
+
+"Then you are a friend--out and out?" he inquired.
+
+"To the death," said the other, huskily.
+
+"And you have heard? Of course you have heard!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is not for me to say 'God bless you' to any man," said Sir Ralph,
+"but it's good of you. I feel your kindness more deeply than I can say.
+I have forgotten my old trick of making pretty speeches."
+
+Kingswell blushed uncomfortably and wished that D'Antons, with his
+polite, superior, inscrutable smile, was a thousand miles out of sight
+of his embarrassment. The girl leaned toward him. But she did not look
+at him. "God bless you--my fellow countryman," she whispered, in a voice
+so low that he alone caught the words. He had no answer to make to that
+unexpected reward. For a little they maintained a painful silence. It
+was broken by the Frenchman.
+
+"You understand, Master Kingswell, that, for certain reasons, it is
+advisable that the place of Sir Ralph Westleigh's retreat be kept from
+the knowledge of every one save ourselves," he said, slowly and easily.
+
+"I understand," replied Kingswell, shortly. Captain d'Antons jarred on
+him, despite all his faultless and affable manners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER
+
+
+About mid-afternoon of the day of Kingswell's advent into the settlement
+on Gray Goose River--Fort Beatrix it was called--the sky clouded, the
+voice of the river thinned and saddened, and snow began to fall. By
+Trigget's advice--and Trigget seemed to be the working head of the
+plantation--the pelts and gear of the _Pelican_ were removed to the
+storehouse.
+
+"Ye must winter in Newfoundland, sir, however the idea affects your
+plans, for no more ships will be sailing home this season; and ye
+couldn't make it in your bully," said the hospitable skipper.
+
+"We might work 'round to St. John's," replied Kingswell.
+
+Trigget shook his head. "This be the safer place o' the two," he
+answered, "and your Honour's company here will help keep Sir Ralph out
+o' his black moods. He wants ye to stay, I know. There'll be work and to
+spare for your men, what with cuttin' fuel, and huntin' game, and
+boat-buildin'."
+
+So Kingswell decided that, if this should prove the real setting-in of
+winter, and if no objections were raised by any of the pioneers, he
+would share the colony's fortunes until the following spring. D'Antons
+expressed himself as charmed with the decision; but, for all that,
+Kingswell saw, by deeper and finer signs than most people would credit
+him with the ability to read, that his presence was really far from
+agreeable to the French adventurer.
+
+When night closed about the little settlement, the snow was still
+falling, and ground and roofs shone with bleak radiance through the veil
+of darkness. The flakes of the storm were small and dry, and unstirred
+by any wind. They wove a curtain of silence over the unprotesting
+wilderness.
+
+Kingswell and Ouenwa supped with the Westleighs. But before the meal,
+and before Mistress Beatrix appeared from her little chamber, the two
+gentlemen had an hour of private conversation.
+
+"This Captain d'Antons--what of him?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"He is none of our choosing," replied the baronet. "Several years ago,
+before I had quite given up the old life and the old show, I met him in
+London. He was reported rich. He had sailed many voyages to the West
+Indies, and talked of lands granted to him in New France. I had sold
+Beverly, and Beatrix was with me in town. She was little more than a
+child, but her looks attracted a deal of attention. She had nothing
+else, as all the town knew, with her father a ruined gamester, and her
+dead mother's property gone, with Randon Hall and Beverly! Dear God, but
+here was a dower for a beautiful lass! Well, the poets made a song or
+two, and three old men were for paying titles and places for her little
+hand--and then the end came. We won back to Somerset, spur and whip,
+lashed along by fear. We hid about, in this cottage and that, while my
+trusted friend Trigget provisioned his little craft and got together all
+the folk whom you see here, save D'Antons. After a rough and tiring
+voyage of three weeks' duration, and just when we were looking out for
+land, we were met by a French frigate, and forced to haul our wind. A
+boat-load of armed men left the pirate--yes, that's what she was, a damn
+pirate--and there was Captain d'Antons seated in the stern-sheets of
+her, beside the mate. He had not been as long at sea as we had, and he
+knew all about my trouble, curse him! He left the frigate, which he said
+was bound on a peaceful voyage of discovery to the West Indies, and
+joined our expedition. I could not forbid it. I was at his mercy, with
+his cutthroats alongside and the gallows at the back of it. He has hung
+to us ever since; and he has acted civil enough, damn him. If he'd show
+his hoof now and again, I'd like it better--for then we would all be on
+our guard."
+
+"But why does he stay? Why does he live in this place when he might be
+reaping the harvests common to such husbandmen?" inquired Kingswell.
+"Has he a stake in the colony?"
+
+The baronet gazed reflectively at the young man. "The fellow has kept my
+secret, and shared our rough lot and dreary exile, and even expended
+some money on provisions," he replied, deliberately, "for no other
+reason than that he is in love with my daughter."
+
+"He! A buccaneer!" exclaimed Kingswell, warmly.
+
+"Even so," answered the baronet. "There, on the high seas, when he had
+us all in his clutch, when he might have seized by force that for which
+he now sues, he accepted my word of honour--mark you, he accepted what I
+had scarce the face to offer--that I would not withstand his suit, nor
+allow my men to do him any treasonable hurt so long as he kept my
+hiding-place secret and behaved like a gentleman."
+
+"And Mistress Beatrix?" asked the young man, softly.
+
+"Ah, who can say?" responded the broken baronet. "At one time I feared
+that he was appearing as a hero to her. But I do not know. He played his
+game cleverly at first, but now he is losing patience. I would to God
+that he would lose it altogether. Then the compact would be broken. But
+no, he is cautious. He knows that, at a word from the girl, my sword
+would be out. Then things would go hard with him, even though he should
+kill me, for my men hate him."
+
+"Why not pick a quarrel with him?" asked the headstrong Kingswell.
+
+"You do not understand--you cannot understand--how delicate a thing to
+keep is the word of honour of a man who is branded as being without
+honour," replied the other, sadly.
+
+"And should Mistress Beatrix flout him," said Kingswell, "he would find
+his revenge in reporting your whereabouts to the garrison at St.
+John's."
+
+"He is well watched," said Sir Ralph, "and this is not an easy place to
+escape from, even in summer. We are hidden, up here, and not so much as
+a fishing-ship has sighted us in the two years."
+
+"I'll wager that he'd find a way past your vigilance if he set his mind
+to it," retorted Kingswell. "Gad, but it maddens me to think of being
+billeted under the roof of such an aspiring rogue! Rip me, but it's a
+monstrous sin that a lady should be plagued, and a whole body of
+Englishmen menaced, by a buccaneering adventurer."
+
+"My boy," replied Sir Ralph, wearily, "you must curb your indignation,
+even as the rest of us do. Discretion is the card to play just now. I
+have been holding the game with it for over two years. Who knows but
+that Time may shuffle the pack before long?"
+
+Just then Mistress Beatrix joined them. She wore one of the gay
+gowns--in truth somewhat enlarged and remodelled--by which her girlish
+beauty had been abetted and set off in England. There seemed a
+brightness and shimmer all about her. The coils of her dark hair were
+bright. The changing eyes were bright. The lips, the round neck and
+dainty throat, the buckled shoes, and even the material of bodice and
+skirt were radiant in the gloom and firelight of that rough chamber. To
+all appearances, her mood was as bright as her beauty. Sir Ralph watched
+her with adoring eyes, realizing her bravery. Kingswell joined in her
+gay chatter, and found it easy to be merry. Ouenwa, silent on the corner
+of the bench by the hearth, gazed at this vision of loveliness with
+wide eyes. He could realize, without effort, that Sir Ralph and D'Antons
+and even his glorious Kingswell were men, even as Tom Bent, and the
+Triggets, and Black Feather were, but that Mistress Beatrix was a
+woman--a woman, as were William Trigget's wife and daughter, and Black
+Feather's squaw--no, he could not believe it! He was even surprised to
+note a resemblance to other females in the number of her hands and feet.
+She had, most assuredly, two hands and two feet. Also she had one head.
+But how different in quality, though similar in number, were the members
+of this flashing young divinity.
+
+"I left Montaw's lodge to behold the wonders of the world," mused the
+dazzled child of the wilderness, "and already, without crossing the
+great salt water, I have found the surpassing wonder. Can it be that any
+more such beings exist? Has even Master Kingswell ever before looked
+upon such beauty and such raiment?"
+
+His spellbound gaze was met by the eyes of the enchantress. To his
+amazement, the lady moved from her father's side and seated herself on
+the bench.
+
+"You are so quiet," she said, "that I did not notice you before. So you
+are Master Kingswell's ward?"
+
+Her voice was very kind and cheerful, and her silks brushed the lad's
+hand. He looked at the finery uneasily, but did not answer her question.
+
+"You told us he knew English," she said to Kingswell.
+
+"He does," replied the young man. Then, to the boy: "Ouenwa, Mistress
+Westleigh wants to know if you are my friend."
+
+"Yes," said the lad. "Good friend."
+
+"And my friend, too?" asked the girl.
+
+"Yes," replied Ouenwa. "You look so--so--like he called the sky one
+morning." He pointed at Master Kingswell.
+
+"What was that?" she queried.
+
+"What morning?" asked Kingswell, leaning forward and smiling.
+
+"Five mornings ago, chief," replied Ouenwa.
+
+Kingswell laughed. "You are right, lad," he said.
+
+"But tell me what you called the sky, sir. Really, this is very
+provoking. No doubt the boy thinks I look a fright," said Miss
+Westleigh.
+
+"Beatrix," interrupted Sir Ralph, "surely I see Kate with the candles."
+
+The girl could not deny it, for the table was spread in the same
+room,--a rough, square table with a damask cloth, and laid out with a
+fair show of silver, decanters, and a great venison pasty, which had
+been cooked in the Triggets' kitchen across the yard.
+
+The meal was a delightful one to Kingswell. He had not eaten off china
+dishes for many months. The food, though plain, was well cooked and well
+served. The wines were as nectar to his eager palate. And over it all
+was the magic of Mistress Westleigh's presence--potent magic enough to a
+young gentleman who had almost forgotten the looks and ways of the women
+of his own kind. Ouenwa sat as one in a dream, fairly stupefied by the
+gleam of silver and linen under the soft light of the candles. He ate
+painfully and slowly, imitating Kingswell. He looked often at the
+vivacious hostess. Suddenly he exclaimed: "I remember. Yes, it was
+lovely beautiful, what the chief said!" Kingswell laughed delightedly,
+and the baronet joined, with reserve, in the mirth. The girl looked
+puzzled for a moment,--then confused,--then, with a little,
+indescribable cry of merriment, she patted Ouenwa's shoulder.
+
+"Charming lad!" she exclaimed. "I have not received so pretty a
+compliment for, oh, ever so long." She looked across the table at
+Kingswell, feeling his gaze upon her. His eyes were very grave, and
+darkened with thought, though his lips were still smiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MEDITATION AND ACTION
+
+
+For hours after retiring Kingswell lay awake, reviewing, in his restless
+brain, the incidents of that crowded day. His couch was luxurious,
+compared to the resting-places he had known since leaving the _Heart of
+the West_; but, for all that, sleep evaded him. From the other side of
+the hearth Ouenwa's deep and regular breathing reached his alert ears.
+He saw the yellow light blink to darkness above the curtain of skins,
+when D'Antons extinguished his candle in the other apartment. The red
+firelight rose and fell, dwindled and flooded high. The core of it
+contracted and expanded, and a straight log across the middle of the
+glow was like a heavy eyelid. It was like something alive--like
+something stirring between sleeping and waking, desiring sleep, yet
+afraid to forsake a vigil. To the restless explorer beside the hearth it
+suggested a drowsy servitor nodding and starting in a deserted hall.
+"What is it waiting for?" he wondered, and smiled at the conceit. "What
+does it fear? Mayhap the master and mistress are late at a rout, and are
+people without consideration for the feelings of their servants."
+
+From such harmless imagery his mind slipped to the less pleasant subject
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh. He recalled what he had seen and heard of the
+days of the baronet's glory--of the great places near Bristol, with
+their stables that were the envy of dukes, and their routs that lured
+people weary and dangerous journeys--of the famous Lady Westleigh and
+her jewels--of Sir Ralph's kindliness to great and small alike. His own
+father, the merchant-knight of Bristol, had held the baronet in high
+esteem. Bernard himself, when a child, and later when a well-grown lad,
+had experienced the hospitality of Randon Hall and Beverly. At the time
+of his last visit to Beverly, rumour was busy with the baronet's
+affairs. During Lady Westleigh's life, all had gone well, apparently.
+After her death, Sir Ralph spent less of his time at home, and more of
+it in distant London, and even in Paris. Stories went abroad of his
+heavy gaming and his ruinous bad luck. People said the love of the dice
+and the cards had settled in the man like a disease, working on him
+physically to such an extent that he looked a different person when the
+heat of the play was on him. Also it played the devil with him
+morally--and perhaps mentally. So things took the turn and started
+down-hill. Then the run was short and mad, despite warnings of friends,
+threats of relatives, and the baronet's own numerous clever checks and
+parries to avoid disaster. There was a season of hope after the sale of
+Randon. But the lurid clouds gathered again. Then Beverly was
+impoverished to the last oak and the last horse in the stud. The baronet
+took his daughter to town, and, by a turn of luck, put in a few merry
+months. Then a certain Scotch viscount caught him playing as no
+gentleman, no matter how dissolute, is supposed to play. The Scotchman
+made a clamour, and was killed for his trouble. That was the last known
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh and his daughter by any one of the outside world
+until the _Pelican_ landed her voyagers before the stockade of Fort
+Beatrix on Gray Goose River.
+
+All these matters employed Kingswell's thoughts as he lay awake in
+Captain d'Antons' cabin and watched the fire on the rough hearth fall
+lower and lower. Pity for the young girl, who had been born and bred to
+such a different heritage, pained and fretted him more keenly than a
+personal loss. The discomfort of it was almost as if his conscience were
+accusing him of disloyalty to a friend, though that was absurd, as
+neither he nor his had helped Westleigh in his descent, nor cried out
+against him when he met disaster at the bottom. But he had never, during
+those two years after their disappearance, given them more than a
+passing thought--and they had been friends and neighbours. He had
+experienced no pity for the young and beautiful girl with whom he had
+played in the racquet court at Beverly. Like the great world of which he
+was so insignificant a part, he had forgotten. Two lives, more or less,
+were of no consequence in such stirring times. He groaned, as if the
+realization of a great sin had come to him. Then, to the anger against
+himself was added anger against the world that had dragged Sir Ralph
+into this oblivion of dishonour, and the innocent girl into exile. What
+had she done to be driven beyond the bounds of civilization, her safety
+dependent on the whims of a French buccaneer? Ah, there was the raw
+spot, sure enough! In the little space of time between two risings of
+the sun, Kingswell had met a man and marked him for an enemy. Nursing a
+bitter, though somewhat muddled, resentment, he at last fell asleep,
+guarded from storm and frost by the roof of the very man who had
+inspired his anger.
+
+For the next few days matters went smoothly at Fort Beatrix. It was
+evident to even the least experienced of the settlers that the winter
+had come to stay. The snow lay deep and dry over the frozen earth. The
+river was already hidden under a skin of gleaming ice, made opaque by
+the snow that had mingled with the water while it was freezing. The
+little settlement took up the routine of the dreary months. Axes were
+sharpened at the great stone in the well-house. The men donned moccasins
+of deerskin. They tied ingenious racquets, or snow-shoes, to their feet
+and tramped into the sombre forests. All day the thud, thud of the axes
+jarred across the air, interrupted ever and anon by the rending,
+splitting lament of some falling tree.
+
+Kingswell put his men under William Trigget's orders, and he and Ouenwa
+spent much of their time with the choppers. Also, they journeyed with
+the trappers. Captain d'Antons, who was a skilled and tireless woodsman,
+led them on many weary marches in quest of game and fur. Most of the
+caribou had travelled southward, in herds of from ten to one hundred
+head, at the approach of winter; but a few remained in the sheltered
+valleys. Fortunately the settlers were familiar with the habits of the
+deer, and had laid in a supply of dried venison during the summer.
+However, whenever the hunters managed to make a kill, the fresh meat
+was enthusiastically received at the fort. Hares and grouse were snared,
+as were foxes and other small animals. A few wolves and one or two
+wildcats were shot. The bears were all tucked safely away in their
+winter quarters, and the beavers were frozen into theirs. On the whole,
+the hunters had a hard time of it, and no great reward for their toil.
+But it was work that kept both their brains and sinews employed, and so
+was of a deal more worth than the bare value of the pelts and dinners it
+supplied.
+
+One day in early December, when Kingswell, D'Antons, the younger
+Donnelly, and Ouenwa were traversing a drifted expanse of "barren,"
+marching in single file and without undue noise, they came upon another
+trail of racquet prints. They halted. They regarded this unexpected
+evidence of the proximity of their fellow man with misgivings--for snow
+had fallen in abundance, and therefore the trail was new. They glanced
+uneasily about them, scanning clumps of spruce and fir and mounds of
+snow-drifted rock with anxious eyes. They strained their ears for some
+warning sound--or for the twanging of bowstrings. They saw nothing. They
+heard nothing but the disconsolate chirping of a moose-bird in a
+thicket close at hand. D'Antons lowered his gaze to the trail.
+
+"From the westward, and heading for the river," he said. "Then they are
+not from the village on Gander Lake."
+
+"Big number," remarked Ouenwa. "Ten, twenty, thirty--don't know how
+much! Whole camp, I think."
+
+"Ay," agreed Donnelly, "they sure has packed clear down through two
+falls o' snow. Ye could trot a pony along the pat' they has made."
+
+"Are you on friendly terms with the savages?" inquired Kingswell of
+Captain d'Antons. The Frenchman smiled uncheerfully and shrugged his
+lean shoulders. He was not one to speak unconsidered words.
+
+"Yes, we are on friendly terms with the people from Gander Lake," he
+replied, presently. "That is, we have traded with them a number of
+times, and have exchanged gifts with their chief, and through him with
+old Soft Hand. But Soft Hand is dead now; and these fellows are
+evidently from the West. Also, friendship means nothing where these
+vermin are concerned. Treachery is as the breath of life to them."
+
+"Panounia," whispered Ouenwa, excitedly. "Panounia no good for friend.
+He is a murderer. He is a false chief. He make trade--yes, with
+war-arrows from the bushes and with knives in the dark. In friendship
+his hand is under his robe, and his fingers are on the hilt of his
+knife. Evil warms itself at his heart like an old witch at a fire."
+
+D'Antons smiled thinly at the lad. "There is a time for all things," he
+said--"a time for oratory and another time for action. If you are
+willing, Master Kingswell, let us now retrace our steps as swiftly and
+quietly as may be. It would be wise to warn the fort that a band of the
+sly devils is abroad."
+
+Ouenwa glanced uncertainly at the speaker and flushed darkly. Kingswell
+intimated his willingness to return immediately to Fort Beatrix by a
+curt nod. It was in his heart to administer a kick to Captain Pierre
+d'Antons, though just why the desire he could not say. They turned in
+their tracks and started back along the twisting, seven-mile trail.
+D'Antons led; and the pace he set was a stiff one. Mile after mile was
+passed, with no other sound save those of padding racquet and toiling
+breath. In the hollows their shoulders brushed the snow from the
+crowding spruce-fronds. Going over the knolls, they crouched low, and
+scanned the horizon with alert eyes as they ran.
+
+At last, all but breathless from the prolonged exertion, the hunters
+turned aside from the path and ascended the gradual, heavily wooded side
+of a hill which overlooked the fort from the south. They crossed the
+naked summit with painful caution, bending double, and taking every
+advantage of the sheltering thickets.
+
+"The choppers are inside," whispered D'Antons to Kingswell, as they
+peered furtively out between the snow-weighted branches. "See! And the
+savages are in cover along the river." It was quite evident to Kingswell
+that the place had been attacked, and was now in a state of siege. The
+platform in the southeast corner of the stockade was protected by
+shields composed of bundles of firewood. Men whom he recognized as those
+who had been working in the woods earlier in the day moved about within
+the enclosure. The wide, snow-covered clearing that had been so spotless
+when he had last seen it was trampled and stained here and there by dark
+patches. Along the fringe of timber that shut the river from the
+clearing, and extended to within a dozen paces of the southeast corner
+of the stockade, a Beothic warrior would frequently show himself for a
+moment, hoot derisively, and let fly a harmless shaft. Presently the
+watchers on the knoll saw the head and shoulders of William Trigget
+above the shield of the gun-platform. The master mariner shaded his eyes
+with his hand and seemed to be scanning the woods along the river and
+then the timber in which his own comrades were concealed. He lowered his
+hand and ducked quickly--and not a second too soon; for a flight of
+arrows rattled against his stronghold, a few stuck, quivering, into the
+pickets of the stockade, and many fell within the fort.
+
+Kingswell turned to D'Antons. "More of them than we thought," he said.
+"There must have been a hundred arrows in that volley."
+
+Captain d'Antons nodded with a preoccupied air. He did not look at his
+companion, and his brow was puckered in lines of thought. If the
+Englishman had been able to read the other's mind at that moment, a deal
+of future trouble would have been spared him. However, as Kingswell was
+but an adventurous, keen-witted young man, with no superhuman powers, he
+was content with the Frenchman's nod, and returned his attentions to the
+fort.
+
+Suddenly, from the screen of faggots above which Trigget had so lately
+exposed his head, burst a flash of yellow flame, a spurt of white smoke,
+and a clapping bulk of sound. The stockade shook. A spruce-tree shook in
+the wood by the river, and cries of fear and consternation rang across
+the frosty air. A score of savages darted from their cover and as
+quickly sped back again. Flight after flight of arrows broke away and
+tested every inch of surface of Trigget's shelter. Then, with shrill
+screams and mad yells of defiance, the whole party of Beothics emerged
+into the clearing and dashed for the palisade. They drew their bows as
+they ran, and some hurled clubs and spears. In front, with red feathers
+in his hair and his right arm bandaged across his breast, Panounia
+shouted encouragement and led the charge. They were half-way across the
+open when the second cannon spat forth its message of hate. The ball
+passed low over the advancing mass and plunged into the timber beyond.
+For a second or two, the attackers wavered, a few turned back, then they
+continued their valorous onset. They were already springing at the
+palisade when the muskets crashed in their faces from half a dozen
+loopholes. This volley was followed immediately by another. The savages
+dropped back from their futile leapings against the fortification, hung
+on their heels for a moment, clamorous and undecided, and then broke for
+cover. They dragged their dead and wounded with them, and left
+sanguinary trails on the snow. They were within a few yards of the
+sheltering trees when one of the little cannon banged again. The ball
+cut across the mass of crowded warriors like a string through cheese.
+
+"Now is our time!" exclaimed Kingswell. "Run for the gate, lads."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE
+
+
+The returning hunters were promptly admitted to the fort. The little
+garrison welcomed them joyfully. The West Country sailors were, for the
+moment, cordial even toward D'Antons, whom they usually ignored. The
+party had taken a hundred chances with death in the crossing of the
+narrow clearing. Arrows had followed them from the fringe of wood along
+the river, like bees from an overturned hive. Ouenwa's left arm had been
+scratched. D'Antons' fur cap had been torn from his head, pierced
+through and through. A hail of missiles had clattered against the gate
+as the good timbers swung to behind them. Cries of rage and chagrin, in
+which Ouenwa's name was repeated many times, rang from the retreat of
+the defeated warriors. The garrison answered with cheers. Ouenwa's
+shrill voice carried clear above the tumult, lifted in Beothic insults.
+
+Sir Ralph himself was in command of the imperilled fortress. The
+excitement had stirred him out of his customary gloom. His eyes were
+bright, and his cheeks flew a patch of colour. His sword was at his
+side, and he held a musket in his hand.
+
+"That was their third attempt to get over the stockade," he said to
+Kingswell and D'Antons. "They are filled with the very devil to-day. But
+I scarcely think that they will come back for more, now that Trigget has
+got his growlers into working order."
+
+"How did it begin?" asked the Frenchman.
+
+"Why, about three score of them marched up and said they wanted to come
+in and trade," replied the baronet, "but, as they seemed to have nothing
+to trade save their bows and spears, Trigget warned them off. Then they
+went out on the river and began chopping up the _Red Rose_ and the
+_Pelican_. At that we let off a musket, and they retired to cover, from
+which they soon emerged with reinforcements and tried to carry the place
+by weight of numbers."
+
+"Hark," said the Frenchman. "What is that they are yelling?"
+
+"My name," replied Ouenwa. "They are my enemies."
+
+"Ah, and so it is our privilege to fight this gentleman's battles for
+him," remarked D'Antons, with an exaggerated bow to the lad. "Perhaps
+this is the explanation of the attack."
+
+"I think not," answered Kingswell, crisply. "They are surprised at
+discovering him here. Also they are surprised and displeased at seeing
+me again. They have smelled our powder before, as you have heard, I
+think."
+
+"Yes, I have heard the heroic tale, monsieur," replied the captain,
+smiling his thin, one-sided, Continental smile.
+
+The blood mounted in Kingswell's cheek. He turned on his heel without
+any further words. Ouenwa followed him to the Trigget cabin, whence he
+was bound for something to eat.
+
+Panounia and his braves retreated across the frozen river, and did not
+show themselves again that day. In the fort every musket was loaded, the
+improvised gun-shields were repaired and strengthened, and the guns were
+again got ready for action. In place of round shot, William Trigget
+charged them with scrap-iron and slugs of lead.
+
+"When ye has a lot o' mowin' to do in a short time, cut a wide swath,"
+he remarked to Tom Bent.
+
+"Ay, sir," replied Kingswell's boatswain, turning a hawk-like eye on the
+dark edges of the forest. "Ay, sir, cut a wide swath, an' let the devil
+make the hay. It be mun's own crop."
+
+At the time of the hunters' return, Mistress Beatrix was looking from
+the doorway of her father's cabin. Now she knelt in her own chamber,
+sobbing quietly, with her face buried in her hands. All the bitterness
+and insecurity of her position had come to her with overmastering force.
+The sight of Captain d'Antons' thin face and uncovered, bedraggled hair,
+as he leaned on his musket and talked with her father and the young
+Englishman, had melted the courage in her heart. She prayed confusedly,
+half her thoughts with the petitions which she made to her God, and half
+with the desperate state of her affairs and the features and attitude of
+the buccaneer.
+
+She was disturbed by some one entering the outer room. She recognized
+the footsteps as those of Sir Ralph. She got up from her knees, bathed
+her face and eyes, touched her hair to order with skilful fingers, and
+opened the door of her chamber. The baronet looked up at the sound.
+
+"Ah, lass," he said, "we've driven the rascals off. They have crossed
+the river."
+
+With that he fell again to his slow pacing of the room.
+
+"I do not fear the savages," she cried. "Oh, I do think their knives and
+arrows would be welcome."
+
+"Poor child! poor little lass!" he said, pausing beside her and kissing
+her tenderly. "You have been weeping," he added, concernedly. "But
+courage, dear. The fellow is harmless for five long months to come. His
+fangs are as good as filed, shut off here and surrounded by the snow and
+the savages."
+
+Evidently the sight of his daughter's distress had dimmed the finer
+conception of his promise to D'Antons. He looked about him uneasily and
+sighed.
+
+She laid her face against his coat and held tight to his sleeves.
+
+"I hate him," she whispered. "Oh, my father, I hate him for my own sake
+as much as I fear him for yours. His every covert glance, his every open
+attention, stings me like a whip. And yet, out of fear, I must smile and
+simper, and play the hypocrite."
+
+"No--by God!" exclaimed Westleigh, trembling with emotion. Then, more
+quietly, "Beatrix, I cannot wear this mask any longer. The fellow is
+hateful to me. I despise him. How such a creation of the devil's can
+love you so unswervingly is more than I can fathom. I would rather see
+you dead than married to him. There--I have broken my word again! Let me
+go."
+
+He freed himself from the girl's hands, caught up his hat and cloak,
+and left the cabin. He crossed over to the well-house, where some of the
+men were grinding axes and cutlasses, and joined feverishly in their
+simple talk of work, and battle, and adventure. Their honest faces and
+homely language drove a little of the bitterness of his shame from him.
+Presently Kingswell and Ouenwa joined the group about the complaining
+grindstone.
+
+"Come," said Sir Ralph, "and look at the cannon."
+
+He plucked Kingswell by the sleeve. Ouenwa followed them. All three
+ascended the little platform on which the guns were mounted, by way of a
+short ladder. The pieces, ready loaded, were snugly covered with
+tarpaulins that could be snatched off in a turn of the hand.
+
+"A worthy fellow is William Trigget," remarked the baronet. "Ay, he is
+true as steel."
+
+He laid a caressing hand on the breech of one of the little cannon. "I
+would trust him, yea, and his good fellows, with anything I possess," he
+said, "as readily as I trust these growlers to his care."
+
+Just then Ouenwa pointed northward to the wooded bluff that cut into the
+white valley and hid the settlement from the lower reaches of the river.
+From beyond the point, moving slowly and unsteadily, appeared a
+solitary human figure. Its course lay well out on the level floor of the
+stream, and the forest growth along the shore did not conceal it from
+the watchers. It approached uncertainly, as if without a definite goal,
+and, when within a few hundred yards of the fort, staggered and fell
+prone.
+
+"What the devil does it mean?" cried Sir Ralph.
+
+Kingswell shook his head, and questioned Ouenwa. The lad continued to
+gaze out across the open. The sun was low over the western hills, and
+its light was red on the snow.
+
+"Hurt," he said, presently. "Maybe starved. He is not of Panounia's
+band."
+
+"How do you know that, lad?" asked the baronet.
+
+"I know," replied the boy. "He is a hunter. He is not of the war-party.
+He is from the salt water."
+
+"He is usually right when he maintains that a thing is so, without being
+able to give a reason for it," said Kingswell, quietly. "And, if he is,
+it seems a pity to let the man die out there under our very eyes."
+
+"God knows I do not want any one to suffer," said the baronet, "but may
+it not be a trick of this Panounia's, or whatever you call him?"
+
+"No trick," replied Ouenwa; and, without so much as "by your leave," he
+vaulted over the breastwork of faggots and landed lightly on the snow
+outside the stockade. Without a moment's hesitation, Kingswell followed.
+Together they started toward the still figure out on the river, at a
+brisk run. They had reached the bank before Sir Ralph recovered from his
+astonishment. He quickly descended to the square, and, without
+attracting any attention, informed William Trigget of what had happened.
+Trigget and his son immediately ascended to the guns and drew off their
+tarpaulins. "We'll cover the retreat, sir," said the mariner. They saw
+their reckless comrades bend over the prostrate stranger. Then Kingswell
+lifted the apparently lifeless body and started back at a jog trot.
+Ouenwa lagged behind, with his head continually over his shoulder. The
+elder Trigget swore a great oath, and smacked a knotty fist into a
+leathern palm.
+
+"Them's well-plucked uns," he added.
+
+The baronet and John Trigget agreed silently. They were too intent on
+the approach of the rescuers to speak. Also, they kept a keen outlook
+along the woods on the farther shore. But the enemy made no sign; and
+Kingswell, Ouenwa, and the unconscious stranger reached the stockade in
+safety. The stranger proved to be none other than Black Feather, the
+stalwart and kindly brave who had built his lodge beside the old
+arrow-maker's, above Wigwam Harbour, in the days of peace. He was
+carried into Trigget's cabin and dosed with French brandy until he
+opened his eyes. He looked about him blankly for a second or two, and
+then his lids fluttered down again. He had not recognized either
+Kingswell or Ouenwa.
+
+"Oh, the poor lad, the poor lad," cried Dame Trigget. "Whatever has mun
+been a-doin' now, to get so distressin' scrawny? An' a fine figger, too,
+though he be a heathen, without a manner o' doubt."
+
+"Never mind his religious beliefs, dame, but get some of your good
+venison broth inside of him," said Master Kingswell. "That's a treatment
+that would surely convert any number of heathen."
+
+While they were clustered about Black Feather's couch, D'Antons entered.
+He peered over Dame Trigget's ample shoulders and looked considerably
+surprised at finding an unconscious, emaciated Beothic the centre of
+attraction.
+
+"What's this?" he asked. "A tragedy or a comedy?"
+
+His tone was sour, and too bantering for the occasion.
+
+The baronet turned on him with an expression of mouth and eye that did
+not pass unnoticed by the little group.
+
+"Certainly not a comedy, monsieur," he replied, coldly; "and we hope it
+will not prove a tragedy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING
+
+
+Meals were not served in Captain d'Antons' cabin. The little settlement
+possessed but one servant among all its workers, and that one was Maggie
+Stone, Mistress Westleigh's old nurse. The care of Sir Ralph's
+establishment was all she could attend to. So the men who had no
+women-folk of their own to cook for them were fed by Dame Trigget and
+her sturdy daughter Joyce, or by the Donnelly women. Kingswell and
+D'Antons took their meals at Dame Trigget's table, and were served by
+themselves, with every mark of respect. Ouenwa, Tom Bent, Harding, and
+Clotworthy shared the Donnellys' board.
+
+A few hours after Black Feather's rescue, Kingswell and D'Antons sat
+opposite one another at a small table near the hearth of the Triggets'
+living-room. A stew of venison and a bottle of French wine stood between
+them. D'Antons took up the bottle, and made as if to fill the other's
+glass.
+
+"One moment," said Kingswell, raising his hand.
+
+The Frenchman looked at him keenly and set down the vintage. The
+Englishman leaned forward.
+
+"Captain d'Antons," he said, scarce above a whisper, "a remark that you
+made to-day seemed to imply that you considered me a braggart. Your
+remark was in reference to the brushes between the _Pelican_ and a party
+of natives during our cruise from the North. Before I take wine with you
+to-night, I want you to either withdraw or explain your implication."
+
+While Kingswell spoke, the other's eyes flashed and calmed again. Now
+his dark face wore an even look of puzzled inquiry. His fine eyes, clear
+now of the expression of cynicism which so often marred them, held the
+Englishman's without any sign of either embarrassment or anger. His hand
+returned to the neck of the bottle and lingered there. Lord, but the
+drama lost an exceptionally fine interpreter when the high seas claimed
+Pierre d'Antons! The thin, clean-shaven lips trembled--or was it the
+wavering of the candle-light?
+
+"My friend," he said, softly, "how unfortunate am I in my stupidity--in
+my blundering use of the English language. Whatever my words were, when
+I spoke of having already heard of your fights with the savages, my
+meaning was such that no one would take exception to. Did I use the word
+heroic, monsieur? Then heroic, noble, was what I meant. An Englishman
+would have made use of a smaller, a simpler word, perhaps; or would have
+refrained from any display of admiration. Ah, I am unfortunate in my
+heritage of French and Spanish blood--the blood that is outspoken both
+for praise and blame."
+
+Poor, honest Kingswell was shaken with conflicting emotions. His heart
+told him the man was lying. His eyes assured him that he had been
+grievously mistaken, not only in the matter of the remark concerning the
+skirmishes with the Beothics, but in his whole opinion of the Frenchman.
+His blood surged to his head, and whispered that he was a young fool to
+be hoodwinked so easily. His brain was sadly uncertain. A twinge of pity
+for the handsome adventurer--for the love-struck buccaneer--went through
+him. But it faded at remembrance of Sir Ralph's story. He knew the
+fellow was playing with him.
+
+"Wine, monsieur?" inquired D'Antons, softly, with a smile of infinite
+sweetness and shy persuasion.
+
+With a mumbled apology, the young Englishman pushed forward his glass,
+and the red wine swam to the brim. And all the while he was inwardly
+cursing his own weakness and the other's strength. He had not the
+courage to meet the Frenchman's look when they raised their glasses and
+clinked them across the table. Lord, what a calf he was!
+
+Had he no will of his own? Did he possess neither knowledge of men nor
+mother wit? Ah, but he rated himself pitilessly as he bent his flushed
+face over his plate of stew.
+
+When the meal was finished, Kingswell returned to Black Feather's couch,
+and D'Antons went over to his own cabin. By this time Black Feather had
+recovered consciousness and swallowed some of Dame Trigget's broth;
+also, he had recognized Ouenwa and murmured a few words to the lad in
+his own tongue. But, beyond that, he was too weak to disclose anything
+of what had happened in Wigwam Harbour after the slaying of Soft Hand.
+He lay very still, apparently lifeless, except for his quick, bright
+eyes, which moved restlessly in questioning scrutiny of the strange
+women and bearded men who sat about the room. Ouenwa held one of the
+transparent hands and smiled assuringly.
+
+For half an hour Kingswell sat beside the man he had rescued so
+courageously from death by starvation. Then, feeling the heat of the
+room and the confusion of his thoughts too much to entertain calmly, he
+went out into the cold and darkness and paced up and down. All
+unknowing, he kicked the snow viciously every step. He was still in a
+perturbed state of mind and temper when William Trigget approached him
+through the gloom and touched his elbow.
+
+"Askin' your pardon, master," he said, standing close, "but what of that
+Injun in there? Be he really sick, or be he playing a game?"
+
+"He is surely sick, and he is just as surely not playing a game,"
+replied Kingswell. "But why do you ask? The fellow is a friend of
+Ouenwa's, and was one of old Soft Hand's warriors."
+
+"Ay, sir, but maybe mun has changed his coat," said Trigget, "an' has
+shammed sick just to get carried inside the fort. There be something
+goin' on outside, for certain."
+
+"What?" asked the other.
+
+Then Trigget told how he had been startled, while standing under the
+gun-platform, by a sound of scrambling outside the stockade. He had
+crawled noiselessly up the ladder and looked over the breastworks about
+the guns. He had been able to distinguish something darker than the
+surrounding darkness crouched against the palisade under him. The thing
+had moved cautiously. He had detached a faggot from one of the bundles
+beside him, for lack of a better weapon, and had hurled it down at the
+black form. There had sounded a stifled cry, and the thing had vanished
+in the night.
+
+"It were one o' they savages, I know," concluded Trigget.
+
+Kingswell forgot his personal grievance in the face of this menace from
+the hidden enemy.
+
+"The guards should be doubled," he said. "But come, we must let Sir
+Ralph know of it."
+
+They crossed the yard to the baronet's cabin and knocked on the door.
+Maggie Stone admitted them to the outer room, where Sir Ralph and
+Mistress Beatrix were seated, the girl reading aloud to her father by
+the light of one poor candle. But the great fire on the hearth had the
+place fairly illuminated.
+
+William Trigget, undismayed by fog and bad weather, cool in any risk of
+land or sea, was too abashed at the presence of the lady to tell his
+story. So Master Kingswell told it for him.
+
+"The guards must be doubled," said Sir Ralph.
+
+"They be that already, sir," replied Trigget, breaking the spell of the
+bright eyes that surveyed him.
+
+"That is well," answered the baronet. "There is nothing else to be done,
+at least until morning, but sleep light and keep your muskets handy."
+
+Kingswell and the master mariner returned to the darkness without.
+
+"I will stake my word," said Kingswell, "that the place is surrounded by
+the devils even now, and that they will try again to get a man over the
+wall to unbar the gates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE HIDDEN MENACE
+
+
+Neither Kingswell nor Trigget found time for sleep that night. D'Antons
+also kept awake, though he spent only a few hours out-of-doors. His
+candle burned until daylight. Ouenwa experienced a restless night beside
+Black Feather's couch. From ten o'clock until two Tom Bent, John
+Trigget, and the younger Donnelly were on guard, with cutlasses on their
+hips and half-pikes in their hands--for a musket would have proved but
+an unsatisfactory weapon to a man engaged in a sudden scuffle in the
+dark. One man was placed on the gun-platform, another at the gate, and a
+third on the roof of the storehouse. Kingswell and William Trigget moved
+continually from one point to another. At two o'clock the elder
+Donnelly, Clotworthy, and Harding relieved their companions. But the two
+officers remained at their self-imposed duty.
+
+At last dawn outlined the eastern horizon. Kingswell, who had been
+pacing the length of the riverward stockade for the past hour, sighed
+with relief, yawned, and was about to retire to D'Antons' cabin, when
+William Trigget approached him at a run. The master mariner's face was
+ghastly above his bushy whiskers.
+
+"Come this way, sir," he murmured, huskily.
+
+Kingswell followed him to the storehouse and up to the roof, by way of a
+rough ladder that leaned against the wall. There, on the outward slope
+of the roof, where the snow was trampled and broken, sprawled the body
+of Peter Clotworthy.
+
+"What! Asleep!" exclaimed Kingswell, peering close. The light was not
+strong enough to disclose the features of the recumbent sentinel.
+
+"Ay, an' sound enough, God knows," replied Trigget, "with no chance o'
+wakin' this side o' the Judgment-Seat."
+
+"Dead?" cried the other, sinking to his knees beside the body. He
+pressed his hand against the mariner's side, held it there for a moment,
+and withdrew it, wet with blood. He raised it toward the growing
+illumination of the east, staring at it with wide eyes. "Blood," he
+murmured. "Stabbed without a squeal--without a whimper, by Heaven!" Then
+he ripped out an oath, and followed it close with a prayer for his dead
+comrade's soul. For all his golden curls, this Bernard Kingswell had a
+hot and ready tongue--and a temper to suit, when occasion offered.
+
+The two discoverers of the tragedy remained on the roof of the
+storehouse for some time. The light strengthened and spread on their
+right, and, at last, gave them a clear, gray view of the narrow clearing
+and wooded hummocks to the north. On the snow below them, which was
+otherwise unmarked, they saw the imprints of one pair of moccasined
+feet. The marks did not lead to or from the near cover of the woods, but
+to the south, around the fort. The telltale snow showed how Clotworthy's
+murderer had approached close under the stockade, and, after his silent
+deed of violence, had jumped a distance of about twenty feet, from the
+roof of the store, and landed on all fours. A stain of blood, evidently
+from the reeking knife in the slayer's hand, smirched the snow where it
+was broken by his fall. From there the steps returned by the same
+course, but at a distance of about ten paces from the stockade.
+
+Kingswell looked from the tracks in the snow to the colourless,
+distorted features of the dead seaman. Then his gaze met Trigget's
+deep-set eyes. He was pale, and his lips were drawn in a hard line, as
+if the frost had stiffened them.
+
+"Poor Clotworthy," he murmured, and swallowed as if his throat were
+dry. "Poor devil, knifed into eternity without a fighting chance. See,
+he was clubbed first and then knifed--felled and bled like an ox in a
+shambles! Ten nights of this hellishness will account for the whole
+garrison."
+
+With a broad, deep-sea oath, Trigget replied that there'd be no ten
+nights of it.
+
+They lifted the stiff body that had, so lately, been animated by the
+fearless spirit of Richard Clotworthy, able seaman, to the ground and
+carried it reverently to the Donnelly cabin. The other inmates of the
+little settlement were deeply affected by the sight, and by Kingswell's
+story. The younger men were for setting out immediately and driving the
+Beothics from the woods on the far side of the river. But the wiser
+heads prevailed against such recklessness, arguing that the only thing
+to be done was to remain constantly on guard. The women wept. Ouenwa,
+trembling with sorrow and rage, placed his fine belt and beaded quiver
+beside the body of his dead comrade, and vowed, in English and Beothic,
+that he would avenge this murder as he intended to avenge the murders of
+his father and his grandfather.
+
+The day passed without any sign of the hidden enemy. Kingswell slept
+until noon. By evening Black Feather had recovered enough strength to
+enable him to tell his pitiful story to Ouenwa. His lodge, and that of
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, had been torn down by the followers of Panounia
+shortly after the departure of the _Pelican_ from Wigwam Harbour. Montaw
+had died fighting. Black Feather, grievously wounded, had been bound and
+carried far up the River of Three Fires. His wife and children also had
+been captured and maltreated. The ships in the bay had looked on at the
+unequal struggle ashore without demonstrations of any kind. Upon
+reaching the village on the river, Black Feather had been driven to the
+meanest work--work unbecoming a warrior of his standing--and his wife
+and children had been led farther up-stream, very likely to Wind Lake.
+Black Feather had seen the body of Soft Hand lying exposed on the top of
+a knoll, at the mercy of birds and beasts. He had bided his time. At
+last he had gnawed the thongs with which his tormentors bound him at
+night, and had safely made his escape. He could not say how long ago
+that was. Days and nights had become strangely mixed in his desperate
+mind. He had lived on such birds and hares as he had been able to kill
+with sticks. Always he had kept up his journey, shaping his course
+toward the salt water, in the hope of meeting some tribesmen who might
+have remained loyal to the murdered chief. But he had met with nobody
+in all that desolate journey, until, only the day before, he had
+recovered consciousness in Fort Beatrix.
+
+That night, John Trigget was attacked at his post on the gun-platform,
+and in the struggle that ensued was cut shrewdly about the arm. So
+sudden and noiseless was the onslaught out of the dark that he fought in
+silence, only remembering to shout for help after the savage had
+squirmed from his embrace and escaped. His arm was bandaged by Sir
+Ralph, and Tom Bent and Ouenwa took his place. But daylight arrived
+without any further demonstration on the part of the enemy.
+
+By this time the little garrison was bitten by a restlessness that would
+not be denied. Even Kingswell and William Trigget were for making some
+sort of attack upon the hidden band beyond the river. D'Antons, contrary
+to his habit, had nothing to say either for or against an aggressive
+movement. Sir Ralph was for quietly and cautiously awaiting development;
+but, seeing the spirit of the men, he agreed that five of the garrison
+should sally forth in search of the enemy.
+
+"Whom I have not a doubt you'll find," concluded the baronet, wearily,
+"though what the devil you'll do with them then is more than I can
+venture to predict."
+
+Under William Trigget's supervision, one of the cannon was taken from
+the platform and mounted on a heavy and solid flat of logs, and that, in
+turn, was placed on a sled. On the same sled were fastened rammers and
+mops and bags of powder and shot. The daring party was made up of Master
+Kingswell, William Trigget, Ouenwa, Tom Bent, and the younger Donnelly.
+D'Antons did not volunteer his services on the expedition. The men were
+all well armed with muskets and cutlasses, and all save Ouenwa had
+fastened steel breastplates under their coats. As they marched away,
+Mistress Westleigh waved them "Godspeed" with a scarf of Spanish lace,
+from where she stood in the open gate between her father and Captain
+d'Antons.
+
+The little party moved down the bank and across the river slowly and
+with commendable caution. Trigget and Kingswell walked ahead, and kept a
+sharp lookout on the dark edges of the forest. Donnelly and Tom Bent
+followed about ten paces behind, dragging the gun. Ouenwa scouted along
+on the left, with a musket and a lighted match, which he feared far
+worse than he did any number of Beothic warriors. The river was crossed
+without accident on the wide trail left by the enemy's retreat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE CLOVEN HOOF
+
+
+Sir Ralph Westleigh was in the storehouse, Maggie Stone was gossiping
+with Dame Trigget, and Beatrix was alone by the fire when Captain
+d'Antons rapped on the cabin door, and entered without waiting for a
+summons. He was dressed in his bravest suit and finest boots. After
+closing the door behind him, he bowed low to the girl at the farther end
+of the room. She instantly stood up and curtseyed with a deal of grace,
+but no warmth whatever.
+
+"My father is not in, Captain d'Antons," she said.
+
+He smiled and approached her with every show of deference.
+
+"Ah, mademoiselle," he murmured, "I have not come to see the good
+baronet. I have come to learn my fate from the dearest lips in the
+world."
+
+The girl blushed crimson, with a tumult of emotions that almost forced
+the tears past her lids. Fear, hate, and a reckless joy at the thought
+that she was done with pretence struggled in her heart. She tried to
+speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and accomplished nothing but
+a dry sob.
+
+D'Antons' eyes shone with ardour. The hope which had been somewhat
+clouded of late flashed clear again. "Beatrix," he cried, softly, "I
+have wooed you long. Is it not that I have won at last beyond
+peradventure? Do not deny it, my sweet." He caught her to him, and
+attempted to kiss her bright lips; but, with a low cry and a quite
+unexpected display of strength, she wrenched herself from his embrace.
+She did not try to leave the room. She did not call for help. She faced
+him, with flashing eyes and angry cheeks and clinched hands.
+
+The fellow stood uncertain for a moment, showing his chagrin and
+amazement like any country clown. But his recovery was quick. His mouth
+took on a thin smile; his eyes darkened with sinister shadows. He looked
+the girl coolly up and down. He laughed softly.
+
+"This feigned anger adds to your beauty, Beatrix," he said.
+
+"I beg you to leave me, sir," she replied, trembling. "Your presence is
+distasteful to me."
+
+"A sudden turn," said he. "Now a month ago, or even a week ago, you
+seemed of a different mind. As for the days of our first meeting in
+merry London--ah, then your lips were not so unattainable."
+
+"I hate you," she murmured. "I despise you. I loath you. You taint the
+air for me. Dog, to make a boast of having filched a kiss from a
+light-hearted girl--who did not know you for the common fellow that you
+are."
+
+"Beatrix," cried the man, "this is no stage comedy. We are not players.
+I have asked you, too many times, to be my wife. I ask you once more.
+You know that your father's life is in my hands. Tell me now, will you
+promise to marry me, or will you let your father go to the gallows in
+the spring, and this plantation be put to the torch? Whatever your
+choice, my beauty, you will accompany me to New Spain next summer. It is
+for you to say whether you go as my wife or my mistress."
+
+At that the girl's face went white as paper. But her eyes were steady.
+
+D'Antons lowered his gaze. He was half-ashamed, nay, more than that, of
+his words.
+
+"It would be hard to say," she replied, very softly, "which would be the
+most dishonourable position for an English gentlewoman to occupy. That
+of your wife, I think, monsieur--for, as your wife, she would be known
+by your name."
+
+His shame leaped to anger at that soft-spoken insult. He caught her
+roughly by the wrists.
+
+"Nay," she said, "you must be more gentle. You seem to forget that you
+are not sacking a defenceless town. Also, you forget that you have not a
+friend or a follower in this wilderness, and that any man or woman in
+the fort would shoot you down like a dog at a word from me."
+
+For a little while they eyed each other steadily enough--her face still
+beautiful despite the bantering cruelty of lips and eyes, and the
+loathing in every line of it; his the face of a devil. Then, with a
+muttered oath, he closed his fingers on her tender flesh, pressing with
+all his strength.
+
+"Ah, my fine lady," he cried, harshly, "you think yourself strong enough
+to flout Pierre d'Antons, do you? Strong enough to spurn the protection
+of a soldier and a gentleman! Cry now for your girl-faced Kingswell--for
+your golden-haired fellow countryman."
+
+By that even her lips were colourless, and her eyes were wet. "There is
+no need," she said, bravely, "for I hear my father at the door."
+
+D'Antons dropped her wrists and took a backward step. In doing so, his
+heel struck the leg of a stool, and the scabbard of his sword rang
+discordantly. He reeled, recovering himself just as Sir Ralph crossed
+the threshold. Before either of the men had time to speak, Beatrix
+darted forward and struck the Frenchman savagely across the face with
+her open hand. Then, without a word of either explanation or greeting to
+her father, she passed D'Antons swiftly, sped down the length of the
+room, and entered her own chamber.
+
+"What does this mean, captain?" inquired the baronet, coldly. D'Antons,
+scarcely recovered from the blow, strode toward him.
+
+"What does it mean?" he cried. "It means, my fine old cock, that your
+neck will be pulled out of joint when we get away from this
+God-forgotten desolation. Ah, you liar, why did I not have you strung up
+to a yard-arm when you were safely in my power? Stab me, but I've been
+too soft--and my reward is insults from the wench of an exiled
+card-cheat and murderer."
+
+His voice was raised almost to a scream. His face quivered with passion.
+He thrust it within a few inches of the baronet's.
+
+"Liar and cheat," he cried, furiously.
+
+"Softly, softly," replied Sir Ralph. "I cannot abide being bawled at in
+my own house, especially by such scum of a French muck heap as you. Keep
+your distance, fellow, or, by God, I'll do you a hurt. What's this!
+You'd presume?"
+
+They withdrew on the instant. The two swords came clear in the same
+second of time.
+
+"_Gabier de potence_," cried D'Antons.
+
+"_Canaille_," replied the baronet, blandly. Evidently the rasp of the
+steel had mended his temper. He even smiled a little at his adoption of
+his adversary's mother-tongue.
+
+The men were excellently matched as swordsmen. But not more than half a
+dozen passes had been made and parried before Beatrix ran into the room,
+crying to them to put up their swords.
+
+"Go back," said the baronet, with his eyes on D'Antons, "go back to your
+room, my daughter, and make a prayer for this fellow's soul. It will
+soon stand in need of a petition for God's mercy."
+
+The girl went softly back and closed the door, in an effort to shut out
+the rasping and metallic striking of the blades. She prayed, but for
+strength to her father's wrist and not for the Frenchman's soul. She was
+afraid--desperately afraid. The truth of her father's skill in French
+sword-play had been kept from her. To her he was but a courteous,
+middle-aged gentleman who needed her care, and who had been maligned and
+robbed by the world into which he had been born. He was a good father.
+He had been a loving and considerate husband. She knelt beside her bed
+and beseeched God to succour him in this desperate strait.
+
+In the meantime the fight went on in the outer room with more the air of
+a harmless bout for practice than a duel to the death. It was altogether
+a question of point and point, in the Continental manner, perfectly free
+from the swinging attack and clanging defence of the English style. The
+combatants were cool, to judge by appearances. Neither seemed in any
+hurry. The thrusts and lunges, though in fact as quick as thought, were
+delivered with a manner suggestive of elegant leisure.
+
+"I believe you have the advantage of me by about three inches of steel,"
+remarked the baronet, diverting a lightning thrust from its intended
+course.
+
+"A chance of the game," replied D'Antons, smiling grimly.
+
+Just then the baronet's foot slipped on the edge of a book of verses
+which Mistress Beatrix had left on the floor. For a second he was
+swerved from his balance; and, when he recovered, it was to feel the
+warm blood running down his breast from a slight incision in his left
+shoulder. But his recovery was as masterly as it was swift, and the
+Frenchman found himself more severely pressed than before, despite the
+advantage he possessed in the superior length of his sword. The little
+wound counted for nothing.
+
+Just what the outcome of the fight would have been, if an untimely
+interruption in the person of Maggie Stone had not intervened, it is
+hard to say. Perhaps D'Antons' youth would have claimed the victory in
+the long run, or perhaps the baronet's excellent composure. In skill
+they were nicely matched, though the Englishman displayed superiority
+enough to even the difference in the length of the blades. But why take
+time for idle surmises? Maggie Stone, looking in, all unheeded, at the
+open door, saw her beloved master engaged in a desperate combat with a
+person whom she despised as well as feared. She saw the sodden stain of
+blood on her master's doublet. In her hand she held a skillet which she
+had just borrowed from Dame Trigget. Without waiting to announce
+herself, she rushed into the room and dealt Captain d'Antons a
+resounding whack on the head with the iron bowl of the utensil. The long
+sword fell from the benumbed fingers and clanged on the floor. With a
+low, guttural cry, the Frenchman followed it, and sprawled, unconscious,
+at the feet of the surprised and indignant baronet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH
+
+
+Master Kingswell and his party returned from their daring reconnoitre
+early in the afternoon. They had not met with the enemy, though they had
+found the camp and torn down the temporary lodges. After that they had
+followed the broad trail of the retreat for several miles, and had
+discharged the cannon twice into the inscrutable woods. Their daring had
+been rewarded by the capture of about two hundred pounds of smoked
+salmon and dried venison.
+
+Both Kingswell and William Trigget were unable to account for the fact
+that the savages had not attacked them in the cover of the woods. In
+reality they owed their bloodless victory to the presence of the little
+cannon. That third and last discharge of slugs, on the day of the big
+fight, had killed three of the braves, wounded five more, and inspired
+an hysterical terror in the hearts of the rest. But for that, the hidden
+enemy would not have been content with playing a waiting game and with
+the attempted killing of one man each night; and neither would they have
+retired, so undemonstratively, before the advance of the five. But,
+despite their fear of the cannon, they had no intention of giving up the
+siege of the fort. They placed trust in the darkness of night and their
+own cunning.
+
+Kingswell and the elder Trigget were drawn aside by Sir Ralph. The
+baronet looked less care-haunted than he had for years.
+
+"D'Antons and I have broken our truce," he whispered, "and behold, the
+heavens have not fallen,--nor even the poor defences of this
+plantation." He smiled cheerfully. "The great captain alone has come to
+grief," he added. "Maggie Stone saved him from my hand by felling him
+herself with some sort of stew-pan. I was frantically angry at the time,
+but am glad now that I did not have to kill the rogue."
+
+"Such cattle are better dead, sir," remarked Trigget, coolly.
+
+"I grant you that, my good William," replied Sir Ralph, "but he is
+harmless as a new-born babe, after all--and we'll see that he remains
+so."
+
+Then he told them the story of the duel, and of what had led to it.
+Kingswell flushed and paled.
+
+"God's mercy!" he cried, "but I would I had been in your boots, sir."
+
+"You'd have died in them, more than likely," replied the baronet, laying
+a hand on the other's shoulder. "D'Antons has a rare knowledge of
+swordsmanship, and eye and wrist to back it with."
+
+"Even so," replied Kingswell, "it would have been--it would have been a
+pleasure to die in such a cause." He blushed, and hurriedly added, "But
+I doubt if he'd have killed me, for all his gimcrackery and
+side-stepping. I've seen such gentry hopping and poking for hours, when
+one good cut from the shoulder would have ended their tricks."
+
+The baronet smiled kindly, though with a tinge of sadness. "Ah, what a
+fine thing is the heart of youth," he said, "and the confidence of
+youth. I even bow to the ignorance of youth. But, my dear boy, valour
+and confidence are not more than half the battle, after all. The edge is
+a fine thing, and has spilled a deal of blood since the hammering of the
+first sword; but the point becomes no less deadly simply because one
+stout young Englishman is ignorant of its potency. Lad, if it were not
+that I have won the distinction--beside many a less enviable one--of
+being the best swordsman in England, I could not have withstood
+D'Antons' play for long enough to make sure of the colour of his eyes."
+
+Kingswell felt like a fool, and did not know which way to turn his
+abashed countenance. Both Sir Ralph and Trigget felt sorry for him.
+
+"But I can assure you, Bernard," said the former, "that, if it came to a
+matter of cutlasses, neither the Frenchman nor I would stand up for long
+against either you or Trigget."
+
+"It is kind of you to say so," replied Kingswell, staring over the
+baronet's shoulder at nothing in particular, "but I haven't a doubt that
+even Maggie Stone, with her stew-pan, would be more than a match for
+me."
+
+William Trigget laughed boisterously at that. "We must ease the young
+gentleman's temper, sir," he said to the baronet. "I have a pair of
+singlesticks."
+
+"Get them," said the baronet. He slipped his hand under Kingswell's arm
+and led him into the cabin. Beatrix welcomed him cordially, with a shy
+compliment to his bravery thrown in. The youth immediately felt better
+in his pride.
+
+"Say nothing of D'Antons, or the duel," Sir Ralph whispered in his ear.
+"He is safe in his own bed, being nursed conscientiously, if not
+over-tenderly, by Maggie Stone."
+
+Kingswell seated himself beside Mistress Beatrix on the bench by the
+fire. He noticed that she had been weeping. Her eyes seemed all the
+brighter for it. He gave her a detailed account of the brief expedition
+from which he had just returned. He told of the cluster of lodges, the
+cooking-fires still burning, the utensils and food scattered about, and
+not a human being in sight.
+
+"And what if you had seen the savages?" she asked. "Surely, four
+Englishmen and a lad could do nothing against such a host?"
+
+"We would have fallen in the first flight of arrows," replied Kingswell.
+
+"Then why did you risk it?"
+
+The young man shook his head and laughed. "Some one must take risks," he
+said, "else all warfare would come to a standstill."
+
+The girl was looking down at her hands, and reflectively twisting a
+jewelled ring around and around on one slim finger. "And I wish it would
+with all my heart," she sighed. "Warfare and bloodshed--they are the
+devil's inventions, and strike innocent and guilty alike."
+
+"Nay," replied Kingswell, "there is more harm done to the innocent in
+courts and fine assemblies, and at the sheltered card-tables, than on
+all the battle-fields of the world. War is a good surgeon, and, if he
+sometimes lets the good blood with the bad, why, that's just a risk we
+must accept."
+
+Beatrix raised a flushed face, and eyed him squarely. "You preach like a
+Puritan," she said, "with your condemnation of courts and play. You
+should give my father the benefit of some of your wisdom. His friends
+have all been generous with such help."
+
+Kingswell bit his lip, and for an awkward minute studied the toes of his
+moccasins. Presently he looked up.
+
+"I am sorry," he said.
+
+Her glance softened.
+
+"I am as ignorant of battle-fields as I am of courts," he added. "I am
+ignorant of everything."
+
+His voice was low and bitter. Beatrix laughed softly.
+
+"Pray do not take it so much to heart," she said. "Nothing is so easily
+mended as ignorance."
+
+He looked at her gravely.
+
+"I am going to ask Sir Ralph to give me lessons in French sword-play,"
+he said. "Is there nothing that you would teach me?"
+
+"Embroidery," she replied, "and how to brew a Madeira punch."
+
+At that moment the baronet opened the door and admitted William Trigget.
+The master mariner carried a pair of stout oak sticks with basket-work
+guards under his arm.
+
+"Does your education commence so soon?" inquired Beatrix of Kingswell.
+
+"Somebody's does," he replied, with a return of his old confidence. With
+the lady's permission and Sir Ralph's assistance, Trigget and Kingswell
+cleared the middle of the floor of rugs and the table. They removed
+their outer coats. Trigget was the taller, as well as the heavier, of
+the two. Without further preliminaries, they fell on, and the dry
+whacking of the sticks against one another, varied occasionally by the
+muffled thud of wood against cloth, filled the cabin. It was a fine
+display of the English style--slash, cut, and guard, with never a
+side-step nor retreat. After ten minutes of it, Trigget cried "enough,"
+and stumbled out of the danger zone. His right arm was numb. His
+shoulders and sides ached, and his head swam; Kingswell was without a
+touch.
+
+Neither Beatrix nor Sir Ralph, nor yet Trigget, for that matter,
+concealed their astonishment at the result of the bout. "And now, sir,"
+said Kingswell, "I should like a lesson in the other style."
+
+The baronet took down a pair of light, edgeless blades with blunted
+points. After a few words as to the manner of standing, they crossed the
+lithe weapons. In a second Kingswell's was jerked from his hand and
+sent bounding across the room. He recovered it without a word and
+returned to the combat. By this time the light was failing. After about
+a dozen passes, he was again disarmed. His gray eyes danced, and he
+laughed gaily as he picked up his weapon.
+
+"I see the way of that trick," he said.
+
+He returned to the one-sided engagement with, if possible, more energy
+and eagerness than before. Already he had the attitude and stamping
+manner of attack to perfection. Sir Ralph tested his defence again and
+again without slipping through. Three times he tried the circular,
+twisting stroke with which he had disarmed the novice before without
+success. Wondering, and slightly irritated, he put out fresh efforts,
+and forgot all about his defence. The blades rasped, and rang, and
+whispered. The blunted point was at Kingswell's breast, at his throat,
+at his eyes; but it never touched. And, just as Mistress Beatrix was
+about to bid the combatants cease their exertions, because of the
+gathering dusk, Kingswell's point touched the insignificant but painful
+wound on the baronet's shoulder. With an exclamation, in which disgust,
+pain, and amusement were queerly blended, Sir Ralph dropped his foil to
+the floor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS
+
+
+Captain Pierre d'Antons' injury kept him indoors for ten days. During
+that time he saw nobody but Maggie Stone, Bernard Kingswell, and Ouenwa.
+Kingswell could not help feeling sorry for him, in spite of the enmity
+and distrust in his heart. D'Antons made no mention of how he came by
+his cut head to the young Englishman. He knew that the other knew--and
+sometimes he wondered how much. He accepted such attentions at
+Kingswell's hand as any fair-hearted man will make to any invalid, with
+what seemed gratitude and humility. But under the mask his blood was
+raging. If his hand trembled while receiving a glass of water from the
+Englishman, it was as much from the effort of restraining an outburst of
+hate as from weakness. Kingswell, clear-sighted by now, suspected the
+real state of the other's feelings.
+
+During the days of D'Antons' inactivity, the Beothics made three night
+attacks on the fort. Two were repetitions of the one-man demonstrations
+of cunning, in which Clotworthy had met his death and young Trigget had
+received the cut on his arm. Happily both had failed. The third was an
+attack in force, made in that darkest hour just before the first
+stirrings of dawn. By good fortune, both William Trigget and Kingswell
+were dressed and about at the time of the first alarm. They both ran to
+the gun-platform, and there found Tom Bent desperately engaged with two
+savages, who had scaled the stockade over the massed shoulders of their
+fellows. The intruders were speedily hurled backward, they and a portion
+of the breastworks falling on the devoted heads below. At the moment,
+Dame Trigget puffed valiantly up the ladder and handed a torch to her
+husband. In a second the coverings were pulled from the guns. The
+muzzles of the little weapons were declined as far as they would go, and
+the fuses were ignited. Comprehending the trend of affairs, some of the
+enemy let fly their arrows at the little group in the torch's
+illumination. Both William Trigget and Tom Bent were hit, and fell to
+their knees. In the same instant of time the guns belched their flame
+and screaming missiles into the wavering mass of savages. A yell of
+terror and pain, made up of many individual cries, followed the reports
+of the guns like an echo.
+
+But along the opposite stockade, things were not going so well for the
+settlers. About a dozen of the enemy had gained foothold on the roof of
+the storehouse, and from there had jumped into the yard, driving Peter
+Harding before them. They were immediately engaged by the Donnellys.
+Torches and lanterns glowed and swung about the edges of the conflict.
+Matters were looking serious for the defenders (who by that time were
+joined by Sir Ralph, Ouenwa, and the redoubtable Maggie Stone) when the
+discharge of artillery across the square turned the courage of the
+attackers to water, and their victory to defeat. Six of them were cut
+down while endeavouring to escape by way of the ladder against the wall
+of the storehouse. The rest got away, but none of them unscathed. With
+that the fight ended, though the defenders kept to their posts until
+broad daylight.
+
+In the morning it was discovered that one of the six warriors who
+remained within the fort was still alive. Sir Ralph had him carried to
+D'Antons' cabin, and his wounds attended to. They were not of a serious
+nature. Black Feather, who was a convalescent by now, recognized a
+bitter enemy in the disabled captive. He was for despatching him
+straightway, recalling the bitter days of his slavery and the loss of
+wife and children. He was dragged away by Kingswell, and Ouenwa
+remonstrated with him at some length.
+
+The little garrison had suffered in the brief engagement. William
+Trigget had halted three arrows with his big body. Only one had reached
+the flesh, thanks to his thick garments of wool and hide; but that one
+had cut deep into the muscles of his chest, and the others had bruised
+his ribs. Tom Bent was more seriously injured, with a gaping slash in
+the side of his neck. Young Peter Harding was laid on his back with a
+cracked rib, dealt him by a stone-headed axe, and seemed in a fair way
+to remain on the sick-list for some time to come.
+
+The dead Beothics were carried out and buried in a shallow grave near
+the honest Clotworthy's desolate resting-place.
+
+It was evident, from the smoke above the woods, that the enemy were
+still maintaining the siege, and at even closer range than before. The
+continual sight of that evidence of their presence, and the idleness due
+to confinement within a few hundred yards of the stockade, began to tell
+on the spirits of the settlers. It became a matter of difficulty to
+forget the wounded men in such restricted quarters. Bandages and
+salves, gruels and plasters, seemed to pervade every corner. Every one
+who was not an invalid was a nurse. In addition, the lack of fresh meat
+was beginning to be felt. Sir Ralph, who had seemed more cheerful just
+after his affair with D'Antons, was fallen back on his black moods.
+Mistress Beatrix's cheeks and eyes were losing something of their
+radiance, though she carried herself bravely and cheerfully.
+
+Master Kingswell, who had a knack with bandages and such, found his time
+fully occupied. He inspected all the wounded twice a day, and he and
+Ouenwa took entire charge of D'Antons and the captured Beothic. His only
+recreation was a few hours of each afternoon or evening spent with the
+Westleighs. He and the baronet fenced, if the visit happened to be paid
+during the day; if in the evening, they sometimes played chess, or,
+better still, the baronet paced the room in uneasy meditation, and the
+youth and the maiden bent their young heads above the pieces of carved
+ivory.
+
+Behind the girl's laughter and hospitality, Kingswell detected an
+aloofness toward him that had not been noticeable during the first days
+of their acquaintance. The thing was very fine--so fine that it was
+scarcely a matter of attitude or manner. One of duller perception would
+have missed it altogether. It was in no wise a physical aloofness, save
+in a certain reservation in the glance of the eye and the softer notes
+of the voice. But it worried the young man. He felt that he had failed
+in something--that she had set a standard for him, and that he had not
+risen to it. With native shrewdness, he suspected that she considered
+him crude and conceited. He knew that she considered him brave, and that
+she admired his courage; but he was equally sure that his prowess with
+the singlesticks against Trigget, and his increasing dexterity with the
+rapier, did not tell in his favour in her eyes. "Women are evidently as
+unreasonable as the poets depict them," he decided, and tried to acquire
+a modest demeanour. But the ability to do so had not been born in him,
+and no matter how low and self-abasing his speech, pride shone in his
+clear eyes and self-confidence was in the carriage of head and
+shoulders.
+
+The baronet's attitude toward Master Kingswell became more affectionate
+every day. He recognized the sterling qualities in the youth,--the
+honesty, courage, and loyalty, as well as the physical and mental gifts
+of quick eye and wrist and clear brain. He derived no little comfort
+from his presence in the fort. He felt that in this golden-haired son of
+the Bristol merchant-knight his daughter had a second guardian. He knew
+that the Kingswell blood, though not noble by the rating of the College
+of Heralds, was to be depended on as surely as any in England. In
+happier times he had known and enjoyed a certain amount of familiarity
+with the elder Kingswell, and had found the broad-minded merchant's
+heart as sound as his self-imported wines. He remembered the wife, too,
+as a person of distinction and kindliness.
+
+For his own part, the baronet realized more surely, with the passing of
+each narrow day, that life offered no further allurement to him. The
+slight exhilaration that had followed the defiance and defeat of
+D'Antons was of no more lasting a quality than the flavour of a vintage.
+The Frenchman was harmless, poor devil, like the rest of them; and in as
+fair a way as himself to leave his bones in the wilderness. Yes, he felt
+a twinge of pity for him! He could understand that, to an adventurer
+like D'Antons, unrequited love was the very devil,--worse, perhaps, than
+the fever of the gaming-table. But of course he felt no regret for
+having put an end (as he believed) to the fellow's audacious suit. His
+regret--if, indeed, he entertained any concerning so recent an event in
+his career--was that he had not pricked the buccaneer's bubble of false
+power months before--despite the promise he had made him. But as things
+had turned out,--as Time had dealt the cards, to use his own words,--the
+other's behaviour had allowed him to strike without too flagrant a
+breach of his word of honour. He was thankful for that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+TWO OF A KIND
+
+
+When Pierre d'Antons was able to move about again, he found himself
+shunned, without disguise, by every one of the inmates of the fort save
+Bernard Kingswell. The West Country sailors, no longer under orders to
+treat him with respect and obedience, simply grunted inaudibly and
+turned their backs when he addressed them. Of course, the door of Sir
+Ralph's habitation was closed against him. He spent almost all his time
+in his own cabin, with the captured and slowly convalescing Beothic for
+companion. He read a great deal, and thought more. Now and again, in a
+fit of chagrin, he would stamp about the room, cursing, crying out for a
+chance of revenge, with clinched hands uplifted. During such paroxysms,
+the Beothic would watch him closely, with understanding in his gaze. The
+savage was no linguist; but hate burns the same signals in eyes of every
+nationality.
+
+D'Antons continued to suffer from his infatuation for Mistress
+Westleigh. The blow of the skillet had changed nothing of that. Whatever
+his passion lacked in the higher attributes of love, it lacked nothing
+in vitality. It was a madness. It was a bitter desire. How gladly he
+would risk death, fighting for her--and yet he would not have hesitated
+a moment about killing her happiness, to win his own, had an opportunity
+offered. Self-sacrifice, worshipful devotion, and tenderness were things
+apart from what he considered his love for the beautiful English girl.
+
+In this state of mind he built a hundred wild dreams of carrying her
+away, and of ultimately imprisoning her, should she still be averse to
+his love, in a Southern stronghold. Then a realization of his position
+would come over him and set him stamping and raving. To Kingswell,
+despite the fire in his heart, he showed a contrite and friendly
+exterior. He wondered if he could not turn the young man to some use. He
+gave the matter his attention.
+
+One evening D'Antons told a plaintive story to Kingswell. All through it
+the Englishman was itching to be gone; for he spent no more of his time
+than was absolutely necessary under the Frenchman's roof. But the
+narrator held him with a mournful eye. The tale was an alleged history
+of Pierre d'Antons' youth. It dealt with a great family that had fallen
+upon lean years; with a ruinous château, a proud and studious father,
+and a saintly mother; with a boyhood of noble dreams and few pleasures;
+with a youth of hard and honourable soldiering wherever the banners of
+France led the way; and with an early manhood of high adventure and
+achievement in the Western colonies.
+
+Kingswell listened coldly, though the other's voice fairly trembled with
+emotion. He believed no more of the tale than if he had already heard
+the truth of the matter--which was, in plain English, that D'Antons was
+the bastard of a blackleg nobleman by a Spanish dancer; that he had
+spent his youth as a pot-boy on French ships, and had won, by courage
+and cunning, to the position of a captain of buccaneers in early
+manhood. The achievements in the Western colonies had been matters of
+the wrecking and plundering of what others had built; the high
+adventures--God spare me the telling of them!
+
+After Kingswell left him, the pirate fell into one of his reddest moods.
+He was sure that the pink-cheeked youth had not believed a word of his
+story--had been laughing up his sleeve at the most touching passages. He
+was sorry that he had not twisted the lad's neck instead of concluding
+the narrative. It was a sheer waste of breath, this artistic lying to
+such a pig's head! He jumped to his feet, with a violence that almost
+startled the Beothic to outcry, and flung himself about the room like a
+madman. He kicked the stolid logs of the walls. He knocked the few
+pieces of furniture out of his erratic course, and spilled his books and
+papers, quills and ink, to the floor: all this without any ringing oaths
+or blistering curses. His rage worked inward, as bodily wounds sometimes
+bleed. It played the devil with his limbs, his features, and his hands,
+but found no ease in articulation. A trickle of blood ran down his chin,
+from where he had set a tooth into his lower lip. Withal, he was such a
+daunting spectacle that Red Cloud, the Beothic, crouched fearfully
+against the wall, and followed his movements with wide eyes; for, though
+a mighty warrior in his own estimation, Red Cloud was a craven at heart.
+
+Presently the tumult of the madness ceased, and the victim of it sank
+languidly into a chair beside the Beothic's couch. He groaned and
+shivered. For awhile he sat limp, with his thin face hidden between his
+hands. Looking up, his eyes met the eyes of the native. In their furtive
+regard, he read that which suggested a new move. Though, owing to an
+inborn caution, he had never displayed a knowledge of the Beothic
+language to his fellow settlers, and had refrained from using any words
+of it before Ouenwa, he had picked up a fair idea of it during his
+sojourn at Fort Beatrix. Hitherto he had paid but scant attention to Red
+Cloud, for he entertained the Spanish attitude of intolerance toward
+uncivilized peoples; but now he leaned forward and spoke kindly to his
+companion.
+
+It was late when Kingswell and Ouenwa returned to D'Antons' cabin. Under
+the new order of things, Ouenwa had volunteered his services as
+assistant night-guard of the two prisoners--for the Frenchman was
+virtually a prisoner. It was their custom to keep watch turn and turn
+about, in two hours' vigils, one sleeping while the other sat in a
+comfortable chair by the hearth. Their couch was also by the hearth.
+This precaution was taken for fear of some treachery on the part of Red
+Cloud.
+
+When the two entered the outer room, the fire was burning brightly, and
+by its ruddy light they saw the muffled figure of the Beothic, face to
+the wall, in the far corner. They shot the bar of the door. When the
+morning was well advanced, they opened windows and door, and replenished
+the fire. Kingswell drew aside the curtain between the rooms, and looked
+in to see how D'Antons was faring. His fire was out and he was still
+abed. Kingswell moved noiselessly across the floor and peered close.
+What an awkward figure the graceful buccaneer cut in his sleep! He laid
+his hand on the shapeless shoulder. It encountered nothing but yielding
+pelts and blankets. He dragged the things to the floor frantically. His
+exclamation brought Ouenwa to his side. The Englishman pointed a finger
+of dismay at the demolished dummy.
+
+"Tricked!" he cried. "Rip me, but what a fine jailer I am!" They rushed
+back to the other room and investigated the figure on the Beothic's
+couch. That, too, proved to be a shape of rolled furs and bedding. Red
+Cloud also had faded away.
+
+News of the disappearance of D'Antons and the savage went through the
+fort like an electric current. The settlers were more interested and
+surprised over it than concerned. Even the invalids sat up and
+conjectured on the captain's object in fleeing to the outer wilderness,
+and the doubtful but inevitable reception by the natives. They could
+hardly bring themselves to the belief that he and Red Cloud had gone as
+fellow conspirators, remembering the haughty Frenchman's bearing toward
+the aborigines with whom he had traded on occasions.
+
+William Trigget shook his head when he heard the story, and rated the
+men who had been on duty along the palisade with unsparing frankness.
+Sir Ralph looked worried, and Mistress Beatrix looked surprised.
+
+"It seems a very simple trick," she murmured, "to bundle up a few
+blankets into lifelike effigies, and then to slip away while the jailer
+is elsewhere spending a social evening."
+
+Kingswell flushed hotly, and looked at the girl steadily; but he failed
+to meet her eyes.
+
+"Yes," he said, "they slipped away while two men were on guard along the
+walls, and while the self-appointed jailer, who has not had four hours'
+sleep in any night in the past three weeks, was playing chess with your
+ladyship."
+
+"I am sure it is no loss to us," interposed the baronet quickly. "We
+have no use for the savage; and as to D'Antons--why, if the enemy kill
+him, it will save some one else the trouble. But I cannot help wondering
+at him taking so dangerous a risk. If he had been on friendly terms with
+the natives at any time, one would have a clue. But he always treated
+them like dogs."
+
+Kingswell turned a casual shoulder toward the lady, and gave all his
+attention to the baronet and the affair of the Frenchman. The blush of
+shame had gone, leaving his face unusually pale. His eyes, also, showed
+a change--a chilling from blue to gray, with a surface glitter and a
+shadow behind.
+
+"You may be sure," he replied to Sir Ralph, "that D'Antons has taken
+what he considers the lesser risk. I'll wager he has won the savage to
+him, hand and heart. I was a fool not to have removed Red Cloud to one
+of the other huts."
+
+"He was kept to D'Antons' cabin by my orders," said the baronet.
+
+"I had forgotten that," replied Kingswell. "Then I am not the only
+scapegrace of the community."
+
+The baronet's face lighted whimsically, and he smiled at the young man.
+But the girl did not receive the implication in the same spirit. She
+stared at the speaker as if he were some surprising species of bird that
+had flown in at the window.
+
+"Such a remark rings dangerously of insubordination," she exclaimed,
+"not to mention the impertinence of it."
+
+Sir Ralph looked at her, completely puzzled, and murmured a
+remonstrance. It is a wise father that knows his own daughter. Kingswell
+turned an expressionless face toward the fire for a moment. Then he
+bowed to Sir Ralph. "If I am guilty of impertinence, sir, I humbly crave
+your pardon," he said. "As to insubordination--why, I believe there is
+nothing to say on that head, as I am a free agent; but I think you
+understand, sir, that I and my men are entirely at your service, as we
+have been ever since the day we first accepted the hospitality of Fort
+Beatrix. My men, at least, have not failed in any duty, whatever my
+delinquencies."
+
+With an exclamation of sincere concern, the baronet stepped close to his
+friend and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.
+
+"Bernard--my dear lad--why all this talk of pardon, and duty, and
+delinquencies, and God knows what else? If you believe that I consider
+you guilty of any carelessness, you must think me ungrateful indeed."
+
+His voice, his look, his gesture, all convinced Kingswell that the words
+were sincere, and so did something toward the mending of his injured
+feelings. To the baronet, his eyes brightened and his manner unbent. He
+took his departure immediately after.
+
+Sir Ralph turned to his daughter as the door closed behind Kingswell.
+
+"I do not understand your treatment of him," he said. "Surely you
+realize that he is a friend--and friends are not so common that we can
+afford to flout them at every turn." He did not speak angrily, but the
+girl saw plainly enough that he was seriously displeased.
+
+"The boy is so insufferably self-satisfied," she explained, weakly. "How
+indignation would have burned within him had some one else allowed the
+prisoners to escape."
+
+The baronet gazed at her pensively for several seconds, and then took
+her hand tenderly between his own.
+
+"You do the brave lad an injustice, my sweeting," he said. "What you
+take for conceit is just youth, and strength, and fearlessness, and a
+clean conscience. He has nothing of the braggart in him--not a hint of
+it. I am sorry you like him so little, my daughter, for he is a good lad
+and well-disposed toward us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER
+
+
+For a time after D'Antons' departure into the unknown, the little
+garrison of Fort Beatrix turned day into night. Not a man indulged in so
+much as a wink of sleep between the hours of dusk and dawn; but from
+sunrise until afternoon the place was as if it lay under an enchantment
+of slumber. On the sixth day after the flight of the Frenchman and Red
+Cloud, Ouenwa approached Kingswell with a request to be allowed to leave
+the fort, in company with Black Feather. He told how Black Feather was
+of the opinion that many of the tribesmen were against the leadership of
+Panounia, and that, if they could be found, it would be an easy matter
+for Ouenwa to win their support. He, Ouenwa, was of the blood of the
+greatest chief they had ever known. They would gather to the totem of
+the Bear. Assured of the friendship of the English people, they could be
+brought to the rescue of the settlement. So Black Feather had told the
+tale to Ouenwa, and so Ouenwa believed.
+
+"And you would have to go with Black Feather?" inquired Kingswell, none
+too cheerfully; for he looked upon the lad as a very dear younger
+brother.
+
+"Truly, my friend-chief, for I am the grandson of Soft Hand," replied
+the boy. "When they see me, their blood will rise at the memory of Soft
+Hand's murder. I will talk great words of my love for the English, and
+of my hatred for Panounia, and of the great trading that will be done at
+the fort when the night-howlers have been driven away. Thus we shall all
+be saved--thus Mistress Beatrix shall escape capture."
+
+At that Kingswell started and eyed his companion keenly. "You think
+Panounia can break into the fort?" he inquired.
+
+Ouenwa smiled. "Hunger can do it before the snow melts," he replied,
+"and hunger will fight for Panounia and the black captain."
+
+"What do you know of the black captain?"
+
+"He is with the night-howlers. He will keep their courage warm. He will
+struggle many times to bring us to our deaths and to capture the lady.
+That is all I know."
+
+"But how do you know so much, lad?" asked Kingswell.
+
+Ouenwa looked surprised. "How could I know less, who dwelt within
+eyeshot of the black captain for so many days, and who have learned the
+ways of such wolves?" he asked, in his turn. "You know it already
+without my telling, friend-chief," he added.
+
+"Let us to Sir Ralph for his advice," said the other.
+
+Master Kingswell had not crossed the threshold of the baronet's cabin
+since the time of his rebuff at the hands of Mistress Beatrix. Of course
+he had seen the baronet frequently, and they had smoked some pipes of
+tobacco together by the hearth of the departed Frenchman; but from the
+presence of the lady he had kept off as from a lazaretto. At the voice
+of duty, however, he sought the baronet in his own house with excellent
+composure. Anger at the knowledge that a girl could hurt him so nerved
+him to accept the risk of again seeing the displeasure in her dark eyes.
+
+Mistress Beatrix was not in the living-room when they entered. Sir Ralph
+welcomed them cordially. Upon hearing Ouenwa's and Black Feather's plan
+for winning some of the tribesmen to the succour of the fort, he was
+deeply moved. He took a ring from his own hand and slipped it over one
+of Ouenwa's fingers. He gave the lad a fine hunting-knife for Black
+Feather, and a Spanish dagger for himself. He told Kingswell to supply
+them unstintingly from the store, with provisions and clothing for
+themselves and gifts for the natives whom they hoped to win.
+
+"'Tis a chance," said he to Kingswell. "A chance of our salvation, and
+the only one, as far as I can see."
+
+At that moment Mistress Beatrix entered the room. At sight of the
+visitors by the chimney, she swept a grand curtsey. The visitors bowed
+low in return. Her father advanced and led her, with the manner of those
+days, to his own chair beside the hearth. He told her, in a few words,
+of the venture upon which Ouenwa and Black Feather intended to set
+forth. The thought of it stirred the girl, and she looked on Ouenwa with
+shining eyes.
+
+"'Tis a deed for the great knights of old," she said. "Lad, where have
+you learned your bravery?"
+
+Unabashed, Ouenwa stood erect before her. "Half of it is the blood of my
+fathers," he replied, "and half is the teaching of Master Kingswell--and
+half I gather from your eyes."
+
+The girl flushed with suppressed merriment. The baronet concealed his
+lips with his hand. Kingswell clutched his outspoken friend by the
+shoulder.
+
+"Brother, you have named one-half too many," he said, laughing, "so your
+reason will carry more weight if you leave out that in which you mention
+my teaching. But come, we must find Black Feather, and make arrangements
+to leave as soon as dusk falls."
+
+At that Beatrix tightened her hands on the arms of the chair and turned
+a startled face toward the speaker. "Surely, sir, you do not mean to
+leave us, too!" she exclaimed.
+
+Neither the baronet nor Kingswell were looking at her; but Ouenwa saw
+the expression of eyes and lips. Kingswell, however, did not miss the
+note of anxiety in the clear young voice.
+
+"I do not go with them, mistress," he said, "because my company would
+only delay their movements. And perhaps even spoil their plans. I am a
+poor woodsman--and already our garrison is none too heavily manned."
+
+"I am glad you are not going," replied the girl, quietly. "I am sure
+that my father looks upon you as his right hand, and that the men need
+you."
+
+Sir Ralph looked at his daughter with ill-concealed surprise.
+Kingswell, murmuring polite acknowledgment of her gracious words, strove
+to get a clearer view of her half-averted face. He failed. Ouenwa was
+the only one of the three who knew that the words were sincere; but he
+had the advantage of his superiors in having caught sight of the sudden
+fear in the lady's face.
+
+Sir Ralph and Kingswell lowered the light packs over the stockade to
+Ouenwa and the big warrior. When the figures merged into the gloom,
+heading northward, the two commanders descended from the storehouse and
+entered the baronet's cabin. Beatrix was by the fire, radiant in fine
+apparel.
+
+"I am in no mood for chess," said Sir Ralph. "The thought of those two
+brave fellows stealing through the dark and cold fidgets me beyond
+belief."
+
+He began his quarter-deck pacing of the floor--up and down, up and down,
+with his head thrust forward and his hands gripped behind his back.
+
+"The wind is rising," said the girl to Kingswell. "It will be bleak in
+the forest to-night--away from the fire."
+
+She shivered, and held her jewelled hands to the blaze.
+
+"It is blowing for a storm," replied the young man. "The sky was clouded
+over when they left. 'Tis safer for them so. The snow will cover their
+trail and, very likely, will keep the enemy from prowling abroad for a
+good many hours to come."
+
+Mistress Beatrix crossed the room to a cupboard in the wall, and from it
+produced a violin. Kingswell stood by the chimney, watching her. The
+baronet continued his nervous pacing of the floor. The girl touched the
+strings here and there with skilful fingers, resined the bow, and then
+returned to the hearth and stood with her eyes on the fire. Suddenly she
+looked up at Kingswell. Her eyes were as he had never seen them before.
+They were full of firelight and dream. They were brighter than jewels,
+and yet dark as the heart of a deep water.
+
+"Please do not stand," she said, and her voice, though free from any
+suggestion of indifference, sounded as if her whole being were far from
+that simple room. Her gaze returned to the fire. Kingswell quietly
+reseated himself; and at that she nestled her chin to the glowing
+instrument and drew the bow lightly, lovingly, almost inquiringly,
+across the strings. A whisper of melody followed the touch and sang
+clearer and more human than any human voice, and melted into the
+firelight.
+
+At the first strain of the music, the baronet sat down and reclined
+comfortably with his head against the back of his chair. For awhile he
+watched his daughter intently; then he turned his eyes to the heart of
+the fire and journeyed far in a waking dream.
+
+The girl played on and on, weaving enchantments of peace with the magic
+strings. Kingswell, leaning back with his face in the shadow, could not
+look away from her. The minutes drifted by unheeded behind the singing
+of the violin. The candles on the table flared at their sockets. The
+logs on the hearth broke, and the flames sprang to new life. Outside the
+wind raced and shouldered along the walls. And suddenly the player
+stilled her hand, and, without a word to either of the men, took up one
+of the guttering candles from the table and went quickly to her own
+chamber. She carried the fiddle with her against her young breast, and
+the bow like a wand in her hand.
+
+Sir Ralph started and sat erect in his chair. Kingswell got to his feet
+with a sigh, and lifted his heavy cloak from the bench.
+
+"I must go the rounds," he said. "Good night, sir."
+
+With that he went out into the swirling eddies of the storm. The baronet
+sat still for another hour. The music had uncovered so many ghosts of
+joy and song, of love and hate and shame. It had rung upon past glories
+and called up more recent dishonours. And still another matter occupied
+his mind, and was finally dismissed with a smile and a yawn. It was that
+Beatrix had indulged in one of her deliriums of music in young
+Kingswell's presence, and that she had never before played in any mood
+but the lightest in the hearing of a stranger.
+
+Kingswell paced beside the sentry at the drifted gate; but he kept his
+thoughts to the picture of the girl, the glowing fiddle, and the music
+and firelight that had seemed to pulse and spread together about the
+long room. Again he saw the candle flames leap high and waver, as if
+lured from their tethers by the crying of the instrument. But clearest
+of all was the player's face. His heart was filled to suffocation at the
+memory of it. Had other men seen her so beautiful? Had other men heard
+her soul and her dear heart singing and crying from the strings of the
+violin?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN
+
+
+Ouenwa and Black Feather turned their faces from the little fort and the
+hostile camp beyond the white river, and set bravely forward into the
+darkness. Black Feather led the way, avoiding hummocks, bending and
+twisting through the coverts, crossing the open glades like a
+shadow--and all without any noise except the scarcely audible padding of
+his stringed shoes. Ouenwa trod close after. They had not gone far
+before the snow began to fall and puff around them in blinding clouds.
+The trees bent tensely under the lash of the wind. More than one
+frost-embrittled spire came crashing down. Still the warrior and the lad
+held on their journey, for they were both fresh and strong, and eager to
+widen the spaces of wilderness between themselves and the camp of
+Panounia.
+
+Shortly before dawn they dug a trench in the snow on the leeward side of
+a thicket of low spruces, broke fir-branches for a bed, built a fire
+between the walls of white, and cooked and ate a frugal repast, and
+then rolled themselves in their rugs of skin and fell asleep. They had
+no fear that any of Panounia's people would disturb their slumbers. They
+lay as motionless and unknowing as logs for several hours. Then Ouenwa
+turned over and yawned, and Black Feather sat up, wide-awake in an
+instant. The morning was bright and unclouded. The white sun was
+half-way up the blue shell of the eastern sky. All around the new snow
+lay in feathery depths. On the dark firs and spruces it clung in even
+masses, which showed that the wind had died down long before the flakes
+had ceased to fall. Ouenwa and his comrade ate frugally of cold meat and
+bread, swallowed some brandy and water, and resumed their journey.
+
+Not until the afternoon of the third day following their departure from
+Fort Beatrix did the travellers sight the smoke of a fire. It was Black
+Feather, attaining the summit of a ridge a few paces ahead of Ouenwa,
+who caught the first sight of the thin, melting signal of human life. It
+wavered up from a wood in a valley a few hundred of yards in front. On
+their right hand lay the ice-edged gray waters of an arm of the sea. On
+their left stretched dark forest and empty barren to a mountainous
+horizon. In front lay hope, and behind the spur of menace.
+
+"Is there a village yonder?" asked Ouenwa.
+
+Black Feather replied negatively.
+
+"The stream is Little Thunder," he said, in his own language, "and there
+was no lodge there when last I saw it. We will approach under the
+shelter of those spruces in the hollow. It makes the journey a few paces
+longer, and perhaps the arrival twenty times safer."
+
+Ouenwa nodded his sympathy with the caution expressed by his friend.
+
+"But let us hurry," he said. "Remember that around the stockade the
+black captain is ever stirring the courage of the night-howlers."
+
+At last, creeping on all fours, they peered from the screen of brush
+into a tiny clearing on the north bank of Little Thunder. The stream was
+not ten yards across at this point. On its white surface ran several
+trails of snow-shoes. The smoke which had attracted them to the place
+curled up from the apex of a large, bark-roofed wigwam. As the
+travellers watched, an old woman appeared in the doorway of the lodge.
+Ouenwa recognized her as a wise herb-doctor who had been a friend and
+adviser of Soft Hand. He whispered the information to Black Feather.
+
+"Then we may show ourselves," said the other, "for if this woman was
+the great chief's friend you may be sure that death has only
+strengthened her loyalty. It is so with women--with the wise and the
+foolish alike. A man will stand close to his comrade in the days of his
+glory and in the press of battle; but it is the squaw who keeps the
+fallen shield freshly painted and the cause of the departed ever before
+the matters of the present day. A man must have the reward of his
+friend's praise and the joy of his companionship; but a woman makes a
+god of the departed spirit and looks for her reward beyond the red
+gates."
+
+Ouenwa had nothing to say to his friend's sage reflections, for all he
+knew of women was that a radiant creature far back in Fort Beatrix had
+his heart in thrall. So he led the way from cover, and down the bank, in
+silence.
+
+The old squaw in the doorway of the lodge caught sight of them
+immediately. She turned into the dark interior of the wigwam, but
+appeared before they were half-way across the frozen stream, with a bow
+in her hand and an arrow on the string. Black Feather and the lad raised
+their right hands, palms forward, above their heads, and continued to
+advance. The old hag lowered her weapon, but did not relax her attitude
+of vigilance. Close to the rise of the bank the travellers paused, and
+the lad called out that he was Ouenwa, grandson of Soft Hand, and that
+his companion was Black Feather, the adopted son of Montaw, the
+arrow-maker. At that the guardian of the wigwam forsook her post and
+advanced to meet them.
+
+The herb-doctor, who had been one of Soft Hand's advisers, was not
+attractive to the eye. She was bent hideously, though still of
+surprising bodily strength. Her head was uncovered, save for the matted
+locks of hair that clung about it and fell over her ears and neck like a
+wig of gray tree-moss. Her eyes were deep and black and fierce. One
+yellow fang stood like a sentinel in the cavity of her mouth. Her hands
+were claws. Her skin was no lighter in hue and no finer in texture than
+was the tanned leather of her high-legged moccasins. Her garments were
+unusually barbaric--lynx-skins shapelessly stitched together and hung
+about with belts and charms, and a great knife of flint nearly as long
+as a cutlass. Her corded, scraggy arms hung naked at her sides, as
+indifferent to the nip of the frost as to the regard of strange eyes.
+
+"Child," she said, "I heard that you were killed--that Panounia's men
+had slain you and a party of English; but that I knew to be false, for I
+saw not your spirit with the spirits of your fathers. So I believed
+that you had crossed the great salt water with the strangers."
+
+Ouenwa told his story, to which the old woman listened with the keenest
+interest and many nods of the head.
+
+"It is well," she said. "They are scattered now, some in hiding, some
+sullenly obedient to Panounia, and some in captivity. Your need will
+bring them together and awake their sleeping courage. I know of a full
+score of stout warriors who will draw no bow for Panounia, and who are
+all within a day's journey of this spot, but sadly scattered,--yea,
+scattered in every little hollow, like frightened hares."
+
+"Do you live in this great lodge all by yourself?" inquired Black
+Feather.
+
+"My sons are in the forest, seeing to their snares," replied the woman,
+eying the tall brave sharply, "but within are a sick woman and a small
+child who escaped, ten days ago, from one of Panounia's camps."
+
+She stood aside and motioned them to enter the lodge. Ouenwa went ahead,
+with Black Feather close at his heels. Within, it took them several
+seconds to adjust their eyes to the gloom of smoke and shadow. Presently
+they made out a couch of fir-branches and skins beyond the fire, and on
+it a woman, half-reclining, with her arm about a child. Both the woman
+and the child were gazing at the visitors. The child began to whimper.
+
+Black Feather uttered a low cry, and sprang over the fire. He had found
+his squaw and one of his lost children.
+
+The sickness of Black Feather's wife was nothing but the result of
+hardship and ill-treatment. Already, under the herb-doctor's care, she
+was greatly improved. The meeting with her warrior went far to complete
+the cure of the old woman's broths and soft furs. The child was well;
+but the woman knew nothing of the whereabouts of their elder offspring.
+
+Ouenwa and Black Feather did not tarry long at the lodge beside Little
+Thunder. With the younger of their aged hostess's sons for guide, they
+set out that same day to find the hidden warriors who were against the
+leadership of Panounia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS
+
+
+Back at Fort Beatrix the time passed in weary suspense. The wounded men
+recovered slowly. The enemy remained inactive beyond the river and the
+dark forest. Only the haze of their cooking-fires, melting against the
+sky, told of their presence. The inaction ate into the courage of the
+English men and women like rust. The boat-building and the iron-working
+at the forge were carried on listlessly, and without the old-time spurs
+of song and laughter. Even William Trigget and Tom Bent displayed sombre
+faces to their little world.
+
+Bernard Kingswell, however, found life eventful. He was not blind to the
+danger of their position, and he continued to do double duty in
+everything; but for all that he awoke each day with keen anticipation
+for whatever might befall, and, sleeping, dreamed of other things than
+the poised menace and the monotony. Why should he regret Bristol, or any
+other city of the outer world, when Beatrix Westleigh was domiciled
+within the rough walls of the fort on Gray Goose River? His heart would
+not descend to those depths of despondency in which lurk fear and
+hopeless anxiety. What power of man, in that wilderness, could break
+down his guard and harm the most wonderful being in the world? The
+girl's brief season of unkindness toward him was as a cloud that her
+later friendliness had dispersed as the sun disperses the morning fog.
+He had caught a glimpse of her heart in her music, in her eyes, in her
+voice, and on several occasions something that had set his heart
+thumping in the touch of her hand. At least she was neither averse nor
+indifferent to his society, and the glances of her magnificent eyes were
+open to translations that set him looking out upon life and that
+wilderness through a golden haze. Let a dozen black-visaged D'Antons
+draw their rapiers upon him--he would out-thrust, out-play, and
+out-stamp them all! Let a hundred fur-clad savages howl about the
+fort--he, Bernard Kingswell, with his lady's favour on his breast, would
+scatter them like straw! And all this because, for the first time in his
+life of twenty-one years, he was bitten with love for a woman,--and
+twenty-one was a fair, manly age in those days. He had won to it
+unknowingly, by the brave paths of adventure and the sea. So let not
+even the oldest of us criticize his attitude toward life. A man's
+emotions cannot always be herded and driven by the outward circumstances
+of need and danger, like a flock of sheep at the mercy of a dog and a
+dull countryman. That to which cautious Worldliness has given the name
+of madness, from the earliest times, is nothing but a spark of God's own
+courage and imagination in the heart of youth: the years having not yet
+smothered it with the ashes of cowardice and calculation.
+
+Bernard Kingswell had never displayed any but an assured front to the
+world. Now this love that had him so irresistibly in its services only
+heightened the confidence of his address toward men and events; but in
+the presence of its inspiration it clothed him in unaccustomed and
+unconscious meekness. You may be sure that Beatrix had been quick to
+notice the change. It pleased her mightily, of course; for was it not a
+greater and a more pleasant matter to have brought a high-hearted,
+adventure-bred youth like this to bondage and slavery than to have a
+dozen idle courtiers bowing before one, and a dozen sentimental poets
+mouthing verses that could, with equal sincerity, be applied to any
+charming lady? So Mistress Beatrix decided, and could not find it in her
+heart to regret the beaux of London Town. But she did not know her
+heart as the man knew his--and as she knew his.
+
+One morning they walked together along the river-bank, before the open
+gate of the fort. The air was clearer than any crystal. The shadows
+along the snow were bluer than the dome of the sky. The girl talked
+cheerily; for in the bright daytime, with the sounds of peaceful labour
+rising from the fort so close at hand, and with a strong and worshipping
+man, sword-girt, within arm's length, it was hard to remember the menace
+concealed by the southern woods. Her eyes were very bright, and the
+blood mantled under the clear skin of her cheeks at the wind's caress.
+Now and then, for a bar or two, she broke into song.
+
+Their path was one that Kingswell had beaten firm with his snow-shoes,
+after the last storm, expressly as a promenade for Mistress Westleigh.
+It was about a hundred yards in length, and broad enough for two persons
+to walk in abreast, and firm enough to make the wearing of snow-shoes
+unnecessary. It ran north and south, parallel with the stockade and the
+course of the river at that point. When the turn was made at either end
+of the beat, Kingswell's glance searched the horizon and every tree,
+every knoll, and hollow. It was done almost unconsciously, as a
+traveller instinctively loosens his sword in its sheath at the sound of
+voices ahead of him on a dark road.
+
+After a time the girl noticed her companion's vigilance. "What do you
+expect to see?" she asked, touching his arm lightly and swiftly with her
+gloved hand. For a moment he was confused, but recovered his wits with
+an effort.
+
+"Nothing," he replied, "or surely we would not be walking here."
+
+She smiled at that. "Are you afraid?" she inquired.
+
+He looked down at her, displayed the desperate condition of his heart in
+his eyes, and then looked back again to the strip of woods that
+approached them along the back.
+
+"I am not afraid," he said--and then, with a gasp of dismay, he caught
+her and swung her behind him. She did not resist, but cowered against
+his sheltering back.
+
+"We must return to the fort," he said. "Something is going on in that
+covert."
+
+"Come! We will run!" she whispered, pulling at his elbows to turn him
+around.
+
+"No," he replied. "I shall walk backwards, and you must keep behind me,
+and guide me. It is no great matter to avoid an arrow, if one knows in
+what quarter to look for it."
+
+She made no reply. They began the retreat along the narrow branch path
+that led to the gate of the fort, he stepping cautiously, heels first,
+and she pulling at his belt and gazing fearfully past his shoulder at
+the woods. They were within a few yards of the gate when he suddenly put
+his arms behind him, caught her close, and lurched to one side. The
+unexpected movement threw the girl to her knees in the deep snow beside
+the path. Her cry of dismay brought her father and two others from the
+fort. They found Kingswell staggering and confusedly apologizing to
+Beatrix for his roughness. In the thickness of his left shoulder stuck a
+war-arrow. Supporting Kingswell and fairly dragging the frightened girl,
+they rushed back to safety and closed and barred the gate.
+
+Hour after hour passed without the hidden warriors of Panounia making
+any further signs of hostility, or even of their existence. The watchers
+on the stockade scanned the woods in vain for any movement. A shot was
+fired into the nearest cover from one of the cannon, but without
+apparent effect.
+
+Kingswell was on duty again within an hour of the receiving of his
+wound. The ragged cut caused him a deal of pain; but the salve that
+really took the sting and ache out of it was the thought that he had
+been serving Beatrix as a shield when the arrow struck him. He went the
+rounds of the stockades with a glowing heart and dauntless bearing, and
+his air of calm assurance put courage into the men. He saw to the
+strengthening of several points of the defence, cleared the loopholes of
+drifted snow, and gave out an extra supply of powder and ball.
+
+It was dusk of that day before Kingswell again saw Mistress Westleigh.
+He was passing the baronet's cabin, and she opened the door and called
+to him shyly. He turned and stepped close to her, the better to see her
+face in the gathering twilight. She extended her hands to him, with a
+quick gesture of invitation. He dropped his heavy gloves on the snow
+before clasping them in eager fingers.
+
+"But you must not stand here, without anything 'round your shoulders,"
+he said; but, for all his solicitude, he maintained his firm hold of her
+hands. She laughed, very softly, and a slight pressure of her fingers
+drove his anxiety to the winds. He would have nothing of evil befall
+her, God knows!--nay, not so much as a chill--but how could he keep it
+in his mind that she wore no cloak when his whole being was a-thrill
+with love and worship? So he stood there, speechless, gazing into her
+flushed face. Presently her eyes lowered before his ardent regard.
+
+"I called to you to thank you for saving my life," she murmured. He had
+nothing to say to that. Perhaps he had saved her life--and again,
+perhaps he had not. At that moment he was the last person in the world
+to decide the question. His heart and mind were altogether with the
+immediate present. He realized that her hands were strong and yet tender
+to the touch of his. The faint fragrance of her hair was in his brain
+like some divine vintage. The sweet curves of cheek and lips--how near
+they were! She had called to him with more than kindness in her voice.
+God had made a high heaven of this fort in the wilderness.
+
+"You were very brave," she said, leaning nearer ever so slightly. Sweet
+madness completely overthrew the lad's native caution, and he was about
+to catch her to him bodily, when she slipped nimbly into the cabin, and
+left him standing with arms extended in silent invitation toward the
+figure of the imperturbed Sir Ralph.
+
+"Well, my lad?" inquired the baronet, calmly.
+
+"Good evening to you, Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, hiding his chagrin
+and confusion with exceeding skill.
+
+"You looked just now as if you were expecting me," said the elder. "Come
+in, come in. We can talk better by the fire."
+
+Kingswell's blushes were safe in the dusk. He picked up his gloves from
+the trampled snow by the threshold, and silently followed the baronet
+into the fire-lit living-room. Beatrix was not there--which fact the
+lover noticed with a sinking of the heart. He was alone with her father,
+and evidently under marked suspicion,--a fearful matter to a young man
+who aspires to the hand of an angel, and has not yet his line of action
+quite laid down. He took a deep breath, trembled at thought of his
+presumption, called the respectability of his parents and his income to
+his aid, and was ready for the baronet when that gentleman turned and
+faced him in front of the fire.
+
+"I love your daughter," he said, with his voice not quite so cool and
+manly as he had intended it to be.
+
+Sir Ralph bowed, but said nothing. His back was to the fire, and so his
+face was in heavy shadow.
+
+"I love her very dearly," continued the other. "I believe no man could
+love a woman more, for it is with my whole heart, and with every fibre
+of my being. I know, sir, that my rank is not exalted, and that she is
+the--"
+
+The baronet raised his hand sharply.
+
+The gesture silenced Kingswell in the middle of his sentence more
+effectively than a clap of thunder would have done it.
+
+"Yes," said Sir Ralph, harshly, "she is the daughter of a blackleg. She
+is the daughter of a criminal exile. She is the daughter of a broken
+gamester. Ay, Bernard, you do indeed look high,--you, the son of a
+humble merchant of Bristol."
+
+Kingswell was dismayed for the moment. Then, with a hardy oath, he
+slapped his hand to his hip.
+
+"Though she were the daughter of the devil himself," he began, and came
+to a lame stop. The baronet's smile passed unseen. It was a kindly
+smile, and yet a bitter one by the same tokens. Kingswell gave up all
+attempt at politic speech. He had his own feelings to express. "Your
+daughter, sir, is the best and the loveliest," he said, huskily.
+"Whatever your backslidings and misfortunes have been, they can reflect
+in no way on her sweetness, and wisdom, and virtue. But, sir, I do not
+mean to sit in judgment on any man, and last of all on the father of the
+most glorious woman in the world. I remember you in your strength,--the
+greatest man in the county and my father's noble friend. The world has
+taken a twirl since then, but you may be sure that, whatever betide, my
+heart is with you warmer than my worthy father's ever was."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+BETROTHED
+
+
+That Bernard Kingswell had accepted the baronet's own estimation of his
+(the baronet's) character so frankly, in the heat of sentimental
+disclosure, did not trouble Sir Ralph by more than a pang or two. What
+else could he expect of even this true friend? He was a broken gamester
+and a criminal exile by all the signs and by the verdict of the law; but
+whether or not he was a blackleg was a matter of opinion and the exact
+definition of that word. He knew that Kingswell was well disposed toward
+him, and that he believed nothing vile or cowardly of him; but, best of
+all, he was sure that, in Kingswell's love, his daughter was fortunate
+beyond his hoping of the past two years. Should they get clear of the
+besieging natives and out of the wilderness, her future happiness,
+safety, and position would be assured. As Mistress Bernard Kingswell,
+she would live close to the colour and finer things of life again,
+gracing some fair house as a former Beatrix had done in other days--to
+wit, the great houses of Beverly and Randon. The mist blurred his eyes
+at that memory and dimmed his vision against the rough log walls around
+him.
+
+Another thought came to the broken baronet, as he sat alone by the
+falling fire, after Kingswell's departure, and awaited his supper and
+the reappearance of his daughter. The thought was like a black shadow
+between his face and the comforting fir sticks--between his heart and
+the knowledge of a good man's love and protection for Beatrix. Knowing
+the girl as he did, he felt sure that she would never leave him, her
+exiled father, even at the call of a more compelling love; and, as a
+return to his own country meant prison or death to him, she would hold
+to the wilderness, thereby leaving the new-found happiness untouched. On
+the other hand, should death come to him soon, and in the
+wilderness,--by the arrows of the enemy, for choice,--his daughter's
+fetters would be filed for ever. He sank his face between his hands. The
+desire to live out one's time clings about a man's vitals against all
+reason. Even an exiled and broken gamester, stockaded in a nameless
+wilderness and hemmed in by savages, finds a certain zest in day and
+night and the winds of heaven. With nothing to live for--even with the
+scales decidedly the other way--Death still presents an uninviting face.
+It may be the inscrutable mask of him that fills with distrust the heart
+of the man who contemplates the Long Journey. In that inevitable yet
+mysterious figure, showing as no more than a shadow between the bed and
+the window, it is hard for the sinful mortal, no matter how repentant,
+to read clear the promise of eternal peace. What dark deed might not be
+perpetrated by the shrouded messenger between the death-bed and
+Paradise?
+
+Sir Ralph bowed his head between his palms, and hid the commonplace,
+beautiful radiance of the hearth-fire from his eyes; and so, while he
+waited for his supper of stewed venison, he reasoned and planned for his
+daughter's future to the bitter end, seeing clearly that, should the
+chances of battle turn in favour of the little plantation, he must
+readjust his sentiments toward death. A man of lower breeding and
+commoner courage would have groaned in the travail of that thought, and
+cursed the alternative; but the baronet sat in silence until he heard
+his daughter at the door, and then stood up and hummed softly the
+opening bars of a Somerset hunting-song.
+
+Beatrix tripped close to her father and raised her face to him. He bent
+and kissed her tenderly. For a little while they stood without speaking,
+hand in hand, on the great caribou skin before the hearth. Suddenly the
+girl pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
+
+"What was it," she whispered, breathlessly,--"the matter that held you
+and Bernard in such serious converse?"
+
+"And has your heart given you no hint of it?" he laughed.
+
+"And why, dear father? What has my heart to do with your talk of guards
+and ammunition and supplies,--save that it is with you in everything?"
+
+The baronet released her hand and, instead, placed his arm about her
+slender and rounded waist. "It is a story that I cannot tell you,
+sweet,--I, who am your father," he said. "But I think that you shall not
+have to wait long for the telling of it, for both youth and love are
+impatient. And here comes the good Maggie with the candles."
+
+During the meal the baronet was more lively and entertaining than
+Beatrix had seen him for years, and Beatrix, in her turn, was unusually
+untalkative and preoccupied. The girl wanted to give her undivided
+attention to the quiet voice of her heart. The man was equally anxious
+to avoid introspection as she to court it. But he, for all his laughter
+and gay stories of gay times spent, displayed a colourless face and
+haunted eyes behind the candle-light; while she, sitting in silence,
+glowed like a rare flower. Her dark, massed tresses, her eyes of
+unnamable colour, her throat and lips and brow, were all radiant with
+the magic fire at her heart.
+
+Sir Ralph, after bringing a disjointed tale to a vague ending, sipped
+his wine, put down the glass clumsily, and suddenly turned away from the
+table. The bitterness of his lot had caught him by the throat. But she
+noticed nothing of his change of manner; and presently they left the
+table and moved to the fire. He busied himself with heaping faggots
+across the dogs. Then she filled his tobacco-pipe for him, and lit it
+with a coal from the hearth, puffing daintily. He had just got it in his
+hand when a knocking sounded on the door, and Maggie Stone opened to
+Kingswell.
+
+Upon Kingswell's entrance, Sir Ralph, after greeting him cordially but
+quietly, donned his cloak and hat, and begged to be excused for a few
+minutes. "I have a word for Trigget," he said. Then he pulled on his
+gloves, pushed open the door, and stepped out to the dark.
+
+Two candles burned on the table. Maggie Stone snuffed them, surveyed
+the room and its inmates with a comprehensive glance, and at last forced
+her unwilling feet kitchenward again. Her heart was as sentimental as
+heroic, was Maggie Stone's, and her nature was of an inquisitive turn.
+She sighed plaintively as she left the presence of the young couple.
+
+The door leading to the kitchen had no more than closed behind the
+servant than Bernard, without preliminaries, dropped on one knee before
+the lady of his adoration, and lifted both her hands to his lips. She
+did not move, but stood between the candles and the firelight, all
+a-gleam in her beauty and her fine raiment, and gazed down at the golden
+head. Her lips smiled, but her eyes were grave.
+
+"Dear heart," murmured the lad, without lifting his face or altering his
+position,--"dear heart, can it be true?"
+
+She bent her head a little lower. Her heart seemed as if it was about to
+break away from its bonds in her side. She could not speak; but, almost
+unconsciously, she closed her fingers upon his.
+
+"Tell me," he cried. And again, with a note of fear in his voice: "Tell
+me if I may win you! Tell me if your heart has any promise?"
+
+Before she could control her agitation sufficiently to answer him, the
+outer door of the cabin was swung open without ceremony, and Sir Ralph
+stamped in. He caught Kingswell by the wrist and wrenched it sharply.
+
+"We are attacked," he cried. "They have piled heaps of dry brush along
+the palisades--and they have set the stuff on fire! It burns like mad.
+Lord, but it looks more like hell than ever!"
+
+Even as he spoke, the fragrant, biting odour of the smoke from the
+burning evergreen-needles invaded the room. Kingswell got quickly to his
+feet, still holding the girl's hands. He did not look at the baronet.
+For a second he paused and peered, questioning, into her wonderful eyes.
+
+"Oh, I love you, dear heart," she cried, faintly. "I love you, Bernard."
+
+He stooped quickly (and how eagerly every lover knows), and even while
+the first brief and tremulous kiss was sweet on their lips, the muskets
+clapped deafeningly, savage shouts rang high, and the baronet thrust
+sword and hat into Bernard's hands.
+
+"Come! For God's grace, lad, come and rally the men!" he shouted.
+
+Then the lover turned from his mistress and saw the shrewd work that
+awaited him. He ran to it with a leaping heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN
+
+
+The heaps of brush outside the palisades burned with a long-drawn
+roaring, like the note of a steady wind. It was a terrifying sound. The
+glare of the conflagration lit the interior of the fort, staining the
+trampled snow of the yard to an awful hue, staining the faces of the
+desperate settlers as if with foreshadowing of blood, and painting the
+walls of the cabins as if for a carnival. The platform upon which the
+guns stood was a mass of flame before any use could be made of the
+pieces. The breastwork of faggots burned with leapings and roarings,
+flinging orange and crimson showers to the black dome above. The savages
+skirmished behind the girdle of flames, like imps along the
+blood-coloured snow. The settlers discharged their muskets through the
+singed loopholes, firing low, and taking the chances with heroic
+fortitude. Sir Ralph and Bernard Kingswell were here and there, with
+their swords in their hands and encouragement in speech and bearing.
+Both knew that this engagement would be a fight to the finish; and both
+felt reasonably sure that a shrewder and braver commander than Panounia
+was against them.
+
+The ammunition was carried from the storehouse to the shed over the
+well, for the fire was already crackling against the log walls of the
+buildings. Suddenly a sharp report and a high shower of sparks and
+burning fragments broke from the gun-platform; and, for the moment, the
+warriors were scattered from that side. One of the cannon had exploded.
+That corner of the stockade immediately fell and settled to the snow.
+Next instant the second gun was fired by the flames. It sent its whole
+charge into the uncertain Beothics, scattering them to cover in yelling
+disorder. At that the Englishmen cheered, and set about fighting back
+the encroaching flames.
+
+Inspiration, or a font of courage to be drawn upon at need, must have
+dwelt behind the shelter of the spruces; for within a very few minutes
+of the retreat, all the warriors, save the wounded, were about the fort
+again. Kingswell took note of it, and suspected the inspiration to be
+nothing else than Pierre d'Antons' insinuating presence and dazzling
+smile. A spur, too, he suspected--the spur of the mongrel Frenchman's
+evil sneer and black temper. He knew enough of the aboriginal character
+to feel that it would prove but a plaything for such a personality as
+the buccaneer's. He looked across the glowing, smoking breach in the
+fortifications with hard eyes. He voiced his desire to have the fellow
+by the throat, or at the point of his sword, in tones that rang like a
+curse.
+
+Suddenly Kingswell left his post and ran to the well-house.
+
+He knew where the _Pelican's_ powder lay among the stores, done up in
+five canvas bags of about twelve pounds each. With two of these under
+his cloak, he returned to his place a few paces from the subsiding red
+barrier that still held the enemy from the interior of the fort. By this
+time the back of Trigget's cabin was smouldering. The roofs of the
+cabins, deep with snow, were safe; but the rear walls were all in a fair
+way of being ignited by the crackling brushwood, which the warriors of
+Panounia diligently piled against them.
+
+Kingswell left the protection of the rest of the square to Sir Ralph,
+William Trigget, and all the men of the garrison save Tom Bent. The old
+boatswain was, by this time, a very active convalescent. Kingswell
+whispered a word or two in his ear. They kept a sharp lookout across the
+wreckage of the fallen corner of the stockade. They saw a party of the
+enemy gather ominously close to the glowing edge of the breach.
+Kingswell passed one of the bags of powder to his companion. "When I
+give the word," he said.
+
+Suddenly the black knot of warriors dashed into the obstruction,
+brandishing spears and clubs, and screaming like maniacs. Kingswell
+uttered a low, quick cry, tossed his bag of powder into the glowing
+coals under the feet of the enemy, and ran for the shelter of the
+well-house at top speed. Tom Bent followed his movements on the instant.
+Together they reached the narrow shelter; and, before they could turn
+about, the air shook and reeled, as if a bolt of wind had broken upon
+them, a blinding flash seemed to consume the whole night, and a puffing,
+thumping report stunned their ears. They stumbled against the sides of
+the shed, clawed desperately, and fell to the ground.
+
+When Bernard Kingswell and the trusty boatswain regained their senses
+(which had left them for only a few seconds), they crawled from the
+well-house and stared about them. The square was not so bright as it had
+been, and, save for a few huddled shapes on the snow, was empty. By the
+shouting and mixed tumult, they knew that the fighting was now farther
+away--that the settlers had sallied forth on the offensive. They could
+not understand such recklessness; but they decided, without hesitation,
+to take the risk. They ran to the now black gap in the palisades. Fire,
+coals, wreckage, and even the snow had been hurled and blown broadcast.
+They crossed the torn ground and headed for the tumult in the fitfully
+illuminated spaces beyond. Native war-whoops and English shouts mixed
+and clashed in the frosty air. On the very edge of the shifting
+conflict, the old sailor clutched his master's arm. "Hark!" he cried.
+"D'ye hear that now? It be the yell o' that young Ouenwa, sir, or ye can
+call me a Dutcher!"
+
+At the same moment, before Kingswell could reply to Bent's statement, a
+club, thrown by a retreating warrior, caught the gentleman on the side
+of the head and felled him like a thing of wood. He moaned, as he
+toppled over. Then he lay still on the ruddy snow.
+
+
+Beatrix had a dozen candles alight in the living-room of the baronet's
+cabin. Word had reached her that Ouenwa and Black Feather had arrived in
+time to take advantage of the rebuff dealt the enemy by the explosions
+of the bags of powder. When victory had seemed to be hopelessly in the
+hands of the determined savages, Ouenwa and his followers, though spent
+from their journey, had made a timely and successful rear attack.
+
+The girl was radiant. She moved up and down the room, eagerly awaiting
+the return of Bernard Kingswell. She questioned herself as to that, and
+laughed joyously. Yes, it was Bernard, beyond peradventure, whom heart,
+hands, and lips longed to recover and reward. A month ago, a week ago,
+it would have been her father--even a night ago he would have shared,
+equally with the lover, in her sweet and eager concern. But now she sped
+from hearth to door, and peered out into the blackness, with no thought
+of any of those brave fellows save the lad of Bristol.
+
+The burning brush had all been trampled out, and the fires in the walls
+and stockade had been quenched with water. The little square was dark,
+save for the subdued fingers of light from windows and doors. Beatrix
+peered from the open door, regardless of the cold. She was outlined
+black against the warm radiance inside the room. Her silken garments
+clung about her, pressed gently by a breath of wind. She rested a hand
+on either upright of the doorway, and leaned forward as if, at a whim,
+she would fly out from the threshold. Presently shadowy figures took
+shape in the gloom, and she heard her father's voice, and William
+Trigget's, and the high pipe of Ouenwa. But she caught no sound of
+Bernard Kingswell's clear tones. A sudden fear caught her, and she
+stepped out upon the trampled snow and called to Sir Ralph. In a moment
+he was at her side, and had an arm about her.
+
+"Sweeting," he said, "you must stay within for a little. The night is
+bitterly cold, and--"
+
+"But where is Bernard?" she whispered, staring past him.
+
+"He is with the others," replied the baronet,--"with Ouenwa and his
+brave fellows, and the dauntless Trigget."
+
+He spoke quickly and uneasily, and led her back to the cabin at the same
+time. He closed the door, and laid a wet sword across a stool.
+
+"What is it?" she cried, facing him, with wide eyes and bloodless
+cheeks. "Tell me! Tell me!"
+
+"The lad is hurt," admitted Sir Ralph.
+
+"Hurt?" repeated the girl, vaguely. "Hurt? How should he be hurt?"
+
+She shivered, and gripped her hand desperately. Could it be that the
+High God had been deaf to her prayers?
+
+Sir Ralph's face went as pale as hers; for all he knew of Kingswell's
+condition was that he still breathed, and that his hat had saved his
+head from being cut. Whether the skull was broken or not, he did not
+know. He braced himself, and smiled.
+
+"My dear," he said, "he is not seriously hurt, so do not stand like
+that--for God's sake!"
+
+At the last words his voice lost its note of composure, and broke
+shrilly. He caught her to him. "Rip me," he cried, "but if you act so
+when he is simply knocked over, what will you do if he ever gets a real
+wound!"
+
+The girl was comforted. Tears sprang to her eyes, and the blood returned
+to her cheeks. She clung to the baronet and sobbed against his shoulder.
+Presently she looked up.
+
+"Take me to him," she begged, "or bring him here."
+
+"So you love this Bernard Kingswell?" inquired her father, looking
+steadily into her face.
+
+Her gleaming eyes did not waver from his gaze. "Yes," she replied,
+quietly.
+
+The man turned away, took his blood-wet sword from the stool, eyed it
+dully, and leaned it against the wall. He was trying to imagine what the
+lad's death would mean to his daughter's future; but he could only see
+that it would mean a few more years for himself. He started guiltily,
+and returned to his daughter. His face was desperately grim.
+
+"Wait for me," he said. "I'll see how the lad is doing now; and shall
+return immediately."
+
+Sir Ralph crossed to the cottage that had been built for D'Antons, and
+which had passed on to Kingswell. He opened the door softly and stepped
+within. He found the wounded gentleman lying prone on his couch,
+half-undressed, and with bandaged head. Ouenwa, gaunt and blood-stained,
+was beside the still figure.
+
+"He opened his eyes," whispered the boy; "but see, he has closed them
+again. His spirit waits at the spreading of the trails."
+
+Sir Ralph bent down and examined the linen dressings on Kingswell's
+head. They were exceedingly well arranged. He saw that the hair had been
+cut away from the place of the wound.
+
+"Your work, Ouenwa?" he inquired.
+
+The boy nodded. The baronet felt his friend's pulse.
+
+"It beats strong," he said. "The heart seems sure enough of the path to
+take."
+
+Ouenwa's face lighted quickly. "He has chosen," he said, gravely. "He
+has seen the hunting-grounds shining beyond the west, but the beauty of
+them has not lured him along that trail."
+
+The baronet smiled quickly into the Beothic's eyes. "You are a brave
+lad, and we are deep in debt to you," he exclaimed. "Your bravery and
+wit have saved the fort and all our lives. Watch your friend a few
+minutes longer; I but go to bring another nurse to help you. Then you
+may sleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT
+
+
+From that brisk fight, in which Ouenwa and his twenty braves and the
+little garrison of Fort Beatrix defeated Panounia, Black Feather brought
+a confirmation of Pierre d'Antons' concern in the last attacks upon the
+settlement. It consisted of a sword-belt and an empty scabbard. He had
+torn them from the person of a tall antagonist during a brief
+hand-to-hand encounter. The owner of the gear had won free, Black
+Feather regretted to say. Sir Ralph, too, felt the escape of his enemy,
+and sincerely hoped that the defeat had ended his power over Panounia,
+and brought down that wolfish chief's hatred instead.
+
+On the morning after the battle, the little plantation presented a busy
+though sombre appearance to those of its people who were in condition to
+view it. Along the woods and rising ground to the north, the snow and
+frozen soil were being hollowed to receive the bodies of those slain in
+the fight. The dead of the enemy had been carried far into the woods,
+and piled together with scant ceremony. The settlers had lost three of
+their number,--young Donnelly, Harding, and the younger Trigget. Four of
+the rescuing party were dead and wounded. Tom Bent was on his back
+again, and Kingswell's head was ringing like a sea-shell. William
+Trigget was cut about the face and sore all over; but he kept on his
+feet.
+
+After the graves were chipped in the iron earth, and the shrouded bodies
+lowered therein and covered, the tribesmen, under Black Feather's
+orders, set about building themselves lodges outside the stockade. It
+had been decided that, for mutual support, the friendly Beothics should
+camp near the fort, at least for the remainder of the winter. With axes
+borrowed from the settlement, they soon had the forest ringing with the
+noise of their labour. Though they had travelled light, in their hurry
+to rescue the friends of Ouenwa and Black Feather, they had dragged
+along with them a few sled-loads of deerskins and birch bark, with which
+to cover their wigwams. So the shelters sprang up quickly about the torn
+and scorched palisades; for it was a small matter to trim the poles and
+fit the pliable roofs across the conical frames.
+
+The dusk gathered over the wilderness, dimming the edges of white
+barren and black forest and round hill. The stars shone silver above,
+and the fires of the victorious men of the totem of the Bear glowed red
+below. In the outer room of the cabin that had been Pierre d'Antons',
+Beatrix sat alone by Kingswell's bed. Her eyes were on the leaping
+flames in the chimney, and his were on the fair lines of her averted
+face. The top of his head was so swathed in bandages that he looked like
+a turbaned Turk. Cheeks and chin were white as paper in the unstable
+light. His eyes were bright with a touch of fever brought on by his
+suffering. His mind was in a fitful mood, for a minute or two steady
+enough and concerned with the present and the room in which he lay, and
+then wandering abroad, exploring vague trails of remembrance and
+imagining. Sometimes he murmured words and sentences, but in such a
+gabbling style that his nurse could have made nothing of what was
+passing in his brain even if she had taken such advantage of his
+condition as to try.
+
+After a long spell of uneasy mutterings, followed by a profound silence,
+he suddenly flung out one arm. The movement startled Beatrix from her
+dreaming, and she turned her face back to him from the fire.
+
+"Twenty days without water," he whispered, distinctly. "Twenty
+days--and that beast Trowley is laughing to see my tongue between my
+teeth like a squeezed rag."
+
+The girl caught up a mug of water and held it to his lips. He drank
+greedily, and then took hold of her hand. His head was against the
+hollow of her arm; for, to give him the drink, she had knelt beside his
+low bed.
+
+"Beatrix," he said, gravely, "let us pretend that you love me."
+
+She was strangely moved at that, and bent closer to see his eyes.
+
+"Why pretend, dear heart?" she answered. "I do love you, as you very
+well know. Sleep again, Bernard, with your head so--pressed close."
+
+"I feel your heart," he said, simply as a child. The fever was as a fine
+haze across the mirror of his brain.
+
+"It beats only for you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek.
+The lad's eyes shone with a clearer light at that.
+
+"Tell me that this is no vision of fever," he said. "Tell me, or
+strength will bring nothing but sorrow. Better death than to find your
+kisses a trick of dreaming."
+
+"Is it not a pleasant dream?" she asked, softly, smiling a little.
+
+"Ay; to dream so, a man would gladly have done with waking," he replied.
+"If it were not in life that Beatrix were mine, then would I follow the
+vision through eternal sleep--as God is my judge."
+
+"Hush, dear lad," she murmured, "for the heart and the body of Beatrix
+are of right Somersetshire stuff, to fade not at any whim of fever--and
+the love she gives you will outlast life--as God is our judge and love
+His handiwork." And she kissed him again, blushing sweetly at her
+daring. And so they remained, she kneeling beside the couch, and he with
+his bandaged head against her lovely shoulder, until Sir Ralph entered
+the cabin, fumbling discreetly at the latch.
+
+The days passed slowly in the heart of that frozen wilderness between
+the white river and the long graves. Stockade and wall were repaired.
+Fresh meat was trapped and shot in sheltered valley and rough wood. The
+forge rang again with the clanging of sledges, and the tracts of timber
+with the swinging axes. Hope reawoke in hearts long dismayed, and blood
+ran more redly to the stir of work and freedom. Master Kingswell gained
+fresh strength with the rounding of every day, and Mistress Westleigh
+recovered all her glory of eyes and lips and hair. Ouenwa, honoured by
+all, carried himself like a gentleman and a warrior. Black Feather, with
+his wife and his surviving child in a snug lodge, felt again the zest
+and peace of living. Only Sir Ralph seemed to find no ray of comfort in
+the days of security. He brooded alone, avoiding even his daughter. His
+face grew thinner, and his shoulders lost something of their youthful
+vigour. The desolation and bitterness had, at last, dimmed his courage
+and his philosophy. The very relief at Panounia's defeat and D'Antons'
+supposed overthrow had, somehow, weakened his gallant endurance. He
+counted it a grievance that God had not led him to his death in the last
+fight, as he had prayed so earnestly. He had been eager then. Now he
+must plan it over again--over and over--in cold reasoning and cold
+blood, and alone by the fire. A foolish, causeless anger got hold upon
+him at times; and again he would be all repentance, telling his heart
+that, no matter how bitter his fate, it was fully deserved. And so, day
+by day, the shadows grew behind his brain, and a little seed of madness
+germinated and took root.
+
+For a time Beatrix did not notice the change in her father's manner and
+habits. The thing disclosed itself so gradually, and she was so intent
+upon the nursing of her lover; and yet again, the baronet had been
+variable in his moods, to a certain extent, ever since the beginning of
+his troubles--years enough ago. It was Ouenwa who first saw that
+something had gone radically wrong in the broken gentleman's mind, and
+his knowledge had come about in this wise.
+
+The young Beothic, though an ardent sportsman and warrior, was a still
+more ardent seeker after bookish wisdom. Kingswell, before his hurt, had
+taught him something of the art of reading. Later, Mistress Westleigh
+had carried it further. By the time that Kingswell was safely on the
+road to his old health and a mended head, Ouenwa could spell out a page
+of English print very creditably. His primer was one of those volumes of
+Master Will Shakespeare's plays, which the Frenchman had left behind
+him. One day Beatrix entered the cabin to take her turn at tending the
+invalid, and found Ouenwa with the drama in his hands, and his youthful
+brow painfully furrowed with thought. She took the book from him and
+fluttered the pages, pausing here and there to read a line or two.
+
+"Run away," said she, "and on a shelf beside our chimney you will find a
+book with easier words than this contains. There is matter here, I
+think, that is beyond a beginner."
+
+At that Kingswell raised himself to his elbow and nodded his sore head
+eagerly.
+
+"Ay, lad, run and find yourself an easier book," he said.
+
+Nothing loath, for his quest of learning was sincere,--as was everything
+about him,--Ouenwa left the presence of the lovers and ran across the
+snow to Sir Ralph's cabin. He told his errand to the baronet. That
+gentleman looked at him long and keenly, so that the boy trembled and
+wished himself out of the house. Then, with a sudden start and a harsh
+laugh, "Help yourself, lad," said Sir Ralph. Ouenwa found the shelf of
+books, and, kneeling before it, was soon busy looking over the divers
+volumes and broad-sheets with which it was piled high. He found a rhymed
+and pictured chap-book greatly to his liking. He was spelling out the
+first verses when a movement behind his back brought him to a sense of
+his whereabouts. He turned quickly. There stood the baronet, with a
+walking-cane in his hand, making lunge and thrust at a spot of resin on
+the log wall. The poor gentleman stamped and straddled, pinked the
+unseen swordsman, and parried the unseen blade, with a dashing air.
+There was a light in his eyes and a twist of the lips that struck
+Ouenwa's heart cold in his side. The light was that which, when seen in
+the eyes of a man of a primitive people, divides that man from the laws
+and responsibilities that are the portion of his fellows. It was the
+gleam of idiocy--that sinister sheen that cuts a man from his
+birthright.
+
+The boy knelt there, motionless with fear, with his face turned over his
+shoulder. He watched every movement of the fantastic exhibition with
+fascinated eyes. He fairly held his breath, so terrible was the display
+in that quiet, dim-lit room. Suddenly the baronet lowered the point of
+the modish cane smartly to the floor, and turned upon the lad with a
+smile, an embarrassed flush on his thin cheeks, and sane eyes.
+
+"'Tis a pretty art--this of the French rapier," he said, "and I make a
+point of keeping my wrist limber for it."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Ouenwa.
+
+Sir Ralph flung the walking-cane aside, and sat down despondently in the
+nearest chair. Ouenwa saw, at a glance, that his presence was already
+forgotten. With furtive movements and such haste as he could manage, he
+began replacing some of the books and selecting others to carry away
+with him.
+
+"Sweeting," said the baronet, "a pipe of tobacco would rest me."
+
+Ouenwa realized that the gentleman, in his strange mood, believed that
+Mistress Beatrix was in the room; but Ouenwa had tact enough not to
+point out the little mistake. He got up noiselessly and filled the bowl
+of a long pipe from a great jar on the chimney-piece. He took a splinter
+of wood from the basket by the hearth and lit it at the fire. Stepping
+softly to the baronet's side, he placed the pipe in his hand, and held
+the light to the tobacco while the baronet puffed reflectively and
+unseeingly. Then the lad gathered up his books and left the cabin. Fear
+of Sir Ralph's wild manner was cold in his veins.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST
+
+
+And now to tell something of the movements of Pierre d'Antons, which, of
+late, have been carried on behind the screen of the forest and beyond
+the ken of the reader.
+
+The defeat of Panounia's warriors, on that night of fire and blood,
+knocked the adventurer's fortunes flatter than they had ever been. You
+may believe that he cursed Ouenwa bitterly, and wished that he had
+killed him long ago, when the lad threw his followers into the battle.
+It was then that D'Antons himself left his post beyond the scuffle, and,
+with desperate efforts, tried to turn the reverse back to victory. His
+swordsmanship and energy availed him nothing. He missed capture only by
+slipping the buckle of his sword-belt. Then, a fugitive from both sides,
+he ran to the woods, avoiding the scattered and retreating warriors who
+had so lately been struggling in his behalf as fearfully as he would
+have avoided William Trigget or Sir Ralph Westleigh. One of his late
+comrades, trailing wounded limbs along the snow, hurled a Beothic curse
+after him. Another, better prepared, let fly a war-club, and missed him
+by an inch. He slashed on, through the underbrush, the drifts, and the
+dark, sure that capture by any of the defeated savages would mean death
+and perhaps torture.
+
+The black captain did not run on any vague course, despite his haste. He
+knew where a possibility of help awaited him. He had given his wits to
+more than plans of revenge and kidnapping during his sojourn with
+Panounia. In winning the men to him, he knew that his hold upon them
+would not outlast defeat; but in winning the love of the Beothic maiden
+Miwandi, he had laid up store against an evil day. But he had not won
+her heart simply on a chance of defeat--far from it, for he had not
+dreamed of such a chance. It was a pleasant thing in itself to be the
+lover of that nut-brown, lithe-limbed, warm-hearted young girl--for
+Miwandi suspected nothing of his desire for, and plans concerning, the
+lady in the fort. She loved the tall foreigner quickly and surely. She
+was extravagantly proud of his power over the warriors of her people. He
+was her brave, and as such she cherished him openly, to the envy rather
+than the criticism of the other women of the encampment.
+
+Miwandi was the daughter of a lesser chief of Panounia's faction. She
+was seventeen years of age. Her skin was ruddy brown, darker than the
+skins of some of her people and lighter than that of others. Her hair
+was brown and of a silken texture, very unlike the straight locks of the
+savages of the great continent to the westward. Her features were good,
+and her eyes were full of life and warmth. D'Antons' conquest rankled in
+the breasts of more than one of the young bucks of the camp.
+
+Pierre d'Antons, fleeing from the fighting men of both parties, shaped
+his course for the lodge in which Miwandi dwelt. As he ran, with fear at
+his heels, he forgot to regret the girl in the fort; instead, a pang of
+honest affection for the comely young woman toward whom he was flying
+for help stirred in him. He stumbled into the lodge, and Miwandi caught
+him in her arms. In a few quick words, he told her of the defeat, and of
+the anger of Panounia's warriors toward him. She kissed him once,
+passionately, and then fell to collecting a few things--a quiver of
+arrows, a bow, furs, and some food. She pressed a bundle into his arms.
+He accepted it without a word. She bound her snow-shoes to her feet, and
+retied the wrenched thongs of his. Then they slipped from the dark
+lodge to the darker woods; and his sheathless sword, damp with blood,
+was still in his hand. They heard the cries of the wounded behind them,
+and other cries that inspired them to flight.
+
+They fled for hours, without pausing to ease their breathing. Of the
+two, it was the man who sometimes lagged, who often stumbled, and who
+cried once that he would rather be captured than strain limb and lung to
+another effort. D'Antons had been actively employed throughout the day,
+and again during the most desperate passages of the battle, and his
+strength was well-nigh exhausted. At last he fell and lay prone. In an
+instant the girl was beside him, pillowing his head and shielding his
+body from the cold, and revived him with brandy from the scanty supply
+in his flask. By that time the dawn was breaking gray under the stars,
+and all sounds of the chase had died away. She cut an armful of
+fir-branches, and with them and the skins she and D'Antons had carried,
+she made a rude bed and a yet ruder shelter. So they lay until high
+noon, fugitives in a desolate wilderness, with death, in half a dozen
+guises, lurking on either hand.
+
+Behind D'Antons and Miwandi, the broken band of Panounia's followers
+soon gave up the hunt. Matters were not in condition to be mended by
+killing a long-faced Frenchman and a pretty girl. The defeated savages
+had their own wounds to see to, and already too many dead to hide under
+the snow. A matter of sentiment, like the torturing and killing of their
+false leader D'Antons, would have to wait. Now, of all those valorous
+warriors who had menaced the little fort since the very beginning of
+winter, only ten remained unhurt. Panounia was dead. He had breathed his
+last in the edge of the woods, while the battle was still raging, and
+had been carried farther in by one of his men. Thus his death had
+remained unknown to the victors; as had also the deaths of many more of
+the besiegers. Wolf Slayer, that courageous savage lad who had once
+boasted of his deeds to Ouenwa, was desperately hurt. Painfully and
+hopelessly, those of the wounded who could move at all, the women, and
+the unhurt of the band, retreated toward farther and surer fastnesses.
+The wounded who could not drag themselves along were left to perish in
+the snow. Some were frozen stiff before morning. Some bled to death
+within the same time. A few lived until they were discovered by Ouenwa's
+men in the bright daytime,--they were reported as having been found
+dead.
+
+D'Antons and Miwandi travelled, by forced marches, until they reached a
+wooded valley and a narrow, frozen river. Along this they journeyed
+inland and southward. At last they found a spot that promised shelter
+from the bleak winds as well as from prying eyes. There they built a
+wigwam of such materials as were at hand. Game was fairly plentiful in
+the protected coverts around. They soon had a comfortable retreat
+fashioned in that safe and voiceless place.
+
+"It will do until summer brings the ships," remarked D'Antons, busy with
+plans whereby he might give Dame Fortune's wheel another twirl.
+Sometimes he spent whole hours in telling Miwandi brave tales of far and
+beautiful countries. He spoke of white towns above green harbours, of
+high forests with strange, bright birds flying through their tops, and
+of wide savannahs, whereon roved herds of great, sharp-horned beasts of
+more weight than a stag caribou.
+
+"Oh, but you do not mean to leave me, Heart-of-Life," she cried.
+
+So he swore, by a dozen saints, that she, Miwandi, should be his queen
+in a palace of white stone above a tropic sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS
+
+
+Day by day, Sir Ralph Westleigh's mental sickness increased. It
+strengthened in the dark, like a blight on corn. Very gradually, and day
+by day, it grew over the bright surface of his mind and spirit. The
+sureness of its advance was a fearful thing to watch.
+
+By the time March was over the wilderness, with a hint of spring in the
+morning skies, the baronet's condition was noticeable to even the
+dullest inmate of the settlement. The poor gentleman spoke little--and
+that little was seldom to the point. It seemed as if he had forgotten
+how to smile, or even to make a pretence at mirth. He walked alone for
+hours on the frozen river and through the woods. The Beothics of the
+camp before the fort stood in awe of him. At times he treated Beatrix
+and Bernard Kingswell as strangers; but he always knew Maggie Stone, and
+chided her often on the scantiness of his dinners. All day, indoors and
+out, he wore a rapier at his side. In the cabin he spent half of the
+time inert by the fire, without book, or cards, or chess, and the rest
+of it in sword-play with an imaginary antagonist.
+
+It was well for Beatrix that she had found Bernard's love before the
+fresh misfortune descended upon her. But even with that comfort and
+inspiration, her father's derangement affected her bitterly. They had
+been such friends; and now he had blank eyes and deaf ears for all her
+actions and words. It was twenty times harder for her than to have seen
+him struck down by knife or arrow. Death seemed an honest thing compared
+to that coldness and vagueness of spirit that gathered more thickly
+about him with the passing of each day. It was as if another life,
+another spirit, had taken possession of the familiar body and beloved
+features. After two weeks neither her kisses nor her tears had any
+potency to break through the awful estrangement. Her prayers, her fond
+recollections of their old companionship, brought no gleam to the dull
+eye.
+
+By the end of March the busy boat-builders and smiths of the
+settlement--and every man save Sir Ralph was either one or the
+other--had two new boats all but completed. They were staunch crafts,
+of about the capacity and model of the _Pelican_. They were intended for
+fishing on the river and the great bays and for exploration cruises.
+
+William Trigget, who was a master shipbuilder as he was a master
+mariner, entertained great ideas of fishing and trading more openly than
+Sir Ralph had sanctioned in the past. He was for carving out a real home
+in the wilderness, and his wife was of the same mind.
+
+"We couldn't bear to leave the boy's grave," he said.
+
+Kingswell promised that, should he win back to Bristol, and find his
+affairs in order, he would use his influence in behalf of the settlement
+on Gray Goose River. Donnelly, too, was all for holding to the new land.
+
+"It be rough, God knows," he said, "but it be sort o' hopeful, too. If
+they danged savages leaves us alone, an' trade's decent, I be for
+spendin' the balance o' my days alongside o' Skipper Trigget. There be a
+grave yonder the missus an' me wouldn't turn our backs on, not if we
+could help it."
+
+Kingswell himself was not building any dreams of fixing his lot in that
+desolate place; and neither was old Tom Bent, though he spoke little on
+the subject. Ouenwa's ambitions continued to point overseas. Beatrix,
+now despondent at her father's trouble, and again happy in her love,
+gave little thought to the future of the settlement, or to any plans for
+the days to come, save vague dreamings of an English home.
+
+March wore along, and in open spaces the snow shrank inch by inch. Then
+rain fell; and after that a time of tingling cold held all the
+wilderness in a ringing white imprisonment. A man could run over the
+snow-fields and the bed of the river without snow-shoes; for the surface
+was tough as wood, white as the shield of that sinless knight, Sir
+Galahad, and glistening as a thousand diamonds. The mornings lifted
+clear silver and pale gold along the east. The evenings faded out in
+crimson and saffron, and the twilights, even when the stars were lit,
+made of the dome of heaven a bubble of thinnest green. And back of it
+all, despite the frost, hung a suggestion of sap-reddened twigs and
+blossoming trees.
+
+The lure of the season touched every one in the fort, and the camp
+beside it. It ran in Sir Ralph's blood like some fabled wine--for what
+vintage of France or Spain is the stuff of which the poets sing. It
+mounted to his head with a high, unregretting recklessness, and doubled
+the madness that already lurked there. Something of his old manner
+returned, and for a whole evening he sat with Beatrix and Kingswell and
+talked rationally and hopefully. Also, that same night, he played a game
+of chess. He spoke of the future as one who sees into it clearly and
+without fear. He recalled the past without any sign of embarrassment.
+But Kingswell, meeting his eyes by chance, caught a light of derision in
+them.
+
+Very early in the morning, while the stars still glinted overhead, and
+the promise of day was no more than a strip of pearl along the east, Sir
+Ralph Westleigh unbarred the door of his cabin and slipped out. He was
+warmly and carefully dressed in furs and moccasins. He carried his sword
+free under his arm. Very cautiously he scaled the palisade and dropped
+to the frozen crust of snow outside. The Beothic encampment lay around
+the corner of the fort, so he was safe from detection from that quarter.
+He looked about and behind with a cunning smile. Then he ran lightly
+into the woods.
+
+Sir Ralph followed his aimless course for miles, and his soft-shod feet
+left no mark on the hard surface of the snow. Then the sun slid up and
+over, and in the warmth of high noon the frozen crust of the wilderness
+thawed a little, and here and there the baronet's feet broke through. At
+that he began to feel fatigue and a disconcerting pang of doubt. He
+flung himself down in a little thicket of spruces, and called for Maggie
+Stone to bring him food and drink. He called again and again. He shouted
+other names than that of the old servant. In a sudden agony of fear, he
+jumped to his feet and plunged through the evergreens. At every third
+step he sank to his knee, or half-way up his thigh. He screamed the name
+of his daughter, "Beatrix, Beatrix"--or was it his dead wife he was
+calling? He cried for guidance to many great gentlemen of England who
+had been his boon companions in the old days, forgetting that death had
+taken some of them away from him, and that the rest, to a man, had
+turned of their own accord. Presently he ceased his foolish outcry and
+plodded along, with no thought of the course, sobbing the while like a
+lost child.
+
+The sun began its downward journey, and still the baronet, with his
+sheathed sword under his arm, staggered across the voiceless wilderness.
+Toward mid-afternoon the thawing crust froze again, and he travelled
+with less difficulty. Ever and anon his poor eyes pictured a running
+figure in an edge of blue shadow before him. At times it was the figure
+of the nobleman he had killed in England, in the dispute at the
+gaming-table, and again it was a friend,--Kingswell or Trigget, or
+another of the fort,--and yet again it was Pierre d'Antons. But no
+matter how he strove to run down the lurker, he lost him every time.
+Thirst plagued him, and he ate the clear ice and snow off the fronds of
+the spruces. Hunger gnawed him awhile, but passed gradually. The west
+took on the flame and glory of sunset. The east darkened. The stars
+pricked through the high shell of the sky. Night gathered her cloudless
+darkness over the wilderness; and still the demented baronet followed
+his aimless quest.
+
+Toward evening of the day following Sir Ralph Westleigh's departure from
+Fort Beatrix, Pierre d'Antons and Miwandi were startled by the sudden
+and noiseless appearance of a gaunt and wild-eyed person in the doorway
+of their lodge. The woman cried out, and ran to the farthest corner of
+the wigwam. D'Antons staggered back, and his face turned gray as the
+ashes around the fire-stone. The unexpected visitor drew his blade,
+flung the sheath behind him on the snow, and advanced upon the fugitive
+adventurer. D'Antons sprang back and caught up his own sword from where
+it lay on a couch of branches and skins. He swore, more in wonder than
+anger.
+
+"Westleigh!" he cried. "What brings you here, you fool--and how many
+follow you?"
+
+The baronet halted and glanced quickly over his shoulder. He reeled a
+little, but his eyes changed in their light and colour.
+
+"I am alone," he said. "Yes, I am alone." His voice was quiet. He seemed
+sorely puzzled. D'Antons' face regained its swarthy tints, and he
+laughed harshly.
+
+"So you have hunted me down, old cock," he said, smiling. "You'll find
+that the quarry has fangs--in his own den."
+
+The red of madness returned to Sir Ralph's eyes. He advanced his rapier.
+In a second the fight was on. For a few minutes the strength of insanity
+supported the baronet's starving muscles and reeling brain. Then his
+thrusts began to go wide, and his guard to waver. A clean lunge dropped
+him in the door of the lodge without a cry. The life-blood of the last
+baronet of Beverly and Randon made a vivid circle of red on the snow of
+that nameless wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE RUNNING OF THE ICE
+
+
+It was Beatrix who first discovered her father's flight; but that was
+four hours after its occurrence. The fort was soon astir with the news.
+Men set out in all directions, in search of the missing one. Half a
+dozen of the friendly Beothics joined in the hunt. They went east and
+west, north and south. The sharpest eyes could detect no trail of the
+madman's feet. Beatrix insisted upon accompanying Bernard and Ouenwa.
+She tried to show a brave face; but something in her heart told her to
+expect the worst. The three travelled southward, and shortly before
+sunset returned to the fort, unsuccessful. They found that all the other
+searchers had got back, save Black Feather and a young brave named
+Kakatoc, who had set out together.
+
+By the merest chance Black Feather and his companion happened upon the
+place where the baronet had first broken through the melting crust. With
+but little effort they found where he had rested and taken up his
+journey again. Farther on, the faintness of the trail put an edge to
+their determination to find the unfortunate gentleman. It was a
+challenge to their woodcraft, and they accepted it eagerly. But within
+two hours of finding the marks, they lost them again. They ranged wide;
+and at last Black Feather discovered a footprint in a little pad of snow
+beside a stunted spruce. In several places the branches of the tree
+showed where the snow had been broken away, as if by a man's hand. It
+was enough to keep them to the quest.
+
+Not in the next day, but in the early morning after that, the two
+Beothics happened upon a sheltered valley and a snow-cleared space, with
+a fire-stone in the middle of it, where a lodge had lately stood. As for
+signs of blood, there were none. Snow had been deftly spread and
+trampled over it. All around the so evident site of a human habitation
+the hard crust gleamed unbroken, save for a little path that ran down to
+a hole in the ice of the stream. After considering the place, and
+shaking their heads, the two ate the last of the food they had in their
+pouches and turned their feet back to the fort. They passed within a few
+paces of a dense thicket, in the heart of which the baronet's body lay
+uncovered. But how were they to know it, when even the prowling foxes
+had not yet found it out!
+
+For several days the search was continued by the settlers and their
+allies, but all in vain. It was not even suspected that the deserted
+camping-place which Black Feather and Kakatoc had seen had so lately
+been warmed by the feet of Pierre d'Antons and the blood of the lost
+baronet. For a few days longer the business of the settlement lagged,
+and the place wore an air of mourning, despite the ever-brightening and
+mellowing season. Then the axes struck up their chant again, and the
+little duties of the common day erased the forebodings of Eternity from
+the minds of the pioneers. Only Mistress Beatrix could see nothing of
+the reawakening of life and hope for the sorrow in her heart and the
+mist across her eyes. She had loved her father deeply and faithfully,
+with a love that had been strengthened by his misfortunes. She had felt
+toward him the combined affections of daughter and sister and friend.
+She had made allowances for the weaknesses of his later years that
+equalled the ever charitable devotion of a parent for a best-loved
+child. She had not been, and was not now, blind to the passion of gaming
+that had forced him to exile and an unknown death; but she had forgiven
+it long ago. As to the alleged murder that had made such an evil odour
+in London, she believed--and rightly--that hot blood and overmuch wine
+had been to blame, and that her father's sword had been drawn after the
+victim's.
+
+Bernard Kingswell did all in his power to comfort the bereaved girl. He
+urged her to spend much of her time out-of-doors. He told his plans for
+their future, and to cheer her he built them even more hopefully than he
+felt; for he realized that many difficulties were yet to be overcome
+before Bristol was safely reached. With Ouenwa, the two often went on
+long tramps through the woods. Their evenings were always spent
+together. Sometimes he read aloud to her, and sometimes they played at
+chess. One evening she got her violin, and played as wonderfully as she
+had on that other occasion; but instead of leaving him afterward without
+a word, as she had done, she laid the fiddle aside and nestled into his
+arms. He held her tenderly, patting the bright hair against his
+shoulder, and murmuring broken assurances of his love and sympathy. She
+wept quietly for a little while; but when she kissed him at the door,
+her face and eyes shone with something of their old light.
+
+By mid-April knobs of rock and moss pierced through the shrinking snow
+in the open places; but in the woods the drifts continued to withstand
+the wasting breath of the spring winds. Gray Goose River was no longer
+a broad path of spotless white. Its surface was mottled with patches of
+sodden gray; and an attentive listener on the bank might hear a myriad
+of tiny voices, some sibilant and some tinkling and liquid, in and under
+the enfeebled ice. Up and down the valley, between the knolls and wooded
+hills, the little streams were already snarling and roaring, and here
+and there flashing brown shoulders to the sunlight. Through all the
+wilderness ran a tingling whisper; and twilight, midnight, and dawn were
+stirred by the falling cries of wild-fowl on the wing. A faint, alluring
+fragrance was in the air--the scent of millions of swelling buds and
+crimson willow-stems.
+
+About that time three warriors of the following of the dead Panounia
+arrived at the fort, with prayers for peace on their lips and gifts in
+their hands. They were received by Kingswell, William Trigget, and
+Ouenwa from the fort, and Black Feather and two of his chiefs from the
+camp. A lengthy business was gone through with, and much strong
+Virginian tobacco was burned. Documents were written in English and in
+the picture-writing of the natives, and read aloud, by Ouenwa, in both
+languages. Then they were solemnly signed by all present, and peace was
+restored to the great tribe of the North, and protection, trade, and
+lands were granted for all time to the inhabitants of Fort Beatrix and
+their descendants. The three visitors went back to their people with
+rolls of red cloth and packets of glass beads, pot-metal knives, and
+other useless trinkets on their shoulders.
+
+Shortly after their departure from the fort, a storm of rain blew up
+from the sou'east. All day the great drops thumped on the roofs of the
+cabins, on the skies of the lodges, and spattered on the sodden snow.
+The firs and spruces gleamed clean and black under the drenching
+showers. A veil of smoke-gray mist lay above the farther woods and along
+the black tangles of alders and gray fringes of willows. All night the
+warm rain continued to fall and drift. When morning lifted along the
+pearly east, a cry rang from the camp to the fort that the ice in the
+river was moving. The settlers hastened to the flat before the stockade.
+Beatrix was with them.
+
+"See how the torn edge of ice overtops the bank," said Kingswell,
+pointing eagerly. "And there is an open space. Ah, it has closed again!
+How slowly it grinds along!"
+
+"It will run faster before night," replied the girl, and Ouenwa, who was
+versed in the ways of his northern rivers, nodded silently.
+
+While they watched, admiring the swelling, swinging, ponderous advance
+of the great surface, and harkening to the booming thunder of its agony
+that filled the air, a breathless runner joined the group and spoke a
+few quick words to Black Feather. That chief approached Ouenwa and
+whispered in his ear. The boy glanced quickly at Beatrix and Kingswell,
+and then questioned Black Feather anxiously. Presently he turned back to
+the lovers.
+
+"The ice is stuck down-stream," he said. "Blue Cloud has seen it. He
+fears that the water will rise over the flat--and the fort."
+
+The river continued to rise until evening. After that the waters
+subsided a little, great cakes of rotten ice hung stranded along the
+crest of the bank, and the main body ceased to run downward. But from up
+the valley the thunder of a hidden disturbance still boomed across the
+windless air.
+
+"The jam had broken down-stream," said Ouenwa.
+
+Kingswell, unused to the ways of running ice, was satisfied, and retired
+to his couch with an easy mind. He slept soundly until, in the gray of
+the dawn, Ouenwa shook him roughly, and all but dragged him to the
+floor.
+
+"Wake up, wake up," cried the boy. "Damn, but you sleep like a bear!
+The fort is in danger! We must run for higher land."
+
+"Rip me!" exclaimed Kingswell, springing to his feet, "but what is the
+trouble? Are we attacked?"
+
+"The river is all but empty of water," replied Ouenwa. "The ice sags in
+the channel, like an empty garment. The water hangs above, behind the
+third point where we cut the timber for the boats."
+
+Kingswell, all the while, was busily employed pulling on his heavy
+clothes. Though he did not fully understand the threatening danger, he
+felt that it was real enough. While he tied the thongs of his deerhide
+leggins, Ouenwa told him that warning had reached the fort but a few
+minutes before.
+
+"How?" inquired Kingswell, hurriedly bestowing a wallet of gold coins
+and some other valuables about his person.
+
+Ouenwa, already loaded down with his friend's possessions, threw open
+the door and stepped out.
+
+"Wolf Slayer brought it," he said, over his shoulder. "And I do not
+understand," he added, "for Wolf Slayer hates us all."
+
+The other, close at his heels, made no comment on that intelligence. He
+scarcely heard it, so anxious was he for the safety of Mistress
+Beatrix. The whole fort was astir; but Kingswell ran straight to his
+sweetheart's door. It was opened by the maiden herself. She and the old
+servant were all ready to leave.
+
+An hour passed; load after load of stores and household goods was
+carried to the low hills behind the fort; and still the river lay empty,
+with its marred sheet of ice sagging between the banks; and still the
+unseen jam held back the gathering freshet. The women wept at the
+thought that their little homes were in danger of being broken and torn
+and whirled away. But Beatrix was dry-eyed.
+
+"It will be no great matter for them to build new cabins in a safer
+place," she said to Kingswell.
+
+He was looking at the natives dragging their rolled-up lodges to higher
+ground. He turned, smiling gravely.
+
+"You have no love for the wilderness?" he asked, "and yet but for this
+forsaken place, you and I might never have met."
+
+She laid her hand on his arm, and lifted a flushed face to his tender
+regard.
+
+"So it has served my turn," she said. "Now that I have you, I could well
+spare these wastes of black wood and empty barren."
+
+Kingswell had been waiting patiently and in silence for that confession
+ever since their betrothal. Hitherto she had not once spoken with any
+assurance of their future together. She had treated the subject vaguely,
+as if her thoughts were all with the past and with the tragedy of her
+father's death.
+
+"Would you face the homeward voyage in one of the little boats?" he
+asked, softly.
+
+"Ay, with you at the tiller," she replied.
+
+"Dear girl," he said, "I think that a stout ship called the _Heart of
+the West_ will be setting sail from Bristol, for this wilderness, before
+many days."
+
+"Would the fellow dare return?" she asked; for she had heard the story
+of Trowley's treachery.
+
+"He will think himself safe enough," replied Kingswell. "No doubt he
+owns the ship now--has bought it from my mother for the price of a
+skiff, after telling her how recklessly he battled with the savages to
+save her son's life."
+
+He laughed softly. "The old rogue will be surprised when I step aboard,"
+he added.
+
+Before she could answer him a booming report shook the sunlit air. It
+was followed, in a second, by a long-drawn tumult--a grinding and
+crashing and roaring--as if the firmament had fallen and overthrown the
+everlasting hills. The sagging ice below them reared, domed upward, and
+split with clapping thunders. It broke its plunging masses, which were
+hurled down the stream and over the flats. A thing of brown water and
+sodden gray lumps tore the alders and swung across the meadow where the
+Beothic encampment had stood an hour before. The eastern stockade of the
+fort went down beneath its inevitable, crushing onslaught.
+
+All day cakes and pans of sodden ice and snow raced down the river, and
+the air hummed and vibrated with their clamour. But the weight of the
+released waters had passed; and the fort had suffered by no more than an
+exposed side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY RECEIVES A VISITOR
+
+
+Wolf Slayer, who had brought warning of the menace of the freshet to
+Fort Beatrix, soon showed his evil hand. He had arrived at the fort in a
+starving condition and still weak from wounds received in the battle in
+which his father had been killed. Had he been well and filled with meat,
+he would undoubtedly have let the inmates of the fort and the camp lie
+in ignorance of the danger. For ten days he was fed and cared for by the
+settlers. By the end of that time, he felt himself again. The old
+arrogance burned in his eyes; the old sneer returned to his lips. Ouenwa
+read the signs and wondered how the deviltry would show itself under
+such unpropitious circumstances.
+
+Ouenwa's sleep was light and fitful on the tenth night after the
+overflowing of the river. About midnight he awoke, turned over, and
+could not get back to his dreams. So he lay wide-awake, thinking of the
+future. He could hear Bernard Kingswell's peaceful breathing. He thought
+of his friend, and his heart warmed to him with gratitude and
+comrade-love. He thought of Beatrix, smiled wistfully in the darkness,
+and put the bright vision away from him. What was that? He breathed more
+softly and lifted his head. Was it fancy, or--or what? He shifted
+noiselessly to the farther edge of the couch. A hand brushed along his
+pillow of folded blanket. Next moment he gripped an unseen wrist and
+closed with a silent enemy.
+
+Minutes passed before the wrestlers stumbled against a stool, with a
+clatter that startled Kingswell to his feet. The Englishman leaped to
+the hearth, kicked the fallen coals to life, and threw a roll of birch
+bark on top of them. Then he stepped aside until the yellow flame
+lighted the room. The illumination was just in time, for Wolf Slayer had
+the lighter boy on the floor and the knife raised, when Kingswell saw
+his way to the rescue. He recognized the youth, and in a fit of English
+indignation at such a return for hospitality caught him by neck and belt
+and hurled him bodily from the prostrate Ouenwa. Wolf Slayer alighted on
+his feet, snatched open the door (which he had left ajar), and fled into
+the darkness.
+
+A morning of late May brought a friendly native to Fort Beatrix, with
+word that three English ships were in Wigwam Harbour. Then Ouenwa and
+Tom Bent made the journey and returned, in due season, with the welcome
+news that one of the vessels was the _Heart of the West_.
+
+Both the new boats and the old _Pelican_ were made ready for the
+expedition. Kingswell commanded the _Pelican_, with Ouenwa and six
+natives for crew. Tom Bent was put in charge of the second boat, and
+Black Feather of the third. William Trigget and Donnelly were left to
+see that no harm came to Mistress Westleigh--and, as the boats stole
+down-stream, in the gray of the dawn, William Trigget treasured in his
+hand a duly witnessed document, in which Bernard Kingswell, gentleman,
+of Bristol, bequeathed and willed all his earthly goods to Beatrix
+Westleigh, spinster, of Fort Beatrix, in the Newfounde Land, and late of
+Beverly and Randon, in Somersetshire, England.
+
+The parting between Beatrix and her lover had been a fond one, but the
+man had noticed (and in his heart regretted) the fortitude with which
+she bade him farewell and godspeed. He worried about it in his sleep,
+and again, as he looked longingly at her cabin in the bleak dawn. He
+tried to comfort himself with memories of a hundred incidents that
+placed the sincerity of her love beyond a shadow of doubt. But, for all
+that, she might have shed a few tears. Surely she realized the chances
+of danger?--the risk he was running, for her sake? Love is edged and
+barbed by just such little and unreasonable questionings.
+
+A white mist wreathed along the surface of Gray Goose River when the
+three boats swung down with the current. The Beothics were armed with
+English knives. There were no firearms aboard any of the little vessels.
+Kingswell and Ouenwa had swords at their belts, and Spanish daggers for
+their left hands. Tom Bent was armed with his oft-proved cutlass.
+
+The sun did not get above the horizon until the little fleet was clear
+of the river's mouth. There a breath of wind sighed through the cordage,
+and the sails flapped up and rounded softly. Kingswell leaned forward
+and looked under the square canvas of the _Pelican's_ big wing.
+
+"An extra man," he remarked to Ouenwa, sharply. "Who has taken it upon
+himself to improve on my orders?"
+
+A blanket-swathed figure, forward of the mast, turned and crawled aft.
+Then the blanket fell away, and Mistress Westleigh, rigged out in an
+amazing mixture of masculine and feminine attire, laughed up at the
+commander.
+
+"Promise to shield me from the wrath of Maggie Stone, when we go back,"
+she whispered, in mock concern.
+
+For a moment Bernard stared, with wonder and embarrassment in his eyes,
+the while Ouenwa hid a smile. Then he doffed his hat and caught the
+queer figure to his knee; and in the flush of the morning, under the
+grave regard of the Beothic warriors, he kissed her on lips and brow.
+
+"What authority has Maggie Stone?" he cried. "If any one has a right to
+control your actions, surely it is I."
+
+She slipped to the seat beside him. "And you told me I could not
+accompany you--that it would not be safe," she replied.
+
+"Ay, but it was my duty to bid you remain behind," he said. "God knows
+it hurt me to refuse your so--so flattering a wish. But you accepted it
+calmly, dear heart."
+
+"I accepted it for what it was worth," she laughed. "I could not shed
+tears over a parting which I felt certain was not to take place." Her
+face changed quickly from merriment to gravity. "I could not have stayed
+in the fort without you," she whispered. "Dear lad, I am afraid to
+death whenever you are out of my sight. I do believe this love has made
+a coward of me!"
+
+For a little while there was no sound aboard the _Pelican_ save the
+tapping of the reef-points on the swelling breast of the sail, and the
+slow creak of the tiller. Ouenwa, leaning far to one side, gazed ahead,
+while the warriors crouched on the thwarts. Then the man stooped his
+head close to the girl's.
+
+"But on this trip," he whispered, "you must obey me--for both our sakes,
+dearest. It would be mutiny else."
+
+"I shall always obey you," she replied--"always, always--so long as you
+do not again leave me alone in Fort Beatrix."
+
+"William Trigget was there," he ventured. "And Maggie Stone."
+
+She laughed at that. "Poor Maggie!" she sighed. "Poor Maggie! She will
+rate me soundly for my boldness. She has ever a thousand discourses on
+the proprieties ready on the tip of her tongue."
+
+"Ah, the proprieties," murmured Bernard, as if caught by a new and
+somewhat disconcerting idea. "Rip me, but I've never given them a
+thought!"
+
+Beatrix laughed delightedly. "You must not let them trouble you now,"
+she said. "When we get back to Bristol, I will guard myself with a
+dozen staid companions, and--" She paused, and blushed crimson. "I
+forget that I am penniless," she added.
+
+Kingswell's left hand closed over hers where it lay in her lap. "How
+long, think you, shall you stand in need of chaperons in Bristol?" he
+asked.
+
+The three boats sought shelter in a tiny, hidden bay, and Kingswell,
+Mistress Westleigh, Ouenwa, and Tom Bent made an overland trip to a
+wooded hill overlooking Wigwam Harbour. There lay the _Heart of the
+West_, close in at her old anchorage after the day's fishing. Work was
+going briskly forward on the stages at the edge of the tide. The other
+vessels, which were much smaller than Trowley's command, lay nearer the
+mouth of the river harbour. The declining sun stained spars and furled
+sails to a rosy tint above the green water.
+
+"Hark!" whispered Kingswell, touching the girl's arm, as she crouched
+beside him in the fringe of spruces.
+
+A bellowing voice, loud and harsh in abuse, reached their ears.
+
+"'Tis Trowley," he said, and chuckled. "How will he sound to-night, I
+wonder?"
+
+"You will not be rash, Bernard,--for my sake," pleaded the girl.
+
+He assured her that he would be discreet.
+
+It was dark when they got back to the little cove in which the boats
+were beached. About midnight, with no light save the vague illumination
+of the scattered stars, they rowed out with muffled oars. They moved
+with such caution that it took them two hours to reach Wigwam Harbour.
+They passed the outer ships unchallenged. Then Beatrix was transferred
+from the _Pelican_ to Black Feather's boat, and Tom Bent joined the
+commander. A veil of drifting cloud shut out even such feeble light as
+had disclosed the course to the voyagers. Before them the _Heart of the
+West_ loomed dark, a thing of massed shadows and a few yellow lights.
+
+The new-built boats lay about thirty yards aft and seaward of the ship.
+The _Pelican_ stole in under the looming stern, with no more noise than
+a fish makes when he breaches in shallow water. The crew steadied her
+beside the groaning rudder with their hands. Kingswell stood on a thwart
+and peered in at the cabin window, as Ouenwa had peered on a night of
+the preceding season. The low, oak-ceiled room was empty. A lantern hung
+from the starboard bulkhead, and two candles, in silver sticks that bore
+the Kingswell crest, burned, with bending flames, on the table. On the
+locker under the lantern lay a cutlass in its sheath, and a boat-cloak
+in an untidy heap. The edge of the table was within two feet of the
+square stern-window.
+
+For a little while Kingswell listened with guarded breath. Then,
+swiftly and lightly, he pulled himself across the ledge of the window,
+scrambled through, and crouched behind the table. Very cautiously he
+drew his rapier with his right hand and his dagger with his left. For a
+minute or two he squatted in the narrow quarters, breathing regularly
+and deeply, and harkening to the innumerable creaking voices of the
+decks and bulkheads, and the muffled voices and laughter from forward.
+For the occasion he had donned the hat, coat, breeches, and boots--all
+now stained and faded--in which Master Trowley had last seen him.
+
+Suddenly a heavy, uncertain step sounded on the companion ladder just
+forward of the cabin door. A volley of stout Devonshire oaths boomed
+above the lesser sounds. The door flew open, smote the bulkhead with a
+resounding crack, and swung, trembling. The bulky figure of Trowley
+entered, and the heady voice of the old sea-dog cursed the door, and
+big, red hands slammed it shut again. Kingswell drew a deep breath, and
+composed his dancing nerves and galloping blood as best he could. His
+emotions were disconcertingly mixed.
+
+The masterful old pirate (for such he surely was, deny the charge if you
+like) seemed to fill the cabin to overflowing with his lurching, great
+body. He tossed boat-cloak and cutlass on the deck, and yanked up the
+top of the locker. With muttered revilings at the excessive cost of West
+Indies rum, he produced a bottle of no mean capacity from its
+hiding-place, and a fine glass sparkled in the candle-light like
+diamonds. Kingswell recognized the glass as one from which he had often
+drunk his grog--a rare piece from his house in Bristol. Those articles
+the mariner placed on the table, scarcely a foot from the watcher's
+head. Next he loaded himself a china pipe with black tobacco, and lit it
+at one of the candles. In doing so, Master Bernard heard the puffings
+and gruntings with which the deed was accomplished, like half a gale in
+his ear. At last the fellow sat down with a thud, squared his elbows on
+the table, gazed for a second at the square window that opened on to the
+mysterious gloom of the night, and tipped the bottle. The liquor gulped
+and gurgled in its passage to the glass. The reek of it permeated the
+air.
+
+"Dang it," grumbled the mariner, "d'ye call this rum! Sink me, but it be
+half water!"
+
+However, he swallowed the dose with gusto, and smacked his lips at the
+end of it as he never would have after a draught of water.
+
+Very steadily and quietly Bernard Kingswell arose to his feet and
+looked down at Master Trowley with inscrutable eyes shadowed by his
+wide, stained hat. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds,
+but to the staring mariner it seemed a matter of hours. He sprawled on
+his low stool, open-mouthed, red-eyed, with his big hands nerveless on
+the table, and the lighted pipe unheeded at his feet.
+
+"Traitor!" said Kingswell, coldly; and leaning across the table he
+tweaked the purple tip of Trowley's nose between thumb and finger. To do
+so, he laid his dagger on the edge of the mahogany for a second. The
+indignity called forth no more than a gurgle of terror from the master
+mariner. Kingswell plucked up the thin blade and flashed it within an
+inch of the whiskered face. Still the fellow sagged on his stool, unable
+to stir a muscle. Kingswell whistled three low notes. Ouenwa crawled
+through the port, with a coil of light rope in his hand. Tom Bent
+followed. Trowley threw off the spell of the supposed ghostly visitation
+and got to his feet with a bellow of rage and fear. In an instant he was
+flat on his back, with a gagging hand across his mouth and another at
+his throat. He was soon bound hand and foot, and securely gagged with a
+strip of his own boat-cloak.
+
+Ouenwa stuck his head through the open port, and whispered a word or
+two. One by one, four of his braves entered, with their knives
+unsheathed. Kingswell motioned them to follow, and softly opened the
+cabin door. On the port side of the alley-way, beside the companion
+ladder, Trowley's mate lay asleep in his bunk. Kingswell bent over him
+and saw that he was a stranger. He nodded significantly; and in an
+amazingly short time the mate of the _Heart of the West_ was as neatly
+trussed up as the master.
+
+Fifteen minutes later, Tom Bent hung over the rail, aft, and waved a
+lantern in three half-circles. And not long after that, Mistress
+Westleigh, Master Kingswell, and Ouenwa filled glasses with Canary wine,
+in the cabin of the _Heart of the West_. In the waist of the ship the
+stout English sailors and the skin-clad Beothics drained their
+pannikins, and eyed each other with good-natured curiosity. Old Tom Bent
+was toast-master; and also he told them an amazing story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF
+
+
+Shortly before midnight, Tom Bent went quietly about the task of waking
+both watches and the Beothics. The three boats from Fort Beatrix were
+manned, with the muffling oars. The two small anchors by which the
+_Heart of the West_ swung in the tide were fished into two of the boats
+by hand. It was a tough job; but, when it was accomplished, the ship was
+free without so much as a clank of cable or a turn of the noisy capstan.
+Hawsers were passed from the small craft over the bows of the ship, and
+at a signal from a lantern in Kingswell's hand, the men bent their backs
+to the oars. Then all lights aboard the _Heart of the West_ were
+covered, and in the darkness, beside the great tiller, Kingswell caught
+his inspiration and his reward to his heart again.
+
+The girl did not leave the commander's side, but kept watch on the high
+poop-deck throughout the journey. Until dawn the rowers held to their
+toil, and after them, drawn by lines that were sometimes taut and
+sometimes under water, but always invisible in the darkness, the ship
+stole like a shape of cloud and dream. It was hard work, and slow. With
+the breaking of dawn, the leviathan took on signs of life. By that time
+she was hidden from Wigwam Harbour by more than one bluff headland. The
+pulling boats drifted to her bows, the capstan was manned, and the
+anchors were lifted to their places on the forecast rail. Headsails were
+set, and the square mizzen was run up. The boats dropped astern and were
+made fast, and the weary men climbed aboard the ship.
+
+All day the _Heart of the West_ threaded the green waterways of the
+great Bay of Exploits. A light and favourable breeze lent itself to the
+venture. After the midday meal, Beatrix, wrapped in a blanket, lay down
+by the mizzen and fell asleep. She was tired. The easy motion of the
+ship, and the song of the wind in ropes and canvas, sank her fathoms
+deep in slumber, with the magic of a fairy lullaby. Kingswell rigged a
+piece of sail-cloth from the bulwarks to the mast to shade her face from
+the sun.
+
+At last the wide estuary, which ends in Gray Goose River, was reached.
+By sunset the mouth of the river was entered. Just then the wind
+failed. The boats were manned again, and the ship taken in tow.
+
+Still Mistress Westleigh slumbered peacefully, with the rough blanket
+about her dainty body and her head pillowed on Kingswell's folded coat.
+Kneeling beside her, Kingswell peered under the shelter of canvas, and
+saw that she was smiling in her dreams. How white were her dropped
+eyelids, and how clear and rose-tinted her small face. Her lips were
+parted a little, as if to whisper some sweet secret. A strand of her
+bright, dark hair was across her forehead, and one arm, clear of the
+blanket and the deerskin on which she lay, rested on the deck. The rosy
+palm was upturned. Kingswell stooped lower and kissed it softly.
+Standing up, he found Tom Bent beside him. The mahogany-hued mariner
+grinned sheepishly, and gave a hitch to his belt.
+
+"Beggin' the lady's pardon," he whispered, "but, if the angels in heaven
+be half so sweet to look at as herself, I'm for going to heaven, in
+spite o' the devil. Sink me, but I'd play one o' they golden harps with
+a light heart if--if the equals of herself were a-listenin' on the
+quarter-deck."
+
+Kingswell blushed and smiled. "You, too?" said he. "You are in love, Tom
+Bent."
+
+"Ay, sir," replied the boatswain, "for it can't be helped. I'm in love
+and awash, and danged near to sinkin'. Might as well expect a man to
+keep sober in the 'Powdered Admiral' on Bristol dock as within ten
+knots, to win'ward or lee'ard, o' your sweetheart, sir."
+
+"I agree with you," replied the gentleman, bowing gravely.
+
+Tom Bent pulled his scant forelock, and rolled away about his duty. He
+was mightily pleased with himself at having expressed his admiration for
+his young commander's choice in such felicitous terms. He prided himself
+on his eye for feminine beauty, no matter what the race or the rank of
+the fair one,--and a fairer than Mistress Westleigh he swore by all the
+gods of the Seven Seas he had never laid eyes on.
+
+The long spring twilight was gathering into dusk when the toiling boats
+and the tall ship rounded the point, and opened the fort to the view of
+the daring cruisers. Directly in front of the stockade the anchors
+plunged into the brown current. The rattle of the cables through the
+hawse-holes awoke Beatrix. She had been dreaming of a great garden in
+Somerset, and of walking along box-hedged paths with her father on one
+side and her lover on the other. Opening her eyes upon the canvas
+shelter which Kingswell had spread above her, and with the clangour of
+the running cables in her ears, for a second she did not know where she
+was. A vague fear oppressed her for a little. Then she recalled the
+incidents of the last two days, and was about to crawl from her
+resting-place, when the edge of the shelter was lifted, and Kingswell
+looked down at her.
+
+"Wake up," he said. "We are at the fort, and Trigget and Maggie Stone
+are coming off in a canoe."
+
+"Nay, then I'll stay here until you explain matters," she replied. "You
+must bear the brunt of Maggie Stone's displeasure for my sake." She sat
+up, laughing softly, and lifted her face in a way that only a dunce
+could fail to comprehend. Under cover of the strip of sail-cloth, he
+kissed the warm lips and the bright hair.
+
+"Trust me," he laughed; and at that moment Trigget and the servant
+climbed to the poop by way of the ladder from the ship's waist. He
+advanced to meet them. He saw that Trigget held a folded paper in his
+hand, and that the honest eyes of that bold mariner were red and moist.
+
+"What is it?" he inquired; for he had entirely forgotten, for the time
+being, the manner of Mistress Westleigh's joining with the expedition.
+
+"Here be your will, sir," said Trigget, handing him the paper.
+"It--it--well, maybe it'll not be o' any use now."
+
+"Of course not," replied Kingswell, cheerfully, tearing it across.
+
+Maggie Stone burst into tears. "Jus' the way Sir Ralph went," she
+sobbed. "Oh, my beautiful little lady--an' her fit mate for any nobleman
+of London town!"
+
+"What the devil do you mean?" cried Kingswell. Then the truth dawned in
+his preoccupied brain. "Dry your eyes," he said. "She is safe and
+sound."
+
+"Thank God for that," exclaimed William Trigget, devoutly.
+
+"What--the mistress be safe, d'ye say?" cried Maggie Stone, with a
+sudden change of face.
+
+Kingswell nodded curtly. He did not like being bawled at on the poop of
+his recaptured ship, even by an old serving maid. "Your mistress is
+safe--and in my care," he said.
+
+"Indeed, sir?" she queried. "An' may I make so bold as to ax when ye
+married Sir Ralph Westleigh's daughter?"
+
+William Trigget murmured something to the effect that his presence was
+required forward, and took his departure. Kingswell bit his lip and
+stared haughtily at the woman; but he was at a loss for words fully
+expressive of his feelings. His indignation brought a flush to his
+cheeks which even the dusk of evening could not hide.
+
+"Ye may well redden," cried Maggie Stone. "Ay, ye may well redden, after
+sailin' away with an unprotected lass, an' near terrifyin' her old nurse
+into fits."
+
+The gentleman recovered his power of speech. "My good girl," he said
+(and she was a full twenty years older than his mother), "your joy at
+hearing of your mistress's safety takes a wondrous queer and unseemly
+way of expressing itself. You seem to forget that you, the lady's
+servant, are addressing the lady's betrothed husband."
+
+The old maid glared and drew her scanty skirts about her.
+
+"Maybe so," she retorted. "'Twould never have happened in Somerset."
+
+At that moment Mistress Beatrix appeared suddenly from the other side of
+the mizzen.
+
+"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you speak so to Master Kingswell!"
+
+Anger--quick, scathing anger--rang in her voice. Standing there in her
+short skirt, high, beaded moccasins, and blue cloth jacket, she looked
+like an indignant boy, save for her coiled hair and bright beauty.
+
+"I am ashamed of you," she added; and then, turning quickly, she flung
+herself into Kingswell's ever ready embrace.
+
+Maggie Stone was flustered and somewhat awed by the sudden attack. She
+had not been spoken to so for years and years. Would she resort to tears
+again, or would she answer back? She was jealous of the girl's love for
+Kingswell--and yet she had thanked God many times that that love had
+been won by the young Englishman instead of by the swarthy D'Antons. She
+sniffed, and mopped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she changed
+her mind and bridled.
+
+"What would the countess, your aunt, say to such behaviour?" she asked.
+"Her who watched over ye like a guardian angel in London town."
+
+Beatrix turned, and, still holding her lover's hands, faced the carping
+critic.
+
+"And who turned me out of her house at the last of it," she cried,
+scornfully. "Who is she, or who was she ever, to question my behaviour?
+And who are you, woman, to insult your mistress and the gentleman who
+saved you from the knives of the savages? Go back to the fort."
+
+Maggie Stone saw that she had made a serious mistake,--a mistake which,
+perhaps, would alienate the lady's affection for ever. She turned, a
+pitiable figure, and made to descend the steep ladder which stood close
+to the starboard side of the ship, and led to the waist. Her foot caught
+in a loop of rope that had not been properly stopped up to its
+belaying-pin. She lurched against the line that ran from the break of
+the poop to the bulwarks below, made a blind effort to right herself,
+and pitched over into the shadowed water below. She did not even scream.
+
+Kingswell dropped his sweetheart's hands, ran to the side and jumped
+after the foolish old woman. By that time the twilight had left the
+river. The current carried him swiftly down-stream, close under the side
+of the ship. The water was uncomfortably cold, and his thick clothes
+dragged at his limbs. He cleared his hair from his eyes. A disturbance
+appeared on the surface of the stream a few yards ahead. With a quick
+stroke or two, he reached it, and caught Maggie Stone by a thin
+shoulder. She struggled desperately, mad with fright. Both were pulled
+over the gunwale of the _Pelican_ not a moment too soon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED
+
+
+It is difficult to imagine the feelings of the skippers and crews of the
+good ship _Plover_ and _Mary and Joyce_, when the gray light of dawn
+disclosed the fact that the _Heart of the West_ had vanished completely.
+What a rubbing of eyes must have taken place! What a dropping of
+whiskered jaws and ripping of sea oaths!
+
+"Sunk," said one heavy-shouldered mariner.
+
+"Then where be her spars?" inquired a messmate.
+
+"Cut an' run," suggested another.
+
+"Then the devil must have been after her! Ol' Trowley'd run from nothin'
+else," replied the cook of the _Plover_.
+
+The captain of the _Mary and Joyce_ scanned the inner harbour and what
+he could see of the outer bay. Then he turned his brass telescope upon
+the cliffs and hills and inland woods.
+
+"Maybe the French has towed mun out," he said at last.
+
+No fishing was done that day. The neighbouring bays and coves were
+searched, and even the "River of Three Fires" was investigated, with a
+deal of trouble, for several miles up its swift current. That night the
+skippers of the two vessels decided, over several hot glasses, that
+Wigwam Harbour was no safe place for honest English sailor men. Next
+morning found them sailing northward in search of another haven from
+which to reap the harvest of the great bay.
+
+To Fort Beatrix journeyed all the Beothics from many miles around, for a
+great trade was going on. Influenced by Maggie Stone's foolish outbreak,
+Beatrix and Bernard had decided to seek a priest in the port of St.
+John's on their way to England, and so cross the ocean as man and wife,
+to the bitter chagrin of Bristol scandal-mongers. Though the idea had
+not occurred to either of the lovers before the old woman's outcry in
+the name of suffering propriety, it was none the less to their liking
+now that they had accepted it.
+
+"And it will please poor Maggie Stone," said the girl.
+
+"I was not thinking of her," replied Kingswell, lifting the glowing
+face to his by a hand beneath the rounded chin.
+
+"Nor I, dear heart," she replied.
+
+To the others of that wilderness the trading seemed a greater matter
+than that romantic attachment of a man and a maid. Blankets, trinkets,
+inferior weapons, and even the spare clothing of the settlers were
+bartered for pelts of beaver, mink, marten, otter, musquash, and red,
+patched, and black fox, to make up a cargo for the _Heart of the West_.
+The price of an axe-head was twice its weight in beaver skins. Even
+Maggie Stone, with an eye to adding to her nest-egg, traded a skillet
+(the identical implement with which she had floored D'Antons) for a
+beautiful foxskin. Only Trowley had no finger in the trading. Sullen and
+silent, he wandered about the fort, and a few paces behind him a brawny
+Beothic always stalked.
+
+The storehouse of the fort was replenished from the well-stocked
+pantries and lazaret of the ship. Kingswell smiled grimly when, during
+the overhauling of the cabin lockers, he discovered choice wines,
+cheeses, and pots of jam which his lady mother had given to Master
+Trowley as a slight mark of her gratitude for his services to her son.
+He forced an admittance of these things from the old rascal himself. It
+had been as he had hinted to Beatrix. The fellow had told the tearful
+and credulous lady that he had risked his life in her son's defence,
+during an engagement with the savages; and she, grateful heart, had made
+such an unbusiness-like agreement with him for the sailing of the ship
+that, had the voyage run its anticipated course, even a full load of
+fish would not have saved her from a shrewd loss. Happily for Trowley,
+Master Kingswell was far too happy for such trivial matters to really
+anger him.
+
+"The old rogue staked his soul and lost on the last throw," he said to
+Beatrix, "and I staked my heart, and won all that the world holds of
+joy. Surely I should be a low fellow to add to his misfortunes, poor
+devil. I can afford to be charitable now."
+
+They were seated on the grassy edge of the river meadow, looking out at
+the anchored ship, where sailors were repairing the rigging and scraping
+the spars. The girl did not seem keenly interested in Trowley's
+underhand behaviour to Dame Kingswell. As to his treachery toward
+Kingswell, to tell the truth, she was very grateful to the old thief for
+having sailed away and left her lover in the wilderness. Such thoughts
+flitted pleasantly through her mind.
+
+"When did you stake your heart?" she asked, as if that were the core of
+the whole thing.
+
+"I cannot tell you the date exactly," replied Kingswell, "but I was in
+Pierre d'Antons' company at the time, and--and I was mightily surprised
+to find Somersetshire people in this country. Lord, but your eyes were
+bright."
+
+"Do you mean that you--do you mean that it happened on the first day of
+your arrival at the fort?" she queried.
+
+"Surely," said he.
+
+"And you loved me then?"
+
+He nodded, smiling across toward the busy mariners in the rigging of his
+ship. His memories of those perilous days were fragrant as an English
+rose-garden.
+
+"Do you know," she whispered, "that, though I felt sure I had made an
+impression on you then, I began to doubt it later. You were so
+self-satisfied that you shook my faith in my own powers to charm."
+
+He laughed softly, and with a note of wonder. Then, for a little while,
+they were silent.
+
+"Tell me," she said, suddenly. "Did you really love me that first day
+you came to the fort, or was it just--just surprise at seeing a--a
+civilized girl in so forsaken a place?"
+
+He considered the question gravely and at some length. "I wanted to
+kill D'Antons," he answered, presently, "and I would gladly have given
+ten years of my life for a kiss from your lips, a caress from your
+hands. Was that love, think you?"
+
+"I should call it a right hopeful beginning," she replied, brightly; but
+tears which she could not explain shone in her eyes. Across the hurrying
+water drifted the song of the men at work upon the tall masts of the
+_Heart of the West_.
+
+"In a week's time," said Kingswell, "she will fill her sails for St.
+John's--and then for home."
+
+The girl nestled closer to his side. Looking down, he saw that she was
+weeping.
+
+"God grant that we find a parson in that harbour," he added. She nodded,
+and choked with a sob she could not stifle.
+
+"Why do you weep, dearest?" he asked.
+
+"For those whom we must leave behind," she whispered.
+
+He had no answer to make to that. Together they looked beyond the
+anchored ship and the bright river to the inscrutable wilderness that
+held the fate of the mad baronet so securely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED
+
+
+At nine o'clock of the morning of the twenty-second day of June, the bow
+of the _Heart of the West_ was towed around and pointed down-stream by
+willing boats and canoes; a light wind filled such sails as were set,
+and the voyage was begun. Trigget fired a salute from a new gun which
+Kingswell had given him from the armament of the ship. It was answered
+by the barking of cannon and the fluttering of sails.
+
+Ouenwa stood with Mistress Westleigh, Kingswell, and Maggie Stone, aft
+by the tiller, which was in the hands of Tom Bent. The lad was fairly
+wild with excitement. Now, it seemed to him, his great dreams were
+assured; and yet a pang of homesickness went through the joy like the
+blade of a knife, as he watched the faces of the clustered people along
+the meadow and in the boats grow dim,--the faces of William Trigget and
+Black Feather, and of a dozen more who were dear to him. He shouted back
+to them in English and in his native tongue, and waved his cap
+frantically. The faces blurred and wavered. The ship swam around the
+wooded point, and meadow and stockade and camp of wigwams vanished like
+a picture withdrawn. The lad turned and glanced at Mistress Westleigh.
+Then he walked forward to the break of the poop, and blinked very hard
+at nothing in particular in the belly of the maintopsail.
+
+Soon the wooded banks fell away on either side, and the water changed
+its tint of amber for wind-roughened green. The gray, purple, and brown
+shores of the roadstead widened and dropped lower, and azure uplands
+shone beyond their frowning brows. The wind freshened, and white flakes
+of foam whipped from crest to crest across the ever-shifting,
+ever-vanishing valleys of green. Along the fading cliffs white sea-birds
+circled and settled like flakes of snow. A few great gulls winged around
+the ship, fleeing to leeward like bolts of mist, and beating up again
+with quivering pinions.
+
+Kingswell had taken the duties of sailing-master upon himself. He was as
+good a deep-sea navigator as any man on the whole width of the North
+Atlantic. When the outer bay was reached, yards were swung around, and
+the stout bark headed due east at his orders. To see old Tom Bent push
+the tiller over, and other seasoned mariners man brace and sheet, at the
+command of that gold-haired youth, made the heart of Beatrix Westleigh
+flutter with pride. Her dark eyes, already bright and lovely beyond
+power of description, shone yet more brightly; and her cheeks, already
+flushed to clear flame by the wind, deepened their glow. As the ship
+answered to his will, so would he answer to her whim. It was a pleasant
+reflection to the lady; and to realize it she called softly. Without a
+glance at the straining sails, he turned and hastened to her side.
+
+The voyage from Fort Beatrix to the wonderful harbour and brave little
+town of St. John's was made without accident, though not without
+incident. In Bonavista Bay, at a gray hour of the morning, the stump of
+a great iceberg was narrowly avoided. A day later, a large vessel that
+was evidently employed at fishing evinced an undesirable interest in the
+business of the _Heart of the West_. She was not a quarter of a mile
+distant when first sighted, for a light fog was on the water. She flew
+no flag, and changed her course and altered her speed with sinister
+promptness. Kingswell, and every man of the ship's company, knew that
+pirates of many nationalities infested those waters during summer. The
+worst of the thieves were Turks; and the fishing-ship or store-ship that
+was overhauled by those gentry usually lost more than its cargo.
+Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards also had a weakness for playing the
+part of the bald eagle, with their heavy metalled and wide-sailed craft,
+to the rôle of the fishhawk so unwillingly played by the merchantmen.
+Happily for Kingswell's command, the stranger was inshore and to
+leeward. Both watches were piped up by Tom Bent. The gunners went to
+their quarters. Sail after sail unfurled about the already straining
+masts and yards. The brave little ship answered willingly to the
+pressure, and her cutwater broke the flanks of the waves into sibilant
+foam.
+
+A rumour of the chase reached Mistress Beatrix and her old maid, in the
+seclusion of that snug cabin in which Master Trowley was, at one time,
+wont to revel. Maggie Stone drew the curtains across the thick glass of
+the after-port (as if fearing that the eagle glance of one of the
+pirates might pierce the privacy of her retreat), and then devoted
+herself to tearful prayer. Beatrix completed her toilet, threw a cloak
+over her shoulders, and climbed the companion. She joined Kingswell by
+the tiller, and, after saluting him tenderly and with a composure that
+took no heed of the sailor at the helm, watched the chase with interest.
+
+"They outsail us," she said, presently.
+
+Kingswell nodded. "But she'll never get near us on that course," he
+replied. "She is for heading us off, and getting to windward. If she
+gets to windward of us--Lord, but I scarce think she will."
+
+He said a word of preparation to the man at the tiller, and then gave a
+few quick orders from the break of the poop. In half a minute the _Heart
+of the West_ headed out on an easy tack. When every sail was drawing to
+his liking, he returned to the girl.
+
+"How glorious!" she cried. "A good horse, a singing pack, and an old fox
+make but slow sport compared to this."
+
+"We are the fox on this hunting morning," smiled Kingswell.
+
+"With teeth," she hinted.
+
+He noticed that the unwelcome stranger was shouldering the wind on the
+new course. He looked at the girl.
+
+"Ay, we have teeth, sweeting," he said, "and soon we'll be gnashing
+them."
+
+Though the _Heart of the West_ sailed well, to windward, the big craft
+astern sailed even better. The ships, crowded with canvas, the dancing
+blue water and cloudless sky, and the brown and azure coast to leeward,
+made a fine picture under the white sun. As the stranger drew near and
+nearer, excitement increased aboard the merchantman. Old Trowley bawled
+to be set free, that he might not die in the sail-locker like a rat in a
+hole. Tom Bent spat on his hard hands, and pulled his belt an inch
+shorter. Ouenwa lugged up shot and powder, and was for opening fire at
+an impossible range. Beatrix roused Maggie Stone from her devotions, and
+took her forward to a place of greater safety in the men's quarters.
+
+Along either side of the after-cabin of the _Heart of the West_ ran a
+narrow passage. Each passage ended in a blind port, and behind each port
+crouched a gun of unusual size for so peaceful an appearing ship. Now
+Kingswell blessed the day that a youthful love of warlike gear and a
+heart for adventure had led him to add these pieces to the armament of
+his ship. He remembered, with a contented smile, how Master Trowley had
+growled at the delay caused by getting the great guns aboard and
+partitioning off the passage. Even his mother had urged him to put more
+faith in the great ship which the king was so gracious as to send to
+Newfounde Land each spring, as a convoy to the fishing fleet. But
+Master Bernard, spoiled child, had had his way; and now he thanked the
+gods of war for it.
+
+Both ships sailed as close to the wind as their models and rigging and
+the laws of nature would allow. They went about often on ever shortening
+tacks. The hunter outsailed the hunted, though it is safe to say that
+her seamanship was no better. Suddenly she luffed until her sails
+quivered, and from her bows broke two puffs of smoke with inner cores of
+flame. Both shots flew high, and fell ahead of the quarry in brief
+spouts of torn water. At that, the blind ports in the stern of the
+merchantman opened up, and the sinister muzzles of the guns were run out
+with a gust of English cheering. Then their sudden voices boomed
+defiance, and the smoke rolled along the water and clung to the leaping
+waves.
+
+Kingswell felt the deck jump under his feet. His pulses leaped with the
+good planks. "Hit!" he cried--and sure enough, one of the enemy's upper
+spars, with its burden of flapping canvas, tottered desperately, and
+then swooped down on the clustered buccaneers beneath. Half an hour
+later the _Heart of the West_ was spinning along on her old course, and
+far astern the stranger lay to and nursed her wound.
+
+Three days later, at high noon, the Narrows opened in the sheer brown
+face of the cliffs, and the people of the _Heart of the West_ caught a
+glimpse of the harbour and the shipping beyond. Then the rocky portals
+seemed to close, and the spray flew like smoke along the unbroken
+ramparts. The ship was put about, and again the magic entrance opened
+and shut.
+
+"I knows the channel, sir," said Tom Bent. "Ye needn't wait for no
+duff-headed pilot."
+
+So the stout ship went 'round again, with a brisk shouting of men at the
+braces and a booming of canvas aloft. Her colours flew bravely in the
+sunlight, answering the colours of the fort and the battery on Signal
+Hill. She raced at the towering cliff as if she would try to overthrow
+it with her cocked-up bowsprit. Even Kingswell caught his breath.
+Beatrix looked away, so fearful was the sight of the unbroken rock that
+seemed to swim toward them with a voice of thunder and the smoking surf
+along its foot. Ouenwa wondered if Tom Bent were mad. But the boatswain
+gripped the big tiller, and squinted under the yards, and cocked an eye
+aloft at the flags and men on the cliff. Then, of a sudden, the narrow
+passage of green water, spray-fringed, opened under their bows, and the
+walls of rock slid aside and let them in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+IN THE MERRY CITY
+
+
+The _Heart of the West_ was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside
+the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the
+great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant
+welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress
+Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a
+subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never
+have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new
+arrival carried such a passenger.
+
+"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink
+his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the
+worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."
+
+He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix
+shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the
+dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk facings of his
+coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.
+
+"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular
+fancy is for the Church."
+
+The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to
+think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the
+combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath.
+Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"
+
+"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.
+
+"Ay, we have a parson--a ranting old missionary," replied the
+lieutenant.
+
+"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the
+marriage service."
+
+"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.
+
+The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He
+was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish
+countenance.
+
+"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in
+the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled
+good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at
+Mistress Westleigh, "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were
+brother and sister."
+
+The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot,
+and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was
+of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds
+and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if
+he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales.
+His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike
+those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for
+his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair
+with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box
+to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant
+made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and
+cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated
+his name and degree.
+
+"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency,
+extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me
+more than once in his great house in Bristol,--ay, and treated the poor
+sailor like a peer of the realm."
+
+Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave a brief account of Sir
+Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness,
+and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort
+was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its
+whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered
+plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief
+engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress
+Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor
+was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He
+murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in
+England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well
+do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh--ay, the
+young lady's mother--bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me,
+and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And
+she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death
+that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."
+
+Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.
+
+"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless,
+and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour
+day by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir,
+I can assure you."
+
+"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in
+his staring eyes.
+
+Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island,
+the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St.
+John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception
+Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return
+within the week.
+
+"In the meantime," said the honest governor, "my house is at Mistress
+Westleigh's service. Let her send for her maid and her boxes. My good
+housekeeper will tidy up the best chamber. Gad, Master Kingswell, but
+we'll cheer this God-forsaken, French-pestered hole in the rock with a
+touch of gaiety."
+
+His Excellency's hospitality was accepted, and for eight days the little
+settlement gave itself over to merrymaking. There were dances in the
+governor's house every night, at which Beatrix was the only lady. There
+were great dinners, during which Beatrix sat on his Excellency's right
+and Kingswell on his left. There were inspections of the fort, boating
+parties on the harbour, and outings among the woods and natural gardens
+that graced the valley at the head of the beautiful basin.
+
+The beauty and graciousness of Mistress Westleigh, and the knowledge of
+her loyalty to her father, and her bravery won the heart of that rude
+village. From the governor to the youngest sailor lad, every man in the
+harbour was her humble and devoted servant.
+
+Before the kindly soldiers and merchants and adventurers, she was always
+merry. The main street along the water-front took on a light of distant
+England did she but appear in it for a minute. The three officers of the
+garrison swore that they preferred it to the most fashionable promenade
+on London. But, alone, or with her lover, she eased, with tears, the
+grief for her father's fate, which all the junketing and gaiety but
+seemed to uncover.
+
+On the eighth day after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_ in the
+harbour of St. John's, the parson returned from his preaching among the
+boisterous fishing-ships in Conception Bay. He shook his head at the
+state in which he found his home flock; for he was of that gloomy
+persuasion known as low church, and held little with frivolity. But,
+after meeting Beatrix, he thawed, and even went so far as to attempt a
+pun on his willingness to marry her. The sally of wit was received by
+the lady with so lovely a smile that the divine forgot his austerity so
+far as to poke Kingswell in the ribs, and call him a sly dog.
+
+The ceremony took place in the little church behind the governor's
+house; and, after it was over, his Excellency, the parson, the officers
+of the garrison, the merchants, the captains of the ships, and many
+more, accompanied the happy couple aboard the _Heart of the West_, where
+sound wines were drunk by the quality, and rum and beer by the
+commonalty. All the shipping, the premises of the merchants, and the
+forts flew bunting, as if for a demonstration to royalty itself. At noon
+farewells were said, and a dozen willing boats towed the _Heart of the
+West_ down the harbour and through the Narrows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES, AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA
+
+
+The wilderness, that grim thing of naked rock, brown barren, gray marsh,
+and black wood, which had claimed the mad baronet so surely, was unable
+to keep Pierre d'Antons in its spacious prison. With the return of
+summer, the dark adventurer and the Beothic girl deserted their inland
+retreat, and set out for a certain grim cape which thrusts far into the
+Atlantic. The crown of that cape affords an uninterrupted view to
+seaward and north and south across the waters of two great bays. A fire
+at night, or a column of smoke in the day, glowing or streaming upward
+from that vantage place, would be sighted from the deck of a passing
+ship at a distance of many miles.
+
+The journey proved a long and trying one, through swamps and barrens,
+and over rock-tumbled knolls. Streams were forded, lakes
+circumambulated, and rivers crossed on insecure rafts. Through it all,
+the native girl, Miwandi, kept a brave heart and bright face. D'Antons,
+however, was preoccupied in his manner, and even gloomy at times. The
+hardships of that wild existence had begun to tell on his body, and the
+loneliness to fret his nerves. His infatuation for Mistress Westleigh
+had dimmed and faded out altogether, leaving only a mean desire for the
+salve of revenge with which to soothe his injured pride. He would wound
+her through Kingswell. Sometimes a fear oppressed him that his men might
+have forgotten his mastery by this time, and might fail, after the two
+seasons of silence, to continue their cruising of those northern waters
+throughout June and July, as he had commanded. But that doubt only
+troubled him in his darkest moods. The loyalty of his subordinate
+buccaneers of the _Cristobal_ was not to be questioned seriously, for it
+had been tested in many tight places. Comradeship often forms as trusty
+ties between the hearts of pirates as between the hearts of honest
+gentlemen. Once grown beyond the temptations of greed and treachery, it
+is a safe thing, this loyalty of desperate men for their messmates.
+
+It was Pierre d'Antons' dream to regain the deck of the _Cristobal_
+(with Miwandi, of course), and to appear, some fine day, before the
+little fort of Gray Goose River; to put the settlers to the sword, the
+buildings to the torch, and to carry the English beauty away with him.
+He felt that his passion for the proud lady might be easily and
+pleasantly refired. But he made no mention of Mistress Westleigh to
+Miwandi, the Beothic girl.
+
+After more than a week of hard travelling, the two ascended the wooded
+ridge which runs seaward to the bleak and elevated acres of the grim
+cape of their desire. In a shaggy grove they set up their lodge. At the
+extremity of the headland, high above the wheeling, screaming gulls and
+noddies, D'Antons built a circular fireplace of the stones that lay
+about. Completed, it looked like an altar reared by some benighted
+priesthood to the gods of the wind and the sea. But no such thought
+occurred to its architect. His case was too desperate to allow his mind
+to indulge in such whimsical fancies.
+
+While the woman went in quest of food--fish, flesh, or fowl, what did it
+matter which?--the man gathered wood and piled it near the queer hearth.
+He worked without intermission until Miwandi returned from her foraging
+with a string of bright trout in her hand. Then he built a modest fire
+within the rough walls of his furnace, and helped the girl clean and
+cook the fish. By that time the glow of the afternoon was centred
+behind the gloomy hills, and a clear twilight was over the sea; but as
+yet the atmosphere held no suggestion of dusk. No sail broke the wide
+expanse of dark blue ocean with its flake of gray; but to the nor'east a
+whale breached and blew its little fountain of spray across the still
+line of the horizon. D'Antons and Miwandi noted these things as they
+ate, but made no comment upon them.
+
+For several days after the arrival of the two upon the overseeing
+headland, D'Antons made no other use of his furnace than for the cooking
+of meals. For that purpose it served admirably, for the walls protected
+the flame from the ever-flying winds that prevailed over that exposed
+spot. The adventurer knew that he was early for the _Cristobal_. Several
+sails were detected; but of them the only heed taken was the precaution
+of blanketing the little fire in the hearth with damp soil. The
+Frenchman did not desire a visit from fishermen of any nationality
+whatever. He might find it difficult to explain his presence in so
+unfavourable a spot for either a fishery or a settlement. No doubt they
+would persist in rescuing him, and, in that case, what reason could he
+give for wishing to stay in his cheerless camp? So he lay low and
+watched the passing of more than one stout craft without a sign.
+
+The time arrived when he must set his signals, despite the risk of
+attracting unwelcome visitors. So he closed the front of the furnace
+with a boulder, built a brisk fire within, which he heaped with damp
+moss and punk, and then laid a large, flat stone over the opening in the
+top of the unique structure. By removing the flat stone, he allowed a
+column of dense smoke to issue into the air, stream aloft and scatter in
+the wind. By replacing the stone, the smoke was cut short off. Finding
+that the contrivance worked to his satisfaction, he let the smoke stream
+up, uninterrupted. The signalling would only be resorted to when a
+vessel, which might possibly be the _Cristobal_, should be sighted. When
+darkness fell, the fire was allowed to die down. A night signal was
+unnecessary, as the _Cristobal_, should she keep the tryst at all, was
+sure to make an examination of the cape by daylight. D'Antons' last
+orders had been strictly and particularly to that effect.
+
+A week passed, during which a sharp lookout was kept by the fugitives on
+the brow of the cape, and the signal of smoke was operated a dozen times
+without the desired effect. In fact, a large vessel, attracted by the
+smoke (which was due to D'Antons' tardy realization that the
+approaching ship was not the _Cristobal_) altered her course, sailed
+close in, and sent a boat ashore to investigate. D'Antons and Miwandi
+had just enough time, with not a minute to spare, to roll up their
+wigwam and hide it in the bushes, gather together their most valuable
+belongings, and flee inland to a shelter of tangled spruces and firs.
+The boat's crew was composed of peaceful fishermen, who were free from
+suspicion and malice. They climbed to the brow of the promontory with
+fine hardihood, but once there did little but examine the marks where
+the lodge had so lately stood and partially overthrow the queer
+fireplace. They believed that structure to be an altar, built to the
+glory of some unorthodox god. Then they retraced their perilous way to
+the little cove under the cliff, and rowed back to the ship. D'Antons
+stole from his retreat and crawled to the edge of the cliff. He felt a
+glow of satisfaction when the big vessel stood away on her northward
+course.
+
+Another week drifted along, and hope wavered in the buccaneer heart. His
+gloomy moods began to wear on the young squaw's spirits. She begged him
+to return to the inland rivers--to make peace with her people--to cease
+his unprofitable staring at the sea.
+
+"The sorrow of the great salt water has entered your heart," she said,
+"and the moaning of it has deafened your ears to my voice."
+
+He did not turn his eyes from the undulations of the gray horizon.
+"Would you have me rot in this place for the remainder of my life?" he
+asked, harshly, in her language.
+
+The poor girl sobbed for an hour after that, and reproved her heart for
+the image of a god it had set up. She tried to overthrow the idol from
+its inner shrine; she tried to change it to a grim symbol of hate; she
+pressed her face to the coarse herbage, and tore the sod with her
+fingers.
+
+"Miwandi! Come to me, little one," cried the man from the edge of the
+cliff.
+
+Her anger, her bitterness, vanished like thinnest smoke. She sprang up
+and ran to him. He drew her to his side, and with his right hand pointed
+southward across the glinting deep.
+
+"The _Cristobal_!" he cried. "Good God, I'll stake my life on it!"
+
+So intense was his satisfaction at the sight of those unmistakable
+topsails that his selfish affection for the woman lighted again. He
+pressed his lips to the tear-wet cheek; and immediately the simple
+creature was in the seventh heaven of bliss.
+
+While the gray flake of sail expanded on the horizon, Pierre d'Antons
+and the woman hurriedly and roughly rebuilt the walls of the fireplace,
+lit and fed a blaze, and piled it high with moss and rotten bark. The
+thick pillar of smoke arose like a tree, and bent in the moderate wind.
+Miwandi busied herself with breaking the wood to the required length and
+carrying damp moss. For several minutes the smoke was allowed to ascend
+in an unbroken shaft. Then D'Antons cut it off for a few seconds, let it
+rise again, broke it again, and again let it stream aloft,
+uninterrupted. He had signalled his name according to the code of the
+_Cristobal_.
+
+The welcome ship gradually enlarged to the eager eyes of the watchers on
+the cape. North, east, and south there was no other sail in sight. At
+last three flags ran up to the topforemast and fluttered out. The
+question was read instantly by D'Antons, who returned to his fire and
+interrupted the stream of smoke five times in quick succession. The
+translation of that was "All's well. You may approach without danger."
+
+A message of congratulation appeared promptly against the bellying
+foresail of the _Cristobal_; and the watchers saw the rolls of white
+foam gleaming like wool under the forging of the bow.
+
+D'Antons was cordially welcomed aboard the _Cristobal_. Miwandi was
+received without question. The acting commander of the ship was a
+grizzled Spanish mariner by the name of Silva,--a fellow steeped in
+crime and uncertain of temper, yet possessed of a marvellous devotion
+for D'Antons, which was due to an act of kindness performed by the
+Frenchman years before, in the town of Panama.
+
+Silva was delighted to find his captain alive and ready for the high
+seas again. He asked no questions concerning his adventures until more
+than one bottle of wine had been emptied, and the captain's
+travel-stained garments had been exchanged for the best the cabin
+lockers contained. Miwandi, too, was reclothed; and the beauty and
+softness of the silks that were presented to her fairly turned her
+little head. She did not know that the fair French lady for whom they
+had been made, in gay Paris, and who had worn them only three months
+ago, was somewhere in the dredge of emerald tides between the Bahaman
+reefs. She knew only that the texture and colours delighted her skin and
+her eyes. So, in her narrow room, she attired herself in the finery,
+toiling at the ties and lacing with unfamiliar fingers.
+
+In the captain's cabin D'Antons motioned to his friend to close the
+door. He had consumed a soup, and was still engaged with the wine.
+Silva returned to his seat at the table, after a final reassuring push
+on the bolt of the door. It is always wise to be sure that the door you
+considered fastened is fastened indeed. Then, with their elbows on the
+table and their heads close together, the more salient incidents of
+D'Antons' sojourn in the wilderness were rehearsed and keenly listened
+to. Silva displayed a prodigious indignation at the story of the
+captain's failure to win the affections of Mistress Westleigh. At word
+of Sir Ralph's death (and the murder became a desperate duel in the
+telling), a crooked smile of satisfaction distorted his face. As to what
+he heard of Kingswell--ah, but oaths in two languages were quite
+inadequate for the expression of his feelings.
+
+"We'll inspect the heart of that cockerel--and the gizzard as well,"
+said he, and drank off his wine.
+
+"Leave him to my hand," replied D'Antons, darkly.
+
+Silva nodded, with a sinister leer.
+
+"So it's 'bout ship and blow the little stockade into everlasting
+damnation," he said.
+
+"Ay, but the lady must come to no harm in the attack," warned the
+captain.
+
+So the _Cristobal_ headed northward, and the evil-looking rascals of
+her crew were informed that the morrow would bring them some work to
+limber their muscles. The information was received with cheers, in which
+hearty English voices were not lacking.
+
+However, in the early morning, Fate, in the shape of the _Heart of the
+West_, turned the danger away from the little fort.
+
+"She looks like a likely prize," said D'Antons, when he sighted the
+ship. The old fever awoke in his blood. He longed for the old
+excitement.
+
+"Give chase," he ordered. "The fort can well do without the honour of
+our attentions for a little while."
+
+So the chase was carried on, as has been described in a previous
+chapter, and went merrily enough for the _Cristobal_ until the
+unexpected shot from the stern of the quarry brought down her
+foretopmast and its weight of sail. But before that had happened,
+D'Antons, unrecognizable himself in new clothes and a great hat, marked
+Bernard Kingswell on the poop of the _Heart of the West_. He cursed like
+a madman, or a true-bred pirate, when his ship was crippled.
+
+"The fort may rot of old age in the midst of its desolation," he cried
+to Silva, "for what I would have is aboard that cursed craft ahead."
+
+A few days later, with their spars repaired, they picked up a small
+fishing-boat, and learned from the skipper that a great ship from the
+north had entered the harbour of St. John's. So, knowing the virtue of
+precaution, they impressed the master and crew and scuttled the little
+vessel. Then, with admirable patience, they cruised up and down, far to
+seaward of the brown cliffs which guarded that hospitable port.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE
+
+
+The dainty bride leaned on her husband's arm, and together they looked
+back and waved farewell. Flags answered them from the battery above the
+cliff. Then she turned to the bridegroom and gazed into his eyes with so
+radiant and tender a smile that, all forgetful of the abashed salt at
+the tiller, he drew her to him and kissed her on brow and lips.
+
+"Dear wife," he murmured, and could say no more.
+
+Both were brave in marriage finery,--she in a pearl gown of brocaded
+silk, a scarlet cloak lined with white fur, and a feathered hat, and he
+in buff and blue from the wardrobe of the commandant of St. John's.
+
+They gazed astern, across the dancing azure, to the brown and purple
+rocks beautified by the sunlight and crystal air. "Homeward bound," she
+whispered, happily, and turned her face from the mellowing coast of the
+wilderness to the wide east.
+
+Together they walked forward to the break of the high deck. A fair wind
+bellied the sails. The tarred rigging and scraped spars shone like
+polished metal. The men, in their brightest sashes and cleanest shirts
+(in honour of the occasion), went about their duties briskly. The mates
+wore their side-arms; both watches were on deck, with the gaiety of the
+days ashore still in their hearts. Not a soul was below save the cook
+(who sorted provisions in the forward lazaret), Maggie Stone (who sulked
+in her mistress's cabin because she had not been asked to act as
+bridesmaid), and old Trowley, with wrists and legs in irons and a
+dawning repentance in his sullen blood.
+
+An hour later Ouenwa ascended the starboard ladder from the waist, and
+stood beside Master and Mistress Kingswell. He wore a dashing outfit,
+which had been made to his shape by the garrison tailor in the days
+preceding the marriage. A sword was at his belt; lace hung at his
+wrists; his dark hair, slightly curled, fell to his shoulders. His
+tanned cheeks were flushed with the excitement passed and the adventures
+anticipated. Only the dark alertness of his eyes and the litheness of
+his actions bespoke his primitive upbringing. Though he had been named
+"dreamer" by his people, he gave promise now of a life of deeds rather
+than of dreams.
+
+"Do you mourn the little stockade and the great river, lad?" queried
+Kingswell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.
+
+Ouenwa shook his head emphatically and glanced knowingly aloft. "Why
+should I mourn them?" he asked. "Am I not bound for castles and great
+houses, for books in number as the leaves of the birch-tree, and for
+villages filled all day with warriors, and with ladies almost as fair as
+Mistress Beatrix? Shall I not read in the books, and see horses, greater
+than caribou, bearing gentlemen upon their backs? Then why would you
+have me mourn? The land behind us is not a good land. My fathers were
+brave and wise, and led their warriors to a hundred victories; but they
+were murdered by their own people. I care not for such a country."
+
+"True, lad," replied Kingswell, "and yet, even in glorious England, you
+may find ingratitude as black as that of Panounia. Even kings and queens
+have been guilty of ingratitude."
+
+Beatrix patted the moralist's arm.
+
+"Why think of it now?" she said, gently, "and why fill the dear lad with
+doubt? Only if he climbs high need he fear disloyalty. As a plain
+soldier, he shall never lack the protection of such humble friends as
+ourselves."
+
+Just then a lookout warned them of a sail on the larboard bow. Kingswell
+and Ouenwa went forward to the forecastle-head. Tom Bent (now of the
+rank of chief gunner) was already there, peering away under the lift of
+the jibs. The second mate was with him.
+
+"A large vessel," remarked Kingswell.
+
+"Ay, and we's spoke mun afore now, sir," replied Bent. He was too intent
+on gazing ahead to see the question in the captain's face. But the mate
+saw it and answered it.
+
+"She's run up a new spar, sir, an' mended her for'ard riggin'," said he,
+"an' like enough she thinks she'll take the cost of damages out o' us."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Kingswell, with a note of relish. Then he remembered
+Beatrix, and a shadow darkened his eyes for a moment. "Pipe both
+watches," he said, quietly. "Arm all hands. Clear decks for action.
+Master Gunner, you must fight your barkers to-day for more than the
+glory of England."
+
+He returned to his wife and told her of the menace. She heard the news
+with an inward sickening, but with no outward tremor. All her fear was
+for him.
+
+"Promise me that you will go to our cabin when I give the word," he
+asked.
+
+She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Your obedient, humble wife, my lord,"
+she whispered, with a brave attempt at gaiety.
+
+He caught her hands quickly to his shoulders and kissed her lips. He
+felt them tremble against his.
+
+"I must help with the preparations, dear heart," he murmured, and
+hurried away. He consulted the mates and Tom Bent as to the advisability
+of beating back for St. John's. The mariners shook their heads. They
+held that the _Heart of the West_ could make a better fight on her
+present course; and that the battle would be decided, one way or
+another, before the garrison could send them any help. As if to confirm
+their views, the wind freshened to such a degree, and held so fair
+astern, that to beat to windward would require all hands at the sails,
+and put gunnery out of the question.
+
+"Like enough they be double our strength in men," said Tom Bent, "but we
+equals 'em in guns and seamanship, sir, an' ye may lay to that."
+
+So the _Heart of the West_ held on her course under a press of canvas.
+
+After Kingswell and Beatrix had talked together for some time, they
+went forward, hand in hand, to the break of the poop. Tom Bent called
+the ship's company to attention. The brave fellows, stripped to their
+breeches and shirts in readiness for the approaching encounter, looked
+up, and such as wore caps doffed them respectfully.
+
+"My brave lads," cried the lady, in a voice that rang clear above the
+stir of wind and wave and tugging cordage, "but this morning you made
+merry for my sake; and now, in so little a while, you will risk your
+lives in defending your ship and me from that pirate whom we have
+already encountered. My husband,--your captain,--like a true-bred
+English sailor, is already sure of victory. A generous mariner, he has
+promised me the prize; and now I promise it to you. In a few weeks'
+time, my lads, we shall sell our enemy in Bristol docks. Not a penny of
+her price shall go to owner or captain; but all into the pockets of this
+brave company. And should any man fall in the encounter, I pledge my
+word that those dependent upon him shall lack nothing that money can
+give them during the remainder of their lives. Now, fight well, for God
+and for England."
+
+She looked down at them, smiling divinely.
+
+"And for the Lady Beatrix," shouted a youthful seaman.
+
+Cheers rang aloft; bearded lips and shaven lips bawled her name; and
+great, toil-seared hands were brandished, and stark blades gleamed in
+the sunlight.
+
+"God bless you, lady," they roared.
+
+She leaned forward and blew a kiss from her lips with both dainty hands.
+
+"God strengthen you, brave hearts," she cried, softly; and the nearer of
+the loyal mariners saw the tears shimmering beneath her lashes.
+
+The _Heart of the West_ held on her course, breaking the waves in
+fountains from her forging bow. The _Cristobal_ raced down upon her with
+the wind square abeam. It was evidently her intention to cross the
+merchantman's bows and rake her with a broadside.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_ every man was at his post, and the
+matches were like pale stars in the hands of the gunners. The second
+mate was on the forecastle-head, beside the bow-chaser. The first mate
+stood in the waist. Kingswell paced the poop, fore and aft. Each
+measured and calculated the brisk approach of the _Cristobal_ with
+unwinking eyes, and considered the straining sails overhead and the
+speed of the wind.
+
+Still the pirate boiled down upon them, leaning over in the press of
+the half-gale. It was evident to Kingswell that she would pass across
+his bows within a distance of a hundred yards, unless something was done
+to prevent it. He spoke quietly to the men at the tiller, and called an
+order to the officer amidships. Twenty seconds later he gave the signal.
+The tiller was pushed over, the yards were hauled around, and the good
+ship swung to the north and took the wind on her larboard beam. Now the
+vessels leaned on the same course, and were not two hundred yards apart.
+Almost at the same moment they exchanged broadsides, and the challenging
+shouts of men mingled with the roaring of the little cannonades. The
+smoke from the merchantman's ports blew down, in a stifling cloud, upon
+the enemy. The _Cristobal_ fell off before the wind in an unaccountable
+manner. The _Heart of the West_ luffed, in the hope of bringing her
+heavy after-battery to bear, saw that the manoeuvre could not be
+accomplished, and flew about on her old course.
+
+"Her tiller is shot away," cried Kingswell. A cheer rang along the decks
+and penetrated the cabins fore and aft. Beatrix heard it, and thanked
+God. Old Trowley heard it, and, beating his manacled wrists against the
+bulkhead, roared to be cast loose that he might bear a hand in the
+fight.
+
+From that first exchange of round-shot, the _Heart of the West_ escaped
+without hurt, owing to the fact that the enemy's guns, elevated by the
+pressure of the gale upon her windward side, sent their missiles high
+between the upper spars of the merchantman. The _Cristobal_, however,
+was hulled by two balls, and had her tiller carried away by a third;
+for, just as her guns were elevated to harmlessness by the list of the
+deck, so were the merchantman's depressed to a deadly aim by the list of
+hers.
+
+Taking every advantage which a sound tiller and perfectly trimmed sails
+gave her over her enemy, the _Heart of the West_ raced after the
+buccaneer. Passing close astern, she raked her with her three larboard
+guns. Running on, and slanting across the wind's course more and more,
+she presently had her two after-guns to bear on the three-quarter target
+of the _Cristobal's_ starboard side. The range was middling; but, even
+so, the gunners sent up a prayer to Luck, so violent were the soarings
+and sinkings of the deck. The shots were followed by a tottering of high
+sails above the _Cristobal_, and with a flapping and rending, the
+mizzenmast fell forward and stripped the main of three of her yards.
+
+Now the disabled, tillerless _Cristobal_, kept before the wind by a
+great sweep, fled heavily. Her decks were cluttered with snarled
+wreckage. Half a dozen of her crew were injured. Her commander and
+Master Silva were mad with rage at the unexpected turn of events.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_, Ouenwa had just pointed out to Kingswell
+the dashing figure of Pierre d'Antons.
+
+"I take it that this is his last play," remarked the young captain, with
+a grim smile.
+
+For another hour the merchantman sailed about the pirate at her will,
+pouring broadside after broadside into hull and rigging, and sustaining
+but little damage herself. Now and then musket-shots were exchanged. Two
+of Kingswell's men were wounded, and were promptly carried below, where
+their hurts were tenderly bandaged by Mistress Kingswell and Maggie
+Stone.
+
+In a lull of the firing, the cook came running to the poop, with word
+that Trowley was in a fair way to make matchwood of his surroundings.
+
+"What ails him now?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"He be shoutin' for a chance at the Frenchers," replied the cook.
+Kingswell considered the matter, with a calculating eye on the enemy.
+"Cast him loose," said he, "and give him a chance to prove himself an
+English sailor man."
+
+Trowley appeared on deck just as a shot from the _Cristobal_ struck the
+teakwood rail of the _Heart of the West_ amidships. A flying splinter
+whirred past his head. He brandished his cutlass, and bawled a threat
+across the rocking water. The men at the guns welcomed him with laughter
+and cheers.
+
+"Ye be in for the kill, master," cried one.
+
+Kingswell beckoned the ex-commander aft, and met him at the top of the
+ladder. Trowley looked guiltily this way and that.
+
+"I have let you up, my man," said the captain, "that you may bear a hand
+in the fight. I am willing to forget your knaveries of the past, and
+remember only your actions of to-day."
+
+Trowley nodded, and for an instant his eyes met Kingswell's.
+
+"You can see what we have done to the enemy," said the other. "But I am
+in no mind to break her up with this everlasting cannonading. What would
+you suggest?"
+
+Trowley straightened his great shoulders and lifted his head. "Lay her
+aboard, sir," said he, "an' make fast."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+OVER THE SIDE
+
+
+With a fearful grinding of timbers and rattling of spars, the
+merchantman's larboard bow scraped along the enemy's side.
+Boarding-irons were thrown across from the forecastle-deck. With a yell,
+the men of Devon sprang from rail to rail, and hurled themselves upon
+the mongrels who clustered to repulse them. Cutlasses skirred in the
+air; and some struck clanging metal, and some met with a softer
+resistance. Screams of rage and pain, and shouts of grim exultation,
+rang above the conflict.
+
+Old Trowley hacked a place for himself in the thickest of the press, and
+laid about him with such desperate fury and such fearful oaths that the
+buccaneers hustled each other to get out of his way.
+
+Kingswell, in the waist of the _Cristobal_, encountered D'Antons, and
+claimed him for his own. As their blades rasped together, D'Antons began
+the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's death in the wilderness. Kingswell
+heard it without comment. The tumult about them gradually subsided, as
+man after man of the pirate crew was cut down or bound. Sail was
+shortened on both vessels, and the victors, sound and wounded alike,
+gathered about the two swordsmen. A strained silence took possession of
+the watchers. The rough fellows understood that their captain had an old
+score to settle with the buccaneer. They were fascinated by the
+lightning play of the rapiers. They noted every movement of foot and
+hand, blade and eye. When D'Antons snarled an insulting taunt at his
+adversary, they cursed softly. When their captain pricked the pirate's
+shoulder, a husky murmur of admiration went through them. So intent were
+they on the fight that they failed to notice the approach of Miwandi,
+the Beothic woman, until she was in their midst. But they became aware
+of her presence when she screamed with rage and flung herself upon
+Kingswell.
+
+"Pull the wench off," they cried, and made a futile grab at the mad
+figure.
+
+Kingswell, quick as a cat for all his Saxon colouring, wrenched himself
+clear of her, avoided the slash of her knife by a half-inch, and lunged
+through D'Antons' guard. The buccaneer pitched forward so suddenly and
+heavily that the rapier was wrenched from the Englishman's hand. The
+hilt struck the deck. The slim blade darted out between D'Antons'
+shoulders a full two-thirds of its length. He sprawled on his face,
+gulping his last breath; and the hilt of Kingswell's weapon knocked
+spasmodically on the red planking of the deck. The woman, stunned with
+grief, was led away by two of the seamen.
+
+By the time the duel was over, the long, northern twilight was drawing
+to a close. The decks of the _Cristobal_ were cleared of the dead bodies
+and the wreckage of guns and spars. The torn rigging was partially
+repaired; a few sails were set; and the shattered tiller was replaced.
+The prisoners (wounded and bound together, they did not number a dozen)
+were divided between the ships. A prize-crew of seven, under the first
+mate's command, went aboard the _Cristobal_. Then the boarding-irons
+were cast loose, and the vessels fell away from each other to a safe
+distance.
+
+Miwandi's grief was desperate. Beatrix strove to comfort her, but failed
+signally. Her position was evident enough to every one who had seen her
+frantic attempt to assist D'Antons in the encounter with Kingswell.
+Beatrix guessed the story. Her face burned at remembrance of her
+one-time companionship with D'Antons--of the days before she fully knew
+his nature, and often sat at cards and chess with him in the little
+cabin in the wilderness--and of the days before that, when he was one of
+her admirers in London. Even now she did not know him for her father's
+murderer. Kingswell had decided to keep that to himself, until some day
+in the happy future, when the wilderness should be fainter than the
+memory of a dream in his wife's mind.
+
+For three days the ships kept within sight of each other. On the fourth,
+a gale of wind drove them apart; but Kingswell felt no anxiety for the
+prize, for she had received no serious damage to her hull in the bitter
+encounter that had befallen on his wedding-day.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_ the wounded improved daily; the prisoners
+cursed their irons and their luck; the crew never pulled on a rope
+without a song to lighten the task; old Trowley, promoted from
+imprisonment to the position of second mate, worked like a Trojan, and
+Beatrix and Bernard sped the hours in the high and golden atmosphere of
+love and youth. The Beothic woman, however, felt no response in her
+heart to the stir and happiness about her. Her world had fallen in a
+desolation of emptiness, and her very soul was weary of the sequence of
+day and night, night and day. She would not eat. She sobbed quietly,
+without rest, in her darkened berth. Her ears were deaf to words of
+comfort, even when they were spoken in her own language by Ouenwa. She
+asked no questions. Ever since that first outbreak, at sight of her
+lover's danger, she accepted the will of her pitiless gods without signs
+of either anger or wonder.
+
+One still night, when the waves rocked under the faint light of the
+stars without any breaking of foam, and the wind was just sufficient to
+swell the sails from the yards, the man at the tiller was startled from
+his reveries by a splash close alongside. He called to the officer of
+the watch, who had heard nothing, and told him of the sound. They
+scanned the sea on all sides and listened intently. They saw only the
+black, vanishing crests. They heard only the whispering of the ship on
+her way.
+
+"A fish," said the mate. The other agreed with him.
+
+In the morning Miwandi's berth was discovered to be empty,--no trace of
+her was found alow or aloft.
+
+The remaining days of the passage slipped by without any especial
+incident. Winds served. Seas were considerate of the good ship's
+safety. No fogs endangered the young lovers' homeward voyage. Every
+night there was fiddling in the forecastle and the chanting of rude
+ballads. And sometimes in the cabin a violin sang and sang, as if the
+very heart of happiness were under the sounding-board, and Love himself
+in the strings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE MOTHER
+
+
+Dame Kingswell, the widow of that good merchant of Bristol whom Queen
+Elizabeth had knighted in her latter days, sat in her chamber and looked
+down upon a pleasant garden beneath the window. She was alone. Her
+garments, though of rich materials, were sombre in hue. She wore no
+personal ornaments save two rings on her left hand, and a chain of gold,
+bearing a small cross of the same metal, at her breast. Her thick hair
+was snow-white. In her youth it had been as black as her husband's had
+been flaxen. Her complexion held scarcely more colour than her hair. On
+her knees a book of devotional poetry, splendidly illuminated about the
+margins, lay open. But her thin hands were folded over the page, and her
+gaze was upon the shrubbery of the garden. The time was early evening.
+The sunlight was mellow gold. The hedges, shrubs, and fountain on the
+lawns threw eastward shadows.
+
+The chamber in which the widow sat was large and scantily furnished. A
+few portraits, by masters of the brush, hung along the walls. A
+prayer-desk, with a red hassock before it, stood in a corner.
+
+A light rapping sounded on the door. The lady turned her eyes from the
+bright garden below her window. She saw the door open, and a beautiful
+girl in cloak and hat enter the room. The stranger advanced quickly, in
+a whispering of silks, and in her glowing hands took the widow's
+bloodless fingers.
+
+"My dear," said the elder woman, kindly, "I fear my memory is flitting.
+I do not recall your winsome face. Can it be that you are one of Sir
+Felix Brown's lasses, grown to such a fine young lady in London?"
+
+The girl sank on her knees and kissed the pale hands lightly and
+prettily.
+
+"My name is Beatrix Kingswell," she murmured.
+
+The good dame was sorely puzzled. She tried, in vain, to connect this
+lovely creature with any branches of the late knight's family.
+
+"Then you are a kinswoman of mine?" she queried. "Pray do not kneel
+there, my dear. Come sit in the window and tell me who you are."
+
+But the stranger did not move.
+
+"I am your daughter," she said. "And--oh, do not swoon, my
+mother--Bernard is at the door, awaiting your permission to enter."
+
+The widow closed her eyes for a second, leaning back in her chair. She
+recovered herself swiftly and clutched the skirts of the girl, who was
+now standing, ready to run to the door and admit her husband.
+
+"What story is this?" she cried, incredulous. "I have no daughter. And
+Bernard, my son, has lain dead in a far land these weary months."
+
+"Nay, dear madam," replied the girl. "Nay, he is not dead. But let me go
+to the door, and you will see him with your own eyes. He waits at your
+threshold, happy and well."
+
+The older woman maintained her hold of her visitor's gown. "And who are
+you, to bring me word of my son's return?" she asked, with a ring of
+shrewdness and suspicion in her voice. Dimly, she feared that she was
+affording sport to some heartless person; for this sudden tale of her
+son's safety, brought by this gay young lady, had broken upon her
+pensive reveries like an impossible scene out of a play.
+
+"I am his wife," replied Beatrix. With an effort, she pulled her skirts
+away from the clutching fingers, and sped to the door. Throwing it open,
+she admitted Bernard. The youth sprang to where his mother sat, and
+caught her up from her chair against his breast. With a glad,
+inarticulate cry, she slipped her arms around his neck and clung
+hysterically.
+
+
+Five days after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_, the _Cristobal_
+sailed into port. By that time the story of her capture was well known
+in the town, and a crowd of citizens gathered on the docks to welcome
+her. Master Kingswell put her up for sale. In the end, he bought her
+himself, for something more than she was worth. Every penny of the money
+Beatrix gave to the brave fellows who had fought and sailed their ship
+so valorously on her eventful wedding-day. Only that rugged and wayward
+master mariner, John Trowley, failed to show himself for a share of the
+gold. He had not the courage to run a chance of another meeting with
+Lady Kingswell.
+
+Of the future of Bernard, Beatrix, and the lad Ouenwa, something is
+written in the old records in an exceeding dry vein. Of the fate of the
+little fort on Gray Goose River, little is known. Some chroniclers
+maintain that the French overpowered it; others are as certain that the
+settlers moved to Conception Bay, and there established themselves so
+securely that, even to-day, descendants of those Triggets and those
+Donnellys cultivate their little crops, cure their fish, and sail their
+fore-and-afters around the coast to St. John's.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44387 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44387 ***</div>
+
+<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="bold2">BROTHERS OF PERIL</p>
+
+<p class="bold2">A Story of Old Newfoundland</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="box">
+<h2><i>WORKS OF<br />THEODORE ROBERTS</i></h2>
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="decoration" /></div>
+
+<table summary="works">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><i>The Red Feathers</i></td>
+    <td><i>$1.50</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><i>Brothers of Peril</i></td>
+    <td><i>$1.50</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><i>Hemming the Adventurer</i></td>
+    <td><i>$1.50</i></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="decoration" /></div>
+
+<p class="bold"><i>L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY</i><br /><i>New England Building, Boston, Mass.</i></p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/i004.jpg" alt="A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT NAMELESS WILDERNESS" /></div>
+
+<p class="bold">"A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT<br />NAMELESS WILDERNESS"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/i007.jpg" alt="title page" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>Brothers of Peril</h1>
+
+<p class="bold">A Story of Old Newfoundland</p>
+
+<p class="bold">By</p>
+
+<p class="bold">Theodore Roberts</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Author of</i> "Hemming, the Adventurer"</p>
+
+<p class="bold"><i>Illustrated by</i> H. C. Edwards</p>
+
+<p class="bold"><i>Boston</i> L. C. Page &amp;<br />Company <i>Mdccccv</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1905</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />(INCORPORATED)</p>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="center space-above">Published June, 1905<br />Second Impression, March, 1908</p>
+
+<p class="center space-above"><i>COLONIAL PRESS<br />
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />Boston, Mass., U.S.A.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>Preface</h2>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<p>During the three centuries directly following John Cabot's discovery of
+Newfoundland, that unfortunate island was the sport of careless kings,
+selfish adventurers, and diligent pirates. While England, France, Spain,
+and Portugal were busy with courts and kings, and with spectacular
+battles, their fishermen and adventurers toiled together and fought
+together about the misty headlands of that far island. Fish, not glory,
+was their quest! Full cargoes, sweetly cured, was their desire&mdash;and let
+fame go hang!</p>
+
+<p>The merchants of England undertook the guardianship of the "Newfounde
+Land." In greed, in valour, and in achievement they won their mastery.
+Their greed was a two-edged sword which cut all 'round. It hounded the
+aborigines; it bullied the men of France and Spain; it discouraged the
+settlement of the land by stout hearts of whatever nationality. It was
+the dream of those merchant adventurers of Devon to have the place
+remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> for ever nothing but a fishing-station. They faced the pirates,
+the foreign fishers, the would-be settlers, and the natural hardships
+with equal fortitude and insolence. When some philosopher dreamed of
+founding plantations in the king's name and to the glory of God,
+England, and himself, then would the greedy merchants slay or cripple
+the philosopher's dream in the very palace of the king. Ay, they were
+powerful enough at court, though so little remarked in the histories of
+the times! But, ever and anon, some gentleman adventurer, or humble
+fisherman from the ships, would escape their vigilance and strike a blow
+at the inscrutable wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>The fishing admirals loom large in the history of the island. They were
+the hands and eyes of the wealthy merchants. The master of the first
+vessel to enter any harbour at the opening of the season was, for a
+greater or lesser period of time, admiral and judge of that harbour. It
+was his duty to parcel out anchorage, and land on which to dry fish, to
+each ship in the harbour; to see that no sailors from the fleet escaped
+into the woods; to discourage any visions of settlement which sight of
+the rugged forests might raise in the romantic heads of the gentlemen of
+the fleet; to see that all foreigners were hustled on every occasion,
+and to take the best of everything for himself. Needless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> to say, it was
+a popular position with the hard-fisted skippers.</p>
+
+<p>In the narratives of the early explorers frequent mention is made of the
+peaceful nature of the aborigines. At first they displayed unmistakable
+signs of friendly feeling. They were all willingness to trade with the
+loud-mouthed strangers from over the eastern horizon. They helped at the
+fishing, and at the hunting of seals and caribou. They bartered
+priceless pelts for iron hatchets and glass trinkets. Later, however, we
+read of treachery and murder on the parts of both the visitors and the
+natives. The itch of slave-dealing led some of the more daring
+shipmasters and adventurers to capture, and carry back to England,
+Beothic braves and maidens. Many of the kidnapped savages were kindly
+treated and made companions of by English noblemen and gentlefolk. It is
+recorded that more than one Beothic brave sported a sword at his hip in
+fashionable places of London Town before Death cut the silken bonds of
+his motley captivity.</p>
+
+<p>Master John Guy, an alderman of Bristol, who obtained a Royal Charter in
+1610, to settle and develop Newfoundland, wrote of the Beothics as a
+kindly and mild-mannered race. Of their physical characteristics he
+says: "They are of middle size, broad-chested, and very erect.... Their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>
+hair is diverse, some black, some brown, and some yellow."</p>
+
+<p>As to the ultimate fate of the Beothics there are several suppositions.
+An aged Micmac squaw, who lives on Hall's Bay, Notre Dame Bay, says that
+her father, in his youth, knew the last of the Beothics. At that
+time&mdash;something over a hundred years ago&mdash;the race numbered between one
+and two hundred souls. They made periodical excursions to the salt water
+to fish, and to trade with a few friendly whites and Nova Scotian
+Micmacs. But, for the most part, they avoided the settlements. They had
+reason enough for so doing, for many of the settlers considered a
+lurking Beothic as fair a target for his buckshot as a bear or caribou.
+One November day a party of Micmac hunters tried to follow the remnant
+of the broken race on their return trip to the great wilderness of the
+interior. The trail was lost in a fall of snow on the night of the first
+day of the journey. And there, with the obliterated trail, ends the
+world's knowledge of the original inhabitants of Newfoundland; save of
+one woman of the race named Mary March, who died, a self-ordained
+fugitive about the outskirts of civilization, some ninety years ago.</p>
+
+<p>To-day there are a few bones in the museum at St. John's. One hears
+stories of grassy circles <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>beside the lakes and rivers, where wigwams
+once stood. Flint knives and arrow-heads are brought to light with the
+turning of the farmer's furrow. But the language of the lost tribe is
+forgotten, and the history of it is unrecorded.</p>
+
+<p>In the following tale I have drawn the wilderness of that far time in
+the likeness of the wilderness as I knew it, and loved it, a few short
+years ago. The seasons bring their oft-repeated changes to brown barren,
+shaggy wood, and empurpled hill; but the centuries pass and leave no
+mark. I have dared to resurrect an extinct tribe for the purposes of
+fiction. I have drawn inspiration from the spirit of history rather than
+the letter! But the heart of the wilderness, and the hearts of men and
+women, I have pictured, in this romance of olden time, as I know them to-day.</p>
+
+<p class="right">T. R.</p>
+
+<p><i>November, 1904.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<table summary="CONTENTS">
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="left"><small>CHAPTER</small></td>
+    <td><small>PAGE</small></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>I.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Boy Wins His Man-Name</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>II.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Old Craftsman by the Salt Water</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>III.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Fight in the Meadow</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>IV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ouenwa Sets Out on a Vague Quest</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>V.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Admiral of the Harbour</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>VI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Fangs of the Wolf Slayer</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>VII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Silent Village</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>VIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Letter for Ouenwa</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>IX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">An Unchartered Plantation</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>X.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Gentry at Fort Beatrix</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Setting-in of Winter</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Meditation and Action</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Signs of a Divided House</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XIV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Trick of Play-Acting</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Hidden Menace</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XVI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Cloven Hoof</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XVII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Confidence of Youth</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XVIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Events and Reflections</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XIX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Two of a Kind</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">By Advice of Black Feather</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Seeking of the Tribesmen</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Brave Days for Young Hearts</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Betrothed</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>XXIV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Fire-lit Battle. Ouenwa's Return</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Fate Deals Cards of Both Colours in the Little Fort</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXVI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Pierre d'Antons Parries Another Thrust</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXVII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Grim Turn of March Madness</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXVIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Running of the Ice</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXIX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Wolf Slayer Comes and Goes; and Trowley Receives a Visitor</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Maggie Stone Takes Much Upon Herself</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">While the Spars Are Scraped</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The First Stage of the Homeward Voyage Is Bravely Accomplished</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">In the Merry City</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXIV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Pierre d'Antons Signals His Old Comrades, and Again Puts to Sea</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Bridegroom Attends to Other Matters Than Love</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXVI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Over the Side</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXVII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Mother</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="bold2">BROTHERS OF PERIL</p>
+
+<p class="bold">A Story of Old Newfoundland</p>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER I.</span> <span class="smaller">A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME</span></h2>
+
+<p>The boy struck again with his flint knife, and again the great wolf tore
+at his shoulder. The eyes of the boy were fierce as those of the beast.
+Neither wavered. Neither showed any sign of pain. The dark spruces stood
+above them, with the first shadows of night in their branches; and the
+western sky was stained red where the sun had been. Twice the wolf
+dropped his antagonist's shoulder, in a vain attempt to grip the throat.
+The boy, pressed to the ground, flung himself about like a dog, and
+repeatedly drove his clumsy weapon into the wolf's shaggy side.</p>
+
+<p>At last the fight ended. The great timber-wolf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> lay stretched dead in
+awful passiveness. His fangs gleamed like ivory between the scarlet jaws
+and black lips. A shimmer of white menaced the quiet wilderness from the
+recesses of the half-shut eyelids.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes the boy lay still, with the fingers of his left hand
+buried in the wolf's mane, and his right hand a blot of red against the
+beast's side. Presently, staggering on bent legs, he went down to the
+river and washed his mangled arm and shoulder in the cool water. The
+shock of it cleared his brain and steadied his eyes. He waded into the
+current to his middle, stooped to the racing surface, and drank
+unstintingly. Strength flooded back to blood and muscle, and the slender
+limbs regained their lightness.</p>
+
+<p>By this time a few pale stars gleamed on the paler background of the
+eastern sky. A long finger-streak of red, low down on the hilltops,
+still lightened the west. A purple band hung above it like a belt of
+magic wampum&mdash;the war-belt of some mighty god. Above that, Night, the
+silent hunter, set up the walls of his lodge of darkness.</p>
+
+<p>The boy saw nothing of the changing beauty of the sky. He might read it,
+knowingly enough, for the morrow's rain or frost; but beyond that he
+gave it no heed. He returned to the dead wolf, and set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> about the
+skinning of it with his rude blade. He worked with skill and speed. Soon
+head and pelt were clear of the red carcass. After collecting his arrows
+and bow, he flung the prize across his shoulder and started along a
+faint trail through the spruces.</p>
+
+<p>The trail which the boy followed seemed to lead away from the river by
+hummock and hollow; and yet it cunningly held to the course of the
+stream. Now the night was fallen. A soft wind brushed over in the
+tree-tops. The voices of the rapids smote across the air with a deeper
+note. As the boy moved quietly along, sharp eyes flamed at him, and
+sharp ears were pricked to listen. Forms silent as shadows faded away
+from his path, and questioning heads were turned back over sinewy
+shoulders, sniffing silently. They smelt the wolf and they smelt the
+man. They knew that there had been another violent death in the valley
+of the River of Three Fires.</p>
+
+<p>After walking swiftly for nearly an hour, following a path which less
+primitive eyes could not have found, the boy came out on a small meadow
+bright with fires. Nineteen or twenty conical wigwams, made of birch
+poles, bark, and caribou hides, stood about the meadow. In front of each
+wigwam burned a cooking-fire, for this was a land of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> much wood. The
+meadow was almost an island, having the river on two sides and a shallow
+lagoon cutting in behind, leaving only a narrow strip of alder-grown
+"bottom" by which one might cross dry-shod. The whole meadow, including
+the alders and a clump of spruces, was not more than five acres in extent.</p>
+
+<p>The boy halted in front of the largest lodge, and threw the wolfskin
+down before the fire. There he stood, straight and motionless, with an
+air of vast achievement about him. Two women, who were broiling meat at
+the fire, looked from the shaggy, blood-stained pelt to the stalwart
+stripling. They cried out to him, softly, in tones of love and
+admiration. Jaws and fangs and half-shut eyes appeared frightful enough
+in the red firelight, even in death.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! ah!" they cried, "what warrior has done this deed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now give me my man-name," demanded the boy.</p>
+
+<p>The older of the two women, his mother, tried to tend his wounded arm;
+but he shook her roughly away. She seemed accustomed to the treatment.
+Still clinging to him, she called him by a score of great names. A
+stalwart man, the chief of the village, strode from the dark interior of
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>nearest wigwam, and glanced from his son to the untidy mass of hair
+and skin. His eyes gleamed at sight of his boy's torn arm and the white
+teeth of the wolf.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf Slayer," he cried. He turned to the women. "Wolf Slayer," he
+repeated; "let this be his man-name&mdash;Wolf Slayer."</p>
+
+<p>So this boy, son of Panounia the chief, became, at the age of fourteen
+years, a warrior among his father's people.</p>
+
+<p>The inhabitants of that great island were all of one race. In history
+they are known as Beothics. At the time of this tale they were divided
+into two nations or tribes. Hate had set them apart from one another,
+breaking the old bond of blood. Each tribe was divided into numerous
+villages. The island was shared pretty evenly between the nations. Soft
+Hand was king of the Northerners. It was of one of his camps that the
+father of Wolf Slayer was chief.</p>
+
+<p>Soft Hand was a great chief, and wise beyond his generation. For more
+than fifty years he had held the richest hunting-grounds in the island
+against the enemy. His strength had been of both head and hand. Now he
+was stiff with great age. Now his hair was gray and scanty, and
+unadorned by flaming feathers of hawk and sea-bird. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> snows of eighty
+winters had drifted against the walls of his perishable but ever defiant
+lodges, and the suns of eighty summers had faded the pigments of his
+totem of the great Black Bear. Though he was slow of anger, and fair in
+judgment, his people feared him as they feared no other. Though he was
+gentle with the weak and young, and had honoured his parents in their
+old age and loved the wife of his youth, still the strongest warrior
+dared not sneer.</p>
+
+<p>The village of this mighty chief was situated at the head of Wind Lake.
+On the night of Wolf Slayer's adventure, Soft Hand and his grandson
+arrived at the lesser village on the River of Three Fires. They
+travelled in bark canoes and were accompanied by a dozen braves. The
+grandson of the old chief was a lad of about Wolf Slayer's age. He was
+slight of figure and dark of skin. His name was Ouenwa. He was a dreamer
+of strange things, and a maker of songs. He and Wolf Slayer sat together
+by the fire. Wolf Slayer held his wounded arm ever under the visitor's
+eyes, and talked endlessly of his deed. For a long time Ouenwa listened
+attentively, smiling and polite, as was his usual way with strangers.
+But at last he grew weary of his companion's talk. He wanted to listen,
+in peace, to the song of the river. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> could he understand what the
+rapids were saying with all this babbling of "knife" and "wolf" in his ears?</p>
+
+<p>"All this wind," he said, "would kill a pack of wolves, or even the
+black cave-devil himself."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no wind to-night," replied Wolf Slayer, glancing up at the
+trees.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a mighty wind blowing about this fire," said Ouenwa, "and it
+whistles altogether of a great warrior who slew a wolf."</p>
+
+<p>"At least that is not work for a dreamer," retorted the other, sullenly.
+Ouenwa's answer was a smile as soft and fleeting as the light-shadows of
+the fire.</p>
+
+<p>At an early hour of the next morning the great chief's party started
+up-stream in their canoes, on the return journey to Wind Lake. For hours
+Soft Hand brooded in silence, deaf to his grandson's hundred questions.
+He had grown somewhat moody in the last year. He gazed away to the
+forest-clad, mist-wreathed capes ahead, and heeded not the high piping
+of his dead son's child. His mind was busy with thoughts of the events
+of the past night. He recalled the tones of Panounia's voice with a
+shake of the head. He recalled the sullen smouldering of that stalwart
+chief's eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>. He sighed, and glanced at the lad in the forging craft
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"I grow old," he murmured. "The voice of my power is breaking to its
+last echo. My command over my people slips like a frozen thong of raw
+leather. And Panounia! What lurks in the dull brain of him?"</p>
+
+<p>The sun rose above the forest spires, clear and warm. The mists drew
+skyward and melted in the gold-tinted azure. Twillegs flew, piping,
+across the brown current of the river. Sandpipers, on down-bent wings,
+skimmed the pebbly shore. A kingfisher flashed his burnished feathers
+and screamed his strident challenge, ever an arrow-flight ahead of the
+voyagers. He warned the furtive folk of the great chief's approach.</p>
+
+<p>"Kingfisher would be a fitting name for the boy who killed the wolf,"
+said Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>The old man glanced at him sharply. His thin face was sombre with more
+than the shadow of years.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," he replied. "His is no empty cry. Beware of him, my son!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER II.</span> <span class="smaller">THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER</span></h2>
+
+<p>Montaw, the arrow-maker, dwelt alone at the head of a small bay. His
+home was half-wigwam, half-hut. The roof was of poles, partly covered
+with the hides of caribou and partly with a square of sail-cloth, which
+had been given him by a Basque fisherman in exchange for six beaver
+skins. The walls of the unusual lodge were of turf and stone. Here and
+there were signs of intercourse with the strangers out of the Eastern
+sea,&mdash;an iron fishhook, a scrap of gold lace, and a highly polished
+copper pot. Of these treasures the recluse was justly proud, for had he
+not acquired them at risk of sudden extinction by the breath of the
+clapping fire-stick?</p>
+
+<p>The arrow-maker was an old man. In his youth he had been a hunter of
+renown and a great traveller, and had sojourned long in the lodges of
+the Southern nation. He had loved a woman of that people,&mdash;and she had
+given him laughter in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>return for his devotion. Journeying back to his
+own hunting-grounds, he had planned a huge revenge. At once all his
+skill and bravery had been turned to less open ways than those of the
+lover and warrior. In little more than a year's time he had driven the
+tribes to a lasting and bitter war. Even now as he sat before the door
+of his lodge, he was shaping spear-heads and arrow-heads for the
+fighting men of Soft Hand's nation. Some arrows he made of jasper, and
+some of flint, and some of purple slate. Those of slate would break off
+in the wound. They were the grim old craftsman's pets.</p>
+
+<p>One day a young man from the valley of the River of Three Fires brought
+Montaw a string of fine trout, in payment for a spear-head. For awhile
+they talked together in the sunlight at the door of the lodge.</p>
+
+<p>"For the chase," said the old man, "I make the long shape of flint,
+three fingers wide, and to this I bind a long and heavy shaft. Such an
+arrow will hold in the side of the running deer, and may be plucked out
+after death."</p>
+
+<p>"I have even seen it, father," replied the young man, in supercilious
+tones; for he considered himself a mighty hunter.</p>
+
+<p>"For the battle," continued the arrow-maker,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> "I chip the flint and
+shape the narrow splinters of slate. All three are good in their way if
+the bow be strong&mdash;and the arm."</p>
+
+<p>The old craftsman made a song. It was rough as his arrow-heads.</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Arrows of gray and arrows of black</div>
+<div class="i1">Soon shall be red.</div>
+<div>What will the white moon say to the proud</div>
+<div class="i1">Warriors, dead?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,</div>
+<div class="i1">Arrows of slate.</div>
+<div>So, with the skill of my hands, I shape</div>
+<div class="i1">Arrows of hate.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Fly, my little ones, straight and true,</div>
+<div class="i1">Silent as sleep.</div>
+<div>Tell me, wind, of the flints I sow,</div>
+<div class="i1">What shall I reap?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Sorrow will come to their council-fires.</div>
+<div class="i1">Weeping and fear</div>
+<div>Will stalk to the heart of their great chief's lodge,</div>
+<div class="i1">Year after year.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"When the moon rides on the purple hills,</div>
+<div class="i1">Joyous of face,</div>
+<div>Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,</div>
+<div class="i1">Heads for the chase.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"When the chief's fire on the hilltop glows</div>
+<div class="i1">Like a red star,</div>
+<div>Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,</div>
+<div class="i1">Heads for the war.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>"Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,</div>
+<div class="i1">Arrows of slate.</div>
+<div>Thus, in the door of my lodge, I nurse</div>
+<div class="i1">Battle and hate!"</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>One evening, as he sat before his lodge looking seaward, his trained
+ears caught the sound of a faint call from the wooded hills behind. He
+did not turn his head or change his position. But he held his breath,
+the better to listen. Again came the cry, very weak and far away.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the voice of a woman," he said, and smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Cheerless and desolately gray, the light of the east faded into the
+desolate gray of the sea. Black, like stalking shadows, stood the little
+islands of the headlands. The last of the light died out like the heart
+of fire in the shroud of cooling ashes. Again came the cry, whispering
+across the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be the voice of a child, lost in the woods," said the
+arrow-maker. He rose from his seat and entered the lodge. He blew the
+coals of his fire back to a tiny flame. He drew up to it the burnt ends
+of faggots. Then he took in his hand another of his Eastern prizes&mdash;a
+broad-bladed knife&mdash;and started across the tumbled rocks toward the edge
+of the wood. Though old, he was still strong and tough of limb and
+courageous of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> heart. Sure and swift he made his way through the heavy
+growth of spruce. Once he paused for the space of a heart-beat, to make
+sure of his direction. Again and again was the piteous cry repeated.</p>
+
+<p>The old man kept up his tireless trot through underbrush and swamp, and
+displayed neither fatigue nor caution until he reached the bank of a
+narrow and turbulent stream. Here he drew into the shadow of a clump of
+firs. He lay close, and breathed heavily. By this time the moon had
+cleared the knolls. Its thin radiance flooded the wilderness. In the air
+was a whisper of gathering frost. The water of the little river twisted
+black and silver, and worried at the fanged rocks that tore it, with a
+voice of agony.</p>
+
+<p>The crying had ceased; but the eyes of the old craftsman questioned the
+farther shore with a gaze steady and keen. There seemed to be something
+wrong with the shadows. A bent figure slipped down to the edge of the
+stream where the water spun in an eddy. It dropped on hands and knees
+and crawled to the black and unstable lip of the tide. Again the cry
+rang abroad, thin and high above the complaining tumult of the current.
+The watcher left his hiding-place and waded the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> stream. At the edge of
+the spinning eddy he found a woman. She lay exhausted. A long shaft hung
+to her left shoulder. Blood trickled down her bare and rounded arm. The
+arrow-maker lifted her against his shoulder and bathed her face in the
+cool water until her eyelids lifted.</p>
+
+<p>"Chief," she whispered, "pluck out the arrow."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. His trade was with battle and death, but it was half
+a lifetime since he had felt the gushing of human blood on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," she cried, faintly, "I pray you, pluck it out. The pain of it
+eats into my spirit. It sprang to me from a little wood, bitter and
+noiseless&mdash;and I heard not so much as the twang of the string."</p>
+
+<p>The old man held her with his left arm. With strong and gentle fingers
+he worked the arrow in the wound. She quivered with the pain of it.
+Blood came more freely. He trembled at the hot touch of it across his
+fingers. He had dwelt so long in the quiet of his craft. Then the barbed
+blade came away from the wound, and he clutched it in his reeking palm.
+The woman sobbed with mingled pain and relief. The old man stepped into
+the moonlight and lifted the arrow to his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It is none of my making," he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>He heard the woman sobbing in the dark. Returning to her he bound her
+shoulder with his belt of dressed leather. Then, lifting her tenderly,
+he again forded the flashing current of the complaining river.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER III.</span> <span class="smaller">THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW</span></h2>
+
+<p>Even while the arrow-maker carried the wounded woman, arrows of the same
+shape as that which had stabbed her tender flesh were threatening the
+little village on the River of Three Fires. For days several war-parties
+from the South had been stealing through the country, raiding the lesser
+villages, and bent on destroying the nation of Soft Hand, and possessing
+his hunting-grounds. It was a laggard of one of the smaller bands that
+had wounded the woman. She had been far from her lodge at the time,
+seeking some healing herbs in the forest, and he had fired on her out of
+fear that she had discovered him and would warn her people. In her pain
+and fright, she had wandered coastward for several miles.</p>
+
+<p>Silent as shadows, the invading warriors drew down toward the little
+meadow. Clouds were over the face of the white October moon. A cold mist
+floated in the valley. The leaders of the invaders,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> lying low among the
+alders at the edge of the clearing, could see the unguarded people
+moving about their red fires. There was a scent of cooking deer-meat in
+the chill air. The chief of the attacking party lay on the damp grass
+and peered between the stems of the alders. He smiled exultantly. A
+quick slaughter, and then to a feast already prepared. He and his braves
+had enjoyed but poor fare during their long march.</p>
+
+<p>So shall I leave him, sniffing the breath of the cooking fires, and turn
+to Wolf Slayer. Late of that afternoon Wolf Slayer had sallied forth in
+quest of something to kill. The woods had seemed deserted, and in less
+than an hour after his valorous exit from the camp, he had fallen asleep
+on a warm and sheltered strip of shingle. The river flashed in front,
+and on three sides brooded the crowding trees. When he awoke, the sun
+had set, and the river, a curved mirror for the western sky, was red as
+fire&mdash;or blood. Down-stream, about two hundred yards distant, a sombre
+bluff thrust its rocky breast into the water. The boy gazed at this, and
+his eyes widened with dismay. Then they narrowed with hate. Out of the
+shelter of the rocks and the shadows, and into the flaming waters, came
+figure after figure. They waded knee-deep, hip-deep, shoulder-deep, into
+that molten glory. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> they swam; and the ripples washed back from
+gleaming neck and shoulder like lighter flames. One by one they stole
+from the shadow, swam the radiance, and again sought the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>The boy trembled. The devils of fear and rage had their fingers on him.
+Spellbound, he watched close upon a hundred warriors make the passage of
+the river. Then he, too, sank noiselessly into the shelter of the trees.
+He was old enough to know what this meant, and his heart hurt him with
+its pent-up fury as he crawled through the underbrush. He was dismayed
+at the sound of his own breathing. He heard the distant rapping of a
+woodpecker, the fall of a spent leaf from an alder, and the soft breath
+of a dying wind; and the familiar sounds filled him with awe. And yet,
+but for these sounds, the whole world might be dead and the forest
+empty. Thought of the hundred fighting men moving steadily upon the
+unguarded homes of his people, with no more warning than the sound of a
+swamp-bird's flight, was like a nightmare. But presently the courage
+that had helped him slay the wolf came to him, and he thought of the
+glory to be won by saving the threatened village. He did not strengthen
+his heart to the task for sake of his mother's life and the lives of his
+playmates; but because the warriors would call him a hero.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> Keeping just
+within the edge of the woods, he moved up-stream as speedily as he might
+without making any sound. He came upon a brown hare crouched beside a
+clump of ferns. He might have touched it with his hand, so unaware was
+it of his presence. He passed beneath an alder branch whereon perched a
+big slate-gray jay. It was not a foot from his back as he crawled under,
+and it did not take flight. But it eyed him intently, to make sure that
+he was not a fox. Sometimes he lay still for a little, listening. He
+heard nothing, though he started at a hundred fancied sounds. Twilight
+deepened into dusk, and dusk into gloom. The moon sailed up over the
+hills, and long banners of cloud passed across the face of it.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Wolf Slayer came within sight of the fires of the village. The
+red light flashed on the angry river beyond, but left the lagoon in
+darkness. He crawled into the water inch by inch, scarcely breaking the
+calm, black surface. Then he swam, without noise of splashing, and
+landed at the foot of the meadow like a great beaver. He crawled into
+the red circle of one of the fires, and told his news to the braves
+gathered around. Men slipped from fire to fire. Without any unwonted
+disturbance, the whole village armed itself. Suddenly, with a fierce
+shout and a flight of arrows, the alders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> were attacked. The invaders
+were checked at the very moment of their fancied victory.</p>
+
+<p>The fighting scattered. Here three men struggled together in the
+shallows at the head of the lagoon. Farther out, one tossed his arms and
+sank into the black depths. In the open a half-score warriors bent their
+bows. Among the twisted stems of the alders they pulled and strangled,
+like beasts of prey. Back in the spruces they slew with clubs and
+knives, feeling for one another in the dark. Their war-cries and shouts
+of hate rang fearfully on the night air, and awoke unholy echoes along
+the valley.</p>
+
+<p>In the front of the battle Wolf Slayer fought like a man. His lack of
+stature saved him from death more than once in that fearful encounter.
+Many a vicious blow glanced harmless, or missed him altogether, as he
+stumbled and bent among the alders. At first he fought with a long,
+flint knife,&mdash;the work of the old arrow-maker. But this was splintered
+in his hand by the murderous stroke of a war-club. He wrenched a spear
+from the clutch of a dying brave. A leaping figure went down before his
+unexpected lunge. It rolled over; then, queerly sprawling, it lay still.
+An arrow from the open ripped along an alder stem, rattled its shaft
+among the dry twigs, and struck a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>glancing blow on the young brave's
+neck. He stumbled, grabbing at the shadows. He fell&mdash;and forgot the
+fight.</p>
+
+<p>In light and darkness the battle raged on. Wigwams were overthrown, and
+about the little fires warriors gave up their violent lives. At last the
+encampment was cleared, and saved from destruction; and those of the
+invaders who remained beside the trampled fires had ceased to menace.
+Along the black edges of the forest ran the cries and tumult of the
+struggle. Spent arrows floated on the lagoon. Red knives lifted and
+turned in the underbrush.</p>
+
+<p>Wolf Slayer, dizzy and faint, crawled back to the lodges of his people.
+Other warriors were returning. They came exultant, with the lust of
+fighting still aflame in their eyes. Some strode arrogantly. Some
+crawled, as Wolf Slayer had. Some staggered to the home fires and reeled
+against the lodges, and some got no farther than the outer circle of
+light. And many came not at all.</p>
+
+<p>The chief, with a great gash high on his breast (he had bared arms and
+breast for the battle), sought about the clearing and trampled fringe of
+alders, and at last, returning to the disordered camp, found Wolf
+Slayer. With a glad, high<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> shout of triumph, he lifted the boy in his
+arms and carried him home. The mother met them at the door of the lodge.
+In fearful silence the man and woman washed and bound the young brave's
+wound, and watched above his faint breathing with anxious hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"Little one, strengthen your feet against the turn of the dark trail,"
+whispered the mother. "See, our fires are bright to guide you back to
+your own people."</p>
+
+<p>"Little chief, though this battle is ended, there are many good fights
+yet to come," whispered the father. "The fighters of the camp will have
+great need of you when we turn from our sleep. The old bear grumbles at
+the mouth of his den!&mdash;will you not be with us when we singe his fur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush!" cried the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The boy, opening his eyes, turned the feet of his spirit from the dark
+trail.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw the lights of the lost fires," he murmured, "and the hunting-song
+of dead braves was in my ears."</p>
+
+<p>Wolf Slayer was nursed back to health and strength. Not once&mdash;not even
+at the edge of Death's domain&mdash;had his arrogance left him. It seemed
+that the days of suffering had but hardened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> his already hard heart. Lad
+though he was, the villagers began to feel the weight of his hand upon
+them. He bullied and beat the other boys of the camp.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER IV.</span> <span class="smaller">OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST</span></h2>
+
+<p>In the dead of winter&mdash;in that season of sweeping winds and aching
+skies, when the wide barrens lie uncheered of life from horizon to
+horizon&mdash;Soft Hand sent many of his warriors to the South. They followed
+in the "leads" of the great herds of caribou, going partly for the meat
+of the deer and partly to strike terror into the hearts of the Southern
+enemy. At the head of this party went Panounia, chief of the village on
+the River of Three Fires, and with him he took his hardy son, Wolf
+Slayer. Grim plans were bred on that journey. Grim tales were told
+around the big fire at night. The evil thing which Panounia hatched,
+with his bragging tongue, grew day by day and night by night. The hearts
+of the warriors were fired with the shameful flame. They dreamed things
+that had never happened, and wrought black visions out of the
+foolishnesses of their brains.</p>
+
+<p>"The bear nods," they repeated, one to another,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> after the chief had
+talked to them. "The bear nods, like an old woman over a pot of stew.
+But for Panounia, surely the men of the South would have scattered our
+lodges and led us, captive, to the playgrounds of their children and
+their squaws. Such a fate would warm the heart of Soft Hand, for is not
+our Great Chief an old woman himself?"</p>
+
+<p>So, far from the eye and paw of the great bear, the foxes barked at his
+power. The moon heard it, and the silent trees, and the wind which
+carries no messages.</p>
+
+<p>About this time Ouenwa, the grandson of Soft Hand, decided to make a
+journey of many days from the lodges at the head of Wind Lake to the
+Salt Water. He felt no interest in the Southern invasion. His eyes
+longed for a sight of the edges of the land and the breast of the great
+waters beyond. He had heard, in his inland home, rumour of mighty wooden
+canoes walled higher than the peak of a wigwam, and manned by
+loud-mouthed warriors from beyond the fogs and the rising sun. Some
+wiseacre, squatted beside the old chief's fire, hinted that the
+strangers were gods. He told many wonderful stories to back his
+argument. Soft Hand nodded. But Ouenwa smiled and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Would gods make such flights for the sake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> of a few dried fishes and a
+few dressed pelts of beaver and fox?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The gods of trade would do so," replied the wiseacre. "Also," he added,
+"they slay at great distances by means of brown stakes which are
+flame-tongued and smoke-crowned and thunder-voiced."</p>
+
+<p>"But do these gods not fight with knives&mdash;long knives and short?"
+inquired the lad. "I have heard it said that they sometimes fall out
+over the ordering of their affairs, even as we mortals do."</p>
+
+<p>"And what wonderful knives they are," cried the old gossip. "They are
+coloured like ice. They gleam in the sunlight, like a flash of lightning
+against a cloud. They cut quicker than thought, and the red blood
+follows the edge as surely as the rains follow April."</p>
+
+<p>"I have yet to see these gods," replied Ouenwa, "and in my heart I pray
+that they be but men, for the gods have proved themselves but cheerless
+companions to our people."</p>
+
+<p>At that Soft Hand looked up. "Are the seasons not arranged to your
+liking, boy?" he asked, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, I did not mean that," cried Ouenwa; "but strange men promise
+better and safer company than strange gods."</p>
+
+<p>Now he was journeying toward the ocean of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> his dreaming and the ports of
+his desire. His eyes would search the headlands of fog. Out of the east,
+and the sun's bed, would lift the magic canoes of the strangers. But the
+journey was a hard one. The boy's only companion was a man of small
+stature and unheroic spirit, whom the old chief could well spare. They
+took their way down the frozen, snow-drifted lake, dragging their food
+and sleeping-bags of skin on a rough sledge. The wind came out of a
+steel-blue sky, unshifting and relentless. The dry snow ran before it
+over the level surface, and settled in thin, white ridges across their
+path. At the approach of night they sought the wooded shore, and in the
+shelter of the firs built their fire.</p>
+
+<p>During the journey Ouenwa's guide proved but a cheerless companion. He
+had no heart for any adventure that might take him beyond the scent of
+his people's cooking-fires. He considered the conversation of his young
+master but a poor substitute for the gossip of the lodges. The scant
+fare of his own cooking left his stomach uncomforted. He hated the
+weariness of the march and dreaded the silence of the night. The cry of
+the wind across the tree-tops was, to his craven ear, the voice of some
+evil spirit. The barking of a fox on the hill set his limbs a-tremble.
+The howl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> of a wolf struck him cold. The sudden leaping of a hare in the
+underbrush was enough to shake his poor wits with fright. But he feared
+the anger of Soft Hand more than all these terrors, and so held to
+Ouenwa and his mission.</p>
+
+<p>On the third day of the journey the blue sky thickened to gray, the wind
+veered, and a great storm of snow overtook them. The snowflakes were
+large and damp. The travellers turned aside and climbed the bank of the
+river to the thickets of evergreens. With their rude axes of stone they
+broke away the fir boughs and reared themselves a shelter in the heart
+of the wood. Into this they drew their sledge of provisions and their
+sleeping-bags. Then they collected whatever dry fuel they could
+find&mdash;dead twigs and branches, tree-moss and birch bark&mdash;and, with his
+ingenious contrivance of bow and notched stick, Ouenwa started a blaze.
+They roasted dried venison by holding it to the flame on the ends of
+pointed sticks. Each cooked what he wanted, and ate it without talk. All
+creation seemed shrouded in silence. There was not a sound save the
+occasional soft hiss of a melting snowflake in the fire. The storm
+became denser. It was as if a sudden, colourless night had descended
+upon the wilderness, blotting out even the nearer trees with its reeling
+gray. The old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>retainer crouched low, and gazed out at the storm from
+between his bony knees. His eyes fairly protruded with superstitious
+terror.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you see?" inquired Ouenwa. The awe of the storm was creeping
+over his courage like the first film of ice over a bright stream. The
+old man did not move. He did not reply. Ouenwa drew closer to him, and
+heaped dry moss on the fire. It glowed high, and splashed a ruddy circle
+of light on the eddying snowflakes as on a wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" whispered the old man. Yes, it was the sound of muffled
+footsteps, approaching behind the impenetrable curtain of the storm. The
+boy's blood chilled and thinned like water in his veins. He clutched his
+companion with frenzied hands. The fear of all the devils and shapeless
+beings of the wilderness was upon him. In the whirling snow loomed a
+great figure. It emerged into the glow of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! ah!" cried the old man, cackling with relief. For their visitor was
+nothing more terrible than a fellow human. The stranger greeted them
+cordially, and told them that, but for the glow of their fire, he would
+have been lost.</p>
+
+<p>"But what are you doing here&mdash;an old man and a child?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa told him. He explained his identity,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> and his intention of
+dwelling with the great arrow-maker of his grandfather's tribe to learn
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>"Then are we well met," replied the other, "for my lodge is not half a
+spear-throw from the lodge of the arrow-maker. The old man has been as a
+father to me since the day he saved my wife from death. Now I hunt for
+him, and work at his craft, and have left the river to be near him. My
+children play about his lodge. My wife broils his fish and meat. Truly
+the old man has changed since the return of laughter and friendship to
+his lodge."</p>
+
+<p>The stranger's name was Black Feather. He was taller than the average
+Beothic, and broad of shoulder in proportion. His hair was brown, and
+one lock of it, which was worn longer than the rest, was plaited with
+jet-black feathers. His garments consisted of a shirt of beaver skins
+that reached half-way between hip and knee, trousers of dressed leather,
+and leggins and moccasins of the same material. Around his waist was a
+broad belt, beautifully worked in designs of dyed porcupine quills. His
+head was uncovered.</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather seated himself beside Ouenwa, and replied, good-naturedly,
+and at great length, to the youth's many questions. He told of the
+high-walled ships, and of how he had once seen four of these monsters
+swinging together in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> tide, with little boats plying between them,
+and banners red as the sunset flapping above them. He told of trading
+with the strangers, and described their manner of spreading out lengths
+of bright cloth, knives and hatchets of gray metal, and flasks of strong
+drink.</p>
+
+<p>"Their knives are edged with magic," he said. "Many of them carry
+weapons called muskets, which kill at a hundred paces, and terrify at
+even a greater distance. But a nimble bowman might loose four arrows in
+the time that they are conjuring forth the spirit of the musket."</p>
+
+<p>The storm continued throughout the day and night, but the morning broke
+clear. The travellers crawled from their weighted shelter and looked
+with gratitude upon the silver shield of the sun. After a hearty
+breakfast, they set out on the last stage of their journey. Their
+racquets of spruce wood woven across with strips of caribou hide sank
+deep in the feathery snow, and lifted a burden of it at every step. But
+they held cheerfully on their way. Black Feather walked ahead, and Pot
+Friend, the old gossip, brought up the rear. The thong by which they
+dragged the sledge passed over the right shoulder of each, and was
+grasped in the right hand. After several hours of tramping along the
+level of the river's valley, Black Feather turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> toward the western
+bank and led them into the woods. Presently, after experiencing several
+difficulties with the sledge, they emerged on the barren beyond the
+fringe of timber. They ascended a treeless knoll that rounded in front
+of them, blindingly white against the pale sky. Old Pot Friend grumbled
+and sighed, and might just as well have been on the sledge, for all the
+pulling he did. On reaching the top of the knoll Black Feather swept his
+arm before him with a gesture of finality. "Behold!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>An exclamation of wonder sprang to Ouenwa's lips, and
+died&mdash;half-uttered. Before him lay a wedge of foam-crested winter sea
+beating out against a far, glass-clear horizon. To right and left were
+sheer rocks and timbered valleys, wave-washed coves, ice-rimmed islands,
+and crouching headlands. Even Pot Friend forgot his weariness and
+shortness of breath for the moment, and surveyed the outlook in silence.
+It was many years since he had been so far afield. His little soul was
+fairly stunned with awe. But presently his real nature reasserted
+itself. He pointed with his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "And the roofs of two lodges. Good!"</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather smiled. Ouenwa did not hear the old man's cry of joy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"I see the edge of the world," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But the ships come over it, and go down behind it," replied Black
+Feather.</p>
+
+<p>"That is foolishness," said Pot Friend, who was filled with his old
+impudence at sight of the fire and the lodges. "No canoe would venture
+on the great salt water. I say it, who have built many canoes. And, if
+they voyaged so far, they would slip off into the caves of the Fog
+Devils. I believe nothing of all these stories of the strangers and
+their winged canoes."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" cried the boy, turning on him with flashing eyes. "What do
+you know of how far men will venture?&mdash;you, who have but heart enough to
+stir a pot of broth and lick the spoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I have brought you safely through great dangers," whined the old
+fellow.</p>
+
+<p>Montaw, the aged arrow-maker, welcomed his visitors cordially, and was
+grateful for the kind messages from his chief, Soft Hand, and for the
+gift of dressed leather. He accepted the charge and education of Ouenwa.
+He set the unheroic Pot Friend to the tasks of carrying water and wood,
+and snaring hares and grouse. He taught Ouenwa the craft of chipping
+flints into shapes for spear-heads and arrow-heads, and the art of
+painting, in ochre, on leather and birch bark.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER V.</span> <span class="smaller">THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR</span></h2>
+
+<p>Spring brought ice-floes and bergs from the north, and millions of
+Greenland seals. For weeks the little bay on which Montaw and Black
+Feather had their lodges was choked with battering ice-pans and crippled
+bergs. Many of the tribesmen came to the salt water to kill the seals.
+Soft Hand sent a canoe-load of beaver pelts to Ouenwa, so that the boy
+might trade with the strangers when they arrived out of the waste of
+waters.</p>
+
+<p>At last summer came to the great Bay of Exploits, and with it many
+ships&mdash;ships of England, of France, of Spain, and of Portugal. All were
+in quest of the world-renowned codfish. By this time the ice had rotted,
+and drifted southward. The first craft to enter Wigwam Harbour (as the
+English sailors called the arrow-maker's bay) was the Devon ship, <i>Heart
+of the West</i>. Her master, John Trowley, was an ignorant, hard-headed,
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> hard-fisted old mariner of the roughest type; but, by the laws of
+those waters, he was Admiral of Wigwam Harbour for that season. It was
+not long before every harbour had its admiral,&mdash;in every case the master
+of the first vessel to drop anchor there. The shores were portioned off
+in strips, so that each ship might have a place for drying-stages,
+whereon to cure its fish. Then the great business of garnering that rich
+harvest of the north began, amid the rattling of boat-gear, the shouting
+of orders in many tongues, and the volleying of oaths. Ouenwa, watching
+the animated scene, was fired with a desire to voyage in one of the
+strange vessels, and to taste the world that lay beyond the rim of the
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>One day, soon after their arrival, three men from the <i>Heart of the
+West</i> ascended the twisting path to the arrow-maker's lodge. The old
+craftsman and Black Feather and Ouenwa advanced to meet them without
+fear, for up to that time the adventurers and the natives had been on
+the best of terms. The strangers smiled and bowed to the Beothics. They
+displayed a handful of coloured glass beads, a roll of red cloth, and a
+few sticks of tobacco. Old Montaw's eyes glistened at sight of the
+Virginian leaf. He had already learned the trick of drawing on the stem
+of a pipe and blowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> fragrant clouds of smoke into the air. He said
+that to do so added to the profundity of his thoughts. And all winter he
+had gone without a puff. He produced a mink skin from his lodge and
+exchanged it for one of the coveted sticks of tobacco. Black Feather
+also traded, giving skins of mink, fox, and beaver for a piece of cloth,
+a dozen beads, and a knife. But Ouenwa stood aside and watched the
+strangers. One of them he recognized as the great captain who shouted
+and swore at the captains of the other ships, and pointed out to them
+places where they might anchor their ships&mdash;for it was none other than
+Master John Trowley. The young man with the gold lace in his hat, and
+the long sword at his side&mdash;surely, he, too, was a chief, despite his
+quiet voice and smooth face. Ouenwa's surmise was correct. The youth was
+Master Bernard Kingswell, only son of a wealthy widow of Bristol. His
+father, who had been knighted a few years before his premature death,
+had been a merchant of sound views and adventurous spirit. The son
+inherited the adventurous spirit, and was free from the bondage of the
+counting-house. The third of the party was a common seaman. That much
+Ouenwa could detect at a glance.</p>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell stepped over to the young Beothic.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>"Trade?" he inquired, kindly, displaying a string of glass beads in the
+palm of his hand. Ouenwa shook his head. He knew only such words of
+English as Montaw had taught him, and he feared that they would prove
+entirely inadequate for the purpose that was in his mind. However, he
+would try. He pointed to Trowley's ship, and then to the far and
+glinting horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Take Ouenwa?" he whispered, scarce above his breath.</p>
+
+<p>"To see the ship?" inquired Master Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Off," replied Ouenwa, with a wave of his arms. "Out, off!"</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked puzzled, and made no reply. The young Beothic bent a
+keen glance upon him; then he tapped himself on the chest.</p>
+
+<p>"Take Ouenwa," he whispered. He plucked the Englishman by the coat.
+"Come, chief, come," he cried, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell followed to the nearest lodge. Ouenwa pulled aside the flap of
+caribou hide that covered the doorway, and motioned for the visitor to
+enter. For a second the Englishman hesitated. He had heard many tales of
+the treachery of these people. What menace might not lurk in the gloom
+of the round, fur-scented lodge? But he did not lack courage; and,
+before the other had time to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> notice the hesitation, he stepped within.
+The flap of rawhide fell into place behind him. Save for the red glow
+that pulsated from the hearthstone in the centre of the floor, and the
+fingers of sunlight that thrust through the cracks in the apex of the
+roof, the big lodge was unilluminated.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" asked Master Kingswell, with his shoulders against
+the slope of the roof and a tentative hand on his sword-hilt. For
+answer, Ouenwa held a torch of rolled bark to the fire until it flared
+smoky red, and then lifted it high. The light of it flooded the sombre
+place, showing up the couches of skins, Montaw's copper pot, and a great
+bale of pelts. The boy pointed to the pelts. Then he pressed the palm of
+his hand against the Englishman's breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Ouenwa give beaver," he said. "Take Ouenwa Englan'. Much good trade."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell understood. But he saw obstacles in the way of carrying out
+the young Beothic's wish. The other savages might object. They might
+look on it as a case of kidnapping. Lads had been kidnapped before from
+the eastern bays, and, though they had been well treated, and made pets
+of in England, their people had ceased to trade with the visitors, and
+all their friendship had turned to treachery and hostility. On the other
+hand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> he should like to take the youth home with him. He tried to
+explain his position to Ouenwa, but failed signally. They parted,
+however, with the most friendly feelings toward one another.</p>
+
+<p>After the interview with Kingswell, Ouenwa spent most of his time gazing
+longingly at the ships in the bay, and picturing the life aboard them,
+and the countries from which they had come. One morning Kingswell called
+to him from the land-wash. He ran down, delighted at the attention.
+Kingswell pointed to a small, open boat which the carpenter of the
+<i>Heart of the West</i> had just completed. Then, by signs and a few words,
+he told Ouenwa that he was going northward in the little craft, to
+explore the coast, and that he would be back with the fleet before the
+birch leaves were yellow. Ouenwa begged to be taken on the expedition
+and afterward across the seas. He offered his canoe-load of beaver
+skins. He tried to tell of his great desire to see the lodges of the
+strangers, and to learn their speech. He did not want to live the life
+of his own people. Kingswell caught the general trend of the Beothic's
+remarks. He had no objection to driving a good bargain. So he made clear
+to him that he was to come alongside the ship, with the beaver skins, on
+the following night.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>The sky was black with clouds, and a fog wrapped the harbour, when
+Ouenwa stepped into his loaded canoe and pushed out toward the spot
+where Trowley's ship lay at anchor. He had dragged his skins from
+Montaw's lodge earlier in the night, without disturbing the slumbers of
+either his guardian or Pot Friend. Age had dulled their ears and
+thickened their sleep. He paddled noiselessly. Sounds of roistering came
+to his ears, muffled by the fog. Presently the admiral's ship loomed
+close ahead. Lights blinked fore and aft. She seemed a tremendous thing
+to the lad, though in truth she was but of one hundred tons. Singing and
+laughter were ripe aboard.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time a fear of the strangers took possession of Ouenwa.
+Even his trust in Kingswell faltered. He ceased paddling, and listened,
+with bated breath, to the hoarse shouts of merriment and the clapping
+oaths. Then curiosity overcame his fear. He slid his long canoe under
+the stem of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. A cheering glow of candle-light
+yellowed the fog above him. He stood up and found that his head was on a
+level with the sill of a square port. It stood open. He heard
+Kingswell's voice, and Trowley's. The master-mariner's was gusty and
+argumentative. It broke out at intervals, like the flapping of a sail.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>Ouenwa steadied himself with his hands on the casing of the open port,
+and lifted to tiptoe. Now he could see into the little cabin, and hear
+the conversation of its inmates. Happily for his feelings, he could
+understand only a word or two of that conversation. He saw Kingswell and
+the master of the ship seated opposite one another at a small table.
+Upon the table stood candles in metal sticks, a bottle, and glasses. The
+old sea-dog's bearded face was working with excitement. He slapped his
+great flipper-like hand on the polished surface of the board.</p>
+
+<p>"Now who be master o' this ship?" he bawled. "Tell me that, will 'e. Who
+be master?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am the owner, you'll kindly remember, John Trowley," replied
+Kingswell, with a ring of anger in his voice, but a smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ye be owner, but John Trowley be skipper," roared the other,
+glaring so hard that his round, pale eyes fairly bulged from his face.
+"An' no dirty redskin sails in ship o' mine unless as a servant, or
+afore the mast,&mdash;no, not if he pays his passage with all th' pelts in
+Newfoundland."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken, my friend," replied Kingswell. "I'll carry fifty of
+these people back to Bristol, if it so pleases me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>"I'll put ye in irons, my fine gentleman," retorted the seaman.</p>
+
+<p>"You are drunk," cried the young adventurer, drawing back his right hand
+as if to strike the great, scowling face that bent toward him across the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"Drunk, d'ye say! An' ye'd lift yer hand against the ship's master,
+would ye?" shouted Trowley. He lurched forward, and a knife flashed
+above the overturned bottle and glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa emitted a horrified scream, and hurled his paddle spear-wise into
+the cabin. The rounded point of the blade caught Trowley on the side of
+the head, and sent him crashing to the deck.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER VI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER</span></h2>
+
+<p>When Trowley recovered consciousness, he was lying in his berth, with a
+bandage around his head. Kingswell looked in at him, smiling in a way
+that the old mariner was beginning to fear as well as hate.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you are feeling more amiable since your sleep," said Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Trowley muttered a word or two of apology, damned the rum, and asked the
+time of day. His recollections of the argument in the cabin were hazy
+and fragmentary.</p>
+
+<p>In reply to his question the gentleman told him that the sun was well
+up, the fog cleared, and that he was having his boat provisioned for the
+coastwise exploration trip.</p>
+
+<p>"And mind you," he added, grimly, "that the eighty beaver skins which
+are now being stowed away in my berth are my property."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir," replied Trowley. "An' may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> I ask how ye come by such a
+power o' trade in a night-time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you may ask," replied Kingswell. He grinned at the wounded skipper
+for fully a minute, leaning on the edge of the bunk. Then he said: "I'll
+now bid you farewell until October. Don't sail without me, good Master
+Trowley, and look not upon the rum of the Indies when that same is red.
+A knife-thrust given in drunkenness might lead to the gallows."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and nimbly scaled the companion-ladder, leaving the shipmaster
+speechless with rage.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later the staunch little craft <i>Pelican</i> spread her square
+sail and slid away from the <i>Heart of the West</i>. She was manned by old
+Tom Bent, young Peter Harding, and Richard Clotworthy. Master Bernard
+Kingswell sat at the tiller, with Ouenwa beside him. Their provisions,
+extra clothing, arms, and ammunition were stowed amidships and covered
+with sail-cloth. The sun was bright, and the sky blue. The wind bowled
+them along at a clipping pace. From a mound above the harbour Black
+Feather gazed after them under a level hand. In the little harbour
+Trowley's ship alone swung in her anchorage. The others had run out to
+the fishing-grounds,&mdash;for in those days the fishing was done over the
+sides of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> ships, and not from small boats. On either side the brown
+shores fell back, and the dancing waters widened and widened. White
+gulls screamed above and around them, flashing silvery wings, snowy
+breasts, and inquisitive eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa looked back, and then ahead, and felt a great misgiving. But
+Kingswell patted him on the shoulder, and the sailors nodded their heads
+at him and grinned.</p>
+
+<p>Soon they were among the fleet. The ungainly, high-sterned vessels
+rocked and bobbed under naked spars. The great business that had brought
+them so far was going forward. Along both sides of every ship were hung
+barrels, and in each barrel was stationed a man with two or more
+fishing-lines. Splashing desperately, the great fish were hauled up,
+unhooked, and tossed to the deck behind. As the little <i>Pelican</i> slid
+by, the fishers paused in their work to cheer her, and wave their caps.
+The masters shouted "God speed" from their narrow quarter-decks, and
+doffed their hats. Kingswell waved them gracious farewells; Ouenwa gazed
+spellbound toward the widening outlook; and Tom Bent trimmed the sail to
+a nicety.</p>
+
+<p>They passed headland after headland, rocky island after rocky island,
+cove after cove. The shores behind them turned from brown to purple,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+and from purple to azure. The waves ran higher and the wind freshened.
+Kingswell shaped the boat's course a few points to the northward. The
+stout little craft skipped like a lamb and plunged like some less
+playful creature. Spray flew over her blunt bows, and the sailors
+laughed like children, and called her a brave lass, and many other
+endearing names, as if she were human.</p>
+
+<p>"A smart wench, sir," said Tom Bent to Master Kingswell. The commander
+nodded, and shifted the tiller knowingly. His blue eyes were flashing
+with the excitement of the speed and motion. His bright, pale hair
+streamed in the wind. He leaned forward, to pick out the course through
+a group of small islands that cluttered the bay ahead of them. He gave
+an order, and the seamen hauled on the wet sheet. But Ouenwa did not
+share the high spirits of his companions. A terrible, unknown feeling
+got hold of him. His dark cheeks lost their bloom. Kingswell glanced at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Let it go, lad," he said. "A sailor is made in this way. Tom, pass me
+along a blanket."</p>
+
+<p>With his unemployed hand he fixed a comfortable rest for the boy, and
+helped him to a drink of water. For an hour or more he maintained a hold
+on the young Beothic's belt, for, by this time, the soaring and sinking
+of the <i>Pelican</i> were enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> unsteady even a seasoned mariner. As
+for Ouenwa!&mdash;the poor lad simply clung to the gunwale with the grip of
+despair, and entertained regretful, beautiful visions of level shores
+and unshaken hills. Tom Bent eyed him kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"The young un has it wicked, sir," he said. "Maybe, like as not, a swig
+o' rum ud sweeten his bilge, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell acted on the old tar's advice. The rank liquor completed the
+boy's breakdown. In so doing it served the purpose which Bent had
+intended. The sufferer was soon sleeping soundly, already half a sailor.</p>
+
+<p>When Ouenwa next took interest in his surroundings, the <i>Pelican</i> had
+the surf of a sheer coast close aboard on her port side. She was heading
+due north. The sun was half-way down his western slope. Behind the
+<i>Pelican's</i> bubbling wake, hills and headlands and high, naked barrens
+lay brown and purple and smoky blue. In front, and on the right hand,
+loomed surf-rimmed islands and flashed the innumerable, ever-altering
+yet unchanged hills and valleys of the deep. Tom Bent was now at the
+tiller, and Kingswell was in the bows, gazing intently at the austere
+coast. Ouenwa crawled over the thwarts and cargo of provisions, under
+the straining sail, and crouched beside him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> His head felt light and
+his stomach painfully empty, but again life seemed worth living and the
+adventure worth while.</p>
+
+<p>About an hour before sunset the <i>Pelican</i> ran into a little cove, and
+her two grappling anchors were heaved overboard. She lay within five
+yards of the land-wash, swinging on an easy tide. Ouenwa sprang into the
+water and waded ashore. It was a dismal anchorage, with only a strip of
+shingle, and grim cliffs rising in front and on either hand. But at the
+base of the cliffs, in fissures of the rock, grew stunted spruce-trees
+and birches. Ouenwa soon found a little stream dribbling a zigzag course
+from the levels above. It gathered, clear and cold, in a shallow basin
+at the foot of the rock, and from there spilled over into the
+obliterating sand.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the others were ashore. Clotworthy hacked down a couple of
+armfuls of the spruce and birch shrubs with his cutlass, and started a
+fire. Then he filled a pot from the little well and commenced
+preparations for a meal. The other seamen erected a shelter, composed of
+a sail and three oars, against the cliff. Kingswell and Ouenwa sat on a
+convenient boulder, and the commander filled a long pipe with tobacco
+and lit it at a brand from the fire. He seemed in high spirits, and in a
+mood to further his young companion's education. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>Pointing to the roll
+of Virginian leaf, from which he had cut the charge for his pipe, he
+said, "Tobacco." Ouenwa repeated it many times, and nodded his
+comprehension. Then Kingswell pointed to old Tom Bent, who was watching
+Clotworthy drop lumps of dried venison into the pot of water.</p>
+
+<p>"Boatswain," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa mastered the word, as well as the term "able seamen," applied to
+Clotworthy and Peter Harding. By that time the stew was ready for them.
+They were all sound asleep, under their frail shelter, before the last
+glimmer of twilight was gone from the sky.</p>
+
+<p>It was very early when Ouenwa awoke. A pale flood of dawn illumined the
+tent and the recumbent forms of Master Kingswell and Clotworthy. Tom
+Bent and Harding were not in their places. The boy wondered at that, but
+was about to close his eyes again, when he was startled to his feet by a
+shrill cry that went ringing overhead and echoing along the cliffs. He
+darted from the tent, with Kingswell and Clotworthy hot on his heels.
+Bent and Harding were on the extreme edge of the beach, with their backs
+to the sea, staring upward. Ouenwa and the others turned their faces in
+the same direction. They were amazed to see about a dozen native
+warriors on the cliff above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> them, fully armed, and evidently deeply
+interested in what was going on in the little cove. One of them was
+pointing to the <i>Pelican</i>, and talking vehemently to the brave beside
+him. In two of them Ouenwa recognized young Wolf Slayer, and his father,
+the chief of the village on the River of Three Fires. He called up to
+them, and asked what brought them so far from their village.</p>
+
+<p>"We are at the salt water to take the fish," replied Wolf Slayer, "and
+we saw the smoke of your fire before the last darkness. But what do you
+with the great strangers, little Dreamer?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are my friends," replied Ouenwa, "and I am voyaging with them to
+learn wisdom."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about?" asked Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>The lad tried to explain. He pointed to the tent and provisions and then
+to the boat. "Put in," he said.</p>
+
+<p>At a word from Kingswell the three sailors quickly dismantled their
+night's shelter and carried the sail, the oars, and such food and
+blankets as they had brought ashore, out to the <i>Pelican</i>. At that the
+shrill cry rang out again, and echoed along the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean?" inquired Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Bad," replied Ouenwa, shortly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"What is in your fine canoe, little Dreamer?" called Wolf Slayer.</p>
+
+<p>"Our food and our clothing, little Fox Stabber," Ouenwa cried back, with
+indignation in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Your dreams must have unsettled your wits, my friend," replied Wolf
+Slayer, "or you would not talk so loud before a chief of the tribe."</p>
+
+<p>Just then, in answer to the cry that had sounded so dismally across the
+dawn a few moments before, five more warriors, armed with bows, appeared
+on the top of the cliff&mdash;for the cry was the hunting-call of the tribe.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you fish with war-bows?" shouted Ouenwa. "And why do you summon to
+trade with the cry of the hunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"You ask too many questions, even for a seeker of wisdom," replied the
+other youth, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Soft Hand, the great bear, slumber, that the foxes bark with such
+assurance?" retorted Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the <i>Pelican</i> was ready to put out of the cove. Both
+anchors were up, and Harding and Clotworthy held her off with the oars.
+Old Tom Bent was also in the boat, busy with something beside the mast.
+Suddenly a bow-string twanged, and an arrow buried its flint head in the
+sand at Kingswell's feet. Another struck a stone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> and, glancing out,
+rattled against Harding's oar. Kingswell and Ouenwa backed hastily into
+the water. Above them, silhouetted against the lightening sky, they saw
+bending bows and downward thrust arms. Then, with a clap and a roar, and
+a gust of smoke, old Tom Bent replied to the warriors on the cliff. The
+echoes of the discharge bellowed around and around the rock-girt
+harbour. Ouenwa and Kingswell sprang through the smoke and climbed
+aboard, and the seamen pushed into deep water and then bent to their
+oars. But the <i>Pelican</i> proved a heavy boat to row, with her blunt bows
+and comfortable beam. She surged slowly beyond the cloud of bitter smoke
+that the musket had hung in the windless air. Clear of that, the
+voyagers looked for their treacherous assailants&mdash;and, behold, the great
+warriors were not to be seen. Kingswell and the three seamen laughed, as
+if the incident were a fine joke; but Ouenwa was hot with shame and
+anger. He stood erect and shouted abuse to the deserted cliff-top. He
+called upon Wolf Slayer and Panounia to show their cowardly faces. He
+threatened them with the displeasure of Soft Hand and with the anger of
+the English. A figure appeared on the sky-line.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak of Soft Hand," it cried. "Know you, then, that Soft Hand set
+out on the Long Trail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> four suns ago, when he marched into my village to
+dispute my power. I, Panounia, am now the great chief of the people. So
+carry yourself accordingly, O whelp without teeth and without a den to
+crawl into. Whose hand has overthrown the lodge of the totem of the
+Black Bear? Mine! Panounia's! Soft Hand has fallen under it as his son,
+your father, succumbed to it when you were a squalling babe." He paused
+for a moment, and held out a gleaming knife, with its point toward the
+<i>Pelican</i>. "The totem of the Wolf now hangs from the great lodge," he
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>Quick and noiseless as a breath, the edge of the cliff was lined with
+warriors. Like a sudden flight of birds their arrows flashed outward and
+downward.</p>
+
+<p>"Lie down!" cried Kingswell. With a strong hand he snatched Ouenwa to
+the bottom of the boat. Harding and Clotworthy sprawled forward between
+the thwarts. Only Tom Bent, crouched beside the naked mast, did not
+move. The arrows thumped against plank and gunwale. They pierced the
+cargo. They glanced from tiller and sweep and mast. One, turning from
+the rail, struck Bent on the shoulder. He cursed angrily, but did not
+look for the wound. His match was burning with a thread of blue smoke
+and a spark of red fire. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> clumsy gun was geared to the rail by an
+impromptu swivel of cords. He lay flat and elevated the muzzle.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady her," he said, softly. "She's driftin' in."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell sprang forward to one of the oars, thrust it to the bottom,
+and held the boat as steady as might be. Arrows whispered around him. He
+shouted a challenge to the befeathered warriors above him. Tom touched
+the slow-match to the quick fuse. Something hissed and sizzled. A plume
+of smoke darted up. Then, with a rebound that shook the boat from stem
+to stern, the gun hurled forth its lead, and fire, and black breath of
+hate.</p>
+
+<p>"Double charge, sir," gasped Tom Bent, from where he sagged against the
+mast. The kick of his musket had hurt him more than the blow from the
+arrow.</p>
+
+<p>Again the <i>Pelican</i> fought her way toward the open waters, with Harding
+and Clotworthy pulling lustily at the sweeps. Kingswell, flushed and
+joyful, sat at the tiller and headed her for the channel, through which
+the tide was running landward at a fair pace. Bent was busy reloading
+his firearm. Ouenwa stood in the stern-sheets, with his bow in his left
+hand and an arrow on the string. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> breath of wind brushed the smoke
+aside and cleared the view. Ouenwa pointed to the beach, and gave vent
+to a shrill whoop of triumph. The others looked, and saw a huddled shape
+of bronzed limbs and painted leather at the foot of the rock.</p>
+
+<p>"One more red devil for hell," muttered the boatswain. "I learned mun to
+shoot his pesky sticks at a Bristol gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>As if in answer, an arrow bit a splinter from the mast, not six inches
+from the old man's head. Ouenwa's bow bent, and sprang straight. The
+shaft flew with all the skill that Montaw had taught the boy, and with
+all the hate that was in his heart for the big murderer on the cliff.
+Every man of the little company narrowed his eyes to follow the flight
+of it. They saw it curve. They saw a warrior drop his bow from his
+menacing hand and sink to his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"The wolf falls," cried Ouenwa, in his own tongue. "The wolf bites the
+moss. Who, now, is the wolf slayer?"</p>
+
+<p>The Englishmen cheered again and again, and the good boat <i>Pelican</i>,
+urged forward by triumphant sinews, won through the channel and swam
+into the outer waters.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER VII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SILENT VILLAGE</span></h2>
+
+<p>As soon as the <i>Pelican</i> was out of arrow-shot of the cliff, the
+Beothics disappeared. Ouenwa laid aside his bow with a sigh of regret.
+Then he tried to repeat to Kingswell what he had heard from Panounia.
+After a deal of questioning, sign-making, and mental exertion, the
+Englishman gathered the information that treachery and murder had taken
+place up the river, and that his young friend hated the new leader of
+the tribe with a bitter hatred. He did not wonder at the bitterness. He
+looked at the young savage's flushed face and glowing eyes with sympathy
+and admiration. His liking for the boy had grown in every hour of their
+companionship, and, by this time, had developed into a decided fondness.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, lad, and let your guns cool," he said, with a light hand on
+the other's knee. "Your enemies are my enemies," he continued, "and
+we'll fight the dogs every time we see 'em."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>Ouenwa sat quiet and tried to look calm. He was soothed by the evident
+kindliness of Kingswell's tone and manner, though he had failed to
+translate his speech. The men on the thwarts had caught the words,
+however. They nodded heavily to one another.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye say the very word what was in my mind, sir," spoke up Tom Bent,
+"an', if I may make so bold as to say further, your enemies be your
+servants' enemies, sir. Therefore the young un's enemies must be our
+enemies, holus bolus." The other sailors nodded decidedly. "Therefore,"
+continued Tom Bent, "all they cowardly heathen aft on the cliff has to
+reckon, hereafter, with Thomas Bent an' the crew o' this craft."</p>
+
+<p>"Well spoken, Tom," replied Kingswell, with the smile that always won
+him the heart and hand of every man he favoured with it,&mdash;and of every
+maid, too, more than likely. "But we can't enthuse on empty stomachs.
+Pass out the bread and the cold meat," he added.</p>
+
+<p>For fully two hours the <i>Pelican</i> rocked about within half a mile of her
+night's anchorage. Kingswell was not in a desperate hurry, and so his
+men pulled at the oars just enough to hold the boat clear of the rocks.
+A sharp lookout was kept along<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> the coast, but not a sight nor a sound
+of the Beothics rewarded their vigilance.</p>
+
+<p>"They be up to some devilment, ye may lay to that," said Tom Bent.</p>
+
+<p>At last a wind fluttered to them out of the nor'east, and the square
+sail was hoisted and sheeted home. Again the <i>Pelican</i> dipped her bows
+and wet her rail on the voyage of exploration.</p>
+
+<p>After two hours of sailing, and just when they were off the mouth of a
+little river and a fair valley, a fog overtook them. Kingswell was for
+running in, but Ouenwa objected.</p>
+
+<p>"Panounia follow," he said. "He great angry. Drop irons," he added,
+pointing to the little anchors.</p>
+
+<p>"Panounia is wounded. You winged him yourself," replied Kingswell. "He
+could not follow us around that coast, lad, at the clip we were coming."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa considered the words with puckered brows. They were beyond him.
+The commander pointed shoreward.</p>
+
+<p>"All safe," he said. "All safe."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," cried the lad. "All kill. No safe."</p>
+
+<p>During this controversy the sail had been partly lowered, and the
+<i>Pelican</i> had been slowly running landward with the fog.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked from the young Beothic to the seamen with a smile of
+whimsical uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"Out o' the mouths o' babes an' sucklin's," remarked Tom Bent, with his
+deep-set eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Kingswell's glance rested,
+for a moment, on the ancient mariner.</p>
+
+<p>"Lower away," he said. The sail flapped down, and was quickly stowed.
+"Let go the anchors," he commanded. The grapplings splashed into the
+gray waves. The fog crawled over the boat and shut her off from land and
+sky. With a last dreary whistle, the wind died out entirely.</p>
+
+<p>"Rip me!" exclaimed Master Kingswell, "but here is caution that smells
+remarkably like cowardice." Fretfully sighing, he produced his pipe,
+tobacco, and tinder-box. Soon the fragrant smoke was mingling with the
+fog. The young commander leaned back, taking his comfort where he could,
+like the courageous gentleman that he was. The habit of burning
+Virginian tobacco was an expensive one, confined to the wealthy and the
+adventurous. The seamen, who, of course, had not yet acquired it,
+watched their captain with open interest. When a puff was blown through
+the nostrils, or sent aloft in a series of rings, they nudged one
+another, like children at a show. By this time the walls of fog had made
+of the <i>Pelican</i> a tiny, lost world by itself. Suddenly Ouenwa raised
+his hand. "Sh!" he whispered. Kingswell removed the pipe-stem from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> his
+mouth, and inclined his head toward the hidden river and valley. All
+strained their ears, to wrest some sound from the surrounding gray other
+than the lapping of the tide along the unseen land-wash. But they could
+hear nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Village," whispered Ouenwa, pointing landward.</p>
+
+<p>"But we saw no signs of a village," protested Kingswell, gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Village," repeated the lad. "Ouenwa hear. Ouenwa smell."</p>
+
+<p>Immediately the four Englishmen began to sniff the fog, like hounds
+taking a scent on the wind. But their nostrils were not the nostrils of
+either hounds or Beothics. They sniffed to no purpose. They shook their
+heads. Kingswell wagged a chiding finger at their keen-nosed companion.
+The boy read the inference of the gesture, and flushed indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Village," he whispered, shrilly. "Village, village, village."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked distressed. The sailors grinned leniently at the
+determined boy. They had great faith in their own noses, had those
+mariners of Bristol and thereabouts. Ouenwa, frowning a little, sank
+into a moody contemplation of the fog.</p>
+
+<p>"This is dull," exclaimed Kingswell, after a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>half-hour of silence.
+"Tom, pipe us a stave, like a good lad."</p>
+
+<p>The boatswain scratched his head reflectively. Presently he cleared his
+throat with energy.</p>
+
+<p>"Me voice be a bit husky, sir, to what it once were," he murmured, "but
+I'll do me best&mdash;an' no sailorman can say fairer nor that."</p>
+
+<p>Straightway he struck into a heroic ballad of a sea-fight, in a high,
+tottering tenor. The song dealt with Spanish swagger and English daring,
+with bloody decks, falling spars, and flying splinters. Harding joined
+in the chorus with a booming bass. Clotworthy and the commander soon
+followed. Kingswell's voice was clear and strong and wonderfully
+melodious. Ouenwa's eyes glowed and his muscles trembled. Though the
+words held no meaning for him, the rollicking, dashing swing of the tune
+fired his excitable blood. He forgot all about Panounia, and the
+suspected village on the river so near at hand ceased to trouble him. He
+beat time to the singing with his moccasined feet, and clapped his hands
+together in rhythmic appreciation of his comrades' efforts. In time the
+ballad was finished. The last member of the craven crew of the <i>Teressa
+Maria</i> had tasted English steel and been tossed to the sharks. Then
+Master Kingswell sprang to his feet and sang a sentimental ditty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> It
+was of roses and fountains, of latticed windows and undying affection.
+The air was captivating. The singer's voice rang tender and clear. Old
+Tom Bent remembered lost years. Harding thought of a Devon orchard, and
+of a Devon lass at work harvesting the ruddy fruit. Clotworthy saw a
+cottage beside a little wood, and a woman and a little child gazing
+seaward and westward from the door.</p>
+
+<p>For several seconds after the last note had died away, the little
+company remained silent and motionless, fully occupied with its various
+thoughts. Ouenwa was the first to break the spell of the song. He laid
+his hand on Kingswell's arm with a quick gesture, and leaned toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"Canoe," he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The sound that had caught Ouenwa's attention was repeated&mdash;a short rap,
+like the inadvertent striking of a paddle against a gunwale. They all
+heard it, and, with as little noise as possible, set to work at getting
+out cutlasses and loading muskets. Kingswell crawled forward and
+whispered with old Tom Bent. The boatswain nodded and turned to Harding.
+That sturdy young seaman crawled to the bows and placed his hands on the
+hawser of the forward anchor. He looked aft. Kingswell, who had returned
+to his seat at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> tiller, leaned over the stern and cut the manilla
+rope that tethered the boat at that end. Harding immediately pulled on
+his rope until he was directly over the light bow anchor. Then, strongly
+and slowly, and without noise, he brought the four-fingered iron up and
+into the bows. They were free of the bottom, anyway, and with the loss
+of only one anchor. Kingswell breathed a sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Pelican</i> drifted, and the crew stared into the fog, with wide eyes
+and alert ears. Then, to seaward and surely not ten yards away, sounded
+a plover-call. Kingswell signalled to Bent to man the seaward side and
+Clotworthy and Harding the other. They rested the barrels of their great
+matchlocks on the gunwales. Suddenly the prow of a canoe pierced the
+curtain of fog not four yards from Tom Bent. He touched the match to the
+short fuse. There was a terrific report, and a chorus of wild yells. In
+the excitement that followed, the others discharged their pieces.
+Kingswell grabbed an oar, slipped it into a notch beside the tiller and
+began to "scull" the boat seaward. The men reloaded their muskets and
+peered into the fog. They heard splashings and cries on all sides, but
+could see nothing. Ouenwa, standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> erect, discharged arrow after arrow
+at the hidden enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The splashings grew fainter, and the cries ceased entirely. Kingswell
+passed the oar which he had been using to Harding, and told the men to
+lay aside their muskets and row. Ouenwa let fly his last arrow, in the
+names of his murdered father and grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>For a long and weary time the <i>Pelican</i> lay off the hidden land,
+shrouded in fog and silence. A few hours before sunset a wind from the
+west found her out, drove away the fog, and disclosed the sea and the
+coast and the open sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Pull her head 'round," commanded Kingswell, "and hoist the sail. We are
+going back to have a look at that village."</p>
+
+<p>The men obeyed eagerly. They were itching for a chance to repay the
+savages for the fright in the dark.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span> <span class="smaller">A LETTER FOR OUENWA</span></h2>
+
+<p>Two headlands were rounded before the valley of the river opened again
+to the eyes of the adventurers. The brown water of the stream stole down
+and merged into the dancing, wind-bitten sea. The gradual hillsides,
+green-swarded, basked in the golden light. The lower levels of the
+valley were already in shadow. No sign of man, or of his habitation, was
+disclosed to the voyagers.</p>
+
+<p>"A fair spot," remarked Kingswell. "I feel a desire stirring within me
+to stretch my legs on that grassy bank. What do you say to the idea,
+Tom?"</p>
+
+<p>The old fellow grinned. "'Twould be pleasant, sir, an' no mistake," he
+replied&mdash;"a little walk along the brook, with our hands not very far
+from our hangers. Ay, sir, Tom Bent's for a spell o' nater worship."</p>
+
+<p>The boat ran in, and was beached on the sand well within the mouth of
+the river. Harding and Clotworthy, with loaded muskets, were left on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+guard, and the other three, fully armed, started along the bank of the
+stream. They advanced cautiously, with a sharp lookout on every clump of
+bushes and every spur of rock. A kingfisher dropped from its perch above
+the water and flew up-stream with shrill clamour. They turned a bend of
+the little river and halted short in their track with muttered
+exclamations. Before them, on a level meadow between the brown waters of
+the stream and the dark green wall of the forest, stood half a dozen
+wigwams. The place seemed deserted. They scanned the dark edge of the
+wood and the brown hills behind. They peered everywhere, expecting to
+catch the glint of hostile eyes at every turn. But neither grove nor
+hill, nor silent lodge, disclosed any sign of life.</p>
+
+<p>"Where the devil are they?" exclaimed Kingswell, thoroughly perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa smiled, and swept his hand in a half-circle.</p>
+
+<p>"Watch us," he remarked, nodding his head. "Yes, watch us."</p>
+
+<p>"He means they are lying around looking at us," said Kingswell to the
+boatswain. "Rip me, but I don't relish the chance of one of those
+stone-tipped arrows in my vitals."</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bent glanced about him in visible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>trepidation. Ouenwa noticed it,
+and pointed to the seaman's musket. "No 'fraid," he said. "Shoot."</p>
+
+<p>"What at?" inquired Bent.</p>
+
+<p>"Make shoot," cried the boy, indicating the silent wood, dusky in the
+gathering shadows.</p>
+
+<p>"He wants you to fire into the wood, and frighten them out," said
+Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"If they be there, I'm for lettin' 'em stay there," replied Tom.</p>
+
+<p>However, he fixed his murderous weapon in its support, aimed at the edge
+of the forest beyond the wigwams, and fired. The flame cut across the
+twilight like a red sword; a dismal howl arose and quivered in the air.
+It was answered from the hilltops on both sides of the stream.</p>
+
+<p>Before the echoes had died away, Ouenwa was inside the nearest lodge.
+Kingswell followed, and found him dismantling the couches and walls of
+their valuable furs. He instantly took a hand in the looting. Soon each
+had all he could handle. They carried their burdens from the lodge, and,
+with Tom as a rear-guard, marched back toward the <i>Pelican</i>. They had
+rounded the bend of the river, and the two seamen were hurrying to meet
+them, when old Tom Bent suddenly uttered an indignant whoop and leaped
+into the air. His musket flew from his shoulder and clattered against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> a
+stone. Kingswell and Ouenwa threw down their bundles and sprang to where
+he lay, kicking and spluttering. The feathered shaft of an arrow clung
+to the middle of his left thigh. He was swearing wildly, and vowing
+vengeance on the "heathen varment" who had pinked him.</p>
+
+<p>Harding and Clotworthy fired into the shadows of the wooded hillside,
+and Kingswell hoisted the struggling boatswain to his shoulders and
+continued his advance on the boat. The old sailor begged and implored
+his commander to put him down, assuring him that he was more surprised
+than hurt. But Kingswell turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, and did
+not release him until they were safe beside the <i>Pelican's</i> bows. Just
+then Ouenwa and the sailors came running up with the looted pelts. All
+were puzzled. Why had the hidden enemy fired only one arrow, when they
+might have annihilated the little party with a volley?</p>
+
+<p>That night the <i>Pelican</i> lay at anchor in the mouth of the river. Twice,
+during the long, eerie hours between dark and dawn, the man on duty woke
+his companions; but on both occasions the alarms proved to be false&mdash;the
+splashing of a marauding otter near the shore or the flop of a feeding
+trout. Under the pale lights of the morning the valley and the stream
+lay as peaceful and deserted as on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> preceding evening. The voyagers
+ate their breakfast aboard. Then, as soon as the sun had cleared the
+light mist from the water, they got up their anchor and rowed up-stream.
+Harding and Clotworthy pulled on the oars. Bent and the commander
+crouched in the bows, with ready muskets, and Ouenwa sat at the tiller.
+The current was strong, and the boat crawled slowly against the twirling
+sinews of water. Little patches of spindrift, from some fall or rapid
+farther up the river, floated past them. The pebbly bottom flashed
+beneath the amber tide. Leaping fish gleamed and splashed on either
+hand, and sent silver circles rippling to the toiling boat. A moist,
+sweet fragrance of foliage and mould and dew filled the air.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the deserted lodges came into view, standing smokeless and pathetic
+between the murmuring river and the brooding trees. Kingswell motioned
+to Ouenwa to head for the low bank in front of the wigwams. They landed
+without incident, and all walked toward the village, with their firearms
+ready and their matches lighted. They explored every lodge and even beat
+the underbrush. The dwellings had been cleared of pelts and weapons and
+cooking utensils evidently during the night. A village of this size must
+have possessed at least<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> six canoes; but not a canoe, nor so much as a
+paddle, could they find.</p>
+
+<p>"All run in canoe," remarked Ouenwa, pointing up-stream.</p>
+
+<p>"What be this?" asked Tom Bent, limping toward Kingswell with an arrow
+and a small square of birch bark in his hand. He had found the bark,
+pinned by the arrow, to the side of one of the wigwams. Kingswell
+examined it intently, and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Pictures," he said. "I suppose it is a letter of some kind, in which
+their wise man tells us what he thinks of us."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa took the bark and surveyed the roughly sketched figures, with
+which it was covered, with a scornful twist of his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf," he said, indicating the central figure. "See! Very big!
+Bear"&mdash;he touched another point of the missive and then tapped his own
+breast&mdash;"see bear! Him no big! Wolf eat bear." He laughed shrilly, and
+shook his head. "No, no," he said. "No, no."</p>
+
+<p>"What be mun jabberin' about?" muttered Tom Bent.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell explained that the bear stood for Ouenwa's family, and that
+the wolf was the symbol of the people who had killed his grandfather.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>The <i>Pelican</i> continued her voyage before noon, and all day skirted an
+austere and broken coast. She crossed the mouths of many wide bays,
+steering for the purple headlands beyond. She rounded many islands and
+braved intricate channels. Toward evening she rounded a bluffer, grimmer
+cape than any of the day's experience, and Kingswell, who had just
+relieved Harding at the tiller, forsook the straight course and headed
+up the bay. Two hours of brisk sailing brought them to a sheltered
+roadstead behind an island and just off a wooded cove. They lowered the
+sail and rowed in close to the beach. They built no fire, and spent the
+night close to the tide, with their muskets and cutlasses beside them,
+and the watch changed every two hours.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later the voyagers happened upon a ship. They ran close in to
+where she lay at anchor, believing her to be English, and did not
+discover their mistake until the little tub of a brig opened fire from a
+brass cannonade. The first shot went wide, and the <i>Pelican</i> lay off
+with a straining sail. The second shot fell short, and that ended the
+encounter, for the Frenchmen were too busy fishing to get up anchor and
+give chase.</p>
+
+<p>Old Tom Bent was quite cast down over the incident. "It be the first
+time," he said, "that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> ever seen a Frencher admiral o' a bay in
+Newfoundland. One year I were fishin' in the <i>Maid o' Bristol</i>, in Dog's
+Harbour, Conception, an', though we was last to drop anchor, an' the
+only English ship agin six Frenchers and two Spanishers, by Gad, our
+skipper said he were admiral&mdash;an', by Gad, so he were."</p>
+
+<p>But the valorous old mariner did not suggest that they put about and
+dispute the admiralty of the little harbour which they had just passed.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER IX.</span> <span class="smaller">AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION</span></h2>
+
+<p>In a cave in White Bay the voyagers traded with a party of friendly
+natives. Farther north they found indications of copper, and collected a
+bagful of the mother rock. In late August a sickness prostrated Master
+Kingswell and Clotworthy, and camp was made on the mainland. For three
+weeks the sufferers were unable to lift their heads. They lost flesh
+until they were little more than skin and bone. Ouenwa undertook the
+dual position of physician and nurse. He had some knowledge of the
+science of medicine, as practised by the Beothics, and treated the
+malady with teas of roots and herbs. He also managed to kill a young
+caribou, and fed his patients with broth made from the meat. But it was
+close upon the end of September when the <i>Pelican</i> again took up her
+northward journey.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell's real reason for this adventurous cruise was the quest of
+gold. Other explorers had seen gold ore in the possession of the
+natives, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> he had heard stories of a French sailor having been
+wounded by a gold-barbed arrow. But the precious metal eluded him. Upon
+gaining the farthest cape of the great island, he wanted to cross the
+straits and continue his search along the Labrador coast; but the men
+shook their heads. The boat was too small for the voyage. Their
+provisions were running low. The northern summer was already far spent.
+So Kingswell headed the <i>Pelican</i> southward. After a week of fair winds,
+they were caught in a squall, and the starboard bow of their stout
+little craft was shattered while they were in the act of winning to a
+sheltered anchorage. Everything was salvaged; but it took them three
+days to patch the boat back to a seaworthiness. Even after this
+unlooked-for delay, the young commander persisted in exploring every
+likely looking cave and river mouth that had been neglected on the
+northward trip. The men grumbled sometimes, but it was not in the heart
+of any sailor to deny the wishes of so charming and brave a gentleman as
+Master Kingswell. Ouenwa's long conversations in his partially acquired
+English helped to keep the company in good spirits.</p>
+
+<p>It was November, and nipping weather in that northern bay, when the
+<i>Pelican</i> threaded the islands of Exploits and opened Wigwam Harbour to
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> eager gaze of her company. The harbour was empty! They had not
+sighted a vessel in any of the outer reaches of the bay. The
+drying-stages and fish stores stood deserted above the green tide.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell turned a bloodless face toward his men. "They have sailed for
+home without us," he said, and swallowed hard. Old Tom Bent gazed
+reflectively about him, and scratched a hoary whisker with a mahogany
+finger. He had grumbled at the chance of this very disaster, but now
+that he was face to face with it the thought of grumbling did not occur
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir," said he, "the damned rascals has sailed without us&mdash;an' we
+are lucky not to be in such dirty company!"</p>
+
+<p>He spat contemptuously over the gunwale. The colour returned to
+Kingswell's cheeks, and a flash of the old humour to his eyes. He smiled
+approvingly on the boatswain. But young Peter Harding, being neither as
+old nor as wise as Bent, nor as cool-headed as Clotworthy, had something
+to say on the subject. He ripped out an oath. Then&mdash;"By God," he cried,
+"here's one man who'd rather sail in a ship with what ye calls dirty
+company, Tom Bent, than starve in a damn skiff with&mdash;with you all," he
+finished, lamely.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell and Ouenwa looked at the young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>seaman with mute indignation
+in their eyes. But Tom Bent laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, Peter, boy," he said, "ye be one o' these fine, lion-hearted
+English mariners what's the pride o' the king an' the terror o' the
+seas. The likes o' ye don't sail shipmates with men, but with the duff
+an' the soup an' the prize-money." His voice shrilled a little. "Ay, if
+it wasn't that I know ye for a better man than ye sound just now, I'd ax
+cap'n's leave to twist the snivellin' nose off the fat face o' ye."</p>
+
+<p>"Tom be right," remarked Clotworthy, with a knowing and well-considered
+wag of his heavy head.</p>
+
+<p>Harding, who had delivered his speech from a commanding position on a
+thwart, sat down very softly, as if anxious not to attract any further
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a look at the old arrow-maker, lads," said Kingswell,
+cheerfully, "and stock up with enough dried venison to carry us south to
+Trinity, or even to Conception. Ships often lie in those bays till the
+snow flies. At the worst we can sail the old <i>Pelican</i> right 'round to
+St. John's, and winter there. I'll wager the governor would be glad
+enough of a few extra fighting men to scare off the French and the
+privateers."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>Despite Master Kingswell's brave words, there was no store of dried
+venison to be obtained from the arrow-maker, for both the old
+philosopher's lodge and Black Feather's were gone&mdash;gone utterly, and
+only the round, level circles on the sward to show where they had stood.
+What had become of Montaw and his friends could only be surmised.
+Ouenwa's opinion that the enemies of Soft Hand were responsible for
+their disappearance was shared by the Englishman. All agreed that
+immediate flight was safer than a further investigation of the mystery.
+So the storm-beaten, wave-weary <i>Pelican</i> turned seaward again.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later, toward nightfall, and after having sailed far up an arm
+of the sea and into the mouth of a great river, in fruitless search of
+some belated fishing-ship, the adventurers were startled and cheered by
+the sound of a musket-shot. It came from inland, from up the shadowy
+river. It was muffled by distance. It clapped dully on their eager ears
+like the slamming of a wooden door. But every lonely heart of them knew
+it for the voice of the black powder. They drifted back a little and lay
+at anchor all night, just off the mouth of the river. With the dark came
+the cruel frost. But they crawled beneath their freight of furs and
+slept. They were astir with the first gray lights,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> and before sunrise
+were pulling cautiously up the middle of the channel. White frost
+sparkled on thwart and gunwale. Dark, mist-wrapped forests of spruce and
+fir and red pine came down to the water on both sides. Here and there a
+fang of black rock, noisy with roosting gulls, jutted above the dark
+current. A jay screamed in the woods. A belated snipe skimmed across
+their bows. An eagle eyed them from the crown of an ancient pine, and
+swooped down and away.</p>
+
+<p>They must have ascended the stream a matter of two miles&mdash;and hard
+pulling it was&mdash;when Ouenwa's sharp eyes detected the haze of wood smoke
+beyond a wooded bend.</p>
+
+<p>"Cooking-fire there!" he exclaimed. "Maybe get something to eat? Maybe
+get killed?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke cheerfully, as if neither prospect was devoid of charm.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll risk it," remarked Kingswell, quietly. "Put your weight into the
+stroke, lads&mdash;and, Tom, keep your match handy."</p>
+
+<p>At last the bend was rounded, and the rowers turned on the thwarts and
+peered over their shoulders, and Kingswell uttered a low cry of delight.
+Close ahead of them the right-hand bank lay level and open, and along
+its edge were beached three skiffs. About twenty yards back stood a
+little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>settlement of log cabins enclosed by palisades. From the
+chimneys of the cabins plumes of comfortable smoke rose to the clearer
+azure above. In front of this civilized spot, in mid-stream, a small
+high-pooped vessel lay moored. Her masts and spars were gone. She swung
+like a dead body in the brown current.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bent swore softly and with grave deliberation. "Damn my eyes," he
+murmured. "Ay, sir, dash my old figger-head, if there don't lay a
+reggler, complete plantation! Blast my eyes!"</p>
+
+<p>"A tidy, Christian appearin' place," remarked Clotworthy, joyously. "An'
+real chimleys, too! Well, that do look homely, for certain."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment three men, armed with muskets, ran from the gateway of
+the enclosure and stood uncertain half-way between the palisade and the
+river. Kingswell hailed them, standing in the bluff bows of the little
+<i>Pelican</i>. He stated the nationality, the names, and degrees of himself
+and the other of the little company, and the manner of their misfortune,
+even while the boat was covering the short distance to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>The settlers laid aside their weapons, and received Master Kingswell and
+his men with every show of cordiality and good faith. They were
+strapping fellows, with weather-tanned faces, broad foreheads, steady
+eyes, and herculean shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> They doffed their skin caps to the
+gentleman adventurer.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye be our first visitors, sir, since we come ashore here two year and
+two months ago come to-morrow," said one of the three. "Yes, it be just
+two year and two months ago, come to-morrow, that we dropped anchor off
+the mouth of this river," he added, turning to his companions. They
+agreed silently. Their eyes and attention were fully absorbed by Master
+Kingswell's imposing, though sadly stained, yellow boots and gold-laced
+coat. Another settler joined the group, and welcomed the voyagers with
+sheepish grins. A fifth, arrayed in finery and a sword, approached and
+halted near by.</p>
+
+<p>"These," said the spokesman, "be Donnellys&mdash;father and son." With a
+casual tip of the thumb, he indicated two rugged members of the company.
+He turned to a handsome young giant beside him and smote him
+affectionately on the shoulder. "This here be my boy John&mdash;John
+Trigget," he said, "an' that gentleman be Captain Pierre d'Antons." He
+bowed, with ungracious deference, to the dark, lean, fashionably dressed
+individual who stood a few paces away. "An' my name be William Trigget,
+master mariner," he concluded.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell bowed low for the second time, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> again shook hands with the
+elder Trigget. Then he stepped over to D'Antons and murmured a few
+courteous words in so low a voice that his men caught nothing of them.
+Each gentleman laid his left hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. Each
+bowed, laced hat in hand, until his long hair fell forward about his
+face. D'Antons' locks were raven-black, and straight as a horse's mane.
+Young Kingswell's were bright as pale gold, and soft as a woman's. Both
+were of goodly proportions and gallant bearing, though the Frenchman was
+the taller and thinner of the two.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons slipped his arm within Kingswell's, and, motioning to the
+others to follow, started toward the stockade. William Trigget
+immediately strode forward and walked on Master Kingswell's other hand,
+as if determined to assert his rights as a leader of the mixed company.
+Ouenwa and the seamen of the <i>Pelican</i>, and the Donnellys and young
+Trigget, followed close on the heels of their superiors.</p>
+
+<p>"And who may ye be, lad?" inquired John Trigget of Ouenwa, as they
+crossed the level of frost-seared grass.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Ouenwa," replied the boy, frankly, "and Master Kingswell is my
+strong friend and protector. My grandsire was Soft Hand, the head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> chief
+of this country. His enemies&mdash;barking foxes who name themselves
+wolves&mdash;pulled him down in the night-time."</p>
+
+<p>The big settler nodded, and the others uttered ejaculations of pity and
+interest. The story was not news to them, however.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," said John Trigget, "Soft Hand were pulled down in the night, sure
+enough. The Injuns run fair crazy, what with murderin' each other an'
+burnin' each other's camps. I was huntin', two days to the north, when
+the trouble began. I come home without stoppin' to make any objections,
+an' the skipper kep' our gates shut for a whole week. They rebels was
+for wipin' out everybody; an' they captured two French ships, an' did
+for the crews. They be moved away inlan' now, thank God. We be safe till
+spring, I'm thinkin'."</p>
+
+<p>"There be worse folks nor they tormentin' Injuns around these here
+soundin's, an' ye can take my word for that," growled the elder
+Donnelly, in guarded tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Belay that," whispered John Trigget. "The devil can cook his stew
+plenty quick enough. Us won't bear a hand till the pot boils over."</p>
+
+<p>Captain d'Antons glanced back at the talkers. His black eyes gleamed
+suspiciously.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER X.</span> <span class="smaller">GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX</span></h2>
+
+<p>Inside the stockade, posted unevenly around three sides of a foot-worn
+square, were five buildings of rough logs. From a platform in the
+southeast corner two small cannon presented their muzzles to the river.
+At the back of this platform, on the southern side of the square, stood
+the Donnelly cabin. It was stoutly built, and measured fifteen paces
+across the front. Against the western palisade the Trigget cabin and
+Captain d'Antons' habitation faced the square. On the north side stood a
+fourth dwelling and a small storehouse. In the centre of the yard
+bubbled a spring of clear water under a rustic shed. A tiny brook
+sparkled away from it, under the stockade and down to the river. The
+well was flanked on both sides by a couple of slim birches, now leafless
+under the white November sun.</p>
+
+<p>The visitors were led to the Triggets' cabin, and Skipper Trigget's wife
+and daughter&mdash;both big,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> comely women&mdash;fed them with the best in the
+little plantation. After breakfast, Kingswell and Ouenwa were taken to
+D'Antons' quarters. The Frenchman was the spirit of hospitality, and
+took blankets and sheets from his own bed to dress their couches. Also
+he produced a flask of priceless brandy, from which he and Kingswell
+pledged a couple of glasses to the Goddess of Chance. The toast was
+D'Antons' suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>Presently D'Antons excused himself, saying that he had a matter of
+business to attend to, and left his guests to their own devices. The
+house was divided into two apartments by curtains of caribou hides,
+which were hung from one of the low crossbeams of the ceiling. At the
+end of each room a fire burned on a roughly built hearth. Two small
+windows of clouded glass partially lit the sombre interior. Books in
+English, French, and Spanish, a packet of papers, ink and quills, and a
+neatly executed drawing of a pinnace under sail lay on a table near one
+of the windows. Antlers of stags, decorated quivers and bows, painted
+hides, and glossy skins adorned the rough walls. Above the hearth in the
+room in which Kingswell and his young companion sat, hung a musket with
+a silver inlaid stock, a carved powder-horn, and several knives and
+daggers in beaded sheaths. On<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> the floor lay two great, pink-lipped West
+Indian shells. A steel head-piece, a breastplate of the same sure metal,
+and a heavy sword with a basket hilt hung above D'Antons' bed.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked over the books on the table. He found that one of them
+was a manual of arms, written in the Spanish language; another a work of
+navigation, by a Frenchman; a third a weighty thesis on the science and
+practice of surgery; and the fourth was a volume as well-loved as
+familiar,&mdash;Master William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." He took up
+this last, and, seating himself with his shoulder to the window, was
+soon far away from the failures and daily perils of the wilderness. The
+greedy, hard-bitted materialist Present, with its quests of "fish," and
+fur, and gold, was replaced by the magic All-Time of the playwright
+poet.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa wandered about the room, prying into every nook and corner, and
+examining the shells, the arms, and the decorations. He even knelt on
+the hearthstone, and, at the risk of setting fire to his hair, tried to
+solve the mystery of the chimney&mdash;for a fire indoor unaccompanied by a
+lodgeful of smoke was a new thing in his experience. He looked
+frequently at Kingswell, in the hope of finding him open to questions,
+but was always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>disappointed. At last the thought occurred to him that
+it would be a fine thing to get hold of the great sword above the bed,
+and make cut, lunge, and parry with it as Kingswell had shown him how to
+do on several occasions. So he climbed on to the bed, and, in trying to
+clear the sword from its peg, knocked the steel cap ringing to the
+floor. Kingswell sprang from his stool, with his arm across his body and
+his hand on his sword-hilt, and Master Shakespeare's immortal drama
+sprawled at his feet. "Oh, that's all, is it?" he exclaimed, in tones of
+relief. "But you must not handle other people's goods, lad," he added,
+kindly, "especially a gentleman's arms and armour."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa flushed and apologized, and was about to step from D'Antons'
+couch to recover the head-piece, when D'Antons himself entered the
+cabin. Kingswell turned to him and explained the accident.</p>
+
+<p>"My young friend is very sorry," he said, "and would beg your pardon if
+he felt less embarrassed. However, captain, I beg it for him. I was so
+intent on the affairs of Romeo that I was not watching him. He is
+naturally of an investigating turn of mind."</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchman waved a slim hand and flashed his white teeth. "It is
+nothing, nothing," he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> "I beg you not to mention it again, or
+give it another thought. The old pot has sustained many a shrewder whack
+than a tumble on the floor. Ah, it has turned blades of Damascus before
+now! But enough of this triviality! I have returned to request you to
+come with me to our governor. Neither Trigget nor I have mentioned him
+to you, as he is not desirous of meeting strangers. But he will make his
+own apologies, Master Kingswell."</p>
+
+<p>He stood aside, for Kingswell and Ouenwa to pass out before him.
+Kingswell went first. As Ouenwa crossed the threshold, D'Antons nipped
+him sharply by the arm, and hissed, "Dog! Cur!" in a voice so low, so
+sinister, that the boy gasped. But in a breath the Frenchman was his
+affable self again, and the Beothic, with the invectives still burning
+his ears, almost believed that he had been the victim of some evil
+magic. Kingswell caught nothing of the incident.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa was requested to wait outside. Master Kingswell was ushered into
+the governor's cabin, and D'Antons closed the door behind him. The young
+Englishman found himself in a dimly lit apartment very similar to that
+which he had just left. He hesitated, a step inside the threshold, and
+narrowed his lids in an effort to see more clearly. The Frenchman paused
+at his elbow. Two figures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> advanced from the farther side of the room.
+He ventured another step, and bowed with all the grace at his command,
+for one of the figures was that of a young woman in flashing raiment.
+The other was of a slim, foppishly dressed man of a little past middle
+age, with a worn face that somehow retained its air of youthfulness
+despite its haggard lines and faded skin.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome to our humble retreat, Master Kingswell," said the gentleman,
+extending his hand and laughing softly. "This is indeed an unlooked-for
+pleasure. We last met, I believe, at Randon Hall&mdash;or was it at Beverly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Ralph Westleigh!" exclaimed Kingswell, in a voice of ill-concealed
+consternation and surprise. For a moment he stood in an attitude of
+half-recoil. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the other with wide
+eyes. Then he caught the waiting hand in a firm grip.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Sir Ralph. Yes, it was at Beverly that we last met," he
+said, evenly. He turned to the girl, who stood beside her father with
+downcast eyes and flaming cheeks and throat. The baronet hastened to
+make her known to the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter Beatrix," he said. "A good girl, who willingly and
+cheerfully shares her worthless father's exile."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>Mistress Westleigh extended a firm and shapely hand, and Kingswell,
+bending low above it, intoxicated by the sudden presence of beauty and a
+flood of homesick memories, pressed his lips to the slim fingers with a
+warmth that startled the lady and brought a flash of anger to D'Antons'
+eyes. He recovered himself in an instant. "To see you in this
+wilderness&mdash;amid these bleak surroundings!" he exclaimed, scarcely above
+a whisper. "I cannot realize it, Mistress Beatrix! And once we played at
+racquets together in the court at Beverly."</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled at him, with a gleam of understanding in her dark,
+parti-coloured eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember," she said. "You have not changed greatly, save in size."
+And at that she laughed, with a note of embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"But you have," replied Kingswell. "You were not very beautiful as a
+little girl. To me you looked much the same as my own sisters."</p>
+
+<p>For a second, or less, the maiden's eyes met his with merriment and
+questioning in their depths. Then they were lowered. Sir Ralph moved
+uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," he said, "we must not stand here all day, like geese on a
+village green. There are seats by the fire." He led the way. "Captain,
+if you are not busy I hope you'll stay and hear some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> of Master
+Kingswell's adventures," he added, turning to D'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"With pleasure," answered the captain.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment, sir," said Kingswell to Sir Ralph Westleigh. "I have a
+young friend&mdash;a sort of ward&mdash;whom I left outside. I'll tell him to run
+over to the men and amuse himself with them."</p>
+
+<p>As he opened the door and spoke a few kind words to Ouenwa, there was a
+sneer on D'Antons' lips that did not escape Mistress Beatrix Westleigh.
+It irritated her beyond measure, and she had all she could do to
+restrain herself from slapping him&mdash;for hot blood and a fighting spirit
+dwelt in that fair body. She wondered how she had once considered him
+attractive. She blushed crimson at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell returned and seated himself on a stool between the governor of
+the little colony and the maiden. First of all, he told them who Ouenwa
+was, and of the time the lad saved him from injury by flooring old
+Trowley with his canoe paddle. Then he briefly sketched the voyage of
+the <i>Pelican</i>, and told something of his interests in the fishing fleet
+and in the new land.</p>
+
+<p>"And you found no indications of gold?" queried D'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"None," replied the voyager, "but some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>splendid copper ore in great
+quantities, and one mine of 'fool's gold.'"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet nodded, with one of his wan smiles. "There are other kinds
+of fool's gold than these iron pyrites, I believe," he said, "and one
+finds it nearer home than in this God-forsaken&mdash;ah&mdash;in this wild
+country."</p>
+
+<p>The others understood the reference, and even the polished Frenchman
+looked into the fire and had nothing to say. Kingswell studied the
+water-bleached toes of his boots, and Beatrix glanced piteously at her
+father. For Sir Ralph Westleigh's life had known much of fool's gold,
+and much of many another folly, and something of that to which his
+acquaintances in Somerset&mdash;and, for that matter, in all England&mdash;gave a
+stronger and less lenient name. The baronet had lived hard; but his
+story comes later.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew nothing of this plantation of yours," said Kingswell, presently.
+"I did not know, even, that you were interested in colonization&mdash;and yet
+you have been here a matter of two years, so Trigget tells me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and likely to die here&mdash;unless I am unearthed," replied Sir Ralph,
+bitterly, and with a meaning glance at Kingswell. "I put entire faith in
+my friends," he added. "And they are all in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> this little fort on Gray
+Goose River. My undoing lies in their hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, uneasily but stoutly, "I hope your trust
+has been extended to me,&mdash;yes, and to my men. Your wishes in any matter
+of&mdash;of silence or the like&mdash;are our orders. My fellows are true as
+steel. My friends are theirs. The young Beothic would risk his life for
+you at a word from me."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet was visibly affected by this speech. He laid a hand on the
+young man's knee and peered into his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are a friend&mdash;out and out?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"To the death," said the other, huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have heard? Of course you have heard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for me to say 'God bless you' to any man," said Sir Ralph,
+"but it's good of you. I feel your kindness more deeply than I can say.
+I have forgotten my old trick of making pretty speeches."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell blushed uncomfortably and wished that D'Antons, with his
+polite, superior, inscrutable smile, was a thousand miles out of sight
+of his embarrassment. The girl leaned toward him. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> she did not look
+at him. "God bless you&mdash;my fellow countryman," she whispered, in a voice
+so low that he alone caught the words. He had no answer to make to that
+unexpected reward. For a little they maintained a painful silence. It
+was broken by the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand, Master Kingswell, that, for certain reasons, it is
+advisable that the place of Sir Ralph Westleigh's retreat be kept from
+the knowledge of every one save ourselves," he said, slowly and easily.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," replied Kingswell, shortly. Captain d'Antons jarred on
+him, despite all his faultless and affable manners.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER</span></h2>
+
+<p>About mid-afternoon of the day of Kingswell's advent into the settlement
+on Gray Goose River&mdash;Fort Beatrix it was called&mdash;the sky clouded, the
+voice of the river thinned and saddened, and snow began to fall. By
+Trigget's advice&mdash;and Trigget seemed to be the working head of the
+plantation&mdash;the pelts and gear of the <i>Pelican</i> were removed to the
+storehouse.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye must winter in Newfoundland, sir, however the idea affects your
+plans, for no more ships will be sailing home this season; and ye
+couldn't make it in your bully," said the hospitable skipper.</p>
+
+<p>"We might work 'round to St. John's," replied Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Trigget shook his head. "This be the safer place o' the two," he
+answered, "and your Honour's company here will help keep Sir Ralph out
+o' his black moods. He wants ye to stay, I know. There'll be work and to
+spare for your men, what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> with cuttin' fuel, and huntin' game, and
+boat-buildin'."</p>
+
+<p>So Kingswell decided that, if this should prove the real setting-in of
+winter, and if no objections were raised by any of the pioneers, he
+would share the colony's fortunes until the following spring. D'Antons
+expressed himself as charmed with the decision; but, for all that,
+Kingswell saw, by deeper and finer signs than most people would credit
+him with the ability to read, that his presence was really far from
+agreeable to the French adventurer.</p>
+
+<p>When night closed about the little settlement, the snow was still
+falling, and ground and roofs shone with bleak radiance through the veil
+of darkness. The flakes of the storm were small and dry, and unstirred
+by any wind. They wove a curtain of silence over the unprotesting
+wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell and Ouenwa supped with the Westleighs. But before the meal,
+and before Mistress Beatrix appeared from her little chamber, the two
+gentlemen had an hour of private conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"This Captain d'Antons&mdash;what of him?" inquired Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"He is none of our choosing," replied the baronet. "Several years ago,
+before I had quite given up the old life and the old show, I met him in
+London. He was reported rich. He had sailed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> many voyages to the West
+Indies, and talked of lands granted to him in New France. I had sold
+Beverly, and Beatrix was with me in town. She was little more than a
+child, but her looks attracted a deal of attention. She had nothing
+else, as all the town knew, with her father a ruined gamester, and her
+dead mother's property gone, with Randon Hall and Beverly! Dear God, but
+here was a dower for a beautiful lass! Well, the poets made a song or
+two, and three old men were for paying titles and places for her little
+hand&mdash;and then the end came. We won back to Somerset, spur and whip,
+lashed along by fear. We hid about, in this cottage and that, while my
+trusted friend Trigget provisioned his little craft and got together all
+the folk whom you see here, save D'Antons. After a rough and tiring
+voyage of three weeks' duration, and just when we were looking out for
+land, we were met by a French frigate, and forced to haul our wind. A
+boat-load of armed men left the pirate&mdash;yes, that's what she was, a damn
+pirate&mdash;and there was Captain d'Antons seated in the stern-sheets of
+her, beside the mate. He had not been as long at sea as we had, and he
+knew all about my trouble, curse him! He left the frigate, which he said
+was bound on a peaceful voyage of discovery to the West Indies, and
+joined our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>expedition. I could not forbid it. I was at his mercy, with
+his cutthroats alongside and the gallows at the back of it. He has hung
+to us ever since; and he has acted civil enough, damn him. If he'd show
+his hoof now and again, I'd like it better&mdash;for then we would all be on
+our guard."</p>
+
+<p>"But why does he stay? Why does he live in this place when he might be
+reaping the harvests common to such husbandmen?" inquired Kingswell.
+"Has he a stake in the colony?"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet gazed reflectively at the young man. "The fellow has kept my
+secret, and shared our rough lot and dreary exile, and even expended
+some money on provisions," he replied, deliberately, "for no other
+reason than that he is in love with my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"He! A buccaneer!" exclaimed Kingswell, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," answered the baronet. "There, on the high seas, when he had
+us all in his clutch, when he might have seized by force that for which
+he now sues, he accepted my word of honour&mdash;mark you, he accepted what I
+had scarce the face to offer&mdash;that I would not withstand his suit, nor
+allow my men to do him any treasonable hurt so long as he kept my
+hiding-place secret and behaved like a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"And Mistress Beatrix?" asked the young man, softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, who can say?" responded the broken baronet. "At one time I feared
+that he was appearing as a hero to her. But I do not know. He played his
+game cleverly at first, but now he is losing patience. I would to God
+that he would lose it altogether. Then the compact would be broken. But
+no, he is cautious. He knows that, at a word from the girl, my sword
+would be out. Then things would go hard with him, even though he should
+kill me, for my men hate him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not pick a quarrel with him?" asked the headstrong Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not understand&mdash;you cannot understand&mdash;how delicate a thing to
+keep is the word of honour of a man who is branded as being without
+honour," replied the other, sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"And should Mistress Beatrix flout him," said Kingswell, "he would find
+his revenge in reporting your whereabouts to the garrison at St.
+John's."</p>
+
+<p>"He is well watched," said Sir Ralph, "and this is not an easy place to
+escape from, even in summer. We are hidden, up here, and not so much as
+a fishing-ship has sighted us in the two years."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wager that he'd find a way past your vigilance if he set his mind
+to it," retorted Kingswell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> "Gad, but it maddens me to think of being
+billeted under the roof of such an aspiring rogue! Rip me, but it's a
+monstrous sin that a lady should be plagued, and a whole body of
+Englishmen menaced, by a buccaneering adventurer."</p>
+
+<p>"My boy," replied Sir Ralph, wearily, "you must curb your indignation,
+even as the rest of us do. Discretion is the card to play just now. I
+have been holding the game with it for over two years. Who knows but
+that Time may shuffle the pack before long?"</p>
+
+<p>Just then Mistress Beatrix joined them. She wore one of the gay
+gowns&mdash;in truth somewhat enlarged and remodelled&mdash;by which her girlish
+beauty had been abetted and set off in England. There seemed a
+brightness and shimmer all about her. The coils of her dark hair were
+bright. The changing eyes were bright. The lips, the round neck and
+dainty throat, the buckled shoes, and even the material of bodice and
+skirt were radiant in the gloom and firelight of that rough chamber. To
+all appearances, her mood was as bright as her beauty. Sir Ralph watched
+her with adoring eyes, realizing her bravery. Kingswell joined in her
+gay chatter, and found it easy to be merry. Ouenwa, silent on the corner
+of the bench by the hearth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> gazed at this vision of loveliness with
+wide eyes. He could realize, without effort, that Sir Ralph and D'Antons
+and even his glorious Kingswell were men, even as Tom Bent, and the
+Triggets, and Black Feather were, but that Mistress Beatrix was a
+woman&mdash;a woman, as were William Trigget's wife and daughter, and Black
+Feather's squaw&mdash;no, he could not believe it! He was even surprised to
+note a resemblance to other females in the number of her hands and feet.
+She had, most assuredly, two hands and two feet. Also she had one head.
+But how different in quality, though similar in number, were the members
+of this flashing young divinity.</p>
+
+<p>"I left Montaw's lodge to behold the wonders of the world," mused the
+dazzled child of the wilderness, "and already, without crossing the
+great salt water, I have found the surpassing wonder. Can it be that any
+more such beings exist? Has even Master Kingswell ever before looked
+upon such beauty and such raiment?"</p>
+
+<p>His spellbound gaze was met by the eyes of the enchantress. To his
+amazement, the lady moved from her father's side and seated herself on
+the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so quiet," she said, "that I did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> notice you before. So you
+are Master Kingswell's ward?"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was very kind and cheerful, and her silks brushed the lad's
+hand. He looked at the finery uneasily, but did not answer her question.</p>
+
+<p>"You told us he knew English," she said to Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"He does," replied the young man. Then, to the boy: "Ouenwa, Mistress
+Westleigh wants to know if you are my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the lad. "Good friend."</p>
+
+<p>"And my friend, too?" asked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Ouenwa. "You look so&mdash;so&mdash;like he called the sky one
+morning." He pointed at Master Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?" she queried.</p>
+
+<p>"What morning?" asked Kingswell, leaning forward and smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Five mornings ago, chief," replied Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell laughed. "You are right, lad," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But tell me what you called the sky, sir. Really, this is very
+provoking. No doubt the boy thinks I look a fright," said Miss
+Westleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrix," interrupted Sir Ralph, "surely I see Kate with the candles."</p>
+
+<p>The girl could not deny it, for the table was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> spread in the same
+room,&mdash;a rough, square table with a damask cloth, and laid out with a
+fair show of silver, decanters, and a great venison pasty, which had
+been cooked in the Triggets' kitchen across the yard.</p>
+
+<p>The meal was a delightful one to Kingswell. He had not eaten off china
+dishes for many months. The food, though plain, was well cooked and well
+served. The wines were as nectar to his eager palate. And over it all
+was the magic of Mistress Westleigh's presence&mdash;potent magic enough to a
+young gentleman who had almost forgotten the looks and ways of the women
+of his own kind. Ouenwa sat as one in a dream, fairly stupefied by the
+gleam of silver and linen under the soft light of the candles. He ate
+painfully and slowly, imitating Kingswell. He looked often at the
+vivacious hostess. Suddenly he exclaimed: "I remember. Yes, it was
+lovely beautiful, what the chief said!" Kingswell laughed delightedly,
+and the baronet joined, with reserve, in the mirth. The girl looked
+puzzled for a moment,&mdash;then confused,&mdash;then, with a little,
+indescribable cry of merriment, she patted Ouenwa's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming lad!" she exclaimed. "I have not received so pretty a
+compliment for, oh, ever so long."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> She looked across the table at
+Kingswell, feeling his gaze upon her. His eyes were very grave, and
+darkened with thought, though his lips were still smiling.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XII.</span> <span class="smaller">MEDITATION AND ACTION</span></h2>
+
+<p>For hours after retiring Kingswell lay awake, reviewing, in his restless
+brain, the incidents of that crowded day. His couch was luxurious,
+compared to the resting-places he had known since leaving the <i>Heart of
+the West</i>; but, for all that, sleep evaded him. From the other side of
+the hearth Ouenwa's deep and regular breathing reached his alert ears.
+He saw the yellow light blink to darkness above the curtain of skins,
+when D'Antons extinguished his candle in the other apartment. The red
+firelight rose and fell, dwindled and flooded high. The core of it
+contracted and expanded, and a straight log across the middle of the
+glow was like a heavy eyelid. It was like something alive&mdash;like
+something stirring between sleeping and waking, desiring sleep, yet
+afraid to forsake a vigil. To the restless explorer beside the hearth it
+suggested a drowsy servitor nodding and starting in a deserted hall.
+"What is it waiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> for?" he wondered, and smiled at the conceit. "What
+does it fear? Mayhap the master and mistress are late at a rout, and are
+people without consideration for the feelings of their servants."</p>
+
+<p>From such harmless imagery his mind slipped to the less pleasant subject
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh. He recalled what he had seen and heard of the
+days of the baronet's glory&mdash;of the great places near Bristol, with
+their stables that were the envy of dukes, and their routs that lured
+people weary and dangerous journeys&mdash;of the famous Lady Westleigh and
+her jewels&mdash;of Sir Ralph's kindliness to great and small alike. His own
+father, the merchant-knight of Bristol, had held the baronet in high
+esteem. Bernard himself, when a child, and later when a well-grown lad,
+had experienced the hospitality of Randon Hall and Beverly. At the time
+of his last visit to Beverly, rumour was busy with the baronet's
+affairs. During Lady Westleigh's life, all had gone well, apparently.
+After her death, Sir Ralph spent less of his time at home, and more of
+it in distant London, and even in Paris. Stories went abroad of his
+heavy gaming and his ruinous bad luck. People said the love of the dice
+and the cards had settled in the man like a disease, working on him
+physically to such an extent that he looked a different person when the
+heat of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> play was on him. Also it played the devil with him
+morally&mdash;and perhaps mentally. So things took the turn and started
+down-hill. Then the run was short and mad, despite warnings of friends,
+threats of relatives, and the baronet's own numerous clever checks and
+parries to avoid disaster. There was a season of hope after the sale of
+Randon. But the lurid clouds gathered again. Then Beverly was
+impoverished to the last oak and the last horse in the stud. The baronet
+took his daughter to town, and, by a turn of luck, put in a few merry
+months. Then a certain Scotch viscount caught him playing as no
+gentleman, no matter how dissolute, is supposed to play. The Scotchman
+made a clamour, and was killed for his trouble. That was the last known
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh and his daughter by any one of the outside world
+until the <i>Pelican</i> landed her voyagers before the stockade of Fort
+Beatrix on Gray Goose River.</p>
+
+<p>All these matters employed Kingswell's thoughts as he lay awake in
+Captain d'Antons' cabin and watched the fire on the rough hearth fall
+lower and lower. Pity for the young girl, who had been born and bred to
+such a different heritage, pained and fretted him more keenly than a
+personal loss. The discomfort of it was almost as if his conscience were
+accusing him of disloyalty to a friend, though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> that was absurd, as
+neither he nor his had helped Westleigh in his descent, nor cried out
+against him when he met disaster at the bottom. But he had never, during
+those two years after their disappearance, given them more than a
+passing thought&mdash;and they had been friends and neighbours. He had
+experienced no pity for the young and beautiful girl with whom he had
+played in the racquet court at Beverly. Like the great world of which he
+was so insignificant a part, he had forgotten. Two lives, more or less,
+were of no consequence in such stirring times. He groaned, as if the
+realization of a great sin had come to him. Then, to the anger against
+himself was added anger against the world that had dragged Sir Ralph
+into this oblivion of dishonour, and the innocent girl into exile. What
+had she done to be driven beyond the bounds of civilization, her safety
+dependent on the whims of a French buccaneer? Ah, there was the raw
+spot, sure enough! In the little space of time between two risings of
+the sun, Kingswell had met a man and marked him for an enemy. Nursing a
+bitter, though somewhat muddled, resentment, he at last fell asleep,
+guarded from storm and frost by the roof of the very man who had
+inspired his anger.</p>
+
+<p>For the next few days matters went smoothly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> at Fort Beatrix. It was
+evident to even the least experienced of the settlers that the winter
+had come to stay. The snow lay deep and dry over the frozen earth. The
+river was already hidden under a skin of gleaming ice, made opaque by
+the snow that had mingled with the water while it was freezing. The
+little settlement took up the routine of the dreary months. Axes were
+sharpened at the great stone in the well-house. The men donned moccasins
+of deerskin. They tied ingenious racquets, or snow-shoes, to their feet
+and tramped into the sombre forests. All day the thud, thud of the axes
+jarred across the air, interrupted ever and anon by the rending,
+splitting lament of some falling tree.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell put his men under William Trigget's orders, and he and Ouenwa
+spent much of their time with the choppers. Also, they journeyed with
+the trappers. Captain d'Antons, who was a skilled and tireless woodsman,
+led them on many weary marches in quest of game and fur. Most of the
+caribou had travelled southward, in herds of from ten to one hundred
+head, at the approach of winter; but a few remained in the sheltered
+valleys. Fortunately the settlers were familiar with the habits of the
+deer, and had laid in a supply of dried venison during the summer.
+However, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>whenever the hunters managed to make a kill, the fresh meat
+was enthusiastically received at the fort. Hares and grouse were snared,
+as were foxes and other small animals. A few wolves and one or two
+wildcats were shot. The bears were all tucked safely away in their
+winter quarters, and the beavers were frozen into theirs. On the whole,
+the hunters had a hard time of it, and no great reward for their toil.
+But it was work that kept both their brains and sinews employed, and so
+was of a deal more worth than the bare value of the pelts and dinners it
+supplied.</p>
+
+<p>One day in early December, when Kingswell, D'Antons, the younger
+Donnelly, and Ouenwa were traversing a drifted expanse of "barren,"
+marching in single file and without undue noise, they came upon another
+trail of racquet prints. They halted. They regarded this unexpected
+evidence of the proximity of their fellow man with misgivings&mdash;for snow
+had fallen in abundance, and therefore the trail was new. They glanced
+uneasily about them, scanning clumps of spruce and fir and mounds of
+snow-drifted rock with anxious eyes. They strained their ears for some
+warning sound&mdash;or for the twanging of bowstrings. They saw nothing. They
+heard nothing but the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>disconsolate chirping of a moose-bird in a
+thicket close at hand. D'Antons lowered his gaze to the trail.</p>
+
+<p>"From the westward, and heading for the river," he said. "Then they are
+not from the village on Gander Lake."</p>
+
+<p>"Big number," remarked Ouenwa. "Ten, twenty, thirty&mdash;don't know how
+much! Whole camp, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," agreed Donnelly, "they sure has packed clear down through two
+falls o' snow. Ye could trot a pony along the pat' they has made."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you on friendly terms with the savages?" inquired Kingswell of
+Captain d'Antons. The Frenchman smiled uncheerfully and shrugged his
+lean shoulders. He was not one to speak unconsidered words.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we are on friendly terms with the people from Gander Lake," he
+replied, presently. "That is, we have traded with them a number of
+times, and have exchanged gifts with their chief, and through him with
+old Soft Hand. But Soft Hand is dead now; and these fellows are
+evidently from the West. Also, friendship means nothing where these
+vermin are concerned. Treachery is as the breath of life to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Panounia," whispered Ouenwa, excitedly. "Panounia no good for friend.
+He is a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>murderer. He is a false chief. He make trade&mdash;yes, with
+war-arrows from the bushes and with knives in the dark. In friendship
+his hand is under his robe, and his fingers are on the hilt of his
+knife. Evil warms itself at his heart like an old witch at a fire."</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons smiled thinly at the lad. "There is a time for all things," he
+said&mdash;"a time for oratory and another time for action. If you are
+willing, Master Kingswell, let us now retrace our steps as swiftly and
+quietly as may be. It would be wise to warn the fort that a band of the
+sly devils is abroad."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa glanced uncertainly at the speaker and flushed darkly. Kingswell
+intimated his willingness to return immediately to Fort Beatrix by a
+curt nod. It was in his heart to administer a kick to Captain Pierre
+d'Antons, though just why the desire he could not say. They turned in
+their tracks and started back along the twisting, seven-mile trail.
+D'Antons led; and the pace he set was a stiff one. Mile after mile was
+passed, with no other sound save those of padding racquet and toiling
+breath. In the hollows their shoulders brushed the snow from the
+crowding spruce-fronds. Going over the knolls, they crouched low, and
+scanned the horizon with alert eyes as they ran.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>At last, all but breathless from the prolonged exertion, the hunters
+turned aside from the path and ascended the gradual, heavily wooded side
+of a hill which overlooked the fort from the south. They crossed the
+naked summit with painful caution, bending double, and taking every
+advantage of the sheltering thickets.</p>
+
+<p>"The choppers are inside," whispered D'Antons to Kingswell, as they
+peered furtively out between the snow-weighted branches. "See! And the
+savages are in cover along the river." It was quite evident to Kingswell
+that the place had been attacked, and was now in a state of siege. The
+platform in the southeast corner of the stockade was protected by
+shields composed of bundles of firewood. Men whom he recognized as those
+who had been working in the woods earlier in the day moved about within
+the enclosure. The wide, snow-covered clearing that had been so spotless
+when he had last seen it was trampled and stained here and there by dark
+patches. Along the fringe of timber that shut the river from the
+clearing, and extended to within a dozen paces of the southeast corner
+of the stockade, a Beothic warrior would frequently show himself for a
+moment, hoot derisively, and let fly a harmless shaft. Presently the
+watchers on the knoll saw the head and shoulders of William<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> Trigget
+above the shield of the gun-platform. The master mariner shaded his eyes
+with his hand and seemed to be scanning the woods along the river and
+then the timber in which his own comrades were concealed. He lowered his
+hand and ducked quickly&mdash;and not a second too soon; for a flight of
+arrows rattled against his stronghold, a few stuck, quivering, into the
+pickets of the stockade, and many fell within the fort.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell turned to D'Antons. "More of them than we thought," he said.
+"There must have been a hundred arrows in that volley."</p>
+
+<p>Captain d'Antons nodded with a preoccupied air. He did not look at his
+companion, and his brow was puckered in lines of thought. If the
+Englishman had been able to read the other's mind at that moment, a deal
+of future trouble would have been spared him. However, as Kingswell was
+but an adventurous, keen-witted young man, with no superhuman powers, he
+was content with the Frenchman's nod, and returned his attentions to the
+fort.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, from the screen of faggots above which Trigget had so lately
+exposed his head, burst a flash of yellow flame, a spurt of white smoke,
+and a clapping bulk of sound. The stockade shook. A spruce-tree shook in
+the wood by the river, and cries of fear and consternation rang across
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> frosty air. A score of savages darted from their cover and as
+quickly sped back again. Flight after flight of arrows broke away and
+tested every inch of surface of Trigget's shelter. Then, with shrill
+screams and mad yells of defiance, the whole party of Beothics emerged
+into the clearing and dashed for the palisade. They drew their bows as
+they ran, and some hurled clubs and spears. In front, with red feathers
+in his hair and his right arm bandaged across his breast, Panounia
+shouted encouragement and led the charge. They were half-way across the
+open when the second cannon spat forth its message of hate. The ball
+passed low over the advancing mass and plunged into the timber beyond.
+For a second or two, the attackers wavered, a few turned back, then they
+continued their valorous onset. They were already springing at the
+palisade when the muskets crashed in their faces from half a dozen
+loopholes. This volley was followed immediately by another. The savages
+dropped back from their futile leapings against the fortification, hung
+on their heels for a moment, clamorous and undecided, and then broke for
+cover. They dragged their dead and wounded with them, and left
+sanguinary trails on the snow. They were within a few yards of the
+sheltering trees when one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> of the little cannon banged again. The ball
+cut across the mass of crowded warriors like a string through cheese.</p>
+
+<p>"Now is our time!" exclaimed Kingswell. "Run for the gate, lads."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span> <span class="smaller">SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE</span></h2>
+
+<p>The returning hunters were promptly admitted to the fort. The little
+garrison welcomed them joyfully. The West Country sailors were, for the
+moment, cordial even toward D'Antons, whom they usually ignored. The
+party had taken a hundred chances with death in the crossing of the
+narrow clearing. Arrows had followed them from the fringe of wood along
+the river, like bees from an overturned hive. Ouenwa's left arm had been
+scratched. D'Antons' fur cap had been torn from his head, pierced
+through and through. A hail of missiles had clattered against the gate
+as the good timbers swung to behind them. Cries of rage and chagrin, in
+which Ouenwa's name was repeated many times, rang from the retreat of
+the defeated warriors. The garrison answered with cheers. Ouenwa's
+shrill voice carried clear above the tumult, lifted in Beothic insults.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph himself was in command of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>imperilled fortress. The
+excitement had stirred him out of his customary gloom. His eyes were
+bright, and his cheeks flew a patch of colour. His sword was at his
+side, and he held a musket in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"That was their third attempt to get over the stockade," he said to
+Kingswell and D'Antons. "They are filled with the very devil to-day. But
+I scarcely think that they will come back for more, now that Trigget has
+got his growlers into working order."</p>
+
+<p>"How did it begin?" asked the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, about three score of them marched up and said they wanted to come
+in and trade," replied the baronet, "but, as they seemed to have nothing
+to trade save their bows and spears, Trigget warned them off. Then they
+went out on the river and began chopping up the <i>Red Rose</i> and the
+<i>Pelican</i>. At that we let off a musket, and they retired to cover, from
+which they soon emerged with reinforcements and tried to carry the place
+by weight of numbers."</p>
+
+<p>"Hark," said the Frenchman. "What is that they are yelling?"</p>
+
+<p>"My name," replied Ouenwa. "They are my enemies."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, and so it is our privilege to fight this gentleman's battles for
+him," remarked D'Antons,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> with an exaggerated bow to the lad. "Perhaps
+this is the explanation of the attack."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not," answered Kingswell, crisply. "They are surprised at
+discovering him here. Also they are surprised and displeased at seeing
+me again. They have smelled our powder before, as you have heard, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have heard the heroic tale, monsieur," replied the captain,
+smiling his thin, one-sided, Continental smile.</p>
+
+<p>The blood mounted in Kingswell's cheek. He turned on his heel without
+any further words. Ouenwa followed him to the Trigget cabin, whence he
+was bound for something to eat.</p>
+
+<p>Panounia and his braves retreated across the frozen river, and did not
+show themselves again that day. In the fort every musket was loaded, the
+improvised gun-shields were repaired and strengthened, and the guns were
+again got ready for action. In place of round shot, William Trigget
+charged them with scrap-iron and slugs of lead.</p>
+
+<p>"When ye has a lot o' mowin' to do in a short time, cut a wide swath,"
+he remarked to Tom Bent.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir," replied Kingswell's boatswain, turning a hawk-like eye on the
+dark edges of the forest. "Ay, sir, cut a wide swath, an' let the devil
+make the hay. It be mun's own crop."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>At the time of the hunters' return, Mistress Beatrix was looking from
+the doorway of her father's cabin. Now she knelt in her own chamber,
+sobbing quietly, with her face buried in her hands. All the bitterness
+and insecurity of her position had come to her with overmastering force.
+The sight of Captain d'Antons' thin face and uncovered, bedraggled hair,
+as he leaned on his musket and talked with her father and the young
+Englishman, had melted the courage in her heart. She prayed confusedly,
+half her thoughts with the petitions which she made to her God, and half
+with the desperate state of her affairs and the features and attitude of
+the buccaneer.</p>
+
+<p>She was disturbed by some one entering the outer room. She recognized
+the footsteps as those of Sir Ralph. She got up from her knees, bathed
+her face and eyes, touched her hair to order with skilful fingers, and
+opened the door of her chamber. The baronet looked up at the sound.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, lass," he said, "we've driven the rascals off. They have crossed
+the river."</p>
+
+<p>With that he fell again to his slow pacing of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not fear the savages," she cried. "Oh, I do think their knives and
+arrows would be welcome."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>"Poor child! poor little lass!" he said, pausing beside her and kissing
+her tenderly. "You have been weeping," he added, concernedly. "But
+courage, dear. The fellow is harmless for five long months to come. His
+fangs are as good as filed, shut off here and surrounded by the snow and
+the savages."</p>
+
+<p>Evidently the sight of his daughter's distress had dimmed the finer
+conception of his promise to D'Antons. He looked about him uneasily and
+sighed.</p>
+
+<p>She laid her face against his coat and held tight to his sleeves.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate him," she whispered. "Oh, my father, I hate him for my own sake
+as much as I fear him for yours. His every covert glance, his every open
+attention, stings me like a whip. And yet, out of fear, I must smile and
+simper, and play the hypocrite."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;by God!" exclaimed Westleigh, trembling with emotion. Then, more
+quietly, "Beatrix, I cannot wear this mask any longer. The fellow is
+hateful to me. I despise him. How such a creation of the devil's can
+love you so unswervingly is more than I can fathom. I would rather see
+you dead than married to him. There&mdash;I have broken my word again! Let me
+go."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>He freed himself from the girl's hands, caught up his hat and cloak,
+and left the cabin. He crossed over to the well-house, where some of the
+men were grinding axes and cutlasses, and joined feverishly in their
+simple talk of work, and battle, and adventure. Their honest faces and
+homely language drove a little of the bitterness of his shame from him.
+Presently Kingswell and Ouenwa joined the group about the complaining
+grindstone.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," said Sir Ralph, "and look at the cannon."</p>
+
+<p>He plucked Kingswell by the sleeve. Ouenwa followed them. All three
+ascended the little platform on which the guns were mounted, by way of a
+short ladder. The pieces, ready loaded, were snugly covered with
+tarpaulins that could be snatched off in a turn of the hand.</p>
+
+<p>"A worthy fellow is William Trigget," remarked the baronet. "Ay, he is
+true as steel."</p>
+
+<p>He laid a caressing hand on the breech of one of the little cannon. "I
+would trust him, yea, and his good fellows, with anything I possess," he
+said, "as readily as I trust these growlers to his care."</p>
+
+<p>Just then Ouenwa pointed northward to the wooded bluff that cut into the
+white valley and hid the settlement from the lower reaches of the river.
+From beyond the point, moving slowly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> unsteadily, appeared a
+solitary human figure. Its course lay well out on the level floor of the
+stream, and the forest growth along the shore did not conceal it from
+the watchers. It approached uncertainly, as if without a definite goal,
+and, when within a few hundred yards of the fort, staggered and fell
+prone.</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil does it mean?" cried Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell shook his head, and questioned Ouenwa. The lad continued to
+gaze out across the open. The sun was low over the western hills, and
+its light was red on the snow.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurt," he said, presently. "Maybe starved. He is not of Panounia's
+band."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know that, lad?" asked the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," replied the boy. "He is a hunter. He is not of the war-party.
+He is from the salt water."</p>
+
+<p>"He is usually right when he maintains that a thing is so, without being
+able to give a reason for it," said Kingswell, quietly. "And, if he is,
+it seems a pity to let the man die out there under our very eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"God knows I do not want any one to suffer," said the baronet, "but may
+it not be a trick of this Panounia's, or whatever you call him?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>"No trick," replied Ouenwa; and, without so much as "by your leave," he
+vaulted over the breastwork of faggots and landed lightly on the snow
+outside the stockade. Without a moment's hesitation, Kingswell followed.
+Together they started toward the still figure out on the river, at a
+brisk run. They had reached the bank before Sir Ralph recovered from his
+astonishment. He quickly descended to the square, and, without
+attracting any attention, informed William Trigget of what had happened.
+Trigget and his son immediately ascended to the guns and drew off their
+tarpaulins. "We'll cover the retreat, sir," said the mariner. They saw
+their reckless comrades bend over the prostrate stranger. Then Kingswell
+lifted the apparently lifeless body and started back at a jog trot.
+Ouenwa lagged behind, with his head continually over his shoulder. The
+elder Trigget swore a great oath, and smacked a knotty fist into a
+leathern palm.</p>
+
+<p>"Them's well-plucked uns," he added.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet and John Trigget agreed silently. They were too intent on
+the approach of the rescuers to speak. Also, they kept a keen outlook
+along the woods on the farther shore. But the enemy made no sign; and
+Kingswell, Ouenwa, and the unconscious stranger reached the stockade in
+safety. The stranger proved to be none other than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Black Feather, the
+stalwart and kindly brave who had built his lodge beside the old
+arrow-maker's, above Wigwam Harbour, in the days of peace. He was
+carried into Trigget's cabin and dosed with French brandy until he
+opened his eyes. He looked about him blankly for a second or two, and
+then his lids fluttered down again. He had not recognized either
+Kingswell or Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the poor lad, the poor lad," cried Dame Trigget. "Whatever has mun
+been a-doin' now, to get so distressin' scrawny? An' a fine figger, too,
+though he be a heathen, without a manner o' doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind his religious beliefs, dame, but get some of your good
+venison broth inside of him," said Master Kingswell. "That's a treatment
+that would surely convert any number of heathen."</p>
+
+<p>While they were clustered about Black Feather's couch, D'Antons entered.
+He peered over Dame Trigget's ample shoulders and looked considerably
+surprised at finding an unconscious, emaciated Beothic the centre of
+attraction.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" he asked. "A tragedy or a comedy?"</p>
+
+<p>His tone was sour, and too bantering for the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet turned on him with an expression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> of mouth and eye that did
+not pass unnoticed by the little group.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not a comedy, monsieur," he replied, coldly; "and we hope it
+will not prove a tragedy."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span> <span class="smaller">A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING</span></h2>
+
+<p>Meals were not served in Captain d'Antons' cabin. The little settlement
+possessed but one servant among all its workers, and that one was Maggie
+Stone, Mistress Westleigh's old nurse. The care of Sir Ralph's
+establishment was all she could attend to. So the men who had no
+women-folk of their own to cook for them were fed by Dame Trigget and
+her sturdy daughter Joyce, or by the Donnelly women. Kingswell and
+D'Antons took their meals at Dame Trigget's table, and were served by
+themselves, with every mark of respect. Ouenwa, Tom Bent, Harding, and
+Clotworthy shared the Donnellys' board.</p>
+
+<p>A few hours after Black Feather's rescue, Kingswell and D'Antons sat
+opposite one another at a small table near the hearth of the Triggets'
+living-room. A stew of venison and a bottle of French wine stood between
+them. D'Antons took up the bottle, and made as if to fill the other's
+glass.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"One moment," said Kingswell, raising his hand.</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchman looked at him keenly and set down the vintage. The
+Englishman leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain d'Antons," he said, scarce above a whisper, "a remark that you
+made to-day seemed to imply that you considered me a braggart. Your
+remark was in reference to the brushes between the <i>Pelican</i> and a party
+of natives during our cruise from the North. Before I take wine with you
+to-night, I want you to either withdraw or explain your implication."</p>
+
+<p>While Kingswell spoke, the other's eyes flashed and calmed again. Now
+his dark face wore an even look of puzzled inquiry. His fine eyes, clear
+now of the expression of cynicism which so often marred them, held the
+Englishman's without any sign of either embarrassment or anger. His hand
+returned to the neck of the bottle and lingered there. Lord, but the
+drama lost an exceptionally fine interpreter when the high seas claimed
+Pierre d'Antons! The thin, clean-shaven lips trembled&mdash;or was it the
+wavering of the candle-light?</p>
+
+<p>"My friend," he said, softly, "how unfortunate am I in my stupidity&mdash;in
+my blundering use of the English language. Whatever my words were, when
+I spoke of having already heard of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> fights with the savages, my
+meaning was such that no one would take exception to. Did I use the word
+heroic, monsieur? Then heroic, noble, was what I meant. An Englishman
+would have made use of a smaller, a simpler word, perhaps; or would have
+refrained from any display of admiration. Ah, I am unfortunate in my
+heritage of French and Spanish blood&mdash;the blood that is outspoken both
+for praise and blame."</p>
+
+<p>Poor, honest Kingswell was shaken with conflicting emotions. His heart
+told him the man was lying. His eyes assured him that he had been
+grievously mistaken, not only in the matter of the remark concerning the
+skirmishes with the Beothics, but in his whole opinion of the Frenchman.
+His blood surged to his head, and whispered that he was a young fool to
+be hoodwinked so easily. His brain was sadly uncertain. A twinge of pity
+for the handsome adventurer&mdash;for the love-struck buccaneer&mdash;went through
+him. But it faded at remembrance of Sir Ralph's story. He knew the
+fellow was playing with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Wine, monsieur?" inquired D'Antons, softly, with a smile of infinite
+sweetness and shy persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>With a mumbled apology, the young Englishman pushed forward his glass,
+and the red wine swam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> to the brim. And all the while he was inwardly
+cursing his own weakness and the other's strength. He had not the
+courage to meet the Frenchman's look when they raised their glasses and
+clinked them across the table. Lord, what a calf he was!</p>
+
+<p>Had he no will of his own? Did he possess neither knowledge of men nor
+mother wit? Ah, but he rated himself pitilessly as he bent his flushed
+face over his plate of stew.</p>
+
+<p>When the meal was finished, Kingswell returned to Black Feather's couch,
+and D'Antons went over to his own cabin. By this time Black Feather had
+recovered consciousness and swallowed some of Dame Trigget's broth;
+also, he had recognized Ouenwa and murmured a few words to the lad in
+his own tongue. But, beyond that, he was too weak to disclose anything
+of what had happened in Wigwam Harbour after the slaying of Soft Hand.
+He lay very still, apparently lifeless, except for his quick, bright
+eyes, which moved restlessly in questioning scrutiny of the strange
+women and bearded men who sat about the room. Ouenwa held one of the
+transparent hands and smiled assuringly.</p>
+
+<p>For half an hour Kingswell sat beside the man he had rescued so
+courageously from death by starvation. Then, feeling the heat of the
+room and the confusion of his thoughts too much to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>entertain calmly, he
+went out into the cold and darkness and paced up and down. All
+unknowing, he kicked the snow viciously every step. He was still in a
+perturbed state of mind and temper when William Trigget approached him
+through the gloom and touched his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Askin' your pardon, master," he said, standing close, "but what of that
+Injun in there? Be he really sick, or be he playing a game?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is surely sick, and he is just as surely not playing a game,"
+replied Kingswell. "But why do you ask? The fellow is a friend of
+Ouenwa's, and was one of old Soft Hand's warriors."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir, but maybe mun has changed his coat," said Trigget, "an' has
+shammed sick just to get carried inside the fort. There be something
+goin' on outside, for certain."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked the other.</p>
+
+<p>Then Trigget told how he had been startled, while standing under the
+gun-platform, by a sound of scrambling outside the stockade. He had
+crawled noiselessly up the ladder and looked over the breastworks about
+the guns. He had been able to distinguish something darker than the
+surrounding darkness crouched against the palisade under him. The thing
+had moved cautiously. He had detached a faggot from one of the bundles
+beside him, for lack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> of a better weapon, and had hurled it down at the
+black form. There had sounded a stifled cry, and the thing had vanished
+in the night.</p>
+
+<p>"It were one o' they savages, I know," concluded Trigget.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell forgot his personal grievance in the face of this menace from
+the hidden enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"The guards should be doubled," he said. "But come, we must let Sir
+Ralph know of it."</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the yard to the baronet's cabin and knocked on the door.
+Maggie Stone admitted them to the outer room, where Sir Ralph and
+Mistress Beatrix were seated, the girl reading aloud to her father by
+the light of one poor candle. But the great fire on the hearth had the
+place fairly illuminated.</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget, undismayed by fog and bad weather, cool in any risk of
+land or sea, was too abashed at the presence of the lady to tell his
+story. So Master Kingswell told it for him.</p>
+
+<p>"The guards must be doubled," said Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"They be that already, sir," replied Trigget, breaking the spell of the
+bright eyes that surveyed him.</p>
+
+<p>"That is well," answered the baronet. "There is nothing else to be done,
+at least until morning, but sleep light and keep your muskets handy."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>Kingswell and the master mariner returned to the darkness without.</p>
+
+<p>"I will stake my word," said Kingswell, "that the place is surrounded by
+the devils even now, and that they will try again to get a man over the
+wall to unbar the gates."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XV.</span> <span class="smaller">THE HIDDEN MENACE</span></h2>
+
+<p>Neither Kingswell nor Trigget found time for sleep that night. D'Antons
+also kept awake, though he spent only a few hours out-of-doors. His
+candle burned until daylight. Ouenwa experienced a restless night beside
+Black Feather's couch. From ten o'clock until two Tom Bent, John
+Trigget, and the younger Donnelly were on guard, with cutlasses on their
+hips and half-pikes in their hands&mdash;for a musket would have proved but
+an unsatisfactory weapon to a man engaged in a sudden scuffle in the
+dark. One man was placed on the gun-platform, another at the gate, and a
+third on the roof of the storehouse. Kingswell and William Trigget moved
+continually from one point to another. At two o'clock the elder
+Donnelly, Clotworthy, and Harding relieved their companions. But the two
+officers remained at their self-imposed duty.</p>
+
+<p>At last dawn outlined the eastern horizon. Kingswell, who had been
+pacing the length of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> riverward stockade for the past hour, sighed
+with relief, yawned, and was about to retire to D'Antons' cabin, when
+William Trigget approached him at a run. The master mariner's face was
+ghastly above his bushy whiskers.</p>
+
+<p>"Come this way, sir," he murmured, huskily.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell followed him to the storehouse and up to the roof, by way of a
+rough ladder that leaned against the wall. There, on the outward slope
+of the roof, where the snow was trampled and broken, sprawled the body
+of Peter Clotworthy.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Asleep!" exclaimed Kingswell, peering close. The light was not
+strong enough to disclose the features of the recumbent sentinel.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, an' sound enough, God knows," replied Trigget, "with no chance o'
+wakin' this side o' the Judgment-Seat."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead?" cried the other, sinking to his knees beside the body. He
+pressed his hand against the mariner's side, held it there for a moment,
+and withdrew it, wet with blood. He raised it toward the growing
+illumination of the east, staring at it with wide eyes. "Blood," he
+murmured. "Stabbed without a squeal&mdash;without a whimper, by Heaven!" Then
+he ripped out an oath, and followed it close with a prayer for his dead
+comrade's soul. For all his golden curls, this Bernard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>Kingswell had a
+hot and ready tongue&mdash;and a temper to suit, when occasion offered.</p>
+
+<p>The two discoverers of the tragedy remained on the roof of the
+storehouse for some time. The light strengthened and spread on their
+right, and, at last, gave them a clear, gray view of the narrow clearing
+and wooded hummocks to the north. On the snow below them, which was
+otherwise unmarked, they saw the imprints of one pair of moccasined
+feet. The marks did not lead to or from the near cover of the woods, but
+to the south, around the fort. The telltale snow showed how Clotworthy's
+murderer had approached close under the stockade, and, after his silent
+deed of violence, had jumped a distance of about twenty feet, from the
+roof of the store, and landed on all fours. A stain of blood, evidently
+from the reeking knife in the slayer's hand, smirched the snow where it
+was broken by his fall. From there the steps returned by the same
+course, but at a distance of about ten paces from the stockade.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked from the tracks in the snow to the colourless,
+distorted features of the dead seaman. Then his gaze met Trigget's
+deep-set eyes. He was pale, and his lips were drawn in a hard line, as
+if the frost had stiffened them.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Clotworthy," he murmured, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>swallowed as if his throat were
+dry. "Poor devil, knifed into eternity without a fighting chance. See,
+he was clubbed first and then knifed&mdash;felled and bled like an ox in a
+shambles! Ten nights of this hellishness will account for the whole
+garrison."</p>
+
+<p>With a broad, deep-sea oath, Trigget replied that there'd be no ten
+nights of it.</p>
+
+<p>They lifted the stiff body that had, so lately, been animated by the
+fearless spirit of Richard Clotworthy, able seaman, to the ground and
+carried it reverently to the Donnelly cabin. The other inmates of the
+little settlement were deeply affected by the sight, and by Kingswell's
+story. The younger men were for setting out immediately and driving the
+Beothics from the woods on the far side of the river. But the wiser
+heads prevailed against such recklessness, arguing that the only thing
+to be done was to remain constantly on guard. The women wept. Ouenwa,
+trembling with sorrow and rage, placed his fine belt and beaded quiver
+beside the body of his dead comrade, and vowed, in English and Beothic,
+that he would avenge this murder as he intended to avenge the murders of
+his father and his grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>The day passed without any sign of the hidden enemy. Kingswell slept
+until noon. By evening Black Feather had recovered enough strength to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+enable him to tell his pitiful story to Ouenwa. His lodge, and that of
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, had been torn down by the followers of Panounia
+shortly after the departure of the <i>Pelican</i> from Wigwam Harbour. Montaw
+had died fighting. Black Feather, grievously wounded, had been bound and
+carried far up the River of Three Fires. His wife and children also had
+been captured and maltreated. The ships in the bay had looked on at the
+unequal struggle ashore without demonstrations of any kind. Upon
+reaching the village on the river, Black Feather had been driven to the
+meanest work&mdash;work unbecoming a warrior of his standing&mdash;and his wife
+and children had been led farther up-stream, very likely to Wind Lake.
+Black Feather had seen the body of Soft Hand lying exposed on the top of
+a knoll, at the mercy of birds and beasts. He had bided his time. At
+last he had gnawed the thongs with which his tormentors bound him at
+night, and had safely made his escape. He could not say how long ago
+that was. Days and nights had become strangely mixed in his desperate
+mind. He had lived on such birds and hares as he had been able to kill
+with sticks. Always he had kept up his journey, shaping his course
+toward the salt water, in the hope of meeting some tribesmen who might
+have remained loyal to the murdered chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> But he had met with nobody
+in all that desolate journey, until, only the day before, he had
+recovered consciousness in Fort Beatrix.</p>
+
+<p>That night, John Trigget was attacked at his post on the gun-platform,
+and in the struggle that ensued was cut shrewdly about the arm. So
+sudden and noiseless was the onslaught out of the dark that he fought in
+silence, only remembering to shout for help after the savage had
+squirmed from his embrace and escaped. His arm was bandaged by Sir
+Ralph, and Tom Bent and Ouenwa took his place. But daylight arrived
+without any further demonstration on the part of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the little garrison was bitten by a restlessness that would
+not be denied. Even Kingswell and William Trigget were for making some
+sort of attack upon the hidden band beyond the river. D'Antons, contrary
+to his habit, had nothing to say either for or against an aggressive
+movement. Sir Ralph was for quietly and cautiously awaiting development;
+but, seeing the spirit of the men, he agreed that five of the garrison
+should sally forth in search of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom I have not a doubt you'll find," concluded the baronet, wearily,
+"though what the devil you'll do with them then is more than I can
+venture to predict."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>Under William Trigget's supervision, one of the cannon was taken from
+the platform and mounted on a heavy and solid flat of logs, and that, in
+turn, was placed on a sled. On the same sled were fastened rammers and
+mops and bags of powder and shot. The daring party was made up of Master
+Kingswell, William Trigget, Ouenwa, Tom Bent, and the younger Donnelly.
+D'Antons did not volunteer his services on the expedition. The men were
+all well armed with muskets and cutlasses, and all save Ouenwa had
+fastened steel breastplates under their coats. As they marched away,
+Mistress Westleigh waved them "Godspeed" with a scarf of Spanish lace,
+from where she stood in the open gate between her father and Captain
+d'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>The little party moved down the bank and across the river slowly and
+with commendable caution. Trigget and Kingswell walked ahead, and kept a
+sharp lookout on the dark edges of the forest. Donnelly and Tom Bent
+followed about ten paces behind, dragging the gun. Ouenwa scouted along
+on the left, with a musket and a lighted match, which he feared far
+worse than he did any number of Beothic warriors. The river was crossed
+without accident on the wide trail left by the enemy's retreat.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE CLOVEN HOOF</span></h2>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph Westleigh was in the storehouse, Maggie Stone was gossiping
+with Dame Trigget, and Beatrix was alone by the fire when Captain
+d'Antons rapped on the cabin door, and entered without waiting for a
+summons. He was dressed in his bravest suit and finest boots. After
+closing the door behind him, he bowed low to the girl at the farther end
+of the room. She instantly stood up and curtseyed with a deal of grace,
+but no warmth whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"My father is not in, Captain d'Antons," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled and approached her with every show of deference.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, mademoiselle," he murmured, "I have not come to see the good
+baronet. I have come to learn my fate from the dearest lips in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>The girl blushed crimson, with a tumult of emotions that almost forced
+the tears past her lids.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> Fear, hate, and a reckless joy at the thought
+that she was done with pretence struggled in her heart. She tried to
+speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and accomplished nothing but
+a dry sob.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons' eyes shone with ardour. The hope which had been somewhat
+clouded of late flashed clear again. "Beatrix," he cried, softly, "I
+have wooed you long. Is it not that I have won at last beyond
+peradventure? Do not deny it, my sweet." He caught her to him, and
+attempted to kiss her bright lips; but, with a low cry and a quite
+unexpected display of strength, she wrenched herself from his embrace.
+She did not try to leave the room. She did not call for help. She faced
+him, with flashing eyes and angry cheeks and clinched hands.</p>
+
+<p>The fellow stood uncertain for a moment, showing his chagrin and
+amazement like any country clown. But his recovery was quick. His mouth
+took on a thin smile; his eyes darkened with sinister shadows. He looked
+the girl coolly up and down. He laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"This feigned anger adds to your beauty, Beatrix," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg you to leave me, sir," she replied, trembling. "Your presence is
+distasteful to me."</p>
+
+<p>"A sudden turn," said he. "Now a month ago,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> or even a week ago, you
+seemed of a different mind. As for the days of our first meeting in
+merry London&mdash;ah, then your lips were not so unattainable."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate you," she murmured. "I despise you. I loath you. You taint the
+air for me. Dog, to make a boast of having filched a kiss from a
+light-hearted girl&mdash;who did not know you for the common fellow that you
+are."</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrix," cried the man, "this is no stage comedy. We are not players.
+I have asked you, too many times, to be my wife. I ask you once more.
+You know that your father's life is in my hands. Tell me now, will you
+promise to marry me, or will you let your father go to the gallows in
+the spring, and this plantation be put to the torch? Whatever your
+choice, my beauty, you will accompany me to New Spain next summer. It is
+for you to say whether you go as my wife or my mistress."</p>
+
+<p>At that the girl's face went white as paper. But her eyes were steady.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons lowered his gaze. He was half-ashamed, nay, more than that, of
+his words.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be hard to say," she replied, very softly, "which would be the
+most dishonourable position for an English gentlewoman to occupy. That
+of your wife, I think, monsieur&mdash;for, as your wife, she would be known
+by your name."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>His shame leaped to anger at that soft-spoken insult. He caught her
+roughly by the wrists.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," she said, "you must be more gentle. You seem to forget that you
+are not sacking a defenceless town. Also, you forget that you have not a
+friend or a follower in this wilderness, and that any man or woman in
+the fort would shoot you down like a dog at a word from me."</p>
+
+<p>For a little while they eyed each other steadily enough&mdash;her face still
+beautiful despite the bantering cruelty of lips and eyes, and the
+loathing in every line of it; his the face of a devil. Then, with a
+muttered oath, he closed his fingers on her tender flesh, pressing with
+all his strength.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my fine lady," he cried, harshly, "you think yourself strong enough
+to flout Pierre d'Antons, do you? Strong enough to spurn the protection
+of a soldier and a gentleman! Cry now for your girl-faced Kingswell&mdash;for
+your golden-haired fellow countryman."</p>
+
+<p>By that even her lips were colourless, and her eyes were wet. "There is
+no need," she said, bravely, "for I hear my father at the door."</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons dropped her wrists and took a backward step. In doing so, his
+heel struck the leg of a stool, and the scabbard of his sword rang
+discordantly. He reeled, recovering himself just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Sir Ralph crossed
+the threshold. Before either of the men had time to speak, Beatrix
+darted forward and struck the Frenchman savagely across the face with
+her open hand. Then, without a word of either explanation or greeting to
+her father, she passed D'Antons swiftly, sped down the length of the
+room, and entered her own chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this mean, captain?" inquired the baronet, coldly. D'Antons,
+scarcely recovered from the blow, strode toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it mean?" he cried. "It means, my fine old cock, that your
+neck will be pulled out of joint when we get away from this
+God-forgotten desolation. Ah, you liar, why did I not have you strung up
+to a yard-arm when you were safely in my power? Stab me, but I've been
+too soft&mdash;and my reward is insults from the wench of an exiled
+card-cheat and murderer."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was raised almost to a scream. His face quivered with passion.
+He thrust it within a few inches of the baronet's.</p>
+
+<p>"Liar and cheat," he cried, furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Softly, softly," replied Sir Ralph. "I cannot abide being bawled at in
+my own house, especially by such scum of a French muck heap as you. Keep
+your distance, fellow, or, by God, I'll do you a hurt. What's this!
+You'd presume?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>They withdrew on the instant. The two swords came clear in the same
+second of time.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Gabier de potence</i>," cried D'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Canaille</i>," replied the baronet, blandly. Evidently the rasp of the
+steel had mended his temper. He even smiled a little at his adoption of
+his adversary's mother-tongue.</p>
+
+<p>The men were excellently matched as swordsmen. But not more than half a
+dozen passes had been made and parried before Beatrix ran into the room,
+crying to them to put up their swords.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back," said the baronet, with his eyes on D'Antons, "go back to your
+room, my daughter, and make a prayer for this fellow's soul. It will
+soon stand in need of a petition for God's mercy."</p>
+
+<p>The girl went softly back and closed the door, in an effort to shut out
+the rasping and metallic striking of the blades. She prayed, but for
+strength to her father's wrist and not for the Frenchman's soul. She was
+afraid&mdash;desperately afraid. The truth of her father's skill in French
+sword-play had been kept from her. To her he was but a courteous,
+middle-aged gentleman who needed her care, and who had been maligned and
+robbed by the world into which he had been born. He was a good father.
+He had been a loving and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>considerate husband. She knelt beside her bed
+and beseeched God to succour him in this desperate strait.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime the fight went on in the outer room with more the air of
+a harmless bout for practice than a duel to the death. It was altogether
+a question of point and point, in the Continental manner, perfectly free
+from the swinging attack and clanging defence of the English style. The
+combatants were cool, to judge by appearances. Neither seemed in any
+hurry. The thrusts and lunges, though in fact as quick as thought, were
+delivered with a manner suggestive of elegant leisure.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you have the advantage of me by about three inches of steel,"
+remarked the baronet, diverting a lightning thrust from its intended
+course.</p>
+
+<p>"A chance of the game," replied D'Antons, smiling grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the baronet's foot slipped on the edge of a book of verses
+which Mistress Beatrix had left on the floor. For a second he was
+swerved from his balance; and, when he recovered, it was to feel the
+warm blood running down his breast from a slight incision in his left
+shoulder. But his recovery was as masterly as it was swift, and the
+Frenchman found himself more severely pressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> than before, despite the
+advantage he possessed in the superior length of his sword. The little
+wound counted for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Just what the outcome of the fight would have been, if an untimely
+interruption in the person of Maggie Stone had not intervened, it is
+hard to say. Perhaps D'Antons' youth would have claimed the victory in
+the long run, or perhaps the baronet's excellent composure. In skill
+they were nicely matched, though the Englishman displayed superiority
+enough to even the difference in the length of the blades. But why take
+time for idle surmises? Maggie Stone, looking in, all unheeded, at the
+open door, saw her beloved master engaged in a desperate combat with a
+person whom she despised as well as feared. She saw the sodden stain of
+blood on her master's doublet. In her hand she held a skillet which she
+had just borrowed from Dame Trigget. Without waiting to announce
+herself, she rushed into the room and dealt Captain d'Antons a
+resounding whack on the head with the iron bowl of the utensil. The long
+sword fell from the benumbed fingers and clanged on the floor. With a
+low, guttural cry, the Frenchman followed it, and sprawled, unconscious,
+at the feet of the surprised and indignant baronet.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH</span></h2>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell and his party returned from their daring reconnoitre
+early in the afternoon. They had not met with the enemy, though they had
+found the camp and torn down the temporary lodges. After that they had
+followed the broad trail of the retreat for several miles, and had
+discharged the cannon twice into the inscrutable woods. Their daring had
+been rewarded by the capture of about two hundred pounds of smoked
+salmon and dried venison.</p>
+
+<p>Both Kingswell and William Trigget were unable to account for the fact
+that the savages had not attacked them in the cover of the woods. In
+reality they owed their bloodless victory to the presence of the little
+cannon. That third and last discharge of slugs, on the day of the big
+fight, had killed three of the braves, wounded five more, and inspired
+an hysterical terror in the hearts of the rest. But for that, the hidden
+enemy would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> not have been content with playing a waiting game and with
+the attempted killing of one man each night; and neither would they have
+retired, so undemonstratively, before the advance of the five. But,
+despite their fear of the cannon, they had no intention of giving up the
+siege of the fort. They placed trust in the darkness of night and their
+own cunning.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell and the elder Trigget were drawn aside by Sir Ralph. The
+baronet looked less care-haunted than he had for years.</p>
+
+<p>"D'Antons and I have broken our truce," he whispered, "and behold, the
+heavens have not fallen,&mdash;nor even the poor defences of this
+plantation." He smiled cheerfully. "The great captain alone has come to
+grief," he added. "Maggie Stone saved him from my hand by felling him
+herself with some sort of stew-pan. I was frantically angry at the time,
+but am glad now that I did not have to kill the rogue."</p>
+
+<p>"Such cattle are better dead, sir," remarked Trigget, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"I grant you that, my good William," replied Sir Ralph, "but he is
+harmless as a new-born babe, after all&mdash;and we'll see that he remains
+so."</p>
+
+<p>Then he told them the story of the duel, and of what had led to it.
+Kingswell flushed and paled.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>"God's mercy!" he cried, "but I would I had been in your boots, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd have died in them, more than likely," replied the baronet, laying
+a hand on the other's shoulder. "D'Antons has a rare knowledge of
+swordsmanship, and eye and wrist to back it with."</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," replied Kingswell, "it would have been&mdash;it would have been a
+pleasure to die in such a cause." He blushed, and hurriedly added, "But
+I doubt if he'd have killed me, for all his gimcrackery and
+side-stepping. I've seen such gentry hopping and poking for hours, when
+one good cut from the shoulder would have ended their tricks."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet smiled kindly, though with a tinge of sadness. "Ah, what a
+fine thing is the heart of youth," he said, "and the confidence of
+youth. I even bow to the ignorance of youth. But, my dear boy, valour
+and confidence are not more than half the battle, after all. The edge is
+a fine thing, and has spilled a deal of blood since the hammering of the
+first sword; but the point becomes no less deadly simply because one
+stout young Englishman is ignorant of its potency. Lad, if it were not
+that I have won the distinction&mdash;beside many a less enviable one&mdash;of
+being the best swordsman in England, I could not have withstood
+D'Antons'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> play for long enough to make sure of the colour of his eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell felt like a fool, and did not know which way to turn his
+abashed countenance. Both Sir Ralph and Trigget felt sorry for him.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can assure you, Bernard," said the former, "that, if it came to a
+matter of cutlasses, neither the Frenchman nor I would stand up for long
+against either you or Trigget."</p>
+
+<p>"It is kind of you to say so," replied Kingswell, staring over the
+baronet's shoulder at nothing in particular, "but I haven't a doubt that
+even Maggie Stone, with her stew-pan, would be more than a match for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget laughed boisterously at that. "We must ease the young
+gentleman's temper, sir," he said to the baronet. "I have a pair of
+singlesticks."</p>
+
+<p>"Get them," said the baronet. He slipped his hand under Kingswell's arm
+and led him into the cabin. Beatrix welcomed him cordially, with a shy
+compliment to his bravery thrown in. The youth immediately felt better
+in his pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Say nothing of D'Antons, or the duel," Sir Ralph whispered in his ear.
+"He is safe in his own bed, being nursed conscientiously, if not
+over-tenderly, by Maggie Stone."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>Kingswell seated himself beside Mistress Beatrix on the bench by the
+fire. He noticed that she had been weeping. Her eyes seemed all the
+brighter for it. He gave her a detailed account of the brief expedition
+from which he had just returned. He told of the cluster of lodges, the
+cooking-fires still burning, the utensils and food scattered about, and
+not a human being in sight.</p>
+
+<p>"And what if you had seen the savages?" she asked. "Surely, four
+Englishmen and a lad could do nothing against such a host?"</p>
+
+<p>"We would have fallen in the first flight of arrows," replied Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you risk it?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man shook his head and laughed. "Some one must take risks," he
+said, "else all warfare would come to a standstill."</p>
+
+<p>The girl was looking down at her hands, and reflectively twisting a
+jewelled ring around and around on one slim finger. "And I wish it would
+with all my heart," she sighed. "Warfare and bloodshed&mdash;they are the
+devil's inventions, and strike innocent and guilty alike."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," replied Kingswell, "there is more harm done to the innocent in
+courts and fine assemblies, and at the sheltered card-tables, than on
+all the battle-fields of the world. War is a good surgeon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and, if he
+sometimes lets the good blood with the bad, why, that's just a risk we
+must accept."</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix raised a flushed face, and eyed him squarely. "You preach like a
+Puritan," she said, "with your condemnation of courts and play. You
+should give my father the benefit of some of your wisdom. His friends
+have all been generous with such help."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell bit his lip, and for an awkward minute studied the toes of his
+moccasins. Presently he looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Her glance softened.</p>
+
+<p>"I am as ignorant of battle-fields as I am of courts," he added. "I am
+ignorant of everything."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was low and bitter. Beatrix laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray do not take it so much to heart," she said. "Nothing is so easily
+mended as ignorance."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to ask Sir Ralph to give me lessons in French sword-play,"
+he said. "Is there nothing that you would teach me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Embroidery," she replied, "and how to brew a Madeira punch."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the baronet opened the door and admitted William Trigget.
+The master <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>mariner carried a pair of stout oak sticks with basket-work
+guards under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Does your education commence so soon?" inquired Beatrix of Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody's does," he replied, with a return of his old confidence. With
+the lady's permission and Sir Ralph's assistance, Trigget and Kingswell
+cleared the middle of the floor of rugs and the table. They removed
+their outer coats. Trigget was the taller, as well as the heavier, of
+the two. Without further preliminaries, they fell on, and the dry
+whacking of the sticks against one another, varied occasionally by the
+muffled thud of wood against cloth, filled the cabin. It was a fine
+display of the English style&mdash;slash, cut, and guard, with never a
+side-step nor retreat. After ten minutes of it, Trigget cried "enough,"
+and stumbled out of the danger zone. His right arm was numb. His
+shoulders and sides ached, and his head swam; Kingswell was without a
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Beatrix nor Sir Ralph, nor yet Trigget, for that matter,
+concealed their astonishment at the result of the bout. "And now, sir,"
+said Kingswell, "I should like a lesson in the other style."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet took down a pair of light, edgeless blades with blunted
+points. After a few words as to the manner of standing, they crossed the
+lithe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> weapons. In a second Kingswell's was jerked from his hand and
+sent bounding across the room. He recovered it without a word and
+returned to the combat. By this time the light was failing. After about
+a dozen passes, he was again disarmed. His gray eyes danced, and he
+laughed gaily as he picked up his weapon.</p>
+
+<p>"I see the way of that trick," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the one-sided engagement with, if possible, more energy
+and eagerness than before. Already he had the attitude and stamping
+manner of attack to perfection. Sir Ralph tested his defence again and
+again without slipping through. Three times he tried the circular,
+twisting stroke with which he had disarmed the novice before without
+success. Wondering, and slightly irritated, he put out fresh efforts,
+and forgot all about his defence. The blades rasped, and rang, and
+whispered. The blunted point was at Kingswell's breast, at his throat,
+at his eyes; but it never touched. And, just as Mistress Beatrix was
+about to bid the combatants cease their exertions, because of the
+gathering dusk, Kingswell's point touched the insignificant but painful
+wound on the baronet's shoulder. With an exclamation, in which disgust,
+pain, and amusement were queerly blended, Sir Ralph dropped his foil to
+the floor.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII.</span> <span class="smaller">EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Captain Pierre d'Antons' injury kept him indoors for ten days. During
+that time he saw nobody but Maggie Stone, Bernard Kingswell, and Ouenwa.
+Kingswell could not help feeling sorry for him, in spite of the enmity
+and distrust in his heart. D'Antons made no mention of how he came by
+his cut head to the young Englishman. He knew that the other knew&mdash;and
+sometimes he wondered how much. He accepted such attentions at
+Kingswell's hand as any fair-hearted man will make to any invalid, with
+what seemed gratitude and humility. But under the mask his blood was
+raging. If his hand trembled while receiving a glass of water from the
+Englishman, it was as much from the effort of restraining an outburst of
+hate as from weakness. Kingswell, clear-sighted by now, suspected the
+real state of the other's feelings.</p>
+
+<p>During the days of D'Antons' inactivity, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> Beothics made three night
+attacks on the fort. Two were repetitions of the one-man demonstrations
+of cunning, in which Clotworthy had met his death and young Trigget had
+received the cut on his arm. Happily both had failed. The third was an
+attack in force, made in that darkest hour just before the first
+stirrings of dawn. By good fortune, both William Trigget and Kingswell
+were dressed and about at the time of the first alarm. They both ran to
+the gun-platform, and there found Tom Bent desperately engaged with two
+savages, who had scaled the stockade over the massed shoulders of their
+fellows. The intruders were speedily hurled backward, they and a portion
+of the breastworks falling on the devoted heads below. At the moment,
+Dame Trigget puffed valiantly up the ladder and handed a torch to her
+husband. In a second the coverings were pulled from the guns. The
+muzzles of the little weapons were declined as far as they would go, and
+the fuses were ignited. Comprehending the trend of affairs, some of the
+enemy let fly their arrows at the little group in the torch's
+illumination. Both William Trigget and Tom Bent were hit, and fell to
+their knees. In the same instant of time the guns belched their flame
+and screaming missiles into the wavering mass of savages. A yell of
+terror and pain, made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> up of many individual cries, followed the reports
+of the guns like an echo.</p>
+
+<p>But along the opposite stockade, things were not going so well for the
+settlers. About a dozen of the enemy had gained foothold on the roof of
+the storehouse, and from there had jumped into the yard, driving Peter
+Harding before them. They were immediately engaged by the Donnellys.
+Torches and lanterns glowed and swung about the edges of the conflict.
+Matters were looking serious for the defenders (who by that time were
+joined by Sir Ralph, Ouenwa, and the redoubtable Maggie Stone) when the
+discharge of artillery across the square turned the courage of the
+attackers to water, and their victory to defeat. Six of them were cut
+down while endeavouring to escape by way of the ladder against the wall
+of the storehouse. The rest got away, but none of them unscathed. With
+that the fight ended, though the defenders kept to their posts until
+broad daylight.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning it was discovered that one of the six warriors who
+remained within the fort was still alive. Sir Ralph had him carried to
+D'Antons' cabin, and his wounds attended to. They were not of a serious
+nature. Black Feather, who was a convalescent by now, recognized a
+bitter enemy in the disabled captive. He was for despatching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> him
+straightway, recalling the bitter days of his slavery and the loss of
+wife and children. He was dragged away by Kingswell, and Ouenwa
+remonstrated with him at some length.</p>
+
+<p>The little garrison had suffered in the brief engagement. William
+Trigget had halted three arrows with his big body. Only one had reached
+the flesh, thanks to his thick garments of wool and hide; but that one
+had cut deep into the muscles of his chest, and the others had bruised
+his ribs. Tom Bent was more seriously injured, with a gaping slash in
+the side of his neck. Young Peter Harding was laid on his back with a
+cracked rib, dealt him by a stone-headed axe, and seemed in a fair way
+to remain on the sick-list for some time to come.</p>
+
+<p>The dead Beothics were carried out and buried in a shallow grave near
+the honest Clotworthy's desolate resting-place.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident, from the smoke above the woods, that the enemy were
+still maintaining the siege, and at even closer range than before. The
+continual sight of that evidence of their presence, and the idleness due
+to confinement within a few hundred yards of the stockade, began to tell
+on the spirits of the settlers. It became a matter of difficulty to
+forget the wounded men in such restricted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> quarters. Bandages and
+salves, gruels and plasters, seemed to pervade every corner. Every one
+who was not an invalid was a nurse. In addition, the lack of fresh meat
+was beginning to be felt. Sir Ralph, who had seemed more cheerful just
+after his affair with D'Antons, was fallen back on his black moods.
+Mistress Beatrix's cheeks and eyes were losing something of their
+radiance, though she carried herself bravely and cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell, who had a knack with bandages and such, found his time
+fully occupied. He inspected all the wounded twice a day, and he and
+Ouenwa took entire charge of D'Antons and the captured Beothic. His only
+recreation was a few hours of each afternoon or evening spent with the
+Westleighs. He and the baronet fenced, if the visit happened to be paid
+during the day; if in the evening, they sometimes played chess, or,
+better still, the baronet paced the room in uneasy meditation, and the
+youth and the maiden bent their young heads above the pieces of carved
+ivory.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the girl's laughter and hospitality, Kingswell detected an
+aloofness toward him that had not been noticeable during the first days
+of their acquaintance. The thing was very fine&mdash;so fine that it was
+scarcely a matter of attitude or manner. One of duller perception would
+have missed it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>altogether. It was in no wise a physical aloofness, save
+in a certain reservation in the glance of the eye and the softer notes
+of the voice. But it worried the young man. He felt that he had failed
+in something&mdash;that she had set a standard for him, and that he had not
+risen to it. With native shrewdness, he suspected that she considered
+him crude and conceited. He knew that she considered him brave, and that
+she admired his courage; but he was equally sure that his prowess with
+the singlesticks against Trigget, and his increasing dexterity with the
+rapier, did not tell in his favour in her eyes. "Women are evidently as
+unreasonable as the poets depict them," he decided, and tried to acquire
+a modest demeanour. But the ability to do so had not been born in him,
+and no matter how low and self-abasing his speech, pride shone in his
+clear eyes and self-confidence was in the carriage of head and
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet's attitude toward Master Kingswell became more affectionate
+every day. He recognized the sterling qualities in the youth,&mdash;the
+honesty, courage, and loyalty, as well as the physical and mental gifts
+of quick eye and wrist and clear brain. He derived no little comfort
+from his presence in the fort. He felt that in this golden-haired son of
+the Bristol merchant-knight his daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> had a second guardian. He knew
+that the Kingswell blood, though not noble by the rating of the College
+of Heralds, was to be depended on as surely as any in England. In
+happier times he had known and enjoyed a certain amount of familiarity
+with the elder Kingswell, and had found the broad-minded merchant's
+heart as sound as his self-imported wines. He remembered the wife, too,
+as a person of distinction and kindliness.</p>
+
+<p>For his own part, the baronet realized more surely, with the passing of
+each narrow day, that life offered no further allurement to him. The
+slight exhilaration that had followed the defiance and defeat of
+D'Antons was of no more lasting a quality than the flavour of a vintage.
+The Frenchman was harmless, poor devil, like the rest of them; and in as
+fair a way as himself to leave his bones in the wilderness. Yes, he felt
+a twinge of pity for him! He could understand that, to an adventurer
+like D'Antons, unrequited love was the very devil,&mdash;worse, perhaps, than
+the fever of the gaming-table. But of course he felt no regret for
+having put an end (as he believed) to the fellow's audacious suit. His
+regret&mdash;if, indeed, he entertained any concerning so recent an event in
+his career&mdash;was that he had not pricked the buccaneer's bubble of false
+power months before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>&mdash;despite the promise he had made him. But as things
+had turned out,&mdash;as Time had dealt the cards, to use his own words,&mdash;the
+other's behaviour had allowed him to strike without too flagrant a
+breach of his word of honour. He was thankful for that.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX.</span> <span class="smaller">TWO OF A KIND</span></h2>
+
+<p>When Pierre d'Antons was able to move about again, he found himself
+shunned, without disguise, by every one of the inmates of the fort save
+Bernard Kingswell. The West Country sailors, no longer under orders to
+treat him with respect and obedience, simply grunted inaudibly and
+turned their backs when he addressed them. Of course, the door of Sir
+Ralph's habitation was closed against him. He spent almost all his time
+in his own cabin, with the captured and slowly convalescing Beothic for
+companion. He read a great deal, and thought more. Now and again, in a
+fit of chagrin, he would stamp about the room, cursing, crying out for a
+chance of revenge, with clinched hands uplifted. During such paroxysms,
+the Beothic would watch him closely, with understanding in his gaze. The
+savage was no linguist; but hate burns the same signals in eyes of every
+nationality.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>D'Antons continued to suffer from his infatuation for Mistress
+Westleigh. The blow of the skillet had changed nothing of that. Whatever
+his passion lacked in the higher attributes of love, it lacked nothing
+in vitality. It was a madness. It was a bitter desire. How gladly he
+would risk death, fighting for her&mdash;and yet he would not have hesitated
+a moment about killing her happiness, to win his own, had an opportunity
+offered. Self-sacrifice, worshipful devotion, and tenderness were things
+apart from what he considered his love for the beautiful English girl.</p>
+
+<p>In this state of mind he built a hundred wild dreams of carrying her
+away, and of ultimately imprisoning her, should she still be averse to
+his love, in a Southern stronghold. Then a realization of his position
+would come over him and set him stamping and raving. To Kingswell,
+despite the fire in his heart, he showed a contrite and friendly
+exterior. He wondered if he could not turn the young man to some use. He
+gave the matter his attention.</p>
+
+<p>One evening D'Antons told a plaintive story to Kingswell. All through it
+the Englishman was itching to be gone; for he spent no more of his time
+than was absolutely necessary under the Frenchman's roof. But the
+narrator held him with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> a mournful eye. The tale was an alleged history
+of Pierre d'Antons' youth. It dealt with a great family that had fallen
+upon lean years; with a ruinous ch&acirc;teau, a proud and studious father,
+and a saintly mother; with a boyhood of noble dreams and few pleasures;
+with a youth of hard and honourable soldiering wherever the banners of
+France led the way; and with an early manhood of high adventure and
+achievement in the Western colonies.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell listened coldly, though the other's voice fairly trembled with
+emotion. He believed no more of the tale than if he had already heard
+the truth of the matter&mdash;which was, in plain English, that D'Antons was
+the bastard of a blackleg nobleman by a Spanish dancer; that he had
+spent his youth as a pot-boy on French ships, and had won, by courage
+and cunning, to the position of a captain of buccaneers in early
+manhood. The achievements in the Western colonies had been matters of
+the wrecking and plundering of what others had built; the high
+adventures&mdash;God spare me the telling of them!</p>
+
+<p>After Kingswell left him, the pirate fell into one of his reddest moods.
+He was sure that the pink-cheeked youth had not believed a word of his
+story&mdash;had been laughing up his sleeve at the most touching passages. He
+was sorry that he had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> twisted the lad's neck instead of concluding
+the narrative. It was a sheer waste of breath, this artistic lying to
+such a pig's head! He jumped to his feet, with a violence that almost
+startled the Beothic to outcry, and flung himself about the room like a
+madman. He kicked the stolid logs of the walls. He knocked the few
+pieces of furniture out of his erratic course, and spilled his books and
+papers, quills and ink, to the floor: all this without any ringing oaths
+or blistering curses. His rage worked inward, as bodily wounds sometimes
+bleed. It played the devil with his limbs, his features, and his hands,
+but found no ease in articulation. A trickle of blood ran down his chin,
+from where he had set a tooth into his lower lip. Withal, he was such a
+daunting spectacle that Red Cloud, the Beothic, crouched fearfully
+against the wall, and followed his movements with wide eyes; for, though
+a mighty warrior in his own estimation, Red Cloud was a craven at heart.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the tumult of the madness ceased, and the victim of it sank
+languidly into a chair beside the Beothic's couch. He groaned and
+shivered. For awhile he sat limp, with his thin face hidden between his
+hands. Looking up, his eyes met the eyes of the native. In their furtive
+regard, he read that which suggested a new move. Though, owing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> to an
+inborn caution, he had never displayed a knowledge of the Beothic
+language to his fellow settlers, and had refrained from using any words
+of it before Ouenwa, he had picked up a fair idea of it during his
+sojourn at Fort Beatrix. Hitherto he had paid but scant attention to Red
+Cloud, for he entertained the Spanish attitude of intolerance toward
+uncivilized peoples; but now he leaned forward and spoke kindly to his
+companion.</p>
+
+<p>It was late when Kingswell and Ouenwa returned to D'Antons' cabin. Under
+the new order of things, Ouenwa had volunteered his services as
+assistant night-guard of the two prisoners&mdash;for the Frenchman was
+virtually a prisoner. It was their custom to keep watch turn and turn
+about, in two hours' vigils, one sleeping while the other sat in a
+comfortable chair by the hearth. Their couch was also by the hearth.
+This precaution was taken for fear of some treachery on the part of Red
+Cloud.</p>
+
+<p>When the two entered the outer room, the fire was burning brightly, and
+by its ruddy light they saw the muffled figure of the Beothic, face to
+the wall, in the far corner. They shot the bar of the door. When the
+morning was well advanced, they opened windows and door, and replenished
+the fire. Kingswell drew aside the curtain between the rooms, and looked
+in to see how D'Antons was faring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> His fire was out and he was still
+abed. Kingswell moved noiselessly across the floor and peered close.
+What an awkward figure the graceful buccaneer cut in his sleep! He laid
+his hand on the shapeless shoulder. It encountered nothing but yielding
+pelts and blankets. He dragged the things to the floor frantically. His
+exclamation brought Ouenwa to his side. The Englishman pointed a finger
+of dismay at the demolished dummy.</p>
+
+<p>"Tricked!" he cried. "Rip me, but what a fine jailer I am!" They rushed
+back to the other room and investigated the figure on the Beothic's
+couch. That, too, proved to be a shape of rolled furs and bedding. Red
+Cloud also had faded away.</p>
+
+<p>News of the disappearance of D'Antons and the savage went through the
+fort like an electric current. The settlers were more interested and
+surprised over it than concerned. Even the invalids sat up and
+conjectured on the captain's object in fleeing to the outer wilderness,
+and the doubtful but inevitable reception by the natives. They could
+hardly bring themselves to the belief that he and Red Cloud had gone as
+fellow conspirators, remembering the haughty Frenchman's bearing toward
+the aborigines with whom he had traded on occasions.</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget shook his head when he heard the story, and rated the
+men who had been on duty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> along the palisade with unsparing frankness.
+Sir Ralph looked worried, and Mistress Beatrix looked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems a very simple trick," she murmured, "to bundle up a few
+blankets into lifelike effigies, and then to slip away while the jailer
+is elsewhere spending a social evening."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell flushed hotly, and looked at the girl steadily; but he failed
+to meet her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "they slipped away while two men were on guard along the
+walls, and while the self-appointed jailer, who has not had four hours'
+sleep in any night in the past three weeks, was playing chess with your
+ladyship."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure it is no loss to us," interposed the baronet quickly. "We
+have no use for the savage; and as to D'Antons&mdash;why, if the enemy kill
+him, it will save some one else the trouble. But I cannot help wondering
+at him taking so dangerous a risk. If he had been on friendly terms with
+the natives at any time, one would have a clue. But he always treated
+them like dogs."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell turned a casual shoulder toward the lady, and gave all his
+attention to the baronet and the affair of the Frenchman. The blush of
+shame had gone, leaving his face unusually pale. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> eyes, also, showed
+a change&mdash;a chilling from blue to gray, with a surface glitter and a
+shadow behind.</p>
+
+<p>"You may be sure," he replied to Sir Ralph, "that D'Antons has taken
+what he considers the lesser risk. I'll wager he has won the savage to
+him, hand and heart. I was a fool not to have removed Red Cloud to one
+of the other huts."</p>
+
+<p>"He was kept to D'Antons' cabin by my orders," said the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"I had forgotten that," replied Kingswell. "Then I am not the only
+scapegrace of the community."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet's face lighted whimsically, and he smiled at the young man.
+But the girl did not receive the implication in the same spirit. She
+stared at the speaker as if he were some surprising species of bird that
+had flown in at the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a remark rings dangerously of insubordination," she exclaimed,
+"not to mention the impertinence of it."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph looked at her, completely puzzled, and murmured a
+remonstrance. It is a wise father that knows his own daughter. Kingswell
+turned an expressionless face toward the fire for a moment. Then he
+bowed to Sir Ralph. "If I am guilty of impertinence, sir, I humbly crave
+your pardon," he said. "As to insubordination&mdash;why, I believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> there is
+nothing to say on that head, as I am a free agent; but I think you
+understand, sir, that I and my men are entirely at your service, as we
+have been ever since the day we first accepted the hospitality of Fort
+Beatrix. My men, at least, have not failed in any duty, whatever my
+delinquencies."</p>
+
+<p>With an exclamation of sincere concern, the baronet stepped close to his
+friend and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard&mdash;my dear lad&mdash;why all this talk of pardon, and duty, and
+delinquencies, and God knows what else? If you believe that I consider
+you guilty of any carelessness, you must think me ungrateful indeed."</p>
+
+<p>His voice, his look, his gesture, all convinced Kingswell that the words
+were sincere, and so did something toward the mending of his injured
+feelings. To the baronet, his eyes brightened and his manner unbent. He
+took his departure immediately after.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph turned to his daughter as the door closed behind Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand your treatment of him," he said. "Surely you
+realize that he is a friend&mdash;and friends are not so common that we can
+afford to flout them at every turn." He did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> speak angrily, but the
+girl saw plainly enough that he was seriously displeased.</p>
+
+<p>"The boy is so insufferably self-satisfied," she explained, weakly. "How
+indignation would have burned within him had some one else allowed the
+prisoners to escape."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet gazed at her pensively for several seconds, and then took
+her hand tenderly between his own.</p>
+
+<p>"You do the brave lad an injustice, my sweeting," he said. "What you
+take for conceit is just youth, and strength, and fearlessness, and a
+clean conscience. He has nothing of the braggart in him&mdash;not a hint of
+it. I am sorry you like him so little, my daughter, for he is a good lad
+and well-disposed toward us."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XX.</span> <span class="smaller">BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER</span></h2>
+
+<p>For a time after D'Antons' departure into the unknown, the little
+garrison of Fort Beatrix turned day into night. Not a man indulged in so
+much as a wink of sleep between the hours of dusk and dawn; but from
+sunrise until afternoon the place was as if it lay under an enchantment
+of slumber. On the sixth day after the flight of the Frenchman and Red
+Cloud, Ouenwa approached Kingswell with a request to be allowed to leave
+the fort, in company with Black Feather. He told how Black Feather was
+of the opinion that many of the tribesmen were against the leadership of
+Panounia, and that, if they could be found, it would be an easy matter
+for Ouenwa to win their support. He, Ouenwa, was of the blood of the
+greatest chief they had ever known. They would gather to the totem of
+the Bear. Assured of the friendship of the English people, they could be
+brought to the rescue of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> the settlement. So Black Feather had told the
+tale to Ouenwa, and so Ouenwa believed.</p>
+
+<p>"And you would have to go with Black Feather?" inquired Kingswell, none
+too cheerfully; for he looked upon the lad as a very dear younger
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Truly, my friend-chief, for I am the grandson of Soft Hand," replied
+the boy. "When they see me, their blood will rise at the memory of Soft
+Hand's murder. I will talk great words of my love for the English, and
+of my hatred for Panounia, and of the great trading that will be done at
+the fort when the night-howlers have been driven away. Thus we shall all
+be saved&mdash;thus Mistress Beatrix shall escape capture."</p>
+
+<p>At that Kingswell started and eyed his companion keenly. "You think
+Panounia can break into the fort?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa smiled. "Hunger can do it before the snow melts," he replied,
+"and hunger will fight for Panounia and the black captain."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know of the black captain?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is with the night-howlers. He will keep their courage warm. He will
+struggle many times to bring us to our deaths and to capture the lady.
+That is all I know."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"But how do you know so much, lad?" asked Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa looked surprised. "How could I know less, who dwelt within
+eyeshot of the black captain for so many days, and who have learned the
+ways of such wolves?" he asked, in his turn. "You know it already
+without my telling, friend-chief," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us to Sir Ralph for his advice," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell had not crossed the threshold of the baronet's cabin
+since the time of his rebuff at the hands of Mistress Beatrix. Of course
+he had seen the baronet frequently, and they had smoked some pipes of
+tobacco together by the hearth of the departed Frenchman; but from the
+presence of the lady he had kept off as from a lazaretto. At the voice
+of duty, however, he sought the baronet in his own house with excellent
+composure. Anger at the knowledge that a girl could hurt him so nerved
+him to accept the risk of again seeing the displeasure in her dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mistress Beatrix was not in the living-room when they entered. Sir Ralph
+welcomed them cordially. Upon hearing Ouenwa's and Black Feather's plan
+for winning some of the tribesmen to the succour of the fort, he was
+deeply moved. He took a ring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> from his own hand and slipped it over one
+of Ouenwa's fingers. He gave the lad a fine hunting-knife for Black
+Feather, and a Spanish dagger for himself. He told Kingswell to supply
+them unstintingly from the store, with provisions and clothing for
+themselves and gifts for the natives whom they hoped to win.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a chance," said he to Kingswell. "A chance of our salvation, and
+the only one, as far as I can see."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Mistress Beatrix entered the room. At sight of the
+visitors by the chimney, she swept a grand curtsey. The visitors bowed
+low in return. Her father advanced and led her, with the manner of those
+days, to his own chair beside the hearth. He told her, in a few words,
+of the venture upon which Ouenwa and Black Feather intended to set
+forth. The thought of it stirred the girl, and she looked on Ouenwa with
+shining eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a deed for the great knights of old," she said. "Lad, where have
+you learned your bravery?"</p>
+
+<p>Unabashed, Ouenwa stood erect before her. "Half of it is the blood of my
+fathers," he replied, "and half is the teaching of Master Kingswell&mdash;and
+half I gather from your eyes."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>The girl flushed with suppressed merriment. The baronet concealed his
+lips with his hand. Kingswell clutched his outspoken friend by the
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother, you have named one-half too many," he said, laughing, "so your
+reason will carry more weight if you leave out that in which you mention
+my teaching. But come, we must find Black Feather, and make arrangements
+to leave as soon as dusk falls."</p>
+
+<p>At that Beatrix tightened her hands on the arms of the chair and turned
+a startled face toward the speaker. "Surely, sir, you do not mean to
+leave us, too!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Neither the baronet nor Kingswell were looking at her; but Ouenwa saw
+the expression of eyes and lips. Kingswell, however, did not miss the
+note of anxiety in the clear young voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not go with them, mistress," he said, "because my company would
+only delay their movements. And perhaps even spoil their plans. I am a
+poor woodsman&mdash;and already our garrison is none too heavily manned."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you are not going," replied the girl, quietly. "I am sure
+that my father looks upon you as his right hand, and that the men need
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph looked at his daughter with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>ill-concealed surprise.
+Kingswell, murmuring polite acknowledgment of her gracious words, strove
+to get a clearer view of her half-averted face. He failed. Ouenwa was
+the only one of the three who knew that the words were sincere; but he
+had the advantage of his superiors in having caught sight of the sudden
+fear in the lady's face.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph and Kingswell lowered the light packs over the stockade to
+Ouenwa and the big warrior. When the figures merged into the gloom,
+heading northward, the two commanders descended from the storehouse and
+entered the baronet's cabin. Beatrix was by the fire, radiant in fine
+apparel.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in no mood for chess," said Sir Ralph. "The thought of those two
+brave fellows stealing through the dark and cold fidgets me beyond
+belief."</p>
+
+<p>He began his quarter-deck pacing of the floor&mdash;up and down, up and down,
+with his head thrust forward and his hands gripped behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>"The wind is rising," said the girl to Kingswell. "It will be bleak in
+the forest to-night&mdash;away from the fire."</p>
+
+<p>She shivered, and held her jewelled hands to the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>"It is blowing for a storm," replied the young man. "The sky was clouded
+over when they left. 'Tis safer for them so. The snow will cover their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
+trail and, very likely, will keep the enemy from prowling abroad for a
+good many hours to come."</p>
+
+<p>Mistress Beatrix crossed the room to a cupboard in the wall, and from it
+produced a violin. Kingswell stood by the chimney, watching her. The
+baronet continued his nervous pacing of the floor. The girl touched the
+strings here and there with skilful fingers, resined the bow, and then
+returned to the hearth and stood with her eyes on the fire. Suddenly she
+looked up at Kingswell. Her eyes were as he had never seen them before.
+They were full of firelight and dream. They were brighter than jewels,
+and yet dark as the heart of a deep water.</p>
+
+<p>"Please do not stand," she said, and her voice, though free from any
+suggestion of indifference, sounded as if her whole being were far from
+that simple room. Her gaze returned to the fire. Kingswell quietly
+reseated himself; and at that she nestled her chin to the glowing
+instrument and drew the bow lightly, lovingly, almost inquiringly,
+across the strings. A whisper of melody followed the touch and sang
+clearer and more human than any human voice, and melted into the
+firelight.</p>
+
+<p>At the first strain of the music, the baronet sat down and reclined
+comfortably with his head against the back of his chair. For awhile he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>
+watched his daughter intently; then he turned his eyes to the heart of
+the fire and journeyed far in a waking dream.</p>
+
+<p>The girl played on and on, weaving enchantments of peace with the magic
+strings. Kingswell, leaning back with his face in the shadow, could not
+look away from her. The minutes drifted by unheeded behind the singing
+of the violin. The candles on the table flared at their sockets. The
+logs on the hearth broke, and the flames sprang to new life. Outside the
+wind raced and shouldered along the walls. And suddenly the player
+stilled her hand, and, without a word to either of the men, took up one
+of the guttering candles from the table and went quickly to her own
+chamber. She carried the fiddle with her against her young breast, and
+the bow like a wand in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph started and sat erect in his chair. Kingswell got to his feet
+with a sigh, and lifted his heavy cloak from the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go the rounds," he said. "Good night, sir."</p>
+
+<p>With that he went out into the swirling eddies of the storm. The baronet
+sat still for another hour. The music had uncovered so many ghosts of
+joy and song, of love and hate and shame. It had rung upon past glories
+and called up more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>recent dishonours. And still another matter occupied
+his mind, and was finally dismissed with a smile and a yawn. It was that
+Beatrix had indulged in one of her deliriums of music in young
+Kingswell's presence, and that she had never before played in any mood
+but the lightest in the hearing of a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell paced beside the sentry at the drifted gate; but he kept his
+thoughts to the picture of the girl, the glowing fiddle, and the music
+and firelight that had seemed to pulse and spread together about the
+long room. Again he saw the candle flames leap high and waver, as if
+lured from their tethers by the crying of the instrument. But clearest
+of all was the player's face. His heart was filled to suffocation at the
+memory of it. Had other men seen her so beautiful? Had other men heard
+her soul and her dear heart singing and crying from the strings of the
+violin?</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN</span></h2>
+
+<p>Ouenwa and Black Feather turned their faces from the little fort and the
+hostile camp beyond the white river, and set bravely forward into the
+darkness. Black Feather led the way, avoiding hummocks, bending and
+twisting through the coverts, crossing the open glades like a
+shadow&mdash;and all without any noise except the scarcely audible padding of
+his stringed shoes. Ouenwa trod close after. They had not gone far
+before the snow began to fall and puff around them in blinding clouds.
+The trees bent tensely under the lash of the wind. More than one
+frost-embrittled spire came crashing down. Still the warrior and the lad
+held on their journey, for they were both fresh and strong, and eager to
+widen the spaces of wilderness between themselves and the camp of
+Panounia.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly before dawn they dug a trench in the snow on the leeward side of
+a thicket of low spruces, broke fir-branches for a bed, built a fire
+between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> the walls of white, and cooked and ate a frugal repast, and
+then rolled themselves in their rugs of skin and fell asleep. They had
+no fear that any of Panounia's people would disturb their slumbers. They
+lay as motionless and unknowing as logs for several hours. Then Ouenwa
+turned over and yawned, and Black Feather sat up, wide-awake in an
+instant. The morning was bright and unclouded. The white sun was
+half-way up the blue shell of the eastern sky. All around the new snow
+lay in feathery depths. On the dark firs and spruces it clung in even
+masses, which showed that the wind had died down long before the flakes
+had ceased to fall. Ouenwa and his comrade ate frugally of cold meat and
+bread, swallowed some brandy and water, and resumed their journey.</p>
+
+<p>Not until the afternoon of the third day following their departure from
+Fort Beatrix did the travellers sight the smoke of a fire. It was Black
+Feather, attaining the summit of a ridge a few paces ahead of Ouenwa,
+who caught the first sight of the thin, melting signal of human life. It
+wavered up from a wood in a valley a few hundred of yards in front. On
+their right hand lay the ice-edged gray waters of an arm of the sea. On
+their left stretched dark forest and empty barren to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> mountainous
+horizon. In front lay hope, and behind the spur of menace.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a village yonder?" asked Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather replied negatively.</p>
+
+<p>"The stream is Little Thunder," he said, in his own language, "and there
+was no lodge there when last I saw it. We will approach under the
+shelter of those spruces in the hollow. It makes the journey a few paces
+longer, and perhaps the arrival twenty times safer."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa nodded his sympathy with the caution expressed by his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"But let us hurry," he said. "Remember that around the stockade the
+black captain is ever stirring the courage of the night-howlers."</p>
+
+<p>At last, creeping on all fours, they peered from the screen of brush
+into a tiny clearing on the north bank of Little Thunder. The stream was
+not ten yards across at this point. On its white surface ran several
+trails of snow-shoes. The smoke which had attracted them to the place
+curled up from the apex of a large, bark-roofed wigwam. As the
+travellers watched, an old woman appeared in the doorway of the lodge.
+Ouenwa recognized her as a wise herb-doctor who had been a friend and
+adviser of Soft Hand. He whispered the information to Black Feather.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"Then we may show ourselves," said the other, "for if this woman was
+the great chief's friend you may be sure that death has only
+strengthened her loyalty. It is so with women&mdash;with the wise and the
+foolish alike. A man will stand close to his comrade in the days of his
+glory and in the press of battle; but it is the squaw who keeps the
+fallen shield freshly painted and the cause of the departed ever before
+the matters of the present day. A man must have the reward of his
+friend's praise and the joy of his companionship; but a woman makes a
+god of the departed spirit and looks for her reward beyond the red
+gates."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa had nothing to say to his friend's sage reflections, for all he
+knew of women was that a radiant creature far back in Fort Beatrix had
+his heart in thrall. So he led the way from cover, and down the bank, in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>The old squaw in the doorway of the lodge caught sight of them
+immediately. She turned into the dark interior of the wigwam, but
+appeared before they were half-way across the frozen stream, with a bow
+in her hand and an arrow on the string. Black Feather and the lad raised
+their right hands, palms forward, above their heads, and continued to
+advance. The old hag lowered her weapon, but did not relax her attitude
+of vigilance. Close<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> to the rise of the bank the travellers paused, and
+the lad called out that he was Ouenwa, grandson of Soft Hand, and that
+his companion was Black Feather, the adopted son of Montaw, the
+arrow-maker. At that the guardian of the wigwam forsook her post and
+advanced to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>The herb-doctor, who had been one of Soft Hand's advisers, was not
+attractive to the eye. She was bent hideously, though still of
+surprising bodily strength. Her head was uncovered, save for the matted
+locks of hair that clung about it and fell over her ears and neck like a
+wig of gray tree-moss. Her eyes were deep and black and fierce. One
+yellow fang stood like a sentinel in the cavity of her mouth. Her hands
+were claws. Her skin was no lighter in hue and no finer in texture than
+was the tanned leather of her high-legged moccasins. Her garments were
+unusually barbaric&mdash;lynx-skins shapelessly stitched together and hung
+about with belts and charms, and a great knife of flint nearly as long
+as a cutlass. Her corded, scraggy arms hung naked at her sides, as
+indifferent to the nip of the frost as to the regard of strange eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Child," she said, "I heard that you were killed&mdash;that Panounia's men
+had slain you and a party of English; but that I knew to be false, for I
+saw not your spirit with the spirits of your fathers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> So I believed
+that you had crossed the great salt water with the strangers."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa told his story, to which the old woman listened with the keenest
+interest and many nods of the head.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well," she said. "They are scattered now, some in hiding, some
+sullenly obedient to Panounia, and some in captivity. Your need will
+bring them together and awake their sleeping courage. I know of a full
+score of stout warriors who will draw no bow for Panounia, and who are
+all within a day's journey of this spot, but sadly scattered,&mdash;yea,
+scattered in every little hollow, like frightened hares."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you live in this great lodge all by yourself?" inquired Black
+Feather.</p>
+
+<p>"My sons are in the forest, seeing to their snares," replied the woman,
+eying the tall brave sharply, "but within are a sick woman and a small
+child who escaped, ten days ago, from one of Panounia's camps."</p>
+
+<p>She stood aside and motioned them to enter the lodge. Ouenwa went ahead,
+with Black Feather close at his heels. Within, it took them several
+seconds to adjust their eyes to the gloom of smoke and shadow. Presently
+they made out a couch of fir-branches and skins beyond the fire, and on
+it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> a woman, half-reclining, with her arm about a child. Both the woman
+and the child were gazing at the visitors. The child began to whimper.</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather uttered a low cry, and sprang over the fire. He had found
+his squaw and one of his lost children.</p>
+
+<p>The sickness of Black Feather's wife was nothing but the result of
+hardship and ill-treatment. Already, under the herb-doctor's care, she
+was greatly improved. The meeting with her warrior went far to complete
+the cure of the old woman's broths and soft furs. The child was well;
+but the woman knew nothing of the whereabouts of their elder offspring.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa and Black Feather did not tarry long at the lodge beside Little
+Thunder. With the younger of their aged hostess's sons for guide, they
+set out that same day to find the hidden warriors who were against the
+leadership of Panounia.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII.</span> <span class="smaller">BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Back at Fort Beatrix the time passed in weary suspense. The wounded men
+recovered slowly. The enemy remained inactive beyond the river and the
+dark forest. Only the haze of their cooking-fires, melting against the
+sky, told of their presence. The inaction ate into the courage of the
+English men and women like rust. The boat-building and the iron-working
+at the forge were carried on listlessly, and without the old-time spurs
+of song and laughter. Even William Trigget and Tom Bent displayed sombre
+faces to their little world.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Kingswell, however, found life eventful. He was not blind to the
+danger of their position, and he continued to do double duty in
+everything; but for all that he awoke each day with keen anticipation
+for whatever might befall, and, sleeping, dreamed of other things than
+the poised menace and the monotony. Why should he regret Bristol, or any
+other city of the outer world, when Beatrix<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Westleigh was domiciled
+within the rough walls of the fort on Gray Goose River? His heart would
+not descend to those depths of despondency in which lurk fear and
+hopeless anxiety. What power of man, in that wilderness, could break
+down his guard and harm the most wonderful being in the world? The
+girl's brief season of unkindness toward him was as a cloud that her
+later friendliness had dispersed as the sun disperses the morning fog.
+He had caught a glimpse of her heart in her music, in her eyes, in her
+voice, and on several occasions something that had set his heart
+thumping in the touch of her hand. At least she was neither averse nor
+indifferent to his society, and the glances of her magnificent eyes were
+open to translations that set him looking out upon life and that
+wilderness through a golden haze. Let a dozen black-visaged D'Antons
+draw their rapiers upon him&mdash;he would out-thrust, out-play, and
+out-stamp them all! Let a hundred fur-clad savages howl about the
+fort&mdash;he, Bernard Kingswell, with his lady's favour on his breast, would
+scatter them like straw! And all this because, for the first time in his
+life of twenty-one years, he was bitten with love for a woman,&mdash;and
+twenty-one was a fair, manly age in those days. He had won to it
+unknowingly, by the brave paths of adventure and the sea. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> let not
+even the oldest of us criticize his attitude toward life. A man's
+emotions cannot always be herded and driven by the outward circumstances
+of need and danger, like a flock of sheep at the mercy of a dog and a
+dull countryman. That to which cautious Worldliness has given the name
+of madness, from the earliest times, is nothing but a spark of God's own
+courage and imagination in the heart of youth: the years having not yet
+smothered it with the ashes of cowardice and calculation.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Kingswell had never displayed any but an assured front to the
+world. Now this love that had him so irresistibly in its services only
+heightened the confidence of his address toward men and events; but in
+the presence of its inspiration it clothed him in unaccustomed and
+unconscious meekness. You may be sure that Beatrix had been quick to
+notice the change. It pleased her mightily, of course; for was it not a
+greater and a more pleasant matter to have brought a high-hearted,
+adventure-bred youth like this to bondage and slavery than to have a
+dozen idle courtiers bowing before one, and a dozen sentimental poets
+mouthing verses that could, with equal sincerity, be applied to any
+charming lady? So Mistress Beatrix decided, and could not find it in her
+heart to regret the beaux<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> of London Town. But she did not know her
+heart as the man knew his&mdash;and as she knew his.</p>
+
+<p>One morning they walked together along the river-bank, before the open
+gate of the fort. The air was clearer than any crystal. The shadows
+along the snow were bluer than the dome of the sky. The girl talked
+cheerily; for in the bright daytime, with the sounds of peaceful labour
+rising from the fort so close at hand, and with a strong and worshipping
+man, sword-girt, within arm's length, it was hard to remember the menace
+concealed by the southern woods. Her eyes were very bright, and the
+blood mantled under the clear skin of her cheeks at the wind's caress.
+Now and then, for a bar or two, she broke into song.</p>
+
+<p>Their path was one that Kingswell had beaten firm with his snow-shoes,
+after the last storm, expressly as a promenade for Mistress Westleigh.
+It was about a hundred yards in length, and broad enough for two persons
+to walk in abreast, and firm enough to make the wearing of snow-shoes
+unnecessary. It ran north and south, parallel with the stockade and the
+course of the river at that point. When the turn was made at either end
+of the beat, Kingswell's glance searched the horizon and every tree,
+every knoll, and hollow. It was done almost unconsciously, as a
+traveller <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>instinctively loosens his sword in its sheath at the sound of
+voices ahead of him on a dark road.</p>
+
+<p>After a time the girl noticed her companion's vigilance. "What do you
+expect to see?" she asked, touching his arm lightly and swiftly with her
+gloved hand. For a moment he was confused, but recovered his wits with
+an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," he replied, "or surely we would not be walking here."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at that. "Are you afraid?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at her, displayed the desperate condition of his heart in
+his eyes, and then looked back again to the strip of woods that
+approached them along the back.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid," he said&mdash;and then, with a gasp of dismay, he caught
+her and swung her behind him. She did not resist, but cowered against
+his sheltering back.</p>
+
+<p>"We must return to the fort," he said. "Something is going on in that
+covert."</p>
+
+<p>"Come! We will run!" she whispered, pulling at his elbows to turn him
+around.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he replied. "I shall walk backwards, and you must keep behind me,
+and guide me. It is no great matter to avoid an arrow, if one knows in
+what quarter to look for it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>She made no reply. They began the retreat along the narrow branch path
+that led to the gate of the fort, he stepping cautiously, heels first,
+and she pulling at his belt and gazing fearfully past his shoulder at
+the woods. They were within a few yards of the gate when he suddenly put
+his arms behind him, caught her close, and lurched to one side. The
+unexpected movement threw the girl to her knees in the deep snow beside
+the path. Her cry of dismay brought her father and two others from the
+fort. They found Kingswell staggering and confusedly apologizing to
+Beatrix for his roughness. In the thickness of his left shoulder stuck a
+war-arrow. Supporting Kingswell and fairly dragging the frightened girl,
+they rushed back to safety and closed and barred the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour passed without the hidden warriors of Panounia making
+any further signs of hostility, or even of their existence. The watchers
+on the stockade scanned the woods in vain for any movement. A shot was
+fired into the nearest cover from one of the cannon, but without
+apparent effect.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell was on duty again within an hour of the receiving of his
+wound. The ragged cut caused him a deal of pain; but the salve that
+really took the sting and ache out of it was the thought that he had
+been serving Beatrix as a shield when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> the arrow struck him. He went the
+rounds of the stockades with a glowing heart and dauntless bearing, and
+his air of calm assurance put courage into the men. He saw to the
+strengthening of several points of the defence, cleared the loopholes of
+drifted snow, and gave out an extra supply of powder and ball.</p>
+
+<p>It was dusk of that day before Kingswell again saw Mistress Westleigh.
+He was passing the baronet's cabin, and she opened the door and called
+to him shyly. He turned and stepped close to her, the better to see her
+face in the gathering twilight. She extended her hands to him, with a
+quick gesture of invitation. He dropped his heavy gloves on the snow
+before clasping them in eager fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"But you must not stand here, without anything 'round your shoulders,"
+he said; but, for all his solicitude, he maintained his firm hold of her
+hands. She laughed, very softly, and a slight pressure of her fingers
+drove his anxiety to the winds. He would have nothing of evil befall
+her, God knows!&mdash;nay, not so much as a chill&mdash;but how could he keep it
+in his mind that she wore no cloak when his whole being was a-thrill
+with love and worship? So he stood there, speechless, gazing into her
+flushed face. Presently her eyes lowered before his ardent regard.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>"I called to you to thank you for saving my life," she murmured. He had
+nothing to say to that. Perhaps he had saved her life&mdash;and again,
+perhaps he had not. At that moment he was the last person in the world
+to decide the question. His heart and mind were altogether with the
+immediate present. He realized that her hands were strong and yet tender
+to the touch of his. The faint fragrance of her hair was in his brain
+like some divine vintage. The sweet curves of cheek and lips&mdash;how near
+they were! She had called to him with more than kindness in her voice.
+God had made a high heaven of this fort in the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>"You were very brave," she said, leaning nearer ever so slightly. Sweet
+madness completely overthrew the lad's native caution, and he was about
+to catch her to him bodily, when she slipped nimbly into the cabin, and
+left him standing with arms extended in silent invitation toward the
+figure of the imperturbed Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my lad?" inquired the baronet, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening to you, Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, hiding his chagrin
+and confusion with exceeding skill.</p>
+
+<p>"You looked just now as if you were expecting me," said the elder. "Come
+in, come in. We can talk better by the fire."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>Kingswell's blushes were safe in the dusk. He picked up his gloves from
+the trampled snow by the threshold, and silently followed the baronet
+into the fire-lit living-room. Beatrix was not there&mdash;which fact the
+lover noticed with a sinking of the heart. He was alone with her father,
+and evidently under marked suspicion,&mdash;a fearful matter to a young man
+who aspires to the hand of an angel, and has not yet his line of action
+quite laid down. He took a deep breath, trembled at thought of his
+presumption, called the respectability of his parents and his income to
+his aid, and was ready for the baronet when that gentleman turned and
+faced him in front of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"I love your daughter," he said, with his voice not quite so cool and
+manly as he had intended it to be.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph bowed, but said nothing. His back was to the fire, and so his
+face was in heavy shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"I love her very dearly," continued the other. "I believe no man could
+love a woman more, for it is with my whole heart, and with every fibre
+of my being. I know, sir, that my rank is not exalted, and that she is
+the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet raised his hand sharply.</p>
+
+<p>The gesture silenced Kingswell in the middle of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> his sentence more
+effectively than a clap of thunder would have done it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Sir Ralph, harshly, "she is the daughter of a blackleg. She
+is the daughter of a criminal exile. She is the daughter of a broken
+gamester. Ay, Bernard, you do indeed look high,&mdash;you, the son of a
+humble merchant of Bristol."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell was dismayed for the moment. Then, with a hardy oath, he
+slapped his hand to his hip.</p>
+
+<p>"Though she were the daughter of the devil himself," he began, and came
+to a lame stop. The baronet's smile passed unseen. It was a kindly
+smile, and yet a bitter one by the same tokens. Kingswell gave up all
+attempt at politic speech. He had his own feelings to express. "Your
+daughter, sir, is the best and the loveliest," he said, huskily.
+"Whatever your backslidings and misfortunes have been, they can reflect
+in no way on her sweetness, and wisdom, and virtue. But, sir, I do not
+mean to sit in judgment on any man, and last of all on the father of the
+most glorious woman in the world. I remember you in your strength,&mdash;the
+greatest man in the county and my father's noble friend. The world has
+taken a twirl since then, but you may be sure that, whatever betide, my
+heart is with you warmer than my worthy father's ever was."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII.</span> <span class="smaller">BETROTHED</span></h2>
+
+<p>That Bernard Kingswell had accepted the baronet's own estimation of his
+(the baronet's) character so frankly, in the heat of sentimental
+disclosure, did not trouble Sir Ralph by more than a pang or two. What
+else could he expect of even this true friend? He was a broken gamester
+and a criminal exile by all the signs and by the verdict of the law; but
+whether or not he was a blackleg was a matter of opinion and the exact
+definition of that word. He knew that Kingswell was well disposed toward
+him, and that he believed nothing vile or cowardly of him; but, best of
+all, he was sure that, in Kingswell's love, his daughter was fortunate
+beyond his hoping of the past two years. Should they get clear of the
+besieging natives and out of the wilderness, her future happiness,
+safety, and position would be assured. As Mistress Bernard Kingswell,
+she would live close to the colour and finer things of life again,
+gracing some fair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> house as a former Beatrix had done in other days&mdash;to
+wit, the great houses of Beverly and Randon. The mist blurred his eyes
+at that memory and dimmed his vision against the rough log walls around
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Another thought came to the broken baronet, as he sat alone by the
+falling fire, after Kingswell's departure, and awaited his supper and
+the reappearance of his daughter. The thought was like a black shadow
+between his face and the comforting fir sticks&mdash;between his heart and
+the knowledge of a good man's love and protection for Beatrix. Knowing
+the girl as he did, he felt sure that she would never leave him, her
+exiled father, even at the call of a more compelling love; and, as a
+return to his own country meant prison or death to him, she would hold
+to the wilderness, thereby leaving the new-found happiness untouched. On
+the other hand, should death come to him soon, and in the
+wilderness,&mdash;by the arrows of the enemy, for choice,&mdash;his daughter's
+fetters would be filed for ever. He sank his face between his hands. The
+desire to live out one's time clings about a man's vitals against all
+reason. Even an exiled and broken gamester, stockaded in a nameless
+wilderness and hemmed in by savages, finds a certain zest in day and
+night and the winds of heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> With nothing to live for&mdash;even with the
+scales decidedly the other way&mdash;Death still presents an uninviting face.
+It may be the inscrutable mask of him that fills with distrust the heart
+of the man who contemplates the Long Journey. In that inevitable yet
+mysterious figure, showing as no more than a shadow between the bed and
+the window, it is hard for the sinful mortal, no matter how repentant,
+to read clear the promise of eternal peace. What dark deed might not be
+perpetrated by the shrouded messenger between the death-bed and
+Paradise?</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph bowed his head between his palms, and hid the commonplace,
+beautiful radiance of the hearth-fire from his eyes; and so, while he
+waited for his supper of stewed venison, he reasoned and planned for his
+daughter's future to the bitter end, seeing clearly that, should the
+chances of battle turn in favour of the little plantation, he must
+readjust his sentiments toward death. A man of lower breeding and
+commoner courage would have groaned in the travail of that thought, and
+cursed the alternative; but the baronet sat in silence until he heard
+his daughter at the door, and then stood up and hummed softly the
+opening bars of a Somerset hunting-song.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix tripped close to her father and raised her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> face to him. He bent
+and kissed her tenderly. For a little while they stood without speaking,
+hand in hand, on the great caribou skin before the hearth. Suddenly the
+girl pressed her cheek against his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it," she whispered, breathlessly,&mdash;"the matter that held you
+and Bernard in such serious converse?"</p>
+
+<p>"And has your heart given you no hint of it?" he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"And why, dear father? What has my heart to do with your talk of guards
+and ammunition and supplies,&mdash;save that it is with you in everything?"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet released her hand and, instead, placed his arm about her
+slender and rounded waist. "It is a story that I cannot tell you,
+sweet,&mdash;I, who am your father," he said. "But I think that you shall not
+have to wait long for the telling of it, for both youth and love are
+impatient. And here comes the good Maggie with the candles."</p>
+
+<p>During the meal the baronet was more lively and entertaining than
+Beatrix had seen him for years, and Beatrix, in her turn, was unusually
+untalkative and preoccupied. The girl wanted to give her undivided
+attention to the quiet voice of her heart. The man was equally anxious
+to avoid <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>introspection as she to court it. But he, for all his laughter
+and gay stories of gay times spent, displayed a colourless face and
+haunted eyes behind the candle-light; while she, sitting in silence,
+glowed like a rare flower. Her dark, massed tresses, her eyes of
+unnamable colour, her throat and lips and brow, were all radiant with
+the magic fire at her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph, after bringing a disjointed tale to a vague ending, sipped
+his wine, put down the glass clumsily, and suddenly turned away from the
+table. The bitterness of his lot had caught him by the throat. But she
+noticed nothing of his change of manner; and presently they left the
+table and moved to the fire. He busied himself with heaping faggots
+across the dogs. Then she filled his tobacco-pipe for him, and lit it
+with a coal from the hearth, puffing daintily. He had just got it in his
+hand when a knocking sounded on the door, and Maggie Stone opened to
+Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Upon Kingswell's entrance, Sir Ralph, after greeting him cordially but
+quietly, donned his cloak and hat, and begged to be excused for a few
+minutes. "I have a word for Trigget," he said. Then he pulled on his
+gloves, pushed open the door, and stepped out to the dark.</p>
+
+<p>Two candles burned on the table. Maggie Stone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> snuffed them, surveyed
+the room and its inmates with a comprehensive glance, and at last forced
+her unwilling feet kitchenward again. Her heart was as sentimental as
+heroic, was Maggie Stone's, and her nature was of an inquisitive turn.
+She sighed plaintively as she left the presence of the young couple.</p>
+
+<p>The door leading to the kitchen had no more than closed behind the
+servant than Bernard, without preliminaries, dropped on one knee before
+the lady of his adoration, and lifted both her hands to his lips. She
+did not move, but stood between the candles and the firelight, all
+a-gleam in her beauty and her fine raiment, and gazed down at the golden
+head. Her lips smiled, but her eyes were grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear heart," murmured the lad, without lifting his face or altering his
+position,&mdash;"dear heart, can it be true?"</p>
+
+<p>She bent her head a little lower. Her heart seemed as if it was about to
+break away from its bonds in her side. She could not speak; but, almost
+unconsciously, she closed her fingers upon his.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he cried. And again, with a note of fear in his voice: "Tell
+me if I may win you! Tell me if your heart has any promise?"</p>
+
+<p>Before she could control her agitation <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>sufficiently to answer him, the
+outer door of the cabin was swung open without ceremony, and Sir Ralph
+stamped in. He caught Kingswell by the wrist and wrenched it sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"We are attacked," he cried. "They have piled heaps of dry brush along
+the palisades&mdash;and they have set the stuff on fire! It burns like mad.
+Lord, but it looks more like hell than ever!"</p>
+
+<p>Even as he spoke, the fragrant, biting odour of the smoke from the
+burning evergreen-needles invaded the room. Kingswell got quickly to his
+feet, still holding the girl's hands. He did not look at the baronet.
+For a second he paused and peered, questioning, into her wonderful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I love you, dear heart," she cried, faintly. "I love you, Bernard."</p>
+
+<p>He stooped quickly (and how eagerly every lover knows), and even while
+the first brief and tremulous kiss was sweet on their lips, the muskets
+clapped deafeningly, savage shouts rang high, and the baronet thrust
+sword and hat into Bernard's hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Come! For God's grace, lad, come and rally the men!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>Then the lover turned from his mistress and saw the shrewd work that
+awaited him. He ran to it with a leaping heart.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV.</span> <span class="smaller">A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN</span></h2>
+
+<p>The heaps of brush outside the palisades burned with a long-drawn
+roaring, like the note of a steady wind. It was a terrifying sound. The
+glare of the conflagration lit the interior of the fort, staining the
+trampled snow of the yard to an awful hue, staining the faces of the
+desperate settlers as if with foreshadowing of blood, and painting the
+walls of the cabins as if for a carnival. The platform upon which the
+guns stood was a mass of flame before any use could be made of the
+pieces. The breastwork of faggots burned with leapings and roarings,
+flinging orange and crimson showers to the black dome above. The savages
+skirmished behind the girdle of flames, like imps along the
+blood-coloured snow. The settlers discharged their muskets through the
+singed loopholes, firing low, and taking the chances with heroic
+fortitude. Sir Ralph and Bernard Kingswell were here and there, with
+their swords in their hands and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>encouragement in speech and bearing.
+Both knew that this engagement would be a fight to the finish; and both
+felt reasonably sure that a shrewder and braver commander than Panounia
+was against them.</p>
+
+<p>The ammunition was carried from the storehouse to the shed over the
+well, for the fire was already crackling against the log walls of the
+buildings. Suddenly a sharp report and a high shower of sparks and
+burning fragments broke from the gun-platform; and, for the moment, the
+warriors were scattered from that side. One of the cannon had exploded.
+That corner of the stockade immediately fell and settled to the snow.
+Next instant the second gun was fired by the flames. It sent its whole
+charge into the uncertain Beothics, scattering them to cover in yelling
+disorder. At that the Englishmen cheered, and set about fighting back
+the encroaching flames.</p>
+
+<p>Inspiration, or a font of courage to be drawn upon at need, must have
+dwelt behind the shelter of the spruces; for within a very few minutes
+of the retreat, all the warriors, save the wounded, were about the fort
+again. Kingswell took note of it, and suspected the inspiration to be
+nothing else than Pierre d'Antons' insinuating presence and dazzling
+smile. A spur, too, he suspected&mdash;the spur of the mongrel Frenchman's
+evil sneer and black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> temper. He knew enough of the aboriginal character
+to feel that it would prove but a plaything for such a personality as
+the buccaneer's. He looked across the glowing, smoking breach in the
+fortifications with hard eyes. He voiced his desire to have the fellow
+by the throat, or at the point of his sword, in tones that rang like a
+curse.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Kingswell left his post and ran to the well-house.</p>
+
+<p>He knew where the <i>Pelican's</i> powder lay among the stores, done up in
+five canvas bags of about twelve pounds each. With two of these under
+his cloak, he returned to his place a few paces from the subsiding red
+barrier that still held the enemy from the interior of the fort. By this
+time the back of Trigget's cabin was smouldering. The roofs of the
+cabins, deep with snow, were safe; but the rear walls were all in a fair
+way of being ignited by the crackling brushwood, which the warriors of
+Panounia diligently piled against them.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell left the protection of the rest of the square to Sir Ralph,
+William Trigget, and all the men of the garrison save Tom Bent. The old
+boatswain was, by this time, a very active convalescent. Kingswell
+whispered a word or two in his ear. They kept a sharp lookout across the
+wreckage of the fallen corner of the stockade.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> They saw a party of the
+enemy gather ominously close to the glowing edge of the breach.
+Kingswell passed one of the bags of powder to his companion. "When I
+give the word," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the black knot of warriors dashed into the obstruction,
+brandishing spears and clubs, and screaming like maniacs. Kingswell
+uttered a low, quick cry, tossed his bag of powder into the glowing
+coals under the feet of the enemy, and ran for the shelter of the
+well-house at top speed. Tom Bent followed his movements on the instant.
+Together they reached the narrow shelter; and, before they could turn
+about, the air shook and reeled, as if a bolt of wind had broken upon
+them, a blinding flash seemed to consume the whole night, and a puffing,
+thumping report stunned their ears. They stumbled against the sides of
+the shed, clawed desperately, and fell to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>When Bernard Kingswell and the trusty boatswain regained their senses
+(which had left them for only a few seconds), they crawled from the
+well-house and stared about them. The square was not so bright as it had
+been, and, save for a few huddled shapes on the snow, was empty. By the
+shouting and mixed tumult, they knew that the fighting was now farther
+away&mdash;that the settlers had sallied forth on the offensive. They could
+not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> understand such recklessness; but they decided, without hesitation,
+to take the risk. They ran to the now black gap in the palisades. Fire,
+coals, wreckage, and even the snow had been hurled and blown broadcast.
+They crossed the torn ground and headed for the tumult in the fitfully
+illuminated spaces beyond. Native war-whoops and English shouts mixed
+and clashed in the frosty air. On the very edge of the shifting
+conflict, the old sailor clutched his master's arm. "Hark!" he cried.
+"D'ye hear that now? It be the yell o' that young Ouenwa, sir, or ye can
+call me a Dutcher!"</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment, before Kingswell could reply to Bent's statement, a
+club, thrown by a retreating warrior, caught the gentleman on the side
+of the head and felled him like a thing of wood. He moaned, as he
+toppled over. Then he lay still on the ruddy snow.</p>
+
+<p class="space-above">Beatrix had a dozen candles alight in the living-room of the baronet's
+cabin. Word had reached her that Ouenwa and Black Feather had arrived in
+time to take advantage of the rebuff dealt the enemy by the explosions
+of the bags of powder. When victory had seemed to be hopelessly in the
+hands of the determined savages, Ouenwa and his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>followers, though spent
+from their journey, had made a timely and successful rear attack.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was radiant. She moved up and down the room, eagerly awaiting
+the return of Bernard Kingswell. She questioned herself as to that, and
+laughed joyously. Yes, it was Bernard, beyond peradventure, whom heart,
+hands, and lips longed to recover and reward. A month ago, a week ago,
+it would have been her father&mdash;even a night ago he would have shared,
+equally with the lover, in her sweet and eager concern. But now she sped
+from hearth to door, and peered out into the blackness, with no thought
+of any of those brave fellows save the lad of Bristol.</p>
+
+<p>The burning brush had all been trampled out, and the fires in the walls
+and stockade had been quenched with water. The little square was dark,
+save for the subdued fingers of light from windows and doors. Beatrix
+peered from the open door, regardless of the cold. She was outlined
+black against the warm radiance inside the room. Her silken garments
+clung about her, pressed gently by a breath of wind. She rested a hand
+on either upright of the doorway, and leaned forward as if, at a whim,
+she would fly out from the threshold. Presently shadowy figures took
+shape in the gloom, and she heard her father's voice, and William
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Trigget's, and the high pipe of Ouenwa. But she caught no sound of
+Bernard Kingswell's clear tones. A sudden fear caught her, and she
+stepped out upon the trampled snow and called to Sir Ralph. In a moment
+he was at her side, and had an arm about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweeting," he said, "you must stay within for a little. The night is
+bitterly cold, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But where is Bernard?" she whispered, staring past him.</p>
+
+<p>"He is with the others," replied the baronet,&mdash;"with Ouenwa and his
+brave fellows, and the dauntless Trigget."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke quickly and uneasily, and led her back to the cabin at the same
+time. He closed the door, and laid a wet sword across a stool.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she cried, facing him, with wide eyes and bloodless
+cheeks. "Tell me! Tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>"The lad is hurt," admitted Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurt?" repeated the girl, vaguely. "Hurt? How should he be hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>She shivered, and gripped her hand desperately. Could it be that the
+High God had been deaf to her prayers?</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph's face went as pale as hers; for all he knew of Kingswell's
+condition was that he still breathed, and that his hat had saved his
+head from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> being cut. Whether the skull was broken or not, he did not
+know. He braced himself, and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," he said, "he is not seriously hurt, so do not stand like
+that&mdash;for God's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>At the last words his voice lost its note of composure, and broke
+shrilly. He caught her to him. "Rip me," he cried, "but if you act so
+when he is simply knocked over, what will you do if he ever gets a real
+wound!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was comforted. Tears sprang to her eyes, and the blood returned
+to her cheeks. She clung to the baronet and sobbed against his shoulder.
+Presently she looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me to him," she begged, "or bring him here."</p>
+
+<p>"So you love this Bernard Kingswell?" inquired her father, looking
+steadily into her face.</p>
+
+<p>Her gleaming eyes did not waver from his gaze. "Yes," she replied,
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned away, took his blood-wet sword from the stool, eyed it
+dully, and leaned it against the wall. He was trying to imagine what the
+lad's death would mean to his daughter's future; but he could only see
+that it would mean a few more years for himself. He started guiltily,
+and returned to his daughter. His face was desperately grim.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>"Wait for me," he said. "I'll see how the lad is doing now; and shall
+return immediately."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph crossed to the cottage that had been built for D'Antons, and
+which had passed on to Kingswell. He opened the door softly and stepped
+within. He found the wounded gentleman lying prone on his couch,
+half-undressed, and with bandaged head. Ouenwa, gaunt and blood-stained,
+was beside the still figure.</p>
+
+<p>"He opened his eyes," whispered the boy; "but see, he has closed them
+again. His spirit waits at the spreading of the trails."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph bent down and examined the linen dressings on Kingswell's
+head. They were exceedingly well arranged. He saw that the hair had been
+cut away from the place of the wound.</p>
+
+<p>"Your work, Ouenwa?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>The boy nodded. The baronet felt his friend's pulse.</p>
+
+<p>"It beats strong," he said. "The heart seems sure enough of the path to
+take."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa's face lighted quickly. "He has chosen," he said, gravely. "He
+has seen the hunting-grounds shining beyond the west, but the beauty of
+them has not lured him along that trail."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet smiled quickly into the Beothic's eyes. "You are a brave
+lad, and we are deep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> in debt to you," he exclaimed. "Your bravery and
+wit have saved the fort and all our lives. Watch your friend a few
+minutes longer; I but go to bring another nurse to help you. Then you
+may sleep."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV.</span> <span class="smaller">FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT</span></h2>
+
+<p>From that brisk fight, in which Ouenwa and his twenty braves and the
+little garrison of Fort Beatrix defeated Panounia, Black Feather brought
+a confirmation of Pierre d'Antons' concern in the last attacks upon the
+settlement. It consisted of a sword-belt and an empty scabbard. He had
+torn them from the person of a tall antagonist during a brief
+hand-to-hand encounter. The owner of the gear had won free, Black
+Feather regretted to say. Sir Ralph, too, felt the escape of his enemy,
+and sincerely hoped that the defeat had ended his power over Panounia,
+and brought down that wolfish chief's hatred instead.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning after the battle, the little plantation presented a busy
+though sombre appearance to those of its people who were in condition to
+view it. Along the woods and rising ground to the north, the snow and
+frozen soil were being hollowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> to receive the bodies of those slain in
+the fight. The dead of the enemy had been carried far into the woods,
+and piled together with scant ceremony. The settlers had lost three of
+their number,&mdash;young Donnelly, Harding, and the younger Trigget. Four of
+the rescuing party were dead and wounded. Tom Bent was on his back
+again, and Kingswell's head was ringing like a sea-shell. William
+Trigget was cut about the face and sore all over; but he kept on his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>After the graves were chipped in the iron earth, and the shrouded bodies
+lowered therein and covered, the tribesmen, under Black Feather's
+orders, set about building themselves lodges outside the stockade. It
+had been decided that, for mutual support, the friendly Beothics should
+camp near the fort, at least for the remainder of the winter. With axes
+borrowed from the settlement, they soon had the forest ringing with the
+noise of their labour. Though they had travelled light, in their hurry
+to rescue the friends of Ouenwa and Black Feather, they had dragged
+along with them a few sled-loads of deerskins and birch bark, with which
+to cover their wigwams. So the shelters sprang up quickly about the torn
+and scorched palisades; for it was a small matter to trim the poles and
+fit the pliable roofs across the conical frames.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>The dusk gathered over the wilderness, dimming the edges of white
+barren and black forest and round hill. The stars shone silver above,
+and the fires of the victorious men of the totem of the Bear glowed red
+below. In the outer room of the cabin that had been Pierre d'Antons',
+Beatrix sat alone by Kingswell's bed. Her eyes were on the leaping
+flames in the chimney, and his were on the fair lines of her averted
+face. The top of his head was so swathed in bandages that he looked like
+a turbaned Turk. Cheeks and chin were white as paper in the unstable
+light. His eyes were bright with a touch of fever brought on by his
+suffering. His mind was in a fitful mood, for a minute or two steady
+enough and concerned with the present and the room in which he lay, and
+then wandering abroad, exploring vague trails of remembrance and
+imagining. Sometimes he murmured words and sentences, but in such a
+gabbling style that his nurse could have made nothing of what was
+passing in his brain even if she had taken such advantage of his
+condition as to try.</p>
+
+<p>After a long spell of uneasy mutterings, followed by a profound silence,
+he suddenly flung out one arm. The movement startled Beatrix from her
+dreaming, and she turned her face back to him from the fire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>"Twenty days without water," he whispered, distinctly. "Twenty
+days&mdash;and that beast Trowley is laughing to see my tongue between my
+teeth like a squeezed rag."</p>
+
+<p>The girl caught up a mug of water and held it to his lips. He drank
+greedily, and then took hold of her hand. His head was against the
+hollow of her arm; for, to give him the drink, she had knelt beside his
+low bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrix," he said, gravely, "let us pretend that you love me."</p>
+
+<p>She was strangely moved at that, and bent closer to see his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why pretend, dear heart?" she answered. "I do love you, as you very
+well know. Sleep again, Bernard, with your head so&mdash;pressed close."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel your heart," he said, simply as a child. The fever was as a fine
+haze across the mirror of his brain.</p>
+
+<p>"It beats only for you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek.
+The lad's eyes shone with a clearer light at that.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me that this is no vision of fever," he said. "Tell me, or
+strength will bring nothing but sorrow. Better death than to find your
+kisses a trick of dreaming."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"Is it not a pleasant dream?" she asked, softly, smiling a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay; to dream so, a man would gladly have done with waking," he replied.
+"If it were not in life that Beatrix were mine, then would I follow the
+vision through eternal sleep&mdash;as God is my judge."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, dear lad," she murmured, "for the heart and the body of Beatrix
+are of right Somersetshire stuff, to fade not at any whim of fever&mdash;and
+the love she gives you will outlast life&mdash;as God is our judge and love
+His handiwork." And she kissed him again, blushing sweetly at her
+daring. And so they remained, she kneeling beside the couch, and he with
+his bandaged head against her lovely shoulder, until Sir Ralph entered
+the cabin, fumbling discreetly at the latch.</p>
+
+<p>The days passed slowly in the heart of that frozen wilderness between
+the white river and the long graves. Stockade and wall were repaired.
+Fresh meat was trapped and shot in sheltered valley and rough wood. The
+forge rang again with the clanging of sledges, and the tracts of timber
+with the swinging axes. Hope reawoke in hearts long dismayed, and blood
+ran more redly to the stir of work and freedom. Master Kingswell gained
+fresh strength with the rounding of every day, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> Mistress Westleigh
+recovered all her glory of eyes and lips and hair. Ouenwa, honoured by
+all, carried himself like a gentleman and a warrior. Black Feather, with
+his wife and his surviving child in a snug lodge, felt again the zest
+and peace of living. Only Sir Ralph seemed to find no ray of comfort in
+the days of security. He brooded alone, avoiding even his daughter. His
+face grew thinner, and his shoulders lost something of their youthful
+vigour. The desolation and bitterness had, at last, dimmed his courage
+and his philosophy. The very relief at Panounia's defeat and D'Antons'
+supposed overthrow had, somehow, weakened his gallant endurance. He
+counted it a grievance that God had not led him to his death in the last
+fight, as he had prayed so earnestly. He had been eager then. Now he
+must plan it over again&mdash;over and over&mdash;in cold reasoning and cold
+blood, and alone by the fire. A foolish, causeless anger got hold upon
+him at times; and again he would be all repentance, telling his heart
+that, no matter how bitter his fate, it was fully deserved. And so, day
+by day, the shadows grew behind his brain, and a little seed of madness
+germinated and took root.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Beatrix did not notice the change in her father's manner and
+habits. The thing disclosed itself so gradually, and she was so intent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
+upon the nursing of her lover; and yet again, the baronet had been
+variable in his moods, to a certain extent, ever since the beginning of
+his troubles&mdash;years enough ago. It was Ouenwa who first saw that
+something had gone radically wrong in the broken gentleman's mind, and
+his knowledge had come about in this wise.</p>
+
+<p>The young Beothic, though an ardent sportsman and warrior, was a still
+more ardent seeker after bookish wisdom. Kingswell, before his hurt, had
+taught him something of the art of reading. Later, Mistress Westleigh
+had carried it further. By the time that Kingswell was safely on the
+road to his old health and a mended head, Ouenwa could spell out a page
+of English print very creditably. His primer was one of those volumes of
+Master Will Shakespeare's plays, which the Frenchman had left behind
+him. One day Beatrix entered the cabin to take her turn at tending the
+invalid, and found Ouenwa with the drama in his hands, and his youthful
+brow painfully furrowed with thought. She took the book from him and
+fluttered the pages, pausing here and there to read a line or two.</p>
+
+<p>"Run away," said she, "and on a shelf beside our chimney you will find a
+book with easier words than this contains. There is matter here, I
+think, that is beyond a beginner."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p><p>At that Kingswell raised himself to his elbow and nodded his sore head
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lad, run and find yourself an easier book," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing loath, for his quest of learning was sincere,&mdash;as was everything
+about him,&mdash;Ouenwa left the presence of the lovers and ran across the
+snow to Sir Ralph's cabin. He told his errand to the baronet. That
+gentleman looked at him long and keenly, so that the boy trembled and
+wished himself out of the house. Then, with a sudden start and a harsh
+laugh, "Help yourself, lad," said Sir Ralph. Ouenwa found the shelf of
+books, and, kneeling before it, was soon busy looking over the divers
+volumes and broad-sheets with which it was piled high. He found a rhymed
+and pictured chap-book greatly to his liking. He was spelling out the
+first verses when a movement behind his back brought him to a sense of
+his whereabouts. He turned quickly. There stood the baronet, with a
+walking-cane in his hand, making lunge and thrust at a spot of resin on
+the log wall. The poor gentleman stamped and straddled, pinked the
+unseen swordsman, and parried the unseen blade, with a dashing air.
+There was a light in his eyes and a twist of the lips that struck
+Ouenwa's heart cold in his side. The light was that which, when seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> in
+the eyes of a man of a primitive people, divides that man from the laws
+and responsibilities that are the portion of his fellows. It was the
+gleam of idiocy&mdash;that sinister sheen that cuts a man from his
+birthright.</p>
+
+<p>The boy knelt there, motionless with fear, with his face turned over his
+shoulder. He watched every movement of the fantastic exhibition with
+fascinated eyes. He fairly held his breath, so terrible was the display
+in that quiet, dim-lit room. Suddenly the baronet lowered the point of
+the modish cane smartly to the floor, and turned upon the lad with a
+smile, an embarrassed flush on his thin cheeks, and sane eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a pretty art&mdash;this of the French rapier," he said, "and I make a
+point of keeping my wrist limber for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph flung the walking-cane aside, and sat down despondently in the
+nearest chair. Ouenwa saw, at a glance, that his presence was already
+forgotten. With furtive movements and such haste as he could manage, he
+began replacing some of the books and selecting others to carry away
+with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweeting," said the baronet, "a pipe of tobacco would rest me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>Ouenwa realized that the gentleman, in his strange mood, believed that
+Mistress Beatrix was in the room; but Ouenwa had tact enough not to
+point out the little mistake. He got up noiselessly and filled the bowl
+of a long pipe from a great jar on the chimney-piece. He took a splinter
+of wood from the basket by the hearth and lit it at the fire. Stepping
+softly to the baronet's side, he placed the pipe in his hand, and held
+the light to the tobacco while the baronet puffed reflectively and
+unseeingly. Then the lad gathered up his books and left the cabin. Fear
+of Sir Ralph's wild manner was cold in his veins.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI.</span> <span class="smaller">PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST</span></h2>
+
+<p>And now to tell something of the movements of Pierre d'Antons, which, of
+late, have been carried on behind the screen of the forest and beyond
+the ken of the reader.</p>
+
+<p>The defeat of Panounia's warriors, on that night of fire and blood,
+knocked the adventurer's fortunes flatter than they had ever been. You
+may believe that he cursed Ouenwa bitterly, and wished that he had
+killed him long ago, when the lad threw his followers into the battle.
+It was then that D'Antons himself left his post beyond the scuffle, and,
+with desperate efforts, tried to turn the reverse back to victory. His
+swordsmanship and energy availed him nothing. He missed capture only by
+slipping the buckle of his sword-belt. Then, a fugitive from both sides,
+he ran to the woods, avoiding the scattered and retreating warriors who
+had so lately been struggling in his behalf as fearfully as he would
+have avoided William Trigget or Sir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> Ralph Westleigh. One of his late
+comrades, trailing wounded limbs along the snow, hurled a Beothic curse
+after him. Another, better prepared, let fly a war-club, and missed him
+by an inch. He slashed on, through the underbrush, the drifts, and the
+dark, sure that capture by any of the defeated savages would mean death
+and perhaps torture.</p>
+
+<p>The black captain did not run on any vague course, despite his haste. He
+knew where a possibility of help awaited him. He had given his wits to
+more than plans of revenge and kidnapping during his sojourn with
+Panounia. In winning the men to him, he knew that his hold upon them
+would not outlast defeat; but in winning the love of the Beothic maiden
+Miwandi, he had laid up store against an evil day. But he had not won
+her heart simply on a chance of defeat&mdash;far from it, for he had not
+dreamed of such a chance. It was a pleasant thing in itself to be the
+lover of that nut-brown, lithe-limbed, warm-hearted young girl&mdash;for
+Miwandi suspected nothing of his desire for, and plans concerning, the
+lady in the fort. She loved the tall foreigner quickly and surely. She
+was extravagantly proud of his power over the warriors of her people. He
+was her brave, and as such she cherished him openly, to the envy rather
+than the criticism of the other women of the encampment.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p><p>Miwandi was the daughter of a lesser chief of Panounia's faction. She
+was seventeen years of age. Her skin was ruddy brown, darker than the
+skins of some of her people and lighter than that of others. Her hair
+was brown and of a silken texture, very unlike the straight locks of the
+savages of the great continent to the westward. Her features were good,
+and her eyes were full of life and warmth. D'Antons' conquest rankled in
+the breasts of more than one of the young bucks of the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre d'Antons, fleeing from the fighting men of both parties, shaped
+his course for the lodge in which Miwandi dwelt. As he ran, with fear at
+his heels, he forgot to regret the girl in the fort; instead, a pang of
+honest affection for the comely young woman toward whom he was flying
+for help stirred in him. He stumbled into the lodge, and Miwandi caught
+him in her arms. In a few quick words, he told her of the defeat, and of
+the anger of Panounia's warriors toward him. She kissed him once,
+passionately, and then fell to collecting a few things&mdash;a quiver of
+arrows, a bow, furs, and some food. She pressed a bundle into his arms.
+He accepted it without a word. She bound her snow-shoes to her feet, and
+retied the wrenched thongs of his. Then they slipped from the dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
+lodge to the darker woods; and his sheathless sword, damp with blood,
+was still in his hand. They heard the cries of the wounded behind them,
+and other cries that inspired them to flight.</p>
+
+<p>They fled for hours, without pausing to ease their breathing. Of the
+two, it was the man who sometimes lagged, who often stumbled, and who
+cried once that he would rather be captured than strain limb and lung to
+another effort. D'Antons had been actively employed throughout the day,
+and again during the most desperate passages of the battle, and his
+strength was well-nigh exhausted. At last he fell and lay prone. In an
+instant the girl was beside him, pillowing his head and shielding his
+body from the cold, and revived him with brandy from the scanty supply
+in his flask. By that time the dawn was breaking gray under the stars,
+and all sounds of the chase had died away. She cut an armful of
+fir-branches, and with them and the skins she and D'Antons had carried,
+she made a rude bed and a yet ruder shelter. So they lay until high
+noon, fugitives in a desolate wilderness, with death, in half a dozen
+guises, lurking on either hand.</p>
+
+<p>Behind D'Antons and Miwandi, the broken band of Panounia's followers
+soon gave up the hunt. Matters were not in condition to be mended by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
+killing a long-faced Frenchman and a pretty girl. The defeated savages
+had their own wounds to see to, and already too many dead to hide under
+the snow. A matter of sentiment, like the torturing and killing of their
+false leader D'Antons, would have to wait. Now, of all those valorous
+warriors who had menaced the little fort since the very beginning of
+winter, only ten remained unhurt. Panounia was dead. He had breathed his
+last in the edge of the woods, while the battle was still raging, and
+had been carried farther in by one of his men. Thus his death had
+remained unknown to the victors; as had also the deaths of many more of
+the besiegers. Wolf Slayer, that courageous savage lad who had once
+boasted of his deeds to Ouenwa, was desperately hurt. Painfully and
+hopelessly, those of the wounded who could move at all, the women, and
+the unhurt of the band, retreated toward farther and surer fastnesses.
+The wounded who could not drag themselves along were left to perish in
+the snow. Some were frozen stiff before morning. Some bled to death
+within the same time. A few lived until they were discovered by Ouenwa's
+men in the bright daytime,&mdash;they were reported as having been found
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons and Miwandi travelled, by forced marches, until they reached a
+wooded valley and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> a narrow, frozen river. Along this they journeyed
+inland and southward. At last they found a spot that promised shelter
+from the bleak winds as well as from prying eyes. There they built a
+wigwam of such materials as were at hand. Game was fairly plentiful in
+the protected coverts around. They soon had a comfortable retreat
+fashioned in that safe and voiceless place.</p>
+
+<p>"It will do until summer brings the ships," remarked D'Antons, busy with
+plans whereby he might give Dame Fortune's wheel another twirl.
+Sometimes he spent whole hours in telling Miwandi brave tales of far and
+beautiful countries. He spoke of white towns above green harbours, of
+high forests with strange, bright birds flying through their tops, and
+of wide savannahs, whereon roved herds of great, sharp-horned beasts of
+more weight than a stag caribou.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but you do not mean to leave me, Heart-of-Life," she cried.</p>
+
+<p>So he swore, by a dozen saints, that she, Miwandi, should be his queen
+in a palace of white stone above a tropic sea.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII.</span> <span class="smaller">A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Day by day, Sir Ralph Westleigh's mental sickness increased. It
+strengthened in the dark, like a blight on corn. Very gradually, and day
+by day, it grew over the bright surface of his mind and spirit. The
+sureness of its advance was a fearful thing to watch.</p>
+
+<p>By the time March was over the wilderness, with a hint of spring in the
+morning skies, the baronet's condition was noticeable to even the
+dullest inmate of the settlement. The poor gentleman spoke little&mdash;and
+that little was seldom to the point. It seemed as if he had forgotten
+how to smile, or even to make a pretence at mirth. He walked alone for
+hours on the frozen river and through the woods. The Beothics of the
+camp before the fort stood in awe of him. At times he treated Beatrix
+and Bernard Kingswell as strangers; but he always knew Maggie Stone, and
+chided her often on the scantiness of his dinners.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> All day, indoors and
+out, he wore a rapier at his side. In the cabin he spent half of the
+time inert by the fire, without book, or cards, or chess, and the rest
+of it in sword-play with an imaginary antagonist.</p>
+
+<p>It was well for Beatrix that she had found Bernard's love before the
+fresh misfortune descended upon her. But even with that comfort and
+inspiration, her father's derangement affected her bitterly. They had
+been such friends; and now he had blank eyes and deaf ears for all her
+actions and words. It was twenty times harder for her than to have seen
+him struck down by knife or arrow. Death seemed an honest thing compared
+to that coldness and vagueness of spirit that gathered more thickly
+about him with the passing of each day. It was as if another life,
+another spirit, had taken possession of the familiar body and beloved
+features. After two weeks neither her kisses nor her tears had any
+potency to break through the awful estrangement. Her prayers, her fond
+recollections of their old companionship, brought no gleam to the dull
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>By the end of March the busy boat-builders and smiths of the
+settlement&mdash;and every man save Sir Ralph was either one or the
+other&mdash;had two new boats all but completed. They were staunch crafts,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+of about the capacity and model of the <i>Pelican</i>. They were intended for
+fishing on the river and the great bays and for exploration cruises.</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget, who was a master shipbuilder as he was a master
+mariner, entertained great ideas of fishing and trading more openly than
+Sir Ralph had sanctioned in the past. He was for carving out a real home
+in the wilderness, and his wife was of the same mind.</p>
+
+<p>"We couldn't bear to leave the boy's grave," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell promised that, should he win back to Bristol, and find his
+affairs in order, he would use his influence in behalf of the settlement
+on Gray Goose River. Donnelly, too, was all for holding to the new land.</p>
+
+<p>"It be rough, God knows," he said, "but it be sort o' hopeful, too. If
+they danged savages leaves us alone, an' trade's decent, I be for
+spendin' the balance o' my days alongside o' Skipper Trigget. There be a
+grave yonder the missus an' me wouldn't turn our backs on, not if we
+could help it."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell himself was not building any dreams of fixing his lot in that
+desolate place; and neither was old Tom Bent, though he spoke little on
+the subject. Ouenwa's ambitions continued to point overseas. Beatrix,
+now despondent at her father's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> trouble, and again happy in her love,
+gave little thought to the future of the settlement, or to any plans for
+the days to come, save vague dreamings of an English home.</p>
+
+<p>March wore along, and in open spaces the snow shrank inch by inch. Then
+rain fell; and after that a time of tingling cold held all the
+wilderness in a ringing white imprisonment. A man could run over the
+snow-fields and the bed of the river without snow-shoes; for the surface
+was tough as wood, white as the shield of that sinless knight, Sir
+Galahad, and glistening as a thousand diamonds. The mornings lifted
+clear silver and pale gold along the east. The evenings faded out in
+crimson and saffron, and the twilights, even when the stars were lit,
+made of the dome of heaven a bubble of thinnest green. And back of it
+all, despite the frost, hung a suggestion of sap-reddened twigs and
+blossoming trees.</p>
+
+<p>The lure of the season touched every one in the fort, and the camp
+beside it. It ran in Sir Ralph's blood like some fabled wine&mdash;for what
+vintage of France or Spain is the stuff of which the poets sing. It
+mounted to his head with a high, unregretting recklessness, and doubled
+the madness that already lurked there. Something of his old manner
+returned, and for a whole evening he sat with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Beatrix and Kingswell and
+talked rationally and hopefully. Also, that same night, he played a game
+of chess. He spoke of the future as one who sees into it clearly and
+without fear. He recalled the past without any sign of embarrassment.
+But Kingswell, meeting his eyes by chance, caught a light of derision in
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Very early in the morning, while the stars still glinted overhead, and
+the promise of day was no more than a strip of pearl along the east, Sir
+Ralph Westleigh unbarred the door of his cabin and slipped out. He was
+warmly and carefully dressed in furs and moccasins. He carried his sword
+free under his arm. Very cautiously he scaled the palisade and dropped
+to the frozen crust of snow outside. The Beothic encampment lay around
+the corner of the fort, so he was safe from detection from that quarter.
+He looked about and behind with a cunning smile. Then he ran lightly
+into the woods.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph followed his aimless course for miles, and his soft-shod feet
+left no mark on the hard surface of the snow. Then the sun slid up and
+over, and in the warmth of high noon the frozen crust of the wilderness
+thawed a little, and here and there the baronet's feet broke through. At
+that he began to feel fatigue and a disconcerting pang of doubt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> He
+flung himself down in a little thicket of spruces, and called for Maggie
+Stone to bring him food and drink. He called again and again. He shouted
+other names than that of the old servant. In a sudden agony of fear, he
+jumped to his feet and plunged through the evergreens. At every third
+step he sank to his knee, or half-way up his thigh. He screamed the name
+of his daughter, "Beatrix, Beatrix"&mdash;or was it his dead wife he was
+calling? He cried for guidance to many great gentlemen of England who
+had been his boon companions in the old days, forgetting that death had
+taken some of them away from him, and that the rest, to a man, had
+turned of their own accord. Presently he ceased his foolish outcry and
+plodded along, with no thought of the course, sobbing the while like a
+lost child.</p>
+
+<p>The sun began its downward journey, and still the baronet, with his
+sheathed sword under his arm, staggered across the voiceless wilderness.
+Toward mid-afternoon the thawing crust froze again, and he travelled
+with less difficulty. Ever and anon his poor eyes pictured a running
+figure in an edge of blue shadow before him. At times it was the figure
+of the nobleman he had killed in England, in the dispute at the
+gaming-table, and again it was a friend,&mdash;Kingswell or Trigget, or
+another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> of the fort,&mdash;and yet again it was Pierre d'Antons. But no
+matter how he strove to run down the lurker, he lost him every time.
+Thirst plagued him, and he ate the clear ice and snow off the fronds of
+the spruces. Hunger gnawed him awhile, but passed gradually. The west
+took on the flame and glory of sunset. The east darkened. The stars
+pricked through the high shell of the sky. Night gathered her cloudless
+darkness over the wilderness; and still the demented baronet followed
+his aimless quest.</p>
+
+<p>Toward evening of the day following Sir Ralph Westleigh's departure from
+Fort Beatrix, Pierre d'Antons and Miwandi were startled by the sudden
+and noiseless appearance of a gaunt and wild-eyed person in the doorway
+of their lodge. The woman cried out, and ran to the farthest corner of
+the wigwam. D'Antons staggered back, and his face turned gray as the
+ashes around the fire-stone. The unexpected visitor drew his blade,
+flung the sheath behind him on the snow, and advanced upon the fugitive
+adventurer. D'Antons sprang back and caught up his own sword from where
+it lay on a couch of branches and skins. He swore, more in wonder than
+anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Westleigh!" he cried. "What brings you here, you fool&mdash;and how many
+follow you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>The baronet halted and glanced quickly over his shoulder. He reeled a
+little, but his eyes changed in their light and colour.</p>
+
+<p>"I am alone," he said. "Yes, I am alone." His voice was quiet. He seemed
+sorely puzzled. D'Antons' face regained its swarthy tints, and he
+laughed harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"So you have hunted me down, old cock," he said, smiling. "You'll find
+that the quarry has fangs&mdash;in his own den."</p>
+
+<p>The red of madness returned to Sir Ralph's eyes. He advanced his rapier.
+In a second the fight was on. For a few minutes the strength of insanity
+supported the baronet's starving muscles and reeling brain. Then his
+thrusts began to go wide, and his guard to waver. A clean lunge dropped
+him in the door of the lodge without a cry. The life-blood of the last
+baronet of Beverly and Randon made a vivid circle of red on the snow of
+that nameless wilderness.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE RUNNING OF THE ICE</span></h2>
+
+<p>It was Beatrix who first discovered her father's flight; but that was
+four hours after its occurrence. The fort was soon astir with the news.
+Men set out in all directions, in search of the missing one. Half a
+dozen of the friendly Beothics joined in the hunt. They went east and
+west, north and south. The sharpest eyes could detect no trail of the
+madman's feet. Beatrix insisted upon accompanying Bernard and Ouenwa.
+She tried to show a brave face; but something in her heart told her to
+expect the worst. The three travelled southward, and shortly before
+sunset returned to the fort, unsuccessful. They found that all the other
+searchers had got back, save Black Feather and a young brave named
+Kakatoc, who had set out together.</p>
+
+<p>By the merest chance Black Feather and his companion happened upon the
+place where the baronet had first broken through the melting crust. With
+but little effort they found where he had rested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> and taken up his
+journey again. Farther on, the faintness of the trail put an edge to
+their determination to find the unfortunate gentleman. It was a
+challenge to their woodcraft, and they accepted it eagerly. But within
+two hours of finding the marks, they lost them again. They ranged wide;
+and at last Black Feather discovered a footprint in a little pad of snow
+beside a stunted spruce. In several places the branches of the tree
+showed where the snow had been broken away, as if by a man's hand. It
+was enough to keep them to the quest.</p>
+
+<p>Not in the next day, but in the early morning after that, the two
+Beothics happened upon a sheltered valley and a snow-cleared space, with
+a fire-stone in the middle of it, where a lodge had lately stood. As for
+signs of blood, there were none. Snow had been deftly spread and
+trampled over it. All around the so evident site of a human habitation
+the hard crust gleamed unbroken, save for a little path that ran down to
+a hole in the ice of the stream. After considering the place, and
+shaking their heads, the two ate the last of the food they had in their
+pouches and turned their feet back to the fort. They passed within a few
+paces of a dense thicket, in the heart of which the baronet's body lay
+uncovered. But how were they to know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> it, when even the prowling foxes
+had not yet found it out!</p>
+
+<p>For several days the search was continued by the settlers and their
+allies, but all in vain. It was not even suspected that the deserted
+camping-place which Black Feather and Kakatoc had seen had so lately
+been warmed by the feet of Pierre d'Antons and the blood of the lost
+baronet. For a few days longer the business of the settlement lagged,
+and the place wore an air of mourning, despite the ever-brightening and
+mellowing season. Then the axes struck up their chant again, and the
+little duties of the common day erased the forebodings of Eternity from
+the minds of the pioneers. Only Mistress Beatrix could see nothing of
+the reawakening of life and hope for the sorrow in her heart and the
+mist across her eyes. She had loved her father deeply and faithfully,
+with a love that had been strengthened by his misfortunes. She had felt
+toward him the combined affections of daughter and sister and friend.
+She had made allowances for the weaknesses of his later years that
+equalled the ever charitable devotion of a parent for a best-loved
+child. She had not been, and was not now, blind to the passion of gaming
+that had forced him to exile and an unknown death; but she had forgiven
+it long ago. As to the alleged murder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> that had made such an evil odour
+in London, she believed&mdash;and rightly&mdash;that hot blood and overmuch wine
+had been to blame, and that her father's sword had been drawn after the
+victim's.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Kingswell did all in his power to comfort the bereaved girl. He
+urged her to spend much of her time out-of-doors. He told his plans for
+their future, and to cheer her he built them even more hopefully than he
+felt; for he realized that many difficulties were yet to be overcome
+before Bristol was safely reached. With Ouenwa, the two often went on
+long tramps through the woods. Their evenings were always spent
+together. Sometimes he read aloud to her, and sometimes they played at
+chess. One evening she got her violin, and played as wonderfully as she
+had on that other occasion; but instead of leaving him afterward without
+a word, as she had done, she laid the fiddle aside and nestled into his
+arms. He held her tenderly, patting the bright hair against his
+shoulder, and murmuring broken assurances of his love and sympathy. She
+wept quietly for a little while; but when she kissed him at the door,
+her face and eyes shone with something of their old light.</p>
+
+<p>By mid-April knobs of rock and moss pierced through the shrinking snow
+in the open places; but in the woods the drifts continued to withstand
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> wasting breath of the spring winds. Gray Goose River was no longer
+a broad path of spotless white. Its surface was mottled with patches of
+sodden gray; and an attentive listener on the bank might hear a myriad
+of tiny voices, some sibilant and some tinkling and liquid, in and under
+the enfeebled ice. Up and down the valley, between the knolls and wooded
+hills, the little streams were already snarling and roaring, and here
+and there flashing brown shoulders to the sunlight. Through all the
+wilderness ran a tingling whisper; and twilight, midnight, and dawn were
+stirred by the falling cries of wild-fowl on the wing. A faint, alluring
+fragrance was in the air&mdash;the scent of millions of swelling buds and
+crimson willow-stems.</p>
+
+<p>About that time three warriors of the following of the dead Panounia
+arrived at the fort, with prayers for peace on their lips and gifts in
+their hands. They were received by Kingswell, William Trigget, and
+Ouenwa from the fort, and Black Feather and two of his chiefs from the
+camp. A lengthy business was gone through with, and much strong
+Virginian tobacco was burned. Documents were written in English and in
+the picture-writing of the natives, and read aloud, by Ouenwa, in both
+languages. Then they were solemnly signed by all present, and peace was
+restored to the great tribe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> of the North, and protection, trade, and
+lands were granted for all time to the inhabitants of Fort Beatrix and
+their descendants. The three visitors went back to their people with
+rolls of red cloth and packets of glass beads, pot-metal knives, and
+other useless trinkets on their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after their departure from the fort, a storm of rain blew up
+from the sou'east. All day the great drops thumped on the roofs of the
+cabins, on the skies of the lodges, and spattered on the sodden snow.
+The firs and spruces gleamed clean and black under the drenching
+showers. A veil of smoke-gray mist lay above the farther woods and along
+the black tangles of alders and gray fringes of willows. All night the
+warm rain continued to fall and drift. When morning lifted along the
+pearly east, a cry rang from the camp to the fort that the ice in the
+river was moving. The settlers hastened to the flat before the stockade.
+Beatrix was with them.</p>
+
+<p>"See how the torn edge of ice overtops the bank," said Kingswell,
+pointing eagerly. "And there is an open space. Ah, it has closed again!
+How slowly it grinds along!"</p>
+
+<p>"It will run faster before night," replied the girl, and Ouenwa, who was
+versed in the ways of his northern rivers, nodded silently.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p><p>While they watched, admiring the swelling, swinging, ponderous advance
+of the great surface, and harkening to the booming thunder of its agony
+that filled the air, a breathless runner joined the group and spoke a
+few quick words to Black Feather. That chief approached Ouenwa and
+whispered in his ear. The boy glanced quickly at Beatrix and Kingswell,
+and then questioned Black Feather anxiously. Presently he turned back to
+the lovers.</p>
+
+<p>"The ice is stuck down-stream," he said. "Blue Cloud has seen it. He
+fears that the water will rise over the flat&mdash;and the fort."</p>
+
+<p>The river continued to rise until evening. After that the waters
+subsided a little, great cakes of rotten ice hung stranded along the
+crest of the bank, and the main body ceased to run downward. But from up
+the valley the thunder of a hidden disturbance still boomed across the
+windless air.</p>
+
+<p>"The jam had broken down-stream," said Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, unused to the ways of running ice, was satisfied, and retired
+to his couch with an easy mind. He slept soundly until, in the gray of
+the dawn, Ouenwa shook him roughly, and all but dragged him to the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up, wake up," cried the boy. "Damn,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> but you sleep like a bear!
+The fort is in danger! We must run for higher land."</p>
+
+<p>"Rip me!" exclaimed Kingswell, springing to his feet, "but what is the
+trouble? Are we attacked?"</p>
+
+<p>"The river is all but empty of water," replied Ouenwa. "The ice sags in
+the channel, like an empty garment. The water hangs above, behind the
+third point where we cut the timber for the boats."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, all the while, was busily employed pulling on his heavy
+clothes. Though he did not fully understand the threatening danger, he
+felt that it was real enough. While he tied the thongs of his deerhide
+leggins, Ouenwa told him that warning had reached the fort but a few
+minutes before.</p>
+
+<p>"How?" inquired Kingswell, hurriedly bestowing a wallet of gold coins
+and some other valuables about his person.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa, already loaded down with his friend's possessions, threw open
+the door and stepped out.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf Slayer brought it," he said, over his shoulder. "And I do not
+understand," he added, "for Wolf Slayer hates us all."</p>
+
+<p>The other, close at his heels, made no comment on that intelligence. He
+scarcely heard it, so anxious was he for the safety of Mistress
+Beatrix.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> The whole fort was astir; but Kingswell ran straight to his
+sweetheart's door. It was opened by the maiden herself. She and the old
+servant were all ready to leave.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed; load after load of stores and household goods was
+carried to the low hills behind the fort; and still the river lay empty,
+with its marred sheet of ice sagging between the banks; and still the
+unseen jam held back the gathering freshet. The women wept at the
+thought that their little homes were in danger of being broken and torn
+and whirled away. But Beatrix was dry-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be no great matter for them to build new cabins in a safer
+place," she said to Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>He was looking at the natives dragging their rolled-up lodges to higher
+ground. He turned, smiling gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no love for the wilderness?" he asked, "and yet but for this
+forsaken place, you and I might never have met."</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand on his arm, and lifted a flushed face to his tender
+regard.</p>
+
+<p>"So it has served my turn," she said. "Now that I have you, I could well
+spare these wastes of black wood and empty barren."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell had been waiting patiently and in silence for that confession
+ever since their betrothal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> Hitherto she had not once spoken with any
+assurance of their future together. She had treated the subject vaguely,
+as if her thoughts were all with the past and with the tragedy of her
+father's death.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you face the homeward voyage in one of the little boats?" he
+asked, softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, with you at the tiller," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear girl," he said, "I think that a stout ship called the <i>Heart of
+the West</i> will be setting sail from Bristol, for this wilderness, before
+many days."</p>
+
+<p>"Would the fellow dare return?" she asked; for she had heard the story
+of Trowley's treachery.</p>
+
+<p>"He will think himself safe enough," replied Kingswell. "No doubt he
+owns the ship now&mdash;has bought it from my mother for the price of a
+skiff, after telling her how recklessly he battled with the savages to
+save her son's life."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed softly. "The old rogue will be surprised when I step aboard,"
+he added.</p>
+
+<p>Before she could answer him a booming report shook the sunlit air. It
+was followed, in a second, by a long-drawn tumult&mdash;a grinding and
+crashing and roaring&mdash;as if the firmament had fallen and overthrown the
+everlasting hills. The sagging ice below them reared, domed upward, and
+split with clapping thunders. It broke its plunging masses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> which were
+hurled down the stream and over the flats. A thing of brown water and
+sodden gray lumps tore the alders and swung across the meadow where the
+Beothic encampment had stood an hour before. The eastern stockade of the
+fort went down beneath its inevitable, crushing onslaught.</p>
+
+<p>All day cakes and pans of sodden ice and snow raced down the river, and
+the air hummed and vibrated with their clamour. But the weight of the
+released waters had passed; and the fort had suffered by no more than an
+exposed side.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX.</span> <span class="smaller">WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY RECEIVES A VISITOR</span></h2>
+
+<p>Wolf Slayer, who had brought warning of the menace of the freshet to
+Fort Beatrix, soon showed his evil hand. He had arrived at the fort in a
+starving condition and still weak from wounds received in the battle in
+which his father had been killed. Had he been well and filled with meat,
+he would undoubtedly have let the inmates of the fort and the camp lie
+in ignorance of the danger. For ten days he was fed and cared for by the
+settlers. By the end of that time, he felt himself again. The old
+arrogance burned in his eyes; the old sneer returned to his lips. Ouenwa
+read the signs and wondered how the deviltry would show itself under
+such unpropitious circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa's sleep was light and fitful on the tenth night after the
+overflowing of the river. About midnight he awoke, turned over, and
+could not get back to his dreams. So he lay wide-awake,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> thinking of the
+future. He could hear Bernard Kingswell's peaceful breathing. He thought
+of his friend, and his heart warmed to him with gratitude and
+comrade-love. He thought of Beatrix, smiled wistfully in the darkness,
+and put the bright vision away from him. What was that? He breathed more
+softly and lifted his head. Was it fancy, or&mdash;or what? He shifted
+noiselessly to the farther edge of the couch. A hand brushed along his
+pillow of folded blanket. Next moment he gripped an unseen wrist and
+closed with a silent enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Minutes passed before the wrestlers stumbled against a stool, with a
+clatter that startled Kingswell to his feet. The Englishman leaped to
+the hearth, kicked the fallen coals to life, and threw a roll of birch
+bark on top of them. Then he stepped aside until the yellow flame
+lighted the room. The illumination was just in time, for Wolf Slayer had
+the lighter boy on the floor and the knife raised, when Kingswell saw
+his way to the rescue. He recognized the youth, and in a fit of English
+indignation at such a return for hospitality caught him by neck and belt
+and hurled him bodily from the prostrate Ouenwa. Wolf Slayer alighted on
+his feet, snatched open the door (which he had left ajar), and fled into
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p><p>A morning of late May brought a friendly native to Fort Beatrix, with
+word that three English ships were in Wigwam Harbour. Then Ouenwa and
+Tom Bent made the journey and returned, in due season, with the welcome
+news that one of the vessels was the <i>Heart of the West</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Both the new boats and the old <i>Pelican</i> were made ready for the
+expedition. Kingswell commanded the <i>Pelican</i>, with Ouenwa and six
+natives for crew. Tom Bent was put in charge of the second boat, and
+Black Feather of the third. William Trigget and Donnelly were left to
+see that no harm came to Mistress Westleigh&mdash;and, as the boats stole
+down-stream, in the gray of the dawn, William Trigget treasured in his
+hand a duly witnessed document, in which Bernard Kingswell, gentleman,
+of Bristol, bequeathed and willed all his earthly goods to Beatrix
+Westleigh, spinster, of Fort Beatrix, in the Newfounde Land, and late of
+Beverly and Randon, in Somersetshire, England.</p>
+
+<p>The parting between Beatrix and her lover had been a fond one, but the
+man had noticed (and in his heart regretted) the fortitude with which
+she bade him farewell and godspeed. He worried about it in his sleep,
+and again, as he looked longingly at her cabin in the bleak dawn. He
+tried to comfort himself with memories of a hundred incidents that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+placed the sincerity of her love beyond a shadow of doubt. But, for all
+that, she might have shed a few tears. Surely she realized the chances
+of danger?&mdash;the risk he was running, for her sake? Love is edged and
+barbed by just such little and unreasonable questionings.</p>
+
+<p>A white mist wreathed along the surface of Gray Goose River when the
+three boats swung down with the current. The Beothics were armed with
+English knives. There were no firearms aboard any of the little vessels.
+Kingswell and Ouenwa had swords at their belts, and Spanish daggers for
+their left hands. Tom Bent was armed with his oft-proved cutlass.</p>
+
+<p>The sun did not get above the horizon until the little fleet was clear
+of the river's mouth. There a breath of wind sighed through the cordage,
+and the sails flapped up and rounded softly. Kingswell leaned forward
+and looked under the square canvas of the <i>Pelican's</i> big wing.</p>
+
+<p>"An extra man," he remarked to Ouenwa, sharply. "Who has taken it upon
+himself to improve on my orders?"</p>
+
+<p>A blanket-swathed figure, forward of the mast, turned and crawled aft.
+Then the blanket fell away, and Mistress Westleigh, rigged out in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
+amazing mixture of masculine and feminine attire, laughed up at the
+commander.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise to shield me from the wrath of Maggie Stone, when we go back,"
+she whispered, in mock concern.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Bernard stared, with wonder and embarrassment in his eyes,
+the while Ouenwa hid a smile. Then he doffed his hat and caught the
+queer figure to his knee; and in the flush of the morning, under the
+grave regard of the Beothic warriors, he kissed her on lips and brow.</p>
+
+<p>"What authority has Maggie Stone?" he cried. "If any one has a right to
+control your actions, surely it is I."</p>
+
+<p>She slipped to the seat beside him. "And you told me I could not
+accompany you&mdash;that it would not be safe," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but it was my duty to bid you remain behind," he said. "God knows
+it hurt me to refuse your so&mdash;so flattering a wish. But you accepted it
+calmly, dear heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I accepted it for what it was worth," she laughed. "I could not shed
+tears over a parting which I felt certain was not to take place." Her
+face changed quickly from merriment to gravity. "I could not have stayed
+in the fort without you," she whispered. "Dear lad, I am afraid to
+death<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> whenever you are out of my sight. I do believe this love has made
+a coward of me!"</p>
+
+<p>For a little while there was no sound aboard the <i>Pelican</i> save the
+tapping of the reef-points on the swelling breast of the sail, and the
+slow creak of the tiller. Ouenwa, leaning far to one side, gazed ahead,
+while the warriors crouched on the thwarts. Then the man stooped his
+head close to the girl's.</p>
+
+<p>"But on this trip," he whispered, "you must obey me&mdash;for both our sakes,
+dearest. It would be mutiny else."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall always obey you," she replied&mdash;"always, always&mdash;so long as you
+do not again leave me alone in Fort Beatrix."</p>
+
+<p>"William Trigget was there," he ventured. "And Maggie Stone."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed at that. "Poor Maggie!" she sighed. "Poor Maggie! She will
+rate me soundly for my boldness. She has ever a thousand discourses on
+the proprieties ready on the tip of her tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the proprieties," murmured Bernard, as if caught by a new and
+somewhat disconcerting idea. "Rip me, but I've never given them a
+thought!"</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix laughed delightedly. "You must not let them trouble you now,"
+she said. "When we get back to Bristol, I will guard myself with a
+dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> staid companions, and&mdash;" She paused, and blushed crimson. "I
+forget that I am penniless," she added.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell's left hand closed over hers where it lay in her lap. "How
+long, think you, shall you stand in need of chaperons in Bristol?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>The three boats sought shelter in a tiny, hidden bay, and Kingswell,
+Mistress Westleigh, Ouenwa, and Tom Bent made an overland trip to a
+wooded hill overlooking Wigwam Harbour. There lay the <i>Heart of the
+West</i>, close in at her old anchorage after the day's fishing. Work was
+going briskly forward on the stages at the edge of the tide. The other
+vessels, which were much smaller than Trowley's command, lay nearer the
+mouth of the river harbour. The declining sun stained spars and furled
+sails to a rosy tint above the green water.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" whispered Kingswell, touching the girl's arm, as she crouched
+beside him in the fringe of spruces.</p>
+
+<p>A bellowing voice, loud and harsh in abuse, reached their ears.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis Trowley," he said, and chuckled. "How will he sound to-night, I
+wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be rash, Bernard,&mdash;for my sake," pleaded the girl.</p>
+
+<p>He assured her that he would be discreet.</p>
+
+<p>It was dark when they got back to the little cove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> in which the boats
+were beached. About midnight, with no light save the vague illumination
+of the scattered stars, they rowed out with muffled oars. They moved
+with such caution that it took them two hours to reach Wigwam Harbour.
+They passed the outer ships unchallenged. Then Beatrix was transferred
+from the <i>Pelican</i> to Black Feather's boat, and Tom Bent joined the
+commander. A veil of drifting cloud shut out even such feeble light as
+had disclosed the course to the voyagers. Before them the <i>Heart of the
+West</i> loomed dark, a thing of massed shadows and a few yellow lights.</p>
+
+<p>The new-built boats lay about thirty yards aft and seaward of the ship.
+The <i>Pelican</i> stole in under the looming stern, with no more noise than
+a fish makes when he breaches in shallow water. The crew steadied her
+beside the groaning rudder with their hands. Kingswell stood on a thwart
+and peered in at the cabin window, as Ouenwa had peered on a night of
+the preceding season. The low, oak-ceiled room was empty. A lantern hung
+from the starboard bulkhead, and two candles, in silver sticks that bore
+the Kingswell crest, burned, with bending flames, on the table. On the
+locker under the lantern lay a cutlass in its sheath, and a boat-cloak
+in an untidy heap. The edge of the table was within two feet of the
+square stern-window.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>For a little while Kingswell listened with guarded breath. Then,
+swiftly and lightly, he pulled himself across the ledge of the window,
+scrambled through, and crouched behind the table. Very cautiously he
+drew his rapier with his right hand and his dagger with his left. For a
+minute or two he squatted in the narrow quarters, breathing regularly
+and deeply, and harkening to the innumerable creaking voices of the
+decks and bulkheads, and the muffled voices and laughter from forward.
+For the occasion he had donned the hat, coat, breeches, and boots&mdash;all
+now stained and faded&mdash;in which Master Trowley had last seen him.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a heavy, uncertain step sounded on the companion ladder just
+forward of the cabin door. A volley of stout Devonshire oaths boomed
+above the lesser sounds. The door flew open, smote the bulkhead with a
+resounding crack, and swung, trembling. The bulky figure of Trowley
+entered, and the heady voice of the old sea-dog cursed the door, and
+big, red hands slammed it shut again. Kingswell drew a deep breath, and
+composed his dancing nerves and galloping blood as best he could. His
+emotions were disconcertingly mixed.</p>
+
+<p>The masterful old pirate (for such he surely was, deny the charge if you
+like) seemed to fill the cabin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> to overflowing with his lurching, great
+body. He tossed boat-cloak and cutlass on the deck, and yanked up the
+top of the locker. With muttered revilings at the excessive cost of West
+Indies rum, he produced a bottle of no mean capacity from its
+hiding-place, and a fine glass sparkled in the candle-light like
+diamonds. Kingswell recognized the glass as one from which he had often
+drunk his grog&mdash;a rare piece from his house in Bristol. Those articles
+the mariner placed on the table, scarcely a foot from the watcher's
+head. Next he loaded himself a china pipe with black tobacco, and lit it
+at one of the candles. In doing so, Master Bernard heard the puffings
+and gruntings with which the deed was accomplished, like half a gale in
+his ear. At last the fellow sat down with a thud, squared his elbows on
+the table, gazed for a second at the square window that opened on to the
+mysterious gloom of the night, and tipped the bottle. The liquor gulped
+and gurgled in its passage to the glass. The reek of it permeated the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"Dang it," grumbled the mariner, "d'ye call this rum! Sink me, but it be
+half water!"</p>
+
+<p>However, he swallowed the dose with gusto, and smacked his lips at the
+end of it as he never would have after a draught of water.</p>
+
+<p>Very steadily and quietly Bernard Kingswell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> arose to his feet and
+looked down at Master Trowley with inscrutable eyes shadowed by his
+wide, stained hat. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds,
+but to the staring mariner it seemed a matter of hours. He sprawled on
+his low stool, open-mouthed, red-eyed, with his big hands nerveless on
+the table, and the lighted pipe unheeded at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Traitor!" said Kingswell, coldly; and leaning across the table he
+tweaked the purple tip of Trowley's nose between thumb and finger. To do
+so, he laid his dagger on the edge of the mahogany for a second. The
+indignity called forth no more than a gurgle of terror from the master
+mariner. Kingswell plucked up the thin blade and flashed it within an
+inch of the whiskered face. Still the fellow sagged on his stool, unable
+to stir a muscle. Kingswell whistled three low notes. Ouenwa crawled
+through the port, with a coil of light rope in his hand. Tom Bent
+followed. Trowley threw off the spell of the supposed ghostly visitation
+and got to his feet with a bellow of rage and fear. In an instant he was
+flat on his back, with a gagging hand across his mouth and another at
+his throat. He was soon bound hand and foot, and securely gagged with a
+strip of his own boat-cloak.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa stuck his head through the open port,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> and whispered a word or
+two. One by one, four of his braves entered, with their knives
+unsheathed. Kingswell motioned them to follow, and softly opened the
+cabin door. On the port side of the alley-way, beside the companion
+ladder, Trowley's mate lay asleep in his bunk. Kingswell bent over him
+and saw that he was a stranger. He nodded significantly; and in an
+amazingly short time the mate of the <i>Heart of the West</i> was as neatly
+trussed up as the master.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later, Tom Bent hung over the rail, aft, and waved a
+lantern in three half-circles. And not long after that, Mistress
+Westleigh, Master Kingswell, and Ouenwa filled glasses with Canary wine,
+in the cabin of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. In the waist of the ship the
+stout English sailors and the skin-clad Beothics drained their
+pannikins, and eyed each other with good-natured curiosity. Old Tom Bent
+was toast-master; and also he told them an amazing story.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXX.</span> <span class="smaller">MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF</span></h2>
+
+<p>Shortly before midnight, Tom Bent went quietly about the task of waking
+both watches and the Beothics. The three boats from Fort Beatrix were
+manned, with the muffling oars. The two small anchors by which the
+<i>Heart of the West</i> swung in the tide were fished into two of the boats
+by hand. It was a tough job; but, when it was accomplished, the ship was
+free without so much as a clank of cable or a turn of the noisy capstan.
+Hawsers were passed from the small craft over the bows of the ship, and
+at a signal from a lantern in Kingswell's hand, the men bent their backs
+to the oars. Then all lights aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i> were
+covered, and in the darkness, beside the great tiller, Kingswell caught
+his inspiration and his reward to his heart again.</p>
+
+<p>The girl did not leave the commander's side, but kept watch on the high
+poop-deck throughout the journey. Until dawn the rowers held to their
+toil,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> and after them, drawn by lines that were sometimes taut and
+sometimes under water, but always invisible in the darkness, the ship
+stole like a shape of cloud and dream. It was hard work, and slow. With
+the breaking of dawn, the leviathan took on signs of life. By that time
+she was hidden from Wigwam Harbour by more than one bluff headland. The
+pulling boats drifted to her bows, the capstan was manned, and the
+anchors were lifted to their places on the forecast rail. Headsails were
+set, and the square mizzen was run up. The boats dropped astern and were
+made fast, and the weary men climbed aboard the ship.</p>
+
+<p>All day the <i>Heart of the West</i> threaded the green waterways of the
+great Bay of Exploits. A light and favourable breeze lent itself to the
+venture. After the midday meal, Beatrix, wrapped in a blanket, lay down
+by the mizzen and fell asleep. She was tired. The easy motion of the
+ship, and the song of the wind in ropes and canvas, sank her fathoms
+deep in slumber, with the magic of a fairy lullaby. Kingswell rigged a
+piece of sail-cloth from the bulwarks to the mast to shade her face from
+the sun.</p>
+
+<p>At last the wide estuary, which ends in Gray Goose River, was reached.
+By sunset the mouth of the river was entered. Just then the wind
+failed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> The boats were manned again, and the ship taken in tow.</p>
+
+<p>Still Mistress Westleigh slumbered peacefully, with the rough blanket
+about her dainty body and her head pillowed on Kingswell's folded coat.
+Kneeling beside her, Kingswell peered under the shelter of canvas, and
+saw that she was smiling in her dreams. How white were her dropped
+eyelids, and how clear and rose-tinted her small face. Her lips were
+parted a little, as if to whisper some sweet secret. A strand of her
+bright, dark hair was across her forehead, and one arm, clear of the
+blanket and the deerskin on which she lay, rested on the deck. The rosy
+palm was upturned. Kingswell stooped lower and kissed it softly.
+Standing up, he found Tom Bent beside him. The mahogany-hued mariner
+grinned sheepishly, and gave a hitch to his belt.</p>
+
+<p>"Beggin' the lady's pardon," he whispered, "but, if the angels in heaven
+be half so sweet to look at as herself, I'm for going to heaven, in
+spite o' the devil. Sink me, but I'd play one o' they golden harps with
+a light heart if&mdash;if the equals of herself were a-listenin' on the
+quarter-deck."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell blushed and smiled. "You, too?" said he. "You are in love, Tom
+Bent."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir," replied the boatswain, "for it can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> be helped. I'm in love
+and awash, and danged near to sinkin'. Might as well expect a man to
+keep sober in the 'Powdered Admiral' on Bristol dock as within ten
+knots, to win'ward or lee'ard, o' your sweetheart, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you," replied the gentleman, bowing gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bent pulled his scant forelock, and rolled away about his duty. He
+was mightily pleased with himself at having expressed his admiration for
+his young commander's choice in such felicitous terms. He prided himself
+on his eye for feminine beauty, no matter what the race or the rank of
+the fair one,&mdash;and a fairer than Mistress Westleigh he swore by all the
+gods of the Seven Seas he had never laid eyes on.</p>
+
+<p>The long spring twilight was gathering into dusk when the toiling boats
+and the tall ship rounded the point, and opened the fort to the view of
+the daring cruisers. Directly in front of the stockade the anchors
+plunged into the brown current. The rattle of the cables through the
+hawse-holes awoke Beatrix. She had been dreaming of a great garden in
+Somerset, and of walking along box-hedged paths with her father on one
+side and her lover on the other. Opening her eyes upon the canvas
+shelter which Kingswell had spread above her, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> with the clangour of
+the running cables in her ears, for a second she did not know where she
+was. A vague fear oppressed her for a little. Then she recalled the
+incidents of the last two days, and was about to crawl from her
+resting-place, when the edge of the shelter was lifted, and Kingswell
+looked down at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up," he said. "We are at the fort, and Trigget and Maggie Stone
+are coming off in a canoe."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, then I'll stay here until you explain matters," she replied. "You
+must bear the brunt of Maggie Stone's displeasure for my sake." She sat
+up, laughing softly, and lifted her face in a way that only a dunce
+could fail to comprehend. Under cover of the strip of sail-cloth, he
+kissed the warm lips and the bright hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Trust me," he laughed; and at that moment Trigget and the servant
+climbed to the poop by way of the ladder from the ship's waist. He
+advanced to meet them. He saw that Trigget held a folded paper in his
+hand, and that the honest eyes of that bold mariner were red and moist.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he inquired; for he had entirely forgotten, for the time
+being, the manner of Mistress Westleigh's joining with the expedition.</p>
+
+<p>"Here be your will, sir," said Trigget, handing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> him the paper.
+"It&mdash;it&mdash;well, maybe it'll not be o' any use now."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," replied Kingswell, cheerfully, tearing it across.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie Stone burst into tears. "Jus' the way Sir Ralph went," she
+sobbed. "Oh, my beautiful little lady&mdash;an' her fit mate for any nobleman
+of London town!"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil do you mean?" cried Kingswell. Then the truth dawned in
+his preoccupied brain. "Dry your eyes," he said. "She is safe and
+sound."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God for that," exclaimed William Trigget, devoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;the mistress be safe, d'ye say?" cried Maggie Stone, with a
+sudden change of face.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell nodded curtly. He did not like being bawled at on the poop of
+his recaptured ship, even by an old serving maid. "Your mistress is
+safe&mdash;and in my care," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir?" she queried. "An' may I make so bold as to ax when ye
+married Sir Ralph Westleigh's daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget murmured something to the effect that his presence was
+required forward, and took his departure. Kingswell bit his lip and
+stared haughtily at the woman; but he was at a loss for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> words fully
+expressive of his feelings. His indignation brought a flush to his
+cheeks which even the dusk of evening could not hide.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye may well redden," cried Maggie Stone. "Ay, ye may well redden, after
+sailin' away with an unprotected lass, an' near terrifyin' her old nurse
+into fits."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman recovered his power of speech. "My good girl," he said
+(and she was a full twenty years older than his mother), "your joy at
+hearing of your mistress's safety takes a wondrous queer and unseemly
+way of expressing itself. You seem to forget that you, the lady's
+servant, are addressing the lady's betrothed husband."</p>
+
+<p>The old maid glared and drew her scanty skirts about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe so," she retorted. "'Twould never have happened in Somerset."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Mistress Beatrix appeared suddenly from the other side of
+the mizzen.</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you speak so to Master Kingswell!"</p>
+
+<p>Anger&mdash;quick, scathing anger&mdash;rang in her voice. Standing there in her
+short skirt, high, beaded moccasins, and blue cloth jacket, she looked
+like an indignant boy, save for her coiled hair and bright beauty.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>"I am ashamed of you," she added; and then, turning quickly, she flung
+herself into Kingswell's ever ready embrace.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie Stone was flustered and somewhat awed by the sudden attack. She
+had not been spoken to so for years and years. Would she resort to tears
+again, or would she answer back? She was jealous of the girl's love for
+Kingswell&mdash;and yet she had thanked God many times that that love had
+been won by the young Englishman instead of by the swarthy D'Antons. She
+sniffed, and mopped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she changed
+her mind and bridled.</p>
+
+<p>"What would the countess, your aunt, say to such behaviour?" she asked.
+"Her who watched over ye like a guardian angel in London town."</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix turned, and, still holding her lover's hands, faced the carping
+critic.</p>
+
+<p>"And who turned me out of her house at the last of it," she cried,
+scornfully. "Who is she, or who was she ever, to question my behaviour?
+And who are you, woman, to insult your mistress and the gentleman who
+saved you from the knives of the savages? Go back to the fort."</p>
+
+<p>Maggie Stone saw that she had made a serious mistake,&mdash;a mistake which,
+perhaps, would alienate the lady's affection for ever. She turned, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
+pitiable figure, and made to descend the steep ladder which stood close
+to the starboard side of the ship, and led to the waist. Her foot caught
+in a loop of rope that had not been properly stopped up to its
+belaying-pin. She lurched against the line that ran from the break of
+the poop to the bulwarks below, made a blind effort to right herself,
+and pitched over into the shadowed water below. She did not even scream.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell dropped his sweetheart's hands, ran to the side and jumped
+after the foolish old woman. By that time the twilight had left the
+river. The current carried him swiftly down-stream, close under the side
+of the ship. The water was uncomfortably cold, and his thick clothes
+dragged at his limbs. He cleared his hair from his eyes. A disturbance
+appeared on the surface of the stream a few yards ahead. With a quick
+stroke or two, he reached it, and caught Maggie Stone by a thin
+shoulder. She struggled desperately, mad with fright. Both were pulled
+over the gunwale of the <i>Pelican</i> not a moment too soon.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXI.</span> <span class="smaller">WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED</span></h2>
+
+<p>It is difficult to imagine the feelings of the skippers and crews of the
+good ship <i>Plover</i> and <i>Mary and Joyce</i>, when the gray light of dawn
+disclosed the fact that the <i>Heart of the West</i> had vanished completely.
+What a rubbing of eyes must have taken place! What a dropping of
+whiskered jaws and ripping of sea oaths!</p>
+
+<p>"Sunk," said one heavy-shouldered mariner.</p>
+
+<p>"Then where be her spars?" inquired a messmate.</p>
+
+<p>"Cut an' run," suggested another.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the devil must have been after her! Ol' Trowley'd run from nothin'
+else," replied the cook of the <i>Plover</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The captain of the <i>Mary and Joyce</i> scanned the inner harbour and what
+he could see of the outer bay. Then he turned his brass telescope upon
+the cliffs and hills and inland woods.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>"Maybe the French has towed mun out," he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>No fishing was done that day. The neighbouring bays and coves were
+searched, and even the "River of Three Fires" was investigated, with a
+deal of trouble, for several miles up its swift current. That night the
+skippers of the two vessels decided, over several hot glasses, that
+Wigwam Harbour was no safe place for honest English sailor men. Next
+morning found them sailing northward in search of another haven from
+which to reap the harvest of the great bay.</p>
+
+<p>To Fort Beatrix journeyed all the Beothics from many miles around, for a
+great trade was going on. Influenced by Maggie Stone's foolish outbreak,
+Beatrix and Bernard had decided to seek a priest in the port of St.
+John's on their way to England, and so cross the ocean as man and wife,
+to the bitter chagrin of Bristol scandal-mongers. Though the idea had
+not occurred to either of the lovers before the old woman's outcry in
+the name of suffering propriety, it was none the less to their liking
+now that they had accepted it.</p>
+
+<p>"And it will please poor Maggie Stone," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I was not thinking of her," replied Kingswell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> lifting the glowing
+face to his by a hand beneath the rounded chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I, dear heart," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>To the others of that wilderness the trading seemed a greater matter
+than that romantic attachment of a man and a maid. Blankets, trinkets,
+inferior weapons, and even the spare clothing of the settlers were
+bartered for pelts of beaver, mink, marten, otter, musquash, and red,
+patched, and black fox, to make up a cargo for the <i>Heart of the West</i>.
+The price of an axe-head was twice its weight in beaver skins. Even
+Maggie Stone, with an eye to adding to her nest-egg, traded a skillet
+(the identical implement with which she had floored D'Antons) for a
+beautiful foxskin. Only Trowley had no finger in the trading. Sullen and
+silent, he wandered about the fort, and a few paces behind him a brawny
+Beothic always stalked.</p>
+
+<p>The storehouse of the fort was replenished from the well-stocked
+pantries and lazaret of the ship. Kingswell smiled grimly when, during
+the overhauling of the cabin lockers, he discovered choice wines,
+cheeses, and pots of jam which his lady mother had given to Master
+Trowley as a slight mark of her gratitude for his services to her son.
+He forced an admittance of these things from the old rascal himself. It
+had been as he had hinted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> to Beatrix. The fellow had told the tearful
+and credulous lady that he had risked his life in her son's defence,
+during an engagement with the savages; and she, grateful heart, had made
+such an unbusiness-like agreement with him for the sailing of the ship
+that, had the voyage run its anticipated course, even a full load of
+fish would not have saved her from a shrewd loss. Happily for Trowley,
+Master Kingswell was far too happy for such trivial matters to really
+anger him.</p>
+
+<p>"The old rogue staked his soul and lost on the last throw," he said to
+Beatrix, "and I staked my heart, and won all that the world holds of
+joy. Surely I should be a low fellow to add to his misfortunes, poor
+devil. I can afford to be charitable now."</p>
+
+<p>They were seated on the grassy edge of the river meadow, looking out at
+the anchored ship, where sailors were repairing the rigging and scraping
+the spars. The girl did not seem keenly interested in Trowley's
+underhand behaviour to Dame Kingswell. As to his treachery toward
+Kingswell, to tell the truth, she was very grateful to the old thief for
+having sailed away and left her lover in the wilderness. Such thoughts
+flitted pleasantly through her mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p><p>"When did you stake your heart?" she asked, as if that were the core of
+the whole thing.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you the date exactly," replied Kingswell, "but I was in
+Pierre d'Antons' company at the time, and&mdash;and I was mightily surprised
+to find Somersetshire people in this country. Lord, but your eyes were
+bright."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that you&mdash;do you mean that it happened on the first day of
+your arrival at the fort?" she queried.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"And you loved me then?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, smiling across toward the busy mariners in the rigging of his
+ship. His memories of those perilous days were fragrant as an English
+rose-garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," she whispered, "that, though I felt sure I had made an
+impression on you then, I began to doubt it later. You were so
+self-satisfied that you shook my faith in my own powers to charm."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed softly, and with a note of wonder. Then, for a little while,
+they were silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," she said, suddenly. "Did you really love me that first day
+you came to the fort, or was it just&mdash;just surprise at seeing a&mdash;a
+civilized girl in so forsaken a place?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p>He considered the question gravely and at some length. "I wanted to
+kill D'Antons," he answered, presently, "and I would gladly have given
+ten years of my life for a kiss from your lips, a caress from your
+hands. Was that love, think you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should call it a right hopeful beginning," she replied, brightly; but
+tears which she could not explain shone in her eyes. Across the hurrying
+water drifted the song of the men at work upon the tall masts of the
+<i>Heart of the West</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"In a week's time," said Kingswell, "she will fill her sails for St.
+John's&mdash;and then for home."</p>
+
+<p>The girl nestled closer to his side. Looking down, he saw that she was
+weeping.</p>
+
+<p>"God grant that we find a parson in that harbour," he added. She nodded,
+and choked with a sob she could not stifle.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you weep, dearest?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"For those whom we must leave behind," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He had no answer to make to that. Together they looked beyond the
+anchored ship and the bright river to the inscrutable wilderness that
+held the fate of the mad baronet so securely.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED</span></h2>
+
+<p>At nine o'clock of the morning of the twenty-second day of June, the bow
+of the <i>Heart of the West</i> was towed around and pointed down-stream by
+willing boats and canoes; a light wind filled such sails as were set,
+and the voyage was begun. Trigget fired a salute from a new gun which
+Kingswell had given him from the armament of the ship. It was answered
+by the barking of cannon and the fluttering of sails.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa stood with Mistress Westleigh, Kingswell, and Maggie Stone, aft
+by the tiller, which was in the hands of Tom Bent. The lad was fairly
+wild with excitement. Now, it seemed to him, his great dreams were
+assured; and yet a pang of homesickness went through the joy like the
+blade of a knife, as he watched the faces of the clustered people along
+the meadow and in the boats grow dim,&mdash;the faces of William Trigget and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
+Black Feather, and of a dozen more who were dear to him. He shouted back
+to them in English and in his native tongue, and waved his cap
+frantically. The faces blurred and wavered. The ship swam around the
+wooded point, and meadow and stockade and camp of wigwams vanished like
+a picture withdrawn. The lad turned and glanced at Mistress Westleigh.
+Then he walked forward to the break of the poop, and blinked very hard
+at nothing in particular in the belly of the maintopsail.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the wooded banks fell away on either side, and the water changed
+its tint of amber for wind-roughened green. The gray, purple, and brown
+shores of the roadstead widened and dropped lower, and azure uplands
+shone beyond their frowning brows. The wind freshened, and white flakes
+of foam whipped from crest to crest across the ever-shifting,
+ever-vanishing valleys of green. Along the fading cliffs white sea-birds
+circled and settled like flakes of snow. A few great gulls winged around
+the ship, fleeing to leeward like bolts of mist, and beating up again
+with quivering pinions.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell had taken the duties of sailing-master upon himself. He was as
+good a deep-sea navigator as any man on the whole width of the North
+Atlantic. When the outer bay was reached, yards were swung around, and
+the stout bark headed due<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> east at his orders. To see old Tom Bent push
+the tiller over, and other seasoned mariners man brace and sheet, at the
+command of that gold-haired youth, made the heart of Beatrix Westleigh
+flutter with pride. Her dark eyes, already bright and lovely beyond
+power of description, shone yet more brightly; and her cheeks, already
+flushed to clear flame by the wind, deepened their glow. As the ship
+answered to his will, so would he answer to her whim. It was a pleasant
+reflection to the lady; and to realize it she called softly. Without a
+glance at the straining sails, he turned and hastened to her side.</p>
+
+<p>The voyage from Fort Beatrix to the wonderful harbour and brave little
+town of St. John's was made without accident, though not without
+incident. In Bonavista Bay, at a gray hour of the morning, the stump of
+a great iceberg was narrowly avoided. A day later, a large vessel that
+was evidently employed at fishing evinced an undesirable interest in the
+business of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. She was not a quarter of a mile
+distant when first sighted, for a light fog was on the water. She flew
+no flag, and changed her course and altered her speed with sinister
+promptness. Kingswell, and every man of the ship's company, knew that
+pirates of many nationalities infested those waters during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> summer. The
+worst of the thieves were Turks; and the fishing-ship or store-ship that
+was overhauled by those gentry usually lost more than its cargo.
+Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards also had a weakness for playing the
+part of the bald eagle, with their heavy metalled and wide-sailed craft,
+to the r&ocirc;le of the fishhawk so unwillingly played by the merchantmen.
+Happily for Kingswell's command, the stranger was inshore and to
+leeward. Both watches were piped up by Tom Bent. The gunners went to
+their quarters. Sail after sail unfurled about the already straining
+masts and yards. The brave little ship answered willingly to the
+pressure, and her cutwater broke the flanks of the waves into sibilant
+foam.</p>
+
+<p>A rumour of the chase reached Mistress Beatrix and her old maid, in the
+seclusion of that snug cabin in which Master Trowley was, at one time,
+wont to revel. Maggie Stone drew the curtains across the thick glass of
+the after-port (as if fearing that the eagle glance of one of the
+pirates might pierce the privacy of her retreat), and then devoted
+herself to tearful prayer. Beatrix completed her toilet, threw a cloak
+over her shoulders, and climbed the companion. She joined Kingswell by
+the tiller, and, after saluting him tenderly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> with a composure that
+took no heed of the sailor at the helm, watched the chase with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"They outsail us," she said, presently.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell nodded. "But she'll never get near us on that course," he
+replied. "She is for heading us off, and getting to windward. If she
+gets to windward of us&mdash;Lord, but I scarce think she will."</p>
+
+<p>He said a word of preparation to the man at the tiller, and then gave a
+few quick orders from the break of the poop. In half a minute the <i>Heart
+of the West</i> headed out on an easy tack. When every sail was drawing to
+his liking, he returned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"How glorious!" she cried. "A good horse, a singing pack, and an old fox
+make but slow sport compared to this."</p>
+
+<p>"We are the fox on this hunting morning," smiled Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"With teeth," she hinted.</p>
+
+<p>He noticed that the unwelcome stranger was shouldering the wind on the
+new course. He looked at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, we have teeth, sweeting," he said, "and soon we'll be gnashing
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Though the <i>Heart of the West</i> sailed well, to windward, the big craft
+astern sailed even better.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> The ships, crowded with canvas, the dancing
+blue water and cloudless sky, and the brown and azure coast to leeward,
+made a fine picture under the white sun. As the stranger drew near and
+nearer, excitement increased aboard the merchantman. Old Trowley bawled
+to be set free, that he might not die in the sail-locker like a rat in a
+hole. Tom Bent spat on his hard hands, and pulled his belt an inch
+shorter. Ouenwa lugged up shot and powder, and was for opening fire at
+an impossible range. Beatrix roused Maggie Stone from her devotions, and
+took her forward to a place of greater safety in the men's quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Along either side of the after-cabin of the <i>Heart of the West</i> ran a
+narrow passage. Each passage ended in a blind port, and behind each port
+crouched a gun of unusual size for so peaceful an appearing ship. Now
+Kingswell blessed the day that a youthful love of warlike gear and a
+heart for adventure had led him to add these pieces to the armament of
+his ship. He remembered, with a contented smile, how Master Trowley had
+growled at the delay caused by getting the great guns aboard and
+partitioning off the passage. Even his mother had urged him to put more
+faith in the great ship which the king was so gracious as to send to
+Newfounde Land each spring, as a convoy to the fishing fleet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> But
+Master Bernard, spoiled child, had had his way; and now he thanked the
+gods of war for it.</p>
+
+<p>Both ships sailed as close to the wind as their models and rigging and
+the laws of nature would allow. They went about often on ever shortening
+tacks. The hunter outsailed the hunted, though it is safe to say that
+her seamanship was no better. Suddenly she luffed until her sails
+quivered, and from her bows broke two puffs of smoke with inner cores of
+flame. Both shots flew high, and fell ahead of the quarry in brief
+spouts of torn water. At that, the blind ports in the stern of the
+merchantman opened up, and the sinister muzzles of the guns were run out
+with a gust of English cheering. Then their sudden voices boomed
+defiance, and the smoke rolled along the water and clung to the leaping
+waves.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell felt the deck jump under his feet. His pulses leaped with the
+good planks. "Hit!" he cried&mdash;and sure enough, one of the enemy's upper
+spars, with its burden of flapping canvas, tottered desperately, and
+then swooped down on the clustered buccaneers beneath. Half an hour
+later the <i>Heart of the West</i> was spinning along on her old course, and
+far astern the stranger lay to and nursed her wound.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later, at high noon, the Narrows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> opened in the sheer brown
+face of the cliffs, and the people of the <i>Heart of the West</i> caught a
+glimpse of the harbour and the shipping beyond. Then the rocky portals
+seemed to close, and the spray flew like smoke along the unbroken
+ramparts. The ship was put about, and again the magic entrance opened
+and shut.</p>
+
+<p>"I knows the channel, sir," said Tom Bent. "Ye needn't wait for no
+duff-headed pilot."</p>
+
+<p>So the stout ship went 'round again, with a brisk shouting of men at the
+braces and a booming of canvas aloft. Her colours flew bravely in the
+sunlight, answering the colours of the fort and the battery on Signal
+Hill. She raced at the towering cliff as if she would try to overthrow
+it with her cocked-up bowsprit. Even Kingswell caught his breath.
+Beatrix looked away, so fearful was the sight of the unbroken rock that
+seemed to swim toward them with a voice of thunder and the smoking surf
+along its foot. Ouenwa wondered if Tom Bent were mad. But the boatswain
+gripped the big tiller, and squinted under the yards, and cocked an eye
+aloft at the flags and men on the cliff. Then, of a sudden, the narrow
+passage of green water, spray-fringed, opened under their bows, and the
+walls of rock slid aside and let them in.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIII.</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE MERRY CITY</span></h2>
+
+<p>The <i>Heart of the West</i> was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside
+the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the
+great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant
+welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress
+Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a
+subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never
+have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new
+arrival carried such a passenger.</p>
+
+<p>"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink
+his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the
+worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix
+shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the
+dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> facings of his
+coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular
+fancy is for the Church."</p>
+
+<p>The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to
+think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the
+combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath.
+Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, we have a parson&mdash;a ranting old missionary," replied the
+lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the
+marriage service."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He
+was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish
+countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in
+the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled
+good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at
+Mistress Westleigh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were
+brother and sister."</p>
+
+<p>The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot,
+and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was
+of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds
+and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if
+he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales.
+His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike
+those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for
+his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair
+with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box
+to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant
+made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and
+cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated
+his name and degree.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency,
+extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me
+more than once in his great house in Bristol,&mdash;ay, and treated the poor
+sailor like a peer of the realm."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> a brief account of Sir
+Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness,
+and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort
+was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its
+whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered
+plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief
+engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress
+Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor
+was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He
+murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in
+England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well
+do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh&mdash;ay, the
+young lady's mother&mdash;bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me,
+and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And
+she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death
+that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless,
+and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour
+day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir,
+I can assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in
+his staring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island,
+the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St.
+John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception
+Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return
+within the week.</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime," said the honest governor, "my house is at Mistress
+Westleigh's service. Let her send for her maid and her boxes. My good
+housekeeper will tidy up the best chamber. Gad, Master Kingswell, but
+we'll cheer this God-forsaken, French-pestered hole in the rock with a
+touch of gaiety."</p>
+
+<p>His Excellency's hospitality was accepted, and for eight days the little
+settlement gave itself over to merrymaking. There were dances in the
+governor's house every night, at which Beatrix was the only lady. There
+were great dinners, during which Beatrix sat on his Excellency's right
+and Kingswell on his left. There were inspections of the fort, boating
+parties on the harbour, and outings among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> the woods and natural gardens
+that graced the valley at the head of the beautiful basin.</p>
+
+<p>The beauty and graciousness of Mistress Westleigh, and the knowledge of
+her loyalty to her father, and her bravery won the heart of that rude
+village. From the governor to the youngest sailor lad, every man in the
+harbour was her humble and devoted servant.</p>
+
+<p>Before the kindly soldiers and merchants and adventurers, she was always
+merry. The main street along the water-front took on a light of distant
+England did she but appear in it for a minute. The three officers of the
+garrison swore that they preferred it to the most fashionable promenade
+on London. But, alone, or with her lover, she eased, with tears, the
+grief for her father's fate, which all the junketing and gaiety but
+seemed to uncover.</p>
+
+<p>On the eighth day after the arrival of the <i>Heart of the West</i> in the
+harbour of St. John's, the parson returned from his preaching among the
+boisterous fishing-ships in Conception Bay. He shook his head at the
+state in which he found his home flock; for he was of that gloomy
+persuasion known as low church, and held little with frivolity. But,
+after meeting Beatrix, he thawed, and even went so far as to attempt a
+pun on his willingness to marry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> her. The sally of wit was received by
+the lady with so lovely a smile that the divine forgot his austerity so
+far as to poke Kingswell in the ribs, and call him a sly dog.</p>
+
+<p>The ceremony took place in the little church behind the governor's
+house; and, after it was over, his Excellency, the parson, the officers
+of the garrison, the merchants, the captains of the ships, and many
+more, accompanied the happy couple aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i>, where
+sound wines were drunk by the quality, and rum and beer by the
+commonalty. All the shipping, the premises of the merchants, and the
+forts flew bunting, as if for a demonstration to royalty itself. At noon
+farewells were said, and a dozen willing boats towed the <i>Heart of the
+West</i> down the harbour and through the Narrows.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIV.</span> <span class="smaller">PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES, AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA</span></h2>
+
+<p>The wilderness, that grim thing of naked rock, brown barren, gray marsh,
+and black wood, which had claimed the mad baronet so surely, was unable
+to keep Pierre d'Antons in its spacious prison. With the return of
+summer, the dark adventurer and the Beothic girl deserted their inland
+retreat, and set out for a certain grim cape which thrusts far into the
+Atlantic. The crown of that cape affords an uninterrupted view to
+seaward and north and south across the waters of two great bays. A fire
+at night, or a column of smoke in the day, glowing or streaming upward
+from that vantage place, would be sighted from the deck of a passing
+ship at a distance of many miles.</p>
+
+<p>The journey proved a long and trying one, through swamps and barrens,
+and over rock-tumbled knolls. Streams were forded, lakes
+circumambulated, and rivers crossed on insecure rafts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> Through it all,
+the native girl, Miwandi, kept a brave heart and bright face. D'Antons,
+however, was preoccupied in his manner, and even gloomy at times. The
+hardships of that wild existence had begun to tell on his body, and the
+loneliness to fret his nerves. His infatuation for Mistress Westleigh
+had dimmed and faded out altogether, leaving only a mean desire for the
+salve of revenge with which to soothe his injured pride. He would wound
+her through Kingswell. Sometimes a fear oppressed him that his men might
+have forgotten his mastery by this time, and might fail, after the two
+seasons of silence, to continue their cruising of those northern waters
+throughout June and July, as he had commanded. But that doubt only
+troubled him in his darkest moods. The loyalty of his subordinate
+buccaneers of the <i>Cristobal</i> was not to be questioned seriously, for it
+had been tested in many tight places. Comradeship often forms as trusty
+ties between the hearts of pirates as between the hearts of honest
+gentlemen. Once grown beyond the temptations of greed and treachery, it
+is a safe thing, this loyalty of desperate men for their messmates.</p>
+
+<p>It was Pierre d'Antons' dream to regain the deck of the <i>Cristobal</i>
+(with Miwandi, of course), and to appear, some fine day, before the
+little fort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> Gray Goose River; to put the settlers to the sword, the
+buildings to the torch, and to carry the English beauty away with him.
+He felt that his passion for the proud lady might be easily and
+pleasantly refired. But he made no mention of Mistress Westleigh to
+Miwandi, the Beothic girl.</p>
+
+<p>After more than a week of hard travelling, the two ascended the wooded
+ridge which runs seaward to the bleak and elevated acres of the grim
+cape of their desire. In a shaggy grove they set up their lodge. At the
+extremity of the headland, high above the wheeling, screaming gulls and
+noddies, D'Antons built a circular fireplace of the stones that lay
+about. Completed, it looked like an altar reared by some benighted
+priesthood to the gods of the wind and the sea. But no such thought
+occurred to its architect. His case was too desperate to allow his mind
+to indulge in such whimsical fancies.</p>
+
+<p>While the woman went in quest of food&mdash;fish, flesh, or fowl, what did it
+matter which?&mdash;the man gathered wood and piled it near the queer hearth.
+He worked without intermission until Miwandi returned from her foraging
+with a string of bright trout in her hand. Then he built a modest fire
+within the rough walls of his furnace, and helped the girl clean and
+cook the fish. By that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> time the glow of the afternoon was centred
+behind the gloomy hills, and a clear twilight was over the sea; but as
+yet the atmosphere held no suggestion of dusk. No sail broke the wide
+expanse of dark blue ocean with its flake of gray; but to the nor'east a
+whale breached and blew its little fountain of spray across the still
+line of the horizon. D'Antons and Miwandi noted these things as they
+ate, but made no comment upon them.</p>
+
+<p>For several days after the arrival of the two upon the overseeing
+headland, D'Antons made no other use of his furnace than for the cooking
+of meals. For that purpose it served admirably, for the walls protected
+the flame from the ever-flying winds that prevailed over that exposed
+spot. The adventurer knew that he was early for the <i>Cristobal</i>. Several
+sails were detected; but of them the only heed taken was the precaution
+of blanketing the little fire in the hearth with damp soil. The
+Frenchman did not desire a visit from fishermen of any nationality
+whatever. He might find it difficult to explain his presence in so
+unfavourable a spot for either a fishery or a settlement. No doubt they
+would persist in rescuing him, and, in that case, what reason could he
+give for wishing to stay in his cheerless camp? So he lay low and
+watched the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> passing of more than one stout craft without a sign.</p>
+
+<p>The time arrived when he must set his signals, despite the risk of
+attracting unwelcome visitors. So he closed the front of the furnace
+with a boulder, built a brisk fire within, which he heaped with damp
+moss and punk, and then laid a large, flat stone over the opening in the
+top of the unique structure. By removing the flat stone, he allowed a
+column of dense smoke to issue into the air, stream aloft and scatter in
+the wind. By replacing the stone, the smoke was cut short off. Finding
+that the contrivance worked to his satisfaction, he let the smoke stream
+up, uninterrupted. The signalling would only be resorted to when a
+vessel, which might possibly be the <i>Cristobal</i>, should be sighted. When
+darkness fell, the fire was allowed to die down. A night signal was
+unnecessary, as the <i>Cristobal</i>, should she keep the tryst at all, was
+sure to make an examination of the cape by daylight. D'Antons' last
+orders had been strictly and particularly to that effect.</p>
+
+<p>A week passed, during which a sharp lookout was kept by the fugitives on
+the brow of the cape, and the signal of smoke was operated a dozen times
+without the desired effect. In fact, a large vessel, attracted by the
+smoke (which was due to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>D'Antons' tardy realization that the
+approaching ship was not the <i>Cristobal</i>) altered her course, sailed
+close in, and sent a boat ashore to investigate. D'Antons and Miwandi
+had just enough time, with not a minute to spare, to roll up their
+wigwam and hide it in the bushes, gather together their most valuable
+belongings, and flee inland to a shelter of tangled spruces and firs.
+The boat's crew was composed of peaceful fishermen, who were free from
+suspicion and malice. They climbed to the brow of the promontory with
+fine hardihood, but once there did little but examine the marks where
+the lodge had so lately stood and partially overthrow the queer
+fireplace. They believed that structure to be an altar, built to the
+glory of some unorthodox god. Then they retraced their perilous way to
+the little cove under the cliff, and rowed back to the ship. D'Antons
+stole from his retreat and crawled to the edge of the cliff. He felt a
+glow of satisfaction when the big vessel stood away on her northward
+course.</p>
+
+<p>Another week drifted along, and hope wavered in the buccaneer heart. His
+gloomy moods began to wear on the young squaw's spirits. She begged him
+to return to the inland rivers&mdash;to make peace with her people&mdash;to cease
+his unprofitable staring at the sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"The sorrow of the great salt water has entered your heart," she said,
+"and the moaning of it has deafened your ears to my voice."</p>
+
+<p>He did not turn his eyes from the undulations of the gray horizon.
+"Would you have me rot in this place for the remainder of my life?" he
+asked, harshly, in her language.</p>
+
+<p>The poor girl sobbed for an hour after that, and reproved her heart for
+the image of a god it had set up. She tried to overthrow the idol from
+its inner shrine; she tried to change it to a grim symbol of hate; she
+pressed her face to the coarse herbage, and tore the sod with her
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Miwandi! Come to me, little one," cried the man from the edge of the
+cliff.</p>
+
+<p>Her anger, her bitterness, vanished like thinnest smoke. She sprang up
+and ran to him. He drew her to his side, and with his right hand pointed
+southward across the glinting deep.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>Cristobal</i>!" he cried. "Good God, I'll stake my life on it!"</p>
+
+<p>So intense was his satisfaction at the sight of those unmistakable
+topsails that his selfish affection for the woman lighted again. He
+pressed his lips to the tear-wet cheek; and immediately the simple
+creature was in the seventh heaven of bliss.</p>
+
+<p>While the gray flake of sail expanded on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> horizon, Pierre d'Antons
+and the woman hurriedly and roughly rebuilt the walls of the fireplace,
+lit and fed a blaze, and piled it high with moss and rotten bark. The
+thick pillar of smoke arose like a tree, and bent in the moderate wind.
+Miwandi busied herself with breaking the wood to the required length and
+carrying damp moss. For several minutes the smoke was allowed to ascend
+in an unbroken shaft. Then D'Antons cut it off for a few seconds, let it
+rise again, broke it again, and again let it stream aloft,
+uninterrupted. He had signalled his name according to the code of the
+<i>Cristobal</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The welcome ship gradually enlarged to the eager eyes of the watchers on
+the cape. North, east, and south there was no other sail in sight. At
+last three flags ran up to the topforemast and fluttered out. The
+question was read instantly by D'Antons, who returned to his fire and
+interrupted the stream of smoke five times in quick succession. The
+translation of that was "All's well. You may approach without danger."</p>
+
+<p>A message of congratulation appeared promptly against the bellying
+foresail of the <i>Cristobal</i>; and the watchers saw the rolls of white
+foam gleaming like wool under the forging of the bow.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons was cordially welcomed aboard the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> <i>Cristobal</i>. Miwandi was
+received without question. The acting commander of the ship was a
+grizzled Spanish mariner by the name of Silva,&mdash;a fellow steeped in
+crime and uncertain of temper, yet possessed of a marvellous devotion
+for D'Antons, which was due to an act of kindness performed by the
+Frenchman years before, in the town of Panama.</p>
+
+<p>Silva was delighted to find his captain alive and ready for the high
+seas again. He asked no questions concerning his adventures until more
+than one bottle of wine had been emptied, and the captain's
+travel-stained garments had been exchanged for the best the cabin
+lockers contained. Miwandi, too, was reclothed; and the beauty and
+softness of the silks that were presented to her fairly turned her
+little head. She did not know that the fair French lady for whom they
+had been made, in gay Paris, and who had worn them only three months
+ago, was somewhere in the dredge of emerald tides between the Bahaman
+reefs. She knew only that the texture and colours delighted her skin and
+her eyes. So, in her narrow room, she attired herself in the finery,
+toiling at the ties and lacing with unfamiliar fingers.</p>
+
+<p>In the captain's cabin D'Antons motioned to his friend to close the
+door. He had consumed a soup,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> and was still engaged with the wine.
+Silva returned to his seat at the table, after a final reassuring push
+on the bolt of the door. It is always wise to be sure that the door you
+considered fastened is fastened indeed. Then, with their elbows on the
+table and their heads close together, the more salient incidents of
+D'Antons' sojourn in the wilderness were rehearsed and keenly listened
+to. Silva displayed a prodigious indignation at the story of the
+captain's failure to win the affections of Mistress Westleigh. At word
+of Sir Ralph's death (and the murder became a desperate duel in the
+telling), a crooked smile of satisfaction distorted his face. As to what
+he heard of Kingswell&mdash;ah, but oaths in two languages were quite
+inadequate for the expression of his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll inspect the heart of that cockerel&mdash;and the gizzard as well,"
+said he, and drank off his wine.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave him to my hand," replied D'Antons, darkly.</p>
+
+<p>Silva nodded, with a sinister leer.</p>
+
+<p>"So it's 'bout ship and blow the little stockade into everlasting
+damnation," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but the lady must come to no harm in the attack," warned the
+captain.</p>
+
+<p>So the <i>Cristobal</i> headed northward, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>evil-looking rascals of
+her crew were informed that the morrow would bring them some work to
+limber their muscles. The information was received with cheers, in which
+hearty English voices were not lacking.</p>
+
+<p>However, in the early morning, Fate, in the shape of the <i>Heart of the
+West</i>, turned the danger away from the little fort.</p>
+
+<p>"She looks like a likely prize," said D'Antons, when he sighted the
+ship. The old fever awoke in his blood. He longed for the old
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Give chase," he ordered. "The fort can well do without the honour of
+our attentions for a little while."</p>
+
+<p>So the chase was carried on, as has been described in a previous
+chapter, and went merrily enough for the <i>Cristobal</i> until the
+unexpected shot from the stern of the quarry brought down her
+foretopmast and its weight of sail. But before that had happened,
+D'Antons, unrecognizable himself in new clothes and a great hat, marked
+Bernard Kingswell on the poop of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. He cursed like
+a madman, or a true-bred pirate, when his ship was crippled.</p>
+
+<p>"The fort may rot of old age in the midst of its desolation," he cried
+to Silva, "for what I would have is aboard that cursed craft ahead."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p><p>A few days later, with their spars repaired, they picked up a small
+fishing-boat, and learned from the skipper that a great ship from the
+north had entered the harbour of St. John's. So, knowing the virtue of
+precaution, they impressed the master and crew and scuttled the little
+vessel. Then, with admirable patience, they cruised up and down, far to
+seaward of the brown cliffs which guarded that hospitable port.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXV.</span> <span class="smaller">THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE</span></h2>
+
+<p>The dainty bride leaned on her husband's arm, and together they looked
+back and waved farewell. Flags answered them from the battery above the
+cliff. Then she turned to the bridegroom and gazed into his eyes with so
+radiant and tender a smile that, all forgetful of the abashed salt at
+the tiller, he drew her to him and kissed her on brow and lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear wife," he murmured, and could say no more.</p>
+
+<p>Both were brave in marriage finery,&mdash;she in a pearl gown of brocaded
+silk, a scarlet cloak lined with white fur, and a feathered hat, and he
+in buff and blue from the wardrobe of the commandant of St. John's.</p>
+
+<p>They gazed astern, across the dancing azure, to the brown and purple
+rocks beautified by the sunlight and crystal air. "Homeward bound," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>
+whispered, happily, and turned her face from the mellowing coast of the
+wilderness to the wide east.</p>
+
+<p>Together they walked forward to the break of the high deck. A fair wind
+bellied the sails. The tarred rigging and scraped spars shone like
+polished metal. The men, in their brightest sashes and cleanest shirts
+(in honour of the occasion), went about their duties briskly. The mates
+wore their side-arms; both watches were on deck, with the gaiety of the
+days ashore still in their hearts. Not a soul was below save the cook
+(who sorted provisions in the forward lazaret), Maggie Stone (who sulked
+in her mistress's cabin because she had not been asked to act as
+bridesmaid), and old Trowley, with wrists and legs in irons and a
+dawning repentance in his sullen blood.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later Ouenwa ascended the starboard ladder from the waist, and
+stood beside Master and Mistress Kingswell. He wore a dashing outfit,
+which had been made to his shape by the garrison tailor in the days
+preceding the marriage. A sword was at his belt; lace hung at his
+wrists; his dark hair, slightly curled, fell to his shoulders. His
+tanned cheeks were flushed with the excitement passed and the adventures
+anticipated. Only the dark alertness of his eyes and the litheness of
+his actions bespoke his primitive upbringing. Though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> he had been named
+"dreamer" by his people, he gave promise now of a life of deeds rather
+than of dreams.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mourn the little stockade and the great river, lad?" queried
+Kingswell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa shook his head emphatically and glanced knowingly aloft. "Why
+should I mourn them?" he asked. "Am I not bound for castles and great
+houses, for books in number as the leaves of the birch-tree, and for
+villages filled all day with warriors, and with ladies almost as fair as
+Mistress Beatrix? Shall I not read in the books, and see horses, greater
+than caribou, bearing gentlemen upon their backs? Then why would you
+have me mourn? The land behind us is not a good land. My fathers were
+brave and wise, and led their warriors to a hundred victories; but they
+were murdered by their own people. I care not for such a country."</p>
+
+<p>"True, lad," replied Kingswell, "and yet, even in glorious England, you
+may find ingratitude as black as that of Panounia. Even kings and queens
+have been guilty of ingratitude."</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix patted the moralist's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Why think of it now?" she said, gently, "and why fill the dear lad with
+doubt? Only if he climbs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> high need he fear disloyalty. As a plain
+soldier, he shall never lack the protection of such humble friends as
+ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Just then a lookout warned them of a sail on the larboard bow. Kingswell
+and Ouenwa went forward to the forecastle-head. Tom Bent (now of the
+rank of chief gunner) was already there, peering away under the lift of
+the jibs. The second mate was with him.</p>
+
+<p>"A large vessel," remarked Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and we's spoke mun afore now, sir," replied Bent. He was too intent
+on gazing ahead to see the question in the captain's face. But the mate
+saw it and answered it.</p>
+
+<p>"She's run up a new spar, sir, an' mended her for'ard riggin'," said he,
+"an' like enough she thinks she'll take the cost of damages out o' us."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Kingswell, with a note of relish. Then he remembered
+Beatrix, and a shadow darkened his eyes for a moment. "Pipe both
+watches," he said, quietly. "Arm all hands. Clear decks for action.
+Master Gunner, you must fight your barkers to-day for more than the
+glory of England."</p>
+
+<p>He returned to his wife and told her of the menace. She heard the news
+with an inward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>sickening, but with no outward tremor. All her fear was
+for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise me that you will go to our cabin when I give the word," he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Your obedient, humble wife, my lord,"
+she whispered, with a brave attempt at gaiety.</p>
+
+<p>He caught her hands quickly to his shoulders and kissed her lips. He
+felt them tremble against his.</p>
+
+<p>"I must help with the preparations, dear heart," he murmured, and
+hurried away. He consulted the mates and Tom Bent as to the advisability
+of beating back for St. John's. The mariners shook their heads. They
+held that the <i>Heart of the West</i> could make a better fight on her
+present course; and that the battle would be decided, one way or
+another, before the garrison could send them any help. As if to confirm
+their views, the wind freshened to such a degree, and held so fair
+astern, that to beat to windward would require all hands at the sails,
+and put gunnery out of the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Like enough they be double our strength in men," said Tom Bent, "but we
+equals 'em in guns and seamanship, sir, an' ye may lay to that."</p>
+
+<p>So the <i>Heart of the West</i> held on her course under a press of canvas.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p><p>After Kingswell and Beatrix had talked together for some time, they
+went forward, hand in hand, to the break of the poop. Tom Bent called
+the ship's company to attention. The brave fellows, stripped to their
+breeches and shirts in readiness for the approaching encounter, looked
+up, and such as wore caps doffed them respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>"My brave lads," cried the lady, in a voice that rang clear above the
+stir of wind and wave and tugging cordage, "but this morning you made
+merry for my sake; and now, in so little a while, you will risk your
+lives in defending your ship and me from that pirate whom we have
+already encountered. My husband,&mdash;your captain,&mdash;like a true-bred
+English sailor, is already sure of victory. A generous mariner, he has
+promised me the prize; and now I promise it to you. In a few weeks'
+time, my lads, we shall sell our enemy in Bristol docks. Not a penny of
+her price shall go to owner or captain; but all into the pockets of this
+brave company. And should any man fall in the encounter, I pledge my
+word that those dependent upon him shall lack nothing that money can
+give them during the remainder of their lives. Now, fight well, for God
+and for England."</p>
+
+<p>She looked down at them, smiling divinely.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p><p>"And for the Lady Beatrix," shouted a youthful seaman.</p>
+
+<p>Cheers rang aloft; bearded lips and shaven lips bawled her name; and
+great, toil-seared hands were brandished, and stark blades gleamed in
+the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, lady," they roared.</p>
+
+<p>She leaned forward and blew a kiss from her lips with both dainty hands.</p>
+
+<p>"God strengthen you, brave hearts," she cried, softly; and the nearer of
+the loyal mariners saw the tears shimmering beneath her lashes.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Heart of the West</i> held on her course, breaking the waves in
+fountains from her forging bow. The <i>Cristobal</i> raced down upon her with
+the wind square abeam. It was evidently her intention to cross the
+merchantman's bows and rake her with a broadside.</p>
+
+<p>Aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i> every man was at his post, and the
+matches were like pale stars in the hands of the gunners. The second
+mate was on the forecastle-head, beside the bow-chaser. The first mate
+stood in the waist. Kingswell paced the poop, fore and aft. Each
+measured and calculated the brisk approach of the <i>Cristobal</i> with
+unwinking eyes, and considered the straining sails overhead and the
+speed of the wind.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p><p>Still the pirate boiled down upon them, leaning over in the press of
+the half-gale. It was evident to Kingswell that she would pass across
+his bows within a distance of a hundred yards, unless something was done
+to prevent it. He spoke quietly to the men at the tiller, and called an
+order to the officer amidships. Twenty seconds later he gave the signal.
+The tiller was pushed over, the yards were hauled around, and the good
+ship swung to the north and took the wind on her larboard beam. Now the
+vessels leaned on the same course, and were not two hundred yards apart.
+Almost at the same moment they exchanged broadsides, and the challenging
+shouts of men mingled with the roaring of the little cannonades. The
+smoke from the merchantman's ports blew down, in a stifling cloud, upon
+the enemy. The <i>Cristobal</i> fell off before the wind in an unaccountable
+manner. The <i>Heart of the West</i> luffed, in the hope of bringing her
+heavy after-battery to bear, saw that the man&oelig;uvre could not be
+accomplished, and flew about on her old course.</p>
+
+<p>"Her tiller is shot away," cried Kingswell. A cheer rang along the decks
+and penetrated the cabins fore and aft. Beatrix heard it, and thanked
+God. Old Trowley heard it, and, beating his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>manacled wrists against the
+bulkhead, roared to be cast loose that he might bear a hand in the
+fight.</p>
+
+<p>From that first exchange of round-shot, the <i>Heart of the West</i> escaped
+without hurt, owing to the fact that the enemy's guns, elevated by the
+pressure of the gale upon her windward side, sent their missiles high
+between the upper spars of the merchantman. The <i>Cristobal</i>, however,
+was hulled by two balls, and had her tiller carried away by a third;
+for, just as her guns were elevated to harmlessness by the list of the
+deck, so were the merchantman's depressed to a deadly aim by the list of
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>Taking every advantage which a sound tiller and perfectly trimmed sails
+gave her over her enemy, the <i>Heart of the West</i> raced after the
+buccaneer. Passing close astern, she raked her with her three larboard
+guns. Running on, and slanting across the wind's course more and more,
+she presently had her two after-guns to bear on the three-quarter target
+of the <i>Cristobal's</i> starboard side. The range was middling; but, even
+so, the gunners sent up a prayer to Luck, so violent were the soarings
+and sinkings of the deck. The shots were followed by a tottering of high
+sails above the <i>Cristobal</i>, and with a flapping and rending, the
+mizzenmast fell forward and stripped the main of three of her yards.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p><p>Now the disabled, tillerless <i>Cristobal</i>, kept before the wind by a
+great sweep, fled heavily. Her decks were cluttered with snarled
+wreckage. Half a dozen of her crew were injured. Her commander and
+Master Silva were mad with rage at the unexpected turn of events.</p>
+
+<p>Aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i>, Ouenwa had just pointed out to Kingswell
+the dashing figure of Pierre d'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"I take it that this is his last play," remarked the young captain, with
+a grim smile.</p>
+
+<p>For another hour the merchantman sailed about the pirate at her will,
+pouring broadside after broadside into hull and rigging, and sustaining
+but little damage herself. Now and then musket-shots were exchanged. Two
+of Kingswell's men were wounded, and were promptly carried below, where
+their hurts were tenderly bandaged by Mistress Kingswell and Maggie
+Stone.</p>
+
+<p>In a lull of the firing, the cook came running to the poop, with word
+that Trowley was in a fair way to make matchwood of his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>"What ails him now?" inquired Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"He be shoutin' for a chance at the Frenchers," replied the cook.
+Kingswell considered the matter, with a calculating eye on the enemy.
+"Cast him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> loose," said he, "and give him a chance to prove himself an
+English sailor man."</p>
+
+<p>Trowley appeared on deck just as a shot from the <i>Cristobal</i> struck the
+teakwood rail of the <i>Heart of the West</i> amidships. A flying splinter
+whirred past his head. He brandished his cutlass, and bawled a threat
+across the rocking water. The men at the guns welcomed him with laughter
+and cheers.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye be in for the kill, master," cried one.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell beckoned the ex-commander aft, and met him at the top of the
+ladder. Trowley looked guiltily this way and that.</p>
+
+<p>"I have let you up, my man," said the captain, "that you may bear a hand
+in the fight. I am willing to forget your knaveries of the past, and
+remember only your actions of to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Trowley nodded, and for an instant his eyes met Kingswell's.</p>
+
+<p>"You can see what we have done to the enemy," said the other. "But I am
+in no mind to break her up with this everlasting cannonading. What would
+you suggest?"</p>
+
+<p>Trowley straightened his great shoulders and lifted his head. "Lay her
+aboard, sir," said he, "an' make fast."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVI.</span> <span class="smaller">OVER THE SIDE</span></h2>
+
+<p>With a fearful grinding of timbers and rattling of spars, the
+merchantman's larboard bow scraped along the enemy's side.
+Boarding-irons were thrown across from the forecastle-deck. With a yell,
+the men of Devon sprang from rail to rail, and hurled themselves upon
+the mongrels who clustered to repulse them. Cutlasses skirred in the
+air; and some struck clanging metal, and some met with a softer
+resistance. Screams of rage and pain, and shouts of grim exultation,
+rang above the conflict.</p>
+
+<p>Old Trowley hacked a place for himself in the thickest of the press, and
+laid about him with such desperate fury and such fearful oaths that the
+buccaneers hustled each other to get out of his way.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, in the waist of the <i>Cristobal</i>, encountered D'Antons, and
+claimed him for his own. As their blades rasped together, D'Antons began
+the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's death in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>wilderness. Kingswell
+heard it without comment. The tumult about them gradually subsided, as
+man after man of the pirate crew was cut down or bound. Sail was
+shortened on both vessels, and the victors, sound and wounded alike,
+gathered about the two swordsmen. A strained silence took possession of
+the watchers. The rough fellows understood that their captain had an old
+score to settle with the buccaneer. They were fascinated by the
+lightning play of the rapiers. They noted every movement of foot and
+hand, blade and eye. When D'Antons snarled an insulting taunt at his
+adversary, they cursed softly. When their captain pricked the pirate's
+shoulder, a husky murmur of admiration went through them. So intent were
+they on the fight that they failed to notice the approach of Miwandi,
+the Beothic woman, until she was in their midst. But they became aware
+of her presence when she screamed with rage and flung herself upon
+Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Pull the wench off," they cried, and made a futile grab at the mad
+figure.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, quick as a cat for all his Saxon colouring, wrenched himself
+clear of her, avoided the slash of her knife by a half-inch, and lunged
+through D'Antons' guard. The buccaneer pitched forward so suddenly and
+heavily that the rapier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> was wrenched from the Englishman's hand. The
+hilt struck the deck. The slim blade darted out between D'Antons'
+shoulders a full two-thirds of its length. He sprawled on his face,
+gulping his last breath; and the hilt of Kingswell's weapon knocked
+spasmodically on the red planking of the deck. The woman, stunned with
+grief, was led away by two of the seamen.</p>
+
+<p>By the time the duel was over, the long, northern twilight was drawing
+to a close. The decks of the <i>Cristobal</i> were cleared of the dead bodies
+and the wreckage of guns and spars. The torn rigging was partially
+repaired; a few sails were set; and the shattered tiller was replaced.
+The prisoners (wounded and bound together, they did not number a dozen)
+were divided between the ships. A prize-crew of seven, under the first
+mate's command, went aboard the <i>Cristobal</i>. Then the boarding-irons
+were cast loose, and the vessels fell away from each other to a safe
+distance.</p>
+
+<p>Miwandi's grief was desperate. Beatrix strove to comfort her, but failed
+signally. Her position was evident enough to every one who had seen her
+frantic attempt to assist D'Antons in the encounter with Kingswell.
+Beatrix guessed the story. Her face burned at remembrance of her
+one-time companionship with D'Antons&mdash;of the days before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> she fully knew
+his nature, and often sat at cards and chess with him in the little
+cabin in the wilderness&mdash;and of the days before that, when he was one of
+her admirers in London. Even now she did not know him for her father's
+murderer. Kingswell had decided to keep that to himself, until some day
+in the happy future, when the wilderness should be fainter than the
+memory of a dream in his wife's mind.</p>
+
+<p>For three days the ships kept within sight of each other. On the fourth,
+a gale of wind drove them apart; but Kingswell felt no anxiety for the
+prize, for she had received no serious damage to her hull in the bitter
+encounter that had befallen on his wedding-day.</p>
+
+<p>Aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i> the wounded improved daily; the prisoners
+cursed their irons and their luck; the crew never pulled on a rope
+without a song to lighten the task; old Trowley, promoted from
+imprisonment to the position of second mate, worked like a Trojan, and
+Beatrix and Bernard sped the hours in the high and golden atmosphere of
+love and youth. The Beothic woman, however, felt no response in her
+heart to the stir and happiness about her. Her world had fallen in a
+desolation of emptiness, and her very soul was weary of the sequence of
+day and night, night and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> day. She would not eat. She sobbed quietly,
+without rest, in her darkened berth. Her ears were deaf to words of
+comfort, even when they were spoken in her own language by Ouenwa. She
+asked no questions. Ever since that first outbreak, at sight of her
+lover's danger, she accepted the will of her pitiless gods without signs
+of either anger or wonder.</p>
+
+<p>One still night, when the waves rocked under the faint light of the
+stars without any breaking of foam, and the wind was just sufficient to
+swell the sails from the yards, the man at the tiller was startled from
+his reveries by a splash close alongside. He called to the officer of
+the watch, who had heard nothing, and told him of the sound. They
+scanned the sea on all sides and listened intently. They saw only the
+black, vanishing crests. They heard only the whispering of the ship on
+her way.</p>
+
+<p>"A fish," said the mate. The other agreed with him.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning Miwandi's berth was discovered to be empty,&mdash;no trace of
+her was found alow or aloft.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining days of the passage slipped by without any especial
+incident. Winds served. Seas were considerate of the good ship's
+safety<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>. No fogs endangered the young lovers' homeward voyage. Every
+night there was fiddling in the forecastle and the chanting of rude
+ballads. And sometimes in the cabin a violin sang and sang, as if the
+very heart of happiness were under the sounding-board, and Love himself
+in the strings.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE MOTHER</span></h2>
+
+<p>Dame Kingswell, the widow of that good merchant of Bristol whom Queen
+Elizabeth had knighted in her latter days, sat in her chamber and looked
+down upon a pleasant garden beneath the window. She was alone. Her
+garments, though of rich materials, were sombre in hue. She wore no
+personal ornaments save two rings on her left hand, and a chain of gold,
+bearing a small cross of the same metal, at her breast. Her thick hair
+was snow-white. In her youth it had been as black as her husband's had
+been flaxen. Her complexion held scarcely more colour than her hair. On
+her knees a book of devotional poetry, splendidly illuminated about the
+margins, lay open. But her thin hands were folded over the page, and her
+gaze was upon the shrubbery of the garden. The time was early evening.
+The sunlight was mellow gold. The hedges, shrubs, and fountain on the
+lawns threw eastward shadows.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p><p>The chamber in which the widow sat was large and scantily furnished. A
+few portraits, by masters of the brush, hung along the walls. A
+prayer-desk, with a red hassock before it, stood in a corner.</p>
+
+<p>A light rapping sounded on the door. The lady turned her eyes from the
+bright garden below her window. She saw the door open, and a beautiful
+girl in cloak and hat enter the room. The stranger advanced quickly, in
+a whispering of silks, and in her glowing hands took the widow's
+bloodless fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said the elder woman, kindly, "I fear my memory is flitting.
+I do not recall your winsome face. Can it be that you are one of Sir
+Felix Brown's lasses, grown to such a fine young lady in London?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl sank on her knees and kissed the pale hands lightly and
+prettily.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Beatrix Kingswell," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>The good dame was sorely puzzled. She tried, in vain, to connect this
+lovely creature with any branches of the late knight's family.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are a kinswoman of mine?" she queried. "Pray do not kneel
+there, my dear. Come sit in the window and tell me who you are."</p>
+
+<p>But the stranger did not move.</p>
+
+<p>"I am your daughter," she said. "And&mdash;oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> do not swoon, my
+mother&mdash;Bernard is at the door, awaiting your permission to enter."</p>
+
+<p>The widow closed her eyes for a second, leaning back in her chair. She
+recovered herself swiftly and clutched the skirts of the girl, who was
+now standing, ready to run to the door and admit her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"What story is this?" she cried, incredulous. "I have no daughter. And
+Bernard, my son, has lain dead in a far land these weary months."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, dear madam," replied the girl. "Nay, he is not dead. But let me go
+to the door, and you will see him with your own eyes. He waits at your
+threshold, happy and well."</p>
+
+<p>The older woman maintained her hold of her visitor's gown. "And who are
+you, to bring me word of my son's return?" she asked, with a ring of
+shrewdness and suspicion in her voice. Dimly, she feared that she was
+affording sport to some heartless person; for this sudden tale of her
+son's safety, brought by this gay young lady, had broken upon her
+pensive reveries like an impossible scene out of a play.</p>
+
+<p>"I am his wife," replied Beatrix. With an effort, she pulled her skirts
+away from the clutching fingers, and sped to the door. Throwing it open,
+she admitted Bernard. The youth sprang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> to where his mother sat, and
+caught her up from her chair against his breast. With a glad,
+inarticulate cry, she slipped her arms around his neck and clung
+hysterically.</p>
+
+<p class="space-above">Five days after the arrival of the <i>Heart of the West</i>, the <i>Cristobal</i>
+sailed into port. By that time the story of her capture was well known
+in the town, and a crowd of citizens gathered on the docks to welcome
+her. Master Kingswell put her up for sale. In the end, he bought her
+himself, for something more than she was worth. Every penny of the money
+Beatrix gave to the brave fellows who had fought and sailed their ship
+so valorously on her eventful wedding-day. Only that rugged and wayward
+master mariner, John Trowley, failed to show himself for a share of the
+gold. He had not the courage to run a chance of another meeting with
+Lady Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Of the future of Bernard, Beatrix, and the lad Ouenwa, something is
+written in the old records in an exceeding dry vein. Of the fate of the
+little fort on Gray Goose River, little is known. Some chroniclers
+maintain that the French overpowered it; others are as certain that the
+settlers moved to Conception Bay, and there established themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> so
+securely that, even to-day, descendants of those Triggets and those
+Donnellys cultivate their little crops, cure their fish, and sail their
+fore-and-afters around the coast to St. John's.</p>
+
+<p class="center space-above">THE END.</p>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44387 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #44387 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44387)
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+Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Brothers of Peril
+       A Story of old Newfoundland
+
+Author: Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+Illustrator: H. C. Edwards
+
+Release Date: December 8, 2013 [EBook #44387]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROTHERS OF PERIL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BROTHERS OF PERIL
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+
+
+
+_WORKS OF THEODORE ROBERTS_
+
+_The Red Feathers_           _$1.50_
+_Brothers of Peril_           _1.50_
+_Hemming the Adventurer_      _1.50_
+
+
+_L. C. PAGE & COMPANY_ _New England Building, Boston, Mass._
+
+
+[Illustration: "A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT NAMELESS
+WILDERNESS"]
+
+
+
+
+Brothers of Peril
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+By
+
+Theodore Roberts
+_Author of_ "Hemming, the Adventurer"
+
+_Illustrated by_ H. C. Edwards
+
+[Illustration: Logo]
+
+_Boston_ L. C. Page & Company _Mdccccv_
+
+
+_Copyright, 1905_
+BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+(INCORPORATED)
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+Published June, 1905
+Second Impression, March, 1908
+
+_COLONIAL PRESS
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+Boston, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+
+During the three centuries directly following John Cabot's discovery of
+Newfoundland, that unfortunate island was the sport of careless kings,
+selfish adventurers, and diligent pirates. While England, France, Spain,
+and Portugal were busy with courts and kings, and with spectacular
+battles, their fishermen and adventurers toiled together and fought
+together about the misty headlands of that far island. Fish, not glory,
+was their quest! Full cargoes, sweetly cured, was their desire--and let
+fame go hang!
+
+The merchants of England undertook the guardianship of the "Newfounde
+Land." In greed, in valour, and in achievement they won their mastery.
+Their greed was a two-edged sword which cut all 'round. It hounded the
+aborigines; it bullied the men of France and Spain; it discouraged the
+settlement of the land by stout hearts of whatever nationality. It was
+the dream of those merchant adventurers of Devon to have the place
+remain for ever nothing but a fishing-station. They faced the pirates,
+the foreign fishers, the would-be settlers, and the natural hardships
+with equal fortitude and insolence. When some philosopher dreamed of
+founding plantations in the king's name and to the glory of God,
+England, and himself, then would the greedy merchants slay or cripple
+the philosopher's dream in the very palace of the king. Ay, they were
+powerful enough at court, though so little remarked in the histories of
+the times! But, ever and anon, some gentleman adventurer, or humble
+fisherman from the ships, would escape their vigilance and strike a blow
+at the inscrutable wilderness.
+
+The fishing admirals loom large in the history of the island. They were
+the hands and eyes of the wealthy merchants. The master of the first
+vessel to enter any harbour at the opening of the season was, for a
+greater or lesser period of time, admiral and judge of that harbour. It
+was his duty to parcel out anchorage, and land on which to dry fish, to
+each ship in the harbour; to see that no sailors from the fleet escaped
+into the woods; to discourage any visions of settlement which sight of
+the rugged forests might raise in the romantic heads of the gentlemen of
+the fleet; to see that all foreigners were hustled on every occasion,
+and to take the best of everything for himself. Needless to say, it was
+a popular position with the hard-fisted skippers.
+
+In the narratives of the early explorers frequent mention is made of the
+peaceful nature of the aborigines. At first they displayed unmistakable
+signs of friendly feeling. They were all willingness to trade with the
+loud-mouthed strangers from over the eastern horizon. They helped at the
+fishing, and at the hunting of seals and caribou. They bartered
+priceless pelts for iron hatchets and glass trinkets. Later, however, we
+read of treachery and murder on the parts of both the visitors and the
+natives. The itch of slave-dealing led some of the more daring
+shipmasters and adventurers to capture, and carry back to England,
+Beothic braves and maidens. Many of the kidnapped savages were kindly
+treated and made companions of by English noblemen and gentlefolk. It is
+recorded that more than one Beothic brave sported a sword at his hip in
+fashionable places of London Town before Death cut the silken bonds of
+his motley captivity.
+
+Master John Guy, an alderman of Bristol, who obtained a Royal Charter in
+1610, to settle and develop Newfoundland, wrote of the Beothics as a
+kindly and mild-mannered race. Of their physical characteristics he
+says: "They are of middle size, broad-chested, and very erect.... Their
+hair is diverse, some black, some brown, and some yellow."
+
+As to the ultimate fate of the Beothics there are several suppositions.
+An aged Micmac squaw, who lives on Hall's Bay, Notre Dame Bay, says that
+her father, in his youth, knew the last of the Beothics. At that
+time--something over a hundred years ago--the race numbered between one
+and two hundred souls. They made periodical excursions to the salt water
+to fish, and to trade with a few friendly whites and Nova Scotian
+Micmacs. But, for the most part, they avoided the settlements. They had
+reason enough for so doing, for many of the settlers considered a
+lurking Beothic as fair a target for his buckshot as a bear or caribou.
+One November day a party of Micmac hunters tried to follow the remnant
+of the broken race on their return trip to the great wilderness of the
+interior. The trail was lost in a fall of snow on the night of the first
+day of the journey. And there, with the obliterated trail, ends the
+world's knowledge of the original inhabitants of Newfoundland; save of
+one woman of the race named Mary March, who died, a self-ordained
+fugitive about the outskirts of civilization, some ninety years ago.
+
+To-day there are a few bones in the museum at St. John's. One hears
+stories of grassy circles beside the lakes and rivers, where wigwams
+once stood. Flint knives and arrow-heads are brought to light with the
+turning of the farmer's furrow. But the language of the lost tribe is
+forgotten, and the history of it is unrecorded.
+
+In the following tale I have drawn the wilderness of that far time in
+the likeness of the wilderness as I knew it, and loved it, a few short
+years ago. The seasons bring their oft-repeated changes to brown barren,
+shaggy wood, and empurpled hill; but the centuries pass and leave no
+mark. I have dared to resurrect an extinct tribe for the purposes of
+fiction. I have drawn inspiration from the spirit of history rather than
+the letter! But the heart of the wilderness, and the hearts of men and
+women, I have pictured, in this romance of olden time, as I know them
+to-day.
+
+T. R.
+
+_November, 1904._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                                      PAGE
+     I. A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME                                 1
+
+    II. THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER                     9
+
+   III. THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW                                16
+
+    IV. OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST                       24
+
+     V. THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR                             34
+
+    VI. THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER                           43
+
+   VII. THE SILENT VILLAGE                                     56
+
+  VIII. A LETTER FOR OUENWA                                    65
+
+    IX. AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION                              73
+
+     X. GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX                                 83
+
+    XI. THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER                               94
+
+   XII. MEDITATION AND ACTION                                 104
+
+  XIII. SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE                              116
+
+   XIV. A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING                                126
+
+    XV. THE HIDDEN MENACE                                     133
+
+   XVI. THE CLOVEN HOOF                                       140
+
+  XVII. THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH                               148
+
+ XVIII. EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS                                156
+
+   XIX. TWO OF A KIND                                         164
+
+    XX. BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER                            174
+
+   XXI. THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN                          183
+
+  XXII. BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS                           190
+
+ XXIII. BETROTHED                                             200
+
+  XXIV. A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN                    207
+
+   XXV. FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT   217
+
+  XXVI. PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST                227
+
+ XXVII. A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS                          233
+
+XXVIII. THE RUNNING OF THE ICE                                241
+
+  XXIX. WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY
+          RECEIVES A VISITOR                                  252
+
+   XXX. MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF                  264
+
+  XXXI. WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED                           273
+
+ XXXII. THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS
+          BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED                                279
+
+XXXIII. IN THE MERRY CITY                                     287
+
+ XXXIV. PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES,
+          AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA                               294
+
+  XXXV. THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE     306
+
+ XXXVI. OVER THE SIDE                                         317
+
+XXXVII. THE MOTHER                                            323
+
+
+
+
+BROTHERS OF PERIL
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME
+
+
+The boy struck again with his flint knife, and again the great wolf tore
+at his shoulder. The eyes of the boy were fierce as those of the beast.
+Neither wavered. Neither showed any sign of pain. The dark spruces stood
+above them, with the first shadows of night in their branches; and the
+western sky was stained red where the sun had been. Twice the wolf
+dropped his antagonist's shoulder, in a vain attempt to grip the throat.
+The boy, pressed to the ground, flung himself about like a dog, and
+repeatedly drove his clumsy weapon into the wolf's shaggy side.
+
+At last the fight ended. The great timber-wolf lay stretched dead in
+awful passiveness. His fangs gleamed like ivory between the scarlet jaws
+and black lips. A shimmer of white menaced the quiet wilderness from the
+recesses of the half-shut eyelids.
+
+For a few minutes the boy lay still, with the fingers of his left hand
+buried in the wolf's mane, and his right hand a blot of red against the
+beast's side. Presently, staggering on bent legs, he went down to the
+river and washed his mangled arm and shoulder in the cool water. The
+shock of it cleared his brain and steadied his eyes. He waded into the
+current to his middle, stooped to the racing surface, and drank
+unstintingly. Strength flooded back to blood and muscle, and the slender
+limbs regained their lightness.
+
+By this time a few pale stars gleamed on the paler background of the
+eastern sky. A long finger-streak of red, low down on the hilltops,
+still lightened the west. A purple band hung above it like a belt of
+magic wampum--the war-belt of some mighty god. Above that, Night, the
+silent hunter, set up the walls of his lodge of darkness.
+
+The boy saw nothing of the changing beauty of the sky. He might read it,
+knowingly enough, for the morrow's rain or frost; but beyond that he
+gave it no heed. He returned to the dead wolf, and set about the
+skinning of it with his rude blade. He worked with skill and speed. Soon
+head and pelt were clear of the red carcass. After collecting his arrows
+and bow, he flung the prize across his shoulder and started along a
+faint trail through the spruces.
+
+The trail which the boy followed seemed to lead away from the river by
+hummock and hollow; and yet it cunningly held to the course of the
+stream. Now the night was fallen. A soft wind brushed over in the
+tree-tops. The voices of the rapids smote across the air with a deeper
+note. As the boy moved quietly along, sharp eyes flamed at him, and
+sharp ears were pricked to listen. Forms silent as shadows faded away
+from his path, and questioning heads were turned back over sinewy
+shoulders, sniffing silently. They smelt the wolf and they smelt the
+man. They knew that there had been another violent death in the valley
+of the River of Three Fires.
+
+After walking swiftly for nearly an hour, following a path which less
+primitive eyes could not have found, the boy came out on a small meadow
+bright with fires. Nineteen or twenty conical wigwams, made of birch
+poles, bark, and caribou hides, stood about the meadow. In front of each
+wigwam burned a cooking-fire, for this was a land of much wood. The
+meadow was almost an island, having the river on two sides and a shallow
+lagoon cutting in behind, leaving only a narrow strip of alder-grown
+"bottom" by which one might cross dry-shod. The whole meadow, including
+the alders and a clump of spruces, was not more than five acres in
+extent.
+
+The boy halted in front of the largest lodge, and threw the wolfskin
+down before the fire. There he stood, straight and motionless, with an
+air of vast achievement about him. Two women, who were broiling meat at
+the fire, looked from the shaggy, blood-stained pelt to the stalwart
+stripling. They cried out to him, softly, in tones of love and
+admiration. Jaws and fangs and half-shut eyes appeared frightful enough
+in the red firelight, even in death.
+
+"Ah! ah!" they cried, "what warrior has done this deed?"
+
+"Now give me my man-name," demanded the boy.
+
+The older of the two women, his mother, tried to tend his wounded arm;
+but he shook her roughly away. She seemed accustomed to the treatment.
+Still clinging to him, she called him by a score of great names. A
+stalwart man, the chief of the village, strode from the dark interior of
+the nearest wigwam, and glanced from his son to the untidy mass of hair
+and skin. His eyes gleamed at sight of his boy's torn arm and the white
+teeth of the wolf.
+
+"Wolf Slayer," he cried. He turned to the women. "Wolf Slayer," he
+repeated; "let this be his man-name--Wolf Slayer."
+
+So this boy, son of Panounia the chief, became, at the age of fourteen
+years, a warrior among his father's people.
+
+The inhabitants of that great island were all of one race. In history
+they are known as Beothics. At the time of this tale they were divided
+into two nations or tribes. Hate had set them apart from one another,
+breaking the old bond of blood. Each tribe was divided into numerous
+villages. The island was shared pretty evenly between the nations. Soft
+Hand was king of the Northerners. It was of one of his camps that the
+father of Wolf Slayer was chief.
+
+Soft Hand was a great chief, and wise beyond his generation. For more
+than fifty years he had held the richest hunting-grounds in the island
+against the enemy. His strength had been of both head and hand. Now he
+was stiff with great age. Now his hair was gray and scanty, and
+unadorned by flaming feathers of hawk and sea-bird. The snows of eighty
+winters had drifted against the walls of his perishable but ever defiant
+lodges, and the suns of eighty summers had faded the pigments of his
+totem of the great Black Bear. Though he was slow of anger, and fair in
+judgment, his people feared him as they feared no other. Though he was
+gentle with the weak and young, and had honoured his parents in their
+old age and loved the wife of his youth, still the strongest warrior
+dared not sneer.
+
+The village of this mighty chief was situated at the head of Wind Lake.
+On the night of Wolf Slayer's adventure, Soft Hand and his grandson
+arrived at the lesser village on the River of Three Fires. They
+travelled in bark canoes and were accompanied by a dozen braves. The
+grandson of the old chief was a lad of about Wolf Slayer's age. He was
+slight of figure and dark of skin. His name was Ouenwa. He was a dreamer
+of strange things, and a maker of songs. He and Wolf Slayer sat together
+by the fire. Wolf Slayer held his wounded arm ever under the visitor's
+eyes, and talked endlessly of his deed. For a long time Ouenwa listened
+attentively, smiling and polite, as was his usual way with strangers.
+But at last he grew weary of his companion's talk. He wanted to listen,
+in peace, to the song of the river. How could he understand what the
+rapids were saying with all this babbling of "knife" and "wolf" in his
+ears?
+
+"All this wind," he said, "would kill a pack of wolves, or even the
+black cave-devil himself."
+
+"There is no wind to-night," replied Wolf Slayer, glancing up at the
+trees.
+
+"There is a mighty wind blowing about this fire," said Ouenwa, "and it
+whistles altogether of a great warrior who slew a wolf."
+
+"At least that is not work for a dreamer," retorted the other, sullenly.
+Ouenwa's answer was a smile as soft and fleeting as the light-shadows of
+the fire.
+
+At an early hour of the next morning the great chief's party started
+up-stream in their canoes, on the return journey to Wind Lake. For hours
+Soft Hand brooded in silence, deaf to his grandson's hundred questions.
+He had grown somewhat moody in the last year. He gazed away to the
+forest-clad, mist-wreathed capes ahead, and heeded not the high piping
+of his dead son's child. His mind was busy with thoughts of the events
+of the past night. He recalled the tones of Panounia's voice with a
+shake of the head. He recalled the sullen smouldering of that stalwart
+chief's eyes. He sighed, and glanced at the lad in the forging craft
+beside him.
+
+"I grow old," he murmured. "The voice of my power is breaking to its
+last echo. My command over my people slips like a frozen thong of raw
+leather. And Panounia! What lurks in the dull brain of him?"
+
+The sun rose above the forest spires, clear and warm. The mists drew
+skyward and melted in the gold-tinted azure. Twillegs flew, piping,
+across the brown current of the river. Sandpipers, on down-bent wings,
+skimmed the pebbly shore. A kingfisher flashed his burnished feathers
+and screamed his strident challenge, ever an arrow-flight ahead of the
+voyagers. He warned the furtive folk of the great chief's approach.
+
+"Kingfisher would be a fitting name for the boy who killed the wolf,"
+said Ouenwa.
+
+The old man glanced at him sharply. His thin face was sombre with more
+than the shadow of years.
+
+"Nay," he replied. "His is no empty cry. Beware of him, my son!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER
+
+
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, dwelt alone at the head of a small bay. His
+home was half-wigwam, half-hut. The roof was of poles, partly covered
+with the hides of caribou and partly with a square of sail-cloth, which
+had been given him by a Basque fisherman in exchange for six beaver
+skins. The walls of the unusual lodge were of turf and stone. Here and
+there were signs of intercourse with the strangers out of the Eastern
+sea,--an iron fishhook, a scrap of gold lace, and a highly polished
+copper pot. Of these treasures the recluse was justly proud, for had he
+not acquired them at risk of sudden extinction by the breath of the
+clapping fire-stick?
+
+The arrow-maker was an old man. In his youth he had been a hunter of
+renown and a great traveller, and had sojourned long in the lodges of
+the Southern nation. He had loved a woman of that people,--and she had
+given him laughter in return for his devotion. Journeying back to his
+own hunting-grounds, he had planned a huge revenge. At once all his
+skill and bravery had been turned to less open ways than those of the
+lover and warrior. In little more than a year's time he had driven the
+tribes to a lasting and bitter war. Even now as he sat before the door
+of his lodge, he was shaping spear-heads and arrow-heads for the
+fighting men of Soft Hand's nation. Some arrows he made of jasper, and
+some of flint, and some of purple slate. Those of slate would break off
+in the wound. They were the grim old craftsman's pets.
+
+One day a young man from the valley of the River of Three Fires brought
+Montaw a string of fine trout, in payment for a spear-head. For awhile
+they talked together in the sunlight at the door of the lodge.
+
+"For the chase," said the old man, "I make the long shape of flint,
+three fingers wide, and to this I bind a long and heavy shaft. Such an
+arrow will hold in the side of the running deer, and may be plucked out
+after death."
+
+"I have even seen it, father," replied the young man, in supercilious
+tones; for he considered himself a mighty hunter.
+
+"For the battle," continued the arrow-maker, "I chip the flint and
+shape the narrow splinters of slate. All three are good in their way if
+the bow be strong--and the arm."
+
+The old craftsman made a song. It was rough as his arrow-heads.
+
+
+     "Arrows of gray and arrows of black
+       Soon shall be red.
+     What will the white moon say to the proud
+       Warriors, dead?
+
+     "Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,
+       Arrows of slate.
+     So, with the skill of my hands, I shape
+       Arrows of hate.
+
+     "Fly, my little ones, straight and true,
+       Silent as sleep.
+     Tell me, wind, of the flints I sow,
+       What shall I reap?
+
+     "Sorrow will come to their council-fires.
+       Weeping and fear
+     Will stalk to the heart of their great chief's lodge,
+       Year after year.
+
+     "When the moon rides on the purple hills,
+       Joyous of face,
+     Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,
+       Heads for the chase.
+
+     "When the chief's fire on the hilltop glows
+       Like a red star,
+     Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,
+       Heads for the war.
+
+     "Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,
+       Arrows of slate.
+     Thus, in the door of my lodge, I nurse
+       Battle and hate!"
+
+
+One evening, as he sat before his lodge looking seaward, his trained
+ears caught the sound of a faint call from the wooded hills behind. He
+did not turn his head or change his position. But he held his breath,
+the better to listen. Again came the cry, very weak and far away.
+
+"It is the voice of a woman," he said, and smiled grimly.
+
+Cheerless and desolately gray, the light of the east faded into the
+desolate gray of the sea. Black, like stalking shadows, stood the little
+islands of the headlands. The last of the light died out like the heart
+of fire in the shroud of cooling ashes. Again came the cry, whispering
+across the stillness.
+
+"It may be the voice of a child, lost in the woods," said the
+arrow-maker. He rose from his seat and entered the lodge. He blew the
+coals of his fire back to a tiny flame. He drew up to it the burnt ends
+of faggots. Then he took in his hand another of his Eastern prizes--a
+broad-bladed knife--and started across the tumbled rocks toward the edge
+of the wood. Though old, he was still strong and tough of limb and
+courageous of heart. Sure and swift he made his way through the heavy
+growth of spruce. Once he paused for the space of a heart-beat, to make
+sure of his direction. Again and again was the piteous cry repeated.
+
+The old man kept up his tireless trot through underbrush and swamp, and
+displayed neither fatigue nor caution until he reached the bank of a
+narrow and turbulent stream. Here he drew into the shadow of a clump of
+firs. He lay close, and breathed heavily. By this time the moon had
+cleared the knolls. Its thin radiance flooded the wilderness. In the air
+was a whisper of gathering frost. The water of the little river twisted
+black and silver, and worried at the fanged rocks that tore it, with a
+voice of agony.
+
+The crying had ceased; but the eyes of the old craftsman questioned the
+farther shore with a gaze steady and keen. There seemed to be something
+wrong with the shadows. A bent figure slipped down to the edge of the
+stream where the water spun in an eddy. It dropped on hands and knees
+and crawled to the black and unstable lip of the tide. Again the cry
+rang abroad, thin and high above the complaining tumult of the current.
+The watcher left his hiding-place and waded the stream. At the edge of
+the spinning eddy he found a woman. She lay exhausted. A long shaft hung
+to her left shoulder. Blood trickled down her bare and rounded arm. The
+arrow-maker lifted her against his shoulder and bathed her face in the
+cool water until her eyelids lifted.
+
+"Chief," she whispered, "pluck out the arrow."
+
+He shook his head. His trade was with battle and death, but it was half
+a lifetime since he had felt the gushing of human blood on his hands.
+
+"Father," she cried, faintly, "I pray you, pluck it out. The pain of it
+eats into my spirit. It sprang to me from a little wood, bitter and
+noiseless--and I heard not so much as the twang of the string."
+
+The old man held her with his left arm. With strong and gentle fingers
+he worked the arrow in the wound. She quivered with the pain of it.
+Blood came more freely. He trembled at the hot touch of it across his
+fingers. He had dwelt so long in the quiet of his craft. Then the barbed
+blade came away from the wound, and he clutched it in his reeking palm.
+The woman sobbed with mingled pain and relief. The old man stepped into
+the moonlight and lifted the arrow to his eyes.
+
+"It is none of my making," he said.
+
+He heard the woman sobbing in the dark. Returning to her he bound her
+shoulder with his belt of dressed leather. Then, lifting her tenderly,
+he again forded the flashing current of the complaining river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW
+
+
+Even while the arrow-maker carried the wounded woman, arrows of the same
+shape as that which had stabbed her tender flesh were threatening the
+little village on the River of Three Fires. For days several war-parties
+from the South had been stealing through the country, raiding the lesser
+villages, and bent on destroying the nation of Soft Hand, and possessing
+his hunting-grounds. It was a laggard of one of the smaller bands that
+had wounded the woman. She had been far from her lodge at the time,
+seeking some healing herbs in the forest, and he had fired on her out of
+fear that she had discovered him and would warn her people. In her pain
+and fright, she had wandered coastward for several miles.
+
+Silent as shadows, the invading warriors drew down toward the little
+meadow. Clouds were over the face of the white October moon. A cold mist
+floated in the valley. The leaders of the invaders, lying low among the
+alders at the edge of the clearing, could see the unguarded people
+moving about their red fires. There was a scent of cooking deer-meat in
+the chill air. The chief of the attacking party lay on the damp grass
+and peered between the stems of the alders. He smiled exultantly. A
+quick slaughter, and then to a feast already prepared. He and his braves
+had enjoyed but poor fare during their long march.
+
+So shall I leave him, sniffing the breath of the cooking fires, and turn
+to Wolf Slayer. Late of that afternoon Wolf Slayer had sallied forth in
+quest of something to kill. The woods had seemed deserted, and in less
+than an hour after his valorous exit from the camp, he had fallen asleep
+on a warm and sheltered strip of shingle. The river flashed in front,
+and on three sides brooded the crowding trees. When he awoke, the sun
+had set, and the river, a curved mirror for the western sky, was red as
+fire--or blood. Down-stream, about two hundred yards distant, a sombre
+bluff thrust its rocky breast into the water. The boy gazed at this, and
+his eyes widened with dismay. Then they narrowed with hate. Out of the
+shelter of the rocks and the shadows, and into the flaming waters, came
+figure after figure. They waded knee-deep, hip-deep, shoulder-deep, into
+that molten glory. Then they swam; and the ripples washed back from
+gleaming neck and shoulder like lighter flames. One by one they stole
+from the shadow, swam the radiance, and again sought the shadow.
+
+The boy trembled. The devils of fear and rage had their fingers on him.
+Spellbound, he watched close upon a hundred warriors make the passage of
+the river. Then he, too, sank noiselessly into the shelter of the trees.
+He was old enough to know what this meant, and his heart hurt him with
+its pent-up fury as he crawled through the underbrush. He was dismayed
+at the sound of his own breathing. He heard the distant rapping of a
+woodpecker, the fall of a spent leaf from an alder, and the soft breath
+of a dying wind; and the familiar sounds filled him with awe. And yet,
+but for these sounds, the whole world might be dead and the forest
+empty. Thought of the hundred fighting men moving steadily upon the
+unguarded homes of his people, with no more warning than the sound of a
+swamp-bird's flight, was like a nightmare. But presently the courage
+that had helped him slay the wolf came to him, and he thought of the
+glory to be won by saving the threatened village. He did not strengthen
+his heart to the task for sake of his mother's life and the lives of his
+playmates; but because the warriors would call him a hero. Keeping just
+within the edge of the woods, he moved up-stream as speedily as he might
+without making any sound. He came upon a brown hare crouched beside a
+clump of ferns. He might have touched it with his hand, so unaware was
+it of his presence. He passed beneath an alder branch whereon perched a
+big slate-gray jay. It was not a foot from his back as he crawled under,
+and it did not take flight. But it eyed him intently, to make sure that
+he was not a fox. Sometimes he lay still for a little, listening. He
+heard nothing, though he started at a hundred fancied sounds. Twilight
+deepened into dusk, and dusk into gloom. The moon sailed up over the
+hills, and long banners of cloud passed across the face of it.
+
+Presently Wolf Slayer came within sight of the fires of the village. The
+red light flashed on the angry river beyond, but left the lagoon in
+darkness. He crawled into the water inch by inch, scarcely breaking the
+calm, black surface. Then he swam, without noise of splashing, and
+landed at the foot of the meadow like a great beaver. He crawled into
+the red circle of one of the fires, and told his news to the braves
+gathered around. Men slipped from fire to fire. Without any unwonted
+disturbance, the whole village armed itself. Suddenly, with a fierce
+shout and a flight of arrows, the alders were attacked. The invaders
+were checked at the very moment of their fancied victory.
+
+The fighting scattered. Here three men struggled together in the
+shallows at the head of the lagoon. Farther out, one tossed his arms and
+sank into the black depths. In the open a half-score warriors bent their
+bows. Among the twisted stems of the alders they pulled and strangled,
+like beasts of prey. Back in the spruces they slew with clubs and
+knives, feeling for one another in the dark. Their war-cries and shouts
+of hate rang fearfully on the night air, and awoke unholy echoes along
+the valley.
+
+In the front of the battle Wolf Slayer fought like a man. His lack of
+stature saved him from death more than once in that fearful encounter.
+Many a vicious blow glanced harmless, or missed him altogether, as he
+stumbled and bent among the alders. At first he fought with a long,
+flint knife,--the work of the old arrow-maker. But this was splintered
+in his hand by the murderous stroke of a war-club. He wrenched a spear
+from the clutch of a dying brave. A leaping figure went down before his
+unexpected lunge. It rolled over; then, queerly sprawling, it lay still.
+An arrow from the open ripped along an alder stem, rattled its shaft
+among the dry twigs, and struck a glancing blow on the young brave's
+neck. He stumbled, grabbing at the shadows. He fell--and forgot the
+fight.
+
+In light and darkness the battle raged on. Wigwams were overthrown, and
+about the little fires warriors gave up their violent lives. At last the
+encampment was cleared, and saved from destruction; and those of the
+invaders who remained beside the trampled fires had ceased to menace.
+Along the black edges of the forest ran the cries and tumult of the
+struggle. Spent arrows floated on the lagoon. Red knives lifted and
+turned in the underbrush.
+
+Wolf Slayer, dizzy and faint, crawled back to the lodges of his people.
+Other warriors were returning. They came exultant, with the lust of
+fighting still aflame in their eyes. Some strode arrogantly. Some
+crawled, as Wolf Slayer had. Some staggered to the home fires and reeled
+against the lodges, and some got no farther than the outer circle of
+light. And many came not at all.
+
+The chief, with a great gash high on his breast (he had bared arms and
+breast for the battle), sought about the clearing and trampled fringe of
+alders, and at last, returning to the disordered camp, found Wolf
+Slayer. With a glad, high shout of triumph, he lifted the boy in his
+arms and carried him home. The mother met them at the door of the lodge.
+In fearful silence the man and woman washed and bound the young brave's
+wound, and watched above his faint breathing with anxious hearts.
+
+"Little one, strengthen your feet against the turn of the dark trail,"
+whispered the mother. "See, our fires are bright to guide you back to
+your own people."
+
+"Little chief, though this battle is ended, there are many good fights
+yet to come," whispered the father. "The fighters of the camp will have
+great need of you when we turn from our sleep. The old bear grumbles at
+the mouth of his den!--will you not be with us when we singe his fur?"
+
+"Hush, hush!" cried the woman.
+
+The boy, opening his eyes, turned the feet of his spirit from the dark
+trail.
+
+"I saw the lights of the lost fires," he murmured, "and the hunting-song
+of dead braves was in my ears."
+
+Wolf Slayer was nursed back to health and strength. Not once--not even
+at the edge of Death's domain--had his arrogance left him. It seemed
+that the days of suffering had but hardened his already hard heart. Lad
+though he was, the villagers began to feel the weight of his hand upon
+them. He bullied and beat the other boys of the camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST
+
+
+In the dead of winter--in that season of sweeping winds and aching
+skies, when the wide barrens lie uncheered of life from horizon to
+horizon--Soft Hand sent many of his warriors to the South. They followed
+in the "leads" of the great herds of caribou, going partly for the meat
+of the deer and partly to strike terror into the hearts of the Southern
+enemy. At the head of this party went Panounia, chief of the village on
+the River of Three Fires, and with him he took his hardy son, Wolf
+Slayer. Grim plans were bred on that journey. Grim tales were told
+around the big fire at night. The evil thing which Panounia hatched,
+with his bragging tongue, grew day by day and night by night. The hearts
+of the warriors were fired with the shameful flame. They dreamed things
+that had never happened, and wrought black visions out of the
+foolishnesses of their brains.
+
+"The bear nods," they repeated, one to another, after the chief had
+talked to them. "The bear nods, like an old woman over a pot of stew.
+But for Panounia, surely the men of the South would have scattered our
+lodges and led us, captive, to the playgrounds of their children and
+their squaws. Such a fate would warm the heart of Soft Hand, for is not
+our Great Chief an old woman himself?"
+
+So, far from the eye and paw of the great bear, the foxes barked at his
+power. The moon heard it, and the silent trees, and the wind which
+carries no messages.
+
+About this time Ouenwa, the grandson of Soft Hand, decided to make a
+journey of many days from the lodges at the head of Wind Lake to the
+Salt Water. He felt no interest in the Southern invasion. His eyes
+longed for a sight of the edges of the land and the breast of the great
+waters beyond. He had heard, in his inland home, rumour of mighty wooden
+canoes walled higher than the peak of a wigwam, and manned by
+loud-mouthed warriors from beyond the fogs and the rising sun. Some
+wiseacre, squatted beside the old chief's fire, hinted that the
+strangers were gods. He told many wonderful stories to back his
+argument. Soft Hand nodded. But Ouenwa smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Would gods make such flights for the sake of a few dried fishes and a
+few dressed pelts of beaver and fox?" he asked.
+
+"The gods of trade would do so," replied the wiseacre. "Also," he added,
+"they slay at great distances by means of brown stakes which are
+flame-tongued and smoke-crowned and thunder-voiced."
+
+"But do these gods not fight with knives--long knives and short?"
+inquired the lad. "I have heard it said that they sometimes fall out
+over the ordering of their affairs, even as we mortals do."
+
+"And what wonderful knives they are," cried the old gossip. "They are
+coloured like ice. They gleam in the sunlight, like a flash of lightning
+against a cloud. They cut quicker than thought, and the red blood
+follows the edge as surely as the rains follow April."
+
+"I have yet to see these gods," replied Ouenwa, "and in my heart I pray
+that they be but men, for the gods have proved themselves but cheerless
+companions to our people."
+
+At that Soft Hand looked up. "Are the seasons not arranged to your
+liking, boy?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"Nay, I did not mean that," cried Ouenwa; "but strange men promise
+better and safer company than strange gods."
+
+Now he was journeying toward the ocean of his dreaming and the ports of
+his desire. His eyes would search the headlands of fog. Out of the east,
+and the sun's bed, would lift the magic canoes of the strangers. But the
+journey was a hard one. The boy's only companion was a man of small
+stature and unheroic spirit, whom the old chief could well spare. They
+took their way down the frozen, snow-drifted lake, dragging their food
+and sleeping-bags of skin on a rough sledge. The wind came out of a
+steel-blue sky, unshifting and relentless. The dry snow ran before it
+over the level surface, and settled in thin, white ridges across their
+path. At the approach of night they sought the wooded shore, and in the
+shelter of the firs built their fire.
+
+During the journey Ouenwa's guide proved but a cheerless companion. He
+had no heart for any adventure that might take him beyond the scent of
+his people's cooking-fires. He considered the conversation of his young
+master but a poor substitute for the gossip of the lodges. The scant
+fare of his own cooking left his stomach uncomforted. He hated the
+weariness of the march and dreaded the silence of the night. The cry of
+the wind across the tree-tops was, to his craven ear, the voice of some
+evil spirit. The barking of a fox on the hill set his limbs a-tremble.
+The howl of a wolf struck him cold. The sudden leaping of a hare in the
+underbrush was enough to shake his poor wits with fright. But he feared
+the anger of Soft Hand more than all these terrors, and so held to
+Ouenwa and his mission.
+
+On the third day of the journey the blue sky thickened to gray, the wind
+veered, and a great storm of snow overtook them. The snowflakes were
+large and damp. The travellers turned aside and climbed the bank of the
+river to the thickets of evergreens. With their rude axes of stone they
+broke away the fir boughs and reared themselves a shelter in the heart
+of the wood. Into this they drew their sledge of provisions and their
+sleeping-bags. Then they collected whatever dry fuel they could
+find--dead twigs and branches, tree-moss and birch bark--and, with his
+ingenious contrivance of bow and notched stick, Ouenwa started a blaze.
+They roasted dried venison by holding it to the flame on the ends of
+pointed sticks. Each cooked what he wanted, and ate it without talk. All
+creation seemed shrouded in silence. There was not a sound save the
+occasional soft hiss of a melting snowflake in the fire. The storm
+became denser. It was as if a sudden, colourless night had descended
+upon the wilderness, blotting out even the nearer trees with its reeling
+gray. The old retainer crouched low, and gazed out at the storm from
+between his bony knees. His eyes fairly protruded with superstitious
+terror.
+
+"What do you see?" inquired Ouenwa. The awe of the storm was creeping
+over his courage like the first film of ice over a bright stream. The
+old man did not move. He did not reply. Ouenwa drew closer to him, and
+heaped dry moss on the fire. It glowed high, and splashed a ruddy circle
+of light on the eddying snowflakes as on a wall.
+
+"Hark!" whispered the old man. Yes, it was the sound of muffled
+footsteps, approaching behind the impenetrable curtain of the storm. The
+boy's blood chilled and thinned like water in his veins. He clutched his
+companion with frenzied hands. The fear of all the devils and shapeless
+beings of the wilderness was upon him. In the whirling snow loomed a
+great figure. It emerged into the glow of the fire.
+
+"Ah! ah!" cried the old man, cackling with relief. For their visitor was
+nothing more terrible than a fellow human. The stranger greeted them
+cordially, and told them that, but for the glow of their fire, he would
+have been lost.
+
+"But what are you doing here--an old man and a child?" he asked.
+
+Ouenwa told him. He explained his identity, and his intention of
+dwelling with the great arrow-maker of his grandfather's tribe to learn
+wisdom.
+
+"Then are we well met," replied the other, "for my lodge is not half a
+spear-throw from the lodge of the arrow-maker. The old man has been as a
+father to me since the day he saved my wife from death. Now I hunt for
+him, and work at his craft, and have left the river to be near him. My
+children play about his lodge. My wife broils his fish and meat. Truly
+the old man has changed since the return of laughter and friendship to
+his lodge."
+
+The stranger's name was Black Feather. He was taller than the average
+Beothic, and broad of shoulder in proportion. His hair was brown, and
+one lock of it, which was worn longer than the rest, was plaited with
+jet-black feathers. His garments consisted of a shirt of beaver skins
+that reached half-way between hip and knee, trousers of dressed leather,
+and leggins and moccasins of the same material. Around his waist was a
+broad belt, beautifully worked in designs of dyed porcupine quills. His
+head was uncovered.
+
+Black Feather seated himself beside Ouenwa, and replied, good-naturedly,
+and at great length, to the youth's many questions. He told of the
+high-walled ships, and of how he had once seen four of these monsters
+swinging together in the tide, with little boats plying between them,
+and banners red as the sunset flapping above them. He told of trading
+with the strangers, and described their manner of spreading out lengths
+of bright cloth, knives and hatchets of gray metal, and flasks of strong
+drink.
+
+"Their knives are edged with magic," he said. "Many of them carry
+weapons called muskets, which kill at a hundred paces, and terrify at
+even a greater distance. But a nimble bowman might loose four arrows in
+the time that they are conjuring forth the spirit of the musket."
+
+The storm continued throughout the day and night, but the morning broke
+clear. The travellers crawled from their weighted shelter and looked
+with gratitude upon the silver shield of the sun. After a hearty
+breakfast, they set out on the last stage of their journey. Their
+racquets of spruce wood woven across with strips of caribou hide sank
+deep in the feathery snow, and lifted a burden of it at every step. But
+they held cheerfully on their way. Black Feather walked ahead, and Pot
+Friend, the old gossip, brought up the rear. The thong by which they
+dragged the sledge passed over the right shoulder of each, and was
+grasped in the right hand. After several hours of tramping along the
+level of the river's valley, Black Feather turned toward the western
+bank and led them into the woods. Presently, after experiencing several
+difficulties with the sledge, they emerged on the barren beyond the
+fringe of timber. They ascended a treeless knoll that rounded in front
+of them, blindingly white against the pale sky. Old Pot Friend grumbled
+and sighed, and might just as well have been on the sledge, for all the
+pulling he did. On reaching the top of the knoll Black Feather swept his
+arm before him with a gesture of finality. "Behold!" he said.
+
+An exclamation of wonder sprang to Ouenwa's lips, and
+died--half-uttered. Before him lay a wedge of foam-crested winter sea
+beating out against a far, glass-clear horizon. To right and left were
+sheer rocks and timbered valleys, wave-washed coves, ice-rimmed islands,
+and crouching headlands. Even Pot Friend forgot his weariness and
+shortness of breath for the moment, and surveyed the outlook in silence.
+It was many years since he had been so far afield. His little soul was
+fairly stunned with awe. But presently his real nature reasserted
+itself. He pointed with his hand.
+
+"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "And the roofs of two lodges. Good!"
+
+Black Feather smiled. Ouenwa did not hear the old man's cry of joy.
+
+"I see the edge of the world," he said.
+
+"But the ships come over it, and go down behind it," replied Black
+Feather.
+
+"That is foolishness," said Pot Friend, who was filled with his old
+impudence at sight of the fire and the lodges. "No canoe would venture
+on the great salt water. I say it, who have built many canoes. And, if
+they voyaged so far, they would slip off into the caves of the Fog
+Devils. I believe nothing of all these stories of the strangers and
+their winged canoes."
+
+"Silence!" cried the boy, turning on him with flashing eyes. "What do
+you know of how far men will venture?--you, who have but heart enough to
+stir a pot of broth and lick the spoon."
+
+"I have brought you safely through great dangers," whined the old
+fellow.
+
+Montaw, the aged arrow-maker, welcomed his visitors cordially, and was
+grateful for the kind messages from his chief, Soft Hand, and for the
+gift of dressed leather. He accepted the charge and education of Ouenwa.
+He set the unheroic Pot Friend to the tasks of carrying water and wood,
+and snaring hares and grouse. He taught Ouenwa the craft of chipping
+flints into shapes for spear-heads and arrow-heads, and the art of
+painting, in ochre, on leather and birch bark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR
+
+
+Spring brought ice-floes and bergs from the north, and millions of
+Greenland seals. For weeks the little bay on which Montaw and Black
+Feather had their lodges was choked with battering ice-pans and crippled
+bergs. Many of the tribesmen came to the salt water to kill the seals.
+Soft Hand sent a canoe-load of beaver pelts to Ouenwa, so that the boy
+might trade with the strangers when they arrived out of the waste of
+waters.
+
+At last summer came to the great Bay of Exploits, and with it many
+ships--ships of England, of France, of Spain, and of Portugal. All were
+in quest of the world-renowned codfish. By this time the ice had rotted,
+and drifted southward. The first craft to enter Wigwam Harbour (as the
+English sailors called the arrow-maker's bay) was the Devon ship, _Heart
+of the West_. Her master, John Trowley, was an ignorant, hard-headed,
+and hard-fisted old mariner of the roughest type; but, by the laws of
+those waters, he was Admiral of Wigwam Harbour for that season. It was
+not long before every harbour had its admiral,--in every case the master
+of the first vessel to drop anchor there. The shores were portioned off
+in strips, so that each ship might have a place for drying-stages,
+whereon to cure its fish. Then the great business of garnering that rich
+harvest of the north began, amid the rattling of boat-gear, the shouting
+of orders in many tongues, and the volleying of oaths. Ouenwa, watching
+the animated scene, was fired with a desire to voyage in one of the
+strange vessels, and to taste the world that lay beyond the rim of the
+sea.
+
+One day, soon after their arrival, three men from the _Heart of the
+West_ ascended the twisting path to the arrow-maker's lodge. The old
+craftsman and Black Feather and Ouenwa advanced to meet them without
+fear, for up to that time the adventurers and the natives had been on
+the best of terms. The strangers smiled and bowed to the Beothics. They
+displayed a handful of coloured glass beads, a roll of red cloth, and a
+few sticks of tobacco. Old Montaw's eyes glistened at sight of the
+Virginian leaf. He had already learned the trick of drawing on the stem
+of a pipe and blowing fragrant clouds of smoke into the air. He said
+that to do so added to the profundity of his thoughts. And all winter he
+had gone without a puff. He produced a mink skin from his lodge and
+exchanged it for one of the coveted sticks of tobacco. Black Feather
+also traded, giving skins of mink, fox, and beaver for a piece of cloth,
+a dozen beads, and a knife. But Ouenwa stood aside and watched the
+strangers. One of them he recognized as the great captain who shouted
+and swore at the captains of the other ships, and pointed out to them
+places where they might anchor their ships--for it was none other than
+Master John Trowley. The young man with the gold lace in his hat, and
+the long sword at his side--surely, he, too, was a chief, despite his
+quiet voice and smooth face. Ouenwa's surmise was correct. The youth was
+Master Bernard Kingswell, only son of a wealthy widow of Bristol. His
+father, who had been knighted a few years before his premature death,
+had been a merchant of sound views and adventurous spirit. The son
+inherited the adventurous spirit, and was free from the bondage of the
+counting-house. The third of the party was a common seaman. That much
+Ouenwa could detect at a glance.
+
+Master Kingswell stepped over to the young Beothic.
+
+"Trade?" he inquired, kindly, displaying a string of glass beads in the
+palm of his hand. Ouenwa shook his head. He knew only such words of
+English as Montaw had taught him, and he feared that they would prove
+entirely inadequate for the purpose that was in his mind. However, he
+would try. He pointed to Trowley's ship, and then to the far and
+glinting horizon.
+
+"Take Ouenwa?" he whispered, scarce above his breath.
+
+"To see the ship?" inquired Master Kingswell.
+
+"Off," replied Ouenwa, with a wave of his arms. "Out, off!"
+
+Kingswell looked puzzled, and made no reply. The young Beothic bent a
+keen glance upon him; then he tapped himself on the chest.
+
+"Take Ouenwa," he whispered. He plucked the Englishman by the coat.
+"Come, chief, come," he cried, eagerly.
+
+Kingswell followed to the nearest lodge. Ouenwa pulled aside the flap of
+caribou hide that covered the doorway, and motioned for the visitor to
+enter. For a second the Englishman hesitated. He had heard many tales of
+the treachery of these people. What menace might not lurk in the gloom
+of the round, fur-scented lodge? But he did not lack courage; and,
+before the other had time to notice the hesitation, he stepped within.
+The flap of rawhide fell into place behind him. Save for the red glow
+that pulsated from the hearthstone in the centre of the floor, and the
+fingers of sunlight that thrust through the cracks in the apex of the
+roof, the big lodge was unilluminated.
+
+"What do you want?" asked Master Kingswell, with his shoulders against
+the slope of the roof and a tentative hand on his sword-hilt. For
+answer, Ouenwa held a torch of rolled bark to the fire until it flared
+smoky red, and then lifted it high. The light of it flooded the sombre
+place, showing up the couches of skins, Montaw's copper pot, and a great
+bale of pelts. The boy pointed to the pelts. Then he pressed the palm of
+his hand against the Englishman's breast.
+
+"Ouenwa give beaver," he said. "Take Ouenwa Englan'. Much good trade."
+
+Kingswell understood. But he saw obstacles in the way of carrying out
+the young Beothic's wish. The other savages might object. They might
+look on it as a case of kidnapping. Lads had been kidnapped before from
+the eastern bays, and, though they had been well treated, and made pets
+of in England, their people had ceased to trade with the visitors, and
+all their friendship had turned to treachery and hostility. On the other
+hand, he should like to take the youth home with him. He tried to
+explain his position to Ouenwa, but failed signally. They parted,
+however, with the most friendly feelings toward one another.
+
+After the interview with Kingswell, Ouenwa spent most of his time gazing
+longingly at the ships in the bay, and picturing the life aboard them,
+and the countries from which they had come. One morning Kingswell called
+to him from the land-wash. He ran down, delighted at the attention.
+Kingswell pointed to a small, open boat which the carpenter of the
+_Heart of the West_ had just completed. Then, by signs and a few words,
+he told Ouenwa that he was going northward in the little craft, to
+explore the coast, and that he would be back with the fleet before the
+birch leaves were yellow. Ouenwa begged to be taken on the expedition
+and afterward across the seas. He offered his canoe-load of beaver
+skins. He tried to tell of his great desire to see the lodges of the
+strangers, and to learn their speech. He did not want to live the life
+of his own people. Kingswell caught the general trend of the Beothic's
+remarks. He had no objection to driving a good bargain. So he made clear
+to him that he was to come alongside the ship, with the beaver skins, on
+the following night.
+
+The sky was black with clouds, and a fog wrapped the harbour, when
+Ouenwa stepped into his loaded canoe and pushed out toward the spot
+where Trowley's ship lay at anchor. He had dragged his skins from
+Montaw's lodge earlier in the night, without disturbing the slumbers of
+either his guardian or Pot Friend. Age had dulled their ears and
+thickened their sleep. He paddled noiselessly. Sounds of roistering came
+to his ears, muffled by the fog. Presently the admiral's ship loomed
+close ahead. Lights blinked fore and aft. She seemed a tremendous thing
+to the lad, though in truth she was but of one hundred tons. Singing and
+laughter were ripe aboard.
+
+For the first time a fear of the strangers took possession of Ouenwa.
+Even his trust in Kingswell faltered. He ceased paddling, and listened,
+with bated breath, to the hoarse shouts of merriment and the clapping
+oaths. Then curiosity overcame his fear. He slid his long canoe under
+the stem of the _Heart of the West_. A cheering glow of candle-light
+yellowed the fog above him. He stood up and found that his head was on a
+level with the sill of a square port. It stood open. He heard
+Kingswell's voice, and Trowley's. The master-mariner's was gusty and
+argumentative. It broke out at intervals, like the flapping of a sail.
+
+Ouenwa steadied himself with his hands on the casing of the open port,
+and lifted to tiptoe. Now he could see into the little cabin, and hear
+the conversation of its inmates. Happily for his feelings, he could
+understand only a word or two of that conversation. He saw Kingswell and
+the master of the ship seated opposite one another at a small table.
+Upon the table stood candles in metal sticks, a bottle, and glasses. The
+old sea-dog's bearded face was working with excitement. He slapped his
+great flipper-like hand on the polished surface of the board.
+
+"Now who be master o' this ship?" he bawled. "Tell me that, will 'e. Who
+be master?"
+
+"I am the owner, you'll kindly remember, John Trowley," replied
+Kingswell, with a ring of anger in his voice, but a smile on his lips.
+
+"Ay, ye be owner, but John Trowley be skipper," roared the other,
+glaring so hard that his round, pale eyes fairly bulged from his face.
+"An' no dirty redskin sails in ship o' mine unless as a servant, or
+afore the mast,--no, not if he pays his passage with all th' pelts in
+Newfoundland."
+
+"You are mistaken, my friend," replied Kingswell. "I'll carry fifty of
+these people back to Bristol, if it so pleases me."
+
+"I'll put ye in irons, my fine gentleman," retorted the seaman.
+
+"You are drunk," cried the young adventurer, drawing back his right hand
+as if to strike the great, scowling face that bent toward him across the
+table.
+
+"Drunk, d'ye say! An' ye'd lift yer hand against the ship's master,
+would ye?" shouted Trowley. He lurched forward, and a knife flashed
+above the overturned bottle and glasses.
+
+Ouenwa emitted a horrified scream, and hurled his paddle spear-wise into
+the cabin. The rounded point of the blade caught Trowley on the side of
+the head, and sent him crashing to the deck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER
+
+
+When Trowley recovered consciousness, he was lying in his berth, with a
+bandage around his head. Kingswell looked in at him, smiling in a way
+that the old mariner was beginning to fear as well as hate.
+
+"I hope you are feeling more amiable since your sleep," said Kingswell.
+
+Trowley muttered a word or two of apology, damned the rum, and asked the
+time of day. His recollections of the argument in the cabin were hazy
+and fragmentary.
+
+In reply to his question the gentleman told him that the sun was well
+up, the fog cleared, and that he was having his boat provisioned for the
+coastwise exploration trip.
+
+"And mind you," he added, grimly, "that the eighty beaver skins which
+are now being stowed away in my berth are my property."
+
+"Certainly, sir," replied Trowley. "An' may I ask how ye come by such a
+power o' trade in a night-time?"
+
+"Yes, you may ask," replied Kingswell. He grinned at the wounded skipper
+for fully a minute, leaning on the edge of the bunk. Then he said: "I'll
+now bid you farewell until October. Don't sail without me, good Master
+Trowley, and look not upon the rum of the Indies when that same is red.
+A knife-thrust given in drunkenness might lead to the gallows."
+
+He turned and nimbly scaled the companion-ladder, leaving the shipmaster
+speechless with rage.
+
+Half an hour later the staunch little craft _Pelican_ spread her square
+sail and slid away from the _Heart of the West_. She was manned by old
+Tom Bent, young Peter Harding, and Richard Clotworthy. Master Bernard
+Kingswell sat at the tiller, with Ouenwa beside him. Their provisions,
+extra clothing, arms, and ammunition were stowed amidships and covered
+with sail-cloth. The sun was bright, and the sky blue. The wind bowled
+them along at a clipping pace. From a mound above the harbour Black
+Feather gazed after them under a level hand. In the little harbour
+Trowley's ship alone swung in her anchorage. The others had run out to
+the fishing-grounds,--for in those days the fishing was done over the
+sides of the ships, and not from small boats. On either side the brown
+shores fell back, and the dancing waters widened and widened. White
+gulls screamed above and around them, flashing silvery wings, snowy
+breasts, and inquisitive eyes.
+
+Ouenwa looked back, and then ahead, and felt a great misgiving. But
+Kingswell patted him on the shoulder, and the sailors nodded their heads
+at him and grinned.
+
+Soon they were among the fleet. The ungainly, high-sterned vessels
+rocked and bobbed under naked spars. The great business that had brought
+them so far was going forward. Along both sides of every ship were hung
+barrels, and in each barrel was stationed a man with two or more
+fishing-lines. Splashing desperately, the great fish were hauled up,
+unhooked, and tossed to the deck behind. As the little _Pelican_ slid
+by, the fishers paused in their work to cheer her, and wave their caps.
+The masters shouted "God speed" from their narrow quarter-decks, and
+doffed their hats. Kingswell waved them gracious farewells; Ouenwa gazed
+spellbound toward the widening outlook; and Tom Bent trimmed the sail to
+a nicety.
+
+They passed headland after headland, rocky island after rocky island,
+cove after cove. The shores behind them turned from brown to purple,
+and from purple to azure. The waves ran higher and the wind freshened.
+Kingswell shaped the boat's course a few points to the northward. The
+stout little craft skipped like a lamb and plunged like some less
+playful creature. Spray flew over her blunt bows, and the sailors
+laughed like children, and called her a brave lass, and many other
+endearing names, as if she were human.
+
+"A smart wench, sir," said Tom Bent to Master Kingswell. The commander
+nodded, and shifted the tiller knowingly. His blue eyes were flashing
+with the excitement of the speed and motion. His bright, pale hair
+streamed in the wind. He leaned forward, to pick out the course through
+a group of small islands that cluttered the bay ahead of them. He gave
+an order, and the seamen hauled on the wet sheet. But Ouenwa did not
+share the high spirits of his companions. A terrible, unknown feeling
+got hold of him. His dark cheeks lost their bloom. Kingswell glanced at
+him.
+
+"Let it go, lad," he said. "A sailor is made in this way. Tom, pass me
+along a blanket."
+
+With his unemployed hand he fixed a comfortable rest for the boy, and
+helped him to a drink of water. For an hour or more he maintained a hold
+on the young Beothic's belt, for, by this time, the soaring and sinking
+of the _Pelican_ were enough to unsteady even a seasoned mariner. As
+for Ouenwa!--the poor lad simply clung to the gunwale with the grip of
+despair, and entertained regretful, beautiful visions of level shores
+and unshaken hills. Tom Bent eyed him kindly.
+
+"The young un has it wicked, sir," he said. "Maybe, like as not, a swig
+o' rum ud sweeten his bilge, sir."
+
+Kingswell acted on the old tar's advice. The rank liquor completed the
+boy's breakdown. In so doing it served the purpose which Bent had
+intended. The sufferer was soon sleeping soundly, already half a sailor.
+
+When Ouenwa next took interest in his surroundings, the _Pelican_ had
+the surf of a sheer coast close aboard on her port side. She was heading
+due north. The sun was half-way down his western slope. Behind the
+_Pelican's_ bubbling wake, hills and headlands and high, naked barrens
+lay brown and purple and smoky blue. In front, and on the right hand,
+loomed surf-rimmed islands and flashed the innumerable, ever-altering
+yet unchanged hills and valleys of the deep. Tom Bent was now at the
+tiller, and Kingswell was in the bows, gazing intently at the austere
+coast. Ouenwa crawled over the thwarts and cargo of provisions, under
+the straining sail, and crouched beside him. His head felt light and
+his stomach painfully empty, but again life seemed worth living and the
+adventure worth while.
+
+About an hour before sunset the _Pelican_ ran into a little cove, and
+her two grappling anchors were heaved overboard. She lay within five
+yards of the land-wash, swinging on an easy tide. Ouenwa sprang into the
+water and waded ashore. It was a dismal anchorage, with only a strip of
+shingle, and grim cliffs rising in front and on either hand. But at the
+base of the cliffs, in fissures of the rock, grew stunted spruce-trees
+and birches. Ouenwa soon found a little stream dribbling a zigzag course
+from the levels above. It gathered, clear and cold, in a shallow basin
+at the foot of the rock, and from there spilled over into the
+obliterating sand.
+
+By this time the others were ashore. Clotworthy hacked down a couple of
+armfuls of the spruce and birch shrubs with his cutlass, and started a
+fire. Then he filled a pot from the little well and commenced
+preparations for a meal. The other seamen erected a shelter, composed of
+a sail and three oars, against the cliff. Kingswell and Ouenwa sat on a
+convenient boulder, and the commander filled a long pipe with tobacco
+and lit it at a brand from the fire. He seemed in high spirits, and in a
+mood to further his young companion's education. Pointing to the roll
+of Virginian leaf, from which he had cut the charge for his pipe, he
+said, "Tobacco." Ouenwa repeated it many times, and nodded his
+comprehension. Then Kingswell pointed to old Tom Bent, who was watching
+Clotworthy drop lumps of dried venison into the pot of water.
+
+"Boatswain," he said.
+
+Ouenwa mastered the word, as well as the term "able seamen," applied to
+Clotworthy and Peter Harding. By that time the stew was ready for them.
+They were all sound asleep, under their frail shelter, before the last
+glimmer of twilight was gone from the sky.
+
+It was very early when Ouenwa awoke. A pale flood of dawn illumined the
+tent and the recumbent forms of Master Kingswell and Clotworthy. Tom
+Bent and Harding were not in their places. The boy wondered at that, but
+was about to close his eyes again, when he was startled to his feet by a
+shrill cry that went ringing overhead and echoing along the cliffs. He
+darted from the tent, with Kingswell and Clotworthy hot on his heels.
+Bent and Harding were on the extreme edge of the beach, with their backs
+to the sea, staring upward. Ouenwa and the others turned their faces in
+the same direction. They were amazed to see about a dozen native
+warriors on the cliff above them, fully armed, and evidently deeply
+interested in what was going on in the little cove. One of them was
+pointing to the _Pelican_, and talking vehemently to the brave beside
+him. In two of them Ouenwa recognized young Wolf Slayer, and his father,
+the chief of the village on the River of Three Fires. He called up to
+them, and asked what brought them so far from their village.
+
+"We are at the salt water to take the fish," replied Wolf Slayer, "and
+we saw the smoke of your fire before the last darkness. But what do you
+with the great strangers, little Dreamer?"
+
+"They are my friends," replied Ouenwa, "and I am voyaging with them to
+learn wisdom."
+
+"What are you talking about?" asked Kingswell.
+
+The lad tried to explain. He pointed to the tent and provisions and then
+to the boat. "Put in," he said.
+
+At a word from Kingswell the three sailors quickly dismantled their
+night's shelter and carried the sail, the oars, and such food and
+blankets as they had brought ashore, out to the _Pelican_. At that the
+shrill cry rang out again, and echoed along the cliffs.
+
+"What does that mean?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"Bad," replied Ouenwa, shortly.
+
+"What is in your fine canoe, little Dreamer?" called Wolf Slayer.
+
+"Our food and our clothing, little Fox Stabber," Ouenwa cried back, with
+indignation in his voice.
+
+"Your dreams must have unsettled your wits, my friend," replied Wolf
+Slayer, "or you would not talk so loud before a chief of the tribe."
+
+Just then, in answer to the cry that had sounded so dismally across the
+dawn a few moments before, five more warriors, armed with bows, appeared
+on the top of the cliff--for the cry was the hunting-call of the tribe.
+
+"Do you fish with war-bows?" shouted Ouenwa. "And why do you summon to
+trade with the cry of the hunt?"
+
+"You ask too many questions, even for a seeker of wisdom," replied the
+other youth, mockingly.
+
+"Does Soft Hand, the great bear, slumber, that the foxes bark with such
+assurance?" retorted Ouenwa.
+
+By this time the _Pelican_ was ready to put out of the cove. Both
+anchors were up, and Harding and Clotworthy held her off with the oars.
+Old Tom Bent was also in the boat, busy with something beside the mast.
+Suddenly a bow-string twanged, and an arrow buried its flint head in the
+sand at Kingswell's feet. Another struck a stone and, glancing out,
+rattled against Harding's oar. Kingswell and Ouenwa backed hastily into
+the water. Above them, silhouetted against the lightening sky, they saw
+bending bows and downward thrust arms. Then, with a clap and a roar, and
+a gust of smoke, old Tom Bent replied to the warriors on the cliff. The
+echoes of the discharge bellowed around and around the rock-girt
+harbour. Ouenwa and Kingswell sprang through the smoke and climbed
+aboard, and the seamen pushed into deep water and then bent to their
+oars. But the _Pelican_ proved a heavy boat to row, with her blunt bows
+and comfortable beam. She surged slowly beyond the cloud of bitter smoke
+that the musket had hung in the windless air. Clear of that, the
+voyagers looked for their treacherous assailants--and, behold, the great
+warriors were not to be seen. Kingswell and the three seamen laughed, as
+if the incident were a fine joke; but Ouenwa was hot with shame and
+anger. He stood erect and shouted abuse to the deserted cliff-top. He
+called upon Wolf Slayer and Panounia to show their cowardly faces. He
+threatened them with the displeasure of Soft Hand and with the anger of
+the English. A figure appeared on the sky-line.
+
+"You speak of Soft Hand," it cried. "Know you, then, that Soft Hand set
+out on the Long Trail four suns ago, when he marched into my village to
+dispute my power. I, Panounia, am now the great chief of the people. So
+carry yourself accordingly, O whelp without teeth and without a den to
+crawl into. Whose hand has overthrown the lodge of the totem of the
+Black Bear? Mine! Panounia's! Soft Hand has fallen under it as his son,
+your father, succumbed to it when you were a squalling babe." He paused
+for a moment, and held out a gleaming knife, with its point toward the
+_Pelican_. "The totem of the Wolf now hangs from the great lodge," he
+cried.
+
+Quick and noiseless as a breath, the edge of the cliff was lined with
+warriors. Like a sudden flight of birds their arrows flashed outward and
+downward.
+
+"Lie down!" cried Kingswell. With a strong hand he snatched Ouenwa to
+the bottom of the boat. Harding and Clotworthy sprawled forward between
+the thwarts. Only Tom Bent, crouched beside the naked mast, did not
+move. The arrows thumped against plank and gunwale. They pierced the
+cargo. They glanced from tiller and sweep and mast. One, turning from
+the rail, struck Bent on the shoulder. He cursed angrily, but did not
+look for the wound. His match was burning with a thread of blue smoke
+and a spark of red fire. His clumsy gun was geared to the rail by an
+impromptu swivel of cords. He lay flat and elevated the muzzle.
+
+"Steady her," he said, softly. "She's driftin' in."
+
+Kingswell sprang forward to one of the oars, thrust it to the bottom,
+and held the boat as steady as might be. Arrows whispered around him. He
+shouted a challenge to the befeathered warriors above him. Tom touched
+the slow-match to the quick fuse. Something hissed and sizzled. A plume
+of smoke darted up. Then, with a rebound that shook the boat from stem
+to stern, the gun hurled forth its lead, and fire, and black breath of
+hate.
+
+"Double charge, sir," gasped Tom Bent, from where he sagged against the
+mast. The kick of his musket had hurt him more than the blow from the
+arrow.
+
+Again the _Pelican_ fought her way toward the open waters, with Harding
+and Clotworthy pulling lustily at the sweeps. Kingswell, flushed and
+joyful, sat at the tiller and headed her for the channel, through which
+the tide was running landward at a fair pace. Bent was busy reloading
+his firearm. Ouenwa stood in the stern-sheets, with his bow in his left
+hand and an arrow on the string. A breath of wind brushed the smoke
+aside and cleared the view. Ouenwa pointed to the beach, and gave vent
+to a shrill whoop of triumph. The others looked, and saw a huddled shape
+of bronzed limbs and painted leather at the foot of the rock.
+
+"One more red devil for hell," muttered the boatswain. "I learned mun to
+shoot his pesky sticks at a Bristol gentleman."
+
+As if in answer, an arrow bit a splinter from the mast, not six inches
+from the old man's head. Ouenwa's bow bent, and sprang straight. The
+shaft flew with all the skill that Montaw had taught the boy, and with
+all the hate that was in his heart for the big murderer on the cliff.
+Every man of the little company narrowed his eyes to follow the flight
+of it. They saw it curve. They saw a warrior drop his bow from his
+menacing hand and sink to his knees.
+
+"The wolf falls," cried Ouenwa, in his own tongue. "The wolf bites the
+moss. Who, now, is the wolf slayer?"
+
+The Englishmen cheered again and again, and the good boat _Pelican_,
+urged forward by triumphant sinews, won through the channel and swam
+into the outer waters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE SILENT VILLAGE
+
+
+As soon as the _Pelican_ was out of arrow-shot of the cliff, the
+Beothics disappeared. Ouenwa laid aside his bow with a sigh of regret.
+Then he tried to repeat to Kingswell what he had heard from Panounia.
+After a deal of questioning, sign-making, and mental exertion, the
+Englishman gathered the information that treachery and murder had taken
+place up the river, and that his young friend hated the new leader of
+the tribe with a bitter hatred. He did not wonder at the bitterness. He
+looked at the young savage's flushed face and glowing eyes with sympathy
+and admiration. His liking for the boy had grown in every hour of their
+companionship, and, by this time, had developed into a decided fondness.
+
+"Sit down, lad, and let your guns cool," he said, with a light hand on
+the other's knee. "Your enemies are my enemies," he continued, "and
+we'll fight the dogs every time we see 'em."
+
+Ouenwa sat quiet and tried to look calm. He was soothed by the evident
+kindliness of Kingswell's tone and manner, though he had failed to
+translate his speech. The men on the thwarts had caught the words,
+however. They nodded heavily to one another.
+
+"Ye say the very word what was in my mind, sir," spoke up Tom Bent,
+"an', if I may make so bold as to say further, your enemies be your
+servants' enemies, sir. Therefore the young un's enemies must be our
+enemies, holus bolus." The other sailors nodded decidedly. "Therefore,"
+continued Tom Bent, "all they cowardly heathen aft on the cliff has to
+reckon, hereafter, with Thomas Bent an' the crew o' this craft."
+
+"Well spoken, Tom," replied Kingswell, with the smile that always won
+him the heart and hand of every man he favoured with it,--and of every
+maid, too, more than likely. "But we can't enthuse on empty stomachs.
+Pass out the bread and the cold meat," he added.
+
+For fully two hours the _Pelican_ rocked about within half a mile of her
+night's anchorage. Kingswell was not in a desperate hurry, and so his
+men pulled at the oars just enough to hold the boat clear of the rocks.
+A sharp lookout was kept along the coast, but not a sight nor a sound
+of the Beothics rewarded their vigilance.
+
+"They be up to some devilment, ye may lay to that," said Tom Bent.
+
+At last a wind fluttered to them out of the nor'east, and the square
+sail was hoisted and sheeted home. Again the _Pelican_ dipped her bows
+and wet her rail on the voyage of exploration.
+
+After two hours of sailing, and just when they were off the mouth of a
+little river and a fair valley, a fog overtook them. Kingswell was for
+running in, but Ouenwa objected.
+
+"Panounia follow," he said. "He great angry. Drop irons," he added,
+pointing to the little anchors.
+
+"Panounia is wounded. You winged him yourself," replied Kingswell. "He
+could not follow us around that coast, lad, at the clip we were coming."
+
+Ouenwa considered the words with puckered brows. They were beyond him.
+The commander pointed shoreward.
+
+"All safe," he said. "All safe."
+
+"No, no," cried the lad. "All kill. No safe."
+
+During this controversy the sail had been partly lowered, and the
+_Pelican_ had been slowly running landward with the fog.
+
+Kingswell looked from the young Beothic to the seamen with a smile of
+whimsical uncertainty.
+
+"Out o' the mouths o' babes an' sucklin's," remarked Tom Bent, with his
+deep-set eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Kingswell's glance rested,
+for a moment, on the ancient mariner.
+
+"Lower away," he said. The sail flapped down, and was quickly stowed.
+"Let go the anchors," he commanded. The grapplings splashed into the
+gray waves. The fog crawled over the boat and shut her off from land and
+sky. With a last dreary whistle, the wind died out entirely.
+
+"Rip me!" exclaimed Master Kingswell, "but here is caution that smells
+remarkably like cowardice." Fretfully sighing, he produced his pipe,
+tobacco, and tinder-box. Soon the fragrant smoke was mingling with the
+fog. The young commander leaned back, taking his comfort where he could,
+like the courageous gentleman that he was. The habit of burning
+Virginian tobacco was an expensive one, confined to the wealthy and the
+adventurous. The seamen, who, of course, had not yet acquired it,
+watched their captain with open interest. When a puff was blown through
+the nostrils, or sent aloft in a series of rings, they nudged one
+another, like children at a show. By this time the walls of fog had made
+of the _Pelican_ a tiny, lost world by itself. Suddenly Ouenwa raised
+his hand. "Sh!" he whispered. Kingswell removed the pipe-stem from his
+mouth, and inclined his head toward the hidden river and valley. All
+strained their ears, to wrest some sound from the surrounding gray other
+than the lapping of the tide along the unseen land-wash. But they could
+hear nothing.
+
+"Village," whispered Ouenwa, pointing landward.
+
+"But we saw no signs of a village," protested Kingswell, gently.
+
+"Village," repeated the lad. "Ouenwa hear. Ouenwa smell."
+
+Immediately the four Englishmen began to sniff the fog, like hounds
+taking a scent on the wind. But their nostrils were not the nostrils of
+either hounds or Beothics. They sniffed to no purpose. They shook their
+heads. Kingswell wagged a chiding finger at their keen-nosed companion.
+The boy read the inference of the gesture, and flushed indignantly.
+
+"Village," he whispered, shrilly. "Village, village, village."
+
+Kingswell looked distressed. The sailors grinned leniently at the
+determined boy. They had great faith in their own noses, had those
+mariners of Bristol and thereabouts. Ouenwa, frowning a little, sank
+into a moody contemplation of the fog.
+
+"This is dull," exclaimed Kingswell, after a half-hour of silence.
+"Tom, pipe us a stave, like a good lad."
+
+The boatswain scratched his head reflectively. Presently he cleared his
+throat with energy.
+
+"Me voice be a bit husky, sir, to what it once were," he murmured, "but
+I'll do me best--an' no sailorman can say fairer nor that."
+
+Straightway he struck into a heroic ballad of a sea-fight, in a high,
+tottering tenor. The song dealt with Spanish swagger and English daring,
+with bloody decks, falling spars, and flying splinters. Harding joined
+in the chorus with a booming bass. Clotworthy and the commander soon
+followed. Kingswell's voice was clear and strong and wonderfully
+melodious. Ouenwa's eyes glowed and his muscles trembled. Though the
+words held no meaning for him, the rollicking, dashing swing of the tune
+fired his excitable blood. He forgot all about Panounia, and the
+suspected village on the river so near at hand ceased to trouble him. He
+beat time to the singing with his moccasined feet, and clapped his hands
+together in rhythmic appreciation of his comrades' efforts. In time the
+ballad was finished. The last member of the craven crew of the _Teressa
+Maria_ had tasted English steel and been tossed to the sharks. Then
+Master Kingswell sprang to his feet and sang a sentimental ditty. It
+was of roses and fountains, of latticed windows and undying affection.
+The air was captivating. The singer's voice rang tender and clear. Old
+Tom Bent remembered lost years. Harding thought of a Devon orchard, and
+of a Devon lass at work harvesting the ruddy fruit. Clotworthy saw a
+cottage beside a little wood, and a woman and a little child gazing
+seaward and westward from the door.
+
+For several seconds after the last note had died away, the little
+company remained silent and motionless, fully occupied with its various
+thoughts. Ouenwa was the first to break the spell of the song. He laid
+his hand on Kingswell's arm with a quick gesture, and leaned toward him.
+
+"Canoe," he whispered.
+
+The sound that had caught Ouenwa's attention was repeated--a short rap,
+like the inadvertent striking of a paddle against a gunwale. They all
+heard it, and, with as little noise as possible, set to work at getting
+out cutlasses and loading muskets. Kingswell crawled forward and
+whispered with old Tom Bent. The boatswain nodded and turned to Harding.
+That sturdy young seaman crawled to the bows and placed his hands on the
+hawser of the forward anchor. He looked aft. Kingswell, who had returned
+to his seat at the tiller, leaned over the stern and cut the manilla
+rope that tethered the boat at that end. Harding immediately pulled on
+his rope until he was directly over the light bow anchor. Then, strongly
+and slowly, and without noise, he brought the four-fingered iron up and
+into the bows. They were free of the bottom, anyway, and with the loss
+of only one anchor. Kingswell breathed a sigh of relief.
+
+The _Pelican_ drifted, and the crew stared into the fog, with wide eyes
+and alert ears. Then, to seaward and surely not ten yards away, sounded
+a plover-call. Kingswell signalled to Bent to man the seaward side and
+Clotworthy and Harding the other. They rested the barrels of their great
+matchlocks on the gunwales. Suddenly the prow of a canoe pierced the
+curtain of fog not four yards from Tom Bent. He touched the match to the
+short fuse. There was a terrific report, and a chorus of wild yells. In
+the excitement that followed, the others discharged their pieces.
+Kingswell grabbed an oar, slipped it into a notch beside the tiller and
+began to "scull" the boat seaward. The men reloaded their muskets and
+peered into the fog. They heard splashings and cries on all sides, but
+could see nothing. Ouenwa, standing erect, discharged arrow after arrow
+at the hidden enemy.
+
+The splashings grew fainter, and the cries ceased entirely. Kingswell
+passed the oar which he had been using to Harding, and told the men to
+lay aside their muskets and row. Ouenwa let fly his last arrow, in the
+names of his murdered father and grandfather.
+
+For a long and weary time the _Pelican_ lay off the hidden land,
+shrouded in fog and silence. A few hours before sunset a wind from the
+west found her out, drove away the fog, and disclosed the sea and the
+coast and the open sky.
+
+"Pull her head 'round," commanded Kingswell, "and hoist the sail. We are
+going back to have a look at that village."
+
+The men obeyed eagerly. They were itching for a chance to repay the
+savages for the fright in the dark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A LETTER FOR OUENWA
+
+
+Two headlands were rounded before the valley of the river opened again
+to the eyes of the adventurers. The brown water of the stream stole down
+and merged into the dancing, wind-bitten sea. The gradual hillsides,
+green-swarded, basked in the golden light. The lower levels of the
+valley were already in shadow. No sign of man, or of his habitation, was
+disclosed to the voyagers.
+
+"A fair spot," remarked Kingswell. "I feel a desire stirring within me
+to stretch my legs on that grassy bank. What do you say to the idea,
+Tom?"
+
+The old fellow grinned. "'Twould be pleasant, sir, an' no mistake," he
+replied--"a little walk along the brook, with our hands not very far
+from our hangers. Ay, sir, Tom Bent's for a spell o' nater worship."
+
+The boat ran in, and was beached on the sand well within the mouth of
+the river. Harding and Clotworthy, with loaded muskets, were left on
+guard, and the other three, fully armed, started along the bank of the
+stream. They advanced cautiously, with a sharp lookout on every clump of
+bushes and every spur of rock. A kingfisher dropped from its perch above
+the water and flew up-stream with shrill clamour. They turned a bend of
+the little river and halted short in their track with muttered
+exclamations. Before them, on a level meadow between the brown waters of
+the stream and the dark green wall of the forest, stood half a dozen
+wigwams. The place seemed deserted. They scanned the dark edge of the
+wood and the brown hills behind. They peered everywhere, expecting to
+catch the glint of hostile eyes at every turn. But neither grove nor
+hill, nor silent lodge, disclosed any sign of life.
+
+"Where the devil are they?" exclaimed Kingswell, thoroughly perplexed.
+
+Ouenwa smiled, and swept his hand in a half-circle.
+
+"Watch us," he remarked, nodding his head. "Yes, watch us."
+
+"He means they are lying around looking at us," said Kingswell to the
+boatswain. "Rip me, but I don't relish the chance of one of those
+stone-tipped arrows in my vitals."
+
+Tom Bent glanced about him in visible trepidation. Ouenwa noticed it,
+and pointed to the seaman's musket. "No 'fraid," he said. "Shoot."
+
+"What at?" inquired Bent.
+
+"Make shoot," cried the boy, indicating the silent wood, dusky in the
+gathering shadows.
+
+"He wants you to fire into the wood, and frighten them out," said
+Kingswell.
+
+"If they be there, I'm for lettin' 'em stay there," replied Tom.
+
+However, he fixed his murderous weapon in its support, aimed at the edge
+of the forest beyond the wigwams, and fired. The flame cut across the
+twilight like a red sword; a dismal howl arose and quivered in the air.
+It was answered from the hilltops on both sides of the stream.
+
+Before the echoes had died away, Ouenwa was inside the nearest lodge.
+Kingswell followed, and found him dismantling the couches and walls of
+their valuable furs. He instantly took a hand in the looting. Soon each
+had all he could handle. They carried their burdens from the lodge, and,
+with Tom as a rear-guard, marched back toward the _Pelican_. They had
+rounded the bend of the river, and the two seamen were hurrying to meet
+them, when old Tom Bent suddenly uttered an indignant whoop and leaped
+into the air. His musket flew from his shoulder and clattered against a
+stone. Kingswell and Ouenwa threw down their bundles and sprang to where
+he lay, kicking and spluttering. The feathered shaft of an arrow clung
+to the middle of his left thigh. He was swearing wildly, and vowing
+vengeance on the "heathen varment" who had pinked him.
+
+Harding and Clotworthy fired into the shadows of the wooded hillside,
+and Kingswell hoisted the struggling boatswain to his shoulders and
+continued his advance on the boat. The old sailor begged and implored
+his commander to put him down, assuring him that he was more surprised
+than hurt. But Kingswell turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, and did
+not release him until they were safe beside the _Pelican's_ bows. Just
+then Ouenwa and the sailors came running up with the looted pelts. All
+were puzzled. Why had the hidden enemy fired only one arrow, when they
+might have annihilated the little party with a volley?
+
+That night the _Pelican_ lay at anchor in the mouth of the river. Twice,
+during the long, eerie hours between dark and dawn, the man on duty woke
+his companions; but on both occasions the alarms proved to be false--the
+splashing of a marauding otter near the shore or the flop of a feeding
+trout. Under the pale lights of the morning the valley and the stream
+lay as peaceful and deserted as on the preceding evening. The voyagers
+ate their breakfast aboard. Then, as soon as the sun had cleared the
+light mist from the water, they got up their anchor and rowed up-stream.
+Harding and Clotworthy pulled on the oars. Bent and the commander
+crouched in the bows, with ready muskets, and Ouenwa sat at the tiller.
+The current was strong, and the boat crawled slowly against the twirling
+sinews of water. Little patches of spindrift, from some fall or rapid
+farther up the river, floated past them. The pebbly bottom flashed
+beneath the amber tide. Leaping fish gleamed and splashed on either
+hand, and sent silver circles rippling to the toiling boat. A moist,
+sweet fragrance of foliage and mould and dew filled the air.
+
+Soon the deserted lodges came into view, standing smokeless and pathetic
+between the murmuring river and the brooding trees. Kingswell motioned
+to Ouenwa to head for the low bank in front of the wigwams. They landed
+without incident, and all walked toward the village, with their firearms
+ready and their matches lighted. They explored every lodge and even beat
+the underbrush. The dwellings had been cleared of pelts and weapons and
+cooking utensils evidently during the night. A village of this size must
+have possessed at least six canoes; but not a canoe, nor so much as a
+paddle, could they find.
+
+"All run in canoe," remarked Ouenwa, pointing up-stream.
+
+"What be this?" asked Tom Bent, limping toward Kingswell with an arrow
+and a small square of birch bark in his hand. He had found the bark,
+pinned by the arrow, to the side of one of the wigwams. Kingswell
+examined it intently, and shook his head.
+
+"Pictures," he said. "I suppose it is a letter of some kind, in which
+their wise man tells us what he thinks of us."
+
+Ouenwa took the bark and surveyed the roughly sketched figures, with
+which it was covered, with a scornful twist of his face.
+
+"Wolf," he said, indicating the central figure. "See! Very big!
+Bear"--he touched another point of the missive and then tapped his own
+breast--"see bear! Him no big! Wolf eat bear." He laughed shrilly, and
+shook his head. "No, no," he said. "No, no."
+
+"What be mun jabberin' about?" muttered Tom Bent.
+
+Kingswell explained that the bear stood for Ouenwa's family, and that
+the wolf was the symbol of the people who had killed his grandfather.
+
+The _Pelican_ continued her voyage before noon, and all day skirted an
+austere and broken coast. She crossed the mouths of many wide bays,
+steering for the purple headlands beyond. She rounded many islands and
+braved intricate channels. Toward evening she rounded a bluffer, grimmer
+cape than any of the day's experience, and Kingswell, who had just
+relieved Harding at the tiller, forsook the straight course and headed
+up the bay. Two hours of brisk sailing brought them to a sheltered
+roadstead behind an island and just off a wooded cove. They lowered the
+sail and rowed in close to the beach. They built no fire, and spent the
+night close to the tide, with their muskets and cutlasses beside them,
+and the watch changed every two hours.
+
+Three days later the voyagers happened upon a ship. They ran close in to
+where she lay at anchor, believing her to be English, and did not
+discover their mistake until the little tub of a brig opened fire from a
+brass cannonade. The first shot went wide, and the _Pelican_ lay off
+with a straining sail. The second shot fell short, and that ended the
+encounter, for the Frenchmen were too busy fishing to get up anchor and
+give chase.
+
+Old Tom Bent was quite cast down over the incident. "It be the first
+time," he said, "that I ever seen a Frencher admiral o' a bay in
+Newfoundland. One year I were fishin' in the _Maid o' Bristol_, in Dog's
+Harbour, Conception, an', though we was last to drop anchor, an' the
+only English ship agin six Frenchers and two Spanishers, by Gad, our
+skipper said he were admiral--an', by Gad, so he were."
+
+But the valorous old mariner did not suggest that they put about and
+dispute the admiralty of the little harbour which they had just passed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION
+
+
+In a cave in White Bay the voyagers traded with a party of friendly
+natives. Farther north they found indications of copper, and collected a
+bagful of the mother rock. In late August a sickness prostrated Master
+Kingswell and Clotworthy, and camp was made on the mainland. For three
+weeks the sufferers were unable to lift their heads. They lost flesh
+until they were little more than skin and bone. Ouenwa undertook the
+dual position of physician and nurse. He had some knowledge of the
+science of medicine, as practised by the Beothics, and treated the
+malady with teas of roots and herbs. He also managed to kill a young
+caribou, and fed his patients with broth made from the meat. But it was
+close upon the end of September when the _Pelican_ again took up her
+northward journey.
+
+Kingswell's real reason for this adventurous cruise was the quest of
+gold. Other explorers had seen gold ore in the possession of the
+natives, and he had heard stories of a French sailor having been
+wounded by a gold-barbed arrow. But the precious metal eluded him. Upon
+gaining the farthest cape of the great island, he wanted to cross the
+straits and continue his search along the Labrador coast; but the men
+shook their heads. The boat was too small for the voyage. Their
+provisions were running low. The northern summer was already far spent.
+So Kingswell headed the _Pelican_ southward. After a week of fair winds,
+they were caught in a squall, and the starboard bow of their stout
+little craft was shattered while they were in the act of winning to a
+sheltered anchorage. Everything was salvaged; but it took them three
+days to patch the boat back to a seaworthiness. Even after this
+unlooked-for delay, the young commander persisted in exploring every
+likely looking cave and river mouth that had been neglected on the
+northward trip. The men grumbled sometimes, but it was not in the heart
+of any sailor to deny the wishes of so charming and brave a gentleman as
+Master Kingswell. Ouenwa's long conversations in his partially acquired
+English helped to keep the company in good spirits.
+
+It was November, and nipping weather in that northern bay, when the
+_Pelican_ threaded the islands of Exploits and opened Wigwam Harbour to
+the eager gaze of her company. The harbour was empty! They had not
+sighted a vessel in any of the outer reaches of the bay. The
+drying-stages and fish stores stood deserted above the green tide.
+
+Kingswell turned a bloodless face toward his men. "They have sailed for
+home without us," he said, and swallowed hard. Old Tom Bent gazed
+reflectively about him, and scratched a hoary whisker with a mahogany
+finger. He had grumbled at the chance of this very disaster, but now
+that he was face to face with it the thought of grumbling did not occur
+to him.
+
+"Ay, sir," said he, "the damned rascals has sailed without us--an' we
+are lucky not to be in such dirty company!"
+
+He spat contemptuously over the gunwale. The colour returned to
+Kingswell's cheeks, and a flash of the old humour to his eyes. He smiled
+approvingly on the boatswain. But young Peter Harding, being neither as
+old nor as wise as Bent, nor as cool-headed as Clotworthy, had something
+to say on the subject. He ripped out an oath. Then--"By God," he cried,
+"here's one man who'd rather sail in a ship with what ye calls dirty
+company, Tom Bent, than starve in a damn skiff with--with you all," he
+finished, lamely.
+
+Kingswell and Ouenwa looked at the young seaman with mute indignation
+in their eyes. But Tom Bent laughed softly.
+
+"Ay, Peter, boy," he said, "ye be one o' these fine, lion-hearted
+English mariners what's the pride o' the king an' the terror o' the
+seas. The likes o' ye don't sail shipmates with men, but with the duff
+an' the soup an' the prize-money." His voice shrilled a little. "Ay, if
+it wasn't that I know ye for a better man than ye sound just now, I'd ax
+cap'n's leave to twist the snivellin' nose off the fat face o' ye."
+
+"Tom be right," remarked Clotworthy, with a knowing and well-considered
+wag of his heavy head.
+
+Harding, who had delivered his speech from a commanding position on a
+thwart, sat down very softly, as if anxious not to attract any further
+attention.
+
+"We'll have a look at the old arrow-maker, lads," said Kingswell,
+cheerfully, "and stock up with enough dried venison to carry us south to
+Trinity, or even to Conception. Ships often lie in those bays till the
+snow flies. At the worst we can sail the old _Pelican_ right 'round to
+St. John's, and winter there. I'll wager the governor would be glad
+enough of a few extra fighting men to scare off the French and the
+privateers."
+
+Despite Master Kingswell's brave words, there was no store of dried
+venison to be obtained from the arrow-maker, for both the old
+philosopher's lodge and Black Feather's were gone--gone utterly, and
+only the round, level circles on the sward to show where they had stood.
+What had become of Montaw and his friends could only be surmised.
+Ouenwa's opinion that the enemies of Soft Hand were responsible for
+their disappearance was shared by the Englishman. All agreed that
+immediate flight was safer than a further investigation of the mystery.
+So the storm-beaten, wave-weary _Pelican_ turned seaward again.
+
+Two days later, toward nightfall, and after having sailed far up an arm
+of the sea and into the mouth of a great river, in fruitless search of
+some belated fishing-ship, the adventurers were startled and cheered by
+the sound of a musket-shot. It came from inland, from up the shadowy
+river. It was muffled by distance. It clapped dully on their eager ears
+like the slamming of a wooden door. But every lonely heart of them knew
+it for the voice of the black powder. They drifted back a little and lay
+at anchor all night, just off the mouth of the river. With the dark came
+the cruel frost. But they crawled beneath their freight of furs and
+slept. They were astir with the first gray lights, and before sunrise
+were pulling cautiously up the middle of the channel. White frost
+sparkled on thwart and gunwale. Dark, mist-wrapped forests of spruce and
+fir and red pine came down to the water on both sides. Here and there a
+fang of black rock, noisy with roosting gulls, jutted above the dark
+current. A jay screamed in the woods. A belated snipe skimmed across
+their bows. An eagle eyed them from the crown of an ancient pine, and
+swooped down and away.
+
+They must have ascended the stream a matter of two miles--and hard
+pulling it was--when Ouenwa's sharp eyes detected the haze of wood smoke
+beyond a wooded bend.
+
+"Cooking-fire there!" he exclaimed. "Maybe get something to eat? Maybe
+get killed?"
+
+He spoke cheerfully, as if neither prospect was devoid of charm.
+
+"We'll risk it," remarked Kingswell, quietly. "Put your weight into the
+stroke, lads--and, Tom, keep your match handy."
+
+At last the bend was rounded, and the rowers turned on the thwarts and
+peered over their shoulders, and Kingswell uttered a low cry of delight.
+Close ahead of them the right-hand bank lay level and open, and along
+its edge were beached three skiffs. About twenty yards back stood a
+little settlement of log cabins enclosed by palisades. From the
+chimneys of the cabins plumes of comfortable smoke rose to the clearer
+azure above. In front of this civilized spot, in mid-stream, a small
+high-pooped vessel lay moored. Her masts and spars were gone. She swung
+like a dead body in the brown current.
+
+Tom Bent swore softly and with grave deliberation. "Damn my eyes," he
+murmured. "Ay, sir, dash my old figger-head, if there don't lay a
+reggler, complete plantation! Blast my eyes!"
+
+"A tidy, Christian appearin' place," remarked Clotworthy, joyously. "An'
+real chimleys, too! Well, that do look homely, for certain."
+
+At that moment three men, armed with muskets, ran from the gateway of
+the enclosure and stood uncertain half-way between the palisade and the
+river. Kingswell hailed them, standing in the bluff bows of the little
+_Pelican_. He stated the nationality, the names, and degrees of himself
+and the other of the little company, and the manner of their misfortune,
+even while the boat was covering the short distance to the shore.
+
+The settlers laid aside their weapons, and received Master Kingswell and
+his men with every show of cordiality and good faith. They were
+strapping fellows, with weather-tanned faces, broad foreheads, steady
+eyes, and herculean shoulders. They doffed their skin caps to the
+gentleman adventurer.
+
+"Ye be our first visitors, sir, since we come ashore here two year and
+two months ago come to-morrow," said one of the three. "Yes, it be just
+two year and two months ago, come to-morrow, that we dropped anchor off
+the mouth of this river," he added, turning to his companions. They
+agreed silently. Their eyes and attention were fully absorbed by Master
+Kingswell's imposing, though sadly stained, yellow boots and gold-laced
+coat. Another settler joined the group, and welcomed the voyagers with
+sheepish grins. A fifth, arrayed in finery and a sword, approached and
+halted near by.
+
+"These," said the spokesman, "be Donnellys--father and son." With a
+casual tip of the thumb, he indicated two rugged members of the company.
+He turned to a handsome young giant beside him and smote him
+affectionately on the shoulder. "This here be my boy John--John
+Trigget," he said, "an' that gentleman be Captain Pierre d'Antons." He
+bowed, with ungracious deference, to the dark, lean, fashionably dressed
+individual who stood a few paces away. "An' my name be William Trigget,
+master mariner," he concluded.
+
+Kingswell bowed low for the second time, and again shook hands with the
+elder Trigget. Then he stepped over to D'Antons and murmured a few
+courteous words in so low a voice that his men caught nothing of them.
+Each gentleman laid his left hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. Each
+bowed, laced hat in hand, until his long hair fell forward about his
+face. D'Antons' locks were raven-black, and straight as a horse's mane.
+Young Kingswell's were bright as pale gold, and soft as a woman's. Both
+were of goodly proportions and gallant bearing, though the Frenchman was
+the taller and thinner of the two.
+
+D'Antons slipped his arm within Kingswell's, and, motioning to the
+others to follow, started toward the stockade. William Trigget
+immediately strode forward and walked on Master Kingswell's other hand,
+as if determined to assert his rights as a leader of the mixed company.
+Ouenwa and the seamen of the _Pelican_, and the Donnellys and young
+Trigget, followed close on the heels of their superiors.
+
+"And who may ye be, lad?" inquired John Trigget of Ouenwa, as they
+crossed the level of frost-seared grass.
+
+"I am Ouenwa," replied the boy, frankly, "and Master Kingswell is my
+strong friend and protector. My grandsire was Soft Hand, the head chief
+of this country. His enemies--barking foxes who name themselves
+wolves--pulled him down in the night-time."
+
+The big settler nodded, and the others uttered ejaculations of pity and
+interest. The story was not news to them, however.
+
+"Ay," said John Trigget, "Soft Hand were pulled down in the night, sure
+enough. The Injuns run fair crazy, what with murderin' each other an'
+burnin' each other's camps. I was huntin', two days to the north, when
+the trouble began. I come home without stoppin' to make any objections,
+an' the skipper kep' our gates shut for a whole week. They rebels was
+for wipin' out everybody; an' they captured two French ships, an' did
+for the crews. They be moved away inlan' now, thank God. We be safe till
+spring, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"There be worse folks nor they tormentin' Injuns around these here
+soundin's, an' ye can take my word for that," growled the elder
+Donnelly, in guarded tones.
+
+"Belay that," whispered John Trigget. "The devil can cook his stew
+plenty quick enough. Us won't bear a hand till the pot boils over."
+
+Captain d'Antons glanced back at the talkers. His black eyes gleamed
+suspiciously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX
+
+
+Inside the stockade, posted unevenly around three sides of a foot-worn
+square, were five buildings of rough logs. From a platform in the
+southeast corner two small cannon presented their muzzles to the river.
+At the back of this platform, on the southern side of the square, stood
+the Donnelly cabin. It was stoutly built, and measured fifteen paces
+across the front. Against the western palisade the Trigget cabin and
+Captain d'Antons' habitation faced the square. On the north side stood a
+fourth dwelling and a small storehouse. In the centre of the yard
+bubbled a spring of clear water under a rustic shed. A tiny brook
+sparkled away from it, under the stockade and down to the river. The
+well was flanked on both sides by a couple of slim birches, now leafless
+under the white November sun.
+
+The visitors were led to the Triggets' cabin, and Skipper Trigget's wife
+and daughter--both big, comely women--fed them with the best in the
+little plantation. After breakfast, Kingswell and Ouenwa were taken to
+D'Antons' quarters. The Frenchman was the spirit of hospitality, and
+took blankets and sheets from his own bed to dress their couches. Also
+he produced a flask of priceless brandy, from which he and Kingswell
+pledged a couple of glasses to the Goddess of Chance. The toast was
+D'Antons' suggestion.
+
+Presently D'Antons excused himself, saying that he had a matter of
+business to attend to, and left his guests to their own devices. The
+house was divided into two apartments by curtains of caribou hides,
+which were hung from one of the low crossbeams of the ceiling. At the
+end of each room a fire burned on a roughly built hearth. Two small
+windows of clouded glass partially lit the sombre interior. Books in
+English, French, and Spanish, a packet of papers, ink and quills, and a
+neatly executed drawing of a pinnace under sail lay on a table near one
+of the windows. Antlers of stags, decorated quivers and bows, painted
+hides, and glossy skins adorned the rough walls. Above the hearth in the
+room in which Kingswell and his young companion sat, hung a musket with
+a silver inlaid stock, a carved powder-horn, and several knives and
+daggers in beaded sheaths. On the floor lay two great, pink-lipped West
+Indian shells. A steel head-piece, a breastplate of the same sure metal,
+and a heavy sword with a basket hilt hung above D'Antons' bed.
+
+Kingswell looked over the books on the table. He found that one of them
+was a manual of arms, written in the Spanish language; another a work of
+navigation, by a Frenchman; a third a weighty thesis on the science and
+practice of surgery; and the fourth was a volume as well-loved as
+familiar,--Master William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." He took up
+this last, and, seating himself with his shoulder to the window, was
+soon far away from the failures and daily perils of the wilderness. The
+greedy, hard-bitted materialist Present, with its quests of "fish," and
+fur, and gold, was replaced by the magic All-Time of the playwright
+poet.
+
+Ouenwa wandered about the room, prying into every nook and corner, and
+examining the shells, the arms, and the decorations. He even knelt on
+the hearthstone, and, at the risk of setting fire to his hair, tried to
+solve the mystery of the chimney--for a fire indoor unaccompanied by a
+lodgeful of smoke was a new thing in his experience. He looked
+frequently at Kingswell, in the hope of finding him open to questions,
+but was always disappointed. At last the thought occurred to him that
+it would be a fine thing to get hold of the great sword above the bed,
+and make cut, lunge, and parry with it as Kingswell had shown him how to
+do on several occasions. So he climbed on to the bed, and, in trying to
+clear the sword from its peg, knocked the steel cap ringing to the
+floor. Kingswell sprang from his stool, with his arm across his body and
+his hand on his sword-hilt, and Master Shakespeare's immortal drama
+sprawled at his feet. "Oh, that's all, is it?" he exclaimed, in tones of
+relief. "But you must not handle other people's goods, lad," he added,
+kindly, "especially a gentleman's arms and armour."
+
+Ouenwa flushed and apologized, and was about to step from D'Antons'
+couch to recover the head-piece, when D'Antons himself entered the
+cabin. Kingswell turned to him and explained the accident.
+
+"My young friend is very sorry," he said, "and would beg your pardon if
+he felt less embarrassed. However, captain, I beg it for him. I was so
+intent on the affairs of Romeo that I was not watching him. He is
+naturally of an investigating turn of mind."
+
+The Frenchman waved a slim hand and flashed his white teeth. "It is
+nothing, nothing," he cried. "I beg you not to mention it again, or
+give it another thought. The old pot has sustained many a shrewder whack
+than a tumble on the floor. Ah, it has turned blades of Damascus before
+now! But enough of this triviality! I have returned to request you to
+come with me to our governor. Neither Trigget nor I have mentioned him
+to you, as he is not desirous of meeting strangers. But he will make his
+own apologies, Master Kingswell."
+
+He stood aside, for Kingswell and Ouenwa to pass out before him.
+Kingswell went first. As Ouenwa crossed the threshold, D'Antons nipped
+him sharply by the arm, and hissed, "Dog! Cur!" in a voice so low, so
+sinister, that the boy gasped. But in a breath the Frenchman was his
+affable self again, and the Beothic, with the invectives still burning
+his ears, almost believed that he had been the victim of some evil
+magic. Kingswell caught nothing of the incident.
+
+Ouenwa was requested to wait outside. Master Kingswell was ushered into
+the governor's cabin, and D'Antons closed the door behind him. The young
+Englishman found himself in a dimly lit apartment very similar to that
+which he had just left. He hesitated, a step inside the threshold, and
+narrowed his lids in an effort to see more clearly. The Frenchman paused
+at his elbow. Two figures advanced from the farther side of the room.
+He ventured another step, and bowed with all the grace at his command,
+for one of the figures was that of a young woman in flashing raiment.
+The other was of a slim, foppishly dressed man of a little past middle
+age, with a worn face that somehow retained its air of youthfulness
+despite its haggard lines and faded skin.
+
+"Welcome to our humble retreat, Master Kingswell," said the gentleman,
+extending his hand and laughing softly. "This is indeed an unlooked-for
+pleasure. We last met, I believe, at Randon Hall--or was it at Beverly?"
+
+"Sir Ralph Westleigh!" exclaimed Kingswell, in a voice of ill-concealed
+consternation and surprise. For a moment he stood in an attitude of
+half-recoil. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the other with wide
+eyes. Then he caught the waiting hand in a firm grip.
+
+"Thank you, Sir Ralph. Yes, it was at Beverly that we last met," he
+said, evenly. He turned to the girl, who stood beside her father with
+downcast eyes and flaming cheeks and throat. The baronet hastened to
+make her known to the visitor.
+
+"My daughter Beatrix," he said. "A good girl, who willingly and
+cheerfully shares her worthless father's exile."
+
+Mistress Westleigh extended a firm and shapely hand, and Kingswell,
+bending low above it, intoxicated by the sudden presence of beauty and a
+flood of homesick memories, pressed his lips to the slim fingers with a
+warmth that startled the lady and brought a flash of anger to D'Antons'
+eyes. He recovered himself in an instant. "To see you in this
+wilderness--amid these bleak surroundings!" he exclaimed, scarcely above
+a whisper. "I cannot realize it, Mistress Beatrix! And once we played at
+racquets together in the court at Beverly."
+
+The girl smiled at him, with a gleam of understanding in her dark,
+parti-coloured eyes.
+
+"I remember," she said. "You have not changed greatly, save in size."
+And at that she laughed, with a note of embarrassment.
+
+"But you have," replied Kingswell. "You were not very beautiful as a
+little girl. To me you looked much the same as my own sisters."
+
+For a second, or less, the maiden's eyes met his with merriment and
+questioning in their depths. Then they were lowered. Sir Ralph moved
+uneasily.
+
+"Come, come," he said, "we must not stand here all day, like geese on a
+village green. There are seats by the fire." He led the way. "Captain,
+if you are not busy I hope you'll stay and hear some of Master
+Kingswell's adventures," he added, turning to D'Antons.
+
+"With pleasure," answered the captain.
+
+"One moment, sir," said Kingswell to Sir Ralph Westleigh. "I have a
+young friend--a sort of ward--whom I left outside. I'll tell him to run
+over to the men and amuse himself with them."
+
+As he opened the door and spoke a few kind words to Ouenwa, there was a
+sneer on D'Antons' lips that did not escape Mistress Beatrix Westleigh.
+It irritated her beyond measure, and she had all she could do to
+restrain herself from slapping him--for hot blood and a fighting spirit
+dwelt in that fair body. She wondered how she had once considered him
+attractive. She blushed crimson at the thought.
+
+Kingswell returned and seated himself on a stool between the governor of
+the little colony and the maiden. First of all, he told them who Ouenwa
+was, and of the time the lad saved him from injury by flooring old
+Trowley with his canoe paddle. Then he briefly sketched the voyage of
+the _Pelican_, and told something of his interests in the fishing fleet
+and in the new land.
+
+"And you found no indications of gold?" queried D'Antons.
+
+"None," replied the voyager, "but some splendid copper ore in great
+quantities, and one mine of 'fool's gold.'"
+
+The baronet nodded, with one of his wan smiles. "There are other kinds
+of fool's gold than these iron pyrites, I believe," he said, "and one
+finds it nearer home than in this God-forsaken--ah--in this wild
+country."
+
+The others understood the reference, and even the polished Frenchman
+looked into the fire and had nothing to say. Kingswell studied the
+water-bleached toes of his boots, and Beatrix glanced piteously at her
+father. For Sir Ralph Westleigh's life had known much of fool's gold,
+and much of many another folly, and something of that to which his
+acquaintances in Somerset--and, for that matter, in all England--gave a
+stronger and less lenient name. The baronet had lived hard; but his
+story comes later.
+
+"I knew nothing of this plantation of yours," said Kingswell, presently.
+"I did not know, even, that you were interested in colonization--and yet
+you have been here a matter of two years, so Trigget tells me."
+
+"Yes, and likely to die here--unless I am unearthed," replied Sir Ralph,
+bitterly, and with a meaning glance at Kingswell. "I put entire faith in
+my friends," he added. "And they are all in this little fort on Gray
+Goose River. My undoing lies in their hands."
+
+"Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, uneasily but stoutly, "I hope your trust
+has been extended to me,--yes, and to my men. Your wishes in any matter
+of--of silence or the like--are our orders. My fellows are true as
+steel. My friends are theirs. The young Beothic would risk his life for
+you at a word from me."
+
+The baronet was visibly affected by this speech. He laid a hand on the
+young man's knee and peered into his face.
+
+"Then you are a friend--out and out?" he inquired.
+
+"To the death," said the other, huskily.
+
+"And you have heard? Of course you have heard!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is not for me to say 'God bless you' to any man," said Sir Ralph,
+"but it's good of you. I feel your kindness more deeply than I can say.
+I have forgotten my old trick of making pretty speeches."
+
+Kingswell blushed uncomfortably and wished that D'Antons, with his
+polite, superior, inscrutable smile, was a thousand miles out of sight
+of his embarrassment. The girl leaned toward him. But she did not look
+at him. "God bless you--my fellow countryman," she whispered, in a voice
+so low that he alone caught the words. He had no answer to make to that
+unexpected reward. For a little they maintained a painful silence. It
+was broken by the Frenchman.
+
+"You understand, Master Kingswell, that, for certain reasons, it is
+advisable that the place of Sir Ralph Westleigh's retreat be kept from
+the knowledge of every one save ourselves," he said, slowly and easily.
+
+"I understand," replied Kingswell, shortly. Captain d'Antons jarred on
+him, despite all his faultless and affable manners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER
+
+
+About mid-afternoon of the day of Kingswell's advent into the settlement
+on Gray Goose River--Fort Beatrix it was called--the sky clouded, the
+voice of the river thinned and saddened, and snow began to fall. By
+Trigget's advice--and Trigget seemed to be the working head of the
+plantation--the pelts and gear of the _Pelican_ were removed to the
+storehouse.
+
+"Ye must winter in Newfoundland, sir, however the idea affects your
+plans, for no more ships will be sailing home this season; and ye
+couldn't make it in your bully," said the hospitable skipper.
+
+"We might work 'round to St. John's," replied Kingswell.
+
+Trigget shook his head. "This be the safer place o' the two," he
+answered, "and your Honour's company here will help keep Sir Ralph out
+o' his black moods. He wants ye to stay, I know. There'll be work and to
+spare for your men, what with cuttin' fuel, and huntin' game, and
+boat-buildin'."
+
+So Kingswell decided that, if this should prove the real setting-in of
+winter, and if no objections were raised by any of the pioneers, he
+would share the colony's fortunes until the following spring. D'Antons
+expressed himself as charmed with the decision; but, for all that,
+Kingswell saw, by deeper and finer signs than most people would credit
+him with the ability to read, that his presence was really far from
+agreeable to the French adventurer.
+
+When night closed about the little settlement, the snow was still
+falling, and ground and roofs shone with bleak radiance through the veil
+of darkness. The flakes of the storm were small and dry, and unstirred
+by any wind. They wove a curtain of silence over the unprotesting
+wilderness.
+
+Kingswell and Ouenwa supped with the Westleighs. But before the meal,
+and before Mistress Beatrix appeared from her little chamber, the two
+gentlemen had an hour of private conversation.
+
+"This Captain d'Antons--what of him?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"He is none of our choosing," replied the baronet. "Several years ago,
+before I had quite given up the old life and the old show, I met him in
+London. He was reported rich. He had sailed many voyages to the West
+Indies, and talked of lands granted to him in New France. I had sold
+Beverly, and Beatrix was with me in town. She was little more than a
+child, but her looks attracted a deal of attention. She had nothing
+else, as all the town knew, with her father a ruined gamester, and her
+dead mother's property gone, with Randon Hall and Beverly! Dear God, but
+here was a dower for a beautiful lass! Well, the poets made a song or
+two, and three old men were for paying titles and places for her little
+hand--and then the end came. We won back to Somerset, spur and whip,
+lashed along by fear. We hid about, in this cottage and that, while my
+trusted friend Trigget provisioned his little craft and got together all
+the folk whom you see here, save D'Antons. After a rough and tiring
+voyage of three weeks' duration, and just when we were looking out for
+land, we were met by a French frigate, and forced to haul our wind. A
+boat-load of armed men left the pirate--yes, that's what she was, a damn
+pirate--and there was Captain d'Antons seated in the stern-sheets of
+her, beside the mate. He had not been as long at sea as we had, and he
+knew all about my trouble, curse him! He left the frigate, which he said
+was bound on a peaceful voyage of discovery to the West Indies, and
+joined our expedition. I could not forbid it. I was at his mercy, with
+his cutthroats alongside and the gallows at the back of it. He has hung
+to us ever since; and he has acted civil enough, damn him. If he'd show
+his hoof now and again, I'd like it better--for then we would all be on
+our guard."
+
+"But why does he stay? Why does he live in this place when he might be
+reaping the harvests common to such husbandmen?" inquired Kingswell.
+"Has he a stake in the colony?"
+
+The baronet gazed reflectively at the young man. "The fellow has kept my
+secret, and shared our rough lot and dreary exile, and even expended
+some money on provisions," he replied, deliberately, "for no other
+reason than that he is in love with my daughter."
+
+"He! A buccaneer!" exclaimed Kingswell, warmly.
+
+"Even so," answered the baronet. "There, on the high seas, when he had
+us all in his clutch, when he might have seized by force that for which
+he now sues, he accepted my word of honour--mark you, he accepted what I
+had scarce the face to offer--that I would not withstand his suit, nor
+allow my men to do him any treasonable hurt so long as he kept my
+hiding-place secret and behaved like a gentleman."
+
+"And Mistress Beatrix?" asked the young man, softly.
+
+"Ah, who can say?" responded the broken baronet. "At one time I feared
+that he was appearing as a hero to her. But I do not know. He played his
+game cleverly at first, but now he is losing patience. I would to God
+that he would lose it altogether. Then the compact would be broken. But
+no, he is cautious. He knows that, at a word from the girl, my sword
+would be out. Then things would go hard with him, even though he should
+kill me, for my men hate him."
+
+"Why not pick a quarrel with him?" asked the headstrong Kingswell.
+
+"You do not understand--you cannot understand--how delicate a thing to
+keep is the word of honour of a man who is branded as being without
+honour," replied the other, sadly.
+
+"And should Mistress Beatrix flout him," said Kingswell, "he would find
+his revenge in reporting your whereabouts to the garrison at St.
+John's."
+
+"He is well watched," said Sir Ralph, "and this is not an easy place to
+escape from, even in summer. We are hidden, up here, and not so much as
+a fishing-ship has sighted us in the two years."
+
+"I'll wager that he'd find a way past your vigilance if he set his mind
+to it," retorted Kingswell. "Gad, but it maddens me to think of being
+billeted under the roof of such an aspiring rogue! Rip me, but it's a
+monstrous sin that a lady should be plagued, and a whole body of
+Englishmen menaced, by a buccaneering adventurer."
+
+"My boy," replied Sir Ralph, wearily, "you must curb your indignation,
+even as the rest of us do. Discretion is the card to play just now. I
+have been holding the game with it for over two years. Who knows but
+that Time may shuffle the pack before long?"
+
+Just then Mistress Beatrix joined them. She wore one of the gay
+gowns--in truth somewhat enlarged and remodelled--by which her girlish
+beauty had been abetted and set off in England. There seemed a
+brightness and shimmer all about her. The coils of her dark hair were
+bright. The changing eyes were bright. The lips, the round neck and
+dainty throat, the buckled shoes, and even the material of bodice and
+skirt were radiant in the gloom and firelight of that rough chamber. To
+all appearances, her mood was as bright as her beauty. Sir Ralph watched
+her with adoring eyes, realizing her bravery. Kingswell joined in her
+gay chatter, and found it easy to be merry. Ouenwa, silent on the corner
+of the bench by the hearth, gazed at this vision of loveliness with
+wide eyes. He could realize, without effort, that Sir Ralph and D'Antons
+and even his glorious Kingswell were men, even as Tom Bent, and the
+Triggets, and Black Feather were, but that Mistress Beatrix was a
+woman--a woman, as were William Trigget's wife and daughter, and Black
+Feather's squaw--no, he could not believe it! He was even surprised to
+note a resemblance to other females in the number of her hands and feet.
+She had, most assuredly, two hands and two feet. Also she had one head.
+But how different in quality, though similar in number, were the members
+of this flashing young divinity.
+
+"I left Montaw's lodge to behold the wonders of the world," mused the
+dazzled child of the wilderness, "and already, without crossing the
+great salt water, I have found the surpassing wonder. Can it be that any
+more such beings exist? Has even Master Kingswell ever before looked
+upon such beauty and such raiment?"
+
+His spellbound gaze was met by the eyes of the enchantress. To his
+amazement, the lady moved from her father's side and seated herself on
+the bench.
+
+"You are so quiet," she said, "that I did not notice you before. So you
+are Master Kingswell's ward?"
+
+Her voice was very kind and cheerful, and her silks brushed the lad's
+hand. He looked at the finery uneasily, but did not answer her question.
+
+"You told us he knew English," she said to Kingswell.
+
+"He does," replied the young man. Then, to the boy: "Ouenwa, Mistress
+Westleigh wants to know if you are my friend."
+
+"Yes," said the lad. "Good friend."
+
+"And my friend, too?" asked the girl.
+
+"Yes," replied Ouenwa. "You look so--so--like he called the sky one
+morning." He pointed at Master Kingswell.
+
+"What was that?" she queried.
+
+"What morning?" asked Kingswell, leaning forward and smiling.
+
+"Five mornings ago, chief," replied Ouenwa.
+
+Kingswell laughed. "You are right, lad," he said.
+
+"But tell me what you called the sky, sir. Really, this is very
+provoking. No doubt the boy thinks I look a fright," said Miss
+Westleigh.
+
+"Beatrix," interrupted Sir Ralph, "surely I see Kate with the candles."
+
+The girl could not deny it, for the table was spread in the same
+room,--a rough, square table with a damask cloth, and laid out with a
+fair show of silver, decanters, and a great venison pasty, which had
+been cooked in the Triggets' kitchen across the yard.
+
+The meal was a delightful one to Kingswell. He had not eaten off china
+dishes for many months. The food, though plain, was well cooked and well
+served. The wines were as nectar to his eager palate. And over it all
+was the magic of Mistress Westleigh's presence--potent magic enough to a
+young gentleman who had almost forgotten the looks and ways of the women
+of his own kind. Ouenwa sat as one in a dream, fairly stupefied by the
+gleam of silver and linen under the soft light of the candles. He ate
+painfully and slowly, imitating Kingswell. He looked often at the
+vivacious hostess. Suddenly he exclaimed: "I remember. Yes, it was
+lovely beautiful, what the chief said!" Kingswell laughed delightedly,
+and the baronet joined, with reserve, in the mirth. The girl looked
+puzzled for a moment,--then confused,--then, with a little,
+indescribable cry of merriment, she patted Ouenwa's shoulder.
+
+"Charming lad!" she exclaimed. "I have not received so pretty a
+compliment for, oh, ever so long." She looked across the table at
+Kingswell, feeling his gaze upon her. His eyes were very grave, and
+darkened with thought, though his lips were still smiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MEDITATION AND ACTION
+
+
+For hours after retiring Kingswell lay awake, reviewing, in his restless
+brain, the incidents of that crowded day. His couch was luxurious,
+compared to the resting-places he had known since leaving the _Heart of
+the West_; but, for all that, sleep evaded him. From the other side of
+the hearth Ouenwa's deep and regular breathing reached his alert ears.
+He saw the yellow light blink to darkness above the curtain of skins,
+when D'Antons extinguished his candle in the other apartment. The red
+firelight rose and fell, dwindled and flooded high. The core of it
+contracted and expanded, and a straight log across the middle of the
+glow was like a heavy eyelid. It was like something alive--like
+something stirring between sleeping and waking, desiring sleep, yet
+afraid to forsake a vigil. To the restless explorer beside the hearth it
+suggested a drowsy servitor nodding and starting in a deserted hall.
+"What is it waiting for?" he wondered, and smiled at the conceit. "What
+does it fear? Mayhap the master and mistress are late at a rout, and are
+people without consideration for the feelings of their servants."
+
+From such harmless imagery his mind slipped to the less pleasant subject
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh. He recalled what he had seen and heard of the
+days of the baronet's glory--of the great places near Bristol, with
+their stables that were the envy of dukes, and their routs that lured
+people weary and dangerous journeys--of the famous Lady Westleigh and
+her jewels--of Sir Ralph's kindliness to great and small alike. His own
+father, the merchant-knight of Bristol, had held the baronet in high
+esteem. Bernard himself, when a child, and later when a well-grown lad,
+had experienced the hospitality of Randon Hall and Beverly. At the time
+of his last visit to Beverly, rumour was busy with the baronet's
+affairs. During Lady Westleigh's life, all had gone well, apparently.
+After her death, Sir Ralph spent less of his time at home, and more of
+it in distant London, and even in Paris. Stories went abroad of his
+heavy gaming and his ruinous bad luck. People said the love of the dice
+and the cards had settled in the man like a disease, working on him
+physically to such an extent that he looked a different person when the
+heat of the play was on him. Also it played the devil with him
+morally--and perhaps mentally. So things took the turn and started
+down-hill. Then the run was short and mad, despite warnings of friends,
+threats of relatives, and the baronet's own numerous clever checks and
+parries to avoid disaster. There was a season of hope after the sale of
+Randon. But the lurid clouds gathered again. Then Beverly was
+impoverished to the last oak and the last horse in the stud. The baronet
+took his daughter to town, and, by a turn of luck, put in a few merry
+months. Then a certain Scotch viscount caught him playing as no
+gentleman, no matter how dissolute, is supposed to play. The Scotchman
+made a clamour, and was killed for his trouble. That was the last known
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh and his daughter by any one of the outside world
+until the _Pelican_ landed her voyagers before the stockade of Fort
+Beatrix on Gray Goose River.
+
+All these matters employed Kingswell's thoughts as he lay awake in
+Captain d'Antons' cabin and watched the fire on the rough hearth fall
+lower and lower. Pity for the young girl, who had been born and bred to
+such a different heritage, pained and fretted him more keenly than a
+personal loss. The discomfort of it was almost as if his conscience were
+accusing him of disloyalty to a friend, though that was absurd, as
+neither he nor his had helped Westleigh in his descent, nor cried out
+against him when he met disaster at the bottom. But he had never, during
+those two years after their disappearance, given them more than a
+passing thought--and they had been friends and neighbours. He had
+experienced no pity for the young and beautiful girl with whom he had
+played in the racquet court at Beverly. Like the great world of which he
+was so insignificant a part, he had forgotten. Two lives, more or less,
+were of no consequence in such stirring times. He groaned, as if the
+realization of a great sin had come to him. Then, to the anger against
+himself was added anger against the world that had dragged Sir Ralph
+into this oblivion of dishonour, and the innocent girl into exile. What
+had she done to be driven beyond the bounds of civilization, her safety
+dependent on the whims of a French buccaneer? Ah, there was the raw
+spot, sure enough! In the little space of time between two risings of
+the sun, Kingswell had met a man and marked him for an enemy. Nursing a
+bitter, though somewhat muddled, resentment, he at last fell asleep,
+guarded from storm and frost by the roof of the very man who had
+inspired his anger.
+
+For the next few days matters went smoothly at Fort Beatrix. It was
+evident to even the least experienced of the settlers that the winter
+had come to stay. The snow lay deep and dry over the frozen earth. The
+river was already hidden under a skin of gleaming ice, made opaque by
+the snow that had mingled with the water while it was freezing. The
+little settlement took up the routine of the dreary months. Axes were
+sharpened at the great stone in the well-house. The men donned moccasins
+of deerskin. They tied ingenious racquets, or snow-shoes, to their feet
+and tramped into the sombre forests. All day the thud, thud of the axes
+jarred across the air, interrupted ever and anon by the rending,
+splitting lament of some falling tree.
+
+Kingswell put his men under William Trigget's orders, and he and Ouenwa
+spent much of their time with the choppers. Also, they journeyed with
+the trappers. Captain d'Antons, who was a skilled and tireless woodsman,
+led them on many weary marches in quest of game and fur. Most of the
+caribou had travelled southward, in herds of from ten to one hundred
+head, at the approach of winter; but a few remained in the sheltered
+valleys. Fortunately the settlers were familiar with the habits of the
+deer, and had laid in a supply of dried venison during the summer.
+However, whenever the hunters managed to make a kill, the fresh meat
+was enthusiastically received at the fort. Hares and grouse were snared,
+as were foxes and other small animals. A few wolves and one or two
+wildcats were shot. The bears were all tucked safely away in their
+winter quarters, and the beavers were frozen into theirs. On the whole,
+the hunters had a hard time of it, and no great reward for their toil.
+But it was work that kept both their brains and sinews employed, and so
+was of a deal more worth than the bare value of the pelts and dinners it
+supplied.
+
+One day in early December, when Kingswell, D'Antons, the younger
+Donnelly, and Ouenwa were traversing a drifted expanse of "barren,"
+marching in single file and without undue noise, they came upon another
+trail of racquet prints. They halted. They regarded this unexpected
+evidence of the proximity of their fellow man with misgivings--for snow
+had fallen in abundance, and therefore the trail was new. They glanced
+uneasily about them, scanning clumps of spruce and fir and mounds of
+snow-drifted rock with anxious eyes. They strained their ears for some
+warning sound--or for the twanging of bowstrings. They saw nothing. They
+heard nothing but the disconsolate chirping of a moose-bird in a
+thicket close at hand. D'Antons lowered his gaze to the trail.
+
+"From the westward, and heading for the river," he said. "Then they are
+not from the village on Gander Lake."
+
+"Big number," remarked Ouenwa. "Ten, twenty, thirty--don't know how
+much! Whole camp, I think."
+
+"Ay," agreed Donnelly, "they sure has packed clear down through two
+falls o' snow. Ye could trot a pony along the pat' they has made."
+
+"Are you on friendly terms with the savages?" inquired Kingswell of
+Captain d'Antons. The Frenchman smiled uncheerfully and shrugged his
+lean shoulders. He was not one to speak unconsidered words.
+
+"Yes, we are on friendly terms with the people from Gander Lake," he
+replied, presently. "That is, we have traded with them a number of
+times, and have exchanged gifts with their chief, and through him with
+old Soft Hand. But Soft Hand is dead now; and these fellows are
+evidently from the West. Also, friendship means nothing where these
+vermin are concerned. Treachery is as the breath of life to them."
+
+"Panounia," whispered Ouenwa, excitedly. "Panounia no good for friend.
+He is a murderer. He is a false chief. He make trade--yes, with
+war-arrows from the bushes and with knives in the dark. In friendship
+his hand is under his robe, and his fingers are on the hilt of his
+knife. Evil warms itself at his heart like an old witch at a fire."
+
+D'Antons smiled thinly at the lad. "There is a time for all things," he
+said--"a time for oratory and another time for action. If you are
+willing, Master Kingswell, let us now retrace our steps as swiftly and
+quietly as may be. It would be wise to warn the fort that a band of the
+sly devils is abroad."
+
+Ouenwa glanced uncertainly at the speaker and flushed darkly. Kingswell
+intimated his willingness to return immediately to Fort Beatrix by a
+curt nod. It was in his heart to administer a kick to Captain Pierre
+d'Antons, though just why the desire he could not say. They turned in
+their tracks and started back along the twisting, seven-mile trail.
+D'Antons led; and the pace he set was a stiff one. Mile after mile was
+passed, with no other sound save those of padding racquet and toiling
+breath. In the hollows their shoulders brushed the snow from the
+crowding spruce-fronds. Going over the knolls, they crouched low, and
+scanned the horizon with alert eyes as they ran.
+
+At last, all but breathless from the prolonged exertion, the hunters
+turned aside from the path and ascended the gradual, heavily wooded side
+of a hill which overlooked the fort from the south. They crossed the
+naked summit with painful caution, bending double, and taking every
+advantage of the sheltering thickets.
+
+"The choppers are inside," whispered D'Antons to Kingswell, as they
+peered furtively out between the snow-weighted branches. "See! And the
+savages are in cover along the river." It was quite evident to Kingswell
+that the place had been attacked, and was now in a state of siege. The
+platform in the southeast corner of the stockade was protected by
+shields composed of bundles of firewood. Men whom he recognized as those
+who had been working in the woods earlier in the day moved about within
+the enclosure. The wide, snow-covered clearing that had been so spotless
+when he had last seen it was trampled and stained here and there by dark
+patches. Along the fringe of timber that shut the river from the
+clearing, and extended to within a dozen paces of the southeast corner
+of the stockade, a Beothic warrior would frequently show himself for a
+moment, hoot derisively, and let fly a harmless shaft. Presently the
+watchers on the knoll saw the head and shoulders of William Trigget
+above the shield of the gun-platform. The master mariner shaded his eyes
+with his hand and seemed to be scanning the woods along the river and
+then the timber in which his own comrades were concealed. He lowered his
+hand and ducked quickly--and not a second too soon; for a flight of
+arrows rattled against his stronghold, a few stuck, quivering, into the
+pickets of the stockade, and many fell within the fort.
+
+Kingswell turned to D'Antons. "More of them than we thought," he said.
+"There must have been a hundred arrows in that volley."
+
+Captain d'Antons nodded with a preoccupied air. He did not look at his
+companion, and his brow was puckered in lines of thought. If the
+Englishman had been able to read the other's mind at that moment, a deal
+of future trouble would have been spared him. However, as Kingswell was
+but an adventurous, keen-witted young man, with no superhuman powers, he
+was content with the Frenchman's nod, and returned his attentions to the
+fort.
+
+Suddenly, from the screen of faggots above which Trigget had so lately
+exposed his head, burst a flash of yellow flame, a spurt of white smoke,
+and a clapping bulk of sound. The stockade shook. A spruce-tree shook in
+the wood by the river, and cries of fear and consternation rang across
+the frosty air. A score of savages darted from their cover and as
+quickly sped back again. Flight after flight of arrows broke away and
+tested every inch of surface of Trigget's shelter. Then, with shrill
+screams and mad yells of defiance, the whole party of Beothics emerged
+into the clearing and dashed for the palisade. They drew their bows as
+they ran, and some hurled clubs and spears. In front, with red feathers
+in his hair and his right arm bandaged across his breast, Panounia
+shouted encouragement and led the charge. They were half-way across the
+open when the second cannon spat forth its message of hate. The ball
+passed low over the advancing mass and plunged into the timber beyond.
+For a second or two, the attackers wavered, a few turned back, then they
+continued their valorous onset. They were already springing at the
+palisade when the muskets crashed in their faces from half a dozen
+loopholes. This volley was followed immediately by another. The savages
+dropped back from their futile leapings against the fortification, hung
+on their heels for a moment, clamorous and undecided, and then broke for
+cover. They dragged their dead and wounded with them, and left
+sanguinary trails on the snow. They were within a few yards of the
+sheltering trees when one of the little cannon banged again. The ball
+cut across the mass of crowded warriors like a string through cheese.
+
+"Now is our time!" exclaimed Kingswell. "Run for the gate, lads."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE
+
+
+The returning hunters were promptly admitted to the fort. The little
+garrison welcomed them joyfully. The West Country sailors were, for the
+moment, cordial even toward D'Antons, whom they usually ignored. The
+party had taken a hundred chances with death in the crossing of the
+narrow clearing. Arrows had followed them from the fringe of wood along
+the river, like bees from an overturned hive. Ouenwa's left arm had been
+scratched. D'Antons' fur cap had been torn from his head, pierced
+through and through. A hail of missiles had clattered against the gate
+as the good timbers swung to behind them. Cries of rage and chagrin, in
+which Ouenwa's name was repeated many times, rang from the retreat of
+the defeated warriors. The garrison answered with cheers. Ouenwa's
+shrill voice carried clear above the tumult, lifted in Beothic insults.
+
+Sir Ralph himself was in command of the imperilled fortress. The
+excitement had stirred him out of his customary gloom. His eyes were
+bright, and his cheeks flew a patch of colour. His sword was at his
+side, and he held a musket in his hand.
+
+"That was their third attempt to get over the stockade," he said to
+Kingswell and D'Antons. "They are filled with the very devil to-day. But
+I scarcely think that they will come back for more, now that Trigget has
+got his growlers into working order."
+
+"How did it begin?" asked the Frenchman.
+
+"Why, about three score of them marched up and said they wanted to come
+in and trade," replied the baronet, "but, as they seemed to have nothing
+to trade save their bows and spears, Trigget warned them off. Then they
+went out on the river and began chopping up the _Red Rose_ and the
+_Pelican_. At that we let off a musket, and they retired to cover, from
+which they soon emerged with reinforcements and tried to carry the place
+by weight of numbers."
+
+"Hark," said the Frenchman. "What is that they are yelling?"
+
+"My name," replied Ouenwa. "They are my enemies."
+
+"Ah, and so it is our privilege to fight this gentleman's battles for
+him," remarked D'Antons, with an exaggerated bow to the lad. "Perhaps
+this is the explanation of the attack."
+
+"I think not," answered Kingswell, crisply. "They are surprised at
+discovering him here. Also they are surprised and displeased at seeing
+me again. They have smelled our powder before, as you have heard, I
+think."
+
+"Yes, I have heard the heroic tale, monsieur," replied the captain,
+smiling his thin, one-sided, Continental smile.
+
+The blood mounted in Kingswell's cheek. He turned on his heel without
+any further words. Ouenwa followed him to the Trigget cabin, whence he
+was bound for something to eat.
+
+Panounia and his braves retreated across the frozen river, and did not
+show themselves again that day. In the fort every musket was loaded, the
+improvised gun-shields were repaired and strengthened, and the guns were
+again got ready for action. In place of round shot, William Trigget
+charged them with scrap-iron and slugs of lead.
+
+"When ye has a lot o' mowin' to do in a short time, cut a wide swath,"
+he remarked to Tom Bent.
+
+"Ay, sir," replied Kingswell's boatswain, turning a hawk-like eye on the
+dark edges of the forest. "Ay, sir, cut a wide swath, an' let the devil
+make the hay. It be mun's own crop."
+
+At the time of the hunters' return, Mistress Beatrix was looking from
+the doorway of her father's cabin. Now she knelt in her own chamber,
+sobbing quietly, with her face buried in her hands. All the bitterness
+and insecurity of her position had come to her with overmastering force.
+The sight of Captain d'Antons' thin face and uncovered, bedraggled hair,
+as he leaned on his musket and talked with her father and the young
+Englishman, had melted the courage in her heart. She prayed confusedly,
+half her thoughts with the petitions which she made to her God, and half
+with the desperate state of her affairs and the features and attitude of
+the buccaneer.
+
+She was disturbed by some one entering the outer room. She recognized
+the footsteps as those of Sir Ralph. She got up from her knees, bathed
+her face and eyes, touched her hair to order with skilful fingers, and
+opened the door of her chamber. The baronet looked up at the sound.
+
+"Ah, lass," he said, "we've driven the rascals off. They have crossed
+the river."
+
+With that he fell again to his slow pacing of the room.
+
+"I do not fear the savages," she cried. "Oh, I do think their knives and
+arrows would be welcome."
+
+"Poor child! poor little lass!" he said, pausing beside her and kissing
+her tenderly. "You have been weeping," he added, concernedly. "But
+courage, dear. The fellow is harmless for five long months to come. His
+fangs are as good as filed, shut off here and surrounded by the snow and
+the savages."
+
+Evidently the sight of his daughter's distress had dimmed the finer
+conception of his promise to D'Antons. He looked about him uneasily and
+sighed.
+
+She laid her face against his coat and held tight to his sleeves.
+
+"I hate him," she whispered. "Oh, my father, I hate him for my own sake
+as much as I fear him for yours. His every covert glance, his every open
+attention, stings me like a whip. And yet, out of fear, I must smile and
+simper, and play the hypocrite."
+
+"No--by God!" exclaimed Westleigh, trembling with emotion. Then, more
+quietly, "Beatrix, I cannot wear this mask any longer. The fellow is
+hateful to me. I despise him. How such a creation of the devil's can
+love you so unswervingly is more than I can fathom. I would rather see
+you dead than married to him. There--I have broken my word again! Let me
+go."
+
+He freed himself from the girl's hands, caught up his hat and cloak,
+and left the cabin. He crossed over to the well-house, where some of the
+men were grinding axes and cutlasses, and joined feverishly in their
+simple talk of work, and battle, and adventure. Their honest faces and
+homely language drove a little of the bitterness of his shame from him.
+Presently Kingswell and Ouenwa joined the group about the complaining
+grindstone.
+
+"Come," said Sir Ralph, "and look at the cannon."
+
+He plucked Kingswell by the sleeve. Ouenwa followed them. All three
+ascended the little platform on which the guns were mounted, by way of a
+short ladder. The pieces, ready loaded, were snugly covered with
+tarpaulins that could be snatched off in a turn of the hand.
+
+"A worthy fellow is William Trigget," remarked the baronet. "Ay, he is
+true as steel."
+
+He laid a caressing hand on the breech of one of the little cannon. "I
+would trust him, yea, and his good fellows, with anything I possess," he
+said, "as readily as I trust these growlers to his care."
+
+Just then Ouenwa pointed northward to the wooded bluff that cut into the
+white valley and hid the settlement from the lower reaches of the river.
+From beyond the point, moving slowly and unsteadily, appeared a
+solitary human figure. Its course lay well out on the level floor of the
+stream, and the forest growth along the shore did not conceal it from
+the watchers. It approached uncertainly, as if without a definite goal,
+and, when within a few hundred yards of the fort, staggered and fell
+prone.
+
+"What the devil does it mean?" cried Sir Ralph.
+
+Kingswell shook his head, and questioned Ouenwa. The lad continued to
+gaze out across the open. The sun was low over the western hills, and
+its light was red on the snow.
+
+"Hurt," he said, presently. "Maybe starved. He is not of Panounia's
+band."
+
+"How do you know that, lad?" asked the baronet.
+
+"I know," replied the boy. "He is a hunter. He is not of the war-party.
+He is from the salt water."
+
+"He is usually right when he maintains that a thing is so, without being
+able to give a reason for it," said Kingswell, quietly. "And, if he is,
+it seems a pity to let the man die out there under our very eyes."
+
+"God knows I do not want any one to suffer," said the baronet, "but may
+it not be a trick of this Panounia's, or whatever you call him?"
+
+"No trick," replied Ouenwa; and, without so much as "by your leave," he
+vaulted over the breastwork of faggots and landed lightly on the snow
+outside the stockade. Without a moment's hesitation, Kingswell followed.
+Together they started toward the still figure out on the river, at a
+brisk run. They had reached the bank before Sir Ralph recovered from his
+astonishment. He quickly descended to the square, and, without
+attracting any attention, informed William Trigget of what had happened.
+Trigget and his son immediately ascended to the guns and drew off their
+tarpaulins. "We'll cover the retreat, sir," said the mariner. They saw
+their reckless comrades bend over the prostrate stranger. Then Kingswell
+lifted the apparently lifeless body and started back at a jog trot.
+Ouenwa lagged behind, with his head continually over his shoulder. The
+elder Trigget swore a great oath, and smacked a knotty fist into a
+leathern palm.
+
+"Them's well-plucked uns," he added.
+
+The baronet and John Trigget agreed silently. They were too intent on
+the approach of the rescuers to speak. Also, they kept a keen outlook
+along the woods on the farther shore. But the enemy made no sign; and
+Kingswell, Ouenwa, and the unconscious stranger reached the stockade in
+safety. The stranger proved to be none other than Black Feather, the
+stalwart and kindly brave who had built his lodge beside the old
+arrow-maker's, above Wigwam Harbour, in the days of peace. He was
+carried into Trigget's cabin and dosed with French brandy until he
+opened his eyes. He looked about him blankly for a second or two, and
+then his lids fluttered down again. He had not recognized either
+Kingswell or Ouenwa.
+
+"Oh, the poor lad, the poor lad," cried Dame Trigget. "Whatever has mun
+been a-doin' now, to get so distressin' scrawny? An' a fine figger, too,
+though he be a heathen, without a manner o' doubt."
+
+"Never mind his religious beliefs, dame, but get some of your good
+venison broth inside of him," said Master Kingswell. "That's a treatment
+that would surely convert any number of heathen."
+
+While they were clustered about Black Feather's couch, D'Antons entered.
+He peered over Dame Trigget's ample shoulders and looked considerably
+surprised at finding an unconscious, emaciated Beothic the centre of
+attraction.
+
+"What's this?" he asked. "A tragedy or a comedy?"
+
+His tone was sour, and too bantering for the occasion.
+
+The baronet turned on him with an expression of mouth and eye that did
+not pass unnoticed by the little group.
+
+"Certainly not a comedy, monsieur," he replied, coldly; "and we hope it
+will not prove a tragedy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING
+
+
+Meals were not served in Captain d'Antons' cabin. The little settlement
+possessed but one servant among all its workers, and that one was Maggie
+Stone, Mistress Westleigh's old nurse. The care of Sir Ralph's
+establishment was all she could attend to. So the men who had no
+women-folk of their own to cook for them were fed by Dame Trigget and
+her sturdy daughter Joyce, or by the Donnelly women. Kingswell and
+D'Antons took their meals at Dame Trigget's table, and were served by
+themselves, with every mark of respect. Ouenwa, Tom Bent, Harding, and
+Clotworthy shared the Donnellys' board.
+
+A few hours after Black Feather's rescue, Kingswell and D'Antons sat
+opposite one another at a small table near the hearth of the Triggets'
+living-room. A stew of venison and a bottle of French wine stood between
+them. D'Antons took up the bottle, and made as if to fill the other's
+glass.
+
+"One moment," said Kingswell, raising his hand.
+
+The Frenchman looked at him keenly and set down the vintage. The
+Englishman leaned forward.
+
+"Captain d'Antons," he said, scarce above a whisper, "a remark that you
+made to-day seemed to imply that you considered me a braggart. Your
+remark was in reference to the brushes between the _Pelican_ and a party
+of natives during our cruise from the North. Before I take wine with you
+to-night, I want you to either withdraw or explain your implication."
+
+While Kingswell spoke, the other's eyes flashed and calmed again. Now
+his dark face wore an even look of puzzled inquiry. His fine eyes, clear
+now of the expression of cynicism which so often marred them, held the
+Englishman's without any sign of either embarrassment or anger. His hand
+returned to the neck of the bottle and lingered there. Lord, but the
+drama lost an exceptionally fine interpreter when the high seas claimed
+Pierre d'Antons! The thin, clean-shaven lips trembled--or was it the
+wavering of the candle-light?
+
+"My friend," he said, softly, "how unfortunate am I in my stupidity--in
+my blundering use of the English language. Whatever my words were, when
+I spoke of having already heard of your fights with the savages, my
+meaning was such that no one would take exception to. Did I use the word
+heroic, monsieur? Then heroic, noble, was what I meant. An Englishman
+would have made use of a smaller, a simpler word, perhaps; or would have
+refrained from any display of admiration. Ah, I am unfortunate in my
+heritage of French and Spanish blood--the blood that is outspoken both
+for praise and blame."
+
+Poor, honest Kingswell was shaken with conflicting emotions. His heart
+told him the man was lying. His eyes assured him that he had been
+grievously mistaken, not only in the matter of the remark concerning the
+skirmishes with the Beothics, but in his whole opinion of the Frenchman.
+His blood surged to his head, and whispered that he was a young fool to
+be hoodwinked so easily. His brain was sadly uncertain. A twinge of pity
+for the handsome adventurer--for the love-struck buccaneer--went through
+him. But it faded at remembrance of Sir Ralph's story. He knew the
+fellow was playing with him.
+
+"Wine, monsieur?" inquired D'Antons, softly, with a smile of infinite
+sweetness and shy persuasion.
+
+With a mumbled apology, the young Englishman pushed forward his glass,
+and the red wine swam to the brim. And all the while he was inwardly
+cursing his own weakness and the other's strength. He had not the
+courage to meet the Frenchman's look when they raised their glasses and
+clinked them across the table. Lord, what a calf he was!
+
+Had he no will of his own? Did he possess neither knowledge of men nor
+mother wit? Ah, but he rated himself pitilessly as he bent his flushed
+face over his plate of stew.
+
+When the meal was finished, Kingswell returned to Black Feather's couch,
+and D'Antons went over to his own cabin. By this time Black Feather had
+recovered consciousness and swallowed some of Dame Trigget's broth;
+also, he had recognized Ouenwa and murmured a few words to the lad in
+his own tongue. But, beyond that, he was too weak to disclose anything
+of what had happened in Wigwam Harbour after the slaying of Soft Hand.
+He lay very still, apparently lifeless, except for his quick, bright
+eyes, which moved restlessly in questioning scrutiny of the strange
+women and bearded men who sat about the room. Ouenwa held one of the
+transparent hands and smiled assuringly.
+
+For half an hour Kingswell sat beside the man he had rescued so
+courageously from death by starvation. Then, feeling the heat of the
+room and the confusion of his thoughts too much to entertain calmly, he
+went out into the cold and darkness and paced up and down. All
+unknowing, he kicked the snow viciously every step. He was still in a
+perturbed state of mind and temper when William Trigget approached him
+through the gloom and touched his elbow.
+
+"Askin' your pardon, master," he said, standing close, "but what of that
+Injun in there? Be he really sick, or be he playing a game?"
+
+"He is surely sick, and he is just as surely not playing a game,"
+replied Kingswell. "But why do you ask? The fellow is a friend of
+Ouenwa's, and was one of old Soft Hand's warriors."
+
+"Ay, sir, but maybe mun has changed his coat," said Trigget, "an' has
+shammed sick just to get carried inside the fort. There be something
+goin' on outside, for certain."
+
+"What?" asked the other.
+
+Then Trigget told how he had been startled, while standing under the
+gun-platform, by a sound of scrambling outside the stockade. He had
+crawled noiselessly up the ladder and looked over the breastworks about
+the guns. He had been able to distinguish something darker than the
+surrounding darkness crouched against the palisade under him. The thing
+had moved cautiously. He had detached a faggot from one of the bundles
+beside him, for lack of a better weapon, and had hurled it down at the
+black form. There had sounded a stifled cry, and the thing had vanished
+in the night.
+
+"It were one o' they savages, I know," concluded Trigget.
+
+Kingswell forgot his personal grievance in the face of this menace from
+the hidden enemy.
+
+"The guards should be doubled," he said. "But come, we must let Sir
+Ralph know of it."
+
+They crossed the yard to the baronet's cabin and knocked on the door.
+Maggie Stone admitted them to the outer room, where Sir Ralph and
+Mistress Beatrix were seated, the girl reading aloud to her father by
+the light of one poor candle. But the great fire on the hearth had the
+place fairly illuminated.
+
+William Trigget, undismayed by fog and bad weather, cool in any risk of
+land or sea, was too abashed at the presence of the lady to tell his
+story. So Master Kingswell told it for him.
+
+"The guards must be doubled," said Sir Ralph.
+
+"They be that already, sir," replied Trigget, breaking the spell of the
+bright eyes that surveyed him.
+
+"That is well," answered the baronet. "There is nothing else to be done,
+at least until morning, but sleep light and keep your muskets handy."
+
+Kingswell and the master mariner returned to the darkness without.
+
+"I will stake my word," said Kingswell, "that the place is surrounded by
+the devils even now, and that they will try again to get a man over the
+wall to unbar the gates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE HIDDEN MENACE
+
+
+Neither Kingswell nor Trigget found time for sleep that night. D'Antons
+also kept awake, though he spent only a few hours out-of-doors. His
+candle burned until daylight. Ouenwa experienced a restless night beside
+Black Feather's couch. From ten o'clock until two Tom Bent, John
+Trigget, and the younger Donnelly were on guard, with cutlasses on their
+hips and half-pikes in their hands--for a musket would have proved but
+an unsatisfactory weapon to a man engaged in a sudden scuffle in the
+dark. One man was placed on the gun-platform, another at the gate, and a
+third on the roof of the storehouse. Kingswell and William Trigget moved
+continually from one point to another. At two o'clock the elder
+Donnelly, Clotworthy, and Harding relieved their companions. But the two
+officers remained at their self-imposed duty.
+
+At last dawn outlined the eastern horizon. Kingswell, who had been
+pacing the length of the riverward stockade for the past hour, sighed
+with relief, yawned, and was about to retire to D'Antons' cabin, when
+William Trigget approached him at a run. The master mariner's face was
+ghastly above his bushy whiskers.
+
+"Come this way, sir," he murmured, huskily.
+
+Kingswell followed him to the storehouse and up to the roof, by way of a
+rough ladder that leaned against the wall. There, on the outward slope
+of the roof, where the snow was trampled and broken, sprawled the body
+of Peter Clotworthy.
+
+"What! Asleep!" exclaimed Kingswell, peering close. The light was not
+strong enough to disclose the features of the recumbent sentinel.
+
+"Ay, an' sound enough, God knows," replied Trigget, "with no chance o'
+wakin' this side o' the Judgment-Seat."
+
+"Dead?" cried the other, sinking to his knees beside the body. He
+pressed his hand against the mariner's side, held it there for a moment,
+and withdrew it, wet with blood. He raised it toward the growing
+illumination of the east, staring at it with wide eyes. "Blood," he
+murmured. "Stabbed without a squeal--without a whimper, by Heaven!" Then
+he ripped out an oath, and followed it close with a prayer for his dead
+comrade's soul. For all his golden curls, this Bernard Kingswell had a
+hot and ready tongue--and a temper to suit, when occasion offered.
+
+The two discoverers of the tragedy remained on the roof of the
+storehouse for some time. The light strengthened and spread on their
+right, and, at last, gave them a clear, gray view of the narrow clearing
+and wooded hummocks to the north. On the snow below them, which was
+otherwise unmarked, they saw the imprints of one pair of moccasined
+feet. The marks did not lead to or from the near cover of the woods, but
+to the south, around the fort. The telltale snow showed how Clotworthy's
+murderer had approached close under the stockade, and, after his silent
+deed of violence, had jumped a distance of about twenty feet, from the
+roof of the store, and landed on all fours. A stain of blood, evidently
+from the reeking knife in the slayer's hand, smirched the snow where it
+was broken by his fall. From there the steps returned by the same
+course, but at a distance of about ten paces from the stockade.
+
+Kingswell looked from the tracks in the snow to the colourless,
+distorted features of the dead seaman. Then his gaze met Trigget's
+deep-set eyes. He was pale, and his lips were drawn in a hard line, as
+if the frost had stiffened them.
+
+"Poor Clotworthy," he murmured, and swallowed as if his throat were
+dry. "Poor devil, knifed into eternity without a fighting chance. See,
+he was clubbed first and then knifed--felled and bled like an ox in a
+shambles! Ten nights of this hellishness will account for the whole
+garrison."
+
+With a broad, deep-sea oath, Trigget replied that there'd be no ten
+nights of it.
+
+They lifted the stiff body that had, so lately, been animated by the
+fearless spirit of Richard Clotworthy, able seaman, to the ground and
+carried it reverently to the Donnelly cabin. The other inmates of the
+little settlement were deeply affected by the sight, and by Kingswell's
+story. The younger men were for setting out immediately and driving the
+Beothics from the woods on the far side of the river. But the wiser
+heads prevailed against such recklessness, arguing that the only thing
+to be done was to remain constantly on guard. The women wept. Ouenwa,
+trembling with sorrow and rage, placed his fine belt and beaded quiver
+beside the body of his dead comrade, and vowed, in English and Beothic,
+that he would avenge this murder as he intended to avenge the murders of
+his father and his grandfather.
+
+The day passed without any sign of the hidden enemy. Kingswell slept
+until noon. By evening Black Feather had recovered enough strength to
+enable him to tell his pitiful story to Ouenwa. His lodge, and that of
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, had been torn down by the followers of Panounia
+shortly after the departure of the _Pelican_ from Wigwam Harbour. Montaw
+had died fighting. Black Feather, grievously wounded, had been bound and
+carried far up the River of Three Fires. His wife and children also had
+been captured and maltreated. The ships in the bay had looked on at the
+unequal struggle ashore without demonstrations of any kind. Upon
+reaching the village on the river, Black Feather had been driven to the
+meanest work--work unbecoming a warrior of his standing--and his wife
+and children had been led farther up-stream, very likely to Wind Lake.
+Black Feather had seen the body of Soft Hand lying exposed on the top of
+a knoll, at the mercy of birds and beasts. He had bided his time. At
+last he had gnawed the thongs with which his tormentors bound him at
+night, and had safely made his escape. He could not say how long ago
+that was. Days and nights had become strangely mixed in his desperate
+mind. He had lived on such birds and hares as he had been able to kill
+with sticks. Always he had kept up his journey, shaping his course
+toward the salt water, in the hope of meeting some tribesmen who might
+have remained loyal to the murdered chief. But he had met with nobody
+in all that desolate journey, until, only the day before, he had
+recovered consciousness in Fort Beatrix.
+
+That night, John Trigget was attacked at his post on the gun-platform,
+and in the struggle that ensued was cut shrewdly about the arm. So
+sudden and noiseless was the onslaught out of the dark that he fought in
+silence, only remembering to shout for help after the savage had
+squirmed from his embrace and escaped. His arm was bandaged by Sir
+Ralph, and Tom Bent and Ouenwa took his place. But daylight arrived
+without any further demonstration on the part of the enemy.
+
+By this time the little garrison was bitten by a restlessness that would
+not be denied. Even Kingswell and William Trigget were for making some
+sort of attack upon the hidden band beyond the river. D'Antons, contrary
+to his habit, had nothing to say either for or against an aggressive
+movement. Sir Ralph was for quietly and cautiously awaiting development;
+but, seeing the spirit of the men, he agreed that five of the garrison
+should sally forth in search of the enemy.
+
+"Whom I have not a doubt you'll find," concluded the baronet, wearily,
+"though what the devil you'll do with them then is more than I can
+venture to predict."
+
+Under William Trigget's supervision, one of the cannon was taken from
+the platform and mounted on a heavy and solid flat of logs, and that, in
+turn, was placed on a sled. On the same sled were fastened rammers and
+mops and bags of powder and shot. The daring party was made up of Master
+Kingswell, William Trigget, Ouenwa, Tom Bent, and the younger Donnelly.
+D'Antons did not volunteer his services on the expedition. The men were
+all well armed with muskets and cutlasses, and all save Ouenwa had
+fastened steel breastplates under their coats. As they marched away,
+Mistress Westleigh waved them "Godspeed" with a scarf of Spanish lace,
+from where she stood in the open gate between her father and Captain
+d'Antons.
+
+The little party moved down the bank and across the river slowly and
+with commendable caution. Trigget and Kingswell walked ahead, and kept a
+sharp lookout on the dark edges of the forest. Donnelly and Tom Bent
+followed about ten paces behind, dragging the gun. Ouenwa scouted along
+on the left, with a musket and a lighted match, which he feared far
+worse than he did any number of Beothic warriors. The river was crossed
+without accident on the wide trail left by the enemy's retreat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE CLOVEN HOOF
+
+
+Sir Ralph Westleigh was in the storehouse, Maggie Stone was gossiping
+with Dame Trigget, and Beatrix was alone by the fire when Captain
+d'Antons rapped on the cabin door, and entered without waiting for a
+summons. He was dressed in his bravest suit and finest boots. After
+closing the door behind him, he bowed low to the girl at the farther end
+of the room. She instantly stood up and curtseyed with a deal of grace,
+but no warmth whatever.
+
+"My father is not in, Captain d'Antons," she said.
+
+He smiled and approached her with every show of deference.
+
+"Ah, mademoiselle," he murmured, "I have not come to see the good
+baronet. I have come to learn my fate from the dearest lips in the
+world."
+
+The girl blushed crimson, with a tumult of emotions that almost forced
+the tears past her lids. Fear, hate, and a reckless joy at the thought
+that she was done with pretence struggled in her heart. She tried to
+speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and accomplished nothing but
+a dry sob.
+
+D'Antons' eyes shone with ardour. The hope which had been somewhat
+clouded of late flashed clear again. "Beatrix," he cried, softly, "I
+have wooed you long. Is it not that I have won at last beyond
+peradventure? Do not deny it, my sweet." He caught her to him, and
+attempted to kiss her bright lips; but, with a low cry and a quite
+unexpected display of strength, she wrenched herself from his embrace.
+She did not try to leave the room. She did not call for help. She faced
+him, with flashing eyes and angry cheeks and clinched hands.
+
+The fellow stood uncertain for a moment, showing his chagrin and
+amazement like any country clown. But his recovery was quick. His mouth
+took on a thin smile; his eyes darkened with sinister shadows. He looked
+the girl coolly up and down. He laughed softly.
+
+"This feigned anger adds to your beauty, Beatrix," he said.
+
+"I beg you to leave me, sir," she replied, trembling. "Your presence is
+distasteful to me."
+
+"A sudden turn," said he. "Now a month ago, or even a week ago, you
+seemed of a different mind. As for the days of our first meeting in
+merry London--ah, then your lips were not so unattainable."
+
+"I hate you," she murmured. "I despise you. I loath you. You taint the
+air for me. Dog, to make a boast of having filched a kiss from a
+light-hearted girl--who did not know you for the common fellow that you
+are."
+
+"Beatrix," cried the man, "this is no stage comedy. We are not players.
+I have asked you, too many times, to be my wife. I ask you once more.
+You know that your father's life is in my hands. Tell me now, will you
+promise to marry me, or will you let your father go to the gallows in
+the spring, and this plantation be put to the torch? Whatever your
+choice, my beauty, you will accompany me to New Spain next summer. It is
+for you to say whether you go as my wife or my mistress."
+
+At that the girl's face went white as paper. But her eyes were steady.
+
+D'Antons lowered his gaze. He was half-ashamed, nay, more than that, of
+his words.
+
+"It would be hard to say," she replied, very softly, "which would be the
+most dishonourable position for an English gentlewoman to occupy. That
+of your wife, I think, monsieur--for, as your wife, she would be known
+by your name."
+
+His shame leaped to anger at that soft-spoken insult. He caught her
+roughly by the wrists.
+
+"Nay," she said, "you must be more gentle. You seem to forget that you
+are not sacking a defenceless town. Also, you forget that you have not a
+friend or a follower in this wilderness, and that any man or woman in
+the fort would shoot you down like a dog at a word from me."
+
+For a little while they eyed each other steadily enough--her face still
+beautiful despite the bantering cruelty of lips and eyes, and the
+loathing in every line of it; his the face of a devil. Then, with a
+muttered oath, he closed his fingers on her tender flesh, pressing with
+all his strength.
+
+"Ah, my fine lady," he cried, harshly, "you think yourself strong enough
+to flout Pierre d'Antons, do you? Strong enough to spurn the protection
+of a soldier and a gentleman! Cry now for your girl-faced Kingswell--for
+your golden-haired fellow countryman."
+
+By that even her lips were colourless, and her eyes were wet. "There is
+no need," she said, bravely, "for I hear my father at the door."
+
+D'Antons dropped her wrists and took a backward step. In doing so, his
+heel struck the leg of a stool, and the scabbard of his sword rang
+discordantly. He reeled, recovering himself just as Sir Ralph crossed
+the threshold. Before either of the men had time to speak, Beatrix
+darted forward and struck the Frenchman savagely across the face with
+her open hand. Then, without a word of either explanation or greeting to
+her father, she passed D'Antons swiftly, sped down the length of the
+room, and entered her own chamber.
+
+"What does this mean, captain?" inquired the baronet, coldly. D'Antons,
+scarcely recovered from the blow, strode toward him.
+
+"What does it mean?" he cried. "It means, my fine old cock, that your
+neck will be pulled out of joint when we get away from this
+God-forgotten desolation. Ah, you liar, why did I not have you strung up
+to a yard-arm when you were safely in my power? Stab me, but I've been
+too soft--and my reward is insults from the wench of an exiled
+card-cheat and murderer."
+
+His voice was raised almost to a scream. His face quivered with passion.
+He thrust it within a few inches of the baronet's.
+
+"Liar and cheat," he cried, furiously.
+
+"Softly, softly," replied Sir Ralph. "I cannot abide being bawled at in
+my own house, especially by such scum of a French muck heap as you. Keep
+your distance, fellow, or, by God, I'll do you a hurt. What's this!
+You'd presume?"
+
+They withdrew on the instant. The two swords came clear in the same
+second of time.
+
+"_Gabier de potence_," cried D'Antons.
+
+"_Canaille_," replied the baronet, blandly. Evidently the rasp of the
+steel had mended his temper. He even smiled a little at his adoption of
+his adversary's mother-tongue.
+
+The men were excellently matched as swordsmen. But not more than half a
+dozen passes had been made and parried before Beatrix ran into the room,
+crying to them to put up their swords.
+
+"Go back," said the baronet, with his eyes on D'Antons, "go back to your
+room, my daughter, and make a prayer for this fellow's soul. It will
+soon stand in need of a petition for God's mercy."
+
+The girl went softly back and closed the door, in an effort to shut out
+the rasping and metallic striking of the blades. She prayed, but for
+strength to her father's wrist and not for the Frenchman's soul. She was
+afraid--desperately afraid. The truth of her father's skill in French
+sword-play had been kept from her. To her he was but a courteous,
+middle-aged gentleman who needed her care, and who had been maligned and
+robbed by the world into which he had been born. He was a good father.
+He had been a loving and considerate husband. She knelt beside her bed
+and beseeched God to succour him in this desperate strait.
+
+In the meantime the fight went on in the outer room with more the air of
+a harmless bout for practice than a duel to the death. It was altogether
+a question of point and point, in the Continental manner, perfectly free
+from the swinging attack and clanging defence of the English style. The
+combatants were cool, to judge by appearances. Neither seemed in any
+hurry. The thrusts and lunges, though in fact as quick as thought, were
+delivered with a manner suggestive of elegant leisure.
+
+"I believe you have the advantage of me by about three inches of steel,"
+remarked the baronet, diverting a lightning thrust from its intended
+course.
+
+"A chance of the game," replied D'Antons, smiling grimly.
+
+Just then the baronet's foot slipped on the edge of a book of verses
+which Mistress Beatrix had left on the floor. For a second he was
+swerved from his balance; and, when he recovered, it was to feel the
+warm blood running down his breast from a slight incision in his left
+shoulder. But his recovery was as masterly as it was swift, and the
+Frenchman found himself more severely pressed than before, despite the
+advantage he possessed in the superior length of his sword. The little
+wound counted for nothing.
+
+Just what the outcome of the fight would have been, if an untimely
+interruption in the person of Maggie Stone had not intervened, it is
+hard to say. Perhaps D'Antons' youth would have claimed the victory in
+the long run, or perhaps the baronet's excellent composure. In skill
+they were nicely matched, though the Englishman displayed superiority
+enough to even the difference in the length of the blades. But why take
+time for idle surmises? Maggie Stone, looking in, all unheeded, at the
+open door, saw her beloved master engaged in a desperate combat with a
+person whom she despised as well as feared. She saw the sodden stain of
+blood on her master's doublet. In her hand she held a skillet which she
+had just borrowed from Dame Trigget. Without waiting to announce
+herself, she rushed into the room and dealt Captain d'Antons a
+resounding whack on the head with the iron bowl of the utensil. The long
+sword fell from the benumbed fingers and clanged on the floor. With a
+low, guttural cry, the Frenchman followed it, and sprawled, unconscious,
+at the feet of the surprised and indignant baronet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH
+
+
+Master Kingswell and his party returned from their daring reconnoitre
+early in the afternoon. They had not met with the enemy, though they had
+found the camp and torn down the temporary lodges. After that they had
+followed the broad trail of the retreat for several miles, and had
+discharged the cannon twice into the inscrutable woods. Their daring had
+been rewarded by the capture of about two hundred pounds of smoked
+salmon and dried venison.
+
+Both Kingswell and William Trigget were unable to account for the fact
+that the savages had not attacked them in the cover of the woods. In
+reality they owed their bloodless victory to the presence of the little
+cannon. That third and last discharge of slugs, on the day of the big
+fight, had killed three of the braves, wounded five more, and inspired
+an hysterical terror in the hearts of the rest. But for that, the hidden
+enemy would not have been content with playing a waiting game and with
+the attempted killing of one man each night; and neither would they have
+retired, so undemonstratively, before the advance of the five. But,
+despite their fear of the cannon, they had no intention of giving up the
+siege of the fort. They placed trust in the darkness of night and their
+own cunning.
+
+Kingswell and the elder Trigget were drawn aside by Sir Ralph. The
+baronet looked less care-haunted than he had for years.
+
+"D'Antons and I have broken our truce," he whispered, "and behold, the
+heavens have not fallen,--nor even the poor defences of this
+plantation." He smiled cheerfully. "The great captain alone has come to
+grief," he added. "Maggie Stone saved him from my hand by felling him
+herself with some sort of stew-pan. I was frantically angry at the time,
+but am glad now that I did not have to kill the rogue."
+
+"Such cattle are better dead, sir," remarked Trigget, coolly.
+
+"I grant you that, my good William," replied Sir Ralph, "but he is
+harmless as a new-born babe, after all--and we'll see that he remains
+so."
+
+Then he told them the story of the duel, and of what had led to it.
+Kingswell flushed and paled.
+
+"God's mercy!" he cried, "but I would I had been in your boots, sir."
+
+"You'd have died in them, more than likely," replied the baronet, laying
+a hand on the other's shoulder. "D'Antons has a rare knowledge of
+swordsmanship, and eye and wrist to back it with."
+
+"Even so," replied Kingswell, "it would have been--it would have been a
+pleasure to die in such a cause." He blushed, and hurriedly added, "But
+I doubt if he'd have killed me, for all his gimcrackery and
+side-stepping. I've seen such gentry hopping and poking for hours, when
+one good cut from the shoulder would have ended their tricks."
+
+The baronet smiled kindly, though with a tinge of sadness. "Ah, what a
+fine thing is the heart of youth," he said, "and the confidence of
+youth. I even bow to the ignorance of youth. But, my dear boy, valour
+and confidence are not more than half the battle, after all. The edge is
+a fine thing, and has spilled a deal of blood since the hammering of the
+first sword; but the point becomes no less deadly simply because one
+stout young Englishman is ignorant of its potency. Lad, if it were not
+that I have won the distinction--beside many a less enviable one--of
+being the best swordsman in England, I could not have withstood
+D'Antons' play for long enough to make sure of the colour of his eyes."
+
+Kingswell felt like a fool, and did not know which way to turn his
+abashed countenance. Both Sir Ralph and Trigget felt sorry for him.
+
+"But I can assure you, Bernard," said the former, "that, if it came to a
+matter of cutlasses, neither the Frenchman nor I would stand up for long
+against either you or Trigget."
+
+"It is kind of you to say so," replied Kingswell, staring over the
+baronet's shoulder at nothing in particular, "but I haven't a doubt that
+even Maggie Stone, with her stew-pan, would be more than a match for
+me."
+
+William Trigget laughed boisterously at that. "We must ease the young
+gentleman's temper, sir," he said to the baronet. "I have a pair of
+singlesticks."
+
+"Get them," said the baronet. He slipped his hand under Kingswell's arm
+and led him into the cabin. Beatrix welcomed him cordially, with a shy
+compliment to his bravery thrown in. The youth immediately felt better
+in his pride.
+
+"Say nothing of D'Antons, or the duel," Sir Ralph whispered in his ear.
+"He is safe in his own bed, being nursed conscientiously, if not
+over-tenderly, by Maggie Stone."
+
+Kingswell seated himself beside Mistress Beatrix on the bench by the
+fire. He noticed that she had been weeping. Her eyes seemed all the
+brighter for it. He gave her a detailed account of the brief expedition
+from which he had just returned. He told of the cluster of lodges, the
+cooking-fires still burning, the utensils and food scattered about, and
+not a human being in sight.
+
+"And what if you had seen the savages?" she asked. "Surely, four
+Englishmen and a lad could do nothing against such a host?"
+
+"We would have fallen in the first flight of arrows," replied Kingswell.
+
+"Then why did you risk it?"
+
+The young man shook his head and laughed. "Some one must take risks," he
+said, "else all warfare would come to a standstill."
+
+The girl was looking down at her hands, and reflectively twisting a
+jewelled ring around and around on one slim finger. "And I wish it would
+with all my heart," she sighed. "Warfare and bloodshed--they are the
+devil's inventions, and strike innocent and guilty alike."
+
+"Nay," replied Kingswell, "there is more harm done to the innocent in
+courts and fine assemblies, and at the sheltered card-tables, than on
+all the battle-fields of the world. War is a good surgeon, and, if he
+sometimes lets the good blood with the bad, why, that's just a risk we
+must accept."
+
+Beatrix raised a flushed face, and eyed him squarely. "You preach like a
+Puritan," she said, "with your condemnation of courts and play. You
+should give my father the benefit of some of your wisdom. His friends
+have all been generous with such help."
+
+Kingswell bit his lip, and for an awkward minute studied the toes of his
+moccasins. Presently he looked up.
+
+"I am sorry," he said.
+
+Her glance softened.
+
+"I am as ignorant of battle-fields as I am of courts," he added. "I am
+ignorant of everything."
+
+His voice was low and bitter. Beatrix laughed softly.
+
+"Pray do not take it so much to heart," she said. "Nothing is so easily
+mended as ignorance."
+
+He looked at her gravely.
+
+"I am going to ask Sir Ralph to give me lessons in French sword-play,"
+he said. "Is there nothing that you would teach me?"
+
+"Embroidery," she replied, "and how to brew a Madeira punch."
+
+At that moment the baronet opened the door and admitted William Trigget.
+The master mariner carried a pair of stout oak sticks with basket-work
+guards under his arm.
+
+"Does your education commence so soon?" inquired Beatrix of Kingswell.
+
+"Somebody's does," he replied, with a return of his old confidence. With
+the lady's permission and Sir Ralph's assistance, Trigget and Kingswell
+cleared the middle of the floor of rugs and the table. They removed
+their outer coats. Trigget was the taller, as well as the heavier, of
+the two. Without further preliminaries, they fell on, and the dry
+whacking of the sticks against one another, varied occasionally by the
+muffled thud of wood against cloth, filled the cabin. It was a fine
+display of the English style--slash, cut, and guard, with never a
+side-step nor retreat. After ten minutes of it, Trigget cried "enough,"
+and stumbled out of the danger zone. His right arm was numb. His
+shoulders and sides ached, and his head swam; Kingswell was without a
+touch.
+
+Neither Beatrix nor Sir Ralph, nor yet Trigget, for that matter,
+concealed their astonishment at the result of the bout. "And now, sir,"
+said Kingswell, "I should like a lesson in the other style."
+
+The baronet took down a pair of light, edgeless blades with blunted
+points. After a few words as to the manner of standing, they crossed the
+lithe weapons. In a second Kingswell's was jerked from his hand and
+sent bounding across the room. He recovered it without a word and
+returned to the combat. By this time the light was failing. After about
+a dozen passes, he was again disarmed. His gray eyes danced, and he
+laughed gaily as he picked up his weapon.
+
+"I see the way of that trick," he said.
+
+He returned to the one-sided engagement with, if possible, more energy
+and eagerness than before. Already he had the attitude and stamping
+manner of attack to perfection. Sir Ralph tested his defence again and
+again without slipping through. Three times he tried the circular,
+twisting stroke with which he had disarmed the novice before without
+success. Wondering, and slightly irritated, he put out fresh efforts,
+and forgot all about his defence. The blades rasped, and rang, and
+whispered. The blunted point was at Kingswell's breast, at his throat,
+at his eyes; but it never touched. And, just as Mistress Beatrix was
+about to bid the combatants cease their exertions, because of the
+gathering dusk, Kingswell's point touched the insignificant but painful
+wound on the baronet's shoulder. With an exclamation, in which disgust,
+pain, and amusement were queerly blended, Sir Ralph dropped his foil to
+the floor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS
+
+
+Captain Pierre d'Antons' injury kept him indoors for ten days. During
+that time he saw nobody but Maggie Stone, Bernard Kingswell, and Ouenwa.
+Kingswell could not help feeling sorry for him, in spite of the enmity
+and distrust in his heart. D'Antons made no mention of how he came by
+his cut head to the young Englishman. He knew that the other knew--and
+sometimes he wondered how much. He accepted such attentions at
+Kingswell's hand as any fair-hearted man will make to any invalid, with
+what seemed gratitude and humility. But under the mask his blood was
+raging. If his hand trembled while receiving a glass of water from the
+Englishman, it was as much from the effort of restraining an outburst of
+hate as from weakness. Kingswell, clear-sighted by now, suspected the
+real state of the other's feelings.
+
+During the days of D'Antons' inactivity, the Beothics made three night
+attacks on the fort. Two were repetitions of the one-man demonstrations
+of cunning, in which Clotworthy had met his death and young Trigget had
+received the cut on his arm. Happily both had failed. The third was an
+attack in force, made in that darkest hour just before the first
+stirrings of dawn. By good fortune, both William Trigget and Kingswell
+were dressed and about at the time of the first alarm. They both ran to
+the gun-platform, and there found Tom Bent desperately engaged with two
+savages, who had scaled the stockade over the massed shoulders of their
+fellows. The intruders were speedily hurled backward, they and a portion
+of the breastworks falling on the devoted heads below. At the moment,
+Dame Trigget puffed valiantly up the ladder and handed a torch to her
+husband. In a second the coverings were pulled from the guns. The
+muzzles of the little weapons were declined as far as they would go, and
+the fuses were ignited. Comprehending the trend of affairs, some of the
+enemy let fly their arrows at the little group in the torch's
+illumination. Both William Trigget and Tom Bent were hit, and fell to
+their knees. In the same instant of time the guns belched their flame
+and screaming missiles into the wavering mass of savages. A yell of
+terror and pain, made up of many individual cries, followed the reports
+of the guns like an echo.
+
+But along the opposite stockade, things were not going so well for the
+settlers. About a dozen of the enemy had gained foothold on the roof of
+the storehouse, and from there had jumped into the yard, driving Peter
+Harding before them. They were immediately engaged by the Donnellys.
+Torches and lanterns glowed and swung about the edges of the conflict.
+Matters were looking serious for the defenders (who by that time were
+joined by Sir Ralph, Ouenwa, and the redoubtable Maggie Stone) when the
+discharge of artillery across the square turned the courage of the
+attackers to water, and their victory to defeat. Six of them were cut
+down while endeavouring to escape by way of the ladder against the wall
+of the storehouse. The rest got away, but none of them unscathed. With
+that the fight ended, though the defenders kept to their posts until
+broad daylight.
+
+In the morning it was discovered that one of the six warriors who
+remained within the fort was still alive. Sir Ralph had him carried to
+D'Antons' cabin, and his wounds attended to. They were not of a serious
+nature. Black Feather, who was a convalescent by now, recognized a
+bitter enemy in the disabled captive. He was for despatching him
+straightway, recalling the bitter days of his slavery and the loss of
+wife and children. He was dragged away by Kingswell, and Ouenwa
+remonstrated with him at some length.
+
+The little garrison had suffered in the brief engagement. William
+Trigget had halted three arrows with his big body. Only one had reached
+the flesh, thanks to his thick garments of wool and hide; but that one
+had cut deep into the muscles of his chest, and the others had bruised
+his ribs. Tom Bent was more seriously injured, with a gaping slash in
+the side of his neck. Young Peter Harding was laid on his back with a
+cracked rib, dealt him by a stone-headed axe, and seemed in a fair way
+to remain on the sick-list for some time to come.
+
+The dead Beothics were carried out and buried in a shallow grave near
+the honest Clotworthy's desolate resting-place.
+
+It was evident, from the smoke above the woods, that the enemy were
+still maintaining the siege, and at even closer range than before. The
+continual sight of that evidence of their presence, and the idleness due
+to confinement within a few hundred yards of the stockade, began to tell
+on the spirits of the settlers. It became a matter of difficulty to
+forget the wounded men in such restricted quarters. Bandages and
+salves, gruels and plasters, seemed to pervade every corner. Every one
+who was not an invalid was a nurse. In addition, the lack of fresh meat
+was beginning to be felt. Sir Ralph, who had seemed more cheerful just
+after his affair with D'Antons, was fallen back on his black moods.
+Mistress Beatrix's cheeks and eyes were losing something of their
+radiance, though she carried herself bravely and cheerfully.
+
+Master Kingswell, who had a knack with bandages and such, found his time
+fully occupied. He inspected all the wounded twice a day, and he and
+Ouenwa took entire charge of D'Antons and the captured Beothic. His only
+recreation was a few hours of each afternoon or evening spent with the
+Westleighs. He and the baronet fenced, if the visit happened to be paid
+during the day; if in the evening, they sometimes played chess, or,
+better still, the baronet paced the room in uneasy meditation, and the
+youth and the maiden bent their young heads above the pieces of carved
+ivory.
+
+Behind the girl's laughter and hospitality, Kingswell detected an
+aloofness toward him that had not been noticeable during the first days
+of their acquaintance. The thing was very fine--so fine that it was
+scarcely a matter of attitude or manner. One of duller perception would
+have missed it altogether. It was in no wise a physical aloofness, save
+in a certain reservation in the glance of the eye and the softer notes
+of the voice. But it worried the young man. He felt that he had failed
+in something--that she had set a standard for him, and that he had not
+risen to it. With native shrewdness, he suspected that she considered
+him crude and conceited. He knew that she considered him brave, and that
+she admired his courage; but he was equally sure that his prowess with
+the singlesticks against Trigget, and his increasing dexterity with the
+rapier, did not tell in his favour in her eyes. "Women are evidently as
+unreasonable as the poets depict them," he decided, and tried to acquire
+a modest demeanour. But the ability to do so had not been born in him,
+and no matter how low and self-abasing his speech, pride shone in his
+clear eyes and self-confidence was in the carriage of head and
+shoulders.
+
+The baronet's attitude toward Master Kingswell became more affectionate
+every day. He recognized the sterling qualities in the youth,--the
+honesty, courage, and loyalty, as well as the physical and mental gifts
+of quick eye and wrist and clear brain. He derived no little comfort
+from his presence in the fort. He felt that in this golden-haired son of
+the Bristol merchant-knight his daughter had a second guardian. He knew
+that the Kingswell blood, though not noble by the rating of the College
+of Heralds, was to be depended on as surely as any in England. In
+happier times he had known and enjoyed a certain amount of familiarity
+with the elder Kingswell, and had found the broad-minded merchant's
+heart as sound as his self-imported wines. He remembered the wife, too,
+as a person of distinction and kindliness.
+
+For his own part, the baronet realized more surely, with the passing of
+each narrow day, that life offered no further allurement to him. The
+slight exhilaration that had followed the defiance and defeat of
+D'Antons was of no more lasting a quality than the flavour of a vintage.
+The Frenchman was harmless, poor devil, like the rest of them; and in as
+fair a way as himself to leave his bones in the wilderness. Yes, he felt
+a twinge of pity for him! He could understand that, to an adventurer
+like D'Antons, unrequited love was the very devil,--worse, perhaps, than
+the fever of the gaming-table. But of course he felt no regret for
+having put an end (as he believed) to the fellow's audacious suit. His
+regret--if, indeed, he entertained any concerning so recent an event in
+his career--was that he had not pricked the buccaneer's bubble of false
+power months before--despite the promise he had made him. But as things
+had turned out,--as Time had dealt the cards, to use his own words,--the
+other's behaviour had allowed him to strike without too flagrant a
+breach of his word of honour. He was thankful for that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+TWO OF A KIND
+
+
+When Pierre d'Antons was able to move about again, he found himself
+shunned, without disguise, by every one of the inmates of the fort save
+Bernard Kingswell. The West Country sailors, no longer under orders to
+treat him with respect and obedience, simply grunted inaudibly and
+turned their backs when he addressed them. Of course, the door of Sir
+Ralph's habitation was closed against him. He spent almost all his time
+in his own cabin, with the captured and slowly convalescing Beothic for
+companion. He read a great deal, and thought more. Now and again, in a
+fit of chagrin, he would stamp about the room, cursing, crying out for a
+chance of revenge, with clinched hands uplifted. During such paroxysms,
+the Beothic would watch him closely, with understanding in his gaze. The
+savage was no linguist; but hate burns the same signals in eyes of every
+nationality.
+
+D'Antons continued to suffer from his infatuation for Mistress
+Westleigh. The blow of the skillet had changed nothing of that. Whatever
+his passion lacked in the higher attributes of love, it lacked nothing
+in vitality. It was a madness. It was a bitter desire. How gladly he
+would risk death, fighting for her--and yet he would not have hesitated
+a moment about killing her happiness, to win his own, had an opportunity
+offered. Self-sacrifice, worshipful devotion, and tenderness were things
+apart from what he considered his love for the beautiful English girl.
+
+In this state of mind he built a hundred wild dreams of carrying her
+away, and of ultimately imprisoning her, should she still be averse to
+his love, in a Southern stronghold. Then a realization of his position
+would come over him and set him stamping and raving. To Kingswell,
+despite the fire in his heart, he showed a contrite and friendly
+exterior. He wondered if he could not turn the young man to some use. He
+gave the matter his attention.
+
+One evening D'Antons told a plaintive story to Kingswell. All through it
+the Englishman was itching to be gone; for he spent no more of his time
+than was absolutely necessary under the Frenchman's roof. But the
+narrator held him with a mournful eye. The tale was an alleged history
+of Pierre d'Antons' youth. It dealt with a great family that had fallen
+upon lean years; with a ruinous ch�teau, a proud and studious father,
+and a saintly mother; with a boyhood of noble dreams and few pleasures;
+with a youth of hard and honourable soldiering wherever the banners of
+France led the way; and with an early manhood of high adventure and
+achievement in the Western colonies.
+
+Kingswell listened coldly, though the other's voice fairly trembled with
+emotion. He believed no more of the tale than if he had already heard
+the truth of the matter--which was, in plain English, that D'Antons was
+the bastard of a blackleg nobleman by a Spanish dancer; that he had
+spent his youth as a pot-boy on French ships, and had won, by courage
+and cunning, to the position of a captain of buccaneers in early
+manhood. The achievements in the Western colonies had been matters of
+the wrecking and plundering of what others had built; the high
+adventures--God spare me the telling of them!
+
+After Kingswell left him, the pirate fell into one of his reddest moods.
+He was sure that the pink-cheeked youth had not believed a word of his
+story--had been laughing up his sleeve at the most touching passages. He
+was sorry that he had not twisted the lad's neck instead of concluding
+the narrative. It was a sheer waste of breath, this artistic lying to
+such a pig's head! He jumped to his feet, with a violence that almost
+startled the Beothic to outcry, and flung himself about the room like a
+madman. He kicked the stolid logs of the walls. He knocked the few
+pieces of furniture out of his erratic course, and spilled his books and
+papers, quills and ink, to the floor: all this without any ringing oaths
+or blistering curses. His rage worked inward, as bodily wounds sometimes
+bleed. It played the devil with his limbs, his features, and his hands,
+but found no ease in articulation. A trickle of blood ran down his chin,
+from where he had set a tooth into his lower lip. Withal, he was such a
+daunting spectacle that Red Cloud, the Beothic, crouched fearfully
+against the wall, and followed his movements with wide eyes; for, though
+a mighty warrior in his own estimation, Red Cloud was a craven at heart.
+
+Presently the tumult of the madness ceased, and the victim of it sank
+languidly into a chair beside the Beothic's couch. He groaned and
+shivered. For awhile he sat limp, with his thin face hidden between his
+hands. Looking up, his eyes met the eyes of the native. In their furtive
+regard, he read that which suggested a new move. Though, owing to an
+inborn caution, he had never displayed a knowledge of the Beothic
+language to his fellow settlers, and had refrained from using any words
+of it before Ouenwa, he had picked up a fair idea of it during his
+sojourn at Fort Beatrix. Hitherto he had paid but scant attention to Red
+Cloud, for he entertained the Spanish attitude of intolerance toward
+uncivilized peoples; but now he leaned forward and spoke kindly to his
+companion.
+
+It was late when Kingswell and Ouenwa returned to D'Antons' cabin. Under
+the new order of things, Ouenwa had volunteered his services as
+assistant night-guard of the two prisoners--for the Frenchman was
+virtually a prisoner. It was their custom to keep watch turn and turn
+about, in two hours' vigils, one sleeping while the other sat in a
+comfortable chair by the hearth. Their couch was also by the hearth.
+This precaution was taken for fear of some treachery on the part of Red
+Cloud.
+
+When the two entered the outer room, the fire was burning brightly, and
+by its ruddy light they saw the muffled figure of the Beothic, face to
+the wall, in the far corner. They shot the bar of the door. When the
+morning was well advanced, they opened windows and door, and replenished
+the fire. Kingswell drew aside the curtain between the rooms, and looked
+in to see how D'Antons was faring. His fire was out and he was still
+abed. Kingswell moved noiselessly across the floor and peered close.
+What an awkward figure the graceful buccaneer cut in his sleep! He laid
+his hand on the shapeless shoulder. It encountered nothing but yielding
+pelts and blankets. He dragged the things to the floor frantically. His
+exclamation brought Ouenwa to his side. The Englishman pointed a finger
+of dismay at the demolished dummy.
+
+"Tricked!" he cried. "Rip me, but what a fine jailer I am!" They rushed
+back to the other room and investigated the figure on the Beothic's
+couch. That, too, proved to be a shape of rolled furs and bedding. Red
+Cloud also had faded away.
+
+News of the disappearance of D'Antons and the savage went through the
+fort like an electric current. The settlers were more interested and
+surprised over it than concerned. Even the invalids sat up and
+conjectured on the captain's object in fleeing to the outer wilderness,
+and the doubtful but inevitable reception by the natives. They could
+hardly bring themselves to the belief that he and Red Cloud had gone as
+fellow conspirators, remembering the haughty Frenchman's bearing toward
+the aborigines with whom he had traded on occasions.
+
+William Trigget shook his head when he heard the story, and rated the
+men who had been on duty along the palisade with unsparing frankness.
+Sir Ralph looked worried, and Mistress Beatrix looked surprised.
+
+"It seems a very simple trick," she murmured, "to bundle up a few
+blankets into lifelike effigies, and then to slip away while the jailer
+is elsewhere spending a social evening."
+
+Kingswell flushed hotly, and looked at the girl steadily; but he failed
+to meet her eyes.
+
+"Yes," he said, "they slipped away while two men were on guard along the
+walls, and while the self-appointed jailer, who has not had four hours'
+sleep in any night in the past three weeks, was playing chess with your
+ladyship."
+
+"I am sure it is no loss to us," interposed the baronet quickly. "We
+have no use for the savage; and as to D'Antons--why, if the enemy kill
+him, it will save some one else the trouble. But I cannot help wondering
+at him taking so dangerous a risk. If he had been on friendly terms with
+the natives at any time, one would have a clue. But he always treated
+them like dogs."
+
+Kingswell turned a casual shoulder toward the lady, and gave all his
+attention to the baronet and the affair of the Frenchman. The blush of
+shame had gone, leaving his face unusually pale. His eyes, also, showed
+a change--a chilling from blue to gray, with a surface glitter and a
+shadow behind.
+
+"You may be sure," he replied to Sir Ralph, "that D'Antons has taken
+what he considers the lesser risk. I'll wager he has won the savage to
+him, hand and heart. I was a fool not to have removed Red Cloud to one
+of the other huts."
+
+"He was kept to D'Antons' cabin by my orders," said the baronet.
+
+"I had forgotten that," replied Kingswell. "Then I am not the only
+scapegrace of the community."
+
+The baronet's face lighted whimsically, and he smiled at the young man.
+But the girl did not receive the implication in the same spirit. She
+stared at the speaker as if he were some surprising species of bird that
+had flown in at the window.
+
+"Such a remark rings dangerously of insubordination," she exclaimed,
+"not to mention the impertinence of it."
+
+Sir Ralph looked at her, completely puzzled, and murmured a
+remonstrance. It is a wise father that knows his own daughter. Kingswell
+turned an expressionless face toward the fire for a moment. Then he
+bowed to Sir Ralph. "If I am guilty of impertinence, sir, I humbly crave
+your pardon," he said. "As to insubordination--why, I believe there is
+nothing to say on that head, as I am a free agent; but I think you
+understand, sir, that I and my men are entirely at your service, as we
+have been ever since the day we first accepted the hospitality of Fort
+Beatrix. My men, at least, have not failed in any duty, whatever my
+delinquencies."
+
+With an exclamation of sincere concern, the baronet stepped close to his
+friend and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.
+
+"Bernard--my dear lad--why all this talk of pardon, and duty, and
+delinquencies, and God knows what else? If you believe that I consider
+you guilty of any carelessness, you must think me ungrateful indeed."
+
+His voice, his look, his gesture, all convinced Kingswell that the words
+were sincere, and so did something toward the mending of his injured
+feelings. To the baronet, his eyes brightened and his manner unbent. He
+took his departure immediately after.
+
+Sir Ralph turned to his daughter as the door closed behind Kingswell.
+
+"I do not understand your treatment of him," he said. "Surely you
+realize that he is a friend--and friends are not so common that we can
+afford to flout them at every turn." He did not speak angrily, but the
+girl saw plainly enough that he was seriously displeased.
+
+"The boy is so insufferably self-satisfied," she explained, weakly. "How
+indignation would have burned within him had some one else allowed the
+prisoners to escape."
+
+The baronet gazed at her pensively for several seconds, and then took
+her hand tenderly between his own.
+
+"You do the brave lad an injustice, my sweeting," he said. "What you
+take for conceit is just youth, and strength, and fearlessness, and a
+clean conscience. He has nothing of the braggart in him--not a hint of
+it. I am sorry you like him so little, my daughter, for he is a good lad
+and well-disposed toward us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER
+
+
+For a time after D'Antons' departure into the unknown, the little
+garrison of Fort Beatrix turned day into night. Not a man indulged in so
+much as a wink of sleep between the hours of dusk and dawn; but from
+sunrise until afternoon the place was as if it lay under an enchantment
+of slumber. On the sixth day after the flight of the Frenchman and Red
+Cloud, Ouenwa approached Kingswell with a request to be allowed to leave
+the fort, in company with Black Feather. He told how Black Feather was
+of the opinion that many of the tribesmen were against the leadership of
+Panounia, and that, if they could be found, it would be an easy matter
+for Ouenwa to win their support. He, Ouenwa, was of the blood of the
+greatest chief they had ever known. They would gather to the totem of
+the Bear. Assured of the friendship of the English people, they could be
+brought to the rescue of the settlement. So Black Feather had told the
+tale to Ouenwa, and so Ouenwa believed.
+
+"And you would have to go with Black Feather?" inquired Kingswell, none
+too cheerfully; for he looked upon the lad as a very dear younger
+brother.
+
+"Truly, my friend-chief, for I am the grandson of Soft Hand," replied
+the boy. "When they see me, their blood will rise at the memory of Soft
+Hand's murder. I will talk great words of my love for the English, and
+of my hatred for Panounia, and of the great trading that will be done at
+the fort when the night-howlers have been driven away. Thus we shall all
+be saved--thus Mistress Beatrix shall escape capture."
+
+At that Kingswell started and eyed his companion keenly. "You think
+Panounia can break into the fort?" he inquired.
+
+Ouenwa smiled. "Hunger can do it before the snow melts," he replied,
+"and hunger will fight for Panounia and the black captain."
+
+"What do you know of the black captain?"
+
+"He is with the night-howlers. He will keep their courage warm. He will
+struggle many times to bring us to our deaths and to capture the lady.
+That is all I know."
+
+"But how do you know so much, lad?" asked Kingswell.
+
+Ouenwa looked surprised. "How could I know less, who dwelt within
+eyeshot of the black captain for so many days, and who have learned the
+ways of such wolves?" he asked, in his turn. "You know it already
+without my telling, friend-chief," he added.
+
+"Let us to Sir Ralph for his advice," said the other.
+
+Master Kingswell had not crossed the threshold of the baronet's cabin
+since the time of his rebuff at the hands of Mistress Beatrix. Of course
+he had seen the baronet frequently, and they had smoked some pipes of
+tobacco together by the hearth of the departed Frenchman; but from the
+presence of the lady he had kept off as from a lazaretto. At the voice
+of duty, however, he sought the baronet in his own house with excellent
+composure. Anger at the knowledge that a girl could hurt him so nerved
+him to accept the risk of again seeing the displeasure in her dark eyes.
+
+Mistress Beatrix was not in the living-room when they entered. Sir Ralph
+welcomed them cordially. Upon hearing Ouenwa's and Black Feather's plan
+for winning some of the tribesmen to the succour of the fort, he was
+deeply moved. He took a ring from his own hand and slipped it over one
+of Ouenwa's fingers. He gave the lad a fine hunting-knife for Black
+Feather, and a Spanish dagger for himself. He told Kingswell to supply
+them unstintingly from the store, with provisions and clothing for
+themselves and gifts for the natives whom they hoped to win.
+
+"'Tis a chance," said he to Kingswell. "A chance of our salvation, and
+the only one, as far as I can see."
+
+At that moment Mistress Beatrix entered the room. At sight of the
+visitors by the chimney, she swept a grand curtsey. The visitors bowed
+low in return. Her father advanced and led her, with the manner of those
+days, to his own chair beside the hearth. He told her, in a few words,
+of the venture upon which Ouenwa and Black Feather intended to set
+forth. The thought of it stirred the girl, and she looked on Ouenwa with
+shining eyes.
+
+"'Tis a deed for the great knights of old," she said. "Lad, where have
+you learned your bravery?"
+
+Unabashed, Ouenwa stood erect before her. "Half of it is the blood of my
+fathers," he replied, "and half is the teaching of Master Kingswell--and
+half I gather from your eyes."
+
+The girl flushed with suppressed merriment. The baronet concealed his
+lips with his hand. Kingswell clutched his outspoken friend by the
+shoulder.
+
+"Brother, you have named one-half too many," he said, laughing, "so your
+reason will carry more weight if you leave out that in which you mention
+my teaching. But come, we must find Black Feather, and make arrangements
+to leave as soon as dusk falls."
+
+At that Beatrix tightened her hands on the arms of the chair and turned
+a startled face toward the speaker. "Surely, sir, you do not mean to
+leave us, too!" she exclaimed.
+
+Neither the baronet nor Kingswell were looking at her; but Ouenwa saw
+the expression of eyes and lips. Kingswell, however, did not miss the
+note of anxiety in the clear young voice.
+
+"I do not go with them, mistress," he said, "because my company would
+only delay their movements. And perhaps even spoil their plans. I am a
+poor woodsman--and already our garrison is none too heavily manned."
+
+"I am glad you are not going," replied the girl, quietly. "I am sure
+that my father looks upon you as his right hand, and that the men need
+you."
+
+Sir Ralph looked at his daughter with ill-concealed surprise.
+Kingswell, murmuring polite acknowledgment of her gracious words, strove
+to get a clearer view of her half-averted face. He failed. Ouenwa was
+the only one of the three who knew that the words were sincere; but he
+had the advantage of his superiors in having caught sight of the sudden
+fear in the lady's face.
+
+Sir Ralph and Kingswell lowered the light packs over the stockade to
+Ouenwa and the big warrior. When the figures merged into the gloom,
+heading northward, the two commanders descended from the storehouse and
+entered the baronet's cabin. Beatrix was by the fire, radiant in fine
+apparel.
+
+"I am in no mood for chess," said Sir Ralph. "The thought of those two
+brave fellows stealing through the dark and cold fidgets me beyond
+belief."
+
+He began his quarter-deck pacing of the floor--up and down, up and down,
+with his head thrust forward and his hands gripped behind his back.
+
+"The wind is rising," said the girl to Kingswell. "It will be bleak in
+the forest to-night--away from the fire."
+
+She shivered, and held her jewelled hands to the blaze.
+
+"It is blowing for a storm," replied the young man. "The sky was clouded
+over when they left. 'Tis safer for them so. The snow will cover their
+trail and, very likely, will keep the enemy from prowling abroad for a
+good many hours to come."
+
+Mistress Beatrix crossed the room to a cupboard in the wall, and from it
+produced a violin. Kingswell stood by the chimney, watching her. The
+baronet continued his nervous pacing of the floor. The girl touched the
+strings here and there with skilful fingers, resined the bow, and then
+returned to the hearth and stood with her eyes on the fire. Suddenly she
+looked up at Kingswell. Her eyes were as he had never seen them before.
+They were full of firelight and dream. They were brighter than jewels,
+and yet dark as the heart of a deep water.
+
+"Please do not stand," she said, and her voice, though free from any
+suggestion of indifference, sounded as if her whole being were far from
+that simple room. Her gaze returned to the fire. Kingswell quietly
+reseated himself; and at that she nestled her chin to the glowing
+instrument and drew the bow lightly, lovingly, almost inquiringly,
+across the strings. A whisper of melody followed the touch and sang
+clearer and more human than any human voice, and melted into the
+firelight.
+
+At the first strain of the music, the baronet sat down and reclined
+comfortably with his head against the back of his chair. For awhile he
+watched his daughter intently; then he turned his eyes to the heart of
+the fire and journeyed far in a waking dream.
+
+The girl played on and on, weaving enchantments of peace with the magic
+strings. Kingswell, leaning back with his face in the shadow, could not
+look away from her. The minutes drifted by unheeded behind the singing
+of the violin. The candles on the table flared at their sockets. The
+logs on the hearth broke, and the flames sprang to new life. Outside the
+wind raced and shouldered along the walls. And suddenly the player
+stilled her hand, and, without a word to either of the men, took up one
+of the guttering candles from the table and went quickly to her own
+chamber. She carried the fiddle with her against her young breast, and
+the bow like a wand in her hand.
+
+Sir Ralph started and sat erect in his chair. Kingswell got to his feet
+with a sigh, and lifted his heavy cloak from the bench.
+
+"I must go the rounds," he said. "Good night, sir."
+
+With that he went out into the swirling eddies of the storm. The baronet
+sat still for another hour. The music had uncovered so many ghosts of
+joy and song, of love and hate and shame. It had rung upon past glories
+and called up more recent dishonours. And still another matter occupied
+his mind, and was finally dismissed with a smile and a yawn. It was that
+Beatrix had indulged in one of her deliriums of music in young
+Kingswell's presence, and that she had never before played in any mood
+but the lightest in the hearing of a stranger.
+
+Kingswell paced beside the sentry at the drifted gate; but he kept his
+thoughts to the picture of the girl, the glowing fiddle, and the music
+and firelight that had seemed to pulse and spread together about the
+long room. Again he saw the candle flames leap high and waver, as if
+lured from their tethers by the crying of the instrument. But clearest
+of all was the player's face. His heart was filled to suffocation at the
+memory of it. Had other men seen her so beautiful? Had other men heard
+her soul and her dear heart singing and crying from the strings of the
+violin?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN
+
+
+Ouenwa and Black Feather turned their faces from the little fort and the
+hostile camp beyond the white river, and set bravely forward into the
+darkness. Black Feather led the way, avoiding hummocks, bending and
+twisting through the coverts, crossing the open glades like a
+shadow--and all without any noise except the scarcely audible padding of
+his stringed shoes. Ouenwa trod close after. They had not gone far
+before the snow began to fall and puff around them in blinding clouds.
+The trees bent tensely under the lash of the wind. More than one
+frost-embrittled spire came crashing down. Still the warrior and the lad
+held on their journey, for they were both fresh and strong, and eager to
+widen the spaces of wilderness between themselves and the camp of
+Panounia.
+
+Shortly before dawn they dug a trench in the snow on the leeward side of
+a thicket of low spruces, broke fir-branches for a bed, built a fire
+between the walls of white, and cooked and ate a frugal repast, and
+then rolled themselves in their rugs of skin and fell asleep. They had
+no fear that any of Panounia's people would disturb their slumbers. They
+lay as motionless and unknowing as logs for several hours. Then Ouenwa
+turned over and yawned, and Black Feather sat up, wide-awake in an
+instant. The morning was bright and unclouded. The white sun was
+half-way up the blue shell of the eastern sky. All around the new snow
+lay in feathery depths. On the dark firs and spruces it clung in even
+masses, which showed that the wind had died down long before the flakes
+had ceased to fall. Ouenwa and his comrade ate frugally of cold meat and
+bread, swallowed some brandy and water, and resumed their journey.
+
+Not until the afternoon of the third day following their departure from
+Fort Beatrix did the travellers sight the smoke of a fire. It was Black
+Feather, attaining the summit of a ridge a few paces ahead of Ouenwa,
+who caught the first sight of the thin, melting signal of human life. It
+wavered up from a wood in a valley a few hundred of yards in front. On
+their right hand lay the ice-edged gray waters of an arm of the sea. On
+their left stretched dark forest and empty barren to a mountainous
+horizon. In front lay hope, and behind the spur of menace.
+
+"Is there a village yonder?" asked Ouenwa.
+
+Black Feather replied negatively.
+
+"The stream is Little Thunder," he said, in his own language, "and there
+was no lodge there when last I saw it. We will approach under the
+shelter of those spruces in the hollow. It makes the journey a few paces
+longer, and perhaps the arrival twenty times safer."
+
+Ouenwa nodded his sympathy with the caution expressed by his friend.
+
+"But let us hurry," he said. "Remember that around the stockade the
+black captain is ever stirring the courage of the night-howlers."
+
+At last, creeping on all fours, they peered from the screen of brush
+into a tiny clearing on the north bank of Little Thunder. The stream was
+not ten yards across at this point. On its white surface ran several
+trails of snow-shoes. The smoke which had attracted them to the place
+curled up from the apex of a large, bark-roofed wigwam. As the
+travellers watched, an old woman appeared in the doorway of the lodge.
+Ouenwa recognized her as a wise herb-doctor who had been a friend and
+adviser of Soft Hand. He whispered the information to Black Feather.
+
+"Then we may show ourselves," said the other, "for if this woman was
+the great chief's friend you may be sure that death has only
+strengthened her loyalty. It is so with women--with the wise and the
+foolish alike. A man will stand close to his comrade in the days of his
+glory and in the press of battle; but it is the squaw who keeps the
+fallen shield freshly painted and the cause of the departed ever before
+the matters of the present day. A man must have the reward of his
+friend's praise and the joy of his companionship; but a woman makes a
+god of the departed spirit and looks for her reward beyond the red
+gates."
+
+Ouenwa had nothing to say to his friend's sage reflections, for all he
+knew of women was that a radiant creature far back in Fort Beatrix had
+his heart in thrall. So he led the way from cover, and down the bank, in
+silence.
+
+The old squaw in the doorway of the lodge caught sight of them
+immediately. She turned into the dark interior of the wigwam, but
+appeared before they were half-way across the frozen stream, with a bow
+in her hand and an arrow on the string. Black Feather and the lad raised
+their right hands, palms forward, above their heads, and continued to
+advance. The old hag lowered her weapon, but did not relax her attitude
+of vigilance. Close to the rise of the bank the travellers paused, and
+the lad called out that he was Ouenwa, grandson of Soft Hand, and that
+his companion was Black Feather, the adopted son of Montaw, the
+arrow-maker. At that the guardian of the wigwam forsook her post and
+advanced to meet them.
+
+The herb-doctor, who had been one of Soft Hand's advisers, was not
+attractive to the eye. She was bent hideously, though still of
+surprising bodily strength. Her head was uncovered, save for the matted
+locks of hair that clung about it and fell over her ears and neck like a
+wig of gray tree-moss. Her eyes were deep and black and fierce. One
+yellow fang stood like a sentinel in the cavity of her mouth. Her hands
+were claws. Her skin was no lighter in hue and no finer in texture than
+was the tanned leather of her high-legged moccasins. Her garments were
+unusually barbaric--lynx-skins shapelessly stitched together and hung
+about with belts and charms, and a great knife of flint nearly as long
+as a cutlass. Her corded, scraggy arms hung naked at her sides, as
+indifferent to the nip of the frost as to the regard of strange eyes.
+
+"Child," she said, "I heard that you were killed--that Panounia's men
+had slain you and a party of English; but that I knew to be false, for I
+saw not your spirit with the spirits of your fathers. So I believed
+that you had crossed the great salt water with the strangers."
+
+Ouenwa told his story, to which the old woman listened with the keenest
+interest and many nods of the head.
+
+"It is well," she said. "They are scattered now, some in hiding, some
+sullenly obedient to Panounia, and some in captivity. Your need will
+bring them together and awake their sleeping courage. I know of a full
+score of stout warriors who will draw no bow for Panounia, and who are
+all within a day's journey of this spot, but sadly scattered,--yea,
+scattered in every little hollow, like frightened hares."
+
+"Do you live in this great lodge all by yourself?" inquired Black
+Feather.
+
+"My sons are in the forest, seeing to their snares," replied the woman,
+eying the tall brave sharply, "but within are a sick woman and a small
+child who escaped, ten days ago, from one of Panounia's camps."
+
+She stood aside and motioned them to enter the lodge. Ouenwa went ahead,
+with Black Feather close at his heels. Within, it took them several
+seconds to adjust their eyes to the gloom of smoke and shadow. Presently
+they made out a couch of fir-branches and skins beyond the fire, and on
+it a woman, half-reclining, with her arm about a child. Both the woman
+and the child were gazing at the visitors. The child began to whimper.
+
+Black Feather uttered a low cry, and sprang over the fire. He had found
+his squaw and one of his lost children.
+
+The sickness of Black Feather's wife was nothing but the result of
+hardship and ill-treatment. Already, under the herb-doctor's care, she
+was greatly improved. The meeting with her warrior went far to complete
+the cure of the old woman's broths and soft furs. The child was well;
+but the woman knew nothing of the whereabouts of their elder offspring.
+
+Ouenwa and Black Feather did not tarry long at the lodge beside Little
+Thunder. With the younger of their aged hostess's sons for guide, they
+set out that same day to find the hidden warriors who were against the
+leadership of Panounia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS
+
+
+Back at Fort Beatrix the time passed in weary suspense. The wounded men
+recovered slowly. The enemy remained inactive beyond the river and the
+dark forest. Only the haze of their cooking-fires, melting against the
+sky, told of their presence. The inaction ate into the courage of the
+English men and women like rust. The boat-building and the iron-working
+at the forge were carried on listlessly, and without the old-time spurs
+of song and laughter. Even William Trigget and Tom Bent displayed sombre
+faces to their little world.
+
+Bernard Kingswell, however, found life eventful. He was not blind to the
+danger of their position, and he continued to do double duty in
+everything; but for all that he awoke each day with keen anticipation
+for whatever might befall, and, sleeping, dreamed of other things than
+the poised menace and the monotony. Why should he regret Bristol, or any
+other city of the outer world, when Beatrix Westleigh was domiciled
+within the rough walls of the fort on Gray Goose River? His heart would
+not descend to those depths of despondency in which lurk fear and
+hopeless anxiety. What power of man, in that wilderness, could break
+down his guard and harm the most wonderful being in the world? The
+girl's brief season of unkindness toward him was as a cloud that her
+later friendliness had dispersed as the sun disperses the morning fog.
+He had caught a glimpse of her heart in her music, in her eyes, in her
+voice, and on several occasions something that had set his heart
+thumping in the touch of her hand. At least she was neither averse nor
+indifferent to his society, and the glances of her magnificent eyes were
+open to translations that set him looking out upon life and that
+wilderness through a golden haze. Let a dozen black-visaged D'Antons
+draw their rapiers upon him--he would out-thrust, out-play, and
+out-stamp them all! Let a hundred fur-clad savages howl about the
+fort--he, Bernard Kingswell, with his lady's favour on his breast, would
+scatter them like straw! And all this because, for the first time in his
+life of twenty-one years, he was bitten with love for a woman,--and
+twenty-one was a fair, manly age in those days. He had won to it
+unknowingly, by the brave paths of adventure and the sea. So let not
+even the oldest of us criticize his attitude toward life. A man's
+emotions cannot always be herded and driven by the outward circumstances
+of need and danger, like a flock of sheep at the mercy of a dog and a
+dull countryman. That to which cautious Worldliness has given the name
+of madness, from the earliest times, is nothing but a spark of God's own
+courage and imagination in the heart of youth: the years having not yet
+smothered it with the ashes of cowardice and calculation.
+
+Bernard Kingswell had never displayed any but an assured front to the
+world. Now this love that had him so irresistibly in its services only
+heightened the confidence of his address toward men and events; but in
+the presence of its inspiration it clothed him in unaccustomed and
+unconscious meekness. You may be sure that Beatrix had been quick to
+notice the change. It pleased her mightily, of course; for was it not a
+greater and a more pleasant matter to have brought a high-hearted,
+adventure-bred youth like this to bondage and slavery than to have a
+dozen idle courtiers bowing before one, and a dozen sentimental poets
+mouthing verses that could, with equal sincerity, be applied to any
+charming lady? So Mistress Beatrix decided, and could not find it in her
+heart to regret the beaux of London Town. But she did not know her
+heart as the man knew his--and as she knew his.
+
+One morning they walked together along the river-bank, before the open
+gate of the fort. The air was clearer than any crystal. The shadows
+along the snow were bluer than the dome of the sky. The girl talked
+cheerily; for in the bright daytime, with the sounds of peaceful labour
+rising from the fort so close at hand, and with a strong and worshipping
+man, sword-girt, within arm's length, it was hard to remember the menace
+concealed by the southern woods. Her eyes were very bright, and the
+blood mantled under the clear skin of her cheeks at the wind's caress.
+Now and then, for a bar or two, she broke into song.
+
+Their path was one that Kingswell had beaten firm with his snow-shoes,
+after the last storm, expressly as a promenade for Mistress Westleigh.
+It was about a hundred yards in length, and broad enough for two persons
+to walk in abreast, and firm enough to make the wearing of snow-shoes
+unnecessary. It ran north and south, parallel with the stockade and the
+course of the river at that point. When the turn was made at either end
+of the beat, Kingswell's glance searched the horizon and every tree,
+every knoll, and hollow. It was done almost unconsciously, as a
+traveller instinctively loosens his sword in its sheath at the sound of
+voices ahead of him on a dark road.
+
+After a time the girl noticed her companion's vigilance. "What do you
+expect to see?" she asked, touching his arm lightly and swiftly with her
+gloved hand. For a moment he was confused, but recovered his wits with
+an effort.
+
+"Nothing," he replied, "or surely we would not be walking here."
+
+She smiled at that. "Are you afraid?" she inquired.
+
+He looked down at her, displayed the desperate condition of his heart in
+his eyes, and then looked back again to the strip of woods that
+approached them along the back.
+
+"I am not afraid," he said--and then, with a gasp of dismay, he caught
+her and swung her behind him. She did not resist, but cowered against
+his sheltering back.
+
+"We must return to the fort," he said. "Something is going on in that
+covert."
+
+"Come! We will run!" she whispered, pulling at his elbows to turn him
+around.
+
+"No," he replied. "I shall walk backwards, and you must keep behind me,
+and guide me. It is no great matter to avoid an arrow, if one knows in
+what quarter to look for it."
+
+She made no reply. They began the retreat along the narrow branch path
+that led to the gate of the fort, he stepping cautiously, heels first,
+and she pulling at his belt and gazing fearfully past his shoulder at
+the woods. They were within a few yards of the gate when he suddenly put
+his arms behind him, caught her close, and lurched to one side. The
+unexpected movement threw the girl to her knees in the deep snow beside
+the path. Her cry of dismay brought her father and two others from the
+fort. They found Kingswell staggering and confusedly apologizing to
+Beatrix for his roughness. In the thickness of his left shoulder stuck a
+war-arrow. Supporting Kingswell and fairly dragging the frightened girl,
+they rushed back to safety and closed and barred the gate.
+
+Hour after hour passed without the hidden warriors of Panounia making
+any further signs of hostility, or even of their existence. The watchers
+on the stockade scanned the woods in vain for any movement. A shot was
+fired into the nearest cover from one of the cannon, but without
+apparent effect.
+
+Kingswell was on duty again within an hour of the receiving of his
+wound. The ragged cut caused him a deal of pain; but the salve that
+really took the sting and ache out of it was the thought that he had
+been serving Beatrix as a shield when the arrow struck him. He went the
+rounds of the stockades with a glowing heart and dauntless bearing, and
+his air of calm assurance put courage into the men. He saw to the
+strengthening of several points of the defence, cleared the loopholes of
+drifted snow, and gave out an extra supply of powder and ball.
+
+It was dusk of that day before Kingswell again saw Mistress Westleigh.
+He was passing the baronet's cabin, and she opened the door and called
+to him shyly. He turned and stepped close to her, the better to see her
+face in the gathering twilight. She extended her hands to him, with a
+quick gesture of invitation. He dropped his heavy gloves on the snow
+before clasping them in eager fingers.
+
+"But you must not stand here, without anything 'round your shoulders,"
+he said; but, for all his solicitude, he maintained his firm hold of her
+hands. She laughed, very softly, and a slight pressure of her fingers
+drove his anxiety to the winds. He would have nothing of evil befall
+her, God knows!--nay, not so much as a chill--but how could he keep it
+in his mind that she wore no cloak when his whole being was a-thrill
+with love and worship? So he stood there, speechless, gazing into her
+flushed face. Presently her eyes lowered before his ardent regard.
+
+"I called to you to thank you for saving my life," she murmured. He had
+nothing to say to that. Perhaps he had saved her life--and again,
+perhaps he had not. At that moment he was the last person in the world
+to decide the question. His heart and mind were altogether with the
+immediate present. He realized that her hands were strong and yet tender
+to the touch of his. The faint fragrance of her hair was in his brain
+like some divine vintage. The sweet curves of cheek and lips--how near
+they were! She had called to him with more than kindness in her voice.
+God had made a high heaven of this fort in the wilderness.
+
+"You were very brave," she said, leaning nearer ever so slightly. Sweet
+madness completely overthrew the lad's native caution, and he was about
+to catch her to him bodily, when she slipped nimbly into the cabin, and
+left him standing with arms extended in silent invitation toward the
+figure of the imperturbed Sir Ralph.
+
+"Well, my lad?" inquired the baronet, calmly.
+
+"Good evening to you, Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, hiding his chagrin
+and confusion with exceeding skill.
+
+"You looked just now as if you were expecting me," said the elder. "Come
+in, come in. We can talk better by the fire."
+
+Kingswell's blushes were safe in the dusk. He picked up his gloves from
+the trampled snow by the threshold, and silently followed the baronet
+into the fire-lit living-room. Beatrix was not there--which fact the
+lover noticed with a sinking of the heart. He was alone with her father,
+and evidently under marked suspicion,--a fearful matter to a young man
+who aspires to the hand of an angel, and has not yet his line of action
+quite laid down. He took a deep breath, trembled at thought of his
+presumption, called the respectability of his parents and his income to
+his aid, and was ready for the baronet when that gentleman turned and
+faced him in front of the fire.
+
+"I love your daughter," he said, with his voice not quite so cool and
+manly as he had intended it to be.
+
+Sir Ralph bowed, but said nothing. His back was to the fire, and so his
+face was in heavy shadow.
+
+"I love her very dearly," continued the other. "I believe no man could
+love a woman more, for it is with my whole heart, and with every fibre
+of my being. I know, sir, that my rank is not exalted, and that she is
+the--"
+
+The baronet raised his hand sharply.
+
+The gesture silenced Kingswell in the middle of his sentence more
+effectively than a clap of thunder would have done it.
+
+"Yes," said Sir Ralph, harshly, "she is the daughter of a blackleg. She
+is the daughter of a criminal exile. She is the daughter of a broken
+gamester. Ay, Bernard, you do indeed look high,--you, the son of a
+humble merchant of Bristol."
+
+Kingswell was dismayed for the moment. Then, with a hardy oath, he
+slapped his hand to his hip.
+
+"Though she were the daughter of the devil himself," he began, and came
+to a lame stop. The baronet's smile passed unseen. It was a kindly
+smile, and yet a bitter one by the same tokens. Kingswell gave up all
+attempt at politic speech. He had his own feelings to express. "Your
+daughter, sir, is the best and the loveliest," he said, huskily.
+"Whatever your backslidings and misfortunes have been, they can reflect
+in no way on her sweetness, and wisdom, and virtue. But, sir, I do not
+mean to sit in judgment on any man, and last of all on the father of the
+most glorious woman in the world. I remember you in your strength,--the
+greatest man in the county and my father's noble friend. The world has
+taken a twirl since then, but you may be sure that, whatever betide, my
+heart is with you warmer than my worthy father's ever was."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+BETROTHED
+
+
+That Bernard Kingswell had accepted the baronet's own estimation of his
+(the baronet's) character so frankly, in the heat of sentimental
+disclosure, did not trouble Sir Ralph by more than a pang or two. What
+else could he expect of even this true friend? He was a broken gamester
+and a criminal exile by all the signs and by the verdict of the law; but
+whether or not he was a blackleg was a matter of opinion and the exact
+definition of that word. He knew that Kingswell was well disposed toward
+him, and that he believed nothing vile or cowardly of him; but, best of
+all, he was sure that, in Kingswell's love, his daughter was fortunate
+beyond his hoping of the past two years. Should they get clear of the
+besieging natives and out of the wilderness, her future happiness,
+safety, and position would be assured. As Mistress Bernard Kingswell,
+she would live close to the colour and finer things of life again,
+gracing some fair house as a former Beatrix had done in other days--to
+wit, the great houses of Beverly and Randon. The mist blurred his eyes
+at that memory and dimmed his vision against the rough log walls around
+him.
+
+Another thought came to the broken baronet, as he sat alone by the
+falling fire, after Kingswell's departure, and awaited his supper and
+the reappearance of his daughter. The thought was like a black shadow
+between his face and the comforting fir sticks--between his heart and
+the knowledge of a good man's love and protection for Beatrix. Knowing
+the girl as he did, he felt sure that she would never leave him, her
+exiled father, even at the call of a more compelling love; and, as a
+return to his own country meant prison or death to him, she would hold
+to the wilderness, thereby leaving the new-found happiness untouched. On
+the other hand, should death come to him soon, and in the
+wilderness,--by the arrows of the enemy, for choice,--his daughter's
+fetters would be filed for ever. He sank his face between his hands. The
+desire to live out one's time clings about a man's vitals against all
+reason. Even an exiled and broken gamester, stockaded in a nameless
+wilderness and hemmed in by savages, finds a certain zest in day and
+night and the winds of heaven. With nothing to live for--even with the
+scales decidedly the other way--Death still presents an uninviting face.
+It may be the inscrutable mask of him that fills with distrust the heart
+of the man who contemplates the Long Journey. In that inevitable yet
+mysterious figure, showing as no more than a shadow between the bed and
+the window, it is hard for the sinful mortal, no matter how repentant,
+to read clear the promise of eternal peace. What dark deed might not be
+perpetrated by the shrouded messenger between the death-bed and
+Paradise?
+
+Sir Ralph bowed his head between his palms, and hid the commonplace,
+beautiful radiance of the hearth-fire from his eyes; and so, while he
+waited for his supper of stewed venison, he reasoned and planned for his
+daughter's future to the bitter end, seeing clearly that, should the
+chances of battle turn in favour of the little plantation, he must
+readjust his sentiments toward death. A man of lower breeding and
+commoner courage would have groaned in the travail of that thought, and
+cursed the alternative; but the baronet sat in silence until he heard
+his daughter at the door, and then stood up and hummed softly the
+opening bars of a Somerset hunting-song.
+
+Beatrix tripped close to her father and raised her face to him. He bent
+and kissed her tenderly. For a little while they stood without speaking,
+hand in hand, on the great caribou skin before the hearth. Suddenly the
+girl pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
+
+"What was it," she whispered, breathlessly,--"the matter that held you
+and Bernard in such serious converse?"
+
+"And has your heart given you no hint of it?" he laughed.
+
+"And why, dear father? What has my heart to do with your talk of guards
+and ammunition and supplies,--save that it is with you in everything?"
+
+The baronet released her hand and, instead, placed his arm about her
+slender and rounded waist. "It is a story that I cannot tell you,
+sweet,--I, who am your father," he said. "But I think that you shall not
+have to wait long for the telling of it, for both youth and love are
+impatient. And here comes the good Maggie with the candles."
+
+During the meal the baronet was more lively and entertaining than
+Beatrix had seen him for years, and Beatrix, in her turn, was unusually
+untalkative and preoccupied. The girl wanted to give her undivided
+attention to the quiet voice of her heart. The man was equally anxious
+to avoid introspection as she to court it. But he, for all his laughter
+and gay stories of gay times spent, displayed a colourless face and
+haunted eyes behind the candle-light; while she, sitting in silence,
+glowed like a rare flower. Her dark, massed tresses, her eyes of
+unnamable colour, her throat and lips and brow, were all radiant with
+the magic fire at her heart.
+
+Sir Ralph, after bringing a disjointed tale to a vague ending, sipped
+his wine, put down the glass clumsily, and suddenly turned away from the
+table. The bitterness of his lot had caught him by the throat. But she
+noticed nothing of his change of manner; and presently they left the
+table and moved to the fire. He busied himself with heaping faggots
+across the dogs. Then she filled his tobacco-pipe for him, and lit it
+with a coal from the hearth, puffing daintily. He had just got it in his
+hand when a knocking sounded on the door, and Maggie Stone opened to
+Kingswell.
+
+Upon Kingswell's entrance, Sir Ralph, after greeting him cordially but
+quietly, donned his cloak and hat, and begged to be excused for a few
+minutes. "I have a word for Trigget," he said. Then he pulled on his
+gloves, pushed open the door, and stepped out to the dark.
+
+Two candles burned on the table. Maggie Stone snuffed them, surveyed
+the room and its inmates with a comprehensive glance, and at last forced
+her unwilling feet kitchenward again. Her heart was as sentimental as
+heroic, was Maggie Stone's, and her nature was of an inquisitive turn.
+She sighed plaintively as she left the presence of the young couple.
+
+The door leading to the kitchen had no more than closed behind the
+servant than Bernard, without preliminaries, dropped on one knee before
+the lady of his adoration, and lifted both her hands to his lips. She
+did not move, but stood between the candles and the firelight, all
+a-gleam in her beauty and her fine raiment, and gazed down at the golden
+head. Her lips smiled, but her eyes were grave.
+
+"Dear heart," murmured the lad, without lifting his face or altering his
+position,--"dear heart, can it be true?"
+
+She bent her head a little lower. Her heart seemed as if it was about to
+break away from its bonds in her side. She could not speak; but, almost
+unconsciously, she closed her fingers upon his.
+
+"Tell me," he cried. And again, with a note of fear in his voice: "Tell
+me if I may win you! Tell me if your heart has any promise?"
+
+Before she could control her agitation sufficiently to answer him, the
+outer door of the cabin was swung open without ceremony, and Sir Ralph
+stamped in. He caught Kingswell by the wrist and wrenched it sharply.
+
+"We are attacked," he cried. "They have piled heaps of dry brush along
+the palisades--and they have set the stuff on fire! It burns like mad.
+Lord, but it looks more like hell than ever!"
+
+Even as he spoke, the fragrant, biting odour of the smoke from the
+burning evergreen-needles invaded the room. Kingswell got quickly to his
+feet, still holding the girl's hands. He did not look at the baronet.
+For a second he paused and peered, questioning, into her wonderful eyes.
+
+"Oh, I love you, dear heart," she cried, faintly. "I love you, Bernard."
+
+He stooped quickly (and how eagerly every lover knows), and even while
+the first brief and tremulous kiss was sweet on their lips, the muskets
+clapped deafeningly, savage shouts rang high, and the baronet thrust
+sword and hat into Bernard's hands.
+
+"Come! For God's grace, lad, come and rally the men!" he shouted.
+
+Then the lover turned from his mistress and saw the shrewd work that
+awaited him. He ran to it with a leaping heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN
+
+
+The heaps of brush outside the palisades burned with a long-drawn
+roaring, like the note of a steady wind. It was a terrifying sound. The
+glare of the conflagration lit the interior of the fort, staining the
+trampled snow of the yard to an awful hue, staining the faces of the
+desperate settlers as if with foreshadowing of blood, and painting the
+walls of the cabins as if for a carnival. The platform upon which the
+guns stood was a mass of flame before any use could be made of the
+pieces. The breastwork of faggots burned with leapings and roarings,
+flinging orange and crimson showers to the black dome above. The savages
+skirmished behind the girdle of flames, like imps along the
+blood-coloured snow. The settlers discharged their muskets through the
+singed loopholes, firing low, and taking the chances with heroic
+fortitude. Sir Ralph and Bernard Kingswell were here and there, with
+their swords in their hands and encouragement in speech and bearing.
+Both knew that this engagement would be a fight to the finish; and both
+felt reasonably sure that a shrewder and braver commander than Panounia
+was against them.
+
+The ammunition was carried from the storehouse to the shed over the
+well, for the fire was already crackling against the log walls of the
+buildings. Suddenly a sharp report and a high shower of sparks and
+burning fragments broke from the gun-platform; and, for the moment, the
+warriors were scattered from that side. One of the cannon had exploded.
+That corner of the stockade immediately fell and settled to the snow.
+Next instant the second gun was fired by the flames. It sent its whole
+charge into the uncertain Beothics, scattering them to cover in yelling
+disorder. At that the Englishmen cheered, and set about fighting back
+the encroaching flames.
+
+Inspiration, or a font of courage to be drawn upon at need, must have
+dwelt behind the shelter of the spruces; for within a very few minutes
+of the retreat, all the warriors, save the wounded, were about the fort
+again. Kingswell took note of it, and suspected the inspiration to be
+nothing else than Pierre d'Antons' insinuating presence and dazzling
+smile. A spur, too, he suspected--the spur of the mongrel Frenchman's
+evil sneer and black temper. He knew enough of the aboriginal character
+to feel that it would prove but a plaything for such a personality as
+the buccaneer's. He looked across the glowing, smoking breach in the
+fortifications with hard eyes. He voiced his desire to have the fellow
+by the throat, or at the point of his sword, in tones that rang like a
+curse.
+
+Suddenly Kingswell left his post and ran to the well-house.
+
+He knew where the _Pelican's_ powder lay among the stores, done up in
+five canvas bags of about twelve pounds each. With two of these under
+his cloak, he returned to his place a few paces from the subsiding red
+barrier that still held the enemy from the interior of the fort. By this
+time the back of Trigget's cabin was smouldering. The roofs of the
+cabins, deep with snow, were safe; but the rear walls were all in a fair
+way of being ignited by the crackling brushwood, which the warriors of
+Panounia diligently piled against them.
+
+Kingswell left the protection of the rest of the square to Sir Ralph,
+William Trigget, and all the men of the garrison save Tom Bent. The old
+boatswain was, by this time, a very active convalescent. Kingswell
+whispered a word or two in his ear. They kept a sharp lookout across the
+wreckage of the fallen corner of the stockade. They saw a party of the
+enemy gather ominously close to the glowing edge of the breach.
+Kingswell passed one of the bags of powder to his companion. "When I
+give the word," he said.
+
+Suddenly the black knot of warriors dashed into the obstruction,
+brandishing spears and clubs, and screaming like maniacs. Kingswell
+uttered a low, quick cry, tossed his bag of powder into the glowing
+coals under the feet of the enemy, and ran for the shelter of the
+well-house at top speed. Tom Bent followed his movements on the instant.
+Together they reached the narrow shelter; and, before they could turn
+about, the air shook and reeled, as if a bolt of wind had broken upon
+them, a blinding flash seemed to consume the whole night, and a puffing,
+thumping report stunned their ears. They stumbled against the sides of
+the shed, clawed desperately, and fell to the ground.
+
+When Bernard Kingswell and the trusty boatswain regained their senses
+(which had left them for only a few seconds), they crawled from the
+well-house and stared about them. The square was not so bright as it had
+been, and, save for a few huddled shapes on the snow, was empty. By the
+shouting and mixed tumult, they knew that the fighting was now farther
+away--that the settlers had sallied forth on the offensive. They could
+not understand such recklessness; but they decided, without hesitation,
+to take the risk. They ran to the now black gap in the palisades. Fire,
+coals, wreckage, and even the snow had been hurled and blown broadcast.
+They crossed the torn ground and headed for the tumult in the fitfully
+illuminated spaces beyond. Native war-whoops and English shouts mixed
+and clashed in the frosty air. On the very edge of the shifting
+conflict, the old sailor clutched his master's arm. "Hark!" he cried.
+"D'ye hear that now? It be the yell o' that young Ouenwa, sir, or ye can
+call me a Dutcher!"
+
+At the same moment, before Kingswell could reply to Bent's statement, a
+club, thrown by a retreating warrior, caught the gentleman on the side
+of the head and felled him like a thing of wood. He moaned, as he
+toppled over. Then he lay still on the ruddy snow.
+
+
+Beatrix had a dozen candles alight in the living-room of the baronet's
+cabin. Word had reached her that Ouenwa and Black Feather had arrived in
+time to take advantage of the rebuff dealt the enemy by the explosions
+of the bags of powder. When victory had seemed to be hopelessly in the
+hands of the determined savages, Ouenwa and his followers, though spent
+from their journey, had made a timely and successful rear attack.
+
+The girl was radiant. She moved up and down the room, eagerly awaiting
+the return of Bernard Kingswell. She questioned herself as to that, and
+laughed joyously. Yes, it was Bernard, beyond peradventure, whom heart,
+hands, and lips longed to recover and reward. A month ago, a week ago,
+it would have been her father--even a night ago he would have shared,
+equally with the lover, in her sweet and eager concern. But now she sped
+from hearth to door, and peered out into the blackness, with no thought
+of any of those brave fellows save the lad of Bristol.
+
+The burning brush had all been trampled out, and the fires in the walls
+and stockade had been quenched with water. The little square was dark,
+save for the subdued fingers of light from windows and doors. Beatrix
+peered from the open door, regardless of the cold. She was outlined
+black against the warm radiance inside the room. Her silken garments
+clung about her, pressed gently by a breath of wind. She rested a hand
+on either upright of the doorway, and leaned forward as if, at a whim,
+she would fly out from the threshold. Presently shadowy figures took
+shape in the gloom, and she heard her father's voice, and William
+Trigget's, and the high pipe of Ouenwa. But she caught no sound of
+Bernard Kingswell's clear tones. A sudden fear caught her, and she
+stepped out upon the trampled snow and called to Sir Ralph. In a moment
+he was at her side, and had an arm about her.
+
+"Sweeting," he said, "you must stay within for a little. The night is
+bitterly cold, and--"
+
+"But where is Bernard?" she whispered, staring past him.
+
+"He is with the others," replied the baronet,--"with Ouenwa and his
+brave fellows, and the dauntless Trigget."
+
+He spoke quickly and uneasily, and led her back to the cabin at the same
+time. He closed the door, and laid a wet sword across a stool.
+
+"What is it?" she cried, facing him, with wide eyes and bloodless
+cheeks. "Tell me! Tell me!"
+
+"The lad is hurt," admitted Sir Ralph.
+
+"Hurt?" repeated the girl, vaguely. "Hurt? How should he be hurt?"
+
+She shivered, and gripped her hand desperately. Could it be that the
+High God had been deaf to her prayers?
+
+Sir Ralph's face went as pale as hers; for all he knew of Kingswell's
+condition was that he still breathed, and that his hat had saved his
+head from being cut. Whether the skull was broken or not, he did not
+know. He braced himself, and smiled.
+
+"My dear," he said, "he is not seriously hurt, so do not stand like
+that--for God's sake!"
+
+At the last words his voice lost its note of composure, and broke
+shrilly. He caught her to him. "Rip me," he cried, "but if you act so
+when he is simply knocked over, what will you do if he ever gets a real
+wound!"
+
+The girl was comforted. Tears sprang to her eyes, and the blood returned
+to her cheeks. She clung to the baronet and sobbed against his shoulder.
+Presently she looked up.
+
+"Take me to him," she begged, "or bring him here."
+
+"So you love this Bernard Kingswell?" inquired her father, looking
+steadily into her face.
+
+Her gleaming eyes did not waver from his gaze. "Yes," she replied,
+quietly.
+
+The man turned away, took his blood-wet sword from the stool, eyed it
+dully, and leaned it against the wall. He was trying to imagine what the
+lad's death would mean to his daughter's future; but he could only see
+that it would mean a few more years for himself. He started guiltily,
+and returned to his daughter. His face was desperately grim.
+
+"Wait for me," he said. "I'll see how the lad is doing now; and shall
+return immediately."
+
+Sir Ralph crossed to the cottage that had been built for D'Antons, and
+which had passed on to Kingswell. He opened the door softly and stepped
+within. He found the wounded gentleman lying prone on his couch,
+half-undressed, and with bandaged head. Ouenwa, gaunt and blood-stained,
+was beside the still figure.
+
+"He opened his eyes," whispered the boy; "but see, he has closed them
+again. His spirit waits at the spreading of the trails."
+
+Sir Ralph bent down and examined the linen dressings on Kingswell's
+head. They were exceedingly well arranged. He saw that the hair had been
+cut away from the place of the wound.
+
+"Your work, Ouenwa?" he inquired.
+
+The boy nodded. The baronet felt his friend's pulse.
+
+"It beats strong," he said. "The heart seems sure enough of the path to
+take."
+
+Ouenwa's face lighted quickly. "He has chosen," he said, gravely. "He
+has seen the hunting-grounds shining beyond the west, but the beauty of
+them has not lured him along that trail."
+
+The baronet smiled quickly into the Beothic's eyes. "You are a brave
+lad, and we are deep in debt to you," he exclaimed. "Your bravery and
+wit have saved the fort and all our lives. Watch your friend a few
+minutes longer; I but go to bring another nurse to help you. Then you
+may sleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT
+
+
+From that brisk fight, in which Ouenwa and his twenty braves and the
+little garrison of Fort Beatrix defeated Panounia, Black Feather brought
+a confirmation of Pierre d'Antons' concern in the last attacks upon the
+settlement. It consisted of a sword-belt and an empty scabbard. He had
+torn them from the person of a tall antagonist during a brief
+hand-to-hand encounter. The owner of the gear had won free, Black
+Feather regretted to say. Sir Ralph, too, felt the escape of his enemy,
+and sincerely hoped that the defeat had ended his power over Panounia,
+and brought down that wolfish chief's hatred instead.
+
+On the morning after the battle, the little plantation presented a busy
+though sombre appearance to those of its people who were in condition to
+view it. Along the woods and rising ground to the north, the snow and
+frozen soil were being hollowed to receive the bodies of those slain in
+the fight. The dead of the enemy had been carried far into the woods,
+and piled together with scant ceremony. The settlers had lost three of
+their number,--young Donnelly, Harding, and the younger Trigget. Four of
+the rescuing party were dead and wounded. Tom Bent was on his back
+again, and Kingswell's head was ringing like a sea-shell. William
+Trigget was cut about the face and sore all over; but he kept on his
+feet.
+
+After the graves were chipped in the iron earth, and the shrouded bodies
+lowered therein and covered, the tribesmen, under Black Feather's
+orders, set about building themselves lodges outside the stockade. It
+had been decided that, for mutual support, the friendly Beothics should
+camp near the fort, at least for the remainder of the winter. With axes
+borrowed from the settlement, they soon had the forest ringing with the
+noise of their labour. Though they had travelled light, in their hurry
+to rescue the friends of Ouenwa and Black Feather, they had dragged
+along with them a few sled-loads of deerskins and birch bark, with which
+to cover their wigwams. So the shelters sprang up quickly about the torn
+and scorched palisades; for it was a small matter to trim the poles and
+fit the pliable roofs across the conical frames.
+
+The dusk gathered over the wilderness, dimming the edges of white
+barren and black forest and round hill. The stars shone silver above,
+and the fires of the victorious men of the totem of the Bear glowed red
+below. In the outer room of the cabin that had been Pierre d'Antons',
+Beatrix sat alone by Kingswell's bed. Her eyes were on the leaping
+flames in the chimney, and his were on the fair lines of her averted
+face. The top of his head was so swathed in bandages that he looked like
+a turbaned Turk. Cheeks and chin were white as paper in the unstable
+light. His eyes were bright with a touch of fever brought on by his
+suffering. His mind was in a fitful mood, for a minute or two steady
+enough and concerned with the present and the room in which he lay, and
+then wandering abroad, exploring vague trails of remembrance and
+imagining. Sometimes he murmured words and sentences, but in such a
+gabbling style that his nurse could have made nothing of what was
+passing in his brain even if she had taken such advantage of his
+condition as to try.
+
+After a long spell of uneasy mutterings, followed by a profound silence,
+he suddenly flung out one arm. The movement startled Beatrix from her
+dreaming, and she turned her face back to him from the fire.
+
+"Twenty days without water," he whispered, distinctly. "Twenty
+days--and that beast Trowley is laughing to see my tongue between my
+teeth like a squeezed rag."
+
+The girl caught up a mug of water and held it to his lips. He drank
+greedily, and then took hold of her hand. His head was against the
+hollow of her arm; for, to give him the drink, she had knelt beside his
+low bed.
+
+"Beatrix," he said, gravely, "let us pretend that you love me."
+
+She was strangely moved at that, and bent closer to see his eyes.
+
+"Why pretend, dear heart?" she answered. "I do love you, as you very
+well know. Sleep again, Bernard, with your head so--pressed close."
+
+"I feel your heart," he said, simply as a child. The fever was as a fine
+haze across the mirror of his brain.
+
+"It beats only for you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek.
+The lad's eyes shone with a clearer light at that.
+
+"Tell me that this is no vision of fever," he said. "Tell me, or
+strength will bring nothing but sorrow. Better death than to find your
+kisses a trick of dreaming."
+
+"Is it not a pleasant dream?" she asked, softly, smiling a little.
+
+"Ay; to dream so, a man would gladly have done with waking," he replied.
+"If it were not in life that Beatrix were mine, then would I follow the
+vision through eternal sleep--as God is my judge."
+
+"Hush, dear lad," she murmured, "for the heart and the body of Beatrix
+are of right Somersetshire stuff, to fade not at any whim of fever--and
+the love she gives you will outlast life--as God is our judge and love
+His handiwork." And she kissed him again, blushing sweetly at her
+daring. And so they remained, she kneeling beside the couch, and he with
+his bandaged head against her lovely shoulder, until Sir Ralph entered
+the cabin, fumbling discreetly at the latch.
+
+The days passed slowly in the heart of that frozen wilderness between
+the white river and the long graves. Stockade and wall were repaired.
+Fresh meat was trapped and shot in sheltered valley and rough wood. The
+forge rang again with the clanging of sledges, and the tracts of timber
+with the swinging axes. Hope reawoke in hearts long dismayed, and blood
+ran more redly to the stir of work and freedom. Master Kingswell gained
+fresh strength with the rounding of every day, and Mistress Westleigh
+recovered all her glory of eyes and lips and hair. Ouenwa, honoured by
+all, carried himself like a gentleman and a warrior. Black Feather, with
+his wife and his surviving child in a snug lodge, felt again the zest
+and peace of living. Only Sir Ralph seemed to find no ray of comfort in
+the days of security. He brooded alone, avoiding even his daughter. His
+face grew thinner, and his shoulders lost something of their youthful
+vigour. The desolation and bitterness had, at last, dimmed his courage
+and his philosophy. The very relief at Panounia's defeat and D'Antons'
+supposed overthrow had, somehow, weakened his gallant endurance. He
+counted it a grievance that God had not led him to his death in the last
+fight, as he had prayed so earnestly. He had been eager then. Now he
+must plan it over again--over and over--in cold reasoning and cold
+blood, and alone by the fire. A foolish, causeless anger got hold upon
+him at times; and again he would be all repentance, telling his heart
+that, no matter how bitter his fate, it was fully deserved. And so, day
+by day, the shadows grew behind his brain, and a little seed of madness
+germinated and took root.
+
+For a time Beatrix did not notice the change in her father's manner and
+habits. The thing disclosed itself so gradually, and she was so intent
+upon the nursing of her lover; and yet again, the baronet had been
+variable in his moods, to a certain extent, ever since the beginning of
+his troubles--years enough ago. It was Ouenwa who first saw that
+something had gone radically wrong in the broken gentleman's mind, and
+his knowledge had come about in this wise.
+
+The young Beothic, though an ardent sportsman and warrior, was a still
+more ardent seeker after bookish wisdom. Kingswell, before his hurt, had
+taught him something of the art of reading. Later, Mistress Westleigh
+had carried it further. By the time that Kingswell was safely on the
+road to his old health and a mended head, Ouenwa could spell out a page
+of English print very creditably. His primer was one of those volumes of
+Master Will Shakespeare's plays, which the Frenchman had left behind
+him. One day Beatrix entered the cabin to take her turn at tending the
+invalid, and found Ouenwa with the drama in his hands, and his youthful
+brow painfully furrowed with thought. She took the book from him and
+fluttered the pages, pausing here and there to read a line or two.
+
+"Run away," said she, "and on a shelf beside our chimney you will find a
+book with easier words than this contains. There is matter here, I
+think, that is beyond a beginner."
+
+At that Kingswell raised himself to his elbow and nodded his sore head
+eagerly.
+
+"Ay, lad, run and find yourself an easier book," he said.
+
+Nothing loath, for his quest of learning was sincere,--as was everything
+about him,--Ouenwa left the presence of the lovers and ran across the
+snow to Sir Ralph's cabin. He told his errand to the baronet. That
+gentleman looked at him long and keenly, so that the boy trembled and
+wished himself out of the house. Then, with a sudden start and a harsh
+laugh, "Help yourself, lad," said Sir Ralph. Ouenwa found the shelf of
+books, and, kneeling before it, was soon busy looking over the divers
+volumes and broad-sheets with which it was piled high. He found a rhymed
+and pictured chap-book greatly to his liking. He was spelling out the
+first verses when a movement behind his back brought him to a sense of
+his whereabouts. He turned quickly. There stood the baronet, with a
+walking-cane in his hand, making lunge and thrust at a spot of resin on
+the log wall. The poor gentleman stamped and straddled, pinked the
+unseen swordsman, and parried the unseen blade, with a dashing air.
+There was a light in his eyes and a twist of the lips that struck
+Ouenwa's heart cold in his side. The light was that which, when seen in
+the eyes of a man of a primitive people, divides that man from the laws
+and responsibilities that are the portion of his fellows. It was the
+gleam of idiocy--that sinister sheen that cuts a man from his
+birthright.
+
+The boy knelt there, motionless with fear, with his face turned over his
+shoulder. He watched every movement of the fantastic exhibition with
+fascinated eyes. He fairly held his breath, so terrible was the display
+in that quiet, dim-lit room. Suddenly the baronet lowered the point of
+the modish cane smartly to the floor, and turned upon the lad with a
+smile, an embarrassed flush on his thin cheeks, and sane eyes.
+
+"'Tis a pretty art--this of the French rapier," he said, "and I make a
+point of keeping my wrist limber for it."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Ouenwa.
+
+Sir Ralph flung the walking-cane aside, and sat down despondently in the
+nearest chair. Ouenwa saw, at a glance, that his presence was already
+forgotten. With furtive movements and such haste as he could manage, he
+began replacing some of the books and selecting others to carry away
+with him.
+
+"Sweeting," said the baronet, "a pipe of tobacco would rest me."
+
+Ouenwa realized that the gentleman, in his strange mood, believed that
+Mistress Beatrix was in the room; but Ouenwa had tact enough not to
+point out the little mistake. He got up noiselessly and filled the bowl
+of a long pipe from a great jar on the chimney-piece. He took a splinter
+of wood from the basket by the hearth and lit it at the fire. Stepping
+softly to the baronet's side, he placed the pipe in his hand, and held
+the light to the tobacco while the baronet puffed reflectively and
+unseeingly. Then the lad gathered up his books and left the cabin. Fear
+of Sir Ralph's wild manner was cold in his veins.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST
+
+
+And now to tell something of the movements of Pierre d'Antons, which, of
+late, have been carried on behind the screen of the forest and beyond
+the ken of the reader.
+
+The defeat of Panounia's warriors, on that night of fire and blood,
+knocked the adventurer's fortunes flatter than they had ever been. You
+may believe that he cursed Ouenwa bitterly, and wished that he had
+killed him long ago, when the lad threw his followers into the battle.
+It was then that D'Antons himself left his post beyond the scuffle, and,
+with desperate efforts, tried to turn the reverse back to victory. His
+swordsmanship and energy availed him nothing. He missed capture only by
+slipping the buckle of his sword-belt. Then, a fugitive from both sides,
+he ran to the woods, avoiding the scattered and retreating warriors who
+had so lately been struggling in his behalf as fearfully as he would
+have avoided William Trigget or Sir Ralph Westleigh. One of his late
+comrades, trailing wounded limbs along the snow, hurled a Beothic curse
+after him. Another, better prepared, let fly a war-club, and missed him
+by an inch. He slashed on, through the underbrush, the drifts, and the
+dark, sure that capture by any of the defeated savages would mean death
+and perhaps torture.
+
+The black captain did not run on any vague course, despite his haste. He
+knew where a possibility of help awaited him. He had given his wits to
+more than plans of revenge and kidnapping during his sojourn with
+Panounia. In winning the men to him, he knew that his hold upon them
+would not outlast defeat; but in winning the love of the Beothic maiden
+Miwandi, he had laid up store against an evil day. But he had not won
+her heart simply on a chance of defeat--far from it, for he had not
+dreamed of such a chance. It was a pleasant thing in itself to be the
+lover of that nut-brown, lithe-limbed, warm-hearted young girl--for
+Miwandi suspected nothing of his desire for, and plans concerning, the
+lady in the fort. She loved the tall foreigner quickly and surely. She
+was extravagantly proud of his power over the warriors of her people. He
+was her brave, and as such she cherished him openly, to the envy rather
+than the criticism of the other women of the encampment.
+
+Miwandi was the daughter of a lesser chief of Panounia's faction. She
+was seventeen years of age. Her skin was ruddy brown, darker than the
+skins of some of her people and lighter than that of others. Her hair
+was brown and of a silken texture, very unlike the straight locks of the
+savages of the great continent to the westward. Her features were good,
+and her eyes were full of life and warmth. D'Antons' conquest rankled in
+the breasts of more than one of the young bucks of the camp.
+
+Pierre d'Antons, fleeing from the fighting men of both parties, shaped
+his course for the lodge in which Miwandi dwelt. As he ran, with fear at
+his heels, he forgot to regret the girl in the fort; instead, a pang of
+honest affection for the comely young woman toward whom he was flying
+for help stirred in him. He stumbled into the lodge, and Miwandi caught
+him in her arms. In a few quick words, he told her of the defeat, and of
+the anger of Panounia's warriors toward him. She kissed him once,
+passionately, and then fell to collecting a few things--a quiver of
+arrows, a bow, furs, and some food. She pressed a bundle into his arms.
+He accepted it without a word. She bound her snow-shoes to her feet, and
+retied the wrenched thongs of his. Then they slipped from the dark
+lodge to the darker woods; and his sheathless sword, damp with blood,
+was still in his hand. They heard the cries of the wounded behind them,
+and other cries that inspired them to flight.
+
+They fled for hours, without pausing to ease their breathing. Of the
+two, it was the man who sometimes lagged, who often stumbled, and who
+cried once that he would rather be captured than strain limb and lung to
+another effort. D'Antons had been actively employed throughout the day,
+and again during the most desperate passages of the battle, and his
+strength was well-nigh exhausted. At last he fell and lay prone. In an
+instant the girl was beside him, pillowing his head and shielding his
+body from the cold, and revived him with brandy from the scanty supply
+in his flask. By that time the dawn was breaking gray under the stars,
+and all sounds of the chase had died away. She cut an armful of
+fir-branches, and with them and the skins she and D'Antons had carried,
+she made a rude bed and a yet ruder shelter. So they lay until high
+noon, fugitives in a desolate wilderness, with death, in half a dozen
+guises, lurking on either hand.
+
+Behind D'Antons and Miwandi, the broken band of Panounia's followers
+soon gave up the hunt. Matters were not in condition to be mended by
+killing a long-faced Frenchman and a pretty girl. The defeated savages
+had their own wounds to see to, and already too many dead to hide under
+the snow. A matter of sentiment, like the torturing and killing of their
+false leader D'Antons, would have to wait. Now, of all those valorous
+warriors who had menaced the little fort since the very beginning of
+winter, only ten remained unhurt. Panounia was dead. He had breathed his
+last in the edge of the woods, while the battle was still raging, and
+had been carried farther in by one of his men. Thus his death had
+remained unknown to the victors; as had also the deaths of many more of
+the besiegers. Wolf Slayer, that courageous savage lad who had once
+boasted of his deeds to Ouenwa, was desperately hurt. Painfully and
+hopelessly, those of the wounded who could move at all, the women, and
+the unhurt of the band, retreated toward farther and surer fastnesses.
+The wounded who could not drag themselves along were left to perish in
+the snow. Some were frozen stiff before morning. Some bled to death
+within the same time. A few lived until they were discovered by Ouenwa's
+men in the bright daytime,--they were reported as having been found
+dead.
+
+D'Antons and Miwandi travelled, by forced marches, until they reached a
+wooded valley and a narrow, frozen river. Along this they journeyed
+inland and southward. At last they found a spot that promised shelter
+from the bleak winds as well as from prying eyes. There they built a
+wigwam of such materials as were at hand. Game was fairly plentiful in
+the protected coverts around. They soon had a comfortable retreat
+fashioned in that safe and voiceless place.
+
+"It will do until summer brings the ships," remarked D'Antons, busy with
+plans whereby he might give Dame Fortune's wheel another twirl.
+Sometimes he spent whole hours in telling Miwandi brave tales of far and
+beautiful countries. He spoke of white towns above green harbours, of
+high forests with strange, bright birds flying through their tops, and
+of wide savannahs, whereon roved herds of great, sharp-horned beasts of
+more weight than a stag caribou.
+
+"Oh, but you do not mean to leave me, Heart-of-Life," she cried.
+
+So he swore, by a dozen saints, that she, Miwandi, should be his queen
+in a palace of white stone above a tropic sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS
+
+
+Day by day, Sir Ralph Westleigh's mental sickness increased. It
+strengthened in the dark, like a blight on corn. Very gradually, and day
+by day, it grew over the bright surface of his mind and spirit. The
+sureness of its advance was a fearful thing to watch.
+
+By the time March was over the wilderness, with a hint of spring in the
+morning skies, the baronet's condition was noticeable to even the
+dullest inmate of the settlement. The poor gentleman spoke little--and
+that little was seldom to the point. It seemed as if he had forgotten
+how to smile, or even to make a pretence at mirth. He walked alone for
+hours on the frozen river and through the woods. The Beothics of the
+camp before the fort stood in awe of him. At times he treated Beatrix
+and Bernard Kingswell as strangers; but he always knew Maggie Stone, and
+chided her often on the scantiness of his dinners. All day, indoors and
+out, he wore a rapier at his side. In the cabin he spent half of the
+time inert by the fire, without book, or cards, or chess, and the rest
+of it in sword-play with an imaginary antagonist.
+
+It was well for Beatrix that she had found Bernard's love before the
+fresh misfortune descended upon her. But even with that comfort and
+inspiration, her father's derangement affected her bitterly. They had
+been such friends; and now he had blank eyes and deaf ears for all her
+actions and words. It was twenty times harder for her than to have seen
+him struck down by knife or arrow. Death seemed an honest thing compared
+to that coldness and vagueness of spirit that gathered more thickly
+about him with the passing of each day. It was as if another life,
+another spirit, had taken possession of the familiar body and beloved
+features. After two weeks neither her kisses nor her tears had any
+potency to break through the awful estrangement. Her prayers, her fond
+recollections of their old companionship, brought no gleam to the dull
+eye.
+
+By the end of March the busy boat-builders and smiths of the
+settlement--and every man save Sir Ralph was either one or the
+other--had two new boats all but completed. They were staunch crafts,
+of about the capacity and model of the _Pelican_. They were intended for
+fishing on the river and the great bays and for exploration cruises.
+
+William Trigget, who was a master shipbuilder as he was a master
+mariner, entertained great ideas of fishing and trading more openly than
+Sir Ralph had sanctioned in the past. He was for carving out a real home
+in the wilderness, and his wife was of the same mind.
+
+"We couldn't bear to leave the boy's grave," he said.
+
+Kingswell promised that, should he win back to Bristol, and find his
+affairs in order, he would use his influence in behalf of the settlement
+on Gray Goose River. Donnelly, too, was all for holding to the new land.
+
+"It be rough, God knows," he said, "but it be sort o' hopeful, too. If
+they danged savages leaves us alone, an' trade's decent, I be for
+spendin' the balance o' my days alongside o' Skipper Trigget. There be a
+grave yonder the missus an' me wouldn't turn our backs on, not if we
+could help it."
+
+Kingswell himself was not building any dreams of fixing his lot in that
+desolate place; and neither was old Tom Bent, though he spoke little on
+the subject. Ouenwa's ambitions continued to point overseas. Beatrix,
+now despondent at her father's trouble, and again happy in her love,
+gave little thought to the future of the settlement, or to any plans for
+the days to come, save vague dreamings of an English home.
+
+March wore along, and in open spaces the snow shrank inch by inch. Then
+rain fell; and after that a time of tingling cold held all the
+wilderness in a ringing white imprisonment. A man could run over the
+snow-fields and the bed of the river without snow-shoes; for the surface
+was tough as wood, white as the shield of that sinless knight, Sir
+Galahad, and glistening as a thousand diamonds. The mornings lifted
+clear silver and pale gold along the east. The evenings faded out in
+crimson and saffron, and the twilights, even when the stars were lit,
+made of the dome of heaven a bubble of thinnest green. And back of it
+all, despite the frost, hung a suggestion of sap-reddened twigs and
+blossoming trees.
+
+The lure of the season touched every one in the fort, and the camp
+beside it. It ran in Sir Ralph's blood like some fabled wine--for what
+vintage of France or Spain is the stuff of which the poets sing. It
+mounted to his head with a high, unregretting recklessness, and doubled
+the madness that already lurked there. Something of his old manner
+returned, and for a whole evening he sat with Beatrix and Kingswell and
+talked rationally and hopefully. Also, that same night, he played a game
+of chess. He spoke of the future as one who sees into it clearly and
+without fear. He recalled the past without any sign of embarrassment.
+But Kingswell, meeting his eyes by chance, caught a light of derision in
+them.
+
+Very early in the morning, while the stars still glinted overhead, and
+the promise of day was no more than a strip of pearl along the east, Sir
+Ralph Westleigh unbarred the door of his cabin and slipped out. He was
+warmly and carefully dressed in furs and moccasins. He carried his sword
+free under his arm. Very cautiously he scaled the palisade and dropped
+to the frozen crust of snow outside. The Beothic encampment lay around
+the corner of the fort, so he was safe from detection from that quarter.
+He looked about and behind with a cunning smile. Then he ran lightly
+into the woods.
+
+Sir Ralph followed his aimless course for miles, and his soft-shod feet
+left no mark on the hard surface of the snow. Then the sun slid up and
+over, and in the warmth of high noon the frozen crust of the wilderness
+thawed a little, and here and there the baronet's feet broke through. At
+that he began to feel fatigue and a disconcerting pang of doubt. He
+flung himself down in a little thicket of spruces, and called for Maggie
+Stone to bring him food and drink. He called again and again. He shouted
+other names than that of the old servant. In a sudden agony of fear, he
+jumped to his feet and plunged through the evergreens. At every third
+step he sank to his knee, or half-way up his thigh. He screamed the name
+of his daughter, "Beatrix, Beatrix"--or was it his dead wife he was
+calling? He cried for guidance to many great gentlemen of England who
+had been his boon companions in the old days, forgetting that death had
+taken some of them away from him, and that the rest, to a man, had
+turned of their own accord. Presently he ceased his foolish outcry and
+plodded along, with no thought of the course, sobbing the while like a
+lost child.
+
+The sun began its downward journey, and still the baronet, with his
+sheathed sword under his arm, staggered across the voiceless wilderness.
+Toward mid-afternoon the thawing crust froze again, and he travelled
+with less difficulty. Ever and anon his poor eyes pictured a running
+figure in an edge of blue shadow before him. At times it was the figure
+of the nobleman he had killed in England, in the dispute at the
+gaming-table, and again it was a friend,--Kingswell or Trigget, or
+another of the fort,--and yet again it was Pierre d'Antons. But no
+matter how he strove to run down the lurker, he lost him every time.
+Thirst plagued him, and he ate the clear ice and snow off the fronds of
+the spruces. Hunger gnawed him awhile, but passed gradually. The west
+took on the flame and glory of sunset. The east darkened. The stars
+pricked through the high shell of the sky. Night gathered her cloudless
+darkness over the wilderness; and still the demented baronet followed
+his aimless quest.
+
+Toward evening of the day following Sir Ralph Westleigh's departure from
+Fort Beatrix, Pierre d'Antons and Miwandi were startled by the sudden
+and noiseless appearance of a gaunt and wild-eyed person in the doorway
+of their lodge. The woman cried out, and ran to the farthest corner of
+the wigwam. D'Antons staggered back, and his face turned gray as the
+ashes around the fire-stone. The unexpected visitor drew his blade,
+flung the sheath behind him on the snow, and advanced upon the fugitive
+adventurer. D'Antons sprang back and caught up his own sword from where
+it lay on a couch of branches and skins. He swore, more in wonder than
+anger.
+
+"Westleigh!" he cried. "What brings you here, you fool--and how many
+follow you?"
+
+The baronet halted and glanced quickly over his shoulder. He reeled a
+little, but his eyes changed in their light and colour.
+
+"I am alone," he said. "Yes, I am alone." His voice was quiet. He seemed
+sorely puzzled. D'Antons' face regained its swarthy tints, and he
+laughed harshly.
+
+"So you have hunted me down, old cock," he said, smiling. "You'll find
+that the quarry has fangs--in his own den."
+
+The red of madness returned to Sir Ralph's eyes. He advanced his rapier.
+In a second the fight was on. For a few minutes the strength of insanity
+supported the baronet's starving muscles and reeling brain. Then his
+thrusts began to go wide, and his guard to waver. A clean lunge dropped
+him in the door of the lodge without a cry. The life-blood of the last
+baronet of Beverly and Randon made a vivid circle of red on the snow of
+that nameless wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE RUNNING OF THE ICE
+
+
+It was Beatrix who first discovered her father's flight; but that was
+four hours after its occurrence. The fort was soon astir with the news.
+Men set out in all directions, in search of the missing one. Half a
+dozen of the friendly Beothics joined in the hunt. They went east and
+west, north and south. The sharpest eyes could detect no trail of the
+madman's feet. Beatrix insisted upon accompanying Bernard and Ouenwa.
+She tried to show a brave face; but something in her heart told her to
+expect the worst. The three travelled southward, and shortly before
+sunset returned to the fort, unsuccessful. They found that all the other
+searchers had got back, save Black Feather and a young brave named
+Kakatoc, who had set out together.
+
+By the merest chance Black Feather and his companion happened upon the
+place where the baronet had first broken through the melting crust. With
+but little effort they found where he had rested and taken up his
+journey again. Farther on, the faintness of the trail put an edge to
+their determination to find the unfortunate gentleman. It was a
+challenge to their woodcraft, and they accepted it eagerly. But within
+two hours of finding the marks, they lost them again. They ranged wide;
+and at last Black Feather discovered a footprint in a little pad of snow
+beside a stunted spruce. In several places the branches of the tree
+showed where the snow had been broken away, as if by a man's hand. It
+was enough to keep them to the quest.
+
+Not in the next day, but in the early morning after that, the two
+Beothics happened upon a sheltered valley and a snow-cleared space, with
+a fire-stone in the middle of it, where a lodge had lately stood. As for
+signs of blood, there were none. Snow had been deftly spread and
+trampled over it. All around the so evident site of a human habitation
+the hard crust gleamed unbroken, save for a little path that ran down to
+a hole in the ice of the stream. After considering the place, and
+shaking their heads, the two ate the last of the food they had in their
+pouches and turned their feet back to the fort. They passed within a few
+paces of a dense thicket, in the heart of which the baronet's body lay
+uncovered. But how were they to know it, when even the prowling foxes
+had not yet found it out!
+
+For several days the search was continued by the settlers and their
+allies, but all in vain. It was not even suspected that the deserted
+camping-place which Black Feather and Kakatoc had seen had so lately
+been warmed by the feet of Pierre d'Antons and the blood of the lost
+baronet. For a few days longer the business of the settlement lagged,
+and the place wore an air of mourning, despite the ever-brightening and
+mellowing season. Then the axes struck up their chant again, and the
+little duties of the common day erased the forebodings of Eternity from
+the minds of the pioneers. Only Mistress Beatrix could see nothing of
+the reawakening of life and hope for the sorrow in her heart and the
+mist across her eyes. She had loved her father deeply and faithfully,
+with a love that had been strengthened by his misfortunes. She had felt
+toward him the combined affections of daughter and sister and friend.
+She had made allowances for the weaknesses of his later years that
+equalled the ever charitable devotion of a parent for a best-loved
+child. She had not been, and was not now, blind to the passion of gaming
+that had forced him to exile and an unknown death; but she had forgiven
+it long ago. As to the alleged murder that had made such an evil odour
+in London, she believed--and rightly--that hot blood and overmuch wine
+had been to blame, and that her father's sword had been drawn after the
+victim's.
+
+Bernard Kingswell did all in his power to comfort the bereaved girl. He
+urged her to spend much of her time out-of-doors. He told his plans for
+their future, and to cheer her he built them even more hopefully than he
+felt; for he realized that many difficulties were yet to be overcome
+before Bristol was safely reached. With Ouenwa, the two often went on
+long tramps through the woods. Their evenings were always spent
+together. Sometimes he read aloud to her, and sometimes they played at
+chess. One evening she got her violin, and played as wonderfully as she
+had on that other occasion; but instead of leaving him afterward without
+a word, as she had done, she laid the fiddle aside and nestled into his
+arms. He held her tenderly, patting the bright hair against his
+shoulder, and murmuring broken assurances of his love and sympathy. She
+wept quietly for a little while; but when she kissed him at the door,
+her face and eyes shone with something of their old light.
+
+By mid-April knobs of rock and moss pierced through the shrinking snow
+in the open places; but in the woods the drifts continued to withstand
+the wasting breath of the spring winds. Gray Goose River was no longer
+a broad path of spotless white. Its surface was mottled with patches of
+sodden gray; and an attentive listener on the bank might hear a myriad
+of tiny voices, some sibilant and some tinkling and liquid, in and under
+the enfeebled ice. Up and down the valley, between the knolls and wooded
+hills, the little streams were already snarling and roaring, and here
+and there flashing brown shoulders to the sunlight. Through all the
+wilderness ran a tingling whisper; and twilight, midnight, and dawn were
+stirred by the falling cries of wild-fowl on the wing. A faint, alluring
+fragrance was in the air--the scent of millions of swelling buds and
+crimson willow-stems.
+
+About that time three warriors of the following of the dead Panounia
+arrived at the fort, with prayers for peace on their lips and gifts in
+their hands. They were received by Kingswell, William Trigget, and
+Ouenwa from the fort, and Black Feather and two of his chiefs from the
+camp. A lengthy business was gone through with, and much strong
+Virginian tobacco was burned. Documents were written in English and in
+the picture-writing of the natives, and read aloud, by Ouenwa, in both
+languages. Then they were solemnly signed by all present, and peace was
+restored to the great tribe of the North, and protection, trade, and
+lands were granted for all time to the inhabitants of Fort Beatrix and
+their descendants. The three visitors went back to their people with
+rolls of red cloth and packets of glass beads, pot-metal knives, and
+other useless trinkets on their shoulders.
+
+Shortly after their departure from the fort, a storm of rain blew up
+from the sou'east. All day the great drops thumped on the roofs of the
+cabins, on the skies of the lodges, and spattered on the sodden snow.
+The firs and spruces gleamed clean and black under the drenching
+showers. A veil of smoke-gray mist lay above the farther woods and along
+the black tangles of alders and gray fringes of willows. All night the
+warm rain continued to fall and drift. When morning lifted along the
+pearly east, a cry rang from the camp to the fort that the ice in the
+river was moving. The settlers hastened to the flat before the stockade.
+Beatrix was with them.
+
+"See how the torn edge of ice overtops the bank," said Kingswell,
+pointing eagerly. "And there is an open space. Ah, it has closed again!
+How slowly it grinds along!"
+
+"It will run faster before night," replied the girl, and Ouenwa, who was
+versed in the ways of his northern rivers, nodded silently.
+
+While they watched, admiring the swelling, swinging, ponderous advance
+of the great surface, and harkening to the booming thunder of its agony
+that filled the air, a breathless runner joined the group and spoke a
+few quick words to Black Feather. That chief approached Ouenwa and
+whispered in his ear. The boy glanced quickly at Beatrix and Kingswell,
+and then questioned Black Feather anxiously. Presently he turned back to
+the lovers.
+
+"The ice is stuck down-stream," he said. "Blue Cloud has seen it. He
+fears that the water will rise over the flat--and the fort."
+
+The river continued to rise until evening. After that the waters
+subsided a little, great cakes of rotten ice hung stranded along the
+crest of the bank, and the main body ceased to run downward. But from up
+the valley the thunder of a hidden disturbance still boomed across the
+windless air.
+
+"The jam had broken down-stream," said Ouenwa.
+
+Kingswell, unused to the ways of running ice, was satisfied, and retired
+to his couch with an easy mind. He slept soundly until, in the gray of
+the dawn, Ouenwa shook him roughly, and all but dragged him to the
+floor.
+
+"Wake up, wake up," cried the boy. "Damn, but you sleep like a bear!
+The fort is in danger! We must run for higher land."
+
+"Rip me!" exclaimed Kingswell, springing to his feet, "but what is the
+trouble? Are we attacked?"
+
+"The river is all but empty of water," replied Ouenwa. "The ice sags in
+the channel, like an empty garment. The water hangs above, behind the
+third point where we cut the timber for the boats."
+
+Kingswell, all the while, was busily employed pulling on his heavy
+clothes. Though he did not fully understand the threatening danger, he
+felt that it was real enough. While he tied the thongs of his deerhide
+leggins, Ouenwa told him that warning had reached the fort but a few
+minutes before.
+
+"How?" inquired Kingswell, hurriedly bestowing a wallet of gold coins
+and some other valuables about his person.
+
+Ouenwa, already loaded down with his friend's possessions, threw open
+the door and stepped out.
+
+"Wolf Slayer brought it," he said, over his shoulder. "And I do not
+understand," he added, "for Wolf Slayer hates us all."
+
+The other, close at his heels, made no comment on that intelligence. He
+scarcely heard it, so anxious was he for the safety of Mistress
+Beatrix. The whole fort was astir; but Kingswell ran straight to his
+sweetheart's door. It was opened by the maiden herself. She and the old
+servant were all ready to leave.
+
+An hour passed; load after load of stores and household goods was
+carried to the low hills behind the fort; and still the river lay empty,
+with its marred sheet of ice sagging between the banks; and still the
+unseen jam held back the gathering freshet. The women wept at the
+thought that their little homes were in danger of being broken and torn
+and whirled away. But Beatrix was dry-eyed.
+
+"It will be no great matter for them to build new cabins in a safer
+place," she said to Kingswell.
+
+He was looking at the natives dragging their rolled-up lodges to higher
+ground. He turned, smiling gravely.
+
+"You have no love for the wilderness?" he asked, "and yet but for this
+forsaken place, you and I might never have met."
+
+She laid her hand on his arm, and lifted a flushed face to his tender
+regard.
+
+"So it has served my turn," she said. "Now that I have you, I could well
+spare these wastes of black wood and empty barren."
+
+Kingswell had been waiting patiently and in silence for that confession
+ever since their betrothal. Hitherto she had not once spoken with any
+assurance of their future together. She had treated the subject vaguely,
+as if her thoughts were all with the past and with the tragedy of her
+father's death.
+
+"Would you face the homeward voyage in one of the little boats?" he
+asked, softly.
+
+"Ay, with you at the tiller," she replied.
+
+"Dear girl," he said, "I think that a stout ship called the _Heart of
+the West_ will be setting sail from Bristol, for this wilderness, before
+many days."
+
+"Would the fellow dare return?" she asked; for she had heard the story
+of Trowley's treachery.
+
+"He will think himself safe enough," replied Kingswell. "No doubt he
+owns the ship now--has bought it from my mother for the price of a
+skiff, after telling her how recklessly he battled with the savages to
+save her son's life."
+
+He laughed softly. "The old rogue will be surprised when I step aboard,"
+he added.
+
+Before she could answer him a booming report shook the sunlit air. It
+was followed, in a second, by a long-drawn tumult--a grinding and
+crashing and roaring--as if the firmament had fallen and overthrown the
+everlasting hills. The sagging ice below them reared, domed upward, and
+split with clapping thunders. It broke its plunging masses, which were
+hurled down the stream and over the flats. A thing of brown water and
+sodden gray lumps tore the alders and swung across the meadow where the
+Beothic encampment had stood an hour before. The eastern stockade of the
+fort went down beneath its inevitable, crushing onslaught.
+
+All day cakes and pans of sodden ice and snow raced down the river, and
+the air hummed and vibrated with their clamour. But the weight of the
+released waters had passed; and the fort had suffered by no more than an
+exposed side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY RECEIVES A VISITOR
+
+
+Wolf Slayer, who had brought warning of the menace of the freshet to
+Fort Beatrix, soon showed his evil hand. He had arrived at the fort in a
+starving condition and still weak from wounds received in the battle in
+which his father had been killed. Had he been well and filled with meat,
+he would undoubtedly have let the inmates of the fort and the camp lie
+in ignorance of the danger. For ten days he was fed and cared for by the
+settlers. By the end of that time, he felt himself again. The old
+arrogance burned in his eyes; the old sneer returned to his lips. Ouenwa
+read the signs and wondered how the deviltry would show itself under
+such unpropitious circumstances.
+
+Ouenwa's sleep was light and fitful on the tenth night after the
+overflowing of the river. About midnight he awoke, turned over, and
+could not get back to his dreams. So he lay wide-awake, thinking of the
+future. He could hear Bernard Kingswell's peaceful breathing. He thought
+of his friend, and his heart warmed to him with gratitude and
+comrade-love. He thought of Beatrix, smiled wistfully in the darkness,
+and put the bright vision away from him. What was that? He breathed more
+softly and lifted his head. Was it fancy, or--or what? He shifted
+noiselessly to the farther edge of the couch. A hand brushed along his
+pillow of folded blanket. Next moment he gripped an unseen wrist and
+closed with a silent enemy.
+
+Minutes passed before the wrestlers stumbled against a stool, with a
+clatter that startled Kingswell to his feet. The Englishman leaped to
+the hearth, kicked the fallen coals to life, and threw a roll of birch
+bark on top of them. Then he stepped aside until the yellow flame
+lighted the room. The illumination was just in time, for Wolf Slayer had
+the lighter boy on the floor and the knife raised, when Kingswell saw
+his way to the rescue. He recognized the youth, and in a fit of English
+indignation at such a return for hospitality caught him by neck and belt
+and hurled him bodily from the prostrate Ouenwa. Wolf Slayer alighted on
+his feet, snatched open the door (which he had left ajar), and fled into
+the darkness.
+
+A morning of late May brought a friendly native to Fort Beatrix, with
+word that three English ships were in Wigwam Harbour. Then Ouenwa and
+Tom Bent made the journey and returned, in due season, with the welcome
+news that one of the vessels was the _Heart of the West_.
+
+Both the new boats and the old _Pelican_ were made ready for the
+expedition. Kingswell commanded the _Pelican_, with Ouenwa and six
+natives for crew. Tom Bent was put in charge of the second boat, and
+Black Feather of the third. William Trigget and Donnelly were left to
+see that no harm came to Mistress Westleigh--and, as the boats stole
+down-stream, in the gray of the dawn, William Trigget treasured in his
+hand a duly witnessed document, in which Bernard Kingswell, gentleman,
+of Bristol, bequeathed and willed all his earthly goods to Beatrix
+Westleigh, spinster, of Fort Beatrix, in the Newfounde Land, and late of
+Beverly and Randon, in Somersetshire, England.
+
+The parting between Beatrix and her lover had been a fond one, but the
+man had noticed (and in his heart regretted) the fortitude with which
+she bade him farewell and godspeed. He worried about it in his sleep,
+and again, as he looked longingly at her cabin in the bleak dawn. He
+tried to comfort himself with memories of a hundred incidents that
+placed the sincerity of her love beyond a shadow of doubt. But, for all
+that, she might have shed a few tears. Surely she realized the chances
+of danger?--the risk he was running, for her sake? Love is edged and
+barbed by just such little and unreasonable questionings.
+
+A white mist wreathed along the surface of Gray Goose River when the
+three boats swung down with the current. The Beothics were armed with
+English knives. There were no firearms aboard any of the little vessels.
+Kingswell and Ouenwa had swords at their belts, and Spanish daggers for
+their left hands. Tom Bent was armed with his oft-proved cutlass.
+
+The sun did not get above the horizon until the little fleet was clear
+of the river's mouth. There a breath of wind sighed through the cordage,
+and the sails flapped up and rounded softly. Kingswell leaned forward
+and looked under the square canvas of the _Pelican's_ big wing.
+
+"An extra man," he remarked to Ouenwa, sharply. "Who has taken it upon
+himself to improve on my orders?"
+
+A blanket-swathed figure, forward of the mast, turned and crawled aft.
+Then the blanket fell away, and Mistress Westleigh, rigged out in an
+amazing mixture of masculine and feminine attire, laughed up at the
+commander.
+
+"Promise to shield me from the wrath of Maggie Stone, when we go back,"
+she whispered, in mock concern.
+
+For a moment Bernard stared, with wonder and embarrassment in his eyes,
+the while Ouenwa hid a smile. Then he doffed his hat and caught the
+queer figure to his knee; and in the flush of the morning, under the
+grave regard of the Beothic warriors, he kissed her on lips and brow.
+
+"What authority has Maggie Stone?" he cried. "If any one has a right to
+control your actions, surely it is I."
+
+She slipped to the seat beside him. "And you told me I could not
+accompany you--that it would not be safe," she replied.
+
+"Ay, but it was my duty to bid you remain behind," he said. "God knows
+it hurt me to refuse your so--so flattering a wish. But you accepted it
+calmly, dear heart."
+
+"I accepted it for what it was worth," she laughed. "I could not shed
+tears over a parting which I felt certain was not to take place." Her
+face changed quickly from merriment to gravity. "I could not have stayed
+in the fort without you," she whispered. "Dear lad, I am afraid to
+death whenever you are out of my sight. I do believe this love has made
+a coward of me!"
+
+For a little while there was no sound aboard the _Pelican_ save the
+tapping of the reef-points on the swelling breast of the sail, and the
+slow creak of the tiller. Ouenwa, leaning far to one side, gazed ahead,
+while the warriors crouched on the thwarts. Then the man stooped his
+head close to the girl's.
+
+"But on this trip," he whispered, "you must obey me--for both our sakes,
+dearest. It would be mutiny else."
+
+"I shall always obey you," she replied--"always, always--so long as you
+do not again leave me alone in Fort Beatrix."
+
+"William Trigget was there," he ventured. "And Maggie Stone."
+
+She laughed at that. "Poor Maggie!" she sighed. "Poor Maggie! She will
+rate me soundly for my boldness. She has ever a thousand discourses on
+the proprieties ready on the tip of her tongue."
+
+"Ah, the proprieties," murmured Bernard, as if caught by a new and
+somewhat disconcerting idea. "Rip me, but I've never given them a
+thought!"
+
+Beatrix laughed delightedly. "You must not let them trouble you now,"
+she said. "When we get back to Bristol, I will guard myself with a
+dozen staid companions, and--" She paused, and blushed crimson. "I
+forget that I am penniless," she added.
+
+Kingswell's left hand closed over hers where it lay in her lap. "How
+long, think you, shall you stand in need of chaperons in Bristol?" he
+asked.
+
+The three boats sought shelter in a tiny, hidden bay, and Kingswell,
+Mistress Westleigh, Ouenwa, and Tom Bent made an overland trip to a
+wooded hill overlooking Wigwam Harbour. There lay the _Heart of the
+West_, close in at her old anchorage after the day's fishing. Work was
+going briskly forward on the stages at the edge of the tide. The other
+vessels, which were much smaller than Trowley's command, lay nearer the
+mouth of the river harbour. The declining sun stained spars and furled
+sails to a rosy tint above the green water.
+
+"Hark!" whispered Kingswell, touching the girl's arm, as she crouched
+beside him in the fringe of spruces.
+
+A bellowing voice, loud and harsh in abuse, reached their ears.
+
+"'Tis Trowley," he said, and chuckled. "How will he sound to-night, I
+wonder?"
+
+"You will not be rash, Bernard,--for my sake," pleaded the girl.
+
+He assured her that he would be discreet.
+
+It was dark when they got back to the little cove in which the boats
+were beached. About midnight, with no light save the vague illumination
+of the scattered stars, they rowed out with muffled oars. They moved
+with such caution that it took them two hours to reach Wigwam Harbour.
+They passed the outer ships unchallenged. Then Beatrix was transferred
+from the _Pelican_ to Black Feather's boat, and Tom Bent joined the
+commander. A veil of drifting cloud shut out even such feeble light as
+had disclosed the course to the voyagers. Before them the _Heart of the
+West_ loomed dark, a thing of massed shadows and a few yellow lights.
+
+The new-built boats lay about thirty yards aft and seaward of the ship.
+The _Pelican_ stole in under the looming stern, with no more noise than
+a fish makes when he breaches in shallow water. The crew steadied her
+beside the groaning rudder with their hands. Kingswell stood on a thwart
+and peered in at the cabin window, as Ouenwa had peered on a night of
+the preceding season. The low, oak-ceiled room was empty. A lantern hung
+from the starboard bulkhead, and two candles, in silver sticks that bore
+the Kingswell crest, burned, with bending flames, on the table. On the
+locker under the lantern lay a cutlass in its sheath, and a boat-cloak
+in an untidy heap. The edge of the table was within two feet of the
+square stern-window.
+
+For a little while Kingswell listened with guarded breath. Then,
+swiftly and lightly, he pulled himself across the ledge of the window,
+scrambled through, and crouched behind the table. Very cautiously he
+drew his rapier with his right hand and his dagger with his left. For a
+minute or two he squatted in the narrow quarters, breathing regularly
+and deeply, and harkening to the innumerable creaking voices of the
+decks and bulkheads, and the muffled voices and laughter from forward.
+For the occasion he had donned the hat, coat, breeches, and boots--all
+now stained and faded--in which Master Trowley had last seen him.
+
+Suddenly a heavy, uncertain step sounded on the companion ladder just
+forward of the cabin door. A volley of stout Devonshire oaths boomed
+above the lesser sounds. The door flew open, smote the bulkhead with a
+resounding crack, and swung, trembling. The bulky figure of Trowley
+entered, and the heady voice of the old sea-dog cursed the door, and
+big, red hands slammed it shut again. Kingswell drew a deep breath, and
+composed his dancing nerves and galloping blood as best he could. His
+emotions were disconcertingly mixed.
+
+The masterful old pirate (for such he surely was, deny the charge if you
+like) seemed to fill the cabin to overflowing with his lurching, great
+body. He tossed boat-cloak and cutlass on the deck, and yanked up the
+top of the locker. With muttered revilings at the excessive cost of West
+Indies rum, he produced a bottle of no mean capacity from its
+hiding-place, and a fine glass sparkled in the candle-light like
+diamonds. Kingswell recognized the glass as one from which he had often
+drunk his grog--a rare piece from his house in Bristol. Those articles
+the mariner placed on the table, scarcely a foot from the watcher's
+head. Next he loaded himself a china pipe with black tobacco, and lit it
+at one of the candles. In doing so, Master Bernard heard the puffings
+and gruntings with which the deed was accomplished, like half a gale in
+his ear. At last the fellow sat down with a thud, squared his elbows on
+the table, gazed for a second at the square window that opened on to the
+mysterious gloom of the night, and tipped the bottle. The liquor gulped
+and gurgled in its passage to the glass. The reek of it permeated the
+air.
+
+"Dang it," grumbled the mariner, "d'ye call this rum! Sink me, but it be
+half water!"
+
+However, he swallowed the dose with gusto, and smacked his lips at the
+end of it as he never would have after a draught of water.
+
+Very steadily and quietly Bernard Kingswell arose to his feet and
+looked down at Master Trowley with inscrutable eyes shadowed by his
+wide, stained hat. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds,
+but to the staring mariner it seemed a matter of hours. He sprawled on
+his low stool, open-mouthed, red-eyed, with his big hands nerveless on
+the table, and the lighted pipe unheeded at his feet.
+
+"Traitor!" said Kingswell, coldly; and leaning across the table he
+tweaked the purple tip of Trowley's nose between thumb and finger. To do
+so, he laid his dagger on the edge of the mahogany for a second. The
+indignity called forth no more than a gurgle of terror from the master
+mariner. Kingswell plucked up the thin blade and flashed it within an
+inch of the whiskered face. Still the fellow sagged on his stool, unable
+to stir a muscle. Kingswell whistled three low notes. Ouenwa crawled
+through the port, with a coil of light rope in his hand. Tom Bent
+followed. Trowley threw off the spell of the supposed ghostly visitation
+and got to his feet with a bellow of rage and fear. In an instant he was
+flat on his back, with a gagging hand across his mouth and another at
+his throat. He was soon bound hand and foot, and securely gagged with a
+strip of his own boat-cloak.
+
+Ouenwa stuck his head through the open port, and whispered a word or
+two. One by one, four of his braves entered, with their knives
+unsheathed. Kingswell motioned them to follow, and softly opened the
+cabin door. On the port side of the alley-way, beside the companion
+ladder, Trowley's mate lay asleep in his bunk. Kingswell bent over him
+and saw that he was a stranger. He nodded significantly; and in an
+amazingly short time the mate of the _Heart of the West_ was as neatly
+trussed up as the master.
+
+Fifteen minutes later, Tom Bent hung over the rail, aft, and waved a
+lantern in three half-circles. And not long after that, Mistress
+Westleigh, Master Kingswell, and Ouenwa filled glasses with Canary wine,
+in the cabin of the _Heart of the West_. In the waist of the ship the
+stout English sailors and the skin-clad Beothics drained their
+pannikins, and eyed each other with good-natured curiosity. Old Tom Bent
+was toast-master; and also he told them an amazing story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF
+
+
+Shortly before midnight, Tom Bent went quietly about the task of waking
+both watches and the Beothics. The three boats from Fort Beatrix were
+manned, with the muffling oars. The two small anchors by which the
+_Heart of the West_ swung in the tide were fished into two of the boats
+by hand. It was a tough job; but, when it was accomplished, the ship was
+free without so much as a clank of cable or a turn of the noisy capstan.
+Hawsers were passed from the small craft over the bows of the ship, and
+at a signal from a lantern in Kingswell's hand, the men bent their backs
+to the oars. Then all lights aboard the _Heart of the West_ were
+covered, and in the darkness, beside the great tiller, Kingswell caught
+his inspiration and his reward to his heart again.
+
+The girl did not leave the commander's side, but kept watch on the high
+poop-deck throughout the journey. Until dawn the rowers held to their
+toil, and after them, drawn by lines that were sometimes taut and
+sometimes under water, but always invisible in the darkness, the ship
+stole like a shape of cloud and dream. It was hard work, and slow. With
+the breaking of dawn, the leviathan took on signs of life. By that time
+she was hidden from Wigwam Harbour by more than one bluff headland. The
+pulling boats drifted to her bows, the capstan was manned, and the
+anchors were lifted to their places on the forecast rail. Headsails were
+set, and the square mizzen was run up. The boats dropped astern and were
+made fast, and the weary men climbed aboard the ship.
+
+All day the _Heart of the West_ threaded the green waterways of the
+great Bay of Exploits. A light and favourable breeze lent itself to the
+venture. After the midday meal, Beatrix, wrapped in a blanket, lay down
+by the mizzen and fell asleep. She was tired. The easy motion of the
+ship, and the song of the wind in ropes and canvas, sank her fathoms
+deep in slumber, with the magic of a fairy lullaby. Kingswell rigged a
+piece of sail-cloth from the bulwarks to the mast to shade her face from
+the sun.
+
+At last the wide estuary, which ends in Gray Goose River, was reached.
+By sunset the mouth of the river was entered. Just then the wind
+failed. The boats were manned again, and the ship taken in tow.
+
+Still Mistress Westleigh slumbered peacefully, with the rough blanket
+about her dainty body and her head pillowed on Kingswell's folded coat.
+Kneeling beside her, Kingswell peered under the shelter of canvas, and
+saw that she was smiling in her dreams. How white were her dropped
+eyelids, and how clear and rose-tinted her small face. Her lips were
+parted a little, as if to whisper some sweet secret. A strand of her
+bright, dark hair was across her forehead, and one arm, clear of the
+blanket and the deerskin on which she lay, rested on the deck. The rosy
+palm was upturned. Kingswell stooped lower and kissed it softly.
+Standing up, he found Tom Bent beside him. The mahogany-hued mariner
+grinned sheepishly, and gave a hitch to his belt.
+
+"Beggin' the lady's pardon," he whispered, "but, if the angels in heaven
+be half so sweet to look at as herself, I'm for going to heaven, in
+spite o' the devil. Sink me, but I'd play one o' they golden harps with
+a light heart if--if the equals of herself were a-listenin' on the
+quarter-deck."
+
+Kingswell blushed and smiled. "You, too?" said he. "You are in love, Tom
+Bent."
+
+"Ay, sir," replied the boatswain, "for it can't be helped. I'm in love
+and awash, and danged near to sinkin'. Might as well expect a man to
+keep sober in the 'Powdered Admiral' on Bristol dock as within ten
+knots, to win'ward or lee'ard, o' your sweetheart, sir."
+
+"I agree with you," replied the gentleman, bowing gravely.
+
+Tom Bent pulled his scant forelock, and rolled away about his duty. He
+was mightily pleased with himself at having expressed his admiration for
+his young commander's choice in such felicitous terms. He prided himself
+on his eye for feminine beauty, no matter what the race or the rank of
+the fair one,--and a fairer than Mistress Westleigh he swore by all the
+gods of the Seven Seas he had never laid eyes on.
+
+The long spring twilight was gathering into dusk when the toiling boats
+and the tall ship rounded the point, and opened the fort to the view of
+the daring cruisers. Directly in front of the stockade the anchors
+plunged into the brown current. The rattle of the cables through the
+hawse-holes awoke Beatrix. She had been dreaming of a great garden in
+Somerset, and of walking along box-hedged paths with her father on one
+side and her lover on the other. Opening her eyes upon the canvas
+shelter which Kingswell had spread above her, and with the clangour of
+the running cables in her ears, for a second she did not know where she
+was. A vague fear oppressed her for a little. Then she recalled the
+incidents of the last two days, and was about to crawl from her
+resting-place, when the edge of the shelter was lifted, and Kingswell
+looked down at her.
+
+"Wake up," he said. "We are at the fort, and Trigget and Maggie Stone
+are coming off in a canoe."
+
+"Nay, then I'll stay here until you explain matters," she replied. "You
+must bear the brunt of Maggie Stone's displeasure for my sake." She sat
+up, laughing softly, and lifted her face in a way that only a dunce
+could fail to comprehend. Under cover of the strip of sail-cloth, he
+kissed the warm lips and the bright hair.
+
+"Trust me," he laughed; and at that moment Trigget and the servant
+climbed to the poop by way of the ladder from the ship's waist. He
+advanced to meet them. He saw that Trigget held a folded paper in his
+hand, and that the honest eyes of that bold mariner were red and moist.
+
+"What is it?" he inquired; for he had entirely forgotten, for the time
+being, the manner of Mistress Westleigh's joining with the expedition.
+
+"Here be your will, sir," said Trigget, handing him the paper.
+"It--it--well, maybe it'll not be o' any use now."
+
+"Of course not," replied Kingswell, cheerfully, tearing it across.
+
+Maggie Stone burst into tears. "Jus' the way Sir Ralph went," she
+sobbed. "Oh, my beautiful little lady--an' her fit mate for any nobleman
+of London town!"
+
+"What the devil do you mean?" cried Kingswell. Then the truth dawned in
+his preoccupied brain. "Dry your eyes," he said. "She is safe and
+sound."
+
+"Thank God for that," exclaimed William Trigget, devoutly.
+
+"What--the mistress be safe, d'ye say?" cried Maggie Stone, with a
+sudden change of face.
+
+Kingswell nodded curtly. He did not like being bawled at on the poop of
+his recaptured ship, even by an old serving maid. "Your mistress is
+safe--and in my care," he said.
+
+"Indeed, sir?" she queried. "An' may I make so bold as to ax when ye
+married Sir Ralph Westleigh's daughter?"
+
+William Trigget murmured something to the effect that his presence was
+required forward, and took his departure. Kingswell bit his lip and
+stared haughtily at the woman; but he was at a loss for words fully
+expressive of his feelings. His indignation brought a flush to his
+cheeks which even the dusk of evening could not hide.
+
+"Ye may well redden," cried Maggie Stone. "Ay, ye may well redden, after
+sailin' away with an unprotected lass, an' near terrifyin' her old nurse
+into fits."
+
+The gentleman recovered his power of speech. "My good girl," he said
+(and she was a full twenty years older than his mother), "your joy at
+hearing of your mistress's safety takes a wondrous queer and unseemly
+way of expressing itself. You seem to forget that you, the lady's
+servant, are addressing the lady's betrothed husband."
+
+The old maid glared and drew her scanty skirts about her.
+
+"Maybe so," she retorted. "'Twould never have happened in Somerset."
+
+At that moment Mistress Beatrix appeared suddenly from the other side of
+the mizzen.
+
+"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you speak so to Master Kingswell!"
+
+Anger--quick, scathing anger--rang in her voice. Standing there in her
+short skirt, high, beaded moccasins, and blue cloth jacket, she looked
+like an indignant boy, save for her coiled hair and bright beauty.
+
+"I am ashamed of you," she added; and then, turning quickly, she flung
+herself into Kingswell's ever ready embrace.
+
+Maggie Stone was flustered and somewhat awed by the sudden attack. She
+had not been spoken to so for years and years. Would she resort to tears
+again, or would she answer back? She was jealous of the girl's love for
+Kingswell--and yet she had thanked God many times that that love had
+been won by the young Englishman instead of by the swarthy D'Antons. She
+sniffed, and mopped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she changed
+her mind and bridled.
+
+"What would the countess, your aunt, say to such behaviour?" she asked.
+"Her who watched over ye like a guardian angel in London town."
+
+Beatrix turned, and, still holding her lover's hands, faced the carping
+critic.
+
+"And who turned me out of her house at the last of it," she cried,
+scornfully. "Who is she, or who was she ever, to question my behaviour?
+And who are you, woman, to insult your mistress and the gentleman who
+saved you from the knives of the savages? Go back to the fort."
+
+Maggie Stone saw that she had made a serious mistake,--a mistake which,
+perhaps, would alienate the lady's affection for ever. She turned, a
+pitiable figure, and made to descend the steep ladder which stood close
+to the starboard side of the ship, and led to the waist. Her foot caught
+in a loop of rope that had not been properly stopped up to its
+belaying-pin. She lurched against the line that ran from the break of
+the poop to the bulwarks below, made a blind effort to right herself,
+and pitched over into the shadowed water below. She did not even scream.
+
+Kingswell dropped his sweetheart's hands, ran to the side and jumped
+after the foolish old woman. By that time the twilight had left the
+river. The current carried him swiftly down-stream, close under the side
+of the ship. The water was uncomfortably cold, and his thick clothes
+dragged at his limbs. He cleared his hair from his eyes. A disturbance
+appeared on the surface of the stream a few yards ahead. With a quick
+stroke or two, he reached it, and caught Maggie Stone by a thin
+shoulder. She struggled desperately, mad with fright. Both were pulled
+over the gunwale of the _Pelican_ not a moment too soon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED
+
+
+It is difficult to imagine the feelings of the skippers and crews of the
+good ship _Plover_ and _Mary and Joyce_, when the gray light of dawn
+disclosed the fact that the _Heart of the West_ had vanished completely.
+What a rubbing of eyes must have taken place! What a dropping of
+whiskered jaws and ripping of sea oaths!
+
+"Sunk," said one heavy-shouldered mariner.
+
+"Then where be her spars?" inquired a messmate.
+
+"Cut an' run," suggested another.
+
+"Then the devil must have been after her! Ol' Trowley'd run from nothin'
+else," replied the cook of the _Plover_.
+
+The captain of the _Mary and Joyce_ scanned the inner harbour and what
+he could see of the outer bay. Then he turned his brass telescope upon
+the cliffs and hills and inland woods.
+
+"Maybe the French has towed mun out," he said at last.
+
+No fishing was done that day. The neighbouring bays and coves were
+searched, and even the "River of Three Fires" was investigated, with a
+deal of trouble, for several miles up its swift current. That night the
+skippers of the two vessels decided, over several hot glasses, that
+Wigwam Harbour was no safe place for honest English sailor men. Next
+morning found them sailing northward in search of another haven from
+which to reap the harvest of the great bay.
+
+To Fort Beatrix journeyed all the Beothics from many miles around, for a
+great trade was going on. Influenced by Maggie Stone's foolish outbreak,
+Beatrix and Bernard had decided to seek a priest in the port of St.
+John's on their way to England, and so cross the ocean as man and wife,
+to the bitter chagrin of Bristol scandal-mongers. Though the idea had
+not occurred to either of the lovers before the old woman's outcry in
+the name of suffering propriety, it was none the less to their liking
+now that they had accepted it.
+
+"And it will please poor Maggie Stone," said the girl.
+
+"I was not thinking of her," replied Kingswell, lifting the glowing
+face to his by a hand beneath the rounded chin.
+
+"Nor I, dear heart," she replied.
+
+To the others of that wilderness the trading seemed a greater matter
+than that romantic attachment of a man and a maid. Blankets, trinkets,
+inferior weapons, and even the spare clothing of the settlers were
+bartered for pelts of beaver, mink, marten, otter, musquash, and red,
+patched, and black fox, to make up a cargo for the _Heart of the West_.
+The price of an axe-head was twice its weight in beaver skins. Even
+Maggie Stone, with an eye to adding to her nest-egg, traded a skillet
+(the identical implement with which she had floored D'Antons) for a
+beautiful foxskin. Only Trowley had no finger in the trading. Sullen and
+silent, he wandered about the fort, and a few paces behind him a brawny
+Beothic always stalked.
+
+The storehouse of the fort was replenished from the well-stocked
+pantries and lazaret of the ship. Kingswell smiled grimly when, during
+the overhauling of the cabin lockers, he discovered choice wines,
+cheeses, and pots of jam which his lady mother had given to Master
+Trowley as a slight mark of her gratitude for his services to her son.
+He forced an admittance of these things from the old rascal himself. It
+had been as he had hinted to Beatrix. The fellow had told the tearful
+and credulous lady that he had risked his life in her son's defence,
+during an engagement with the savages; and she, grateful heart, had made
+such an unbusiness-like agreement with him for the sailing of the ship
+that, had the voyage run its anticipated course, even a full load of
+fish would not have saved her from a shrewd loss. Happily for Trowley,
+Master Kingswell was far too happy for such trivial matters to really
+anger him.
+
+"The old rogue staked his soul and lost on the last throw," he said to
+Beatrix, "and I staked my heart, and won all that the world holds of
+joy. Surely I should be a low fellow to add to his misfortunes, poor
+devil. I can afford to be charitable now."
+
+They were seated on the grassy edge of the river meadow, looking out at
+the anchored ship, where sailors were repairing the rigging and scraping
+the spars. The girl did not seem keenly interested in Trowley's
+underhand behaviour to Dame Kingswell. As to his treachery toward
+Kingswell, to tell the truth, she was very grateful to the old thief for
+having sailed away and left her lover in the wilderness. Such thoughts
+flitted pleasantly through her mind.
+
+"When did you stake your heart?" she asked, as if that were the core of
+the whole thing.
+
+"I cannot tell you the date exactly," replied Kingswell, "but I was in
+Pierre d'Antons' company at the time, and--and I was mightily surprised
+to find Somersetshire people in this country. Lord, but your eyes were
+bright."
+
+"Do you mean that you--do you mean that it happened on the first day of
+your arrival at the fort?" she queried.
+
+"Surely," said he.
+
+"And you loved me then?"
+
+He nodded, smiling across toward the busy mariners in the rigging of his
+ship. His memories of those perilous days were fragrant as an English
+rose-garden.
+
+"Do you know," she whispered, "that, though I felt sure I had made an
+impression on you then, I began to doubt it later. You were so
+self-satisfied that you shook my faith in my own powers to charm."
+
+He laughed softly, and with a note of wonder. Then, for a little while,
+they were silent.
+
+"Tell me," she said, suddenly. "Did you really love me that first day
+you came to the fort, or was it just--just surprise at seeing a--a
+civilized girl in so forsaken a place?"
+
+He considered the question gravely and at some length. "I wanted to
+kill D'Antons," he answered, presently, "and I would gladly have given
+ten years of my life for a kiss from your lips, a caress from your
+hands. Was that love, think you?"
+
+"I should call it a right hopeful beginning," she replied, brightly; but
+tears which she could not explain shone in her eyes. Across the hurrying
+water drifted the song of the men at work upon the tall masts of the
+_Heart of the West_.
+
+"In a week's time," said Kingswell, "she will fill her sails for St.
+John's--and then for home."
+
+The girl nestled closer to his side. Looking down, he saw that she was
+weeping.
+
+"God grant that we find a parson in that harbour," he added. She nodded,
+and choked with a sob she could not stifle.
+
+"Why do you weep, dearest?" he asked.
+
+"For those whom we must leave behind," she whispered.
+
+He had no answer to make to that. Together they looked beyond the
+anchored ship and the bright river to the inscrutable wilderness that
+held the fate of the mad baronet so securely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED
+
+
+At nine o'clock of the morning of the twenty-second day of June, the bow
+of the _Heart of the West_ was towed around and pointed down-stream by
+willing boats and canoes; a light wind filled such sails as were set,
+and the voyage was begun. Trigget fired a salute from a new gun which
+Kingswell had given him from the armament of the ship. It was answered
+by the barking of cannon and the fluttering of sails.
+
+Ouenwa stood with Mistress Westleigh, Kingswell, and Maggie Stone, aft
+by the tiller, which was in the hands of Tom Bent. The lad was fairly
+wild with excitement. Now, it seemed to him, his great dreams were
+assured; and yet a pang of homesickness went through the joy like the
+blade of a knife, as he watched the faces of the clustered people along
+the meadow and in the boats grow dim,--the faces of William Trigget and
+Black Feather, and of a dozen more who were dear to him. He shouted back
+to them in English and in his native tongue, and waved his cap
+frantically. The faces blurred and wavered. The ship swam around the
+wooded point, and meadow and stockade and camp of wigwams vanished like
+a picture withdrawn. The lad turned and glanced at Mistress Westleigh.
+Then he walked forward to the break of the poop, and blinked very hard
+at nothing in particular in the belly of the maintopsail.
+
+Soon the wooded banks fell away on either side, and the water changed
+its tint of amber for wind-roughened green. The gray, purple, and brown
+shores of the roadstead widened and dropped lower, and azure uplands
+shone beyond their frowning brows. The wind freshened, and white flakes
+of foam whipped from crest to crest across the ever-shifting,
+ever-vanishing valleys of green. Along the fading cliffs white sea-birds
+circled and settled like flakes of snow. A few great gulls winged around
+the ship, fleeing to leeward like bolts of mist, and beating up again
+with quivering pinions.
+
+Kingswell had taken the duties of sailing-master upon himself. He was as
+good a deep-sea navigator as any man on the whole width of the North
+Atlantic. When the outer bay was reached, yards were swung around, and
+the stout bark headed due east at his orders. To see old Tom Bent push
+the tiller over, and other seasoned mariners man brace and sheet, at the
+command of that gold-haired youth, made the heart of Beatrix Westleigh
+flutter with pride. Her dark eyes, already bright and lovely beyond
+power of description, shone yet more brightly; and her cheeks, already
+flushed to clear flame by the wind, deepened their glow. As the ship
+answered to his will, so would he answer to her whim. It was a pleasant
+reflection to the lady; and to realize it she called softly. Without a
+glance at the straining sails, he turned and hastened to her side.
+
+The voyage from Fort Beatrix to the wonderful harbour and brave little
+town of St. John's was made without accident, though not without
+incident. In Bonavista Bay, at a gray hour of the morning, the stump of
+a great iceberg was narrowly avoided. A day later, a large vessel that
+was evidently employed at fishing evinced an undesirable interest in the
+business of the _Heart of the West_. She was not a quarter of a mile
+distant when first sighted, for a light fog was on the water. She flew
+no flag, and changed her course and altered her speed with sinister
+promptness. Kingswell, and every man of the ship's company, knew that
+pirates of many nationalities infested those waters during summer. The
+worst of the thieves were Turks; and the fishing-ship or store-ship that
+was overhauled by those gentry usually lost more than its cargo.
+Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards also had a weakness for playing the
+part of the bald eagle, with their heavy metalled and wide-sailed craft,
+to the r�le of the fishhawk so unwillingly played by the merchantmen.
+Happily for Kingswell's command, the stranger was inshore and to
+leeward. Both watches were piped up by Tom Bent. The gunners went to
+their quarters. Sail after sail unfurled about the already straining
+masts and yards. The brave little ship answered willingly to the
+pressure, and her cutwater broke the flanks of the waves into sibilant
+foam.
+
+A rumour of the chase reached Mistress Beatrix and her old maid, in the
+seclusion of that snug cabin in which Master Trowley was, at one time,
+wont to revel. Maggie Stone drew the curtains across the thick glass of
+the after-port (as if fearing that the eagle glance of one of the
+pirates might pierce the privacy of her retreat), and then devoted
+herself to tearful prayer. Beatrix completed her toilet, threw a cloak
+over her shoulders, and climbed the companion. She joined Kingswell by
+the tiller, and, after saluting him tenderly and with a composure that
+took no heed of the sailor at the helm, watched the chase with interest.
+
+"They outsail us," she said, presently.
+
+Kingswell nodded. "But she'll never get near us on that course," he
+replied. "She is for heading us off, and getting to windward. If she
+gets to windward of us--Lord, but I scarce think she will."
+
+He said a word of preparation to the man at the tiller, and then gave a
+few quick orders from the break of the poop. In half a minute the _Heart
+of the West_ headed out on an easy tack. When every sail was drawing to
+his liking, he returned to the girl.
+
+"How glorious!" she cried. "A good horse, a singing pack, and an old fox
+make but slow sport compared to this."
+
+"We are the fox on this hunting morning," smiled Kingswell.
+
+"With teeth," she hinted.
+
+He noticed that the unwelcome stranger was shouldering the wind on the
+new course. He looked at the girl.
+
+"Ay, we have teeth, sweeting," he said, "and soon we'll be gnashing
+them."
+
+Though the _Heart of the West_ sailed well, to windward, the big craft
+astern sailed even better. The ships, crowded with canvas, the dancing
+blue water and cloudless sky, and the brown and azure coast to leeward,
+made a fine picture under the white sun. As the stranger drew near and
+nearer, excitement increased aboard the merchantman. Old Trowley bawled
+to be set free, that he might not die in the sail-locker like a rat in a
+hole. Tom Bent spat on his hard hands, and pulled his belt an inch
+shorter. Ouenwa lugged up shot and powder, and was for opening fire at
+an impossible range. Beatrix roused Maggie Stone from her devotions, and
+took her forward to a place of greater safety in the men's quarters.
+
+Along either side of the after-cabin of the _Heart of the West_ ran a
+narrow passage. Each passage ended in a blind port, and behind each port
+crouched a gun of unusual size for so peaceful an appearing ship. Now
+Kingswell blessed the day that a youthful love of warlike gear and a
+heart for adventure had led him to add these pieces to the armament of
+his ship. He remembered, with a contented smile, how Master Trowley had
+growled at the delay caused by getting the great guns aboard and
+partitioning off the passage. Even his mother had urged him to put more
+faith in the great ship which the king was so gracious as to send to
+Newfounde Land each spring, as a convoy to the fishing fleet. But
+Master Bernard, spoiled child, had had his way; and now he thanked the
+gods of war for it.
+
+Both ships sailed as close to the wind as their models and rigging and
+the laws of nature would allow. They went about often on ever shortening
+tacks. The hunter outsailed the hunted, though it is safe to say that
+her seamanship was no better. Suddenly she luffed until her sails
+quivered, and from her bows broke two puffs of smoke with inner cores of
+flame. Both shots flew high, and fell ahead of the quarry in brief
+spouts of torn water. At that, the blind ports in the stern of the
+merchantman opened up, and the sinister muzzles of the guns were run out
+with a gust of English cheering. Then their sudden voices boomed
+defiance, and the smoke rolled along the water and clung to the leaping
+waves.
+
+Kingswell felt the deck jump under his feet. His pulses leaped with the
+good planks. "Hit!" he cried--and sure enough, one of the enemy's upper
+spars, with its burden of flapping canvas, tottered desperately, and
+then swooped down on the clustered buccaneers beneath. Half an hour
+later the _Heart of the West_ was spinning along on her old course, and
+far astern the stranger lay to and nursed her wound.
+
+Three days later, at high noon, the Narrows opened in the sheer brown
+face of the cliffs, and the people of the _Heart of the West_ caught a
+glimpse of the harbour and the shipping beyond. Then the rocky portals
+seemed to close, and the spray flew like smoke along the unbroken
+ramparts. The ship was put about, and again the magic entrance opened
+and shut.
+
+"I knows the channel, sir," said Tom Bent. "Ye needn't wait for no
+duff-headed pilot."
+
+So the stout ship went 'round again, with a brisk shouting of men at the
+braces and a booming of canvas aloft. Her colours flew bravely in the
+sunlight, answering the colours of the fort and the battery on Signal
+Hill. She raced at the towering cliff as if she would try to overthrow
+it with her cocked-up bowsprit. Even Kingswell caught his breath.
+Beatrix looked away, so fearful was the sight of the unbroken rock that
+seemed to swim toward them with a voice of thunder and the smoking surf
+along its foot. Ouenwa wondered if Tom Bent were mad. But the boatswain
+gripped the big tiller, and squinted under the yards, and cocked an eye
+aloft at the flags and men on the cliff. Then, of a sudden, the narrow
+passage of green water, spray-fringed, opened under their bows, and the
+walls of rock slid aside and let them in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+IN THE MERRY CITY
+
+
+The _Heart of the West_ was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside
+the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the
+great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant
+welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress
+Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a
+subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never
+have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new
+arrival carried such a passenger.
+
+"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink
+his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the
+worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."
+
+He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix
+shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the
+dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk facings of his
+coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.
+
+"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular
+fancy is for the Church."
+
+The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to
+think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the
+combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath.
+Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"
+
+"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.
+
+"Ay, we have a parson--a ranting old missionary," replied the
+lieutenant.
+
+"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the
+marriage service."
+
+"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.
+
+The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He
+was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish
+countenance.
+
+"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in
+the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled
+good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at
+Mistress Westleigh, "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were
+brother and sister."
+
+The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot,
+and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was
+of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds
+and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if
+he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales.
+His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike
+those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for
+his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair
+with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box
+to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant
+made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and
+cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated
+his name and degree.
+
+"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency,
+extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me
+more than once in his great house in Bristol,--ay, and treated the poor
+sailor like a peer of the realm."
+
+Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave a brief account of Sir
+Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness,
+and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort
+was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its
+whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered
+plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief
+engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress
+Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor
+was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He
+murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in
+England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well
+do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh--ay, the
+young lady's mother--bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me,
+and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And
+she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death
+that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."
+
+Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.
+
+"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless,
+and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour
+day by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir,
+I can assure you."
+
+"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in
+his staring eyes.
+
+Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island,
+the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St.
+John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception
+Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return
+within the week.
+
+"In the meantime," said the honest governor, "my house is at Mistress
+Westleigh's service. Let her send for her maid and her boxes. My good
+housekeeper will tidy up the best chamber. Gad, Master Kingswell, but
+we'll cheer this God-forsaken, French-pestered hole in the rock with a
+touch of gaiety."
+
+His Excellency's hospitality was accepted, and for eight days the little
+settlement gave itself over to merrymaking. There were dances in the
+governor's house every night, at which Beatrix was the only lady. There
+were great dinners, during which Beatrix sat on his Excellency's right
+and Kingswell on his left. There were inspections of the fort, boating
+parties on the harbour, and outings among the woods and natural gardens
+that graced the valley at the head of the beautiful basin.
+
+The beauty and graciousness of Mistress Westleigh, and the knowledge of
+her loyalty to her father, and her bravery won the heart of that rude
+village. From the governor to the youngest sailor lad, every man in the
+harbour was her humble and devoted servant.
+
+Before the kindly soldiers and merchants and adventurers, she was always
+merry. The main street along the water-front took on a light of distant
+England did she but appear in it for a minute. The three officers of the
+garrison swore that they preferred it to the most fashionable promenade
+on London. But, alone, or with her lover, she eased, with tears, the
+grief for her father's fate, which all the junketing and gaiety but
+seemed to uncover.
+
+On the eighth day after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_ in the
+harbour of St. John's, the parson returned from his preaching among the
+boisterous fishing-ships in Conception Bay. He shook his head at the
+state in which he found his home flock; for he was of that gloomy
+persuasion known as low church, and held little with frivolity. But,
+after meeting Beatrix, he thawed, and even went so far as to attempt a
+pun on his willingness to marry her. The sally of wit was received by
+the lady with so lovely a smile that the divine forgot his austerity so
+far as to poke Kingswell in the ribs, and call him a sly dog.
+
+The ceremony took place in the little church behind the governor's
+house; and, after it was over, his Excellency, the parson, the officers
+of the garrison, the merchants, the captains of the ships, and many
+more, accompanied the happy couple aboard the _Heart of the West_, where
+sound wines were drunk by the quality, and rum and beer by the
+commonalty. All the shipping, the premises of the merchants, and the
+forts flew bunting, as if for a demonstration to royalty itself. At noon
+farewells were said, and a dozen willing boats towed the _Heart of the
+West_ down the harbour and through the Narrows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES, AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA
+
+
+The wilderness, that grim thing of naked rock, brown barren, gray marsh,
+and black wood, which had claimed the mad baronet so surely, was unable
+to keep Pierre d'Antons in its spacious prison. With the return of
+summer, the dark adventurer and the Beothic girl deserted their inland
+retreat, and set out for a certain grim cape which thrusts far into the
+Atlantic. The crown of that cape affords an uninterrupted view to
+seaward and north and south across the waters of two great bays. A fire
+at night, or a column of smoke in the day, glowing or streaming upward
+from that vantage place, would be sighted from the deck of a passing
+ship at a distance of many miles.
+
+The journey proved a long and trying one, through swamps and barrens,
+and over rock-tumbled knolls. Streams were forded, lakes
+circumambulated, and rivers crossed on insecure rafts. Through it all,
+the native girl, Miwandi, kept a brave heart and bright face. D'Antons,
+however, was preoccupied in his manner, and even gloomy at times. The
+hardships of that wild existence had begun to tell on his body, and the
+loneliness to fret his nerves. His infatuation for Mistress Westleigh
+had dimmed and faded out altogether, leaving only a mean desire for the
+salve of revenge with which to soothe his injured pride. He would wound
+her through Kingswell. Sometimes a fear oppressed him that his men might
+have forgotten his mastery by this time, and might fail, after the two
+seasons of silence, to continue their cruising of those northern waters
+throughout June and July, as he had commanded. But that doubt only
+troubled him in his darkest moods. The loyalty of his subordinate
+buccaneers of the _Cristobal_ was not to be questioned seriously, for it
+had been tested in many tight places. Comradeship often forms as trusty
+ties between the hearts of pirates as between the hearts of honest
+gentlemen. Once grown beyond the temptations of greed and treachery, it
+is a safe thing, this loyalty of desperate men for their messmates.
+
+It was Pierre d'Antons' dream to regain the deck of the _Cristobal_
+(with Miwandi, of course), and to appear, some fine day, before the
+little fort of Gray Goose River; to put the settlers to the sword, the
+buildings to the torch, and to carry the English beauty away with him.
+He felt that his passion for the proud lady might be easily and
+pleasantly refired. But he made no mention of Mistress Westleigh to
+Miwandi, the Beothic girl.
+
+After more than a week of hard travelling, the two ascended the wooded
+ridge which runs seaward to the bleak and elevated acres of the grim
+cape of their desire. In a shaggy grove they set up their lodge. At the
+extremity of the headland, high above the wheeling, screaming gulls and
+noddies, D'Antons built a circular fireplace of the stones that lay
+about. Completed, it looked like an altar reared by some benighted
+priesthood to the gods of the wind and the sea. But no such thought
+occurred to its architect. His case was too desperate to allow his mind
+to indulge in such whimsical fancies.
+
+While the woman went in quest of food--fish, flesh, or fowl, what did it
+matter which?--the man gathered wood and piled it near the queer hearth.
+He worked without intermission until Miwandi returned from her foraging
+with a string of bright trout in her hand. Then he built a modest fire
+within the rough walls of his furnace, and helped the girl clean and
+cook the fish. By that time the glow of the afternoon was centred
+behind the gloomy hills, and a clear twilight was over the sea; but as
+yet the atmosphere held no suggestion of dusk. No sail broke the wide
+expanse of dark blue ocean with its flake of gray; but to the nor'east a
+whale breached and blew its little fountain of spray across the still
+line of the horizon. D'Antons and Miwandi noted these things as they
+ate, but made no comment upon them.
+
+For several days after the arrival of the two upon the overseeing
+headland, D'Antons made no other use of his furnace than for the cooking
+of meals. For that purpose it served admirably, for the walls protected
+the flame from the ever-flying winds that prevailed over that exposed
+spot. The adventurer knew that he was early for the _Cristobal_. Several
+sails were detected; but of them the only heed taken was the precaution
+of blanketing the little fire in the hearth with damp soil. The
+Frenchman did not desire a visit from fishermen of any nationality
+whatever. He might find it difficult to explain his presence in so
+unfavourable a spot for either a fishery or a settlement. No doubt they
+would persist in rescuing him, and, in that case, what reason could he
+give for wishing to stay in his cheerless camp? So he lay low and
+watched the passing of more than one stout craft without a sign.
+
+The time arrived when he must set his signals, despite the risk of
+attracting unwelcome visitors. So he closed the front of the furnace
+with a boulder, built a brisk fire within, which he heaped with damp
+moss and punk, and then laid a large, flat stone over the opening in the
+top of the unique structure. By removing the flat stone, he allowed a
+column of dense smoke to issue into the air, stream aloft and scatter in
+the wind. By replacing the stone, the smoke was cut short off. Finding
+that the contrivance worked to his satisfaction, he let the smoke stream
+up, uninterrupted. The signalling would only be resorted to when a
+vessel, which might possibly be the _Cristobal_, should be sighted. When
+darkness fell, the fire was allowed to die down. A night signal was
+unnecessary, as the _Cristobal_, should she keep the tryst at all, was
+sure to make an examination of the cape by daylight. D'Antons' last
+orders had been strictly and particularly to that effect.
+
+A week passed, during which a sharp lookout was kept by the fugitives on
+the brow of the cape, and the signal of smoke was operated a dozen times
+without the desired effect. In fact, a large vessel, attracted by the
+smoke (which was due to D'Antons' tardy realization that the
+approaching ship was not the _Cristobal_) altered her course, sailed
+close in, and sent a boat ashore to investigate. D'Antons and Miwandi
+had just enough time, with not a minute to spare, to roll up their
+wigwam and hide it in the bushes, gather together their most valuable
+belongings, and flee inland to a shelter of tangled spruces and firs.
+The boat's crew was composed of peaceful fishermen, who were free from
+suspicion and malice. They climbed to the brow of the promontory with
+fine hardihood, but once there did little but examine the marks where
+the lodge had so lately stood and partially overthrow the queer
+fireplace. They believed that structure to be an altar, built to the
+glory of some unorthodox god. Then they retraced their perilous way to
+the little cove under the cliff, and rowed back to the ship. D'Antons
+stole from his retreat and crawled to the edge of the cliff. He felt a
+glow of satisfaction when the big vessel stood away on her northward
+course.
+
+Another week drifted along, and hope wavered in the buccaneer heart. His
+gloomy moods began to wear on the young squaw's spirits. She begged him
+to return to the inland rivers--to make peace with her people--to cease
+his unprofitable staring at the sea.
+
+"The sorrow of the great salt water has entered your heart," she said,
+"and the moaning of it has deafened your ears to my voice."
+
+He did not turn his eyes from the undulations of the gray horizon.
+"Would you have me rot in this place for the remainder of my life?" he
+asked, harshly, in her language.
+
+The poor girl sobbed for an hour after that, and reproved her heart for
+the image of a god it had set up. She tried to overthrow the idol from
+its inner shrine; she tried to change it to a grim symbol of hate; she
+pressed her face to the coarse herbage, and tore the sod with her
+fingers.
+
+"Miwandi! Come to me, little one," cried the man from the edge of the
+cliff.
+
+Her anger, her bitterness, vanished like thinnest smoke. She sprang up
+and ran to him. He drew her to his side, and with his right hand pointed
+southward across the glinting deep.
+
+"The _Cristobal_!" he cried. "Good God, I'll stake my life on it!"
+
+So intense was his satisfaction at the sight of those unmistakable
+topsails that his selfish affection for the woman lighted again. He
+pressed his lips to the tear-wet cheek; and immediately the simple
+creature was in the seventh heaven of bliss.
+
+While the gray flake of sail expanded on the horizon, Pierre d'Antons
+and the woman hurriedly and roughly rebuilt the walls of the fireplace,
+lit and fed a blaze, and piled it high with moss and rotten bark. The
+thick pillar of smoke arose like a tree, and bent in the moderate wind.
+Miwandi busied herself with breaking the wood to the required length and
+carrying damp moss. For several minutes the smoke was allowed to ascend
+in an unbroken shaft. Then D'Antons cut it off for a few seconds, let it
+rise again, broke it again, and again let it stream aloft,
+uninterrupted. He had signalled his name according to the code of the
+_Cristobal_.
+
+The welcome ship gradually enlarged to the eager eyes of the watchers on
+the cape. North, east, and south there was no other sail in sight. At
+last three flags ran up to the topforemast and fluttered out. The
+question was read instantly by D'Antons, who returned to his fire and
+interrupted the stream of smoke five times in quick succession. The
+translation of that was "All's well. You may approach without danger."
+
+A message of congratulation appeared promptly against the bellying
+foresail of the _Cristobal_; and the watchers saw the rolls of white
+foam gleaming like wool under the forging of the bow.
+
+D'Antons was cordially welcomed aboard the _Cristobal_. Miwandi was
+received without question. The acting commander of the ship was a
+grizzled Spanish mariner by the name of Silva,--a fellow steeped in
+crime and uncertain of temper, yet possessed of a marvellous devotion
+for D'Antons, which was due to an act of kindness performed by the
+Frenchman years before, in the town of Panama.
+
+Silva was delighted to find his captain alive and ready for the high
+seas again. He asked no questions concerning his adventures until more
+than one bottle of wine had been emptied, and the captain's
+travel-stained garments had been exchanged for the best the cabin
+lockers contained. Miwandi, too, was reclothed; and the beauty and
+softness of the silks that were presented to her fairly turned her
+little head. She did not know that the fair French lady for whom they
+had been made, in gay Paris, and who had worn them only three months
+ago, was somewhere in the dredge of emerald tides between the Bahaman
+reefs. She knew only that the texture and colours delighted her skin and
+her eyes. So, in her narrow room, she attired herself in the finery,
+toiling at the ties and lacing with unfamiliar fingers.
+
+In the captain's cabin D'Antons motioned to his friend to close the
+door. He had consumed a soup, and was still engaged with the wine.
+Silva returned to his seat at the table, after a final reassuring push
+on the bolt of the door. It is always wise to be sure that the door you
+considered fastened is fastened indeed. Then, with their elbows on the
+table and their heads close together, the more salient incidents of
+D'Antons' sojourn in the wilderness were rehearsed and keenly listened
+to. Silva displayed a prodigious indignation at the story of the
+captain's failure to win the affections of Mistress Westleigh. At word
+of Sir Ralph's death (and the murder became a desperate duel in the
+telling), a crooked smile of satisfaction distorted his face. As to what
+he heard of Kingswell--ah, but oaths in two languages were quite
+inadequate for the expression of his feelings.
+
+"We'll inspect the heart of that cockerel--and the gizzard as well,"
+said he, and drank off his wine.
+
+"Leave him to my hand," replied D'Antons, darkly.
+
+Silva nodded, with a sinister leer.
+
+"So it's 'bout ship and blow the little stockade into everlasting
+damnation," he said.
+
+"Ay, but the lady must come to no harm in the attack," warned the
+captain.
+
+So the _Cristobal_ headed northward, and the evil-looking rascals of
+her crew were informed that the morrow would bring them some work to
+limber their muscles. The information was received with cheers, in which
+hearty English voices were not lacking.
+
+However, in the early morning, Fate, in the shape of the _Heart of the
+West_, turned the danger away from the little fort.
+
+"She looks like a likely prize," said D'Antons, when he sighted the
+ship. The old fever awoke in his blood. He longed for the old
+excitement.
+
+"Give chase," he ordered. "The fort can well do without the honour of
+our attentions for a little while."
+
+So the chase was carried on, as has been described in a previous
+chapter, and went merrily enough for the _Cristobal_ until the
+unexpected shot from the stern of the quarry brought down her
+foretopmast and its weight of sail. But before that had happened,
+D'Antons, unrecognizable himself in new clothes and a great hat, marked
+Bernard Kingswell on the poop of the _Heart of the West_. He cursed like
+a madman, or a true-bred pirate, when his ship was crippled.
+
+"The fort may rot of old age in the midst of its desolation," he cried
+to Silva, "for what I would have is aboard that cursed craft ahead."
+
+A few days later, with their spars repaired, they picked up a small
+fishing-boat, and learned from the skipper that a great ship from the
+north had entered the harbour of St. John's. So, knowing the virtue of
+precaution, they impressed the master and crew and scuttled the little
+vessel. Then, with admirable patience, they cruised up and down, far to
+seaward of the brown cliffs which guarded that hospitable port.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE
+
+
+The dainty bride leaned on her husband's arm, and together they looked
+back and waved farewell. Flags answered them from the battery above the
+cliff. Then she turned to the bridegroom and gazed into his eyes with so
+radiant and tender a smile that, all forgetful of the abashed salt at
+the tiller, he drew her to him and kissed her on brow and lips.
+
+"Dear wife," he murmured, and could say no more.
+
+Both were brave in marriage finery,--she in a pearl gown of brocaded
+silk, a scarlet cloak lined with white fur, and a feathered hat, and he
+in buff and blue from the wardrobe of the commandant of St. John's.
+
+They gazed astern, across the dancing azure, to the brown and purple
+rocks beautified by the sunlight and crystal air. "Homeward bound," she
+whispered, happily, and turned her face from the mellowing coast of the
+wilderness to the wide east.
+
+Together they walked forward to the break of the high deck. A fair wind
+bellied the sails. The tarred rigging and scraped spars shone like
+polished metal. The men, in their brightest sashes and cleanest shirts
+(in honour of the occasion), went about their duties briskly. The mates
+wore their side-arms; both watches were on deck, with the gaiety of the
+days ashore still in their hearts. Not a soul was below save the cook
+(who sorted provisions in the forward lazaret), Maggie Stone (who sulked
+in her mistress's cabin because she had not been asked to act as
+bridesmaid), and old Trowley, with wrists and legs in irons and a
+dawning repentance in his sullen blood.
+
+An hour later Ouenwa ascended the starboard ladder from the waist, and
+stood beside Master and Mistress Kingswell. He wore a dashing outfit,
+which had been made to his shape by the garrison tailor in the days
+preceding the marriage. A sword was at his belt; lace hung at his
+wrists; his dark hair, slightly curled, fell to his shoulders. His
+tanned cheeks were flushed with the excitement passed and the adventures
+anticipated. Only the dark alertness of his eyes and the litheness of
+his actions bespoke his primitive upbringing. Though he had been named
+"dreamer" by his people, he gave promise now of a life of deeds rather
+than of dreams.
+
+"Do you mourn the little stockade and the great river, lad?" queried
+Kingswell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.
+
+Ouenwa shook his head emphatically and glanced knowingly aloft. "Why
+should I mourn them?" he asked. "Am I not bound for castles and great
+houses, for books in number as the leaves of the birch-tree, and for
+villages filled all day with warriors, and with ladies almost as fair as
+Mistress Beatrix? Shall I not read in the books, and see horses, greater
+than caribou, bearing gentlemen upon their backs? Then why would you
+have me mourn? The land behind us is not a good land. My fathers were
+brave and wise, and led their warriors to a hundred victories; but they
+were murdered by their own people. I care not for such a country."
+
+"True, lad," replied Kingswell, "and yet, even in glorious England, you
+may find ingratitude as black as that of Panounia. Even kings and queens
+have been guilty of ingratitude."
+
+Beatrix patted the moralist's arm.
+
+"Why think of it now?" she said, gently, "and why fill the dear lad with
+doubt? Only if he climbs high need he fear disloyalty. As a plain
+soldier, he shall never lack the protection of such humble friends as
+ourselves."
+
+Just then a lookout warned them of a sail on the larboard bow. Kingswell
+and Ouenwa went forward to the forecastle-head. Tom Bent (now of the
+rank of chief gunner) was already there, peering away under the lift of
+the jibs. The second mate was with him.
+
+"A large vessel," remarked Kingswell.
+
+"Ay, and we's spoke mun afore now, sir," replied Bent. He was too intent
+on gazing ahead to see the question in the captain's face. But the mate
+saw it and answered it.
+
+"She's run up a new spar, sir, an' mended her for'ard riggin'," said he,
+"an' like enough she thinks she'll take the cost of damages out o' us."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Kingswell, with a note of relish. Then he remembered
+Beatrix, and a shadow darkened his eyes for a moment. "Pipe both
+watches," he said, quietly. "Arm all hands. Clear decks for action.
+Master Gunner, you must fight your barkers to-day for more than the
+glory of England."
+
+He returned to his wife and told her of the menace. She heard the news
+with an inward sickening, but with no outward tremor. All her fear was
+for him.
+
+"Promise me that you will go to our cabin when I give the word," he
+asked.
+
+She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Your obedient, humble wife, my lord,"
+she whispered, with a brave attempt at gaiety.
+
+He caught her hands quickly to his shoulders and kissed her lips. He
+felt them tremble against his.
+
+"I must help with the preparations, dear heart," he murmured, and
+hurried away. He consulted the mates and Tom Bent as to the advisability
+of beating back for St. John's. The mariners shook their heads. They
+held that the _Heart of the West_ could make a better fight on her
+present course; and that the battle would be decided, one way or
+another, before the garrison could send them any help. As if to confirm
+their views, the wind freshened to such a degree, and held so fair
+astern, that to beat to windward would require all hands at the sails,
+and put gunnery out of the question.
+
+"Like enough they be double our strength in men," said Tom Bent, "but we
+equals 'em in guns and seamanship, sir, an' ye may lay to that."
+
+So the _Heart of the West_ held on her course under a press of canvas.
+
+After Kingswell and Beatrix had talked together for some time, they
+went forward, hand in hand, to the break of the poop. Tom Bent called
+the ship's company to attention. The brave fellows, stripped to their
+breeches and shirts in readiness for the approaching encounter, looked
+up, and such as wore caps doffed them respectfully.
+
+"My brave lads," cried the lady, in a voice that rang clear above the
+stir of wind and wave and tugging cordage, "but this morning you made
+merry for my sake; and now, in so little a while, you will risk your
+lives in defending your ship and me from that pirate whom we have
+already encountered. My husband,--your captain,--like a true-bred
+English sailor, is already sure of victory. A generous mariner, he has
+promised me the prize; and now I promise it to you. In a few weeks'
+time, my lads, we shall sell our enemy in Bristol docks. Not a penny of
+her price shall go to owner or captain; but all into the pockets of this
+brave company. And should any man fall in the encounter, I pledge my
+word that those dependent upon him shall lack nothing that money can
+give them during the remainder of their lives. Now, fight well, for God
+and for England."
+
+She looked down at them, smiling divinely.
+
+"And for the Lady Beatrix," shouted a youthful seaman.
+
+Cheers rang aloft; bearded lips and shaven lips bawled her name; and
+great, toil-seared hands were brandished, and stark blades gleamed in
+the sunlight.
+
+"God bless you, lady," they roared.
+
+She leaned forward and blew a kiss from her lips with both dainty hands.
+
+"God strengthen you, brave hearts," she cried, softly; and the nearer of
+the loyal mariners saw the tears shimmering beneath her lashes.
+
+The _Heart of the West_ held on her course, breaking the waves in
+fountains from her forging bow. The _Cristobal_ raced down upon her with
+the wind square abeam. It was evidently her intention to cross the
+merchantman's bows and rake her with a broadside.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_ every man was at his post, and the
+matches were like pale stars in the hands of the gunners. The second
+mate was on the forecastle-head, beside the bow-chaser. The first mate
+stood in the waist. Kingswell paced the poop, fore and aft. Each
+measured and calculated the brisk approach of the _Cristobal_ with
+unwinking eyes, and considered the straining sails overhead and the
+speed of the wind.
+
+Still the pirate boiled down upon them, leaning over in the press of
+the half-gale. It was evident to Kingswell that she would pass across
+his bows within a distance of a hundred yards, unless something was done
+to prevent it. He spoke quietly to the men at the tiller, and called an
+order to the officer amidships. Twenty seconds later he gave the signal.
+The tiller was pushed over, the yards were hauled around, and the good
+ship swung to the north and took the wind on her larboard beam. Now the
+vessels leaned on the same course, and were not two hundred yards apart.
+Almost at the same moment they exchanged broadsides, and the challenging
+shouts of men mingled with the roaring of the little cannonades. The
+smoke from the merchantman's ports blew down, in a stifling cloud, upon
+the enemy. The _Cristobal_ fell off before the wind in an unaccountable
+manner. The _Heart of the West_ luffed, in the hope of bringing her
+heavy after-battery to bear, saw that the manoeuvre could not be
+accomplished, and flew about on her old course.
+
+"Her tiller is shot away," cried Kingswell. A cheer rang along the decks
+and penetrated the cabins fore and aft. Beatrix heard it, and thanked
+God. Old Trowley heard it, and, beating his manacled wrists against the
+bulkhead, roared to be cast loose that he might bear a hand in the
+fight.
+
+From that first exchange of round-shot, the _Heart of the West_ escaped
+without hurt, owing to the fact that the enemy's guns, elevated by the
+pressure of the gale upon her windward side, sent their missiles high
+between the upper spars of the merchantman. The _Cristobal_, however,
+was hulled by two balls, and had her tiller carried away by a third;
+for, just as her guns were elevated to harmlessness by the list of the
+deck, so were the merchantman's depressed to a deadly aim by the list of
+hers.
+
+Taking every advantage which a sound tiller and perfectly trimmed sails
+gave her over her enemy, the _Heart of the West_ raced after the
+buccaneer. Passing close astern, she raked her with her three larboard
+guns. Running on, and slanting across the wind's course more and more,
+she presently had her two after-guns to bear on the three-quarter target
+of the _Cristobal's_ starboard side. The range was middling; but, even
+so, the gunners sent up a prayer to Luck, so violent were the soarings
+and sinkings of the deck. The shots were followed by a tottering of high
+sails above the _Cristobal_, and with a flapping and rending, the
+mizzenmast fell forward and stripped the main of three of her yards.
+
+Now the disabled, tillerless _Cristobal_, kept before the wind by a
+great sweep, fled heavily. Her decks were cluttered with snarled
+wreckage. Half a dozen of her crew were injured. Her commander and
+Master Silva were mad with rage at the unexpected turn of events.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_, Ouenwa had just pointed out to Kingswell
+the dashing figure of Pierre d'Antons.
+
+"I take it that this is his last play," remarked the young captain, with
+a grim smile.
+
+For another hour the merchantman sailed about the pirate at her will,
+pouring broadside after broadside into hull and rigging, and sustaining
+but little damage herself. Now and then musket-shots were exchanged. Two
+of Kingswell's men were wounded, and were promptly carried below, where
+their hurts were tenderly bandaged by Mistress Kingswell and Maggie
+Stone.
+
+In a lull of the firing, the cook came running to the poop, with word
+that Trowley was in a fair way to make matchwood of his surroundings.
+
+"What ails him now?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"He be shoutin' for a chance at the Frenchers," replied the cook.
+Kingswell considered the matter, with a calculating eye on the enemy.
+"Cast him loose," said he, "and give him a chance to prove himself an
+English sailor man."
+
+Trowley appeared on deck just as a shot from the _Cristobal_ struck the
+teakwood rail of the _Heart of the West_ amidships. A flying splinter
+whirred past his head. He brandished his cutlass, and bawled a threat
+across the rocking water. The men at the guns welcomed him with laughter
+and cheers.
+
+"Ye be in for the kill, master," cried one.
+
+Kingswell beckoned the ex-commander aft, and met him at the top of the
+ladder. Trowley looked guiltily this way and that.
+
+"I have let you up, my man," said the captain, "that you may bear a hand
+in the fight. I am willing to forget your knaveries of the past, and
+remember only your actions of to-day."
+
+Trowley nodded, and for an instant his eyes met Kingswell's.
+
+"You can see what we have done to the enemy," said the other. "But I am
+in no mind to break her up with this everlasting cannonading. What would
+you suggest?"
+
+Trowley straightened his great shoulders and lifted his head. "Lay her
+aboard, sir," said he, "an' make fast."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+OVER THE SIDE
+
+
+With a fearful grinding of timbers and rattling of spars, the
+merchantman's larboard bow scraped along the enemy's side.
+Boarding-irons were thrown across from the forecastle-deck. With a yell,
+the men of Devon sprang from rail to rail, and hurled themselves upon
+the mongrels who clustered to repulse them. Cutlasses skirred in the
+air; and some struck clanging metal, and some met with a softer
+resistance. Screams of rage and pain, and shouts of grim exultation,
+rang above the conflict.
+
+Old Trowley hacked a place for himself in the thickest of the press, and
+laid about him with such desperate fury and such fearful oaths that the
+buccaneers hustled each other to get out of his way.
+
+Kingswell, in the waist of the _Cristobal_, encountered D'Antons, and
+claimed him for his own. As their blades rasped together, D'Antons began
+the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's death in the wilderness. Kingswell
+heard it without comment. The tumult about them gradually subsided, as
+man after man of the pirate crew was cut down or bound. Sail was
+shortened on both vessels, and the victors, sound and wounded alike,
+gathered about the two swordsmen. A strained silence took possession of
+the watchers. The rough fellows understood that their captain had an old
+score to settle with the buccaneer. They were fascinated by the
+lightning play of the rapiers. They noted every movement of foot and
+hand, blade and eye. When D'Antons snarled an insulting taunt at his
+adversary, they cursed softly. When their captain pricked the pirate's
+shoulder, a husky murmur of admiration went through them. So intent were
+they on the fight that they failed to notice the approach of Miwandi,
+the Beothic woman, until she was in their midst. But they became aware
+of her presence when she screamed with rage and flung herself upon
+Kingswell.
+
+"Pull the wench off," they cried, and made a futile grab at the mad
+figure.
+
+Kingswell, quick as a cat for all his Saxon colouring, wrenched himself
+clear of her, avoided the slash of her knife by a half-inch, and lunged
+through D'Antons' guard. The buccaneer pitched forward so suddenly and
+heavily that the rapier was wrenched from the Englishman's hand. The
+hilt struck the deck. The slim blade darted out between D'Antons'
+shoulders a full two-thirds of its length. He sprawled on his face,
+gulping his last breath; and the hilt of Kingswell's weapon knocked
+spasmodically on the red planking of the deck. The woman, stunned with
+grief, was led away by two of the seamen.
+
+By the time the duel was over, the long, northern twilight was drawing
+to a close. The decks of the _Cristobal_ were cleared of the dead bodies
+and the wreckage of guns and spars. The torn rigging was partially
+repaired; a few sails were set; and the shattered tiller was replaced.
+The prisoners (wounded and bound together, they did not number a dozen)
+were divided between the ships. A prize-crew of seven, under the first
+mate's command, went aboard the _Cristobal_. Then the boarding-irons
+were cast loose, and the vessels fell away from each other to a safe
+distance.
+
+Miwandi's grief was desperate. Beatrix strove to comfort her, but failed
+signally. Her position was evident enough to every one who had seen her
+frantic attempt to assist D'Antons in the encounter with Kingswell.
+Beatrix guessed the story. Her face burned at remembrance of her
+one-time companionship with D'Antons--of the days before she fully knew
+his nature, and often sat at cards and chess with him in the little
+cabin in the wilderness--and of the days before that, when he was one of
+her admirers in London. Even now she did not know him for her father's
+murderer. Kingswell had decided to keep that to himself, until some day
+in the happy future, when the wilderness should be fainter than the
+memory of a dream in his wife's mind.
+
+For three days the ships kept within sight of each other. On the fourth,
+a gale of wind drove them apart; but Kingswell felt no anxiety for the
+prize, for she had received no serious damage to her hull in the bitter
+encounter that had befallen on his wedding-day.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_ the wounded improved daily; the prisoners
+cursed their irons and their luck; the crew never pulled on a rope
+without a song to lighten the task; old Trowley, promoted from
+imprisonment to the position of second mate, worked like a Trojan, and
+Beatrix and Bernard sped the hours in the high and golden atmosphere of
+love and youth. The Beothic woman, however, felt no response in her
+heart to the stir and happiness about her. Her world had fallen in a
+desolation of emptiness, and her very soul was weary of the sequence of
+day and night, night and day. She would not eat. She sobbed quietly,
+without rest, in her darkened berth. Her ears were deaf to words of
+comfort, even when they were spoken in her own language by Ouenwa. She
+asked no questions. Ever since that first outbreak, at sight of her
+lover's danger, she accepted the will of her pitiless gods without signs
+of either anger or wonder.
+
+One still night, when the waves rocked under the faint light of the
+stars without any breaking of foam, and the wind was just sufficient to
+swell the sails from the yards, the man at the tiller was startled from
+his reveries by a splash close alongside. He called to the officer of
+the watch, who had heard nothing, and told him of the sound. They
+scanned the sea on all sides and listened intently. They saw only the
+black, vanishing crests. They heard only the whispering of the ship on
+her way.
+
+"A fish," said the mate. The other agreed with him.
+
+In the morning Miwandi's berth was discovered to be empty,--no trace of
+her was found alow or aloft.
+
+The remaining days of the passage slipped by without any especial
+incident. Winds served. Seas were considerate of the good ship's
+safety. No fogs endangered the young lovers' homeward voyage. Every
+night there was fiddling in the forecastle and the chanting of rude
+ballads. And sometimes in the cabin a violin sang and sang, as if the
+very heart of happiness were under the sounding-board, and Love himself
+in the strings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE MOTHER
+
+
+Dame Kingswell, the widow of that good merchant of Bristol whom Queen
+Elizabeth had knighted in her latter days, sat in her chamber and looked
+down upon a pleasant garden beneath the window. She was alone. Her
+garments, though of rich materials, were sombre in hue. She wore no
+personal ornaments save two rings on her left hand, and a chain of gold,
+bearing a small cross of the same metal, at her breast. Her thick hair
+was snow-white. In her youth it had been as black as her husband's had
+been flaxen. Her complexion held scarcely more colour than her hair. On
+her knees a book of devotional poetry, splendidly illuminated about the
+margins, lay open. But her thin hands were folded over the page, and her
+gaze was upon the shrubbery of the garden. The time was early evening.
+The sunlight was mellow gold. The hedges, shrubs, and fountain on the
+lawns threw eastward shadows.
+
+The chamber in which the widow sat was large and scantily furnished. A
+few portraits, by masters of the brush, hung along the walls. A
+prayer-desk, with a red hassock before it, stood in a corner.
+
+A light rapping sounded on the door. The lady turned her eyes from the
+bright garden below her window. She saw the door open, and a beautiful
+girl in cloak and hat enter the room. The stranger advanced quickly, in
+a whispering of silks, and in her glowing hands took the widow's
+bloodless fingers.
+
+"My dear," said the elder woman, kindly, "I fear my memory is flitting.
+I do not recall your winsome face. Can it be that you are one of Sir
+Felix Brown's lasses, grown to such a fine young lady in London?"
+
+The girl sank on her knees and kissed the pale hands lightly and
+prettily.
+
+"My name is Beatrix Kingswell," she murmured.
+
+The good dame was sorely puzzled. She tried, in vain, to connect this
+lovely creature with any branches of the late knight's family.
+
+"Then you are a kinswoman of mine?" she queried. "Pray do not kneel
+there, my dear. Come sit in the window and tell me who you are."
+
+But the stranger did not move.
+
+"I am your daughter," she said. "And--oh, do not swoon, my
+mother--Bernard is at the door, awaiting your permission to enter."
+
+The widow closed her eyes for a second, leaning back in her chair. She
+recovered herself swiftly and clutched the skirts of the girl, who was
+now standing, ready to run to the door and admit her husband.
+
+"What story is this?" she cried, incredulous. "I have no daughter. And
+Bernard, my son, has lain dead in a far land these weary months."
+
+"Nay, dear madam," replied the girl. "Nay, he is not dead. But let me go
+to the door, and you will see him with your own eyes. He waits at your
+threshold, happy and well."
+
+The older woman maintained her hold of her visitor's gown. "And who are
+you, to bring me word of my son's return?" she asked, with a ring of
+shrewdness and suspicion in her voice. Dimly, she feared that she was
+affording sport to some heartless person; for this sudden tale of her
+son's safety, brought by this gay young lady, had broken upon her
+pensive reveries like an impossible scene out of a play.
+
+"I am his wife," replied Beatrix. With an effort, she pulled her skirts
+away from the clutching fingers, and sped to the door. Throwing it open,
+she admitted Bernard. The youth sprang to where his mother sat, and
+caught her up from her chair against his breast. With a glad,
+inarticulate cry, she slipped her arms around his neck and clung
+hysterically.
+
+
+Five days after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_, the _Cristobal_
+sailed into port. By that time the story of her capture was well known
+in the town, and a crowd of citizens gathered on the docks to welcome
+her. Master Kingswell put her up for sale. In the end, he bought her
+himself, for something more than she was worth. Every penny of the money
+Beatrix gave to the brave fellows who had fought and sailed their ship
+so valorously on her eventful wedding-day. Only that rugged and wayward
+master mariner, John Trowley, failed to show himself for a share of the
+gold. He had not the courage to run a chance of another meeting with
+Lady Kingswell.
+
+Of the future of Bernard, Beatrix, and the lad Ouenwa, something is
+written in the old records in an exceeding dry vein. Of the fate of the
+little fort on Gray Goose River, little is known. Some chroniclers
+maintain that the French overpowered it; others are as certain that the
+settlers moved to Conception Bay, and there established themselves so
+securely that, even to-day, descendants of those Triggets and those
+Donnellys cultivate their little crops, cure their fish, and sail their
+fore-and-afters around the coast to St. John's.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Brothers Of Peril, by Theodore Roberts.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Brothers of Peril
+       A Story of old Newfoundland
+
+Author: Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+Illustrator: H. C. Edwards
+
+Release Date: December 8, 2013 [EBook #44387]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROTHERS OF PERIL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="bold2">BROTHERS OF PERIL</p>
+
+<p class="bold2">A Story of Old Newfoundland</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="box">
+<h2><i>WORKS OF<br />THEODORE ROBERTS</i></h2>
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="decoration" /></div>
+
+<table summary="works">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><i>The Red Feathers</i></td>
+    <td><i>$1.50</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><i>Brothers of Peril</i></td>
+    <td><i>$1.50</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><i>Hemming the Adventurer</i></td>
+    <td><i>$1.50</i></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="decoration" /></div>
+
+<p class="bold"><i>L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY</i><br /><i>New England Building, Boston, Mass.</i></p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/i004.jpg" alt="A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT NAMELESS WILDERNESS" /></div>
+
+<p class="bold">"A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT<br />NAMELESS WILDERNESS"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/i007.jpg" alt="title page" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>Brothers of Peril</h1>
+
+<p class="bold">A Story of Old Newfoundland</p>
+
+<p class="bold">By</p>
+
+<p class="bold">Theodore Roberts</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Author of</i> "Hemming, the Adventurer"</p>
+
+<p class="bold"><i>Illustrated by</i> H. C. Edwards</p>
+
+<p class="bold"><i>Boston</i> L. C. Page &amp;<br />Company <i>Mdccccv</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1905</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />(INCORPORATED)</p>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="center space-above">Published June, 1905<br />Second Impression, March, 1908</p>
+
+<p class="center space-above"><i>COLONIAL PRESS<br />
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />Boston, Mass., U.S.A.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>Preface</h2>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<p>During the three centuries directly following John Cabot's discovery of
+Newfoundland, that unfortunate island was the sport of careless kings,
+selfish adventurers, and diligent pirates. While England, France, Spain,
+and Portugal were busy with courts and kings, and with spectacular
+battles, their fishermen and adventurers toiled together and fought
+together about the misty headlands of that far island. Fish, not glory,
+was their quest! Full cargoes, sweetly cured, was their desire&mdash;and let
+fame go hang!</p>
+
+<p>The merchants of England undertook the guardianship of the "Newfounde
+Land." In greed, in valour, and in achievement they won their mastery.
+Their greed was a two-edged sword which cut all 'round. It hounded the
+aborigines; it bullied the men of France and Spain; it discouraged the
+settlement of the land by stout hearts of whatever nationality. It was
+the dream of those merchant adventurers of Devon to have the place
+remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> for ever nothing but a fishing-station. They faced the pirates,
+the foreign fishers, the would-be settlers, and the natural hardships
+with equal fortitude and insolence. When some philosopher dreamed of
+founding plantations in the king's name and to the glory of God,
+England, and himself, then would the greedy merchants slay or cripple
+the philosopher's dream in the very palace of the king. Ay, they were
+powerful enough at court, though so little remarked in the histories of
+the times! But, ever and anon, some gentleman adventurer, or humble
+fisherman from the ships, would escape their vigilance and strike a blow
+at the inscrutable wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>The fishing admirals loom large in the history of the island. They were
+the hands and eyes of the wealthy merchants. The master of the first
+vessel to enter any harbour at the opening of the season was, for a
+greater or lesser period of time, admiral and judge of that harbour. It
+was his duty to parcel out anchorage, and land on which to dry fish, to
+each ship in the harbour; to see that no sailors from the fleet escaped
+into the woods; to discourage any visions of settlement which sight of
+the rugged forests might raise in the romantic heads of the gentlemen of
+the fleet; to see that all foreigners were hustled on every occasion,
+and to take the best of everything for himself. Needless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> to say, it was
+a popular position with the hard-fisted skippers.</p>
+
+<p>In the narratives of the early explorers frequent mention is made of the
+peaceful nature of the aborigines. At first they displayed unmistakable
+signs of friendly feeling. They were all willingness to trade with the
+loud-mouthed strangers from over the eastern horizon. They helped at the
+fishing, and at the hunting of seals and caribou. They bartered
+priceless pelts for iron hatchets and glass trinkets. Later, however, we
+read of treachery and murder on the parts of both the visitors and the
+natives. The itch of slave-dealing led some of the more daring
+shipmasters and adventurers to capture, and carry back to England,
+Beothic braves and maidens. Many of the kidnapped savages were kindly
+treated and made companions of by English noblemen and gentlefolk. It is
+recorded that more than one Beothic brave sported a sword at his hip in
+fashionable places of London Town before Death cut the silken bonds of
+his motley captivity.</p>
+
+<p>Master John Guy, an alderman of Bristol, who obtained a Royal Charter in
+1610, to settle and develop Newfoundland, wrote of the Beothics as a
+kindly and mild-mannered race. Of their physical characteristics he
+says: "They are of middle size, broad-chested, and very erect.... Their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>
+hair is diverse, some black, some brown, and some yellow."</p>
+
+<p>As to the ultimate fate of the Beothics there are several suppositions.
+An aged Micmac squaw, who lives on Hall's Bay, Notre Dame Bay, says that
+her father, in his youth, knew the last of the Beothics. At that
+time&mdash;something over a hundred years ago&mdash;the race numbered between one
+and two hundred souls. They made periodical excursions to the salt water
+to fish, and to trade with a few friendly whites and Nova Scotian
+Micmacs. But, for the most part, they avoided the settlements. They had
+reason enough for so doing, for many of the settlers considered a
+lurking Beothic as fair a target for his buckshot as a bear or caribou.
+One November day a party of Micmac hunters tried to follow the remnant
+of the broken race on their return trip to the great wilderness of the
+interior. The trail was lost in a fall of snow on the night of the first
+day of the journey. And there, with the obliterated trail, ends the
+world's knowledge of the original inhabitants of Newfoundland; save of
+one woman of the race named Mary March, who died, a self-ordained
+fugitive about the outskirts of civilization, some ninety years ago.</p>
+
+<p>To-day there are a few bones in the museum at St. John's. One hears
+stories of grassy circles <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>beside the lakes and rivers, where wigwams
+once stood. Flint knives and arrow-heads are brought to light with the
+turning of the farmer's furrow. But the language of the lost tribe is
+forgotten, and the history of it is unrecorded.</p>
+
+<p>In the following tale I have drawn the wilderness of that far time in
+the likeness of the wilderness as I knew it, and loved it, a few short
+years ago. The seasons bring their oft-repeated changes to brown barren,
+shaggy wood, and empurpled hill; but the centuries pass and leave no
+mark. I have dared to resurrect an extinct tribe for the purposes of
+fiction. I have drawn inspiration from the spirit of history rather than
+the letter! But the heart of the wilderness, and the hearts of men and
+women, I have pictured, in this romance of olden time, as I know them to-day.</p>
+
+<p class="right">T. R.</p>
+
+<p><i>November, 1904.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<table summary="CONTENTS">
+  <tr>
+    <td colspan="2" class="left"><small>CHAPTER</small></td>
+    <td><small>PAGE</small></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>I.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Boy Wins His Man-Name</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>II.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Old Craftsman by the Salt Water</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>III.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Fight in the Meadow</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>IV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ouenwa Sets Out on a Vague Quest</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>V.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Admiral of the Harbour</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>VI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Fangs of the Wolf Slayer</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>VII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Silent Village</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>VIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Letter for Ouenwa</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>IX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">An Unchartered Plantation</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>X.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Gentry at Fort Beatrix</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Setting-in of Winter</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Meditation and Action</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Signs of a Divided House</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XIV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Trick of Play-Acting</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Hidden Menace</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XVI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Cloven Hoof</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XVII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Confidence of Youth</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XVIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Events and Reflections</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XIX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Two of a Kind</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">By Advice of Black Feather</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Seeking of the Tribesmen</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Brave Days for Young Hearts</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Betrothed</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>XXIV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Fire-lit Battle. Ouenwa's Return</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Fate Deals Cards of Both Colours in the Little Fort</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXVI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Pierre d'Antons Parries Another Thrust</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXVII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Grim Turn of March Madness</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXVIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Running of the Ice</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXIX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Wolf Slayer Comes and Goes; and Trowley Receives a Visitor</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXX.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Maggie Stone Takes Much Upon Herself</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">While the Spars Are Scraped</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The First Stage of the Homeward Voyage Is Bravely Accomplished</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXIII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">In the Merry City</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXIV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Pierre d'Antons Signals His Old Comrades, and Again Puts to Sea</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXV.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Bridegroom Attends to Other Matters Than Love</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXVI.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Over the Side</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>XXXVII.</td>
+    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Mother</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="bold2">BROTHERS OF PERIL</p>
+
+<p class="bold">A Story of Old Newfoundland</p>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER I.</span> <span class="smaller">A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME</span></h2>
+
+<p>The boy struck again with his flint knife, and again the great wolf tore
+at his shoulder. The eyes of the boy were fierce as those of the beast.
+Neither wavered. Neither showed any sign of pain. The dark spruces stood
+above them, with the first shadows of night in their branches; and the
+western sky was stained red where the sun had been. Twice the wolf
+dropped his antagonist's shoulder, in a vain attempt to grip the throat.
+The boy, pressed to the ground, flung himself about like a dog, and
+repeatedly drove his clumsy weapon into the wolf's shaggy side.</p>
+
+<p>At last the fight ended. The great timber-wolf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> lay stretched dead in
+awful passiveness. His fangs gleamed like ivory between the scarlet jaws
+and black lips. A shimmer of white menaced the quiet wilderness from the
+recesses of the half-shut eyelids.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes the boy lay still, with the fingers of his left hand
+buried in the wolf's mane, and his right hand a blot of red against the
+beast's side. Presently, staggering on bent legs, he went down to the
+river and washed his mangled arm and shoulder in the cool water. The
+shock of it cleared his brain and steadied his eyes. He waded into the
+current to his middle, stooped to the racing surface, and drank
+unstintingly. Strength flooded back to blood and muscle, and the slender
+limbs regained their lightness.</p>
+
+<p>By this time a few pale stars gleamed on the paler background of the
+eastern sky. A long finger-streak of red, low down on the hilltops,
+still lightened the west. A purple band hung above it like a belt of
+magic wampum&mdash;the war-belt of some mighty god. Above that, Night, the
+silent hunter, set up the walls of his lodge of darkness.</p>
+
+<p>The boy saw nothing of the changing beauty of the sky. He might read it,
+knowingly enough, for the morrow's rain or frost; but beyond that he
+gave it no heed. He returned to the dead wolf, and set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> about the
+skinning of it with his rude blade. He worked with skill and speed. Soon
+head and pelt were clear of the red carcass. After collecting his arrows
+and bow, he flung the prize across his shoulder and started along a
+faint trail through the spruces.</p>
+
+<p>The trail which the boy followed seemed to lead away from the river by
+hummock and hollow; and yet it cunningly held to the course of the
+stream. Now the night was fallen. A soft wind brushed over in the
+tree-tops. The voices of the rapids smote across the air with a deeper
+note. As the boy moved quietly along, sharp eyes flamed at him, and
+sharp ears were pricked to listen. Forms silent as shadows faded away
+from his path, and questioning heads were turned back over sinewy
+shoulders, sniffing silently. They smelt the wolf and they smelt the
+man. They knew that there had been another violent death in the valley
+of the River of Three Fires.</p>
+
+<p>After walking swiftly for nearly an hour, following a path which less
+primitive eyes could not have found, the boy came out on a small meadow
+bright with fires. Nineteen or twenty conical wigwams, made of birch
+poles, bark, and caribou hides, stood about the meadow. In front of each
+wigwam burned a cooking-fire, for this was a land of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> much wood. The
+meadow was almost an island, having the river on two sides and a shallow
+lagoon cutting in behind, leaving only a narrow strip of alder-grown
+"bottom" by which one might cross dry-shod. The whole meadow, including
+the alders and a clump of spruces, was not more than five acres in extent.</p>
+
+<p>The boy halted in front of the largest lodge, and threw the wolfskin
+down before the fire. There he stood, straight and motionless, with an
+air of vast achievement about him. Two women, who were broiling meat at
+the fire, looked from the shaggy, blood-stained pelt to the stalwart
+stripling. They cried out to him, softly, in tones of love and
+admiration. Jaws and fangs and half-shut eyes appeared frightful enough
+in the red firelight, even in death.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! ah!" they cried, "what warrior has done this deed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now give me my man-name," demanded the boy.</p>
+
+<p>The older of the two women, his mother, tried to tend his wounded arm;
+but he shook her roughly away. She seemed accustomed to the treatment.
+Still clinging to him, she called him by a score of great names. A
+stalwart man, the chief of the village, strode from the dark interior of
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>nearest wigwam, and glanced from his son to the untidy mass of hair
+and skin. His eyes gleamed at sight of his boy's torn arm and the white
+teeth of the wolf.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf Slayer," he cried. He turned to the women. "Wolf Slayer," he
+repeated; "let this be his man-name&mdash;Wolf Slayer."</p>
+
+<p>So this boy, son of Panounia the chief, became, at the age of fourteen
+years, a warrior among his father's people.</p>
+
+<p>The inhabitants of that great island were all of one race. In history
+they are known as Beothics. At the time of this tale they were divided
+into two nations or tribes. Hate had set them apart from one another,
+breaking the old bond of blood. Each tribe was divided into numerous
+villages. The island was shared pretty evenly between the nations. Soft
+Hand was king of the Northerners. It was of one of his camps that the
+father of Wolf Slayer was chief.</p>
+
+<p>Soft Hand was a great chief, and wise beyond his generation. For more
+than fifty years he had held the richest hunting-grounds in the island
+against the enemy. His strength had been of both head and hand. Now he
+was stiff with great age. Now his hair was gray and scanty, and
+unadorned by flaming feathers of hawk and sea-bird. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> snows of eighty
+winters had drifted against the walls of his perishable but ever defiant
+lodges, and the suns of eighty summers had faded the pigments of his
+totem of the great Black Bear. Though he was slow of anger, and fair in
+judgment, his people feared him as they feared no other. Though he was
+gentle with the weak and young, and had honoured his parents in their
+old age and loved the wife of his youth, still the strongest warrior
+dared not sneer.</p>
+
+<p>The village of this mighty chief was situated at the head of Wind Lake.
+On the night of Wolf Slayer's adventure, Soft Hand and his grandson
+arrived at the lesser village on the River of Three Fires. They
+travelled in bark canoes and were accompanied by a dozen braves. The
+grandson of the old chief was a lad of about Wolf Slayer's age. He was
+slight of figure and dark of skin. His name was Ouenwa. He was a dreamer
+of strange things, and a maker of songs. He and Wolf Slayer sat together
+by the fire. Wolf Slayer held his wounded arm ever under the visitor's
+eyes, and talked endlessly of his deed. For a long time Ouenwa listened
+attentively, smiling and polite, as was his usual way with strangers.
+But at last he grew weary of his companion's talk. He wanted to listen,
+in peace, to the song of the river. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> could he understand what the
+rapids were saying with all this babbling of "knife" and "wolf" in his ears?</p>
+
+<p>"All this wind," he said, "would kill a pack of wolves, or even the
+black cave-devil himself."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no wind to-night," replied Wolf Slayer, glancing up at the
+trees.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a mighty wind blowing about this fire," said Ouenwa, "and it
+whistles altogether of a great warrior who slew a wolf."</p>
+
+<p>"At least that is not work for a dreamer," retorted the other, sullenly.
+Ouenwa's answer was a smile as soft and fleeting as the light-shadows of
+the fire.</p>
+
+<p>At an early hour of the next morning the great chief's party started
+up-stream in their canoes, on the return journey to Wind Lake. For hours
+Soft Hand brooded in silence, deaf to his grandson's hundred questions.
+He had grown somewhat moody in the last year. He gazed away to the
+forest-clad, mist-wreathed capes ahead, and heeded not the high piping
+of his dead son's child. His mind was busy with thoughts of the events
+of the past night. He recalled the tones of Panounia's voice with a
+shake of the head. He recalled the sullen smouldering of that stalwart
+chief's eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>. He sighed, and glanced at the lad in the forging craft
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"I grow old," he murmured. "The voice of my power is breaking to its
+last echo. My command over my people slips like a frozen thong of raw
+leather. And Panounia! What lurks in the dull brain of him?"</p>
+
+<p>The sun rose above the forest spires, clear and warm. The mists drew
+skyward and melted in the gold-tinted azure. Twillegs flew, piping,
+across the brown current of the river. Sandpipers, on down-bent wings,
+skimmed the pebbly shore. A kingfisher flashed his burnished feathers
+and screamed his strident challenge, ever an arrow-flight ahead of the
+voyagers. He warned the furtive folk of the great chief's approach.</p>
+
+<p>"Kingfisher would be a fitting name for the boy who killed the wolf,"
+said Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>The old man glanced at him sharply. His thin face was sombre with more
+than the shadow of years.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," he replied. "His is no empty cry. Beware of him, my son!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER II.</span> <span class="smaller">THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER</span></h2>
+
+<p>Montaw, the arrow-maker, dwelt alone at the head of a small bay. His
+home was half-wigwam, half-hut. The roof was of poles, partly covered
+with the hides of caribou and partly with a square of sail-cloth, which
+had been given him by a Basque fisherman in exchange for six beaver
+skins. The walls of the unusual lodge were of turf and stone. Here and
+there were signs of intercourse with the strangers out of the Eastern
+sea,&mdash;an iron fishhook, a scrap of gold lace, and a highly polished
+copper pot. Of these treasures the recluse was justly proud, for had he
+not acquired them at risk of sudden extinction by the breath of the
+clapping fire-stick?</p>
+
+<p>The arrow-maker was an old man. In his youth he had been a hunter of
+renown and a great traveller, and had sojourned long in the lodges of
+the Southern nation. He had loved a woman of that people,&mdash;and she had
+given him laughter in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>return for his devotion. Journeying back to his
+own hunting-grounds, he had planned a huge revenge. At once all his
+skill and bravery had been turned to less open ways than those of the
+lover and warrior. In little more than a year's time he had driven the
+tribes to a lasting and bitter war. Even now as he sat before the door
+of his lodge, he was shaping spear-heads and arrow-heads for the
+fighting men of Soft Hand's nation. Some arrows he made of jasper, and
+some of flint, and some of purple slate. Those of slate would break off
+in the wound. They were the grim old craftsman's pets.</p>
+
+<p>One day a young man from the valley of the River of Three Fires brought
+Montaw a string of fine trout, in payment for a spear-head. For awhile
+they talked together in the sunlight at the door of the lodge.</p>
+
+<p>"For the chase," said the old man, "I make the long shape of flint,
+three fingers wide, and to this I bind a long and heavy shaft. Such an
+arrow will hold in the side of the running deer, and may be plucked out
+after death."</p>
+
+<p>"I have even seen it, father," replied the young man, in supercilious
+tones; for he considered himself a mighty hunter.</p>
+
+<p>"For the battle," continued the arrow-maker,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> "I chip the flint and
+shape the narrow splinters of slate. All three are good in their way if
+the bow be strong&mdash;and the arm."</p>
+
+<p>The old craftsman made a song. It was rough as his arrow-heads.</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Arrows of gray and arrows of black</div>
+<div class="i1">Soon shall be red.</div>
+<div>What will the white moon say to the proud</div>
+<div class="i1">Warriors, dead?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,</div>
+<div class="i1">Arrows of slate.</div>
+<div>So, with the skill of my hands, I shape</div>
+<div class="i1">Arrows of hate.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Fly, my little ones, straight and true,</div>
+<div class="i1">Silent as sleep.</div>
+<div>Tell me, wind, of the flints I sow,</div>
+<div class="i1">What shall I reap?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"Sorrow will come to their council-fires.</div>
+<div class="i1">Weeping and fear</div>
+<div>Will stalk to the heart of their great chief's lodge,</div>
+<div class="i1">Year after year.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"When the moon rides on the purple hills,</div>
+<div class="i1">Joyous of face,</div>
+<div>Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,</div>
+<div class="i1">Heads for the chase.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>"When the chief's fire on the hilltop glows</div>
+<div class="i1">Like a red star,</div>
+<div>Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,</div>
+<div class="i1">Heads for the war.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>"Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,</div>
+<div class="i1">Arrows of slate.</div>
+<div>Thus, in the door of my lodge, I nurse</div>
+<div class="i1">Battle and hate!"</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>One evening, as he sat before his lodge looking seaward, his trained
+ears caught the sound of a faint call from the wooded hills behind. He
+did not turn his head or change his position. But he held his breath,
+the better to listen. Again came the cry, very weak and far away.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the voice of a woman," he said, and smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Cheerless and desolately gray, the light of the east faded into the
+desolate gray of the sea. Black, like stalking shadows, stood the little
+islands of the headlands. The last of the light died out like the heart
+of fire in the shroud of cooling ashes. Again came the cry, whispering
+across the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be the voice of a child, lost in the woods," said the
+arrow-maker. He rose from his seat and entered the lodge. He blew the
+coals of his fire back to a tiny flame. He drew up to it the burnt ends
+of faggots. Then he took in his hand another of his Eastern prizes&mdash;a
+broad-bladed knife&mdash;and started across the tumbled rocks toward the edge
+of the wood. Though old, he was still strong and tough of limb and
+courageous of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> heart. Sure and swift he made his way through the heavy
+growth of spruce. Once he paused for the space of a heart-beat, to make
+sure of his direction. Again and again was the piteous cry repeated.</p>
+
+<p>The old man kept up his tireless trot through underbrush and swamp, and
+displayed neither fatigue nor caution until he reached the bank of a
+narrow and turbulent stream. Here he drew into the shadow of a clump of
+firs. He lay close, and breathed heavily. By this time the moon had
+cleared the knolls. Its thin radiance flooded the wilderness. In the air
+was a whisper of gathering frost. The water of the little river twisted
+black and silver, and worried at the fanged rocks that tore it, with a
+voice of agony.</p>
+
+<p>The crying had ceased; but the eyes of the old craftsman questioned the
+farther shore with a gaze steady and keen. There seemed to be something
+wrong with the shadows. A bent figure slipped down to the edge of the
+stream where the water spun in an eddy. It dropped on hands and knees
+and crawled to the black and unstable lip of the tide. Again the cry
+rang abroad, thin and high above the complaining tumult of the current.
+The watcher left his hiding-place and waded the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> stream. At the edge of
+the spinning eddy he found a woman. She lay exhausted. A long shaft hung
+to her left shoulder. Blood trickled down her bare and rounded arm. The
+arrow-maker lifted her against his shoulder and bathed her face in the
+cool water until her eyelids lifted.</p>
+
+<p>"Chief," she whispered, "pluck out the arrow."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. His trade was with battle and death, but it was half
+a lifetime since he had felt the gushing of human blood on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," she cried, faintly, "I pray you, pluck it out. The pain of it
+eats into my spirit. It sprang to me from a little wood, bitter and
+noiseless&mdash;and I heard not so much as the twang of the string."</p>
+
+<p>The old man held her with his left arm. With strong and gentle fingers
+he worked the arrow in the wound. She quivered with the pain of it.
+Blood came more freely. He trembled at the hot touch of it across his
+fingers. He had dwelt so long in the quiet of his craft. Then the barbed
+blade came away from the wound, and he clutched it in his reeking palm.
+The woman sobbed with mingled pain and relief. The old man stepped into
+the moonlight and lifted the arrow to his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It is none of my making," he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>He heard the woman sobbing in the dark. Returning to her he bound her
+shoulder with his belt of dressed leather. Then, lifting her tenderly,
+he again forded the flashing current of the complaining river.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER III.</span> <span class="smaller">THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW</span></h2>
+
+<p>Even while the arrow-maker carried the wounded woman, arrows of the same
+shape as that which had stabbed her tender flesh were threatening the
+little village on the River of Three Fires. For days several war-parties
+from the South had been stealing through the country, raiding the lesser
+villages, and bent on destroying the nation of Soft Hand, and possessing
+his hunting-grounds. It was a laggard of one of the smaller bands that
+had wounded the woman. She had been far from her lodge at the time,
+seeking some healing herbs in the forest, and he had fired on her out of
+fear that she had discovered him and would warn her people. In her pain
+and fright, she had wandered coastward for several miles.</p>
+
+<p>Silent as shadows, the invading warriors drew down toward the little
+meadow. Clouds were over the face of the white October moon. A cold mist
+floated in the valley. The leaders of the invaders,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> lying low among the
+alders at the edge of the clearing, could see the unguarded people
+moving about their red fires. There was a scent of cooking deer-meat in
+the chill air. The chief of the attacking party lay on the damp grass
+and peered between the stems of the alders. He smiled exultantly. A
+quick slaughter, and then to a feast already prepared. He and his braves
+had enjoyed but poor fare during their long march.</p>
+
+<p>So shall I leave him, sniffing the breath of the cooking fires, and turn
+to Wolf Slayer. Late of that afternoon Wolf Slayer had sallied forth in
+quest of something to kill. The woods had seemed deserted, and in less
+than an hour after his valorous exit from the camp, he had fallen asleep
+on a warm and sheltered strip of shingle. The river flashed in front,
+and on three sides brooded the crowding trees. When he awoke, the sun
+had set, and the river, a curved mirror for the western sky, was red as
+fire&mdash;or blood. Down-stream, about two hundred yards distant, a sombre
+bluff thrust its rocky breast into the water. The boy gazed at this, and
+his eyes widened with dismay. Then they narrowed with hate. Out of the
+shelter of the rocks and the shadows, and into the flaming waters, came
+figure after figure. They waded knee-deep, hip-deep, shoulder-deep, into
+that molten glory. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> they swam; and the ripples washed back from
+gleaming neck and shoulder like lighter flames. One by one they stole
+from the shadow, swam the radiance, and again sought the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>The boy trembled. The devils of fear and rage had their fingers on him.
+Spellbound, he watched close upon a hundred warriors make the passage of
+the river. Then he, too, sank noiselessly into the shelter of the trees.
+He was old enough to know what this meant, and his heart hurt him with
+its pent-up fury as he crawled through the underbrush. He was dismayed
+at the sound of his own breathing. He heard the distant rapping of a
+woodpecker, the fall of a spent leaf from an alder, and the soft breath
+of a dying wind; and the familiar sounds filled him with awe. And yet,
+but for these sounds, the whole world might be dead and the forest
+empty. Thought of the hundred fighting men moving steadily upon the
+unguarded homes of his people, with no more warning than the sound of a
+swamp-bird's flight, was like a nightmare. But presently the courage
+that had helped him slay the wolf came to him, and he thought of the
+glory to be won by saving the threatened village. He did not strengthen
+his heart to the task for sake of his mother's life and the lives of his
+playmates; but because the warriors would call him a hero.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> Keeping just
+within the edge of the woods, he moved up-stream as speedily as he might
+without making any sound. He came upon a brown hare crouched beside a
+clump of ferns. He might have touched it with his hand, so unaware was
+it of his presence. He passed beneath an alder branch whereon perched a
+big slate-gray jay. It was not a foot from his back as he crawled under,
+and it did not take flight. But it eyed him intently, to make sure that
+he was not a fox. Sometimes he lay still for a little, listening. He
+heard nothing, though he started at a hundred fancied sounds. Twilight
+deepened into dusk, and dusk into gloom. The moon sailed up over the
+hills, and long banners of cloud passed across the face of it.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Wolf Slayer came within sight of the fires of the village. The
+red light flashed on the angry river beyond, but left the lagoon in
+darkness. He crawled into the water inch by inch, scarcely breaking the
+calm, black surface. Then he swam, without noise of splashing, and
+landed at the foot of the meadow like a great beaver. He crawled into
+the red circle of one of the fires, and told his news to the braves
+gathered around. Men slipped from fire to fire. Without any unwonted
+disturbance, the whole village armed itself. Suddenly, with a fierce
+shout and a flight of arrows, the alders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> were attacked. The invaders
+were checked at the very moment of their fancied victory.</p>
+
+<p>The fighting scattered. Here three men struggled together in the
+shallows at the head of the lagoon. Farther out, one tossed his arms and
+sank into the black depths. In the open a half-score warriors bent their
+bows. Among the twisted stems of the alders they pulled and strangled,
+like beasts of prey. Back in the spruces they slew with clubs and
+knives, feeling for one another in the dark. Their war-cries and shouts
+of hate rang fearfully on the night air, and awoke unholy echoes along
+the valley.</p>
+
+<p>In the front of the battle Wolf Slayer fought like a man. His lack of
+stature saved him from death more than once in that fearful encounter.
+Many a vicious blow glanced harmless, or missed him altogether, as he
+stumbled and bent among the alders. At first he fought with a long,
+flint knife,&mdash;the work of the old arrow-maker. But this was splintered
+in his hand by the murderous stroke of a war-club. He wrenched a spear
+from the clutch of a dying brave. A leaping figure went down before his
+unexpected lunge. It rolled over; then, queerly sprawling, it lay still.
+An arrow from the open ripped along an alder stem, rattled its shaft
+among the dry twigs, and struck a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>glancing blow on the young brave's
+neck. He stumbled, grabbing at the shadows. He fell&mdash;and forgot the
+fight.</p>
+
+<p>In light and darkness the battle raged on. Wigwams were overthrown, and
+about the little fires warriors gave up their violent lives. At last the
+encampment was cleared, and saved from destruction; and those of the
+invaders who remained beside the trampled fires had ceased to menace.
+Along the black edges of the forest ran the cries and tumult of the
+struggle. Spent arrows floated on the lagoon. Red knives lifted and
+turned in the underbrush.</p>
+
+<p>Wolf Slayer, dizzy and faint, crawled back to the lodges of his people.
+Other warriors were returning. They came exultant, with the lust of
+fighting still aflame in their eyes. Some strode arrogantly. Some
+crawled, as Wolf Slayer had. Some staggered to the home fires and reeled
+against the lodges, and some got no farther than the outer circle of
+light. And many came not at all.</p>
+
+<p>The chief, with a great gash high on his breast (he had bared arms and
+breast for the battle), sought about the clearing and trampled fringe of
+alders, and at last, returning to the disordered camp, found Wolf
+Slayer. With a glad, high<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> shout of triumph, he lifted the boy in his
+arms and carried him home. The mother met them at the door of the lodge.
+In fearful silence the man and woman washed and bound the young brave's
+wound, and watched above his faint breathing with anxious hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"Little one, strengthen your feet against the turn of the dark trail,"
+whispered the mother. "See, our fires are bright to guide you back to
+your own people."</p>
+
+<p>"Little chief, though this battle is ended, there are many good fights
+yet to come," whispered the father. "The fighters of the camp will have
+great need of you when we turn from our sleep. The old bear grumbles at
+the mouth of his den!&mdash;will you not be with us when we singe his fur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush!" cried the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The boy, opening his eyes, turned the feet of his spirit from the dark
+trail.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw the lights of the lost fires," he murmured, "and the hunting-song
+of dead braves was in my ears."</p>
+
+<p>Wolf Slayer was nursed back to health and strength. Not once&mdash;not even
+at the edge of Death's domain&mdash;had his arrogance left him. It seemed
+that the days of suffering had but hardened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> his already hard heart. Lad
+though he was, the villagers began to feel the weight of his hand upon
+them. He bullied and beat the other boys of the camp.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER IV.</span> <span class="smaller">OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST</span></h2>
+
+<p>In the dead of winter&mdash;in that season of sweeping winds and aching
+skies, when the wide barrens lie uncheered of life from horizon to
+horizon&mdash;Soft Hand sent many of his warriors to the South. They followed
+in the "leads" of the great herds of caribou, going partly for the meat
+of the deer and partly to strike terror into the hearts of the Southern
+enemy. At the head of this party went Panounia, chief of the village on
+the River of Three Fires, and with him he took his hardy son, Wolf
+Slayer. Grim plans were bred on that journey. Grim tales were told
+around the big fire at night. The evil thing which Panounia hatched,
+with his bragging tongue, grew day by day and night by night. The hearts
+of the warriors were fired with the shameful flame. They dreamed things
+that had never happened, and wrought black visions out of the
+foolishnesses of their brains.</p>
+
+<p>"The bear nods," they repeated, one to another,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> after the chief had
+talked to them. "The bear nods, like an old woman over a pot of stew.
+But for Panounia, surely the men of the South would have scattered our
+lodges and led us, captive, to the playgrounds of their children and
+their squaws. Such a fate would warm the heart of Soft Hand, for is not
+our Great Chief an old woman himself?"</p>
+
+<p>So, far from the eye and paw of the great bear, the foxes barked at his
+power. The moon heard it, and the silent trees, and the wind which
+carries no messages.</p>
+
+<p>About this time Ouenwa, the grandson of Soft Hand, decided to make a
+journey of many days from the lodges at the head of Wind Lake to the
+Salt Water. He felt no interest in the Southern invasion. His eyes
+longed for a sight of the edges of the land and the breast of the great
+waters beyond. He had heard, in his inland home, rumour of mighty wooden
+canoes walled higher than the peak of a wigwam, and manned by
+loud-mouthed warriors from beyond the fogs and the rising sun. Some
+wiseacre, squatted beside the old chief's fire, hinted that the
+strangers were gods. He told many wonderful stories to back his
+argument. Soft Hand nodded. But Ouenwa smiled and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Would gods make such flights for the sake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> of a few dried fishes and a
+few dressed pelts of beaver and fox?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The gods of trade would do so," replied the wiseacre. "Also," he added,
+"they slay at great distances by means of brown stakes which are
+flame-tongued and smoke-crowned and thunder-voiced."</p>
+
+<p>"But do these gods not fight with knives&mdash;long knives and short?"
+inquired the lad. "I have heard it said that they sometimes fall out
+over the ordering of their affairs, even as we mortals do."</p>
+
+<p>"And what wonderful knives they are," cried the old gossip. "They are
+coloured like ice. They gleam in the sunlight, like a flash of lightning
+against a cloud. They cut quicker than thought, and the red blood
+follows the edge as surely as the rains follow April."</p>
+
+<p>"I have yet to see these gods," replied Ouenwa, "and in my heart I pray
+that they be but men, for the gods have proved themselves but cheerless
+companions to our people."</p>
+
+<p>At that Soft Hand looked up. "Are the seasons not arranged to your
+liking, boy?" he asked, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, I did not mean that," cried Ouenwa; "but strange men promise
+better and safer company than strange gods."</p>
+
+<p>Now he was journeying toward the ocean of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> his dreaming and the ports of
+his desire. His eyes would search the headlands of fog. Out of the east,
+and the sun's bed, would lift the magic canoes of the strangers. But the
+journey was a hard one. The boy's only companion was a man of small
+stature and unheroic spirit, whom the old chief could well spare. They
+took their way down the frozen, snow-drifted lake, dragging their food
+and sleeping-bags of skin on a rough sledge. The wind came out of a
+steel-blue sky, unshifting and relentless. The dry snow ran before it
+over the level surface, and settled in thin, white ridges across their
+path. At the approach of night they sought the wooded shore, and in the
+shelter of the firs built their fire.</p>
+
+<p>During the journey Ouenwa's guide proved but a cheerless companion. He
+had no heart for any adventure that might take him beyond the scent of
+his people's cooking-fires. He considered the conversation of his young
+master but a poor substitute for the gossip of the lodges. The scant
+fare of his own cooking left his stomach uncomforted. He hated the
+weariness of the march and dreaded the silence of the night. The cry of
+the wind across the tree-tops was, to his craven ear, the voice of some
+evil spirit. The barking of a fox on the hill set his limbs a-tremble.
+The howl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> of a wolf struck him cold. The sudden leaping of a hare in the
+underbrush was enough to shake his poor wits with fright. But he feared
+the anger of Soft Hand more than all these terrors, and so held to
+Ouenwa and his mission.</p>
+
+<p>On the third day of the journey the blue sky thickened to gray, the wind
+veered, and a great storm of snow overtook them. The snowflakes were
+large and damp. The travellers turned aside and climbed the bank of the
+river to the thickets of evergreens. With their rude axes of stone they
+broke away the fir boughs and reared themselves a shelter in the heart
+of the wood. Into this they drew their sledge of provisions and their
+sleeping-bags. Then they collected whatever dry fuel they could
+find&mdash;dead twigs and branches, tree-moss and birch bark&mdash;and, with his
+ingenious contrivance of bow and notched stick, Ouenwa started a blaze.
+They roasted dried venison by holding it to the flame on the ends of
+pointed sticks. Each cooked what he wanted, and ate it without talk. All
+creation seemed shrouded in silence. There was not a sound save the
+occasional soft hiss of a melting snowflake in the fire. The storm
+became denser. It was as if a sudden, colourless night had descended
+upon the wilderness, blotting out even the nearer trees with its reeling
+gray. The old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>retainer crouched low, and gazed out at the storm from
+between his bony knees. His eyes fairly protruded with superstitious
+terror.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you see?" inquired Ouenwa. The awe of the storm was creeping
+over his courage like the first film of ice over a bright stream. The
+old man did not move. He did not reply. Ouenwa drew closer to him, and
+heaped dry moss on the fire. It glowed high, and splashed a ruddy circle
+of light on the eddying snowflakes as on a wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" whispered the old man. Yes, it was the sound of muffled
+footsteps, approaching behind the impenetrable curtain of the storm. The
+boy's blood chilled and thinned like water in his veins. He clutched his
+companion with frenzied hands. The fear of all the devils and shapeless
+beings of the wilderness was upon him. In the whirling snow loomed a
+great figure. It emerged into the glow of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! ah!" cried the old man, cackling with relief. For their visitor was
+nothing more terrible than a fellow human. The stranger greeted them
+cordially, and told them that, but for the glow of their fire, he would
+have been lost.</p>
+
+<p>"But what are you doing here&mdash;an old man and a child?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa told him. He explained his identity,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> and his intention of
+dwelling with the great arrow-maker of his grandfather's tribe to learn
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>"Then are we well met," replied the other, "for my lodge is not half a
+spear-throw from the lodge of the arrow-maker. The old man has been as a
+father to me since the day he saved my wife from death. Now I hunt for
+him, and work at his craft, and have left the river to be near him. My
+children play about his lodge. My wife broils his fish and meat. Truly
+the old man has changed since the return of laughter and friendship to
+his lodge."</p>
+
+<p>The stranger's name was Black Feather. He was taller than the average
+Beothic, and broad of shoulder in proportion. His hair was brown, and
+one lock of it, which was worn longer than the rest, was plaited with
+jet-black feathers. His garments consisted of a shirt of beaver skins
+that reached half-way between hip and knee, trousers of dressed leather,
+and leggins and moccasins of the same material. Around his waist was a
+broad belt, beautifully worked in designs of dyed porcupine quills. His
+head was uncovered.</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather seated himself beside Ouenwa, and replied, good-naturedly,
+and at great length, to the youth's many questions. He told of the
+high-walled ships, and of how he had once seen four of these monsters
+swinging together in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> tide, with little boats plying between them,
+and banners red as the sunset flapping above them. He told of trading
+with the strangers, and described their manner of spreading out lengths
+of bright cloth, knives and hatchets of gray metal, and flasks of strong
+drink.</p>
+
+<p>"Their knives are edged with magic," he said. "Many of them carry
+weapons called muskets, which kill at a hundred paces, and terrify at
+even a greater distance. But a nimble bowman might loose four arrows in
+the time that they are conjuring forth the spirit of the musket."</p>
+
+<p>The storm continued throughout the day and night, but the morning broke
+clear. The travellers crawled from their weighted shelter and looked
+with gratitude upon the silver shield of the sun. After a hearty
+breakfast, they set out on the last stage of their journey. Their
+racquets of spruce wood woven across with strips of caribou hide sank
+deep in the feathery snow, and lifted a burden of it at every step. But
+they held cheerfully on their way. Black Feather walked ahead, and Pot
+Friend, the old gossip, brought up the rear. The thong by which they
+dragged the sledge passed over the right shoulder of each, and was
+grasped in the right hand. After several hours of tramping along the
+level of the river's valley, Black Feather turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> toward the western
+bank and led them into the woods. Presently, after experiencing several
+difficulties with the sledge, they emerged on the barren beyond the
+fringe of timber. They ascended a treeless knoll that rounded in front
+of them, blindingly white against the pale sky. Old Pot Friend grumbled
+and sighed, and might just as well have been on the sledge, for all the
+pulling he did. On reaching the top of the knoll Black Feather swept his
+arm before him with a gesture of finality. "Behold!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>An exclamation of wonder sprang to Ouenwa's lips, and
+died&mdash;half-uttered. Before him lay a wedge of foam-crested winter sea
+beating out against a far, glass-clear horizon. To right and left were
+sheer rocks and timbered valleys, wave-washed coves, ice-rimmed islands,
+and crouching headlands. Even Pot Friend forgot his weariness and
+shortness of breath for the moment, and surveyed the outlook in silence.
+It was many years since he had been so far afield. His little soul was
+fairly stunned with awe. But presently his real nature reasserted
+itself. He pointed with his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "And the roofs of two lodges. Good!"</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather smiled. Ouenwa did not hear the old man's cry of joy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"I see the edge of the world," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But the ships come over it, and go down behind it," replied Black
+Feather.</p>
+
+<p>"That is foolishness," said Pot Friend, who was filled with his old
+impudence at sight of the fire and the lodges. "No canoe would venture
+on the great salt water. I say it, who have built many canoes. And, if
+they voyaged so far, they would slip off into the caves of the Fog
+Devils. I believe nothing of all these stories of the strangers and
+their winged canoes."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" cried the boy, turning on him with flashing eyes. "What do
+you know of how far men will venture?&mdash;you, who have but heart enough to
+stir a pot of broth and lick the spoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I have brought you safely through great dangers," whined the old
+fellow.</p>
+
+<p>Montaw, the aged arrow-maker, welcomed his visitors cordially, and was
+grateful for the kind messages from his chief, Soft Hand, and for the
+gift of dressed leather. He accepted the charge and education of Ouenwa.
+He set the unheroic Pot Friend to the tasks of carrying water and wood,
+and snaring hares and grouse. He taught Ouenwa the craft of chipping
+flints into shapes for spear-heads and arrow-heads, and the art of
+painting, in ochre, on leather and birch bark.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER V.</span> <span class="smaller">THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR</span></h2>
+
+<p>Spring brought ice-floes and bergs from the north, and millions of
+Greenland seals. For weeks the little bay on which Montaw and Black
+Feather had their lodges was choked with battering ice-pans and crippled
+bergs. Many of the tribesmen came to the salt water to kill the seals.
+Soft Hand sent a canoe-load of beaver pelts to Ouenwa, so that the boy
+might trade with the strangers when they arrived out of the waste of
+waters.</p>
+
+<p>At last summer came to the great Bay of Exploits, and with it many
+ships&mdash;ships of England, of France, of Spain, and of Portugal. All were
+in quest of the world-renowned codfish. By this time the ice had rotted,
+and drifted southward. The first craft to enter Wigwam Harbour (as the
+English sailors called the arrow-maker's bay) was the Devon ship, <i>Heart
+of the West</i>. Her master, John Trowley, was an ignorant, hard-headed,
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> hard-fisted old mariner of the roughest type; but, by the laws of
+those waters, he was Admiral of Wigwam Harbour for that season. It was
+not long before every harbour had its admiral,&mdash;in every case the master
+of the first vessel to drop anchor there. The shores were portioned off
+in strips, so that each ship might have a place for drying-stages,
+whereon to cure its fish. Then the great business of garnering that rich
+harvest of the north began, amid the rattling of boat-gear, the shouting
+of orders in many tongues, and the volleying of oaths. Ouenwa, watching
+the animated scene, was fired with a desire to voyage in one of the
+strange vessels, and to taste the world that lay beyond the rim of the
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>One day, soon after their arrival, three men from the <i>Heart of the
+West</i> ascended the twisting path to the arrow-maker's lodge. The old
+craftsman and Black Feather and Ouenwa advanced to meet them without
+fear, for up to that time the adventurers and the natives had been on
+the best of terms. The strangers smiled and bowed to the Beothics. They
+displayed a handful of coloured glass beads, a roll of red cloth, and a
+few sticks of tobacco. Old Montaw's eyes glistened at sight of the
+Virginian leaf. He had already learned the trick of drawing on the stem
+of a pipe and blowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> fragrant clouds of smoke into the air. He said
+that to do so added to the profundity of his thoughts. And all winter he
+had gone without a puff. He produced a mink skin from his lodge and
+exchanged it for one of the coveted sticks of tobacco. Black Feather
+also traded, giving skins of mink, fox, and beaver for a piece of cloth,
+a dozen beads, and a knife. But Ouenwa stood aside and watched the
+strangers. One of them he recognized as the great captain who shouted
+and swore at the captains of the other ships, and pointed out to them
+places where they might anchor their ships&mdash;for it was none other than
+Master John Trowley. The young man with the gold lace in his hat, and
+the long sword at his side&mdash;surely, he, too, was a chief, despite his
+quiet voice and smooth face. Ouenwa's surmise was correct. The youth was
+Master Bernard Kingswell, only son of a wealthy widow of Bristol. His
+father, who had been knighted a few years before his premature death,
+had been a merchant of sound views and adventurous spirit. The son
+inherited the adventurous spirit, and was free from the bondage of the
+counting-house. The third of the party was a common seaman. That much
+Ouenwa could detect at a glance.</p>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell stepped over to the young Beothic.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>"Trade?" he inquired, kindly, displaying a string of glass beads in the
+palm of his hand. Ouenwa shook his head. He knew only such words of
+English as Montaw had taught him, and he feared that they would prove
+entirely inadequate for the purpose that was in his mind. However, he
+would try. He pointed to Trowley's ship, and then to the far and
+glinting horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Take Ouenwa?" he whispered, scarce above his breath.</p>
+
+<p>"To see the ship?" inquired Master Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Off," replied Ouenwa, with a wave of his arms. "Out, off!"</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked puzzled, and made no reply. The young Beothic bent a
+keen glance upon him; then he tapped himself on the chest.</p>
+
+<p>"Take Ouenwa," he whispered. He plucked the Englishman by the coat.
+"Come, chief, come," he cried, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell followed to the nearest lodge. Ouenwa pulled aside the flap of
+caribou hide that covered the doorway, and motioned for the visitor to
+enter. For a second the Englishman hesitated. He had heard many tales of
+the treachery of these people. What menace might not lurk in the gloom
+of the round, fur-scented lodge? But he did not lack courage; and,
+before the other had time to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> notice the hesitation, he stepped within.
+The flap of rawhide fell into place behind him. Save for the red glow
+that pulsated from the hearthstone in the centre of the floor, and the
+fingers of sunlight that thrust through the cracks in the apex of the
+roof, the big lodge was unilluminated.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" asked Master Kingswell, with his shoulders against
+the slope of the roof and a tentative hand on his sword-hilt. For
+answer, Ouenwa held a torch of rolled bark to the fire until it flared
+smoky red, and then lifted it high. The light of it flooded the sombre
+place, showing up the couches of skins, Montaw's copper pot, and a great
+bale of pelts. The boy pointed to the pelts. Then he pressed the palm of
+his hand against the Englishman's breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Ouenwa give beaver," he said. "Take Ouenwa Englan'. Much good trade."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell understood. But he saw obstacles in the way of carrying out
+the young Beothic's wish. The other savages might object. They might
+look on it as a case of kidnapping. Lads had been kidnapped before from
+the eastern bays, and, though they had been well treated, and made pets
+of in England, their people had ceased to trade with the visitors, and
+all their friendship had turned to treachery and hostility. On the other
+hand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> he should like to take the youth home with him. He tried to
+explain his position to Ouenwa, but failed signally. They parted,
+however, with the most friendly feelings toward one another.</p>
+
+<p>After the interview with Kingswell, Ouenwa spent most of his time gazing
+longingly at the ships in the bay, and picturing the life aboard them,
+and the countries from which they had come. One morning Kingswell called
+to him from the land-wash. He ran down, delighted at the attention.
+Kingswell pointed to a small, open boat which the carpenter of the
+<i>Heart of the West</i> had just completed. Then, by signs and a few words,
+he told Ouenwa that he was going northward in the little craft, to
+explore the coast, and that he would be back with the fleet before the
+birch leaves were yellow. Ouenwa begged to be taken on the expedition
+and afterward across the seas. He offered his canoe-load of beaver
+skins. He tried to tell of his great desire to see the lodges of the
+strangers, and to learn their speech. He did not want to live the life
+of his own people. Kingswell caught the general trend of the Beothic's
+remarks. He had no objection to driving a good bargain. So he made clear
+to him that he was to come alongside the ship, with the beaver skins, on
+the following night.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>The sky was black with clouds, and a fog wrapped the harbour, when
+Ouenwa stepped into his loaded canoe and pushed out toward the spot
+where Trowley's ship lay at anchor. He had dragged his skins from
+Montaw's lodge earlier in the night, without disturbing the slumbers of
+either his guardian or Pot Friend. Age had dulled their ears and
+thickened their sleep. He paddled noiselessly. Sounds of roistering came
+to his ears, muffled by the fog. Presently the admiral's ship loomed
+close ahead. Lights blinked fore and aft. She seemed a tremendous thing
+to the lad, though in truth she was but of one hundred tons. Singing and
+laughter were ripe aboard.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time a fear of the strangers took possession of Ouenwa.
+Even his trust in Kingswell faltered. He ceased paddling, and listened,
+with bated breath, to the hoarse shouts of merriment and the clapping
+oaths. Then curiosity overcame his fear. He slid his long canoe under
+the stem of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. A cheering glow of candle-light
+yellowed the fog above him. He stood up and found that his head was on a
+level with the sill of a square port. It stood open. He heard
+Kingswell's voice, and Trowley's. The master-mariner's was gusty and
+argumentative. It broke out at intervals, like the flapping of a sail.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>Ouenwa steadied himself with his hands on the casing of the open port,
+and lifted to tiptoe. Now he could see into the little cabin, and hear
+the conversation of its inmates. Happily for his feelings, he could
+understand only a word or two of that conversation. He saw Kingswell and
+the master of the ship seated opposite one another at a small table.
+Upon the table stood candles in metal sticks, a bottle, and glasses. The
+old sea-dog's bearded face was working with excitement. He slapped his
+great flipper-like hand on the polished surface of the board.</p>
+
+<p>"Now who be master o' this ship?" he bawled. "Tell me that, will 'e. Who
+be master?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am the owner, you'll kindly remember, John Trowley," replied
+Kingswell, with a ring of anger in his voice, but a smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ye be owner, but John Trowley be skipper," roared the other,
+glaring so hard that his round, pale eyes fairly bulged from his face.
+"An' no dirty redskin sails in ship o' mine unless as a servant, or
+afore the mast,&mdash;no, not if he pays his passage with all th' pelts in
+Newfoundland."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken, my friend," replied Kingswell. "I'll carry fifty of
+these people back to Bristol, if it so pleases me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>"I'll put ye in irons, my fine gentleman," retorted the seaman.</p>
+
+<p>"You are drunk," cried the young adventurer, drawing back his right hand
+as if to strike the great, scowling face that bent toward him across the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"Drunk, d'ye say! An' ye'd lift yer hand against the ship's master,
+would ye?" shouted Trowley. He lurched forward, and a knife flashed
+above the overturned bottle and glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa emitted a horrified scream, and hurled his paddle spear-wise into
+the cabin. The rounded point of the blade caught Trowley on the side of
+the head, and sent him crashing to the deck.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER VI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER</span></h2>
+
+<p>When Trowley recovered consciousness, he was lying in his berth, with a
+bandage around his head. Kingswell looked in at him, smiling in a way
+that the old mariner was beginning to fear as well as hate.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you are feeling more amiable since your sleep," said Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Trowley muttered a word or two of apology, damned the rum, and asked the
+time of day. His recollections of the argument in the cabin were hazy
+and fragmentary.</p>
+
+<p>In reply to his question the gentleman told him that the sun was well
+up, the fog cleared, and that he was having his boat provisioned for the
+coastwise exploration trip.</p>
+
+<p>"And mind you," he added, grimly, "that the eighty beaver skins which
+are now being stowed away in my berth are my property."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir," replied Trowley. "An' may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> I ask how ye come by such a
+power o' trade in a night-time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you may ask," replied Kingswell. He grinned at the wounded skipper
+for fully a minute, leaning on the edge of the bunk. Then he said: "I'll
+now bid you farewell until October. Don't sail without me, good Master
+Trowley, and look not upon the rum of the Indies when that same is red.
+A knife-thrust given in drunkenness might lead to the gallows."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and nimbly scaled the companion-ladder, leaving the shipmaster
+speechless with rage.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later the staunch little craft <i>Pelican</i> spread her square
+sail and slid away from the <i>Heart of the West</i>. She was manned by old
+Tom Bent, young Peter Harding, and Richard Clotworthy. Master Bernard
+Kingswell sat at the tiller, with Ouenwa beside him. Their provisions,
+extra clothing, arms, and ammunition were stowed amidships and covered
+with sail-cloth. The sun was bright, and the sky blue. The wind bowled
+them along at a clipping pace. From a mound above the harbour Black
+Feather gazed after them under a level hand. In the little harbour
+Trowley's ship alone swung in her anchorage. The others had run out to
+the fishing-grounds,&mdash;for in those days the fishing was done over the
+sides of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> ships, and not from small boats. On either side the brown
+shores fell back, and the dancing waters widened and widened. White
+gulls screamed above and around them, flashing silvery wings, snowy
+breasts, and inquisitive eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa looked back, and then ahead, and felt a great misgiving. But
+Kingswell patted him on the shoulder, and the sailors nodded their heads
+at him and grinned.</p>
+
+<p>Soon they were among the fleet. The ungainly, high-sterned vessels
+rocked and bobbed under naked spars. The great business that had brought
+them so far was going forward. Along both sides of every ship were hung
+barrels, and in each barrel was stationed a man with two or more
+fishing-lines. Splashing desperately, the great fish were hauled up,
+unhooked, and tossed to the deck behind. As the little <i>Pelican</i> slid
+by, the fishers paused in their work to cheer her, and wave their caps.
+The masters shouted "God speed" from their narrow quarter-decks, and
+doffed their hats. Kingswell waved them gracious farewells; Ouenwa gazed
+spellbound toward the widening outlook; and Tom Bent trimmed the sail to
+a nicety.</p>
+
+<p>They passed headland after headland, rocky island after rocky island,
+cove after cove. The shores behind them turned from brown to purple,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+and from purple to azure. The waves ran higher and the wind freshened.
+Kingswell shaped the boat's course a few points to the northward. The
+stout little craft skipped like a lamb and plunged like some less
+playful creature. Spray flew over her blunt bows, and the sailors
+laughed like children, and called her a brave lass, and many other
+endearing names, as if she were human.</p>
+
+<p>"A smart wench, sir," said Tom Bent to Master Kingswell. The commander
+nodded, and shifted the tiller knowingly. His blue eyes were flashing
+with the excitement of the speed and motion. His bright, pale hair
+streamed in the wind. He leaned forward, to pick out the course through
+a group of small islands that cluttered the bay ahead of them. He gave
+an order, and the seamen hauled on the wet sheet. But Ouenwa did not
+share the high spirits of his companions. A terrible, unknown feeling
+got hold of him. His dark cheeks lost their bloom. Kingswell glanced at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Let it go, lad," he said. "A sailor is made in this way. Tom, pass me
+along a blanket."</p>
+
+<p>With his unemployed hand he fixed a comfortable rest for the boy, and
+helped him to a drink of water. For an hour or more he maintained a hold
+on the young Beothic's belt, for, by this time, the soaring and sinking
+of the <i>Pelican</i> were enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> unsteady even a seasoned mariner. As
+for Ouenwa!&mdash;the poor lad simply clung to the gunwale with the grip of
+despair, and entertained regretful, beautiful visions of level shores
+and unshaken hills. Tom Bent eyed him kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"The young un has it wicked, sir," he said. "Maybe, like as not, a swig
+o' rum ud sweeten his bilge, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell acted on the old tar's advice. The rank liquor completed the
+boy's breakdown. In so doing it served the purpose which Bent had
+intended. The sufferer was soon sleeping soundly, already half a sailor.</p>
+
+<p>When Ouenwa next took interest in his surroundings, the <i>Pelican</i> had
+the surf of a sheer coast close aboard on her port side. She was heading
+due north. The sun was half-way down his western slope. Behind the
+<i>Pelican's</i> bubbling wake, hills and headlands and high, naked barrens
+lay brown and purple and smoky blue. In front, and on the right hand,
+loomed surf-rimmed islands and flashed the innumerable, ever-altering
+yet unchanged hills and valleys of the deep. Tom Bent was now at the
+tiller, and Kingswell was in the bows, gazing intently at the austere
+coast. Ouenwa crawled over the thwarts and cargo of provisions, under
+the straining sail, and crouched beside him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> His head felt light and
+his stomach painfully empty, but again life seemed worth living and the
+adventure worth while.</p>
+
+<p>About an hour before sunset the <i>Pelican</i> ran into a little cove, and
+her two grappling anchors were heaved overboard. She lay within five
+yards of the land-wash, swinging on an easy tide. Ouenwa sprang into the
+water and waded ashore. It was a dismal anchorage, with only a strip of
+shingle, and grim cliffs rising in front and on either hand. But at the
+base of the cliffs, in fissures of the rock, grew stunted spruce-trees
+and birches. Ouenwa soon found a little stream dribbling a zigzag course
+from the levels above. It gathered, clear and cold, in a shallow basin
+at the foot of the rock, and from there spilled over into the
+obliterating sand.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the others were ashore. Clotworthy hacked down a couple of
+armfuls of the spruce and birch shrubs with his cutlass, and started a
+fire. Then he filled a pot from the little well and commenced
+preparations for a meal. The other seamen erected a shelter, composed of
+a sail and three oars, against the cliff. Kingswell and Ouenwa sat on a
+convenient boulder, and the commander filled a long pipe with tobacco
+and lit it at a brand from the fire. He seemed in high spirits, and in a
+mood to further his young companion's education. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>Pointing to the roll
+of Virginian leaf, from which he had cut the charge for his pipe, he
+said, "Tobacco." Ouenwa repeated it many times, and nodded his
+comprehension. Then Kingswell pointed to old Tom Bent, who was watching
+Clotworthy drop lumps of dried venison into the pot of water.</p>
+
+<p>"Boatswain," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa mastered the word, as well as the term "able seamen," applied to
+Clotworthy and Peter Harding. By that time the stew was ready for them.
+They were all sound asleep, under their frail shelter, before the last
+glimmer of twilight was gone from the sky.</p>
+
+<p>It was very early when Ouenwa awoke. A pale flood of dawn illumined the
+tent and the recumbent forms of Master Kingswell and Clotworthy. Tom
+Bent and Harding were not in their places. The boy wondered at that, but
+was about to close his eyes again, when he was startled to his feet by a
+shrill cry that went ringing overhead and echoing along the cliffs. He
+darted from the tent, with Kingswell and Clotworthy hot on his heels.
+Bent and Harding were on the extreme edge of the beach, with their backs
+to the sea, staring upward. Ouenwa and the others turned their faces in
+the same direction. They were amazed to see about a dozen native
+warriors on the cliff above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> them, fully armed, and evidently deeply
+interested in what was going on in the little cove. One of them was
+pointing to the <i>Pelican</i>, and talking vehemently to the brave beside
+him. In two of them Ouenwa recognized young Wolf Slayer, and his father,
+the chief of the village on the River of Three Fires. He called up to
+them, and asked what brought them so far from their village.</p>
+
+<p>"We are at the salt water to take the fish," replied Wolf Slayer, "and
+we saw the smoke of your fire before the last darkness. But what do you
+with the great strangers, little Dreamer?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are my friends," replied Ouenwa, "and I am voyaging with them to
+learn wisdom."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about?" asked Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>The lad tried to explain. He pointed to the tent and provisions and then
+to the boat. "Put in," he said.</p>
+
+<p>At a word from Kingswell the three sailors quickly dismantled their
+night's shelter and carried the sail, the oars, and such food and
+blankets as they had brought ashore, out to the <i>Pelican</i>. At that the
+shrill cry rang out again, and echoed along the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean?" inquired Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Bad," replied Ouenwa, shortly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"What is in your fine canoe, little Dreamer?" called Wolf Slayer.</p>
+
+<p>"Our food and our clothing, little Fox Stabber," Ouenwa cried back, with
+indignation in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Your dreams must have unsettled your wits, my friend," replied Wolf
+Slayer, "or you would not talk so loud before a chief of the tribe."</p>
+
+<p>Just then, in answer to the cry that had sounded so dismally across the
+dawn a few moments before, five more warriors, armed with bows, appeared
+on the top of the cliff&mdash;for the cry was the hunting-call of the tribe.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you fish with war-bows?" shouted Ouenwa. "And why do you summon to
+trade with the cry of the hunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"You ask too many questions, even for a seeker of wisdom," replied the
+other youth, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Soft Hand, the great bear, slumber, that the foxes bark with such
+assurance?" retorted Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the <i>Pelican</i> was ready to put out of the cove. Both
+anchors were up, and Harding and Clotworthy held her off with the oars.
+Old Tom Bent was also in the boat, busy with something beside the mast.
+Suddenly a bow-string twanged, and an arrow buried its flint head in the
+sand at Kingswell's feet. Another struck a stone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> and, glancing out,
+rattled against Harding's oar. Kingswell and Ouenwa backed hastily into
+the water. Above them, silhouetted against the lightening sky, they saw
+bending bows and downward thrust arms. Then, with a clap and a roar, and
+a gust of smoke, old Tom Bent replied to the warriors on the cliff. The
+echoes of the discharge bellowed around and around the rock-girt
+harbour. Ouenwa and Kingswell sprang through the smoke and climbed
+aboard, and the seamen pushed into deep water and then bent to their
+oars. But the <i>Pelican</i> proved a heavy boat to row, with her blunt bows
+and comfortable beam. She surged slowly beyond the cloud of bitter smoke
+that the musket had hung in the windless air. Clear of that, the
+voyagers looked for their treacherous assailants&mdash;and, behold, the great
+warriors were not to be seen. Kingswell and the three seamen laughed, as
+if the incident were a fine joke; but Ouenwa was hot with shame and
+anger. He stood erect and shouted abuse to the deserted cliff-top. He
+called upon Wolf Slayer and Panounia to show their cowardly faces. He
+threatened them with the displeasure of Soft Hand and with the anger of
+the English. A figure appeared on the sky-line.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak of Soft Hand," it cried. "Know you, then, that Soft Hand set
+out on the Long Trail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> four suns ago, when he marched into my village to
+dispute my power. I, Panounia, am now the great chief of the people. So
+carry yourself accordingly, O whelp without teeth and without a den to
+crawl into. Whose hand has overthrown the lodge of the totem of the
+Black Bear? Mine! Panounia's! Soft Hand has fallen under it as his son,
+your father, succumbed to it when you were a squalling babe." He paused
+for a moment, and held out a gleaming knife, with its point toward the
+<i>Pelican</i>. "The totem of the Wolf now hangs from the great lodge," he
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>Quick and noiseless as a breath, the edge of the cliff was lined with
+warriors. Like a sudden flight of birds their arrows flashed outward and
+downward.</p>
+
+<p>"Lie down!" cried Kingswell. With a strong hand he snatched Ouenwa to
+the bottom of the boat. Harding and Clotworthy sprawled forward between
+the thwarts. Only Tom Bent, crouched beside the naked mast, did not
+move. The arrows thumped against plank and gunwale. They pierced the
+cargo. They glanced from tiller and sweep and mast. One, turning from
+the rail, struck Bent on the shoulder. He cursed angrily, but did not
+look for the wound. His match was burning with a thread of blue smoke
+and a spark of red fire. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> clumsy gun was geared to the rail by an
+impromptu swivel of cords. He lay flat and elevated the muzzle.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady her," he said, softly. "She's driftin' in."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell sprang forward to one of the oars, thrust it to the bottom,
+and held the boat as steady as might be. Arrows whispered around him. He
+shouted a challenge to the befeathered warriors above him. Tom touched
+the slow-match to the quick fuse. Something hissed and sizzled. A plume
+of smoke darted up. Then, with a rebound that shook the boat from stem
+to stern, the gun hurled forth its lead, and fire, and black breath of
+hate.</p>
+
+<p>"Double charge, sir," gasped Tom Bent, from where he sagged against the
+mast. The kick of his musket had hurt him more than the blow from the
+arrow.</p>
+
+<p>Again the <i>Pelican</i> fought her way toward the open waters, with Harding
+and Clotworthy pulling lustily at the sweeps. Kingswell, flushed and
+joyful, sat at the tiller and headed her for the channel, through which
+the tide was running landward at a fair pace. Bent was busy reloading
+his firearm. Ouenwa stood in the stern-sheets, with his bow in his left
+hand and an arrow on the string. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> breath of wind brushed the smoke
+aside and cleared the view. Ouenwa pointed to the beach, and gave vent
+to a shrill whoop of triumph. The others looked, and saw a huddled shape
+of bronzed limbs and painted leather at the foot of the rock.</p>
+
+<p>"One more red devil for hell," muttered the boatswain. "I learned mun to
+shoot his pesky sticks at a Bristol gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>As if in answer, an arrow bit a splinter from the mast, not six inches
+from the old man's head. Ouenwa's bow bent, and sprang straight. The
+shaft flew with all the skill that Montaw had taught the boy, and with
+all the hate that was in his heart for the big murderer on the cliff.
+Every man of the little company narrowed his eyes to follow the flight
+of it. They saw it curve. They saw a warrior drop his bow from his
+menacing hand and sink to his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"The wolf falls," cried Ouenwa, in his own tongue. "The wolf bites the
+moss. Who, now, is the wolf slayer?"</p>
+
+<p>The Englishmen cheered again and again, and the good boat <i>Pelican</i>,
+urged forward by triumphant sinews, won through the channel and swam
+into the outer waters.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER VII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SILENT VILLAGE</span></h2>
+
+<p>As soon as the <i>Pelican</i> was out of arrow-shot of the cliff, the
+Beothics disappeared. Ouenwa laid aside his bow with a sigh of regret.
+Then he tried to repeat to Kingswell what he had heard from Panounia.
+After a deal of questioning, sign-making, and mental exertion, the
+Englishman gathered the information that treachery and murder had taken
+place up the river, and that his young friend hated the new leader of
+the tribe with a bitter hatred. He did not wonder at the bitterness. He
+looked at the young savage's flushed face and glowing eyes with sympathy
+and admiration. His liking for the boy had grown in every hour of their
+companionship, and, by this time, had developed into a decided fondness.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, lad, and let your guns cool," he said, with a light hand on
+the other's knee. "Your enemies are my enemies," he continued, "and
+we'll fight the dogs every time we see 'em."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>Ouenwa sat quiet and tried to look calm. He was soothed by the evident
+kindliness of Kingswell's tone and manner, though he had failed to
+translate his speech. The men on the thwarts had caught the words,
+however. They nodded heavily to one another.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye say the very word what was in my mind, sir," spoke up Tom Bent,
+"an', if I may make so bold as to say further, your enemies be your
+servants' enemies, sir. Therefore the young un's enemies must be our
+enemies, holus bolus." The other sailors nodded decidedly. "Therefore,"
+continued Tom Bent, "all they cowardly heathen aft on the cliff has to
+reckon, hereafter, with Thomas Bent an' the crew o' this craft."</p>
+
+<p>"Well spoken, Tom," replied Kingswell, with the smile that always won
+him the heart and hand of every man he favoured with it,&mdash;and of every
+maid, too, more than likely. "But we can't enthuse on empty stomachs.
+Pass out the bread and the cold meat," he added.</p>
+
+<p>For fully two hours the <i>Pelican</i> rocked about within half a mile of her
+night's anchorage. Kingswell was not in a desperate hurry, and so his
+men pulled at the oars just enough to hold the boat clear of the rocks.
+A sharp lookout was kept along<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> the coast, but not a sight nor a sound
+of the Beothics rewarded their vigilance.</p>
+
+<p>"They be up to some devilment, ye may lay to that," said Tom Bent.</p>
+
+<p>At last a wind fluttered to them out of the nor'east, and the square
+sail was hoisted and sheeted home. Again the <i>Pelican</i> dipped her bows
+and wet her rail on the voyage of exploration.</p>
+
+<p>After two hours of sailing, and just when they were off the mouth of a
+little river and a fair valley, a fog overtook them. Kingswell was for
+running in, but Ouenwa objected.</p>
+
+<p>"Panounia follow," he said. "He great angry. Drop irons," he added,
+pointing to the little anchors.</p>
+
+<p>"Panounia is wounded. You winged him yourself," replied Kingswell. "He
+could not follow us around that coast, lad, at the clip we were coming."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa considered the words with puckered brows. They were beyond him.
+The commander pointed shoreward.</p>
+
+<p>"All safe," he said. "All safe."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," cried the lad. "All kill. No safe."</p>
+
+<p>During this controversy the sail had been partly lowered, and the
+<i>Pelican</i> had been slowly running landward with the fog.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked from the young Beothic to the seamen with a smile of
+whimsical uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"Out o' the mouths o' babes an' sucklin's," remarked Tom Bent, with his
+deep-set eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Kingswell's glance rested,
+for a moment, on the ancient mariner.</p>
+
+<p>"Lower away," he said. The sail flapped down, and was quickly stowed.
+"Let go the anchors," he commanded. The grapplings splashed into the
+gray waves. The fog crawled over the boat and shut her off from land and
+sky. With a last dreary whistle, the wind died out entirely.</p>
+
+<p>"Rip me!" exclaimed Master Kingswell, "but here is caution that smells
+remarkably like cowardice." Fretfully sighing, he produced his pipe,
+tobacco, and tinder-box. Soon the fragrant smoke was mingling with the
+fog. The young commander leaned back, taking his comfort where he could,
+like the courageous gentleman that he was. The habit of burning
+Virginian tobacco was an expensive one, confined to the wealthy and the
+adventurous. The seamen, who, of course, had not yet acquired it,
+watched their captain with open interest. When a puff was blown through
+the nostrils, or sent aloft in a series of rings, they nudged one
+another, like children at a show. By this time the walls of fog had made
+of the <i>Pelican</i> a tiny, lost world by itself. Suddenly Ouenwa raised
+his hand. "Sh!" he whispered. Kingswell removed the pipe-stem from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> his
+mouth, and inclined his head toward the hidden river and valley. All
+strained their ears, to wrest some sound from the surrounding gray other
+than the lapping of the tide along the unseen land-wash. But they could
+hear nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Village," whispered Ouenwa, pointing landward.</p>
+
+<p>"But we saw no signs of a village," protested Kingswell, gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Village," repeated the lad. "Ouenwa hear. Ouenwa smell."</p>
+
+<p>Immediately the four Englishmen began to sniff the fog, like hounds
+taking a scent on the wind. But their nostrils were not the nostrils of
+either hounds or Beothics. They sniffed to no purpose. They shook their
+heads. Kingswell wagged a chiding finger at their keen-nosed companion.
+The boy read the inference of the gesture, and flushed indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Village," he whispered, shrilly. "Village, village, village."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked distressed. The sailors grinned leniently at the
+determined boy. They had great faith in their own noses, had those
+mariners of Bristol and thereabouts. Ouenwa, frowning a little, sank
+into a moody contemplation of the fog.</p>
+
+<p>"This is dull," exclaimed Kingswell, after a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>half-hour of silence.
+"Tom, pipe us a stave, like a good lad."</p>
+
+<p>The boatswain scratched his head reflectively. Presently he cleared his
+throat with energy.</p>
+
+<p>"Me voice be a bit husky, sir, to what it once were," he murmured, "but
+I'll do me best&mdash;an' no sailorman can say fairer nor that."</p>
+
+<p>Straightway he struck into a heroic ballad of a sea-fight, in a high,
+tottering tenor. The song dealt with Spanish swagger and English daring,
+with bloody decks, falling spars, and flying splinters. Harding joined
+in the chorus with a booming bass. Clotworthy and the commander soon
+followed. Kingswell's voice was clear and strong and wonderfully
+melodious. Ouenwa's eyes glowed and his muscles trembled. Though the
+words held no meaning for him, the rollicking, dashing swing of the tune
+fired his excitable blood. He forgot all about Panounia, and the
+suspected village on the river so near at hand ceased to trouble him. He
+beat time to the singing with his moccasined feet, and clapped his hands
+together in rhythmic appreciation of his comrades' efforts. In time the
+ballad was finished. The last member of the craven crew of the <i>Teressa
+Maria</i> had tasted English steel and been tossed to the sharks. Then
+Master Kingswell sprang to his feet and sang a sentimental ditty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> It
+was of roses and fountains, of latticed windows and undying affection.
+The air was captivating. The singer's voice rang tender and clear. Old
+Tom Bent remembered lost years. Harding thought of a Devon orchard, and
+of a Devon lass at work harvesting the ruddy fruit. Clotworthy saw a
+cottage beside a little wood, and a woman and a little child gazing
+seaward and westward from the door.</p>
+
+<p>For several seconds after the last note had died away, the little
+company remained silent and motionless, fully occupied with its various
+thoughts. Ouenwa was the first to break the spell of the song. He laid
+his hand on Kingswell's arm with a quick gesture, and leaned toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"Canoe," he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The sound that had caught Ouenwa's attention was repeated&mdash;a short rap,
+like the inadvertent striking of a paddle against a gunwale. They all
+heard it, and, with as little noise as possible, set to work at getting
+out cutlasses and loading muskets. Kingswell crawled forward and
+whispered with old Tom Bent. The boatswain nodded and turned to Harding.
+That sturdy young seaman crawled to the bows and placed his hands on the
+hawser of the forward anchor. He looked aft. Kingswell, who had returned
+to his seat at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> tiller, leaned over the stern and cut the manilla
+rope that tethered the boat at that end. Harding immediately pulled on
+his rope until he was directly over the light bow anchor. Then, strongly
+and slowly, and without noise, he brought the four-fingered iron up and
+into the bows. They were free of the bottom, anyway, and with the loss
+of only one anchor. Kingswell breathed a sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Pelican</i> drifted, and the crew stared into the fog, with wide eyes
+and alert ears. Then, to seaward and surely not ten yards away, sounded
+a plover-call. Kingswell signalled to Bent to man the seaward side and
+Clotworthy and Harding the other. They rested the barrels of their great
+matchlocks on the gunwales. Suddenly the prow of a canoe pierced the
+curtain of fog not four yards from Tom Bent. He touched the match to the
+short fuse. There was a terrific report, and a chorus of wild yells. In
+the excitement that followed, the others discharged their pieces.
+Kingswell grabbed an oar, slipped it into a notch beside the tiller and
+began to "scull" the boat seaward. The men reloaded their muskets and
+peered into the fog. They heard splashings and cries on all sides, but
+could see nothing. Ouenwa, standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> erect, discharged arrow after arrow
+at the hidden enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The splashings grew fainter, and the cries ceased entirely. Kingswell
+passed the oar which he had been using to Harding, and told the men to
+lay aside their muskets and row. Ouenwa let fly his last arrow, in the
+names of his murdered father and grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>For a long and weary time the <i>Pelican</i> lay off the hidden land,
+shrouded in fog and silence. A few hours before sunset a wind from the
+west found her out, drove away the fog, and disclosed the sea and the
+coast and the open sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Pull her head 'round," commanded Kingswell, "and hoist the sail. We are
+going back to have a look at that village."</p>
+
+<p>The men obeyed eagerly. They were itching for a chance to repay the
+savages for the fright in the dark.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span> <span class="smaller">A LETTER FOR OUENWA</span></h2>
+
+<p>Two headlands were rounded before the valley of the river opened again
+to the eyes of the adventurers. The brown water of the stream stole down
+and merged into the dancing, wind-bitten sea. The gradual hillsides,
+green-swarded, basked in the golden light. The lower levels of the
+valley were already in shadow. No sign of man, or of his habitation, was
+disclosed to the voyagers.</p>
+
+<p>"A fair spot," remarked Kingswell. "I feel a desire stirring within me
+to stretch my legs on that grassy bank. What do you say to the idea,
+Tom?"</p>
+
+<p>The old fellow grinned. "'Twould be pleasant, sir, an' no mistake," he
+replied&mdash;"a little walk along the brook, with our hands not very far
+from our hangers. Ay, sir, Tom Bent's for a spell o' nater worship."</p>
+
+<p>The boat ran in, and was beached on the sand well within the mouth of
+the river. Harding and Clotworthy, with loaded muskets, were left on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+guard, and the other three, fully armed, started along the bank of the
+stream. They advanced cautiously, with a sharp lookout on every clump of
+bushes and every spur of rock. A kingfisher dropped from its perch above
+the water and flew up-stream with shrill clamour. They turned a bend of
+the little river and halted short in their track with muttered
+exclamations. Before them, on a level meadow between the brown waters of
+the stream and the dark green wall of the forest, stood half a dozen
+wigwams. The place seemed deserted. They scanned the dark edge of the
+wood and the brown hills behind. They peered everywhere, expecting to
+catch the glint of hostile eyes at every turn. But neither grove nor
+hill, nor silent lodge, disclosed any sign of life.</p>
+
+<p>"Where the devil are they?" exclaimed Kingswell, thoroughly perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa smiled, and swept his hand in a half-circle.</p>
+
+<p>"Watch us," he remarked, nodding his head. "Yes, watch us."</p>
+
+<p>"He means they are lying around looking at us," said Kingswell to the
+boatswain. "Rip me, but I don't relish the chance of one of those
+stone-tipped arrows in my vitals."</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bent glanced about him in visible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>trepidation. Ouenwa noticed it,
+and pointed to the seaman's musket. "No 'fraid," he said. "Shoot."</p>
+
+<p>"What at?" inquired Bent.</p>
+
+<p>"Make shoot," cried the boy, indicating the silent wood, dusky in the
+gathering shadows.</p>
+
+<p>"He wants you to fire into the wood, and frighten them out," said
+Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"If they be there, I'm for lettin' 'em stay there," replied Tom.</p>
+
+<p>However, he fixed his murderous weapon in its support, aimed at the edge
+of the forest beyond the wigwams, and fired. The flame cut across the
+twilight like a red sword; a dismal howl arose and quivered in the air.
+It was answered from the hilltops on both sides of the stream.</p>
+
+<p>Before the echoes had died away, Ouenwa was inside the nearest lodge.
+Kingswell followed, and found him dismantling the couches and walls of
+their valuable furs. He instantly took a hand in the looting. Soon each
+had all he could handle. They carried their burdens from the lodge, and,
+with Tom as a rear-guard, marched back toward the <i>Pelican</i>. They had
+rounded the bend of the river, and the two seamen were hurrying to meet
+them, when old Tom Bent suddenly uttered an indignant whoop and leaped
+into the air. His musket flew from his shoulder and clattered against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> a
+stone. Kingswell and Ouenwa threw down their bundles and sprang to where
+he lay, kicking and spluttering. The feathered shaft of an arrow clung
+to the middle of his left thigh. He was swearing wildly, and vowing
+vengeance on the "heathen varment" who had pinked him.</p>
+
+<p>Harding and Clotworthy fired into the shadows of the wooded hillside,
+and Kingswell hoisted the struggling boatswain to his shoulders and
+continued his advance on the boat. The old sailor begged and implored
+his commander to put him down, assuring him that he was more surprised
+than hurt. But Kingswell turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, and did
+not release him until they were safe beside the <i>Pelican's</i> bows. Just
+then Ouenwa and the sailors came running up with the looted pelts. All
+were puzzled. Why had the hidden enemy fired only one arrow, when they
+might have annihilated the little party with a volley?</p>
+
+<p>That night the <i>Pelican</i> lay at anchor in the mouth of the river. Twice,
+during the long, eerie hours between dark and dawn, the man on duty woke
+his companions; but on both occasions the alarms proved to be false&mdash;the
+splashing of a marauding otter near the shore or the flop of a feeding
+trout. Under the pale lights of the morning the valley and the stream
+lay as peaceful and deserted as on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> preceding evening. The voyagers
+ate their breakfast aboard. Then, as soon as the sun had cleared the
+light mist from the water, they got up their anchor and rowed up-stream.
+Harding and Clotworthy pulled on the oars. Bent and the commander
+crouched in the bows, with ready muskets, and Ouenwa sat at the tiller.
+The current was strong, and the boat crawled slowly against the twirling
+sinews of water. Little patches of spindrift, from some fall or rapid
+farther up the river, floated past them. The pebbly bottom flashed
+beneath the amber tide. Leaping fish gleamed and splashed on either
+hand, and sent silver circles rippling to the toiling boat. A moist,
+sweet fragrance of foliage and mould and dew filled the air.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the deserted lodges came into view, standing smokeless and pathetic
+between the murmuring river and the brooding trees. Kingswell motioned
+to Ouenwa to head for the low bank in front of the wigwams. They landed
+without incident, and all walked toward the village, with their firearms
+ready and their matches lighted. They explored every lodge and even beat
+the underbrush. The dwellings had been cleared of pelts and weapons and
+cooking utensils evidently during the night. A village of this size must
+have possessed at least<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> six canoes; but not a canoe, nor so much as a
+paddle, could they find.</p>
+
+<p>"All run in canoe," remarked Ouenwa, pointing up-stream.</p>
+
+<p>"What be this?" asked Tom Bent, limping toward Kingswell with an arrow
+and a small square of birch bark in his hand. He had found the bark,
+pinned by the arrow, to the side of one of the wigwams. Kingswell
+examined it intently, and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Pictures," he said. "I suppose it is a letter of some kind, in which
+their wise man tells us what he thinks of us."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa took the bark and surveyed the roughly sketched figures, with
+which it was covered, with a scornful twist of his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf," he said, indicating the central figure. "See! Very big!
+Bear"&mdash;he touched another point of the missive and then tapped his own
+breast&mdash;"see bear! Him no big! Wolf eat bear." He laughed shrilly, and
+shook his head. "No, no," he said. "No, no."</p>
+
+<p>"What be mun jabberin' about?" muttered Tom Bent.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell explained that the bear stood for Ouenwa's family, and that
+the wolf was the symbol of the people who had killed his grandfather.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>The <i>Pelican</i> continued her voyage before noon, and all day skirted an
+austere and broken coast. She crossed the mouths of many wide bays,
+steering for the purple headlands beyond. She rounded many islands and
+braved intricate channels. Toward evening she rounded a bluffer, grimmer
+cape than any of the day's experience, and Kingswell, who had just
+relieved Harding at the tiller, forsook the straight course and headed
+up the bay. Two hours of brisk sailing brought them to a sheltered
+roadstead behind an island and just off a wooded cove. They lowered the
+sail and rowed in close to the beach. They built no fire, and spent the
+night close to the tide, with their muskets and cutlasses beside them,
+and the watch changed every two hours.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later the voyagers happened upon a ship. They ran close in to
+where she lay at anchor, believing her to be English, and did not
+discover their mistake until the little tub of a brig opened fire from a
+brass cannonade. The first shot went wide, and the <i>Pelican</i> lay off
+with a straining sail. The second shot fell short, and that ended the
+encounter, for the Frenchmen were too busy fishing to get up anchor and
+give chase.</p>
+
+<p>Old Tom Bent was quite cast down over the incident. "It be the first
+time," he said, "that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> ever seen a Frencher admiral o' a bay in
+Newfoundland. One year I were fishin' in the <i>Maid o' Bristol</i>, in Dog's
+Harbour, Conception, an', though we was last to drop anchor, an' the
+only English ship agin six Frenchers and two Spanishers, by Gad, our
+skipper said he were admiral&mdash;an', by Gad, so he were."</p>
+
+<p>But the valorous old mariner did not suggest that they put about and
+dispute the admiralty of the little harbour which they had just passed.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER IX.</span> <span class="smaller">AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION</span></h2>
+
+<p>In a cave in White Bay the voyagers traded with a party of friendly
+natives. Farther north they found indications of copper, and collected a
+bagful of the mother rock. In late August a sickness prostrated Master
+Kingswell and Clotworthy, and camp was made on the mainland. For three
+weeks the sufferers were unable to lift their heads. They lost flesh
+until they were little more than skin and bone. Ouenwa undertook the
+dual position of physician and nurse. He had some knowledge of the
+science of medicine, as practised by the Beothics, and treated the
+malady with teas of roots and herbs. He also managed to kill a young
+caribou, and fed his patients with broth made from the meat. But it was
+close upon the end of September when the <i>Pelican</i> again took up her
+northward journey.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell's real reason for this adventurous cruise was the quest of
+gold. Other explorers had seen gold ore in the possession of the
+natives, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> he had heard stories of a French sailor having been
+wounded by a gold-barbed arrow. But the precious metal eluded him. Upon
+gaining the farthest cape of the great island, he wanted to cross the
+straits and continue his search along the Labrador coast; but the men
+shook their heads. The boat was too small for the voyage. Their
+provisions were running low. The northern summer was already far spent.
+So Kingswell headed the <i>Pelican</i> southward. After a week of fair winds,
+they were caught in a squall, and the starboard bow of their stout
+little craft was shattered while they were in the act of winning to a
+sheltered anchorage. Everything was salvaged; but it took them three
+days to patch the boat back to a seaworthiness. Even after this
+unlooked-for delay, the young commander persisted in exploring every
+likely looking cave and river mouth that had been neglected on the
+northward trip. The men grumbled sometimes, but it was not in the heart
+of any sailor to deny the wishes of so charming and brave a gentleman as
+Master Kingswell. Ouenwa's long conversations in his partially acquired
+English helped to keep the company in good spirits.</p>
+
+<p>It was November, and nipping weather in that northern bay, when the
+<i>Pelican</i> threaded the islands of Exploits and opened Wigwam Harbour to
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> eager gaze of her company. The harbour was empty! They had not
+sighted a vessel in any of the outer reaches of the bay. The
+drying-stages and fish stores stood deserted above the green tide.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell turned a bloodless face toward his men. "They have sailed for
+home without us," he said, and swallowed hard. Old Tom Bent gazed
+reflectively about him, and scratched a hoary whisker with a mahogany
+finger. He had grumbled at the chance of this very disaster, but now
+that he was face to face with it the thought of grumbling did not occur
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir," said he, "the damned rascals has sailed without us&mdash;an' we
+are lucky not to be in such dirty company!"</p>
+
+<p>He spat contemptuously over the gunwale. The colour returned to
+Kingswell's cheeks, and a flash of the old humour to his eyes. He smiled
+approvingly on the boatswain. But young Peter Harding, being neither as
+old nor as wise as Bent, nor as cool-headed as Clotworthy, had something
+to say on the subject. He ripped out an oath. Then&mdash;"By God," he cried,
+"here's one man who'd rather sail in a ship with what ye calls dirty
+company, Tom Bent, than starve in a damn skiff with&mdash;with you all," he
+finished, lamely.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell and Ouenwa looked at the young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>seaman with mute indignation
+in their eyes. But Tom Bent laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, Peter, boy," he said, "ye be one o' these fine, lion-hearted
+English mariners what's the pride o' the king an' the terror o' the
+seas. The likes o' ye don't sail shipmates with men, but with the duff
+an' the soup an' the prize-money." His voice shrilled a little. "Ay, if
+it wasn't that I know ye for a better man than ye sound just now, I'd ax
+cap'n's leave to twist the snivellin' nose off the fat face o' ye."</p>
+
+<p>"Tom be right," remarked Clotworthy, with a knowing and well-considered
+wag of his heavy head.</p>
+
+<p>Harding, who had delivered his speech from a commanding position on a
+thwart, sat down very softly, as if anxious not to attract any further
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a look at the old arrow-maker, lads," said Kingswell,
+cheerfully, "and stock up with enough dried venison to carry us south to
+Trinity, or even to Conception. Ships often lie in those bays till the
+snow flies. At the worst we can sail the old <i>Pelican</i> right 'round to
+St. John's, and winter there. I'll wager the governor would be glad
+enough of a few extra fighting men to scare off the French and the
+privateers."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>Despite Master Kingswell's brave words, there was no store of dried
+venison to be obtained from the arrow-maker, for both the old
+philosopher's lodge and Black Feather's were gone&mdash;gone utterly, and
+only the round, level circles on the sward to show where they had stood.
+What had become of Montaw and his friends could only be surmised.
+Ouenwa's opinion that the enemies of Soft Hand were responsible for
+their disappearance was shared by the Englishman. All agreed that
+immediate flight was safer than a further investigation of the mystery.
+So the storm-beaten, wave-weary <i>Pelican</i> turned seaward again.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later, toward nightfall, and after having sailed far up an arm
+of the sea and into the mouth of a great river, in fruitless search of
+some belated fishing-ship, the adventurers were startled and cheered by
+the sound of a musket-shot. It came from inland, from up the shadowy
+river. It was muffled by distance. It clapped dully on their eager ears
+like the slamming of a wooden door. But every lonely heart of them knew
+it for the voice of the black powder. They drifted back a little and lay
+at anchor all night, just off the mouth of the river. With the dark came
+the cruel frost. But they crawled beneath their freight of furs and
+slept. They were astir with the first gray lights,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> and before sunrise
+were pulling cautiously up the middle of the channel. White frost
+sparkled on thwart and gunwale. Dark, mist-wrapped forests of spruce and
+fir and red pine came down to the water on both sides. Here and there a
+fang of black rock, noisy with roosting gulls, jutted above the dark
+current. A jay screamed in the woods. A belated snipe skimmed across
+their bows. An eagle eyed them from the crown of an ancient pine, and
+swooped down and away.</p>
+
+<p>They must have ascended the stream a matter of two miles&mdash;and hard
+pulling it was&mdash;when Ouenwa's sharp eyes detected the haze of wood smoke
+beyond a wooded bend.</p>
+
+<p>"Cooking-fire there!" he exclaimed. "Maybe get something to eat? Maybe
+get killed?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke cheerfully, as if neither prospect was devoid of charm.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll risk it," remarked Kingswell, quietly. "Put your weight into the
+stroke, lads&mdash;and, Tom, keep your match handy."</p>
+
+<p>At last the bend was rounded, and the rowers turned on the thwarts and
+peered over their shoulders, and Kingswell uttered a low cry of delight.
+Close ahead of them the right-hand bank lay level and open, and along
+its edge were beached three skiffs. About twenty yards back stood a
+little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>settlement of log cabins enclosed by palisades. From the
+chimneys of the cabins plumes of comfortable smoke rose to the clearer
+azure above. In front of this civilized spot, in mid-stream, a small
+high-pooped vessel lay moored. Her masts and spars were gone. She swung
+like a dead body in the brown current.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bent swore softly and with grave deliberation. "Damn my eyes," he
+murmured. "Ay, sir, dash my old figger-head, if there don't lay a
+reggler, complete plantation! Blast my eyes!"</p>
+
+<p>"A tidy, Christian appearin' place," remarked Clotworthy, joyously. "An'
+real chimleys, too! Well, that do look homely, for certain."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment three men, armed with muskets, ran from the gateway of
+the enclosure and stood uncertain half-way between the palisade and the
+river. Kingswell hailed them, standing in the bluff bows of the little
+<i>Pelican</i>. He stated the nationality, the names, and degrees of himself
+and the other of the little company, and the manner of their misfortune,
+even while the boat was covering the short distance to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>The settlers laid aside their weapons, and received Master Kingswell and
+his men with every show of cordiality and good faith. They were
+strapping fellows, with weather-tanned faces, broad foreheads, steady
+eyes, and herculean shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> They doffed their skin caps to the
+gentleman adventurer.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye be our first visitors, sir, since we come ashore here two year and
+two months ago come to-morrow," said one of the three. "Yes, it be just
+two year and two months ago, come to-morrow, that we dropped anchor off
+the mouth of this river," he added, turning to his companions. They
+agreed silently. Their eyes and attention were fully absorbed by Master
+Kingswell's imposing, though sadly stained, yellow boots and gold-laced
+coat. Another settler joined the group, and welcomed the voyagers with
+sheepish grins. A fifth, arrayed in finery and a sword, approached and
+halted near by.</p>
+
+<p>"These," said the spokesman, "be Donnellys&mdash;father and son." With a
+casual tip of the thumb, he indicated two rugged members of the company.
+He turned to a handsome young giant beside him and smote him
+affectionately on the shoulder. "This here be my boy John&mdash;John
+Trigget," he said, "an' that gentleman be Captain Pierre d'Antons." He
+bowed, with ungracious deference, to the dark, lean, fashionably dressed
+individual who stood a few paces away. "An' my name be William Trigget,
+master mariner," he concluded.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell bowed low for the second time, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> again shook hands with the
+elder Trigget. Then he stepped over to D'Antons and murmured a few
+courteous words in so low a voice that his men caught nothing of them.
+Each gentleman laid his left hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. Each
+bowed, laced hat in hand, until his long hair fell forward about his
+face. D'Antons' locks were raven-black, and straight as a horse's mane.
+Young Kingswell's were bright as pale gold, and soft as a woman's. Both
+were of goodly proportions and gallant bearing, though the Frenchman was
+the taller and thinner of the two.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons slipped his arm within Kingswell's, and, motioning to the
+others to follow, started toward the stockade. William Trigget
+immediately strode forward and walked on Master Kingswell's other hand,
+as if determined to assert his rights as a leader of the mixed company.
+Ouenwa and the seamen of the <i>Pelican</i>, and the Donnellys and young
+Trigget, followed close on the heels of their superiors.</p>
+
+<p>"And who may ye be, lad?" inquired John Trigget of Ouenwa, as they
+crossed the level of frost-seared grass.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Ouenwa," replied the boy, frankly, "and Master Kingswell is my
+strong friend and protector. My grandsire was Soft Hand, the head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> chief
+of this country. His enemies&mdash;barking foxes who name themselves
+wolves&mdash;pulled him down in the night-time."</p>
+
+<p>The big settler nodded, and the others uttered ejaculations of pity and
+interest. The story was not news to them, however.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," said John Trigget, "Soft Hand were pulled down in the night, sure
+enough. The Injuns run fair crazy, what with murderin' each other an'
+burnin' each other's camps. I was huntin', two days to the north, when
+the trouble began. I come home without stoppin' to make any objections,
+an' the skipper kep' our gates shut for a whole week. They rebels was
+for wipin' out everybody; an' they captured two French ships, an' did
+for the crews. They be moved away inlan' now, thank God. We be safe till
+spring, I'm thinkin'."</p>
+
+<p>"There be worse folks nor they tormentin' Injuns around these here
+soundin's, an' ye can take my word for that," growled the elder
+Donnelly, in guarded tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Belay that," whispered John Trigget. "The devil can cook his stew
+plenty quick enough. Us won't bear a hand till the pot boils over."</p>
+
+<p>Captain d'Antons glanced back at the talkers. His black eyes gleamed
+suspiciously.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER X.</span> <span class="smaller">GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX</span></h2>
+
+<p>Inside the stockade, posted unevenly around three sides of a foot-worn
+square, were five buildings of rough logs. From a platform in the
+southeast corner two small cannon presented their muzzles to the river.
+At the back of this platform, on the southern side of the square, stood
+the Donnelly cabin. It was stoutly built, and measured fifteen paces
+across the front. Against the western palisade the Trigget cabin and
+Captain d'Antons' habitation faced the square. On the north side stood a
+fourth dwelling and a small storehouse. In the centre of the yard
+bubbled a spring of clear water under a rustic shed. A tiny brook
+sparkled away from it, under the stockade and down to the river. The
+well was flanked on both sides by a couple of slim birches, now leafless
+under the white November sun.</p>
+
+<p>The visitors were led to the Triggets' cabin, and Skipper Trigget's wife
+and daughter&mdash;both big,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> comely women&mdash;fed them with the best in the
+little plantation. After breakfast, Kingswell and Ouenwa were taken to
+D'Antons' quarters. The Frenchman was the spirit of hospitality, and
+took blankets and sheets from his own bed to dress their couches. Also
+he produced a flask of priceless brandy, from which he and Kingswell
+pledged a couple of glasses to the Goddess of Chance. The toast was
+D'Antons' suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>Presently D'Antons excused himself, saying that he had a matter of
+business to attend to, and left his guests to their own devices. The
+house was divided into two apartments by curtains of caribou hides,
+which were hung from one of the low crossbeams of the ceiling. At the
+end of each room a fire burned on a roughly built hearth. Two small
+windows of clouded glass partially lit the sombre interior. Books in
+English, French, and Spanish, a packet of papers, ink and quills, and a
+neatly executed drawing of a pinnace under sail lay on a table near one
+of the windows. Antlers of stags, decorated quivers and bows, painted
+hides, and glossy skins adorned the rough walls. Above the hearth in the
+room in which Kingswell and his young companion sat, hung a musket with
+a silver inlaid stock, a carved powder-horn, and several knives and
+daggers in beaded sheaths. On<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> the floor lay two great, pink-lipped West
+Indian shells. A steel head-piece, a breastplate of the same sure metal,
+and a heavy sword with a basket hilt hung above D'Antons' bed.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked over the books on the table. He found that one of them
+was a manual of arms, written in the Spanish language; another a work of
+navigation, by a Frenchman; a third a weighty thesis on the science and
+practice of surgery; and the fourth was a volume as well-loved as
+familiar,&mdash;Master William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." He took up
+this last, and, seating himself with his shoulder to the window, was
+soon far away from the failures and daily perils of the wilderness. The
+greedy, hard-bitted materialist Present, with its quests of "fish," and
+fur, and gold, was replaced by the magic All-Time of the playwright
+poet.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa wandered about the room, prying into every nook and corner, and
+examining the shells, the arms, and the decorations. He even knelt on
+the hearthstone, and, at the risk of setting fire to his hair, tried to
+solve the mystery of the chimney&mdash;for a fire indoor unaccompanied by a
+lodgeful of smoke was a new thing in his experience. He looked
+frequently at Kingswell, in the hope of finding him open to questions,
+but was always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>disappointed. At last the thought occurred to him that
+it would be a fine thing to get hold of the great sword above the bed,
+and make cut, lunge, and parry with it as Kingswell had shown him how to
+do on several occasions. So he climbed on to the bed, and, in trying to
+clear the sword from its peg, knocked the steel cap ringing to the
+floor. Kingswell sprang from his stool, with his arm across his body and
+his hand on his sword-hilt, and Master Shakespeare's immortal drama
+sprawled at his feet. "Oh, that's all, is it?" he exclaimed, in tones of
+relief. "But you must not handle other people's goods, lad," he added,
+kindly, "especially a gentleman's arms and armour."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa flushed and apologized, and was about to step from D'Antons'
+couch to recover the head-piece, when D'Antons himself entered the
+cabin. Kingswell turned to him and explained the accident.</p>
+
+<p>"My young friend is very sorry," he said, "and would beg your pardon if
+he felt less embarrassed. However, captain, I beg it for him. I was so
+intent on the affairs of Romeo that I was not watching him. He is
+naturally of an investigating turn of mind."</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchman waved a slim hand and flashed his white teeth. "It is
+nothing, nothing," he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> "I beg you not to mention it again, or
+give it another thought. The old pot has sustained many a shrewder whack
+than a tumble on the floor. Ah, it has turned blades of Damascus before
+now! But enough of this triviality! I have returned to request you to
+come with me to our governor. Neither Trigget nor I have mentioned him
+to you, as he is not desirous of meeting strangers. But he will make his
+own apologies, Master Kingswell."</p>
+
+<p>He stood aside, for Kingswell and Ouenwa to pass out before him.
+Kingswell went first. As Ouenwa crossed the threshold, D'Antons nipped
+him sharply by the arm, and hissed, "Dog! Cur!" in a voice so low, so
+sinister, that the boy gasped. But in a breath the Frenchman was his
+affable self again, and the Beothic, with the invectives still burning
+his ears, almost believed that he had been the victim of some evil
+magic. Kingswell caught nothing of the incident.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa was requested to wait outside. Master Kingswell was ushered into
+the governor's cabin, and D'Antons closed the door behind him. The young
+Englishman found himself in a dimly lit apartment very similar to that
+which he had just left. He hesitated, a step inside the threshold, and
+narrowed his lids in an effort to see more clearly. The Frenchman paused
+at his elbow. Two figures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> advanced from the farther side of the room.
+He ventured another step, and bowed with all the grace at his command,
+for one of the figures was that of a young woman in flashing raiment.
+The other was of a slim, foppishly dressed man of a little past middle
+age, with a worn face that somehow retained its air of youthfulness
+despite its haggard lines and faded skin.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome to our humble retreat, Master Kingswell," said the gentleman,
+extending his hand and laughing softly. "This is indeed an unlooked-for
+pleasure. We last met, I believe, at Randon Hall&mdash;or was it at Beverly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Ralph Westleigh!" exclaimed Kingswell, in a voice of ill-concealed
+consternation and surprise. For a moment he stood in an attitude of
+half-recoil. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the other with wide
+eyes. Then he caught the waiting hand in a firm grip.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Sir Ralph. Yes, it was at Beverly that we last met," he
+said, evenly. He turned to the girl, who stood beside her father with
+downcast eyes and flaming cheeks and throat. The baronet hastened to
+make her known to the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter Beatrix," he said. "A good girl, who willingly and
+cheerfully shares her worthless father's exile."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>Mistress Westleigh extended a firm and shapely hand, and Kingswell,
+bending low above it, intoxicated by the sudden presence of beauty and a
+flood of homesick memories, pressed his lips to the slim fingers with a
+warmth that startled the lady and brought a flash of anger to D'Antons'
+eyes. He recovered himself in an instant. "To see you in this
+wilderness&mdash;amid these bleak surroundings!" he exclaimed, scarcely above
+a whisper. "I cannot realize it, Mistress Beatrix! And once we played at
+racquets together in the court at Beverly."</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled at him, with a gleam of understanding in her dark,
+parti-coloured eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember," she said. "You have not changed greatly, save in size."
+And at that she laughed, with a note of embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"But you have," replied Kingswell. "You were not very beautiful as a
+little girl. To me you looked much the same as my own sisters."</p>
+
+<p>For a second, or less, the maiden's eyes met his with merriment and
+questioning in their depths. Then they were lowered. Sir Ralph moved
+uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," he said, "we must not stand here all day, like geese on a
+village green. There are seats by the fire." He led the way. "Captain,
+if you are not busy I hope you'll stay and hear some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> of Master
+Kingswell's adventures," he added, turning to D'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"With pleasure," answered the captain.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment, sir," said Kingswell to Sir Ralph Westleigh. "I have a
+young friend&mdash;a sort of ward&mdash;whom I left outside. I'll tell him to run
+over to the men and amuse himself with them."</p>
+
+<p>As he opened the door and spoke a few kind words to Ouenwa, there was a
+sneer on D'Antons' lips that did not escape Mistress Beatrix Westleigh.
+It irritated her beyond measure, and she had all she could do to
+restrain herself from slapping him&mdash;for hot blood and a fighting spirit
+dwelt in that fair body. She wondered how she had once considered him
+attractive. She blushed crimson at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell returned and seated himself on a stool between the governor of
+the little colony and the maiden. First of all, he told them who Ouenwa
+was, and of the time the lad saved him from injury by flooring old
+Trowley with his canoe paddle. Then he briefly sketched the voyage of
+the <i>Pelican</i>, and told something of his interests in the fishing fleet
+and in the new land.</p>
+
+<p>"And you found no indications of gold?" queried D'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"None," replied the voyager, "but some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>splendid copper ore in great
+quantities, and one mine of 'fool's gold.'"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet nodded, with one of his wan smiles. "There are other kinds
+of fool's gold than these iron pyrites, I believe," he said, "and one
+finds it nearer home than in this God-forsaken&mdash;ah&mdash;in this wild
+country."</p>
+
+<p>The others understood the reference, and even the polished Frenchman
+looked into the fire and had nothing to say. Kingswell studied the
+water-bleached toes of his boots, and Beatrix glanced piteously at her
+father. For Sir Ralph Westleigh's life had known much of fool's gold,
+and much of many another folly, and something of that to which his
+acquaintances in Somerset&mdash;and, for that matter, in all England&mdash;gave a
+stronger and less lenient name. The baronet had lived hard; but his
+story comes later.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew nothing of this plantation of yours," said Kingswell, presently.
+"I did not know, even, that you were interested in colonization&mdash;and yet
+you have been here a matter of two years, so Trigget tells me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and likely to die here&mdash;unless I am unearthed," replied Sir Ralph,
+bitterly, and with a meaning glance at Kingswell. "I put entire faith in
+my friends," he added. "And they are all in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> this little fort on Gray
+Goose River. My undoing lies in their hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, uneasily but stoutly, "I hope your trust
+has been extended to me,&mdash;yes, and to my men. Your wishes in any matter
+of&mdash;of silence or the like&mdash;are our orders. My fellows are true as
+steel. My friends are theirs. The young Beothic would risk his life for
+you at a word from me."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet was visibly affected by this speech. He laid a hand on the
+young man's knee and peered into his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are a friend&mdash;out and out?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"To the death," said the other, huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have heard? Of course you have heard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for me to say 'God bless you' to any man," said Sir Ralph,
+"but it's good of you. I feel your kindness more deeply than I can say.
+I have forgotten my old trick of making pretty speeches."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell blushed uncomfortably and wished that D'Antons, with his
+polite, superior, inscrutable smile, was a thousand miles out of sight
+of his embarrassment. The girl leaned toward him. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> she did not look
+at him. "God bless you&mdash;my fellow countryman," she whispered, in a voice
+so low that he alone caught the words. He had no answer to make to that
+unexpected reward. For a little they maintained a painful silence. It
+was broken by the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand, Master Kingswell, that, for certain reasons, it is
+advisable that the place of Sir Ralph Westleigh's retreat be kept from
+the knowledge of every one save ourselves," he said, slowly and easily.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," replied Kingswell, shortly. Captain d'Antons jarred on
+him, despite all his faultless and affable manners.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER</span></h2>
+
+<p>About mid-afternoon of the day of Kingswell's advent into the settlement
+on Gray Goose River&mdash;Fort Beatrix it was called&mdash;the sky clouded, the
+voice of the river thinned and saddened, and snow began to fall. By
+Trigget's advice&mdash;and Trigget seemed to be the working head of the
+plantation&mdash;the pelts and gear of the <i>Pelican</i> were removed to the
+storehouse.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye must winter in Newfoundland, sir, however the idea affects your
+plans, for no more ships will be sailing home this season; and ye
+couldn't make it in your bully," said the hospitable skipper.</p>
+
+<p>"We might work 'round to St. John's," replied Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Trigget shook his head. "This be the safer place o' the two," he
+answered, "and your Honour's company here will help keep Sir Ralph out
+o' his black moods. He wants ye to stay, I know. There'll be work and to
+spare for your men, what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> with cuttin' fuel, and huntin' game, and
+boat-buildin'."</p>
+
+<p>So Kingswell decided that, if this should prove the real setting-in of
+winter, and if no objections were raised by any of the pioneers, he
+would share the colony's fortunes until the following spring. D'Antons
+expressed himself as charmed with the decision; but, for all that,
+Kingswell saw, by deeper and finer signs than most people would credit
+him with the ability to read, that his presence was really far from
+agreeable to the French adventurer.</p>
+
+<p>When night closed about the little settlement, the snow was still
+falling, and ground and roofs shone with bleak radiance through the veil
+of darkness. The flakes of the storm were small and dry, and unstirred
+by any wind. They wove a curtain of silence over the unprotesting
+wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell and Ouenwa supped with the Westleighs. But before the meal,
+and before Mistress Beatrix appeared from her little chamber, the two
+gentlemen had an hour of private conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"This Captain d'Antons&mdash;what of him?" inquired Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"He is none of our choosing," replied the baronet. "Several years ago,
+before I had quite given up the old life and the old show, I met him in
+London. He was reported rich. He had sailed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> many voyages to the West
+Indies, and talked of lands granted to him in New France. I had sold
+Beverly, and Beatrix was with me in town. She was little more than a
+child, but her looks attracted a deal of attention. She had nothing
+else, as all the town knew, with her father a ruined gamester, and her
+dead mother's property gone, with Randon Hall and Beverly! Dear God, but
+here was a dower for a beautiful lass! Well, the poets made a song or
+two, and three old men were for paying titles and places for her little
+hand&mdash;and then the end came. We won back to Somerset, spur and whip,
+lashed along by fear. We hid about, in this cottage and that, while my
+trusted friend Trigget provisioned his little craft and got together all
+the folk whom you see here, save D'Antons. After a rough and tiring
+voyage of three weeks' duration, and just when we were looking out for
+land, we were met by a French frigate, and forced to haul our wind. A
+boat-load of armed men left the pirate&mdash;yes, that's what she was, a damn
+pirate&mdash;and there was Captain d'Antons seated in the stern-sheets of
+her, beside the mate. He had not been as long at sea as we had, and he
+knew all about my trouble, curse him! He left the frigate, which he said
+was bound on a peaceful voyage of discovery to the West Indies, and
+joined our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>expedition. I could not forbid it. I was at his mercy, with
+his cutthroats alongside and the gallows at the back of it. He has hung
+to us ever since; and he has acted civil enough, damn him. If he'd show
+his hoof now and again, I'd like it better&mdash;for then we would all be on
+our guard."</p>
+
+<p>"But why does he stay? Why does he live in this place when he might be
+reaping the harvests common to such husbandmen?" inquired Kingswell.
+"Has he a stake in the colony?"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet gazed reflectively at the young man. "The fellow has kept my
+secret, and shared our rough lot and dreary exile, and even expended
+some money on provisions," he replied, deliberately, "for no other
+reason than that he is in love with my daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"He! A buccaneer!" exclaimed Kingswell, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," answered the baronet. "There, on the high seas, when he had
+us all in his clutch, when he might have seized by force that for which
+he now sues, he accepted my word of honour&mdash;mark you, he accepted what I
+had scarce the face to offer&mdash;that I would not withstand his suit, nor
+allow my men to do him any treasonable hurt so long as he kept my
+hiding-place secret and behaved like a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"And Mistress Beatrix?" asked the young man, softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, who can say?" responded the broken baronet. "At one time I feared
+that he was appearing as a hero to her. But I do not know. He played his
+game cleverly at first, but now he is losing patience. I would to God
+that he would lose it altogether. Then the compact would be broken. But
+no, he is cautious. He knows that, at a word from the girl, my sword
+would be out. Then things would go hard with him, even though he should
+kill me, for my men hate him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not pick a quarrel with him?" asked the headstrong Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not understand&mdash;you cannot understand&mdash;how delicate a thing to
+keep is the word of honour of a man who is branded as being without
+honour," replied the other, sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"And should Mistress Beatrix flout him," said Kingswell, "he would find
+his revenge in reporting your whereabouts to the garrison at St.
+John's."</p>
+
+<p>"He is well watched," said Sir Ralph, "and this is not an easy place to
+escape from, even in summer. We are hidden, up here, and not so much as
+a fishing-ship has sighted us in the two years."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wager that he'd find a way past your vigilance if he set his mind
+to it," retorted Kingswell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> "Gad, but it maddens me to think of being
+billeted under the roof of such an aspiring rogue! Rip me, but it's a
+monstrous sin that a lady should be plagued, and a whole body of
+Englishmen menaced, by a buccaneering adventurer."</p>
+
+<p>"My boy," replied Sir Ralph, wearily, "you must curb your indignation,
+even as the rest of us do. Discretion is the card to play just now. I
+have been holding the game with it for over two years. Who knows but
+that Time may shuffle the pack before long?"</p>
+
+<p>Just then Mistress Beatrix joined them. She wore one of the gay
+gowns&mdash;in truth somewhat enlarged and remodelled&mdash;by which her girlish
+beauty had been abetted and set off in England. There seemed a
+brightness and shimmer all about her. The coils of her dark hair were
+bright. The changing eyes were bright. The lips, the round neck and
+dainty throat, the buckled shoes, and even the material of bodice and
+skirt were radiant in the gloom and firelight of that rough chamber. To
+all appearances, her mood was as bright as her beauty. Sir Ralph watched
+her with adoring eyes, realizing her bravery. Kingswell joined in her
+gay chatter, and found it easy to be merry. Ouenwa, silent on the corner
+of the bench by the hearth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> gazed at this vision of loveliness with
+wide eyes. He could realize, without effort, that Sir Ralph and D'Antons
+and even his glorious Kingswell were men, even as Tom Bent, and the
+Triggets, and Black Feather were, but that Mistress Beatrix was a
+woman&mdash;a woman, as were William Trigget's wife and daughter, and Black
+Feather's squaw&mdash;no, he could not believe it! He was even surprised to
+note a resemblance to other females in the number of her hands and feet.
+She had, most assuredly, two hands and two feet. Also she had one head.
+But how different in quality, though similar in number, were the members
+of this flashing young divinity.</p>
+
+<p>"I left Montaw's lodge to behold the wonders of the world," mused the
+dazzled child of the wilderness, "and already, without crossing the
+great salt water, I have found the surpassing wonder. Can it be that any
+more such beings exist? Has even Master Kingswell ever before looked
+upon such beauty and such raiment?"</p>
+
+<p>His spellbound gaze was met by the eyes of the enchantress. To his
+amazement, the lady moved from her father's side and seated herself on
+the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so quiet," she said, "that I did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> notice you before. So you
+are Master Kingswell's ward?"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was very kind and cheerful, and her silks brushed the lad's
+hand. He looked at the finery uneasily, but did not answer her question.</p>
+
+<p>"You told us he knew English," she said to Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"He does," replied the young man. Then, to the boy: "Ouenwa, Mistress
+Westleigh wants to know if you are my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the lad. "Good friend."</p>
+
+<p>"And my friend, too?" asked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Ouenwa. "You look so&mdash;so&mdash;like he called the sky one
+morning." He pointed at Master Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?" she queried.</p>
+
+<p>"What morning?" asked Kingswell, leaning forward and smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Five mornings ago, chief," replied Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell laughed. "You are right, lad," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But tell me what you called the sky, sir. Really, this is very
+provoking. No doubt the boy thinks I look a fright," said Miss
+Westleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrix," interrupted Sir Ralph, "surely I see Kate with the candles."</p>
+
+<p>The girl could not deny it, for the table was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> spread in the same
+room,&mdash;a rough, square table with a damask cloth, and laid out with a
+fair show of silver, decanters, and a great venison pasty, which had
+been cooked in the Triggets' kitchen across the yard.</p>
+
+<p>The meal was a delightful one to Kingswell. He had not eaten off china
+dishes for many months. The food, though plain, was well cooked and well
+served. The wines were as nectar to his eager palate. And over it all
+was the magic of Mistress Westleigh's presence&mdash;potent magic enough to a
+young gentleman who had almost forgotten the looks and ways of the women
+of his own kind. Ouenwa sat as one in a dream, fairly stupefied by the
+gleam of silver and linen under the soft light of the candles. He ate
+painfully and slowly, imitating Kingswell. He looked often at the
+vivacious hostess. Suddenly he exclaimed: "I remember. Yes, it was
+lovely beautiful, what the chief said!" Kingswell laughed delightedly,
+and the baronet joined, with reserve, in the mirth. The girl looked
+puzzled for a moment,&mdash;then confused,&mdash;then, with a little,
+indescribable cry of merriment, she patted Ouenwa's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming lad!" she exclaimed. "I have not received so pretty a
+compliment for, oh, ever so long."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> She looked across the table at
+Kingswell, feeling his gaze upon her. His eyes were very grave, and
+darkened with thought, though his lips were still smiling.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XII.</span> <span class="smaller">MEDITATION AND ACTION</span></h2>
+
+<p>For hours after retiring Kingswell lay awake, reviewing, in his restless
+brain, the incidents of that crowded day. His couch was luxurious,
+compared to the resting-places he had known since leaving the <i>Heart of
+the West</i>; but, for all that, sleep evaded him. From the other side of
+the hearth Ouenwa's deep and regular breathing reached his alert ears.
+He saw the yellow light blink to darkness above the curtain of skins,
+when D'Antons extinguished his candle in the other apartment. The red
+firelight rose and fell, dwindled and flooded high. The core of it
+contracted and expanded, and a straight log across the middle of the
+glow was like a heavy eyelid. It was like something alive&mdash;like
+something stirring between sleeping and waking, desiring sleep, yet
+afraid to forsake a vigil. To the restless explorer beside the hearth it
+suggested a drowsy servitor nodding and starting in a deserted hall.
+"What is it waiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> for?" he wondered, and smiled at the conceit. "What
+does it fear? Mayhap the master and mistress are late at a rout, and are
+people without consideration for the feelings of their servants."</p>
+
+<p>From such harmless imagery his mind slipped to the less pleasant subject
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh. He recalled what he had seen and heard of the
+days of the baronet's glory&mdash;of the great places near Bristol, with
+their stables that were the envy of dukes, and their routs that lured
+people weary and dangerous journeys&mdash;of the famous Lady Westleigh and
+her jewels&mdash;of Sir Ralph's kindliness to great and small alike. His own
+father, the merchant-knight of Bristol, had held the baronet in high
+esteem. Bernard himself, when a child, and later when a well-grown lad,
+had experienced the hospitality of Randon Hall and Beverly. At the time
+of his last visit to Beverly, rumour was busy with the baronet's
+affairs. During Lady Westleigh's life, all had gone well, apparently.
+After her death, Sir Ralph spent less of his time at home, and more of
+it in distant London, and even in Paris. Stories went abroad of his
+heavy gaming and his ruinous bad luck. People said the love of the dice
+and the cards had settled in the man like a disease, working on him
+physically to such an extent that he looked a different person when the
+heat of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> play was on him. Also it played the devil with him
+morally&mdash;and perhaps mentally. So things took the turn and started
+down-hill. Then the run was short and mad, despite warnings of friends,
+threats of relatives, and the baronet's own numerous clever checks and
+parries to avoid disaster. There was a season of hope after the sale of
+Randon. But the lurid clouds gathered again. Then Beverly was
+impoverished to the last oak and the last horse in the stud. The baronet
+took his daughter to town, and, by a turn of luck, put in a few merry
+months. Then a certain Scotch viscount caught him playing as no
+gentleman, no matter how dissolute, is supposed to play. The Scotchman
+made a clamour, and was killed for his trouble. That was the last known
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh and his daughter by any one of the outside world
+until the <i>Pelican</i> landed her voyagers before the stockade of Fort
+Beatrix on Gray Goose River.</p>
+
+<p>All these matters employed Kingswell's thoughts as he lay awake in
+Captain d'Antons' cabin and watched the fire on the rough hearth fall
+lower and lower. Pity for the young girl, who had been born and bred to
+such a different heritage, pained and fretted him more keenly than a
+personal loss. The discomfort of it was almost as if his conscience were
+accusing him of disloyalty to a friend, though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> that was absurd, as
+neither he nor his had helped Westleigh in his descent, nor cried out
+against him when he met disaster at the bottom. But he had never, during
+those two years after their disappearance, given them more than a
+passing thought&mdash;and they had been friends and neighbours. He had
+experienced no pity for the young and beautiful girl with whom he had
+played in the racquet court at Beverly. Like the great world of which he
+was so insignificant a part, he had forgotten. Two lives, more or less,
+were of no consequence in such stirring times. He groaned, as if the
+realization of a great sin had come to him. Then, to the anger against
+himself was added anger against the world that had dragged Sir Ralph
+into this oblivion of dishonour, and the innocent girl into exile. What
+had she done to be driven beyond the bounds of civilization, her safety
+dependent on the whims of a French buccaneer? Ah, there was the raw
+spot, sure enough! In the little space of time between two risings of
+the sun, Kingswell had met a man and marked him for an enemy. Nursing a
+bitter, though somewhat muddled, resentment, he at last fell asleep,
+guarded from storm and frost by the roof of the very man who had
+inspired his anger.</p>
+
+<p>For the next few days matters went smoothly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> at Fort Beatrix. It was
+evident to even the least experienced of the settlers that the winter
+had come to stay. The snow lay deep and dry over the frozen earth. The
+river was already hidden under a skin of gleaming ice, made opaque by
+the snow that had mingled with the water while it was freezing. The
+little settlement took up the routine of the dreary months. Axes were
+sharpened at the great stone in the well-house. The men donned moccasins
+of deerskin. They tied ingenious racquets, or snow-shoes, to their feet
+and tramped into the sombre forests. All day the thud, thud of the axes
+jarred across the air, interrupted ever and anon by the rending,
+splitting lament of some falling tree.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell put his men under William Trigget's orders, and he and Ouenwa
+spent much of their time with the choppers. Also, they journeyed with
+the trappers. Captain d'Antons, who was a skilled and tireless woodsman,
+led them on many weary marches in quest of game and fur. Most of the
+caribou had travelled southward, in herds of from ten to one hundred
+head, at the approach of winter; but a few remained in the sheltered
+valleys. Fortunately the settlers were familiar with the habits of the
+deer, and had laid in a supply of dried venison during the summer.
+However, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>whenever the hunters managed to make a kill, the fresh meat
+was enthusiastically received at the fort. Hares and grouse were snared,
+as were foxes and other small animals. A few wolves and one or two
+wildcats were shot. The bears were all tucked safely away in their
+winter quarters, and the beavers were frozen into theirs. On the whole,
+the hunters had a hard time of it, and no great reward for their toil.
+But it was work that kept both their brains and sinews employed, and so
+was of a deal more worth than the bare value of the pelts and dinners it
+supplied.</p>
+
+<p>One day in early December, when Kingswell, D'Antons, the younger
+Donnelly, and Ouenwa were traversing a drifted expanse of "barren,"
+marching in single file and without undue noise, they came upon another
+trail of racquet prints. They halted. They regarded this unexpected
+evidence of the proximity of their fellow man with misgivings&mdash;for snow
+had fallen in abundance, and therefore the trail was new. They glanced
+uneasily about them, scanning clumps of spruce and fir and mounds of
+snow-drifted rock with anxious eyes. They strained their ears for some
+warning sound&mdash;or for the twanging of bowstrings. They saw nothing. They
+heard nothing but the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>disconsolate chirping of a moose-bird in a
+thicket close at hand. D'Antons lowered his gaze to the trail.</p>
+
+<p>"From the westward, and heading for the river," he said. "Then they are
+not from the village on Gander Lake."</p>
+
+<p>"Big number," remarked Ouenwa. "Ten, twenty, thirty&mdash;don't know how
+much! Whole camp, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," agreed Donnelly, "they sure has packed clear down through two
+falls o' snow. Ye could trot a pony along the pat' they has made."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you on friendly terms with the savages?" inquired Kingswell of
+Captain d'Antons. The Frenchman smiled uncheerfully and shrugged his
+lean shoulders. He was not one to speak unconsidered words.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we are on friendly terms with the people from Gander Lake," he
+replied, presently. "That is, we have traded with them a number of
+times, and have exchanged gifts with their chief, and through him with
+old Soft Hand. But Soft Hand is dead now; and these fellows are
+evidently from the West. Also, friendship means nothing where these
+vermin are concerned. Treachery is as the breath of life to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Panounia," whispered Ouenwa, excitedly. "Panounia no good for friend.
+He is a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>murderer. He is a false chief. He make trade&mdash;yes, with
+war-arrows from the bushes and with knives in the dark. In friendship
+his hand is under his robe, and his fingers are on the hilt of his
+knife. Evil warms itself at his heart like an old witch at a fire."</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons smiled thinly at the lad. "There is a time for all things," he
+said&mdash;"a time for oratory and another time for action. If you are
+willing, Master Kingswell, let us now retrace our steps as swiftly and
+quietly as may be. It would be wise to warn the fort that a band of the
+sly devils is abroad."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa glanced uncertainly at the speaker and flushed darkly. Kingswell
+intimated his willingness to return immediately to Fort Beatrix by a
+curt nod. It was in his heart to administer a kick to Captain Pierre
+d'Antons, though just why the desire he could not say. They turned in
+their tracks and started back along the twisting, seven-mile trail.
+D'Antons led; and the pace he set was a stiff one. Mile after mile was
+passed, with no other sound save those of padding racquet and toiling
+breath. In the hollows their shoulders brushed the snow from the
+crowding spruce-fronds. Going over the knolls, they crouched low, and
+scanned the horizon with alert eyes as they ran.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>At last, all but breathless from the prolonged exertion, the hunters
+turned aside from the path and ascended the gradual, heavily wooded side
+of a hill which overlooked the fort from the south. They crossed the
+naked summit with painful caution, bending double, and taking every
+advantage of the sheltering thickets.</p>
+
+<p>"The choppers are inside," whispered D'Antons to Kingswell, as they
+peered furtively out between the snow-weighted branches. "See! And the
+savages are in cover along the river." It was quite evident to Kingswell
+that the place had been attacked, and was now in a state of siege. The
+platform in the southeast corner of the stockade was protected by
+shields composed of bundles of firewood. Men whom he recognized as those
+who had been working in the woods earlier in the day moved about within
+the enclosure. The wide, snow-covered clearing that had been so spotless
+when he had last seen it was trampled and stained here and there by dark
+patches. Along the fringe of timber that shut the river from the
+clearing, and extended to within a dozen paces of the southeast corner
+of the stockade, a Beothic warrior would frequently show himself for a
+moment, hoot derisively, and let fly a harmless shaft. Presently the
+watchers on the knoll saw the head and shoulders of William<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> Trigget
+above the shield of the gun-platform. The master mariner shaded his eyes
+with his hand and seemed to be scanning the woods along the river and
+then the timber in which his own comrades were concealed. He lowered his
+hand and ducked quickly&mdash;and not a second too soon; for a flight of
+arrows rattled against his stronghold, a few stuck, quivering, into the
+pickets of the stockade, and many fell within the fort.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell turned to D'Antons. "More of them than we thought," he said.
+"There must have been a hundred arrows in that volley."</p>
+
+<p>Captain d'Antons nodded with a preoccupied air. He did not look at his
+companion, and his brow was puckered in lines of thought. If the
+Englishman had been able to read the other's mind at that moment, a deal
+of future trouble would have been spared him. However, as Kingswell was
+but an adventurous, keen-witted young man, with no superhuman powers, he
+was content with the Frenchman's nod, and returned his attentions to the
+fort.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, from the screen of faggots above which Trigget had so lately
+exposed his head, burst a flash of yellow flame, a spurt of white smoke,
+and a clapping bulk of sound. The stockade shook. A spruce-tree shook in
+the wood by the river, and cries of fear and consternation rang across
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> frosty air. A score of savages darted from their cover and as
+quickly sped back again. Flight after flight of arrows broke away and
+tested every inch of surface of Trigget's shelter. Then, with shrill
+screams and mad yells of defiance, the whole party of Beothics emerged
+into the clearing and dashed for the palisade. They drew their bows as
+they ran, and some hurled clubs and spears. In front, with red feathers
+in his hair and his right arm bandaged across his breast, Panounia
+shouted encouragement and led the charge. They were half-way across the
+open when the second cannon spat forth its message of hate. The ball
+passed low over the advancing mass and plunged into the timber beyond.
+For a second or two, the attackers wavered, a few turned back, then they
+continued their valorous onset. They were already springing at the
+palisade when the muskets crashed in their faces from half a dozen
+loopholes. This volley was followed immediately by another. The savages
+dropped back from their futile leapings against the fortification, hung
+on their heels for a moment, clamorous and undecided, and then broke for
+cover. They dragged their dead and wounded with them, and left
+sanguinary trails on the snow. They were within a few yards of the
+sheltering trees when one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> of the little cannon banged again. The ball
+cut across the mass of crowded warriors like a string through cheese.</p>
+
+<p>"Now is our time!" exclaimed Kingswell. "Run for the gate, lads."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span> <span class="smaller">SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE</span></h2>
+
+<p>The returning hunters were promptly admitted to the fort. The little
+garrison welcomed them joyfully. The West Country sailors were, for the
+moment, cordial even toward D'Antons, whom they usually ignored. The
+party had taken a hundred chances with death in the crossing of the
+narrow clearing. Arrows had followed them from the fringe of wood along
+the river, like bees from an overturned hive. Ouenwa's left arm had been
+scratched. D'Antons' fur cap had been torn from his head, pierced
+through and through. A hail of missiles had clattered against the gate
+as the good timbers swung to behind them. Cries of rage and chagrin, in
+which Ouenwa's name was repeated many times, rang from the retreat of
+the defeated warriors. The garrison answered with cheers. Ouenwa's
+shrill voice carried clear above the tumult, lifted in Beothic insults.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph himself was in command of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>imperilled fortress. The
+excitement had stirred him out of his customary gloom. His eyes were
+bright, and his cheeks flew a patch of colour. His sword was at his
+side, and he held a musket in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"That was their third attempt to get over the stockade," he said to
+Kingswell and D'Antons. "They are filled with the very devil to-day. But
+I scarcely think that they will come back for more, now that Trigget has
+got his growlers into working order."</p>
+
+<p>"How did it begin?" asked the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, about three score of them marched up and said they wanted to come
+in and trade," replied the baronet, "but, as they seemed to have nothing
+to trade save their bows and spears, Trigget warned them off. Then they
+went out on the river and began chopping up the <i>Red Rose</i> and the
+<i>Pelican</i>. At that we let off a musket, and they retired to cover, from
+which they soon emerged with reinforcements and tried to carry the place
+by weight of numbers."</p>
+
+<p>"Hark," said the Frenchman. "What is that they are yelling?"</p>
+
+<p>"My name," replied Ouenwa. "They are my enemies."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, and so it is our privilege to fight this gentleman's battles for
+him," remarked D'Antons,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> with an exaggerated bow to the lad. "Perhaps
+this is the explanation of the attack."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not," answered Kingswell, crisply. "They are surprised at
+discovering him here. Also they are surprised and displeased at seeing
+me again. They have smelled our powder before, as you have heard, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have heard the heroic tale, monsieur," replied the captain,
+smiling his thin, one-sided, Continental smile.</p>
+
+<p>The blood mounted in Kingswell's cheek. He turned on his heel without
+any further words. Ouenwa followed him to the Trigget cabin, whence he
+was bound for something to eat.</p>
+
+<p>Panounia and his braves retreated across the frozen river, and did not
+show themselves again that day. In the fort every musket was loaded, the
+improvised gun-shields were repaired and strengthened, and the guns were
+again got ready for action. In place of round shot, William Trigget
+charged them with scrap-iron and slugs of lead.</p>
+
+<p>"When ye has a lot o' mowin' to do in a short time, cut a wide swath,"
+he remarked to Tom Bent.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir," replied Kingswell's boatswain, turning a hawk-like eye on the
+dark edges of the forest. "Ay, sir, cut a wide swath, an' let the devil
+make the hay. It be mun's own crop."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>At the time of the hunters' return, Mistress Beatrix was looking from
+the doorway of her father's cabin. Now she knelt in her own chamber,
+sobbing quietly, with her face buried in her hands. All the bitterness
+and insecurity of her position had come to her with overmastering force.
+The sight of Captain d'Antons' thin face and uncovered, bedraggled hair,
+as he leaned on his musket and talked with her father and the young
+Englishman, had melted the courage in her heart. She prayed confusedly,
+half her thoughts with the petitions which she made to her God, and half
+with the desperate state of her affairs and the features and attitude of
+the buccaneer.</p>
+
+<p>She was disturbed by some one entering the outer room. She recognized
+the footsteps as those of Sir Ralph. She got up from her knees, bathed
+her face and eyes, touched her hair to order with skilful fingers, and
+opened the door of her chamber. The baronet looked up at the sound.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, lass," he said, "we've driven the rascals off. They have crossed
+the river."</p>
+
+<p>With that he fell again to his slow pacing of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not fear the savages," she cried. "Oh, I do think their knives and
+arrows would be welcome."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>"Poor child! poor little lass!" he said, pausing beside her and kissing
+her tenderly. "You have been weeping," he added, concernedly. "But
+courage, dear. The fellow is harmless for five long months to come. His
+fangs are as good as filed, shut off here and surrounded by the snow and
+the savages."</p>
+
+<p>Evidently the sight of his daughter's distress had dimmed the finer
+conception of his promise to D'Antons. He looked about him uneasily and
+sighed.</p>
+
+<p>She laid her face against his coat and held tight to his sleeves.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate him," she whispered. "Oh, my father, I hate him for my own sake
+as much as I fear him for yours. His every covert glance, his every open
+attention, stings me like a whip. And yet, out of fear, I must smile and
+simper, and play the hypocrite."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;by God!" exclaimed Westleigh, trembling with emotion. Then, more
+quietly, "Beatrix, I cannot wear this mask any longer. The fellow is
+hateful to me. I despise him. How such a creation of the devil's can
+love you so unswervingly is more than I can fathom. I would rather see
+you dead than married to him. There&mdash;I have broken my word again! Let me
+go."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>He freed himself from the girl's hands, caught up his hat and cloak,
+and left the cabin. He crossed over to the well-house, where some of the
+men were grinding axes and cutlasses, and joined feverishly in their
+simple talk of work, and battle, and adventure. Their honest faces and
+homely language drove a little of the bitterness of his shame from him.
+Presently Kingswell and Ouenwa joined the group about the complaining
+grindstone.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," said Sir Ralph, "and look at the cannon."</p>
+
+<p>He plucked Kingswell by the sleeve. Ouenwa followed them. All three
+ascended the little platform on which the guns were mounted, by way of a
+short ladder. The pieces, ready loaded, were snugly covered with
+tarpaulins that could be snatched off in a turn of the hand.</p>
+
+<p>"A worthy fellow is William Trigget," remarked the baronet. "Ay, he is
+true as steel."</p>
+
+<p>He laid a caressing hand on the breech of one of the little cannon. "I
+would trust him, yea, and his good fellows, with anything I possess," he
+said, "as readily as I trust these growlers to his care."</p>
+
+<p>Just then Ouenwa pointed northward to the wooded bluff that cut into the
+white valley and hid the settlement from the lower reaches of the river.
+From beyond the point, moving slowly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> unsteadily, appeared a
+solitary human figure. Its course lay well out on the level floor of the
+stream, and the forest growth along the shore did not conceal it from
+the watchers. It approached uncertainly, as if without a definite goal,
+and, when within a few hundred yards of the fort, staggered and fell
+prone.</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil does it mean?" cried Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell shook his head, and questioned Ouenwa. The lad continued to
+gaze out across the open. The sun was low over the western hills, and
+its light was red on the snow.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurt," he said, presently. "Maybe starved. He is not of Panounia's
+band."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know that, lad?" asked the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," replied the boy. "He is a hunter. He is not of the war-party.
+He is from the salt water."</p>
+
+<p>"He is usually right when he maintains that a thing is so, without being
+able to give a reason for it," said Kingswell, quietly. "And, if he is,
+it seems a pity to let the man die out there under our very eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"God knows I do not want any one to suffer," said the baronet, "but may
+it not be a trick of this Panounia's, or whatever you call him?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>"No trick," replied Ouenwa; and, without so much as "by your leave," he
+vaulted over the breastwork of faggots and landed lightly on the snow
+outside the stockade. Without a moment's hesitation, Kingswell followed.
+Together they started toward the still figure out on the river, at a
+brisk run. They had reached the bank before Sir Ralph recovered from his
+astonishment. He quickly descended to the square, and, without
+attracting any attention, informed William Trigget of what had happened.
+Trigget and his son immediately ascended to the guns and drew off their
+tarpaulins. "We'll cover the retreat, sir," said the mariner. They saw
+their reckless comrades bend over the prostrate stranger. Then Kingswell
+lifted the apparently lifeless body and started back at a jog trot.
+Ouenwa lagged behind, with his head continually over his shoulder. The
+elder Trigget swore a great oath, and smacked a knotty fist into a
+leathern palm.</p>
+
+<p>"Them's well-plucked uns," he added.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet and John Trigget agreed silently. They were too intent on
+the approach of the rescuers to speak. Also, they kept a keen outlook
+along the woods on the farther shore. But the enemy made no sign; and
+Kingswell, Ouenwa, and the unconscious stranger reached the stockade in
+safety. The stranger proved to be none other than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Black Feather, the
+stalwart and kindly brave who had built his lodge beside the old
+arrow-maker's, above Wigwam Harbour, in the days of peace. He was
+carried into Trigget's cabin and dosed with French brandy until he
+opened his eyes. He looked about him blankly for a second or two, and
+then his lids fluttered down again. He had not recognized either
+Kingswell or Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the poor lad, the poor lad," cried Dame Trigget. "Whatever has mun
+been a-doin' now, to get so distressin' scrawny? An' a fine figger, too,
+though he be a heathen, without a manner o' doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind his religious beliefs, dame, but get some of your good
+venison broth inside of him," said Master Kingswell. "That's a treatment
+that would surely convert any number of heathen."</p>
+
+<p>While they were clustered about Black Feather's couch, D'Antons entered.
+He peered over Dame Trigget's ample shoulders and looked considerably
+surprised at finding an unconscious, emaciated Beothic the centre of
+attraction.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" he asked. "A tragedy or a comedy?"</p>
+
+<p>His tone was sour, and too bantering for the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet turned on him with an expression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> of mouth and eye that did
+not pass unnoticed by the little group.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not a comedy, monsieur," he replied, coldly; "and we hope it
+will not prove a tragedy."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span> <span class="smaller">A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING</span></h2>
+
+<p>Meals were not served in Captain d'Antons' cabin. The little settlement
+possessed but one servant among all its workers, and that one was Maggie
+Stone, Mistress Westleigh's old nurse. The care of Sir Ralph's
+establishment was all she could attend to. So the men who had no
+women-folk of their own to cook for them were fed by Dame Trigget and
+her sturdy daughter Joyce, or by the Donnelly women. Kingswell and
+D'Antons took their meals at Dame Trigget's table, and were served by
+themselves, with every mark of respect. Ouenwa, Tom Bent, Harding, and
+Clotworthy shared the Donnellys' board.</p>
+
+<p>A few hours after Black Feather's rescue, Kingswell and D'Antons sat
+opposite one another at a small table near the hearth of the Triggets'
+living-room. A stew of venison and a bottle of French wine stood between
+them. D'Antons took up the bottle, and made as if to fill the other's
+glass.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"One moment," said Kingswell, raising his hand.</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchman looked at him keenly and set down the vintage. The
+Englishman leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain d'Antons," he said, scarce above a whisper, "a remark that you
+made to-day seemed to imply that you considered me a braggart. Your
+remark was in reference to the brushes between the <i>Pelican</i> and a party
+of natives during our cruise from the North. Before I take wine with you
+to-night, I want you to either withdraw or explain your implication."</p>
+
+<p>While Kingswell spoke, the other's eyes flashed and calmed again. Now
+his dark face wore an even look of puzzled inquiry. His fine eyes, clear
+now of the expression of cynicism which so often marred them, held the
+Englishman's without any sign of either embarrassment or anger. His hand
+returned to the neck of the bottle and lingered there. Lord, but the
+drama lost an exceptionally fine interpreter when the high seas claimed
+Pierre d'Antons! The thin, clean-shaven lips trembled&mdash;or was it the
+wavering of the candle-light?</p>
+
+<p>"My friend," he said, softly, "how unfortunate am I in my stupidity&mdash;in
+my blundering use of the English language. Whatever my words were, when
+I spoke of having already heard of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> fights with the savages, my
+meaning was such that no one would take exception to. Did I use the word
+heroic, monsieur? Then heroic, noble, was what I meant. An Englishman
+would have made use of a smaller, a simpler word, perhaps; or would have
+refrained from any display of admiration. Ah, I am unfortunate in my
+heritage of French and Spanish blood&mdash;the blood that is outspoken both
+for praise and blame."</p>
+
+<p>Poor, honest Kingswell was shaken with conflicting emotions. His heart
+told him the man was lying. His eyes assured him that he had been
+grievously mistaken, not only in the matter of the remark concerning the
+skirmishes with the Beothics, but in his whole opinion of the Frenchman.
+His blood surged to his head, and whispered that he was a young fool to
+be hoodwinked so easily. His brain was sadly uncertain. A twinge of pity
+for the handsome adventurer&mdash;for the love-struck buccaneer&mdash;went through
+him. But it faded at remembrance of Sir Ralph's story. He knew the
+fellow was playing with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Wine, monsieur?" inquired D'Antons, softly, with a smile of infinite
+sweetness and shy persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>With a mumbled apology, the young Englishman pushed forward his glass,
+and the red wine swam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> to the brim. And all the while he was inwardly
+cursing his own weakness and the other's strength. He had not the
+courage to meet the Frenchman's look when they raised their glasses and
+clinked them across the table. Lord, what a calf he was!</p>
+
+<p>Had he no will of his own? Did he possess neither knowledge of men nor
+mother wit? Ah, but he rated himself pitilessly as he bent his flushed
+face over his plate of stew.</p>
+
+<p>When the meal was finished, Kingswell returned to Black Feather's couch,
+and D'Antons went over to his own cabin. By this time Black Feather had
+recovered consciousness and swallowed some of Dame Trigget's broth;
+also, he had recognized Ouenwa and murmured a few words to the lad in
+his own tongue. But, beyond that, he was too weak to disclose anything
+of what had happened in Wigwam Harbour after the slaying of Soft Hand.
+He lay very still, apparently lifeless, except for his quick, bright
+eyes, which moved restlessly in questioning scrutiny of the strange
+women and bearded men who sat about the room. Ouenwa held one of the
+transparent hands and smiled assuringly.</p>
+
+<p>For half an hour Kingswell sat beside the man he had rescued so
+courageously from death by starvation. Then, feeling the heat of the
+room and the confusion of his thoughts too much to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>entertain calmly, he
+went out into the cold and darkness and paced up and down. All
+unknowing, he kicked the snow viciously every step. He was still in a
+perturbed state of mind and temper when William Trigget approached him
+through the gloom and touched his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Askin' your pardon, master," he said, standing close, "but what of that
+Injun in there? Be he really sick, or be he playing a game?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is surely sick, and he is just as surely not playing a game,"
+replied Kingswell. "But why do you ask? The fellow is a friend of
+Ouenwa's, and was one of old Soft Hand's warriors."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir, but maybe mun has changed his coat," said Trigget, "an' has
+shammed sick just to get carried inside the fort. There be something
+goin' on outside, for certain."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked the other.</p>
+
+<p>Then Trigget told how he had been startled, while standing under the
+gun-platform, by a sound of scrambling outside the stockade. He had
+crawled noiselessly up the ladder and looked over the breastworks about
+the guns. He had been able to distinguish something darker than the
+surrounding darkness crouched against the palisade under him. The thing
+had moved cautiously. He had detached a faggot from one of the bundles
+beside him, for lack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> of a better weapon, and had hurled it down at the
+black form. There had sounded a stifled cry, and the thing had vanished
+in the night.</p>
+
+<p>"It were one o' they savages, I know," concluded Trigget.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell forgot his personal grievance in the face of this menace from
+the hidden enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"The guards should be doubled," he said. "But come, we must let Sir
+Ralph know of it."</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the yard to the baronet's cabin and knocked on the door.
+Maggie Stone admitted them to the outer room, where Sir Ralph and
+Mistress Beatrix were seated, the girl reading aloud to her father by
+the light of one poor candle. But the great fire on the hearth had the
+place fairly illuminated.</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget, undismayed by fog and bad weather, cool in any risk of
+land or sea, was too abashed at the presence of the lady to tell his
+story. So Master Kingswell told it for him.</p>
+
+<p>"The guards must be doubled," said Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"They be that already, sir," replied Trigget, breaking the spell of the
+bright eyes that surveyed him.</p>
+
+<p>"That is well," answered the baronet. "There is nothing else to be done,
+at least until morning, but sleep light and keep your muskets handy."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>Kingswell and the master mariner returned to the darkness without.</p>
+
+<p>"I will stake my word," said Kingswell, "that the place is surrounded by
+the devils even now, and that they will try again to get a man over the
+wall to unbar the gates."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XV.</span> <span class="smaller">THE HIDDEN MENACE</span></h2>
+
+<p>Neither Kingswell nor Trigget found time for sleep that night. D'Antons
+also kept awake, though he spent only a few hours out-of-doors. His
+candle burned until daylight. Ouenwa experienced a restless night beside
+Black Feather's couch. From ten o'clock until two Tom Bent, John
+Trigget, and the younger Donnelly were on guard, with cutlasses on their
+hips and half-pikes in their hands&mdash;for a musket would have proved but
+an unsatisfactory weapon to a man engaged in a sudden scuffle in the
+dark. One man was placed on the gun-platform, another at the gate, and a
+third on the roof of the storehouse. Kingswell and William Trigget moved
+continually from one point to another. At two o'clock the elder
+Donnelly, Clotworthy, and Harding relieved their companions. But the two
+officers remained at their self-imposed duty.</p>
+
+<p>At last dawn outlined the eastern horizon. Kingswell, who had been
+pacing the length of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> riverward stockade for the past hour, sighed
+with relief, yawned, and was about to retire to D'Antons' cabin, when
+William Trigget approached him at a run. The master mariner's face was
+ghastly above his bushy whiskers.</p>
+
+<p>"Come this way, sir," he murmured, huskily.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell followed him to the storehouse and up to the roof, by way of a
+rough ladder that leaned against the wall. There, on the outward slope
+of the roof, where the snow was trampled and broken, sprawled the body
+of Peter Clotworthy.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Asleep!" exclaimed Kingswell, peering close. The light was not
+strong enough to disclose the features of the recumbent sentinel.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, an' sound enough, God knows," replied Trigget, "with no chance o'
+wakin' this side o' the Judgment-Seat."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead?" cried the other, sinking to his knees beside the body. He
+pressed his hand against the mariner's side, held it there for a moment,
+and withdrew it, wet with blood. He raised it toward the growing
+illumination of the east, staring at it with wide eyes. "Blood," he
+murmured. "Stabbed without a squeal&mdash;without a whimper, by Heaven!" Then
+he ripped out an oath, and followed it close with a prayer for his dead
+comrade's soul. For all his golden curls, this Bernard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>Kingswell had a
+hot and ready tongue&mdash;and a temper to suit, when occasion offered.</p>
+
+<p>The two discoverers of the tragedy remained on the roof of the
+storehouse for some time. The light strengthened and spread on their
+right, and, at last, gave them a clear, gray view of the narrow clearing
+and wooded hummocks to the north. On the snow below them, which was
+otherwise unmarked, they saw the imprints of one pair of moccasined
+feet. The marks did not lead to or from the near cover of the woods, but
+to the south, around the fort. The telltale snow showed how Clotworthy's
+murderer had approached close under the stockade, and, after his silent
+deed of violence, had jumped a distance of about twenty feet, from the
+roof of the store, and landed on all fours. A stain of blood, evidently
+from the reeking knife in the slayer's hand, smirched the snow where it
+was broken by his fall. From there the steps returned by the same
+course, but at a distance of about ten paces from the stockade.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell looked from the tracks in the snow to the colourless,
+distorted features of the dead seaman. Then his gaze met Trigget's
+deep-set eyes. He was pale, and his lips were drawn in a hard line, as
+if the frost had stiffened them.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Clotworthy," he murmured, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>swallowed as if his throat were
+dry. "Poor devil, knifed into eternity without a fighting chance. See,
+he was clubbed first and then knifed&mdash;felled and bled like an ox in a
+shambles! Ten nights of this hellishness will account for the whole
+garrison."</p>
+
+<p>With a broad, deep-sea oath, Trigget replied that there'd be no ten
+nights of it.</p>
+
+<p>They lifted the stiff body that had, so lately, been animated by the
+fearless spirit of Richard Clotworthy, able seaman, to the ground and
+carried it reverently to the Donnelly cabin. The other inmates of the
+little settlement were deeply affected by the sight, and by Kingswell's
+story. The younger men were for setting out immediately and driving the
+Beothics from the woods on the far side of the river. But the wiser
+heads prevailed against such recklessness, arguing that the only thing
+to be done was to remain constantly on guard. The women wept. Ouenwa,
+trembling with sorrow and rage, placed his fine belt and beaded quiver
+beside the body of his dead comrade, and vowed, in English and Beothic,
+that he would avenge this murder as he intended to avenge the murders of
+his father and his grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>The day passed without any sign of the hidden enemy. Kingswell slept
+until noon. By evening Black Feather had recovered enough strength to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+enable him to tell his pitiful story to Ouenwa. His lodge, and that of
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, had been torn down by the followers of Panounia
+shortly after the departure of the <i>Pelican</i> from Wigwam Harbour. Montaw
+had died fighting. Black Feather, grievously wounded, had been bound and
+carried far up the River of Three Fires. His wife and children also had
+been captured and maltreated. The ships in the bay had looked on at the
+unequal struggle ashore without demonstrations of any kind. Upon
+reaching the village on the river, Black Feather had been driven to the
+meanest work&mdash;work unbecoming a warrior of his standing&mdash;and his wife
+and children had been led farther up-stream, very likely to Wind Lake.
+Black Feather had seen the body of Soft Hand lying exposed on the top of
+a knoll, at the mercy of birds and beasts. He had bided his time. At
+last he had gnawed the thongs with which his tormentors bound him at
+night, and had safely made his escape. He could not say how long ago
+that was. Days and nights had become strangely mixed in his desperate
+mind. He had lived on such birds and hares as he had been able to kill
+with sticks. Always he had kept up his journey, shaping his course
+toward the salt water, in the hope of meeting some tribesmen who might
+have remained loyal to the murdered chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> But he had met with nobody
+in all that desolate journey, until, only the day before, he had
+recovered consciousness in Fort Beatrix.</p>
+
+<p>That night, John Trigget was attacked at his post on the gun-platform,
+and in the struggle that ensued was cut shrewdly about the arm. So
+sudden and noiseless was the onslaught out of the dark that he fought in
+silence, only remembering to shout for help after the savage had
+squirmed from his embrace and escaped. His arm was bandaged by Sir
+Ralph, and Tom Bent and Ouenwa took his place. But daylight arrived
+without any further demonstration on the part of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the little garrison was bitten by a restlessness that would
+not be denied. Even Kingswell and William Trigget were for making some
+sort of attack upon the hidden band beyond the river. D'Antons, contrary
+to his habit, had nothing to say either for or against an aggressive
+movement. Sir Ralph was for quietly and cautiously awaiting development;
+but, seeing the spirit of the men, he agreed that five of the garrison
+should sally forth in search of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom I have not a doubt you'll find," concluded the baronet, wearily,
+"though what the devil you'll do with them then is more than I can
+venture to predict."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>Under William Trigget's supervision, one of the cannon was taken from
+the platform and mounted on a heavy and solid flat of logs, and that, in
+turn, was placed on a sled. On the same sled were fastened rammers and
+mops and bags of powder and shot. The daring party was made up of Master
+Kingswell, William Trigget, Ouenwa, Tom Bent, and the younger Donnelly.
+D'Antons did not volunteer his services on the expedition. The men were
+all well armed with muskets and cutlasses, and all save Ouenwa had
+fastened steel breastplates under their coats. As they marched away,
+Mistress Westleigh waved them "Godspeed" with a scarf of Spanish lace,
+from where she stood in the open gate between her father and Captain
+d'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>The little party moved down the bank and across the river slowly and
+with commendable caution. Trigget and Kingswell walked ahead, and kept a
+sharp lookout on the dark edges of the forest. Donnelly and Tom Bent
+followed about ten paces behind, dragging the gun. Ouenwa scouted along
+on the left, with a musket and a lighted match, which he feared far
+worse than he did any number of Beothic warriors. The river was crossed
+without accident on the wide trail left by the enemy's retreat.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE CLOVEN HOOF</span></h2>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph Westleigh was in the storehouse, Maggie Stone was gossiping
+with Dame Trigget, and Beatrix was alone by the fire when Captain
+d'Antons rapped on the cabin door, and entered without waiting for a
+summons. He was dressed in his bravest suit and finest boots. After
+closing the door behind him, he bowed low to the girl at the farther end
+of the room. She instantly stood up and curtseyed with a deal of grace,
+but no warmth whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"My father is not in, Captain d'Antons," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled and approached her with every show of deference.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, mademoiselle," he murmured, "I have not come to see the good
+baronet. I have come to learn my fate from the dearest lips in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>The girl blushed crimson, with a tumult of emotions that almost forced
+the tears past her lids.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> Fear, hate, and a reckless joy at the thought
+that she was done with pretence struggled in her heart. She tried to
+speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and accomplished nothing but
+a dry sob.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons' eyes shone with ardour. The hope which had been somewhat
+clouded of late flashed clear again. "Beatrix," he cried, softly, "I
+have wooed you long. Is it not that I have won at last beyond
+peradventure? Do not deny it, my sweet." He caught her to him, and
+attempted to kiss her bright lips; but, with a low cry and a quite
+unexpected display of strength, she wrenched herself from his embrace.
+She did not try to leave the room. She did not call for help. She faced
+him, with flashing eyes and angry cheeks and clinched hands.</p>
+
+<p>The fellow stood uncertain for a moment, showing his chagrin and
+amazement like any country clown. But his recovery was quick. His mouth
+took on a thin smile; his eyes darkened with sinister shadows. He looked
+the girl coolly up and down. He laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"This feigned anger adds to your beauty, Beatrix," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg you to leave me, sir," she replied, trembling. "Your presence is
+distasteful to me."</p>
+
+<p>"A sudden turn," said he. "Now a month ago,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> or even a week ago, you
+seemed of a different mind. As for the days of our first meeting in
+merry London&mdash;ah, then your lips were not so unattainable."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate you," she murmured. "I despise you. I loath you. You taint the
+air for me. Dog, to make a boast of having filched a kiss from a
+light-hearted girl&mdash;who did not know you for the common fellow that you
+are."</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrix," cried the man, "this is no stage comedy. We are not players.
+I have asked you, too many times, to be my wife. I ask you once more.
+You know that your father's life is in my hands. Tell me now, will you
+promise to marry me, or will you let your father go to the gallows in
+the spring, and this plantation be put to the torch? Whatever your
+choice, my beauty, you will accompany me to New Spain next summer. It is
+for you to say whether you go as my wife or my mistress."</p>
+
+<p>At that the girl's face went white as paper. But her eyes were steady.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons lowered his gaze. He was half-ashamed, nay, more than that, of
+his words.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be hard to say," she replied, very softly, "which would be the
+most dishonourable position for an English gentlewoman to occupy. That
+of your wife, I think, monsieur&mdash;for, as your wife, she would be known
+by your name."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>His shame leaped to anger at that soft-spoken insult. He caught her
+roughly by the wrists.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," she said, "you must be more gentle. You seem to forget that you
+are not sacking a defenceless town. Also, you forget that you have not a
+friend or a follower in this wilderness, and that any man or woman in
+the fort would shoot you down like a dog at a word from me."</p>
+
+<p>For a little while they eyed each other steadily enough&mdash;her face still
+beautiful despite the bantering cruelty of lips and eyes, and the
+loathing in every line of it; his the face of a devil. Then, with a
+muttered oath, he closed his fingers on her tender flesh, pressing with
+all his strength.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my fine lady," he cried, harshly, "you think yourself strong enough
+to flout Pierre d'Antons, do you? Strong enough to spurn the protection
+of a soldier and a gentleman! Cry now for your girl-faced Kingswell&mdash;for
+your golden-haired fellow countryman."</p>
+
+<p>By that even her lips were colourless, and her eyes were wet. "There is
+no need," she said, bravely, "for I hear my father at the door."</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons dropped her wrists and took a backward step. In doing so, his
+heel struck the leg of a stool, and the scabbard of his sword rang
+discordantly. He reeled, recovering himself just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Sir Ralph crossed
+the threshold. Before either of the men had time to speak, Beatrix
+darted forward and struck the Frenchman savagely across the face with
+her open hand. Then, without a word of either explanation or greeting to
+her father, she passed D'Antons swiftly, sped down the length of the
+room, and entered her own chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this mean, captain?" inquired the baronet, coldly. D'Antons,
+scarcely recovered from the blow, strode toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it mean?" he cried. "It means, my fine old cock, that your
+neck will be pulled out of joint when we get away from this
+God-forgotten desolation. Ah, you liar, why did I not have you strung up
+to a yard-arm when you were safely in my power? Stab me, but I've been
+too soft&mdash;and my reward is insults from the wench of an exiled
+card-cheat and murderer."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was raised almost to a scream. His face quivered with passion.
+He thrust it within a few inches of the baronet's.</p>
+
+<p>"Liar and cheat," he cried, furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Softly, softly," replied Sir Ralph. "I cannot abide being bawled at in
+my own house, especially by such scum of a French muck heap as you. Keep
+your distance, fellow, or, by God, I'll do you a hurt. What's this!
+You'd presume?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>They withdrew on the instant. The two swords came clear in the same
+second of time.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Gabier de potence</i>," cried D'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Canaille</i>," replied the baronet, blandly. Evidently the rasp of the
+steel had mended his temper. He even smiled a little at his adoption of
+his adversary's mother-tongue.</p>
+
+<p>The men were excellently matched as swordsmen. But not more than half a
+dozen passes had been made and parried before Beatrix ran into the room,
+crying to them to put up their swords.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back," said the baronet, with his eyes on D'Antons, "go back to your
+room, my daughter, and make a prayer for this fellow's soul. It will
+soon stand in need of a petition for God's mercy."</p>
+
+<p>The girl went softly back and closed the door, in an effort to shut out
+the rasping and metallic striking of the blades. She prayed, but for
+strength to her father's wrist and not for the Frenchman's soul. She was
+afraid&mdash;desperately afraid. The truth of her father's skill in French
+sword-play had been kept from her. To her he was but a courteous,
+middle-aged gentleman who needed her care, and who had been maligned and
+robbed by the world into which he had been born. He was a good father.
+He had been a loving and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>considerate husband. She knelt beside her bed
+and beseeched God to succour him in this desperate strait.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime the fight went on in the outer room with more the air of
+a harmless bout for practice than a duel to the death. It was altogether
+a question of point and point, in the Continental manner, perfectly free
+from the swinging attack and clanging defence of the English style. The
+combatants were cool, to judge by appearances. Neither seemed in any
+hurry. The thrusts and lunges, though in fact as quick as thought, were
+delivered with a manner suggestive of elegant leisure.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you have the advantage of me by about three inches of steel,"
+remarked the baronet, diverting a lightning thrust from its intended
+course.</p>
+
+<p>"A chance of the game," replied D'Antons, smiling grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the baronet's foot slipped on the edge of a book of verses
+which Mistress Beatrix had left on the floor. For a second he was
+swerved from his balance; and, when he recovered, it was to feel the
+warm blood running down his breast from a slight incision in his left
+shoulder. But his recovery was as masterly as it was swift, and the
+Frenchman found himself more severely pressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> than before, despite the
+advantage he possessed in the superior length of his sword. The little
+wound counted for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Just what the outcome of the fight would have been, if an untimely
+interruption in the person of Maggie Stone had not intervened, it is
+hard to say. Perhaps D'Antons' youth would have claimed the victory in
+the long run, or perhaps the baronet's excellent composure. In skill
+they were nicely matched, though the Englishman displayed superiority
+enough to even the difference in the length of the blades. But why take
+time for idle surmises? Maggie Stone, looking in, all unheeded, at the
+open door, saw her beloved master engaged in a desperate combat with a
+person whom she despised as well as feared. She saw the sodden stain of
+blood on her master's doublet. In her hand she held a skillet which she
+had just borrowed from Dame Trigget. Without waiting to announce
+herself, she rushed into the room and dealt Captain d'Antons a
+resounding whack on the head with the iron bowl of the utensil. The long
+sword fell from the benumbed fingers and clanged on the floor. With a
+low, guttural cry, the Frenchman followed it, and sprawled, unconscious,
+at the feet of the surprised and indignant baronet.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH</span></h2>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell and his party returned from their daring reconnoitre
+early in the afternoon. They had not met with the enemy, though they had
+found the camp and torn down the temporary lodges. After that they had
+followed the broad trail of the retreat for several miles, and had
+discharged the cannon twice into the inscrutable woods. Their daring had
+been rewarded by the capture of about two hundred pounds of smoked
+salmon and dried venison.</p>
+
+<p>Both Kingswell and William Trigget were unable to account for the fact
+that the savages had not attacked them in the cover of the woods. In
+reality they owed their bloodless victory to the presence of the little
+cannon. That third and last discharge of slugs, on the day of the big
+fight, had killed three of the braves, wounded five more, and inspired
+an hysterical terror in the hearts of the rest. But for that, the hidden
+enemy would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> not have been content with playing a waiting game and with
+the attempted killing of one man each night; and neither would they have
+retired, so undemonstratively, before the advance of the five. But,
+despite their fear of the cannon, they had no intention of giving up the
+siege of the fort. They placed trust in the darkness of night and their
+own cunning.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell and the elder Trigget were drawn aside by Sir Ralph. The
+baronet looked less care-haunted than he had for years.</p>
+
+<p>"D'Antons and I have broken our truce," he whispered, "and behold, the
+heavens have not fallen,&mdash;nor even the poor defences of this
+plantation." He smiled cheerfully. "The great captain alone has come to
+grief," he added. "Maggie Stone saved him from my hand by felling him
+herself with some sort of stew-pan. I was frantically angry at the time,
+but am glad now that I did not have to kill the rogue."</p>
+
+<p>"Such cattle are better dead, sir," remarked Trigget, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"I grant you that, my good William," replied Sir Ralph, "but he is
+harmless as a new-born babe, after all&mdash;and we'll see that he remains
+so."</p>
+
+<p>Then he told them the story of the duel, and of what had led to it.
+Kingswell flushed and paled.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>"God's mercy!" he cried, "but I would I had been in your boots, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd have died in them, more than likely," replied the baronet, laying
+a hand on the other's shoulder. "D'Antons has a rare knowledge of
+swordsmanship, and eye and wrist to back it with."</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," replied Kingswell, "it would have been&mdash;it would have been a
+pleasure to die in such a cause." He blushed, and hurriedly added, "But
+I doubt if he'd have killed me, for all his gimcrackery and
+side-stepping. I've seen such gentry hopping and poking for hours, when
+one good cut from the shoulder would have ended their tricks."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet smiled kindly, though with a tinge of sadness. "Ah, what a
+fine thing is the heart of youth," he said, "and the confidence of
+youth. I even bow to the ignorance of youth. But, my dear boy, valour
+and confidence are not more than half the battle, after all. The edge is
+a fine thing, and has spilled a deal of blood since the hammering of the
+first sword; but the point becomes no less deadly simply because one
+stout young Englishman is ignorant of its potency. Lad, if it were not
+that I have won the distinction&mdash;beside many a less enviable one&mdash;of
+being the best swordsman in England, I could not have withstood
+D'Antons'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> play for long enough to make sure of the colour of his eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell felt like a fool, and did not know which way to turn his
+abashed countenance. Both Sir Ralph and Trigget felt sorry for him.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can assure you, Bernard," said the former, "that, if it came to a
+matter of cutlasses, neither the Frenchman nor I would stand up for long
+against either you or Trigget."</p>
+
+<p>"It is kind of you to say so," replied Kingswell, staring over the
+baronet's shoulder at nothing in particular, "but I haven't a doubt that
+even Maggie Stone, with her stew-pan, would be more than a match for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget laughed boisterously at that. "We must ease the young
+gentleman's temper, sir," he said to the baronet. "I have a pair of
+singlesticks."</p>
+
+<p>"Get them," said the baronet. He slipped his hand under Kingswell's arm
+and led him into the cabin. Beatrix welcomed him cordially, with a shy
+compliment to his bravery thrown in. The youth immediately felt better
+in his pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Say nothing of D'Antons, or the duel," Sir Ralph whispered in his ear.
+"He is safe in his own bed, being nursed conscientiously, if not
+over-tenderly, by Maggie Stone."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>Kingswell seated himself beside Mistress Beatrix on the bench by the
+fire. He noticed that she had been weeping. Her eyes seemed all the
+brighter for it. He gave her a detailed account of the brief expedition
+from which he had just returned. He told of the cluster of lodges, the
+cooking-fires still burning, the utensils and food scattered about, and
+not a human being in sight.</p>
+
+<p>"And what if you had seen the savages?" she asked. "Surely, four
+Englishmen and a lad could do nothing against such a host?"</p>
+
+<p>"We would have fallen in the first flight of arrows," replied Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you risk it?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man shook his head and laughed. "Some one must take risks," he
+said, "else all warfare would come to a standstill."</p>
+
+<p>The girl was looking down at her hands, and reflectively twisting a
+jewelled ring around and around on one slim finger. "And I wish it would
+with all my heart," she sighed. "Warfare and bloodshed&mdash;they are the
+devil's inventions, and strike innocent and guilty alike."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," replied Kingswell, "there is more harm done to the innocent in
+courts and fine assemblies, and at the sheltered card-tables, than on
+all the battle-fields of the world. War is a good surgeon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and, if he
+sometimes lets the good blood with the bad, why, that's just a risk we
+must accept."</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix raised a flushed face, and eyed him squarely. "You preach like a
+Puritan," she said, "with your condemnation of courts and play. You
+should give my father the benefit of some of your wisdom. His friends
+have all been generous with such help."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell bit his lip, and for an awkward minute studied the toes of his
+moccasins. Presently he looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Her glance softened.</p>
+
+<p>"I am as ignorant of battle-fields as I am of courts," he added. "I am
+ignorant of everything."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was low and bitter. Beatrix laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray do not take it so much to heart," she said. "Nothing is so easily
+mended as ignorance."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to ask Sir Ralph to give me lessons in French sword-play,"
+he said. "Is there nothing that you would teach me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Embroidery," she replied, "and how to brew a Madeira punch."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the baronet opened the door and admitted William Trigget.
+The master <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>mariner carried a pair of stout oak sticks with basket-work
+guards under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Does your education commence so soon?" inquired Beatrix of Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody's does," he replied, with a return of his old confidence. With
+the lady's permission and Sir Ralph's assistance, Trigget and Kingswell
+cleared the middle of the floor of rugs and the table. They removed
+their outer coats. Trigget was the taller, as well as the heavier, of
+the two. Without further preliminaries, they fell on, and the dry
+whacking of the sticks against one another, varied occasionally by the
+muffled thud of wood against cloth, filled the cabin. It was a fine
+display of the English style&mdash;slash, cut, and guard, with never a
+side-step nor retreat. After ten minutes of it, Trigget cried "enough,"
+and stumbled out of the danger zone. His right arm was numb. His
+shoulders and sides ached, and his head swam; Kingswell was without a
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Beatrix nor Sir Ralph, nor yet Trigget, for that matter,
+concealed their astonishment at the result of the bout. "And now, sir,"
+said Kingswell, "I should like a lesson in the other style."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet took down a pair of light, edgeless blades with blunted
+points. After a few words as to the manner of standing, they crossed the
+lithe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> weapons. In a second Kingswell's was jerked from his hand and
+sent bounding across the room. He recovered it without a word and
+returned to the combat. By this time the light was failing. After about
+a dozen passes, he was again disarmed. His gray eyes danced, and he
+laughed gaily as he picked up his weapon.</p>
+
+<p>"I see the way of that trick," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the one-sided engagement with, if possible, more energy
+and eagerness than before. Already he had the attitude and stamping
+manner of attack to perfection. Sir Ralph tested his defence again and
+again without slipping through. Three times he tried the circular,
+twisting stroke with which he had disarmed the novice before without
+success. Wondering, and slightly irritated, he put out fresh efforts,
+and forgot all about his defence. The blades rasped, and rang, and
+whispered. The blunted point was at Kingswell's breast, at his throat,
+at his eyes; but it never touched. And, just as Mistress Beatrix was
+about to bid the combatants cease their exertions, because of the
+gathering dusk, Kingswell's point touched the insignificant but painful
+wound on the baronet's shoulder. With an exclamation, in which disgust,
+pain, and amusement were queerly blended, Sir Ralph dropped his foil to
+the floor.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII.</span> <span class="smaller">EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Captain Pierre d'Antons' injury kept him indoors for ten days. During
+that time he saw nobody but Maggie Stone, Bernard Kingswell, and Ouenwa.
+Kingswell could not help feeling sorry for him, in spite of the enmity
+and distrust in his heart. D'Antons made no mention of how he came by
+his cut head to the young Englishman. He knew that the other knew&mdash;and
+sometimes he wondered how much. He accepted such attentions at
+Kingswell's hand as any fair-hearted man will make to any invalid, with
+what seemed gratitude and humility. But under the mask his blood was
+raging. If his hand trembled while receiving a glass of water from the
+Englishman, it was as much from the effort of restraining an outburst of
+hate as from weakness. Kingswell, clear-sighted by now, suspected the
+real state of the other's feelings.</p>
+
+<p>During the days of D'Antons' inactivity, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> Beothics made three night
+attacks on the fort. Two were repetitions of the one-man demonstrations
+of cunning, in which Clotworthy had met his death and young Trigget had
+received the cut on his arm. Happily both had failed. The third was an
+attack in force, made in that darkest hour just before the first
+stirrings of dawn. By good fortune, both William Trigget and Kingswell
+were dressed and about at the time of the first alarm. They both ran to
+the gun-platform, and there found Tom Bent desperately engaged with two
+savages, who had scaled the stockade over the massed shoulders of their
+fellows. The intruders were speedily hurled backward, they and a portion
+of the breastworks falling on the devoted heads below. At the moment,
+Dame Trigget puffed valiantly up the ladder and handed a torch to her
+husband. In a second the coverings were pulled from the guns. The
+muzzles of the little weapons were declined as far as they would go, and
+the fuses were ignited. Comprehending the trend of affairs, some of the
+enemy let fly their arrows at the little group in the torch's
+illumination. Both William Trigget and Tom Bent were hit, and fell to
+their knees. In the same instant of time the guns belched their flame
+and screaming missiles into the wavering mass of savages. A yell of
+terror and pain, made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> up of many individual cries, followed the reports
+of the guns like an echo.</p>
+
+<p>But along the opposite stockade, things were not going so well for the
+settlers. About a dozen of the enemy had gained foothold on the roof of
+the storehouse, and from there had jumped into the yard, driving Peter
+Harding before them. They were immediately engaged by the Donnellys.
+Torches and lanterns glowed and swung about the edges of the conflict.
+Matters were looking serious for the defenders (who by that time were
+joined by Sir Ralph, Ouenwa, and the redoubtable Maggie Stone) when the
+discharge of artillery across the square turned the courage of the
+attackers to water, and their victory to defeat. Six of them were cut
+down while endeavouring to escape by way of the ladder against the wall
+of the storehouse. The rest got away, but none of them unscathed. With
+that the fight ended, though the defenders kept to their posts until
+broad daylight.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning it was discovered that one of the six warriors who
+remained within the fort was still alive. Sir Ralph had him carried to
+D'Antons' cabin, and his wounds attended to. They were not of a serious
+nature. Black Feather, who was a convalescent by now, recognized a
+bitter enemy in the disabled captive. He was for despatching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> him
+straightway, recalling the bitter days of his slavery and the loss of
+wife and children. He was dragged away by Kingswell, and Ouenwa
+remonstrated with him at some length.</p>
+
+<p>The little garrison had suffered in the brief engagement. William
+Trigget had halted three arrows with his big body. Only one had reached
+the flesh, thanks to his thick garments of wool and hide; but that one
+had cut deep into the muscles of his chest, and the others had bruised
+his ribs. Tom Bent was more seriously injured, with a gaping slash in
+the side of his neck. Young Peter Harding was laid on his back with a
+cracked rib, dealt him by a stone-headed axe, and seemed in a fair way
+to remain on the sick-list for some time to come.</p>
+
+<p>The dead Beothics were carried out and buried in a shallow grave near
+the honest Clotworthy's desolate resting-place.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident, from the smoke above the woods, that the enemy were
+still maintaining the siege, and at even closer range than before. The
+continual sight of that evidence of their presence, and the idleness due
+to confinement within a few hundred yards of the stockade, began to tell
+on the spirits of the settlers. It became a matter of difficulty to
+forget the wounded men in such restricted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> quarters. Bandages and
+salves, gruels and plasters, seemed to pervade every corner. Every one
+who was not an invalid was a nurse. In addition, the lack of fresh meat
+was beginning to be felt. Sir Ralph, who had seemed more cheerful just
+after his affair with D'Antons, was fallen back on his black moods.
+Mistress Beatrix's cheeks and eyes were losing something of their
+radiance, though she carried herself bravely and cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell, who had a knack with bandages and such, found his time
+fully occupied. He inspected all the wounded twice a day, and he and
+Ouenwa took entire charge of D'Antons and the captured Beothic. His only
+recreation was a few hours of each afternoon or evening spent with the
+Westleighs. He and the baronet fenced, if the visit happened to be paid
+during the day; if in the evening, they sometimes played chess, or,
+better still, the baronet paced the room in uneasy meditation, and the
+youth and the maiden bent their young heads above the pieces of carved
+ivory.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the girl's laughter and hospitality, Kingswell detected an
+aloofness toward him that had not been noticeable during the first days
+of their acquaintance. The thing was very fine&mdash;so fine that it was
+scarcely a matter of attitude or manner. One of duller perception would
+have missed it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>altogether. It was in no wise a physical aloofness, save
+in a certain reservation in the glance of the eye and the softer notes
+of the voice. But it worried the young man. He felt that he had failed
+in something&mdash;that she had set a standard for him, and that he had not
+risen to it. With native shrewdness, he suspected that she considered
+him crude and conceited. He knew that she considered him brave, and that
+she admired his courage; but he was equally sure that his prowess with
+the singlesticks against Trigget, and his increasing dexterity with the
+rapier, did not tell in his favour in her eyes. "Women are evidently as
+unreasonable as the poets depict them," he decided, and tried to acquire
+a modest demeanour. But the ability to do so had not been born in him,
+and no matter how low and self-abasing his speech, pride shone in his
+clear eyes and self-confidence was in the carriage of head and
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet's attitude toward Master Kingswell became more affectionate
+every day. He recognized the sterling qualities in the youth,&mdash;the
+honesty, courage, and loyalty, as well as the physical and mental gifts
+of quick eye and wrist and clear brain. He derived no little comfort
+from his presence in the fort. He felt that in this golden-haired son of
+the Bristol merchant-knight his daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> had a second guardian. He knew
+that the Kingswell blood, though not noble by the rating of the College
+of Heralds, was to be depended on as surely as any in England. In
+happier times he had known and enjoyed a certain amount of familiarity
+with the elder Kingswell, and had found the broad-minded merchant's
+heart as sound as his self-imported wines. He remembered the wife, too,
+as a person of distinction and kindliness.</p>
+
+<p>For his own part, the baronet realized more surely, with the passing of
+each narrow day, that life offered no further allurement to him. The
+slight exhilaration that had followed the defiance and defeat of
+D'Antons was of no more lasting a quality than the flavour of a vintage.
+The Frenchman was harmless, poor devil, like the rest of them; and in as
+fair a way as himself to leave his bones in the wilderness. Yes, he felt
+a twinge of pity for him! He could understand that, to an adventurer
+like D'Antons, unrequited love was the very devil,&mdash;worse, perhaps, than
+the fever of the gaming-table. But of course he felt no regret for
+having put an end (as he believed) to the fellow's audacious suit. His
+regret&mdash;if, indeed, he entertained any concerning so recent an event in
+his career&mdash;was that he had not pricked the buccaneer's bubble of false
+power months before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>&mdash;despite the promise he had made him. But as things
+had turned out,&mdash;as Time had dealt the cards, to use his own words,&mdash;the
+other's behaviour had allowed him to strike without too flagrant a
+breach of his word of honour. He was thankful for that.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX.</span> <span class="smaller">TWO OF A KIND</span></h2>
+
+<p>When Pierre d'Antons was able to move about again, he found himself
+shunned, without disguise, by every one of the inmates of the fort save
+Bernard Kingswell. The West Country sailors, no longer under orders to
+treat him with respect and obedience, simply grunted inaudibly and
+turned their backs when he addressed them. Of course, the door of Sir
+Ralph's habitation was closed against him. He spent almost all his time
+in his own cabin, with the captured and slowly convalescing Beothic for
+companion. He read a great deal, and thought more. Now and again, in a
+fit of chagrin, he would stamp about the room, cursing, crying out for a
+chance of revenge, with clinched hands uplifted. During such paroxysms,
+the Beothic would watch him closely, with understanding in his gaze. The
+savage was no linguist; but hate burns the same signals in eyes of every
+nationality.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>D'Antons continued to suffer from his infatuation for Mistress
+Westleigh. The blow of the skillet had changed nothing of that. Whatever
+his passion lacked in the higher attributes of love, it lacked nothing
+in vitality. It was a madness. It was a bitter desire. How gladly he
+would risk death, fighting for her&mdash;and yet he would not have hesitated
+a moment about killing her happiness, to win his own, had an opportunity
+offered. Self-sacrifice, worshipful devotion, and tenderness were things
+apart from what he considered his love for the beautiful English girl.</p>
+
+<p>In this state of mind he built a hundred wild dreams of carrying her
+away, and of ultimately imprisoning her, should she still be averse to
+his love, in a Southern stronghold. Then a realization of his position
+would come over him and set him stamping and raving. To Kingswell,
+despite the fire in his heart, he showed a contrite and friendly
+exterior. He wondered if he could not turn the young man to some use. He
+gave the matter his attention.</p>
+
+<p>One evening D'Antons told a plaintive story to Kingswell. All through it
+the Englishman was itching to be gone; for he spent no more of his time
+than was absolutely necessary under the Frenchman's roof. But the
+narrator held him with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> a mournful eye. The tale was an alleged history
+of Pierre d'Antons' youth. It dealt with a great family that had fallen
+upon lean years; with a ruinous ch&acirc;teau, a proud and studious father,
+and a saintly mother; with a boyhood of noble dreams and few pleasures;
+with a youth of hard and honourable soldiering wherever the banners of
+France led the way; and with an early manhood of high adventure and
+achievement in the Western colonies.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell listened coldly, though the other's voice fairly trembled with
+emotion. He believed no more of the tale than if he had already heard
+the truth of the matter&mdash;which was, in plain English, that D'Antons was
+the bastard of a blackleg nobleman by a Spanish dancer; that he had
+spent his youth as a pot-boy on French ships, and had won, by courage
+and cunning, to the position of a captain of buccaneers in early
+manhood. The achievements in the Western colonies had been matters of
+the wrecking and plundering of what others had built; the high
+adventures&mdash;God spare me the telling of them!</p>
+
+<p>After Kingswell left him, the pirate fell into one of his reddest moods.
+He was sure that the pink-cheeked youth had not believed a word of his
+story&mdash;had been laughing up his sleeve at the most touching passages. He
+was sorry that he had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> twisted the lad's neck instead of concluding
+the narrative. It was a sheer waste of breath, this artistic lying to
+such a pig's head! He jumped to his feet, with a violence that almost
+startled the Beothic to outcry, and flung himself about the room like a
+madman. He kicked the stolid logs of the walls. He knocked the few
+pieces of furniture out of his erratic course, and spilled his books and
+papers, quills and ink, to the floor: all this without any ringing oaths
+or blistering curses. His rage worked inward, as bodily wounds sometimes
+bleed. It played the devil with his limbs, his features, and his hands,
+but found no ease in articulation. A trickle of blood ran down his chin,
+from where he had set a tooth into his lower lip. Withal, he was such a
+daunting spectacle that Red Cloud, the Beothic, crouched fearfully
+against the wall, and followed his movements with wide eyes; for, though
+a mighty warrior in his own estimation, Red Cloud was a craven at heart.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the tumult of the madness ceased, and the victim of it sank
+languidly into a chair beside the Beothic's couch. He groaned and
+shivered. For awhile he sat limp, with his thin face hidden between his
+hands. Looking up, his eyes met the eyes of the native. In their furtive
+regard, he read that which suggested a new move. Though, owing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> to an
+inborn caution, he had never displayed a knowledge of the Beothic
+language to his fellow settlers, and had refrained from using any words
+of it before Ouenwa, he had picked up a fair idea of it during his
+sojourn at Fort Beatrix. Hitherto he had paid but scant attention to Red
+Cloud, for he entertained the Spanish attitude of intolerance toward
+uncivilized peoples; but now he leaned forward and spoke kindly to his
+companion.</p>
+
+<p>It was late when Kingswell and Ouenwa returned to D'Antons' cabin. Under
+the new order of things, Ouenwa had volunteered his services as
+assistant night-guard of the two prisoners&mdash;for the Frenchman was
+virtually a prisoner. It was their custom to keep watch turn and turn
+about, in two hours' vigils, one sleeping while the other sat in a
+comfortable chair by the hearth. Their couch was also by the hearth.
+This precaution was taken for fear of some treachery on the part of Red
+Cloud.</p>
+
+<p>When the two entered the outer room, the fire was burning brightly, and
+by its ruddy light they saw the muffled figure of the Beothic, face to
+the wall, in the far corner. They shot the bar of the door. When the
+morning was well advanced, they opened windows and door, and replenished
+the fire. Kingswell drew aside the curtain between the rooms, and looked
+in to see how D'Antons was faring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> His fire was out and he was still
+abed. Kingswell moved noiselessly across the floor and peered close.
+What an awkward figure the graceful buccaneer cut in his sleep! He laid
+his hand on the shapeless shoulder. It encountered nothing but yielding
+pelts and blankets. He dragged the things to the floor frantically. His
+exclamation brought Ouenwa to his side. The Englishman pointed a finger
+of dismay at the demolished dummy.</p>
+
+<p>"Tricked!" he cried. "Rip me, but what a fine jailer I am!" They rushed
+back to the other room and investigated the figure on the Beothic's
+couch. That, too, proved to be a shape of rolled furs and bedding. Red
+Cloud also had faded away.</p>
+
+<p>News of the disappearance of D'Antons and the savage went through the
+fort like an electric current. The settlers were more interested and
+surprised over it than concerned. Even the invalids sat up and
+conjectured on the captain's object in fleeing to the outer wilderness,
+and the doubtful but inevitable reception by the natives. They could
+hardly bring themselves to the belief that he and Red Cloud had gone as
+fellow conspirators, remembering the haughty Frenchman's bearing toward
+the aborigines with whom he had traded on occasions.</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget shook his head when he heard the story, and rated the
+men who had been on duty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> along the palisade with unsparing frankness.
+Sir Ralph looked worried, and Mistress Beatrix looked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems a very simple trick," she murmured, "to bundle up a few
+blankets into lifelike effigies, and then to slip away while the jailer
+is elsewhere spending a social evening."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell flushed hotly, and looked at the girl steadily; but he failed
+to meet her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "they slipped away while two men were on guard along the
+walls, and while the self-appointed jailer, who has not had four hours'
+sleep in any night in the past three weeks, was playing chess with your
+ladyship."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure it is no loss to us," interposed the baronet quickly. "We
+have no use for the savage; and as to D'Antons&mdash;why, if the enemy kill
+him, it will save some one else the trouble. But I cannot help wondering
+at him taking so dangerous a risk. If he had been on friendly terms with
+the natives at any time, one would have a clue. But he always treated
+them like dogs."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell turned a casual shoulder toward the lady, and gave all his
+attention to the baronet and the affair of the Frenchman. The blush of
+shame had gone, leaving his face unusually pale. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> eyes, also, showed
+a change&mdash;a chilling from blue to gray, with a surface glitter and a
+shadow behind.</p>
+
+<p>"You may be sure," he replied to Sir Ralph, "that D'Antons has taken
+what he considers the lesser risk. I'll wager he has won the savage to
+him, hand and heart. I was a fool not to have removed Red Cloud to one
+of the other huts."</p>
+
+<p>"He was kept to D'Antons' cabin by my orders," said the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>"I had forgotten that," replied Kingswell. "Then I am not the only
+scapegrace of the community."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet's face lighted whimsically, and he smiled at the young man.
+But the girl did not receive the implication in the same spirit. She
+stared at the speaker as if he were some surprising species of bird that
+had flown in at the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a remark rings dangerously of insubordination," she exclaimed,
+"not to mention the impertinence of it."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph looked at her, completely puzzled, and murmured a
+remonstrance. It is a wise father that knows his own daughter. Kingswell
+turned an expressionless face toward the fire for a moment. Then he
+bowed to Sir Ralph. "If I am guilty of impertinence, sir, I humbly crave
+your pardon," he said. "As to insubordination&mdash;why, I believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> there is
+nothing to say on that head, as I am a free agent; but I think you
+understand, sir, that I and my men are entirely at your service, as we
+have been ever since the day we first accepted the hospitality of Fort
+Beatrix. My men, at least, have not failed in any duty, whatever my
+delinquencies."</p>
+
+<p>With an exclamation of sincere concern, the baronet stepped close to his
+friend and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard&mdash;my dear lad&mdash;why all this talk of pardon, and duty, and
+delinquencies, and God knows what else? If you believe that I consider
+you guilty of any carelessness, you must think me ungrateful indeed."</p>
+
+<p>His voice, his look, his gesture, all convinced Kingswell that the words
+were sincere, and so did something toward the mending of his injured
+feelings. To the baronet, his eyes brightened and his manner unbent. He
+took his departure immediately after.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph turned to his daughter as the door closed behind Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand your treatment of him," he said. "Surely you
+realize that he is a friend&mdash;and friends are not so common that we can
+afford to flout them at every turn." He did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> speak angrily, but the
+girl saw plainly enough that he was seriously displeased.</p>
+
+<p>"The boy is so insufferably self-satisfied," she explained, weakly. "How
+indignation would have burned within him had some one else allowed the
+prisoners to escape."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet gazed at her pensively for several seconds, and then took
+her hand tenderly between his own.</p>
+
+<p>"You do the brave lad an injustice, my sweeting," he said. "What you
+take for conceit is just youth, and strength, and fearlessness, and a
+clean conscience. He has nothing of the braggart in him&mdash;not a hint of
+it. I am sorry you like him so little, my daughter, for he is a good lad
+and well-disposed toward us."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XX.</span> <span class="smaller">BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER</span></h2>
+
+<p>For a time after D'Antons' departure into the unknown, the little
+garrison of Fort Beatrix turned day into night. Not a man indulged in so
+much as a wink of sleep between the hours of dusk and dawn; but from
+sunrise until afternoon the place was as if it lay under an enchantment
+of slumber. On the sixth day after the flight of the Frenchman and Red
+Cloud, Ouenwa approached Kingswell with a request to be allowed to leave
+the fort, in company with Black Feather. He told how Black Feather was
+of the opinion that many of the tribesmen were against the leadership of
+Panounia, and that, if they could be found, it would be an easy matter
+for Ouenwa to win their support. He, Ouenwa, was of the blood of the
+greatest chief they had ever known. They would gather to the totem of
+the Bear. Assured of the friendship of the English people, they could be
+brought to the rescue of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> the settlement. So Black Feather had told the
+tale to Ouenwa, and so Ouenwa believed.</p>
+
+<p>"And you would have to go with Black Feather?" inquired Kingswell, none
+too cheerfully; for he looked upon the lad as a very dear younger
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Truly, my friend-chief, for I am the grandson of Soft Hand," replied
+the boy. "When they see me, their blood will rise at the memory of Soft
+Hand's murder. I will talk great words of my love for the English, and
+of my hatred for Panounia, and of the great trading that will be done at
+the fort when the night-howlers have been driven away. Thus we shall all
+be saved&mdash;thus Mistress Beatrix shall escape capture."</p>
+
+<p>At that Kingswell started and eyed his companion keenly. "You think
+Panounia can break into the fort?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa smiled. "Hunger can do it before the snow melts," he replied,
+"and hunger will fight for Panounia and the black captain."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know of the black captain?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is with the night-howlers. He will keep their courage warm. He will
+struggle many times to bring us to our deaths and to capture the lady.
+That is all I know."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"But how do you know so much, lad?" asked Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa looked surprised. "How could I know less, who dwelt within
+eyeshot of the black captain for so many days, and who have learned the
+ways of such wolves?" he asked, in his turn. "You know it already
+without my telling, friend-chief," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us to Sir Ralph for his advice," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>Master Kingswell had not crossed the threshold of the baronet's cabin
+since the time of his rebuff at the hands of Mistress Beatrix. Of course
+he had seen the baronet frequently, and they had smoked some pipes of
+tobacco together by the hearth of the departed Frenchman; but from the
+presence of the lady he had kept off as from a lazaretto. At the voice
+of duty, however, he sought the baronet in his own house with excellent
+composure. Anger at the knowledge that a girl could hurt him so nerved
+him to accept the risk of again seeing the displeasure in her dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mistress Beatrix was not in the living-room when they entered. Sir Ralph
+welcomed them cordially. Upon hearing Ouenwa's and Black Feather's plan
+for winning some of the tribesmen to the succour of the fort, he was
+deeply moved. He took a ring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> from his own hand and slipped it over one
+of Ouenwa's fingers. He gave the lad a fine hunting-knife for Black
+Feather, and a Spanish dagger for himself. He told Kingswell to supply
+them unstintingly from the store, with provisions and clothing for
+themselves and gifts for the natives whom they hoped to win.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a chance," said he to Kingswell. "A chance of our salvation, and
+the only one, as far as I can see."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Mistress Beatrix entered the room. At sight of the
+visitors by the chimney, she swept a grand curtsey. The visitors bowed
+low in return. Her father advanced and led her, with the manner of those
+days, to his own chair beside the hearth. He told her, in a few words,
+of the venture upon which Ouenwa and Black Feather intended to set
+forth. The thought of it stirred the girl, and she looked on Ouenwa with
+shining eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a deed for the great knights of old," she said. "Lad, where have
+you learned your bravery?"</p>
+
+<p>Unabashed, Ouenwa stood erect before her. "Half of it is the blood of my
+fathers," he replied, "and half is the teaching of Master Kingswell&mdash;and
+half I gather from your eyes."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>The girl flushed with suppressed merriment. The baronet concealed his
+lips with his hand. Kingswell clutched his outspoken friend by the
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother, you have named one-half too many," he said, laughing, "so your
+reason will carry more weight if you leave out that in which you mention
+my teaching. But come, we must find Black Feather, and make arrangements
+to leave as soon as dusk falls."</p>
+
+<p>At that Beatrix tightened her hands on the arms of the chair and turned
+a startled face toward the speaker. "Surely, sir, you do not mean to
+leave us, too!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Neither the baronet nor Kingswell were looking at her; but Ouenwa saw
+the expression of eyes and lips. Kingswell, however, did not miss the
+note of anxiety in the clear young voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not go with them, mistress," he said, "because my company would
+only delay their movements. And perhaps even spoil their plans. I am a
+poor woodsman&mdash;and already our garrison is none too heavily manned."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you are not going," replied the girl, quietly. "I am sure
+that my father looks upon you as his right hand, and that the men need
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph looked at his daughter with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>ill-concealed surprise.
+Kingswell, murmuring polite acknowledgment of her gracious words, strove
+to get a clearer view of her half-averted face. He failed. Ouenwa was
+the only one of the three who knew that the words were sincere; but he
+had the advantage of his superiors in having caught sight of the sudden
+fear in the lady's face.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph and Kingswell lowered the light packs over the stockade to
+Ouenwa and the big warrior. When the figures merged into the gloom,
+heading northward, the two commanders descended from the storehouse and
+entered the baronet's cabin. Beatrix was by the fire, radiant in fine
+apparel.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in no mood for chess," said Sir Ralph. "The thought of those two
+brave fellows stealing through the dark and cold fidgets me beyond
+belief."</p>
+
+<p>He began his quarter-deck pacing of the floor&mdash;up and down, up and down,
+with his head thrust forward and his hands gripped behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>"The wind is rising," said the girl to Kingswell. "It will be bleak in
+the forest to-night&mdash;away from the fire."</p>
+
+<p>She shivered, and held her jewelled hands to the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>"It is blowing for a storm," replied the young man. "The sky was clouded
+over when they left. 'Tis safer for them so. The snow will cover their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
+trail and, very likely, will keep the enemy from prowling abroad for a
+good many hours to come."</p>
+
+<p>Mistress Beatrix crossed the room to a cupboard in the wall, and from it
+produced a violin. Kingswell stood by the chimney, watching her. The
+baronet continued his nervous pacing of the floor. The girl touched the
+strings here and there with skilful fingers, resined the bow, and then
+returned to the hearth and stood with her eyes on the fire. Suddenly she
+looked up at Kingswell. Her eyes were as he had never seen them before.
+They were full of firelight and dream. They were brighter than jewels,
+and yet dark as the heart of a deep water.</p>
+
+<p>"Please do not stand," she said, and her voice, though free from any
+suggestion of indifference, sounded as if her whole being were far from
+that simple room. Her gaze returned to the fire. Kingswell quietly
+reseated himself; and at that she nestled her chin to the glowing
+instrument and drew the bow lightly, lovingly, almost inquiringly,
+across the strings. A whisper of melody followed the touch and sang
+clearer and more human than any human voice, and melted into the
+firelight.</p>
+
+<p>At the first strain of the music, the baronet sat down and reclined
+comfortably with his head against the back of his chair. For awhile he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>
+watched his daughter intently; then he turned his eyes to the heart of
+the fire and journeyed far in a waking dream.</p>
+
+<p>The girl played on and on, weaving enchantments of peace with the magic
+strings. Kingswell, leaning back with his face in the shadow, could not
+look away from her. The minutes drifted by unheeded behind the singing
+of the violin. The candles on the table flared at their sockets. The
+logs on the hearth broke, and the flames sprang to new life. Outside the
+wind raced and shouldered along the walls. And suddenly the player
+stilled her hand, and, without a word to either of the men, took up one
+of the guttering candles from the table and went quickly to her own
+chamber. She carried the fiddle with her against her young breast, and
+the bow like a wand in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph started and sat erect in his chair. Kingswell got to his feet
+with a sigh, and lifted his heavy cloak from the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go the rounds," he said. "Good night, sir."</p>
+
+<p>With that he went out into the swirling eddies of the storm. The baronet
+sat still for another hour. The music had uncovered so many ghosts of
+joy and song, of love and hate and shame. It had rung upon past glories
+and called up more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>recent dishonours. And still another matter occupied
+his mind, and was finally dismissed with a smile and a yawn. It was that
+Beatrix had indulged in one of her deliriums of music in young
+Kingswell's presence, and that she had never before played in any mood
+but the lightest in the hearing of a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell paced beside the sentry at the drifted gate; but he kept his
+thoughts to the picture of the girl, the glowing fiddle, and the music
+and firelight that had seemed to pulse and spread together about the
+long room. Again he saw the candle flames leap high and waver, as if
+lured from their tethers by the crying of the instrument. But clearest
+of all was the player's face. His heart was filled to suffocation at the
+memory of it. Had other men seen her so beautiful? Had other men heard
+her soul and her dear heart singing and crying from the strings of the
+violin?</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN</span></h2>
+
+<p>Ouenwa and Black Feather turned their faces from the little fort and the
+hostile camp beyond the white river, and set bravely forward into the
+darkness. Black Feather led the way, avoiding hummocks, bending and
+twisting through the coverts, crossing the open glades like a
+shadow&mdash;and all without any noise except the scarcely audible padding of
+his stringed shoes. Ouenwa trod close after. They had not gone far
+before the snow began to fall and puff around them in blinding clouds.
+The trees bent tensely under the lash of the wind. More than one
+frost-embrittled spire came crashing down. Still the warrior and the lad
+held on their journey, for they were both fresh and strong, and eager to
+widen the spaces of wilderness between themselves and the camp of
+Panounia.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly before dawn they dug a trench in the snow on the leeward side of
+a thicket of low spruces, broke fir-branches for a bed, built a fire
+between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> the walls of white, and cooked and ate a frugal repast, and
+then rolled themselves in their rugs of skin and fell asleep. They had
+no fear that any of Panounia's people would disturb their slumbers. They
+lay as motionless and unknowing as logs for several hours. Then Ouenwa
+turned over and yawned, and Black Feather sat up, wide-awake in an
+instant. The morning was bright and unclouded. The white sun was
+half-way up the blue shell of the eastern sky. All around the new snow
+lay in feathery depths. On the dark firs and spruces it clung in even
+masses, which showed that the wind had died down long before the flakes
+had ceased to fall. Ouenwa and his comrade ate frugally of cold meat and
+bread, swallowed some brandy and water, and resumed their journey.</p>
+
+<p>Not until the afternoon of the third day following their departure from
+Fort Beatrix did the travellers sight the smoke of a fire. It was Black
+Feather, attaining the summit of a ridge a few paces ahead of Ouenwa,
+who caught the first sight of the thin, melting signal of human life. It
+wavered up from a wood in a valley a few hundred of yards in front. On
+their right hand lay the ice-edged gray waters of an arm of the sea. On
+their left stretched dark forest and empty barren to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> mountainous
+horizon. In front lay hope, and behind the spur of menace.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a village yonder?" asked Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather replied negatively.</p>
+
+<p>"The stream is Little Thunder," he said, in his own language, "and there
+was no lodge there when last I saw it. We will approach under the
+shelter of those spruces in the hollow. It makes the journey a few paces
+longer, and perhaps the arrival twenty times safer."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa nodded his sympathy with the caution expressed by his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"But let us hurry," he said. "Remember that around the stockade the
+black captain is ever stirring the courage of the night-howlers."</p>
+
+<p>At last, creeping on all fours, they peered from the screen of brush
+into a tiny clearing on the north bank of Little Thunder. The stream was
+not ten yards across at this point. On its white surface ran several
+trails of snow-shoes. The smoke which had attracted them to the place
+curled up from the apex of a large, bark-roofed wigwam. As the
+travellers watched, an old woman appeared in the doorway of the lodge.
+Ouenwa recognized her as a wise herb-doctor who had been a friend and
+adviser of Soft Hand. He whispered the information to Black Feather.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"Then we may show ourselves," said the other, "for if this woman was
+the great chief's friend you may be sure that death has only
+strengthened her loyalty. It is so with women&mdash;with the wise and the
+foolish alike. A man will stand close to his comrade in the days of his
+glory and in the press of battle; but it is the squaw who keeps the
+fallen shield freshly painted and the cause of the departed ever before
+the matters of the present day. A man must have the reward of his
+friend's praise and the joy of his companionship; but a woman makes a
+god of the departed spirit and looks for her reward beyond the red
+gates."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa had nothing to say to his friend's sage reflections, for all he
+knew of women was that a radiant creature far back in Fort Beatrix had
+his heart in thrall. So he led the way from cover, and down the bank, in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>The old squaw in the doorway of the lodge caught sight of them
+immediately. She turned into the dark interior of the wigwam, but
+appeared before they were half-way across the frozen stream, with a bow
+in her hand and an arrow on the string. Black Feather and the lad raised
+their right hands, palms forward, above their heads, and continued to
+advance. The old hag lowered her weapon, but did not relax her attitude
+of vigilance. Close<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> to the rise of the bank the travellers paused, and
+the lad called out that he was Ouenwa, grandson of Soft Hand, and that
+his companion was Black Feather, the adopted son of Montaw, the
+arrow-maker. At that the guardian of the wigwam forsook her post and
+advanced to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>The herb-doctor, who had been one of Soft Hand's advisers, was not
+attractive to the eye. She was bent hideously, though still of
+surprising bodily strength. Her head was uncovered, save for the matted
+locks of hair that clung about it and fell over her ears and neck like a
+wig of gray tree-moss. Her eyes were deep and black and fierce. One
+yellow fang stood like a sentinel in the cavity of her mouth. Her hands
+were claws. Her skin was no lighter in hue and no finer in texture than
+was the tanned leather of her high-legged moccasins. Her garments were
+unusually barbaric&mdash;lynx-skins shapelessly stitched together and hung
+about with belts and charms, and a great knife of flint nearly as long
+as a cutlass. Her corded, scraggy arms hung naked at her sides, as
+indifferent to the nip of the frost as to the regard of strange eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Child," she said, "I heard that you were killed&mdash;that Panounia's men
+had slain you and a party of English; but that I knew to be false, for I
+saw not your spirit with the spirits of your fathers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> So I believed
+that you had crossed the great salt water with the strangers."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa told his story, to which the old woman listened with the keenest
+interest and many nods of the head.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well," she said. "They are scattered now, some in hiding, some
+sullenly obedient to Panounia, and some in captivity. Your need will
+bring them together and awake their sleeping courage. I know of a full
+score of stout warriors who will draw no bow for Panounia, and who are
+all within a day's journey of this spot, but sadly scattered,&mdash;yea,
+scattered in every little hollow, like frightened hares."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you live in this great lodge all by yourself?" inquired Black
+Feather.</p>
+
+<p>"My sons are in the forest, seeing to their snares," replied the woman,
+eying the tall brave sharply, "but within are a sick woman and a small
+child who escaped, ten days ago, from one of Panounia's camps."</p>
+
+<p>She stood aside and motioned them to enter the lodge. Ouenwa went ahead,
+with Black Feather close at his heels. Within, it took them several
+seconds to adjust their eyes to the gloom of smoke and shadow. Presently
+they made out a couch of fir-branches and skins beyond the fire, and on
+it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> a woman, half-reclining, with her arm about a child. Both the woman
+and the child were gazing at the visitors. The child began to whimper.</p>
+
+<p>Black Feather uttered a low cry, and sprang over the fire. He had found
+his squaw and one of his lost children.</p>
+
+<p>The sickness of Black Feather's wife was nothing but the result of
+hardship and ill-treatment. Already, under the herb-doctor's care, she
+was greatly improved. The meeting with her warrior went far to complete
+the cure of the old woman's broths and soft furs. The child was well;
+but the woman knew nothing of the whereabouts of their elder offspring.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa and Black Feather did not tarry long at the lodge beside Little
+Thunder. With the younger of their aged hostess's sons for guide, they
+set out that same day to find the hidden warriors who were against the
+leadership of Panounia.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII.</span> <span class="smaller">BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Back at Fort Beatrix the time passed in weary suspense. The wounded men
+recovered slowly. The enemy remained inactive beyond the river and the
+dark forest. Only the haze of their cooking-fires, melting against the
+sky, told of their presence. The inaction ate into the courage of the
+English men and women like rust. The boat-building and the iron-working
+at the forge were carried on listlessly, and without the old-time spurs
+of song and laughter. Even William Trigget and Tom Bent displayed sombre
+faces to their little world.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Kingswell, however, found life eventful. He was not blind to the
+danger of their position, and he continued to do double duty in
+everything; but for all that he awoke each day with keen anticipation
+for whatever might befall, and, sleeping, dreamed of other things than
+the poised menace and the monotony. Why should he regret Bristol, or any
+other city of the outer world, when Beatrix<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Westleigh was domiciled
+within the rough walls of the fort on Gray Goose River? His heart would
+not descend to those depths of despondency in which lurk fear and
+hopeless anxiety. What power of man, in that wilderness, could break
+down his guard and harm the most wonderful being in the world? The
+girl's brief season of unkindness toward him was as a cloud that her
+later friendliness had dispersed as the sun disperses the morning fog.
+He had caught a glimpse of her heart in her music, in her eyes, in her
+voice, and on several occasions something that had set his heart
+thumping in the touch of her hand. At least she was neither averse nor
+indifferent to his society, and the glances of her magnificent eyes were
+open to translations that set him looking out upon life and that
+wilderness through a golden haze. Let a dozen black-visaged D'Antons
+draw their rapiers upon him&mdash;he would out-thrust, out-play, and
+out-stamp them all! Let a hundred fur-clad savages howl about the
+fort&mdash;he, Bernard Kingswell, with his lady's favour on his breast, would
+scatter them like straw! And all this because, for the first time in his
+life of twenty-one years, he was bitten with love for a woman,&mdash;and
+twenty-one was a fair, manly age in those days. He had won to it
+unknowingly, by the brave paths of adventure and the sea. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> let not
+even the oldest of us criticize his attitude toward life. A man's
+emotions cannot always be herded and driven by the outward circumstances
+of need and danger, like a flock of sheep at the mercy of a dog and a
+dull countryman. That to which cautious Worldliness has given the name
+of madness, from the earliest times, is nothing but a spark of God's own
+courage and imagination in the heart of youth: the years having not yet
+smothered it with the ashes of cowardice and calculation.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Kingswell had never displayed any but an assured front to the
+world. Now this love that had him so irresistibly in its services only
+heightened the confidence of his address toward men and events; but in
+the presence of its inspiration it clothed him in unaccustomed and
+unconscious meekness. You may be sure that Beatrix had been quick to
+notice the change. It pleased her mightily, of course; for was it not a
+greater and a more pleasant matter to have brought a high-hearted,
+adventure-bred youth like this to bondage and slavery than to have a
+dozen idle courtiers bowing before one, and a dozen sentimental poets
+mouthing verses that could, with equal sincerity, be applied to any
+charming lady? So Mistress Beatrix decided, and could not find it in her
+heart to regret the beaux<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> of London Town. But she did not know her
+heart as the man knew his&mdash;and as she knew his.</p>
+
+<p>One morning they walked together along the river-bank, before the open
+gate of the fort. The air was clearer than any crystal. The shadows
+along the snow were bluer than the dome of the sky. The girl talked
+cheerily; for in the bright daytime, with the sounds of peaceful labour
+rising from the fort so close at hand, and with a strong and worshipping
+man, sword-girt, within arm's length, it was hard to remember the menace
+concealed by the southern woods. Her eyes were very bright, and the
+blood mantled under the clear skin of her cheeks at the wind's caress.
+Now and then, for a bar or two, she broke into song.</p>
+
+<p>Their path was one that Kingswell had beaten firm with his snow-shoes,
+after the last storm, expressly as a promenade for Mistress Westleigh.
+It was about a hundred yards in length, and broad enough for two persons
+to walk in abreast, and firm enough to make the wearing of snow-shoes
+unnecessary. It ran north and south, parallel with the stockade and the
+course of the river at that point. When the turn was made at either end
+of the beat, Kingswell's glance searched the horizon and every tree,
+every knoll, and hollow. It was done almost unconsciously, as a
+traveller <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>instinctively loosens his sword in its sheath at the sound of
+voices ahead of him on a dark road.</p>
+
+<p>After a time the girl noticed her companion's vigilance. "What do you
+expect to see?" she asked, touching his arm lightly and swiftly with her
+gloved hand. For a moment he was confused, but recovered his wits with
+an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," he replied, "or surely we would not be walking here."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at that. "Are you afraid?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at her, displayed the desperate condition of his heart in
+his eyes, and then looked back again to the strip of woods that
+approached them along the back.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid," he said&mdash;and then, with a gasp of dismay, he caught
+her and swung her behind him. She did not resist, but cowered against
+his sheltering back.</p>
+
+<p>"We must return to the fort," he said. "Something is going on in that
+covert."</p>
+
+<p>"Come! We will run!" she whispered, pulling at his elbows to turn him
+around.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he replied. "I shall walk backwards, and you must keep behind me,
+and guide me. It is no great matter to avoid an arrow, if one knows in
+what quarter to look for it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>She made no reply. They began the retreat along the narrow branch path
+that led to the gate of the fort, he stepping cautiously, heels first,
+and she pulling at his belt and gazing fearfully past his shoulder at
+the woods. They were within a few yards of the gate when he suddenly put
+his arms behind him, caught her close, and lurched to one side. The
+unexpected movement threw the girl to her knees in the deep snow beside
+the path. Her cry of dismay brought her father and two others from the
+fort. They found Kingswell staggering and confusedly apologizing to
+Beatrix for his roughness. In the thickness of his left shoulder stuck a
+war-arrow. Supporting Kingswell and fairly dragging the frightened girl,
+they rushed back to safety and closed and barred the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour passed without the hidden warriors of Panounia making
+any further signs of hostility, or even of their existence. The watchers
+on the stockade scanned the woods in vain for any movement. A shot was
+fired into the nearest cover from one of the cannon, but without
+apparent effect.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell was on duty again within an hour of the receiving of his
+wound. The ragged cut caused him a deal of pain; but the salve that
+really took the sting and ache out of it was the thought that he had
+been serving Beatrix as a shield when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> the arrow struck him. He went the
+rounds of the stockades with a glowing heart and dauntless bearing, and
+his air of calm assurance put courage into the men. He saw to the
+strengthening of several points of the defence, cleared the loopholes of
+drifted snow, and gave out an extra supply of powder and ball.</p>
+
+<p>It was dusk of that day before Kingswell again saw Mistress Westleigh.
+He was passing the baronet's cabin, and she opened the door and called
+to him shyly. He turned and stepped close to her, the better to see her
+face in the gathering twilight. She extended her hands to him, with a
+quick gesture of invitation. He dropped his heavy gloves on the snow
+before clasping them in eager fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"But you must not stand here, without anything 'round your shoulders,"
+he said; but, for all his solicitude, he maintained his firm hold of her
+hands. She laughed, very softly, and a slight pressure of her fingers
+drove his anxiety to the winds. He would have nothing of evil befall
+her, God knows!&mdash;nay, not so much as a chill&mdash;but how could he keep it
+in his mind that she wore no cloak when his whole being was a-thrill
+with love and worship? So he stood there, speechless, gazing into her
+flushed face. Presently her eyes lowered before his ardent regard.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>"I called to you to thank you for saving my life," she murmured. He had
+nothing to say to that. Perhaps he had saved her life&mdash;and again,
+perhaps he had not. At that moment he was the last person in the world
+to decide the question. His heart and mind were altogether with the
+immediate present. He realized that her hands were strong and yet tender
+to the touch of his. The faint fragrance of her hair was in his brain
+like some divine vintage. The sweet curves of cheek and lips&mdash;how near
+they were! She had called to him with more than kindness in her voice.
+God had made a high heaven of this fort in the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>"You were very brave," she said, leaning nearer ever so slightly. Sweet
+madness completely overthrew the lad's native caution, and he was about
+to catch her to him bodily, when she slipped nimbly into the cabin, and
+left him standing with arms extended in silent invitation toward the
+figure of the imperturbed Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my lad?" inquired the baronet, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening to you, Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, hiding his chagrin
+and confusion with exceeding skill.</p>
+
+<p>"You looked just now as if you were expecting me," said the elder. "Come
+in, come in. We can talk better by the fire."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>Kingswell's blushes were safe in the dusk. He picked up his gloves from
+the trampled snow by the threshold, and silently followed the baronet
+into the fire-lit living-room. Beatrix was not there&mdash;which fact the
+lover noticed with a sinking of the heart. He was alone with her father,
+and evidently under marked suspicion,&mdash;a fearful matter to a young man
+who aspires to the hand of an angel, and has not yet his line of action
+quite laid down. He took a deep breath, trembled at thought of his
+presumption, called the respectability of his parents and his income to
+his aid, and was ready for the baronet when that gentleman turned and
+faced him in front of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"I love your daughter," he said, with his voice not quite so cool and
+manly as he had intended it to be.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph bowed, but said nothing. His back was to the fire, and so his
+face was in heavy shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"I love her very dearly," continued the other. "I believe no man could
+love a woman more, for it is with my whole heart, and with every fibre
+of my being. I know, sir, that my rank is not exalted, and that she is
+the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet raised his hand sharply.</p>
+
+<p>The gesture silenced Kingswell in the middle of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> his sentence more
+effectively than a clap of thunder would have done it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Sir Ralph, harshly, "she is the daughter of a blackleg. She
+is the daughter of a criminal exile. She is the daughter of a broken
+gamester. Ay, Bernard, you do indeed look high,&mdash;you, the son of a
+humble merchant of Bristol."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell was dismayed for the moment. Then, with a hardy oath, he
+slapped his hand to his hip.</p>
+
+<p>"Though she were the daughter of the devil himself," he began, and came
+to a lame stop. The baronet's smile passed unseen. It was a kindly
+smile, and yet a bitter one by the same tokens. Kingswell gave up all
+attempt at politic speech. He had his own feelings to express. "Your
+daughter, sir, is the best and the loveliest," he said, huskily.
+"Whatever your backslidings and misfortunes have been, they can reflect
+in no way on her sweetness, and wisdom, and virtue. But, sir, I do not
+mean to sit in judgment on any man, and last of all on the father of the
+most glorious woman in the world. I remember you in your strength,&mdash;the
+greatest man in the county and my father's noble friend. The world has
+taken a twirl since then, but you may be sure that, whatever betide, my
+heart is with you warmer than my worthy father's ever was."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII.</span> <span class="smaller">BETROTHED</span></h2>
+
+<p>That Bernard Kingswell had accepted the baronet's own estimation of his
+(the baronet's) character so frankly, in the heat of sentimental
+disclosure, did not trouble Sir Ralph by more than a pang or two. What
+else could he expect of even this true friend? He was a broken gamester
+and a criminal exile by all the signs and by the verdict of the law; but
+whether or not he was a blackleg was a matter of opinion and the exact
+definition of that word. He knew that Kingswell was well disposed toward
+him, and that he believed nothing vile or cowardly of him; but, best of
+all, he was sure that, in Kingswell's love, his daughter was fortunate
+beyond his hoping of the past two years. Should they get clear of the
+besieging natives and out of the wilderness, her future happiness,
+safety, and position would be assured. As Mistress Bernard Kingswell,
+she would live close to the colour and finer things of life again,
+gracing some fair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> house as a former Beatrix had done in other days&mdash;to
+wit, the great houses of Beverly and Randon. The mist blurred his eyes
+at that memory and dimmed his vision against the rough log walls around
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Another thought came to the broken baronet, as he sat alone by the
+falling fire, after Kingswell's departure, and awaited his supper and
+the reappearance of his daughter. The thought was like a black shadow
+between his face and the comforting fir sticks&mdash;between his heart and
+the knowledge of a good man's love and protection for Beatrix. Knowing
+the girl as he did, he felt sure that she would never leave him, her
+exiled father, even at the call of a more compelling love; and, as a
+return to his own country meant prison or death to him, she would hold
+to the wilderness, thereby leaving the new-found happiness untouched. On
+the other hand, should death come to him soon, and in the
+wilderness,&mdash;by the arrows of the enemy, for choice,&mdash;his daughter's
+fetters would be filed for ever. He sank his face between his hands. The
+desire to live out one's time clings about a man's vitals against all
+reason. Even an exiled and broken gamester, stockaded in a nameless
+wilderness and hemmed in by savages, finds a certain zest in day and
+night and the winds of heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> With nothing to live for&mdash;even with the
+scales decidedly the other way&mdash;Death still presents an uninviting face.
+It may be the inscrutable mask of him that fills with distrust the heart
+of the man who contemplates the Long Journey. In that inevitable yet
+mysterious figure, showing as no more than a shadow between the bed and
+the window, it is hard for the sinful mortal, no matter how repentant,
+to read clear the promise of eternal peace. What dark deed might not be
+perpetrated by the shrouded messenger between the death-bed and
+Paradise?</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph bowed his head between his palms, and hid the commonplace,
+beautiful radiance of the hearth-fire from his eyes; and so, while he
+waited for his supper of stewed venison, he reasoned and planned for his
+daughter's future to the bitter end, seeing clearly that, should the
+chances of battle turn in favour of the little plantation, he must
+readjust his sentiments toward death. A man of lower breeding and
+commoner courage would have groaned in the travail of that thought, and
+cursed the alternative; but the baronet sat in silence until he heard
+his daughter at the door, and then stood up and hummed softly the
+opening bars of a Somerset hunting-song.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix tripped close to her father and raised her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> face to him. He bent
+and kissed her tenderly. For a little while they stood without speaking,
+hand in hand, on the great caribou skin before the hearth. Suddenly the
+girl pressed her cheek against his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it," she whispered, breathlessly,&mdash;"the matter that held you
+and Bernard in such serious converse?"</p>
+
+<p>"And has your heart given you no hint of it?" he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"And why, dear father? What has my heart to do with your talk of guards
+and ammunition and supplies,&mdash;save that it is with you in everything?"</p>
+
+<p>The baronet released her hand and, instead, placed his arm about her
+slender and rounded waist. "It is a story that I cannot tell you,
+sweet,&mdash;I, who am your father," he said. "But I think that you shall not
+have to wait long for the telling of it, for both youth and love are
+impatient. And here comes the good Maggie with the candles."</p>
+
+<p>During the meal the baronet was more lively and entertaining than
+Beatrix had seen him for years, and Beatrix, in her turn, was unusually
+untalkative and preoccupied. The girl wanted to give her undivided
+attention to the quiet voice of her heart. The man was equally anxious
+to avoid <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>introspection as she to court it. But he, for all his laughter
+and gay stories of gay times spent, displayed a colourless face and
+haunted eyes behind the candle-light; while she, sitting in silence,
+glowed like a rare flower. Her dark, massed tresses, her eyes of
+unnamable colour, her throat and lips and brow, were all radiant with
+the magic fire at her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph, after bringing a disjointed tale to a vague ending, sipped
+his wine, put down the glass clumsily, and suddenly turned away from the
+table. The bitterness of his lot had caught him by the throat. But she
+noticed nothing of his change of manner; and presently they left the
+table and moved to the fire. He busied himself with heaping faggots
+across the dogs. Then she filled his tobacco-pipe for him, and lit it
+with a coal from the hearth, puffing daintily. He had just got it in his
+hand when a knocking sounded on the door, and Maggie Stone opened to
+Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Upon Kingswell's entrance, Sir Ralph, after greeting him cordially but
+quietly, donned his cloak and hat, and begged to be excused for a few
+minutes. "I have a word for Trigget," he said. Then he pulled on his
+gloves, pushed open the door, and stepped out to the dark.</p>
+
+<p>Two candles burned on the table. Maggie Stone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> snuffed them, surveyed
+the room and its inmates with a comprehensive glance, and at last forced
+her unwilling feet kitchenward again. Her heart was as sentimental as
+heroic, was Maggie Stone's, and her nature was of an inquisitive turn.
+She sighed plaintively as she left the presence of the young couple.</p>
+
+<p>The door leading to the kitchen had no more than closed behind the
+servant than Bernard, without preliminaries, dropped on one knee before
+the lady of his adoration, and lifted both her hands to his lips. She
+did not move, but stood between the candles and the firelight, all
+a-gleam in her beauty and her fine raiment, and gazed down at the golden
+head. Her lips smiled, but her eyes were grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear heart," murmured the lad, without lifting his face or altering his
+position,&mdash;"dear heart, can it be true?"</p>
+
+<p>She bent her head a little lower. Her heart seemed as if it was about to
+break away from its bonds in her side. She could not speak; but, almost
+unconsciously, she closed her fingers upon his.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he cried. And again, with a note of fear in his voice: "Tell
+me if I may win you! Tell me if your heart has any promise?"</p>
+
+<p>Before she could control her agitation <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>sufficiently to answer him, the
+outer door of the cabin was swung open without ceremony, and Sir Ralph
+stamped in. He caught Kingswell by the wrist and wrenched it sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"We are attacked," he cried. "They have piled heaps of dry brush along
+the palisades&mdash;and they have set the stuff on fire! It burns like mad.
+Lord, but it looks more like hell than ever!"</p>
+
+<p>Even as he spoke, the fragrant, biting odour of the smoke from the
+burning evergreen-needles invaded the room. Kingswell got quickly to his
+feet, still holding the girl's hands. He did not look at the baronet.
+For a second he paused and peered, questioning, into her wonderful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I love you, dear heart," she cried, faintly. "I love you, Bernard."</p>
+
+<p>He stooped quickly (and how eagerly every lover knows), and even while
+the first brief and tremulous kiss was sweet on their lips, the muskets
+clapped deafeningly, savage shouts rang high, and the baronet thrust
+sword and hat into Bernard's hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Come! For God's grace, lad, come and rally the men!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>Then the lover turned from his mistress and saw the shrewd work that
+awaited him. He ran to it with a leaping heart.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV.</span> <span class="smaller">A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN</span></h2>
+
+<p>The heaps of brush outside the palisades burned with a long-drawn
+roaring, like the note of a steady wind. It was a terrifying sound. The
+glare of the conflagration lit the interior of the fort, staining the
+trampled snow of the yard to an awful hue, staining the faces of the
+desperate settlers as if with foreshadowing of blood, and painting the
+walls of the cabins as if for a carnival. The platform upon which the
+guns stood was a mass of flame before any use could be made of the
+pieces. The breastwork of faggots burned with leapings and roarings,
+flinging orange and crimson showers to the black dome above. The savages
+skirmished behind the girdle of flames, like imps along the
+blood-coloured snow. The settlers discharged their muskets through the
+singed loopholes, firing low, and taking the chances with heroic
+fortitude. Sir Ralph and Bernard Kingswell were here and there, with
+their swords in their hands and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>encouragement in speech and bearing.
+Both knew that this engagement would be a fight to the finish; and both
+felt reasonably sure that a shrewder and braver commander than Panounia
+was against them.</p>
+
+<p>The ammunition was carried from the storehouse to the shed over the
+well, for the fire was already crackling against the log walls of the
+buildings. Suddenly a sharp report and a high shower of sparks and
+burning fragments broke from the gun-platform; and, for the moment, the
+warriors were scattered from that side. One of the cannon had exploded.
+That corner of the stockade immediately fell and settled to the snow.
+Next instant the second gun was fired by the flames. It sent its whole
+charge into the uncertain Beothics, scattering them to cover in yelling
+disorder. At that the Englishmen cheered, and set about fighting back
+the encroaching flames.</p>
+
+<p>Inspiration, or a font of courage to be drawn upon at need, must have
+dwelt behind the shelter of the spruces; for within a very few minutes
+of the retreat, all the warriors, save the wounded, were about the fort
+again. Kingswell took note of it, and suspected the inspiration to be
+nothing else than Pierre d'Antons' insinuating presence and dazzling
+smile. A spur, too, he suspected&mdash;the spur of the mongrel Frenchman's
+evil sneer and black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> temper. He knew enough of the aboriginal character
+to feel that it would prove but a plaything for such a personality as
+the buccaneer's. He looked across the glowing, smoking breach in the
+fortifications with hard eyes. He voiced his desire to have the fellow
+by the throat, or at the point of his sword, in tones that rang like a
+curse.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Kingswell left his post and ran to the well-house.</p>
+
+<p>He knew where the <i>Pelican's</i> powder lay among the stores, done up in
+five canvas bags of about twelve pounds each. With two of these under
+his cloak, he returned to his place a few paces from the subsiding red
+barrier that still held the enemy from the interior of the fort. By this
+time the back of Trigget's cabin was smouldering. The roofs of the
+cabins, deep with snow, were safe; but the rear walls were all in a fair
+way of being ignited by the crackling brushwood, which the warriors of
+Panounia diligently piled against them.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell left the protection of the rest of the square to Sir Ralph,
+William Trigget, and all the men of the garrison save Tom Bent. The old
+boatswain was, by this time, a very active convalescent. Kingswell
+whispered a word or two in his ear. They kept a sharp lookout across the
+wreckage of the fallen corner of the stockade.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> They saw a party of the
+enemy gather ominously close to the glowing edge of the breach.
+Kingswell passed one of the bags of powder to his companion. "When I
+give the word," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the black knot of warriors dashed into the obstruction,
+brandishing spears and clubs, and screaming like maniacs. Kingswell
+uttered a low, quick cry, tossed his bag of powder into the glowing
+coals under the feet of the enemy, and ran for the shelter of the
+well-house at top speed. Tom Bent followed his movements on the instant.
+Together they reached the narrow shelter; and, before they could turn
+about, the air shook and reeled, as if a bolt of wind had broken upon
+them, a blinding flash seemed to consume the whole night, and a puffing,
+thumping report stunned their ears. They stumbled against the sides of
+the shed, clawed desperately, and fell to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>When Bernard Kingswell and the trusty boatswain regained their senses
+(which had left them for only a few seconds), they crawled from the
+well-house and stared about them. The square was not so bright as it had
+been, and, save for a few huddled shapes on the snow, was empty. By the
+shouting and mixed tumult, they knew that the fighting was now farther
+away&mdash;that the settlers had sallied forth on the offensive. They could
+not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> understand such recklessness; but they decided, without hesitation,
+to take the risk. They ran to the now black gap in the palisades. Fire,
+coals, wreckage, and even the snow had been hurled and blown broadcast.
+They crossed the torn ground and headed for the tumult in the fitfully
+illuminated spaces beyond. Native war-whoops and English shouts mixed
+and clashed in the frosty air. On the very edge of the shifting
+conflict, the old sailor clutched his master's arm. "Hark!" he cried.
+"D'ye hear that now? It be the yell o' that young Ouenwa, sir, or ye can
+call me a Dutcher!"</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment, before Kingswell could reply to Bent's statement, a
+club, thrown by a retreating warrior, caught the gentleman on the side
+of the head and felled him like a thing of wood. He moaned, as he
+toppled over. Then he lay still on the ruddy snow.</p>
+
+<p class="space-above">Beatrix had a dozen candles alight in the living-room of the baronet's
+cabin. Word had reached her that Ouenwa and Black Feather had arrived in
+time to take advantage of the rebuff dealt the enemy by the explosions
+of the bags of powder. When victory had seemed to be hopelessly in the
+hands of the determined savages, Ouenwa and his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>followers, though spent
+from their journey, had made a timely and successful rear attack.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was radiant. She moved up and down the room, eagerly awaiting
+the return of Bernard Kingswell. She questioned herself as to that, and
+laughed joyously. Yes, it was Bernard, beyond peradventure, whom heart,
+hands, and lips longed to recover and reward. A month ago, a week ago,
+it would have been her father&mdash;even a night ago he would have shared,
+equally with the lover, in her sweet and eager concern. But now she sped
+from hearth to door, and peered out into the blackness, with no thought
+of any of those brave fellows save the lad of Bristol.</p>
+
+<p>The burning brush had all been trampled out, and the fires in the walls
+and stockade had been quenched with water. The little square was dark,
+save for the subdued fingers of light from windows and doors. Beatrix
+peered from the open door, regardless of the cold. She was outlined
+black against the warm radiance inside the room. Her silken garments
+clung about her, pressed gently by a breath of wind. She rested a hand
+on either upright of the doorway, and leaned forward as if, at a whim,
+she would fly out from the threshold. Presently shadowy figures took
+shape in the gloom, and she heard her father's voice, and William
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Trigget's, and the high pipe of Ouenwa. But she caught no sound of
+Bernard Kingswell's clear tones. A sudden fear caught her, and she
+stepped out upon the trampled snow and called to Sir Ralph. In a moment
+he was at her side, and had an arm about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweeting," he said, "you must stay within for a little. The night is
+bitterly cold, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But where is Bernard?" she whispered, staring past him.</p>
+
+<p>"He is with the others," replied the baronet,&mdash;"with Ouenwa and his
+brave fellows, and the dauntless Trigget."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke quickly and uneasily, and led her back to the cabin at the same
+time. He closed the door, and laid a wet sword across a stool.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she cried, facing him, with wide eyes and bloodless
+cheeks. "Tell me! Tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>"The lad is hurt," admitted Sir Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurt?" repeated the girl, vaguely. "Hurt? How should he be hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>She shivered, and gripped her hand desperately. Could it be that the
+High God had been deaf to her prayers?</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph's face went as pale as hers; for all he knew of Kingswell's
+condition was that he still breathed, and that his hat had saved his
+head from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> being cut. Whether the skull was broken or not, he did not
+know. He braced himself, and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," he said, "he is not seriously hurt, so do not stand like
+that&mdash;for God's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>At the last words his voice lost its note of composure, and broke
+shrilly. He caught her to him. "Rip me," he cried, "but if you act so
+when he is simply knocked over, what will you do if he ever gets a real
+wound!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was comforted. Tears sprang to her eyes, and the blood returned
+to her cheeks. She clung to the baronet and sobbed against his shoulder.
+Presently she looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me to him," she begged, "or bring him here."</p>
+
+<p>"So you love this Bernard Kingswell?" inquired her father, looking
+steadily into her face.</p>
+
+<p>Her gleaming eyes did not waver from his gaze. "Yes," she replied,
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned away, took his blood-wet sword from the stool, eyed it
+dully, and leaned it against the wall. He was trying to imagine what the
+lad's death would mean to his daughter's future; but he could only see
+that it would mean a few more years for himself. He started guiltily,
+and returned to his daughter. His face was desperately grim.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>"Wait for me," he said. "I'll see how the lad is doing now; and shall
+return immediately."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph crossed to the cottage that had been built for D'Antons, and
+which had passed on to Kingswell. He opened the door softly and stepped
+within. He found the wounded gentleman lying prone on his couch,
+half-undressed, and with bandaged head. Ouenwa, gaunt and blood-stained,
+was beside the still figure.</p>
+
+<p>"He opened his eyes," whispered the boy; "but see, he has closed them
+again. His spirit waits at the spreading of the trails."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph bent down and examined the linen dressings on Kingswell's
+head. They were exceedingly well arranged. He saw that the hair had been
+cut away from the place of the wound.</p>
+
+<p>"Your work, Ouenwa?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>The boy nodded. The baronet felt his friend's pulse.</p>
+
+<p>"It beats strong," he said. "The heart seems sure enough of the path to
+take."</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa's face lighted quickly. "He has chosen," he said, gravely. "He
+has seen the hunting-grounds shining beyond the west, but the beauty of
+them has not lured him along that trail."</p>
+
+<p>The baronet smiled quickly into the Beothic's eyes. "You are a brave
+lad, and we are deep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> in debt to you," he exclaimed. "Your bravery and
+wit have saved the fort and all our lives. Watch your friend a few
+minutes longer; I but go to bring another nurse to help you. Then you
+may sleep."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV.</span> <span class="smaller">FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT</span></h2>
+
+<p>From that brisk fight, in which Ouenwa and his twenty braves and the
+little garrison of Fort Beatrix defeated Panounia, Black Feather brought
+a confirmation of Pierre d'Antons' concern in the last attacks upon the
+settlement. It consisted of a sword-belt and an empty scabbard. He had
+torn them from the person of a tall antagonist during a brief
+hand-to-hand encounter. The owner of the gear had won free, Black
+Feather regretted to say. Sir Ralph, too, felt the escape of his enemy,
+and sincerely hoped that the defeat had ended his power over Panounia,
+and brought down that wolfish chief's hatred instead.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning after the battle, the little plantation presented a busy
+though sombre appearance to those of its people who were in condition to
+view it. Along the woods and rising ground to the north, the snow and
+frozen soil were being hollowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> to receive the bodies of those slain in
+the fight. The dead of the enemy had been carried far into the woods,
+and piled together with scant ceremony. The settlers had lost three of
+their number,&mdash;young Donnelly, Harding, and the younger Trigget. Four of
+the rescuing party were dead and wounded. Tom Bent was on his back
+again, and Kingswell's head was ringing like a sea-shell. William
+Trigget was cut about the face and sore all over; but he kept on his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>After the graves were chipped in the iron earth, and the shrouded bodies
+lowered therein and covered, the tribesmen, under Black Feather's
+orders, set about building themselves lodges outside the stockade. It
+had been decided that, for mutual support, the friendly Beothics should
+camp near the fort, at least for the remainder of the winter. With axes
+borrowed from the settlement, they soon had the forest ringing with the
+noise of their labour. Though they had travelled light, in their hurry
+to rescue the friends of Ouenwa and Black Feather, they had dragged
+along with them a few sled-loads of deerskins and birch bark, with which
+to cover their wigwams. So the shelters sprang up quickly about the torn
+and scorched palisades; for it was a small matter to trim the poles and
+fit the pliable roofs across the conical frames.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>The dusk gathered over the wilderness, dimming the edges of white
+barren and black forest and round hill. The stars shone silver above,
+and the fires of the victorious men of the totem of the Bear glowed red
+below. In the outer room of the cabin that had been Pierre d'Antons',
+Beatrix sat alone by Kingswell's bed. Her eyes were on the leaping
+flames in the chimney, and his were on the fair lines of her averted
+face. The top of his head was so swathed in bandages that he looked like
+a turbaned Turk. Cheeks and chin were white as paper in the unstable
+light. His eyes were bright with a touch of fever brought on by his
+suffering. His mind was in a fitful mood, for a minute or two steady
+enough and concerned with the present and the room in which he lay, and
+then wandering abroad, exploring vague trails of remembrance and
+imagining. Sometimes he murmured words and sentences, but in such a
+gabbling style that his nurse could have made nothing of what was
+passing in his brain even if she had taken such advantage of his
+condition as to try.</p>
+
+<p>After a long spell of uneasy mutterings, followed by a profound silence,
+he suddenly flung out one arm. The movement startled Beatrix from her
+dreaming, and she turned her face back to him from the fire.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>"Twenty days without water," he whispered, distinctly. "Twenty
+days&mdash;and that beast Trowley is laughing to see my tongue between my
+teeth like a squeezed rag."</p>
+
+<p>The girl caught up a mug of water and held it to his lips. He drank
+greedily, and then took hold of her hand. His head was against the
+hollow of her arm; for, to give him the drink, she had knelt beside his
+low bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrix," he said, gravely, "let us pretend that you love me."</p>
+
+<p>She was strangely moved at that, and bent closer to see his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why pretend, dear heart?" she answered. "I do love you, as you very
+well know. Sleep again, Bernard, with your head so&mdash;pressed close."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel your heart," he said, simply as a child. The fever was as a fine
+haze across the mirror of his brain.</p>
+
+<p>"It beats only for you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek.
+The lad's eyes shone with a clearer light at that.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me that this is no vision of fever," he said. "Tell me, or
+strength will bring nothing but sorrow. Better death than to find your
+kisses a trick of dreaming."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"Is it not a pleasant dream?" she asked, softly, smiling a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay; to dream so, a man would gladly have done with waking," he replied.
+"If it were not in life that Beatrix were mine, then would I follow the
+vision through eternal sleep&mdash;as God is my judge."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, dear lad," she murmured, "for the heart and the body of Beatrix
+are of right Somersetshire stuff, to fade not at any whim of fever&mdash;and
+the love she gives you will outlast life&mdash;as God is our judge and love
+His handiwork." And she kissed him again, blushing sweetly at her
+daring. And so they remained, she kneeling beside the couch, and he with
+his bandaged head against her lovely shoulder, until Sir Ralph entered
+the cabin, fumbling discreetly at the latch.</p>
+
+<p>The days passed slowly in the heart of that frozen wilderness between
+the white river and the long graves. Stockade and wall were repaired.
+Fresh meat was trapped and shot in sheltered valley and rough wood. The
+forge rang again with the clanging of sledges, and the tracts of timber
+with the swinging axes. Hope reawoke in hearts long dismayed, and blood
+ran more redly to the stir of work and freedom. Master Kingswell gained
+fresh strength with the rounding of every day, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> Mistress Westleigh
+recovered all her glory of eyes and lips and hair. Ouenwa, honoured by
+all, carried himself like a gentleman and a warrior. Black Feather, with
+his wife and his surviving child in a snug lodge, felt again the zest
+and peace of living. Only Sir Ralph seemed to find no ray of comfort in
+the days of security. He brooded alone, avoiding even his daughter. His
+face grew thinner, and his shoulders lost something of their youthful
+vigour. The desolation and bitterness had, at last, dimmed his courage
+and his philosophy. The very relief at Panounia's defeat and D'Antons'
+supposed overthrow had, somehow, weakened his gallant endurance. He
+counted it a grievance that God had not led him to his death in the last
+fight, as he had prayed so earnestly. He had been eager then. Now he
+must plan it over again&mdash;over and over&mdash;in cold reasoning and cold
+blood, and alone by the fire. A foolish, causeless anger got hold upon
+him at times; and again he would be all repentance, telling his heart
+that, no matter how bitter his fate, it was fully deserved. And so, day
+by day, the shadows grew behind his brain, and a little seed of madness
+germinated and took root.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Beatrix did not notice the change in her father's manner and
+habits. The thing disclosed itself so gradually, and she was so intent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
+upon the nursing of her lover; and yet again, the baronet had been
+variable in his moods, to a certain extent, ever since the beginning of
+his troubles&mdash;years enough ago. It was Ouenwa who first saw that
+something had gone radically wrong in the broken gentleman's mind, and
+his knowledge had come about in this wise.</p>
+
+<p>The young Beothic, though an ardent sportsman and warrior, was a still
+more ardent seeker after bookish wisdom. Kingswell, before his hurt, had
+taught him something of the art of reading. Later, Mistress Westleigh
+had carried it further. By the time that Kingswell was safely on the
+road to his old health and a mended head, Ouenwa could spell out a page
+of English print very creditably. His primer was one of those volumes of
+Master Will Shakespeare's plays, which the Frenchman had left behind
+him. One day Beatrix entered the cabin to take her turn at tending the
+invalid, and found Ouenwa with the drama in his hands, and his youthful
+brow painfully furrowed with thought. She took the book from him and
+fluttered the pages, pausing here and there to read a line or two.</p>
+
+<p>"Run away," said she, "and on a shelf beside our chimney you will find a
+book with easier words than this contains. There is matter here, I
+think, that is beyond a beginner."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p><p>At that Kingswell raised himself to his elbow and nodded his sore head
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lad, run and find yourself an easier book," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing loath, for his quest of learning was sincere,&mdash;as was everything
+about him,&mdash;Ouenwa left the presence of the lovers and ran across the
+snow to Sir Ralph's cabin. He told his errand to the baronet. That
+gentleman looked at him long and keenly, so that the boy trembled and
+wished himself out of the house. Then, with a sudden start and a harsh
+laugh, "Help yourself, lad," said Sir Ralph. Ouenwa found the shelf of
+books, and, kneeling before it, was soon busy looking over the divers
+volumes and broad-sheets with which it was piled high. He found a rhymed
+and pictured chap-book greatly to his liking. He was spelling out the
+first verses when a movement behind his back brought him to a sense of
+his whereabouts. He turned quickly. There stood the baronet, with a
+walking-cane in his hand, making lunge and thrust at a spot of resin on
+the log wall. The poor gentleman stamped and straddled, pinked the
+unseen swordsman, and parried the unseen blade, with a dashing air.
+There was a light in his eyes and a twist of the lips that struck
+Ouenwa's heart cold in his side. The light was that which, when seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> in
+the eyes of a man of a primitive people, divides that man from the laws
+and responsibilities that are the portion of his fellows. It was the
+gleam of idiocy&mdash;that sinister sheen that cuts a man from his
+birthright.</p>
+
+<p>The boy knelt there, motionless with fear, with his face turned over his
+shoulder. He watched every movement of the fantastic exhibition with
+fascinated eyes. He fairly held his breath, so terrible was the display
+in that quiet, dim-lit room. Suddenly the baronet lowered the point of
+the modish cane smartly to the floor, and turned upon the lad with a
+smile, an embarrassed flush on his thin cheeks, and sane eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a pretty art&mdash;this of the French rapier," he said, "and I make a
+point of keeping my wrist limber for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph flung the walking-cane aside, and sat down despondently in the
+nearest chair. Ouenwa saw, at a glance, that his presence was already
+forgotten. With furtive movements and such haste as he could manage, he
+began replacing some of the books and selecting others to carry away
+with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweeting," said the baronet, "a pipe of tobacco would rest me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>Ouenwa realized that the gentleman, in his strange mood, believed that
+Mistress Beatrix was in the room; but Ouenwa had tact enough not to
+point out the little mistake. He got up noiselessly and filled the bowl
+of a long pipe from a great jar on the chimney-piece. He took a splinter
+of wood from the basket by the hearth and lit it at the fire. Stepping
+softly to the baronet's side, he placed the pipe in his hand, and held
+the light to the tobacco while the baronet puffed reflectively and
+unseeingly. Then the lad gathered up his books and left the cabin. Fear
+of Sir Ralph's wild manner was cold in his veins.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI.</span> <span class="smaller">PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST</span></h2>
+
+<p>And now to tell something of the movements of Pierre d'Antons, which, of
+late, have been carried on behind the screen of the forest and beyond
+the ken of the reader.</p>
+
+<p>The defeat of Panounia's warriors, on that night of fire and blood,
+knocked the adventurer's fortunes flatter than they had ever been. You
+may believe that he cursed Ouenwa bitterly, and wished that he had
+killed him long ago, when the lad threw his followers into the battle.
+It was then that D'Antons himself left his post beyond the scuffle, and,
+with desperate efforts, tried to turn the reverse back to victory. His
+swordsmanship and energy availed him nothing. He missed capture only by
+slipping the buckle of his sword-belt. Then, a fugitive from both sides,
+he ran to the woods, avoiding the scattered and retreating warriors who
+had so lately been struggling in his behalf as fearfully as he would
+have avoided William Trigget or Sir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> Ralph Westleigh. One of his late
+comrades, trailing wounded limbs along the snow, hurled a Beothic curse
+after him. Another, better prepared, let fly a war-club, and missed him
+by an inch. He slashed on, through the underbrush, the drifts, and the
+dark, sure that capture by any of the defeated savages would mean death
+and perhaps torture.</p>
+
+<p>The black captain did not run on any vague course, despite his haste. He
+knew where a possibility of help awaited him. He had given his wits to
+more than plans of revenge and kidnapping during his sojourn with
+Panounia. In winning the men to him, he knew that his hold upon them
+would not outlast defeat; but in winning the love of the Beothic maiden
+Miwandi, he had laid up store against an evil day. But he had not won
+her heart simply on a chance of defeat&mdash;far from it, for he had not
+dreamed of such a chance. It was a pleasant thing in itself to be the
+lover of that nut-brown, lithe-limbed, warm-hearted young girl&mdash;for
+Miwandi suspected nothing of his desire for, and plans concerning, the
+lady in the fort. She loved the tall foreigner quickly and surely. She
+was extravagantly proud of his power over the warriors of her people. He
+was her brave, and as such she cherished him openly, to the envy rather
+than the criticism of the other women of the encampment.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p><p>Miwandi was the daughter of a lesser chief of Panounia's faction. She
+was seventeen years of age. Her skin was ruddy brown, darker than the
+skins of some of her people and lighter than that of others. Her hair
+was brown and of a silken texture, very unlike the straight locks of the
+savages of the great continent to the westward. Her features were good,
+and her eyes were full of life and warmth. D'Antons' conquest rankled in
+the breasts of more than one of the young bucks of the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre d'Antons, fleeing from the fighting men of both parties, shaped
+his course for the lodge in which Miwandi dwelt. As he ran, with fear at
+his heels, he forgot to regret the girl in the fort; instead, a pang of
+honest affection for the comely young woman toward whom he was flying
+for help stirred in him. He stumbled into the lodge, and Miwandi caught
+him in her arms. In a few quick words, he told her of the defeat, and of
+the anger of Panounia's warriors toward him. She kissed him once,
+passionately, and then fell to collecting a few things&mdash;a quiver of
+arrows, a bow, furs, and some food. She pressed a bundle into his arms.
+He accepted it without a word. She bound her snow-shoes to her feet, and
+retied the wrenched thongs of his. Then they slipped from the dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
+lodge to the darker woods; and his sheathless sword, damp with blood,
+was still in his hand. They heard the cries of the wounded behind them,
+and other cries that inspired them to flight.</p>
+
+<p>They fled for hours, without pausing to ease their breathing. Of the
+two, it was the man who sometimes lagged, who often stumbled, and who
+cried once that he would rather be captured than strain limb and lung to
+another effort. D'Antons had been actively employed throughout the day,
+and again during the most desperate passages of the battle, and his
+strength was well-nigh exhausted. At last he fell and lay prone. In an
+instant the girl was beside him, pillowing his head and shielding his
+body from the cold, and revived him with brandy from the scanty supply
+in his flask. By that time the dawn was breaking gray under the stars,
+and all sounds of the chase had died away. She cut an armful of
+fir-branches, and with them and the skins she and D'Antons had carried,
+she made a rude bed and a yet ruder shelter. So they lay until high
+noon, fugitives in a desolate wilderness, with death, in half a dozen
+guises, lurking on either hand.</p>
+
+<p>Behind D'Antons and Miwandi, the broken band of Panounia's followers
+soon gave up the hunt. Matters were not in condition to be mended by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
+killing a long-faced Frenchman and a pretty girl. The defeated savages
+had their own wounds to see to, and already too many dead to hide under
+the snow. A matter of sentiment, like the torturing and killing of their
+false leader D'Antons, would have to wait. Now, of all those valorous
+warriors who had menaced the little fort since the very beginning of
+winter, only ten remained unhurt. Panounia was dead. He had breathed his
+last in the edge of the woods, while the battle was still raging, and
+had been carried farther in by one of his men. Thus his death had
+remained unknown to the victors; as had also the deaths of many more of
+the besiegers. Wolf Slayer, that courageous savage lad who had once
+boasted of his deeds to Ouenwa, was desperately hurt. Painfully and
+hopelessly, those of the wounded who could move at all, the women, and
+the unhurt of the band, retreated toward farther and surer fastnesses.
+The wounded who could not drag themselves along were left to perish in
+the snow. Some were frozen stiff before morning. Some bled to death
+within the same time. A few lived until they were discovered by Ouenwa's
+men in the bright daytime,&mdash;they were reported as having been found
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons and Miwandi travelled, by forced marches, until they reached a
+wooded valley and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> a narrow, frozen river. Along this they journeyed
+inland and southward. At last they found a spot that promised shelter
+from the bleak winds as well as from prying eyes. There they built a
+wigwam of such materials as were at hand. Game was fairly plentiful in
+the protected coverts around. They soon had a comfortable retreat
+fashioned in that safe and voiceless place.</p>
+
+<p>"It will do until summer brings the ships," remarked D'Antons, busy with
+plans whereby he might give Dame Fortune's wheel another twirl.
+Sometimes he spent whole hours in telling Miwandi brave tales of far and
+beautiful countries. He spoke of white towns above green harbours, of
+high forests with strange, bright birds flying through their tops, and
+of wide savannahs, whereon roved herds of great, sharp-horned beasts of
+more weight than a stag caribou.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but you do not mean to leave me, Heart-of-Life," she cried.</p>
+
+<p>So he swore, by a dozen saints, that she, Miwandi, should be his queen
+in a palace of white stone above a tropic sea.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII.</span> <span class="smaller">A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Day by day, Sir Ralph Westleigh's mental sickness increased. It
+strengthened in the dark, like a blight on corn. Very gradually, and day
+by day, it grew over the bright surface of his mind and spirit. The
+sureness of its advance was a fearful thing to watch.</p>
+
+<p>By the time March was over the wilderness, with a hint of spring in the
+morning skies, the baronet's condition was noticeable to even the
+dullest inmate of the settlement. The poor gentleman spoke little&mdash;and
+that little was seldom to the point. It seemed as if he had forgotten
+how to smile, or even to make a pretence at mirth. He walked alone for
+hours on the frozen river and through the woods. The Beothics of the
+camp before the fort stood in awe of him. At times he treated Beatrix
+and Bernard Kingswell as strangers; but he always knew Maggie Stone, and
+chided her often on the scantiness of his dinners.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> All day, indoors and
+out, he wore a rapier at his side. In the cabin he spent half of the
+time inert by the fire, without book, or cards, or chess, and the rest
+of it in sword-play with an imaginary antagonist.</p>
+
+<p>It was well for Beatrix that she had found Bernard's love before the
+fresh misfortune descended upon her. But even with that comfort and
+inspiration, her father's derangement affected her bitterly. They had
+been such friends; and now he had blank eyes and deaf ears for all her
+actions and words. It was twenty times harder for her than to have seen
+him struck down by knife or arrow. Death seemed an honest thing compared
+to that coldness and vagueness of spirit that gathered more thickly
+about him with the passing of each day. It was as if another life,
+another spirit, had taken possession of the familiar body and beloved
+features. After two weeks neither her kisses nor her tears had any
+potency to break through the awful estrangement. Her prayers, her fond
+recollections of their old companionship, brought no gleam to the dull
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>By the end of March the busy boat-builders and smiths of the
+settlement&mdash;and every man save Sir Ralph was either one or the
+other&mdash;had two new boats all but completed. They were staunch crafts,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+of about the capacity and model of the <i>Pelican</i>. They were intended for
+fishing on the river and the great bays and for exploration cruises.</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget, who was a master shipbuilder as he was a master
+mariner, entertained great ideas of fishing and trading more openly than
+Sir Ralph had sanctioned in the past. He was for carving out a real home
+in the wilderness, and his wife was of the same mind.</p>
+
+<p>"We couldn't bear to leave the boy's grave," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell promised that, should he win back to Bristol, and find his
+affairs in order, he would use his influence in behalf of the settlement
+on Gray Goose River. Donnelly, too, was all for holding to the new land.</p>
+
+<p>"It be rough, God knows," he said, "but it be sort o' hopeful, too. If
+they danged savages leaves us alone, an' trade's decent, I be for
+spendin' the balance o' my days alongside o' Skipper Trigget. There be a
+grave yonder the missus an' me wouldn't turn our backs on, not if we
+could help it."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell himself was not building any dreams of fixing his lot in that
+desolate place; and neither was old Tom Bent, though he spoke little on
+the subject. Ouenwa's ambitions continued to point overseas. Beatrix,
+now despondent at her father's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> trouble, and again happy in her love,
+gave little thought to the future of the settlement, or to any plans for
+the days to come, save vague dreamings of an English home.</p>
+
+<p>March wore along, and in open spaces the snow shrank inch by inch. Then
+rain fell; and after that a time of tingling cold held all the
+wilderness in a ringing white imprisonment. A man could run over the
+snow-fields and the bed of the river without snow-shoes; for the surface
+was tough as wood, white as the shield of that sinless knight, Sir
+Galahad, and glistening as a thousand diamonds. The mornings lifted
+clear silver and pale gold along the east. The evenings faded out in
+crimson and saffron, and the twilights, even when the stars were lit,
+made of the dome of heaven a bubble of thinnest green. And back of it
+all, despite the frost, hung a suggestion of sap-reddened twigs and
+blossoming trees.</p>
+
+<p>The lure of the season touched every one in the fort, and the camp
+beside it. It ran in Sir Ralph's blood like some fabled wine&mdash;for what
+vintage of France or Spain is the stuff of which the poets sing. It
+mounted to his head with a high, unregretting recklessness, and doubled
+the madness that already lurked there. Something of his old manner
+returned, and for a whole evening he sat with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Beatrix and Kingswell and
+talked rationally and hopefully. Also, that same night, he played a game
+of chess. He spoke of the future as one who sees into it clearly and
+without fear. He recalled the past without any sign of embarrassment.
+But Kingswell, meeting his eyes by chance, caught a light of derision in
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Very early in the morning, while the stars still glinted overhead, and
+the promise of day was no more than a strip of pearl along the east, Sir
+Ralph Westleigh unbarred the door of his cabin and slipped out. He was
+warmly and carefully dressed in furs and moccasins. He carried his sword
+free under his arm. Very cautiously he scaled the palisade and dropped
+to the frozen crust of snow outside. The Beothic encampment lay around
+the corner of the fort, so he was safe from detection from that quarter.
+He looked about and behind with a cunning smile. Then he ran lightly
+into the woods.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ralph followed his aimless course for miles, and his soft-shod feet
+left no mark on the hard surface of the snow. Then the sun slid up and
+over, and in the warmth of high noon the frozen crust of the wilderness
+thawed a little, and here and there the baronet's feet broke through. At
+that he began to feel fatigue and a disconcerting pang of doubt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> He
+flung himself down in a little thicket of spruces, and called for Maggie
+Stone to bring him food and drink. He called again and again. He shouted
+other names than that of the old servant. In a sudden agony of fear, he
+jumped to his feet and plunged through the evergreens. At every third
+step he sank to his knee, or half-way up his thigh. He screamed the name
+of his daughter, "Beatrix, Beatrix"&mdash;or was it his dead wife he was
+calling? He cried for guidance to many great gentlemen of England who
+had been his boon companions in the old days, forgetting that death had
+taken some of them away from him, and that the rest, to a man, had
+turned of their own accord. Presently he ceased his foolish outcry and
+plodded along, with no thought of the course, sobbing the while like a
+lost child.</p>
+
+<p>The sun began its downward journey, and still the baronet, with his
+sheathed sword under his arm, staggered across the voiceless wilderness.
+Toward mid-afternoon the thawing crust froze again, and he travelled
+with less difficulty. Ever and anon his poor eyes pictured a running
+figure in an edge of blue shadow before him. At times it was the figure
+of the nobleman he had killed in England, in the dispute at the
+gaming-table, and again it was a friend,&mdash;Kingswell or Trigget, or
+another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> of the fort,&mdash;and yet again it was Pierre d'Antons. But no
+matter how he strove to run down the lurker, he lost him every time.
+Thirst plagued him, and he ate the clear ice and snow off the fronds of
+the spruces. Hunger gnawed him awhile, but passed gradually. The west
+took on the flame and glory of sunset. The east darkened. The stars
+pricked through the high shell of the sky. Night gathered her cloudless
+darkness over the wilderness; and still the demented baronet followed
+his aimless quest.</p>
+
+<p>Toward evening of the day following Sir Ralph Westleigh's departure from
+Fort Beatrix, Pierre d'Antons and Miwandi were startled by the sudden
+and noiseless appearance of a gaunt and wild-eyed person in the doorway
+of their lodge. The woman cried out, and ran to the farthest corner of
+the wigwam. D'Antons staggered back, and his face turned gray as the
+ashes around the fire-stone. The unexpected visitor drew his blade,
+flung the sheath behind him on the snow, and advanced upon the fugitive
+adventurer. D'Antons sprang back and caught up his own sword from where
+it lay on a couch of branches and skins. He swore, more in wonder than
+anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Westleigh!" he cried. "What brings you here, you fool&mdash;and how many
+follow you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>The baronet halted and glanced quickly over his shoulder. He reeled a
+little, but his eyes changed in their light and colour.</p>
+
+<p>"I am alone," he said. "Yes, I am alone." His voice was quiet. He seemed
+sorely puzzled. D'Antons' face regained its swarthy tints, and he
+laughed harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"So you have hunted me down, old cock," he said, smiling. "You'll find
+that the quarry has fangs&mdash;in his own den."</p>
+
+<p>The red of madness returned to Sir Ralph's eyes. He advanced his rapier.
+In a second the fight was on. For a few minutes the strength of insanity
+supported the baronet's starving muscles and reeling brain. Then his
+thrusts began to go wide, and his guard to waver. A clean lunge dropped
+him in the door of the lodge without a cry. The life-blood of the last
+baronet of Beverly and Randon made a vivid circle of red on the snow of
+that nameless wilderness.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE RUNNING OF THE ICE</span></h2>
+
+<p>It was Beatrix who first discovered her father's flight; but that was
+four hours after its occurrence. The fort was soon astir with the news.
+Men set out in all directions, in search of the missing one. Half a
+dozen of the friendly Beothics joined in the hunt. They went east and
+west, north and south. The sharpest eyes could detect no trail of the
+madman's feet. Beatrix insisted upon accompanying Bernard and Ouenwa.
+She tried to show a brave face; but something in her heart told her to
+expect the worst. The three travelled southward, and shortly before
+sunset returned to the fort, unsuccessful. They found that all the other
+searchers had got back, save Black Feather and a young brave named
+Kakatoc, who had set out together.</p>
+
+<p>By the merest chance Black Feather and his companion happened upon the
+place where the baronet had first broken through the melting crust. With
+but little effort they found where he had rested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> and taken up his
+journey again. Farther on, the faintness of the trail put an edge to
+their determination to find the unfortunate gentleman. It was a
+challenge to their woodcraft, and they accepted it eagerly. But within
+two hours of finding the marks, they lost them again. They ranged wide;
+and at last Black Feather discovered a footprint in a little pad of snow
+beside a stunted spruce. In several places the branches of the tree
+showed where the snow had been broken away, as if by a man's hand. It
+was enough to keep them to the quest.</p>
+
+<p>Not in the next day, but in the early morning after that, the two
+Beothics happened upon a sheltered valley and a snow-cleared space, with
+a fire-stone in the middle of it, where a lodge had lately stood. As for
+signs of blood, there were none. Snow had been deftly spread and
+trampled over it. All around the so evident site of a human habitation
+the hard crust gleamed unbroken, save for a little path that ran down to
+a hole in the ice of the stream. After considering the place, and
+shaking their heads, the two ate the last of the food they had in their
+pouches and turned their feet back to the fort. They passed within a few
+paces of a dense thicket, in the heart of which the baronet's body lay
+uncovered. But how were they to know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> it, when even the prowling foxes
+had not yet found it out!</p>
+
+<p>For several days the search was continued by the settlers and their
+allies, but all in vain. It was not even suspected that the deserted
+camping-place which Black Feather and Kakatoc had seen had so lately
+been warmed by the feet of Pierre d'Antons and the blood of the lost
+baronet. For a few days longer the business of the settlement lagged,
+and the place wore an air of mourning, despite the ever-brightening and
+mellowing season. Then the axes struck up their chant again, and the
+little duties of the common day erased the forebodings of Eternity from
+the minds of the pioneers. Only Mistress Beatrix could see nothing of
+the reawakening of life and hope for the sorrow in her heart and the
+mist across her eyes. She had loved her father deeply and faithfully,
+with a love that had been strengthened by his misfortunes. She had felt
+toward him the combined affections of daughter and sister and friend.
+She had made allowances for the weaknesses of his later years that
+equalled the ever charitable devotion of a parent for a best-loved
+child. She had not been, and was not now, blind to the passion of gaming
+that had forced him to exile and an unknown death; but she had forgiven
+it long ago. As to the alleged murder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> that had made such an evil odour
+in London, she believed&mdash;and rightly&mdash;that hot blood and overmuch wine
+had been to blame, and that her father's sword had been drawn after the
+victim's.</p>
+
+<p>Bernard Kingswell did all in his power to comfort the bereaved girl. He
+urged her to spend much of her time out-of-doors. He told his plans for
+their future, and to cheer her he built them even more hopefully than he
+felt; for he realized that many difficulties were yet to be overcome
+before Bristol was safely reached. With Ouenwa, the two often went on
+long tramps through the woods. Their evenings were always spent
+together. Sometimes he read aloud to her, and sometimes they played at
+chess. One evening she got her violin, and played as wonderfully as she
+had on that other occasion; but instead of leaving him afterward without
+a word, as she had done, she laid the fiddle aside and nestled into his
+arms. He held her tenderly, patting the bright hair against his
+shoulder, and murmuring broken assurances of his love and sympathy. She
+wept quietly for a little while; but when she kissed him at the door,
+her face and eyes shone with something of their old light.</p>
+
+<p>By mid-April knobs of rock and moss pierced through the shrinking snow
+in the open places; but in the woods the drifts continued to withstand
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> wasting breath of the spring winds. Gray Goose River was no longer
+a broad path of spotless white. Its surface was mottled with patches of
+sodden gray; and an attentive listener on the bank might hear a myriad
+of tiny voices, some sibilant and some tinkling and liquid, in and under
+the enfeebled ice. Up and down the valley, between the knolls and wooded
+hills, the little streams were already snarling and roaring, and here
+and there flashing brown shoulders to the sunlight. Through all the
+wilderness ran a tingling whisper; and twilight, midnight, and dawn were
+stirred by the falling cries of wild-fowl on the wing. A faint, alluring
+fragrance was in the air&mdash;the scent of millions of swelling buds and
+crimson willow-stems.</p>
+
+<p>About that time three warriors of the following of the dead Panounia
+arrived at the fort, with prayers for peace on their lips and gifts in
+their hands. They were received by Kingswell, William Trigget, and
+Ouenwa from the fort, and Black Feather and two of his chiefs from the
+camp. A lengthy business was gone through with, and much strong
+Virginian tobacco was burned. Documents were written in English and in
+the picture-writing of the natives, and read aloud, by Ouenwa, in both
+languages. Then they were solemnly signed by all present, and peace was
+restored to the great tribe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> of the North, and protection, trade, and
+lands were granted for all time to the inhabitants of Fort Beatrix and
+their descendants. The three visitors went back to their people with
+rolls of red cloth and packets of glass beads, pot-metal knives, and
+other useless trinkets on their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after their departure from the fort, a storm of rain blew up
+from the sou'east. All day the great drops thumped on the roofs of the
+cabins, on the skies of the lodges, and spattered on the sodden snow.
+The firs and spruces gleamed clean and black under the drenching
+showers. A veil of smoke-gray mist lay above the farther woods and along
+the black tangles of alders and gray fringes of willows. All night the
+warm rain continued to fall and drift. When morning lifted along the
+pearly east, a cry rang from the camp to the fort that the ice in the
+river was moving. The settlers hastened to the flat before the stockade.
+Beatrix was with them.</p>
+
+<p>"See how the torn edge of ice overtops the bank," said Kingswell,
+pointing eagerly. "And there is an open space. Ah, it has closed again!
+How slowly it grinds along!"</p>
+
+<p>"It will run faster before night," replied the girl, and Ouenwa, who was
+versed in the ways of his northern rivers, nodded silently.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p><p>While they watched, admiring the swelling, swinging, ponderous advance
+of the great surface, and harkening to the booming thunder of its agony
+that filled the air, a breathless runner joined the group and spoke a
+few quick words to Black Feather. That chief approached Ouenwa and
+whispered in his ear. The boy glanced quickly at Beatrix and Kingswell,
+and then questioned Black Feather anxiously. Presently he turned back to
+the lovers.</p>
+
+<p>"The ice is stuck down-stream," he said. "Blue Cloud has seen it. He
+fears that the water will rise over the flat&mdash;and the fort."</p>
+
+<p>The river continued to rise until evening. After that the waters
+subsided a little, great cakes of rotten ice hung stranded along the
+crest of the bank, and the main body ceased to run downward. But from up
+the valley the thunder of a hidden disturbance still boomed across the
+windless air.</p>
+
+<p>"The jam had broken down-stream," said Ouenwa.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, unused to the ways of running ice, was satisfied, and retired
+to his couch with an easy mind. He slept soundly until, in the gray of
+the dawn, Ouenwa shook him roughly, and all but dragged him to the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up, wake up," cried the boy. "Damn,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> but you sleep like a bear!
+The fort is in danger! We must run for higher land."</p>
+
+<p>"Rip me!" exclaimed Kingswell, springing to his feet, "but what is the
+trouble? Are we attacked?"</p>
+
+<p>"The river is all but empty of water," replied Ouenwa. "The ice sags in
+the channel, like an empty garment. The water hangs above, behind the
+third point where we cut the timber for the boats."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, all the while, was busily employed pulling on his heavy
+clothes. Though he did not fully understand the threatening danger, he
+felt that it was real enough. While he tied the thongs of his deerhide
+leggins, Ouenwa told him that warning had reached the fort but a few
+minutes before.</p>
+
+<p>"How?" inquired Kingswell, hurriedly bestowing a wallet of gold coins
+and some other valuables about his person.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa, already loaded down with his friend's possessions, threw open
+the door and stepped out.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf Slayer brought it," he said, over his shoulder. "And I do not
+understand," he added, "for Wolf Slayer hates us all."</p>
+
+<p>The other, close at his heels, made no comment on that intelligence. He
+scarcely heard it, so anxious was he for the safety of Mistress
+Beatrix.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> The whole fort was astir; but Kingswell ran straight to his
+sweetheart's door. It was opened by the maiden herself. She and the old
+servant were all ready to leave.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed; load after load of stores and household goods was
+carried to the low hills behind the fort; and still the river lay empty,
+with its marred sheet of ice sagging between the banks; and still the
+unseen jam held back the gathering freshet. The women wept at the
+thought that their little homes were in danger of being broken and torn
+and whirled away. But Beatrix was dry-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be no great matter for them to build new cabins in a safer
+place," she said to Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>He was looking at the natives dragging their rolled-up lodges to higher
+ground. He turned, smiling gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no love for the wilderness?" he asked, "and yet but for this
+forsaken place, you and I might never have met."</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand on his arm, and lifted a flushed face to his tender
+regard.</p>
+
+<p>"So it has served my turn," she said. "Now that I have you, I could well
+spare these wastes of black wood and empty barren."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell had been waiting patiently and in silence for that confession
+ever since their betrothal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> Hitherto she had not once spoken with any
+assurance of their future together. She had treated the subject vaguely,
+as if her thoughts were all with the past and with the tragedy of her
+father's death.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you face the homeward voyage in one of the little boats?" he
+asked, softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, with you at the tiller," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear girl," he said, "I think that a stout ship called the <i>Heart of
+the West</i> will be setting sail from Bristol, for this wilderness, before
+many days."</p>
+
+<p>"Would the fellow dare return?" she asked; for she had heard the story
+of Trowley's treachery.</p>
+
+<p>"He will think himself safe enough," replied Kingswell. "No doubt he
+owns the ship now&mdash;has bought it from my mother for the price of a
+skiff, after telling her how recklessly he battled with the savages to
+save her son's life."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed softly. "The old rogue will be surprised when I step aboard,"
+he added.</p>
+
+<p>Before she could answer him a booming report shook the sunlit air. It
+was followed, in a second, by a long-drawn tumult&mdash;a grinding and
+crashing and roaring&mdash;as if the firmament had fallen and overthrown the
+everlasting hills. The sagging ice below them reared, domed upward, and
+split with clapping thunders. It broke its plunging masses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> which were
+hurled down the stream and over the flats. A thing of brown water and
+sodden gray lumps tore the alders and swung across the meadow where the
+Beothic encampment had stood an hour before. The eastern stockade of the
+fort went down beneath its inevitable, crushing onslaught.</p>
+
+<p>All day cakes and pans of sodden ice and snow raced down the river, and
+the air hummed and vibrated with their clamour. But the weight of the
+released waters had passed; and the fort had suffered by no more than an
+exposed side.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX.</span> <span class="smaller">WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY RECEIVES A VISITOR</span></h2>
+
+<p>Wolf Slayer, who had brought warning of the menace of the freshet to
+Fort Beatrix, soon showed his evil hand. He had arrived at the fort in a
+starving condition and still weak from wounds received in the battle in
+which his father had been killed. Had he been well and filled with meat,
+he would undoubtedly have let the inmates of the fort and the camp lie
+in ignorance of the danger. For ten days he was fed and cared for by the
+settlers. By the end of that time, he felt himself again. The old
+arrogance burned in his eyes; the old sneer returned to his lips. Ouenwa
+read the signs and wondered how the deviltry would show itself under
+such unpropitious circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa's sleep was light and fitful on the tenth night after the
+overflowing of the river. About midnight he awoke, turned over, and
+could not get back to his dreams. So he lay wide-awake,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> thinking of the
+future. He could hear Bernard Kingswell's peaceful breathing. He thought
+of his friend, and his heart warmed to him with gratitude and
+comrade-love. He thought of Beatrix, smiled wistfully in the darkness,
+and put the bright vision away from him. What was that? He breathed more
+softly and lifted his head. Was it fancy, or&mdash;or what? He shifted
+noiselessly to the farther edge of the couch. A hand brushed along his
+pillow of folded blanket. Next moment he gripped an unseen wrist and
+closed with a silent enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Minutes passed before the wrestlers stumbled against a stool, with a
+clatter that startled Kingswell to his feet. The Englishman leaped to
+the hearth, kicked the fallen coals to life, and threw a roll of birch
+bark on top of them. Then he stepped aside until the yellow flame
+lighted the room. The illumination was just in time, for Wolf Slayer had
+the lighter boy on the floor and the knife raised, when Kingswell saw
+his way to the rescue. He recognized the youth, and in a fit of English
+indignation at such a return for hospitality caught him by neck and belt
+and hurled him bodily from the prostrate Ouenwa. Wolf Slayer alighted on
+his feet, snatched open the door (which he had left ajar), and fled into
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p><p>A morning of late May brought a friendly native to Fort Beatrix, with
+word that three English ships were in Wigwam Harbour. Then Ouenwa and
+Tom Bent made the journey and returned, in due season, with the welcome
+news that one of the vessels was the <i>Heart of the West</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Both the new boats and the old <i>Pelican</i> were made ready for the
+expedition. Kingswell commanded the <i>Pelican</i>, with Ouenwa and six
+natives for crew. Tom Bent was put in charge of the second boat, and
+Black Feather of the third. William Trigget and Donnelly were left to
+see that no harm came to Mistress Westleigh&mdash;and, as the boats stole
+down-stream, in the gray of the dawn, William Trigget treasured in his
+hand a duly witnessed document, in which Bernard Kingswell, gentleman,
+of Bristol, bequeathed and willed all his earthly goods to Beatrix
+Westleigh, spinster, of Fort Beatrix, in the Newfounde Land, and late of
+Beverly and Randon, in Somersetshire, England.</p>
+
+<p>The parting between Beatrix and her lover had been a fond one, but the
+man had noticed (and in his heart regretted) the fortitude with which
+she bade him farewell and godspeed. He worried about it in his sleep,
+and again, as he looked longingly at her cabin in the bleak dawn. He
+tried to comfort himself with memories of a hundred incidents that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+placed the sincerity of her love beyond a shadow of doubt. But, for all
+that, she might have shed a few tears. Surely she realized the chances
+of danger?&mdash;the risk he was running, for her sake? Love is edged and
+barbed by just such little and unreasonable questionings.</p>
+
+<p>A white mist wreathed along the surface of Gray Goose River when the
+three boats swung down with the current. The Beothics were armed with
+English knives. There were no firearms aboard any of the little vessels.
+Kingswell and Ouenwa had swords at their belts, and Spanish daggers for
+their left hands. Tom Bent was armed with his oft-proved cutlass.</p>
+
+<p>The sun did not get above the horizon until the little fleet was clear
+of the river's mouth. There a breath of wind sighed through the cordage,
+and the sails flapped up and rounded softly. Kingswell leaned forward
+and looked under the square canvas of the <i>Pelican's</i> big wing.</p>
+
+<p>"An extra man," he remarked to Ouenwa, sharply. "Who has taken it upon
+himself to improve on my orders?"</p>
+
+<p>A blanket-swathed figure, forward of the mast, turned and crawled aft.
+Then the blanket fell away, and Mistress Westleigh, rigged out in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
+amazing mixture of masculine and feminine attire, laughed up at the
+commander.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise to shield me from the wrath of Maggie Stone, when we go back,"
+she whispered, in mock concern.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Bernard stared, with wonder and embarrassment in his eyes,
+the while Ouenwa hid a smile. Then he doffed his hat and caught the
+queer figure to his knee; and in the flush of the morning, under the
+grave regard of the Beothic warriors, he kissed her on lips and brow.</p>
+
+<p>"What authority has Maggie Stone?" he cried. "If any one has a right to
+control your actions, surely it is I."</p>
+
+<p>She slipped to the seat beside him. "And you told me I could not
+accompany you&mdash;that it would not be safe," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but it was my duty to bid you remain behind," he said. "God knows
+it hurt me to refuse your so&mdash;so flattering a wish. But you accepted it
+calmly, dear heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I accepted it for what it was worth," she laughed. "I could not shed
+tears over a parting which I felt certain was not to take place." Her
+face changed quickly from merriment to gravity. "I could not have stayed
+in the fort without you," she whispered. "Dear lad, I am afraid to
+death<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> whenever you are out of my sight. I do believe this love has made
+a coward of me!"</p>
+
+<p>For a little while there was no sound aboard the <i>Pelican</i> save the
+tapping of the reef-points on the swelling breast of the sail, and the
+slow creak of the tiller. Ouenwa, leaning far to one side, gazed ahead,
+while the warriors crouched on the thwarts. Then the man stooped his
+head close to the girl's.</p>
+
+<p>"But on this trip," he whispered, "you must obey me&mdash;for both our sakes,
+dearest. It would be mutiny else."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall always obey you," she replied&mdash;"always, always&mdash;so long as you
+do not again leave me alone in Fort Beatrix."</p>
+
+<p>"William Trigget was there," he ventured. "And Maggie Stone."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed at that. "Poor Maggie!" she sighed. "Poor Maggie! She will
+rate me soundly for my boldness. She has ever a thousand discourses on
+the proprieties ready on the tip of her tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the proprieties," murmured Bernard, as if caught by a new and
+somewhat disconcerting idea. "Rip me, but I've never given them a
+thought!"</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix laughed delightedly. "You must not let them trouble you now,"
+she said. "When we get back to Bristol, I will guard myself with a
+dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> staid companions, and&mdash;" She paused, and blushed crimson. "I
+forget that I am penniless," she added.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell's left hand closed over hers where it lay in her lap. "How
+long, think you, shall you stand in need of chaperons in Bristol?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>The three boats sought shelter in a tiny, hidden bay, and Kingswell,
+Mistress Westleigh, Ouenwa, and Tom Bent made an overland trip to a
+wooded hill overlooking Wigwam Harbour. There lay the <i>Heart of the
+West</i>, close in at her old anchorage after the day's fishing. Work was
+going briskly forward on the stages at the edge of the tide. The other
+vessels, which were much smaller than Trowley's command, lay nearer the
+mouth of the river harbour. The declining sun stained spars and furled
+sails to a rosy tint above the green water.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" whispered Kingswell, touching the girl's arm, as she crouched
+beside him in the fringe of spruces.</p>
+
+<p>A bellowing voice, loud and harsh in abuse, reached their ears.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis Trowley," he said, and chuckled. "How will he sound to-night, I
+wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be rash, Bernard,&mdash;for my sake," pleaded the girl.</p>
+
+<p>He assured her that he would be discreet.</p>
+
+<p>It was dark when they got back to the little cove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> in which the boats
+were beached. About midnight, with no light save the vague illumination
+of the scattered stars, they rowed out with muffled oars. They moved
+with such caution that it took them two hours to reach Wigwam Harbour.
+They passed the outer ships unchallenged. Then Beatrix was transferred
+from the <i>Pelican</i> to Black Feather's boat, and Tom Bent joined the
+commander. A veil of drifting cloud shut out even such feeble light as
+had disclosed the course to the voyagers. Before them the <i>Heart of the
+West</i> loomed dark, a thing of massed shadows and a few yellow lights.</p>
+
+<p>The new-built boats lay about thirty yards aft and seaward of the ship.
+The <i>Pelican</i> stole in under the looming stern, with no more noise than
+a fish makes when he breaches in shallow water. The crew steadied her
+beside the groaning rudder with their hands. Kingswell stood on a thwart
+and peered in at the cabin window, as Ouenwa had peered on a night of
+the preceding season. The low, oak-ceiled room was empty. A lantern hung
+from the starboard bulkhead, and two candles, in silver sticks that bore
+the Kingswell crest, burned, with bending flames, on the table. On the
+locker under the lantern lay a cutlass in its sheath, and a boat-cloak
+in an untidy heap. The edge of the table was within two feet of the
+square stern-window.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>For a little while Kingswell listened with guarded breath. Then,
+swiftly and lightly, he pulled himself across the ledge of the window,
+scrambled through, and crouched behind the table. Very cautiously he
+drew his rapier with his right hand and his dagger with his left. For a
+minute or two he squatted in the narrow quarters, breathing regularly
+and deeply, and harkening to the innumerable creaking voices of the
+decks and bulkheads, and the muffled voices and laughter from forward.
+For the occasion he had donned the hat, coat, breeches, and boots&mdash;all
+now stained and faded&mdash;in which Master Trowley had last seen him.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a heavy, uncertain step sounded on the companion ladder just
+forward of the cabin door. A volley of stout Devonshire oaths boomed
+above the lesser sounds. The door flew open, smote the bulkhead with a
+resounding crack, and swung, trembling. The bulky figure of Trowley
+entered, and the heady voice of the old sea-dog cursed the door, and
+big, red hands slammed it shut again. Kingswell drew a deep breath, and
+composed his dancing nerves and galloping blood as best he could. His
+emotions were disconcertingly mixed.</p>
+
+<p>The masterful old pirate (for such he surely was, deny the charge if you
+like) seemed to fill the cabin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> to overflowing with his lurching, great
+body. He tossed boat-cloak and cutlass on the deck, and yanked up the
+top of the locker. With muttered revilings at the excessive cost of West
+Indies rum, he produced a bottle of no mean capacity from its
+hiding-place, and a fine glass sparkled in the candle-light like
+diamonds. Kingswell recognized the glass as one from which he had often
+drunk his grog&mdash;a rare piece from his house in Bristol. Those articles
+the mariner placed on the table, scarcely a foot from the watcher's
+head. Next he loaded himself a china pipe with black tobacco, and lit it
+at one of the candles. In doing so, Master Bernard heard the puffings
+and gruntings with which the deed was accomplished, like half a gale in
+his ear. At last the fellow sat down with a thud, squared his elbows on
+the table, gazed for a second at the square window that opened on to the
+mysterious gloom of the night, and tipped the bottle. The liquor gulped
+and gurgled in its passage to the glass. The reek of it permeated the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"Dang it," grumbled the mariner, "d'ye call this rum! Sink me, but it be
+half water!"</p>
+
+<p>However, he swallowed the dose with gusto, and smacked his lips at the
+end of it as he never would have after a draught of water.</p>
+
+<p>Very steadily and quietly Bernard Kingswell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> arose to his feet and
+looked down at Master Trowley with inscrutable eyes shadowed by his
+wide, stained hat. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds,
+but to the staring mariner it seemed a matter of hours. He sprawled on
+his low stool, open-mouthed, red-eyed, with his big hands nerveless on
+the table, and the lighted pipe unheeded at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Traitor!" said Kingswell, coldly; and leaning across the table he
+tweaked the purple tip of Trowley's nose between thumb and finger. To do
+so, he laid his dagger on the edge of the mahogany for a second. The
+indignity called forth no more than a gurgle of terror from the master
+mariner. Kingswell plucked up the thin blade and flashed it within an
+inch of the whiskered face. Still the fellow sagged on his stool, unable
+to stir a muscle. Kingswell whistled three low notes. Ouenwa crawled
+through the port, with a coil of light rope in his hand. Tom Bent
+followed. Trowley threw off the spell of the supposed ghostly visitation
+and got to his feet with a bellow of rage and fear. In an instant he was
+flat on his back, with a gagging hand across his mouth and another at
+his throat. He was soon bound hand and foot, and securely gagged with a
+strip of his own boat-cloak.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa stuck his head through the open port,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> and whispered a word or
+two. One by one, four of his braves entered, with their knives
+unsheathed. Kingswell motioned them to follow, and softly opened the
+cabin door. On the port side of the alley-way, beside the companion
+ladder, Trowley's mate lay asleep in his bunk. Kingswell bent over him
+and saw that he was a stranger. He nodded significantly; and in an
+amazingly short time the mate of the <i>Heart of the West</i> was as neatly
+trussed up as the master.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later, Tom Bent hung over the rail, aft, and waved a
+lantern in three half-circles. And not long after that, Mistress
+Westleigh, Master Kingswell, and Ouenwa filled glasses with Canary wine,
+in the cabin of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. In the waist of the ship the
+stout English sailors and the skin-clad Beothics drained their
+pannikins, and eyed each other with good-natured curiosity. Old Tom Bent
+was toast-master; and also he told them an amazing story.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXX.</span> <span class="smaller">MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF</span></h2>
+
+<p>Shortly before midnight, Tom Bent went quietly about the task of waking
+both watches and the Beothics. The three boats from Fort Beatrix were
+manned, with the muffling oars. The two small anchors by which the
+<i>Heart of the West</i> swung in the tide were fished into two of the boats
+by hand. It was a tough job; but, when it was accomplished, the ship was
+free without so much as a clank of cable or a turn of the noisy capstan.
+Hawsers were passed from the small craft over the bows of the ship, and
+at a signal from a lantern in Kingswell's hand, the men bent their backs
+to the oars. Then all lights aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i> were
+covered, and in the darkness, beside the great tiller, Kingswell caught
+his inspiration and his reward to his heart again.</p>
+
+<p>The girl did not leave the commander's side, but kept watch on the high
+poop-deck throughout the journey. Until dawn the rowers held to their
+toil,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> and after them, drawn by lines that were sometimes taut and
+sometimes under water, but always invisible in the darkness, the ship
+stole like a shape of cloud and dream. It was hard work, and slow. With
+the breaking of dawn, the leviathan took on signs of life. By that time
+she was hidden from Wigwam Harbour by more than one bluff headland. The
+pulling boats drifted to her bows, the capstan was manned, and the
+anchors were lifted to their places on the forecast rail. Headsails were
+set, and the square mizzen was run up. The boats dropped astern and were
+made fast, and the weary men climbed aboard the ship.</p>
+
+<p>All day the <i>Heart of the West</i> threaded the green waterways of the
+great Bay of Exploits. A light and favourable breeze lent itself to the
+venture. After the midday meal, Beatrix, wrapped in a blanket, lay down
+by the mizzen and fell asleep. She was tired. The easy motion of the
+ship, and the song of the wind in ropes and canvas, sank her fathoms
+deep in slumber, with the magic of a fairy lullaby. Kingswell rigged a
+piece of sail-cloth from the bulwarks to the mast to shade her face from
+the sun.</p>
+
+<p>At last the wide estuary, which ends in Gray Goose River, was reached.
+By sunset the mouth of the river was entered. Just then the wind
+failed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> The boats were manned again, and the ship taken in tow.</p>
+
+<p>Still Mistress Westleigh slumbered peacefully, with the rough blanket
+about her dainty body and her head pillowed on Kingswell's folded coat.
+Kneeling beside her, Kingswell peered under the shelter of canvas, and
+saw that she was smiling in her dreams. How white were her dropped
+eyelids, and how clear and rose-tinted her small face. Her lips were
+parted a little, as if to whisper some sweet secret. A strand of her
+bright, dark hair was across her forehead, and one arm, clear of the
+blanket and the deerskin on which she lay, rested on the deck. The rosy
+palm was upturned. Kingswell stooped lower and kissed it softly.
+Standing up, he found Tom Bent beside him. The mahogany-hued mariner
+grinned sheepishly, and gave a hitch to his belt.</p>
+
+<p>"Beggin' the lady's pardon," he whispered, "but, if the angels in heaven
+be half so sweet to look at as herself, I'm for going to heaven, in
+spite o' the devil. Sink me, but I'd play one o' they golden harps with
+a light heart if&mdash;if the equals of herself were a-listenin' on the
+quarter-deck."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell blushed and smiled. "You, too?" said he. "You are in love, Tom
+Bent."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, sir," replied the boatswain, "for it can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> be helped. I'm in love
+and awash, and danged near to sinkin'. Might as well expect a man to
+keep sober in the 'Powdered Admiral' on Bristol dock as within ten
+knots, to win'ward or lee'ard, o' your sweetheart, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you," replied the gentleman, bowing gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Bent pulled his scant forelock, and rolled away about his duty. He
+was mightily pleased with himself at having expressed his admiration for
+his young commander's choice in such felicitous terms. He prided himself
+on his eye for feminine beauty, no matter what the race or the rank of
+the fair one,&mdash;and a fairer than Mistress Westleigh he swore by all the
+gods of the Seven Seas he had never laid eyes on.</p>
+
+<p>The long spring twilight was gathering into dusk when the toiling boats
+and the tall ship rounded the point, and opened the fort to the view of
+the daring cruisers. Directly in front of the stockade the anchors
+plunged into the brown current. The rattle of the cables through the
+hawse-holes awoke Beatrix. She had been dreaming of a great garden in
+Somerset, and of walking along box-hedged paths with her father on one
+side and her lover on the other. Opening her eyes upon the canvas
+shelter which Kingswell had spread above her, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> with the clangour of
+the running cables in her ears, for a second she did not know where she
+was. A vague fear oppressed her for a little. Then she recalled the
+incidents of the last two days, and was about to crawl from her
+resting-place, when the edge of the shelter was lifted, and Kingswell
+looked down at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up," he said. "We are at the fort, and Trigget and Maggie Stone
+are coming off in a canoe."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, then I'll stay here until you explain matters," she replied. "You
+must bear the brunt of Maggie Stone's displeasure for my sake." She sat
+up, laughing softly, and lifted her face in a way that only a dunce
+could fail to comprehend. Under cover of the strip of sail-cloth, he
+kissed the warm lips and the bright hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Trust me," he laughed; and at that moment Trigget and the servant
+climbed to the poop by way of the ladder from the ship's waist. He
+advanced to meet them. He saw that Trigget held a folded paper in his
+hand, and that the honest eyes of that bold mariner were red and moist.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he inquired; for he had entirely forgotten, for the time
+being, the manner of Mistress Westleigh's joining with the expedition.</p>
+
+<p>"Here be your will, sir," said Trigget, handing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> him the paper.
+"It&mdash;it&mdash;well, maybe it'll not be o' any use now."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," replied Kingswell, cheerfully, tearing it across.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie Stone burst into tears. "Jus' the way Sir Ralph went," she
+sobbed. "Oh, my beautiful little lady&mdash;an' her fit mate for any nobleman
+of London town!"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil do you mean?" cried Kingswell. Then the truth dawned in
+his preoccupied brain. "Dry your eyes," he said. "She is safe and
+sound."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God for that," exclaimed William Trigget, devoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;the mistress be safe, d'ye say?" cried Maggie Stone, with a
+sudden change of face.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell nodded curtly. He did not like being bawled at on the poop of
+his recaptured ship, even by an old serving maid. "Your mistress is
+safe&mdash;and in my care," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir?" she queried. "An' may I make so bold as to ax when ye
+married Sir Ralph Westleigh's daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>William Trigget murmured something to the effect that his presence was
+required forward, and took his departure. Kingswell bit his lip and
+stared haughtily at the woman; but he was at a loss for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> words fully
+expressive of his feelings. His indignation brought a flush to his
+cheeks which even the dusk of evening could not hide.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye may well redden," cried Maggie Stone. "Ay, ye may well redden, after
+sailin' away with an unprotected lass, an' near terrifyin' her old nurse
+into fits."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman recovered his power of speech. "My good girl," he said
+(and she was a full twenty years older than his mother), "your joy at
+hearing of your mistress's safety takes a wondrous queer and unseemly
+way of expressing itself. You seem to forget that you, the lady's
+servant, are addressing the lady's betrothed husband."</p>
+
+<p>The old maid glared and drew her scanty skirts about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe so," she retorted. "'Twould never have happened in Somerset."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Mistress Beatrix appeared suddenly from the other side of
+the mizzen.</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you speak so to Master Kingswell!"</p>
+
+<p>Anger&mdash;quick, scathing anger&mdash;rang in her voice. Standing there in her
+short skirt, high, beaded moccasins, and blue cloth jacket, she looked
+like an indignant boy, save for her coiled hair and bright beauty.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>"I am ashamed of you," she added; and then, turning quickly, she flung
+herself into Kingswell's ever ready embrace.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie Stone was flustered and somewhat awed by the sudden attack. She
+had not been spoken to so for years and years. Would she resort to tears
+again, or would she answer back? She was jealous of the girl's love for
+Kingswell&mdash;and yet she had thanked God many times that that love had
+been won by the young Englishman instead of by the swarthy D'Antons. She
+sniffed, and mopped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she changed
+her mind and bridled.</p>
+
+<p>"What would the countess, your aunt, say to such behaviour?" she asked.
+"Her who watched over ye like a guardian angel in London town."</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix turned, and, still holding her lover's hands, faced the carping
+critic.</p>
+
+<p>"And who turned me out of her house at the last of it," she cried,
+scornfully. "Who is she, or who was she ever, to question my behaviour?
+And who are you, woman, to insult your mistress and the gentleman who
+saved you from the knives of the savages? Go back to the fort."</p>
+
+<p>Maggie Stone saw that she had made a serious mistake,&mdash;a mistake which,
+perhaps, would alienate the lady's affection for ever. She turned, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
+pitiable figure, and made to descend the steep ladder which stood close
+to the starboard side of the ship, and led to the waist. Her foot caught
+in a loop of rope that had not been properly stopped up to its
+belaying-pin. She lurched against the line that ran from the break of
+the poop to the bulwarks below, made a blind effort to right herself,
+and pitched over into the shadowed water below. She did not even scream.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell dropped his sweetheart's hands, ran to the side and jumped
+after the foolish old woman. By that time the twilight had left the
+river. The current carried him swiftly down-stream, close under the side
+of the ship. The water was uncomfortably cold, and his thick clothes
+dragged at his limbs. He cleared his hair from his eyes. A disturbance
+appeared on the surface of the stream a few yards ahead. With a quick
+stroke or two, he reached it, and caught Maggie Stone by a thin
+shoulder. She struggled desperately, mad with fright. Both were pulled
+over the gunwale of the <i>Pelican</i> not a moment too soon.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXI.</span> <span class="smaller">WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED</span></h2>
+
+<p>It is difficult to imagine the feelings of the skippers and crews of the
+good ship <i>Plover</i> and <i>Mary and Joyce</i>, when the gray light of dawn
+disclosed the fact that the <i>Heart of the West</i> had vanished completely.
+What a rubbing of eyes must have taken place! What a dropping of
+whiskered jaws and ripping of sea oaths!</p>
+
+<p>"Sunk," said one heavy-shouldered mariner.</p>
+
+<p>"Then where be her spars?" inquired a messmate.</p>
+
+<p>"Cut an' run," suggested another.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the devil must have been after her! Ol' Trowley'd run from nothin'
+else," replied the cook of the <i>Plover</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The captain of the <i>Mary and Joyce</i> scanned the inner harbour and what
+he could see of the outer bay. Then he turned his brass telescope upon
+the cliffs and hills and inland woods.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>"Maybe the French has towed mun out," he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>No fishing was done that day. The neighbouring bays and coves were
+searched, and even the "River of Three Fires" was investigated, with a
+deal of trouble, for several miles up its swift current. That night the
+skippers of the two vessels decided, over several hot glasses, that
+Wigwam Harbour was no safe place for honest English sailor men. Next
+morning found them sailing northward in search of another haven from
+which to reap the harvest of the great bay.</p>
+
+<p>To Fort Beatrix journeyed all the Beothics from many miles around, for a
+great trade was going on. Influenced by Maggie Stone's foolish outbreak,
+Beatrix and Bernard had decided to seek a priest in the port of St.
+John's on their way to England, and so cross the ocean as man and wife,
+to the bitter chagrin of Bristol scandal-mongers. Though the idea had
+not occurred to either of the lovers before the old woman's outcry in
+the name of suffering propriety, it was none the less to their liking
+now that they had accepted it.</p>
+
+<p>"And it will please poor Maggie Stone," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I was not thinking of her," replied Kingswell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> lifting the glowing
+face to his by a hand beneath the rounded chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I, dear heart," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>To the others of that wilderness the trading seemed a greater matter
+than that romantic attachment of a man and a maid. Blankets, trinkets,
+inferior weapons, and even the spare clothing of the settlers were
+bartered for pelts of beaver, mink, marten, otter, musquash, and red,
+patched, and black fox, to make up a cargo for the <i>Heart of the West</i>.
+The price of an axe-head was twice its weight in beaver skins. Even
+Maggie Stone, with an eye to adding to her nest-egg, traded a skillet
+(the identical implement with which she had floored D'Antons) for a
+beautiful foxskin. Only Trowley had no finger in the trading. Sullen and
+silent, he wandered about the fort, and a few paces behind him a brawny
+Beothic always stalked.</p>
+
+<p>The storehouse of the fort was replenished from the well-stocked
+pantries and lazaret of the ship. Kingswell smiled grimly when, during
+the overhauling of the cabin lockers, he discovered choice wines,
+cheeses, and pots of jam which his lady mother had given to Master
+Trowley as a slight mark of her gratitude for his services to her son.
+He forced an admittance of these things from the old rascal himself. It
+had been as he had hinted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> to Beatrix. The fellow had told the tearful
+and credulous lady that he had risked his life in her son's defence,
+during an engagement with the savages; and she, grateful heart, had made
+such an unbusiness-like agreement with him for the sailing of the ship
+that, had the voyage run its anticipated course, even a full load of
+fish would not have saved her from a shrewd loss. Happily for Trowley,
+Master Kingswell was far too happy for such trivial matters to really
+anger him.</p>
+
+<p>"The old rogue staked his soul and lost on the last throw," he said to
+Beatrix, "and I staked my heart, and won all that the world holds of
+joy. Surely I should be a low fellow to add to his misfortunes, poor
+devil. I can afford to be charitable now."</p>
+
+<p>They were seated on the grassy edge of the river meadow, looking out at
+the anchored ship, where sailors were repairing the rigging and scraping
+the spars. The girl did not seem keenly interested in Trowley's
+underhand behaviour to Dame Kingswell. As to his treachery toward
+Kingswell, to tell the truth, she was very grateful to the old thief for
+having sailed away and left her lover in the wilderness. Such thoughts
+flitted pleasantly through her mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p><p>"When did you stake your heart?" she asked, as if that were the core of
+the whole thing.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you the date exactly," replied Kingswell, "but I was in
+Pierre d'Antons' company at the time, and&mdash;and I was mightily surprised
+to find Somersetshire people in this country. Lord, but your eyes were
+bright."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that you&mdash;do you mean that it happened on the first day of
+your arrival at the fort?" she queried.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"And you loved me then?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, smiling across toward the busy mariners in the rigging of his
+ship. His memories of those perilous days were fragrant as an English
+rose-garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," she whispered, "that, though I felt sure I had made an
+impression on you then, I began to doubt it later. You were so
+self-satisfied that you shook my faith in my own powers to charm."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed softly, and with a note of wonder. Then, for a little while,
+they were silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," she said, suddenly. "Did you really love me that first day
+you came to the fort, or was it just&mdash;just surprise at seeing a&mdash;a
+civilized girl in so forsaken a place?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p>He considered the question gravely and at some length. "I wanted to
+kill D'Antons," he answered, presently, "and I would gladly have given
+ten years of my life for a kiss from your lips, a caress from your
+hands. Was that love, think you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should call it a right hopeful beginning," she replied, brightly; but
+tears which she could not explain shone in her eyes. Across the hurrying
+water drifted the song of the men at work upon the tall masts of the
+<i>Heart of the West</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"In a week's time," said Kingswell, "she will fill her sails for St.
+John's&mdash;and then for home."</p>
+
+<p>The girl nestled closer to his side. Looking down, he saw that she was
+weeping.</p>
+
+<p>"God grant that we find a parson in that harbour," he added. She nodded,
+and choked with a sob she could not stifle.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you weep, dearest?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"For those whom we must leave behind," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He had no answer to make to that. Together they looked beyond the
+anchored ship and the bright river to the inscrutable wilderness that
+held the fate of the mad baronet so securely.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED</span></h2>
+
+<p>At nine o'clock of the morning of the twenty-second day of June, the bow
+of the <i>Heart of the West</i> was towed around and pointed down-stream by
+willing boats and canoes; a light wind filled such sails as were set,
+and the voyage was begun. Trigget fired a salute from a new gun which
+Kingswell had given him from the armament of the ship. It was answered
+by the barking of cannon and the fluttering of sails.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa stood with Mistress Westleigh, Kingswell, and Maggie Stone, aft
+by the tiller, which was in the hands of Tom Bent. The lad was fairly
+wild with excitement. Now, it seemed to him, his great dreams were
+assured; and yet a pang of homesickness went through the joy like the
+blade of a knife, as he watched the faces of the clustered people along
+the meadow and in the boats grow dim,&mdash;the faces of William Trigget and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
+Black Feather, and of a dozen more who were dear to him. He shouted back
+to them in English and in his native tongue, and waved his cap
+frantically. The faces blurred and wavered. The ship swam around the
+wooded point, and meadow and stockade and camp of wigwams vanished like
+a picture withdrawn. The lad turned and glanced at Mistress Westleigh.
+Then he walked forward to the break of the poop, and blinked very hard
+at nothing in particular in the belly of the maintopsail.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the wooded banks fell away on either side, and the water changed
+its tint of amber for wind-roughened green. The gray, purple, and brown
+shores of the roadstead widened and dropped lower, and azure uplands
+shone beyond their frowning brows. The wind freshened, and white flakes
+of foam whipped from crest to crest across the ever-shifting,
+ever-vanishing valleys of green. Along the fading cliffs white sea-birds
+circled and settled like flakes of snow. A few great gulls winged around
+the ship, fleeing to leeward like bolts of mist, and beating up again
+with quivering pinions.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell had taken the duties of sailing-master upon himself. He was as
+good a deep-sea navigator as any man on the whole width of the North
+Atlantic. When the outer bay was reached, yards were swung around, and
+the stout bark headed due<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> east at his orders. To see old Tom Bent push
+the tiller over, and other seasoned mariners man brace and sheet, at the
+command of that gold-haired youth, made the heart of Beatrix Westleigh
+flutter with pride. Her dark eyes, already bright and lovely beyond
+power of description, shone yet more brightly; and her cheeks, already
+flushed to clear flame by the wind, deepened their glow. As the ship
+answered to his will, so would he answer to her whim. It was a pleasant
+reflection to the lady; and to realize it she called softly. Without a
+glance at the straining sails, he turned and hastened to her side.</p>
+
+<p>The voyage from Fort Beatrix to the wonderful harbour and brave little
+town of St. John's was made without accident, though not without
+incident. In Bonavista Bay, at a gray hour of the morning, the stump of
+a great iceberg was narrowly avoided. A day later, a large vessel that
+was evidently employed at fishing evinced an undesirable interest in the
+business of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. She was not a quarter of a mile
+distant when first sighted, for a light fog was on the water. She flew
+no flag, and changed her course and altered her speed with sinister
+promptness. Kingswell, and every man of the ship's company, knew that
+pirates of many nationalities infested those waters during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> summer. The
+worst of the thieves were Turks; and the fishing-ship or store-ship that
+was overhauled by those gentry usually lost more than its cargo.
+Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards also had a weakness for playing the
+part of the bald eagle, with their heavy metalled and wide-sailed craft,
+to the r&ocirc;le of the fishhawk so unwillingly played by the merchantmen.
+Happily for Kingswell's command, the stranger was inshore and to
+leeward. Both watches were piped up by Tom Bent. The gunners went to
+their quarters. Sail after sail unfurled about the already straining
+masts and yards. The brave little ship answered willingly to the
+pressure, and her cutwater broke the flanks of the waves into sibilant
+foam.</p>
+
+<p>A rumour of the chase reached Mistress Beatrix and her old maid, in the
+seclusion of that snug cabin in which Master Trowley was, at one time,
+wont to revel. Maggie Stone drew the curtains across the thick glass of
+the after-port (as if fearing that the eagle glance of one of the
+pirates might pierce the privacy of her retreat), and then devoted
+herself to tearful prayer. Beatrix completed her toilet, threw a cloak
+over her shoulders, and climbed the companion. She joined Kingswell by
+the tiller, and, after saluting him tenderly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> with a composure that
+took no heed of the sailor at the helm, watched the chase with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"They outsail us," she said, presently.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell nodded. "But she'll never get near us on that course," he
+replied. "She is for heading us off, and getting to windward. If she
+gets to windward of us&mdash;Lord, but I scarce think she will."</p>
+
+<p>He said a word of preparation to the man at the tiller, and then gave a
+few quick orders from the break of the poop. In half a minute the <i>Heart
+of the West</i> headed out on an easy tack. When every sail was drawing to
+his liking, he returned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"How glorious!" she cried. "A good horse, a singing pack, and an old fox
+make but slow sport compared to this."</p>
+
+<p>"We are the fox on this hunting morning," smiled Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"With teeth," she hinted.</p>
+
+<p>He noticed that the unwelcome stranger was shouldering the wind on the
+new course. He looked at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, we have teeth, sweeting," he said, "and soon we'll be gnashing
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Though the <i>Heart of the West</i> sailed well, to windward, the big craft
+astern sailed even better.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> The ships, crowded with canvas, the dancing
+blue water and cloudless sky, and the brown and azure coast to leeward,
+made a fine picture under the white sun. As the stranger drew near and
+nearer, excitement increased aboard the merchantman. Old Trowley bawled
+to be set free, that he might not die in the sail-locker like a rat in a
+hole. Tom Bent spat on his hard hands, and pulled his belt an inch
+shorter. Ouenwa lugged up shot and powder, and was for opening fire at
+an impossible range. Beatrix roused Maggie Stone from her devotions, and
+took her forward to a place of greater safety in the men's quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Along either side of the after-cabin of the <i>Heart of the West</i> ran a
+narrow passage. Each passage ended in a blind port, and behind each port
+crouched a gun of unusual size for so peaceful an appearing ship. Now
+Kingswell blessed the day that a youthful love of warlike gear and a
+heart for adventure had led him to add these pieces to the armament of
+his ship. He remembered, with a contented smile, how Master Trowley had
+growled at the delay caused by getting the great guns aboard and
+partitioning off the passage. Even his mother had urged him to put more
+faith in the great ship which the king was so gracious as to send to
+Newfounde Land each spring, as a convoy to the fishing fleet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> But
+Master Bernard, spoiled child, had had his way; and now he thanked the
+gods of war for it.</p>
+
+<p>Both ships sailed as close to the wind as their models and rigging and
+the laws of nature would allow. They went about often on ever shortening
+tacks. The hunter outsailed the hunted, though it is safe to say that
+her seamanship was no better. Suddenly she luffed until her sails
+quivered, and from her bows broke two puffs of smoke with inner cores of
+flame. Both shots flew high, and fell ahead of the quarry in brief
+spouts of torn water. At that, the blind ports in the stern of the
+merchantman opened up, and the sinister muzzles of the guns were run out
+with a gust of English cheering. Then their sudden voices boomed
+defiance, and the smoke rolled along the water and clung to the leaping
+waves.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell felt the deck jump under his feet. His pulses leaped with the
+good planks. "Hit!" he cried&mdash;and sure enough, one of the enemy's upper
+spars, with its burden of flapping canvas, tottered desperately, and
+then swooped down on the clustered buccaneers beneath. Half an hour
+later the <i>Heart of the West</i> was spinning along on her old course, and
+far astern the stranger lay to and nursed her wound.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later, at high noon, the Narrows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> opened in the sheer brown
+face of the cliffs, and the people of the <i>Heart of the West</i> caught a
+glimpse of the harbour and the shipping beyond. Then the rocky portals
+seemed to close, and the spray flew like smoke along the unbroken
+ramparts. The ship was put about, and again the magic entrance opened
+and shut.</p>
+
+<p>"I knows the channel, sir," said Tom Bent. "Ye needn't wait for no
+duff-headed pilot."</p>
+
+<p>So the stout ship went 'round again, with a brisk shouting of men at the
+braces and a booming of canvas aloft. Her colours flew bravely in the
+sunlight, answering the colours of the fort and the battery on Signal
+Hill. She raced at the towering cliff as if she would try to overthrow
+it with her cocked-up bowsprit. Even Kingswell caught his breath.
+Beatrix looked away, so fearful was the sight of the unbroken rock that
+seemed to swim toward them with a voice of thunder and the smoking surf
+along its foot. Ouenwa wondered if Tom Bent were mad. But the boatswain
+gripped the big tiller, and squinted under the yards, and cocked an eye
+aloft at the flags and men on the cliff. Then, of a sudden, the narrow
+passage of green water, spray-fringed, opened under their bows, and the
+walls of rock slid aside and let them in.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIII.</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE MERRY CITY</span></h2>
+
+<p>The <i>Heart of the West</i> was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside
+the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the
+great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant
+welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress
+Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a
+subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never
+have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new
+arrival carried such a passenger.</p>
+
+<p>"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink
+his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the
+worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix
+shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the
+dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> facings of his
+coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular
+fancy is for the Church."</p>
+
+<p>The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to
+think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the
+combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath.
+Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, we have a parson&mdash;a ranting old missionary," replied the
+lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the
+marriage service."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He
+was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish
+countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in
+the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled
+good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at
+Mistress Westleigh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were
+brother and sister."</p>
+
+<p>The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot,
+and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was
+of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds
+and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if
+he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales.
+His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike
+those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for
+his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair
+with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box
+to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant
+made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and
+cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated
+his name and degree.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency,
+extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me
+more than once in his great house in Bristol,&mdash;ay, and treated the poor
+sailor like a peer of the realm."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> a brief account of Sir
+Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness,
+and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort
+was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its
+whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered
+plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief
+engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress
+Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor
+was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He
+murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in
+England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well
+do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh&mdash;ay, the
+young lady's mother&mdash;bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me,
+and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And
+she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death
+that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless,
+and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour
+day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir,
+I can assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in
+his staring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island,
+the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St.
+John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception
+Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return
+within the week.</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime," said the honest governor, "my house is at Mistress
+Westleigh's service. Let her send for her maid and her boxes. My good
+housekeeper will tidy up the best chamber. Gad, Master Kingswell, but
+we'll cheer this God-forsaken, French-pestered hole in the rock with a
+touch of gaiety."</p>
+
+<p>His Excellency's hospitality was accepted, and for eight days the little
+settlement gave itself over to merrymaking. There were dances in the
+governor's house every night, at which Beatrix was the only lady. There
+were great dinners, during which Beatrix sat on his Excellency's right
+and Kingswell on his left. There were inspections of the fort, boating
+parties on the harbour, and outings among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> the woods and natural gardens
+that graced the valley at the head of the beautiful basin.</p>
+
+<p>The beauty and graciousness of Mistress Westleigh, and the knowledge of
+her loyalty to her father, and her bravery won the heart of that rude
+village. From the governor to the youngest sailor lad, every man in the
+harbour was her humble and devoted servant.</p>
+
+<p>Before the kindly soldiers and merchants and adventurers, she was always
+merry. The main street along the water-front took on a light of distant
+England did she but appear in it for a minute. The three officers of the
+garrison swore that they preferred it to the most fashionable promenade
+on London. But, alone, or with her lover, she eased, with tears, the
+grief for her father's fate, which all the junketing and gaiety but
+seemed to uncover.</p>
+
+<p>On the eighth day after the arrival of the <i>Heart of the West</i> in the
+harbour of St. John's, the parson returned from his preaching among the
+boisterous fishing-ships in Conception Bay. He shook his head at the
+state in which he found his home flock; for he was of that gloomy
+persuasion known as low church, and held little with frivolity. But,
+after meeting Beatrix, he thawed, and even went so far as to attempt a
+pun on his willingness to marry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> her. The sally of wit was received by
+the lady with so lovely a smile that the divine forgot his austerity so
+far as to poke Kingswell in the ribs, and call him a sly dog.</p>
+
+<p>The ceremony took place in the little church behind the governor's
+house; and, after it was over, his Excellency, the parson, the officers
+of the garrison, the merchants, the captains of the ships, and many
+more, accompanied the happy couple aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i>, where
+sound wines were drunk by the quality, and rum and beer by the
+commonalty. All the shipping, the premises of the merchants, and the
+forts flew bunting, as if for a demonstration to royalty itself. At noon
+farewells were said, and a dozen willing boats towed the <i>Heart of the
+West</i> down the harbour and through the Narrows.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXIV.</span> <span class="smaller">PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES, AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA</span></h2>
+
+<p>The wilderness, that grim thing of naked rock, brown barren, gray marsh,
+and black wood, which had claimed the mad baronet so surely, was unable
+to keep Pierre d'Antons in its spacious prison. With the return of
+summer, the dark adventurer and the Beothic girl deserted their inland
+retreat, and set out for a certain grim cape which thrusts far into the
+Atlantic. The crown of that cape affords an uninterrupted view to
+seaward and north and south across the waters of two great bays. A fire
+at night, or a column of smoke in the day, glowing or streaming upward
+from that vantage place, would be sighted from the deck of a passing
+ship at a distance of many miles.</p>
+
+<p>The journey proved a long and trying one, through swamps and barrens,
+and over rock-tumbled knolls. Streams were forded, lakes
+circumambulated, and rivers crossed on insecure rafts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> Through it all,
+the native girl, Miwandi, kept a brave heart and bright face. D'Antons,
+however, was preoccupied in his manner, and even gloomy at times. The
+hardships of that wild existence had begun to tell on his body, and the
+loneliness to fret his nerves. His infatuation for Mistress Westleigh
+had dimmed and faded out altogether, leaving only a mean desire for the
+salve of revenge with which to soothe his injured pride. He would wound
+her through Kingswell. Sometimes a fear oppressed him that his men might
+have forgotten his mastery by this time, and might fail, after the two
+seasons of silence, to continue their cruising of those northern waters
+throughout June and July, as he had commanded. But that doubt only
+troubled him in his darkest moods. The loyalty of his subordinate
+buccaneers of the <i>Cristobal</i> was not to be questioned seriously, for it
+had been tested in many tight places. Comradeship often forms as trusty
+ties between the hearts of pirates as between the hearts of honest
+gentlemen. Once grown beyond the temptations of greed and treachery, it
+is a safe thing, this loyalty of desperate men for their messmates.</p>
+
+<p>It was Pierre d'Antons' dream to regain the deck of the <i>Cristobal</i>
+(with Miwandi, of course), and to appear, some fine day, before the
+little fort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> Gray Goose River; to put the settlers to the sword, the
+buildings to the torch, and to carry the English beauty away with him.
+He felt that his passion for the proud lady might be easily and
+pleasantly refired. But he made no mention of Mistress Westleigh to
+Miwandi, the Beothic girl.</p>
+
+<p>After more than a week of hard travelling, the two ascended the wooded
+ridge which runs seaward to the bleak and elevated acres of the grim
+cape of their desire. In a shaggy grove they set up their lodge. At the
+extremity of the headland, high above the wheeling, screaming gulls and
+noddies, D'Antons built a circular fireplace of the stones that lay
+about. Completed, it looked like an altar reared by some benighted
+priesthood to the gods of the wind and the sea. But no such thought
+occurred to its architect. His case was too desperate to allow his mind
+to indulge in such whimsical fancies.</p>
+
+<p>While the woman went in quest of food&mdash;fish, flesh, or fowl, what did it
+matter which?&mdash;the man gathered wood and piled it near the queer hearth.
+He worked without intermission until Miwandi returned from her foraging
+with a string of bright trout in her hand. Then he built a modest fire
+within the rough walls of his furnace, and helped the girl clean and
+cook the fish. By that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> time the glow of the afternoon was centred
+behind the gloomy hills, and a clear twilight was over the sea; but as
+yet the atmosphere held no suggestion of dusk. No sail broke the wide
+expanse of dark blue ocean with its flake of gray; but to the nor'east a
+whale breached and blew its little fountain of spray across the still
+line of the horizon. D'Antons and Miwandi noted these things as they
+ate, but made no comment upon them.</p>
+
+<p>For several days after the arrival of the two upon the overseeing
+headland, D'Antons made no other use of his furnace than for the cooking
+of meals. For that purpose it served admirably, for the walls protected
+the flame from the ever-flying winds that prevailed over that exposed
+spot. The adventurer knew that he was early for the <i>Cristobal</i>. Several
+sails were detected; but of them the only heed taken was the precaution
+of blanketing the little fire in the hearth with damp soil. The
+Frenchman did not desire a visit from fishermen of any nationality
+whatever. He might find it difficult to explain his presence in so
+unfavourable a spot for either a fishery or a settlement. No doubt they
+would persist in rescuing him, and, in that case, what reason could he
+give for wishing to stay in his cheerless camp? So he lay low and
+watched the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> passing of more than one stout craft without a sign.</p>
+
+<p>The time arrived when he must set his signals, despite the risk of
+attracting unwelcome visitors. So he closed the front of the furnace
+with a boulder, built a brisk fire within, which he heaped with damp
+moss and punk, and then laid a large, flat stone over the opening in the
+top of the unique structure. By removing the flat stone, he allowed a
+column of dense smoke to issue into the air, stream aloft and scatter in
+the wind. By replacing the stone, the smoke was cut short off. Finding
+that the contrivance worked to his satisfaction, he let the smoke stream
+up, uninterrupted. The signalling would only be resorted to when a
+vessel, which might possibly be the <i>Cristobal</i>, should be sighted. When
+darkness fell, the fire was allowed to die down. A night signal was
+unnecessary, as the <i>Cristobal</i>, should she keep the tryst at all, was
+sure to make an examination of the cape by daylight. D'Antons' last
+orders had been strictly and particularly to that effect.</p>
+
+<p>A week passed, during which a sharp lookout was kept by the fugitives on
+the brow of the cape, and the signal of smoke was operated a dozen times
+without the desired effect. In fact, a large vessel, attracted by the
+smoke (which was due to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>D'Antons' tardy realization that the
+approaching ship was not the <i>Cristobal</i>) altered her course, sailed
+close in, and sent a boat ashore to investigate. D'Antons and Miwandi
+had just enough time, with not a minute to spare, to roll up their
+wigwam and hide it in the bushes, gather together their most valuable
+belongings, and flee inland to a shelter of tangled spruces and firs.
+The boat's crew was composed of peaceful fishermen, who were free from
+suspicion and malice. They climbed to the brow of the promontory with
+fine hardihood, but once there did little but examine the marks where
+the lodge had so lately stood and partially overthrow the queer
+fireplace. They believed that structure to be an altar, built to the
+glory of some unorthodox god. Then they retraced their perilous way to
+the little cove under the cliff, and rowed back to the ship. D'Antons
+stole from his retreat and crawled to the edge of the cliff. He felt a
+glow of satisfaction when the big vessel stood away on her northward
+course.</p>
+
+<p>Another week drifted along, and hope wavered in the buccaneer heart. His
+gloomy moods began to wear on the young squaw's spirits. She begged him
+to return to the inland rivers&mdash;to make peace with her people&mdash;to cease
+his unprofitable staring at the sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"The sorrow of the great salt water has entered your heart," she said,
+"and the moaning of it has deafened your ears to my voice."</p>
+
+<p>He did not turn his eyes from the undulations of the gray horizon.
+"Would you have me rot in this place for the remainder of my life?" he
+asked, harshly, in her language.</p>
+
+<p>The poor girl sobbed for an hour after that, and reproved her heart for
+the image of a god it had set up. She tried to overthrow the idol from
+its inner shrine; she tried to change it to a grim symbol of hate; she
+pressed her face to the coarse herbage, and tore the sod with her
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Miwandi! Come to me, little one," cried the man from the edge of the
+cliff.</p>
+
+<p>Her anger, her bitterness, vanished like thinnest smoke. She sprang up
+and ran to him. He drew her to his side, and with his right hand pointed
+southward across the glinting deep.</p>
+
+<p>"The <i>Cristobal</i>!" he cried. "Good God, I'll stake my life on it!"</p>
+
+<p>So intense was his satisfaction at the sight of those unmistakable
+topsails that his selfish affection for the woman lighted again. He
+pressed his lips to the tear-wet cheek; and immediately the simple
+creature was in the seventh heaven of bliss.</p>
+
+<p>While the gray flake of sail expanded on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> horizon, Pierre d'Antons
+and the woman hurriedly and roughly rebuilt the walls of the fireplace,
+lit and fed a blaze, and piled it high with moss and rotten bark. The
+thick pillar of smoke arose like a tree, and bent in the moderate wind.
+Miwandi busied herself with breaking the wood to the required length and
+carrying damp moss. For several minutes the smoke was allowed to ascend
+in an unbroken shaft. Then D'Antons cut it off for a few seconds, let it
+rise again, broke it again, and again let it stream aloft,
+uninterrupted. He had signalled his name according to the code of the
+<i>Cristobal</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The welcome ship gradually enlarged to the eager eyes of the watchers on
+the cape. North, east, and south there was no other sail in sight. At
+last three flags ran up to the topforemast and fluttered out. The
+question was read instantly by D'Antons, who returned to his fire and
+interrupted the stream of smoke five times in quick succession. The
+translation of that was "All's well. You may approach without danger."</p>
+
+<p>A message of congratulation appeared promptly against the bellying
+foresail of the <i>Cristobal</i>; and the watchers saw the rolls of white
+foam gleaming like wool under the forging of the bow.</p>
+
+<p>D'Antons was cordially welcomed aboard the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> <i>Cristobal</i>. Miwandi was
+received without question. The acting commander of the ship was a
+grizzled Spanish mariner by the name of Silva,&mdash;a fellow steeped in
+crime and uncertain of temper, yet possessed of a marvellous devotion
+for D'Antons, which was due to an act of kindness performed by the
+Frenchman years before, in the town of Panama.</p>
+
+<p>Silva was delighted to find his captain alive and ready for the high
+seas again. He asked no questions concerning his adventures until more
+than one bottle of wine had been emptied, and the captain's
+travel-stained garments had been exchanged for the best the cabin
+lockers contained. Miwandi, too, was reclothed; and the beauty and
+softness of the silks that were presented to her fairly turned her
+little head. She did not know that the fair French lady for whom they
+had been made, in gay Paris, and who had worn them only three months
+ago, was somewhere in the dredge of emerald tides between the Bahaman
+reefs. She knew only that the texture and colours delighted her skin and
+her eyes. So, in her narrow room, she attired herself in the finery,
+toiling at the ties and lacing with unfamiliar fingers.</p>
+
+<p>In the captain's cabin D'Antons motioned to his friend to close the
+door. He had consumed a soup,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> and was still engaged with the wine.
+Silva returned to his seat at the table, after a final reassuring push
+on the bolt of the door. It is always wise to be sure that the door you
+considered fastened is fastened indeed. Then, with their elbows on the
+table and their heads close together, the more salient incidents of
+D'Antons' sojourn in the wilderness were rehearsed and keenly listened
+to. Silva displayed a prodigious indignation at the story of the
+captain's failure to win the affections of Mistress Westleigh. At word
+of Sir Ralph's death (and the murder became a desperate duel in the
+telling), a crooked smile of satisfaction distorted his face. As to what
+he heard of Kingswell&mdash;ah, but oaths in two languages were quite
+inadequate for the expression of his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll inspect the heart of that cockerel&mdash;and the gizzard as well,"
+said he, and drank off his wine.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave him to my hand," replied D'Antons, darkly.</p>
+
+<p>Silva nodded, with a sinister leer.</p>
+
+<p>"So it's 'bout ship and blow the little stockade into everlasting
+damnation," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but the lady must come to no harm in the attack," warned the
+captain.</p>
+
+<p>So the <i>Cristobal</i> headed northward, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>evil-looking rascals of
+her crew were informed that the morrow would bring them some work to
+limber their muscles. The information was received with cheers, in which
+hearty English voices were not lacking.</p>
+
+<p>However, in the early morning, Fate, in the shape of the <i>Heart of the
+West</i>, turned the danger away from the little fort.</p>
+
+<p>"She looks like a likely prize," said D'Antons, when he sighted the
+ship. The old fever awoke in his blood. He longed for the old
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Give chase," he ordered. "The fort can well do without the honour of
+our attentions for a little while."</p>
+
+<p>So the chase was carried on, as has been described in a previous
+chapter, and went merrily enough for the <i>Cristobal</i> until the
+unexpected shot from the stern of the quarry brought down her
+foretopmast and its weight of sail. But before that had happened,
+D'Antons, unrecognizable himself in new clothes and a great hat, marked
+Bernard Kingswell on the poop of the <i>Heart of the West</i>. He cursed like
+a madman, or a true-bred pirate, when his ship was crippled.</p>
+
+<p>"The fort may rot of old age in the midst of its desolation," he cried
+to Silva, "for what I would have is aboard that cursed craft ahead."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p><p>A few days later, with their spars repaired, they picked up a small
+fishing-boat, and learned from the skipper that a great ship from the
+north had entered the harbour of St. John's. So, knowing the virtue of
+precaution, they impressed the master and crew and scuttled the little
+vessel. Then, with admirable patience, they cruised up and down, far to
+seaward of the brown cliffs which guarded that hospitable port.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXV.</span> <span class="smaller">THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE</span></h2>
+
+<p>The dainty bride leaned on her husband's arm, and together they looked
+back and waved farewell. Flags answered them from the battery above the
+cliff. Then she turned to the bridegroom and gazed into his eyes with so
+radiant and tender a smile that, all forgetful of the abashed salt at
+the tiller, he drew her to him and kissed her on brow and lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear wife," he murmured, and could say no more.</p>
+
+<p>Both were brave in marriage finery,&mdash;she in a pearl gown of brocaded
+silk, a scarlet cloak lined with white fur, and a feathered hat, and he
+in buff and blue from the wardrobe of the commandant of St. John's.</p>
+
+<p>They gazed astern, across the dancing azure, to the brown and purple
+rocks beautified by the sunlight and crystal air. "Homeward bound," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>
+whispered, happily, and turned her face from the mellowing coast of the
+wilderness to the wide east.</p>
+
+<p>Together they walked forward to the break of the high deck. A fair wind
+bellied the sails. The tarred rigging and scraped spars shone like
+polished metal. The men, in their brightest sashes and cleanest shirts
+(in honour of the occasion), went about their duties briskly. The mates
+wore their side-arms; both watches were on deck, with the gaiety of the
+days ashore still in their hearts. Not a soul was below save the cook
+(who sorted provisions in the forward lazaret), Maggie Stone (who sulked
+in her mistress's cabin because she had not been asked to act as
+bridesmaid), and old Trowley, with wrists and legs in irons and a
+dawning repentance in his sullen blood.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later Ouenwa ascended the starboard ladder from the waist, and
+stood beside Master and Mistress Kingswell. He wore a dashing outfit,
+which had been made to his shape by the garrison tailor in the days
+preceding the marriage. A sword was at his belt; lace hung at his
+wrists; his dark hair, slightly curled, fell to his shoulders. His
+tanned cheeks were flushed with the excitement passed and the adventures
+anticipated. Only the dark alertness of his eyes and the litheness of
+his actions bespoke his primitive upbringing. Though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> he had been named
+"dreamer" by his people, he gave promise now of a life of deeds rather
+than of dreams.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mourn the little stockade and the great river, lad?" queried
+Kingswell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Ouenwa shook his head emphatically and glanced knowingly aloft. "Why
+should I mourn them?" he asked. "Am I not bound for castles and great
+houses, for books in number as the leaves of the birch-tree, and for
+villages filled all day with warriors, and with ladies almost as fair as
+Mistress Beatrix? Shall I not read in the books, and see horses, greater
+than caribou, bearing gentlemen upon their backs? Then why would you
+have me mourn? The land behind us is not a good land. My fathers were
+brave and wise, and led their warriors to a hundred victories; but they
+were murdered by their own people. I care not for such a country."</p>
+
+<p>"True, lad," replied Kingswell, "and yet, even in glorious England, you
+may find ingratitude as black as that of Panounia. Even kings and queens
+have been guilty of ingratitude."</p>
+
+<p>Beatrix patted the moralist's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Why think of it now?" she said, gently, "and why fill the dear lad with
+doubt? Only if he climbs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> high need he fear disloyalty. As a plain
+soldier, he shall never lack the protection of such humble friends as
+ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Just then a lookout warned them of a sail on the larboard bow. Kingswell
+and Ouenwa went forward to the forecastle-head. Tom Bent (now of the
+rank of chief gunner) was already there, peering away under the lift of
+the jibs. The second mate was with him.</p>
+
+<p>"A large vessel," remarked Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and we's spoke mun afore now, sir," replied Bent. He was too intent
+on gazing ahead to see the question in the captain's face. But the mate
+saw it and answered it.</p>
+
+<p>"She's run up a new spar, sir, an' mended her for'ard riggin'," said he,
+"an' like enough she thinks she'll take the cost of damages out o' us."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Kingswell, with a note of relish. Then he remembered
+Beatrix, and a shadow darkened his eyes for a moment. "Pipe both
+watches," he said, quietly. "Arm all hands. Clear decks for action.
+Master Gunner, you must fight your barkers to-day for more than the
+glory of England."</p>
+
+<p>He returned to his wife and told her of the menace. She heard the news
+with an inward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>sickening, but with no outward tremor. All her fear was
+for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise me that you will go to our cabin when I give the word," he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Your obedient, humble wife, my lord,"
+she whispered, with a brave attempt at gaiety.</p>
+
+<p>He caught her hands quickly to his shoulders and kissed her lips. He
+felt them tremble against his.</p>
+
+<p>"I must help with the preparations, dear heart," he murmured, and
+hurried away. He consulted the mates and Tom Bent as to the advisability
+of beating back for St. John's. The mariners shook their heads. They
+held that the <i>Heart of the West</i> could make a better fight on her
+present course; and that the battle would be decided, one way or
+another, before the garrison could send them any help. As if to confirm
+their views, the wind freshened to such a degree, and held so fair
+astern, that to beat to windward would require all hands at the sails,
+and put gunnery out of the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Like enough they be double our strength in men," said Tom Bent, "but we
+equals 'em in guns and seamanship, sir, an' ye may lay to that."</p>
+
+<p>So the <i>Heart of the West</i> held on her course under a press of canvas.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p><p>After Kingswell and Beatrix had talked together for some time, they
+went forward, hand in hand, to the break of the poop. Tom Bent called
+the ship's company to attention. The brave fellows, stripped to their
+breeches and shirts in readiness for the approaching encounter, looked
+up, and such as wore caps doffed them respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>"My brave lads," cried the lady, in a voice that rang clear above the
+stir of wind and wave and tugging cordage, "but this morning you made
+merry for my sake; and now, in so little a while, you will risk your
+lives in defending your ship and me from that pirate whom we have
+already encountered. My husband,&mdash;your captain,&mdash;like a true-bred
+English sailor, is already sure of victory. A generous mariner, he has
+promised me the prize; and now I promise it to you. In a few weeks'
+time, my lads, we shall sell our enemy in Bristol docks. Not a penny of
+her price shall go to owner or captain; but all into the pockets of this
+brave company. And should any man fall in the encounter, I pledge my
+word that those dependent upon him shall lack nothing that money can
+give them during the remainder of their lives. Now, fight well, for God
+and for England."</p>
+
+<p>She looked down at them, smiling divinely.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p><p>"And for the Lady Beatrix," shouted a youthful seaman.</p>
+
+<p>Cheers rang aloft; bearded lips and shaven lips bawled her name; and
+great, toil-seared hands were brandished, and stark blades gleamed in
+the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, lady," they roared.</p>
+
+<p>She leaned forward and blew a kiss from her lips with both dainty hands.</p>
+
+<p>"God strengthen you, brave hearts," she cried, softly; and the nearer of
+the loyal mariners saw the tears shimmering beneath her lashes.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Heart of the West</i> held on her course, breaking the waves in
+fountains from her forging bow. The <i>Cristobal</i> raced down upon her with
+the wind square abeam. It was evidently her intention to cross the
+merchantman's bows and rake her with a broadside.</p>
+
+<p>Aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i> every man was at his post, and the
+matches were like pale stars in the hands of the gunners. The second
+mate was on the forecastle-head, beside the bow-chaser. The first mate
+stood in the waist. Kingswell paced the poop, fore and aft. Each
+measured and calculated the brisk approach of the <i>Cristobal</i> with
+unwinking eyes, and considered the straining sails overhead and the
+speed of the wind.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p><p>Still the pirate boiled down upon them, leaning over in the press of
+the half-gale. It was evident to Kingswell that she would pass across
+his bows within a distance of a hundred yards, unless something was done
+to prevent it. He spoke quietly to the men at the tiller, and called an
+order to the officer amidships. Twenty seconds later he gave the signal.
+The tiller was pushed over, the yards were hauled around, and the good
+ship swung to the north and took the wind on her larboard beam. Now the
+vessels leaned on the same course, and were not two hundred yards apart.
+Almost at the same moment they exchanged broadsides, and the challenging
+shouts of men mingled with the roaring of the little cannonades. The
+smoke from the merchantman's ports blew down, in a stifling cloud, upon
+the enemy. The <i>Cristobal</i> fell off before the wind in an unaccountable
+manner. The <i>Heart of the West</i> luffed, in the hope of bringing her
+heavy after-battery to bear, saw that the man&oelig;uvre could not be
+accomplished, and flew about on her old course.</p>
+
+<p>"Her tiller is shot away," cried Kingswell. A cheer rang along the decks
+and penetrated the cabins fore and aft. Beatrix heard it, and thanked
+God. Old Trowley heard it, and, beating his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>manacled wrists against the
+bulkhead, roared to be cast loose that he might bear a hand in the
+fight.</p>
+
+<p>From that first exchange of round-shot, the <i>Heart of the West</i> escaped
+without hurt, owing to the fact that the enemy's guns, elevated by the
+pressure of the gale upon her windward side, sent their missiles high
+between the upper spars of the merchantman. The <i>Cristobal</i>, however,
+was hulled by two balls, and had her tiller carried away by a third;
+for, just as her guns were elevated to harmlessness by the list of the
+deck, so were the merchantman's depressed to a deadly aim by the list of
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>Taking every advantage which a sound tiller and perfectly trimmed sails
+gave her over her enemy, the <i>Heart of the West</i> raced after the
+buccaneer. Passing close astern, she raked her with her three larboard
+guns. Running on, and slanting across the wind's course more and more,
+she presently had her two after-guns to bear on the three-quarter target
+of the <i>Cristobal's</i> starboard side. The range was middling; but, even
+so, the gunners sent up a prayer to Luck, so violent were the soarings
+and sinkings of the deck. The shots were followed by a tottering of high
+sails above the <i>Cristobal</i>, and with a flapping and rending, the
+mizzenmast fell forward and stripped the main of three of her yards.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p><p>Now the disabled, tillerless <i>Cristobal</i>, kept before the wind by a
+great sweep, fled heavily. Her decks were cluttered with snarled
+wreckage. Half a dozen of her crew were injured. Her commander and
+Master Silva were mad with rage at the unexpected turn of events.</p>
+
+<p>Aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i>, Ouenwa had just pointed out to Kingswell
+the dashing figure of Pierre d'Antons.</p>
+
+<p>"I take it that this is his last play," remarked the young captain, with
+a grim smile.</p>
+
+<p>For another hour the merchantman sailed about the pirate at her will,
+pouring broadside after broadside into hull and rigging, and sustaining
+but little damage herself. Now and then musket-shots were exchanged. Two
+of Kingswell's men were wounded, and were promptly carried below, where
+their hurts were tenderly bandaged by Mistress Kingswell and Maggie
+Stone.</p>
+
+<p>In a lull of the firing, the cook came running to the poop, with word
+that Trowley was in a fair way to make matchwood of his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>"What ails him now?" inquired Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"He be shoutin' for a chance at the Frenchers," replied the cook.
+Kingswell considered the matter, with a calculating eye on the enemy.
+"Cast him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> loose," said he, "and give him a chance to prove himself an
+English sailor man."</p>
+
+<p>Trowley appeared on deck just as a shot from the <i>Cristobal</i> struck the
+teakwood rail of the <i>Heart of the West</i> amidships. A flying splinter
+whirred past his head. He brandished his cutlass, and bawled a threat
+across the rocking water. The men at the guns welcomed him with laughter
+and cheers.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye be in for the kill, master," cried one.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell beckoned the ex-commander aft, and met him at the top of the
+ladder. Trowley looked guiltily this way and that.</p>
+
+<p>"I have let you up, my man," said the captain, "that you may bear a hand
+in the fight. I am willing to forget your knaveries of the past, and
+remember only your actions of to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Trowley nodded, and for an instant his eyes met Kingswell's.</p>
+
+<p>"You can see what we have done to the enemy," said the other. "But I am
+in no mind to break her up with this everlasting cannonading. What would
+you suggest?"</p>
+
+<p>Trowley straightened his great shoulders and lifted his head. "Lay her
+aboard, sir," said he, "an' make fast."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVI.</span> <span class="smaller">OVER THE SIDE</span></h2>
+
+<p>With a fearful grinding of timbers and rattling of spars, the
+merchantman's larboard bow scraped along the enemy's side.
+Boarding-irons were thrown across from the forecastle-deck. With a yell,
+the men of Devon sprang from rail to rail, and hurled themselves upon
+the mongrels who clustered to repulse them. Cutlasses skirred in the
+air; and some struck clanging metal, and some met with a softer
+resistance. Screams of rage and pain, and shouts of grim exultation,
+rang above the conflict.</p>
+
+<p>Old Trowley hacked a place for himself in the thickest of the press, and
+laid about him with such desperate fury and such fearful oaths that the
+buccaneers hustled each other to get out of his way.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, in the waist of the <i>Cristobal</i>, encountered D'Antons, and
+claimed him for his own. As their blades rasped together, D'Antons began
+the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's death in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>wilderness. Kingswell
+heard it without comment. The tumult about them gradually subsided, as
+man after man of the pirate crew was cut down or bound. Sail was
+shortened on both vessels, and the victors, sound and wounded alike,
+gathered about the two swordsmen. A strained silence took possession of
+the watchers. The rough fellows understood that their captain had an old
+score to settle with the buccaneer. They were fascinated by the
+lightning play of the rapiers. They noted every movement of foot and
+hand, blade and eye. When D'Antons snarled an insulting taunt at his
+adversary, they cursed softly. When their captain pricked the pirate's
+shoulder, a husky murmur of admiration went through them. So intent were
+they on the fight that they failed to notice the approach of Miwandi,
+the Beothic woman, until she was in their midst. But they became aware
+of her presence when she screamed with rage and flung herself upon
+Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>"Pull the wench off," they cried, and made a futile grab at the mad
+figure.</p>
+
+<p>Kingswell, quick as a cat for all his Saxon colouring, wrenched himself
+clear of her, avoided the slash of her knife by a half-inch, and lunged
+through D'Antons' guard. The buccaneer pitched forward so suddenly and
+heavily that the rapier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> was wrenched from the Englishman's hand. The
+hilt struck the deck. The slim blade darted out between D'Antons'
+shoulders a full two-thirds of its length. He sprawled on his face,
+gulping his last breath; and the hilt of Kingswell's weapon knocked
+spasmodically on the red planking of the deck. The woman, stunned with
+grief, was led away by two of the seamen.</p>
+
+<p>By the time the duel was over, the long, northern twilight was drawing
+to a close. The decks of the <i>Cristobal</i> were cleared of the dead bodies
+and the wreckage of guns and spars. The torn rigging was partially
+repaired; a few sails were set; and the shattered tiller was replaced.
+The prisoners (wounded and bound together, they did not number a dozen)
+were divided between the ships. A prize-crew of seven, under the first
+mate's command, went aboard the <i>Cristobal</i>. Then the boarding-irons
+were cast loose, and the vessels fell away from each other to a safe
+distance.</p>
+
+<p>Miwandi's grief was desperate. Beatrix strove to comfort her, but failed
+signally. Her position was evident enough to every one who had seen her
+frantic attempt to assist D'Antons in the encounter with Kingswell.
+Beatrix guessed the story. Her face burned at remembrance of her
+one-time companionship with D'Antons&mdash;of the days before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> she fully knew
+his nature, and often sat at cards and chess with him in the little
+cabin in the wilderness&mdash;and of the days before that, when he was one of
+her admirers in London. Even now she did not know him for her father's
+murderer. Kingswell had decided to keep that to himself, until some day
+in the happy future, when the wilderness should be fainter than the
+memory of a dream in his wife's mind.</p>
+
+<p>For three days the ships kept within sight of each other. On the fourth,
+a gale of wind drove them apart; but Kingswell felt no anxiety for the
+prize, for she had received no serious damage to her hull in the bitter
+encounter that had befallen on his wedding-day.</p>
+
+<p>Aboard the <i>Heart of the West</i> the wounded improved daily; the prisoners
+cursed their irons and their luck; the crew never pulled on a rope
+without a song to lighten the task; old Trowley, promoted from
+imprisonment to the position of second mate, worked like a Trojan, and
+Beatrix and Bernard sped the hours in the high and golden atmosphere of
+love and youth. The Beothic woman, however, felt no response in her
+heart to the stir and happiness about her. Her world had fallen in a
+desolation of emptiness, and her very soul was weary of the sequence of
+day and night, night and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> day. She would not eat. She sobbed quietly,
+without rest, in her darkened berth. Her ears were deaf to words of
+comfort, even when they were spoken in her own language by Ouenwa. She
+asked no questions. Ever since that first outbreak, at sight of her
+lover's danger, she accepted the will of her pitiless gods without signs
+of either anger or wonder.</p>
+
+<p>One still night, when the waves rocked under the faint light of the
+stars without any breaking of foam, and the wind was just sufficient to
+swell the sails from the yards, the man at the tiller was startled from
+his reveries by a splash close alongside. He called to the officer of
+the watch, who had heard nothing, and told him of the sound. They
+scanned the sea on all sides and listened intently. They saw only the
+black, vanishing crests. They heard only the whispering of the ship on
+her way.</p>
+
+<p>"A fish," said the mate. The other agreed with him.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning Miwandi's berth was discovered to be empty,&mdash;no trace of
+her was found alow or aloft.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining days of the passage slipped by without any especial
+incident. Winds served. Seas were considerate of the good ship's
+safety<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>. No fogs endangered the young lovers' homeward voyage. Every
+night there was fiddling in the forecastle and the chanting of rude
+ballads. And sometimes in the cabin a violin sang and sang, as if the
+very heart of happiness were under the sounding-board, and Love himself
+in the strings.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXVII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE MOTHER</span></h2>
+
+<p>Dame Kingswell, the widow of that good merchant of Bristol whom Queen
+Elizabeth had knighted in her latter days, sat in her chamber and looked
+down upon a pleasant garden beneath the window. She was alone. Her
+garments, though of rich materials, were sombre in hue. She wore no
+personal ornaments save two rings on her left hand, and a chain of gold,
+bearing a small cross of the same metal, at her breast. Her thick hair
+was snow-white. In her youth it had been as black as her husband's had
+been flaxen. Her complexion held scarcely more colour than her hair. On
+her knees a book of devotional poetry, splendidly illuminated about the
+margins, lay open. But her thin hands were folded over the page, and her
+gaze was upon the shrubbery of the garden. The time was early evening.
+The sunlight was mellow gold. The hedges, shrubs, and fountain on the
+lawns threw eastward shadows.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p><p>The chamber in which the widow sat was large and scantily furnished. A
+few portraits, by masters of the brush, hung along the walls. A
+prayer-desk, with a red hassock before it, stood in a corner.</p>
+
+<p>A light rapping sounded on the door. The lady turned her eyes from the
+bright garden below her window. She saw the door open, and a beautiful
+girl in cloak and hat enter the room. The stranger advanced quickly, in
+a whispering of silks, and in her glowing hands took the widow's
+bloodless fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said the elder woman, kindly, "I fear my memory is flitting.
+I do not recall your winsome face. Can it be that you are one of Sir
+Felix Brown's lasses, grown to such a fine young lady in London?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl sank on her knees and kissed the pale hands lightly and
+prettily.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Beatrix Kingswell," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>The good dame was sorely puzzled. She tried, in vain, to connect this
+lovely creature with any branches of the late knight's family.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are a kinswoman of mine?" she queried. "Pray do not kneel
+there, my dear. Come sit in the window and tell me who you are."</p>
+
+<p>But the stranger did not move.</p>
+
+<p>"I am your daughter," she said. "And&mdash;oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> do not swoon, my
+mother&mdash;Bernard is at the door, awaiting your permission to enter."</p>
+
+<p>The widow closed her eyes for a second, leaning back in her chair. She
+recovered herself swiftly and clutched the skirts of the girl, who was
+now standing, ready to run to the door and admit her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"What story is this?" she cried, incredulous. "I have no daughter. And
+Bernard, my son, has lain dead in a far land these weary months."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, dear madam," replied the girl. "Nay, he is not dead. But let me go
+to the door, and you will see him with your own eyes. He waits at your
+threshold, happy and well."</p>
+
+<p>The older woman maintained her hold of her visitor's gown. "And who are
+you, to bring me word of my son's return?" she asked, with a ring of
+shrewdness and suspicion in her voice. Dimly, she feared that she was
+affording sport to some heartless person; for this sudden tale of her
+son's safety, brought by this gay young lady, had broken upon her
+pensive reveries like an impossible scene out of a play.</p>
+
+<p>"I am his wife," replied Beatrix. With an effort, she pulled her skirts
+away from the clutching fingers, and sped to the door. Throwing it open,
+she admitted Bernard. The youth sprang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> to where his mother sat, and
+caught her up from her chair against his breast. With a glad,
+inarticulate cry, she slipped her arms around his neck and clung
+hysterically.</p>
+
+<p class="space-above">Five days after the arrival of the <i>Heart of the West</i>, the <i>Cristobal</i>
+sailed into port. By that time the story of her capture was well known
+in the town, and a crowd of citizens gathered on the docks to welcome
+her. Master Kingswell put her up for sale. In the end, he bought her
+himself, for something more than she was worth. Every penny of the money
+Beatrix gave to the brave fellows who had fought and sailed their ship
+so valorously on her eventful wedding-day. Only that rugged and wayward
+master mariner, John Trowley, failed to show himself for a share of the
+gold. He had not the courage to run a chance of another meeting with
+Lady Kingswell.</p>
+
+<p>Of the future of Bernard, Beatrix, and the lad Ouenwa, something is
+written in the old records in an exceeding dry vein. Of the fate of the
+little fort on Gray Goose River, little is known. Some chroniclers
+maintain that the French overpowered it; others are as certain that the
+settlers moved to Conception Bay, and there established themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> so
+securely that, even to-day, descendants of those Triggets and those
+Donnellys cultivate their little crops, cure their fish, and sail their
+fore-and-afters around the coast to St. John's.</p>
+
+<p class="center space-above">THE END.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
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+Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Brothers of Peril
+       A Story of old Newfoundland
+
+Author: Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
+Illustrator: H. C. Edwards
+
+Release Date: December 8, 2013 [EBook #44387]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROTHERS OF PERIL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BROTHERS OF PERIL
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+
+
+
+_WORKS OF THEODORE ROBERTS_
+
+_The Red Feathers_           _$1.50_
+_Brothers of Peril_           _1.50_
+_Hemming the Adventurer_      _1.50_
+
+
+_L. C. PAGE & COMPANY_ _New England Building, Boston, Mass._
+
+
+[Illustration: "A VIVID CIRCLE OF RED ON THE SNOW OF THAT NAMELESS
+WILDERNESS"]
+
+
+
+
+Brothers of Peril
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+By
+
+Theodore Roberts
+_Author of_ "Hemming, the Adventurer"
+
+_Illustrated by_ H. C. Edwards
+
+[Illustration: Logo]
+
+_Boston_ L. C. Page & Company _Mdccccv_
+
+
+_Copyright, 1905_
+BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+(INCORPORATED)
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+Published June, 1905
+Second Impression, March, 1908
+
+_COLONIAL PRESS
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+Boston, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+
+During the three centuries directly following John Cabot's discovery of
+Newfoundland, that unfortunate island was the sport of careless kings,
+selfish adventurers, and diligent pirates. While England, France, Spain,
+and Portugal were busy with courts and kings, and with spectacular
+battles, their fishermen and adventurers toiled together and fought
+together about the misty headlands of that far island. Fish, not glory,
+was their quest! Full cargoes, sweetly cured, was their desire--and let
+fame go hang!
+
+The merchants of England undertook the guardianship of the "Newfounde
+Land." In greed, in valour, and in achievement they won their mastery.
+Their greed was a two-edged sword which cut all 'round. It hounded the
+aborigines; it bullied the men of France and Spain; it discouraged the
+settlement of the land by stout hearts of whatever nationality. It was
+the dream of those merchant adventurers of Devon to have the place
+remain for ever nothing but a fishing-station. They faced the pirates,
+the foreign fishers, the would-be settlers, and the natural hardships
+with equal fortitude and insolence. When some philosopher dreamed of
+founding plantations in the king's name and to the glory of God,
+England, and himself, then would the greedy merchants slay or cripple
+the philosopher's dream in the very palace of the king. Ay, they were
+powerful enough at court, though so little remarked in the histories of
+the times! But, ever and anon, some gentleman adventurer, or humble
+fisherman from the ships, would escape their vigilance and strike a blow
+at the inscrutable wilderness.
+
+The fishing admirals loom large in the history of the island. They were
+the hands and eyes of the wealthy merchants. The master of the first
+vessel to enter any harbour at the opening of the season was, for a
+greater or lesser period of time, admiral and judge of that harbour. It
+was his duty to parcel out anchorage, and land on which to dry fish, to
+each ship in the harbour; to see that no sailors from the fleet escaped
+into the woods; to discourage any visions of settlement which sight of
+the rugged forests might raise in the romantic heads of the gentlemen of
+the fleet; to see that all foreigners were hustled on every occasion,
+and to take the best of everything for himself. Needless to say, it was
+a popular position with the hard-fisted skippers.
+
+In the narratives of the early explorers frequent mention is made of the
+peaceful nature of the aborigines. At first they displayed unmistakable
+signs of friendly feeling. They were all willingness to trade with the
+loud-mouthed strangers from over the eastern horizon. They helped at the
+fishing, and at the hunting of seals and caribou. They bartered
+priceless pelts for iron hatchets and glass trinkets. Later, however, we
+read of treachery and murder on the parts of both the visitors and the
+natives. The itch of slave-dealing led some of the more daring
+shipmasters and adventurers to capture, and carry back to England,
+Beothic braves and maidens. Many of the kidnapped savages were kindly
+treated and made companions of by English noblemen and gentlefolk. It is
+recorded that more than one Beothic brave sported a sword at his hip in
+fashionable places of London Town before Death cut the silken bonds of
+his motley captivity.
+
+Master John Guy, an alderman of Bristol, who obtained a Royal Charter in
+1610, to settle and develop Newfoundland, wrote of the Beothics as a
+kindly and mild-mannered race. Of their physical characteristics he
+says: "They are of middle size, broad-chested, and very erect.... Their
+hair is diverse, some black, some brown, and some yellow."
+
+As to the ultimate fate of the Beothics there are several suppositions.
+An aged Micmac squaw, who lives on Hall's Bay, Notre Dame Bay, says that
+her father, in his youth, knew the last of the Beothics. At that
+time--something over a hundred years ago--the race numbered between one
+and two hundred souls. They made periodical excursions to the salt water
+to fish, and to trade with a few friendly whites and Nova Scotian
+Micmacs. But, for the most part, they avoided the settlements. They had
+reason enough for so doing, for many of the settlers considered a
+lurking Beothic as fair a target for his buckshot as a bear or caribou.
+One November day a party of Micmac hunters tried to follow the remnant
+of the broken race on their return trip to the great wilderness of the
+interior. The trail was lost in a fall of snow on the night of the first
+day of the journey. And there, with the obliterated trail, ends the
+world's knowledge of the original inhabitants of Newfoundland; save of
+one woman of the race named Mary March, who died, a self-ordained
+fugitive about the outskirts of civilization, some ninety years ago.
+
+To-day there are a few bones in the museum at St. John's. One hears
+stories of grassy circles beside the lakes and rivers, where wigwams
+once stood. Flint knives and arrow-heads are brought to light with the
+turning of the farmer's furrow. But the language of the lost tribe is
+forgotten, and the history of it is unrecorded.
+
+In the following tale I have drawn the wilderness of that far time in
+the likeness of the wilderness as I knew it, and loved it, a few short
+years ago. The seasons bring their oft-repeated changes to brown barren,
+shaggy wood, and empurpled hill; but the centuries pass and leave no
+mark. I have dared to resurrect an extinct tribe for the purposes of
+fiction. I have drawn inspiration from the spirit of history rather than
+the letter! But the heart of the wilderness, and the hearts of men and
+women, I have pictured, in this romance of olden time, as I know them
+to-day.
+
+T. R.
+
+_November, 1904._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                                      PAGE
+     I. A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME                                 1
+
+    II. THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER                     9
+
+   III. THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW                                16
+
+    IV. OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST                       24
+
+     V. THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR                             34
+
+    VI. THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER                           43
+
+   VII. THE SILENT VILLAGE                                     56
+
+  VIII. A LETTER FOR OUENWA                                    65
+
+    IX. AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION                              73
+
+     X. GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX                                 83
+
+    XI. THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER                               94
+
+   XII. MEDITATION AND ACTION                                 104
+
+  XIII. SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE                              116
+
+   XIV. A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING                                126
+
+    XV. THE HIDDEN MENACE                                     133
+
+   XVI. THE CLOVEN HOOF                                       140
+
+  XVII. THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH                               148
+
+ XVIII. EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS                                156
+
+   XIX. TWO OF A KIND                                         164
+
+    XX. BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER                            174
+
+   XXI. THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN                          183
+
+  XXII. BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS                           190
+
+ XXIII. BETROTHED                                             200
+
+  XXIV. A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN                    207
+
+   XXV. FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT   217
+
+  XXVI. PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST                227
+
+ XXVII. A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS                          233
+
+XXVIII. THE RUNNING OF THE ICE                                241
+
+  XXIX. WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY
+          RECEIVES A VISITOR                                  252
+
+   XXX. MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF                  264
+
+  XXXI. WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED                           273
+
+ XXXII. THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS
+          BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED                                279
+
+XXXIII. IN THE MERRY CITY                                     287
+
+ XXXIV. PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES,
+          AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA                               294
+
+  XXXV. THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE     306
+
+ XXXVI. OVER THE SIDE                                         317
+
+XXXVII. THE MOTHER                                            323
+
+
+
+
+BROTHERS OF PERIL
+
+A Story of Old Newfoundland
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A BOY WINS HIS MAN-NAME
+
+
+The boy struck again with his flint knife, and again the great wolf tore
+at his shoulder. The eyes of the boy were fierce as those of the beast.
+Neither wavered. Neither showed any sign of pain. The dark spruces stood
+above them, with the first shadows of night in their branches; and the
+western sky was stained red where the sun had been. Twice the wolf
+dropped his antagonist's shoulder, in a vain attempt to grip the throat.
+The boy, pressed to the ground, flung himself about like a dog, and
+repeatedly drove his clumsy weapon into the wolf's shaggy side.
+
+At last the fight ended. The great timber-wolf lay stretched dead in
+awful passiveness. His fangs gleamed like ivory between the scarlet jaws
+and black lips. A shimmer of white menaced the quiet wilderness from the
+recesses of the half-shut eyelids.
+
+For a few minutes the boy lay still, with the fingers of his left hand
+buried in the wolf's mane, and his right hand a blot of red against the
+beast's side. Presently, staggering on bent legs, he went down to the
+river and washed his mangled arm and shoulder in the cool water. The
+shock of it cleared his brain and steadied his eyes. He waded into the
+current to his middle, stooped to the racing surface, and drank
+unstintingly. Strength flooded back to blood and muscle, and the slender
+limbs regained their lightness.
+
+By this time a few pale stars gleamed on the paler background of the
+eastern sky. A long finger-streak of red, low down on the hilltops,
+still lightened the west. A purple band hung above it like a belt of
+magic wampum--the war-belt of some mighty god. Above that, Night, the
+silent hunter, set up the walls of his lodge of darkness.
+
+The boy saw nothing of the changing beauty of the sky. He might read it,
+knowingly enough, for the morrow's rain or frost; but beyond that he
+gave it no heed. He returned to the dead wolf, and set about the
+skinning of it with his rude blade. He worked with skill and speed. Soon
+head and pelt were clear of the red carcass. After collecting his arrows
+and bow, he flung the prize across his shoulder and started along a
+faint trail through the spruces.
+
+The trail which the boy followed seemed to lead away from the river by
+hummock and hollow; and yet it cunningly held to the course of the
+stream. Now the night was fallen. A soft wind brushed over in the
+tree-tops. The voices of the rapids smote across the air with a deeper
+note. As the boy moved quietly along, sharp eyes flamed at him, and
+sharp ears were pricked to listen. Forms silent as shadows faded away
+from his path, and questioning heads were turned back over sinewy
+shoulders, sniffing silently. They smelt the wolf and they smelt the
+man. They knew that there had been another violent death in the valley
+of the River of Three Fires.
+
+After walking swiftly for nearly an hour, following a path which less
+primitive eyes could not have found, the boy came out on a small meadow
+bright with fires. Nineteen or twenty conical wigwams, made of birch
+poles, bark, and caribou hides, stood about the meadow. In front of each
+wigwam burned a cooking-fire, for this was a land of much wood. The
+meadow was almost an island, having the river on two sides and a shallow
+lagoon cutting in behind, leaving only a narrow strip of alder-grown
+"bottom" by which one might cross dry-shod. The whole meadow, including
+the alders and a clump of spruces, was not more than five acres in
+extent.
+
+The boy halted in front of the largest lodge, and threw the wolfskin
+down before the fire. There he stood, straight and motionless, with an
+air of vast achievement about him. Two women, who were broiling meat at
+the fire, looked from the shaggy, blood-stained pelt to the stalwart
+stripling. They cried out to him, softly, in tones of love and
+admiration. Jaws and fangs and half-shut eyes appeared frightful enough
+in the red firelight, even in death.
+
+"Ah! ah!" they cried, "what warrior has done this deed?"
+
+"Now give me my man-name," demanded the boy.
+
+The older of the two women, his mother, tried to tend his wounded arm;
+but he shook her roughly away. She seemed accustomed to the treatment.
+Still clinging to him, she called him by a score of great names. A
+stalwart man, the chief of the village, strode from the dark interior of
+the nearest wigwam, and glanced from his son to the untidy mass of hair
+and skin. His eyes gleamed at sight of his boy's torn arm and the white
+teeth of the wolf.
+
+"Wolf Slayer," he cried. He turned to the women. "Wolf Slayer," he
+repeated; "let this be his man-name--Wolf Slayer."
+
+So this boy, son of Panounia the chief, became, at the age of fourteen
+years, a warrior among his father's people.
+
+The inhabitants of that great island were all of one race. In history
+they are known as Beothics. At the time of this tale they were divided
+into two nations or tribes. Hate had set them apart from one another,
+breaking the old bond of blood. Each tribe was divided into numerous
+villages. The island was shared pretty evenly between the nations. Soft
+Hand was king of the Northerners. It was of one of his camps that the
+father of Wolf Slayer was chief.
+
+Soft Hand was a great chief, and wise beyond his generation. For more
+than fifty years he had held the richest hunting-grounds in the island
+against the enemy. His strength had been of both head and hand. Now he
+was stiff with great age. Now his hair was gray and scanty, and
+unadorned by flaming feathers of hawk and sea-bird. The snows of eighty
+winters had drifted against the walls of his perishable but ever defiant
+lodges, and the suns of eighty summers had faded the pigments of his
+totem of the great Black Bear. Though he was slow of anger, and fair in
+judgment, his people feared him as they feared no other. Though he was
+gentle with the weak and young, and had honoured his parents in their
+old age and loved the wife of his youth, still the strongest warrior
+dared not sneer.
+
+The village of this mighty chief was situated at the head of Wind Lake.
+On the night of Wolf Slayer's adventure, Soft Hand and his grandson
+arrived at the lesser village on the River of Three Fires. They
+travelled in bark canoes and were accompanied by a dozen braves. The
+grandson of the old chief was a lad of about Wolf Slayer's age. He was
+slight of figure and dark of skin. His name was Ouenwa. He was a dreamer
+of strange things, and a maker of songs. He and Wolf Slayer sat together
+by the fire. Wolf Slayer held his wounded arm ever under the visitor's
+eyes, and talked endlessly of his deed. For a long time Ouenwa listened
+attentively, smiling and polite, as was his usual way with strangers.
+But at last he grew weary of his companion's talk. He wanted to listen,
+in peace, to the song of the river. How could he understand what the
+rapids were saying with all this babbling of "knife" and "wolf" in his
+ears?
+
+"All this wind," he said, "would kill a pack of wolves, or even the
+black cave-devil himself."
+
+"There is no wind to-night," replied Wolf Slayer, glancing up at the
+trees.
+
+"There is a mighty wind blowing about this fire," said Ouenwa, "and it
+whistles altogether of a great warrior who slew a wolf."
+
+"At least that is not work for a dreamer," retorted the other, sullenly.
+Ouenwa's answer was a smile as soft and fleeting as the light-shadows of
+the fire.
+
+At an early hour of the next morning the great chief's party started
+up-stream in their canoes, on the return journey to Wind Lake. For hours
+Soft Hand brooded in silence, deaf to his grandson's hundred questions.
+He had grown somewhat moody in the last year. He gazed away to the
+forest-clad, mist-wreathed capes ahead, and heeded not the high piping
+of his dead son's child. His mind was busy with thoughts of the events
+of the past night. He recalled the tones of Panounia's voice with a
+shake of the head. He recalled the sullen smouldering of that stalwart
+chief's eyes. He sighed, and glanced at the lad in the forging craft
+beside him.
+
+"I grow old," he murmured. "The voice of my power is breaking to its
+last echo. My command over my people slips like a frozen thong of raw
+leather. And Panounia! What lurks in the dull brain of him?"
+
+The sun rose above the forest spires, clear and warm. The mists drew
+skyward and melted in the gold-tinted azure. Twillegs flew, piping,
+across the brown current of the river. Sandpipers, on down-bent wings,
+skimmed the pebbly shore. A kingfisher flashed his burnished feathers
+and screamed his strident challenge, ever an arrow-flight ahead of the
+voyagers. He warned the furtive folk of the great chief's approach.
+
+"Kingfisher would be a fitting name for the boy who killed the wolf,"
+said Ouenwa.
+
+The old man glanced at him sharply. His thin face was sombre with more
+than the shadow of years.
+
+"Nay," he replied. "His is no empty cry. Beware of him, my son!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE OLD CRAFTSMAN BY THE SALT WATER
+
+
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, dwelt alone at the head of a small bay. His
+home was half-wigwam, half-hut. The roof was of poles, partly covered
+with the hides of caribou and partly with a square of sail-cloth, which
+had been given him by a Basque fisherman in exchange for six beaver
+skins. The walls of the unusual lodge were of turf and stone. Here and
+there were signs of intercourse with the strangers out of the Eastern
+sea,--an iron fishhook, a scrap of gold lace, and a highly polished
+copper pot. Of these treasures the recluse was justly proud, for had he
+not acquired them at risk of sudden extinction by the breath of the
+clapping fire-stick?
+
+The arrow-maker was an old man. In his youth he had been a hunter of
+renown and a great traveller, and had sojourned long in the lodges of
+the Southern nation. He had loved a woman of that people,--and she had
+given him laughter in return for his devotion. Journeying back to his
+own hunting-grounds, he had planned a huge revenge. At once all his
+skill and bravery had been turned to less open ways than those of the
+lover and warrior. In little more than a year's time he had driven the
+tribes to a lasting and bitter war. Even now as he sat before the door
+of his lodge, he was shaping spear-heads and arrow-heads for the
+fighting men of Soft Hand's nation. Some arrows he made of jasper, and
+some of flint, and some of purple slate. Those of slate would break off
+in the wound. They were the grim old craftsman's pets.
+
+One day a young man from the valley of the River of Three Fires brought
+Montaw a string of fine trout, in payment for a spear-head. For awhile
+they talked together in the sunlight at the door of the lodge.
+
+"For the chase," said the old man, "I make the long shape of flint,
+three fingers wide, and to this I bind a long and heavy shaft. Such an
+arrow will hold in the side of the running deer, and may be plucked out
+after death."
+
+"I have even seen it, father," replied the young man, in supercilious
+tones; for he considered himself a mighty hunter.
+
+"For the battle," continued the arrow-maker, "I chip the flint and
+shape the narrow splinters of slate. All three are good in their way if
+the bow be strong--and the arm."
+
+The old craftsman made a song. It was rough as his arrow-heads.
+
+
+     "Arrows of gray and arrows of black
+       Soon shall be red.
+     What will the white moon say to the proud
+       Warriors, dead?
+
+     "Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,
+       Arrows of slate.
+     So, with the skill of my hands, I shape
+       Arrows of hate.
+
+     "Fly, my little ones, straight and true,
+       Silent as sleep.
+     Tell me, wind, of the flints I sow,
+       What shall I reap?
+
+     "Sorrow will come to their council-fires.
+       Weeping and fear
+     Will stalk to the heart of their great chief's lodge,
+       Year after year.
+
+     "When the moon rides on the purple hills,
+       Joyous of face,
+     Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,
+       Heads for the chase.
+
+     "When the chief's fire on the hilltop glows
+       Like a red star,
+     Then do I give, to the men of my tribe,
+       Heads for the war.
+
+     "Arrows of jasper, arrows of flint,
+       Arrows of slate.
+     Thus, in the door of my lodge, I nurse
+       Battle and hate!"
+
+
+One evening, as he sat before his lodge looking seaward, his trained
+ears caught the sound of a faint call from the wooded hills behind. He
+did not turn his head or change his position. But he held his breath,
+the better to listen. Again came the cry, very weak and far away.
+
+"It is the voice of a woman," he said, and smiled grimly.
+
+Cheerless and desolately gray, the light of the east faded into the
+desolate gray of the sea. Black, like stalking shadows, stood the little
+islands of the headlands. The last of the light died out like the heart
+of fire in the shroud of cooling ashes. Again came the cry, whispering
+across the stillness.
+
+"It may be the voice of a child, lost in the woods," said the
+arrow-maker. He rose from his seat and entered the lodge. He blew the
+coals of his fire back to a tiny flame. He drew up to it the burnt ends
+of faggots. Then he took in his hand another of his Eastern prizes--a
+broad-bladed knife--and started across the tumbled rocks toward the edge
+of the wood. Though old, he was still strong and tough of limb and
+courageous of heart. Sure and swift he made his way through the heavy
+growth of spruce. Once he paused for the space of a heart-beat, to make
+sure of his direction. Again and again was the piteous cry repeated.
+
+The old man kept up his tireless trot through underbrush and swamp, and
+displayed neither fatigue nor caution until he reached the bank of a
+narrow and turbulent stream. Here he drew into the shadow of a clump of
+firs. He lay close, and breathed heavily. By this time the moon had
+cleared the knolls. Its thin radiance flooded the wilderness. In the air
+was a whisper of gathering frost. The water of the little river twisted
+black and silver, and worried at the fanged rocks that tore it, with a
+voice of agony.
+
+The crying had ceased; but the eyes of the old craftsman questioned the
+farther shore with a gaze steady and keen. There seemed to be something
+wrong with the shadows. A bent figure slipped down to the edge of the
+stream where the water spun in an eddy. It dropped on hands and knees
+and crawled to the black and unstable lip of the tide. Again the cry
+rang abroad, thin and high above the complaining tumult of the current.
+The watcher left his hiding-place and waded the stream. At the edge of
+the spinning eddy he found a woman. She lay exhausted. A long shaft hung
+to her left shoulder. Blood trickled down her bare and rounded arm. The
+arrow-maker lifted her against his shoulder and bathed her face in the
+cool water until her eyelids lifted.
+
+"Chief," she whispered, "pluck out the arrow."
+
+He shook his head. His trade was with battle and death, but it was half
+a lifetime since he had felt the gushing of human blood on his hands.
+
+"Father," she cried, faintly, "I pray you, pluck it out. The pain of it
+eats into my spirit. It sprang to me from a little wood, bitter and
+noiseless--and I heard not so much as the twang of the string."
+
+The old man held her with his left arm. With strong and gentle fingers
+he worked the arrow in the wound. She quivered with the pain of it.
+Blood came more freely. He trembled at the hot touch of it across his
+fingers. He had dwelt so long in the quiet of his craft. Then the barbed
+blade came away from the wound, and he clutched it in his reeking palm.
+The woman sobbed with mingled pain and relief. The old man stepped into
+the moonlight and lifted the arrow to his eyes.
+
+"It is none of my making," he said.
+
+He heard the woman sobbing in the dark. Returning to her he bound her
+shoulder with his belt of dressed leather. Then, lifting her tenderly,
+he again forded the flashing current of the complaining river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE FIGHT IN THE MEADOW
+
+
+Even while the arrow-maker carried the wounded woman, arrows of the same
+shape as that which had stabbed her tender flesh were threatening the
+little village on the River of Three Fires. For days several war-parties
+from the South had been stealing through the country, raiding the lesser
+villages, and bent on destroying the nation of Soft Hand, and possessing
+his hunting-grounds. It was a laggard of one of the smaller bands that
+had wounded the woman. She had been far from her lodge at the time,
+seeking some healing herbs in the forest, and he had fired on her out of
+fear that she had discovered him and would warn her people. In her pain
+and fright, she had wandered coastward for several miles.
+
+Silent as shadows, the invading warriors drew down toward the little
+meadow. Clouds were over the face of the white October moon. A cold mist
+floated in the valley. The leaders of the invaders, lying low among the
+alders at the edge of the clearing, could see the unguarded people
+moving about their red fires. There was a scent of cooking deer-meat in
+the chill air. The chief of the attacking party lay on the damp grass
+and peered between the stems of the alders. He smiled exultantly. A
+quick slaughter, and then to a feast already prepared. He and his braves
+had enjoyed but poor fare during their long march.
+
+So shall I leave him, sniffing the breath of the cooking fires, and turn
+to Wolf Slayer. Late of that afternoon Wolf Slayer had sallied forth in
+quest of something to kill. The woods had seemed deserted, and in less
+than an hour after his valorous exit from the camp, he had fallen asleep
+on a warm and sheltered strip of shingle. The river flashed in front,
+and on three sides brooded the crowding trees. When he awoke, the sun
+had set, and the river, a curved mirror for the western sky, was red as
+fire--or blood. Down-stream, about two hundred yards distant, a sombre
+bluff thrust its rocky breast into the water. The boy gazed at this, and
+his eyes widened with dismay. Then they narrowed with hate. Out of the
+shelter of the rocks and the shadows, and into the flaming waters, came
+figure after figure. They waded knee-deep, hip-deep, shoulder-deep, into
+that molten glory. Then they swam; and the ripples washed back from
+gleaming neck and shoulder like lighter flames. One by one they stole
+from the shadow, swam the radiance, and again sought the shadow.
+
+The boy trembled. The devils of fear and rage had their fingers on him.
+Spellbound, he watched close upon a hundred warriors make the passage of
+the river. Then he, too, sank noiselessly into the shelter of the trees.
+He was old enough to know what this meant, and his heart hurt him with
+its pent-up fury as he crawled through the underbrush. He was dismayed
+at the sound of his own breathing. He heard the distant rapping of a
+woodpecker, the fall of a spent leaf from an alder, and the soft breath
+of a dying wind; and the familiar sounds filled him with awe. And yet,
+but for these sounds, the whole world might be dead and the forest
+empty. Thought of the hundred fighting men moving steadily upon the
+unguarded homes of his people, with no more warning than the sound of a
+swamp-bird's flight, was like a nightmare. But presently the courage
+that had helped him slay the wolf came to him, and he thought of the
+glory to be won by saving the threatened village. He did not strengthen
+his heart to the task for sake of his mother's life and the lives of his
+playmates; but because the warriors would call him a hero. Keeping just
+within the edge of the woods, he moved up-stream as speedily as he might
+without making any sound. He came upon a brown hare crouched beside a
+clump of ferns. He might have touched it with his hand, so unaware was
+it of his presence. He passed beneath an alder branch whereon perched a
+big slate-gray jay. It was not a foot from his back as he crawled under,
+and it did not take flight. But it eyed him intently, to make sure that
+he was not a fox. Sometimes he lay still for a little, listening. He
+heard nothing, though he started at a hundred fancied sounds. Twilight
+deepened into dusk, and dusk into gloom. The moon sailed up over the
+hills, and long banners of cloud passed across the face of it.
+
+Presently Wolf Slayer came within sight of the fires of the village. The
+red light flashed on the angry river beyond, but left the lagoon in
+darkness. He crawled into the water inch by inch, scarcely breaking the
+calm, black surface. Then he swam, without noise of splashing, and
+landed at the foot of the meadow like a great beaver. He crawled into
+the red circle of one of the fires, and told his news to the braves
+gathered around. Men slipped from fire to fire. Without any unwonted
+disturbance, the whole village armed itself. Suddenly, with a fierce
+shout and a flight of arrows, the alders were attacked. The invaders
+were checked at the very moment of their fancied victory.
+
+The fighting scattered. Here three men struggled together in the
+shallows at the head of the lagoon. Farther out, one tossed his arms and
+sank into the black depths. In the open a half-score warriors bent their
+bows. Among the twisted stems of the alders they pulled and strangled,
+like beasts of prey. Back in the spruces they slew with clubs and
+knives, feeling for one another in the dark. Their war-cries and shouts
+of hate rang fearfully on the night air, and awoke unholy echoes along
+the valley.
+
+In the front of the battle Wolf Slayer fought like a man. His lack of
+stature saved him from death more than once in that fearful encounter.
+Many a vicious blow glanced harmless, or missed him altogether, as he
+stumbled and bent among the alders. At first he fought with a long,
+flint knife,--the work of the old arrow-maker. But this was splintered
+in his hand by the murderous stroke of a war-club. He wrenched a spear
+from the clutch of a dying brave. A leaping figure went down before his
+unexpected lunge. It rolled over; then, queerly sprawling, it lay still.
+An arrow from the open ripped along an alder stem, rattled its shaft
+among the dry twigs, and struck a glancing blow on the young brave's
+neck. He stumbled, grabbing at the shadows. He fell--and forgot the
+fight.
+
+In light and darkness the battle raged on. Wigwams were overthrown, and
+about the little fires warriors gave up their violent lives. At last the
+encampment was cleared, and saved from destruction; and those of the
+invaders who remained beside the trampled fires had ceased to menace.
+Along the black edges of the forest ran the cries and tumult of the
+struggle. Spent arrows floated on the lagoon. Red knives lifted and
+turned in the underbrush.
+
+Wolf Slayer, dizzy and faint, crawled back to the lodges of his people.
+Other warriors were returning. They came exultant, with the lust of
+fighting still aflame in their eyes. Some strode arrogantly. Some
+crawled, as Wolf Slayer had. Some staggered to the home fires and reeled
+against the lodges, and some got no farther than the outer circle of
+light. And many came not at all.
+
+The chief, with a great gash high on his breast (he had bared arms and
+breast for the battle), sought about the clearing and trampled fringe of
+alders, and at last, returning to the disordered camp, found Wolf
+Slayer. With a glad, high shout of triumph, he lifted the boy in his
+arms and carried him home. The mother met them at the door of the lodge.
+In fearful silence the man and woman washed and bound the young brave's
+wound, and watched above his faint breathing with anxious hearts.
+
+"Little one, strengthen your feet against the turn of the dark trail,"
+whispered the mother. "See, our fires are bright to guide you back to
+your own people."
+
+"Little chief, though this battle is ended, there are many good fights
+yet to come," whispered the father. "The fighters of the camp will have
+great need of you when we turn from our sleep. The old bear grumbles at
+the mouth of his den!--will you not be with us when we singe his fur?"
+
+"Hush, hush!" cried the woman.
+
+The boy, opening his eyes, turned the feet of his spirit from the dark
+trail.
+
+"I saw the lights of the lost fires," he murmured, "and the hunting-song
+of dead braves was in my ears."
+
+Wolf Slayer was nursed back to health and strength. Not once--not even
+at the edge of Death's domain--had his arrogance left him. It seemed
+that the days of suffering had but hardened his already hard heart. Lad
+though he was, the villagers began to feel the weight of his hand upon
+them. He bullied and beat the other boys of the camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+OUENWA SETS OUT ON A VAGUE QUEST
+
+
+In the dead of winter--in that season of sweeping winds and aching
+skies, when the wide barrens lie uncheered of life from horizon to
+horizon--Soft Hand sent many of his warriors to the South. They followed
+in the "leads" of the great herds of caribou, going partly for the meat
+of the deer and partly to strike terror into the hearts of the Southern
+enemy. At the head of this party went Panounia, chief of the village on
+the River of Three Fires, and with him he took his hardy son, Wolf
+Slayer. Grim plans were bred on that journey. Grim tales were told
+around the big fire at night. The evil thing which Panounia hatched,
+with his bragging tongue, grew day by day and night by night. The hearts
+of the warriors were fired with the shameful flame. They dreamed things
+that had never happened, and wrought black visions out of the
+foolishnesses of their brains.
+
+"The bear nods," they repeated, one to another, after the chief had
+talked to them. "The bear nods, like an old woman over a pot of stew.
+But for Panounia, surely the men of the South would have scattered our
+lodges and led us, captive, to the playgrounds of their children and
+their squaws. Such a fate would warm the heart of Soft Hand, for is not
+our Great Chief an old woman himself?"
+
+So, far from the eye and paw of the great bear, the foxes barked at his
+power. The moon heard it, and the silent trees, and the wind which
+carries no messages.
+
+About this time Ouenwa, the grandson of Soft Hand, decided to make a
+journey of many days from the lodges at the head of Wind Lake to the
+Salt Water. He felt no interest in the Southern invasion. His eyes
+longed for a sight of the edges of the land and the breast of the great
+waters beyond. He had heard, in his inland home, rumour of mighty wooden
+canoes walled higher than the peak of a wigwam, and manned by
+loud-mouthed warriors from beyond the fogs and the rising sun. Some
+wiseacre, squatted beside the old chief's fire, hinted that the
+strangers were gods. He told many wonderful stories to back his
+argument. Soft Hand nodded. But Ouenwa smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Would gods make such flights for the sake of a few dried fishes and a
+few dressed pelts of beaver and fox?" he asked.
+
+"The gods of trade would do so," replied the wiseacre. "Also," he added,
+"they slay at great distances by means of brown stakes which are
+flame-tongued and smoke-crowned and thunder-voiced."
+
+"But do these gods not fight with knives--long knives and short?"
+inquired the lad. "I have heard it said that they sometimes fall out
+over the ordering of their affairs, even as we mortals do."
+
+"And what wonderful knives they are," cried the old gossip. "They are
+coloured like ice. They gleam in the sunlight, like a flash of lightning
+against a cloud. They cut quicker than thought, and the red blood
+follows the edge as surely as the rains follow April."
+
+"I have yet to see these gods," replied Ouenwa, "and in my heart I pray
+that they be but men, for the gods have proved themselves but cheerless
+companions to our people."
+
+At that Soft Hand looked up. "Are the seasons not arranged to your
+liking, boy?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"Nay, I did not mean that," cried Ouenwa; "but strange men promise
+better and safer company than strange gods."
+
+Now he was journeying toward the ocean of his dreaming and the ports of
+his desire. His eyes would search the headlands of fog. Out of the east,
+and the sun's bed, would lift the magic canoes of the strangers. But the
+journey was a hard one. The boy's only companion was a man of small
+stature and unheroic spirit, whom the old chief could well spare. They
+took their way down the frozen, snow-drifted lake, dragging their food
+and sleeping-bags of skin on a rough sledge. The wind came out of a
+steel-blue sky, unshifting and relentless. The dry snow ran before it
+over the level surface, and settled in thin, white ridges across their
+path. At the approach of night they sought the wooded shore, and in the
+shelter of the firs built their fire.
+
+During the journey Ouenwa's guide proved but a cheerless companion. He
+had no heart for any adventure that might take him beyond the scent of
+his people's cooking-fires. He considered the conversation of his young
+master but a poor substitute for the gossip of the lodges. The scant
+fare of his own cooking left his stomach uncomforted. He hated the
+weariness of the march and dreaded the silence of the night. The cry of
+the wind across the tree-tops was, to his craven ear, the voice of some
+evil spirit. The barking of a fox on the hill set his limbs a-tremble.
+The howl of a wolf struck him cold. The sudden leaping of a hare in the
+underbrush was enough to shake his poor wits with fright. But he feared
+the anger of Soft Hand more than all these terrors, and so held to
+Ouenwa and his mission.
+
+On the third day of the journey the blue sky thickened to gray, the wind
+veered, and a great storm of snow overtook them. The snowflakes were
+large and damp. The travellers turned aside and climbed the bank of the
+river to the thickets of evergreens. With their rude axes of stone they
+broke away the fir boughs and reared themselves a shelter in the heart
+of the wood. Into this they drew their sledge of provisions and their
+sleeping-bags. Then they collected whatever dry fuel they could
+find--dead twigs and branches, tree-moss and birch bark--and, with his
+ingenious contrivance of bow and notched stick, Ouenwa started a blaze.
+They roasted dried venison by holding it to the flame on the ends of
+pointed sticks. Each cooked what he wanted, and ate it without talk. All
+creation seemed shrouded in silence. There was not a sound save the
+occasional soft hiss of a melting snowflake in the fire. The storm
+became denser. It was as if a sudden, colourless night had descended
+upon the wilderness, blotting out even the nearer trees with its reeling
+gray. The old retainer crouched low, and gazed out at the storm from
+between his bony knees. His eyes fairly protruded with superstitious
+terror.
+
+"What do you see?" inquired Ouenwa. The awe of the storm was creeping
+over his courage like the first film of ice over a bright stream. The
+old man did not move. He did not reply. Ouenwa drew closer to him, and
+heaped dry moss on the fire. It glowed high, and splashed a ruddy circle
+of light on the eddying snowflakes as on a wall.
+
+"Hark!" whispered the old man. Yes, it was the sound of muffled
+footsteps, approaching behind the impenetrable curtain of the storm. The
+boy's blood chilled and thinned like water in his veins. He clutched his
+companion with frenzied hands. The fear of all the devils and shapeless
+beings of the wilderness was upon him. In the whirling snow loomed a
+great figure. It emerged into the glow of the fire.
+
+"Ah! ah!" cried the old man, cackling with relief. For their visitor was
+nothing more terrible than a fellow human. The stranger greeted them
+cordially, and told them that, but for the glow of their fire, he would
+have been lost.
+
+"But what are you doing here--an old man and a child?" he asked.
+
+Ouenwa told him. He explained his identity, and his intention of
+dwelling with the great arrow-maker of his grandfather's tribe to learn
+wisdom.
+
+"Then are we well met," replied the other, "for my lodge is not half a
+spear-throw from the lodge of the arrow-maker. The old man has been as a
+father to me since the day he saved my wife from death. Now I hunt for
+him, and work at his craft, and have left the river to be near him. My
+children play about his lodge. My wife broils his fish and meat. Truly
+the old man has changed since the return of laughter and friendship to
+his lodge."
+
+The stranger's name was Black Feather. He was taller than the average
+Beothic, and broad of shoulder in proportion. His hair was brown, and
+one lock of it, which was worn longer than the rest, was plaited with
+jet-black feathers. His garments consisted of a shirt of beaver skins
+that reached half-way between hip and knee, trousers of dressed leather,
+and leggins and moccasins of the same material. Around his waist was a
+broad belt, beautifully worked in designs of dyed porcupine quills. His
+head was uncovered.
+
+Black Feather seated himself beside Ouenwa, and replied, good-naturedly,
+and at great length, to the youth's many questions. He told of the
+high-walled ships, and of how he had once seen four of these monsters
+swinging together in the tide, with little boats plying between them,
+and banners red as the sunset flapping above them. He told of trading
+with the strangers, and described their manner of spreading out lengths
+of bright cloth, knives and hatchets of gray metal, and flasks of strong
+drink.
+
+"Their knives are edged with magic," he said. "Many of them carry
+weapons called muskets, which kill at a hundred paces, and terrify at
+even a greater distance. But a nimble bowman might loose four arrows in
+the time that they are conjuring forth the spirit of the musket."
+
+The storm continued throughout the day and night, but the morning broke
+clear. The travellers crawled from their weighted shelter and looked
+with gratitude upon the silver shield of the sun. After a hearty
+breakfast, they set out on the last stage of their journey. Their
+racquets of spruce wood woven across with strips of caribou hide sank
+deep in the feathery snow, and lifted a burden of it at every step. But
+they held cheerfully on their way. Black Feather walked ahead, and Pot
+Friend, the old gossip, brought up the rear. The thong by which they
+dragged the sledge passed over the right shoulder of each, and was
+grasped in the right hand. After several hours of tramping along the
+level of the river's valley, Black Feather turned toward the western
+bank and led them into the woods. Presently, after experiencing several
+difficulties with the sledge, they emerged on the barren beyond the
+fringe of timber. They ascended a treeless knoll that rounded in front
+of them, blindingly white against the pale sky. Old Pot Friend grumbled
+and sighed, and might just as well have been on the sledge, for all the
+pulling he did. On reaching the top of the knoll Black Feather swept his
+arm before him with a gesture of finality. "Behold!" he said.
+
+An exclamation of wonder sprang to Ouenwa's lips, and
+died--half-uttered. Before him lay a wedge of foam-crested winter sea
+beating out against a far, glass-clear horizon. To right and left were
+sheer rocks and timbered valleys, wave-washed coves, ice-rimmed islands,
+and crouching headlands. Even Pot Friend forgot his weariness and
+shortness of breath for the moment, and surveyed the outlook in silence.
+It was many years since he had been so far afield. His little soul was
+fairly stunned with awe. But presently his real nature reasserted
+itself. He pointed with his hand.
+
+"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "And the roofs of two lodges. Good!"
+
+Black Feather smiled. Ouenwa did not hear the old man's cry of joy.
+
+"I see the edge of the world," he said.
+
+"But the ships come over it, and go down behind it," replied Black
+Feather.
+
+"That is foolishness," said Pot Friend, who was filled with his old
+impudence at sight of the fire and the lodges. "No canoe would venture
+on the great salt water. I say it, who have built many canoes. And, if
+they voyaged so far, they would slip off into the caves of the Fog
+Devils. I believe nothing of all these stories of the strangers and
+their winged canoes."
+
+"Silence!" cried the boy, turning on him with flashing eyes. "What do
+you know of how far men will venture?--you, who have but heart enough to
+stir a pot of broth and lick the spoon."
+
+"I have brought you safely through great dangers," whined the old
+fellow.
+
+Montaw, the aged arrow-maker, welcomed his visitors cordially, and was
+grateful for the kind messages from his chief, Soft Hand, and for the
+gift of dressed leather. He accepted the charge and education of Ouenwa.
+He set the unheroic Pot Friend to the tasks of carrying water and wood,
+and snaring hares and grouse. He taught Ouenwa the craft of chipping
+flints into shapes for spear-heads and arrow-heads, and the art of
+painting, in ochre, on leather and birch bark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE ADMIRAL OF THE HARBOUR
+
+
+Spring brought ice-floes and bergs from the north, and millions of
+Greenland seals. For weeks the little bay on which Montaw and Black
+Feather had their lodges was choked with battering ice-pans and crippled
+bergs. Many of the tribesmen came to the salt water to kill the seals.
+Soft Hand sent a canoe-load of beaver pelts to Ouenwa, so that the boy
+might trade with the strangers when they arrived out of the waste of
+waters.
+
+At last summer came to the great Bay of Exploits, and with it many
+ships--ships of England, of France, of Spain, and of Portugal. All were
+in quest of the world-renowned codfish. By this time the ice had rotted,
+and drifted southward. The first craft to enter Wigwam Harbour (as the
+English sailors called the arrow-maker's bay) was the Devon ship, _Heart
+of the West_. Her master, John Trowley, was an ignorant, hard-headed,
+and hard-fisted old mariner of the roughest type; but, by the laws of
+those waters, he was Admiral of Wigwam Harbour for that season. It was
+not long before every harbour had its admiral,--in every case the master
+of the first vessel to drop anchor there. The shores were portioned off
+in strips, so that each ship might have a place for drying-stages,
+whereon to cure its fish. Then the great business of garnering that rich
+harvest of the north began, amid the rattling of boat-gear, the shouting
+of orders in many tongues, and the volleying of oaths. Ouenwa, watching
+the animated scene, was fired with a desire to voyage in one of the
+strange vessels, and to taste the world that lay beyond the rim of the
+sea.
+
+One day, soon after their arrival, three men from the _Heart of the
+West_ ascended the twisting path to the arrow-maker's lodge. The old
+craftsman and Black Feather and Ouenwa advanced to meet them without
+fear, for up to that time the adventurers and the natives had been on
+the best of terms. The strangers smiled and bowed to the Beothics. They
+displayed a handful of coloured glass beads, a roll of red cloth, and a
+few sticks of tobacco. Old Montaw's eyes glistened at sight of the
+Virginian leaf. He had already learned the trick of drawing on the stem
+of a pipe and blowing fragrant clouds of smoke into the air. He said
+that to do so added to the profundity of his thoughts. And all winter he
+had gone without a puff. He produced a mink skin from his lodge and
+exchanged it for one of the coveted sticks of tobacco. Black Feather
+also traded, giving skins of mink, fox, and beaver for a piece of cloth,
+a dozen beads, and a knife. But Ouenwa stood aside and watched the
+strangers. One of them he recognized as the great captain who shouted
+and swore at the captains of the other ships, and pointed out to them
+places where they might anchor their ships--for it was none other than
+Master John Trowley. The young man with the gold lace in his hat, and
+the long sword at his side--surely, he, too, was a chief, despite his
+quiet voice and smooth face. Ouenwa's surmise was correct. The youth was
+Master Bernard Kingswell, only son of a wealthy widow of Bristol. His
+father, who had been knighted a few years before his premature death,
+had been a merchant of sound views and adventurous spirit. The son
+inherited the adventurous spirit, and was free from the bondage of the
+counting-house. The third of the party was a common seaman. That much
+Ouenwa could detect at a glance.
+
+Master Kingswell stepped over to the young Beothic.
+
+"Trade?" he inquired, kindly, displaying a string of glass beads in the
+palm of his hand. Ouenwa shook his head. He knew only such words of
+English as Montaw had taught him, and he feared that they would prove
+entirely inadequate for the purpose that was in his mind. However, he
+would try. He pointed to Trowley's ship, and then to the far and
+glinting horizon.
+
+"Take Ouenwa?" he whispered, scarce above his breath.
+
+"To see the ship?" inquired Master Kingswell.
+
+"Off," replied Ouenwa, with a wave of his arms. "Out, off!"
+
+Kingswell looked puzzled, and made no reply. The young Beothic bent a
+keen glance upon him; then he tapped himself on the chest.
+
+"Take Ouenwa," he whispered. He plucked the Englishman by the coat.
+"Come, chief, come," he cried, eagerly.
+
+Kingswell followed to the nearest lodge. Ouenwa pulled aside the flap of
+caribou hide that covered the doorway, and motioned for the visitor to
+enter. For a second the Englishman hesitated. He had heard many tales of
+the treachery of these people. What menace might not lurk in the gloom
+of the round, fur-scented lodge? But he did not lack courage; and,
+before the other had time to notice the hesitation, he stepped within.
+The flap of rawhide fell into place behind him. Save for the red glow
+that pulsated from the hearthstone in the centre of the floor, and the
+fingers of sunlight that thrust through the cracks in the apex of the
+roof, the big lodge was unilluminated.
+
+"What do you want?" asked Master Kingswell, with his shoulders against
+the slope of the roof and a tentative hand on his sword-hilt. For
+answer, Ouenwa held a torch of rolled bark to the fire until it flared
+smoky red, and then lifted it high. The light of it flooded the sombre
+place, showing up the couches of skins, Montaw's copper pot, and a great
+bale of pelts. The boy pointed to the pelts. Then he pressed the palm of
+his hand against the Englishman's breast.
+
+"Ouenwa give beaver," he said. "Take Ouenwa Englan'. Much good trade."
+
+Kingswell understood. But he saw obstacles in the way of carrying out
+the young Beothic's wish. The other savages might object. They might
+look on it as a case of kidnapping. Lads had been kidnapped before from
+the eastern bays, and, though they had been well treated, and made pets
+of in England, their people had ceased to trade with the visitors, and
+all their friendship had turned to treachery and hostility. On the other
+hand, he should like to take the youth home with him. He tried to
+explain his position to Ouenwa, but failed signally. They parted,
+however, with the most friendly feelings toward one another.
+
+After the interview with Kingswell, Ouenwa spent most of his time gazing
+longingly at the ships in the bay, and picturing the life aboard them,
+and the countries from which they had come. One morning Kingswell called
+to him from the land-wash. He ran down, delighted at the attention.
+Kingswell pointed to a small, open boat which the carpenter of the
+_Heart of the West_ had just completed. Then, by signs and a few words,
+he told Ouenwa that he was going northward in the little craft, to
+explore the coast, and that he would be back with the fleet before the
+birch leaves were yellow. Ouenwa begged to be taken on the expedition
+and afterward across the seas. He offered his canoe-load of beaver
+skins. He tried to tell of his great desire to see the lodges of the
+strangers, and to learn their speech. He did not want to live the life
+of his own people. Kingswell caught the general trend of the Beothic's
+remarks. He had no objection to driving a good bargain. So he made clear
+to him that he was to come alongside the ship, with the beaver skins, on
+the following night.
+
+The sky was black with clouds, and a fog wrapped the harbour, when
+Ouenwa stepped into his loaded canoe and pushed out toward the spot
+where Trowley's ship lay at anchor. He had dragged his skins from
+Montaw's lodge earlier in the night, without disturbing the slumbers of
+either his guardian or Pot Friend. Age had dulled their ears and
+thickened their sleep. He paddled noiselessly. Sounds of roistering came
+to his ears, muffled by the fog. Presently the admiral's ship loomed
+close ahead. Lights blinked fore and aft. She seemed a tremendous thing
+to the lad, though in truth she was but of one hundred tons. Singing and
+laughter were ripe aboard.
+
+For the first time a fear of the strangers took possession of Ouenwa.
+Even his trust in Kingswell faltered. He ceased paddling, and listened,
+with bated breath, to the hoarse shouts of merriment and the clapping
+oaths. Then curiosity overcame his fear. He slid his long canoe under
+the stem of the _Heart of the West_. A cheering glow of candle-light
+yellowed the fog above him. He stood up and found that his head was on a
+level with the sill of a square port. It stood open. He heard
+Kingswell's voice, and Trowley's. The master-mariner's was gusty and
+argumentative. It broke out at intervals, like the flapping of a sail.
+
+Ouenwa steadied himself with his hands on the casing of the open port,
+and lifted to tiptoe. Now he could see into the little cabin, and hear
+the conversation of its inmates. Happily for his feelings, he could
+understand only a word or two of that conversation. He saw Kingswell and
+the master of the ship seated opposite one another at a small table.
+Upon the table stood candles in metal sticks, a bottle, and glasses. The
+old sea-dog's bearded face was working with excitement. He slapped his
+great flipper-like hand on the polished surface of the board.
+
+"Now who be master o' this ship?" he bawled. "Tell me that, will 'e. Who
+be master?"
+
+"I am the owner, you'll kindly remember, John Trowley," replied
+Kingswell, with a ring of anger in his voice, but a smile on his lips.
+
+"Ay, ye be owner, but John Trowley be skipper," roared the other,
+glaring so hard that his round, pale eyes fairly bulged from his face.
+"An' no dirty redskin sails in ship o' mine unless as a servant, or
+afore the mast,--no, not if he pays his passage with all th' pelts in
+Newfoundland."
+
+"You are mistaken, my friend," replied Kingswell. "I'll carry fifty of
+these people back to Bristol, if it so pleases me."
+
+"I'll put ye in irons, my fine gentleman," retorted the seaman.
+
+"You are drunk," cried the young adventurer, drawing back his right hand
+as if to strike the great, scowling face that bent toward him across the
+table.
+
+"Drunk, d'ye say! An' ye'd lift yer hand against the ship's master,
+would ye?" shouted Trowley. He lurched forward, and a knife flashed
+above the overturned bottle and glasses.
+
+Ouenwa emitted a horrified scream, and hurled his paddle spear-wise into
+the cabin. The rounded point of the blade caught Trowley on the side of
+the head, and sent him crashing to the deck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FANGS OF THE WOLF SLAYER
+
+
+When Trowley recovered consciousness, he was lying in his berth, with a
+bandage around his head. Kingswell looked in at him, smiling in a way
+that the old mariner was beginning to fear as well as hate.
+
+"I hope you are feeling more amiable since your sleep," said Kingswell.
+
+Trowley muttered a word or two of apology, damned the rum, and asked the
+time of day. His recollections of the argument in the cabin were hazy
+and fragmentary.
+
+In reply to his question the gentleman told him that the sun was well
+up, the fog cleared, and that he was having his boat provisioned for the
+coastwise exploration trip.
+
+"And mind you," he added, grimly, "that the eighty beaver skins which
+are now being stowed away in my berth are my property."
+
+"Certainly, sir," replied Trowley. "An' may I ask how ye come by such a
+power o' trade in a night-time?"
+
+"Yes, you may ask," replied Kingswell. He grinned at the wounded skipper
+for fully a minute, leaning on the edge of the bunk. Then he said: "I'll
+now bid you farewell until October. Don't sail without me, good Master
+Trowley, and look not upon the rum of the Indies when that same is red.
+A knife-thrust given in drunkenness might lead to the gallows."
+
+He turned and nimbly scaled the companion-ladder, leaving the shipmaster
+speechless with rage.
+
+Half an hour later the staunch little craft _Pelican_ spread her square
+sail and slid away from the _Heart of the West_. She was manned by old
+Tom Bent, young Peter Harding, and Richard Clotworthy. Master Bernard
+Kingswell sat at the tiller, with Ouenwa beside him. Their provisions,
+extra clothing, arms, and ammunition were stowed amidships and covered
+with sail-cloth. The sun was bright, and the sky blue. The wind bowled
+them along at a clipping pace. From a mound above the harbour Black
+Feather gazed after them under a level hand. In the little harbour
+Trowley's ship alone swung in her anchorage. The others had run out to
+the fishing-grounds,--for in those days the fishing was done over the
+sides of the ships, and not from small boats. On either side the brown
+shores fell back, and the dancing waters widened and widened. White
+gulls screamed above and around them, flashing silvery wings, snowy
+breasts, and inquisitive eyes.
+
+Ouenwa looked back, and then ahead, and felt a great misgiving. But
+Kingswell patted him on the shoulder, and the sailors nodded their heads
+at him and grinned.
+
+Soon they were among the fleet. The ungainly, high-sterned vessels
+rocked and bobbed under naked spars. The great business that had brought
+them so far was going forward. Along both sides of every ship were hung
+barrels, and in each barrel was stationed a man with two or more
+fishing-lines. Splashing desperately, the great fish were hauled up,
+unhooked, and tossed to the deck behind. As the little _Pelican_ slid
+by, the fishers paused in their work to cheer her, and wave their caps.
+The masters shouted "God speed" from their narrow quarter-decks, and
+doffed their hats. Kingswell waved them gracious farewells; Ouenwa gazed
+spellbound toward the widening outlook; and Tom Bent trimmed the sail to
+a nicety.
+
+They passed headland after headland, rocky island after rocky island,
+cove after cove. The shores behind them turned from brown to purple,
+and from purple to azure. The waves ran higher and the wind freshened.
+Kingswell shaped the boat's course a few points to the northward. The
+stout little craft skipped like a lamb and plunged like some less
+playful creature. Spray flew over her blunt bows, and the sailors
+laughed like children, and called her a brave lass, and many other
+endearing names, as if she were human.
+
+"A smart wench, sir," said Tom Bent to Master Kingswell. The commander
+nodded, and shifted the tiller knowingly. His blue eyes were flashing
+with the excitement of the speed and motion. His bright, pale hair
+streamed in the wind. He leaned forward, to pick out the course through
+a group of small islands that cluttered the bay ahead of them. He gave
+an order, and the seamen hauled on the wet sheet. But Ouenwa did not
+share the high spirits of his companions. A terrible, unknown feeling
+got hold of him. His dark cheeks lost their bloom. Kingswell glanced at
+him.
+
+"Let it go, lad," he said. "A sailor is made in this way. Tom, pass me
+along a blanket."
+
+With his unemployed hand he fixed a comfortable rest for the boy, and
+helped him to a drink of water. For an hour or more he maintained a hold
+on the young Beothic's belt, for, by this time, the soaring and sinking
+of the _Pelican_ were enough to unsteady even a seasoned mariner. As
+for Ouenwa!--the poor lad simply clung to the gunwale with the grip of
+despair, and entertained regretful, beautiful visions of level shores
+and unshaken hills. Tom Bent eyed him kindly.
+
+"The young un has it wicked, sir," he said. "Maybe, like as not, a swig
+o' rum ud sweeten his bilge, sir."
+
+Kingswell acted on the old tar's advice. The rank liquor completed the
+boy's breakdown. In so doing it served the purpose which Bent had
+intended. The sufferer was soon sleeping soundly, already half a sailor.
+
+When Ouenwa next took interest in his surroundings, the _Pelican_ had
+the surf of a sheer coast close aboard on her port side. She was heading
+due north. The sun was half-way down his western slope. Behind the
+_Pelican's_ bubbling wake, hills and headlands and high, naked barrens
+lay brown and purple and smoky blue. In front, and on the right hand,
+loomed surf-rimmed islands and flashed the innumerable, ever-altering
+yet unchanged hills and valleys of the deep. Tom Bent was now at the
+tiller, and Kingswell was in the bows, gazing intently at the austere
+coast. Ouenwa crawled over the thwarts and cargo of provisions, under
+the straining sail, and crouched beside him. His head felt light and
+his stomach painfully empty, but again life seemed worth living and the
+adventure worth while.
+
+About an hour before sunset the _Pelican_ ran into a little cove, and
+her two grappling anchors were heaved overboard. She lay within five
+yards of the land-wash, swinging on an easy tide. Ouenwa sprang into the
+water and waded ashore. It was a dismal anchorage, with only a strip of
+shingle, and grim cliffs rising in front and on either hand. But at the
+base of the cliffs, in fissures of the rock, grew stunted spruce-trees
+and birches. Ouenwa soon found a little stream dribbling a zigzag course
+from the levels above. It gathered, clear and cold, in a shallow basin
+at the foot of the rock, and from there spilled over into the
+obliterating sand.
+
+By this time the others were ashore. Clotworthy hacked down a couple of
+armfuls of the spruce and birch shrubs with his cutlass, and started a
+fire. Then he filled a pot from the little well and commenced
+preparations for a meal. The other seamen erected a shelter, composed of
+a sail and three oars, against the cliff. Kingswell and Ouenwa sat on a
+convenient boulder, and the commander filled a long pipe with tobacco
+and lit it at a brand from the fire. He seemed in high spirits, and in a
+mood to further his young companion's education. Pointing to the roll
+of Virginian leaf, from which he had cut the charge for his pipe, he
+said, "Tobacco." Ouenwa repeated it many times, and nodded his
+comprehension. Then Kingswell pointed to old Tom Bent, who was watching
+Clotworthy drop lumps of dried venison into the pot of water.
+
+"Boatswain," he said.
+
+Ouenwa mastered the word, as well as the term "able seamen," applied to
+Clotworthy and Peter Harding. By that time the stew was ready for them.
+They were all sound asleep, under their frail shelter, before the last
+glimmer of twilight was gone from the sky.
+
+It was very early when Ouenwa awoke. A pale flood of dawn illumined the
+tent and the recumbent forms of Master Kingswell and Clotworthy. Tom
+Bent and Harding were not in their places. The boy wondered at that, but
+was about to close his eyes again, when he was startled to his feet by a
+shrill cry that went ringing overhead and echoing along the cliffs. He
+darted from the tent, with Kingswell and Clotworthy hot on his heels.
+Bent and Harding were on the extreme edge of the beach, with their backs
+to the sea, staring upward. Ouenwa and the others turned their faces in
+the same direction. They were amazed to see about a dozen native
+warriors on the cliff above them, fully armed, and evidently deeply
+interested in what was going on in the little cove. One of them was
+pointing to the _Pelican_, and talking vehemently to the brave beside
+him. In two of them Ouenwa recognized young Wolf Slayer, and his father,
+the chief of the village on the River of Three Fires. He called up to
+them, and asked what brought them so far from their village.
+
+"We are at the salt water to take the fish," replied Wolf Slayer, "and
+we saw the smoke of your fire before the last darkness. But what do you
+with the great strangers, little Dreamer?"
+
+"They are my friends," replied Ouenwa, "and I am voyaging with them to
+learn wisdom."
+
+"What are you talking about?" asked Kingswell.
+
+The lad tried to explain. He pointed to the tent and provisions and then
+to the boat. "Put in," he said.
+
+At a word from Kingswell the three sailors quickly dismantled their
+night's shelter and carried the sail, the oars, and such food and
+blankets as they had brought ashore, out to the _Pelican_. At that the
+shrill cry rang out again, and echoed along the cliffs.
+
+"What does that mean?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"Bad," replied Ouenwa, shortly.
+
+"What is in your fine canoe, little Dreamer?" called Wolf Slayer.
+
+"Our food and our clothing, little Fox Stabber," Ouenwa cried back, with
+indignation in his voice.
+
+"Your dreams must have unsettled your wits, my friend," replied Wolf
+Slayer, "or you would not talk so loud before a chief of the tribe."
+
+Just then, in answer to the cry that had sounded so dismally across the
+dawn a few moments before, five more warriors, armed with bows, appeared
+on the top of the cliff--for the cry was the hunting-call of the tribe.
+
+"Do you fish with war-bows?" shouted Ouenwa. "And why do you summon to
+trade with the cry of the hunt?"
+
+"You ask too many questions, even for a seeker of wisdom," replied the
+other youth, mockingly.
+
+"Does Soft Hand, the great bear, slumber, that the foxes bark with such
+assurance?" retorted Ouenwa.
+
+By this time the _Pelican_ was ready to put out of the cove. Both
+anchors were up, and Harding and Clotworthy held her off with the oars.
+Old Tom Bent was also in the boat, busy with something beside the mast.
+Suddenly a bow-string twanged, and an arrow buried its flint head in the
+sand at Kingswell's feet. Another struck a stone and, glancing out,
+rattled against Harding's oar. Kingswell and Ouenwa backed hastily into
+the water. Above them, silhouetted against the lightening sky, they saw
+bending bows and downward thrust arms. Then, with a clap and a roar, and
+a gust of smoke, old Tom Bent replied to the warriors on the cliff. The
+echoes of the discharge bellowed around and around the rock-girt
+harbour. Ouenwa and Kingswell sprang through the smoke and climbed
+aboard, and the seamen pushed into deep water and then bent to their
+oars. But the _Pelican_ proved a heavy boat to row, with her blunt bows
+and comfortable beam. She surged slowly beyond the cloud of bitter smoke
+that the musket had hung in the windless air. Clear of that, the
+voyagers looked for their treacherous assailants--and, behold, the great
+warriors were not to be seen. Kingswell and the three seamen laughed, as
+if the incident were a fine joke; but Ouenwa was hot with shame and
+anger. He stood erect and shouted abuse to the deserted cliff-top. He
+called upon Wolf Slayer and Panounia to show their cowardly faces. He
+threatened them with the displeasure of Soft Hand and with the anger of
+the English. A figure appeared on the sky-line.
+
+"You speak of Soft Hand," it cried. "Know you, then, that Soft Hand set
+out on the Long Trail four suns ago, when he marched into my village to
+dispute my power. I, Panounia, am now the great chief of the people. So
+carry yourself accordingly, O whelp without teeth and without a den to
+crawl into. Whose hand has overthrown the lodge of the totem of the
+Black Bear? Mine! Panounia's! Soft Hand has fallen under it as his son,
+your father, succumbed to it when you were a squalling babe." He paused
+for a moment, and held out a gleaming knife, with its point toward the
+_Pelican_. "The totem of the Wolf now hangs from the great lodge," he
+cried.
+
+Quick and noiseless as a breath, the edge of the cliff was lined with
+warriors. Like a sudden flight of birds their arrows flashed outward and
+downward.
+
+"Lie down!" cried Kingswell. With a strong hand he snatched Ouenwa to
+the bottom of the boat. Harding and Clotworthy sprawled forward between
+the thwarts. Only Tom Bent, crouched beside the naked mast, did not
+move. The arrows thumped against plank and gunwale. They pierced the
+cargo. They glanced from tiller and sweep and mast. One, turning from
+the rail, struck Bent on the shoulder. He cursed angrily, but did not
+look for the wound. His match was burning with a thread of blue smoke
+and a spark of red fire. His clumsy gun was geared to the rail by an
+impromptu swivel of cords. He lay flat and elevated the muzzle.
+
+"Steady her," he said, softly. "She's driftin' in."
+
+Kingswell sprang forward to one of the oars, thrust it to the bottom,
+and held the boat as steady as might be. Arrows whispered around him. He
+shouted a challenge to the befeathered warriors above him. Tom touched
+the slow-match to the quick fuse. Something hissed and sizzled. A plume
+of smoke darted up. Then, with a rebound that shook the boat from stem
+to stern, the gun hurled forth its lead, and fire, and black breath of
+hate.
+
+"Double charge, sir," gasped Tom Bent, from where he sagged against the
+mast. The kick of his musket had hurt him more than the blow from the
+arrow.
+
+Again the _Pelican_ fought her way toward the open waters, with Harding
+and Clotworthy pulling lustily at the sweeps. Kingswell, flushed and
+joyful, sat at the tiller and headed her for the channel, through which
+the tide was running landward at a fair pace. Bent was busy reloading
+his firearm. Ouenwa stood in the stern-sheets, with his bow in his left
+hand and an arrow on the string. A breath of wind brushed the smoke
+aside and cleared the view. Ouenwa pointed to the beach, and gave vent
+to a shrill whoop of triumph. The others looked, and saw a huddled shape
+of bronzed limbs and painted leather at the foot of the rock.
+
+"One more red devil for hell," muttered the boatswain. "I learned mun to
+shoot his pesky sticks at a Bristol gentleman."
+
+As if in answer, an arrow bit a splinter from the mast, not six inches
+from the old man's head. Ouenwa's bow bent, and sprang straight. The
+shaft flew with all the skill that Montaw had taught the boy, and with
+all the hate that was in his heart for the big murderer on the cliff.
+Every man of the little company narrowed his eyes to follow the flight
+of it. They saw it curve. They saw a warrior drop his bow from his
+menacing hand and sink to his knees.
+
+"The wolf falls," cried Ouenwa, in his own tongue. "The wolf bites the
+moss. Who, now, is the wolf slayer?"
+
+The Englishmen cheered again and again, and the good boat _Pelican_,
+urged forward by triumphant sinews, won through the channel and swam
+into the outer waters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE SILENT VILLAGE
+
+
+As soon as the _Pelican_ was out of arrow-shot of the cliff, the
+Beothics disappeared. Ouenwa laid aside his bow with a sigh of regret.
+Then he tried to repeat to Kingswell what he had heard from Panounia.
+After a deal of questioning, sign-making, and mental exertion, the
+Englishman gathered the information that treachery and murder had taken
+place up the river, and that his young friend hated the new leader of
+the tribe with a bitter hatred. He did not wonder at the bitterness. He
+looked at the young savage's flushed face and glowing eyes with sympathy
+and admiration. His liking for the boy had grown in every hour of their
+companionship, and, by this time, had developed into a decided fondness.
+
+"Sit down, lad, and let your guns cool," he said, with a light hand on
+the other's knee. "Your enemies are my enemies," he continued, "and
+we'll fight the dogs every time we see 'em."
+
+Ouenwa sat quiet and tried to look calm. He was soothed by the evident
+kindliness of Kingswell's tone and manner, though he had failed to
+translate his speech. The men on the thwarts had caught the words,
+however. They nodded heavily to one another.
+
+"Ye say the very word what was in my mind, sir," spoke up Tom Bent,
+"an', if I may make so bold as to say further, your enemies be your
+servants' enemies, sir. Therefore the young un's enemies must be our
+enemies, holus bolus." The other sailors nodded decidedly. "Therefore,"
+continued Tom Bent, "all they cowardly heathen aft on the cliff has to
+reckon, hereafter, with Thomas Bent an' the crew o' this craft."
+
+"Well spoken, Tom," replied Kingswell, with the smile that always won
+him the heart and hand of every man he favoured with it,--and of every
+maid, too, more than likely. "But we can't enthuse on empty stomachs.
+Pass out the bread and the cold meat," he added.
+
+For fully two hours the _Pelican_ rocked about within half a mile of her
+night's anchorage. Kingswell was not in a desperate hurry, and so his
+men pulled at the oars just enough to hold the boat clear of the rocks.
+A sharp lookout was kept along the coast, but not a sight nor a sound
+of the Beothics rewarded their vigilance.
+
+"They be up to some devilment, ye may lay to that," said Tom Bent.
+
+At last a wind fluttered to them out of the nor'east, and the square
+sail was hoisted and sheeted home. Again the _Pelican_ dipped her bows
+and wet her rail on the voyage of exploration.
+
+After two hours of sailing, and just when they were off the mouth of a
+little river and a fair valley, a fog overtook them. Kingswell was for
+running in, but Ouenwa objected.
+
+"Panounia follow," he said. "He great angry. Drop irons," he added,
+pointing to the little anchors.
+
+"Panounia is wounded. You winged him yourself," replied Kingswell. "He
+could not follow us around that coast, lad, at the clip we were coming."
+
+Ouenwa considered the words with puckered brows. They were beyond him.
+The commander pointed shoreward.
+
+"All safe," he said. "All safe."
+
+"No, no," cried the lad. "All kill. No safe."
+
+During this controversy the sail had been partly lowered, and the
+_Pelican_ had been slowly running landward with the fog.
+
+Kingswell looked from the young Beothic to the seamen with a smile of
+whimsical uncertainty.
+
+"Out o' the mouths o' babes an' sucklin's," remarked Tom Bent, with his
+deep-set eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Kingswell's glance rested,
+for a moment, on the ancient mariner.
+
+"Lower away," he said. The sail flapped down, and was quickly stowed.
+"Let go the anchors," he commanded. The grapplings splashed into the
+gray waves. The fog crawled over the boat and shut her off from land and
+sky. With a last dreary whistle, the wind died out entirely.
+
+"Rip me!" exclaimed Master Kingswell, "but here is caution that smells
+remarkably like cowardice." Fretfully sighing, he produced his pipe,
+tobacco, and tinder-box. Soon the fragrant smoke was mingling with the
+fog. The young commander leaned back, taking his comfort where he could,
+like the courageous gentleman that he was. The habit of burning
+Virginian tobacco was an expensive one, confined to the wealthy and the
+adventurous. The seamen, who, of course, had not yet acquired it,
+watched their captain with open interest. When a puff was blown through
+the nostrils, or sent aloft in a series of rings, they nudged one
+another, like children at a show. By this time the walls of fog had made
+of the _Pelican_ a tiny, lost world by itself. Suddenly Ouenwa raised
+his hand. "Sh!" he whispered. Kingswell removed the pipe-stem from his
+mouth, and inclined his head toward the hidden river and valley. All
+strained their ears, to wrest some sound from the surrounding gray other
+than the lapping of the tide along the unseen land-wash. But they could
+hear nothing.
+
+"Village," whispered Ouenwa, pointing landward.
+
+"But we saw no signs of a village," protested Kingswell, gently.
+
+"Village," repeated the lad. "Ouenwa hear. Ouenwa smell."
+
+Immediately the four Englishmen began to sniff the fog, like hounds
+taking a scent on the wind. But their nostrils were not the nostrils of
+either hounds or Beothics. They sniffed to no purpose. They shook their
+heads. Kingswell wagged a chiding finger at their keen-nosed companion.
+The boy read the inference of the gesture, and flushed indignantly.
+
+"Village," he whispered, shrilly. "Village, village, village."
+
+Kingswell looked distressed. The sailors grinned leniently at the
+determined boy. They had great faith in their own noses, had those
+mariners of Bristol and thereabouts. Ouenwa, frowning a little, sank
+into a moody contemplation of the fog.
+
+"This is dull," exclaimed Kingswell, after a half-hour of silence.
+"Tom, pipe us a stave, like a good lad."
+
+The boatswain scratched his head reflectively. Presently he cleared his
+throat with energy.
+
+"Me voice be a bit husky, sir, to what it once were," he murmured, "but
+I'll do me best--an' no sailorman can say fairer nor that."
+
+Straightway he struck into a heroic ballad of a sea-fight, in a high,
+tottering tenor. The song dealt with Spanish swagger and English daring,
+with bloody decks, falling spars, and flying splinters. Harding joined
+in the chorus with a booming bass. Clotworthy and the commander soon
+followed. Kingswell's voice was clear and strong and wonderfully
+melodious. Ouenwa's eyes glowed and his muscles trembled. Though the
+words held no meaning for him, the rollicking, dashing swing of the tune
+fired his excitable blood. He forgot all about Panounia, and the
+suspected village on the river so near at hand ceased to trouble him. He
+beat time to the singing with his moccasined feet, and clapped his hands
+together in rhythmic appreciation of his comrades' efforts. In time the
+ballad was finished. The last member of the craven crew of the _Teressa
+Maria_ had tasted English steel and been tossed to the sharks. Then
+Master Kingswell sprang to his feet and sang a sentimental ditty. It
+was of roses and fountains, of latticed windows and undying affection.
+The air was captivating. The singer's voice rang tender and clear. Old
+Tom Bent remembered lost years. Harding thought of a Devon orchard, and
+of a Devon lass at work harvesting the ruddy fruit. Clotworthy saw a
+cottage beside a little wood, and a woman and a little child gazing
+seaward and westward from the door.
+
+For several seconds after the last note had died away, the little
+company remained silent and motionless, fully occupied with its various
+thoughts. Ouenwa was the first to break the spell of the song. He laid
+his hand on Kingswell's arm with a quick gesture, and leaned toward him.
+
+"Canoe," he whispered.
+
+The sound that had caught Ouenwa's attention was repeated--a short rap,
+like the inadvertent striking of a paddle against a gunwale. They all
+heard it, and, with as little noise as possible, set to work at getting
+out cutlasses and loading muskets. Kingswell crawled forward and
+whispered with old Tom Bent. The boatswain nodded and turned to Harding.
+That sturdy young seaman crawled to the bows and placed his hands on the
+hawser of the forward anchor. He looked aft. Kingswell, who had returned
+to his seat at the tiller, leaned over the stern and cut the manilla
+rope that tethered the boat at that end. Harding immediately pulled on
+his rope until he was directly over the light bow anchor. Then, strongly
+and slowly, and without noise, he brought the four-fingered iron up and
+into the bows. They were free of the bottom, anyway, and with the loss
+of only one anchor. Kingswell breathed a sigh of relief.
+
+The _Pelican_ drifted, and the crew stared into the fog, with wide eyes
+and alert ears. Then, to seaward and surely not ten yards away, sounded
+a plover-call. Kingswell signalled to Bent to man the seaward side and
+Clotworthy and Harding the other. They rested the barrels of their great
+matchlocks on the gunwales. Suddenly the prow of a canoe pierced the
+curtain of fog not four yards from Tom Bent. He touched the match to the
+short fuse. There was a terrific report, and a chorus of wild yells. In
+the excitement that followed, the others discharged their pieces.
+Kingswell grabbed an oar, slipped it into a notch beside the tiller and
+began to "scull" the boat seaward. The men reloaded their muskets and
+peered into the fog. They heard splashings and cries on all sides, but
+could see nothing. Ouenwa, standing erect, discharged arrow after arrow
+at the hidden enemy.
+
+The splashings grew fainter, and the cries ceased entirely. Kingswell
+passed the oar which he had been using to Harding, and told the men to
+lay aside their muskets and row. Ouenwa let fly his last arrow, in the
+names of his murdered father and grandfather.
+
+For a long and weary time the _Pelican_ lay off the hidden land,
+shrouded in fog and silence. A few hours before sunset a wind from the
+west found her out, drove away the fog, and disclosed the sea and the
+coast and the open sky.
+
+"Pull her head 'round," commanded Kingswell, "and hoist the sail. We are
+going back to have a look at that village."
+
+The men obeyed eagerly. They were itching for a chance to repay the
+savages for the fright in the dark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A LETTER FOR OUENWA
+
+
+Two headlands were rounded before the valley of the river opened again
+to the eyes of the adventurers. The brown water of the stream stole down
+and merged into the dancing, wind-bitten sea. The gradual hillsides,
+green-swarded, basked in the golden light. The lower levels of the
+valley were already in shadow. No sign of man, or of his habitation, was
+disclosed to the voyagers.
+
+"A fair spot," remarked Kingswell. "I feel a desire stirring within me
+to stretch my legs on that grassy bank. What do you say to the idea,
+Tom?"
+
+The old fellow grinned. "'Twould be pleasant, sir, an' no mistake," he
+replied--"a little walk along the brook, with our hands not very far
+from our hangers. Ay, sir, Tom Bent's for a spell o' nater worship."
+
+The boat ran in, and was beached on the sand well within the mouth of
+the river. Harding and Clotworthy, with loaded muskets, were left on
+guard, and the other three, fully armed, started along the bank of the
+stream. They advanced cautiously, with a sharp lookout on every clump of
+bushes and every spur of rock. A kingfisher dropped from its perch above
+the water and flew up-stream with shrill clamour. They turned a bend of
+the little river and halted short in their track with muttered
+exclamations. Before them, on a level meadow between the brown waters of
+the stream and the dark green wall of the forest, stood half a dozen
+wigwams. The place seemed deserted. They scanned the dark edge of the
+wood and the brown hills behind. They peered everywhere, expecting to
+catch the glint of hostile eyes at every turn. But neither grove nor
+hill, nor silent lodge, disclosed any sign of life.
+
+"Where the devil are they?" exclaimed Kingswell, thoroughly perplexed.
+
+Ouenwa smiled, and swept his hand in a half-circle.
+
+"Watch us," he remarked, nodding his head. "Yes, watch us."
+
+"He means they are lying around looking at us," said Kingswell to the
+boatswain. "Rip me, but I don't relish the chance of one of those
+stone-tipped arrows in my vitals."
+
+Tom Bent glanced about him in visible trepidation. Ouenwa noticed it,
+and pointed to the seaman's musket. "No 'fraid," he said. "Shoot."
+
+"What at?" inquired Bent.
+
+"Make shoot," cried the boy, indicating the silent wood, dusky in the
+gathering shadows.
+
+"He wants you to fire into the wood, and frighten them out," said
+Kingswell.
+
+"If they be there, I'm for lettin' 'em stay there," replied Tom.
+
+However, he fixed his murderous weapon in its support, aimed at the edge
+of the forest beyond the wigwams, and fired. The flame cut across the
+twilight like a red sword; a dismal howl arose and quivered in the air.
+It was answered from the hilltops on both sides of the stream.
+
+Before the echoes had died away, Ouenwa was inside the nearest lodge.
+Kingswell followed, and found him dismantling the couches and walls of
+their valuable furs. He instantly took a hand in the looting. Soon each
+had all he could handle. They carried their burdens from the lodge, and,
+with Tom as a rear-guard, marched back toward the _Pelican_. They had
+rounded the bend of the river, and the two seamen were hurrying to meet
+them, when old Tom Bent suddenly uttered an indignant whoop and leaped
+into the air. His musket flew from his shoulder and clattered against a
+stone. Kingswell and Ouenwa threw down their bundles and sprang to where
+he lay, kicking and spluttering. The feathered shaft of an arrow clung
+to the middle of his left thigh. He was swearing wildly, and vowing
+vengeance on the "heathen varment" who had pinked him.
+
+Harding and Clotworthy fired into the shadows of the wooded hillside,
+and Kingswell hoisted the struggling boatswain to his shoulders and
+continued his advance on the boat. The old sailor begged and implored
+his commander to put him down, assuring him that he was more surprised
+than hurt. But Kingswell turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, and did
+not release him until they were safe beside the _Pelican's_ bows. Just
+then Ouenwa and the sailors came running up with the looted pelts. All
+were puzzled. Why had the hidden enemy fired only one arrow, when they
+might have annihilated the little party with a volley?
+
+That night the _Pelican_ lay at anchor in the mouth of the river. Twice,
+during the long, eerie hours between dark and dawn, the man on duty woke
+his companions; but on both occasions the alarms proved to be false--the
+splashing of a marauding otter near the shore or the flop of a feeding
+trout. Under the pale lights of the morning the valley and the stream
+lay as peaceful and deserted as on the preceding evening. The voyagers
+ate their breakfast aboard. Then, as soon as the sun had cleared the
+light mist from the water, they got up their anchor and rowed up-stream.
+Harding and Clotworthy pulled on the oars. Bent and the commander
+crouched in the bows, with ready muskets, and Ouenwa sat at the tiller.
+The current was strong, and the boat crawled slowly against the twirling
+sinews of water. Little patches of spindrift, from some fall or rapid
+farther up the river, floated past them. The pebbly bottom flashed
+beneath the amber tide. Leaping fish gleamed and splashed on either
+hand, and sent silver circles rippling to the toiling boat. A moist,
+sweet fragrance of foliage and mould and dew filled the air.
+
+Soon the deserted lodges came into view, standing smokeless and pathetic
+between the murmuring river and the brooding trees. Kingswell motioned
+to Ouenwa to head for the low bank in front of the wigwams. They landed
+without incident, and all walked toward the village, with their firearms
+ready and their matches lighted. They explored every lodge and even beat
+the underbrush. The dwellings had been cleared of pelts and weapons and
+cooking utensils evidently during the night. A village of this size must
+have possessed at least six canoes; but not a canoe, nor so much as a
+paddle, could they find.
+
+"All run in canoe," remarked Ouenwa, pointing up-stream.
+
+"What be this?" asked Tom Bent, limping toward Kingswell with an arrow
+and a small square of birch bark in his hand. He had found the bark,
+pinned by the arrow, to the side of one of the wigwams. Kingswell
+examined it intently, and shook his head.
+
+"Pictures," he said. "I suppose it is a letter of some kind, in which
+their wise man tells us what he thinks of us."
+
+Ouenwa took the bark and surveyed the roughly sketched figures, with
+which it was covered, with a scornful twist of his face.
+
+"Wolf," he said, indicating the central figure. "See! Very big!
+Bear"--he touched another point of the missive and then tapped his own
+breast--"see bear! Him no big! Wolf eat bear." He laughed shrilly, and
+shook his head. "No, no," he said. "No, no."
+
+"What be mun jabberin' about?" muttered Tom Bent.
+
+Kingswell explained that the bear stood for Ouenwa's family, and that
+the wolf was the symbol of the people who had killed his grandfather.
+
+The _Pelican_ continued her voyage before noon, and all day skirted an
+austere and broken coast. She crossed the mouths of many wide bays,
+steering for the purple headlands beyond. She rounded many islands and
+braved intricate channels. Toward evening she rounded a bluffer, grimmer
+cape than any of the day's experience, and Kingswell, who had just
+relieved Harding at the tiller, forsook the straight course and headed
+up the bay. Two hours of brisk sailing brought them to a sheltered
+roadstead behind an island and just off a wooded cove. They lowered the
+sail and rowed in close to the beach. They built no fire, and spent the
+night close to the tide, with their muskets and cutlasses beside them,
+and the watch changed every two hours.
+
+Three days later the voyagers happened upon a ship. They ran close in to
+where she lay at anchor, believing her to be English, and did not
+discover their mistake until the little tub of a brig opened fire from a
+brass cannonade. The first shot went wide, and the _Pelican_ lay off
+with a straining sail. The second shot fell short, and that ended the
+encounter, for the Frenchmen were too busy fishing to get up anchor and
+give chase.
+
+Old Tom Bent was quite cast down over the incident. "It be the first
+time," he said, "that I ever seen a Frencher admiral o' a bay in
+Newfoundland. One year I were fishin' in the _Maid o' Bristol_, in Dog's
+Harbour, Conception, an', though we was last to drop anchor, an' the
+only English ship agin six Frenchers and two Spanishers, by Gad, our
+skipper said he were admiral--an', by Gad, so he were."
+
+But the valorous old mariner did not suggest that they put about and
+dispute the admiralty of the little harbour which they had just passed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+AN UNCHARTERED PLANTATION
+
+
+In a cave in White Bay the voyagers traded with a party of friendly
+natives. Farther north they found indications of copper, and collected a
+bagful of the mother rock. In late August a sickness prostrated Master
+Kingswell and Clotworthy, and camp was made on the mainland. For three
+weeks the sufferers were unable to lift their heads. They lost flesh
+until they were little more than skin and bone. Ouenwa undertook the
+dual position of physician and nurse. He had some knowledge of the
+science of medicine, as practised by the Beothics, and treated the
+malady with teas of roots and herbs. He also managed to kill a young
+caribou, and fed his patients with broth made from the meat. But it was
+close upon the end of September when the _Pelican_ again took up her
+northward journey.
+
+Kingswell's real reason for this adventurous cruise was the quest of
+gold. Other explorers had seen gold ore in the possession of the
+natives, and he had heard stories of a French sailor having been
+wounded by a gold-barbed arrow. But the precious metal eluded him. Upon
+gaining the farthest cape of the great island, he wanted to cross the
+straits and continue his search along the Labrador coast; but the men
+shook their heads. The boat was too small for the voyage. Their
+provisions were running low. The northern summer was already far spent.
+So Kingswell headed the _Pelican_ southward. After a week of fair winds,
+they were caught in a squall, and the starboard bow of their stout
+little craft was shattered while they were in the act of winning to a
+sheltered anchorage. Everything was salvaged; but it took them three
+days to patch the boat back to a seaworthiness. Even after this
+unlooked-for delay, the young commander persisted in exploring every
+likely looking cave and river mouth that had been neglected on the
+northward trip. The men grumbled sometimes, but it was not in the heart
+of any sailor to deny the wishes of so charming and brave a gentleman as
+Master Kingswell. Ouenwa's long conversations in his partially acquired
+English helped to keep the company in good spirits.
+
+It was November, and nipping weather in that northern bay, when the
+_Pelican_ threaded the islands of Exploits and opened Wigwam Harbour to
+the eager gaze of her company. The harbour was empty! They had not
+sighted a vessel in any of the outer reaches of the bay. The
+drying-stages and fish stores stood deserted above the green tide.
+
+Kingswell turned a bloodless face toward his men. "They have sailed for
+home without us," he said, and swallowed hard. Old Tom Bent gazed
+reflectively about him, and scratched a hoary whisker with a mahogany
+finger. He had grumbled at the chance of this very disaster, but now
+that he was face to face with it the thought of grumbling did not occur
+to him.
+
+"Ay, sir," said he, "the damned rascals has sailed without us--an' we
+are lucky not to be in such dirty company!"
+
+He spat contemptuously over the gunwale. The colour returned to
+Kingswell's cheeks, and a flash of the old humour to his eyes. He smiled
+approvingly on the boatswain. But young Peter Harding, being neither as
+old nor as wise as Bent, nor as cool-headed as Clotworthy, had something
+to say on the subject. He ripped out an oath. Then--"By God," he cried,
+"here's one man who'd rather sail in a ship with what ye calls dirty
+company, Tom Bent, than starve in a damn skiff with--with you all," he
+finished, lamely.
+
+Kingswell and Ouenwa looked at the young seaman with mute indignation
+in their eyes. But Tom Bent laughed softly.
+
+"Ay, Peter, boy," he said, "ye be one o' these fine, lion-hearted
+English mariners what's the pride o' the king an' the terror o' the
+seas. The likes o' ye don't sail shipmates with men, but with the duff
+an' the soup an' the prize-money." His voice shrilled a little. "Ay, if
+it wasn't that I know ye for a better man than ye sound just now, I'd ax
+cap'n's leave to twist the snivellin' nose off the fat face o' ye."
+
+"Tom be right," remarked Clotworthy, with a knowing and well-considered
+wag of his heavy head.
+
+Harding, who had delivered his speech from a commanding position on a
+thwart, sat down very softly, as if anxious not to attract any further
+attention.
+
+"We'll have a look at the old arrow-maker, lads," said Kingswell,
+cheerfully, "and stock up with enough dried venison to carry us south to
+Trinity, or even to Conception. Ships often lie in those bays till the
+snow flies. At the worst we can sail the old _Pelican_ right 'round to
+St. John's, and winter there. I'll wager the governor would be glad
+enough of a few extra fighting men to scare off the French and the
+privateers."
+
+Despite Master Kingswell's brave words, there was no store of dried
+venison to be obtained from the arrow-maker, for both the old
+philosopher's lodge and Black Feather's were gone--gone utterly, and
+only the round, level circles on the sward to show where they had stood.
+What had become of Montaw and his friends could only be surmised.
+Ouenwa's opinion that the enemies of Soft Hand were responsible for
+their disappearance was shared by the Englishman. All agreed that
+immediate flight was safer than a further investigation of the mystery.
+So the storm-beaten, wave-weary _Pelican_ turned seaward again.
+
+Two days later, toward nightfall, and after having sailed far up an arm
+of the sea and into the mouth of a great river, in fruitless search of
+some belated fishing-ship, the adventurers were startled and cheered by
+the sound of a musket-shot. It came from inland, from up the shadowy
+river. It was muffled by distance. It clapped dully on their eager ears
+like the slamming of a wooden door. But every lonely heart of them knew
+it for the voice of the black powder. They drifted back a little and lay
+at anchor all night, just off the mouth of the river. With the dark came
+the cruel frost. But they crawled beneath their freight of furs and
+slept. They were astir with the first gray lights, and before sunrise
+were pulling cautiously up the middle of the channel. White frost
+sparkled on thwart and gunwale. Dark, mist-wrapped forests of spruce and
+fir and red pine came down to the water on both sides. Here and there a
+fang of black rock, noisy with roosting gulls, jutted above the dark
+current. A jay screamed in the woods. A belated snipe skimmed across
+their bows. An eagle eyed them from the crown of an ancient pine, and
+swooped down and away.
+
+They must have ascended the stream a matter of two miles--and hard
+pulling it was--when Ouenwa's sharp eyes detected the haze of wood smoke
+beyond a wooded bend.
+
+"Cooking-fire there!" he exclaimed. "Maybe get something to eat? Maybe
+get killed?"
+
+He spoke cheerfully, as if neither prospect was devoid of charm.
+
+"We'll risk it," remarked Kingswell, quietly. "Put your weight into the
+stroke, lads--and, Tom, keep your match handy."
+
+At last the bend was rounded, and the rowers turned on the thwarts and
+peered over their shoulders, and Kingswell uttered a low cry of delight.
+Close ahead of them the right-hand bank lay level and open, and along
+its edge were beached three skiffs. About twenty yards back stood a
+little settlement of log cabins enclosed by palisades. From the
+chimneys of the cabins plumes of comfortable smoke rose to the clearer
+azure above. In front of this civilized spot, in mid-stream, a small
+high-pooped vessel lay moored. Her masts and spars were gone. She swung
+like a dead body in the brown current.
+
+Tom Bent swore softly and with grave deliberation. "Damn my eyes," he
+murmured. "Ay, sir, dash my old figger-head, if there don't lay a
+reggler, complete plantation! Blast my eyes!"
+
+"A tidy, Christian appearin' place," remarked Clotworthy, joyously. "An'
+real chimleys, too! Well, that do look homely, for certain."
+
+At that moment three men, armed with muskets, ran from the gateway of
+the enclosure and stood uncertain half-way between the palisade and the
+river. Kingswell hailed them, standing in the bluff bows of the little
+_Pelican_. He stated the nationality, the names, and degrees of himself
+and the other of the little company, and the manner of their misfortune,
+even while the boat was covering the short distance to the shore.
+
+The settlers laid aside their weapons, and received Master Kingswell and
+his men with every show of cordiality and good faith. They were
+strapping fellows, with weather-tanned faces, broad foreheads, steady
+eyes, and herculean shoulders. They doffed their skin caps to the
+gentleman adventurer.
+
+"Ye be our first visitors, sir, since we come ashore here two year and
+two months ago come to-morrow," said one of the three. "Yes, it be just
+two year and two months ago, come to-morrow, that we dropped anchor off
+the mouth of this river," he added, turning to his companions. They
+agreed silently. Their eyes and attention were fully absorbed by Master
+Kingswell's imposing, though sadly stained, yellow boots and gold-laced
+coat. Another settler joined the group, and welcomed the voyagers with
+sheepish grins. A fifth, arrayed in finery and a sword, approached and
+halted near by.
+
+"These," said the spokesman, "be Donnellys--father and son." With a
+casual tip of the thumb, he indicated two rugged members of the company.
+He turned to a handsome young giant beside him and smote him
+affectionately on the shoulder. "This here be my boy John--John
+Trigget," he said, "an' that gentleman be Captain Pierre d'Antons." He
+bowed, with ungracious deference, to the dark, lean, fashionably dressed
+individual who stood a few paces away. "An' my name be William Trigget,
+master mariner," he concluded.
+
+Kingswell bowed low for the second time, and again shook hands with the
+elder Trigget. Then he stepped over to D'Antons and murmured a few
+courteous words in so low a voice that his men caught nothing of them.
+Each gentleman laid his left hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. Each
+bowed, laced hat in hand, until his long hair fell forward about his
+face. D'Antons' locks were raven-black, and straight as a horse's mane.
+Young Kingswell's were bright as pale gold, and soft as a woman's. Both
+were of goodly proportions and gallant bearing, though the Frenchman was
+the taller and thinner of the two.
+
+D'Antons slipped his arm within Kingswell's, and, motioning to the
+others to follow, started toward the stockade. William Trigget
+immediately strode forward and walked on Master Kingswell's other hand,
+as if determined to assert his rights as a leader of the mixed company.
+Ouenwa and the seamen of the _Pelican_, and the Donnellys and young
+Trigget, followed close on the heels of their superiors.
+
+"And who may ye be, lad?" inquired John Trigget of Ouenwa, as they
+crossed the level of frost-seared grass.
+
+"I am Ouenwa," replied the boy, frankly, "and Master Kingswell is my
+strong friend and protector. My grandsire was Soft Hand, the head chief
+of this country. His enemies--barking foxes who name themselves
+wolves--pulled him down in the night-time."
+
+The big settler nodded, and the others uttered ejaculations of pity and
+interest. The story was not news to them, however.
+
+"Ay," said John Trigget, "Soft Hand were pulled down in the night, sure
+enough. The Injuns run fair crazy, what with murderin' each other an'
+burnin' each other's camps. I was huntin', two days to the north, when
+the trouble began. I come home without stoppin' to make any objections,
+an' the skipper kep' our gates shut for a whole week. They rebels was
+for wipin' out everybody; an' they captured two French ships, an' did
+for the crews. They be moved away inlan' now, thank God. We be safe till
+spring, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"There be worse folks nor they tormentin' Injuns around these here
+soundin's, an' ye can take my word for that," growled the elder
+Donnelly, in guarded tones.
+
+"Belay that," whispered John Trigget. "The devil can cook his stew
+plenty quick enough. Us won't bear a hand till the pot boils over."
+
+Captain d'Antons glanced back at the talkers. His black eyes gleamed
+suspiciously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+GENTRY AT FORT BEATRIX
+
+
+Inside the stockade, posted unevenly around three sides of a foot-worn
+square, were five buildings of rough logs. From a platform in the
+southeast corner two small cannon presented their muzzles to the river.
+At the back of this platform, on the southern side of the square, stood
+the Donnelly cabin. It was stoutly built, and measured fifteen paces
+across the front. Against the western palisade the Trigget cabin and
+Captain d'Antons' habitation faced the square. On the north side stood a
+fourth dwelling and a small storehouse. In the centre of the yard
+bubbled a spring of clear water under a rustic shed. A tiny brook
+sparkled away from it, under the stockade and down to the river. The
+well was flanked on both sides by a couple of slim birches, now leafless
+under the white November sun.
+
+The visitors were led to the Triggets' cabin, and Skipper Trigget's wife
+and daughter--both big, comely women--fed them with the best in the
+little plantation. After breakfast, Kingswell and Ouenwa were taken to
+D'Antons' quarters. The Frenchman was the spirit of hospitality, and
+took blankets and sheets from his own bed to dress their couches. Also
+he produced a flask of priceless brandy, from which he and Kingswell
+pledged a couple of glasses to the Goddess of Chance. The toast was
+D'Antons' suggestion.
+
+Presently D'Antons excused himself, saying that he had a matter of
+business to attend to, and left his guests to their own devices. The
+house was divided into two apartments by curtains of caribou hides,
+which were hung from one of the low crossbeams of the ceiling. At the
+end of each room a fire burned on a roughly built hearth. Two small
+windows of clouded glass partially lit the sombre interior. Books in
+English, French, and Spanish, a packet of papers, ink and quills, and a
+neatly executed drawing of a pinnace under sail lay on a table near one
+of the windows. Antlers of stags, decorated quivers and bows, painted
+hides, and glossy skins adorned the rough walls. Above the hearth in the
+room in which Kingswell and his young companion sat, hung a musket with
+a silver inlaid stock, a carved powder-horn, and several knives and
+daggers in beaded sheaths. On the floor lay two great, pink-lipped West
+Indian shells. A steel head-piece, a breastplate of the same sure metal,
+and a heavy sword with a basket hilt hung above D'Antons' bed.
+
+Kingswell looked over the books on the table. He found that one of them
+was a manual of arms, written in the Spanish language; another a work of
+navigation, by a Frenchman; a third a weighty thesis on the science and
+practice of surgery; and the fourth was a volume as well-loved as
+familiar,--Master William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." He took up
+this last, and, seating himself with his shoulder to the window, was
+soon far away from the failures and daily perils of the wilderness. The
+greedy, hard-bitted materialist Present, with its quests of "fish," and
+fur, and gold, was replaced by the magic All-Time of the playwright
+poet.
+
+Ouenwa wandered about the room, prying into every nook and corner, and
+examining the shells, the arms, and the decorations. He even knelt on
+the hearthstone, and, at the risk of setting fire to his hair, tried to
+solve the mystery of the chimney--for a fire indoor unaccompanied by a
+lodgeful of smoke was a new thing in his experience. He looked
+frequently at Kingswell, in the hope of finding him open to questions,
+but was always disappointed. At last the thought occurred to him that
+it would be a fine thing to get hold of the great sword above the bed,
+and make cut, lunge, and parry with it as Kingswell had shown him how to
+do on several occasions. So he climbed on to the bed, and, in trying to
+clear the sword from its peg, knocked the steel cap ringing to the
+floor. Kingswell sprang from his stool, with his arm across his body and
+his hand on his sword-hilt, and Master Shakespeare's immortal drama
+sprawled at his feet. "Oh, that's all, is it?" he exclaimed, in tones of
+relief. "But you must not handle other people's goods, lad," he added,
+kindly, "especially a gentleman's arms and armour."
+
+Ouenwa flushed and apologized, and was about to step from D'Antons'
+couch to recover the head-piece, when D'Antons himself entered the
+cabin. Kingswell turned to him and explained the accident.
+
+"My young friend is very sorry," he said, "and would beg your pardon if
+he felt less embarrassed. However, captain, I beg it for him. I was so
+intent on the affairs of Romeo that I was not watching him. He is
+naturally of an investigating turn of mind."
+
+The Frenchman waved a slim hand and flashed his white teeth. "It is
+nothing, nothing," he cried. "I beg you not to mention it again, or
+give it another thought. The old pot has sustained many a shrewder whack
+than a tumble on the floor. Ah, it has turned blades of Damascus before
+now! But enough of this triviality! I have returned to request you to
+come with me to our governor. Neither Trigget nor I have mentioned him
+to you, as he is not desirous of meeting strangers. But he will make his
+own apologies, Master Kingswell."
+
+He stood aside, for Kingswell and Ouenwa to pass out before him.
+Kingswell went first. As Ouenwa crossed the threshold, D'Antons nipped
+him sharply by the arm, and hissed, "Dog! Cur!" in a voice so low, so
+sinister, that the boy gasped. But in a breath the Frenchman was his
+affable self again, and the Beothic, with the invectives still burning
+his ears, almost believed that he had been the victim of some evil
+magic. Kingswell caught nothing of the incident.
+
+Ouenwa was requested to wait outside. Master Kingswell was ushered into
+the governor's cabin, and D'Antons closed the door behind him. The young
+Englishman found himself in a dimly lit apartment very similar to that
+which he had just left. He hesitated, a step inside the threshold, and
+narrowed his lids in an effort to see more clearly. The Frenchman paused
+at his elbow. Two figures advanced from the farther side of the room.
+He ventured another step, and bowed with all the grace at his command,
+for one of the figures was that of a young woman in flashing raiment.
+The other was of a slim, foppishly dressed man of a little past middle
+age, with a worn face that somehow retained its air of youthfulness
+despite its haggard lines and faded skin.
+
+"Welcome to our humble retreat, Master Kingswell," said the gentleman,
+extending his hand and laughing softly. "This is indeed an unlooked-for
+pleasure. We last met, I believe, at Randon Hall--or was it at Beverly?"
+
+"Sir Ralph Westleigh!" exclaimed Kingswell, in a voice of ill-concealed
+consternation and surprise. For a moment he stood in an attitude of
+half-recoil. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the other with wide
+eyes. Then he caught the waiting hand in a firm grip.
+
+"Thank you, Sir Ralph. Yes, it was at Beverly that we last met," he
+said, evenly. He turned to the girl, who stood beside her father with
+downcast eyes and flaming cheeks and throat. The baronet hastened to
+make her known to the visitor.
+
+"My daughter Beatrix," he said. "A good girl, who willingly and
+cheerfully shares her worthless father's exile."
+
+Mistress Westleigh extended a firm and shapely hand, and Kingswell,
+bending low above it, intoxicated by the sudden presence of beauty and a
+flood of homesick memories, pressed his lips to the slim fingers with a
+warmth that startled the lady and brought a flash of anger to D'Antons'
+eyes. He recovered himself in an instant. "To see you in this
+wilderness--amid these bleak surroundings!" he exclaimed, scarcely above
+a whisper. "I cannot realize it, Mistress Beatrix! And once we played at
+racquets together in the court at Beverly."
+
+The girl smiled at him, with a gleam of understanding in her dark,
+parti-coloured eyes.
+
+"I remember," she said. "You have not changed greatly, save in size."
+And at that she laughed, with a note of embarrassment.
+
+"But you have," replied Kingswell. "You were not very beautiful as a
+little girl. To me you looked much the same as my own sisters."
+
+For a second, or less, the maiden's eyes met his with merriment and
+questioning in their depths. Then they were lowered. Sir Ralph moved
+uneasily.
+
+"Come, come," he said, "we must not stand here all day, like geese on a
+village green. There are seats by the fire." He led the way. "Captain,
+if you are not busy I hope you'll stay and hear some of Master
+Kingswell's adventures," he added, turning to D'Antons.
+
+"With pleasure," answered the captain.
+
+"One moment, sir," said Kingswell to Sir Ralph Westleigh. "I have a
+young friend--a sort of ward--whom I left outside. I'll tell him to run
+over to the men and amuse himself with them."
+
+As he opened the door and spoke a few kind words to Ouenwa, there was a
+sneer on D'Antons' lips that did not escape Mistress Beatrix Westleigh.
+It irritated her beyond measure, and she had all she could do to
+restrain herself from slapping him--for hot blood and a fighting spirit
+dwelt in that fair body. She wondered how she had once considered him
+attractive. She blushed crimson at the thought.
+
+Kingswell returned and seated himself on a stool between the governor of
+the little colony and the maiden. First of all, he told them who Ouenwa
+was, and of the time the lad saved him from injury by flooring old
+Trowley with his canoe paddle. Then he briefly sketched the voyage of
+the _Pelican_, and told something of his interests in the fishing fleet
+and in the new land.
+
+"And you found no indications of gold?" queried D'Antons.
+
+"None," replied the voyager, "but some splendid copper ore in great
+quantities, and one mine of 'fool's gold.'"
+
+The baronet nodded, with one of his wan smiles. "There are other kinds
+of fool's gold than these iron pyrites, I believe," he said, "and one
+finds it nearer home than in this God-forsaken--ah--in this wild
+country."
+
+The others understood the reference, and even the polished Frenchman
+looked into the fire and had nothing to say. Kingswell studied the
+water-bleached toes of his boots, and Beatrix glanced piteously at her
+father. For Sir Ralph Westleigh's life had known much of fool's gold,
+and much of many another folly, and something of that to which his
+acquaintances in Somerset--and, for that matter, in all England--gave a
+stronger and less lenient name. The baronet had lived hard; but his
+story comes later.
+
+"I knew nothing of this plantation of yours," said Kingswell, presently.
+"I did not know, even, that you were interested in colonization--and yet
+you have been here a matter of two years, so Trigget tells me."
+
+"Yes, and likely to die here--unless I am unearthed," replied Sir Ralph,
+bitterly, and with a meaning glance at Kingswell. "I put entire faith in
+my friends," he added. "And they are all in this little fort on Gray
+Goose River. My undoing lies in their hands."
+
+"Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, uneasily but stoutly, "I hope your trust
+has been extended to me,--yes, and to my men. Your wishes in any matter
+of--of silence or the like--are our orders. My fellows are true as
+steel. My friends are theirs. The young Beothic would risk his life for
+you at a word from me."
+
+The baronet was visibly affected by this speech. He laid a hand on the
+young man's knee and peered into his face.
+
+"Then you are a friend--out and out?" he inquired.
+
+"To the death," said the other, huskily.
+
+"And you have heard? Of course you have heard!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is not for me to say 'God bless you' to any man," said Sir Ralph,
+"but it's good of you. I feel your kindness more deeply than I can say.
+I have forgotten my old trick of making pretty speeches."
+
+Kingswell blushed uncomfortably and wished that D'Antons, with his
+polite, superior, inscrutable smile, was a thousand miles out of sight
+of his embarrassment. The girl leaned toward him. But she did not look
+at him. "God bless you--my fellow countryman," she whispered, in a voice
+so low that he alone caught the words. He had no answer to make to that
+unexpected reward. For a little they maintained a painful silence. It
+was broken by the Frenchman.
+
+"You understand, Master Kingswell, that, for certain reasons, it is
+advisable that the place of Sir Ralph Westleigh's retreat be kept from
+the knowledge of every one save ourselves," he said, slowly and easily.
+
+"I understand," replied Kingswell, shortly. Captain d'Antons jarred on
+him, despite all his faultless and affable manners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER
+
+
+About mid-afternoon of the day of Kingswell's advent into the settlement
+on Gray Goose River--Fort Beatrix it was called--the sky clouded, the
+voice of the river thinned and saddened, and snow began to fall. By
+Trigget's advice--and Trigget seemed to be the working head of the
+plantation--the pelts and gear of the _Pelican_ were removed to the
+storehouse.
+
+"Ye must winter in Newfoundland, sir, however the idea affects your
+plans, for no more ships will be sailing home this season; and ye
+couldn't make it in your bully," said the hospitable skipper.
+
+"We might work 'round to St. John's," replied Kingswell.
+
+Trigget shook his head. "This be the safer place o' the two," he
+answered, "and your Honour's company here will help keep Sir Ralph out
+o' his black moods. He wants ye to stay, I know. There'll be work and to
+spare for your men, what with cuttin' fuel, and huntin' game, and
+boat-buildin'."
+
+So Kingswell decided that, if this should prove the real setting-in of
+winter, and if no objections were raised by any of the pioneers, he
+would share the colony's fortunes until the following spring. D'Antons
+expressed himself as charmed with the decision; but, for all that,
+Kingswell saw, by deeper and finer signs than most people would credit
+him with the ability to read, that his presence was really far from
+agreeable to the French adventurer.
+
+When night closed about the little settlement, the snow was still
+falling, and ground and roofs shone with bleak radiance through the veil
+of darkness. The flakes of the storm were small and dry, and unstirred
+by any wind. They wove a curtain of silence over the unprotesting
+wilderness.
+
+Kingswell and Ouenwa supped with the Westleighs. But before the meal,
+and before Mistress Beatrix appeared from her little chamber, the two
+gentlemen had an hour of private conversation.
+
+"This Captain d'Antons--what of him?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"He is none of our choosing," replied the baronet. "Several years ago,
+before I had quite given up the old life and the old show, I met him in
+London. He was reported rich. He had sailed many voyages to the West
+Indies, and talked of lands granted to him in New France. I had sold
+Beverly, and Beatrix was with me in town. She was little more than a
+child, but her looks attracted a deal of attention. She had nothing
+else, as all the town knew, with her father a ruined gamester, and her
+dead mother's property gone, with Randon Hall and Beverly! Dear God, but
+here was a dower for a beautiful lass! Well, the poets made a song or
+two, and three old men were for paying titles and places for her little
+hand--and then the end came. We won back to Somerset, spur and whip,
+lashed along by fear. We hid about, in this cottage and that, while my
+trusted friend Trigget provisioned his little craft and got together all
+the folk whom you see here, save D'Antons. After a rough and tiring
+voyage of three weeks' duration, and just when we were looking out for
+land, we were met by a French frigate, and forced to haul our wind. A
+boat-load of armed men left the pirate--yes, that's what she was, a damn
+pirate--and there was Captain d'Antons seated in the stern-sheets of
+her, beside the mate. He had not been as long at sea as we had, and he
+knew all about my trouble, curse him! He left the frigate, which he said
+was bound on a peaceful voyage of discovery to the West Indies, and
+joined our expedition. I could not forbid it. I was at his mercy, with
+his cutthroats alongside and the gallows at the back of it. He has hung
+to us ever since; and he has acted civil enough, damn him. If he'd show
+his hoof now and again, I'd like it better--for then we would all be on
+our guard."
+
+"But why does he stay? Why does he live in this place when he might be
+reaping the harvests common to such husbandmen?" inquired Kingswell.
+"Has he a stake in the colony?"
+
+The baronet gazed reflectively at the young man. "The fellow has kept my
+secret, and shared our rough lot and dreary exile, and even expended
+some money on provisions," he replied, deliberately, "for no other
+reason than that he is in love with my daughter."
+
+"He! A buccaneer!" exclaimed Kingswell, warmly.
+
+"Even so," answered the baronet. "There, on the high seas, when he had
+us all in his clutch, when he might have seized by force that for which
+he now sues, he accepted my word of honour--mark you, he accepted what I
+had scarce the face to offer--that I would not withstand his suit, nor
+allow my men to do him any treasonable hurt so long as he kept my
+hiding-place secret and behaved like a gentleman."
+
+"And Mistress Beatrix?" asked the young man, softly.
+
+"Ah, who can say?" responded the broken baronet. "At one time I feared
+that he was appearing as a hero to her. But I do not know. He played his
+game cleverly at first, but now he is losing patience. I would to God
+that he would lose it altogether. Then the compact would be broken. But
+no, he is cautious. He knows that, at a word from the girl, my sword
+would be out. Then things would go hard with him, even though he should
+kill me, for my men hate him."
+
+"Why not pick a quarrel with him?" asked the headstrong Kingswell.
+
+"You do not understand--you cannot understand--how delicate a thing to
+keep is the word of honour of a man who is branded as being without
+honour," replied the other, sadly.
+
+"And should Mistress Beatrix flout him," said Kingswell, "he would find
+his revenge in reporting your whereabouts to the garrison at St.
+John's."
+
+"He is well watched," said Sir Ralph, "and this is not an easy place to
+escape from, even in summer. We are hidden, up here, and not so much as
+a fishing-ship has sighted us in the two years."
+
+"I'll wager that he'd find a way past your vigilance if he set his mind
+to it," retorted Kingswell. "Gad, but it maddens me to think of being
+billeted under the roof of such an aspiring rogue! Rip me, but it's a
+monstrous sin that a lady should be plagued, and a whole body of
+Englishmen menaced, by a buccaneering adventurer."
+
+"My boy," replied Sir Ralph, wearily, "you must curb your indignation,
+even as the rest of us do. Discretion is the card to play just now. I
+have been holding the game with it for over two years. Who knows but
+that Time may shuffle the pack before long?"
+
+Just then Mistress Beatrix joined them. She wore one of the gay
+gowns--in truth somewhat enlarged and remodelled--by which her girlish
+beauty had been abetted and set off in England. There seemed a
+brightness and shimmer all about her. The coils of her dark hair were
+bright. The changing eyes were bright. The lips, the round neck and
+dainty throat, the buckled shoes, and even the material of bodice and
+skirt were radiant in the gloom and firelight of that rough chamber. To
+all appearances, her mood was as bright as her beauty. Sir Ralph watched
+her with adoring eyes, realizing her bravery. Kingswell joined in her
+gay chatter, and found it easy to be merry. Ouenwa, silent on the corner
+of the bench by the hearth, gazed at this vision of loveliness with
+wide eyes. He could realize, without effort, that Sir Ralph and D'Antons
+and even his glorious Kingswell were men, even as Tom Bent, and the
+Triggets, and Black Feather were, but that Mistress Beatrix was a
+woman--a woman, as were William Trigget's wife and daughter, and Black
+Feather's squaw--no, he could not believe it! He was even surprised to
+note a resemblance to other females in the number of her hands and feet.
+She had, most assuredly, two hands and two feet. Also she had one head.
+But how different in quality, though similar in number, were the members
+of this flashing young divinity.
+
+"I left Montaw's lodge to behold the wonders of the world," mused the
+dazzled child of the wilderness, "and already, without crossing the
+great salt water, I have found the surpassing wonder. Can it be that any
+more such beings exist? Has even Master Kingswell ever before looked
+upon such beauty and such raiment?"
+
+His spellbound gaze was met by the eyes of the enchantress. To his
+amazement, the lady moved from her father's side and seated herself on
+the bench.
+
+"You are so quiet," she said, "that I did not notice you before. So you
+are Master Kingswell's ward?"
+
+Her voice was very kind and cheerful, and her silks brushed the lad's
+hand. He looked at the finery uneasily, but did not answer her question.
+
+"You told us he knew English," she said to Kingswell.
+
+"He does," replied the young man. Then, to the boy: "Ouenwa, Mistress
+Westleigh wants to know if you are my friend."
+
+"Yes," said the lad. "Good friend."
+
+"And my friend, too?" asked the girl.
+
+"Yes," replied Ouenwa. "You look so--so--like he called the sky one
+morning." He pointed at Master Kingswell.
+
+"What was that?" she queried.
+
+"What morning?" asked Kingswell, leaning forward and smiling.
+
+"Five mornings ago, chief," replied Ouenwa.
+
+Kingswell laughed. "You are right, lad," he said.
+
+"But tell me what you called the sky, sir. Really, this is very
+provoking. No doubt the boy thinks I look a fright," said Miss
+Westleigh.
+
+"Beatrix," interrupted Sir Ralph, "surely I see Kate with the candles."
+
+The girl could not deny it, for the table was spread in the same
+room,--a rough, square table with a damask cloth, and laid out with a
+fair show of silver, decanters, and a great venison pasty, which had
+been cooked in the Triggets' kitchen across the yard.
+
+The meal was a delightful one to Kingswell. He had not eaten off china
+dishes for many months. The food, though plain, was well cooked and well
+served. The wines were as nectar to his eager palate. And over it all
+was the magic of Mistress Westleigh's presence--potent magic enough to a
+young gentleman who had almost forgotten the looks and ways of the women
+of his own kind. Ouenwa sat as one in a dream, fairly stupefied by the
+gleam of silver and linen under the soft light of the candles. He ate
+painfully and slowly, imitating Kingswell. He looked often at the
+vivacious hostess. Suddenly he exclaimed: "I remember. Yes, it was
+lovely beautiful, what the chief said!" Kingswell laughed delightedly,
+and the baronet joined, with reserve, in the mirth. The girl looked
+puzzled for a moment,--then confused,--then, with a little,
+indescribable cry of merriment, she patted Ouenwa's shoulder.
+
+"Charming lad!" she exclaimed. "I have not received so pretty a
+compliment for, oh, ever so long." She looked across the table at
+Kingswell, feeling his gaze upon her. His eyes were very grave, and
+darkened with thought, though his lips were still smiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MEDITATION AND ACTION
+
+
+For hours after retiring Kingswell lay awake, reviewing, in his restless
+brain, the incidents of that crowded day. His couch was luxurious,
+compared to the resting-places he had known since leaving the _Heart of
+the West_; but, for all that, sleep evaded him. From the other side of
+the hearth Ouenwa's deep and regular breathing reached his alert ears.
+He saw the yellow light blink to darkness above the curtain of skins,
+when D'Antons extinguished his candle in the other apartment. The red
+firelight rose and fell, dwindled and flooded high. The core of it
+contracted and expanded, and a straight log across the middle of the
+glow was like a heavy eyelid. It was like something alive--like
+something stirring between sleeping and waking, desiring sleep, yet
+afraid to forsake a vigil. To the restless explorer beside the hearth it
+suggested a drowsy servitor nodding and starting in a deserted hall.
+"What is it waiting for?" he wondered, and smiled at the conceit. "What
+does it fear? Mayhap the master and mistress are late at a rout, and are
+people without consideration for the feelings of their servants."
+
+From such harmless imagery his mind slipped to the less pleasant subject
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh. He recalled what he had seen and heard of the
+days of the baronet's glory--of the great places near Bristol, with
+their stables that were the envy of dukes, and their routs that lured
+people weary and dangerous journeys--of the famous Lady Westleigh and
+her jewels--of Sir Ralph's kindliness to great and small alike. His own
+father, the merchant-knight of Bristol, had held the baronet in high
+esteem. Bernard himself, when a child, and later when a well-grown lad,
+had experienced the hospitality of Randon Hall and Beverly. At the time
+of his last visit to Beverly, rumour was busy with the baronet's
+affairs. During Lady Westleigh's life, all had gone well, apparently.
+After her death, Sir Ralph spent less of his time at home, and more of
+it in distant London, and even in Paris. Stories went abroad of his
+heavy gaming and his ruinous bad luck. People said the love of the dice
+and the cards had settled in the man like a disease, working on him
+physically to such an extent that he looked a different person when the
+heat of the play was on him. Also it played the devil with him
+morally--and perhaps mentally. So things took the turn and started
+down-hill. Then the run was short and mad, despite warnings of friends,
+threats of relatives, and the baronet's own numerous clever checks and
+parries to avoid disaster. There was a season of hope after the sale of
+Randon. But the lurid clouds gathered again. Then Beverly was
+impoverished to the last oak and the last horse in the stud. The baronet
+took his daughter to town, and, by a turn of luck, put in a few merry
+months. Then a certain Scotch viscount caught him playing as no
+gentleman, no matter how dissolute, is supposed to play. The Scotchman
+made a clamour, and was killed for his trouble. That was the last known
+of Sir Ralph Westleigh and his daughter by any one of the outside world
+until the _Pelican_ landed her voyagers before the stockade of Fort
+Beatrix on Gray Goose River.
+
+All these matters employed Kingswell's thoughts as he lay awake in
+Captain d'Antons' cabin and watched the fire on the rough hearth fall
+lower and lower. Pity for the young girl, who had been born and bred to
+such a different heritage, pained and fretted him more keenly than a
+personal loss. The discomfort of it was almost as if his conscience were
+accusing him of disloyalty to a friend, though that was absurd, as
+neither he nor his had helped Westleigh in his descent, nor cried out
+against him when he met disaster at the bottom. But he had never, during
+those two years after their disappearance, given them more than a
+passing thought--and they had been friends and neighbours. He had
+experienced no pity for the young and beautiful girl with whom he had
+played in the racquet court at Beverly. Like the great world of which he
+was so insignificant a part, he had forgotten. Two lives, more or less,
+were of no consequence in such stirring times. He groaned, as if the
+realization of a great sin had come to him. Then, to the anger against
+himself was added anger against the world that had dragged Sir Ralph
+into this oblivion of dishonour, and the innocent girl into exile. What
+had she done to be driven beyond the bounds of civilization, her safety
+dependent on the whims of a French buccaneer? Ah, there was the raw
+spot, sure enough! In the little space of time between two risings of
+the sun, Kingswell had met a man and marked him for an enemy. Nursing a
+bitter, though somewhat muddled, resentment, he at last fell asleep,
+guarded from storm and frost by the roof of the very man who had
+inspired his anger.
+
+For the next few days matters went smoothly at Fort Beatrix. It was
+evident to even the least experienced of the settlers that the winter
+had come to stay. The snow lay deep and dry over the frozen earth. The
+river was already hidden under a skin of gleaming ice, made opaque by
+the snow that had mingled with the water while it was freezing. The
+little settlement took up the routine of the dreary months. Axes were
+sharpened at the great stone in the well-house. The men donned moccasins
+of deerskin. They tied ingenious racquets, or snow-shoes, to their feet
+and tramped into the sombre forests. All day the thud, thud of the axes
+jarred across the air, interrupted ever and anon by the rending,
+splitting lament of some falling tree.
+
+Kingswell put his men under William Trigget's orders, and he and Ouenwa
+spent much of their time with the choppers. Also, they journeyed with
+the trappers. Captain d'Antons, who was a skilled and tireless woodsman,
+led them on many weary marches in quest of game and fur. Most of the
+caribou had travelled southward, in herds of from ten to one hundred
+head, at the approach of winter; but a few remained in the sheltered
+valleys. Fortunately the settlers were familiar with the habits of the
+deer, and had laid in a supply of dried venison during the summer.
+However, whenever the hunters managed to make a kill, the fresh meat
+was enthusiastically received at the fort. Hares and grouse were snared,
+as were foxes and other small animals. A few wolves and one or two
+wildcats were shot. The bears were all tucked safely away in their
+winter quarters, and the beavers were frozen into theirs. On the whole,
+the hunters had a hard time of it, and no great reward for their toil.
+But it was work that kept both their brains and sinews employed, and so
+was of a deal more worth than the bare value of the pelts and dinners it
+supplied.
+
+One day in early December, when Kingswell, D'Antons, the younger
+Donnelly, and Ouenwa were traversing a drifted expanse of "barren,"
+marching in single file and without undue noise, they came upon another
+trail of racquet prints. They halted. They regarded this unexpected
+evidence of the proximity of their fellow man with misgivings--for snow
+had fallen in abundance, and therefore the trail was new. They glanced
+uneasily about them, scanning clumps of spruce and fir and mounds of
+snow-drifted rock with anxious eyes. They strained their ears for some
+warning sound--or for the twanging of bowstrings. They saw nothing. They
+heard nothing but the disconsolate chirping of a moose-bird in a
+thicket close at hand. D'Antons lowered his gaze to the trail.
+
+"From the westward, and heading for the river," he said. "Then they are
+not from the village on Gander Lake."
+
+"Big number," remarked Ouenwa. "Ten, twenty, thirty--don't know how
+much! Whole camp, I think."
+
+"Ay," agreed Donnelly, "they sure has packed clear down through two
+falls o' snow. Ye could trot a pony along the pat' they has made."
+
+"Are you on friendly terms with the savages?" inquired Kingswell of
+Captain d'Antons. The Frenchman smiled uncheerfully and shrugged his
+lean shoulders. He was not one to speak unconsidered words.
+
+"Yes, we are on friendly terms with the people from Gander Lake," he
+replied, presently. "That is, we have traded with them a number of
+times, and have exchanged gifts with their chief, and through him with
+old Soft Hand. But Soft Hand is dead now; and these fellows are
+evidently from the West. Also, friendship means nothing where these
+vermin are concerned. Treachery is as the breath of life to them."
+
+"Panounia," whispered Ouenwa, excitedly. "Panounia no good for friend.
+He is a murderer. He is a false chief. He make trade--yes, with
+war-arrows from the bushes and with knives in the dark. In friendship
+his hand is under his robe, and his fingers are on the hilt of his
+knife. Evil warms itself at his heart like an old witch at a fire."
+
+D'Antons smiled thinly at the lad. "There is a time for all things," he
+said--"a time for oratory and another time for action. If you are
+willing, Master Kingswell, let us now retrace our steps as swiftly and
+quietly as may be. It would be wise to warn the fort that a band of the
+sly devils is abroad."
+
+Ouenwa glanced uncertainly at the speaker and flushed darkly. Kingswell
+intimated his willingness to return immediately to Fort Beatrix by a
+curt nod. It was in his heart to administer a kick to Captain Pierre
+d'Antons, though just why the desire he could not say. They turned in
+their tracks and started back along the twisting, seven-mile trail.
+D'Antons led; and the pace he set was a stiff one. Mile after mile was
+passed, with no other sound save those of padding racquet and toiling
+breath. In the hollows their shoulders brushed the snow from the
+crowding spruce-fronds. Going over the knolls, they crouched low, and
+scanned the horizon with alert eyes as they ran.
+
+At last, all but breathless from the prolonged exertion, the hunters
+turned aside from the path and ascended the gradual, heavily wooded side
+of a hill which overlooked the fort from the south. They crossed the
+naked summit with painful caution, bending double, and taking every
+advantage of the sheltering thickets.
+
+"The choppers are inside," whispered D'Antons to Kingswell, as they
+peered furtively out between the snow-weighted branches. "See! And the
+savages are in cover along the river." It was quite evident to Kingswell
+that the place had been attacked, and was now in a state of siege. The
+platform in the southeast corner of the stockade was protected by
+shields composed of bundles of firewood. Men whom he recognized as those
+who had been working in the woods earlier in the day moved about within
+the enclosure. The wide, snow-covered clearing that had been so spotless
+when he had last seen it was trampled and stained here and there by dark
+patches. Along the fringe of timber that shut the river from the
+clearing, and extended to within a dozen paces of the southeast corner
+of the stockade, a Beothic warrior would frequently show himself for a
+moment, hoot derisively, and let fly a harmless shaft. Presently the
+watchers on the knoll saw the head and shoulders of William Trigget
+above the shield of the gun-platform. The master mariner shaded his eyes
+with his hand and seemed to be scanning the woods along the river and
+then the timber in which his own comrades were concealed. He lowered his
+hand and ducked quickly--and not a second too soon; for a flight of
+arrows rattled against his stronghold, a few stuck, quivering, into the
+pickets of the stockade, and many fell within the fort.
+
+Kingswell turned to D'Antons. "More of them than we thought," he said.
+"There must have been a hundred arrows in that volley."
+
+Captain d'Antons nodded with a preoccupied air. He did not look at his
+companion, and his brow was puckered in lines of thought. If the
+Englishman had been able to read the other's mind at that moment, a deal
+of future trouble would have been spared him. However, as Kingswell was
+but an adventurous, keen-witted young man, with no superhuman powers, he
+was content with the Frenchman's nod, and returned his attentions to the
+fort.
+
+Suddenly, from the screen of faggots above which Trigget had so lately
+exposed his head, burst a flash of yellow flame, a spurt of white smoke,
+and a clapping bulk of sound. The stockade shook. A spruce-tree shook in
+the wood by the river, and cries of fear and consternation rang across
+the frosty air. A score of savages darted from their cover and as
+quickly sped back again. Flight after flight of arrows broke away and
+tested every inch of surface of Trigget's shelter. Then, with shrill
+screams and mad yells of defiance, the whole party of Beothics emerged
+into the clearing and dashed for the palisade. They drew their bows as
+they ran, and some hurled clubs and spears. In front, with red feathers
+in his hair and his right arm bandaged across his breast, Panounia
+shouted encouragement and led the charge. They were half-way across the
+open when the second cannon spat forth its message of hate. The ball
+passed low over the advancing mass and plunged into the timber beyond.
+For a second or two, the attackers wavered, a few turned back, then they
+continued their valorous onset. They were already springing at the
+palisade when the muskets crashed in their faces from half a dozen
+loopholes. This volley was followed immediately by another. The savages
+dropped back from their futile leapings against the fortification, hung
+on their heels for a moment, clamorous and undecided, and then broke for
+cover. They dragged their dead and wounded with them, and left
+sanguinary trails on the snow. They were within a few yards of the
+sheltering trees when one of the little cannon banged again. The ball
+cut across the mass of crowded warriors like a string through cheese.
+
+"Now is our time!" exclaimed Kingswell. "Run for the gate, lads."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+SIGNS OF A DIVIDED HOUSE
+
+
+The returning hunters were promptly admitted to the fort. The little
+garrison welcomed them joyfully. The West Country sailors were, for the
+moment, cordial even toward D'Antons, whom they usually ignored. The
+party had taken a hundred chances with death in the crossing of the
+narrow clearing. Arrows had followed them from the fringe of wood along
+the river, like bees from an overturned hive. Ouenwa's left arm had been
+scratched. D'Antons' fur cap had been torn from his head, pierced
+through and through. A hail of missiles had clattered against the gate
+as the good timbers swung to behind them. Cries of rage and chagrin, in
+which Ouenwa's name was repeated many times, rang from the retreat of
+the defeated warriors. The garrison answered with cheers. Ouenwa's
+shrill voice carried clear above the tumult, lifted in Beothic insults.
+
+Sir Ralph himself was in command of the imperilled fortress. The
+excitement had stirred him out of his customary gloom. His eyes were
+bright, and his cheeks flew a patch of colour. His sword was at his
+side, and he held a musket in his hand.
+
+"That was their third attempt to get over the stockade," he said to
+Kingswell and D'Antons. "They are filled with the very devil to-day. But
+I scarcely think that they will come back for more, now that Trigget has
+got his growlers into working order."
+
+"How did it begin?" asked the Frenchman.
+
+"Why, about three score of them marched up and said they wanted to come
+in and trade," replied the baronet, "but, as they seemed to have nothing
+to trade save their bows and spears, Trigget warned them off. Then they
+went out on the river and began chopping up the _Red Rose_ and the
+_Pelican_. At that we let off a musket, and they retired to cover, from
+which they soon emerged with reinforcements and tried to carry the place
+by weight of numbers."
+
+"Hark," said the Frenchman. "What is that they are yelling?"
+
+"My name," replied Ouenwa. "They are my enemies."
+
+"Ah, and so it is our privilege to fight this gentleman's battles for
+him," remarked D'Antons, with an exaggerated bow to the lad. "Perhaps
+this is the explanation of the attack."
+
+"I think not," answered Kingswell, crisply. "They are surprised at
+discovering him here. Also they are surprised and displeased at seeing
+me again. They have smelled our powder before, as you have heard, I
+think."
+
+"Yes, I have heard the heroic tale, monsieur," replied the captain,
+smiling his thin, one-sided, Continental smile.
+
+The blood mounted in Kingswell's cheek. He turned on his heel without
+any further words. Ouenwa followed him to the Trigget cabin, whence he
+was bound for something to eat.
+
+Panounia and his braves retreated across the frozen river, and did not
+show themselves again that day. In the fort every musket was loaded, the
+improvised gun-shields were repaired and strengthened, and the guns were
+again got ready for action. In place of round shot, William Trigget
+charged them with scrap-iron and slugs of lead.
+
+"When ye has a lot o' mowin' to do in a short time, cut a wide swath,"
+he remarked to Tom Bent.
+
+"Ay, sir," replied Kingswell's boatswain, turning a hawk-like eye on the
+dark edges of the forest. "Ay, sir, cut a wide swath, an' let the devil
+make the hay. It be mun's own crop."
+
+At the time of the hunters' return, Mistress Beatrix was looking from
+the doorway of her father's cabin. Now she knelt in her own chamber,
+sobbing quietly, with her face buried in her hands. All the bitterness
+and insecurity of her position had come to her with overmastering force.
+The sight of Captain d'Antons' thin face and uncovered, bedraggled hair,
+as he leaned on his musket and talked with her father and the young
+Englishman, had melted the courage in her heart. She prayed confusedly,
+half her thoughts with the petitions which she made to her God, and half
+with the desperate state of her affairs and the features and attitude of
+the buccaneer.
+
+She was disturbed by some one entering the outer room. She recognized
+the footsteps as those of Sir Ralph. She got up from her knees, bathed
+her face and eyes, touched her hair to order with skilful fingers, and
+opened the door of her chamber. The baronet looked up at the sound.
+
+"Ah, lass," he said, "we've driven the rascals off. They have crossed
+the river."
+
+With that he fell again to his slow pacing of the room.
+
+"I do not fear the savages," she cried. "Oh, I do think their knives and
+arrows would be welcome."
+
+"Poor child! poor little lass!" he said, pausing beside her and kissing
+her tenderly. "You have been weeping," he added, concernedly. "But
+courage, dear. The fellow is harmless for five long months to come. His
+fangs are as good as filed, shut off here and surrounded by the snow and
+the savages."
+
+Evidently the sight of his daughter's distress had dimmed the finer
+conception of his promise to D'Antons. He looked about him uneasily and
+sighed.
+
+She laid her face against his coat and held tight to his sleeves.
+
+"I hate him," she whispered. "Oh, my father, I hate him for my own sake
+as much as I fear him for yours. His every covert glance, his every open
+attention, stings me like a whip. And yet, out of fear, I must smile and
+simper, and play the hypocrite."
+
+"No--by God!" exclaimed Westleigh, trembling with emotion. Then, more
+quietly, "Beatrix, I cannot wear this mask any longer. The fellow is
+hateful to me. I despise him. How such a creation of the devil's can
+love you so unswervingly is more than I can fathom. I would rather see
+you dead than married to him. There--I have broken my word again! Let me
+go."
+
+He freed himself from the girl's hands, caught up his hat and cloak,
+and left the cabin. He crossed over to the well-house, where some of the
+men were grinding axes and cutlasses, and joined feverishly in their
+simple talk of work, and battle, and adventure. Their honest faces and
+homely language drove a little of the bitterness of his shame from him.
+Presently Kingswell and Ouenwa joined the group about the complaining
+grindstone.
+
+"Come," said Sir Ralph, "and look at the cannon."
+
+He plucked Kingswell by the sleeve. Ouenwa followed them. All three
+ascended the little platform on which the guns were mounted, by way of a
+short ladder. The pieces, ready loaded, were snugly covered with
+tarpaulins that could be snatched off in a turn of the hand.
+
+"A worthy fellow is William Trigget," remarked the baronet. "Ay, he is
+true as steel."
+
+He laid a caressing hand on the breech of one of the little cannon. "I
+would trust him, yea, and his good fellows, with anything I possess," he
+said, "as readily as I trust these growlers to his care."
+
+Just then Ouenwa pointed northward to the wooded bluff that cut into the
+white valley and hid the settlement from the lower reaches of the river.
+From beyond the point, moving slowly and unsteadily, appeared a
+solitary human figure. Its course lay well out on the level floor of the
+stream, and the forest growth along the shore did not conceal it from
+the watchers. It approached uncertainly, as if without a definite goal,
+and, when within a few hundred yards of the fort, staggered and fell
+prone.
+
+"What the devil does it mean?" cried Sir Ralph.
+
+Kingswell shook his head, and questioned Ouenwa. The lad continued to
+gaze out across the open. The sun was low over the western hills, and
+its light was red on the snow.
+
+"Hurt," he said, presently. "Maybe starved. He is not of Panounia's
+band."
+
+"How do you know that, lad?" asked the baronet.
+
+"I know," replied the boy. "He is a hunter. He is not of the war-party.
+He is from the salt water."
+
+"He is usually right when he maintains that a thing is so, without being
+able to give a reason for it," said Kingswell, quietly. "And, if he is,
+it seems a pity to let the man die out there under our very eyes."
+
+"God knows I do not want any one to suffer," said the baronet, "but may
+it not be a trick of this Panounia's, or whatever you call him?"
+
+"No trick," replied Ouenwa; and, without so much as "by your leave," he
+vaulted over the breastwork of faggots and landed lightly on the snow
+outside the stockade. Without a moment's hesitation, Kingswell followed.
+Together they started toward the still figure out on the river, at a
+brisk run. They had reached the bank before Sir Ralph recovered from his
+astonishment. He quickly descended to the square, and, without
+attracting any attention, informed William Trigget of what had happened.
+Trigget and his son immediately ascended to the guns and drew off their
+tarpaulins. "We'll cover the retreat, sir," said the mariner. They saw
+their reckless comrades bend over the prostrate stranger. Then Kingswell
+lifted the apparently lifeless body and started back at a jog trot.
+Ouenwa lagged behind, with his head continually over his shoulder. The
+elder Trigget swore a great oath, and smacked a knotty fist into a
+leathern palm.
+
+"Them's well-plucked uns," he added.
+
+The baronet and John Trigget agreed silently. They were too intent on
+the approach of the rescuers to speak. Also, they kept a keen outlook
+along the woods on the farther shore. But the enemy made no sign; and
+Kingswell, Ouenwa, and the unconscious stranger reached the stockade in
+safety. The stranger proved to be none other than Black Feather, the
+stalwart and kindly brave who had built his lodge beside the old
+arrow-maker's, above Wigwam Harbour, in the days of peace. He was
+carried into Trigget's cabin and dosed with French brandy until he
+opened his eyes. He looked about him blankly for a second or two, and
+then his lids fluttered down again. He had not recognized either
+Kingswell or Ouenwa.
+
+"Oh, the poor lad, the poor lad," cried Dame Trigget. "Whatever has mun
+been a-doin' now, to get so distressin' scrawny? An' a fine figger, too,
+though he be a heathen, without a manner o' doubt."
+
+"Never mind his religious beliefs, dame, but get some of your good
+venison broth inside of him," said Master Kingswell. "That's a treatment
+that would surely convert any number of heathen."
+
+While they were clustered about Black Feather's couch, D'Antons entered.
+He peered over Dame Trigget's ample shoulders and looked considerably
+surprised at finding an unconscious, emaciated Beothic the centre of
+attraction.
+
+"What's this?" he asked. "A tragedy or a comedy?"
+
+His tone was sour, and too bantering for the occasion.
+
+The baronet turned on him with an expression of mouth and eye that did
+not pass unnoticed by the little group.
+
+"Certainly not a comedy, monsieur," he replied, coldly; "and we hope it
+will not prove a tragedy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING
+
+
+Meals were not served in Captain d'Antons' cabin. The little settlement
+possessed but one servant among all its workers, and that one was Maggie
+Stone, Mistress Westleigh's old nurse. The care of Sir Ralph's
+establishment was all she could attend to. So the men who had no
+women-folk of their own to cook for them were fed by Dame Trigget and
+her sturdy daughter Joyce, or by the Donnelly women. Kingswell and
+D'Antons took their meals at Dame Trigget's table, and were served by
+themselves, with every mark of respect. Ouenwa, Tom Bent, Harding, and
+Clotworthy shared the Donnellys' board.
+
+A few hours after Black Feather's rescue, Kingswell and D'Antons sat
+opposite one another at a small table near the hearth of the Triggets'
+living-room. A stew of venison and a bottle of French wine stood between
+them. D'Antons took up the bottle, and made as if to fill the other's
+glass.
+
+"One moment," said Kingswell, raising his hand.
+
+The Frenchman looked at him keenly and set down the vintage. The
+Englishman leaned forward.
+
+"Captain d'Antons," he said, scarce above a whisper, "a remark that you
+made to-day seemed to imply that you considered me a braggart. Your
+remark was in reference to the brushes between the _Pelican_ and a party
+of natives during our cruise from the North. Before I take wine with you
+to-night, I want you to either withdraw or explain your implication."
+
+While Kingswell spoke, the other's eyes flashed and calmed again. Now
+his dark face wore an even look of puzzled inquiry. His fine eyes, clear
+now of the expression of cynicism which so often marred them, held the
+Englishman's without any sign of either embarrassment or anger. His hand
+returned to the neck of the bottle and lingered there. Lord, but the
+drama lost an exceptionally fine interpreter when the high seas claimed
+Pierre d'Antons! The thin, clean-shaven lips trembled--or was it the
+wavering of the candle-light?
+
+"My friend," he said, softly, "how unfortunate am I in my stupidity--in
+my blundering use of the English language. Whatever my words were, when
+I spoke of having already heard of your fights with the savages, my
+meaning was such that no one would take exception to. Did I use the word
+heroic, monsieur? Then heroic, noble, was what I meant. An Englishman
+would have made use of a smaller, a simpler word, perhaps; or would have
+refrained from any display of admiration. Ah, I am unfortunate in my
+heritage of French and Spanish blood--the blood that is outspoken both
+for praise and blame."
+
+Poor, honest Kingswell was shaken with conflicting emotions. His heart
+told him the man was lying. His eyes assured him that he had been
+grievously mistaken, not only in the matter of the remark concerning the
+skirmishes with the Beothics, but in his whole opinion of the Frenchman.
+His blood surged to his head, and whispered that he was a young fool to
+be hoodwinked so easily. His brain was sadly uncertain. A twinge of pity
+for the handsome adventurer--for the love-struck buccaneer--went through
+him. But it faded at remembrance of Sir Ralph's story. He knew the
+fellow was playing with him.
+
+"Wine, monsieur?" inquired D'Antons, softly, with a smile of infinite
+sweetness and shy persuasion.
+
+With a mumbled apology, the young Englishman pushed forward his glass,
+and the red wine swam to the brim. And all the while he was inwardly
+cursing his own weakness and the other's strength. He had not the
+courage to meet the Frenchman's look when they raised their glasses and
+clinked them across the table. Lord, what a calf he was!
+
+Had he no will of his own? Did he possess neither knowledge of men nor
+mother wit? Ah, but he rated himself pitilessly as he bent his flushed
+face over his plate of stew.
+
+When the meal was finished, Kingswell returned to Black Feather's couch,
+and D'Antons went over to his own cabin. By this time Black Feather had
+recovered consciousness and swallowed some of Dame Trigget's broth;
+also, he had recognized Ouenwa and murmured a few words to the lad in
+his own tongue. But, beyond that, he was too weak to disclose anything
+of what had happened in Wigwam Harbour after the slaying of Soft Hand.
+He lay very still, apparently lifeless, except for his quick, bright
+eyes, which moved restlessly in questioning scrutiny of the strange
+women and bearded men who sat about the room. Ouenwa held one of the
+transparent hands and smiled assuringly.
+
+For half an hour Kingswell sat beside the man he had rescued so
+courageously from death by starvation. Then, feeling the heat of the
+room and the confusion of his thoughts too much to entertain calmly, he
+went out into the cold and darkness and paced up and down. All
+unknowing, he kicked the snow viciously every step. He was still in a
+perturbed state of mind and temper when William Trigget approached him
+through the gloom and touched his elbow.
+
+"Askin' your pardon, master," he said, standing close, "but what of that
+Injun in there? Be he really sick, or be he playing a game?"
+
+"He is surely sick, and he is just as surely not playing a game,"
+replied Kingswell. "But why do you ask? The fellow is a friend of
+Ouenwa's, and was one of old Soft Hand's warriors."
+
+"Ay, sir, but maybe mun has changed his coat," said Trigget, "an' has
+shammed sick just to get carried inside the fort. There be something
+goin' on outside, for certain."
+
+"What?" asked the other.
+
+Then Trigget told how he had been startled, while standing under the
+gun-platform, by a sound of scrambling outside the stockade. He had
+crawled noiselessly up the ladder and looked over the breastworks about
+the guns. He had been able to distinguish something darker than the
+surrounding darkness crouched against the palisade under him. The thing
+had moved cautiously. He had detached a faggot from one of the bundles
+beside him, for lack of a better weapon, and had hurled it down at the
+black form. There had sounded a stifled cry, and the thing had vanished
+in the night.
+
+"It were one o' they savages, I know," concluded Trigget.
+
+Kingswell forgot his personal grievance in the face of this menace from
+the hidden enemy.
+
+"The guards should be doubled," he said. "But come, we must let Sir
+Ralph know of it."
+
+They crossed the yard to the baronet's cabin and knocked on the door.
+Maggie Stone admitted them to the outer room, where Sir Ralph and
+Mistress Beatrix were seated, the girl reading aloud to her father by
+the light of one poor candle. But the great fire on the hearth had the
+place fairly illuminated.
+
+William Trigget, undismayed by fog and bad weather, cool in any risk of
+land or sea, was too abashed at the presence of the lady to tell his
+story. So Master Kingswell told it for him.
+
+"The guards must be doubled," said Sir Ralph.
+
+"They be that already, sir," replied Trigget, breaking the spell of the
+bright eyes that surveyed him.
+
+"That is well," answered the baronet. "There is nothing else to be done,
+at least until morning, but sleep light and keep your muskets handy."
+
+Kingswell and the master mariner returned to the darkness without.
+
+"I will stake my word," said Kingswell, "that the place is surrounded by
+the devils even now, and that they will try again to get a man over the
+wall to unbar the gates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE HIDDEN MENACE
+
+
+Neither Kingswell nor Trigget found time for sleep that night. D'Antons
+also kept awake, though he spent only a few hours out-of-doors. His
+candle burned until daylight. Ouenwa experienced a restless night beside
+Black Feather's couch. From ten o'clock until two Tom Bent, John
+Trigget, and the younger Donnelly were on guard, with cutlasses on their
+hips and half-pikes in their hands--for a musket would have proved but
+an unsatisfactory weapon to a man engaged in a sudden scuffle in the
+dark. One man was placed on the gun-platform, another at the gate, and a
+third on the roof of the storehouse. Kingswell and William Trigget moved
+continually from one point to another. At two o'clock the elder
+Donnelly, Clotworthy, and Harding relieved their companions. But the two
+officers remained at their self-imposed duty.
+
+At last dawn outlined the eastern horizon. Kingswell, who had been
+pacing the length of the riverward stockade for the past hour, sighed
+with relief, yawned, and was about to retire to D'Antons' cabin, when
+William Trigget approached him at a run. The master mariner's face was
+ghastly above his bushy whiskers.
+
+"Come this way, sir," he murmured, huskily.
+
+Kingswell followed him to the storehouse and up to the roof, by way of a
+rough ladder that leaned against the wall. There, on the outward slope
+of the roof, where the snow was trampled and broken, sprawled the body
+of Peter Clotworthy.
+
+"What! Asleep!" exclaimed Kingswell, peering close. The light was not
+strong enough to disclose the features of the recumbent sentinel.
+
+"Ay, an' sound enough, God knows," replied Trigget, "with no chance o'
+wakin' this side o' the Judgment-Seat."
+
+"Dead?" cried the other, sinking to his knees beside the body. He
+pressed his hand against the mariner's side, held it there for a moment,
+and withdrew it, wet with blood. He raised it toward the growing
+illumination of the east, staring at it with wide eyes. "Blood," he
+murmured. "Stabbed without a squeal--without a whimper, by Heaven!" Then
+he ripped out an oath, and followed it close with a prayer for his dead
+comrade's soul. For all his golden curls, this Bernard Kingswell had a
+hot and ready tongue--and a temper to suit, when occasion offered.
+
+The two discoverers of the tragedy remained on the roof of the
+storehouse for some time. The light strengthened and spread on their
+right, and, at last, gave them a clear, gray view of the narrow clearing
+and wooded hummocks to the north. On the snow below them, which was
+otherwise unmarked, they saw the imprints of one pair of moccasined
+feet. The marks did not lead to or from the near cover of the woods, but
+to the south, around the fort. The telltale snow showed how Clotworthy's
+murderer had approached close under the stockade, and, after his silent
+deed of violence, had jumped a distance of about twenty feet, from the
+roof of the store, and landed on all fours. A stain of blood, evidently
+from the reeking knife in the slayer's hand, smirched the snow where it
+was broken by his fall. From there the steps returned by the same
+course, but at a distance of about ten paces from the stockade.
+
+Kingswell looked from the tracks in the snow to the colourless,
+distorted features of the dead seaman. Then his gaze met Trigget's
+deep-set eyes. He was pale, and his lips were drawn in a hard line, as
+if the frost had stiffened them.
+
+"Poor Clotworthy," he murmured, and swallowed as if his throat were
+dry. "Poor devil, knifed into eternity without a fighting chance. See,
+he was clubbed first and then knifed--felled and bled like an ox in a
+shambles! Ten nights of this hellishness will account for the whole
+garrison."
+
+With a broad, deep-sea oath, Trigget replied that there'd be no ten
+nights of it.
+
+They lifted the stiff body that had, so lately, been animated by the
+fearless spirit of Richard Clotworthy, able seaman, to the ground and
+carried it reverently to the Donnelly cabin. The other inmates of the
+little settlement were deeply affected by the sight, and by Kingswell's
+story. The younger men were for setting out immediately and driving the
+Beothics from the woods on the far side of the river. But the wiser
+heads prevailed against such recklessness, arguing that the only thing
+to be done was to remain constantly on guard. The women wept. Ouenwa,
+trembling with sorrow and rage, placed his fine belt and beaded quiver
+beside the body of his dead comrade, and vowed, in English and Beothic,
+that he would avenge this murder as he intended to avenge the murders of
+his father and his grandfather.
+
+The day passed without any sign of the hidden enemy. Kingswell slept
+until noon. By evening Black Feather had recovered enough strength to
+enable him to tell his pitiful story to Ouenwa. His lodge, and that of
+Montaw, the arrow-maker, had been torn down by the followers of Panounia
+shortly after the departure of the _Pelican_ from Wigwam Harbour. Montaw
+had died fighting. Black Feather, grievously wounded, had been bound and
+carried far up the River of Three Fires. His wife and children also had
+been captured and maltreated. The ships in the bay had looked on at the
+unequal struggle ashore without demonstrations of any kind. Upon
+reaching the village on the river, Black Feather had been driven to the
+meanest work--work unbecoming a warrior of his standing--and his wife
+and children had been led farther up-stream, very likely to Wind Lake.
+Black Feather had seen the body of Soft Hand lying exposed on the top of
+a knoll, at the mercy of birds and beasts. He had bided his time. At
+last he had gnawed the thongs with which his tormentors bound him at
+night, and had safely made his escape. He could not say how long ago
+that was. Days and nights had become strangely mixed in his desperate
+mind. He had lived on such birds and hares as he had been able to kill
+with sticks. Always he had kept up his journey, shaping his course
+toward the salt water, in the hope of meeting some tribesmen who might
+have remained loyal to the murdered chief. But he had met with nobody
+in all that desolate journey, until, only the day before, he had
+recovered consciousness in Fort Beatrix.
+
+That night, John Trigget was attacked at his post on the gun-platform,
+and in the struggle that ensued was cut shrewdly about the arm. So
+sudden and noiseless was the onslaught out of the dark that he fought in
+silence, only remembering to shout for help after the savage had
+squirmed from his embrace and escaped. His arm was bandaged by Sir
+Ralph, and Tom Bent and Ouenwa took his place. But daylight arrived
+without any further demonstration on the part of the enemy.
+
+By this time the little garrison was bitten by a restlessness that would
+not be denied. Even Kingswell and William Trigget were for making some
+sort of attack upon the hidden band beyond the river. D'Antons, contrary
+to his habit, had nothing to say either for or against an aggressive
+movement. Sir Ralph was for quietly and cautiously awaiting development;
+but, seeing the spirit of the men, he agreed that five of the garrison
+should sally forth in search of the enemy.
+
+"Whom I have not a doubt you'll find," concluded the baronet, wearily,
+"though what the devil you'll do with them then is more than I can
+venture to predict."
+
+Under William Trigget's supervision, one of the cannon was taken from
+the platform and mounted on a heavy and solid flat of logs, and that, in
+turn, was placed on a sled. On the same sled were fastened rammers and
+mops and bags of powder and shot. The daring party was made up of Master
+Kingswell, William Trigget, Ouenwa, Tom Bent, and the younger Donnelly.
+D'Antons did not volunteer his services on the expedition. The men were
+all well armed with muskets and cutlasses, and all save Ouenwa had
+fastened steel breastplates under their coats. As they marched away,
+Mistress Westleigh waved them "Godspeed" with a scarf of Spanish lace,
+from where she stood in the open gate between her father and Captain
+d'Antons.
+
+The little party moved down the bank and across the river slowly and
+with commendable caution. Trigget and Kingswell walked ahead, and kept a
+sharp lookout on the dark edges of the forest. Donnelly and Tom Bent
+followed about ten paces behind, dragging the gun. Ouenwa scouted along
+on the left, with a musket and a lighted match, which he feared far
+worse than he did any number of Beothic warriors. The river was crossed
+without accident on the wide trail left by the enemy's retreat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE CLOVEN HOOF
+
+
+Sir Ralph Westleigh was in the storehouse, Maggie Stone was gossiping
+with Dame Trigget, and Beatrix was alone by the fire when Captain
+d'Antons rapped on the cabin door, and entered without waiting for a
+summons. He was dressed in his bravest suit and finest boots. After
+closing the door behind him, he bowed low to the girl at the farther end
+of the room. She instantly stood up and curtseyed with a deal of grace,
+but no warmth whatever.
+
+"My father is not in, Captain d'Antons," she said.
+
+He smiled and approached her with every show of deference.
+
+"Ah, mademoiselle," he murmured, "I have not come to see the good
+baronet. I have come to learn my fate from the dearest lips in the
+world."
+
+The girl blushed crimson, with a tumult of emotions that almost forced
+the tears past her lids. Fear, hate, and a reckless joy at the thought
+that she was done with pretence struggled in her heart. She tried to
+speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and accomplished nothing but
+a dry sob.
+
+D'Antons' eyes shone with ardour. The hope which had been somewhat
+clouded of late flashed clear again. "Beatrix," he cried, softly, "I
+have wooed you long. Is it not that I have won at last beyond
+peradventure? Do not deny it, my sweet." He caught her to him, and
+attempted to kiss her bright lips; but, with a low cry and a quite
+unexpected display of strength, she wrenched herself from his embrace.
+She did not try to leave the room. She did not call for help. She faced
+him, with flashing eyes and angry cheeks and clinched hands.
+
+The fellow stood uncertain for a moment, showing his chagrin and
+amazement like any country clown. But his recovery was quick. His mouth
+took on a thin smile; his eyes darkened with sinister shadows. He looked
+the girl coolly up and down. He laughed softly.
+
+"This feigned anger adds to your beauty, Beatrix," he said.
+
+"I beg you to leave me, sir," she replied, trembling. "Your presence is
+distasteful to me."
+
+"A sudden turn," said he. "Now a month ago, or even a week ago, you
+seemed of a different mind. As for the days of our first meeting in
+merry London--ah, then your lips were not so unattainable."
+
+"I hate you," she murmured. "I despise you. I loath you. You taint the
+air for me. Dog, to make a boast of having filched a kiss from a
+light-hearted girl--who did not know you for the common fellow that you
+are."
+
+"Beatrix," cried the man, "this is no stage comedy. We are not players.
+I have asked you, too many times, to be my wife. I ask you once more.
+You know that your father's life is in my hands. Tell me now, will you
+promise to marry me, or will you let your father go to the gallows in
+the spring, and this plantation be put to the torch? Whatever your
+choice, my beauty, you will accompany me to New Spain next summer. It is
+for you to say whether you go as my wife or my mistress."
+
+At that the girl's face went white as paper. But her eyes were steady.
+
+D'Antons lowered his gaze. He was half-ashamed, nay, more than that, of
+his words.
+
+"It would be hard to say," she replied, very softly, "which would be the
+most dishonourable position for an English gentlewoman to occupy. That
+of your wife, I think, monsieur--for, as your wife, she would be known
+by your name."
+
+His shame leaped to anger at that soft-spoken insult. He caught her
+roughly by the wrists.
+
+"Nay," she said, "you must be more gentle. You seem to forget that you
+are not sacking a defenceless town. Also, you forget that you have not a
+friend or a follower in this wilderness, and that any man or woman in
+the fort would shoot you down like a dog at a word from me."
+
+For a little while they eyed each other steadily enough--her face still
+beautiful despite the bantering cruelty of lips and eyes, and the
+loathing in every line of it; his the face of a devil. Then, with a
+muttered oath, he closed his fingers on her tender flesh, pressing with
+all his strength.
+
+"Ah, my fine lady," he cried, harshly, "you think yourself strong enough
+to flout Pierre d'Antons, do you? Strong enough to spurn the protection
+of a soldier and a gentleman! Cry now for your girl-faced Kingswell--for
+your golden-haired fellow countryman."
+
+By that even her lips were colourless, and her eyes were wet. "There is
+no need," she said, bravely, "for I hear my father at the door."
+
+D'Antons dropped her wrists and took a backward step. In doing so, his
+heel struck the leg of a stool, and the scabbard of his sword rang
+discordantly. He reeled, recovering himself just as Sir Ralph crossed
+the threshold. Before either of the men had time to speak, Beatrix
+darted forward and struck the Frenchman savagely across the face with
+her open hand. Then, without a word of either explanation or greeting to
+her father, she passed D'Antons swiftly, sped down the length of the
+room, and entered her own chamber.
+
+"What does this mean, captain?" inquired the baronet, coldly. D'Antons,
+scarcely recovered from the blow, strode toward him.
+
+"What does it mean?" he cried. "It means, my fine old cock, that your
+neck will be pulled out of joint when we get away from this
+God-forgotten desolation. Ah, you liar, why did I not have you strung up
+to a yard-arm when you were safely in my power? Stab me, but I've been
+too soft--and my reward is insults from the wench of an exiled
+card-cheat and murderer."
+
+His voice was raised almost to a scream. His face quivered with passion.
+He thrust it within a few inches of the baronet's.
+
+"Liar and cheat," he cried, furiously.
+
+"Softly, softly," replied Sir Ralph. "I cannot abide being bawled at in
+my own house, especially by such scum of a French muck heap as you. Keep
+your distance, fellow, or, by God, I'll do you a hurt. What's this!
+You'd presume?"
+
+They withdrew on the instant. The two swords came clear in the same
+second of time.
+
+"_Gabier de potence_," cried D'Antons.
+
+"_Canaille_," replied the baronet, blandly. Evidently the rasp of the
+steel had mended his temper. He even smiled a little at his adoption of
+his adversary's mother-tongue.
+
+The men were excellently matched as swordsmen. But not more than half a
+dozen passes had been made and parried before Beatrix ran into the room,
+crying to them to put up their swords.
+
+"Go back," said the baronet, with his eyes on D'Antons, "go back to your
+room, my daughter, and make a prayer for this fellow's soul. It will
+soon stand in need of a petition for God's mercy."
+
+The girl went softly back and closed the door, in an effort to shut out
+the rasping and metallic striking of the blades. She prayed, but for
+strength to her father's wrist and not for the Frenchman's soul. She was
+afraid--desperately afraid. The truth of her father's skill in French
+sword-play had been kept from her. To her he was but a courteous,
+middle-aged gentleman who needed her care, and who had been maligned and
+robbed by the world into which he had been born. He was a good father.
+He had been a loving and considerate husband. She knelt beside her bed
+and beseeched God to succour him in this desperate strait.
+
+In the meantime the fight went on in the outer room with more the air of
+a harmless bout for practice than a duel to the death. It was altogether
+a question of point and point, in the Continental manner, perfectly free
+from the swinging attack and clanging defence of the English style. The
+combatants were cool, to judge by appearances. Neither seemed in any
+hurry. The thrusts and lunges, though in fact as quick as thought, were
+delivered with a manner suggestive of elegant leisure.
+
+"I believe you have the advantage of me by about three inches of steel,"
+remarked the baronet, diverting a lightning thrust from its intended
+course.
+
+"A chance of the game," replied D'Antons, smiling grimly.
+
+Just then the baronet's foot slipped on the edge of a book of verses
+which Mistress Beatrix had left on the floor. For a second he was
+swerved from his balance; and, when he recovered, it was to feel the
+warm blood running down his breast from a slight incision in his left
+shoulder. But his recovery was as masterly as it was swift, and the
+Frenchman found himself more severely pressed than before, despite the
+advantage he possessed in the superior length of his sword. The little
+wound counted for nothing.
+
+Just what the outcome of the fight would have been, if an untimely
+interruption in the person of Maggie Stone had not intervened, it is
+hard to say. Perhaps D'Antons' youth would have claimed the victory in
+the long run, or perhaps the baronet's excellent composure. In skill
+they were nicely matched, though the Englishman displayed superiority
+enough to even the difference in the length of the blades. But why take
+time for idle surmises? Maggie Stone, looking in, all unheeded, at the
+open door, saw her beloved master engaged in a desperate combat with a
+person whom she despised as well as feared. She saw the sodden stain of
+blood on her master's doublet. In her hand she held a skillet which she
+had just borrowed from Dame Trigget. Without waiting to announce
+herself, she rushed into the room and dealt Captain d'Antons a
+resounding whack on the head with the iron bowl of the utensil. The long
+sword fell from the benumbed fingers and clanged on the floor. With a
+low, guttural cry, the Frenchman followed it, and sprawled, unconscious,
+at the feet of the surprised and indignant baronet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE CONFIDENCE OF YOUTH
+
+
+Master Kingswell and his party returned from their daring reconnoitre
+early in the afternoon. They had not met with the enemy, though they had
+found the camp and torn down the temporary lodges. After that they had
+followed the broad trail of the retreat for several miles, and had
+discharged the cannon twice into the inscrutable woods. Their daring had
+been rewarded by the capture of about two hundred pounds of smoked
+salmon and dried venison.
+
+Both Kingswell and William Trigget were unable to account for the fact
+that the savages had not attacked them in the cover of the woods. In
+reality they owed their bloodless victory to the presence of the little
+cannon. That third and last discharge of slugs, on the day of the big
+fight, had killed three of the braves, wounded five more, and inspired
+an hysterical terror in the hearts of the rest. But for that, the hidden
+enemy would not have been content with playing a waiting game and with
+the attempted killing of one man each night; and neither would they have
+retired, so undemonstratively, before the advance of the five. But,
+despite their fear of the cannon, they had no intention of giving up the
+siege of the fort. They placed trust in the darkness of night and their
+own cunning.
+
+Kingswell and the elder Trigget were drawn aside by Sir Ralph. The
+baronet looked less care-haunted than he had for years.
+
+"D'Antons and I have broken our truce," he whispered, "and behold, the
+heavens have not fallen,--nor even the poor defences of this
+plantation." He smiled cheerfully. "The great captain alone has come to
+grief," he added. "Maggie Stone saved him from my hand by felling him
+herself with some sort of stew-pan. I was frantically angry at the time,
+but am glad now that I did not have to kill the rogue."
+
+"Such cattle are better dead, sir," remarked Trigget, coolly.
+
+"I grant you that, my good William," replied Sir Ralph, "but he is
+harmless as a new-born babe, after all--and we'll see that he remains
+so."
+
+Then he told them the story of the duel, and of what had led to it.
+Kingswell flushed and paled.
+
+"God's mercy!" he cried, "but I would I had been in your boots, sir."
+
+"You'd have died in them, more than likely," replied the baronet, laying
+a hand on the other's shoulder. "D'Antons has a rare knowledge of
+swordsmanship, and eye and wrist to back it with."
+
+"Even so," replied Kingswell, "it would have been--it would have been a
+pleasure to die in such a cause." He blushed, and hurriedly added, "But
+I doubt if he'd have killed me, for all his gimcrackery and
+side-stepping. I've seen such gentry hopping and poking for hours, when
+one good cut from the shoulder would have ended their tricks."
+
+The baronet smiled kindly, though with a tinge of sadness. "Ah, what a
+fine thing is the heart of youth," he said, "and the confidence of
+youth. I even bow to the ignorance of youth. But, my dear boy, valour
+and confidence are not more than half the battle, after all. The edge is
+a fine thing, and has spilled a deal of blood since the hammering of the
+first sword; but the point becomes no less deadly simply because one
+stout young Englishman is ignorant of its potency. Lad, if it were not
+that I have won the distinction--beside many a less enviable one--of
+being the best swordsman in England, I could not have withstood
+D'Antons' play for long enough to make sure of the colour of his eyes."
+
+Kingswell felt like a fool, and did not know which way to turn his
+abashed countenance. Both Sir Ralph and Trigget felt sorry for him.
+
+"But I can assure you, Bernard," said the former, "that, if it came to a
+matter of cutlasses, neither the Frenchman nor I would stand up for long
+against either you or Trigget."
+
+"It is kind of you to say so," replied Kingswell, staring over the
+baronet's shoulder at nothing in particular, "but I haven't a doubt that
+even Maggie Stone, with her stew-pan, would be more than a match for
+me."
+
+William Trigget laughed boisterously at that. "We must ease the young
+gentleman's temper, sir," he said to the baronet. "I have a pair of
+singlesticks."
+
+"Get them," said the baronet. He slipped his hand under Kingswell's arm
+and led him into the cabin. Beatrix welcomed him cordially, with a shy
+compliment to his bravery thrown in. The youth immediately felt better
+in his pride.
+
+"Say nothing of D'Antons, or the duel," Sir Ralph whispered in his ear.
+"He is safe in his own bed, being nursed conscientiously, if not
+over-tenderly, by Maggie Stone."
+
+Kingswell seated himself beside Mistress Beatrix on the bench by the
+fire. He noticed that she had been weeping. Her eyes seemed all the
+brighter for it. He gave her a detailed account of the brief expedition
+from which he had just returned. He told of the cluster of lodges, the
+cooking-fires still burning, the utensils and food scattered about, and
+not a human being in sight.
+
+"And what if you had seen the savages?" she asked. "Surely, four
+Englishmen and a lad could do nothing against such a host?"
+
+"We would have fallen in the first flight of arrows," replied Kingswell.
+
+"Then why did you risk it?"
+
+The young man shook his head and laughed. "Some one must take risks," he
+said, "else all warfare would come to a standstill."
+
+The girl was looking down at her hands, and reflectively twisting a
+jewelled ring around and around on one slim finger. "And I wish it would
+with all my heart," she sighed. "Warfare and bloodshed--they are the
+devil's inventions, and strike innocent and guilty alike."
+
+"Nay," replied Kingswell, "there is more harm done to the innocent in
+courts and fine assemblies, and at the sheltered card-tables, than on
+all the battle-fields of the world. War is a good surgeon, and, if he
+sometimes lets the good blood with the bad, why, that's just a risk we
+must accept."
+
+Beatrix raised a flushed face, and eyed him squarely. "You preach like a
+Puritan," she said, "with your condemnation of courts and play. You
+should give my father the benefit of some of your wisdom. His friends
+have all been generous with such help."
+
+Kingswell bit his lip, and for an awkward minute studied the toes of his
+moccasins. Presently he looked up.
+
+"I am sorry," he said.
+
+Her glance softened.
+
+"I am as ignorant of battle-fields as I am of courts," he added. "I am
+ignorant of everything."
+
+His voice was low and bitter. Beatrix laughed softly.
+
+"Pray do not take it so much to heart," she said. "Nothing is so easily
+mended as ignorance."
+
+He looked at her gravely.
+
+"I am going to ask Sir Ralph to give me lessons in French sword-play,"
+he said. "Is there nothing that you would teach me?"
+
+"Embroidery," she replied, "and how to brew a Madeira punch."
+
+At that moment the baronet opened the door and admitted William Trigget.
+The master mariner carried a pair of stout oak sticks with basket-work
+guards under his arm.
+
+"Does your education commence so soon?" inquired Beatrix of Kingswell.
+
+"Somebody's does," he replied, with a return of his old confidence. With
+the lady's permission and Sir Ralph's assistance, Trigget and Kingswell
+cleared the middle of the floor of rugs and the table. They removed
+their outer coats. Trigget was the taller, as well as the heavier, of
+the two. Without further preliminaries, they fell on, and the dry
+whacking of the sticks against one another, varied occasionally by the
+muffled thud of wood against cloth, filled the cabin. It was a fine
+display of the English style--slash, cut, and guard, with never a
+side-step nor retreat. After ten minutes of it, Trigget cried "enough,"
+and stumbled out of the danger zone. His right arm was numb. His
+shoulders and sides ached, and his head swam; Kingswell was without a
+touch.
+
+Neither Beatrix nor Sir Ralph, nor yet Trigget, for that matter,
+concealed their astonishment at the result of the bout. "And now, sir,"
+said Kingswell, "I should like a lesson in the other style."
+
+The baronet took down a pair of light, edgeless blades with blunted
+points. After a few words as to the manner of standing, they crossed the
+lithe weapons. In a second Kingswell's was jerked from his hand and
+sent bounding across the room. He recovered it without a word and
+returned to the combat. By this time the light was failing. After about
+a dozen passes, he was again disarmed. His gray eyes danced, and he
+laughed gaily as he picked up his weapon.
+
+"I see the way of that trick," he said.
+
+He returned to the one-sided engagement with, if possible, more energy
+and eagerness than before. Already he had the attitude and stamping
+manner of attack to perfection. Sir Ralph tested his defence again and
+again without slipping through. Three times he tried the circular,
+twisting stroke with which he had disarmed the novice before without
+success. Wondering, and slightly irritated, he put out fresh efforts,
+and forgot all about his defence. The blades rasped, and rang, and
+whispered. The blunted point was at Kingswell's breast, at his throat,
+at his eyes; but it never touched. And, just as Mistress Beatrix was
+about to bid the combatants cease their exertions, because of the
+gathering dusk, Kingswell's point touched the insignificant but painful
+wound on the baronet's shoulder. With an exclamation, in which disgust,
+pain, and amusement were queerly blended, Sir Ralph dropped his foil to
+the floor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+EVENTS AND REFLECTIONS
+
+
+Captain Pierre d'Antons' injury kept him indoors for ten days. During
+that time he saw nobody but Maggie Stone, Bernard Kingswell, and Ouenwa.
+Kingswell could not help feeling sorry for him, in spite of the enmity
+and distrust in his heart. D'Antons made no mention of how he came by
+his cut head to the young Englishman. He knew that the other knew--and
+sometimes he wondered how much. He accepted such attentions at
+Kingswell's hand as any fair-hearted man will make to any invalid, with
+what seemed gratitude and humility. But under the mask his blood was
+raging. If his hand trembled while receiving a glass of water from the
+Englishman, it was as much from the effort of restraining an outburst of
+hate as from weakness. Kingswell, clear-sighted by now, suspected the
+real state of the other's feelings.
+
+During the days of D'Antons' inactivity, the Beothics made three night
+attacks on the fort. Two were repetitions of the one-man demonstrations
+of cunning, in which Clotworthy had met his death and young Trigget had
+received the cut on his arm. Happily both had failed. The third was an
+attack in force, made in that darkest hour just before the first
+stirrings of dawn. By good fortune, both William Trigget and Kingswell
+were dressed and about at the time of the first alarm. They both ran to
+the gun-platform, and there found Tom Bent desperately engaged with two
+savages, who had scaled the stockade over the massed shoulders of their
+fellows. The intruders were speedily hurled backward, they and a portion
+of the breastworks falling on the devoted heads below. At the moment,
+Dame Trigget puffed valiantly up the ladder and handed a torch to her
+husband. In a second the coverings were pulled from the guns. The
+muzzles of the little weapons were declined as far as they would go, and
+the fuses were ignited. Comprehending the trend of affairs, some of the
+enemy let fly their arrows at the little group in the torch's
+illumination. Both William Trigget and Tom Bent were hit, and fell to
+their knees. In the same instant of time the guns belched their flame
+and screaming missiles into the wavering mass of savages. A yell of
+terror and pain, made up of many individual cries, followed the reports
+of the guns like an echo.
+
+But along the opposite stockade, things were not going so well for the
+settlers. About a dozen of the enemy had gained foothold on the roof of
+the storehouse, and from there had jumped into the yard, driving Peter
+Harding before them. They were immediately engaged by the Donnellys.
+Torches and lanterns glowed and swung about the edges of the conflict.
+Matters were looking serious for the defenders (who by that time were
+joined by Sir Ralph, Ouenwa, and the redoubtable Maggie Stone) when the
+discharge of artillery across the square turned the courage of the
+attackers to water, and their victory to defeat. Six of them were cut
+down while endeavouring to escape by way of the ladder against the wall
+of the storehouse. The rest got away, but none of them unscathed. With
+that the fight ended, though the defenders kept to their posts until
+broad daylight.
+
+In the morning it was discovered that one of the six warriors who
+remained within the fort was still alive. Sir Ralph had him carried to
+D'Antons' cabin, and his wounds attended to. They were not of a serious
+nature. Black Feather, who was a convalescent by now, recognized a
+bitter enemy in the disabled captive. He was for despatching him
+straightway, recalling the bitter days of his slavery and the loss of
+wife and children. He was dragged away by Kingswell, and Ouenwa
+remonstrated with him at some length.
+
+The little garrison had suffered in the brief engagement. William
+Trigget had halted three arrows with his big body. Only one had reached
+the flesh, thanks to his thick garments of wool and hide; but that one
+had cut deep into the muscles of his chest, and the others had bruised
+his ribs. Tom Bent was more seriously injured, with a gaping slash in
+the side of his neck. Young Peter Harding was laid on his back with a
+cracked rib, dealt him by a stone-headed axe, and seemed in a fair way
+to remain on the sick-list for some time to come.
+
+The dead Beothics were carried out and buried in a shallow grave near
+the honest Clotworthy's desolate resting-place.
+
+It was evident, from the smoke above the woods, that the enemy were
+still maintaining the siege, and at even closer range than before. The
+continual sight of that evidence of their presence, and the idleness due
+to confinement within a few hundred yards of the stockade, began to tell
+on the spirits of the settlers. It became a matter of difficulty to
+forget the wounded men in such restricted quarters. Bandages and
+salves, gruels and plasters, seemed to pervade every corner. Every one
+who was not an invalid was a nurse. In addition, the lack of fresh meat
+was beginning to be felt. Sir Ralph, who had seemed more cheerful just
+after his affair with D'Antons, was fallen back on his black moods.
+Mistress Beatrix's cheeks and eyes were losing something of their
+radiance, though she carried herself bravely and cheerfully.
+
+Master Kingswell, who had a knack with bandages and such, found his time
+fully occupied. He inspected all the wounded twice a day, and he and
+Ouenwa took entire charge of D'Antons and the captured Beothic. His only
+recreation was a few hours of each afternoon or evening spent with the
+Westleighs. He and the baronet fenced, if the visit happened to be paid
+during the day; if in the evening, they sometimes played chess, or,
+better still, the baronet paced the room in uneasy meditation, and the
+youth and the maiden bent their young heads above the pieces of carved
+ivory.
+
+Behind the girl's laughter and hospitality, Kingswell detected an
+aloofness toward him that had not been noticeable during the first days
+of their acquaintance. The thing was very fine--so fine that it was
+scarcely a matter of attitude or manner. One of duller perception would
+have missed it altogether. It was in no wise a physical aloofness, save
+in a certain reservation in the glance of the eye and the softer notes
+of the voice. But it worried the young man. He felt that he had failed
+in something--that she had set a standard for him, and that he had not
+risen to it. With native shrewdness, he suspected that she considered
+him crude and conceited. He knew that she considered him brave, and that
+she admired his courage; but he was equally sure that his prowess with
+the singlesticks against Trigget, and his increasing dexterity with the
+rapier, did not tell in his favour in her eyes. "Women are evidently as
+unreasonable as the poets depict them," he decided, and tried to acquire
+a modest demeanour. But the ability to do so had not been born in him,
+and no matter how low and self-abasing his speech, pride shone in his
+clear eyes and self-confidence was in the carriage of head and
+shoulders.
+
+The baronet's attitude toward Master Kingswell became more affectionate
+every day. He recognized the sterling qualities in the youth,--the
+honesty, courage, and loyalty, as well as the physical and mental gifts
+of quick eye and wrist and clear brain. He derived no little comfort
+from his presence in the fort. He felt that in this golden-haired son of
+the Bristol merchant-knight his daughter had a second guardian. He knew
+that the Kingswell blood, though not noble by the rating of the College
+of Heralds, was to be depended on as surely as any in England. In
+happier times he had known and enjoyed a certain amount of familiarity
+with the elder Kingswell, and had found the broad-minded merchant's
+heart as sound as his self-imported wines. He remembered the wife, too,
+as a person of distinction and kindliness.
+
+For his own part, the baronet realized more surely, with the passing of
+each narrow day, that life offered no further allurement to him. The
+slight exhilaration that had followed the defiance and defeat of
+D'Antons was of no more lasting a quality than the flavour of a vintage.
+The Frenchman was harmless, poor devil, like the rest of them; and in as
+fair a way as himself to leave his bones in the wilderness. Yes, he felt
+a twinge of pity for him! He could understand that, to an adventurer
+like D'Antons, unrequited love was the very devil,--worse, perhaps, than
+the fever of the gaming-table. But of course he felt no regret for
+having put an end (as he believed) to the fellow's audacious suit. His
+regret--if, indeed, he entertained any concerning so recent an event in
+his career--was that he had not pricked the buccaneer's bubble of false
+power months before--despite the promise he had made him. But as things
+had turned out,--as Time had dealt the cards, to use his own words,--the
+other's behaviour had allowed him to strike without too flagrant a
+breach of his word of honour. He was thankful for that.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+TWO OF A KIND
+
+
+When Pierre d'Antons was able to move about again, he found himself
+shunned, without disguise, by every one of the inmates of the fort save
+Bernard Kingswell. The West Country sailors, no longer under orders to
+treat him with respect and obedience, simply grunted inaudibly and
+turned their backs when he addressed them. Of course, the door of Sir
+Ralph's habitation was closed against him. He spent almost all his time
+in his own cabin, with the captured and slowly convalescing Beothic for
+companion. He read a great deal, and thought more. Now and again, in a
+fit of chagrin, he would stamp about the room, cursing, crying out for a
+chance of revenge, with clinched hands uplifted. During such paroxysms,
+the Beothic would watch him closely, with understanding in his gaze. The
+savage was no linguist; but hate burns the same signals in eyes of every
+nationality.
+
+D'Antons continued to suffer from his infatuation for Mistress
+Westleigh. The blow of the skillet had changed nothing of that. Whatever
+his passion lacked in the higher attributes of love, it lacked nothing
+in vitality. It was a madness. It was a bitter desire. How gladly he
+would risk death, fighting for her--and yet he would not have hesitated
+a moment about killing her happiness, to win his own, had an opportunity
+offered. Self-sacrifice, worshipful devotion, and tenderness were things
+apart from what he considered his love for the beautiful English girl.
+
+In this state of mind he built a hundred wild dreams of carrying her
+away, and of ultimately imprisoning her, should she still be averse to
+his love, in a Southern stronghold. Then a realization of his position
+would come over him and set him stamping and raving. To Kingswell,
+despite the fire in his heart, he showed a contrite and friendly
+exterior. He wondered if he could not turn the young man to some use. He
+gave the matter his attention.
+
+One evening D'Antons told a plaintive story to Kingswell. All through it
+the Englishman was itching to be gone; for he spent no more of his time
+than was absolutely necessary under the Frenchman's roof. But the
+narrator held him with a mournful eye. The tale was an alleged history
+of Pierre d'Antons' youth. It dealt with a great family that had fallen
+upon lean years; with a ruinous chateau, a proud and studious father,
+and a saintly mother; with a boyhood of noble dreams and few pleasures;
+with a youth of hard and honourable soldiering wherever the banners of
+France led the way; and with an early manhood of high adventure and
+achievement in the Western colonies.
+
+Kingswell listened coldly, though the other's voice fairly trembled with
+emotion. He believed no more of the tale than if he had already heard
+the truth of the matter--which was, in plain English, that D'Antons was
+the bastard of a blackleg nobleman by a Spanish dancer; that he had
+spent his youth as a pot-boy on French ships, and had won, by courage
+and cunning, to the position of a captain of buccaneers in early
+manhood. The achievements in the Western colonies had been matters of
+the wrecking and plundering of what others had built; the high
+adventures--God spare me the telling of them!
+
+After Kingswell left him, the pirate fell into one of his reddest moods.
+He was sure that the pink-cheeked youth had not believed a word of his
+story--had been laughing up his sleeve at the most touching passages. He
+was sorry that he had not twisted the lad's neck instead of concluding
+the narrative. It was a sheer waste of breath, this artistic lying to
+such a pig's head! He jumped to his feet, with a violence that almost
+startled the Beothic to outcry, and flung himself about the room like a
+madman. He kicked the stolid logs of the walls. He knocked the few
+pieces of furniture out of his erratic course, and spilled his books and
+papers, quills and ink, to the floor: all this without any ringing oaths
+or blistering curses. His rage worked inward, as bodily wounds sometimes
+bleed. It played the devil with his limbs, his features, and his hands,
+but found no ease in articulation. A trickle of blood ran down his chin,
+from where he had set a tooth into his lower lip. Withal, he was such a
+daunting spectacle that Red Cloud, the Beothic, crouched fearfully
+against the wall, and followed his movements with wide eyes; for, though
+a mighty warrior in his own estimation, Red Cloud was a craven at heart.
+
+Presently the tumult of the madness ceased, and the victim of it sank
+languidly into a chair beside the Beothic's couch. He groaned and
+shivered. For awhile he sat limp, with his thin face hidden between his
+hands. Looking up, his eyes met the eyes of the native. In their furtive
+regard, he read that which suggested a new move. Though, owing to an
+inborn caution, he had never displayed a knowledge of the Beothic
+language to his fellow settlers, and had refrained from using any words
+of it before Ouenwa, he had picked up a fair idea of it during his
+sojourn at Fort Beatrix. Hitherto he had paid but scant attention to Red
+Cloud, for he entertained the Spanish attitude of intolerance toward
+uncivilized peoples; but now he leaned forward and spoke kindly to his
+companion.
+
+It was late when Kingswell and Ouenwa returned to D'Antons' cabin. Under
+the new order of things, Ouenwa had volunteered his services as
+assistant night-guard of the two prisoners--for the Frenchman was
+virtually a prisoner. It was their custom to keep watch turn and turn
+about, in two hours' vigils, one sleeping while the other sat in a
+comfortable chair by the hearth. Their couch was also by the hearth.
+This precaution was taken for fear of some treachery on the part of Red
+Cloud.
+
+When the two entered the outer room, the fire was burning brightly, and
+by its ruddy light they saw the muffled figure of the Beothic, face to
+the wall, in the far corner. They shot the bar of the door. When the
+morning was well advanced, they opened windows and door, and replenished
+the fire. Kingswell drew aside the curtain between the rooms, and looked
+in to see how D'Antons was faring. His fire was out and he was still
+abed. Kingswell moved noiselessly across the floor and peered close.
+What an awkward figure the graceful buccaneer cut in his sleep! He laid
+his hand on the shapeless shoulder. It encountered nothing but yielding
+pelts and blankets. He dragged the things to the floor frantically. His
+exclamation brought Ouenwa to his side. The Englishman pointed a finger
+of dismay at the demolished dummy.
+
+"Tricked!" he cried. "Rip me, but what a fine jailer I am!" They rushed
+back to the other room and investigated the figure on the Beothic's
+couch. That, too, proved to be a shape of rolled furs and bedding. Red
+Cloud also had faded away.
+
+News of the disappearance of D'Antons and the savage went through the
+fort like an electric current. The settlers were more interested and
+surprised over it than concerned. Even the invalids sat up and
+conjectured on the captain's object in fleeing to the outer wilderness,
+and the doubtful but inevitable reception by the natives. They could
+hardly bring themselves to the belief that he and Red Cloud had gone as
+fellow conspirators, remembering the haughty Frenchman's bearing toward
+the aborigines with whom he had traded on occasions.
+
+William Trigget shook his head when he heard the story, and rated the
+men who had been on duty along the palisade with unsparing frankness.
+Sir Ralph looked worried, and Mistress Beatrix looked surprised.
+
+"It seems a very simple trick," she murmured, "to bundle up a few
+blankets into lifelike effigies, and then to slip away while the jailer
+is elsewhere spending a social evening."
+
+Kingswell flushed hotly, and looked at the girl steadily; but he failed
+to meet her eyes.
+
+"Yes," he said, "they slipped away while two men were on guard along the
+walls, and while the self-appointed jailer, who has not had four hours'
+sleep in any night in the past three weeks, was playing chess with your
+ladyship."
+
+"I am sure it is no loss to us," interposed the baronet quickly. "We
+have no use for the savage; and as to D'Antons--why, if the enemy kill
+him, it will save some one else the trouble. But I cannot help wondering
+at him taking so dangerous a risk. If he had been on friendly terms with
+the natives at any time, one would have a clue. But he always treated
+them like dogs."
+
+Kingswell turned a casual shoulder toward the lady, and gave all his
+attention to the baronet and the affair of the Frenchman. The blush of
+shame had gone, leaving his face unusually pale. His eyes, also, showed
+a change--a chilling from blue to gray, with a surface glitter and a
+shadow behind.
+
+"You may be sure," he replied to Sir Ralph, "that D'Antons has taken
+what he considers the lesser risk. I'll wager he has won the savage to
+him, hand and heart. I was a fool not to have removed Red Cloud to one
+of the other huts."
+
+"He was kept to D'Antons' cabin by my orders," said the baronet.
+
+"I had forgotten that," replied Kingswell. "Then I am not the only
+scapegrace of the community."
+
+The baronet's face lighted whimsically, and he smiled at the young man.
+But the girl did not receive the implication in the same spirit. She
+stared at the speaker as if he were some surprising species of bird that
+had flown in at the window.
+
+"Such a remark rings dangerously of insubordination," she exclaimed,
+"not to mention the impertinence of it."
+
+Sir Ralph looked at her, completely puzzled, and murmured a
+remonstrance. It is a wise father that knows his own daughter. Kingswell
+turned an expressionless face toward the fire for a moment. Then he
+bowed to Sir Ralph. "If I am guilty of impertinence, sir, I humbly crave
+your pardon," he said. "As to insubordination--why, I believe there is
+nothing to say on that head, as I am a free agent; but I think you
+understand, sir, that I and my men are entirely at your service, as we
+have been ever since the day we first accepted the hospitality of Fort
+Beatrix. My men, at least, have not failed in any duty, whatever my
+delinquencies."
+
+With an exclamation of sincere concern, the baronet stepped close to his
+friend and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.
+
+"Bernard--my dear lad--why all this talk of pardon, and duty, and
+delinquencies, and God knows what else? If you believe that I consider
+you guilty of any carelessness, you must think me ungrateful indeed."
+
+His voice, his look, his gesture, all convinced Kingswell that the words
+were sincere, and so did something toward the mending of his injured
+feelings. To the baronet, his eyes brightened and his manner unbent. He
+took his departure immediately after.
+
+Sir Ralph turned to his daughter as the door closed behind Kingswell.
+
+"I do not understand your treatment of him," he said. "Surely you
+realize that he is a friend--and friends are not so common that we can
+afford to flout them at every turn." He did not speak angrily, but the
+girl saw plainly enough that he was seriously displeased.
+
+"The boy is so insufferably self-satisfied," she explained, weakly. "How
+indignation would have burned within him had some one else allowed the
+prisoners to escape."
+
+The baronet gazed at her pensively for several seconds, and then took
+her hand tenderly between his own.
+
+"You do the brave lad an injustice, my sweeting," he said. "What you
+take for conceit is just youth, and strength, and fearlessness, and a
+clean conscience. He has nothing of the braggart in him--not a hint of
+it. I am sorry you like him so little, my daughter, for he is a good lad
+and well-disposed toward us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+BY ADVICE OF BLACK FEATHER
+
+
+For a time after D'Antons' departure into the unknown, the little
+garrison of Fort Beatrix turned day into night. Not a man indulged in so
+much as a wink of sleep between the hours of dusk and dawn; but from
+sunrise until afternoon the place was as if it lay under an enchantment
+of slumber. On the sixth day after the flight of the Frenchman and Red
+Cloud, Ouenwa approached Kingswell with a request to be allowed to leave
+the fort, in company with Black Feather. He told how Black Feather was
+of the opinion that many of the tribesmen were against the leadership of
+Panounia, and that, if they could be found, it would be an easy matter
+for Ouenwa to win their support. He, Ouenwa, was of the blood of the
+greatest chief they had ever known. They would gather to the totem of
+the Bear. Assured of the friendship of the English people, they could be
+brought to the rescue of the settlement. So Black Feather had told the
+tale to Ouenwa, and so Ouenwa believed.
+
+"And you would have to go with Black Feather?" inquired Kingswell, none
+too cheerfully; for he looked upon the lad as a very dear younger
+brother.
+
+"Truly, my friend-chief, for I am the grandson of Soft Hand," replied
+the boy. "When they see me, their blood will rise at the memory of Soft
+Hand's murder. I will talk great words of my love for the English, and
+of my hatred for Panounia, and of the great trading that will be done at
+the fort when the night-howlers have been driven away. Thus we shall all
+be saved--thus Mistress Beatrix shall escape capture."
+
+At that Kingswell started and eyed his companion keenly. "You think
+Panounia can break into the fort?" he inquired.
+
+Ouenwa smiled. "Hunger can do it before the snow melts," he replied,
+"and hunger will fight for Panounia and the black captain."
+
+"What do you know of the black captain?"
+
+"He is with the night-howlers. He will keep their courage warm. He will
+struggle many times to bring us to our deaths and to capture the lady.
+That is all I know."
+
+"But how do you know so much, lad?" asked Kingswell.
+
+Ouenwa looked surprised. "How could I know less, who dwelt within
+eyeshot of the black captain for so many days, and who have learned the
+ways of such wolves?" he asked, in his turn. "You know it already
+without my telling, friend-chief," he added.
+
+"Let us to Sir Ralph for his advice," said the other.
+
+Master Kingswell had not crossed the threshold of the baronet's cabin
+since the time of his rebuff at the hands of Mistress Beatrix. Of course
+he had seen the baronet frequently, and they had smoked some pipes of
+tobacco together by the hearth of the departed Frenchman; but from the
+presence of the lady he had kept off as from a lazaretto. At the voice
+of duty, however, he sought the baronet in his own house with excellent
+composure. Anger at the knowledge that a girl could hurt him so nerved
+him to accept the risk of again seeing the displeasure in her dark eyes.
+
+Mistress Beatrix was not in the living-room when they entered. Sir Ralph
+welcomed them cordially. Upon hearing Ouenwa's and Black Feather's plan
+for winning some of the tribesmen to the succour of the fort, he was
+deeply moved. He took a ring from his own hand and slipped it over one
+of Ouenwa's fingers. He gave the lad a fine hunting-knife for Black
+Feather, and a Spanish dagger for himself. He told Kingswell to supply
+them unstintingly from the store, with provisions and clothing for
+themselves and gifts for the natives whom they hoped to win.
+
+"'Tis a chance," said he to Kingswell. "A chance of our salvation, and
+the only one, as far as I can see."
+
+At that moment Mistress Beatrix entered the room. At sight of the
+visitors by the chimney, she swept a grand curtsey. The visitors bowed
+low in return. Her father advanced and led her, with the manner of those
+days, to his own chair beside the hearth. He told her, in a few words,
+of the venture upon which Ouenwa and Black Feather intended to set
+forth. The thought of it stirred the girl, and she looked on Ouenwa with
+shining eyes.
+
+"'Tis a deed for the great knights of old," she said. "Lad, where have
+you learned your bravery?"
+
+Unabashed, Ouenwa stood erect before her. "Half of it is the blood of my
+fathers," he replied, "and half is the teaching of Master Kingswell--and
+half I gather from your eyes."
+
+The girl flushed with suppressed merriment. The baronet concealed his
+lips with his hand. Kingswell clutched his outspoken friend by the
+shoulder.
+
+"Brother, you have named one-half too many," he said, laughing, "so your
+reason will carry more weight if you leave out that in which you mention
+my teaching. But come, we must find Black Feather, and make arrangements
+to leave as soon as dusk falls."
+
+At that Beatrix tightened her hands on the arms of the chair and turned
+a startled face toward the speaker. "Surely, sir, you do not mean to
+leave us, too!" she exclaimed.
+
+Neither the baronet nor Kingswell were looking at her; but Ouenwa saw
+the expression of eyes and lips. Kingswell, however, did not miss the
+note of anxiety in the clear young voice.
+
+"I do not go with them, mistress," he said, "because my company would
+only delay their movements. And perhaps even spoil their plans. I am a
+poor woodsman--and already our garrison is none too heavily manned."
+
+"I am glad you are not going," replied the girl, quietly. "I am sure
+that my father looks upon you as his right hand, and that the men need
+you."
+
+Sir Ralph looked at his daughter with ill-concealed surprise.
+Kingswell, murmuring polite acknowledgment of her gracious words, strove
+to get a clearer view of her half-averted face. He failed. Ouenwa was
+the only one of the three who knew that the words were sincere; but he
+had the advantage of his superiors in having caught sight of the sudden
+fear in the lady's face.
+
+Sir Ralph and Kingswell lowered the light packs over the stockade to
+Ouenwa and the big warrior. When the figures merged into the gloom,
+heading northward, the two commanders descended from the storehouse and
+entered the baronet's cabin. Beatrix was by the fire, radiant in fine
+apparel.
+
+"I am in no mood for chess," said Sir Ralph. "The thought of those two
+brave fellows stealing through the dark and cold fidgets me beyond
+belief."
+
+He began his quarter-deck pacing of the floor--up and down, up and down,
+with his head thrust forward and his hands gripped behind his back.
+
+"The wind is rising," said the girl to Kingswell. "It will be bleak in
+the forest to-night--away from the fire."
+
+She shivered, and held her jewelled hands to the blaze.
+
+"It is blowing for a storm," replied the young man. "The sky was clouded
+over when they left. 'Tis safer for them so. The snow will cover their
+trail and, very likely, will keep the enemy from prowling abroad for a
+good many hours to come."
+
+Mistress Beatrix crossed the room to a cupboard in the wall, and from it
+produced a violin. Kingswell stood by the chimney, watching her. The
+baronet continued his nervous pacing of the floor. The girl touched the
+strings here and there with skilful fingers, resined the bow, and then
+returned to the hearth and stood with her eyes on the fire. Suddenly she
+looked up at Kingswell. Her eyes were as he had never seen them before.
+They were full of firelight and dream. They were brighter than jewels,
+and yet dark as the heart of a deep water.
+
+"Please do not stand," she said, and her voice, though free from any
+suggestion of indifference, sounded as if her whole being were far from
+that simple room. Her gaze returned to the fire. Kingswell quietly
+reseated himself; and at that she nestled her chin to the glowing
+instrument and drew the bow lightly, lovingly, almost inquiringly,
+across the strings. A whisper of melody followed the touch and sang
+clearer and more human than any human voice, and melted into the
+firelight.
+
+At the first strain of the music, the baronet sat down and reclined
+comfortably with his head against the back of his chair. For awhile he
+watched his daughter intently; then he turned his eyes to the heart of
+the fire and journeyed far in a waking dream.
+
+The girl played on and on, weaving enchantments of peace with the magic
+strings. Kingswell, leaning back with his face in the shadow, could not
+look away from her. The minutes drifted by unheeded behind the singing
+of the violin. The candles on the table flared at their sockets. The
+logs on the hearth broke, and the flames sprang to new life. Outside the
+wind raced and shouldered along the walls. And suddenly the player
+stilled her hand, and, without a word to either of the men, took up one
+of the guttering candles from the table and went quickly to her own
+chamber. She carried the fiddle with her against her young breast, and
+the bow like a wand in her hand.
+
+Sir Ralph started and sat erect in his chair. Kingswell got to his feet
+with a sigh, and lifted his heavy cloak from the bench.
+
+"I must go the rounds," he said. "Good night, sir."
+
+With that he went out into the swirling eddies of the storm. The baronet
+sat still for another hour. The music had uncovered so many ghosts of
+joy and song, of love and hate and shame. It had rung upon past glories
+and called up more recent dishonours. And still another matter occupied
+his mind, and was finally dismissed with a smile and a yawn. It was that
+Beatrix had indulged in one of her deliriums of music in young
+Kingswell's presence, and that she had never before played in any mood
+but the lightest in the hearing of a stranger.
+
+Kingswell paced beside the sentry at the drifted gate; but he kept his
+thoughts to the picture of the girl, the glowing fiddle, and the music
+and firelight that had seemed to pulse and spread together about the
+long room. Again he saw the candle flames leap high and waver, as if
+lured from their tethers by the crying of the instrument. But clearest
+of all was the player's face. His heart was filled to suffocation at the
+memory of it. Had other men seen her so beautiful? Had other men heard
+her soul and her dear heart singing and crying from the strings of the
+violin?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE SEEKING OF THE TRIBESMEN
+
+
+Ouenwa and Black Feather turned their faces from the little fort and the
+hostile camp beyond the white river, and set bravely forward into the
+darkness. Black Feather led the way, avoiding hummocks, bending and
+twisting through the coverts, crossing the open glades like a
+shadow--and all without any noise except the scarcely audible padding of
+his stringed shoes. Ouenwa trod close after. They had not gone far
+before the snow began to fall and puff around them in blinding clouds.
+The trees bent tensely under the lash of the wind. More than one
+frost-embrittled spire came crashing down. Still the warrior and the lad
+held on their journey, for they were both fresh and strong, and eager to
+widen the spaces of wilderness between themselves and the camp of
+Panounia.
+
+Shortly before dawn they dug a trench in the snow on the leeward side of
+a thicket of low spruces, broke fir-branches for a bed, built a fire
+between the walls of white, and cooked and ate a frugal repast, and
+then rolled themselves in their rugs of skin and fell asleep. They had
+no fear that any of Panounia's people would disturb their slumbers. They
+lay as motionless and unknowing as logs for several hours. Then Ouenwa
+turned over and yawned, and Black Feather sat up, wide-awake in an
+instant. The morning was bright and unclouded. The white sun was
+half-way up the blue shell of the eastern sky. All around the new snow
+lay in feathery depths. On the dark firs and spruces it clung in even
+masses, which showed that the wind had died down long before the flakes
+had ceased to fall. Ouenwa and his comrade ate frugally of cold meat and
+bread, swallowed some brandy and water, and resumed their journey.
+
+Not until the afternoon of the third day following their departure from
+Fort Beatrix did the travellers sight the smoke of a fire. It was Black
+Feather, attaining the summit of a ridge a few paces ahead of Ouenwa,
+who caught the first sight of the thin, melting signal of human life. It
+wavered up from a wood in a valley a few hundred of yards in front. On
+their right hand lay the ice-edged gray waters of an arm of the sea. On
+their left stretched dark forest and empty barren to a mountainous
+horizon. In front lay hope, and behind the spur of menace.
+
+"Is there a village yonder?" asked Ouenwa.
+
+Black Feather replied negatively.
+
+"The stream is Little Thunder," he said, in his own language, "and there
+was no lodge there when last I saw it. We will approach under the
+shelter of those spruces in the hollow. It makes the journey a few paces
+longer, and perhaps the arrival twenty times safer."
+
+Ouenwa nodded his sympathy with the caution expressed by his friend.
+
+"But let us hurry," he said. "Remember that around the stockade the
+black captain is ever stirring the courage of the night-howlers."
+
+At last, creeping on all fours, they peered from the screen of brush
+into a tiny clearing on the north bank of Little Thunder. The stream was
+not ten yards across at this point. On its white surface ran several
+trails of snow-shoes. The smoke which had attracted them to the place
+curled up from the apex of a large, bark-roofed wigwam. As the
+travellers watched, an old woman appeared in the doorway of the lodge.
+Ouenwa recognized her as a wise herb-doctor who had been a friend and
+adviser of Soft Hand. He whispered the information to Black Feather.
+
+"Then we may show ourselves," said the other, "for if this woman was
+the great chief's friend you may be sure that death has only
+strengthened her loyalty. It is so with women--with the wise and the
+foolish alike. A man will stand close to his comrade in the days of his
+glory and in the press of battle; but it is the squaw who keeps the
+fallen shield freshly painted and the cause of the departed ever before
+the matters of the present day. A man must have the reward of his
+friend's praise and the joy of his companionship; but a woman makes a
+god of the departed spirit and looks for her reward beyond the red
+gates."
+
+Ouenwa had nothing to say to his friend's sage reflections, for all he
+knew of women was that a radiant creature far back in Fort Beatrix had
+his heart in thrall. So he led the way from cover, and down the bank, in
+silence.
+
+The old squaw in the doorway of the lodge caught sight of them
+immediately. She turned into the dark interior of the wigwam, but
+appeared before they were half-way across the frozen stream, with a bow
+in her hand and an arrow on the string. Black Feather and the lad raised
+their right hands, palms forward, above their heads, and continued to
+advance. The old hag lowered her weapon, but did not relax her attitude
+of vigilance. Close to the rise of the bank the travellers paused, and
+the lad called out that he was Ouenwa, grandson of Soft Hand, and that
+his companion was Black Feather, the adopted son of Montaw, the
+arrow-maker. At that the guardian of the wigwam forsook her post and
+advanced to meet them.
+
+The herb-doctor, who had been one of Soft Hand's advisers, was not
+attractive to the eye. She was bent hideously, though still of
+surprising bodily strength. Her head was uncovered, save for the matted
+locks of hair that clung about it and fell over her ears and neck like a
+wig of gray tree-moss. Her eyes were deep and black and fierce. One
+yellow fang stood like a sentinel in the cavity of her mouth. Her hands
+were claws. Her skin was no lighter in hue and no finer in texture than
+was the tanned leather of her high-legged moccasins. Her garments were
+unusually barbaric--lynx-skins shapelessly stitched together and hung
+about with belts and charms, and a great knife of flint nearly as long
+as a cutlass. Her corded, scraggy arms hung naked at her sides, as
+indifferent to the nip of the frost as to the regard of strange eyes.
+
+"Child," she said, "I heard that you were killed--that Panounia's men
+had slain you and a party of English; but that I knew to be false, for I
+saw not your spirit with the spirits of your fathers. So I believed
+that you had crossed the great salt water with the strangers."
+
+Ouenwa told his story, to which the old woman listened with the keenest
+interest and many nods of the head.
+
+"It is well," she said. "They are scattered now, some in hiding, some
+sullenly obedient to Panounia, and some in captivity. Your need will
+bring them together and awake their sleeping courage. I know of a full
+score of stout warriors who will draw no bow for Panounia, and who are
+all within a day's journey of this spot, but sadly scattered,--yea,
+scattered in every little hollow, like frightened hares."
+
+"Do you live in this great lodge all by yourself?" inquired Black
+Feather.
+
+"My sons are in the forest, seeing to their snares," replied the woman,
+eying the tall brave sharply, "but within are a sick woman and a small
+child who escaped, ten days ago, from one of Panounia's camps."
+
+She stood aside and motioned them to enter the lodge. Ouenwa went ahead,
+with Black Feather close at his heels. Within, it took them several
+seconds to adjust their eyes to the gloom of smoke and shadow. Presently
+they made out a couch of fir-branches and skins beyond the fire, and on
+it a woman, half-reclining, with her arm about a child. Both the woman
+and the child were gazing at the visitors. The child began to whimper.
+
+Black Feather uttered a low cry, and sprang over the fire. He had found
+his squaw and one of his lost children.
+
+The sickness of Black Feather's wife was nothing but the result of
+hardship and ill-treatment. Already, under the herb-doctor's care, she
+was greatly improved. The meeting with her warrior went far to complete
+the cure of the old woman's broths and soft furs. The child was well;
+but the woman knew nothing of the whereabouts of their elder offspring.
+
+Ouenwa and Black Feather did not tarry long at the lodge beside Little
+Thunder. With the younger of their aged hostess's sons for guide, they
+set out that same day to find the hidden warriors who were against the
+leadership of Panounia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+BRAVE DAYS FOR YOUNG HEARTS
+
+
+Back at Fort Beatrix the time passed in weary suspense. The wounded men
+recovered slowly. The enemy remained inactive beyond the river and the
+dark forest. Only the haze of their cooking-fires, melting against the
+sky, told of their presence. The inaction ate into the courage of the
+English men and women like rust. The boat-building and the iron-working
+at the forge were carried on listlessly, and without the old-time spurs
+of song and laughter. Even William Trigget and Tom Bent displayed sombre
+faces to their little world.
+
+Bernard Kingswell, however, found life eventful. He was not blind to the
+danger of their position, and he continued to do double duty in
+everything; but for all that he awoke each day with keen anticipation
+for whatever might befall, and, sleeping, dreamed of other things than
+the poised menace and the monotony. Why should he regret Bristol, or any
+other city of the outer world, when Beatrix Westleigh was domiciled
+within the rough walls of the fort on Gray Goose River? His heart would
+not descend to those depths of despondency in which lurk fear and
+hopeless anxiety. What power of man, in that wilderness, could break
+down his guard and harm the most wonderful being in the world? The
+girl's brief season of unkindness toward him was as a cloud that her
+later friendliness had dispersed as the sun disperses the morning fog.
+He had caught a glimpse of her heart in her music, in her eyes, in her
+voice, and on several occasions something that had set his heart
+thumping in the touch of her hand. At least she was neither averse nor
+indifferent to his society, and the glances of her magnificent eyes were
+open to translations that set him looking out upon life and that
+wilderness through a golden haze. Let a dozen black-visaged D'Antons
+draw their rapiers upon him--he would out-thrust, out-play, and
+out-stamp them all! Let a hundred fur-clad savages howl about the
+fort--he, Bernard Kingswell, with his lady's favour on his breast, would
+scatter them like straw! And all this because, for the first time in his
+life of twenty-one years, he was bitten with love for a woman,--and
+twenty-one was a fair, manly age in those days. He had won to it
+unknowingly, by the brave paths of adventure and the sea. So let not
+even the oldest of us criticize his attitude toward life. A man's
+emotions cannot always be herded and driven by the outward circumstances
+of need and danger, like a flock of sheep at the mercy of a dog and a
+dull countryman. That to which cautious Worldliness has given the name
+of madness, from the earliest times, is nothing but a spark of God's own
+courage and imagination in the heart of youth: the years having not yet
+smothered it with the ashes of cowardice and calculation.
+
+Bernard Kingswell had never displayed any but an assured front to the
+world. Now this love that had him so irresistibly in its services only
+heightened the confidence of his address toward men and events; but in
+the presence of its inspiration it clothed him in unaccustomed and
+unconscious meekness. You may be sure that Beatrix had been quick to
+notice the change. It pleased her mightily, of course; for was it not a
+greater and a more pleasant matter to have brought a high-hearted,
+adventure-bred youth like this to bondage and slavery than to have a
+dozen idle courtiers bowing before one, and a dozen sentimental poets
+mouthing verses that could, with equal sincerity, be applied to any
+charming lady? So Mistress Beatrix decided, and could not find it in her
+heart to regret the beaux of London Town. But she did not know her
+heart as the man knew his--and as she knew his.
+
+One morning they walked together along the river-bank, before the open
+gate of the fort. The air was clearer than any crystal. The shadows
+along the snow were bluer than the dome of the sky. The girl talked
+cheerily; for in the bright daytime, with the sounds of peaceful labour
+rising from the fort so close at hand, and with a strong and worshipping
+man, sword-girt, within arm's length, it was hard to remember the menace
+concealed by the southern woods. Her eyes were very bright, and the
+blood mantled under the clear skin of her cheeks at the wind's caress.
+Now and then, for a bar or two, she broke into song.
+
+Their path was one that Kingswell had beaten firm with his snow-shoes,
+after the last storm, expressly as a promenade for Mistress Westleigh.
+It was about a hundred yards in length, and broad enough for two persons
+to walk in abreast, and firm enough to make the wearing of snow-shoes
+unnecessary. It ran north and south, parallel with the stockade and the
+course of the river at that point. When the turn was made at either end
+of the beat, Kingswell's glance searched the horizon and every tree,
+every knoll, and hollow. It was done almost unconsciously, as a
+traveller instinctively loosens his sword in its sheath at the sound of
+voices ahead of him on a dark road.
+
+After a time the girl noticed her companion's vigilance. "What do you
+expect to see?" she asked, touching his arm lightly and swiftly with her
+gloved hand. For a moment he was confused, but recovered his wits with
+an effort.
+
+"Nothing," he replied, "or surely we would not be walking here."
+
+She smiled at that. "Are you afraid?" she inquired.
+
+He looked down at her, displayed the desperate condition of his heart in
+his eyes, and then looked back again to the strip of woods that
+approached them along the back.
+
+"I am not afraid," he said--and then, with a gasp of dismay, he caught
+her and swung her behind him. She did not resist, but cowered against
+his sheltering back.
+
+"We must return to the fort," he said. "Something is going on in that
+covert."
+
+"Come! We will run!" she whispered, pulling at his elbows to turn him
+around.
+
+"No," he replied. "I shall walk backwards, and you must keep behind me,
+and guide me. It is no great matter to avoid an arrow, if one knows in
+what quarter to look for it."
+
+She made no reply. They began the retreat along the narrow branch path
+that led to the gate of the fort, he stepping cautiously, heels first,
+and she pulling at his belt and gazing fearfully past his shoulder at
+the woods. They were within a few yards of the gate when he suddenly put
+his arms behind him, caught her close, and lurched to one side. The
+unexpected movement threw the girl to her knees in the deep snow beside
+the path. Her cry of dismay brought her father and two others from the
+fort. They found Kingswell staggering and confusedly apologizing to
+Beatrix for his roughness. In the thickness of his left shoulder stuck a
+war-arrow. Supporting Kingswell and fairly dragging the frightened girl,
+they rushed back to safety and closed and barred the gate.
+
+Hour after hour passed without the hidden warriors of Panounia making
+any further signs of hostility, or even of their existence. The watchers
+on the stockade scanned the woods in vain for any movement. A shot was
+fired into the nearest cover from one of the cannon, but without
+apparent effect.
+
+Kingswell was on duty again within an hour of the receiving of his
+wound. The ragged cut caused him a deal of pain; but the salve that
+really took the sting and ache out of it was the thought that he had
+been serving Beatrix as a shield when the arrow struck him. He went the
+rounds of the stockades with a glowing heart and dauntless bearing, and
+his air of calm assurance put courage into the men. He saw to the
+strengthening of several points of the defence, cleared the loopholes of
+drifted snow, and gave out an extra supply of powder and ball.
+
+It was dusk of that day before Kingswell again saw Mistress Westleigh.
+He was passing the baronet's cabin, and she opened the door and called
+to him shyly. He turned and stepped close to her, the better to see her
+face in the gathering twilight. She extended her hands to him, with a
+quick gesture of invitation. He dropped his heavy gloves on the snow
+before clasping them in eager fingers.
+
+"But you must not stand here, without anything 'round your shoulders,"
+he said; but, for all his solicitude, he maintained his firm hold of her
+hands. She laughed, very softly, and a slight pressure of her fingers
+drove his anxiety to the winds. He would have nothing of evil befall
+her, God knows!--nay, not so much as a chill--but how could he keep it
+in his mind that she wore no cloak when his whole being was a-thrill
+with love and worship? So he stood there, speechless, gazing into her
+flushed face. Presently her eyes lowered before his ardent regard.
+
+"I called to you to thank you for saving my life," she murmured. He had
+nothing to say to that. Perhaps he had saved her life--and again,
+perhaps he had not. At that moment he was the last person in the world
+to decide the question. His heart and mind were altogether with the
+immediate present. He realized that her hands were strong and yet tender
+to the touch of his. The faint fragrance of her hair was in his brain
+like some divine vintage. The sweet curves of cheek and lips--how near
+they were! She had called to him with more than kindness in her voice.
+God had made a high heaven of this fort in the wilderness.
+
+"You were very brave," she said, leaning nearer ever so slightly. Sweet
+madness completely overthrew the lad's native caution, and he was about
+to catch her to him bodily, when she slipped nimbly into the cabin, and
+left him standing with arms extended in silent invitation toward the
+figure of the imperturbed Sir Ralph.
+
+"Well, my lad?" inquired the baronet, calmly.
+
+"Good evening to you, Sir Ralph," replied Kingswell, hiding his chagrin
+and confusion with exceeding skill.
+
+"You looked just now as if you were expecting me," said the elder. "Come
+in, come in. We can talk better by the fire."
+
+Kingswell's blushes were safe in the dusk. He picked up his gloves from
+the trampled snow by the threshold, and silently followed the baronet
+into the fire-lit living-room. Beatrix was not there--which fact the
+lover noticed with a sinking of the heart. He was alone with her father,
+and evidently under marked suspicion,--a fearful matter to a young man
+who aspires to the hand of an angel, and has not yet his line of action
+quite laid down. He took a deep breath, trembled at thought of his
+presumption, called the respectability of his parents and his income to
+his aid, and was ready for the baronet when that gentleman turned and
+faced him in front of the fire.
+
+"I love your daughter," he said, with his voice not quite so cool and
+manly as he had intended it to be.
+
+Sir Ralph bowed, but said nothing. His back was to the fire, and so his
+face was in heavy shadow.
+
+"I love her very dearly," continued the other. "I believe no man could
+love a woman more, for it is with my whole heart, and with every fibre
+of my being. I know, sir, that my rank is not exalted, and that she is
+the--"
+
+The baronet raised his hand sharply.
+
+The gesture silenced Kingswell in the middle of his sentence more
+effectively than a clap of thunder would have done it.
+
+"Yes," said Sir Ralph, harshly, "she is the daughter of a blackleg. She
+is the daughter of a criminal exile. She is the daughter of a broken
+gamester. Ay, Bernard, you do indeed look high,--you, the son of a
+humble merchant of Bristol."
+
+Kingswell was dismayed for the moment. Then, with a hardy oath, he
+slapped his hand to his hip.
+
+"Though she were the daughter of the devil himself," he began, and came
+to a lame stop. The baronet's smile passed unseen. It was a kindly
+smile, and yet a bitter one by the same tokens. Kingswell gave up all
+attempt at politic speech. He had his own feelings to express. "Your
+daughter, sir, is the best and the loveliest," he said, huskily.
+"Whatever your backslidings and misfortunes have been, they can reflect
+in no way on her sweetness, and wisdom, and virtue. But, sir, I do not
+mean to sit in judgment on any man, and last of all on the father of the
+most glorious woman in the world. I remember you in your strength,--the
+greatest man in the county and my father's noble friend. The world has
+taken a twirl since then, but you may be sure that, whatever betide, my
+heart is with you warmer than my worthy father's ever was."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+BETROTHED
+
+
+That Bernard Kingswell had accepted the baronet's own estimation of his
+(the baronet's) character so frankly, in the heat of sentimental
+disclosure, did not trouble Sir Ralph by more than a pang or two. What
+else could he expect of even this true friend? He was a broken gamester
+and a criminal exile by all the signs and by the verdict of the law; but
+whether or not he was a blackleg was a matter of opinion and the exact
+definition of that word. He knew that Kingswell was well disposed toward
+him, and that he believed nothing vile or cowardly of him; but, best of
+all, he was sure that, in Kingswell's love, his daughter was fortunate
+beyond his hoping of the past two years. Should they get clear of the
+besieging natives and out of the wilderness, her future happiness,
+safety, and position would be assured. As Mistress Bernard Kingswell,
+she would live close to the colour and finer things of life again,
+gracing some fair house as a former Beatrix had done in other days--to
+wit, the great houses of Beverly and Randon. The mist blurred his eyes
+at that memory and dimmed his vision against the rough log walls around
+him.
+
+Another thought came to the broken baronet, as he sat alone by the
+falling fire, after Kingswell's departure, and awaited his supper and
+the reappearance of his daughter. The thought was like a black shadow
+between his face and the comforting fir sticks--between his heart and
+the knowledge of a good man's love and protection for Beatrix. Knowing
+the girl as he did, he felt sure that she would never leave him, her
+exiled father, even at the call of a more compelling love; and, as a
+return to his own country meant prison or death to him, she would hold
+to the wilderness, thereby leaving the new-found happiness untouched. On
+the other hand, should death come to him soon, and in the
+wilderness,--by the arrows of the enemy, for choice,--his daughter's
+fetters would be filed for ever. He sank his face between his hands. The
+desire to live out one's time clings about a man's vitals against all
+reason. Even an exiled and broken gamester, stockaded in a nameless
+wilderness and hemmed in by savages, finds a certain zest in day and
+night and the winds of heaven. With nothing to live for--even with the
+scales decidedly the other way--Death still presents an uninviting face.
+It may be the inscrutable mask of him that fills with distrust the heart
+of the man who contemplates the Long Journey. In that inevitable yet
+mysterious figure, showing as no more than a shadow between the bed and
+the window, it is hard for the sinful mortal, no matter how repentant,
+to read clear the promise of eternal peace. What dark deed might not be
+perpetrated by the shrouded messenger between the death-bed and
+Paradise?
+
+Sir Ralph bowed his head between his palms, and hid the commonplace,
+beautiful radiance of the hearth-fire from his eyes; and so, while he
+waited for his supper of stewed venison, he reasoned and planned for his
+daughter's future to the bitter end, seeing clearly that, should the
+chances of battle turn in favour of the little plantation, he must
+readjust his sentiments toward death. A man of lower breeding and
+commoner courage would have groaned in the travail of that thought, and
+cursed the alternative; but the baronet sat in silence until he heard
+his daughter at the door, and then stood up and hummed softly the
+opening bars of a Somerset hunting-song.
+
+Beatrix tripped close to her father and raised her face to him. He bent
+and kissed her tenderly. For a little while they stood without speaking,
+hand in hand, on the great caribou skin before the hearth. Suddenly the
+girl pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
+
+"What was it," she whispered, breathlessly,--"the matter that held you
+and Bernard in such serious converse?"
+
+"And has your heart given you no hint of it?" he laughed.
+
+"And why, dear father? What has my heart to do with your talk of guards
+and ammunition and supplies,--save that it is with you in everything?"
+
+The baronet released her hand and, instead, placed his arm about her
+slender and rounded waist. "It is a story that I cannot tell you,
+sweet,--I, who am your father," he said. "But I think that you shall not
+have to wait long for the telling of it, for both youth and love are
+impatient. And here comes the good Maggie with the candles."
+
+During the meal the baronet was more lively and entertaining than
+Beatrix had seen him for years, and Beatrix, in her turn, was unusually
+untalkative and preoccupied. The girl wanted to give her undivided
+attention to the quiet voice of her heart. The man was equally anxious
+to avoid introspection as she to court it. But he, for all his laughter
+and gay stories of gay times spent, displayed a colourless face and
+haunted eyes behind the candle-light; while she, sitting in silence,
+glowed like a rare flower. Her dark, massed tresses, her eyes of
+unnamable colour, her throat and lips and brow, were all radiant with
+the magic fire at her heart.
+
+Sir Ralph, after bringing a disjointed tale to a vague ending, sipped
+his wine, put down the glass clumsily, and suddenly turned away from the
+table. The bitterness of his lot had caught him by the throat. But she
+noticed nothing of his change of manner; and presently they left the
+table and moved to the fire. He busied himself with heaping faggots
+across the dogs. Then she filled his tobacco-pipe for him, and lit it
+with a coal from the hearth, puffing daintily. He had just got it in his
+hand when a knocking sounded on the door, and Maggie Stone opened to
+Kingswell.
+
+Upon Kingswell's entrance, Sir Ralph, after greeting him cordially but
+quietly, donned his cloak and hat, and begged to be excused for a few
+minutes. "I have a word for Trigget," he said. Then he pulled on his
+gloves, pushed open the door, and stepped out to the dark.
+
+Two candles burned on the table. Maggie Stone snuffed them, surveyed
+the room and its inmates with a comprehensive glance, and at last forced
+her unwilling feet kitchenward again. Her heart was as sentimental as
+heroic, was Maggie Stone's, and her nature was of an inquisitive turn.
+She sighed plaintively as she left the presence of the young couple.
+
+The door leading to the kitchen had no more than closed behind the
+servant than Bernard, without preliminaries, dropped on one knee before
+the lady of his adoration, and lifted both her hands to his lips. She
+did not move, but stood between the candles and the firelight, all
+a-gleam in her beauty and her fine raiment, and gazed down at the golden
+head. Her lips smiled, but her eyes were grave.
+
+"Dear heart," murmured the lad, without lifting his face or altering his
+position,--"dear heart, can it be true?"
+
+She bent her head a little lower. Her heart seemed as if it was about to
+break away from its bonds in her side. She could not speak; but, almost
+unconsciously, she closed her fingers upon his.
+
+"Tell me," he cried. And again, with a note of fear in his voice: "Tell
+me if I may win you! Tell me if your heart has any promise?"
+
+Before she could control her agitation sufficiently to answer him, the
+outer door of the cabin was swung open without ceremony, and Sir Ralph
+stamped in. He caught Kingswell by the wrist and wrenched it sharply.
+
+"We are attacked," he cried. "They have piled heaps of dry brush along
+the palisades--and they have set the stuff on fire! It burns like mad.
+Lord, but it looks more like hell than ever!"
+
+Even as he spoke, the fragrant, biting odour of the smoke from the
+burning evergreen-needles invaded the room. Kingswell got quickly to his
+feet, still holding the girl's hands. He did not look at the baronet.
+For a second he paused and peered, questioning, into her wonderful eyes.
+
+"Oh, I love you, dear heart," she cried, faintly. "I love you, Bernard."
+
+He stooped quickly (and how eagerly every lover knows), and even while
+the first brief and tremulous kiss was sweet on their lips, the muskets
+clapped deafeningly, savage shouts rang high, and the baronet thrust
+sword and hat into Bernard's hands.
+
+"Come! For God's grace, lad, come and rally the men!" he shouted.
+
+Then the lover turned from his mistress and saw the shrewd work that
+awaited him. He ran to it with a leaping heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A FIRE-LIT BATTLE. OUENWA'S RETURN
+
+
+The heaps of brush outside the palisades burned with a long-drawn
+roaring, like the note of a steady wind. It was a terrifying sound. The
+glare of the conflagration lit the interior of the fort, staining the
+trampled snow of the yard to an awful hue, staining the faces of the
+desperate settlers as if with foreshadowing of blood, and painting the
+walls of the cabins as if for a carnival. The platform upon which the
+guns stood was a mass of flame before any use could be made of the
+pieces. The breastwork of faggots burned with leapings and roarings,
+flinging orange and crimson showers to the black dome above. The savages
+skirmished behind the girdle of flames, like imps along the
+blood-coloured snow. The settlers discharged their muskets through the
+singed loopholes, firing low, and taking the chances with heroic
+fortitude. Sir Ralph and Bernard Kingswell were here and there, with
+their swords in their hands and encouragement in speech and bearing.
+Both knew that this engagement would be a fight to the finish; and both
+felt reasonably sure that a shrewder and braver commander than Panounia
+was against them.
+
+The ammunition was carried from the storehouse to the shed over the
+well, for the fire was already crackling against the log walls of the
+buildings. Suddenly a sharp report and a high shower of sparks and
+burning fragments broke from the gun-platform; and, for the moment, the
+warriors were scattered from that side. One of the cannon had exploded.
+That corner of the stockade immediately fell and settled to the snow.
+Next instant the second gun was fired by the flames. It sent its whole
+charge into the uncertain Beothics, scattering them to cover in yelling
+disorder. At that the Englishmen cheered, and set about fighting back
+the encroaching flames.
+
+Inspiration, or a font of courage to be drawn upon at need, must have
+dwelt behind the shelter of the spruces; for within a very few minutes
+of the retreat, all the warriors, save the wounded, were about the fort
+again. Kingswell took note of it, and suspected the inspiration to be
+nothing else than Pierre d'Antons' insinuating presence and dazzling
+smile. A spur, too, he suspected--the spur of the mongrel Frenchman's
+evil sneer and black temper. He knew enough of the aboriginal character
+to feel that it would prove but a plaything for such a personality as
+the buccaneer's. He looked across the glowing, smoking breach in the
+fortifications with hard eyes. He voiced his desire to have the fellow
+by the throat, or at the point of his sword, in tones that rang like a
+curse.
+
+Suddenly Kingswell left his post and ran to the well-house.
+
+He knew where the _Pelican's_ powder lay among the stores, done up in
+five canvas bags of about twelve pounds each. With two of these under
+his cloak, he returned to his place a few paces from the subsiding red
+barrier that still held the enemy from the interior of the fort. By this
+time the back of Trigget's cabin was smouldering. The roofs of the
+cabins, deep with snow, were safe; but the rear walls were all in a fair
+way of being ignited by the crackling brushwood, which the warriors of
+Panounia diligently piled against them.
+
+Kingswell left the protection of the rest of the square to Sir Ralph,
+William Trigget, and all the men of the garrison save Tom Bent. The old
+boatswain was, by this time, a very active convalescent. Kingswell
+whispered a word or two in his ear. They kept a sharp lookout across the
+wreckage of the fallen corner of the stockade. They saw a party of the
+enemy gather ominously close to the glowing edge of the breach.
+Kingswell passed one of the bags of powder to his companion. "When I
+give the word," he said.
+
+Suddenly the black knot of warriors dashed into the obstruction,
+brandishing spears and clubs, and screaming like maniacs. Kingswell
+uttered a low, quick cry, tossed his bag of powder into the glowing
+coals under the feet of the enemy, and ran for the shelter of the
+well-house at top speed. Tom Bent followed his movements on the instant.
+Together they reached the narrow shelter; and, before they could turn
+about, the air shook and reeled, as if a bolt of wind had broken upon
+them, a blinding flash seemed to consume the whole night, and a puffing,
+thumping report stunned their ears. They stumbled against the sides of
+the shed, clawed desperately, and fell to the ground.
+
+When Bernard Kingswell and the trusty boatswain regained their senses
+(which had left them for only a few seconds), they crawled from the
+well-house and stared about them. The square was not so bright as it had
+been, and, save for a few huddled shapes on the snow, was empty. By the
+shouting and mixed tumult, they knew that the fighting was now farther
+away--that the settlers had sallied forth on the offensive. They could
+not understand such recklessness; but they decided, without hesitation,
+to take the risk. They ran to the now black gap in the palisades. Fire,
+coals, wreckage, and even the snow had been hurled and blown broadcast.
+They crossed the torn ground and headed for the tumult in the fitfully
+illuminated spaces beyond. Native war-whoops and English shouts mixed
+and clashed in the frosty air. On the very edge of the shifting
+conflict, the old sailor clutched his master's arm. "Hark!" he cried.
+"D'ye hear that now? It be the yell o' that young Ouenwa, sir, or ye can
+call me a Dutcher!"
+
+At the same moment, before Kingswell could reply to Bent's statement, a
+club, thrown by a retreating warrior, caught the gentleman on the side
+of the head and felled him like a thing of wood. He moaned, as he
+toppled over. Then he lay still on the ruddy snow.
+
+
+Beatrix had a dozen candles alight in the living-room of the baronet's
+cabin. Word had reached her that Ouenwa and Black Feather had arrived in
+time to take advantage of the rebuff dealt the enemy by the explosions
+of the bags of powder. When victory had seemed to be hopelessly in the
+hands of the determined savages, Ouenwa and his followers, though spent
+from their journey, had made a timely and successful rear attack.
+
+The girl was radiant. She moved up and down the room, eagerly awaiting
+the return of Bernard Kingswell. She questioned herself as to that, and
+laughed joyously. Yes, it was Bernard, beyond peradventure, whom heart,
+hands, and lips longed to recover and reward. A month ago, a week ago,
+it would have been her father--even a night ago he would have shared,
+equally with the lover, in her sweet and eager concern. But now she sped
+from hearth to door, and peered out into the blackness, with no thought
+of any of those brave fellows save the lad of Bristol.
+
+The burning brush had all been trampled out, and the fires in the walls
+and stockade had been quenched with water. The little square was dark,
+save for the subdued fingers of light from windows and doors. Beatrix
+peered from the open door, regardless of the cold. She was outlined
+black against the warm radiance inside the room. Her silken garments
+clung about her, pressed gently by a breath of wind. She rested a hand
+on either upright of the doorway, and leaned forward as if, at a whim,
+she would fly out from the threshold. Presently shadowy figures took
+shape in the gloom, and she heard her father's voice, and William
+Trigget's, and the high pipe of Ouenwa. But she caught no sound of
+Bernard Kingswell's clear tones. A sudden fear caught her, and she
+stepped out upon the trampled snow and called to Sir Ralph. In a moment
+he was at her side, and had an arm about her.
+
+"Sweeting," he said, "you must stay within for a little. The night is
+bitterly cold, and--"
+
+"But where is Bernard?" she whispered, staring past him.
+
+"He is with the others," replied the baronet,--"with Ouenwa and his
+brave fellows, and the dauntless Trigget."
+
+He spoke quickly and uneasily, and led her back to the cabin at the same
+time. He closed the door, and laid a wet sword across a stool.
+
+"What is it?" she cried, facing him, with wide eyes and bloodless
+cheeks. "Tell me! Tell me!"
+
+"The lad is hurt," admitted Sir Ralph.
+
+"Hurt?" repeated the girl, vaguely. "Hurt? How should he be hurt?"
+
+She shivered, and gripped her hand desperately. Could it be that the
+High God had been deaf to her prayers?
+
+Sir Ralph's face went as pale as hers; for all he knew of Kingswell's
+condition was that he still breathed, and that his hat had saved his
+head from being cut. Whether the skull was broken or not, he did not
+know. He braced himself, and smiled.
+
+"My dear," he said, "he is not seriously hurt, so do not stand like
+that--for God's sake!"
+
+At the last words his voice lost its note of composure, and broke
+shrilly. He caught her to him. "Rip me," he cried, "but if you act so
+when he is simply knocked over, what will you do if he ever gets a real
+wound!"
+
+The girl was comforted. Tears sprang to her eyes, and the blood returned
+to her cheeks. She clung to the baronet and sobbed against his shoulder.
+Presently she looked up.
+
+"Take me to him," she begged, "or bring him here."
+
+"So you love this Bernard Kingswell?" inquired her father, looking
+steadily into her face.
+
+Her gleaming eyes did not waver from his gaze. "Yes," she replied,
+quietly.
+
+The man turned away, took his blood-wet sword from the stool, eyed it
+dully, and leaned it against the wall. He was trying to imagine what the
+lad's death would mean to his daughter's future; but he could only see
+that it would mean a few more years for himself. He started guiltily,
+and returned to his daughter. His face was desperately grim.
+
+"Wait for me," he said. "I'll see how the lad is doing now; and shall
+return immediately."
+
+Sir Ralph crossed to the cottage that had been built for D'Antons, and
+which had passed on to Kingswell. He opened the door softly and stepped
+within. He found the wounded gentleman lying prone on his couch,
+half-undressed, and with bandaged head. Ouenwa, gaunt and blood-stained,
+was beside the still figure.
+
+"He opened his eyes," whispered the boy; "but see, he has closed them
+again. His spirit waits at the spreading of the trails."
+
+Sir Ralph bent down and examined the linen dressings on Kingswell's
+head. They were exceedingly well arranged. He saw that the hair had been
+cut away from the place of the wound.
+
+"Your work, Ouenwa?" he inquired.
+
+The boy nodded. The baronet felt his friend's pulse.
+
+"It beats strong," he said. "The heart seems sure enough of the path to
+take."
+
+Ouenwa's face lighted quickly. "He has chosen," he said, gravely. "He
+has seen the hunting-grounds shining beyond the west, but the beauty of
+them has not lured him along that trail."
+
+The baronet smiled quickly into the Beothic's eyes. "You are a brave
+lad, and we are deep in debt to you," he exclaimed. "Your bravery and
+wit have saved the fort and all our lives. Watch your friend a few
+minutes longer; I but go to bring another nurse to help you. Then you
+may sleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FATE DEALS CARDS OF BOTH COLOURS IN THE LITTLE FORT
+
+
+From that brisk fight, in which Ouenwa and his twenty braves and the
+little garrison of Fort Beatrix defeated Panounia, Black Feather brought
+a confirmation of Pierre d'Antons' concern in the last attacks upon the
+settlement. It consisted of a sword-belt and an empty scabbard. He had
+torn them from the person of a tall antagonist during a brief
+hand-to-hand encounter. The owner of the gear had won free, Black
+Feather regretted to say. Sir Ralph, too, felt the escape of his enemy,
+and sincerely hoped that the defeat had ended his power over Panounia,
+and brought down that wolfish chief's hatred instead.
+
+On the morning after the battle, the little plantation presented a busy
+though sombre appearance to those of its people who were in condition to
+view it. Along the woods and rising ground to the north, the snow and
+frozen soil were being hollowed to receive the bodies of those slain in
+the fight. The dead of the enemy had been carried far into the woods,
+and piled together with scant ceremony. The settlers had lost three of
+their number,--young Donnelly, Harding, and the younger Trigget. Four of
+the rescuing party were dead and wounded. Tom Bent was on his back
+again, and Kingswell's head was ringing like a sea-shell. William
+Trigget was cut about the face and sore all over; but he kept on his
+feet.
+
+After the graves were chipped in the iron earth, and the shrouded bodies
+lowered therein and covered, the tribesmen, under Black Feather's
+orders, set about building themselves lodges outside the stockade. It
+had been decided that, for mutual support, the friendly Beothics should
+camp near the fort, at least for the remainder of the winter. With axes
+borrowed from the settlement, they soon had the forest ringing with the
+noise of their labour. Though they had travelled light, in their hurry
+to rescue the friends of Ouenwa and Black Feather, they had dragged
+along with them a few sled-loads of deerskins and birch bark, with which
+to cover their wigwams. So the shelters sprang up quickly about the torn
+and scorched palisades; for it was a small matter to trim the poles and
+fit the pliable roofs across the conical frames.
+
+The dusk gathered over the wilderness, dimming the edges of white
+barren and black forest and round hill. The stars shone silver above,
+and the fires of the victorious men of the totem of the Bear glowed red
+below. In the outer room of the cabin that had been Pierre d'Antons',
+Beatrix sat alone by Kingswell's bed. Her eyes were on the leaping
+flames in the chimney, and his were on the fair lines of her averted
+face. The top of his head was so swathed in bandages that he looked like
+a turbaned Turk. Cheeks and chin were white as paper in the unstable
+light. His eyes were bright with a touch of fever brought on by his
+suffering. His mind was in a fitful mood, for a minute or two steady
+enough and concerned with the present and the room in which he lay, and
+then wandering abroad, exploring vague trails of remembrance and
+imagining. Sometimes he murmured words and sentences, but in such a
+gabbling style that his nurse could have made nothing of what was
+passing in his brain even if she had taken such advantage of his
+condition as to try.
+
+After a long spell of uneasy mutterings, followed by a profound silence,
+he suddenly flung out one arm. The movement startled Beatrix from her
+dreaming, and she turned her face back to him from the fire.
+
+"Twenty days without water," he whispered, distinctly. "Twenty
+days--and that beast Trowley is laughing to see my tongue between my
+teeth like a squeezed rag."
+
+The girl caught up a mug of water and held it to his lips. He drank
+greedily, and then took hold of her hand. His head was against the
+hollow of her arm; for, to give him the drink, she had knelt beside his
+low bed.
+
+"Beatrix," he said, gravely, "let us pretend that you love me."
+
+She was strangely moved at that, and bent closer to see his eyes.
+
+"Why pretend, dear heart?" she answered. "I do love you, as you very
+well know. Sleep again, Bernard, with your head so--pressed close."
+
+"I feel your heart," he said, simply as a child. The fever was as a fine
+haze across the mirror of his brain.
+
+"It beats only for you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek.
+The lad's eyes shone with a clearer light at that.
+
+"Tell me that this is no vision of fever," he said. "Tell me, or
+strength will bring nothing but sorrow. Better death than to find your
+kisses a trick of dreaming."
+
+"Is it not a pleasant dream?" she asked, softly, smiling a little.
+
+"Ay; to dream so, a man would gladly have done with waking," he replied.
+"If it were not in life that Beatrix were mine, then would I follow the
+vision through eternal sleep--as God is my judge."
+
+"Hush, dear lad," she murmured, "for the heart and the body of Beatrix
+are of right Somersetshire stuff, to fade not at any whim of fever--and
+the love she gives you will outlast life--as God is our judge and love
+His handiwork." And she kissed him again, blushing sweetly at her
+daring. And so they remained, she kneeling beside the couch, and he with
+his bandaged head against her lovely shoulder, until Sir Ralph entered
+the cabin, fumbling discreetly at the latch.
+
+The days passed slowly in the heart of that frozen wilderness between
+the white river and the long graves. Stockade and wall were repaired.
+Fresh meat was trapped and shot in sheltered valley and rough wood. The
+forge rang again with the clanging of sledges, and the tracts of timber
+with the swinging axes. Hope reawoke in hearts long dismayed, and blood
+ran more redly to the stir of work and freedom. Master Kingswell gained
+fresh strength with the rounding of every day, and Mistress Westleigh
+recovered all her glory of eyes and lips and hair. Ouenwa, honoured by
+all, carried himself like a gentleman and a warrior. Black Feather, with
+his wife and his surviving child in a snug lodge, felt again the zest
+and peace of living. Only Sir Ralph seemed to find no ray of comfort in
+the days of security. He brooded alone, avoiding even his daughter. His
+face grew thinner, and his shoulders lost something of their youthful
+vigour. The desolation and bitterness had, at last, dimmed his courage
+and his philosophy. The very relief at Panounia's defeat and D'Antons'
+supposed overthrow had, somehow, weakened his gallant endurance. He
+counted it a grievance that God had not led him to his death in the last
+fight, as he had prayed so earnestly. He had been eager then. Now he
+must plan it over again--over and over--in cold reasoning and cold
+blood, and alone by the fire. A foolish, causeless anger got hold upon
+him at times; and again he would be all repentance, telling his heart
+that, no matter how bitter his fate, it was fully deserved. And so, day
+by day, the shadows grew behind his brain, and a little seed of madness
+germinated and took root.
+
+For a time Beatrix did not notice the change in her father's manner and
+habits. The thing disclosed itself so gradually, and she was so intent
+upon the nursing of her lover; and yet again, the baronet had been
+variable in his moods, to a certain extent, ever since the beginning of
+his troubles--years enough ago. It was Ouenwa who first saw that
+something had gone radically wrong in the broken gentleman's mind, and
+his knowledge had come about in this wise.
+
+The young Beothic, though an ardent sportsman and warrior, was a still
+more ardent seeker after bookish wisdom. Kingswell, before his hurt, had
+taught him something of the art of reading. Later, Mistress Westleigh
+had carried it further. By the time that Kingswell was safely on the
+road to his old health and a mended head, Ouenwa could spell out a page
+of English print very creditably. His primer was one of those volumes of
+Master Will Shakespeare's plays, which the Frenchman had left behind
+him. One day Beatrix entered the cabin to take her turn at tending the
+invalid, and found Ouenwa with the drama in his hands, and his youthful
+brow painfully furrowed with thought. She took the book from him and
+fluttered the pages, pausing here and there to read a line or two.
+
+"Run away," said she, "and on a shelf beside our chimney you will find a
+book with easier words than this contains. There is matter here, I
+think, that is beyond a beginner."
+
+At that Kingswell raised himself to his elbow and nodded his sore head
+eagerly.
+
+"Ay, lad, run and find yourself an easier book," he said.
+
+Nothing loath, for his quest of learning was sincere,--as was everything
+about him,--Ouenwa left the presence of the lovers and ran across the
+snow to Sir Ralph's cabin. He told his errand to the baronet. That
+gentleman looked at him long and keenly, so that the boy trembled and
+wished himself out of the house. Then, with a sudden start and a harsh
+laugh, "Help yourself, lad," said Sir Ralph. Ouenwa found the shelf of
+books, and, kneeling before it, was soon busy looking over the divers
+volumes and broad-sheets with which it was piled high. He found a rhymed
+and pictured chap-book greatly to his liking. He was spelling out the
+first verses when a movement behind his back brought him to a sense of
+his whereabouts. He turned quickly. There stood the baronet, with a
+walking-cane in his hand, making lunge and thrust at a spot of resin on
+the log wall. The poor gentleman stamped and straddled, pinked the
+unseen swordsman, and parried the unseen blade, with a dashing air.
+There was a light in his eyes and a twist of the lips that struck
+Ouenwa's heart cold in his side. The light was that which, when seen in
+the eyes of a man of a primitive people, divides that man from the laws
+and responsibilities that are the portion of his fellows. It was the
+gleam of idiocy--that sinister sheen that cuts a man from his
+birthright.
+
+The boy knelt there, motionless with fear, with his face turned over his
+shoulder. He watched every movement of the fantastic exhibition with
+fascinated eyes. He fairly held his breath, so terrible was the display
+in that quiet, dim-lit room. Suddenly the baronet lowered the point of
+the modish cane smartly to the floor, and turned upon the lad with a
+smile, an embarrassed flush on his thin cheeks, and sane eyes.
+
+"'Tis a pretty art--this of the French rapier," he said, "and I make a
+point of keeping my wrist limber for it."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Ouenwa.
+
+Sir Ralph flung the walking-cane aside, and sat down despondently in the
+nearest chair. Ouenwa saw, at a glance, that his presence was already
+forgotten. With furtive movements and such haste as he could manage, he
+began replacing some of the books and selecting others to carry away
+with him.
+
+"Sweeting," said the baronet, "a pipe of tobacco would rest me."
+
+Ouenwa realized that the gentleman, in his strange mood, believed that
+Mistress Beatrix was in the room; but Ouenwa had tact enough not to
+point out the little mistake. He got up noiselessly and filled the bowl
+of a long pipe from a great jar on the chimney-piece. He took a splinter
+of wood from the basket by the hearth and lit it at the fire. Stepping
+softly to the baronet's side, he placed the pipe in his hand, and held
+the light to the tobacco while the baronet puffed reflectively and
+unseeingly. Then the lad gathered up his books and left the cabin. Fear
+of Sir Ralph's wild manner was cold in his veins.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+PIERRE D'ANTONS PARRIES ANOTHER THRUST
+
+
+And now to tell something of the movements of Pierre d'Antons, which, of
+late, have been carried on behind the screen of the forest and beyond
+the ken of the reader.
+
+The defeat of Panounia's warriors, on that night of fire and blood,
+knocked the adventurer's fortunes flatter than they had ever been. You
+may believe that he cursed Ouenwa bitterly, and wished that he had
+killed him long ago, when the lad threw his followers into the battle.
+It was then that D'Antons himself left his post beyond the scuffle, and,
+with desperate efforts, tried to turn the reverse back to victory. His
+swordsmanship and energy availed him nothing. He missed capture only by
+slipping the buckle of his sword-belt. Then, a fugitive from both sides,
+he ran to the woods, avoiding the scattered and retreating warriors who
+had so lately been struggling in his behalf as fearfully as he would
+have avoided William Trigget or Sir Ralph Westleigh. One of his late
+comrades, trailing wounded limbs along the snow, hurled a Beothic curse
+after him. Another, better prepared, let fly a war-club, and missed him
+by an inch. He slashed on, through the underbrush, the drifts, and the
+dark, sure that capture by any of the defeated savages would mean death
+and perhaps torture.
+
+The black captain did not run on any vague course, despite his haste. He
+knew where a possibility of help awaited him. He had given his wits to
+more than plans of revenge and kidnapping during his sojourn with
+Panounia. In winning the men to him, he knew that his hold upon them
+would not outlast defeat; but in winning the love of the Beothic maiden
+Miwandi, he had laid up store against an evil day. But he had not won
+her heart simply on a chance of defeat--far from it, for he had not
+dreamed of such a chance. It was a pleasant thing in itself to be the
+lover of that nut-brown, lithe-limbed, warm-hearted young girl--for
+Miwandi suspected nothing of his desire for, and plans concerning, the
+lady in the fort. She loved the tall foreigner quickly and surely. She
+was extravagantly proud of his power over the warriors of her people. He
+was her brave, and as such she cherished him openly, to the envy rather
+than the criticism of the other women of the encampment.
+
+Miwandi was the daughter of a lesser chief of Panounia's faction. She
+was seventeen years of age. Her skin was ruddy brown, darker than the
+skins of some of her people and lighter than that of others. Her hair
+was brown and of a silken texture, very unlike the straight locks of the
+savages of the great continent to the westward. Her features were good,
+and her eyes were full of life and warmth. D'Antons' conquest rankled in
+the breasts of more than one of the young bucks of the camp.
+
+Pierre d'Antons, fleeing from the fighting men of both parties, shaped
+his course for the lodge in which Miwandi dwelt. As he ran, with fear at
+his heels, he forgot to regret the girl in the fort; instead, a pang of
+honest affection for the comely young woman toward whom he was flying
+for help stirred in him. He stumbled into the lodge, and Miwandi caught
+him in her arms. In a few quick words, he told her of the defeat, and of
+the anger of Panounia's warriors toward him. She kissed him once,
+passionately, and then fell to collecting a few things--a quiver of
+arrows, a bow, furs, and some food. She pressed a bundle into his arms.
+He accepted it without a word. She bound her snow-shoes to her feet, and
+retied the wrenched thongs of his. Then they slipped from the dark
+lodge to the darker woods; and his sheathless sword, damp with blood,
+was still in his hand. They heard the cries of the wounded behind them,
+and other cries that inspired them to flight.
+
+They fled for hours, without pausing to ease their breathing. Of the
+two, it was the man who sometimes lagged, who often stumbled, and who
+cried once that he would rather be captured than strain limb and lung to
+another effort. D'Antons had been actively employed throughout the day,
+and again during the most desperate passages of the battle, and his
+strength was well-nigh exhausted. At last he fell and lay prone. In an
+instant the girl was beside him, pillowing his head and shielding his
+body from the cold, and revived him with brandy from the scanty supply
+in his flask. By that time the dawn was breaking gray under the stars,
+and all sounds of the chase had died away. She cut an armful of
+fir-branches, and with them and the skins she and D'Antons had carried,
+she made a rude bed and a yet ruder shelter. So they lay until high
+noon, fugitives in a desolate wilderness, with death, in half a dozen
+guises, lurking on either hand.
+
+Behind D'Antons and Miwandi, the broken band of Panounia's followers
+soon gave up the hunt. Matters were not in condition to be mended by
+killing a long-faced Frenchman and a pretty girl. The defeated savages
+had their own wounds to see to, and already too many dead to hide under
+the snow. A matter of sentiment, like the torturing and killing of their
+false leader D'Antons, would have to wait. Now, of all those valorous
+warriors who had menaced the little fort since the very beginning of
+winter, only ten remained unhurt. Panounia was dead. He had breathed his
+last in the edge of the woods, while the battle was still raging, and
+had been carried farther in by one of his men. Thus his death had
+remained unknown to the victors; as had also the deaths of many more of
+the besiegers. Wolf Slayer, that courageous savage lad who had once
+boasted of his deeds to Ouenwa, was desperately hurt. Painfully and
+hopelessly, those of the wounded who could move at all, the women, and
+the unhurt of the band, retreated toward farther and surer fastnesses.
+The wounded who could not drag themselves along were left to perish in
+the snow. Some were frozen stiff before morning. Some bled to death
+within the same time. A few lived until they were discovered by Ouenwa's
+men in the bright daytime,--they were reported as having been found
+dead.
+
+D'Antons and Miwandi travelled, by forced marches, until they reached a
+wooded valley and a narrow, frozen river. Along this they journeyed
+inland and southward. At last they found a spot that promised shelter
+from the bleak winds as well as from prying eyes. There they built a
+wigwam of such materials as were at hand. Game was fairly plentiful in
+the protected coverts around. They soon had a comfortable retreat
+fashioned in that safe and voiceless place.
+
+"It will do until summer brings the ships," remarked D'Antons, busy with
+plans whereby he might give Dame Fortune's wheel another twirl.
+Sometimes he spent whole hours in telling Miwandi brave tales of far and
+beautiful countries. He spoke of white towns above green harbours, of
+high forests with strange, bright birds flying through their tops, and
+of wide savannahs, whereon roved herds of great, sharp-horned beasts of
+more weight than a stag caribou.
+
+"Oh, but you do not mean to leave me, Heart-of-Life," she cried.
+
+So he swore, by a dozen saints, that she, Miwandi, should be his queen
+in a palace of white stone above a tropic sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A GRIM TURN OF MARCH MADNESS
+
+
+Day by day, Sir Ralph Westleigh's mental sickness increased. It
+strengthened in the dark, like a blight on corn. Very gradually, and day
+by day, it grew over the bright surface of his mind and spirit. The
+sureness of its advance was a fearful thing to watch.
+
+By the time March was over the wilderness, with a hint of spring in the
+morning skies, the baronet's condition was noticeable to even the
+dullest inmate of the settlement. The poor gentleman spoke little--and
+that little was seldom to the point. It seemed as if he had forgotten
+how to smile, or even to make a pretence at mirth. He walked alone for
+hours on the frozen river and through the woods. The Beothics of the
+camp before the fort stood in awe of him. At times he treated Beatrix
+and Bernard Kingswell as strangers; but he always knew Maggie Stone, and
+chided her often on the scantiness of his dinners. All day, indoors and
+out, he wore a rapier at his side. In the cabin he spent half of the
+time inert by the fire, without book, or cards, or chess, and the rest
+of it in sword-play with an imaginary antagonist.
+
+It was well for Beatrix that she had found Bernard's love before the
+fresh misfortune descended upon her. But even with that comfort and
+inspiration, her father's derangement affected her bitterly. They had
+been such friends; and now he had blank eyes and deaf ears for all her
+actions and words. It was twenty times harder for her than to have seen
+him struck down by knife or arrow. Death seemed an honest thing compared
+to that coldness and vagueness of spirit that gathered more thickly
+about him with the passing of each day. It was as if another life,
+another spirit, had taken possession of the familiar body and beloved
+features. After two weeks neither her kisses nor her tears had any
+potency to break through the awful estrangement. Her prayers, her fond
+recollections of their old companionship, brought no gleam to the dull
+eye.
+
+By the end of March the busy boat-builders and smiths of the
+settlement--and every man save Sir Ralph was either one or the
+other--had two new boats all but completed. They were staunch crafts,
+of about the capacity and model of the _Pelican_. They were intended for
+fishing on the river and the great bays and for exploration cruises.
+
+William Trigget, who was a master shipbuilder as he was a master
+mariner, entertained great ideas of fishing and trading more openly than
+Sir Ralph had sanctioned in the past. He was for carving out a real home
+in the wilderness, and his wife was of the same mind.
+
+"We couldn't bear to leave the boy's grave," he said.
+
+Kingswell promised that, should he win back to Bristol, and find his
+affairs in order, he would use his influence in behalf of the settlement
+on Gray Goose River. Donnelly, too, was all for holding to the new land.
+
+"It be rough, God knows," he said, "but it be sort o' hopeful, too. If
+they danged savages leaves us alone, an' trade's decent, I be for
+spendin' the balance o' my days alongside o' Skipper Trigget. There be a
+grave yonder the missus an' me wouldn't turn our backs on, not if we
+could help it."
+
+Kingswell himself was not building any dreams of fixing his lot in that
+desolate place; and neither was old Tom Bent, though he spoke little on
+the subject. Ouenwa's ambitions continued to point overseas. Beatrix,
+now despondent at her father's trouble, and again happy in her love,
+gave little thought to the future of the settlement, or to any plans for
+the days to come, save vague dreamings of an English home.
+
+March wore along, and in open spaces the snow shrank inch by inch. Then
+rain fell; and after that a time of tingling cold held all the
+wilderness in a ringing white imprisonment. A man could run over the
+snow-fields and the bed of the river without snow-shoes; for the surface
+was tough as wood, white as the shield of that sinless knight, Sir
+Galahad, and glistening as a thousand diamonds. The mornings lifted
+clear silver and pale gold along the east. The evenings faded out in
+crimson and saffron, and the twilights, even when the stars were lit,
+made of the dome of heaven a bubble of thinnest green. And back of it
+all, despite the frost, hung a suggestion of sap-reddened twigs and
+blossoming trees.
+
+The lure of the season touched every one in the fort, and the camp
+beside it. It ran in Sir Ralph's blood like some fabled wine--for what
+vintage of France or Spain is the stuff of which the poets sing. It
+mounted to his head with a high, unregretting recklessness, and doubled
+the madness that already lurked there. Something of his old manner
+returned, and for a whole evening he sat with Beatrix and Kingswell and
+talked rationally and hopefully. Also, that same night, he played a game
+of chess. He spoke of the future as one who sees into it clearly and
+without fear. He recalled the past without any sign of embarrassment.
+But Kingswell, meeting his eyes by chance, caught a light of derision in
+them.
+
+Very early in the morning, while the stars still glinted overhead, and
+the promise of day was no more than a strip of pearl along the east, Sir
+Ralph Westleigh unbarred the door of his cabin and slipped out. He was
+warmly and carefully dressed in furs and moccasins. He carried his sword
+free under his arm. Very cautiously he scaled the palisade and dropped
+to the frozen crust of snow outside. The Beothic encampment lay around
+the corner of the fort, so he was safe from detection from that quarter.
+He looked about and behind with a cunning smile. Then he ran lightly
+into the woods.
+
+Sir Ralph followed his aimless course for miles, and his soft-shod feet
+left no mark on the hard surface of the snow. Then the sun slid up and
+over, and in the warmth of high noon the frozen crust of the wilderness
+thawed a little, and here and there the baronet's feet broke through. At
+that he began to feel fatigue and a disconcerting pang of doubt. He
+flung himself down in a little thicket of spruces, and called for Maggie
+Stone to bring him food and drink. He called again and again. He shouted
+other names than that of the old servant. In a sudden agony of fear, he
+jumped to his feet and plunged through the evergreens. At every third
+step he sank to his knee, or half-way up his thigh. He screamed the name
+of his daughter, "Beatrix, Beatrix"--or was it his dead wife he was
+calling? He cried for guidance to many great gentlemen of England who
+had been his boon companions in the old days, forgetting that death had
+taken some of them away from him, and that the rest, to a man, had
+turned of their own accord. Presently he ceased his foolish outcry and
+plodded along, with no thought of the course, sobbing the while like a
+lost child.
+
+The sun began its downward journey, and still the baronet, with his
+sheathed sword under his arm, staggered across the voiceless wilderness.
+Toward mid-afternoon the thawing crust froze again, and he travelled
+with less difficulty. Ever and anon his poor eyes pictured a running
+figure in an edge of blue shadow before him. At times it was the figure
+of the nobleman he had killed in England, in the dispute at the
+gaming-table, and again it was a friend,--Kingswell or Trigget, or
+another of the fort,--and yet again it was Pierre d'Antons. But no
+matter how he strove to run down the lurker, he lost him every time.
+Thirst plagued him, and he ate the clear ice and snow off the fronds of
+the spruces. Hunger gnawed him awhile, but passed gradually. The west
+took on the flame and glory of sunset. The east darkened. The stars
+pricked through the high shell of the sky. Night gathered her cloudless
+darkness over the wilderness; and still the demented baronet followed
+his aimless quest.
+
+Toward evening of the day following Sir Ralph Westleigh's departure from
+Fort Beatrix, Pierre d'Antons and Miwandi were startled by the sudden
+and noiseless appearance of a gaunt and wild-eyed person in the doorway
+of their lodge. The woman cried out, and ran to the farthest corner of
+the wigwam. D'Antons staggered back, and his face turned gray as the
+ashes around the fire-stone. The unexpected visitor drew his blade,
+flung the sheath behind him on the snow, and advanced upon the fugitive
+adventurer. D'Antons sprang back and caught up his own sword from where
+it lay on a couch of branches and skins. He swore, more in wonder than
+anger.
+
+"Westleigh!" he cried. "What brings you here, you fool--and how many
+follow you?"
+
+The baronet halted and glanced quickly over his shoulder. He reeled a
+little, but his eyes changed in their light and colour.
+
+"I am alone," he said. "Yes, I am alone." His voice was quiet. He seemed
+sorely puzzled. D'Antons' face regained its swarthy tints, and he
+laughed harshly.
+
+"So you have hunted me down, old cock," he said, smiling. "You'll find
+that the quarry has fangs--in his own den."
+
+The red of madness returned to Sir Ralph's eyes. He advanced his rapier.
+In a second the fight was on. For a few minutes the strength of insanity
+supported the baronet's starving muscles and reeling brain. Then his
+thrusts began to go wide, and his guard to waver. A clean lunge dropped
+him in the door of the lodge without a cry. The life-blood of the last
+baronet of Beverly and Randon made a vivid circle of red on the snow of
+that nameless wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE RUNNING OF THE ICE
+
+
+It was Beatrix who first discovered her father's flight; but that was
+four hours after its occurrence. The fort was soon astir with the news.
+Men set out in all directions, in search of the missing one. Half a
+dozen of the friendly Beothics joined in the hunt. They went east and
+west, north and south. The sharpest eyes could detect no trail of the
+madman's feet. Beatrix insisted upon accompanying Bernard and Ouenwa.
+She tried to show a brave face; but something in her heart told her to
+expect the worst. The three travelled southward, and shortly before
+sunset returned to the fort, unsuccessful. They found that all the other
+searchers had got back, save Black Feather and a young brave named
+Kakatoc, who had set out together.
+
+By the merest chance Black Feather and his companion happened upon the
+place where the baronet had first broken through the melting crust. With
+but little effort they found where he had rested and taken up his
+journey again. Farther on, the faintness of the trail put an edge to
+their determination to find the unfortunate gentleman. It was a
+challenge to their woodcraft, and they accepted it eagerly. But within
+two hours of finding the marks, they lost them again. They ranged wide;
+and at last Black Feather discovered a footprint in a little pad of snow
+beside a stunted spruce. In several places the branches of the tree
+showed where the snow had been broken away, as if by a man's hand. It
+was enough to keep them to the quest.
+
+Not in the next day, but in the early morning after that, the two
+Beothics happened upon a sheltered valley and a snow-cleared space, with
+a fire-stone in the middle of it, where a lodge had lately stood. As for
+signs of blood, there were none. Snow had been deftly spread and
+trampled over it. All around the so evident site of a human habitation
+the hard crust gleamed unbroken, save for a little path that ran down to
+a hole in the ice of the stream. After considering the place, and
+shaking their heads, the two ate the last of the food they had in their
+pouches and turned their feet back to the fort. They passed within a few
+paces of a dense thicket, in the heart of which the baronet's body lay
+uncovered. But how were they to know it, when even the prowling foxes
+had not yet found it out!
+
+For several days the search was continued by the settlers and their
+allies, but all in vain. It was not even suspected that the deserted
+camping-place which Black Feather and Kakatoc had seen had so lately
+been warmed by the feet of Pierre d'Antons and the blood of the lost
+baronet. For a few days longer the business of the settlement lagged,
+and the place wore an air of mourning, despite the ever-brightening and
+mellowing season. Then the axes struck up their chant again, and the
+little duties of the common day erased the forebodings of Eternity from
+the minds of the pioneers. Only Mistress Beatrix could see nothing of
+the reawakening of life and hope for the sorrow in her heart and the
+mist across her eyes. She had loved her father deeply and faithfully,
+with a love that had been strengthened by his misfortunes. She had felt
+toward him the combined affections of daughter and sister and friend.
+She had made allowances for the weaknesses of his later years that
+equalled the ever charitable devotion of a parent for a best-loved
+child. She had not been, and was not now, blind to the passion of gaming
+that had forced him to exile and an unknown death; but she had forgiven
+it long ago. As to the alleged murder that had made such an evil odour
+in London, she believed--and rightly--that hot blood and overmuch wine
+had been to blame, and that her father's sword had been drawn after the
+victim's.
+
+Bernard Kingswell did all in his power to comfort the bereaved girl. He
+urged her to spend much of her time out-of-doors. He told his plans for
+their future, and to cheer her he built them even more hopefully than he
+felt; for he realized that many difficulties were yet to be overcome
+before Bristol was safely reached. With Ouenwa, the two often went on
+long tramps through the woods. Their evenings were always spent
+together. Sometimes he read aloud to her, and sometimes they played at
+chess. One evening she got her violin, and played as wonderfully as she
+had on that other occasion; but instead of leaving him afterward without
+a word, as she had done, she laid the fiddle aside and nestled into his
+arms. He held her tenderly, patting the bright hair against his
+shoulder, and murmuring broken assurances of his love and sympathy. She
+wept quietly for a little while; but when she kissed him at the door,
+her face and eyes shone with something of their old light.
+
+By mid-April knobs of rock and moss pierced through the shrinking snow
+in the open places; but in the woods the drifts continued to withstand
+the wasting breath of the spring winds. Gray Goose River was no longer
+a broad path of spotless white. Its surface was mottled with patches of
+sodden gray; and an attentive listener on the bank might hear a myriad
+of tiny voices, some sibilant and some tinkling and liquid, in and under
+the enfeebled ice. Up and down the valley, between the knolls and wooded
+hills, the little streams were already snarling and roaring, and here
+and there flashing brown shoulders to the sunlight. Through all the
+wilderness ran a tingling whisper; and twilight, midnight, and dawn were
+stirred by the falling cries of wild-fowl on the wing. A faint, alluring
+fragrance was in the air--the scent of millions of swelling buds and
+crimson willow-stems.
+
+About that time three warriors of the following of the dead Panounia
+arrived at the fort, with prayers for peace on their lips and gifts in
+their hands. They were received by Kingswell, William Trigget, and
+Ouenwa from the fort, and Black Feather and two of his chiefs from the
+camp. A lengthy business was gone through with, and much strong
+Virginian tobacco was burned. Documents were written in English and in
+the picture-writing of the natives, and read aloud, by Ouenwa, in both
+languages. Then they were solemnly signed by all present, and peace was
+restored to the great tribe of the North, and protection, trade, and
+lands were granted for all time to the inhabitants of Fort Beatrix and
+their descendants. The three visitors went back to their people with
+rolls of red cloth and packets of glass beads, pot-metal knives, and
+other useless trinkets on their shoulders.
+
+Shortly after their departure from the fort, a storm of rain blew up
+from the sou'east. All day the great drops thumped on the roofs of the
+cabins, on the skies of the lodges, and spattered on the sodden snow.
+The firs and spruces gleamed clean and black under the drenching
+showers. A veil of smoke-gray mist lay above the farther woods and along
+the black tangles of alders and gray fringes of willows. All night the
+warm rain continued to fall and drift. When morning lifted along the
+pearly east, a cry rang from the camp to the fort that the ice in the
+river was moving. The settlers hastened to the flat before the stockade.
+Beatrix was with them.
+
+"See how the torn edge of ice overtops the bank," said Kingswell,
+pointing eagerly. "And there is an open space. Ah, it has closed again!
+How slowly it grinds along!"
+
+"It will run faster before night," replied the girl, and Ouenwa, who was
+versed in the ways of his northern rivers, nodded silently.
+
+While they watched, admiring the swelling, swinging, ponderous advance
+of the great surface, and harkening to the booming thunder of its agony
+that filled the air, a breathless runner joined the group and spoke a
+few quick words to Black Feather. That chief approached Ouenwa and
+whispered in his ear. The boy glanced quickly at Beatrix and Kingswell,
+and then questioned Black Feather anxiously. Presently he turned back to
+the lovers.
+
+"The ice is stuck down-stream," he said. "Blue Cloud has seen it. He
+fears that the water will rise over the flat--and the fort."
+
+The river continued to rise until evening. After that the waters
+subsided a little, great cakes of rotten ice hung stranded along the
+crest of the bank, and the main body ceased to run downward. But from up
+the valley the thunder of a hidden disturbance still boomed across the
+windless air.
+
+"The jam had broken down-stream," said Ouenwa.
+
+Kingswell, unused to the ways of running ice, was satisfied, and retired
+to his couch with an easy mind. He slept soundly until, in the gray of
+the dawn, Ouenwa shook him roughly, and all but dragged him to the
+floor.
+
+"Wake up, wake up," cried the boy. "Damn, but you sleep like a bear!
+The fort is in danger! We must run for higher land."
+
+"Rip me!" exclaimed Kingswell, springing to his feet, "but what is the
+trouble? Are we attacked?"
+
+"The river is all but empty of water," replied Ouenwa. "The ice sags in
+the channel, like an empty garment. The water hangs above, behind the
+third point where we cut the timber for the boats."
+
+Kingswell, all the while, was busily employed pulling on his heavy
+clothes. Though he did not fully understand the threatening danger, he
+felt that it was real enough. While he tied the thongs of his deerhide
+leggins, Ouenwa told him that warning had reached the fort but a few
+minutes before.
+
+"How?" inquired Kingswell, hurriedly bestowing a wallet of gold coins
+and some other valuables about his person.
+
+Ouenwa, already loaded down with his friend's possessions, threw open
+the door and stepped out.
+
+"Wolf Slayer brought it," he said, over his shoulder. "And I do not
+understand," he added, "for Wolf Slayer hates us all."
+
+The other, close at his heels, made no comment on that intelligence. He
+scarcely heard it, so anxious was he for the safety of Mistress
+Beatrix. The whole fort was astir; but Kingswell ran straight to his
+sweetheart's door. It was opened by the maiden herself. She and the old
+servant were all ready to leave.
+
+An hour passed; load after load of stores and household goods was
+carried to the low hills behind the fort; and still the river lay empty,
+with its marred sheet of ice sagging between the banks; and still the
+unseen jam held back the gathering freshet. The women wept at the
+thought that their little homes were in danger of being broken and torn
+and whirled away. But Beatrix was dry-eyed.
+
+"It will be no great matter for them to build new cabins in a safer
+place," she said to Kingswell.
+
+He was looking at the natives dragging their rolled-up lodges to higher
+ground. He turned, smiling gravely.
+
+"You have no love for the wilderness?" he asked, "and yet but for this
+forsaken place, you and I might never have met."
+
+She laid her hand on his arm, and lifted a flushed face to his tender
+regard.
+
+"So it has served my turn," she said. "Now that I have you, I could well
+spare these wastes of black wood and empty barren."
+
+Kingswell had been waiting patiently and in silence for that confession
+ever since their betrothal. Hitherto she had not once spoken with any
+assurance of their future together. She had treated the subject vaguely,
+as if her thoughts were all with the past and with the tragedy of her
+father's death.
+
+"Would you face the homeward voyage in one of the little boats?" he
+asked, softly.
+
+"Ay, with you at the tiller," she replied.
+
+"Dear girl," he said, "I think that a stout ship called the _Heart of
+the West_ will be setting sail from Bristol, for this wilderness, before
+many days."
+
+"Would the fellow dare return?" she asked; for she had heard the story
+of Trowley's treachery.
+
+"He will think himself safe enough," replied Kingswell. "No doubt he
+owns the ship now--has bought it from my mother for the price of a
+skiff, after telling her how recklessly he battled with the savages to
+save her son's life."
+
+He laughed softly. "The old rogue will be surprised when I step aboard,"
+he added.
+
+Before she could answer him a booming report shook the sunlit air. It
+was followed, in a second, by a long-drawn tumult--a grinding and
+crashing and roaring--as if the firmament had fallen and overthrown the
+everlasting hills. The sagging ice below them reared, domed upward, and
+split with clapping thunders. It broke its plunging masses, which were
+hurled down the stream and over the flats. A thing of brown water and
+sodden gray lumps tore the alders and swung across the meadow where the
+Beothic encampment had stood an hour before. The eastern stockade of the
+fort went down beneath its inevitable, crushing onslaught.
+
+All day cakes and pans of sodden ice and snow raced down the river, and
+the air hummed and vibrated with their clamour. But the weight of the
+released waters had passed; and the fort had suffered by no more than an
+exposed side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+WOLF SLAYER COMES AND GOES; AND TROWLEY RECEIVES A VISITOR
+
+
+Wolf Slayer, who had brought warning of the menace of the freshet to
+Fort Beatrix, soon showed his evil hand. He had arrived at the fort in a
+starving condition and still weak from wounds received in the battle in
+which his father had been killed. Had he been well and filled with meat,
+he would undoubtedly have let the inmates of the fort and the camp lie
+in ignorance of the danger. For ten days he was fed and cared for by the
+settlers. By the end of that time, he felt himself again. The old
+arrogance burned in his eyes; the old sneer returned to his lips. Ouenwa
+read the signs and wondered how the deviltry would show itself under
+such unpropitious circumstances.
+
+Ouenwa's sleep was light and fitful on the tenth night after the
+overflowing of the river. About midnight he awoke, turned over, and
+could not get back to his dreams. So he lay wide-awake, thinking of the
+future. He could hear Bernard Kingswell's peaceful breathing. He thought
+of his friend, and his heart warmed to him with gratitude and
+comrade-love. He thought of Beatrix, smiled wistfully in the darkness,
+and put the bright vision away from him. What was that? He breathed more
+softly and lifted his head. Was it fancy, or--or what? He shifted
+noiselessly to the farther edge of the couch. A hand brushed along his
+pillow of folded blanket. Next moment he gripped an unseen wrist and
+closed with a silent enemy.
+
+Minutes passed before the wrestlers stumbled against a stool, with a
+clatter that startled Kingswell to his feet. The Englishman leaped to
+the hearth, kicked the fallen coals to life, and threw a roll of birch
+bark on top of them. Then he stepped aside until the yellow flame
+lighted the room. The illumination was just in time, for Wolf Slayer had
+the lighter boy on the floor and the knife raised, when Kingswell saw
+his way to the rescue. He recognized the youth, and in a fit of English
+indignation at such a return for hospitality caught him by neck and belt
+and hurled him bodily from the prostrate Ouenwa. Wolf Slayer alighted on
+his feet, snatched open the door (which he had left ajar), and fled into
+the darkness.
+
+A morning of late May brought a friendly native to Fort Beatrix, with
+word that three English ships were in Wigwam Harbour. Then Ouenwa and
+Tom Bent made the journey and returned, in due season, with the welcome
+news that one of the vessels was the _Heart of the West_.
+
+Both the new boats and the old _Pelican_ were made ready for the
+expedition. Kingswell commanded the _Pelican_, with Ouenwa and six
+natives for crew. Tom Bent was put in charge of the second boat, and
+Black Feather of the third. William Trigget and Donnelly were left to
+see that no harm came to Mistress Westleigh--and, as the boats stole
+down-stream, in the gray of the dawn, William Trigget treasured in his
+hand a duly witnessed document, in which Bernard Kingswell, gentleman,
+of Bristol, bequeathed and willed all his earthly goods to Beatrix
+Westleigh, spinster, of Fort Beatrix, in the Newfounde Land, and late of
+Beverly and Randon, in Somersetshire, England.
+
+The parting between Beatrix and her lover had been a fond one, but the
+man had noticed (and in his heart regretted) the fortitude with which
+she bade him farewell and godspeed. He worried about it in his sleep,
+and again, as he looked longingly at her cabin in the bleak dawn. He
+tried to comfort himself with memories of a hundred incidents that
+placed the sincerity of her love beyond a shadow of doubt. But, for all
+that, she might have shed a few tears. Surely she realized the chances
+of danger?--the risk he was running, for her sake? Love is edged and
+barbed by just such little and unreasonable questionings.
+
+A white mist wreathed along the surface of Gray Goose River when the
+three boats swung down with the current. The Beothics were armed with
+English knives. There were no firearms aboard any of the little vessels.
+Kingswell and Ouenwa had swords at their belts, and Spanish daggers for
+their left hands. Tom Bent was armed with his oft-proved cutlass.
+
+The sun did not get above the horizon until the little fleet was clear
+of the river's mouth. There a breath of wind sighed through the cordage,
+and the sails flapped up and rounded softly. Kingswell leaned forward
+and looked under the square canvas of the _Pelican's_ big wing.
+
+"An extra man," he remarked to Ouenwa, sharply. "Who has taken it upon
+himself to improve on my orders?"
+
+A blanket-swathed figure, forward of the mast, turned and crawled aft.
+Then the blanket fell away, and Mistress Westleigh, rigged out in an
+amazing mixture of masculine and feminine attire, laughed up at the
+commander.
+
+"Promise to shield me from the wrath of Maggie Stone, when we go back,"
+she whispered, in mock concern.
+
+For a moment Bernard stared, with wonder and embarrassment in his eyes,
+the while Ouenwa hid a smile. Then he doffed his hat and caught the
+queer figure to his knee; and in the flush of the morning, under the
+grave regard of the Beothic warriors, he kissed her on lips and brow.
+
+"What authority has Maggie Stone?" he cried. "If any one has a right to
+control your actions, surely it is I."
+
+She slipped to the seat beside him. "And you told me I could not
+accompany you--that it would not be safe," she replied.
+
+"Ay, but it was my duty to bid you remain behind," he said. "God knows
+it hurt me to refuse your so--so flattering a wish. But you accepted it
+calmly, dear heart."
+
+"I accepted it for what it was worth," she laughed. "I could not shed
+tears over a parting which I felt certain was not to take place." Her
+face changed quickly from merriment to gravity. "I could not have stayed
+in the fort without you," she whispered. "Dear lad, I am afraid to
+death whenever you are out of my sight. I do believe this love has made
+a coward of me!"
+
+For a little while there was no sound aboard the _Pelican_ save the
+tapping of the reef-points on the swelling breast of the sail, and the
+slow creak of the tiller. Ouenwa, leaning far to one side, gazed ahead,
+while the warriors crouched on the thwarts. Then the man stooped his
+head close to the girl's.
+
+"But on this trip," he whispered, "you must obey me--for both our sakes,
+dearest. It would be mutiny else."
+
+"I shall always obey you," she replied--"always, always--so long as you
+do not again leave me alone in Fort Beatrix."
+
+"William Trigget was there," he ventured. "And Maggie Stone."
+
+She laughed at that. "Poor Maggie!" she sighed. "Poor Maggie! She will
+rate me soundly for my boldness. She has ever a thousand discourses on
+the proprieties ready on the tip of her tongue."
+
+"Ah, the proprieties," murmured Bernard, as if caught by a new and
+somewhat disconcerting idea. "Rip me, but I've never given them a
+thought!"
+
+Beatrix laughed delightedly. "You must not let them trouble you now,"
+she said. "When we get back to Bristol, I will guard myself with a
+dozen staid companions, and--" She paused, and blushed crimson. "I
+forget that I am penniless," she added.
+
+Kingswell's left hand closed over hers where it lay in her lap. "How
+long, think you, shall you stand in need of chaperons in Bristol?" he
+asked.
+
+The three boats sought shelter in a tiny, hidden bay, and Kingswell,
+Mistress Westleigh, Ouenwa, and Tom Bent made an overland trip to a
+wooded hill overlooking Wigwam Harbour. There lay the _Heart of the
+West_, close in at her old anchorage after the day's fishing. Work was
+going briskly forward on the stages at the edge of the tide. The other
+vessels, which were much smaller than Trowley's command, lay nearer the
+mouth of the river harbour. The declining sun stained spars and furled
+sails to a rosy tint above the green water.
+
+"Hark!" whispered Kingswell, touching the girl's arm, as she crouched
+beside him in the fringe of spruces.
+
+A bellowing voice, loud and harsh in abuse, reached their ears.
+
+"'Tis Trowley," he said, and chuckled. "How will he sound to-night, I
+wonder?"
+
+"You will not be rash, Bernard,--for my sake," pleaded the girl.
+
+He assured her that he would be discreet.
+
+It was dark when they got back to the little cove in which the boats
+were beached. About midnight, with no light save the vague illumination
+of the scattered stars, they rowed out with muffled oars. They moved
+with such caution that it took them two hours to reach Wigwam Harbour.
+They passed the outer ships unchallenged. Then Beatrix was transferred
+from the _Pelican_ to Black Feather's boat, and Tom Bent joined the
+commander. A veil of drifting cloud shut out even such feeble light as
+had disclosed the course to the voyagers. Before them the _Heart of the
+West_ loomed dark, a thing of massed shadows and a few yellow lights.
+
+The new-built boats lay about thirty yards aft and seaward of the ship.
+The _Pelican_ stole in under the looming stern, with no more noise than
+a fish makes when he breaches in shallow water. The crew steadied her
+beside the groaning rudder with their hands. Kingswell stood on a thwart
+and peered in at the cabin window, as Ouenwa had peered on a night of
+the preceding season. The low, oak-ceiled room was empty. A lantern hung
+from the starboard bulkhead, and two candles, in silver sticks that bore
+the Kingswell crest, burned, with bending flames, on the table. On the
+locker under the lantern lay a cutlass in its sheath, and a boat-cloak
+in an untidy heap. The edge of the table was within two feet of the
+square stern-window.
+
+For a little while Kingswell listened with guarded breath. Then,
+swiftly and lightly, he pulled himself across the ledge of the window,
+scrambled through, and crouched behind the table. Very cautiously he
+drew his rapier with his right hand and his dagger with his left. For a
+minute or two he squatted in the narrow quarters, breathing regularly
+and deeply, and harkening to the innumerable creaking voices of the
+decks and bulkheads, and the muffled voices and laughter from forward.
+For the occasion he had donned the hat, coat, breeches, and boots--all
+now stained and faded--in which Master Trowley had last seen him.
+
+Suddenly a heavy, uncertain step sounded on the companion ladder just
+forward of the cabin door. A volley of stout Devonshire oaths boomed
+above the lesser sounds. The door flew open, smote the bulkhead with a
+resounding crack, and swung, trembling. The bulky figure of Trowley
+entered, and the heady voice of the old sea-dog cursed the door, and
+big, red hands slammed it shut again. Kingswell drew a deep breath, and
+composed his dancing nerves and galloping blood as best he could. His
+emotions were disconcertingly mixed.
+
+The masterful old pirate (for such he surely was, deny the charge if you
+like) seemed to fill the cabin to overflowing with his lurching, great
+body. He tossed boat-cloak and cutlass on the deck, and yanked up the
+top of the locker. With muttered revilings at the excessive cost of West
+Indies rum, he produced a bottle of no mean capacity from its
+hiding-place, and a fine glass sparkled in the candle-light like
+diamonds. Kingswell recognized the glass as one from which he had often
+drunk his grog--a rare piece from his house in Bristol. Those articles
+the mariner placed on the table, scarcely a foot from the watcher's
+head. Next he loaded himself a china pipe with black tobacco, and lit it
+at one of the candles. In doing so, Master Bernard heard the puffings
+and gruntings with which the deed was accomplished, like half a gale in
+his ear. At last the fellow sat down with a thud, squared his elbows on
+the table, gazed for a second at the square window that opened on to the
+mysterious gloom of the night, and tipped the bottle. The liquor gulped
+and gurgled in its passage to the glass. The reek of it permeated the
+air.
+
+"Dang it," grumbled the mariner, "d'ye call this rum! Sink me, but it be
+half water!"
+
+However, he swallowed the dose with gusto, and smacked his lips at the
+end of it as he never would have after a draught of water.
+
+Very steadily and quietly Bernard Kingswell arose to his feet and
+looked down at Master Trowley with inscrutable eyes shadowed by his
+wide, stained hat. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds,
+but to the staring mariner it seemed a matter of hours. He sprawled on
+his low stool, open-mouthed, red-eyed, with his big hands nerveless on
+the table, and the lighted pipe unheeded at his feet.
+
+"Traitor!" said Kingswell, coldly; and leaning across the table he
+tweaked the purple tip of Trowley's nose between thumb and finger. To do
+so, he laid his dagger on the edge of the mahogany for a second. The
+indignity called forth no more than a gurgle of terror from the master
+mariner. Kingswell plucked up the thin blade and flashed it within an
+inch of the whiskered face. Still the fellow sagged on his stool, unable
+to stir a muscle. Kingswell whistled three low notes. Ouenwa crawled
+through the port, with a coil of light rope in his hand. Tom Bent
+followed. Trowley threw off the spell of the supposed ghostly visitation
+and got to his feet with a bellow of rage and fear. In an instant he was
+flat on his back, with a gagging hand across his mouth and another at
+his throat. He was soon bound hand and foot, and securely gagged with a
+strip of his own boat-cloak.
+
+Ouenwa stuck his head through the open port, and whispered a word or
+two. One by one, four of his braves entered, with their knives
+unsheathed. Kingswell motioned them to follow, and softly opened the
+cabin door. On the port side of the alley-way, beside the companion
+ladder, Trowley's mate lay asleep in his bunk. Kingswell bent over him
+and saw that he was a stranger. He nodded significantly; and in an
+amazingly short time the mate of the _Heart of the West_ was as neatly
+trussed up as the master.
+
+Fifteen minutes later, Tom Bent hung over the rail, aft, and waved a
+lantern in three half-circles. And not long after that, Mistress
+Westleigh, Master Kingswell, and Ouenwa filled glasses with Canary wine,
+in the cabin of the _Heart of the West_. In the waist of the ship the
+stout English sailors and the skin-clad Beothics drained their
+pannikins, and eyed each other with good-natured curiosity. Old Tom Bent
+was toast-master; and also he told them an amazing story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+MAGGIE STONE TAKES MUCH UPON HERSELF
+
+
+Shortly before midnight, Tom Bent went quietly about the task of waking
+both watches and the Beothics. The three boats from Fort Beatrix were
+manned, with the muffling oars. The two small anchors by which the
+_Heart of the West_ swung in the tide were fished into two of the boats
+by hand. It was a tough job; but, when it was accomplished, the ship was
+free without so much as a clank of cable or a turn of the noisy capstan.
+Hawsers were passed from the small craft over the bows of the ship, and
+at a signal from a lantern in Kingswell's hand, the men bent their backs
+to the oars. Then all lights aboard the _Heart of the West_ were
+covered, and in the darkness, beside the great tiller, Kingswell caught
+his inspiration and his reward to his heart again.
+
+The girl did not leave the commander's side, but kept watch on the high
+poop-deck throughout the journey. Until dawn the rowers held to their
+toil, and after them, drawn by lines that were sometimes taut and
+sometimes under water, but always invisible in the darkness, the ship
+stole like a shape of cloud and dream. It was hard work, and slow. With
+the breaking of dawn, the leviathan took on signs of life. By that time
+she was hidden from Wigwam Harbour by more than one bluff headland. The
+pulling boats drifted to her bows, the capstan was manned, and the
+anchors were lifted to their places on the forecast rail. Headsails were
+set, and the square mizzen was run up. The boats dropped astern and were
+made fast, and the weary men climbed aboard the ship.
+
+All day the _Heart of the West_ threaded the green waterways of the
+great Bay of Exploits. A light and favourable breeze lent itself to the
+venture. After the midday meal, Beatrix, wrapped in a blanket, lay down
+by the mizzen and fell asleep. She was tired. The easy motion of the
+ship, and the song of the wind in ropes and canvas, sank her fathoms
+deep in slumber, with the magic of a fairy lullaby. Kingswell rigged a
+piece of sail-cloth from the bulwarks to the mast to shade her face from
+the sun.
+
+At last the wide estuary, which ends in Gray Goose River, was reached.
+By sunset the mouth of the river was entered. Just then the wind
+failed. The boats were manned again, and the ship taken in tow.
+
+Still Mistress Westleigh slumbered peacefully, with the rough blanket
+about her dainty body and her head pillowed on Kingswell's folded coat.
+Kneeling beside her, Kingswell peered under the shelter of canvas, and
+saw that she was smiling in her dreams. How white were her dropped
+eyelids, and how clear and rose-tinted her small face. Her lips were
+parted a little, as if to whisper some sweet secret. A strand of her
+bright, dark hair was across her forehead, and one arm, clear of the
+blanket and the deerskin on which she lay, rested on the deck. The rosy
+palm was upturned. Kingswell stooped lower and kissed it softly.
+Standing up, he found Tom Bent beside him. The mahogany-hued mariner
+grinned sheepishly, and gave a hitch to his belt.
+
+"Beggin' the lady's pardon," he whispered, "but, if the angels in heaven
+be half so sweet to look at as herself, I'm for going to heaven, in
+spite o' the devil. Sink me, but I'd play one o' they golden harps with
+a light heart if--if the equals of herself were a-listenin' on the
+quarter-deck."
+
+Kingswell blushed and smiled. "You, too?" said he. "You are in love, Tom
+Bent."
+
+"Ay, sir," replied the boatswain, "for it can't be helped. I'm in love
+and awash, and danged near to sinkin'. Might as well expect a man to
+keep sober in the 'Powdered Admiral' on Bristol dock as within ten
+knots, to win'ward or lee'ard, o' your sweetheart, sir."
+
+"I agree with you," replied the gentleman, bowing gravely.
+
+Tom Bent pulled his scant forelock, and rolled away about his duty. He
+was mightily pleased with himself at having expressed his admiration for
+his young commander's choice in such felicitous terms. He prided himself
+on his eye for feminine beauty, no matter what the race or the rank of
+the fair one,--and a fairer than Mistress Westleigh he swore by all the
+gods of the Seven Seas he had never laid eyes on.
+
+The long spring twilight was gathering into dusk when the toiling boats
+and the tall ship rounded the point, and opened the fort to the view of
+the daring cruisers. Directly in front of the stockade the anchors
+plunged into the brown current. The rattle of the cables through the
+hawse-holes awoke Beatrix. She had been dreaming of a great garden in
+Somerset, and of walking along box-hedged paths with her father on one
+side and her lover on the other. Opening her eyes upon the canvas
+shelter which Kingswell had spread above her, and with the clangour of
+the running cables in her ears, for a second she did not know where she
+was. A vague fear oppressed her for a little. Then she recalled the
+incidents of the last two days, and was about to crawl from her
+resting-place, when the edge of the shelter was lifted, and Kingswell
+looked down at her.
+
+"Wake up," he said. "We are at the fort, and Trigget and Maggie Stone
+are coming off in a canoe."
+
+"Nay, then I'll stay here until you explain matters," she replied. "You
+must bear the brunt of Maggie Stone's displeasure for my sake." She sat
+up, laughing softly, and lifted her face in a way that only a dunce
+could fail to comprehend. Under cover of the strip of sail-cloth, he
+kissed the warm lips and the bright hair.
+
+"Trust me," he laughed; and at that moment Trigget and the servant
+climbed to the poop by way of the ladder from the ship's waist. He
+advanced to meet them. He saw that Trigget held a folded paper in his
+hand, and that the honest eyes of that bold mariner were red and moist.
+
+"What is it?" he inquired; for he had entirely forgotten, for the time
+being, the manner of Mistress Westleigh's joining with the expedition.
+
+"Here be your will, sir," said Trigget, handing him the paper.
+"It--it--well, maybe it'll not be o' any use now."
+
+"Of course not," replied Kingswell, cheerfully, tearing it across.
+
+Maggie Stone burst into tears. "Jus' the way Sir Ralph went," she
+sobbed. "Oh, my beautiful little lady--an' her fit mate for any nobleman
+of London town!"
+
+"What the devil do you mean?" cried Kingswell. Then the truth dawned in
+his preoccupied brain. "Dry your eyes," he said. "She is safe and
+sound."
+
+"Thank God for that," exclaimed William Trigget, devoutly.
+
+"What--the mistress be safe, d'ye say?" cried Maggie Stone, with a
+sudden change of face.
+
+Kingswell nodded curtly. He did not like being bawled at on the poop of
+his recaptured ship, even by an old serving maid. "Your mistress is
+safe--and in my care," he said.
+
+"Indeed, sir?" she queried. "An' may I make so bold as to ax when ye
+married Sir Ralph Westleigh's daughter?"
+
+William Trigget murmured something to the effect that his presence was
+required forward, and took his departure. Kingswell bit his lip and
+stared haughtily at the woman; but he was at a loss for words fully
+expressive of his feelings. His indignation brought a flush to his
+cheeks which even the dusk of evening could not hide.
+
+"Ye may well redden," cried Maggie Stone. "Ay, ye may well redden, after
+sailin' away with an unprotected lass, an' near terrifyin' her old nurse
+into fits."
+
+The gentleman recovered his power of speech. "My good girl," he said
+(and she was a full twenty years older than his mother), "your joy at
+hearing of your mistress's safety takes a wondrous queer and unseemly
+way of expressing itself. You seem to forget that you, the lady's
+servant, are addressing the lady's betrothed husband."
+
+The old maid glared and drew her scanty skirts about her.
+
+"Maybe so," she retorted. "'Twould never have happened in Somerset."
+
+At that moment Mistress Beatrix appeared suddenly from the other side of
+the mizzen.
+
+"How dare you!" she cried. "How dare you speak so to Master Kingswell!"
+
+Anger--quick, scathing anger--rang in her voice. Standing there in her
+short skirt, high, beaded moccasins, and blue cloth jacket, she looked
+like an indignant boy, save for her coiled hair and bright beauty.
+
+"I am ashamed of you," she added; and then, turning quickly, she flung
+herself into Kingswell's ever ready embrace.
+
+Maggie Stone was flustered and somewhat awed by the sudden attack. She
+had not been spoken to so for years and years. Would she resort to tears
+again, or would she answer back? She was jealous of the girl's love for
+Kingswell--and yet she had thanked God many times that that love had
+been won by the young Englishman instead of by the swarthy D'Antons. She
+sniffed, and mopped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she changed
+her mind and bridled.
+
+"What would the countess, your aunt, say to such behaviour?" she asked.
+"Her who watched over ye like a guardian angel in London town."
+
+Beatrix turned, and, still holding her lover's hands, faced the carping
+critic.
+
+"And who turned me out of her house at the last of it," she cried,
+scornfully. "Who is she, or who was she ever, to question my behaviour?
+And who are you, woman, to insult your mistress and the gentleman who
+saved you from the knives of the savages? Go back to the fort."
+
+Maggie Stone saw that she had made a serious mistake,--a mistake which,
+perhaps, would alienate the lady's affection for ever. She turned, a
+pitiable figure, and made to descend the steep ladder which stood close
+to the starboard side of the ship, and led to the waist. Her foot caught
+in a loop of rope that had not been properly stopped up to its
+belaying-pin. She lurched against the line that ran from the break of
+the poop to the bulwarks below, made a blind effort to right herself,
+and pitched over into the shadowed water below. She did not even scream.
+
+Kingswell dropped his sweetheart's hands, ran to the side and jumped
+after the foolish old woman. By that time the twilight had left the
+river. The current carried him swiftly down-stream, close under the side
+of the ship. The water was uncomfortably cold, and his thick clothes
+dragged at his limbs. He cleared his hair from his eyes. A disturbance
+appeared on the surface of the stream a few yards ahead. With a quick
+stroke or two, he reached it, and caught Maggie Stone by a thin
+shoulder. She struggled desperately, mad with fright. Both were pulled
+over the gunwale of the _Pelican_ not a moment too soon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHILE THE SPARS ARE SCRAPED
+
+
+It is difficult to imagine the feelings of the skippers and crews of the
+good ship _Plover_ and _Mary and Joyce_, when the gray light of dawn
+disclosed the fact that the _Heart of the West_ had vanished completely.
+What a rubbing of eyes must have taken place! What a dropping of
+whiskered jaws and ripping of sea oaths!
+
+"Sunk," said one heavy-shouldered mariner.
+
+"Then where be her spars?" inquired a messmate.
+
+"Cut an' run," suggested another.
+
+"Then the devil must have been after her! Ol' Trowley'd run from nothin'
+else," replied the cook of the _Plover_.
+
+The captain of the _Mary and Joyce_ scanned the inner harbour and what
+he could see of the outer bay. Then he turned his brass telescope upon
+the cliffs and hills and inland woods.
+
+"Maybe the French has towed mun out," he said at last.
+
+No fishing was done that day. The neighbouring bays and coves were
+searched, and even the "River of Three Fires" was investigated, with a
+deal of trouble, for several miles up its swift current. That night the
+skippers of the two vessels decided, over several hot glasses, that
+Wigwam Harbour was no safe place for honest English sailor men. Next
+morning found them sailing northward in search of another haven from
+which to reap the harvest of the great bay.
+
+To Fort Beatrix journeyed all the Beothics from many miles around, for a
+great trade was going on. Influenced by Maggie Stone's foolish outbreak,
+Beatrix and Bernard had decided to seek a priest in the port of St.
+John's on their way to England, and so cross the ocean as man and wife,
+to the bitter chagrin of Bristol scandal-mongers. Though the idea had
+not occurred to either of the lovers before the old woman's outcry in
+the name of suffering propriety, it was none the less to their liking
+now that they had accepted it.
+
+"And it will please poor Maggie Stone," said the girl.
+
+"I was not thinking of her," replied Kingswell, lifting the glowing
+face to his by a hand beneath the rounded chin.
+
+"Nor I, dear heart," she replied.
+
+To the others of that wilderness the trading seemed a greater matter
+than that romantic attachment of a man and a maid. Blankets, trinkets,
+inferior weapons, and even the spare clothing of the settlers were
+bartered for pelts of beaver, mink, marten, otter, musquash, and red,
+patched, and black fox, to make up a cargo for the _Heart of the West_.
+The price of an axe-head was twice its weight in beaver skins. Even
+Maggie Stone, with an eye to adding to her nest-egg, traded a skillet
+(the identical implement with which she had floored D'Antons) for a
+beautiful foxskin. Only Trowley had no finger in the trading. Sullen and
+silent, he wandered about the fort, and a few paces behind him a brawny
+Beothic always stalked.
+
+The storehouse of the fort was replenished from the well-stocked
+pantries and lazaret of the ship. Kingswell smiled grimly when, during
+the overhauling of the cabin lockers, he discovered choice wines,
+cheeses, and pots of jam which his lady mother had given to Master
+Trowley as a slight mark of her gratitude for his services to her son.
+He forced an admittance of these things from the old rascal himself. It
+had been as he had hinted to Beatrix. The fellow had told the tearful
+and credulous lady that he had risked his life in her son's defence,
+during an engagement with the savages; and she, grateful heart, had made
+such an unbusiness-like agreement with him for the sailing of the ship
+that, had the voyage run its anticipated course, even a full load of
+fish would not have saved her from a shrewd loss. Happily for Trowley,
+Master Kingswell was far too happy for such trivial matters to really
+anger him.
+
+"The old rogue staked his soul and lost on the last throw," he said to
+Beatrix, "and I staked my heart, and won all that the world holds of
+joy. Surely I should be a low fellow to add to his misfortunes, poor
+devil. I can afford to be charitable now."
+
+They were seated on the grassy edge of the river meadow, looking out at
+the anchored ship, where sailors were repairing the rigging and scraping
+the spars. The girl did not seem keenly interested in Trowley's
+underhand behaviour to Dame Kingswell. As to his treachery toward
+Kingswell, to tell the truth, she was very grateful to the old thief for
+having sailed away and left her lover in the wilderness. Such thoughts
+flitted pleasantly through her mind.
+
+"When did you stake your heart?" she asked, as if that were the core of
+the whole thing.
+
+"I cannot tell you the date exactly," replied Kingswell, "but I was in
+Pierre d'Antons' company at the time, and--and I was mightily surprised
+to find Somersetshire people in this country. Lord, but your eyes were
+bright."
+
+"Do you mean that you--do you mean that it happened on the first day of
+your arrival at the fort?" she queried.
+
+"Surely," said he.
+
+"And you loved me then?"
+
+He nodded, smiling across toward the busy mariners in the rigging of his
+ship. His memories of those perilous days were fragrant as an English
+rose-garden.
+
+"Do you know," she whispered, "that, though I felt sure I had made an
+impression on you then, I began to doubt it later. You were so
+self-satisfied that you shook my faith in my own powers to charm."
+
+He laughed softly, and with a note of wonder. Then, for a little while,
+they were silent.
+
+"Tell me," she said, suddenly. "Did you really love me that first day
+you came to the fort, or was it just--just surprise at seeing a--a
+civilized girl in so forsaken a place?"
+
+He considered the question gravely and at some length. "I wanted to
+kill D'Antons," he answered, presently, "and I would gladly have given
+ten years of my life for a kiss from your lips, a caress from your
+hands. Was that love, think you?"
+
+"I should call it a right hopeful beginning," she replied, brightly; but
+tears which she could not explain shone in her eyes. Across the hurrying
+water drifted the song of the men at work upon the tall masts of the
+_Heart of the West_.
+
+"In a week's time," said Kingswell, "she will fill her sails for St.
+John's--and then for home."
+
+The girl nestled closer to his side. Looking down, he saw that she was
+weeping.
+
+"God grant that we find a parson in that harbour," he added. She nodded,
+and choked with a sob she could not stifle.
+
+"Why do you weep, dearest?" he asked.
+
+"For those whom we must leave behind," she whispered.
+
+He had no answer to make to that. Together they looked beyond the
+anchored ship and the bright river to the inscrutable wilderness that
+held the fate of the mad baronet so securely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE FIRST STAGE OF THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE IS BRAVELY ACCOMPLISHED
+
+
+At nine o'clock of the morning of the twenty-second day of June, the bow
+of the _Heart of the West_ was towed around and pointed down-stream by
+willing boats and canoes; a light wind filled such sails as were set,
+and the voyage was begun. Trigget fired a salute from a new gun which
+Kingswell had given him from the armament of the ship. It was answered
+by the barking of cannon and the fluttering of sails.
+
+Ouenwa stood with Mistress Westleigh, Kingswell, and Maggie Stone, aft
+by the tiller, which was in the hands of Tom Bent. The lad was fairly
+wild with excitement. Now, it seemed to him, his great dreams were
+assured; and yet a pang of homesickness went through the joy like the
+blade of a knife, as he watched the faces of the clustered people along
+the meadow and in the boats grow dim,--the faces of William Trigget and
+Black Feather, and of a dozen more who were dear to him. He shouted back
+to them in English and in his native tongue, and waved his cap
+frantically. The faces blurred and wavered. The ship swam around the
+wooded point, and meadow and stockade and camp of wigwams vanished like
+a picture withdrawn. The lad turned and glanced at Mistress Westleigh.
+Then he walked forward to the break of the poop, and blinked very hard
+at nothing in particular in the belly of the maintopsail.
+
+Soon the wooded banks fell away on either side, and the water changed
+its tint of amber for wind-roughened green. The gray, purple, and brown
+shores of the roadstead widened and dropped lower, and azure uplands
+shone beyond their frowning brows. The wind freshened, and white flakes
+of foam whipped from crest to crest across the ever-shifting,
+ever-vanishing valleys of green. Along the fading cliffs white sea-birds
+circled and settled like flakes of snow. A few great gulls winged around
+the ship, fleeing to leeward like bolts of mist, and beating up again
+with quivering pinions.
+
+Kingswell had taken the duties of sailing-master upon himself. He was as
+good a deep-sea navigator as any man on the whole width of the North
+Atlantic. When the outer bay was reached, yards were swung around, and
+the stout bark headed due east at his orders. To see old Tom Bent push
+the tiller over, and other seasoned mariners man brace and sheet, at the
+command of that gold-haired youth, made the heart of Beatrix Westleigh
+flutter with pride. Her dark eyes, already bright and lovely beyond
+power of description, shone yet more brightly; and her cheeks, already
+flushed to clear flame by the wind, deepened their glow. As the ship
+answered to his will, so would he answer to her whim. It was a pleasant
+reflection to the lady; and to realize it she called softly. Without a
+glance at the straining sails, he turned and hastened to her side.
+
+The voyage from Fort Beatrix to the wonderful harbour and brave little
+town of St. John's was made without accident, though not without
+incident. In Bonavista Bay, at a gray hour of the morning, the stump of
+a great iceberg was narrowly avoided. A day later, a large vessel that
+was evidently employed at fishing evinced an undesirable interest in the
+business of the _Heart of the West_. She was not a quarter of a mile
+distant when first sighted, for a light fog was on the water. She flew
+no flag, and changed her course and altered her speed with sinister
+promptness. Kingswell, and every man of the ship's company, knew that
+pirates of many nationalities infested those waters during summer. The
+worst of the thieves were Turks; and the fishing-ship or store-ship that
+was overhauled by those gentry usually lost more than its cargo.
+Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards also had a weakness for playing the
+part of the bald eagle, with their heavy metalled and wide-sailed craft,
+to the role of the fishhawk so unwillingly played by the merchantmen.
+Happily for Kingswell's command, the stranger was inshore and to
+leeward. Both watches were piped up by Tom Bent. The gunners went to
+their quarters. Sail after sail unfurled about the already straining
+masts and yards. The brave little ship answered willingly to the
+pressure, and her cutwater broke the flanks of the waves into sibilant
+foam.
+
+A rumour of the chase reached Mistress Beatrix and her old maid, in the
+seclusion of that snug cabin in which Master Trowley was, at one time,
+wont to revel. Maggie Stone drew the curtains across the thick glass of
+the after-port (as if fearing that the eagle glance of one of the
+pirates might pierce the privacy of her retreat), and then devoted
+herself to tearful prayer. Beatrix completed her toilet, threw a cloak
+over her shoulders, and climbed the companion. She joined Kingswell by
+the tiller, and, after saluting him tenderly and with a composure that
+took no heed of the sailor at the helm, watched the chase with interest.
+
+"They outsail us," she said, presently.
+
+Kingswell nodded. "But she'll never get near us on that course," he
+replied. "She is for heading us off, and getting to windward. If she
+gets to windward of us--Lord, but I scarce think she will."
+
+He said a word of preparation to the man at the tiller, and then gave a
+few quick orders from the break of the poop. In half a minute the _Heart
+of the West_ headed out on an easy tack. When every sail was drawing to
+his liking, he returned to the girl.
+
+"How glorious!" she cried. "A good horse, a singing pack, and an old fox
+make but slow sport compared to this."
+
+"We are the fox on this hunting morning," smiled Kingswell.
+
+"With teeth," she hinted.
+
+He noticed that the unwelcome stranger was shouldering the wind on the
+new course. He looked at the girl.
+
+"Ay, we have teeth, sweeting," he said, "and soon we'll be gnashing
+them."
+
+Though the _Heart of the West_ sailed well, to windward, the big craft
+astern sailed even better. The ships, crowded with canvas, the dancing
+blue water and cloudless sky, and the brown and azure coast to leeward,
+made a fine picture under the white sun. As the stranger drew near and
+nearer, excitement increased aboard the merchantman. Old Trowley bawled
+to be set free, that he might not die in the sail-locker like a rat in a
+hole. Tom Bent spat on his hard hands, and pulled his belt an inch
+shorter. Ouenwa lugged up shot and powder, and was for opening fire at
+an impossible range. Beatrix roused Maggie Stone from her devotions, and
+took her forward to a place of greater safety in the men's quarters.
+
+Along either side of the after-cabin of the _Heart of the West_ ran a
+narrow passage. Each passage ended in a blind port, and behind each port
+crouched a gun of unusual size for so peaceful an appearing ship. Now
+Kingswell blessed the day that a youthful love of warlike gear and a
+heart for adventure had led him to add these pieces to the armament of
+his ship. He remembered, with a contented smile, how Master Trowley had
+growled at the delay caused by getting the great guns aboard and
+partitioning off the passage. Even his mother had urged him to put more
+faith in the great ship which the king was so gracious as to send to
+Newfounde Land each spring, as a convoy to the fishing fleet. But
+Master Bernard, spoiled child, had had his way; and now he thanked the
+gods of war for it.
+
+Both ships sailed as close to the wind as their models and rigging and
+the laws of nature would allow. They went about often on ever shortening
+tacks. The hunter outsailed the hunted, though it is safe to say that
+her seamanship was no better. Suddenly she luffed until her sails
+quivered, and from her bows broke two puffs of smoke with inner cores of
+flame. Both shots flew high, and fell ahead of the quarry in brief
+spouts of torn water. At that, the blind ports in the stern of the
+merchantman opened up, and the sinister muzzles of the guns were run out
+with a gust of English cheering. Then their sudden voices boomed
+defiance, and the smoke rolled along the water and clung to the leaping
+waves.
+
+Kingswell felt the deck jump under his feet. His pulses leaped with the
+good planks. "Hit!" he cried--and sure enough, one of the enemy's upper
+spars, with its burden of flapping canvas, tottered desperately, and
+then swooped down on the clustered buccaneers beneath. Half an hour
+later the _Heart of the West_ was spinning along on her old course, and
+far astern the stranger lay to and nursed her wound.
+
+Three days later, at high noon, the Narrows opened in the sheer brown
+face of the cliffs, and the people of the _Heart of the West_ caught a
+glimpse of the harbour and the shipping beyond. Then the rocky portals
+seemed to close, and the spray flew like smoke along the unbroken
+ramparts. The ship was put about, and again the magic entrance opened
+and shut.
+
+"I knows the channel, sir," said Tom Bent. "Ye needn't wait for no
+duff-headed pilot."
+
+So the stout ship went 'round again, with a brisk shouting of men at the
+braces and a booming of canvas aloft. Her colours flew bravely in the
+sunlight, answering the colours of the fort and the battery on Signal
+Hill. She raced at the towering cliff as if she would try to overthrow
+it with her cocked-up bowsprit. Even Kingswell caught his breath.
+Beatrix looked away, so fearful was the sight of the unbroken rock that
+seemed to swim toward them with a voice of thunder and the smoking surf
+along its foot. Ouenwa wondered if Tom Bent were mad. But the boatswain
+gripped the big tiller, and squinted under the yards, and cocked an eye
+aloft at the flags and men on the cliff. Then, of a sudden, the narrow
+passage of green water, spray-fringed, opened under their bows, and the
+walls of rock slid aside and let them in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+IN THE MERRY CITY
+
+
+The _Heart of the West_ was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside
+the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the
+great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant
+welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress
+Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a
+subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never
+have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new
+arrival carried such a passenger.
+
+"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink
+his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the
+worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."
+
+He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix
+shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the
+dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk facings of his
+coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.
+
+"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular
+fancy is for the Church."
+
+The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to
+think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the
+combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath.
+Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"
+
+"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.
+
+"Ay, we have a parson--a ranting old missionary," replied the
+lieutenant.
+
+"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the
+marriage service."
+
+"Ay, he'll serve our turn," said Kingswell.
+
+The soldier sighed, and smiled whimsically from the one to the other. He
+was not much older than Bernard Kingswell, and of a pleasant, boyish
+countenance.
+
+"You have a story," he said, "with which I hope you will honour us in
+the governor's house. A brave tale, too, I'll stake my sword." He smiled
+good-naturedly at Master Kingswell. "But d'ye know," he added, gazing at
+Mistress Westleigh, "I had quite set my heart on it that you two were
+brother and sister."
+
+The governor received them in his best coat, with one foot in a boot,
+and the other swathed to the bulk of a soldier's knapsack. His face was
+of the tint of russet leather, and, roughened by many inclement winds
+and darkened by high living. His voice was of a rancorous quality, as if
+he had frayed it by too much shouting through fogs and against gales.
+His hands were big, knotted, and tremulous, and his eyes not unlike
+those of a new-jigged codfish. Altogether he was a figure of a man for
+his place as king's representative. He led Mistress Beatrix to a chair
+with such grace as he could command, and presented a ponderous snuff-box
+to Master Kingswell. Then he called for refreshments. The lieutenant
+made himself at home beside the lady, and waited upon her with wine and
+cakes. When the servants were gone and the door closed, Kingswell stated
+his name and degree.
+
+"Let me shake your hand again, young sir," cried his Excellency,
+extending an unsteady hand. "Your honoured father dined and wined me
+more than once in his great house in Bristol,--ay, and treated the poor
+sailor like a peer of the realm."
+
+Kingswell leaned sideways in his chair and gave a brief account of Sir
+Ralph Westleigh's and Mistress Westleigh's sojourn in the wilderness,
+and of the baronet's death. He did not mention the fact that the fort
+was still inhabited, nor did he give a very definite idea of its
+whereabouts. It was well to be cautious in regard to unchartered
+plantations in those days of greedy fishermen. He mentioned the brief
+engagement with the buccaneer. He told of his betrothal to Mistress
+Westleigh, and of their anxiety to be married immediately. The governor
+was deeply affected by the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's last days. He
+murmured an oath. "And the day was," he said, "that not a duke in
+England was more looked up to than that same baronet of Somerset. Well
+do I recall the pride that inflated me when Lady Westleigh--ay, the
+young lady's mother--bowed to me in Hyde Park. Only once had she met me,
+and that in a crush to which I'd been invited through my commander. And
+she was as beautiful as she was gracious, sir. 'Twas after her death
+that Sir Ralph threw over his ballast, poor devil."
+
+Kingswell nodded, and remembered the winter of alarms and loneliness.
+
+"They were bitter years for the daughter," he said, softly. "Motherless,
+and with a father whom she loved letting slip his old pride and honour
+day by day, she shared his downfall and his exile with fortitude, sir,
+I can assure you."
+
+"Ay, as became her brave beauty," replied the governor, with a gleam in
+his staring eyes.
+
+Now fate would have it at that time the only divine in the great island,
+the Reverend Thomas Aldrich, M. A., was away from the little town of St.
+John's, on a preaching tour among the English fishermen in Conception
+Bay. He might be back in a day's time; he was more likely not to return
+within the week.
+
+"In the meantime," said the honest governor, "my house is at Mistress
+Westleigh's service. Let her send for her maid and her boxes. My good
+housekeeper will tidy up the best chamber. Gad, Master Kingswell, but
+we'll cheer this God-forsaken, French-pestered hole in the rock with a
+touch of gaiety."
+
+His Excellency's hospitality was accepted, and for eight days the little
+settlement gave itself over to merrymaking. There were dances in the
+governor's house every night, at which Beatrix was the only lady. There
+were great dinners, during which Beatrix sat on his Excellency's right
+and Kingswell on his left. There were inspections of the fort, boating
+parties on the harbour, and outings among the woods and natural gardens
+that graced the valley at the head of the beautiful basin.
+
+The beauty and graciousness of Mistress Westleigh, and the knowledge of
+her loyalty to her father, and her bravery won the heart of that rude
+village. From the governor to the youngest sailor lad, every man in the
+harbour was her humble and devoted servant.
+
+Before the kindly soldiers and merchants and adventurers, she was always
+merry. The main street along the water-front took on a light of distant
+England did she but appear in it for a minute. The three officers of the
+garrison swore that they preferred it to the most fashionable promenade
+on London. But, alone, or with her lover, she eased, with tears, the
+grief for her father's fate, which all the junketing and gaiety but
+seemed to uncover.
+
+On the eighth day after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_ in the
+harbour of St. John's, the parson returned from his preaching among the
+boisterous fishing-ships in Conception Bay. He shook his head at the
+state in which he found his home flock; for he was of that gloomy
+persuasion known as low church, and held little with frivolity. But,
+after meeting Beatrix, he thawed, and even went so far as to attempt a
+pun on his willingness to marry her. The sally of wit was received by
+the lady with so lovely a smile that the divine forgot his austerity so
+far as to poke Kingswell in the ribs, and call him a sly dog.
+
+The ceremony took place in the little church behind the governor's
+house; and, after it was over, his Excellency, the parson, the officers
+of the garrison, the merchants, the captains of the ships, and many
+more, accompanied the happy couple aboard the _Heart of the West_, where
+sound wines were drunk by the quality, and rum and beer by the
+commonalty. All the shipping, the premises of the merchants, and the
+forts flew bunting, as if for a demonstration to royalty itself. At noon
+farewells were said, and a dozen willing boats towed the _Heart of the
+West_ down the harbour and through the Narrows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+PIERRE D'ANTONS SIGNALS HIS OLD COMRADES, AND AGAIN PUTS TO SEA
+
+
+The wilderness, that grim thing of naked rock, brown barren, gray marsh,
+and black wood, which had claimed the mad baronet so surely, was unable
+to keep Pierre d'Antons in its spacious prison. With the return of
+summer, the dark adventurer and the Beothic girl deserted their inland
+retreat, and set out for a certain grim cape which thrusts far into the
+Atlantic. The crown of that cape affords an uninterrupted view to
+seaward and north and south across the waters of two great bays. A fire
+at night, or a column of smoke in the day, glowing or streaming upward
+from that vantage place, would be sighted from the deck of a passing
+ship at a distance of many miles.
+
+The journey proved a long and trying one, through swamps and barrens,
+and over rock-tumbled knolls. Streams were forded, lakes
+circumambulated, and rivers crossed on insecure rafts. Through it all,
+the native girl, Miwandi, kept a brave heart and bright face. D'Antons,
+however, was preoccupied in his manner, and even gloomy at times. The
+hardships of that wild existence had begun to tell on his body, and the
+loneliness to fret his nerves. His infatuation for Mistress Westleigh
+had dimmed and faded out altogether, leaving only a mean desire for the
+salve of revenge with which to soothe his injured pride. He would wound
+her through Kingswell. Sometimes a fear oppressed him that his men might
+have forgotten his mastery by this time, and might fail, after the two
+seasons of silence, to continue their cruising of those northern waters
+throughout June and July, as he had commanded. But that doubt only
+troubled him in his darkest moods. The loyalty of his subordinate
+buccaneers of the _Cristobal_ was not to be questioned seriously, for it
+had been tested in many tight places. Comradeship often forms as trusty
+ties between the hearts of pirates as between the hearts of honest
+gentlemen. Once grown beyond the temptations of greed and treachery, it
+is a safe thing, this loyalty of desperate men for their messmates.
+
+It was Pierre d'Antons' dream to regain the deck of the _Cristobal_
+(with Miwandi, of course), and to appear, some fine day, before the
+little fort of Gray Goose River; to put the settlers to the sword, the
+buildings to the torch, and to carry the English beauty away with him.
+He felt that his passion for the proud lady might be easily and
+pleasantly refired. But he made no mention of Mistress Westleigh to
+Miwandi, the Beothic girl.
+
+After more than a week of hard travelling, the two ascended the wooded
+ridge which runs seaward to the bleak and elevated acres of the grim
+cape of their desire. In a shaggy grove they set up their lodge. At the
+extremity of the headland, high above the wheeling, screaming gulls and
+noddies, D'Antons built a circular fireplace of the stones that lay
+about. Completed, it looked like an altar reared by some benighted
+priesthood to the gods of the wind and the sea. But no such thought
+occurred to its architect. His case was too desperate to allow his mind
+to indulge in such whimsical fancies.
+
+While the woman went in quest of food--fish, flesh, or fowl, what did it
+matter which?--the man gathered wood and piled it near the queer hearth.
+He worked without intermission until Miwandi returned from her foraging
+with a string of bright trout in her hand. Then he built a modest fire
+within the rough walls of his furnace, and helped the girl clean and
+cook the fish. By that time the glow of the afternoon was centred
+behind the gloomy hills, and a clear twilight was over the sea; but as
+yet the atmosphere held no suggestion of dusk. No sail broke the wide
+expanse of dark blue ocean with its flake of gray; but to the nor'east a
+whale breached and blew its little fountain of spray across the still
+line of the horizon. D'Antons and Miwandi noted these things as they
+ate, but made no comment upon them.
+
+For several days after the arrival of the two upon the overseeing
+headland, D'Antons made no other use of his furnace than for the cooking
+of meals. For that purpose it served admirably, for the walls protected
+the flame from the ever-flying winds that prevailed over that exposed
+spot. The adventurer knew that he was early for the _Cristobal_. Several
+sails were detected; but of them the only heed taken was the precaution
+of blanketing the little fire in the hearth with damp soil. The
+Frenchman did not desire a visit from fishermen of any nationality
+whatever. He might find it difficult to explain his presence in so
+unfavourable a spot for either a fishery or a settlement. No doubt they
+would persist in rescuing him, and, in that case, what reason could he
+give for wishing to stay in his cheerless camp? So he lay low and
+watched the passing of more than one stout craft without a sign.
+
+The time arrived when he must set his signals, despite the risk of
+attracting unwelcome visitors. So he closed the front of the furnace
+with a boulder, built a brisk fire within, which he heaped with damp
+moss and punk, and then laid a large, flat stone over the opening in the
+top of the unique structure. By removing the flat stone, he allowed a
+column of dense smoke to issue into the air, stream aloft and scatter in
+the wind. By replacing the stone, the smoke was cut short off. Finding
+that the contrivance worked to his satisfaction, he let the smoke stream
+up, uninterrupted. The signalling would only be resorted to when a
+vessel, which might possibly be the _Cristobal_, should be sighted. When
+darkness fell, the fire was allowed to die down. A night signal was
+unnecessary, as the _Cristobal_, should she keep the tryst at all, was
+sure to make an examination of the cape by daylight. D'Antons' last
+orders had been strictly and particularly to that effect.
+
+A week passed, during which a sharp lookout was kept by the fugitives on
+the brow of the cape, and the signal of smoke was operated a dozen times
+without the desired effect. In fact, a large vessel, attracted by the
+smoke (which was due to D'Antons' tardy realization that the
+approaching ship was not the _Cristobal_) altered her course, sailed
+close in, and sent a boat ashore to investigate. D'Antons and Miwandi
+had just enough time, with not a minute to spare, to roll up their
+wigwam and hide it in the bushes, gather together their most valuable
+belongings, and flee inland to a shelter of tangled spruces and firs.
+The boat's crew was composed of peaceful fishermen, who were free from
+suspicion and malice. They climbed to the brow of the promontory with
+fine hardihood, but once there did little but examine the marks where
+the lodge had so lately stood and partially overthrow the queer
+fireplace. They believed that structure to be an altar, built to the
+glory of some unorthodox god. Then they retraced their perilous way to
+the little cove under the cliff, and rowed back to the ship. D'Antons
+stole from his retreat and crawled to the edge of the cliff. He felt a
+glow of satisfaction when the big vessel stood away on her northward
+course.
+
+Another week drifted along, and hope wavered in the buccaneer heart. His
+gloomy moods began to wear on the young squaw's spirits. She begged him
+to return to the inland rivers--to make peace with her people--to cease
+his unprofitable staring at the sea.
+
+"The sorrow of the great salt water has entered your heart," she said,
+"and the moaning of it has deafened your ears to my voice."
+
+He did not turn his eyes from the undulations of the gray horizon.
+"Would you have me rot in this place for the remainder of my life?" he
+asked, harshly, in her language.
+
+The poor girl sobbed for an hour after that, and reproved her heart for
+the image of a god it had set up. She tried to overthrow the idol from
+its inner shrine; she tried to change it to a grim symbol of hate; she
+pressed her face to the coarse herbage, and tore the sod with her
+fingers.
+
+"Miwandi! Come to me, little one," cried the man from the edge of the
+cliff.
+
+Her anger, her bitterness, vanished like thinnest smoke. She sprang up
+and ran to him. He drew her to his side, and with his right hand pointed
+southward across the glinting deep.
+
+"The _Cristobal_!" he cried. "Good God, I'll stake my life on it!"
+
+So intense was his satisfaction at the sight of those unmistakable
+topsails that his selfish affection for the woman lighted again. He
+pressed his lips to the tear-wet cheek; and immediately the simple
+creature was in the seventh heaven of bliss.
+
+While the gray flake of sail expanded on the horizon, Pierre d'Antons
+and the woman hurriedly and roughly rebuilt the walls of the fireplace,
+lit and fed a blaze, and piled it high with moss and rotten bark. The
+thick pillar of smoke arose like a tree, and bent in the moderate wind.
+Miwandi busied herself with breaking the wood to the required length and
+carrying damp moss. For several minutes the smoke was allowed to ascend
+in an unbroken shaft. Then D'Antons cut it off for a few seconds, let it
+rise again, broke it again, and again let it stream aloft,
+uninterrupted. He had signalled his name according to the code of the
+_Cristobal_.
+
+The welcome ship gradually enlarged to the eager eyes of the watchers on
+the cape. North, east, and south there was no other sail in sight. At
+last three flags ran up to the topforemast and fluttered out. The
+question was read instantly by D'Antons, who returned to his fire and
+interrupted the stream of smoke five times in quick succession. The
+translation of that was "All's well. You may approach without danger."
+
+A message of congratulation appeared promptly against the bellying
+foresail of the _Cristobal_; and the watchers saw the rolls of white
+foam gleaming like wool under the forging of the bow.
+
+D'Antons was cordially welcomed aboard the _Cristobal_. Miwandi was
+received without question. The acting commander of the ship was a
+grizzled Spanish mariner by the name of Silva,--a fellow steeped in
+crime and uncertain of temper, yet possessed of a marvellous devotion
+for D'Antons, which was due to an act of kindness performed by the
+Frenchman years before, in the town of Panama.
+
+Silva was delighted to find his captain alive and ready for the high
+seas again. He asked no questions concerning his adventures until more
+than one bottle of wine had been emptied, and the captain's
+travel-stained garments had been exchanged for the best the cabin
+lockers contained. Miwandi, too, was reclothed; and the beauty and
+softness of the silks that were presented to her fairly turned her
+little head. She did not know that the fair French lady for whom they
+had been made, in gay Paris, and who had worn them only three months
+ago, was somewhere in the dredge of emerald tides between the Bahaman
+reefs. She knew only that the texture and colours delighted her skin and
+her eyes. So, in her narrow room, she attired herself in the finery,
+toiling at the ties and lacing with unfamiliar fingers.
+
+In the captain's cabin D'Antons motioned to his friend to close the
+door. He had consumed a soup, and was still engaged with the wine.
+Silva returned to his seat at the table, after a final reassuring push
+on the bolt of the door. It is always wise to be sure that the door you
+considered fastened is fastened indeed. Then, with their elbows on the
+table and their heads close together, the more salient incidents of
+D'Antons' sojourn in the wilderness were rehearsed and keenly listened
+to. Silva displayed a prodigious indignation at the story of the
+captain's failure to win the affections of Mistress Westleigh. At word
+of Sir Ralph's death (and the murder became a desperate duel in the
+telling), a crooked smile of satisfaction distorted his face. As to what
+he heard of Kingswell--ah, but oaths in two languages were quite
+inadequate for the expression of his feelings.
+
+"We'll inspect the heart of that cockerel--and the gizzard as well,"
+said he, and drank off his wine.
+
+"Leave him to my hand," replied D'Antons, darkly.
+
+Silva nodded, with a sinister leer.
+
+"So it's 'bout ship and blow the little stockade into everlasting
+damnation," he said.
+
+"Ay, but the lady must come to no harm in the attack," warned the
+captain.
+
+So the _Cristobal_ headed northward, and the evil-looking rascals of
+her crew were informed that the morrow would bring them some work to
+limber their muscles. The information was received with cheers, in which
+hearty English voices were not lacking.
+
+However, in the early morning, Fate, in the shape of the _Heart of the
+West_, turned the danger away from the little fort.
+
+"She looks like a likely prize," said D'Antons, when he sighted the
+ship. The old fever awoke in his blood. He longed for the old
+excitement.
+
+"Give chase," he ordered. "The fort can well do without the honour of
+our attentions for a little while."
+
+So the chase was carried on, as has been described in a previous
+chapter, and went merrily enough for the _Cristobal_ until the
+unexpected shot from the stern of the quarry brought down her
+foretopmast and its weight of sail. But before that had happened,
+D'Antons, unrecognizable himself in new clothes and a great hat, marked
+Bernard Kingswell on the poop of the _Heart of the West_. He cursed like
+a madman, or a true-bred pirate, when his ship was crippled.
+
+"The fort may rot of old age in the midst of its desolation," he cried
+to Silva, "for what I would have is aboard that cursed craft ahead."
+
+A few days later, with their spars repaired, they picked up a small
+fishing-boat, and learned from the skipper that a great ship from the
+north had entered the harbour of St. John's. So, knowing the virtue of
+precaution, they impressed the master and crew and scuttled the little
+vessel. Then, with admirable patience, they cruised up and down, far to
+seaward of the brown cliffs which guarded that hospitable port.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE BRIDEGROOM ATTENDS TO OTHER MATTERS THAN LOVE
+
+
+The dainty bride leaned on her husband's arm, and together they looked
+back and waved farewell. Flags answered them from the battery above the
+cliff. Then she turned to the bridegroom and gazed into his eyes with so
+radiant and tender a smile that, all forgetful of the abashed salt at
+the tiller, he drew her to him and kissed her on brow and lips.
+
+"Dear wife," he murmured, and could say no more.
+
+Both were brave in marriage finery,--she in a pearl gown of brocaded
+silk, a scarlet cloak lined with white fur, and a feathered hat, and he
+in buff and blue from the wardrobe of the commandant of St. John's.
+
+They gazed astern, across the dancing azure, to the brown and purple
+rocks beautified by the sunlight and crystal air. "Homeward bound," she
+whispered, happily, and turned her face from the mellowing coast of the
+wilderness to the wide east.
+
+Together they walked forward to the break of the high deck. A fair wind
+bellied the sails. The tarred rigging and scraped spars shone like
+polished metal. The men, in their brightest sashes and cleanest shirts
+(in honour of the occasion), went about their duties briskly. The mates
+wore their side-arms; both watches were on deck, with the gaiety of the
+days ashore still in their hearts. Not a soul was below save the cook
+(who sorted provisions in the forward lazaret), Maggie Stone (who sulked
+in her mistress's cabin because she had not been asked to act as
+bridesmaid), and old Trowley, with wrists and legs in irons and a
+dawning repentance in his sullen blood.
+
+An hour later Ouenwa ascended the starboard ladder from the waist, and
+stood beside Master and Mistress Kingswell. He wore a dashing outfit,
+which had been made to his shape by the garrison tailor in the days
+preceding the marriage. A sword was at his belt; lace hung at his
+wrists; his dark hair, slightly curled, fell to his shoulders. His
+tanned cheeks were flushed with the excitement passed and the adventures
+anticipated. Only the dark alertness of his eyes and the litheness of
+his actions bespoke his primitive upbringing. Though he had been named
+"dreamer" by his people, he gave promise now of a life of deeds rather
+than of dreams.
+
+"Do you mourn the little stockade and the great river, lad?" queried
+Kingswell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.
+
+Ouenwa shook his head emphatically and glanced knowingly aloft. "Why
+should I mourn them?" he asked. "Am I not bound for castles and great
+houses, for books in number as the leaves of the birch-tree, and for
+villages filled all day with warriors, and with ladies almost as fair as
+Mistress Beatrix? Shall I not read in the books, and see horses, greater
+than caribou, bearing gentlemen upon their backs? Then why would you
+have me mourn? The land behind us is not a good land. My fathers were
+brave and wise, and led their warriors to a hundred victories; but they
+were murdered by their own people. I care not for such a country."
+
+"True, lad," replied Kingswell, "and yet, even in glorious England, you
+may find ingratitude as black as that of Panounia. Even kings and queens
+have been guilty of ingratitude."
+
+Beatrix patted the moralist's arm.
+
+"Why think of it now?" she said, gently, "and why fill the dear lad with
+doubt? Only if he climbs high need he fear disloyalty. As a plain
+soldier, he shall never lack the protection of such humble friends as
+ourselves."
+
+Just then a lookout warned them of a sail on the larboard bow. Kingswell
+and Ouenwa went forward to the forecastle-head. Tom Bent (now of the
+rank of chief gunner) was already there, peering away under the lift of
+the jibs. The second mate was with him.
+
+"A large vessel," remarked Kingswell.
+
+"Ay, and we's spoke mun afore now, sir," replied Bent. He was too intent
+on gazing ahead to see the question in the captain's face. But the mate
+saw it and answered it.
+
+"She's run up a new spar, sir, an' mended her for'ard riggin'," said he,
+"an' like enough she thinks she'll take the cost of damages out o' us."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Kingswell, with a note of relish. Then he remembered
+Beatrix, and a shadow darkened his eyes for a moment. "Pipe both
+watches," he said, quietly. "Arm all hands. Clear decks for action.
+Master Gunner, you must fight your barkers to-day for more than the
+glory of England."
+
+He returned to his wife and told her of the menace. She heard the news
+with an inward sickening, but with no outward tremor. All her fear was
+for him.
+
+"Promise me that you will go to our cabin when I give the word," he
+asked.
+
+She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Your obedient, humble wife, my lord,"
+she whispered, with a brave attempt at gaiety.
+
+He caught her hands quickly to his shoulders and kissed her lips. He
+felt them tremble against his.
+
+"I must help with the preparations, dear heart," he murmured, and
+hurried away. He consulted the mates and Tom Bent as to the advisability
+of beating back for St. John's. The mariners shook their heads. They
+held that the _Heart of the West_ could make a better fight on her
+present course; and that the battle would be decided, one way or
+another, before the garrison could send them any help. As if to confirm
+their views, the wind freshened to such a degree, and held so fair
+astern, that to beat to windward would require all hands at the sails,
+and put gunnery out of the question.
+
+"Like enough they be double our strength in men," said Tom Bent, "but we
+equals 'em in guns and seamanship, sir, an' ye may lay to that."
+
+So the _Heart of the West_ held on her course under a press of canvas.
+
+After Kingswell and Beatrix had talked together for some time, they
+went forward, hand in hand, to the break of the poop. Tom Bent called
+the ship's company to attention. The brave fellows, stripped to their
+breeches and shirts in readiness for the approaching encounter, looked
+up, and such as wore caps doffed them respectfully.
+
+"My brave lads," cried the lady, in a voice that rang clear above the
+stir of wind and wave and tugging cordage, "but this morning you made
+merry for my sake; and now, in so little a while, you will risk your
+lives in defending your ship and me from that pirate whom we have
+already encountered. My husband,--your captain,--like a true-bred
+English sailor, is already sure of victory. A generous mariner, he has
+promised me the prize; and now I promise it to you. In a few weeks'
+time, my lads, we shall sell our enemy in Bristol docks. Not a penny of
+her price shall go to owner or captain; but all into the pockets of this
+brave company. And should any man fall in the encounter, I pledge my
+word that those dependent upon him shall lack nothing that money can
+give them during the remainder of their lives. Now, fight well, for God
+and for England."
+
+She looked down at them, smiling divinely.
+
+"And for the Lady Beatrix," shouted a youthful seaman.
+
+Cheers rang aloft; bearded lips and shaven lips bawled her name; and
+great, toil-seared hands were brandished, and stark blades gleamed in
+the sunlight.
+
+"God bless you, lady," they roared.
+
+She leaned forward and blew a kiss from her lips with both dainty hands.
+
+"God strengthen you, brave hearts," she cried, softly; and the nearer of
+the loyal mariners saw the tears shimmering beneath her lashes.
+
+The _Heart of the West_ held on her course, breaking the waves in
+fountains from her forging bow. The _Cristobal_ raced down upon her with
+the wind square abeam. It was evidently her intention to cross the
+merchantman's bows and rake her with a broadside.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_ every man was at his post, and the
+matches were like pale stars in the hands of the gunners. The second
+mate was on the forecastle-head, beside the bow-chaser. The first mate
+stood in the waist. Kingswell paced the poop, fore and aft. Each
+measured and calculated the brisk approach of the _Cristobal_ with
+unwinking eyes, and considered the straining sails overhead and the
+speed of the wind.
+
+Still the pirate boiled down upon them, leaning over in the press of
+the half-gale. It was evident to Kingswell that she would pass across
+his bows within a distance of a hundred yards, unless something was done
+to prevent it. He spoke quietly to the men at the tiller, and called an
+order to the officer amidships. Twenty seconds later he gave the signal.
+The tiller was pushed over, the yards were hauled around, and the good
+ship swung to the north and took the wind on her larboard beam. Now the
+vessels leaned on the same course, and were not two hundred yards apart.
+Almost at the same moment they exchanged broadsides, and the challenging
+shouts of men mingled with the roaring of the little cannonades. The
+smoke from the merchantman's ports blew down, in a stifling cloud, upon
+the enemy. The _Cristobal_ fell off before the wind in an unaccountable
+manner. The _Heart of the West_ luffed, in the hope of bringing her
+heavy after-battery to bear, saw that the manoeuvre could not be
+accomplished, and flew about on her old course.
+
+"Her tiller is shot away," cried Kingswell. A cheer rang along the decks
+and penetrated the cabins fore and aft. Beatrix heard it, and thanked
+God. Old Trowley heard it, and, beating his manacled wrists against the
+bulkhead, roared to be cast loose that he might bear a hand in the
+fight.
+
+From that first exchange of round-shot, the _Heart of the West_ escaped
+without hurt, owing to the fact that the enemy's guns, elevated by the
+pressure of the gale upon her windward side, sent their missiles high
+between the upper spars of the merchantman. The _Cristobal_, however,
+was hulled by two balls, and had her tiller carried away by a third;
+for, just as her guns were elevated to harmlessness by the list of the
+deck, so were the merchantman's depressed to a deadly aim by the list of
+hers.
+
+Taking every advantage which a sound tiller and perfectly trimmed sails
+gave her over her enemy, the _Heart of the West_ raced after the
+buccaneer. Passing close astern, she raked her with her three larboard
+guns. Running on, and slanting across the wind's course more and more,
+she presently had her two after-guns to bear on the three-quarter target
+of the _Cristobal's_ starboard side. The range was middling; but, even
+so, the gunners sent up a prayer to Luck, so violent were the soarings
+and sinkings of the deck. The shots were followed by a tottering of high
+sails above the _Cristobal_, and with a flapping and rending, the
+mizzenmast fell forward and stripped the main of three of her yards.
+
+Now the disabled, tillerless _Cristobal_, kept before the wind by a
+great sweep, fled heavily. Her decks were cluttered with snarled
+wreckage. Half a dozen of her crew were injured. Her commander and
+Master Silva were mad with rage at the unexpected turn of events.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_, Ouenwa had just pointed out to Kingswell
+the dashing figure of Pierre d'Antons.
+
+"I take it that this is his last play," remarked the young captain, with
+a grim smile.
+
+For another hour the merchantman sailed about the pirate at her will,
+pouring broadside after broadside into hull and rigging, and sustaining
+but little damage herself. Now and then musket-shots were exchanged. Two
+of Kingswell's men were wounded, and were promptly carried below, where
+their hurts were tenderly bandaged by Mistress Kingswell and Maggie
+Stone.
+
+In a lull of the firing, the cook came running to the poop, with word
+that Trowley was in a fair way to make matchwood of his surroundings.
+
+"What ails him now?" inquired Kingswell.
+
+"He be shoutin' for a chance at the Frenchers," replied the cook.
+Kingswell considered the matter, with a calculating eye on the enemy.
+"Cast him loose," said he, "and give him a chance to prove himself an
+English sailor man."
+
+Trowley appeared on deck just as a shot from the _Cristobal_ struck the
+teakwood rail of the _Heart of the West_ amidships. A flying splinter
+whirred past his head. He brandished his cutlass, and bawled a threat
+across the rocking water. The men at the guns welcomed him with laughter
+and cheers.
+
+"Ye be in for the kill, master," cried one.
+
+Kingswell beckoned the ex-commander aft, and met him at the top of the
+ladder. Trowley looked guiltily this way and that.
+
+"I have let you up, my man," said the captain, "that you may bear a hand
+in the fight. I am willing to forget your knaveries of the past, and
+remember only your actions of to-day."
+
+Trowley nodded, and for an instant his eyes met Kingswell's.
+
+"You can see what we have done to the enemy," said the other. "But I am
+in no mind to break her up with this everlasting cannonading. What would
+you suggest?"
+
+Trowley straightened his great shoulders and lifted his head. "Lay her
+aboard, sir," said he, "an' make fast."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+OVER THE SIDE
+
+
+With a fearful grinding of timbers and rattling of spars, the
+merchantman's larboard bow scraped along the enemy's side.
+Boarding-irons were thrown across from the forecastle-deck. With a yell,
+the men of Devon sprang from rail to rail, and hurled themselves upon
+the mongrels who clustered to repulse them. Cutlasses skirred in the
+air; and some struck clanging metal, and some met with a softer
+resistance. Screams of rage and pain, and shouts of grim exultation,
+rang above the conflict.
+
+Old Trowley hacked a place for himself in the thickest of the press, and
+laid about him with such desperate fury and such fearful oaths that the
+buccaneers hustled each other to get out of his way.
+
+Kingswell, in the waist of the _Cristobal_, encountered D'Antons, and
+claimed him for his own. As their blades rasped together, D'Antons began
+the story of Sir Ralph Westleigh's death in the wilderness. Kingswell
+heard it without comment. The tumult about them gradually subsided, as
+man after man of the pirate crew was cut down or bound. Sail was
+shortened on both vessels, and the victors, sound and wounded alike,
+gathered about the two swordsmen. A strained silence took possession of
+the watchers. The rough fellows understood that their captain had an old
+score to settle with the buccaneer. They were fascinated by the
+lightning play of the rapiers. They noted every movement of foot and
+hand, blade and eye. When D'Antons snarled an insulting taunt at his
+adversary, they cursed softly. When their captain pricked the pirate's
+shoulder, a husky murmur of admiration went through them. So intent were
+they on the fight that they failed to notice the approach of Miwandi,
+the Beothic woman, until she was in their midst. But they became aware
+of her presence when she screamed with rage and flung herself upon
+Kingswell.
+
+"Pull the wench off," they cried, and made a futile grab at the mad
+figure.
+
+Kingswell, quick as a cat for all his Saxon colouring, wrenched himself
+clear of her, avoided the slash of her knife by a half-inch, and lunged
+through D'Antons' guard. The buccaneer pitched forward so suddenly and
+heavily that the rapier was wrenched from the Englishman's hand. The
+hilt struck the deck. The slim blade darted out between D'Antons'
+shoulders a full two-thirds of its length. He sprawled on his face,
+gulping his last breath; and the hilt of Kingswell's weapon knocked
+spasmodically on the red planking of the deck. The woman, stunned with
+grief, was led away by two of the seamen.
+
+By the time the duel was over, the long, northern twilight was drawing
+to a close. The decks of the _Cristobal_ were cleared of the dead bodies
+and the wreckage of guns and spars. The torn rigging was partially
+repaired; a few sails were set; and the shattered tiller was replaced.
+The prisoners (wounded and bound together, they did not number a dozen)
+were divided between the ships. A prize-crew of seven, under the first
+mate's command, went aboard the _Cristobal_. Then the boarding-irons
+were cast loose, and the vessels fell away from each other to a safe
+distance.
+
+Miwandi's grief was desperate. Beatrix strove to comfort her, but failed
+signally. Her position was evident enough to every one who had seen her
+frantic attempt to assist D'Antons in the encounter with Kingswell.
+Beatrix guessed the story. Her face burned at remembrance of her
+one-time companionship with D'Antons--of the days before she fully knew
+his nature, and often sat at cards and chess with him in the little
+cabin in the wilderness--and of the days before that, when he was one of
+her admirers in London. Even now she did not know him for her father's
+murderer. Kingswell had decided to keep that to himself, until some day
+in the happy future, when the wilderness should be fainter than the
+memory of a dream in his wife's mind.
+
+For three days the ships kept within sight of each other. On the fourth,
+a gale of wind drove them apart; but Kingswell felt no anxiety for the
+prize, for she had received no serious damage to her hull in the bitter
+encounter that had befallen on his wedding-day.
+
+Aboard the _Heart of the West_ the wounded improved daily; the prisoners
+cursed their irons and their luck; the crew never pulled on a rope
+without a song to lighten the task; old Trowley, promoted from
+imprisonment to the position of second mate, worked like a Trojan, and
+Beatrix and Bernard sped the hours in the high and golden atmosphere of
+love and youth. The Beothic woman, however, felt no response in her
+heart to the stir and happiness about her. Her world had fallen in a
+desolation of emptiness, and her very soul was weary of the sequence of
+day and night, night and day. She would not eat. She sobbed quietly,
+without rest, in her darkened berth. Her ears were deaf to words of
+comfort, even when they were spoken in her own language by Ouenwa. She
+asked no questions. Ever since that first outbreak, at sight of her
+lover's danger, she accepted the will of her pitiless gods without signs
+of either anger or wonder.
+
+One still night, when the waves rocked under the faint light of the
+stars without any breaking of foam, and the wind was just sufficient to
+swell the sails from the yards, the man at the tiller was startled from
+his reveries by a splash close alongside. He called to the officer of
+the watch, who had heard nothing, and told him of the sound. They
+scanned the sea on all sides and listened intently. They saw only the
+black, vanishing crests. They heard only the whispering of the ship on
+her way.
+
+"A fish," said the mate. The other agreed with him.
+
+In the morning Miwandi's berth was discovered to be empty,--no trace of
+her was found alow or aloft.
+
+The remaining days of the passage slipped by without any especial
+incident. Winds served. Seas were considerate of the good ship's
+safety. No fogs endangered the young lovers' homeward voyage. Every
+night there was fiddling in the forecastle and the chanting of rude
+ballads. And sometimes in the cabin a violin sang and sang, as if the
+very heart of happiness were under the sounding-board, and Love himself
+in the strings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE MOTHER
+
+
+Dame Kingswell, the widow of that good merchant of Bristol whom Queen
+Elizabeth had knighted in her latter days, sat in her chamber and looked
+down upon a pleasant garden beneath the window. She was alone. Her
+garments, though of rich materials, were sombre in hue. She wore no
+personal ornaments save two rings on her left hand, and a chain of gold,
+bearing a small cross of the same metal, at her breast. Her thick hair
+was snow-white. In her youth it had been as black as her husband's had
+been flaxen. Her complexion held scarcely more colour than her hair. On
+her knees a book of devotional poetry, splendidly illuminated about the
+margins, lay open. But her thin hands were folded over the page, and her
+gaze was upon the shrubbery of the garden. The time was early evening.
+The sunlight was mellow gold. The hedges, shrubs, and fountain on the
+lawns threw eastward shadows.
+
+The chamber in which the widow sat was large and scantily furnished. A
+few portraits, by masters of the brush, hung along the walls. A
+prayer-desk, with a red hassock before it, stood in a corner.
+
+A light rapping sounded on the door. The lady turned her eyes from the
+bright garden below her window. She saw the door open, and a beautiful
+girl in cloak and hat enter the room. The stranger advanced quickly, in
+a whispering of silks, and in her glowing hands took the widow's
+bloodless fingers.
+
+"My dear," said the elder woman, kindly, "I fear my memory is flitting.
+I do not recall your winsome face. Can it be that you are one of Sir
+Felix Brown's lasses, grown to such a fine young lady in London?"
+
+The girl sank on her knees and kissed the pale hands lightly and
+prettily.
+
+"My name is Beatrix Kingswell," she murmured.
+
+The good dame was sorely puzzled. She tried, in vain, to connect this
+lovely creature with any branches of the late knight's family.
+
+"Then you are a kinswoman of mine?" she queried. "Pray do not kneel
+there, my dear. Come sit in the window and tell me who you are."
+
+But the stranger did not move.
+
+"I am your daughter," she said. "And--oh, do not swoon, my
+mother--Bernard is at the door, awaiting your permission to enter."
+
+The widow closed her eyes for a second, leaning back in her chair. She
+recovered herself swiftly and clutched the skirts of the girl, who was
+now standing, ready to run to the door and admit her husband.
+
+"What story is this?" she cried, incredulous. "I have no daughter. And
+Bernard, my son, has lain dead in a far land these weary months."
+
+"Nay, dear madam," replied the girl. "Nay, he is not dead. But let me go
+to the door, and you will see him with your own eyes. He waits at your
+threshold, happy and well."
+
+The older woman maintained her hold of her visitor's gown. "And who are
+you, to bring me word of my son's return?" she asked, with a ring of
+shrewdness and suspicion in her voice. Dimly, she feared that she was
+affording sport to some heartless person; for this sudden tale of her
+son's safety, brought by this gay young lady, had broken upon her
+pensive reveries like an impossible scene out of a play.
+
+"I am his wife," replied Beatrix. With an effort, she pulled her skirts
+away from the clutching fingers, and sped to the door. Throwing it open,
+she admitted Bernard. The youth sprang to where his mother sat, and
+caught her up from her chair against his breast. With a glad,
+inarticulate cry, she slipped her arms around his neck and clung
+hysterically.
+
+
+Five days after the arrival of the _Heart of the West_, the _Cristobal_
+sailed into port. By that time the story of her capture was well known
+in the town, and a crowd of citizens gathered on the docks to welcome
+her. Master Kingswell put her up for sale. In the end, he bought her
+himself, for something more than she was worth. Every penny of the money
+Beatrix gave to the brave fellows who had fought and sailed their ship
+so valorously on her eventful wedding-day. Only that rugged and wayward
+master mariner, John Trowley, failed to show himself for a share of the
+gold. He had not the courage to run a chance of another meeting with
+Lady Kingswell.
+
+Of the future of Bernard, Beatrix, and the lad Ouenwa, something is
+written in the old records in an exceeding dry vein. Of the fate of the
+little fort on Gray Goose River, little is known. Some chroniclers
+maintain that the French overpowered it; others are as certain that the
+settlers moved to Conception Bay, and there established themselves so
+securely that, even to-day, descendants of those Triggets and those
+Donnellys cultivate their little crops, cure their fish, and sail their
+fore-and-afters around the coast to St. John's.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Brothers of Peril, by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
+
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