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diff --git a/old/54371-0.txt b/old/54371-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 721cd41..0000000 --- a/old/54371-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10164 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of With Force and Arms, by Howard R. Garis - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: With Force and Arms - A Tale of Love and Salem Witchcraft - -Author: Howard R. Garis - -Release Date: March 16, 2017 [EBook #54371] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH FORCE AND ARMS *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are -referenced. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding -the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. - -[Illustration: - - “I DREW MY SWORD, AND WITH THE HILT GAVE SEVERAL BLOWS ON THE DOOR.” -] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - - WITH FORCE AND ARMS - - - - - A TALE OF LOVE AND - SALEM WITCHCRAFT. - - - - - BY - - HOWARD R. GARIS. - - - - - - -------------- - - NEW YORK: - J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET, - 11 Paternoster Building, London. - - - - - -------------- - - Copyright, 1908, by J.S. Ogilvie Publishing Company. - - All Rights Reserved. - - Copyrighted in Great Britain. - - -------------- - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PREFACE. - - -The showman, crying his attractions, lifted up his voice at the flap of -his tent. So, at this, the entrance to that which is within, those who -stop to read may gain a hint of what is beyond. Only a little, though, -to whet your appetite and make you wish for more, it is to be hoped. - -So, then, this is a tale of love, of witchcraft, and of fighting. A tale -of a brave man, and as brave a maid. Herein may be found the doings of -witch-finders, Puritans and Indians. Also there is set down the struggle -of two men for the love of a woman, and it may be learned who won. You -may read of the lifting of the great rock, of the killing of the -serpent, of the battle at the fort, of the trial of death, and the -bursting of the mighty press. This much and more, until the tale is at -an end. - -The author hopes you, reader, and the many of you who make up the -public, will like the story. He has tried to make it interesting. If it -serves to help you pass a pleasant hour or two, the writer will have -accomplished his purpose. - -So, then, having had patience thus far, you may enter, and read. - - H. R. G. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - PAGE - CHAPTER I. - The Governor’s Commission 9 - - CHAPTER II. - Of the Scarlet Snow 20 - - CHAPTER III. - The Trial 32 - - CHAPTER IV. - How I Cast the Knife 41 - - CHAPTER V. - Of the Stone by the Brook 51 - - CHAPTER VI. - Lucille 63 - - CHAPTER VII. - Of the Horseman on the Beach 72 - - CHAPTER VIII. - The Battle at the Fort 82 - - CHAPTER IX. - How the French Took Pemaquid 96 - - CHAPTER X. - The Man at the Inn 111 - - CHAPTER XI. - A Man and His Wife 123 - - CHAPTER XII. - The Time of Peril 130 - - CHAPTER XIII. - In Salem Gaol 140 - - CHAPTER XIV. - A Sentence of Death 150 - - CHAPTER XV. - Peine Forte et Dure 161 - - CHAPTER XVI. - How We Broke Gaol 172 - - CHAPTER XVII. - The News Nanette Brought Me 183 - - CHAPTER XVIII. - How the Eagle Sailed 192 - - CHAPTER XIX. - How I Found Lucille 204 - - CHAPTER XX. - A Watch in the Night 216 - - CHAPTER XXI. - Of the Voyage of Lucille 227 - - CHAPTER XXII. - A Duel on the Sands 240 - - CHAPTER XXIII. - Shadows in the Night 256 - - CHAPTER XXIV. - How Simon Kept His Oath 267 - - CHAPTER XXV. - In the Name of the King 282 - - CHAPTER XXVI. - The Last Fight 294 - - CHAPTER XXVII. - Simon 306 - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - The End of Captain Amherst 316 - - CHAPTER XXIX. - An Order from the King 328 - - CHAPTER XXX. - Love, Honor and Obey 338 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - WITH FORCE AND ARMS. - - ---------- - - - - - CHAPTER I. - THE GOVERNOR’S COMMISSION. - -As I left the presence of His Excellency I encountered, in the doorway, -a man who was entering with every appearance of haste. We came against -each other full tilt. For the moment the shock threw us apart. - -“Zounds! But you are a clumsy fellow!” he exclaimed, limping toward me, -the expression of pain on his face showing that I must have hurt him. -“Could you not look whither you were going? You stepped on my foot like -a very horse,” and the words came testily. - -He scowled as he prepared to pass by me. - -My hand was on my sword, for he was most insulting. - -“Sir!” I exclaimed, “for the pain I have caused you I am regretful. As -for ‘clumsy fellows,’ look to yourself, sir!” - -My weapon was out on the instant. He was not a second behind me. The -steel blades crossed with a clash. - -“What is this, sirs?” cried Sir William Phips, Massachusetts’s Governor, -whose room I had just left. He hastened toward us. - -“What mean you two, with your swords out in the Council Chamber, like a -pair of swashbucklers over a card game? Put them up at once, you Captain -Amherst; and you, also, Sir George. You are both at fault. This must go -no further; do you hear? If it does, you may reckon with me on the -quarter deck.” - -My opponent and I were startled. Somewhat abashed, he whom the Governor -called Sir George, sheathed his weapon, I following his action. - -I looked at the man. He was tall and well built. His clothing was of -good quality, with fine lace and ruffles; his sword a trusty blade, set -in a hilt, studded with red stones. On his face there was a haughty -look, yet withal, a trace of sadness. He gazed sharply at me, seeming -about to put a question, but the Governor was beckoning him, and he -passed me without a word, scowling darkly, into the chamber of His -Excellency. Then I went out. - -There came a time, afterward, when I wished with all my heart, that our -swords had come into use, that day; a time when I would have given much -to have seen him dead before me. But there was another way. - -I felt within my jacket to see if my papers were safe, for on them, now, -depended my good fortune. I had come to Boston town without friends, and -almost on a forlorn hope, for England was no longer a safe place for me, -with a relentless enemy following close on my heels at every step. My -mission had succeeded better than I had dared to hope, and I was leaving -now, carrying with me a captain’s commission, duly signed and sealed by -His Excellency. I also had a letter of introduction to one, Samuel -Willis, a tavern keeper at Salem. - -Of the things which had come to pass before I found myself in Boston -town, in the year of grace 1692, I will relate none for the present. At -any rate here I was, Captain Edward Amherst, in age not yet a score and -a half, in stature say a bit over six feet; in weight--but there, you -will doubtless have more than enough of me ere I have finished. - -Sufficient to say that I was a soldier by trade, and one of fortune, by -necessity, and that I sought service in their Majesties’ American -Colonies. I had left London eight weeks ago, bearing letters to Governor -Phips, from old comrades in arms, some of whom had sailed the seas with -him. Arriving in Boston I had put up at the inn, and had sought an -audience with His Excellency, which interview was just over, with the -ending I have described. - -When I was ushered into the presence of Sir William I explained in few -words why I came, and what I wanted. He extended his hand for my -letters, and, when he had them, he gave me no more heed for a time, but -read the missives. I watched his face as he scanned the pages, the while -he kept up a running fire of comments. - -“Ha! Tyler Anderson,” he said, “I know him well. He has a steady hand, -and can use a cutlass famously. Sir Arthur Kent, too; a sly rascal with -the women. Bob Frenchard; he never could get enough of fighting. John -Powell; little Nat Edwards, also. Why, man, you might have all Boston as -far as I am concerned, with these letters. You are very welcome, -Captain. Now what can I do for you?” - -“Much,” I answered, surprised and pleased at his welcome; and then I -told him what I desired; a soldier’s chance to mend his fortunes. - -“How would a Captain’s commission, on this side of the water, suit you?” -he asked, when I had finished. “You tell me that was your rank before.” - -“I would desire nothing better,” I said warmly. - -“It is yours, then,” was the reply, and he drew out a parchment, -partially covered with writing. - -“You probably have heard of the activity of the French and Indian enemy -on our borders,” said the Governor, while he prepared a quill. “We are -about to proceed against them. You have come at a time when certain -currents are like to drift you just where you want to go; into the thick -of the fight.” Then he opened his ink horn. - -I listened for a while to the scratching of his quill. It was some time -before he had finished, and, looking up he handed a folded parchment -across the table to me. - -“There is your commission, Captain,” he said, rising. “As for your -instructions, they are, in brief, these. You are to ride to Salem town, -and enlist a company of one hundred men. Drill them well, against the -time when we shall unite, and smite the French Philistine and his Indian -allies, with fire and with sword. We will rake them fore and aft. An -expedition against Canada is timed for this season next year. I hope it -will be more successful than the one I led two years ago, for indeed -that was a grievous failure, though, of a truth, it was against heavy -odds.” - -I had heard of the manner in which Frontenac had scattered Phips and the -English fleet sent against him, but I held my peace; for failure is no -happy subject with any man. Sir William told me in few words that -Admiral Sir Francis Wheeler was expected to arrive in March, with his -fleet from the Caribbee Islands. Governor Phips had undertaken to raise -small companies of men throughout the Colony, to act with the Admiral on -his arrival. This much he told me, then, bidding me a pleasant farewell, -and wishing me success, he took up his quill again, to indicate that the -audience was at an end. - -My encounter with the man in the doorway passed from my mind, as I -descended the steps of the Town Hall, and trudged along the street, to -where I had stabled my mare Kit. With busy thoughts of what might be -before me I led Kit out of the door, leaped into the saddle, and was off -at a round trot, in the direction a lad pointed out as leading to Salem. - -Of a truth, I was away now to seek my fortune in this new land, and, I -hoped, with the promise of as many adventures as ever befell a knight of -old. So, over hill and across dale I rode, soon leaving behind the -pleasant town and the outlying farm lands. I had not gone many miles ere -the snow, which had been threatening since morning, began to fall from -the dull, leaden sky, piling up on the white covering of previous -storms. The flakes sifted down, lazily at first, but soon began to -gather more thickly as the wind rose, so I urged the mare on by spur and -voice, determined to reach Salem by night, if I could. Now the snow came -down ever quicker and faster. It swirled and swished, and blew in -drifts, until I was fain to stop, look about me and see where I was. I -pulled the mare up as I reached the top of a little hill, and peered -through the clouds of cutting flakes for some sight of the road, which, -it was evident, I had lost some time ago. Kit would have turned tail to -the wind, but I pressed my knees against her sides, and held her to the -blast. There was little hope in going back, perhaps less in proceeding. - -But I decided to continue in the hope of coming to some shelter, and I -patted the mare on the neck to set her going again. She lurched forward -into a drift so deep that it well nigh covered my knees as I sat in the -saddle, and my boots were filled with snow through their wide, gaping -tops. - -“Steady, girl!” I shouted, for, indeed, less voice could scarce have -been heard. We were fairly lost now, and for the last hour had been -wandering back and forth across country, I knew not how far from the -road. I did not see a single landmark in the stretch of whiteness, my -only hope having been that I might keep the right way. Kit began to -back, seeking to rid herself of the cutting wind, and I had hard work to -force her to stand. Should I turn to the left, to the right, or keep -straight on? The wind seemed to blow less fiercely from the south, so I -swung Kit about in that direction, pulled her to the left, and urged her -on. - -She responded nobly, and reared, rather than stepped out of the snow -bank. Her fore feet struck solid ground, and then, feeling the hard road -beneath her hoofs, she pulled herself forward. We had struck the right -path at last, and, after hours of fierce weather-beating, like a ship at -sea, lost in a storm, we were fairly homeward bound, on the way to Salem -town. - -I rode on more quickly now, settling my hat firmer on my head, and -pressing the leather lining against my benumbed ears. My collar scarce -kept the snow and wind from my neck, and every half mile or so I was -obliged to drop the reins and, after feeling that my sword had not -dropped off in some snow drift, knock my hands together to bring their -fingers some little warmth. - -Verily, I thought that the road would never lead me to the friendly -tavern of Master Samuel Willis, who, as I had heard in Boston, provided -refreshment for man and beast. And surely no two stood more in need of -it than Kit and myself that cold February day. - -A fiercer squall and gust of wind than any that had proceeded, fairly -brought the mare to a stand. I lifted my hat a bit, held my interlocked -fingers before my eyes, and peered ahead. Dimly, like a speck of black -on a white sheet, that a dame might spread on the grass to bleach, I saw -in front a house. - -“May that be the tavern,” I quoth, and, with a heart that smote me a -trifle, for she had traveled far and well that day, I dug the spurs into -Kit’s flanks. She leaped through the drifts, and, at length, when she -could make no more progress, I found myself before the snow-heaped steps -of Salem Inn. - -The wind, shunted off by a corner of the building, beat less fiercely at -this point, and the roar was somewhat subdued. I drew my sword, for I -could not reach the door knocker from where I sat on Kit’s back, and -with the hilt gave several blows on the oak. - -“Who’s without?” came a woman’s voice from within. - -“A friend; Captain Edward Amherst,” I cried. “Open in the King’s name, -if for no other reason.” - -Now ere I had ceased speaking the heavy door swung inward, revealing -such a warmth and such a snug, homelike appearance, and, withal, letting -out such savory odors, that poor Kit whinnied in anticipation of what -might be her share of the feed. As for myself, I threw one leg over the -saddle, leaped to the ground, strode to the door, and went inside. I -shouted to a stout serving man, snugly ensconced in the chimney corner, -to look after the mare, and then I approached the blazing fire. - -“The Lord defend us! Goliath and the Philistines are upon us!” cried out -Mistress Willis, for she it was who had opened the door. - -I turned toward her. Now, of a truth, I am not overly large. But, with a -stout leather jacket on, my sword by my side, and heavy boots on my -legs, I did look big to the good dame’s eyes. Yet I stood not so much -over six feet, when in my woolen hose, and, in girth, full many a -comrade, of times past, whose body rests beneath the bogs of Sedgemoor, -in Somersetshire, was larger. Yet, in all modesty do I say it, there -were none who were of greater strength in shoulders or arms, and that, -with a wiry and supple wrist, stood me in good stead at sword play. - -“Neither Goliath nor a Philistine am I,” was my answer, while I let the -genial warmth get nearer to my bones as I cast hat and jacket into a -corner, “but an Essex man by birth and breed. But, mark you, Mistress,” -I went on, “if I do not get a mug of ale, and a bit of roast beef soon, -I will be nothing at all, for I lost my road early this morn, and no -bite nor sup has passed my lips since. Thus I am half starved. So bustle -about----” - -“Aye, ‘bustle about’ it is,” answered she, repeating my words, though in -no great anger. “Bustle about is all I’ve done since sunrise. What with -Willis away all day, attending on Dr. Clarke; with the snow, and only -one serving man, I have scarce time to----” - -“Peace,” said I, for I never loved a woman’s tongue when it ran in that -strain, “peace, and bring the ale and beef. You may talk afterward if -you like. I can listen better then.” - -Mistress Willis looked at me a minute, as if she would reply, but she -came to another conclusion, ceased her clatter, and bustled about to -such good advantage that she soon had on the table a plate of smoking -hot beef, and some cakes of yellow corn meal, with pats of golden -butter. There was also a stone mug of good ale. I gulped down a big -drink of it, and, when the flavor of it had mellowed me, and the warmth -gone clear down to my toes, I did drink again, this time to the health -of Mistress Willis. For, though I like not a woman’s tongue when they -talk over much, I know the value of being in their good graces. And so I -ate and drank, and ate again, until I felt the cold leave me, and the -memory of the biting wind and driving snow of an hour before was -forgotten. I leaned back in my chair, and looked all about me, while the -fire in the big chimney place flickered and spluttered; the hickory logs -smelling like sweet nuts, and cracking with the heat, as a teamster -snaps his whip on a frosty morning. - -I let my eyes take in the room, with the oak beams overhead, blackened -by smoke, the heavy tables and chairs, and the clean sanded floor. It -was getting on toward night now, and the wind had died out. I was alone -in the room, but I could hear Mistress Willis walking about in the -apartment overhead, and giving some orders to the servant. I rose from -my chair somewhat wearied, wishing that the inn keeper would return, so -that I might meet him, and seek my bed. I walked to the window, noting -that the moon had risen, and that the snow had ceased. As I looked -through the casement I started, and doubted whether my eyes beheld -aright, for I saw a sight of more than passing strangeness, and one -that, for a time, struck terror to my heart. - -The snow, which had been as white as a fleecy cloud, was now as red as -blood beneath the silver moon! - -At the same time I saw, coming toward the inn, at top speed, three men -who ran on, never once halting to glance behind them. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - OF THE SCARLET SNOW. - - -There was a clatter on the stairs as Mistress Willis came down, her face -white as the snow had been. She saw the red mantle from an upper window, -and came to stand beside me, with fright in her eyes. - -Together we watched the three figures, her breath coming like that of -one who had run far, her heart thumping against her ribs. For myself, -the first start over, I recalled that once before I had seen snow like -that. Learned men said small Arctic plants in floating clouds, or tiny -insects, had dyed the white flakes crimson. Yet in the town of Salem, -that night, that a red shadow of doom portended, was the dread in every -heart. - -Nearer and nearer came the three men. Their boots cast up the snow, -blood red on top and white beneath, so that their path was marked like a -pale streak of dawn athwart a morning sky. They reached the inn door, -and burst into the room scarce stopping to raise the latch. The shorter -of the three, whom I took to be Master Willis, by reason of his -good-natured face, from which even fear had not chased all the jollity, -cried out: - -“Oh, Lord, deliver us! ’Tis the snow of blood, and the witches of the -air have sent it upon us. Of a truth they be demons of darkness; those -who will be on trial to-morrow,” and he fell to murmuring a psalm tune -in a high pitched, quavering voice, crowding the while into the chimney -corner, where he could not see the red snow. - -Now I was sore puzzled by all that had happened, although I set but -small store by the crimson flakes. The talk of demons of darkness, and -witches of the air, came with an odd sound to my ears. The more so as I -had heard that these New Englanders were a plain, practical people, much -given to prayers and pious works. To hear Master Willis prate of -mysterious beings, then, made me wonder what had come to pass. The three -men, and the wife of Willis, were huddled together now, one of them -occasionally glancing with awestruck eyes out of the window. - -“There is one comfort, though,” muttered the inn keeper, “the witches -will be no more after to-morrow, as their trial is set for then, and -there will be a short shrift, when once the honorable judges have passed -sentence.” - -“’Tis none too soon,” put in Mistress Willis. “Had the doers of -witchcraft been hung or burned to-day, this evil would not have fallen -upon us. Who knows what else may follow. These are troubled times,” and -she glanced uneasily out of the window again. - -I had been forgotten in the sudden terror, and I stood in the far corner -of the room, waiting until I might have some attention. Seeing that I -was like to stay there some time without notice, so firmly had the fear -laid hold of the company, I stepped from my place, and, as I saw the inn -keeper’s eyes turn toward me, I spoke: - -“Master Willis,” I began, but I had scarce uttered the words than the -mistress screamed, and the three men turned, as if to flee from the -room. Verily, I believe they took me for a witch. Had not the logs in -the fireplace blazed up then, showing who I was, there is no telling -what might have happened. - -Mistress Willis gave a sigh of relief while the tavern owner and his -companions stared at me. - -“Lackaday! I had clear forgotten you,” said the matron. “’Tis some one -to see you, Samuel Willis.” - -“Me?” repeated her husband. - -“Captain Edward Amherst, at your service,” said I, bowing slightly. “I -bear a commission from His Excellency Sir William Phips, and I was -bidden to seek this inn, and to make it my headquarters for a time. I -also have a letter from Sir William for you, Master Willis.” - -“Ha! ’Tis a strange time to get a letter,” ejaculated mine host, taking -the missive I held out. “And I can scarce break the seal from the -trembling of my hand over this visitation of wrath that has come upon -us.” - -However, he managed, after several attempts, to crack the wax. Then, -candles having been brought, he read what Sir William had addressed to -him. - -“You are very welcome, Captain,” said Willis, “though you come, indeed, -at a grievous time. Sin, woe and misery are abroad in the land. We are -threatened by the French and the Indians from without, and by horrid -witchcraft within. ’Tis enough to make an honest man believe the end of -the world is nigh. But, of a truth, you are welcome. We have been -expecting that some military authority would be sent to Salem, to make -ready for an aggressive movement. - -“Rumor has already been busy,” he went on, “talking of the blow we are -to strike at the enemies of the Crown in the American Colonies. How we -are to swoop down, by land and by sea, on the French in Canada. I see by -this that you are authorized to raise an hundred good men at arms in -Salem town.” - -“If it be possible,” I said. - -“I believe it will be no hard task to get them,” responded Willis. “What -think you, Dr. Clarke, or you, Master Hobbs? Though you are more versed -in physic, doctor, and you in wheelwright lore, Master Hobbs, than in -feats of arms. As for me, I can point a fowling piece, or a rifle, with -no trembling hand, and at sword play I used not to count myself the -worst of our militia,” and the inn keeper drew himself up proudly, and -made one or two passes at an imaginary foe. - -“Now that you know my errand, enough is spoken of it for the time,” I -said. “Tell me, what bodes this talk of evils abroad in the land; of -spirits and witchcraft? The red snow I count not for much, having seen -the same happening in the north of France once on a time. ’Tis but -passing; a mist of tiny Arctic plants, a flight of forest insects, even -a glint of red sun through a hidden cloud may cause it.” - -“Nay,” came in deep tones from Dr. Clarke. “Talk not lightly, young man, -of that which you wot little. Know you, that this day I have been called -in to minister to Elizabeth Parris, and Abigaile Williams, the daughter -and niece, respectively, of our good Dominie, Samuel Parris. Verily the -children be possessed by witches of the air, for their actions were most -strange. They bore no marks, yet they continually cried out that witches -ever thrust pins in their flesh. And Mistress Parris told me how pins -were cast up from the children’s throats, though I saw not the -instruments of torture, they having been removed before my arrival. -Sometimes the children were at peace, and, on a sudden they would cry -out that the witches were at them again though at no time were the -spirits visible to me.” - -“How did you then learn who the witches were?” I asked in some -curiosity. - -“’Twas easily done,” replied the physician, “for in their fits the -children cried out the names of those who were tormenting them. They -spoke of Tituba, an Indian servant in the same house with them, and of -one, Marie de Guilfort, a maid, living not far off. These two, they -said, had appeared to them, and thrust pins and needles into their -bodies.” - -“And what was done with the two thus accused?” said I. - -“What would you have?” interposed Willis. “The law of our Colony -prescribes death for all who, whether male or female, practice -witchcraft.” - -“Even so,” went on Dr. Clarke. “These two, having been named as witches, -and Mistress Parris, affirming on oath, for the children, the witches -were seized by the constables, and now lie in Salem gaol. To-morrow is -the trial day in the Oyer and Terminer Court. And, if further proof was -needed that the two were witches, this scarlet snow is more than -enough.” - -“That will pass,” I said, yet I wondered, with a strange feeling in my -heart, what evils might portend. Little did I guess what perilous times -were ahead; when no man’s nor no woman’s life was safe. When the false -fear of witchcraft stalked abroad in the land like a horrid spectre, -slaying, burning, hanging and crushing. - -“See!” cried Hobbs, the wheelwright, pointing to the window. - -The red glow outside was fading away, and the moon shone peacefully on -the fast whitening snow. Slowly the angry red died out, seeming to sink -down into the earth, and with it went some of the fears of those in the -room. - -“’Tis wonderful! Never before did my eyes behold such a feat of -witchcraft,” said the inn keeper. - -Then, as we watched, the scarlet covering disappeared entirely, leaving -the scene as peaceful as the day had been stormy. It was close on to -nine o’clock now, and Dr. Clarke and the wheelwright began to make plans -for going home. - -“I suppose, Hobbs, that you do not mind going around by the mill with -me?” suggested the physician. “’Tis at best a lonesome place, and, -though I have no fears, still one man may be no proof against witches. -What say you, Hobbs?” - -“If I go by the mill with you,” protested the wheelwright, “I will have -to pass alone over the bridge whereon, only to-day, Tituba was taken. -Nay, Dr. Clarke, I’ll go by the back road to my home, if it please you.” - -“But, Hobbs,” urged the man of physic, “the road over the bridge is -bathed in moonlight, besides----” - -“Enough, I’ll not go,” replied the other. “Was it not near the mill that -the other witch was observed to be plucking flowers last summer? Who -knows but she has cast a spell over the place?” - -Verily the two would never have screwed up courage to go home, had not -Willis urged that he was about to close his tavern. So they were forced -to make a start. - -I peered out of the window to see which ways they took. Dr. Clarke -continued in his endeavor to convince Hobbs that the road by the mill -was the best, but the wheelwright was stubborn. Suddenly he turned and -ran across the snow toward his home. Left there alone in the night, the -physician faced about also, and, glancing behind him, as if he feared to -see the Devil, he sped on toward the mill. - -I was tired and sleepy after my ride, so, with a word to Willis I lost -no time seeking my chamber; one of the few that the tavern boasted of. -My head was filled with plans for leading men once more to battle. For I -loved the strife of war, the clash of steel on steel, the smell of -powder, and the shouts of foes and comrades. Well, I was soon to have my -fill of it, though I dreamed not that I would have to fight with such -foes as presently beset me. - -The sun was shining when I arose in the morning, to dash cold water on -my face and hands from an ice-ribbed basin in the corner, for the night -had been cold, and there was no heat in the room. Yet when I emerged I -found the sunlit air warm, and it seemed as if Nature had forgotten her -fierce, boisterous mood of yesterday. Willis greeted me as I came from -the stable, whither I had gone to see that Kit had had her full measure -of corn. - -“’Tis little you can do to-day,” he said, “for this cursed witchcraft -has so laid hold of men that talk of war and fighting will scarce -interest them now, even though the battle be against their mortal foes, -the French and Indians. - -“A magistrate and a jury will try the two witches to-day at the court -house. Since you have nothing better to do come there with me. ’Twill be -a sight, I warrant, you have never seen before. Nor have I, though -stories of how, in days gone by, witches were tried in Boston have come -down to me from my father.” - -“Who are the two called witches?” I asked, when breakfast, for which I -had a great relish, was finished. While I fastened on my sword, -preparing to follow the inn keeper, he answered me. - -“One, the elder woman,” he said, “is Tituba, an Indian slave, and there -is little doubt that she is a witch. I make no bones but she is familiar -with Satan, for I dare not look her in the eyes, yet I count myself -afraid of little on this earth. The other, were she not a witch, I could -well be sorry for, as she is beautiful to look upon; a girl almost. Yet -it but proves how the evil one can use even beauty to gain his ends. -Marie de Guilfort is the name of the young witch. She is a French -Huguenot, who, with her cousin, Lucille de Guilfort, and the latter’s -father, M. Louis de Guilfort, came to Salem some five years back. The -old man died, not being able to withstand the rigors of our winters, and -the two girls have since lived alone, with an old servant to see after -their wants. Both of them are more than passing fair to look upon. Is it -not a pity that in such a body, in one so young and lovely, there should -be a soul sold to Satan?” - -“You saw the purchase made, then?” I asked with some spirit, for I did -not like the positive tone of Willis. - -“What purchase?” - -“Of the soul of the one you call Marie de Guilfort?” - -“No man did,” he answered, half angrily. “Yet it cannot be doubted. For -did not the child say that Marie tormented her with pins? And how could -these be thrust, Marie not being present, unless the Devil helped her?” - -I shrugged my shoulders, for I thought it was little use to argue with a -mind that laid stress on such points. - -“Will the child’s testimony, and that of the mother, be enough to -convict the girl of witchcraft?” I went on, rather curious to know how -they managed such affairs in New England. - -“There will be other witnesses,” said Willis, “and enough to bring the -matter to a close.” We were at the court house steps now, and I ceased -my talk to observe what was going on. - -The crowd was there before us. They pushed and swayed about the narrow -doorway, moving first this way and then that. It was a strange -assemblage. None in it was laughing. There was no jesting, no calling -from one to another. Instead there was a calm quietness about it, a set, -serious look on the faces that partook of a sense of a duty to be -performed--one that could not be shirked. Into the room, with its high -ceiling and dark oaken beams overhead, the people swarmed, making but -little confusion. After some crowding and quiet jostling, Master Willis -and I managed to obtain seats near the door. We had scarcely gotten into -them before the tavern keeper, peering up, whispered: - -“There goes Stephen Sewall, the clerk. Note how proudly he bears his ink -horn and quills. He seems to know not any one now, though only yesterday -he begged me to trust him for a glass of ale, and I did so. There come -the jurors,” added Willis, “and, see! The prisoners! The witches!” - -“I see them not,” I said looking all about. There were a few women -present, but none of these seemed to be in custody. - -“Farther to the left,” said Willis, “mark where Constable George Locker, -and his companion, Jonathan Putnam sit?” - -“Aye, I see.” - -“Note the two women next to them?” - -“Yes.” - -“They be the witches. Lord prevent that they cast their eyes this way!” -and back the inn keeper shrank into his seat. - -One of the prisoners was a young girl, as fair as one could wish. The -other was an Indian woman, as dark as the brown bark of a pine tree. The -maid sat with downcast eyes, and deadly terror written in every line of -her shrinking form. The eyes of the Indian roved about, looking boldly -at the people, as if she bid defiance to her enemies. - -I noted that across from me a woman, or rather a maiden, sat with her -head bowed on the rough bench in front of her. A cloak concealed most of -her figure, and the hood of the garment was drawn up over her head. From -this covering a dark ringlet of hair had escaped, and rested lightly on -her white cheek. Her little hand, with the pink nails showing against -the white flesh, grasped the edge of the seat tightly. - -I nudged Master Willis, and asked in a low tone who she was. He did not -hear me, for just then the court criers entered, calling loudly for -silence. There was a pause, and then, slowly, and with becoming dignity, -the dark gowned judges made their appearance. - -“Their Honors, Judges John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin,” said Willis. -“The trial will begin directly now.” - - - - - CHAPTER III. - THE TRIAL. - - -The cries of “Silence” by the constables were some time in being of -effect, so anxious were the people without to get in. The efforts of -those inside to secure places of vantage was also the cause of some -confusion and noise, but, at length, order was obtained. The learned -looking judges, with their wigs and gowns, whispered to each other, and -then to the clerk. There was some passing of papers back and forth among -them, and then Clark Sewall, clearing his voice importantly, read from a -parchment he held: - -“Indictment of Tituba, the Indian, and of Marie de Guilfort. The jurors -for our Sovereign Lord and Lady, King William and Queen Mary, do present -that you, Tituba, the Indian, and Marie de Guilfort, in the county of -Essex, upon the 26th day of February, in the fourth year of the reign of -our Sovereign Lieges, rulers, by the grace of God, over England, -Ireland, Scotland and France, King and Queen, defenders of the faith; -divers other days and times, as well as before and after, certain -detestable arts called witchcraft and sorceries, wickedly and -feloniously, hath used, preached, exercised, at and within the township -of Salem aforesaid, in and upon and against Elizabeth Parris and -Abigaile Williams. By which said wicked arts the said children are hurt -and tortured, afflicted, pined, consumed, wasted and tormented. And also -for sundry acts of witchcraft, by the said Tituba and Marie committed -and done before and since that time, against the peace of our Sovereign -Lord and Lady, their Crown and dignity, and against the forms of -statutes in that case made and provided.” - -All this the clerk read, scarce pausing for breath, and, when he had -finished, a sound like a great sigh went up from the people. - -“Terrible! Oh, most terrible!” whispered Willis. - -“Out upon you,” I exclaimed. “’Tis naught but a lot of high sounding law -terms. Master Sewall has a pretty trick of rolling them off his tongue.” - -I glanced at the prisoners, who had been led to chairs on the high -platform near the judges’ desks. She, who was called Marie, looked -straight over the heads of the crowd, right down to where I sat. Her -eyes roved on past me to the shrinking form of the maiden at my right. -The latter raised her head, her eyes dim with tears. - -While I watched her lips moved, as if in prayer, and she stretched out -her arms to the beautiful girl on the stand. - -“Who is the maid at our right?” I asked of Willis. - -“’Tis Lucille, the cousin of Marie,” he answered. - -Just then Lucille turned her head, and her eyes met mine. Full half a -minute we gazed at each other, and though I know not the import of the -message that came from her eyes, it was like one that would make me do -her bidding, even though death stood in the way. - -The indictment having been read the witnesses against the accused were -called. The mother of Elizabeth mounted the stand, and began giving her -testimony in a dull, monotonous tone. - -She told how the two children were of a sudden stricken into fits one -day, which illness Dr. Clarke was not able to allay. Then the children -cried out that some one was thrusting pins in them. Dr. Jacobs related -how he had been called in, and, finding no evident cause for the -ailments, had concluded, with Dr. Clarke, that the girls were possessed -by witches. How the learned men arrived at this conclusion they said -not. - -Then came strange testimony. Dr. Jacobs told how he had cautioned -Mistress Parris to hang the children’s blankets near the fireplace at -night, burning whatever fell therefrom. A great toad dropped out, the -woman said, and a boy caught the reptile up with the tongs, and threw it -in the fire. It exploded with a noise like gun powder, and the next day -Tituba was found to be burned on the left cheek, which made it plain -that she had changed herself into a toad for the purpose of tormenting -the children. What further proof was wanting? If there was it would seem -to have been furnished by the girls themselves. - -They were brought into court, trembling and shrinking back. And then, -suddenly, with mine own eyes, I saw them fall down in strange fits, the -like of which I had never seen before. They cried that pins and knives -were being stuck into them by Marie and Tituba. Though how that could be -I fathomed not, for the hapless women never moved from their seats. But -a murmer went around, and the judges, nodding their heads, looked grave. - -Next Farmer John Sloan related how he was removing his hay from the -meadow, using three carts. - -“And, your Honors,” he said, “when I passed Tituba’s house one of the -wheels touched her gate post, and she muttered an evil spell against me. -After that the cart was overturned, though the road was without ruts. -Coming from the field on the next trip the cart did somehow fasten -itself between two gate posts, so that they had to be cut away ere the -cart could be drawn through. Yet neither the wheels nor the sides nor -any part of the cart did touch the posts.” - -“’Tis enough,” broke in Judge Corwin. “Do you question the prisoners, -Judge Hathorne. Let not the day of judgment be stayed. A great evil is -upon the land, and must be purged away.” - -Judge Hathorne asked Tituba what evil spirit she had familiarity with, -and whether she had ever seen the Devil. - -Then of a sudden she rose in her chair. She let her eyes rove over the -room, while the whole assemblage, judges, jurors, and all save myself, -cowered in their seats. - -“Aye,” she shrieked, “aye, I have seen him. He came to me in his chariot -of fire, and bade me serve him. I dared not say him nay. Also have I -seen two rats, a red one and a white one. And they did command that I -pinch the children. Aye, the rats did carry me to them like a spirit of -the air, and I pinched them and thrust sharp pins in them. Aye, the -Devil! the Devil! the Devil!” - -And then the creature ceased, and shrank back in her chair, crooning -away in her own tongue. The judges on their benches shuddered, and many -near me whispered: - -“She is a witch, indeed.” - -Next their honors turned toward Marie, and a sound like a great deep cry -came from the maiden near me. I half started from my seat, and had a -mind to draw my sword, to do what I could to rescue the beautiful girl -who seemed to me to be as innocent as the flowers. But even as I rose, -scowling looks met me at every side. Some of the constables hastened in -my direction, and Master Willis, with a quick motion, drew me back into -my seat. Clearly the town folks were witch-mad, and would brook no -interference with their doings. I listened to what the judge was saying. - -“Are you a witch?” he asked of Marie. But she did not reply. - -“Answer,” commanded the clerk. “Tell his Honor if you be a witch.” - -Then in a voice that, though it was weak from fear, yet which seemed -like the tinkle of a silver bell, sad and sweet, came the reply: - -“I am no witch indeed. You who have known me since I have lived among -you know me for but a harmless maid.” - -“True enough; she was kind to me when my child was sick unto death,” -said a woman near me. But the terror of the scarlet snow of the night -before had seized on the minds of all, so that they could not see the -truth. - -“Confess, and ye die not,” said Judge Hathorne. He leaned over toward -Marie, a trace of pity on his face. But Marie only looked down at her -cousin, whose lips were moving in silent prayer. “Will ye not confess, -and save your soul?” persisted the judge, in some anger at the manner in -which the fair prisoner ignored him. - -“I can speak in the presence of God, safely, as I may look to give -account another day,” said Marie, “that I am as innocent of witchcraft -as the babe unborn.” - -There was a murmur in the crowd, but it was quickly hushed. The Indian -woman was swaying back and forth in her chair, mumbling away, and now -and then breaking out into a wild melody. Some near me said she was -singing her death song as is the custom of that race. - -The judges motioned the jury to retire, and, while they were out I sat -looking at Lucille. Her body was shaking with sobs. Marie, on the -contrary, did nothing but sit and stare away into vacancy, with wide, -unseeing eyes, like a beautiful statue. - -It seemed but a short time ere the jury was back again. Once more the -constables proclaimed silence. The jurors took their seats. There were -the usual questions and answers, and then the leader said: - -“We find Tituba, the Indian, and Marie de Guilfort guilty of -witchcraft.” - -“And the sentence of this court is that you both be taken hence and -hanged by the necks until ye both are dead, and may God have mercy on -your souls,” came from the judge. - -The fatal words scarce were uttered when Lucille rose from her seat. Her -face was the color of the white snow outside. She reeled, and would have -fallen, had I not sprang toward her, catching her in my arms, and -carrying her to the fresh air without. I held her, hardly knowing what -to do with the lovely burden, until some women, who had hastened from -the court room came up and relieved me. Then like one in a dream I made -my way to the tavern. I was aware of a multitude following the prisoners -to the gaol, crowding about the unfortunates, as if rejoicing at their -distress. Then I left the assemblage behind, and went into the inn, -where I drank deep of the ale to try and drive from my mind the memory -of what I had observed. - -’Twas but a few hours since I had reached Salem, yet I had seen strange -sights. I had been near to death, I had been witness to the scarlet -snow, and I had heard the words of doom pronounced. Truly events moved -with no little speed in this new land. - -The day passed, and I did not leave the inn. The darkness fell. There -came a confused murmer from the centre of the town. Some men passed the -tavern, running in the direction of the little hill, whence I had first -found the right path, in my journey of the night before. They were -hastening to the place of execution. I went to bed with a heavy heart. -And I dreamed strange dreams of horrid witches. - -I rose as soon as it was light, but, early as I was, the inn keeper was -before me. He told me the two prisoners had been hung that night, and, -though I desired greatly to question him concerning Lucille de Guilfort, -I forebore. However, he spoke of her soon, telling me that she had been -with her cousin to the last. The gaolers had to drag them apart, when -they led Marie to the scaffold. After the execution Lucille had gone to -her home in great distress, attended by some women folks, who vainly -tried to console her. It made my blood boil to think of the matter, and, -when my hand fell to my sword hilt, I felt that I would ask no better -work than to lay about among some of these witch-finders. - -But there was other work ahead of me. I must soon begin to plan for the -raising of my men, as desired by Sir William. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - HOW I CAST THE KNIFE. - - -I soon began to take up the threads of the life in Salem, since it was -like that I would be there for some time to come. Now that I look back -over it I am constrained to say that in no place had I ever found men -and women who made of life so serious a business. Yet, with all, there -was much to admire in them. The witch craze appeared to have passed, -though it left scars behind, and sad remembrances for some. - -I made the acquaintance of many who came to the inn, and learned much of -the new land and its people. I resolved, as soon as the weather should -grow milder, to look about and see what sort of soldier material I might -expect among the recruits. I must also learn something of the country -roundabout, as well as of the red men of the forest who inhabited it. -Every day I sallied from the inn, and took long walks. The weather was -growing mild now, and the snow was melting from off the hills and -meadows. - -There was some hunting to be had, and I often went out with a fowling -piece, and came back with a brace of partridge or squirrels, that made -dainty dishes, when Mistress Willis had broiled them over a blazing wood -fire, or fried them in sweet butter to a delicate brown crisp. - -Sometimes as I walked, or hunted or fished, there would come to me a -memory of Lucille de Guilfort, as I had seen her that day in the court -room. I had caught but few glimpses of her since, and then she had -passed me by with a bow, and a little smile, albeit a sad one. Though to -me she seemed the most lovely maid I had ever seen, I was to her, -apparently, no more than any one else of the Colony. She bowed to -Willis, as she did to me. - -At times I would sit idly on a woodland bank, my gun across my knees, -the squirrels playing, unharmed, and not afraid, in the trees above me. -I pictured to myself Lucille. Her eyes were brown; her hair a deep -blue-black, as a fine steel rifle barrel might be shaded. Her face was -like--but what it was like, ’tis beyond me to describe. There was love -in it, and her lips seemed made to kiss. Her voice was low and clear, -like a bell, and made one long, when he had once heard her speak to hear -her again. - -But it was little use to dwell on such thoughts, I concluded, for, -though I would have liked to see her every day, there was but one in -seven when I might do so of a certainty. That was on Sunday, when she, -with all the other colonists went up to the little meeting house, on the -hill. There good Dominie Parris held forth, at no uncertain length on -the trials and troubles of this world, and on the necessity of saving -the soul from the Devil and the wrath to come. To my shame be it, -perhaps, but I am afraid I paid but little heed to the minister, for, -from my bench I could catch a glimpse of Lucille, and, sometimes, see -her face when she turned about. Full many a Sunday I sat thus, greatly -cramped in my body, for my legs ill fitted the small benches, though I -felt repaid if she but turned her head once. - -The dominie would read page after page of the scriptures, and then -expound them at length, while, beneath the pulpit sat the clerk, turning -the hour glass, when the sands had run from the top to the bottom. And, -most often, it was two full turnings ere the sermon was finished. -Another time it might be three, while, on one weary day (I was -preciously sleepy too) I recall that the clerk turned the glass four -times before the lastly was reached. Yet I sat through it all without a -murmur, for such things a man will do sometimes, when he is not quite -himself, because of a maid. - -Once Cotton Mather, a great preacher from Boston, came to Salem, and his -text was witchcraft. He warned his hearers to be on their guard against -witches, who, he said, were abroad in the land. He referred to the -scarlet snow, and to the two executions that had taken place in our -Salem Colony. He also related such facts about witches, as had come to -his knowledge, he said. He spoke so strongly of the powers of the -witches, that the whole congregation almost was in great terror. Some -timid folks double barred their doors that night, lest the witches -should get in. This must have been a precaution of little use, for, if I -had heard aright the witches did not stop at solid stone walls, to say -nothing of oak doors. Oh, how foolish it all was, though it did not seem -so then to many. - -So the days went on. I had learned much of the Colony affairs, and made -the acquaintance of the principal men. I had seen enough to know that a -goodly company could be raised in Salem, and I dispatched a messenger to -Sir William with that information. - -But as to the throwing of the knife and what followed. I was idly -strolling through the forest one day when I came to a place where two -paths diverged. The left led on down past the common and to the grist -mill, while the other went deeper into the woods. With scarce a thought -I turned to the right, and walked on into the forest. - -The last vestige of snow had gone save from the hill tops, and the air -was warm with sunlight. The birds were beginning to fly northward, and, -as I walked, a flock of crows passed over head, cawing to each other. -There was but little of winter left, and that was fast disappearing. - -On and on I traveled, paying small heed to my steps until I found myself -in a sort of glen, the sides of which rose steeply on either side, while -the trees, locking their branches above, made it twilight at noonday. I -came to a halt and looked about me. - -Glancing along one side of the ravine I observed naught save the dull -brown of the shrubs and trees, some of which showed a little green as a -forerunner of spring. Then my eyes took in the other side of the glen. I -started in sudden fright, for what I saw made me weak-kneed, it was so -horrible. - -There stood Lucille, with her back against a tree, her soft gray dress -contrasting with the deep brown of the bark. She was not looking at me, -and I saw that her gaze was directed to a spot on the ground in front of -her. Following her glance I saw with terror that the spot was of mottled -yellow, brown and white. And then I knew it was not a spot, but a great -snake, coiled, and ready to spring. - -Its head waved sideways, with a slow, sinuous motion, and the forked -tongue ever darted in and out, like a weaver’s shuttle. Lucille, I saw, -dared not move. One hand was pressed to her heart, while the other -clasped some flowers she had been to the woods to gather; and the -blossoms were slowly falling from her nerveless fingers to the ground. - -At first I did not know what to do. Move farther I dared not, lest I -should startle the reptile, and cause it to strike the fatal blow, that, -for some reason, it was delaying. - -Had I a musket I might have shot the snake from where I stood, and I -thought with regret of the fowling piece I had left at the inn. I had my -sword, but it was folly to think of stealing upon the reptile, and -trying to kill it with that. Nor was there much chance that any one -would pass that way with a gun in time to be of service; for it was -getting late, and the glen was seldom visited. - -Perhaps it was a few seconds that I stood watching Lucille and the -snake, but it seemed an hour. I could see her slender figure beginning -to sway, under the baneful influence of the serpent, and I knew that I -must act quickly. I half drew my sword in desperation, and then I put it -back. For I knew that ere I could cross half the space between Lucille -and myself, the snake would strike. - -Now, among the Indians that frequently visited Salem, it was one of -their feats to throw or cast the knife. They would poise a dagger or -scalping blade on the palm of the hand, holding it in place with the -thumb. Then they would raise the hand, palm upward. With a sudden -movement, strong and swift, they would hurl the weapon from them, -casting it unerringly each time. I have seen them bury it to the hilt in -a buttonball tree, and in the body of a man, granting that it touched a -vital spot, the knife would let life quickly out. - -I had practiced this trick until, while not as good at it as the -Indians, I had some skill. So, when I put my sword back, I thought of -the knife, and I resolved to chance on throwing it at the snake. It was -but a chance, for I knew that if the reptile was startled it would -strike quickly, and I recognized the species as one whose bite was quick -death. But I gripped the knife, and drew it from the sheath. - -Slowly I raised the blade above my head. The spotted brown body was -drawn back, now, and, as Lucille saw that the serpent was about to -spring, a convulsive tremor shook her body. It must be now or never, I -thought, and I breathed a prayer that the knife might be speeded on its -way. - -Then straight and swift I threw, the keen weapon leaving my hand like a -shaft of light. On, on it flew, whirling about in the air, but making no -sound. As an arrow from the bow it struck the reptile behind its ugly -head, and, such was the force of the flying knife, that the steel edge -cut through the snake’s neck, and pinned it to the earth, while the -spotted body threshed about like a flail among the dried leaves. - -Lucille sank down at the foot of the tree as I bounded forward, certain -now that my cast had been successful. It was the work of but an instant -to lift her out of the way of the flying body of the snake, for I feared -that it might, even yet, strike out blindly, but none the less fatally. -Lucille rested in my arms, her senses having left her for the moment, -and I carried her to a spring near by, where I revived her with the cold -water. She opened her eyes a little. - -“You are safe now,” I said. She smiled faintly, then shuddered, and -closed her eyes again. Presently she gazed up at me, and whispered: - -“Oh, it was horrible! I shall never forget it!” - -I calmed her as well as I could, and she soon recovered her composure. -She declared that she was well enough to walk home, but I protested, and -begged that she would allow me to get a cart from a near-by farmer. - -“Oh, no,” she answered, “I could not stay another minute in these woods -now. Let me go with you. I can walk, indeed I can; see,” and she stepped -out bravely enough, but was forced to stop from trembling and weakness. - -Then I insisted that she lean on my arm, which, after some hesitation, -she consented to do. - -“I was after some arbutus,” she said as we walked along, “and it only -grows in the glen. I had plucked some when, just as I reached for a -beautiful cluster, I saw the snake coiled before me. And then it seemed -as if I could not move. My eyes grew heavy, and there was no life in me. -It began to get dark, and then, and then--all at once I saw a flash of -light, I heard the hiss of the reptile, and it grew all black, and I -fell. The next I knew you were bending over me.” - -“I thank God,” I said, “that I chanced by here to-day.” - -“Aye, ’twas a most fortunate chance,” she answered. - -“Mayhap it was more than chance--my fate,” I said softly, and she did -not reply. - -When I had seen her safely to her gateway I bade her good night. She -held out her hand to me. - -“I cannot thank you enough just yet,” she said. “’Tis the second time -that you have been by when I have needed a friend.” - -“I would it were ever so, madame,” I made answer, bowing. She stood idly -plucking at the arbutus. - -“Come some day and see me,” she said, which I might take as an answer to -my words. “That is, when you can find time from your military duties, -which, I fear, must be exacting to you.” - -“If they were a thousand times more so, yet would I come,” I responded. -She looked down at the flowers which she still held in her hand. Then, -on the impulse of the moment she gave me a spray. I have it yet, faded -and brown. For forty years it has been ever near me, and I would not -part with it and its memories of the past for all that life holds. - -“I shall be glad to see you,” spoke Lucille, after a pause, “though, -perhaps, ’tis a slight welcome I can give in return for the service you -have rendered me. Yet it will be from my heart.” - -“None could be better,” I said. “I will come.” I could make no other -answer. I wanted to be by myself and think of it all. For most strangely -had this maid come into my life, and she had awakened strange feelings -within me. Something much like love had found me off guard, for a -surety. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - OF THE STONE BY THE BROOK. - - -I sat up late in the tavern that night, and to calm my thoughts I drew -up some notices that I intended to post throughout the town, inviting -recruits to join my little army. I judged that this would be a good -time, since it could not be said when we would make the first venture -against Canada, without waiting for the fleet. The weather was growing -more and more mild every day now, and flowers and shrubs were beginning -to show blossoms. The trees were in full leaf, when, one pleasant day, -having after much labor written on several papers what I wanted to say I -left the inn to put them up in conspicuous places. - -They called upon all good men and true, who so might desire, to enlist -under Captain Edward Amherst, to fight the French and the Indians. It -was also noted that some skirmishes might take place before the arrival -of Sir Francis with his men. The notices, which were posted on the door -of the church among other places, also set forth that applicants would -be examined at Salem inn. - -Never had a day seemed so pleasant. Birds were singing away trilling the -first few notes of mating songs. The trees waved their branches in the -wind as it sighed through them. I felt in my veins the blood beginning -to tingle, as the sap in the trees swells out the buds. - -I finished my task, the while breathing in deep of the balmy air. I -wanted something, I knew not what. To be acting, fighting, leading my -men on. I wanted to walk, to run, to leap, to--in short, I suppose, to -give way to that energy which health brings to every man. - -I went on with little thought of where I was going until turning near -where the old elm stands, down near the dead oak, I found myself in -front of the house where Lucille dwelt. It was the first time I had been -so near it since the night I brought her home from the glen. I was about -to pass on, though I wanted to stop, but scarce dared to. As I dawdled -past the gate, in two minds whether or no I should make bold and knock, -I saw her in the garden. - -It was too late to draw back now, had I wished to, for she had heard my -step, and, looking up, she smiled. - -“Good day, Captain,” she said. - -“Good day to you, Mistress Lucille,” I made reply, and then there was -silence between us, while I stood there as awkwardly as a school boy, -though she was as cool as only a maid can be who knows that it is for -the man to make the next advance. Not that she was altogether at her -ease, for, by looking closely, I saw a faint tinge of red mounting -upward in her cheeks. - -“You see,” I began, “I come--I hardly expected your words the other -day--I----” and, then, in desperation, lest I might turn and run in the -very face of the enemy, I straightened up, drew my good sword and -saluted her as I would my gracious Queen. - -“You have commanded me and I am here,” I said. - -Lucille raised her eyes. - -“And it needed a command then, Captain?” she questioned. - -“Not so, not so,” I hastened to exclaim, seeing that I had made an -error. “A word, a wish, a look, from you, madame, were enough,” I -replied in some confusion, almost wishing that I was back in Salem inn. - -Once more silence crept between us, while, hardly knowing what I did, I -opened the gate and walked in to stand beside her. I judge we must have -been thus for near a minute ere she burst out laughing, and I, perforce, -joined her mirth. That was an end to solemn silence then. - -“Here,” she cried gaily, “if you will not talk you must work,” and she -thrust a spade into my hand. - -Then, at her bidding, I fell to with a will and dug where she pointed -out. My sword clinked against the garden tool, and I hoped that none of -my future soldiers would pass by to see in what manner of warfare I was -engaged. When she thought I had dug enough she permitted me to stop, and -right glad I was to do so. - -“Now sit on the bench beneath the apple tree, while I plant these -tulips,” was her second command. - -I did as she bade me. - -“Now talk,” she ordered. - -“What shall I say?” I asked. - -“Oh, anything, everything. The buds, the flowers, the sun, the Indians, -the battles you have fought, the war we are to engage in. Why,” merrily, -“there is no end.” - -Then indeed I talked. Of what, I know not, save that ever I saw her -sweet face before me, and her eyes looking to mine, until I would fain -have stayed there in that garden forever. - -’Twas strange how all my bashfulness had vanished, not that usually I am -such a fool with the women. So we conversed of many things until of a -sudden I noted that the sun was going down behind the hills. I jumped up -from the bench where we had been sitting. - -“I quite forgot it,” I exclaimed. - -“What?” asked Lucille. - -“My dinner,” I answered, aware of a gone and lonesome feeling below my -belt. “I was to go back to the tavern for it, but, I--I--came this way, -and----” - -“You missed your dinner talking to me,” finished Lucille solemnly. -“Welladay, Captain, I am indeed flattered. But there, you shall not say -that I am a hard commander. Come in and sup with me. ’Tis true, I cannot -make amends for the companionship to be found at the inn, nor can I -boast of such cookery as can Mistress Willis. Yet if you will but deign -to grace my humble board ’twill be of my best store that I will set -before you,” and she dropped a bow to me that had much of sauciness in -it, and stood waiting for my answer. - -I protested that I could not trouble her, that I had no appetite, that I -must be at Salem inn to meet any recruits that might come this first -day. - -“Very well then, Captain,” she said, with a stately bend of her head. -“Since you prefer the inn to my poor roof so be it.” - -’Twas then that I hastened to make a different meaning to my words, and -I pleaded that I might even have a crust in her dooryard. That she would -but suffer me to sit on the threshold, and see her eat. (My, but how the -hunger gripped me then). Verily I was afraid she would take me at my -last words. But at length with a merry laugh, she bade me enter the -house, and, while I sat and watched the lengthening shadows, Lucille and -the woman servant set the meal. - -I forget what it was that I ate. Certain I am that I talked and looked -at Lucile, more than I used my knife and fork, for I remember that when -I reached the inn later I had to rout up Willis, and dine again on cold -meat. But, though the memory of the meal passes, I can see Lucille yet, -as she sat opposite me then. And of the topics we conversed on, though -they be in the dim, shadowy past, yet the sound of her voice is in my -ears still. - -That night when I went on my way to the tavern, I found myself humming a -love song I had heard in England years ago. - -The next day several men and youths appeared at the inn to enlist. I put -their names down, and arranged for them to get arms, which would be sent -from Boston. While the recruits were not much to boast of in looks they -lacked not in spirit, which, after all, is the need of a soldier. Like -some comrades with whom I have fought they seemed to go at fighting as -they did at their religion, so that psalm tunes, rather than drinking -songs and jests were heard among my men. - -It was not long before enough had enrolled themselves at the inn, and -then I began to drill them. I appointed as my lieutenants Giles Cory, a -very muscular, though small man, and Richard Nicols, who had some -notions of warfare. We marched the men back and forth on the common in -front of the tavern, putting them through the exercise of arms. Soon -they began to have quite a martial air and bearing, handling their -muskets, matches and flints with skill. - -Messages came from Sir William now and then, bidding me hasten my -preparations. I had a goodly store of powder and ball. Flints, matches -and guns we had enough of, and, also, two small cannon, with the -necessary ordnance stores, which had been sent from Boston. - -After dint of much practice I had my men in what I considered fair -shape, and I took considerable pride in them. Sturdy fellows they were, -most of them, stern of face, yet energetic, with a few daring spirits -among them. - -’Twas on a May day, when the air was exceedingly pleasant, that I -strolled over the meadows, toward the little brook that flowed through -the fields. Then, coming to the top of a little hill I saw, on the green -slope, a squad of my soldiers. They were playing at games of strength, -and, seeing me, stopped. - -“Better this than idling at the tavern,” I said. “Keep at it, men, and -let us see who has the strongest arms.” - -“’Twas Lieutenant Cory, Captain,” spoke up Nicols. “He has put us all to -shame so far. Look you,” and Nicols pointed to a heavy musket. “Giles -did but grasp the end of the six-foot barrel in his hand, and yet he -raised the gun out straight, and held it there at arm’s length without a -tremor.” - -I reached for the gun, and did the feat with little effort. It was an -old trick, and one I had often done before while loitering about camp. -But the crowd gaped, and, as for Cory, he seemed little pleased that a -stranger in the town should have equalled his test of strength. - -“What else?” I asked, smiling. - -Nicols pointed to a barrel of cider that was on the grass. - -“A trader brought it in his canoe a while ago,” he said, “and called on -two of us to help him lift it from the boat. But Cory, with no other -aid, raised it by the edges, and, holding it close against his breast, -walked up the hill with it. Never have I seen a man do such a thing -before.” - -Now I was glad to see that my company was to be of men of this stamp, -not slow to use their strength. For, when by the closeness of the fight, -sword and musket are of little use, a strong arm is very needful, and -stands one in good stead, as I well knew. - -As a lad I had been fond of feats of muscle. But I had had no time to -devote to it since coming to Salem. For with the gathering of my -company, the writing of letters to Sir William, and the reading of his -in reply, most of my hours had been taken up. Now, it seemed, here was a -time when I might, without seeming to boast, show my men that their -Captain was no weakling. So I glanced about that I might propose some -new test; for to lift the barrel of cider, or the gun, I did not count -as sufficient. - -It chanced that on top of the hill that gently led down to the brook -there rested a boulder. It was of good size, and, in weight perhaps 400 -pounds, and it was bedded in the earth. To raise it, and cast it from -one might be no little task, even for one who boasted of strong arms. -Therefore, seeing no other test that would answer, I pointed out the -rock to Cory. - -“Can you lift and heave it?” I asked. “You are of goodly girth, and the -stone is not of such great weight.” - -Saying nothing Cory walked slowly up the hill, and I saw that he had -cast aside his jacket and shirt, and stood naked to the waist. I -marvelled as I looked at his arms and chest. The muscles were in -bunches, and stood out like hanks of wool on a distaff. Then, as he -clenched his hands and opened them, to feel if his sinews were limber, -the muscles played beneath his skin, as ripples do over the face of a -pool, when the wind ruffles its surface. Still the stone was heavy, and -if he lifted it and cast it he well might be counted a strong man. - -Cory reached the rock, and stood over it a minute. He looked on all -sides, seeking a fair hold, and, when he had perceived two small -projections near the ground, where a man’s fingers might catch, he -spread his legs, and stood astride the rock. - -“I make no boast,” he said, looking at me, “and if mortal man may lift -the weight, then I will move this stone from its bed. Though, doubtless, -it has not been disturbed for a hundred years.” - -He shuffled his feet, seeking a firm and level stand, and then, with an -intaking of the breath, he grasped the rock, and put forth all his -strength into a mighty lift. His sinews and muscles stood out under the -skin, and were like to burst through, but the stone budged not. Once -again did Cory lift and strain, but no avail. He straightened up. - -“’Tis like that no man can move the rock, Captain,” he cried. “Perchance -it is buried a foot or more in the earth. Yet, if it is to be lifted -from its bed I will do it,” he added. Once more he took hold. - -This time his back fairly arched with the terrible strain, and the -muscles in it made it as rough as a ploughed field. But, though he -tugged, and pulled, until the water dropped from his brow, he moved not -the rock. - -“Enough,” I said. “It will surely prove too much for either of us. I -must choose something more easy. Yet I will have one trial,” I remarked. - -Now, then, I placed myself astride of the great stone, as Cory had done, -and I grasped the two projections. I pulled upward once not with all my -strength, for I wanted to try the weight. Then, of a truth, I feared I -had set myself too great a task, for the rock seemed as immovable as the -earth itself. But once again I lifted upward, and this time I strained -every muscle I could bring into play. Still the boulder remained in its -bed. - -I thought toward the end of my last effort, that I felt the least -movement, and this gave me hope that, if I kept on pulling, I might tear -the rock out. Slowly I pulled upward again, straightening my bent body, -as the stone gave, ever so little, in its ancient bed. It was now or -never. I pulled and pulled, until, verily, I feared that my arms would -come from the sockets. - -There was a buzzing in my ears, and, above it, I heard the crowd of men, -murmuring in astonishment. Up and up I lifted, until, with a great -heave, I had fairly torn the boulder from the earth. Summoning all my -efforts until I thought my head would burst from the strain I poised the -stone above me. It shadowed me from the sun, and was like to crush me -with its weight. I could scarce see beyond it, because of the bulk. Then -with a last remaining bit of power, I hurled the stone from me, down the -hill side, toward the brook. I had lifted the great rock. - -As the stone left my hands the murmur of admiration changed to one of -horror. Brushing the mist from my eyes I saw, at the bottom of the -slope, Lucille right in the path of the bounding stone. She was walking -along the brook, and had not seen me throw the rock. A shout from the -men, for I was too dazed to cry out, caused her to look up. She came to -a sudden halt. - -On the great rock went, by leaps and bounds, from hillock to hillock, -and she was in its course, unable, from very fear, to move out of the -way. The stone was now scarce a fathom’s distance from her. In the next -instant it must strike and crush her, and none of us could do aught to -prevent it. - -When we had all turned our heads away, that we might not see her killed, -and my heart seemed like to burst through my breast, we heard a great -noise. It was a roar and a rattle. - -The flying rock had struck another, deep bedded in the side of the hill, -and the impact of the blow had burst both into thousands of fragments. -With a sound like a cannon shot, these had scattered all about Lucille, -but not one had struck her. She stood trembling with fright, in the -midst of the broken stone, while, scarce knowing what I did, I hastened -down the hill to her. She was walking slowly away when I reached her. - -“You were near to death,” I said, much unnerved, for, somehow, her life -had grown very dear to me. - -“The Lord is good,” she replied. “Now, Captain, take me home, for I am -afraid yet.” - -As we left the wondering crowd behind, I heard one say to another: - -“’Twas a mighty lift, and none like it was ever before seen in the -Colony.” - -Also I heard Cory remark, though not without respect: - -“Our sturdy Captain, who lifts great rocks easily, can be held by light -chains, it seems. Even a maid’s word.” - -And I felt that he spoke the truth, for I knew that I loved Lucille, as -I had never loved before. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - LUCILLE. - - -I count it not strange, nor to my discredit, that I had, and so soon and -easily perhaps, fallen prisoner to Lucille. It was small time I had ever -had for love, because my past life had been spent in strife of one kind -or another. I was at great pains, sometimes, to escape death, and my -thoughts, in recent years, had been in the way of how to strike the -hardest blow, and how to take the lightest. - -So, it need not be wondered at that, when I had looked a few times into -Lucille’s eyes, I did what any other soldier, or man, would have done. I -came to love her. It had grown on me, like the buds on the trees, or the -flowers on the vines. Yet I had spoken no words of love to her. - -Our conversation, when we met, was on topics far removed from the -feelings that swayed me. The weather, a reference to the affairs of the -Colony, to the war soon to begin, of the Indians, of that day in the -woods when I cast the knife, and of that well-nigh fatal heaving of the -rock. - -Sometimes she spoke of herself, and of the sunny land she left to come -to America. That subject was one to set her cheeks aglow, and make her -eyes to sparkle. She told me of France, where she had been so happy as a -girl, and I told her of some parts of it that I had visited. Of her -reasons for coming to this bleak shore she said nothing, seeming to -hesitate as we touched on that. All she told me was, that one day her -father packed up such of his belongings as could be transported, sold -the rest, and, with her cousin Marie and herself, had come to -Massachusetts. - -There had been many trials, the worst of all being when M. de Guilfort -became ill, because of the rigors of the winter, and passed away. Once, -when I told Lucille that her tongue found little difficulty with the -English words, she blushed and seemed confused. Then, with downcast -eyes, she said an Englishman had lodged with her father, in Paris, and -had been her instructor. Whereat I wondered at her confusion, and, -though I scented some mystery, I said nothing, being content to wait -until it was made clear. - -But I thought it strange that any man with English blood in his veins, -should teach this French maid to say, “I love, you love, we love,” and -yet let it end there. But, of a surety, I was glad that he had. - -And so it came that I loved Lucille more and more every day. Sometimes, -when I looked into her eyes, I forgot the errand that brought me to -Salem, and I would have willingly cast my commission to the winds, for -the privilege of being near her always. So it is when a man loves, not -alone with wisdom. And as time went by my love grew. - -From moody to gay, and back again to deep despair had my spirit moved, -until, at length, I resolved to put all to the proof, and learn whether -I had any cause to hope. So, one pleasant afternoon I put on what best -garments I had, furbished my sword up, at great labor of muscle, and -walked to Lucille’s house. With a hand that strangely trembled, yet with -which I could, at any other time, have found the smallest nick in the -wall with my sword point, I lifted the heavy iron knocker on the door -and let it fall. It made a resounding racket, almost like thunder, I -thought. The serving woman let me into the front room, and I sat in the -window recess. I was just beginning to wish I had put the matter off -until another time, when Lucille entered. - -“Hast cast any more rocks, Captain?” she asked, smiling. - -“Lackaday, no!” I cried, in sudden terror at the thought of one throw I -had made, not far back. - -“I ought to fear you,” she said, “for you are a very Goliath,” and she -took a seat near the fireplace. Though it was not cold without, a little -blaze was going and it cast queer shadows, which played about the room -and on Lucille’s hair. - -“My strength was like to serve me a sorry trick,” I ventured. “Had e’en -a fragment of the rock struck you I should have cast myself into the -sea.” - -“Do not say that,” she responded, “it would have been no fault of yours. -I should not have passed that way. I saw the men at their games, and -might have known that there was danger for an onlooker.” - -I made no answer, for I had none ready. I did but gaze and gaze at her, -until my heart was like to thump its way through my stout jacket. Of a -sudden she looked up, wondering, perhaps, at the silence, and then, -seeing my eyes fixed on her she dropped her lids while the color came -into her cheeks like the blush of morn on the petals of a rose. I could -bear it no longer. Starting to my feet, my sword clattered against the -casement. Lucille caught her breath, and seemed to shrink away from me. - -“Lucille,” I said. - -She did not answer. - -“Lucille,” I cried again, and the name went from my lips huskily, for my -throat was parched and dry. - -“Lucille,” I spoke for the third time. - -“Yes, Captain Amherst,” she made reply. - -“Lucille,” I cried, and then, with an effort, such as even the lifting -of the great rock had not cost me, I blurted out, like a schoolboy: - -“I love you, Lucille, better than I have ever loved before. Better than -life itself.” - -It was out now. I crossed the room, and, standing before her, I held out -my hands, pouring out my story in warm words of love. I cannot recall -now, nor could I a half hour afterward, what I said. Only I know that as -I spoke of my passion, Lucille seemed in a fright, at first. And her -face, that had been flushed, grew pale, and her fingers plucking at her -gown, trembled. Then, when my rush of words had somewhat subsided, I -approached nearer and nearer to her, until I could hear her breath, and -see her bosom rise and fall. I stretched out my arms, and, not waiting -to see if she said yea or nay, I clasped her to me, my warm kisses -falling on her lips, her cheeks, her hands. - -I could only repeat over and over again that one phrase, “I love you;” -until, fearful that she might weary of that strain, I paused. - -She struggled from my encircling arms, then stood like a sweet flower, -that the wind had tossed about. Yet never before had she looked so -lovely to me. - -“Have you no answer for me?” I asked. - -She did not reply. - -“Can you but love me a little?” I inquired softly, anxious now, indeed, -as a man whose fate hung trembling in the balance. Then the answer came -back, oh, so softly and sweetly: - -“Yes.” - -The darkness fell gently, until the ruddy fire shone out with casts of -grim shadows over the room. I sat beside Lucille, and my heart was big -with thoughts of love. The darkness was light to me now. - -We talked of what the future might hold for us. Of how, when I had -returned with honors, from the Canadian expedition, we would wed, and -make our home in this new land. For a time we forgot the terrible -tragedy that had brought us together, though it was like a little cloud -in the otherwise bright sky. - -The sweetness of her presence was all I thought of then, as I sat beside -Lucille. I had never known before what it was to love truly. Many fair -women had smiled at me and I had laughed in return, for I knew that it -would end there. But now---- - -More and more dark it grew. Suddenly came a sound of galloping hoofs on -the road without. Ere we had time to wonder who it might be, for few -rode so furiously in that time, unless some danger portended, there was -a knock loud and long at the door. Lucille and I had risen from our -seats in alarm. The servant hastened to the portal with a candle, and we -heard, as the oak swung back, the voice of a man: - -“Is Captain Amherst within?” the messenger asked. - -“He is,” I answered, walking to the entrance. - -“Your pardon for this interruption,” began the man, “but I came in -haste, with a letter for you from His Excellency, Sir William Phips,” -and the horseman handed me a sealed missive. - -Wonderingly I broke the red wax. In the dim light I read: - -“CAPTAIN:--The Indian devils are pressing hard and close on our borders. -Settlers from outlying hamlets have brought word that they gather in -numbers on the North. It is said that de Vilebon, at St. Johns, is -urging the red men on, furnishing them food and munitions of war. Could -he be driven from his stronghold (mayhap no easy task) much good would -be done the Colony. Proceed with your company, in all dispatch. Kill, -burn and capture. - -“Given under our hand and seal, the seal of His Majesty, the King. - - SIR WILLIAM PHIPS.” - -Here was likely to be a sudden end to my love making, I thought. I -turned to Lucille, who had followed me to the door. She had shrunk back -into the corner, and in her eyes I could see a strange look of horror -and fright, such as I had never seen before. - -From Lucille I looked to the horseman. He stood at the very door, one -hand holding the bridle. With the other he stroked his moustache, and -his eyes never left the face of Lucille. By the light of the candle, -glowing out into the darkness, I could see a mocking smile on his lips. - -“Lucille!” I cried. - -The horseman never heeded my exclamation, nor did he change his gaze. - -“Sir!” I remarked, with a step toward him, my hand on my sword, “who, -and what are you, that you dare to come----” - -I might as well have been a thousand miles away, for all the heed he -paid to me. - -“I have found you, then,” he said to Lucille, with a sneer on his face -and in his tones. She shrank back farther and farther into the darkness. - -I half drew my sword out, determined to punish his insolence speedily, -but, with never a look at me, making a low, sweeping bow, that included -both of us, he leaped into the saddle, and was away down the road in the -darkness at a terrific pace. - -“Who was he?” I demanded, turning to Lucille. She put her hands before -her eyes, as if to shut out some sight that was hateful to her. - -“He was--he was----” she began, her voice trembling. “Oh, Edward, mind -him not. I thought he was some one I had left behind me forever. But I -must have been mistaken. The candle light played me tricks.” - -“But his words? What of them? What meant he?” I persisted. - -“I heard nothing that he said,” she replied, as if in surprise, “but -what of your message?” - -[Illustration: “WHO, AND WHAT ARE YOU, THAT YOU DARE TO COME!”] - -Then, though I would have pursued my inquiries further, I was recalled, -by her words, to the missive I held. Briefly as I could, I told her of -its import. It meant, I said, that I should have to leave Salem very -soon; in a day or two. - -“It will be hard to go from you, sweetheart, when I have only just found -you,” I whispered. I kissed her, and then, after a little, I went away, -her caresses warm on my lips; the echoes of her voice sweet in my ears. - -Out under the stars I thought of the horseman. Then, with a start, I -recalled who he was. I had met him in the room of Governor Phips, in -Boston, some months before. He was the man with the jeweled hilted -sword, with whom I had so nearly fought, in the doorway, where we came -together in no gentle fashion. Clearly there was some mystery here. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - OF THE HORSEMAN ON THE BEACH. - - -There was little sleep for me that night. I had been expecting a message -from the Governor, and so had my men in fair shape for a quick movement. -Two days’ preparations, now, would put us in readiness for the -expedition. - -It was nearly morning when, having dispatched several messengers on -horses to call in my company from their various homes, I lay down to -rest. It seemed that I had been on the bed but a half minute, ere the -sun came shining in through the window, and awakened me. - -We had at Salem two sloops that would hold seventy men each. Of stores -and munition of war there was a plenty. But guns had to be overhauled, -and ammunition safely packed for transportation. My first care was to -see that the boats were laden. Corn meal and flour, salted meats and -fish, provisions of various kinds, and barrels of cider, were slung -aboard by the crews, and stored in the holds. - -In squads of two and three my men began coming in. I detailed my -lieutenants to look after the muskets, as they were stacked in the -company room at the inn. All the spare guns that would serve, were put -on the sloops. Rests for the heavier and old-fashioned weapons, that -were fired by means of a slow match, were provided, as well as spare -matches. Bags of extra flints were also taken. The casks of powder, and -pouches of bullets, were placed out of danger of fire in the magazines -of the sloops. Throughout all Salem, that day, little was done or talked -of save what pertained to the coming fight. - -The children stood about the streets, forgetting to go to school and -were not rebuked. With Cory and Nicols, I hurried here and there. Now, -seeing to it that none but serviceable arms were taken, and again, -looking to the muster rolls, or replying to the many questions that -every one wanted answered. - -The air was filled with martial sounds. Two boys, barely out of their -teens, came up to me, as I was trying the locks of a musket. They -saluted gravely. - -“Please, Captain,” said the taller one, “put our names down, and give us -each a gun.” - -“What! To go to the wars?” I asked. - -“Yes, sir,” the younger replied. “The Indians killed our mother, and we -want to kill some of them.” - -“Not now,” I said kindly. “When you are a little older you may both go.” - -They turned away, sorely disappointed. Indeed the spirit of battle -seemed born in the children of this land, and they nursed it with their -mother’s milk. There was much need of it, though. - -About noon, two long teams of oxen were seen winding along the road from -Boston. They drew heavy wagons, on which were two good sized cannon, in -addition to the small ones we had. There was also a sufficient supply of -ammunition, and I was very glad of this increase to our power. - -Though it cost us no little labor to get these guns aboard, we finally -accomplished it, and they were placed, one in the bow of each sloop, -where they could do the most good. - -When all this had been done, and it was well into the afternoon, I had a -chance to sit down and map out my plans. Another letter, with more -explicit instructions, had come to me from the Governor by the hands of -a second messenger. In the meantime I had learned somewhat of the man de -Vilebon, with whom I was to engage, shortly. - -Soon after he came to Canada he saw the fierce fighting qualities of the -red men, and, with much cunning, he made treaties with them, persuading -them to become his allies. He promised them that the hated English would -soon be driven from the land, the homes they had builded being allowed -as plunder for the Indians. It was by such talk as this, and the manner -in which he consorted in the daily lives and practices of the savages, -that de Vilebon had won to his side many influential chiefs and their -followings. - -One way the French took to incite the Indians was to pay for the scalps -of the English settlers. There was a scale of prices, so much for a -man’s, so much for a woman’s and less yet for the children’s. There were -other reasons why the Indians preferred to fight with the French and -against the English. The French almost lived with the savages, adopting -their mode of dress, painting their faces with the brilliant pigments, -and wearing the feathered head pieces. - -Then, too, the Indians, contrasting us with the French, thought of them -as brave warriors, who loved swordplay, and fighting, while we English, -’twas deemed, cared for nothing but raising the crops, which was, with -the red men the work of their squaws. - -So, I found to my sorrow, ere long, that the Indians loved the French -and were glad to battle against us. - -Among the settlers, now, there was much fear of a sudden night attack -from the forest. Madockewando, Moxus and Egeremet, fierce Indian chiefs, -whose names were but other words for carnage, treachery and horrid -massacres, were with de Vilebon, we heard. - -To these chiefs and their followers, the French had furnished not only -guns, swords, powder and bullets, but even food, so that the savages had -naught to do save fight, which they were ever ready for. De Vilebon had -established himself at St. Johns, in Nova Scotia, where a fort of no -mean strength had been thrown up. Approach by either land or sea was not -easy, I learned from scouts. - -Sir William wrote that few men defended the place now, though troops -were expected in the fall. Could we but be successful against this fort, -capturing de Vilebon, the spirit of the Colonists would be much -strengthened, and a blow would be dealt the French forces that would -teach them and their Indian allies a severe lesson. - -My plan for the expedition was to sail to within a few miles of St. -Johns, and land most of my force. Then the two sloops and their crews -could sail boldly up to the town, and while menacing it from the sea by -the boats, I could lead my men to the rear of the fort. I counted on the -sea attack, if the cannon were rapidly fired, to create such a diversion -as to detract attention from the rear, and while the enemy was engaged -against the sloops, I could fall upon the fort with my force and storm -it. So my plans were laid, and I called my lieutenants and made them -acquainted with the way matters stood. - -Two days, busy ones in truth, were spent in getting ready. I had seen -little of Lucille in that time, though I much more desired to be near -her than at the task with which I was engaged. But night, as well as -day, was filled with work. At length, when I thought all was in -readiness, and I had looked to my own arms, and had a new edge put on my -sword, I went out one evening across the meadows to her. - -She was waiting for me. - -“You have only come to say good bye, I fear,” she said. - -“Only for a time, dear heart,” I answered. - -“Oh, Edward, if you should not return,” she whispered, softly. - -“Would you care, then, so much?” - -“Does the flower care when the sun goes down? Does it not droop at the -close of day, and does it not smile when the light comes again? Do you -know how I feel?” - -“I hope so, dear heart.” - -“Then ask not if I care. If you should not come back to me----” - -The rest of the sentence was unfinished, for I had her in my arms, and -her lips could not speak for the kisses I pressed on them. - -Long did we talk of what might be held locked in the future, and yet the -time I was there seemed woefully short. But I knew that I must go now, -for we had prepared for an early start--Lucille promised to be near when -the boat should sail, and with that I must be content. - -“And now God keep you, dear,” she said bravely, though there were traces -of tears in her eyes. - -“And God keep you,” I said. - -Neither of us knew how soon we would be in need of His care. I pressed a -last good night kiss on her lips, and then, with the look of her dear -eyes in mine, I went away. - -With the rising of the sun all was activity about Salem inn. Many -details remained to be looked after. The men, few of whom had before -been with such a large expedition, were much excited. - -There was a clattering of swords and muskets; good byes were being -called out on every side; and some careful men were doing up extra pairs -of socks that their good dames had provided. - -“What canst thou do with that weapon, friend John Post?” called one man -to another who carried an exceeding heavy and clumsy musket. - -“Shoot an Indian or a Frencher for a surety,” answered John. - -“Then thou’lt have to get a squad to help ye load and fire it. For if ye -don’t the Indians would eat you up before you could put match to the -powder.” - -“Never mind, never mind,” responded he with the ancient weapon. “The gun -did damage to the enemies of His Gracious Majesty, when thou wert hiding -behind thy mother’s skirt. ’Tis a good arm, and will serve now as well -as thou!” - -A laugh showed that the would-be jester had not hit the mark, and John -Post marched on, well pleased with his little skirmish. - -There were other wordy tilts between the men. Some, having nothing -better to do for the time, engaged in leaping, running and wrestling, so -that the inn yard looked like a fair ground. At length I ordered the -drum beat and the men fell in, after some confusion. - -About one hundred in all had responded to the summons, and I formed them -into two commands, giving Cory one and letting Nicols lead the other. I -would have a general command over both, and had made arrangements to -sail on board the larger of the two sloops. Truly it was a goodly sight -that morning, to see the little Colonial Army marching out, each man -with his musket well cleaned, and with his bundle of matches, or his -pouch of flints and ammunition slung by a thong on one side. Stout and -able-bodied men they were, too, much given to prayer. Yet they need be -none the less well thought of for that. For I had heard of their earlier -battles against the Indians, and I knew that a well rounded psalm tune -stayed not the sword arm, nor weakened the trigger finger. And, as they -stepped out to march from the inn yard to the sloops, Master Willis, who -stood on the steps, did lift his voice up in prayer, and after that the -deep tones of men singing was heard. - -Of the God of Israel they sang, pleading that they might be led on to -battle against the enemy, as were their fore-fathers of old, in the days -of King David. - -The sloops were soon filled. I walked to one side and met Lucille. Our -parting was brief, for wind and tide served, and we must shortly lift -anchor. The last words were spoken, and then, with a final embrace, I -left her. I boarded the vessel and the sails were run up. They filled, -and we began to gather headway. I stood in the stern, whence I could -take a last look at the little town and the people on the shores. Amid -the crowd I saw Lucille. She was looking earnestly after us, and when I -waved my helmet in a good bye her hand signaled an answer. We were -fairly off to the wars at last. - -Suddenly, coming along the road at a furious gallop, I saw a single -horseman. He waved over his head a paper. Even at the distance I knew -him for the same man I had seen in the Governor’s room the day I -received my commission, and for the messenger who had come from Sir -William a few nights before. But it was too late to turn back now. The -horseman spurred on to the beach and waved the paper frantically. It -might be some message from Sir William, but, if it was important, a boat -could be sent to overtake us. I snatched up a ship’s glass and turned it -toward the shore. - -“In the King’s name!” cried the horseman, leaping violently from the -saddle. - -“But I am away in the King’s name,” I called back. - -Then, while I was watching through the glass, I saw the horseman turn -about. Lucille had advanced from the crowd and stood, shading her eyes, -to see the last of us. - -As the man caught sight of her, I could see a cruel smile curl the -corners of his mouth. Lucille suddenly shrank back, as she had that -night when she saw the messenger in the hallway of her home, and she -seemed frozen with fear, like unto the day the snake of the glen was in -her path. - -My heart misgave me, and I was half minded to turn back. Would that I -had been of a whole mind! For, had I been, I would have leaped into the -sea and gone to her. But I knew not, until afterward, who I left behind -me there on the sea sands. Of the deadly enemy he was; who caused me to -strike many a fierce blow for Lucille and for myself ere I conquered. -And the warfare was not alone that of the sword. - -And so I stood, watching the shore fade away, seeing the crowd grow -smaller, while, as long as I could, I held the glass to my eyes, to -catch the last glimpse of Lucille. - -Then, with no very cheerful heart, I set to work to get matters arranged -in soldierly fashion. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - THE BATTLE AT THE FORT. - - -Thus we sailed away. Little of account marked our voyage and, at the end -of the tenth day, we sighted the headland of St. Johns. In the meantime -I had made no change in my plans, which were to make a feigned attack on -the fort by means of the sloops, and, while it was going on, to bring my -main force up and storm the rear. - -Now that our journey’s end was at hand, we prepared for what was before -us. The arms were removed from the chests they had been stored in. -Ammunition was broken out, and all useless stuff put away below decks. -In a short time we anchored in a little bay to the south of St. Johns, -where the sloops might remain a day or two unobserved. From there I -would lead my men for the detour. It was dusk when we had landed. - -We camped that night on the shore. In the morning, when the sun shone -slanting through the branches of the trees, we pressed on. Our march was -through the virgin forest. Now we had to cut our way through dense -underbrush, scaring from their nests the woodland fowl. Sometimes the -sneaking figure of a wolf would be seen, protesting with a howl against -the invasion of his home. Once a great bear, again a startled deer, -crashed through the brush as we approached. - -At night we lighted fires, to keep away the wild beasts, which we heard -howling on all sides of us. And thus we pushed on until the third night -when we camped in sight of the French watch-fires. - -Then we ate a cold supper, nor did I permit any talk or laughter. In -deep silence we made all in readiness for the attack in the morning. -Guns that had been wet in fording streams were looked to, and the caked -powder picked from the pans. Spare flints were placed in pouches, as -were the bullets, while powder horns were freshly filled. - -With the mournful hoot of the owls in my ears, I fell asleep. I awoke -with the first streak of dawn. The sentinels were called in, the last -word given, and we were ready for the attack. If Cory, in charge of the -sloops, was on hand, all would be well. We marched to the edge of the -forest, and just beyond us was the fort. It was with a heart that -throbbed with some little excitement that I arranged my men in files, -and gave the order: - -“Forward!” - -Out into the open we ran, and I called to the men to separate, that they -might thereby offer a smaller mark to the enemy. - -Looking toward the stronghold of the French, I saw, in the gray dawn, -the sentinels on the ramparts. They looked down on us in wonder and then -they shouted a warning and fired their muskets at us. The drum inside -the fort beat the long roll of the call to arms. We were not to take -them all unawares. - -As we ran on, stooping to gain what little natural cover there was, -dodging from side to side, I heard the dull boom and the roar of the -sloops’ cannon, which told me that Cory was on hand. - -The fort was now but a few hundred yards away, and I saw that it was a -place of considerable strength. It was two stories in height, built of -solid logs. The upper story overhung the lower, so that when the enemy -came beneath the projection he could be attacked from above. - -Outside of the fort was a stout palisade, made of young hickory trees -bound closely together, after the Indian fashion. The fort could be seen -above the palisade, as the stronghold stood on a little knoll. I could -see that the mouths of six cannon were thrust toward us, and they seemed -like to speak no gentle message. - -We were clearly about to meet more than a match for our little force, -yet I believe that never a one halted or wished to turn back. If we were -to die, we would die fighting. - -On we rushed. Within the fort all was activity now. The roll of the drum -continued, and the flashes and reports on the side farthest from us told -me that the fire from our sloops had drawn some answer from the grim -fort. - -I had hoped that the force at St. Johns was a small one, and that, by -reason of the attack in front, I might get near enough the rear to carry -the works. But a few minutes sufficed to show how little we had counted -on the French and Indian fighting abilities. For no sooner had the -cannon on our sloops and in the fort begun a noisy duel than a double -score of men poured out from the lower part of the blockhouse and ran -down the little hill to the stockade. - -We were now within good musket range, and I called to the men to halt. -Then I gave the order to fire. Our band, which had, though advancing at -good speed, long been in readiness for this, let fly, aiming over the -top of the palisade. It was a little too great a distance to do much -damage, yet a few of the bullets that had a trifle more of powder behind -them than others had, found a mark. I saw two of the French fall and -roll down the hill, while a third was wounded and had to turn back. An -answering volley from the fort did some scath among us and three men -fell, one shot through the leg, and the others through the body so badly -that there was small hope for them. - -Among the men that now swarmed out from the fort like bees from a hive, -I discerned the half-naked and painted bodies of savage Indians. They -whooped horribly, and sprang up and down in the air, whirling about. -They brandished their tomahawks around their heads, and some foolish -ones threw them over the stockade, thinking, I suppose, that the weapons -might strike us. - -The smoke from the muskets now hid the scene from view, but when the -wind had blown it aside I saw, by the white cloud that hung over the -sea, that the sloops were doing their best. Yet I knew they could hope -to inflict no damage, and the French were likely to find this out -shortly. That the battle would go against us now seemed probable, but I -knew our only hope was to fight on, even though the odds were heavy. I -urged my men to reload quickly. Powder horns poured their black contents -down the musket barrels. Then followed the bullet, in its greased -leather covering, and, with a clang of the rammer on top of all, the -load was in. The clicking of the powder pans as they were sprung open, -and hammers raised, mingled with the hissing, spluttering sound of the -slow matches. - -Once more we fired, but this time most of our bullets rattled harmlessly -against the stockade. The volley that answered us laid low two more of -our men. Clearly this was but a losing fight, and so I resolved that a -charge, an attempt to storm the palisades, must be made. Could we but -gain entrance there, a hand to hand conflict might carry the day for us. -Otherwise we could but stand and be shot at, doing little harm in -return. - -I passed the word to the men, and again they loaded their weapons. I -counted to have them rush as soon as they had discharged their pieces, -as then the smoke would hang over us and afford a sort of cover. - -“Fire!” I cried, and the bullets flew onward. - -Yells from within the stockade told that some had been hit, probably -through the loops. Immediately I ordered all my men to drop flat on -their faces. As I expected, the volley from the fort that replied passed -harmlessly over our heads. - -“Now for it!” I cried. - -“Forward, in the name of the King, and for the honor of Salem!” was the -answer from the men. - -I was leading the advance, and in less than a minute it seemed to me, we -were at the stockade. The men strove to climb over, but were fiercely -beaten back by the French and Indians. Guns were used as clubs now, for -there had been no time to reload on either side. Man after man of my -little force was hurled backward from the top of the stockade, some -suffering grievously. It was cut and slash and thrust with me, without -stopping to take breath. I was on top of the hickory fence, supporting -myself by a small foothold on a larger tree than some of the others. -Those below me, inside the stockade, thrust at me, but I gave back as -good as they sent, and my sword turned red. - -A big Indian, hideous in paint, leaped to the top and struck at my head -with his keen little axe. I dodged the blow, and the weapon buried -itself to the middle in a sapling. Then, while he vainly tried to pull -his tomahawk out, I raised my sword and brought it down on his naked -head, shearing through his scalp lock and nigh cutting him to the chin. -He fell back, ugly enough in his death agony, and his hand clutched the -axe so strongly that it came out from where the wood clipped it. - -Now there was a sudden rally to this part of the stockade. I had time to -see that soldiers were pouring from around the front, or seaward, side -of the fort, before I leaped back to the ground. This told me more -plainly than a message that the sloops no longer sufficed to hold the -enemy’s attention. The whole force of the fort would now engage us. I -hastily retreated my men, until we had put ourselves beyond musket shot. -Then we halted to take account of the damage we had received, and to -plan how we might save ourselves from utter annihilation; for it would -not be long ere we should have to battle against fearful and heavy odds. - -Three of our men had been laid low at the first volley from the fort, -and two at the second. Then, in the assault on the stockade, several had -received sword thrusts, which must eventually cause their deaths. A few -suffered minor hurts, and four were killed outright, so that, in all we -had been deprived of eleven men. I looked toward the fort. There seemed -to be some movement inside, and presently the great gate swung open. -Half a dozen naked savages came out uttering their war cry. Then, while -my heart turned faint with horror, I watched the Indians approach the -bodies of our dead that were just without the palisade. There was a -gleam of steel flashing in the sunlight above their earth-pillowed -heads, then the bloody scalp trophy was snatched from them; from some -ere the breath of life had departed. One poor fellow, Peter Rankin (he -had been next to me when we stormed the stockade), had received a cut in -the breast from one of the tomahawks. He yet breathed when his hideous -tormentors stooped over him. As we looked on in anguish we saw Rankin -rise to a sitting position. The Indian never paused. His knife described -a quick circle, and the blood red scalp was torn off. Then the savage, -mercifully, though he did not intend it so, thrust his knife into poor -Rankin’s heart, and a groan went up from my men. - -But in the midst of it a rifle cracked. The Indian threw up his hands, -one holding Rankin’s scalp, and, with a screech, pitched forward, dead. -I looked around. Samuel Hopkins, the best marksman in the Colony, had, -with his gun, crept forward in the grass when he saw the Indians come -out. He it was who had taken swift vengeance on Rankin’s slayer. The -groan of the men was turned into a wild cheer, and the other Indians -fled in confusion to the protection of the stockade, slamming the gate -behind them. - -“There is one devil the less,” said Hopkins as he came back among us, -and several of his comrades silently pressed his hand. - -But it was high time that we looked to ourselves. The hill about the -fort was black with the French and Indians now. We were outnumbered four -to one, and it would be useless to continue the fight longer. How to -escape was now the question. I had an idea that they would not advance, -and attack us for a little while yet, as our strength was not fully -known. They would naturally suppose that we had some reserve, and -probably would not charge us until they saw what this amounted to. If we -could get to the coast, board the sloops and sail away all might yet be -well; save for those we had lost. Bitterly as I hated to return to the -Colony without having accomplished our object, I knew that it was the -best we could attempt. Perchance we could not even succeed in this. - -After a hurried consultation we concluded that our only hope was in -fleeing along the north side of the fort. On that face it was the least -heavily cannoned. Also there was a little gully, which, if we could -enter, might afford some protection from the fire. Once in this, though -we had to pass a hail of lead, we could gain the shore and signal the -sloops. It was, at best, but a dangerous and hazardous undertaking, yet -we must act on that or some other quickly if we ever hoped to see Salem -again. It was with anxious spirits then that my men began to load their -guns again for what might be our last struggle. I had them leave behind -such of their accouterments as could be dispensed with, to enable them -to travel light. With a rapidly beating heart, though it pulsated not -with fear, I gave the word. - -We started off on the run, as if we intended once more to advance to the -assault. Then, when within good musket fire distance, we suddenly -swerved to the left. It was well that we did so, for there was a shout -from the forces in the fort, and, at the same time a belch of flame and -smoke, followed by the roar of a cannon that had been pointed so as to -cover us, had we kept on our course. The shot with which the gun was -loaded, tore up the earth. - -Seeing that this firing did us no harm the men in the fort ran to the -north side to pick us off as we passed. The rifles began to crack, and -the bullets to sing about our ears like angry hornets, but my men held -their fire for closer quarters. Now we were abreast of the northern wall -of the stockade. It took some little time, however, for the enemy to get -to the loop holes, and, by a good providence it happened that the cannon -on that side were not loaded. Running at top speed we pressed on. One -man fell behind me, shot through the head; another stumbled at my right -hand, pitched on his face, and, with a gush of blood from the mouth, was -dead. Three or four were hit but kept on. We had entered the little glen -now, and were somewhat screened from the musket fire. Just ahead I could -discern the sea, and, calling encouragingly to my band, I pressed on. -Ah, if only the sloops were at hand. - -“Cory! Cory!” I cried. “Bear off to the right of the fort! Cory to the -rescue!” - -Whether he heard me at the time I know not, but a dull boom from one of -the sloop’s cannon told me that some on board were still alive. I -reached the shore and halted to let my command pass me. The fire from -the fort could reach us here, and every minute it was becoming more -deadly. Several men were killed. Little clouds of dry sand, caused by -the striking of the bullets, rose all around us. I glanced to where the -sloops floated. The sails were set and they forged toward us slowly. -There was a chance that we might yet be saved. Panting from their run -the men drew up on the beach. Nearer and nearer came the vessels. - -“To the rock, Captain! To the rock!” Cory cried. “We can take you off -there!” - -Then I saw that on our left hand there was a small headland of rock, -which jutted out into the sea. It went down straight into the depths of -water, and the top part overhung so that a skillful pilot might sail a -small sloop beneath, and receive his passengers from the rock above, if -they would but drop to the deck. - -“To the rock, men!” I called, understanding Cory’s plan. - -They heard me, but now a new danger presented. The French and Indians -were making ready to unbar the northern gate, and pour out upon us. Even -as I looked I saw the first of them coming from the stockade. I called a -score of the best marksmen, and had them take each a spare loaded rifle -from their comrades. The other men hurried on, and reached the rock. -Cory directed his sloop beneath, and I saw that in a short time the men -could drop to the vessel’s deck. Then the rush of the Indians and the -French began. The air resounded with the yells of the savages. - -“Kneel down!” I cried to the score. - -They dropped as one man, and the enemy, thinking we were begging -quarter, whooped in derision. - -“Fire!” I shouted, and I could see, when the smoke had cleared, that the -enemy had halted in confusion. About half of them had fired in return, -but we had killed eight of them, while only two of our men died. I -looked around, and saw that but a few men remained on the rock. Cory’s -sloop, receiving its load, had passed from beneath. The other vessel -came up quickly to perform the same office. - -Casting aside the discharged guns the recruits leaped to their feet, and -ran toward the rock. But the enemy had again rallied, and came on with a -rush. Once more my band knelt down and delivered the last volley at -short range, as they stood on the rock. The sloop was now beneath. One -by one the men, taking advantage of the confusion in the enemy’s ranks, -dropped to the deck. - -“Jump, Captain!” called out several. - -“I go last,” I answered, drawing my sword. - -There was one huge, and fiercely painted, Indian in the lead, having -outstripped his fellows. Only two of my men were left on the rock now. -The Indian halted when a few feet away, and fired point blank at me. I -felt a sudden sting as the bullet went through the flesh of my left arm. -Then, uttering his whoop, the savage cast aside his now useless gun, -and, shaking his uplifted tomahawk, rushed at me. - -“Jump, Captain,” called one of my men. “We are all off now.” - -The Indian raised his sharp little weapon, and it glittered in the air -above me. While he hesitated only for an instant to concentrate all of -his force into the blow with a quick motion I passed my sword through -his body under his upraised arm. - -The savage fell forward, dragging the sword from my grasp. I was in no -mind to lose my bit of steel, so, placing a foot on the Indian’s still -quivering breast, I managed, with some use of force, to draw out the -blade. Then I turned, the bullets singing all about me, and leaped from -the rock, landing square on the sloop’s deck. - -There was a shout of disappointed rage behind us, and several shots -pattered in the water around the sloops. Then the friendly breeze and -tide carried us out of harm’s way. We had failed to capture St. Johns, -and the power of de Vilebon was unbroken. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - HOW THE FRENCH TOOK PEMAQUID. - - -A stiff breeze soon carried us beyond reach of any shots from the fort. -But we were in sorry plight. The men were weary, some were badly hurt, -and all were in low spirits from the failure of our expedition. A new -danger threatened us now. The sloop I was in had received a cannon ball -near the water line, and, the sea being somewhat rough the water came -in, so that it was necessary to man the pumps. - -I sent some of my men to help the skipper at this task. The master of -the craft told me that if the sea got much higher we would founder, and -it was with anxious eyes that I watched the weather all that afternoon. -But when the sun went down beneath the waves, in a glory of gold and -crimson, our hearts were lighter, for we heard the sailors singing, as -they trimmed the canvas: - - “_Red in the mornin’, - Sailors take warnin’. - Red sun at night, - Is sailor’s delight._” - -Then, too, the skipper managed to get a spare sail over the rail, and, -when it was bound with ropes, it somewhat stopped the gaping hole in the -sloop’s side, and the water came in less freely. - -Homeward bound. Of the days which followed we had little heart to take -note, for our defeat was bitter upon us. On the tenth day after the -battle at St. Johns, we came opposite Pemaquid. - -At this place Governor Phips had begun to build a fort, and he had sent -a small garrison there. The commander signaled to us as we sailed by, -and I ordered the sloops to come to anchor until a boat could put off -from the fort. - -I was somewhat surprised to receive from one of the garrison a letter, -addressed to me from Sir William. He told me that, expecting I would -stop at Pemaquid, in the event of success or failure, he had sent the -message there to intercept me. And the import of it was that I was to -take command of the fort, holding it with the men there, and with such -of my own men as would volunteer for the service. We might expect to be -attacked at any time, Sir William said. - -Now, though I was heart-weary to be back in Salem it was no part of a -soldier’s duty to complain, so I briefly told my men of the Governor’s -letter. Then I proceeded to find what command I would have. - -Of those of my original company only fifty were able to be of service. -But I might not count on all of them, for, of the Salem recruits, only -those who volunteered were to stay. So I mustered them in line, and gave -the word for those who wished to fight no more to step aside. I was not -a little pleased when only eight withdrew from the ranks. With the -garrison already at the fort this gave me a command of one hundred and -fifty men. - -A few days sufficed to repair the sloops, and they left for Salem, -bearing a letter from me to Sir William. When the sails were low on the -horizon we turned to getting the fort in shape to withstand an attack. -The work was less laborious than that we had recently been accustomed -to, and we were all glad of the respite. In time we had the place in as -good state as it could be put. - -One day, toward evening, as I sat in the gateway of the fort, I saw, out -in the woods, a man approaching. His steps were not rapid, and, at -times, he appeared to stop to gather strength. His actions were so -strange that I sent one of my men out to see who the stranger was. The -two met, and my man, linking his arm in that of the other, began to help -him toward the fort. When they came within hailing distance, Roger -Toothtaker, whom I had sent, called: - -“Ho, Captain, ’tis none other than our old comrade, George Burroughs, -who was left for dead at St. Johns.” - -“Aye, Captain,” said Burroughs, faintly, “that’s who I am.” - -Surprised as I was to see Burroughs, I had him taken to my own -apartments. He recovered a little when I gave him some rum, and I left -him with some of his townsmen, while I went to see that the sentinels -were properly posted. Ere I had finished my rounds I was recalled by an -urgent message from him. He was sitting up when I came to him, and it -seemed to me as if he had not long to live. - -“Look to your fort, Captain,” his first words were, “within a week these -woods will be filled with the painted and bedecked imps of Satan, led on -by the French, as cruel as themselves. And the sea beyond will float -three sloops of war bearing the French ensign.” - -“How came you to know all this?” I asked, thinking that the man was -perchance delirious. - -Then he told. First, how, when he had seemingly been left for dead -before the French fort, he had only been stunned by a spent ball. How he -had escaped the death meted out to the other wounded he did not know, -but it probably was due to the shot fired by Hopkins. Burroughs went on: - -“When you had gone in the sloops the Indians discovered me and I was -taken prisoner. Kept within the fort I overheard the plan of the French -to march against Pemaquid and surprise the garrison. Then I resolved to -make my escape, and carry you a warning. Many days I waited for the -chance before it came, but at last, one night I managed to elude the -guard, and found myself without the palisade.” - -Here Burroughs became faint, and we had to give some spirits to revive -him. - -“I struck for the woods,” he continued after a pause, “keeping as near -to the coast as I dared. Oh, but it was a wearisome journey. After many -days of hardship and starvation I fell in with a band of friendly -Indians. They guided me as near as they went to this place. A day’s -journey back I fell over a cliff in the darkness, and cut my leg so -badly on the sharp rocks that I feared I could not go on. I well nigh -gave up in despair, but I managed to rig up a crutch made from the limb -of a tree, and pressed forward, hoping to be in time. The distance which -should have taken a day was three times that to me, for I could only -hobble along. When I caught sight of the fort through the woods I was -not able to go farther, for I had eaten nothing for three days save -berries. But thank God, I have come in time.” - -The man ceased speaking, and fell back on the rude bed so deathly pale -that I thought it was all over with him, brave fellow that he was. After -some time we brought him back to his senses, though he was so weak that -I knew he could not last long. Then I left him, bidding the men to see -to his needs. Away from the room, with its smoky candles, and its -suggestion of death in poor Burroughs’ face, out under the stars, I -paused to think over what I had heard. - -If we were to be stormed from land and sea at once, there was little -time to prepare for it. We must act promptly, and, with that end in -view, I called the garrison together by beat of drum and told the men -what I had heard from Burroughs. I said that it must be a considerable -force that could successfully attack the fort, and, although our -position was not of the best from a soldier’s standpoint, it would not -do for us to give up without a fierce fight. And a fierce battle it was -likely to be, for Burroughs had said that at least two hundred Indians, -led by Baron de St. Castine from Penobscot, would be accompanied by the -French force under Iberville. The latter would attack us from the sea, -while the Indians would assault the land side. - -It showed the spirit of my men, when, after I had told them all this -they gave three hearty English cheers and dispersed. It made my heart -feel much lighter. For a little while longer I walked up and down in the -open. The scent of the woods came to me, and with it the varied noises -of the beasts and birds therein. I looked up to the stars and whispered -the name of Lucille. When would I see her again. Perchance never if the -French and Indians overwhelmed us. Then I was likely with my comrades to -find a grave in these same woods, and be forgotten by all. But I did not -let these gloomy thoughts hang over me long. I had my sword by my side, -the battle was yet to be fought, and I was too old a soldier to give up -the fight before a blow had been struck. So with this change in my ideas -I sought my bed. - -In the morning I was told that poor Burroughs had died during the night. -He had not been in his senses, and ever murmured of the terrible journey -he had taken to warn us. He died, the men said, shouting: - -“Here they come, boys, the Frenchers and the Indians. Now strike for -Salem and the King!” - -Burroughs’ death had been looked for, yet it dampened my spirits a bit. -However, I felt better after breakfast. I reflected that bridges need -not to be crossed until they lie before one, also that to borrow trouble -is to have a bad creditor. So I hurried about, here and there in the -fort, to see wherein our weakness lay. - -I made several changes. I had all the inflammable material stored in a -safe place, and strengthened the magazine by binding logs on the more -exposed part. Then having seen to it that the cannon were all in good -order, with a supply of powder and balls at hand, I began drilling the -men. They practiced at gunnery, for we had plenty of powder, and it was -as well to let any sulking Indian scout know that we were prepared. One -of the last thing I did was to write a letter, embodying all my -adventures, and address it to Lucille. I arranged that if I was killed -it should be forwarded to her. Then there was little to do but wait for -the foe. It was not a long delay. - -Scouts who had been sent out came back on the eve of the sixth day after -Burroughs’ death. They reported that they had seen the fires of the -Indians, who evidently were using but little of their usual -cautiousness. It was some relief to know that action was at hand, for -nothing so saps a man’s courage as to sit in idleness and wait for the -unknown. - -We had taken every possible precaution. I doubled the sentinels, and the -cannon were ready loaded. And the next night, when the watch was -changing, the Indians came. There were a few shots fired aimlessly, and -then followed the war cry. It rose and fell on the night air, echoing -from the hill, and resounding throughout the silent woods. We might -expect the battle in the morning. I ordered two cannon, loaded with -small shot, to sweep the bushes before the fort. Though we probably did -little damage, yet it told them we were awake. - -There was little sleep for any of us that night. - -Every one was on the alert, for we knew that early dawn would set the -Indians at us. So we sat in the darkness and watched the fires which the -Indians kindled beyond rifle shot. - -I watched the stars grow dim, and a gray darkness steal over the -blackness of the night. A cold wind sprang up, and whistled mournfully -through the trees. The owls hooted, and the wolves howled. Then the -gray-black became lighter. All the stars were blotted out now, and there -in the east was a pale streak, which gradually grew larger and larger. -The dawn was come. With it came the frightful yells of the savages, and -the crack of their muskets and rifles. They began the attack on all but -the side of the fort toward the sea, but most of their bullets found -marks only in the solid logs of the palisades. My men replied, yet, -likewise, did little execution. I saw de Castine moving about here and -there among his Indians urging them on, and I called to two of my best -marksmen to try to pick him off. Once a ball chipped a piece from his -sword scabbard, but he only looked toward the fort and bowed in mockery. - -The woods seemed alive with the red men, and several, with better rifles -than their fellows, approached near enough to fire through the loops. I -had three men wounded this way, one so badly that he died in a short -time. Another was made blind by log splinters knocked into his eyes by a -bullet. Yet we had not been idle. The cannon were of little use, so -scattered was the foe, but once a knot of them gathered at the left of -the fort, about one of their number who had been hit. It was a chance -that one of our gunners did not miss, and a charge of small shot from -the cannon was sent hissing into their midst. When the smoke lifted five -dark forms stretched out on the ground showed what execution had been -done. After this the savages remained quiet for a time. It was now noon, -so I ordered a hasty meal served to the company. We were interrupted in -the eating by a loud cry from one of the sentinels in the fort. - -“A sail!” he shouted. “Hasten, Captain; there are ships approaching!” - -I ran to the lookout, and there, approaching under a stiff breeze, were -to be seen two sloops; and the decks were crowded with armed men. I -could see, also, that on board were several cannon and mortars. Now, -indeed, was our fight like to be most desperate. - -I ordered the cannon facing the sea to be run out of the ports. Then, -bidding Cory to look to defending the land side, I waited for the sloops -to come within range. Within a half hour they had stood in nearer to -shore, and we let fly at them. A few splinters knocked from the bow was -all the damage we did to one. But the other fared less well, for one of -our shots slivered the main mast near the deck. A cheer went up from our -company. In reply the sloops fired two broadsides, and badly smashed one -corner of the fort, besides injuring four men, and killing one. The -vessels now drew around a point, and out of range. We could see them -preparing to land the men and the cannon. I made no doubt that Iberville -was there in charge of the force. - -It was not long before two of the mortars were in position to fire at -us, some of the balls falling very near our magazine, and I was fearful -lest that be set on fire and explode. The battle now began in earnest. -The Indians seeing that the French had arrived, renewed their attack, so -that we were between two fires. It was rattle and bang on all sides of -us, and above all rose the fierce yells of the Indians. But our men -stuck well to their work. - -I had to divide my forces, and this left both sides of the fort rather -poorly defended. Several times we were most desperately put to prevent -the Indians from swarming over the palisades. They sent several blazing -arrows on top of the fort, but the logs were green and would not burn -readily. All the afternoon we fought, only managing to hold our own, and -when night came, our situation was most precarious. - -The French continued to blaze away at us with the cannon, and we could -see that they were landing more guns, so that the morrow promised to be -full of peril for my little garrison. I dared not make a sally, for my -force was too small, and yet we were little in shape to withstand a -siege. As the darkness grew deeper, the rattle of the muskets and the -boom of the cannon, and the thud of the balls on the wooden walls of the -fort ceased. Desperate and weary, the men sought food and rest. - -As for me, I was gloomy enough. I saw no hope but to fight on to the -last. Many had been hurt; several killed. Help might come from Boston, -but it would scarce reach us in time now. I turned over various -expedients in my mind, and had dismissed them all, when a sentinel -called out: - -“A white flag, Captain!” - -I looked out through a loop, and saw an Indian on the clearing in front -of the fort. He had a stick, to which a white rag was tied. Approaching -without the least sign of fear, he knocked at the gate and entered -boldly when I bade a man let him in. - -In his hand, besides the flag of truce, the Indian carried a letter. It -was from Castine, addressed to me. - -I was told that unless the fort surrendered at break of day, it would be -stormed. We could not hope to hold out, Castine wrote; and, after a -resistance, he feared the Indians could not be restrained from -practicing their cruel tortures. A speedy capitulation was advised. - -I tore the letter into fragments, and scattered them to the wind. - -“Go,” I said to the Indian messenger. “Tell your leader that I refuse. -We will fight to the last.” - -“Hu,” muttered the red man, and he went out into the night that was -approaching. - -He could no more than have delivered my answer when a sentinel, from the -seaward side of the fort, hastened to me with the news that there was -considerable activity among our foes, and that several guns were being -landed from the ships, and being brought to bear on the fort. - -“Let them do their worst,” I cried, as cheerfully as I could to the men -who were near me. “We will beat them yet. Will we not?” - -Now, indeed, I expected that a hearty cheer would be my answer. Instead, -there was only silence. I looked at the men. - -“Are you Englishmen?” I asked, scornfully. “Are you going to give up -before the battle is over?” - -“Aye, we be Englishmen,” muttered a sailor. “We be true Englishmen, but -of what is the use to fight all of France, and the Indians, too? We are -but ninety men now, and perchance, if we yield we may get safe conduct -to Boston or Salem town.” - -I would have pierced the fellow with my sword had he not leaped back. -Then I looked at him. I knew him simply as Simon, one of the sailors. -Yet, as I gazed at him more keenly, I recognized him as a man who had -followed my adversary, Sir George, into the Governor’s room, in Boston, -the day I had received my commission. I recalled, also, that Simon had -ever seemed to be near me; when we voyaged in the sloops, and when we -stormed the fort at St. Johns. He was like a man appointed to watch over -me, for no good purpose. And he had gained some hold over my men, for, -when I looked from him to them, to see if his words found echo in their -hearts, there was no one who said nay. - -“You are all cowards,” I cried, but there was no answer. - -Then, when I could command my voice, I asked whether it was the wish of -the garrison to surrender, and, with almost one accord, they said it -was. It was a bitter cup to drink of. - -I slept not at all that night, and, several times, I was half minded to -rush out, all alone, and fight, single handed, until I was slain. But -life was sweet, and, shameful as it was, I resolved to give up the fort. -I had none to defend it, and we might be treated as prisoners of war, to -be exchanged, in due season. There was nothing else to do, so, with -sorrow in my heart, I ordered the white flag run up, as the sun rose. -Then came Castine and Iberville, the leaders, who had been waiting for -the signal. - -To Iberville I handed my sword. I could not but gaze with longing eyes -on the bit of steel that had served me so well. Now I was like never to -see it nor feel it in my hand again. - -But Iberville, noting my wistful glance, after he had held the weapon in -his hand a moment, poising it as one who well knew its worth, said: - -“’Tis a pretty blade.” - -“Aye,” I answered, bitterly. “It has found sheath in many an English -foe, both French and Indian.” - -His face, that had held a smile, went dark in a second. I expected -nothing less than he would lunge at me. But he seemed to recover -himself, though with an effort, and said, graciously: - -“Perchance it may again.” - -And he handed me back the sword. - -I was too surprised to give him thanks. Soon we were deep in the details -of the surrender. It was arranged that I was to march out at the head of -my men, and we went on board the French vessels, as prisoners. We were -to sail for Boston, to be exchanged for some French hostages held -captive there. - -It was not long before we left Pemaquid in the distance, a French -garrison being in charge. The voyage was without incident, and, one day -in July, I walked ashore at Boston town, with my command. Sending word -to Governor Phips that I would call on him the next day, I made a hasty -meal, secured a horse, and was soon on the road to Salem and to Lucille. - -I could but contrast that ride with a similar one I had taken some -months back, when the snow was drifted deep over the path. Much had -happened since then. I had fought and loved, and fought, and still was -loving. And the love was of more strength than all the battles. - -I spurred the horse on, while over and over in my heart I sang but one -song, and the name of it was Lucille. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - THE MAN AT THE INN. - - -At length the friendly tavern of Master Willis came into view. When I -had reached it, weary and travel-stained, I dismounted, calling for a -stable lad to see to the horse. I would but stop, I thought, to get a -change of raiment, snatch a hasty bite, and hurry on to greet Lucile. - -“Have the dead returned?” quoth Willis, joyfully, as I strode into the -big room. - -“Nay; ’tis myself in the flesh,” I answered, “as you may know, when I -tell you that I am most woefully hungry. Some meat and drink, I pray -you, for I must away soon again.” - -The tavern keeper bestirred himself to much advantage, and it was not -long ere there was plenty on the round table. I drew up a chair, and, -while I lingered somewhat over the food, I had time to look about the -familiar apartment. - -In one corner I noticed a man seated. His legs were stretched out in -lazy comfort, one foot crossed over the other, while, with a riding whip -in his hand, he switched at his boots. He seemed not to notice me, so -that I had a chance to take a good look at him. Then I knew him for the -same man who had ridden down to the beach, the day the sloops sailed; -the mysterious messenger of the night, the man with whom I had nearly -come to sword strokes in the Governor’s room. I own I was startled, for -I could not help feeling that something portended of no happy omen. - -Once he caught me looking at him, but he said nothing until I had -finished. Then he rose, lifted his hat from his head, and snapped his -whip so that it cracked like a pistol shot. - -“Good day to you, Captain Amherst,” he said. “May I have the honor of a -few words?” - -As he finished he smiled, and, though I could not tell why, I hated him -for it. - -“As many as you wish,” I answered, “but I am pressed for time now. Will -not another occasion do? I----” - -“Some other time might serve,” he interrupted, “but I am on the King’s -business, and you know that ever presses us men of the sword.” - -Not very graciously I led the way to my former apartment, from which I -had been absent so long. Wearily I sat down, pointing to another chair, -opposite, for my visitor. He took it, doubled the riding whip in his -hands, and, with a slight bow to me, said: - -“I have been waiting for your return, Captain Amherst,” and he seemed to -hesitate over the name. “I have waited ever since you sailed against St. -Johns.” - -“Then you had a wearisome delay,” I responded, little heeding my own -words, for I was in haste to be away. “One, I fear, not much to your -profit or pleasure.” - -“I did not look for profit,” was his reply. Then he spoke slowly, and -with a mocking, sneering tone. “But it was pleasant enough, tarrying -here--with Lucille!” - -I sprang to my feet and half drew my sword, for there was more than -insult in his words; there was a threat. - -“Lucille!” I cried, leaning forward and peering into his handsome, -sneering face. - -“Aye, Lucille,” he answered coolly, and he never glanced at me, but -played with the buckle of his sword belt. - -“We had many happy hours together,” he went on; “she and I, while I was -waiting for you.” - -“Damn you!” I shouted; “what means this! Know you that----” - -“Aye, I know,” was his response, and then he looked me full in the face. -He seemed to drop his jaunty, careless air, as, at midnight, a dancer -casts aside his mask. “I know,” he repeated slowly. “I know you, and I -know Lucille.” - -My sword was out in an instant, and, with its point, I menaced his -heart. But, with a coolness that I could not help admiring, he never -moved, nor did he seem at all alarmed. - -“Draw, sir!” I cried out. “Draw, in the devil’s name, or I’ll run you -through where you stand! The Governor is not here now to stay our hands. -Who are you, crossing my path so often?” - -“There is time enough to draw my sword when I have finished,” he -replied, never taking his eyes from my face. “So if you will but put up -your weapon, perchance there may be no need to take it from the scabbard -again, Sir Francis Dane!” - -If he had struck me I could not have been more startled than at the -sound of that name. My knees grew weak from very fear, and I sank back -into my chair, while my sword which I had held outstretched, clattered -to the oak floor. - -That my secret had been laid bare, after so many years, when I supposed -it safely buried across the sea, shook me as a tempest might a sapling. - -“Have I touched you with the point?” asked the stranger, as he cut the -air with the little whip. - -“Yes! A thousand times, yes!” I cried, and I leaped at him, and would -have run him through on the instant with my sword, which I recovered -from the floor, had he not nimbly sprang behind the bed. - -There he stood, his face working with emotion, his eyes glaring, and his -hand clasped so tightly on his sword hilt that his knuckles went white -with the strain. I lunged at him again and again, fiercely, blindly, -almost, until, in very shame at thrusting at one who had no weapon out, -I stopped and stood breathless, like one who had run far. - -“Why do you stand there, silent?” I panted. “Are you a man, or----?” - -“Perchance a witch,” he replied, with an air of easy assurance. “I hear -there be many hereabouts. Indeed, no later than yesterday three were -hanged on the hill yonder.” - -I started, in sudden fear, for his words brought back to my mind the -witch trial, some months past. - -For a space there was silence in the chamber, and I could hear our -breaths, as we stood gazing at each other. Then he spoke. - -“Well, what is it to be?” he asked. “Peace or war?” - -“War!” I cried. “War to the end, now that you know what you do!” - -“Very good, then,” was his answer. “But, perchance you will hearken to -me for a little. Proclaim an armistice, as it were?” - -I nodded, as one in a dream, for I seemed to be asleep, watching all -these things transpire, but taking no part in them. - -“What would you say,” he went on, “if I told you that I held a warrant -from His Most Gracious Majesty, King William, for the apprehension of -one Sir Francis Dane, or, as he is known now, Captain Edward Amherst? -The charge being high treason.” - -“What would I say? Why, that you lied most damnably.” - -“Have a care!” he whispered, rather than spoke, and his hand fell to his -sword hilt with a quick motion. “Have a care! I have suffered much from -you. Do not tempt me too far.” - -“I am no traitor,” I said proudly, “for I have but now returned from the -defense of Pemaquid, which, though it fell was only given up in the face -of heavy odds, and because the garrison would not stand by me. I am no -traitor. Ask the men who tramped the woods and sailed the sloops with -me.” - -“Then this must be in error,” was his sudden exclamation. He threw a -parchment to me across the bed, behind which he still was, and, while I -unrolled it he came out, and sat in the chair again. I recognized the -royal arms of England. - -“Read,” he said. And then he settled back in his chair most comfortably, -as one disposed to listen to some pleasant tale. - -I read. True enough it was a warrant for Sir Francis Dane, formerly of -the army of “that arch-traitor” Duke Monmouth. All the way through I -read the scroll, my heart growing heavier as I proceeded. - -“Does it suffice?” he asked. - -“Aye,” I answered, moodily. - -I turned toward him. - -“It is enough,” I went on, pacing back and forth. “But, look you, sir, I -know not your name. Not that it matters greatly.” - -“I am Sir George Keith, at your service, and at that of His Majesty,” he -said, smiling and bowing low. - -“Well, then, Sir George Keith, what is to prevent me from destroying -this warrant? From casting it into the fire, thus----?” - -With a quick movement I tossed the parchment into the blazing pile of -logs on the hearth, Willis having kindled them, though there was little -need of warmth. - -The sheepskin burned in a sudden puff of flame, but Sir George never -turned his head to see what became of it. - -“It was but a copy,” he said. - -“Then what is to prevent me from killing you?” was my next question. - -“Would one tainted with treason, add to his crimes and attack the King’s -messenger? Or if he dared, that same bearer of the royal warrant might -have somewhat to say touching on the killing. I am no schoolboy to be -frightened by words!” - -I knew he spoke the truth, and I sat down again. - -“Perchance,” went on Sir George, “I may weary you with the tale, but I -will relate it, and if I tire you I pray your pardon.” - -Then while the shadows grew long outside, and the darkness settled -deeper and deeper over the earth, I listened as one not fully awake, who -hears a voice afar off. - -“There is little need,” said Sir George, “of telling that which you know -better than I do. How you were of the personal guard of Monmouth, and -how, when the last battle went against him you fell into the hands of -King James’ men, that day on Sedgemoor field. Of your trial before his -Worshipful Honor, Judge Jeffreys, and his merciful sentence that you be -sold as a slave, instead of being hanged, as you, and all that army of -ragamuffins deserved, I need not speak. You recall how Lord Cordwaine -begged that you might be given to him so he could sell you into slavery. -You managed to escape from prison, none knew how, before Lord Cordwaine -had secured you, and you fled. - -“The noble lord reported his loss to His Majesty, and, being in great -favor then, the King granted a royal warrant for you, that, wherever you -could be found, you might be brought back to England as a traitor, to be -dealt with as Lord Cordwaine might elect. That was seven years ago. - -“Of your wanderings in that time I have heard a little. How, having sold -your sword to prince after prince in Europe, you finally came to -America, and offered your services to His Excellency, Sir William Phips, -under the name of Captain Amherst. I have had a long search for you. - -“Do not think that I followed you over seas all these years merely to -gratify the revenge, or satisfy the whim of Lord Cordwaine. He might rot -in hell for all I cared,” and Sir George, with a vicious snarl to the -words, doubled his riding whip until it snapped in twain. - -“No,” he proceeded, “I sought you for myself; for my own ends.” - -I looked at him, trying to fathom whither he might be drifting. He had -no more of the careless air, and his tone had changed to a low, intense -and rapid one. - -“Can you call to mind,” he asked, “when the last charge was made at the -ditch that proved so disastrous to Monmouth’s forces?” - -“Yes,” I said, my memory going back to the fierce struggle between -farmers and religious fanatics on one side, and trained soldiers on the -other. - -“Do you remember how, when a dark haired lad, aye he was but a boy, -opposed you as you urged your horse on?” - -“Yes,” I answered, as one awaking from a sleep. - -“Then,” came from Sir George suddenly, “call to mind also how you cut -him down with a single stroke, though you might have disarmed and spared -him, for he could not have prevailed against you. His life’s blood dyed -the marsh, and he was trampled under foot, a shapeless mass. Do you -recall that?” The words were hurled at me with every look of hate. - -“It was in a fair fight,” I said, somewhat sorry for the lad. “I had to -save myself. It was give and take, no quarter asked or granted; no time -to parry.” - -“I saw the blow. I marked who gave it,” went on Sir George. “Had not my -horse fallen under me then you would ne’er have dealt another. A sudden -surge in the battle carried me from you, but I knew I could remember -your face, your form; and I vowed----,” a strong emotion seized the -man,--“I vowed your death when once more we should stand face to face. -Now after many years that time has come. For--for----” - -He seemed to choke with the words. - -“Was he----?” I began softly. - -“He was my only brother,” he replied, “and his death broke my mother’s -heart, and sent my father to an early grave.” - -“’Twas the fortune of war,” I answered, but I had no heart to mock his -grief. - -After a pause he went on. - -“When the prisoners were taken,” he said, “I sought among them for you. -One day, to my joy, I saw you penned in with others like the cattle you -were. I hastened to the King to beg one boon: that you might be given or -sold to me. But Lord Cordwaine, curse him, was before me, and he had -chosen you among others that the King gave him. His Majesty dared not, -for reasons of policy, offend Lord Cordwaine, by making the change. - -“I begged and pleaded with the lord that he would give you to me, but he -was short of purse, and had made a bargain to sell you as a slave. I had -not money enough or I would have been the buyer. - -“Then came your sale to the slave dealer, and your escape from prison, -before Lord Cordwaine had delivered you to the purchaser. He secured a -royal warrant for your arrest, wherever you might be found, on the -charge of high treason. Fearful that you might escape my vengeance I -besought Lord Cordwaine to let me serve the document. Glad that he was -not to be out of pocket by the arrangement he consented. Since then I -have followed you from place to place, always arriving just as you had -gone. I lost track of you when you sailed for this land, but now I can -reap my reward.” - -I know not what prevented me from springing at him then and ending it -all. I wish I had. Perhaps it was his devil’s coolness, or his mastery -over my feelings that held me to my chair. He proceeded after a pause, -not heeding that I had risen as he began again. - -“When King James fled,” he went on, “I managed to acquire some influence -at the court of William and Mary. The warrant was renewed, though Lord -Cordwaine, to my joy, died in the meantime, and I knew I could have you -all to myself when I found you. So I continued my search, and now I have -found you--and Lucille.” - -“What of Lucille?” I cried. “Would you drive me mad by harping on her -name, as if you had a right to use it? Speak, man. What are you to her, -or what is she to you? There is some mystery here, of which I have had -enough. Now out with it, or, warrant or no warrant, I’ll run you through -as I would a dog.” - -“What of Lucille?” repeating my words in a sneering tone. Then changing -suddenly: “This of Lucille. That I love her better than life. Aye, I -love her more than I hate you, and God knows that hate is as wide and as -deep as the sea. I love her; I love her, and she loves me! For Lucille -de Guilfort is my wife!” - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - A MAN AND HIS WIFE. - - -I was like a man who saw death before him when I heard his words. -Lucille his wife, when but a few short months ago she had promised to be -mine. She had let me woo and win her, knowing that she had no -right--that I had no right! - -“Oh God!” I cried; and then I stopped, for I did not know what I might -pray for; her death, or his or my own. Yet with it all I loved her; more -than ever. - -A great grief or a great joy stuns for the moment. So it was with me. My -heart’s dearest idol was shattered; crumbled into dust, and, instead of -pain, there was a numbness and a feeling that I had never known before. -I raised my hand to my head as if I would brush away cobwebs from my -eyes. - -“Lucille,” I began, in so strange a tone that I started at the word, and -the silence seemed broken by my tone as by a thunder clap. - -“Lady Keith,” corrected Sir George, smiling. - -There came to me a faint hope like a star dimly seen amid a storm sky. -Perchance he had forfeited the right to call her wife. What else could -mean her shrinking from him, her fear when they had met, and I had been -near to see? Oh, if it could but be true! My eyes saw clearer, and my -hand became firmer. - -“I have no privilege to ask,” I began, yet I hoped for an answer, “but I -had been led to believe otherwise of--of--Lu--of Lady Keith.” - -“Aye, I suppose so,” was his answer, in a biting tone. “I am in little -mood for the telling, yet I will relate how it came to pass; for there -have been strange goings on since Mistress Lucille became Lady Keith.” - -Then as we two stood there, each with deadly hatred of the other in his -heart, he began: - -“I met Lucille and fell in love with her some five years ago. I first -saw her in Paris, where I had gone in quest of you. There I lingered -unable, because of the witchery of her eyes, to leave. We met often, for -I contrived to prevail on her father to let me give her lessons in -English. And you may guess I lost no opportunity of giving her lessons -in love at the same time. Well, my suit prospered, and in a year we were -wed, both as happy as lovers proverbially are. - -“Then one day, ’twas a small matter, to be sure, but there was a story -that some court lady had been found in my bed chamber. Only a trifle, -for she had been there to gain my friendship in a matter concerning some -titled personage, and called rather early, that was all. But Lucille -heard of it, and, as I could not deny that the lady was there, why, my -wife assumed that I had tired of her charms. She flew into a great -passion, and when I had imagined she would pout a bit, and seem -offended, she was most grievously angered. Hast ever seen her in a -temper?” he asked suddenly. - -“No,” I said sharply. “Go on.” - -“Oh, but she has one, for all her fair face,” he sneered. - -It was all I could do to keep the point of my sword from his throat. - -“Proceed,” I choked out. - -“Well, this small matter to me proved a large one for Lady Keith. And -her father, it seems, took it to heart also. They were of noble blood, -the de Guilforts, almost as good as the Keiths,” and he stroked his -moustache with an air of pride. - -“Where was I? Oh, yes. Well, Mistress Keith was in a great temper. She -defied me to my face; told me I had dishonored her. You know how women -are. To be brief, M. de Guilfort, with my wife and her cousin, suddenly -left Paris, when I had been called to London on a false report that you -had come back. When I returned to Paris, expecting to find all the -affair blown over, and a pair of loving arms and ruby lips to welcome -me, I found a vacant house; a cold hearth. - -“I did my best to trace them but failed. Then, like a man without hope, -hating yet loving, loving yet hating, I went to the wars, and finally -came to America. And here, thanks to the fates I have found both my -enemy and my love.” - -“Is that all?” I asked, for I wished to hear the end before I killed -him. - -“No,” he said bitterly, “not all. When I became attached to the army of -the Massachusetts Colony, the first act of Governor Phips was to send me -with a message to you here. I little guessed who I should find Captain -Edward Amherst to be, much less did I hope to meet with Lucille in Salem -town. - -“When I galloped to her house that night, not finding you at the inn, I -saw, in the dim light, she whom I had been seeking so long. I had no -eyes for you then beyond a glance. But when I had ridden away, not -desiring to press matters at once, your face came before me, and I knew -I had found one other I had been in search of. I shouted aloud for joy. - -“I hastened to Boston, where I had left the royal warrant, and I -returned with all speed. You had already sailed with the two sloops, -though I tried to hail you from the shore to which I galloped. However, -I thought that you would return, and, when I looked and saw Lucille, I -hardly cared whether you came back or not.” - -“Is that all?” I asked again, softly. For I saw, of a truth now, that -one of us was like to die; and I did not think it would be me. - -“Not quite all,” he said. - -He paused to cast a hasty look at me, then he went on. - -“While waiting for you I had time to renew my acquaintance with my dear -wife,” he said mockingly. - -“And--and have you persuaded her that you are a true and loyal husband?” -I asked, hesitating bitterly over the words. - -“Nay, curses on it,” he cried. “Why, man, ’twould be laughable, but that -I am more in love with her than ever. Fancy a man in love with his wife -a second time, yet not allowed to greet her, to call upon her, save in -the presence of a serving maid, not to take her hand, to kiss----” - -I started forward, with what intent I know not, for the memory of those -kisses I had pressed on Lucille’s lips came back to me. I felt that one -of us, for the sake of the honor of Lucille, must die. - -“Then your second suit is not favored, as was the first?” I inquired. - -“Nay,” he replied bitterly. “Why, ’tis town gossip now that she loves -you, for no one is aware that she is my wife yet. A pretty tale, is it -not? How the French maid fell in love with the Captain that casts great -rocks as though they were but pebbles.” - -“You lie, damn you!” I cried. “She did love me, perhaps. But it was -before she knew she had no right.” - -“No right?” - -“My life upon it, she did not know, Sir George. She either believed you -dead, or knew that she was no more bound to you than to the veriest -beggar.” - -Yet, though I spoke the words boldly, there was both pain and fear in my -heart. When a man begins to doubt a woman there is no middle way. But I -could not, with honor, do less than defend the name of one I had -loved--nay, of one I loved still. - -“Oh, a truce to fine words,” was the reply. “All women are alike; off -with the old, on with the new. Since she has found you she has no use -for me. I might as well talk of my love to the trees or to the rocks as -to Lucille, my own wife, since you have kissed her.” - -I started. - -“Ha! That was but a chance shot, yet it struck,” he cried; and he -laughed, though it echoed more like a wail than a sound of merriment. - -“But I love her,” he went on. “Oh, God, how I love her! I love her so -much that I will, for the sake of it, be cheated of my revenge. With you -away I could have hope. But now----” - -Outside the wind blew in mournful gusts, for a storm was brewing. - -“Hark you, Sir Francis Dane,” he continued. “I will not call you by that -name, though, for you have forfeited it. Listen, Captain Amherst; if you -will but consent to leave the Colony, leave Lucille, and go away, I, in -turn, will forget my brother’s death, my vengeance, and you. The royal -warrant shall be destroyed, and you may walk the earth a free man, -fearing not any one. Only go. Leave Lucille to me. I can win back her -love. See, I will write now a full and free pardon for you, and will -transmit it to the King. Will you go?” - -It was dark by this time, and the flickering flames, dying amid the -ashes, like a hopeless love, faintly illuminated the apartment, as we -stood facing each other. - -It was strange, when, for the moment I stopped to think of it. Here was -a man pleading with another for what was his right. Pleading to be -allowed to woo his own wife. Begging that I would give up my love and go -away so that his suit might be unhampered. Verily I had never heard of -such a thing before, though I knew that love was a strange master. Sir -George was asking of me with words what I might expect to be required by -the sword. Yet, though I had no right to the love of Lucille, his wife, -he did not draw, even as I moved back, and stood on guard. - -Whereat I marveled, for he was not a man to accept lightly the dishonor -I had put upon him. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - THE TIME OF PERIL. - - -Of what use to stay in Salem now, that my love had come to such a sorry -end? Yet I did not like that he should triumph over me, nor would I -purchase my freedom at the price he offered. - -To stay? To go? - -“I will remain here,” I said, after a moment’s pause. He made a gesture -that showed his displeasure. “But mistake me not, Sir George, Mistress -Keith shall see no more of me. I stay, not on her account, but my own. -Now, enough of womenkind. With you it seems I have a score to settle -yet.” - -Sir George nodded his head. - -“You have made threats,” I went on. “You feel aggrieved; you consider me -your enemy, and I, no less, you mine. The Danes are not accustomed to -shun danger; to permit old scores to be unsatisfied; to leave an enemy -behind them. Therefore I stay, Sir George.” - -He made as if he would go, but I stood before him. He was looking beyond -me with a curious glint in his eyes, and, though I was directly in his -path, he did not seem to notice me. - -“Draw, sir,” I commanded, gently. “Let us see who of us shall go or -stay; who of us shall die? There have been enough of threats. Draw, sir; -I pray you.” - -Still he looked beyond me as if at some vision behind the oak walls, -until stung by his indifference I came so close up against him that his -arm touched mine. - -“Will you not fight?” I cried, peering into his eyes that refused to see -me. - -He said not a word, but ever continued to gaze away. - -“Come,” I sneered, “will you do me the honor to cross swords?” - -“Not with a traitor,” was his sudden answer. - -“Nor I with a coward,” I exclaimed. I snatched up the broken whip and -struck him full in the face with it. The blow raised a red weal from his -eye to his chin. - -I have seen wild beasts aroused, and raging Indians mad with the lust of -murder, yet I never saw such a look as came into the face of that man -when I struck him. Verily I shrank back somewhat, and my sword went up -on guard. But with a fierce mastery of the passion that must have been -tearing at his very heart, Sir George moistened his lips with his -tongue, and hoarsely whispered: - -“Are you mad? No man ever yet struck me and lived after it. But the -sword of a gentleman and a soldier is too good for such as you, traitor -that you are. I will not sully my steel with your blood. Think not, -though, that you will escape me. Die you shall, but in such manner as no -man died before;” and, ere I could stop him he had rushed from the room, -and I was alone. - -There was half a thought in my mind to follow him, but I did not care to -engage with him on the open highway, and I knew I would meet with him -again. That he meditated some evil to me I was sure. What it might be I -could not say. - -Well, I would be off now to see Lucille after my long absence. I stopped -with a jolt, as suddenly as does a trooper whose horse balks at a hedge. -Lucille! - -“Ha!” I cried, gaily. “Nay, Lucille no more, but Lady Keith. What a fool -I’ve been to let her see that I loved her. What a fool any man is to -love a woman. What fools men are, anyhow, at all times. - -“Bah! Lucille! And she took my kisses. - -“What ho! Well, ’tis many a stolen kiss a soldier has, and mine had been -purloined favors, though I knew it not. Why, then, should I give her up? -She loved me, even her husband admitted that. And why had not I, whom -she loved, a better right, to her than he whom she loved not? With some -there would have been but one answer to this. A clash of steel, and, -right or wrong, he who loved and won, would have her whom he fought for. -Why not I? What if she was his wife? - -“Should love recognize limitations of earthly honor? Why not cast honor -as men saw it to the winds? With Sir George out of the way I would have -naught to fear from his warrant, and his wife--bah! the words went -bitter in my mouth--his wife could then be mine. I had no doubt that in -a combat with him I could be the victor. We had quarreled, I had struck -him. If he was a man he must fight after that. Then a meeting early in -the morning, a clash of swords, a lunge, a feint, a trick I knew well, -having had it from a master of the art, and that would be the end. The -end of all save my happiness with Lucille. - -“No!” - -I spoke the word aloud. I had not sunk so low as that. It would be sad -indeed if love gave such license. There was but one way out of the -matter. If I stayed in Salem I must fight Sir George, and all would say -that I had slain him that I might take his wife. - -Love would be sweet, with Lucille to share it with me, but not love with -dishonor. Therefore I must go. - -Heigh-ho! This, then, was an end to all my dreams. Nothing left to -battle for save life, and that was scarce worth the struggle. I tried to -banish the memory of Lucille from me, but I could not. Her whisper that -she loved me sounded in my ears loud above the din of the fights I had -passed through. One right I had still. To love her in secret, to know -that she loved me, and, knowing that, to let it be the end. - -It was night now. There came a knock on my door, and Willis entered. - -“What, not gone?” he asked. “Why, I thought you were in haste to be -away.” - -“So I was,” I answered, with a short laugh, “but I have changed my mind -now. Much haste oft means a slow journey. I’ll stay here with you. Let -us have some wine up, Master Willis. ’Tis so long since I have tasted -any that my throat has forgot the flavor. Bring plenty, for when a man -has been to the wars there is need of some cheer on his return, even -though he comes conquered instead of a conqueror.” - -He brought the wine, and we drank together, I not so much that I wanted -the drink, but companionship. - -“How goes the witchcraft here, Willis?” I asked. “I heard ’twas broke -out again, as I came through Boston.” - -“Hush,” he said, glancing around as though he feared some one would hear -me. “Verily it is most horrible. The townspeople have gone mad, it -seems. Scarce a day goes by that some poor woman or man is not accused -of being in league with the devil, or banded with witches to work evil -spells. The Colony groans under the terrors, for nearly half a score of -people have been put to death after being convicted of witchcraft. - -“Neighbors have denounced and testified against neighbors; fathers -against sons, and daughters against their mothers.” - -“Why, ’tis worse than I dreamed,” I said. - -“Aye, it is bad enough,” responded Willis, glancing behind his chair, as -if he expected to see a witch perched on the bed post. - -“There are strange tales told,” he went on, “of how witch meetings are -held on the common, and those who have been witness to them say they see -the forms of their acquaintances riding athwart broomsticks or fence -rails in the air. - -“Let but a cow be taken sick, and straightway ’tis said that the animal -is bewitched. Then the owner goes before the judges and swears some poor -dame has cast an evil spell on the beast. The woman is taken and put in -gaol, and little enough as the evidence is sometimes, she is condemned -and hanged. Oh, I promise that you will see horrors enough if you stay -here long. - -“Why, no further back than six days one man was accused because he was -so strong that the witch-crazed people said he must have had help from -Satan to lift the weights he did. He was taken, tried and executed.” - -“I am like to suffer then,” I said, laughing. “Do you recall the big -stone by the brook?” - -“Heaven forbid,” said Willis. “But do not laugh, Captain. It is no small -matter when half the townsfolk are crazed, and the other half ready to -follow where the first lead. Surely you must have noticed how distraught -the people were as you came along.” - -“Nay,” I answered, “I was thinking of other matters. But I remarked that -the few friends I passed in the road seemed not to know me. But what -does it signify?” - -“Much,” proceeded Willis. “Much in very truth. No man’s life nor liberty -is safe now. It is a perilous time. Why, Salem gaol to-night holds two -score poor wretches, whose only fault is some one has said they are -witches. - -“And more. The Governor has sent a special court with judges and -constables and soldiers to attend to the trials. They are fearsome -ordeals, too. It is ordained that if the accused one will confess that -he is a witch that one may go free, for, it is said, that being a witch, -by confession in the presence of a minister, the spirit of Satan is -abashed, and leaves the body. But many will not confess, maintaining, -even on the scaffold that they are innocent, and all such have been put -to death. So many have been executed that there is fear in many hearts. - -“Some are tried by water. They are thrown into the mill pond, and if -they sink they are free from the accusation of witchcraft. Little good -it does the poor souls though, for they never live to know that they are -innocent. A true witch will float, ’tis said, and all such are killed.” - -“Do you speak the truth?” I asked, for I could scarce believe what I -heard. - -“As I live,” answered Willis. “It is a time for every man to look to -himself, especially if he has an enemy. Many of the witch trials, I -believe, are but vents for the enmity which cannot be satisfied in other -ways. A few of the accusers, however, seem in earnest, claiming that -their maladies and troubles are spells of their enemies, and the -afflicted ones call out the names in great agony.” - -“Bah! Willis,” I said. “You are chicken-hearted from staying too much at -home.” - -“Wait and see,” replied the inn keeper. Then he left me. - -I did not want to go to bed yet; there was no sleep in me; so I resolved -to walk out to let some of my busy thoughts fly away, if they would. The -moon was up, a big round silver disk, larger than the head of a cider -barrel. It cast long shadows across the road and fields. - -As I tramped on toward, I knew not where, nor cared, I found my steps -leading, unconsciously, to the home of the woman I loved. - -I half turned back. No. I would go on. Not to see her. Not to clasp her -in my arms, as I had hoped to do. Never that again. I would but pass by -on the other side. It was to be my farewell. - -There was a light burning in the house when I came up to it. I fancied I -could see through the window in the glare of the candle Lucille. Yes, -there she was. Like a thief in the night I crept nearer until I could -discern her face. Her head was resting on her hands; she seemed waiting -for some one. I prayed it might be me, yet she must wait in vain. - -Nearer I went. She turned, and gazed out into the night, straight at me. -But I slipped into the shadow of an oak tree, that by no chance she -might see me. She was more beautiful than ever. Oh, why had she not told -me all that was in the past, before she let me love her. - -The wind rustled through the trees, sighing like a lost soul, a most -mournful sound. I stretched up my hands to the sky; I reached them out -to the woman I loved. Both were beyond me. - -Once more I looked at her. She had risen from her seat. She stooped over -the candle, so that the glare showed me her fair face, the ringlets of -her hair, the soft curve of her throat, all her loveliness. - -“Lucille!” I cried, but the word was tossed back to me by the wind. - -“Lucille!” I whispered, but a moonbeam stole her name away. - -“Lucille!” She snuffed the candle, and it went out in a blur of -darkness, so that the night swallowed her up, and I was left alone. - -Then with the bitter heart of a man who has no sweetness left in life I -came away. - -As I took the road to the inn I thought that once or twice along the -path, half hidden by the trees, a form followed me. I stopped, and -looked intently at the black shadow. - -An owl hooted mournfully, a frog croaked in a near-by pool, and a -cricket chirped pleasantly from the grass. - -“’Twas the owl,” I said, and I passed on. - -Again I heard a dry twig snap as if some heavy animal or a man had -stepped on it. This time, as I halted to looked about I heard not far -off the howl of a lone wolf. - -“It was the wolf,” I muttered, “after a stray sheep,” and I walked on, -for the night was chill, and I was not warmly clad. - -I had reached the inn, and hurried to my room. Then I looked from the -window, and I saw passing across the fields the figure of a man. - -“Ho,” I whispered, “it was no wolf then.” - -But I looked again and saw that the man was Sir George Keith. - -“Aye, it was a wolf,” I said. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - IN SALEM GAOL. - - -I dreamed that night I was back in Pemaquid, with the cannon pounding -away at the fort, bringing the stout timbers down about my ears. I -fought the fight over again, and suddenly awoke in the gray dawn of the -morning to hear a thundering summons at my door. - -“Hello!” I cried, springing from bed, and seizing my sword. My eyes were -heavy with sleep, and I thought the Indians were upon us. - -The knock came once more, and it did not sound so loud to me when I had -shaken off some of the slumber. - -“Who’s there?” I called again. - -“’Tis I, John Putnam, constable of Salem town under His Most Gracious -Majesty, the King,” was the reply. - -A nameless dread, a chill, seized me, though I knew not the reason for -it. As the constable’s words died away I detected the sound of moving -feet beyond the oak door that separated us. I thought at once that Sir -George had sent the royal warrant for treason to be executed upon me. - -“Wait,” I cried, wishing to gain a little time. Then for an instant I -reasoned with myself. What should I do? Give battle now, trusting to -break through the ranks of those the constable had brought with him, -and, if successful, flee? Or tarry and see the affair through? I did not -like to run for it on the first appearance of danger. Perhaps after all -I could find a way of escape. So in the next instant I had made up my -mind to take my arrest quietly. - -I had an idea that the fighting I had done in behalf of the Colony would -stand me in good stead, and serve to gain me a pardon from the court. - -Once more the summons came. - -“We’ll not wait much longer,” was the warning from without. - -“Then enter,” I called, flinging open the door. I stood face to face -with a half score of men, all armed, who well nigh filled the little -hall. John Putnam, the constable, was at their head. - -“Your errand?” I inquired, shortly, thinking I knew it as well as he. - -“I have a warrant, a royal warrant, for your body,” began the constable -pompously. - -“I know it full well,” was my answer. - -I noticed that the bodyguard, accompanying Master Putnam, looked one at -the other at this. A burly red-haired farmer, who clasped his flint-lock -as he would a club, whispered to the man next him: - -“Mark you that, neighbor Passden? There is Satan’s work. He hath -informed the Captain in advance of our coming, and of the royal warrant, -which our worthy constable has not even yet removed from his jacket -pocket. Saw you ever the like?” - -“Hush! Not so loud,” murmured the one addressed. “Aye, ’tis fearfully -marvelous. But speak not of it, or he may cast a spell of the evil on -us,” and the two shrank away. - -I heard the whispers, but knew not what it all meant. I looked at the -constable, seeking an explanation. - -“I hold a warrant,” he went on, “against you, Captain Edward Amherst, -charging you with certain detestable arts called witchcraft.” - -“What!” I cried. “Have you lost your senses, Master Putnam?” - -“Nay, hear me out,” he protested, drawing a parchment with a red seal -dangling therefrom, out of his pocket. The men closed up around me. - -“You are charged,” the constable continued, slanting the document, so as -to catch the light of the rising sun from an east window full upon it, -“charged with practicing witchcraft, and sorceries, wickedly and -feloniously, upon and against Deliverance Hobbs, Benjamin Proctor and -John Bly. All of whom last night made depositions of the facts before -our gracious and most worthy Honor, Justice Hathorne. And I hereby -arrest you, Captain Amherst, on this warrant. You will be arraigned for -trial this day at the court of Oyer and Terminer, to be holden here by -Justices Hathorne and Corwin. You are, therefore, my prisoner.” - -The constable folded the warrant together, and I noticed, when too late, -that he had been gradually edging himself nearer to me. Suddenly he -sprang at me, and threw his arms around mine, pinning my hands to my -sides. I had been stunned by the quick change from what I had been -expecting to that which I never dreamed of. But when I felt the hands of -the constable upon me, his arms about my body, my resolve to submit -quietly flew to the wind, and I nerved myself for the coming struggle. - -I spread my arms apart, and easily forced off the hold of the constable. -Then I turned quickly and picked Master Putnam up as if he had been but -a small barrel of cider. I cast him out of the door, so that he fell -against the crowd of men, and some of them were knocked down, none too -gently, I fear, by his flight through the air. - -Then I drew my sword from the scabbard, and stood ready to defend -myself, but they were a trifle wary now about advancing. For perhaps a -minute I stood thus, holding them at bay with the point of my weapon. - -But one man unobserved had crawled into the room behind me. Of a sudden -I felt something fall over my head and slip down about my arms. It was a -rope noose, and it was quickly pulled taut, so that my hands were -fastened to my sides. I was helpless in an instant, with no chance to -use my sword. - -“At him now, neighbors!” cried a big farmer, casting his flint-lock to -the floor. “The Lord of Hosts is on our side, and He will enable us to -prevail, and overcome the mighty disciple of Satan.” - -“Aye, at him now, at him now! Kill the witch!” cried others. - -On came the crowd with a rush, seeing that I was fast bound and -helpless. However, with a kick from each foot in turn I disabled two of -the constable’s guard as they sought to fall upon me, but the others -were too many to cope with, and they forced me down by sheer weight and -numbers. More ropes were brought and soon I was tied as neatly as a fowl -trussed for roasting. - -Without a word they carried me away in that sorry fashion, Constable -Putnam limping along in the rear of the procession, for it appeared he -had been somewhat hurt when he went out of the door so quickly. - -I was taken to Salem gaol, and when it was reached, the iron studded -door swung open, and I was thrust among two score others, suspected of -witchcraft, who were waiting trial. A groan went up as I was added to -their company. The door banged shut, hiding from view the pleasant sun, -which was just rising, and drowning the songs of the birds. - -My captors placed me on the floor with no gentle hands, and went away. -Some of the prisoners, however, lifted me up on a bench, so that I was -more comfortable in body, though not so much so in mind. - -It needed but a little thought to tell me how the matters that had -lately transpired had come about. I knew that Sir George at the present -time did not dare to urge the old charge of treason against me because -of my present loyalty to the King and the Colony. He was afraid to -fight, I believed, and, desiring revenge for my blow, and at the same -time to see me removed from where I might meet Lucille, he had hit upon -this plan to have me killed as a witch. And his plot was like to work -well. - -I recalled what Willis had told me of the state of people’s minds in -regard to those suspected of witchcraft. I could realize what it meant -now. Though had I not seen some of the things I did I would not have -believed them. - -I saw men and women in that gaol, who had been among the best liked of -the townspeople. Colonists of wealth, delicate mothers and men of -culture were there, herded together like sheep, and treated like common -felons. It was enough to make me cry out for shame for my countrymen, -who could be so deluded and deceived. I forgot my own plight to see so -many waiting to be sacrificed, for what afterward proved to be a most -terrible error. Aye, it was many years ere the black memory of Salem -witchcraft of 1692 was forgotten. - -Among the prisoners was Martha Cory, mother of my former Lieutenant. She -cried when she saw me, and asked for tidings of her son. To my sorrow I -could not give them, as Cory had been separated from me when we -surrendered at Pemaquid, and I had not seen him since, though I told his -mother I trusted he was safely exchanged. - -George Reed was also a prisoner. He was a brother of one of my recruits -who had fallen at the battle of St. Johns, and when I told the brother -in gaol his sorrows were added to. Dorcas Goode was there, and Sarah -Osborn, and Mary Warren; women whose sons or brothers had marched with -me to the war. Some did not return, and if they but knew they might -count themselves well off. Those were dark days, indeed, in Salem town. - -Presently I called to the jailer, and, upon my promise that I would not -try to escape, he loosened my bonds so I could walk and move about with -some freedom. Now I was not minded to be executed as a witch, and I -wanted all my strength, and nimbleness of limb, for whatever struggle -there might be ahead. Greatly did I desire to be within sword’s length -of Sir George Keith for a little while, and I resolved that I would give -him but one chance to draw his weapon. - -I went about among the prisoners, and soon engaged one of the guards in -talk. From him, and from what I could piece out in my own mind, I -learned how my arrest had been brought about. Sir George, after his -meeting with me, had gone to the home of Justice Hathorne, and had sworn -to a complaint as to my witch powers. It was easy to find others as -witnesses to whom ordinary events by reason of the excitement in the -Colony, had become much changed in meaning. So that in simple happenings -such as the loss of a cow or a sheep, the witchcraft of some neighbor -was discernible. Sir George had learned of Benjamin Proctor and John -Bly, who each had lost a cow from some disease. He had suggested that I -might be the witch who had worked evil spells upon the animals. - -The two farmers, worrying over the loss of their cows, had eagerly -seized on the explanation that I was the evil spirit responsible. Sir -George had told how my strength was as the power of three men, though my -body was not overly large. He had told of the great rock I had lifted -after the mightiest man in the Colony had failed to budge it, and thus -the charges against me had grown out of nothing. - -The two farmers and Deliverance Hobbs, who was an old woman, scarce -knowing what she said, were sure I was a person in league with the -devil. So they had prayed the judge, through Sir George Keith, that I -might be apprehended and brought to trial. - -Sir George had induced the constable to arrest me at dawn, saying I -could be more easily taken if suddenly aroused from sleep. So, too, he -had urged that I might be given a speedy trial, that the witchcraft in -the land might be crushed out with a heavy hand, and the powers of evil -made the less. He had talked with much cunning to the authorities, and -he being, as they knew, in favor with the King and Governor, they had -done all he wished. - -Thus I was in Salem gaol, with little chance of leaving it, save at the -trial, and then, perchance, it would be but a short shrift to the -gallows. - -It was noon. The sun shone overhead and beat down on the prison, but to -us inside, only the reflection of the golden beams came in through the -iron barred window. Steps were heard coming toward the door, and, as it -swung open the guards thrust some platters of food in to us. Some cakes -of corn meal, with a bit of mutton, was all there was. Scarce sufficient -for half that were there. When the jailer handed me my portion he -muttered beneath his breath: - -“Of what use to feed witches, when, if they so desired, Satan himself -would bring them hell-broth through the very walls of this gaol.” - -“Say you so?” I replied, laughing bitterly. “Say you so? Then why do we -not have Satan bear us hence through these same walls if so be we are -witches. One is as easy as the other.” - -“I had not thought of that,” he said, shrinking back, “the guard without -must be doubled, and Dominie Parris shall offer fervent prayers that ye -all may be safely held here.” - -During the meal I talked with some of my companions and learned that -they had been cast into prison on the most flimsy pretexts. One old -woman, because she had passed through a field where sheep were feeding. -She touched some of the lambs with her hand. The next day some of the -sheep were dead, and Elizabeth Paddock was accused of bewitching them. -Another woman was taken because, when she had baked some dumplings an -apple was found whole inside of them, and it was said that Satan must -have aided her. Still another lad, whose mother had been hanged as a -witch, was in gaol. Grief and terror had made him out of his mind, and -he continually called out that he had turned into a witch, and saw his -mother riding through the air on a cloud of geese feathers. Salem gaol -was a most fearsome place those days. - -After the rude meal, the constable, accompanied by his former bodyguard, -came to bring me to the court house. It was with no very cheerful heart -I made ready to go with him, for I could nearly guess how the trial -would end with Sir George to urge on the witnesses. Still I could but -take my chance, as I had many times before, and I trusted to my good -fortune to bring me safely through. - -A man can die but once, and I wondered vaguely, as I stepped out, -whether Lucille would care if I died. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - A SENTENCE OF DEATH. - - -When, after a walk through the town, during which our progress was -delayed by a curious throng of people who stared at me as if I had been -a wild animal, we came to the court house, there was another gaping -crowd at the door. - -“Make way! Make way!” cried Constable Putnam. “Make way, good people, -for the representative of His Most Gracious Majesty.” - -Another time his pompous air and his words might have called forth jibes -and ridicule from the thoughtless, but now, such was the time and the -occasion, and so deep in every heart was the fear of witchcraft, that -not a soul smiled. - -The assemblage opened up in a living lane, and through it we passed into -the court room. It was filled to overflowing, as it had been on another -occasion, which I well remembered. I looked about me, noting little -change since I had sat there as a spectator a few months back. And yet -what a change there had been. - -The same judges were on the bench, their Honors, John Hathorne and -Jonathan Corwin, while Master Stephen Sewall was there to act as clerk; -to take down with quill scratchings, whatever words should fall from my -lips. - -On the left of the judges sat the jury. All were men of grave mien, some -of whom I knew well. They looked at me as I was brought in, and some -whispered among themselves. - -Then as I glanced hurriedly over the room I saw many of my old comrades. -A few turned their heads away as if they feared I would cast the blight -of the evil eye on them. Others looked more kindly at me. One man gazed -fixedly into my face, and I was at a loss for a moment to recall who he -was. Then after I had thought a bit I knew him for my former lieutenant, -Giles Cory. He had grown a beard, and looked travel stained, as if he -had just finished a journey around the world. I longed to ask of him -what his adventures had been since we last saw each other in Pemaquid, -and I wondered if he knew that his old mother was in gaol as a witch. - -As I looked at him some one whispered in his ear. It was evidently the -news of his mother, for I saw Cory’s face pale, and he hastened from the -room. Poor lad, he little knew then, nor did I, how soon he was to stand -where I stood, and to suffer a terrible death that I came nigh to. - -I marked on many faces looks of ill ease and fright, for no man knew -whether he was safe from accusation. - -I looked for Lucille, though I knew no reason why she should be present. -Thinking she might be hidden by some pillar, or by those in front, I -stood up and gazed about me. At the time I was half minded to jump down -among those who, with drawn swords and ready flint-locks, guarded me, -and make a fight of it then and there. But my slightest move was -watched, and the men closed up around me so that I saw nothing but death -should I make the attempt. Then I resumed my seat. - -A moment later I observed, half hidden by one of the large upright -beams, the devil’s face of my enemy. I caught but a passing glance, but -even in that I saw him smile in triumph at me. His hand sought his sword -hilt caressingly, and I thought of the day when my weapon was at his -throat cursing the impulse that had halted me from driving it home. - -While I watched Sir George I saw a man come up behind him and whisper -something. I marked the fellow and noted that he was the sailor who had -been in the Governor’s ante-chamber, the same one who had been the first -to cry out that we must give up Pemaquid. Now, when he came before me in -my hour of trial, I began to believe him my evil genius. I was sure he -was in the service of Sir George, and had followed me to the war merely -to keep track of me for his master. - -Sir George turned so that I could see his face as Simon, the sailor, -spoke to him. And the eyes of my lord grew small, like the half closed -orbs of a tiger about to spring, and he started, as if surprised, at the -news his henchman brought him. Then the two hurried from the court room, -leaving me to wonder what game was afoot now. Something that boded no -good, I wagered, and I longed to be free that I might have a hand. - -But I must needs look to myself now, for the judges were ready to -proceed, and the clerk was reading the charges against me. These were -wordy with legal terms, whereby I was accused of witchcraft by -Deliverance Hobbs, John Bly and Benjamin Proctor. When the reading was -finished Judge Hathorne inquired of me whether I was ready to confess. - -“What, your honor?” I asked. “Confess to this most foul lie? Not so. Set -me before my accusers and I will answer them.” - -Now, had I been wise, I would have admitted that I was a witch, when, -perchance, I would have gotten off with no more than some stripes, and -being driven from the town. But I stood on my honor, as you shall see -with what results. - -“Have your way, then,” replied the judge, shrugging his shoulders, as -though, like Pilate, he washed his hands of all guilt of my blood. - -Then came John Bly to the stand. He was a farmer, whose son had gone -with me to the war. - -“Swear the witness,” said the judge, and Clerk Sewall did so. - -“May it please your worships,” began John, “I did buy a pig of Master -Edward Bishop some two months ago. As I was leading it to sell yesterday -I passed Captain Amherst in the road nigh to the tavern of Samuel -Willis.” - -“Did I aught to you?” I asked from where I sat. “Did I more than bid you -a good day and ask after your dame?” - -“Aye, that was all you did,” answered Bly, “but I recalled afterward -that you did cast a longing look at my pig.” - -“’Twas because I had not yet eaten that day,” I said, smiling a bit at -the remembrance, “and your porker was a fine fat one. I wished for a bit -of bacon from it.” - -“Yea, he looked at the pig,” proceeded the witness, “and when I got the -animal a little farther on it took strange fits. It leaped into the air, -squealing most dreadful, and knocked its head against the fence. So I -was sure it was bewitched, for never did pig of mine behave so before.” - -“What say you to that?” asked Judge Corwin. - -“Naught,” I made reply, “save that the animal had some distemper.” - -Then Benjamin Proctor took the stand. He eagerly related that when I had -first come to Salem there had been the terrifying scarlet snow, which, -though two women witches had doubtless caused it, might have had some of -my handiwork in also, as I was the only stranger to arrive in town that -night. - -Next he related how I had such great strength that I could do feats no -other man could attempt. I had taken a gun, Proctor said, with a -seven-foot barrel, of so great weight that strong men could not with -both hands hold it out steadily. Yet he had seen me make nothing of -taking the weapon up and, by grasping it near the lock, hold it out as -easily as a man would a pistol, discharging it at a mark. - -Again, he said, he had seen me take a heavy fowling piece with a -five-foot barrel, and lift it in the following marvelous manner. I -thrust my forefinger down the muzzle and held the piece out at arm’s -length. Other strong men had only been able to hold this gun out in the -usual way, Proctor said, yet I supported the entire weight on one -finger. - -Master Proctor told how I had lifted a barrel of molasses high above my -head, something no other man of those parts could do. Lastly he related, -with much detail, how he and others had seen me cast the stone by the -brook that May day. I had plucked the rock from its bed as though it was -but a gun flint, he said, and had heaved it from me so that it rolled -down the hill, striking another bowlder. The stone I cast had broken -into a thousand pieces, some narrowly missing a maid of the Colony, one -Lucille de Guilfort. I had been near to causing her death, Proctor said, -which must have come speedily, amid the flying rock fragments, had I not -been a witch, and made the stones to fall harmless all about the maid. - -The judges asked me if I had anything to say against these charges. - -“They are true in the main,” I replied. “More than this. If your honors -will but send for the guns I will repeat the feats that caused so much -wonder here before your eyes. To show you that though they are not easy -to accomplish, yet I can do them with the strength God has given me. -What witchcraft is there in that? As for the great stone by the brook, -so far from lifting it with ease, it took all my powers, and, had it -weighed a pound more I must have failed. The maid escaped harm, and I -thank God for it, though it was through no power of mine.” - -Then came Deliverance Hobbs. Her tale was strange enough. She had seen, -she testified, a man, with my face, but with a monkey’s body, a dog’s -feet and a peacock’s tail, riding in the air on a fence board, as she -gathered up her wood one night. She said she knew it could not be me, -for she had seen me sail with my company in the sloops a few days -before. A day or so after she had seen me in the air a grievous sickness -had fallen upon her daughter, she continued, and the child had cried out -that a witch tormented her, thrusting pins and needles into her flesh. -When they asked her to name the spirit, the girl had spoken my name. - -This ended the testimony. The judges urged me again to confess that I -was in league with Satan and the powers of darkness. That the devil was -my master, and that I had promised to serve him for worldly gain. If I -admitted this with a penitent heart, I might go free, they said. For it -was a well established fact, according to Judge Hathorne, that, if a -witch confessed, the evil spirits no longer tormented such a one, nor -could he work harm to others. - -But I refused to charge myself with such a crime, even to save my life. -I told them all so, and said there were no witches, except those of a -disordered mind. - -It was dark now. Fantastic shadows filled the room, and a sound, like a -great sigh, went up from the lips of the people. Then, at the orders of -the judge, came tip-staves, with lighted candles, which only served to -dispel the gloom in a few places, making the remainder more dark. - -The jury filed out, and, though it seemed a year, they were back again, -speedily. - -“Guilty,” said the foreman. I could hear those of the assemblage catch -their breaths as one man. - -Then the judges put on their black caps, while Justice Hathorne said: - -“And the sentence of this court is that you be taken hence, and hanged -by the neck until you are dead, and may God have mercy on your soul.” - -I had expected it, yet it gave me a cold chill to hear the solemn words. - -They led me away, through the surging crowd, out of the dim lighted -court room, back to the gaol I had left not long ago. The other -prisoners crowded about me, eager to learn the outcome of the trial, and -to ascertain what chance they stood. I was too heart-sick to talk much, -and merely told them that I had been convicted, and was sentenced to -die. - -Then I cast myself into a corner, to wait, for--I scarce knew what. But -I reflected that he who gives up hope has little left, and, that though -I had submitted quietly, so far, that was no reason why I should do so -further. If they were minded to kill me, I thought, they could doubtless -accomplish their purpose, but I resolved that I would make some suffer -before I died. I would not go empty handed across to the other shore. - -I had strength, beyond the power of most men, and I would use it when -the time came. If I only had some one beside myself to fight for. If I -only had the right to battle for Lucille, then I felt that I could do -wonders. But my heart was not in it. - -I determined, if no better chance offered, that I would go even to the -scaffold, quietly. Then, when I stood bound, waiting for the drop to -fall, I doubted not I could burst my bonds, seize a sword from a guard, -and leap among the people. Then I could at least die fighting. - -For I resolved I would not be swung off, like a pirate at the yardarm, -if I was able to prevent it. - -Several days passed. I partook heartily of the coarse food provided, for -I knew I would need all of my strength to carry out my design. I -endeavored to learn the date of my execution, but could not. All my -questioning of the guards was turned aside. - -It was rumored that the regular gallows was deemed too frail for a man -of my strength, so they had gone to the work of making another machine. -What kind it was I learned later. Existence in the gaol had come to be -such a hell to me now, that I prayed the day of death might arrive -speedily. - -One morning, just a week after my arrest, I awoke with a start. Some one -in the prison was singing, I could not catch all of the words, but the -song was an old psalm tune, of the Lord, and of Isaac and of Jacob. I -sat up on the narrow bench. Most of those poor wretches about me were -still sleeping; breathing heavily. There was just the faintest gleam of -daylight, as I could see through the high barred window. As I sat there -a moment the sun rose, and the beams turned the iron bars above my head, -into gleaming yellow gold. - -There was the tramp of feet outside. The day of my death had dawned. - -I stretched my arms upward, and I could feel the muscles firm and hard. -I might have torn the iron bars loose, but I waited. - -“Let them come,” I said softly. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - PEINE FORTE ET DURE. - - -The heavy oaken door swung on its rusty iron hinges with many a squeak. -I stood up, half dazzled by the sudden inrush of light. This time it was -the Sheriff and his constables to greet me, together with a half score -of guards to block the way. Ere I could make a move, had I desired to, I -was overwhelmed by the men who crowded about me, while two of them -quickly passed a rope around my chest, binding my arms fast to my sides. -As I stood thus, the Sheriff drew from his jacket a document with its -dangling seal. Was I never to have an end of parchment, I thought. - -“Whereas, you, Captain Edward Amherst”--he began. - -“Enough,” I interrupted. “It suffices that I must die. Let it be, if it -must, I pray, without having to listen to more words. I’m not afraid, -though it is a mean end for one who has served his King and his country -ever faithfully. If I could but stand before you--aye, before you -all--with my good sword in hand, I would have a different answer for -you. Nor would I deem the odds too great. Such a death, borne down by -weight of numbers, might be counted an honor by a soldier. But a -dangling rope, in the hands of country bumpkins----” - -“Ha, a rope,” repeated the Sheriff. “You have not heard, then?” - -“What!” I cried. “Has the Judge allowed me to be shot?” - -“Nay; not that, Master Captain,” answered the Sheriff. “You will see in -good time, though. Meanwhile the law must take its course, and I am -constrained, by it, to read this death warrant.” - -“Have I not had enough of warrants of late?” I asked, but he paid no -heed to me, and proceeded to read the dull legal terms. - -Meanwhile many thoughts filled my mind. If I was not to be hanged, -perhaps the awful torture of being burned at the stake awaited me. If -so, I must make new plans, and act quickly. - -All the while the Sheriff was reading from the parchment. He stumbled -over the law terms, and the Latin vexed him sorely. Then he came to the -decree that I must die “peine forte et dure,” and, as I had small stock -of Latin, I wondered what I was to meet with. - -At length there was an end to the reading. The guards advanced. I saw, -among them, several who had served under me, yet never a one gave me a -glance that was not tempered with fear or distrust. Some of them began -to pull the rope tight about my arms, and this act quickened me to take -some steps for escape. - -So I pretended that the cords cut into my flesh, and my sudden start, as -if in pain, caused them to cease their efforts, leaving me a little room -to move my muscles, which was what I wanted. When I had the chance I -strained at the ropes, and I felt them stretch a trifle. I knew then, -that the matter of bursting my bonds was a thing somewhat within my -power. - -But that was the smallest part of the problem. I was a long way from -freedom yet. - -On that morning it seemed as if the sun had never shone so brightly, nor -had the sky been so blue, nor the birds so sweetly tuneful. I do not -know why I noticed such things, for it was not usual to me. Perhaps the -shadow of death made the brightness of life seem greater. - -They started off at a brisk pace, with me in the centre of the throng, -and one man holding the ropes that passed about my arms. As we reached -the foot of Witch Hill I looked up the slope, expecting to see the grim -gallows crowning the summit. Then I recalled the Sheriff’s words that -none was to be provided. A murmur swelled upward from the crowd, and the -people pushed this way and that, trying to get a view of me, as I have -seen country boys do at a London fair. - -We came, at last, to the place set for the execution. The crowd parted, -and moved back, at the orders of the Sheriff, forming a living circle. -Then, for the first time, I saw the machine of death. - -For a time I could not fathom its nature. It was of wood, the uprights -and cross pieces being of heavy oaken beams. There were four posts, or -uprights, and, on these appeared to slide, like the wooden covering on -the hay ricks in the fields, a flat bed of hewn boards, as large, -perhaps, as the top of the table at the inn. Out of this bed extended a -long pole, threaded round and round with a screw thread. This screw -passed through one of the cross pieces above. A long handle, extending -either way through the spiral post, out beyond the machine, completed -the instrument. - -Like a flash in the pan, the truth came upon me. - -I was to be crushed to death! - -Tied up like a bundle of faggots, and placed on the bed-plate, the -boards above me, urged down by the screw turned by the long handle, -would force out my life, as is the breath from a newly fledged bird, in -the hand of a school boy. No wonder the Sheriff held his peace, when I -asked if I was not to hang. A more horrible death could scarce be -devised, for the torture of the Indians hardly passed it. Yet an -Englishman planned it; an Englishman was to suffer by it. Well had Sir -George said I would pay for the blow I gave him. - -Oh! But I longed for a few minutes, with a sword in my hand, to spend -with my lord. - -It was time for the next move, now that I, the chief personage in what -was about to happen, had arrived. The tumult, of which there had been -much, had grown less. Partly because the Sheriff had moved most of the -crowd back, and partly because all desired to see and hear what would -come next. - -My mind had become dazed. Where now was my plan of escape? Before I knew -what was going on, two stout men advanced, and, by walking in a circle, -they turned the cross bar, which worked the screw, and so raised the -movable bed-plate. This made a space, so that my body could be put in -the press. The great affair creaked and groaned, as if in mortal agony, -and I could not help shuddering, as I thought of what little chance I -would have beneath the oak beams. - -Then I started. It was but a faint hope that came to me, yet it was a -chance to escape death. It was a desperate move, but then I was in dire -straits. - -At a signal from the Sheriff, half a dozen men sprang forward and seized -me. They lifted me clear from the ground, and carried me like a child to -the machine. Then they stretched out my legs, and thrust them beneath -the bed-plate. Under went my body next, verily, as if I had been but a -bag of apples in the cider press. - -I was pushed along over the rough planks, and then something happened. -The Sheriff, to better see that all was carried out according to his -wishes, had come close to me. He even placed his hand on my shoulder, to -help thrust me in. - -As he did so my boot top caught his sword hilt, half drawing the steel -from the scabbard, as my body went forward. The keen edge of the weapon -was uppermost, and, as I was pulled and hauled to the centre of the bed, -the rope which bound my arms was drawn over the sword’s sharp blade. The -steel bit deep into the hemp, but not all the way through by a good way. -However, as I felt the rope being cut, I knew that, by using only my -ordinary strength, I could burst my bonds. I swelled my muscles only a -little, and with that I felt the cords give a trifle. - -All was now in readiness. I might, then, have burst the rope, slipped -from the press, and tried to cut a way thorough the crowd. But I saw -there were many men armed, and they looked as if anxious to see me die, -so I resolved to try what I could do by another means. - -The Sheriff stepped back, all unaware of the good office his sword had -done for me. At a sign from him, two men, stronger than those who had -been at the cross-bar, emerged from the crowd, and took their places to -twist down on the big screw. They stripped off their upper garments, and -I saw the play of their muscles beneath the skin, like little waves on a -stream. - -My eyes could not take in all of the scene, of which I was the centre, -but I caught a glimpse of Sir George moving about. Once he looked full -at me, twirling his moustache with one hand, while the other rested on -his sword hilt. Seeing me watching him, he came a little nearer and -called out softly in French: - -“What think you now, Monsieur Captain? Wilt wed Lucille?” And his voice -was mocking. - -“Come, my lord,” I answered, banteringly, “accept her love from me. I -know you have none for yourself.” - -His face turned black, and there came a gleam into his eyes. - -“Give her my truest love, I pray you; when you find her,” I added, as a -sort of afterthought. - -“Find her? What mean you?” he asked eagerly. “Know you whither she----?” - -Then he stopped, biting his lips in confusion, for he feared he had -betrayed himself. My heart gave a bound at that, for, though I knew -naught of Lucille, my words having been spoken by chance, yet it seemed -she had gone away. - -If she had, it meant that she cared little for her wifely duties, and -that Sir George had not succeeded in winning back her affection, if, -indeed, he had ever had it. - -But even that was like to avail me little now, unless I could escape. - -A great stillness came over the crowd. Scarce a sound was heard, and -even the notes of the birds seemed hushed. I waited, breathless, almost. -Then, from out of the centre of silence, came a voice. - -“Turn!” cried the Sheriff. - -“Turn!” echoed Sir George. - -Then the heavy planks above me, forced down by the movement of the -screw, began descending. Slowly, as do bearers at the bier of death, the -men walked around and around, pushing, with their breasts, against the -cross-bar. - -Nearer and nearer came the weight that was soon to crush me. I must act -with speed now. I would give them time to make one more turn, I thought. -There. It was made. - -Now the time had come! - -I commended my soul to God, as did Samson in the days of old, when he -pulled the great pillars of the temple from their base. I strained at my -rope bonds. The half cut cords held for a moment, and they bit into my -flesh when I pulled on them, weak as I had deemed them. Again I put my -strength into my muscles, until the blood seemed like to spurt from my -finger tips. - -Suddenly the bonds gave, bursting with a sound like a pistol with a -little load in it, and my arms were free. There was a great shout from -the multitude. - -“The strength of Goliath is in him!” cried an old man in the front rank. -“Satan is beside him, witch that he is, giving him the great power.” - -[Illustration: “I PRESSED UPWARDS WITH MY ARMS AGAINST THE BOARDS.“] - -The men at the ends of the bar had not stopped. The planks were coming -nearer to my chest. I raised my hands and grasped the edges of the -descending platform of wood above me. I drew up my knees, so that they, -also, touched the planks. - -I was now in the position of one lying on his back, holding up a weight -that rested on his uplifted hands and bended knees. The men turning, -noting my movements, had paused a moment, but, at a word from the -Sheriff, they pushed the harder. - -Down came the planks, farther, but more slowly. Then I did that which I -count as the greatest feat of strength I ever did. - -I pressed upward with my arms, and as the wood above me still came down, -I could feel it nip my knees. The bones in my legs were of solid stuff, -and I knew they could stand much pressure. The course of the descending -platform was now stayed, and the men at the heavy press tugged and -pushed at the cross-bar, without avail, for nearly a minute. - -“Push harder!” cried Sir George, stepping out from the crowd. “Are you -babes, to let him prevail against you? Have you no strength?” - -Thus urged, the sturdy men braced their feet in the earth, and bore hard -against the bar. I summoned what I thought must be all my energy, and -pressed upward with my arms against the boards. I could hear a small -cracking sound, as when a tree in the forest feels the axes that have -eaten into its heart, and it begins to sway earthward. The men at the -bar were joined by others, and they pushed with all their might, but -could not stir the screw. - -I shut my eyes, breathed the name of Lucille--aye, though I had no -right--and then, with an effort that brought beads of water to my brow, -I pushed upward--upward--upward. - -Never before nor since had I known such power as I possessed then. The -veins on my arms were like to burst, and stood out under the skin as do -welts on a lashed horse. My muscles seemed as if they would tear from -their fastenings. My hands had no feeling; my knees were numb. Round -went my head dizzily, and it was as if the world was dropping away from -beneath me. All about was blackness, and I could not see the weight that -was crushing me. - -I heard the shouts of the Sheriff and Sir George, urging the men at the -bar to turn, and the men strove mightily. The cross piece trembled with -their efforts. - -I had scarce another bit of strength left, but still I would not let -them get the mastery, and I kept pushing upward. The darkness left me, -in its place a great light seeming to shine. - -“Lord of Hosts,” I prayed, “let me be the victor.” - -I felt the solid planks give. They cracked and splintered, a little at -first, as when a wedge first cleaves an entrance. I could not breathe. -But, with fiercely beating heart, I heard the sound of rending wood, and -it mingled in my ears with the roar of the blood surging through my -head. My knees seemed crushed. My arms like two stone pillars. - -Then, while all the crowd looked on in wonder, I did that, which, though -I boast not of, no other man in the Colony could have done and lived -after. - -I broke the ponderous planks across the middle, as a boy might splinter -a shingle across his knee. - -Right through they cracked, where the big wooden screw was set in, and -so heavy was the strain I had put upon them, the pieces flew high in the -air. - -A great peace came over me, and I sank back on the rough wooden bed. I -knew naught, save that I heard a loud shout go up, and many murmurs were -heard on all sides. - -Suddenly it was dark again, and my ears were filled with the noise of -the sea dashing on the rocks. But above that I heard the people cry: - -“He has broken the press with his witch strength! Saw ever man the -like?” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - HOW WE BROKE GAOL. - - -When I had come to myself I was back again in gaol with those I had -left, when I went forth, as they thought to death. Some news of how I -had broken the press came in with me, and there was much wonder. - -As for myself I was, for a while, as helpless as a new born babe, -because my strength had all gone from me. It was days before I -recovered, and never since have I been able to lift as heavy weights as -before that supreme test. - -I began to think a little of the plight I was in now. I had supposed, -when they saw that I was able to break the machine with which they hoped -to torture me to death, they would release me. But I had reckoned little -with whom I had to deal. Sir George was not yet satisfied. Now I might -expect to again go up to death, this time with little chance to escape. - -I talked with some of the prisoners on the matter, and they said there -were points of law which might be used in my behalf. The death sentence, -which was not completed, could no longer hold good, it was said, so -that, shortly, I would go forth a free man. For I had gone through the -manner of death prescribed, and had lived. Now it was written, so I was -told, that a man might not be put in jeopardy of his life twice by the -law. - -I was bitter in heart, those days, I called myself many times a fool, -when I thought how I might have killed Sir George, when I had the -chance, and, by this time, be far away with Lucille. If I had known that -I could trust her. But the feeling that she would cast me aside, as she -seemed to have done in the case of her husband, halted me. I was torn -between many impulses. - -The witch trials went on, for the accusations multiplied. At length -Salem gaol held no less than four-score men and women, who had either -been found guilty of witchcraft or who waited to be tried on the foul -charges. Besides those in prison, there were double that number under -suspicion. Not only in Salem, but in Andover, Gloucester, Ipswich and -the neighboring towns. The infection had spread until the whole country -was like a vast pesthouse, and the land was red with the blood of the -slain. - -Nineteen had been hanged in Salem, and two were burned at the stake. One -man, swung from the gallows, was an aged clergyman. One day my former -lieutenant, Giles Cory, was arrested as a witch, and cast into gaol with -me. Only a few days before his aged mother had been hanged, and he was -in sore distress. We two condoled with each other, until one morning, -when I missed him. - -“Where is Cory?” I asked the guard. - -“Dead,” was the brief reply. - -I learned that he had been crushed to death in the same machine that I -had broken. The witch-finders had repaired it, making it very stout, for -rumors had got about of Cory’s strength. Remembering my bursting of the -ropes they bound the hapless man so that it would have taken a score of -men, as strong as I, to have broken the bonds. In that manner my -lieutenant met his death. Not that he did not struggle, beneath the -cruel press. A guard, who watched him die, said Cory tore loose one -muscle from his arm, as the planks came down. - -Matters had come to such a pass now, that none of us was safe from -death. So far from abating the witch fever had laid hold of the -townsfolk more violently, so that they even meditated setting fire to -the gaol, to burn us like rats in a trap. When this news, told with -brutal pleasure by the guards, came to us, myself and some of the bolder -ones, resolved to sit tamely by no longer. We would break gaol. - -The prison we were in was not unlike a blockhouse save that the loops, -or windows, were high up, out of reach of one standing on the floor. -There was but one entrance, and that was closed by a heavy door, hung on -massive iron hinges and studded with big nails. We knew that only an axe -could open a way through that. Outside of this door was an apartment, -two stories in height, where the jailer stayed. The guard was also -quartered there. - -The gaol room was divided into two parts by a thin partition, the men -being on one side, and the women on the other, with a door of -communication between. There were always several men on guard in the -jailer’s room, and they were fully armed. - -When we had talked over the situation we could but admit it was no small -matter to escape. One plan after another we considered and, in turn, -rejected, for, though we hungered for liberty, we did not wish to fail -in the attempt and die by the musket or the sword. - -We decided that force, without some preparation beforehand, was not to -be thought of, and it was voted strategy must serve our ends. So we -sharpened what little wits we had left, and, at length, seemed to have -hit on a plan which had its advantages. - -It was talked over, laid aside, and, as none better presented, we all -agreed to it. That is, all but the women. We did not take them into our -counsels, though we had in mind to release them with ourselves. - -The fifth night, after the full of the moon, was fixed on for the -breaking of gaol. Anxious were the days and nights that intervened. - -It began to rain on the evening appointed, shortly after the last meal -had been served. It was dismal within and not less gloomy without, but -we welcomed that, for it would mean that few persons would be prowling -about. There would also be complete darkness, and we needed that. - -Now, when we had been given our suppers, I put by some of my bread and a -cup of water. When night had fallen I mixed this into paste, and Elias -Jenkins smeared it over my face, in accordance with our plan. I looked -as though I had on a death’s mask. - -When this was done and it was near to midnight, at which hour the guard -was to change, I went into a corner of the room, farthest removed from -the door and huddled up like a man in great distress of body. Only I -left my face visible, so that the light from the single candle in the -apartment fell upon my dough-covered countenance. - -As the guard passed the door, one of the prisoners gave a knock. - -“What now?” inquired the guard, thrusting his face up against an opening -in the door, covered by iron bars. - -“It is Captain Amherst,” spoke up John Lowden, feigning to be in great -fright. “He is as pale as death, and mutters strangely. We fear he is -like to expire in our midst.” - -The trick worked. The guard peered over toward where I was lying, while -the candle above me flickered on the paste on my face. Despite the need -of maintaining the character I had assumed, I felt the dough cracking in -a dozen places, as I tried hard not to laugh. It was solemn enough, but, -somehow, I wanted to burst out in a roar, as I thought of how I must -look. - -My appearance evidently disarmed the suspicion of the guard, for, with -an exclamation of surprise, he threw open the door, and advanced a -little way into the room, holding his tin-pierced lantern high above his -head. - -Yet he did not lose all caution, being alone. He kept hold of the edge -of the door, ready to close it at a moment’s notice. But the few steps -he came in served the purpose. Lowden, who had stepped to one side, -silently and suddenly sprang for the guard, and grasped him by the -throat. The cry the wretch would have given utterance to, was choked in -his teeth, and was only a gurgle. - -The next instant I was up, and at his side. He seemed to lose his -courage, when my pale face was near to his. Lowden gave place to me, and -I crooked my fingers about the guard’s neck. He struggled so I was -afraid he would get loose and make a noise that would have brought them -all about us. So I was forced to grip the man rather tighter than I -meant. - -He did not cease his efforts to free himself, and, being fearful that -our plan would miscarry by reason of his continued struggle, I put forth -a little too much muscle. I bent his head back, with great force,--there -was a sudden ceasing of the guard’s resistance. I heard the bones and -sinews snap. Then I knew I had broken his neck. He fell in a limp mass -at my feet. I was somewhat sorry, though he would have served me the -same, and it was a fair war. However, there was no time for regret. - -“Quick, now!” I shouted. Lowden had swung the door open, and the -prisoners, men and women, crowded into the outer room. - -The noise of the rush had alarmed the relief squad of guards on the -second floor, and they ran down. Though most of them were stupid with -sleep, some had their flint-locks, and these, without a moment’s -hesitation, fired into our midst. Three fell dead, one a woman, and -several were sorely hurt. - -The next instant the guards were down under our feet as we rushed -onward. Some of the prisoners, who never hoped to see the outside of the -gaol again, save on their way to the scaffold, were fairly mad with joy, -and, in their hatred of the guards, they stamped on their upturned faces -as they ran over them. Thus, as I learned afterward, several of those -who had watched over us died. - -There was yet the outer door between us and liberty. Several of those in -the van tried to burst it open. All the while the guards were shouting -like mad behind us, while the prisoners, who had lost their heads, cried -and screamed; the shrill voices of the women voicing high above the -others. Again and again half a dozen men threw themselves against the -door, but, in their excitement, they wasted their energies. - -The portal resisted, though it shook under the strain. - -“Ho, Captain!” several called. “Here is where your strength is like to -serve us.” - -I pushed my way through the crowd, and tried my shoulder against the -door. It was of considerable thickness, though not as heavy as the -other. Once, twice and thrice, I hurled my body against the barrier. It -held. Once more I made the attempt, and, this time, when I thought I -would have brought down the very wall, I cracked the wood down the -middle, and the door was there no more, though I bruised my shoulder -greatly by the effort. - -Others of the guard had secured their weapons by this time, and they -fired once more into the helpless crowd. There were shrieks of mortal -hurts from those in the rear, and curses from those in front. - -“The women first,” I cried, blocking the splintered opening through the -door, with my body. “Not a man passes until all the women are by.” - -At that the men opened up a living lane, and the women, save three who -were killed, ran screaming out. - -“Now, men!” I cried, and I stood aside, until the last one was out. Four -guards, each swinging his musket as a club, came at me. I caught up a -sword from the jailer’s table, and disabled the nearest guard. Then I -leaped out through the splintered portal, and was in the midst of the -crowd of those who, only a few minutes before, had little hope of life. - -On they fled, free, leaving behind, like a bad dream, the gaol room, -with its witch memories. Men and women cried aloud in their joy. Once -more they could look up and know that the sky was above them, even -though from it came drops of rain, pitiless, yet seeming like tears of a -great rejoicing. They held out their hands, and even opened their -mouths, that the cool rain might refresh them. I looked about me, long -enough to see that all who could had escaped, and then I turned to my -own affairs. - -I buckled the belt of the sword I had caught up about me. Something -familiar about the hilt of the weapon drew my attention. Then, as I -examined it as well as I could in the darkness, I found, with pleasure, -that it was my own good steel, that had been taken from me. Now I was -ready to meet the whole world, but, first of all, I wanted to stand -before one man, and that one was Sir George Keith. - -I washed the paste of bread from my face. I gave a look toward the gaol, -which was now some distance behind. From the direction came a confused -murmur of sounds. I was free; but whither should I go? - -I was like a ship without a compass. Salem was no longer a safe place -for me. Lucille, whom I had hoped to wed, was the wife of another. My -arrest as a witch was an end to any military preferment in the Colony. -My life seemed to have come to an end, now. - -I had hastened on, thus musing, until I found myself near to the inn of -Master Willis. The rain came down softly, and the only creature stirring -in the neighborhood seemed to be me. None of the prisoners had come that -way. - -Hark! What was that? - -The echo of my footsteps died away. Then, from the stable, back of the -inn, came the whinny of a horse. - -“Kit!” I exclaimed. I had almost forgotten my faithful little mare, -which Willis had kept for me ever since I first came to Salem. There was -one true friend at least. - -Myself, my sword, my horse. What more could a soldier wish? Love? I had -that too, it seemed, though it was not all mine. Strange, when I was -loving Lucille, I never thought another might love her too. I never -thought she might have loved another. She seemed all mine. ’Twas a hard -nut to crack. If only there had been no marriage between Lucille and Sir -George. But straightway I had wished that I wished it away; for what it -meant to her. - -Kit whinnied again. It was like a message to me. I must leave Salem, to -go I knew nor cared not where. First of all to get Kit out. I walked -around to the stable door and, with a stone, easily broke the lock. Kit -knew me as soon as I stepped inside. I stroked her glossy neck, patted -her moist nose, and, running my hands down her legs, knew that she was -in good shape, and fit for a hard, fast ride. - -I found the saddle and bridle, put them on, and led her out into the -road. Then I leaped upon her back, shook the reins, and we were off. - -“Good bye, Lucille,” I whispered, to the rain and darkness. - -And then, though I had said good bye to love, I felt a lighter heart -than I had known for many a long day. - -Kit’s muscles moved like steel bands, as she went galloping along the -road to Boston, for thither had I guided her unconsciously. The sweet -smell of the newly watered earth came up to my nostrils, and I breathed -long and deep of the fresh night air. Kit’s hoofs beat a soft slushing -tattoo on the muddy road. - -The rain fell gently. - -“Good bye, Lucille,” I whispered. A raindrop fell upon my lips, and it -seemed as if she had kissed me in the night. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - THE NEWS NANETTE BROUGHT ME. - - -Through the night I rode, until the darkness began to pale, and the dawn -was heralded. Now and then, when the labored breathing of Kit told me -the pace was too heavy for her, I pulled up a bit. We passed by silent -cottages scattered over the country, here one alone, there several near -together. - -I galloped until morning was fairly upon the land. Then I drew rein at a -white farmhouse, where I dismounted to get a bite to eat, and feed Kit. -The farmer looked at my mud-soiled clothes, at the mare’s rough coat, -and said: - -“You’ve ridden far and hard, the night, neighbor.” - -“Aye,” I answered, “there was some need of it.” - -“Perchance some one pursued you?” he ventured. - -“No one but myself,” I said. - -With that he questioned no more, though he looked curiously at me, but -led the way into the house, where his wife was preparing breakfast. I -managed to make a hearty meal, and then I saw that Kit had her grain, -after which I rubbed her down. When I would have paid for the fodder and -my victuals the farmer would have none of my money, but bade me go on in -good luck, for which I thanked him. - -I was soon on the road again. It was better going now, though the roads -were still heavy from the rain. Before another hour had passed I found -myself in Boston town. - -People turned to stare at me, as I clattered through the streets, -wondering, I suppose, why I was abroad in such a rig so early. I headed -for a modest tavern I knew of. There, I thought, I would make some plan -for my future conduct. For I had set my mind upon leaving New England. I -had been through enough there, for one time. - -I soon found the place I sought, and went in. The landlord knew me, and -gave me a little room by myself, the while he brought some good ale. I -drank a bit, feeling much refreshed, and then turned my mind to what I -had better do. I had heard of the Virginia colony, and that it was a -place where there was much of life and entertainment. There I might -follow my soldier trade with honor, fearing no witch trial, nor the -warrant held by Sir George. - -In Virginia I could forget, and leave behind, many bitter memories--and -many sweet ones. - -There I could forget Lucille. - -Forget her? - -No! - -Not forget her. I never could do that. I might find other thoughts to -take her place--for a time. - -Bah! What a fool I was. A fool twice. A fool for loving her, a fool for -giving her up so easily--giving up another man’s wife, forsooth, when I -knew that she loved me at that. Of a truth, if Dicky Hall ever heard of -this he would laugh me to scorn. - -Well, let them laugh. The honor of the Danes could stand a little -merriment, and it was the honor of the Danes I was upholding, though I -lost my love for the honor. - -“Well, here’s to the death of love, and the honor of my name,” I said, -softly, draining my last glass. - -“Now for Virginia!” - -As I set the mug down the sound of voices in the main room came to my -ears. One was that of the landlord, the other a woman’s, and it was -strangely familiar. She spoke part in French, with as much English as -she could. - -“Now, now,” said the inn keeper, “don’t ye come botherin’ again, -mistress. I know nothin’ of Lucy nor Nancy either, though for that -matter every sailor who lands here has that name on his lips, one way or -another.” - -“Not Lucy, m’sieur, not Lucy,” spoke the woman’s voice. “’Tis Lucille I -been look for.” - -I started at the name. - -“Nor Lucille, either,” said the tavern keeper, testily. - -“But,” persisted the woman, “I have been tell zat she taked a bateau -near zis tavern, m’sieur.” - -“Well, mayhap she did, lass; lots of folk do, but I have not seen her,” -and the landlord started away. - -“You have no seen her, m’sieur? She was so much beautiful, my mistress, -Lucille. Now she been lost to me,” and there came a trace of tears into -the voice. - -Where had I heard it before? The name--but then Lucille was a common -enough name. Yet my heart beat a little more quickly. I went to where I -could look in the room to see the woman. The landlord was on his way -out, and the face of his visitor was toward me. - -It was Nanette, Lucille’s servant! - -She saw me, and her face lighted up. - -“Oh, m’sieur Captain!” she exclaimed, fairly running toward me, and -lapsing into rapid French. “You have found her then? Oh, I thought she -was lost.” - -“Who?” I asked, coldly. - -“Why, Lucille. Mistress de Guilfort; your--your--surely, Captain, -you----” - -“You mean Mistress Keith, the wife of Sir George Keith,” I interrupted, -and was about to go away. - -At the name of Sir George, Nanette gave a start. - -“Is he here?” she cried, excitedly. - -“Aye. Here or somewhere with his wife, I make no doubt,” I said. - -“His wife, m’sieur?” - -“Aye. His wife.” - -“Never!” - -“What?” I cried. - -“Never!” repeated Nanette. - -“Oh, the villain,” she went on. “Has he told you that lie?” - -“Then it is not true?” I asked, trembling lest the answer would shatter -newly raised hopes. - -“No more than that I am his wife, Captain!” came the quick reply, and I -could have hugged Nanette. - -Here was a sudden and joyful change in my plans. There need be no -Virginia now. Yet there was much to learn, and, it seemed, also, to find -Lucille. - -The tavern keeper was staring at us curiously, so I motioned Nanette to -come into the room I had, and, closing the door, I bade her tell me all -she knew. First I repeated, briefly, how I had met Sir George; though I -said nothing of the Royal warrant. - -Then Nanette related how she had long been in the service of the de -Guilfort family. Some years before, while in Paris, Sir George Keith had -met Lucille, fallen in love with her, and they were engaged to wed. Then -came the disclosure of how lightly Sir George held the honor of his -promised wife. He had an affair with a notorious woman, and it was the -talk of the court, in the circle of which the de Guilforts moved. Stung -and ashamed at the effront, Lucille had quarreled with my lord, and, -with bitter words, the troth was broken. Then, smarting under the tongue -of gossip, M. de Guilfort, with his daughter and niece, had set sail for -the new land, and Nanette accompanied them. - -“Then Lucille is not his wife?” I asked again, hardly able to believe -the good news. - -“Never! Never! Never!” cried Nanette, with such earnestness that she -could scarce cease her “nevers.” - -“But does she not love him?” I inquired, tortured by a new doubt. - -“Voila!” burst out Nanette, with a shrug of her shoulders. “You must -know if she loves you, Captain, and that should be an answer enough for -any man.” - -“It is,” I said, and I was as happy as I had been sad. - -“But where is Mistress de Guilfort, now?” asked Nanette. - -“Where?” I exclaimed. “How should I know? I have not seen her since the -day I sailed against St. Johns. You may have heard how, on the night of -my return from Pemaquid, I was taken for a witch. I met Sir George that -day, and learned from him that my promised wife was his wedded one.” - -“Which was a lie,” broke in Nanette. - -“Aye, so it seems.” - -“Then you have not seen her in Boston?” went on Nanette. - -“In Boston? Here? Why, how should I, having only just arrived? But what -would bring her here?” - -“Listen,” began the woman, speaking rapidly. “She heard of your arrival -in Salem, and thought you would have come to her at once.” - -“So I would, but for what Sir George told me,” I answered. - -“She sat long that night, expecting you,” said Nanette. - -I choked back an exclamation. Lucille had been waiting for me when I -looked in on her through the window, and whispered a good bye. - -“The next morning,” Nanette continued, “word came of your arrest. My -mistress, knowing full well, from a bitter experience, the temper of the -witch-crazed people and that of the courts, wasted no time. She felt, -she said, that reason would not prevail, and that you would be -condemned, and so she resolved to go to Boston, and try to secure a -pardon for you, from His Excellency, Governor Phips. This would be of -more service than all the proofs of law, in freeing you from the -sentence. She found a farmer who was going from Salem to Boston that -day. - -“So precious was the time,” proceeded Nanette, “that my mistress would -not even delay to go to the gaol and see you. She sent a letter, -however.” - -“Where is it?” I asked, eagerly. - -“I left it with the keeper for you.” - -“And he never gave it to me. But go on. There is much mystery. Go on. -Talk faster, Nanette.” - -“Patience, m’sieur. Well, Mistress de Guilfort, in great distress of -mind for you, started for Boston. She said she would return the next -day.” - -“Did she?” - -“Nay. That afternoon you were tried, and the sentence of death passed. I -was in sore heart at home, watching for the return of my mistress. -Toward night a messenger on horseback rode to the door and inquired for -her. Before I thought I told him she had gone to Boston. As he turned -away I caught a glimpse of the messenger’s face. It was Sir George -Keith. I knew him at once, though I had not seen him in five years. - -“‘So my pretty Lucille has flown from me,’ he said, and I knew for the -first time that he had previously found her out in Salem, which -accounted for her strange terror at a certain time.” - -“Go on!” I almost shouted. “I begin to see the end.” - -“That is all,” said Nanette, stopping suddenly. - -“All?” I cried, blankly. “Where is Mistress de Guilfort?” - -“That is what I am half wild about, Captain. I have not seen her since -that day, three weeks ago, when she started for this place, after the -pardon for you. - -“Yesterday I could stand the pain of waiting in idleness no longer, and -I came here.” - -“Gone three weeks,” I murmured. - -“Aye, and with that crafty villain, Sir George Keith, on her track,” and -Nanette’s eyes filled with tears. - -“You have not found a trace of her, then, Nanette?” - -“Not a sign, Captain, since the day she rode off in the farmer’s cart, -waving her hand good bye to me.” - -Now I have had many hard knots, in life, to untie. I had been put to -much thought, at times, how to best approach an enemy, or how to escape -from one. But this was something I could not fathom. I have no mind for -book matters, nor am I handy with the pen. Yet there were certain points -with which I might make a start, as I have seen learned professors do, -when they draw strange squares and circles. - -The first point was that Lucille had left Salem for Boston. The next -point, it would seem, should be to find if she arrived. - -Nanette was watching me. When I had made what I might call a start to -solve the riddle of Lucille’s long absence, my face cleared a bit. -Nanette saw it, and cried: - -“Then you can find her, Captain?” - -“If any one can, I will,” I replied, and I felt the hope that comes from -making a beginning at a hard matter. - -“But now, Nanette, you must go back to Salem,” I said. - -“Oh, let me help you find her,” she implored. - -“No. There is much to be done. I may have to ride far, by day and by -night. You could do no good. Go back, and, when I have found her, you -may come with us.” - -“Then you will find her, Captain?” - -“I will,” I said. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - HOW THE EAGLE SAILED. - - -Now it is an easy matter to say a thing will be done, but it is hard, -sometimes, to carry out. However, I was so happy, when I felt I had not -loved in vain, that I thought it would be but a little quest to find -Lucille. She had, ’twas likely, found friends with whom she was -stopping, and I only had to search them out. First I must see if she had -been to the Governor for a pardon. And, when I called to mind this act -of hers, I was ashamed of the thoughts I had had concerning my dear one. - -So, having arranged to send Nanette back to Salem, I turned my steps -toward the Governor’s, to make inquiries; for His Excellency had, -doubtless, seen Lucille. - -I was in little fear of arrest, on the charge of treason, for which Sir -George held the Royal warrant, as I judged I could prevail on Sir -William Phips to let so old a matter rest. - -As I walked up the broad steps, having left Kit in the roadway, I was -met at the door by a very proud-looking serving man. - -“We want no beggars here,” he said, and I remembered, with a start, my -disordered and mud-stained clothes. I was not at all nice in appearance; -a veritable beggar on horseback, and wearing a sword at my side; a -strange sight, doubtless. - -“I am no beggar,” I said, roughly, for I was in no mood for trifling. -“Stand aside,” I went on, placing my hand on my sword, “for I must see -Sir William.” - -“Then you must get wings,” answered the man, smiling, and becoming more -respectful, “for the Governor sailed for London yesterday.” - -Here was something I had not counted on. - -“Is there no one here who knows aught of his affairs?” I asked. “I must -make some inquiries concerning a certain person.” - -The servant said I might see the Governor’s private clerk, and he -ushered me into a room where a middle-aged man sat writing. To him I -related how I had come to Boston seeking a maid, Lucille de Guilfort, -who was my promised wife, and who, I said, I feared had met with some -harm, or was detained, since she had not been heard of in three weeks. -She would have called on the Governor on a private matter, I remarked, -but I did not say what it was, for even in Boston some folks were -witch-crazed. - -The Governor’s man listened carefully, and asked me to describe Lucille -to him. When I had done so, he said: - -“I recall, now, that about three weeks ago, such a maid came here, and -was closeted with His Excellency for about an hour. I remember, because -that day, I had upset the hour glass, and also on that day----” - -“Yes, yes,” I interrupted, “tell me of that again, what of the maid?” - -“I was coming to her,” he said, reproachfully. “Well, as I have said, -she was with the Governor for an hour. There were tear traces on her -cheeks when she went in, but a smile on her lips when she came out. I -remember because I heard a bird----” - -“Never mind the bird,” I hastened to say. “She was smiling----” - -“Yes, but why do you break in on me? I was telling of the smile. She was -all happiness, and in her hand she had a paper, sealed with the great -seal of the Colony, and with the Governor’s own signet. Then, as she was -going down the steps, having thrust the document into her bodice, she -was met by a man.” - -“By a man?” I shouted. “What manner of man?” - -“Why, he was a man. I remember he was a man because----” - -“Aye, aye, because he was a man,” I cried, all on fire. “Never mind how -you recall it, but tell me, quickly, as if you had but another minute to -live, what manner of man he was.” - -“Why, you are in great haste,” said the clerk, “you leave me no -thoughts.” - -“Never mind your thoughts,” I said, “tell me who was the man?” - -“Why, none other than Sir George Keith,” he answered, gazing with mild -wonder at me. “I remember it was because I knew him well, having often -seen him at the Governor’s house.” - -“What then?” I asked, trying to be calm, though I stormed within. - -“Oh, I looked no further, as I had many papers to prepare,” replied the -clerk. “The last I saw was the maid going up the street with Sir -George.” - -“Did she go willingly?” - -“Aye, I thought so. Though now I call to mind that Sir George appeared -to talk earnestly to her, pointing this way and that, ere she turned and -went with him. Is there any more I can tell you?” - -“No,” I said. “I thank you most kindly. I have heard too--too much -already. Forgive my hasty words, I pray.” - -Then I went out to Kit. - -She rubbed her nose against my shoulder as I made ready to leap into the -saddle. I wondered if she understood, and if it was the sympathy she -could not speak, for it seemed she wanted to tell me she was still true. - -Here was more than I had bargained for. Lucille was gone with Sir -George, and there could be but one meaning to that. He had met her, -having followed her from Salem, and had renewed his advances to her. -With light words he had been sorry for the past, had won her -forgiveness, and had awakened her old love for him. - -Surely this was an end to it all now. - -Though I had believed her his wife before, I felt I had her love. Now he -had both her love and herself, and I had naught save bitter -memories--and my love. - -I cursed that, and tried to separate it from me--to cast it aside, but I -could not. I knew, no matter what she did, no matter where she was, no -matter were she now in his arms, with his kisses on her lips, that I -loved her. For, when a man loves, he loves not always with wisdom. - -I did not think of her as false to me. I believed she had fled with him -after trying to elude his temptation. For it would appear she started -from Salem loving me, and I hugged that cold comfort to my heart. - -Despair, hope, then despair again had been my feelings that day. Now -came a new one, revenge. If I could not have Lucille I would have her -lover, and I laughed aloud as I thought how pleasant it would be to have -him at my sword point. - -I saw him shifting back from my attack. I saw the terror in his eyes, I -saw his futile effort to parry my fierce thrust, I heard Lucille cry -out, and then--and then I felt my keen weapon sheath itself in his -heart. - -Down he fell at my feet a shapeless mass, his red, warm lips, that she -had kissed, growing cold and white. - -And I laughed aloud. - -A sorry uncanny mirth it must have been, for it made Kit prick up her -ears and break into a trot. - -Now I thought I would live but for one end--to kill Sir George. But to -do that I must find him. I have ever believed that good wine is, in -moderation, a safe friend. Over a glass or two I knew I could better -think of what I might do next, for I had resolved to follow Sir -George--and Lucille. - -I went to the tavern I had left a little while before, and, while -sipping my wine, I fell to thinking of a remark Nanette had made while -there, of how she had heard that her mistress had taken a boat near the -tavern. In the excitement of what she told me after that I had forgotten -to ask the servant what she meant by it, and where she had heard the -rumor. - -While thus musing and grumbling at my stupidity I heard two men talking -in the room next to mine. The voices rose in anger now and then, and -seemed to be in dispute over the division of some money. At length one -of the men cried out: - -“The boat was more mine than yours. You were as anxious to sell to Sir -George as was I, and I made the better trade. For I knew he must have -the craft at any price, as it would not do to let the little lady wet -her feet.” - -Sir George! A boat! A lady! Had I stumbled on what I wanted; the trail -of my enemy? - -I listened with all attention, but I learned no more. Shortly after that -I heard the men leaving, and I contrived to go out at the same time, and -caught a glimpse of them. - -They appeared to be sailors, both roughly dressed, while one was taller -than the other. I left my mare at the inn, and followed the men, not -letting them see me, though. They separated after going a little way, -and I kept after the taller one. In my eagerness I came too close to -him. He turned, saw me following, and quickened his pace. But I went -faster also, and, when he was at the edge of the town, I was close at -his heels. He turned suddenly, picked up a heavy stick and snarled at -me: - -“Who are you and what do you want, following me? If it’s to rob----” - -“I am not a highwayman,” I said. “I only want a word or two with you.” - -“Suppose I have no words for you?” - -“Then I’ll find a way to make you.” - -“Bold talk,” he sneered. - -“I am a bold man,” I answered. - -I saw his eyes shifting, first on one side of me and then on the other, -as he sought a path of escape, but I stood in the way. - -“Go your journey, and let me go mine,” he said, “for I’m no pleasant -person to provoke, mate.” - -“Until I have done with you, our journey is together,” I remarked. “You -may go when you have answered some of my questions.” Then assuming to -know more than I did, I asked: - -“Where did Sir George Keith and the woman sail to in your boat?” - -The sailor started back as if I had struck him, and his face grew white -with fear. - -“Damn you!” he cried, raising his club. - -I had drawn my sword, and with it I knocked the clumsy weapon from his -hand. Before he could pick up another I had him by the shoulder, and my -steel was at his throat. - -“Will you answer now?” I asked gently. - -“I suppose I must,” he said sullenly. - -“Unless you would rather lie here dead,” I responded. - -“Well, then, here is all I know,” was his answer, given with no very -good grace. “It was this way. Some three weeks back my mate and I were -in our boat at the end of the wharf. The Eagle was the name of the -craft. We were mending a torn sail, me and my mate, when along comes a -fine gentleman, Sir George Keith, no less, as we afterward learned. He -had his sword dangling at his side, and was mincing his steps in the -mud. He hailed us and wanted to know what we’d hire out the Eagle for?” - -“‘How long?’ I says. ‘A year and a day,’ says he, and he looked at me, -and smiled in a queer sort of a way. By that I knew he was bound on a -voyage he couldn’t see the end of. - -“‘Oh, it’s to buy the boat you want,’ says I, smelling a bargain, and he -nodded his head. Well, I asked him fifty pounds, and he gave it over -with never a word. I asked him when he wanted the craft, and he says in -an hour’s time. So me and my mate took ashore what baggage we had and -went to the tavern, where we were lately, to drink to the success of our -bargain. A little while after we seen a sailor with a cock eye come down -to the wharf, and he begun to load provisions into the Eagle.” - -I stopped the progress of the tale. - -“Was the sailor one with a scar on the left cheek, and a blur or cock of -the right eye?” I asked. - -“He was that,” answered the former owner of the Eagle. - -“My old acquaintance, Simon the sailor, who urged the men to force me to -surrender Pemaquid,” I whispered to myself. Verily he was becoming my -evil genius. - -“Being curious,” resumed the Eagle’s captain, “me and my mate hid where -we could watch the boat. At dusk we saw Sir George come down to the -wharf and he was leading by the hand a woman or maid, close wrapped in a -gray cloak.” - -I could not repress a start. - -“Well, what then?” I asked. - -“Sir George says, he says, ‘Is all ready, Simon?’ ‘Yes, my lord,’ says -the cock-eyed sailor, and then he hoisted the jib, while Sir George and -the lady went down in the cabin.” - -“Together?” I asked. - -“Surely, and why not?” replied the man. “It was getting dark, and there -was a chill wind.” - -“Well, what then?” - -“Why, the wind freshened and the Eagle stood out down the bay. That is -the last I have seen of her or Sir George either.” - -“But her destination, man,” I cried. “Surely you must have heard some -name mentioned. Some town on the coast to which they were bound.” - -The sailor shook his head. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred -to him, he said: - -“I recall now that when Sir George with the maid joined the cock-eyed -sailor, my lord addressed some words to his man, but all I could catch -was ‘Elizabeth.’ I took it to be the woman’s name, and paid no heed. -After the boat had sailed me and my mate talked the whole matter over, -and we liked its looks so little, we agreed to say nothing to nobody -about it.” - -“Elizabeth, Elizabeth,” I murmured, as the sailor, seeing I had turned -aside from him, slunk away. “’Tis a woman’s name, sure enough, but I -have heard it somewhere in the Colonies, too. I have a small notion -there is a town called that.” - -I made a quick pace back to the centre of the town, and by inquiries -along the wharves learned there was a settlement in New Jersey that went -by the name of Elizabeth town. It was near to New York, they told me, -down on the Jersey coast, but somewhat inland. - -“That is the place,” I said to myself. - -How was I to get there? I wanted no companion, and I could not manage a -boat alone. Clearly I must make the trip on horseback, and a long -journey it would be. I felt there was no time to be lost. It was now -growing dark, and I could not start until morning. I went back to the -tavern, where I had left Kit, engaged a bed for myself, and then set -about making ready for my trip. I got a flask of brandy and a good -blanket. Next I laid out a good part of what little ready money I had on -a serviceable flint-lock, a horn of powder, a pouch of bullets and some -spare flints. - -The blanket I strapped back of my saddle, and the flask of brandy I put -in the bags, together with some dry biscuits and a piece of bacon. I ate -my supper and went to bed. I had a long journey before me. As the crow -flew it was quite 200 miles, but with the turnings I must make ’twould -be a good 300. My plan was to ride along the coast all the way, for I -thought that contrary winds might compel Sir George to lay to, at least -for a time, and I might come up to him then. - -I knew he dared not stand far out from the shore in so small a craft, -because of storms. Likewise he would be obliged to come in to replenish -his stock of fresh water, for he could not carry a large supply. So I -was in hopes I could get some trace of the voyagers by picking my way -along the coast. - -There would be hard riding by day and by night. Cold and hunger, -doubtless, and wind and rain. Danger of attacks by Indians and wild -animals. Yet I felt that I could persevere through it all for the sake -of a sweet revenge. Would love, I wondered, serve to urge me on through -such a journey as awaited me. - -I awoke with the rising of the sun, made a hurried meal, and, leading -Kit from the stable, vaulted into the saddle. The orb was well above the -horizon, and the air was clear and cool when I looked back on the town I -was leaving, thought of its bitter and sweet memories, and bade a glad -good bye to Massachusetts and her witches. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - HOW I FOUND LUCILLE. - - -Weary was my journey. There were rivers to ford, deep forests to -traverse, and often only Indian paths to make my way along. I passed -through towns and villages, eating and sleeping wherever I could. Once -in the night I saw the watch fires of an Indian camp, and I hid deeper -in the woods. The next morning the red men passed, not a rifle shot from -me, yet they did not discover my presence. - -Day followed day, and night came after night, and still I rode on. - -In a small town near the coast one day I heard that the Eagle had tied -up at the wharf there, about two weeks past. This gave me hope that I -was on the right path, and I pushed on anxiously. But to all my -inquiries thereafter I learned nothing further. - -Kit began to grow tired those days, for, though I spared her all I -could, the way was hard. Through the wilderness and along the sea we -journeyed, Kit and I, searching, ever searching for that which might, -when found, only bring bitterness to my heart. - -My eyes grew tired with the sight of so much land and water, yet I could -not give up. My body was weary with the long way. My heart was sad; aye, -sad with love and hate. - -I passed over a river called the Hudson, being ferried across it, Kit -and I. Just below, the ferryman told me, was the village of New York. -When I was on the west bank of the stream, I could see from the top of -the bluff that the town was one of goodly size, larger than many -villages in England. - -I left New York behind, and plunged once more into the wilderness. Now, -I was told, I was but three days’ ride from Elizabeth, as the roads -went, and how my heart beat as I heard that news. - -It had been a raw, blustering day, when, as the sun was beginning to -sink down in the west, in a gloomy looking watery haze, I turned Kit’s -head toward the sea that stretched in a vast expanse off to the left. I -would scan the coast once more, I thought, ere I camped out for the -night. - -I had little hope of sighting the Eagle now, for, by this time, the -voyagers must be far ahead of me. Yet I felt I should let slip by no -chance of coming upon them. So it happened, as the day was slowly dying -I drew rein on top of a little hill, whence I had a good view of the -ocean. - -I gazed out over the broad extent of water. The heaving billows looked -like small waves from my perch, but the dull boom and roar that filled -the air told me there was power in the green water that thundered down -on the sands. Twice I looked along the line of the horizon for the sight -of a sail, and I saw none. From the shore to the uttermost edge, where -the plane of waters seemed to come to a sudden stop, I gazed and saw not -a speck. - -Wait, though. What was that out there to the left? - -Nothing but a lonely gull, flitting from wave crest to wave crest. I -watched it in idleness, expecting every moment to see it dart down and -arise with a fish. But the gull seemed content to float on the waves. It -rose and fell with the heaving of the waters, becoming larger as it -approached until I thought verily it must be the king of all gulls. - -Then I rubbed my eyes and looked again. A last glint of the setting sun -fell upon the object. I shaded my eyes and strained my sight. - -Of a sudden I saw it was not a gull. It was a boat! - -Was it the Eagle? - -The wind freshened, and the little craft crept nearer the shore. It -seemed to make slow progress, and floated sluggishly in the water. - -Now I was able to see more clearly. I noted that the sail was ragged and -torn, also that from the mast head floated a bit of cloth like a piece -torn from a woman’s dress. A signal of distress! - -With anxious, beating heart I waited for the boat to draw nearer. It -was, perchance, a vain hope, but I could not help thinking the craft -contained those I sought. And if it should! - -I looked to my gun and saw that my sword was loose in the scabbard, for -I would have two to contend with, Sir George and Simon. - -Closer came the boat until I could distinguish three figures aboard, and -one was a woman, as I could see by her dress. She stood for a moment in -front of the companionway leading to the cabin, and then she vanished -down it. The other figures were those of two men. They appeared to be -much excited about something, moving here and there on the deck, and I -was at a loss to account for their actions. Now they would be amidships, -and then suddenly run to the side when they would empty a bucket of -water overboard. - -As soon as I saw that I knew the boat was leaking, and that they were -baling to keep her afloat. That was why they had headed in shore, for no -other cause would have made them approach such a dangerous coast. - -The craft was now so near that I could plainly see one man baling while -the other ran to the tiller, which was lashed, and cast off the ropes. -Then he headed the boat up the coast, searching for a favorable place to -put in. He saw none, after holding on that course for a time, and so -came about and sailed down. Long and anxiously did he scan the shore and -the line of breakers. So occupied was he that he did not seem to see me, -though I was in bold relief against the western sky. - -Twice did the helmsman beat up and down for a quarter of a mile each -way. But all along was heavy surf, while at some places black and jagged -rocks just showed their ugly heads above the water that washed over -them. - -The second man had ceased baling now, and came to the aid of the -steersman, who had evidently decided to make a landing in the best place -he could. The man who had been at the tiller ran to the bow, leaped on -the rail, and peered ahead, while his companion kept her prow to the -waves. I gave one look at the man in the bow. I trembled lest I should -be mistaken. No, it was he. - -There, like a carved figurehead on a ship stood my enemy! Sir George -Keith! My journey was ended. - -I could have shouted in gladness, was I not fearful that the sea might -snatch him from me ere I had my revenge. For the time I forgot the -danger that encompassed Lucille. My hate had overwhelmed my love. - -I dismounted and led Kit back into some low bushes that grew on top of -the hill. Then I went forward quickly to watch the progress of the boat. - -Sir George was again at the helm. He had made up his mind where to land. -And it was near time. The little craft was settling low in the water. - -On she came, lifting her bow to the waves, and then dipping deep into -the froth of green liquid that hissed on either side. Nearer and nearer. -They were almost in now. And then, while I stood there, watching like a -sentinel guarding the land, I saw that which gripped my heart as if an -icy hand had grasped it. - -Directly in the course of the Eagle, and so close to her now that -avoidance was impossible, was a pinnacle of rock. I had not seen it -before, nor had Sir George, for he steered for it as if by card and -compass. - -“’Ware the rock!” I cried, and he heard me. - -He looked up, and by the shout he gave, I knew he recognized me. He was -like one who sees a spirit. He lost his hold of the helm and ran to the -stern. But the boat did not fall off. Instead she came on like a race -horse straight for the rock. The waves lifted her high up, water logged -though she was, until she showed part of her keel. Then, and I closed my -eyes, the waters dashed the frail vessel down on that point of stone, as -a man is impaled on a spear. The rock struck right through her bottom. - -The crash that followed found echo in my own heart, and the wild shouts -of Sir George and Simon mingled with the screams of Lucille coming clear -over the thunder of the surf. - -It was no time to stand idle. It was a steep path to the beach, but I -got down somehow. The boat was still spitted on the rock, but the waters -were dashing over it, threatening every moment to break it in pieces and -toss the occupants into the sea. - -I had kept hold of my flint-lock, but now I laid it down on the sand, at -the same time casting off my sword belt. As I discarded my jacket and -boots, the boat gave a lurch to one side, and I heard Lucille scream. I -took one look, so I might know in which direction to swim, and I saw the -sailor Simon as he leaped overboard and struck out for the beach. Then I -plunged into the surf. - -I waded out as far as I had my depth, and I saw Simon’s head bobbing up -and down. I marked Sir George tearing away at some of the deck boards, -which had split, and I guessed he was trying to form a raft. Lucille, -for I saw her face clearly now, was clinging to the mast, her dark hair -blowing about her face, while the salt spray dashed over her until she -was drenched. - -I had found Lucille, but in what a sorry plight. She was mine no more. -My enemy had won her. All I might have was revenge on him; a poor -exchange. - -Sir George gave one glance in my direction, and then worked with great -haste to tear up the planks. Perhaps he feared my vengeance would strike -him in the waters, though I had other plans. Mayhap he grudged me any -share in the rescue of Lucille, which both of us were striving for now. -Noting all this in one brief glance I found the water above my head now, -so I plunged forward, and was soon swimming amid the breakers. - -It was hard work, indeed, to buffet those waves, and to avoid being cast -against the rocks which abounded. How I did it, and came out scathless, -I cannot tell. I know I managed to get near enough to the stern of the -boat to grasp the rudder chains and pull myself aboard. - -Slowly, for I was weary, I got over the rail, and found myself on the -sloping deck, that every now and again was washed by the waves. Before -the mast Sir George was lashing the planks he had torn up into the form -of a rude raft. - -“Greeting,” I said to him. - -He started, as a man might, who hears a voice from the grave. - -Then I went a little way farther until I stood before Lucille. - -“Edward! Oh, my God! Edward!” she screamed, and then she fell in a -senseless heap at the foot of the mast. - -I sprang toward her, as did Sir George, dropping the planks. We were at -her side together. - -“Curse you!” he cried. “Have you come back from death to take her from -me again?” - -“Even from death,” I said. “Even from death, my lord. I come, not to -claim her, but to kill you. For she was mine by every right of heaven -and earth, and you took her from me.” - -“I loved her first,” he almost shouted the words. “And she is mine now -by the rights of man; that of possession. Make the most of that, you -witch-traitor.” - -“You shall answer for your words later,” I said. - -So we stood thus, perchance while a man might have counted a score -slowly. Around us was the waste of waters. Under our feet the quivering -Eagle, that was like to go to pieces every second. Between us, as pale -as death, was Lucille, the cause of both of us being there. Perhaps she -was dead, and our bitter words were spoken in vain. - -The seas were calm for a little time while thus we stood, or we must -have all been washed into the waves. - -Then I saw the hand of Sir George steal to his sword. I clapped mine to -my side only to meet with nothing. He smiled. - -A wave lifted the Eagle, and after it had passed the craft settled down -more deeply in the water. We both started. - -“There is no time for you and I to settle our hate and quarrel now,” I -remarked. “We will need all our strength if we would save her.” - -“Yes, yes,” he assented eagerly. - -So together we labored, he and I; as deadly enemies as ever two men -could be, striving in harmony to save the life of a woman, who, -hitherto, had brought us both little more than hate. And yet we loved -her, both of us. I, perforce, because I could do no less. - -First we placed her where the waves could reach her as little as -possible, for she was still as one dead. I passed a rope around the -mast, and fastened one end about Lucille’s waist. And my hands trembled -strangely as I touched her cold hand. - -Quivers of the boat warned us that she would hold together but a brief -spell now, and we worked with feverish haste, neither speaking a word. - -At length the few boards we could tear loose were bound together, and on -them we must make the attempt to get Lucille to shore. - -I paused to look at her, and the love grew in my heart. I gazed up and -found Sir George at my side. He, too, looked down on her. Then we two -glanced at each other, and the love in our eyes turned to hate. - -“Quick!” I said. “There is no time to wait.” - -We had arranged the raft so that one of us could swim ahead and drag it -by a rope, while the other could swim behind and push. A box lashed to -the centre made a support for Lucille. We placed her on the planks, her -shoulders against the box, so that her head would be above the waves. -Then we made ready for our battle with the sea. - -Sir George unbuckled his sword, and lashed it to the raft. - -“I will go ahead,” said Sir George haughtily. - -“No, I,” was my answer. - -“Damn you!” he cried. “You want to steal her from me and leave me here.” - -“Nay,” I said gently, “look you. Whatever may be our differences we will -settle them later, as men should with the sword. Now, however, there is -work to be done. I know the shore better than do you, having seen it -from above. Therefore I will take the lead. It will not be for long. -Perchance I may be swallowed up in the waters. Then our quarrel will be -ended.” - -With that he agreed, though I could see the distrust in his eyes. - -Slowly we shoved the raft with its precious burden off into the water, -avoiding the rock on which the Eagle was impaled. Then fastening the -rope about my shoulders I struck out for the shore. Sir George leaped in -after me and swam behind, pushing the frail structure. It was a perilous -moment. - -For a time it seemed that we would never succeed. But we strained with -every muscle, and, gradually drew near shore. Then we had to beware of -the dreadful undertow, which was strong at this point. With a few more -strokes I let down my feet, and felt bottom. Then I waded up the beach, -and pulled the raft high up out of reach of the waves. - -Before I could get to Lucille Sir George was at her side, and with eager -hands he began to unloosen the ropes that bound her. - -“Is she living?” I asked, yet feeling a strange indifference while I -waited for the answer. What mattered it to me if she did live? - -“She breathes,” he said, and I noted a little trembling of the white -lids that veiled her eyes. - -“There are some spirits in my flask in the saddle bags,” I remarked, -motioning to where I had tethered Kit. - -“Will you get the flask?” he asked, “unless, mayhap, you fear to leave -her alone with me while you go. Though she was long enough with me in -the Eagle.” - -The words were not out of his mouth ere I stood beside him, and my hands -were at his throat. - -“Recall that last,” I said, “or I will give you no chance to stand -before me with sword in hand. Recall your words, my lord.” - -“I do,” he snarled, and he fell to rubbing his neck when I let go. As I -turned to get the brandy a man came running down the sands. It was -Simon. - -“There is no need for either of us to go,” remarked Sir George. “Simon -will get the flask if you tell him where it is.” - -I directed the sailor where to come upon Kit, and then fell to chafing -Lucille’s hands, as did Sir George, and this we were at when Simon -returned, neither of us speaking a word, though deep in our hearts were -many things that might have found utterance. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - A WATCH IN THE NIGHT. - - -I was able to get a little of the brandy between Lucille’s lips, and she -revived somewhat, opening her eyes. She caught sight of Sir George, and -then she seemed to sleep again. When she awoke a second time and saw me -standing near her, fright struggled with surprise in her look, so that I -could not see whether she realized where she was. - -She murmured that she was cold. I called to Simon and had him get my -tinder box from my coat. With the flint and steel I kindled the burnt -linen to a glow, and soon was blowing to a flame some dry sticks. Then -Sir George, Simon and I set about gathering driftwood, verily like three -school boys at a bonfire, until we had a goodly pile on the sand, -sending out a genial warmth. It was a welcome heat, for we were chilled -by the water, and Lucille was trembling as one with ague. We carried her -to the blaze, and I wrapped my dry jacket about her, so that with the -comfort of the fire, some color returned to her cheeks. - -“Where am I?” she asked, passing her hand over her brow. - -“With me,” said Sir George, quickly. - -“God forbid,” spoke Lucille in an instant, and those few words gave me -hope. - -Sir George motioned to Simon, who ran to the raft, bringing back with -him his master’s sword. Seeing that the wind lay in that direction, I -hastened to where I had cast my blade. It was gone, as was my gun. I -knew then that Simon must have hidden them when he came ashore. Lucille -was watching us. - -She rose from her reclining position, and, seeing Sir George armed, and -me without a sword, she ran between us. - -“Hold!” she cried. “Add not murder to your other crimes, my lord.” - -“Murder,” he exclaimed; “it would not be murder to slay in fair combat. -It is but the execution of justice on a traitor.” - -“Traitor?” spoke Lucille, questioningly, while her head was lifted -proudly in the air, and her voice rang with scorn. “Who is the traitor, -when he stands face to face with you, my lord, chief of all traitors. -For you were traitor to a defenseless woman. Captain Amherst is no -traitor, but a true and honorable gentleman, and--and--I love him!” - -Then, being a woman, Lucille’s spirit gave way, and she wept bitterly. I -turned my head aside, for sometimes a woman’s tears are sorrowful to -look upon. However, she soon regained her composure. - -A sudden silence fell upon us all. When Lucille had said “I love him,” I -looked at Sir George, and he at me. Now such had been the turn of events -of late, that I knew not what to think. - -Had Lucille planned to sail with her former lover? Was she true to me, -or a fickle jade, blown this way and that, like many women? These things -I much desired to hear the truth of. But yet she had said of me, “I love -him.” - -“Madame,” I said, and at the formal word Lucille glanced, half -frightened at me, “strange events have come to pass between us since -last we met. You were my promised wife when I sailed against St. Johns. -I returned to be cast into prison on a foul charge, but not before one -had met me with the words that you were his wife, and that I had no -right to your love, nor you to mine.” - -“His wife?” began Lucille, and Sir George smiled at the trick he had -played. - -“Oh, of the falsity of that I soon learned,” I went on, “for I met -Nanette in Boston. But no sooner do I learn you are not wedded to Sir -George Keith than I hear that you have sailed with him. Perchance you -have since thought better of your troth to me, and are, even now, his -wife.” - -“His wife? Never!” cried Lucille. - -“No,” said Sir George slowly, “not my wife, but----” - -I would have leaped at him, unarmed though I was, and though he held his -sword so that I must have run upon it, had not Lucille grasped my arm. - -“Not--not--oh, my God, not his----” I could not finish for Lucille’s -hand was over my mouth. - -The next instant I had my answer. For she placed her arms about my neck, -and before him, before the man I believed she had cast me aside for, she -kissed me full on the lips, and spoke my name. - -“Edward!” - -“Lucille!” I cried. “Lucille!” And the love in my heart surged up as do -the waters at flood tide. “Then God has given you back to me, after all. -Speak, love, are you mine, all mine; or has he any claim on you?” and I -passed my arm about her, and looked at Sir George, as he stood there, -sword in hand. - -“Edward,” said Lucille, and she clung to me as a frightened bird might -nestle, “most grievous has been my plight, and cruelly has Sir George -Keith treated a defenseless maid, yet I will do him this justice. Though -ever did he protest his love in burning words, almost to insult, yet, as -I stand before you both, he gave me no dishonor. And for this I thank -him, that I am restored to you, my love, true as when he lured me away. -So that while he remains not entirely guiltless, the great shame is not -upon him.” - -“I thank you, madame,” spoke Sir George, bowing low, his hand on his -sword, “most graciously do I thank you,” and his words became bitter, -while his face grew cold and stern. “My poor love for you, poor in that -’tis all I have, is but my plea for that which I have done. I pray your -forgiveness, though, perchance, I do not merit it. I would do again all -that I have done, aye, a thousand times, if I stood but one chance of -success, of even winning one loving word from you, madame. - -“But you have spurned my love, as is your right, though once it was not -so.” - -Lucille shrank closer to me at that, and the words pierced me with a -jealous anger. He saw his advantage and went on: - -“Once you thought it no great task to smile with me. My words did not -turn you from me then. That was----” - -“Oh, my lord, I pray you to cease,” implored Lucille and Sir George -became silent. - -“Your pardon, madame,” he continued, after a moment’s pause, “enough of -that, then. But though I have lost your love, I cannot, as I am a -gentleman and a soldier, let the matter rest there. My enemy shall not -thus easily steal you from me. I have two quarrels with him now from -divers causes. Of the one he knows well. Of the other--well, I am ever -willing to draw swords for a fair face,” and he bowed with mock -courtesy. - -“I would be weak, indeed,” he added, “did I give you up now after what I -have gone through, and say to him, ‘welcome. Take my love from me. Take -also your life which, of right, belongs to the King and to me, and go in -peace!’ Nay, I have blood in my veins, not water. - -“Three several times have I stood before you, Sir Francis Dane,” and he -turned to address me. I marked that Lucille started at the name he gave -me. “Three times you dared me to draw sword. Each time I held my hand, -though my blade was ready. But I waited, for even bitter as my hate was, -I had laid plans that might remove you from my path without need of open -action on my part. I failed, you best know how and why. But think not -that you will escape me, for the score is too heavy to forget now.” - -Sir George moved toward me, and I thought at first he meant to attack -me, for I had no sword. I put Lucille behind me, and then he seemed to -see I had no weapon. Simon said something to his master in a low tone. -Sir George turned angrily, and, in another instant the sailor was -running across the sands. Presently he returned, bearing my sword and -gun, which he handed me without a word of explanation. - -“I pray your pardon,” said Sir George, “I saw not that your sword was -gone. Now that you have it, let us to work to see who shall kill the -other,” and he laughed such a cold, heartless, mirthless laugh that -Lucille shuddered. - -“Bah,” he went on, “what does it matter, after all. But come, ’tis cold -standing idle after a bath in the sea, and I would be gone.” - -He laughed again, perchance at the notion of going anywhere on the -watery, sandy waste. - -“Ha! Ha! Gone. Yes, I would be away, far away from here, had not the -Eagle proved such a sorry craft.” - -He swung his sword about him in a circle so that the point enscribed a -little furrow in the sand. - -Lucille looked on with horror in her eyes. - -“Have no fear, love,” I said. “It will soon be over.” - -“But how?” she asked. - -“God knows,” I said. - -“On guard!” cried Sir George. - -But now a difficulty arose. The sun had gone down, though we had not -observed it, and it rapidly became dusk. So that when we would have -walked off a little way, out of sight of Lucille, to place ourselves, it -was too dark for sword play. Sir George remarked it. - -“Why, it is night,” he said, “and there is need of light for what we -have before us. However, to-morrow will be another day. There is little -likelihood that our quarrel will cool in the darkness.” - -“Not on my side, my lord,” I answered, bowing. - -“Enough, then. We will wait till sunrise. I will go with Simon to -another part of the beach. We will meet again in the morning, and may -the best sword win.” - -“Say rather, may the right win,” was my reply, but he only laughed. - -“Well, then,” he went on, “good-night, madame, and you also, Sir -Francis, though ’tis more like to be a bad one for all of us and for -you, madame. I would we had some small shelter, or some food for you, -but the poor Eagle’s wings are broken.” - -We looked to where the boat had been, but it was gone. - -“Stay,” I said, remembering my saddle bags. “There is no need of hunger, -at least, if Simon will go and bring what is on Kit’s back. We had -better eat while we have the chance.” - -I told the sailor what to fetch, adding some instructions about tying -the mare more securely. - -Presently Simon returned, and we threw more wood on the fire. Then I -gave Sir George and his man some of the biscuits and bacon, which I had -purchased at my last stopping place. The meat we roasted before the -blaze on sharpened sticks, eating it smoking hot. I prepared some for -Lucille, giving them to her on a clean washed piece of drift-wood, that -served for a platter. - -Surely no stranger band ever gathered about a camp fire on that lonely -Atlantic coast. Had any one seen us eating together he would have said -that we were ship-wrecked, but, for all that, merry adventurers, so well -did the outward semblance conceal the bitter passions within. For there -was in our hearts love, hate, fear, distrust, anger and envy, yet none -of us betrayed by so much as a word while we were eating that there was -aught but friendliness among us. Thus had so little a thing as hunger -made us forget strong passions for a time. - -The fire crackled, the waves beat upon the sands with thunderous noise, -and we four sat there. How many and how varied were the thoughts in each -of our minds. - -For myself I rejoiced that I had found Lucille again, and found her with -my love in her heart. Of the duel to take place on the morrow I gave -little heed. For I had confidence in my sword and arm, though, as it -afterward proved, I needed all my skill. Then I went back over my -wanderings and my adventures since I had first ridden to Salem. - -Of the others’ thoughts I could but guess. I fancied Sir George was very -bitter of heart, and that he had great hate for me, though as to the -rightful cause for it I differed from him. Lucille, rather than the -death of his brother, was his reason now for wishing to kill me. - -When I recall all that happened to us both, knowing of the great passion -which swayed him, as a blast does a sturdy tree, I can, in some measure, -put myself in his place and know that he was sorely tempted. For he, -too, loved Lucille. - -And of the thoughts of Lucille. She must have much hidden away in her -heart, but what cared I so long as she loved me. I looked at her while -the fire light played its shadows over her features. How thin and worn -she had become since I saw her last. What must she have gone through. I -was in impatience to hear from her all that had to do with her voyage on -the Eagle. - -As for Simon he seemed to be eating more than he was thinking. - -So we sat thus silent, while the moon came peeping up from beneath the -sea, silvering the dancing waves. Lucille drew my coat closer about her, -for it was chilly, and she sighed, mayhap at what had gone before, -perchance at what was yet to come; for who knows a woman’s thoughts? - -It was growing late when I rose from my position by the fire. Sir George -and Simon followed my example, and I helped Lucille to her feet. She was -so weak that I put my arm about her waist to support her. Sir George -turned away as if to view the moon, and I knew it was because it burned -his heart to see me with her. But I was glad that it was so, for he had -caused me much suffering, and this was some balm for it. - -I picked up my flint-lock, and made as if to move off, Lucille and I up -the beach. I had noticed an overhanging rock a quarter of a mile off, -that I thought would serve as some protection from the night dew. Sir -George, followed by Simon, walked off in the opposite direction. When -they had gone a little way Sir George halted and retraced his steps. - -“A word, Sir Francis,” he called to me. - -I left Lucille and went back. - -“There will be need of but little ceremony about our affair in the -morning,” he said coldly. “Yet that no doubt may linger in your mind I -will say that Simon is oath-bound to me not to raise a hand in the -matter, no matter how it may go. You need fear no treachery, for he will -keep his distance. So, if you kill me, Simon, though he is ever ready to -stand between me and death, will not renew the quarrel. To this I have -sworn him. - -“If you should fall in the combat I will see that you have such burial -as the place affords. Which courtesy I make bold to ask of you on my -part. Is it agreed?” - -“Yes, my lord,” I replied. - -To talk thus of death. - -“And that is all, I believe,” said Sir George, turning away. “I will -meet you here at sunrise. And--and perhaps it would be as well not to -awaken her. You understand?” - -“Perfectly, my lord.” - -“Then good-night, Sir Francis.” - -“Good-night, my lord.” - -We parted, and thus began the vigil of the night. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - OF THE VOYAGE OF LUCILLE. - - -Beneath the rock I had selected as our shelter for the night I kindled a -fire, and the wind, taking the smoke away, made the place comfortable. -The heat served to dry our garments and warmed our chilled blood. -Lucille clung to me, trembling with the recollection of all she had -passed through, and I held her in my arms and bade her be of better -cheer, for the worst was now past. - -“You had a long voyage,” I said, for I did not know how to begin so that -she might tell me of the cruise of the Eagle. - -“And a terrible one,” she answered, with a shudder. “Oh, Edward, my -love, I thought never to see you again, and I wished myself dead a -hundred times. There was naught but fear and misery in my heart, but -now--now--I am so very happy. Yet not altogether happy, Edward.” - -“And why?” I asked. - -“Because I think of the morrow.” - -“So you fear for me, my sweet?” - -“Much, Edward, for he is a terrible man.” - -“So am I, when I fight for love,” was my reply. - -Then there was silence for a time, and she seemed to be thinking of -something. - -“Why did he call you Sir Francis, Edward?” she asked, presently. - -“Because, dear, it is my name,” I said. - -“Why, I thought----” she began, but I was not ready to tell her all yet. - -“To-morrow will do for my story,” I interposed. “The night is short, let -me hear about yourself.” - -“There may be no to-morrow,” whispered Lucille. - -“It is as God wills,” I said, simply, and I kissed her. - -Then she told me of the voyage with Sir George. - -“When I found that you were in Salem gaol, charged with witchcraft,” she -began, “I recalled how few had come out of there alive, after such an -accusation. I knew, as you did not, since you had been absent, how -fierce was the hue and cry after witches, or those poor wretches so -called. I knew how perilous was the time in Salem town. So I made up my -mind that I must get you out, as you could not help yourself. I thought -of the Governor, Sir William Phips, believing that he was my only hope. -To see him, get a full and free pardon for you, was my only desire.” - -I could feel her hand, that I held beneath my coat, press mine. I -answered the pressure, and drew Lucille near to me. She went on: - -“So, knowing there was little time to lose, I made a bargain with Master -Richard Johnson, who lived on the road back of me, to take me to Boston -in his big cart, as he was going there that day with some barrels of -cider. Not even stopping to tell you good bye, so full was I of my -project, I put on my best gown--’tis a sad sight now, though”--and -Lucille sighed and looked down at her dress, all wet and torn--“pinned a -ribbon in my hair, and was off to see His Excellency. We were two days -on the road, because the cart broke. - -“Well, I found him at home, and, after some parley with his servant, who -said his master was busy with noble lords from London, I was admitted to -the presence of Sir William. - -“I curtsied as best I knew, and looked about, half tempted to run out -again, for the room was filled with men. Oh, but they stared so at me; -verily, I thought none of them had scarce before seen a maid in her best -gown.” - -Well I knew why they looked, I thought, for fairer face than Lucille’s -there was not in Boston, or Salem--aye, in all of London. - -“But,” she continued, “I did manage to stammer out what I had come for, -and when His Excellency had gathered the import of my words, he became -kindly at once and came near to me, while he left the noble lords, if -such they were, to talk among themselves. I heard one of them say -‘Zounds! But would she not make some of our London beauties stare.’ So I -looked him full in the face, and replied: - -“‘There be many others in Salem town, if it please you, sir,’ whereat -they all laughed, save His Excellency, and he smiled at me. Then, -Edward, I pleaded for your life.” - -“What did you say, sweet?” I asked. - -“I begged that I might not be sent away without a pardon,” went on -Lucille. “And, to show it was deserved, I told Sir William of the deeds -you had done. How strong you were to cast the great stone, and how they -said you were a witch because you had done that. Then I reminded him of -St. Johns and Pemaquid, for I had heard somewhat of what took place -there. I urged upon him that you were a good soldier, and a true one, -serving His Gracious Majesty most faithful. - -“Then, when I could think of no more to say, I told His Excellency -that--that I loved you better than any one else in the whole world, and -that he must pardon you for me,” and Lucille leaned over and hid her -face on my shoulder. - -“All that for me,” I whispered. “I was not worth it.” - -“Oh, but you are,” said Lucille, looking up quickly, “or I should never -have been brave enough to do all I did.” - -“What said His Excellency, when you pleaded so well for me?” I asked. - -“Why,” continued Lucille, “he smiled, and wanted to know who it was I -had come to save. ‘Captain Edward Amherst,’ I replied, and then all the -men in the room, who had been talking about the custom-house, burst into -shouts of laughter. - -“One of them said: ‘Not the traitor Sir George is after, is it, Your -Excellency?’ ‘The same,’ was the Governor’s answer. - -“That angered me, to hear them call you a traitor, though I did not -realize who Sir George was then,” went on Lucille. “I stamped my foot, -forgetting that I was in the presence of the Governor, and cried out: -‘Captain Amherst is no traitor, but a true and honorable gentleman, and -a brave soldier, which is more than can be said of many.’ The men turned -aside at that, and Sir William led me to another room. - -“There he told me he would grant a pardon from the charge of witchcraft, -which he did not believe in, but he added that there were graver matters -hanging over your head. I was so overjoyed at hearing him say he would -give the pardon that I only heard him murmur something about fearing it -would be of little service. He called his secretary to bring his quill, -ink-horn and sand box. When he had them he indited a full and free -pardon for Captain Amherst, from the charge of witchcraft, sealing it -with his own hand. - -“He bowed me out of the chamber, while all the men stared so again that -my cheeks were burning. But I was out of the house at last, and so -anxious to get back to you and have you released from Salem gaol, that I -could scarce walk fast enough. As I was going down the steps I was -startled by seeing a man in front of me. I looked up in fright, and -there was one I least desired to meet--Sir George Keith.” - -Lucille glanced at me. - -“I should have told you about him before,” she continued, “only I wanted -to wait----” - -“I know,” was my reply; “Nanette told me something of him, and I know -more, of my own experience.” - -“He stood before me,” went on Lucille, “and, when I would have passed by -him, never giving heed to him, he bowed, and said if I would deign to -hear him he would deliver a message from you. I did not know that he was -your enemy, as well as mine, or I would not have listened to him. But I -was so anxious to do all I could for you that I never stopped to think -that Sir George Keith would scarce do his rival a courtesy. So I bade -him say on quickly, and told him I never would listen to him on my -account. - -“Then he told me you had broken gaol early that morning, and were hiding -in the woods to avoid capture. He said you had besought him, as a -comrade in arms, to get him aid, and particularly to send word to me, so -I might come to you. - -“‘There is no cause for Captain Amherst to hide,’ I said, ‘for I have a -pardon for him. He need fear no gaol.’ Sir George said it was not the -witchcraft that was hanging over you now, but a charge of treason. That -made me greatly frightened, and I suppose he saw it and knew he could -tell me any lie and have it believed. He said, if I would consent to let -him guide me to you, he could provide a way of escape for us both. - -“I was afraid of him, but he spoke so gently, and was so courteous, -never even referring to the hateful past, that I consented. Oh, how -little I knew what was before me,” and Lucille shivered, not alone from -the night wind. I knew now why Sir George had left the court room so -suddenly the day of my trial. It was to get trace of Lucille. - -“He said,” she continued, after a pause, “that it would not be safe for -us to go directly to your hiding place, as we might be followed. There -was a small boat, down at the wharf, he added, sailed by an honest man, -and, if I would but trust myself in it, we could move along the shore -until we had picked you up. Such, Sir George said, was the plan you had -devised. - -“Though I wavered a bit, being friendless and alone in Boston town, in -the end I yielded, and suffered him to lead the way to the boat. It was -the Eagle, and Simon was the whole crew. When Sir George came to the end -of the wharf with me, he said to Simon: - -“‘This is the lady you are to take to her lover.’ - -“‘Aye, aye, sir,’ answered Simon, and he touched his hat, and held the -steps steady for me to descend. Ah me, it was many a day ere I went up -those same steps again. - -“At a signal from Sir George Simon cast off, and we were sailing -smoothly down the bay, while I was all impatience until I should see -you, as my heart misgave me. And I longed to show you the pardon I had, -that you might know why I had not remained near you in Salem. See, here -it is now.” - -Lucille took from her bosom a paper, all crumpled and stained and wet -from the sea water. By the dim light of the fire I saw that it was the -pardon she had obtained. I kissed it, for it was my first love letter -from Lucille, verily a strange one. I would have kept it, but she said -she would hold it until we reached some safe place, as it might yet be -needed. - -“We sailed on,” related Lucille, “until it grew dark, and then, in -fright, I called from the cabin to know when we would land and find you. -‘Presently,’ answered Sir George, and I waited, with small patience. -Simon lighted a lantern, so that its beams fell upon Sir George, as he -stood at the helm. ‘Is it not true, my lord?’ I called to him. -‘Presently,’ he said again, and he smiled. In that smile I saw the trick -he had played. - -“I stood before him then, and, though I feared him, I demanded that he -instantly set me ashore. At that he only smiled once more, and called to -Simon to make sail. - -“‘Put me ashore, my lord, as you are a gentleman and a soldier,’ I -pleaded. ‘I had rather be alone in the woods than here with you.’ ‘You -shall go ashore in good season,’ he said. I begged and pleaded with him, -until his smiles became frowns. Seeing that it was useless to beg him to -release me, I cried out that I would throw myself into the sea. I ran to -the rail, but Simon sprang after me and dragged me back. Sir George gave -the tiller over to him, and, standing before me, said: - -“‘Lucille, I pray you to forgive me for what I have done, but I cannot -let you go, now that I have found you again. Captain Amherst has not -escaped; he does not wait for you, hiding in the woods. Ere this ’tis -likely that he is no longer alive. But I am alive, I am here, and, -Lucille, I love you. I have waited and searched for you many years,’ he -went on, ‘and now I will not let you go. As there is a God above us I -mean you no wrong. But I love you, oh, how I love you!’” - -I must have shown the feeling in my heart as Lucille repeated the words -of Sir George. - -“Heed not his words, Edward,” she said; “they were only words to me. He -said we would sail far away from New England, to the New Jersey Colony, -where he had friends. ‘There,’ he said, ‘you will have learned to care -for me. And, if you do not, we will go down into the depths of the sea -together, for, if I cannot have you in life I will have you in death.’ - -“Oh, how I was frightened, my love, but I thought of you, and how brave -you were, and that gave me courage. I told Sir George I would never love -him, in life nor death, and I said I would not even die with him, so -much did I hate him. I said I would appeal for help to the first person -I met when I reached shore. Whereat he laughed and said it would be many -days ere we touched land. Then he begged me to enter the cabin, which -had been fitted up with some degree of comfort, saying that he would not -intrude himself upon me. More to escape him than because I was weary, I -went down, and bolted the door.” - -Then Lucille told me of the long voyage that followed. Sir George was -like a madman with one idea in his head. He never sailed near shore, -save when supplies were needed, and then Simon rowed to the beach in a -small boat. The two men were most gentle to her, and once, when Simon -had grumbled at taking the meals to her in the cabin, Sir George felled -him to the deck with a blow. After that the sailor had little to say. -Sir George and his man steered the craft by turns, and the master -stopped at no task, however mean, performing all, as did the man. To -such will love or its counterfeit go. - -On they sailed, and never once did Lucille, by any chance, get near -enough a passing vessel, or within distance of shore, so as to make a -cry heard. - -When it was necessary to approach a town harbor to anchor from a storm, -she was locked in the cabin. Thus she spent one month, longing night and -day to be free, until the roses faded from her cheeks, and the love -light from her eyes. Ever did Sir George protest his affection for her, -begging that she would but give him a little hope. But never, even by a -turn of the head, did she admit that she heard him, for, after the first -few days when she demanded that he set her free, she held her peace and -spoke no words to him. - -This was the tale Lucille related to me, as we sat under the ledge of -rock by the waters I had saved her from. And, as the story grew, I -longed for the morrow, that I might fight for her honor and my own. I -put some driftwood on the fire, and it blazed up. - -Of the storm, which blew the craft out to sea until the voyagers thought -it would never return, Lucille told. Then provisions ran low, and for -three days Sir George had nothing but a small crust of bread, and Simon -had as little, because they put all aside for her. And this she never -knew till after they had reached the vicinity of a town again, when by -the ravenous hunger of Sir George and his man, she saw they had been -near death. - -It seemed strange to me that this man could endure so much for love, -could battle so to win it, and yet could not master himself. Of a truth, -he was one who might have been great, had not his life been turned in -the wrong direction. - -The last storm which blew had started the seams of the Eagle, and this -had compelled Sir George to put in shore sooner than he intended, for he -was near to his journey’s end. - -The remainder of the tale I knew, having seen the sinking of the Eagle. - -“And now tell me of yourself, Edward,” commanded Lucille. “Tell me how -you escaped from Salem gaol, and how you happened to be here, so far -away, just as I was about to give myself up for lost. You must have had -a wearisome search for me.” - -“I forget the weariness of it, now,” I whispered, “for I have found -you,” and I held her close to me. - -“Mayhap, only to lose me again,” replied she, with a touch of sadness in -her voice. - -“Not if there is still strength in my arm or temper in my sword,” I -answered, cheerfully, for I am not one easily downcast, when I have a -fight before me. - -“Oh, the terrible morrow, I wish it would never come,” Lucille -whispered. - -“Have no fear,” I assured her. Then I told her of myself. How I with -others had broken from Salem gaol after I had been near to death in the -great press. I told of my journey, though I did not relate all my -feelings when I knew she had sailed with Sir George, as I thought. - -The night wore on. Our fire grew dim, and I bade Lucille sleep, for I -did not want her to be awake when I must go out to meet my enemy. But -she said she could not slumber, and thus we sat in each other’s arms -until a greater blackness gave warning that the dawn was at hand. - -It was cold and gray and still, save for the noise of the waves. Then -the grayness became lighter in color. - -The stars that had been bright grew dim. Slowly the morning light came, -a pale rosy flush in the eastern sky. Then the edge of the sun peeped up -from beneath the waves. - -I looked at Lucille. She was fast asleep on my arm. I placed her gently -against the rock, my coat for a pillow. It was time to go now. I -wondered if I would return, or would it be Sir George, who would be -there when she awoke. - -I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the half parted lips. Once, -twice, three times. - -She stirred, and murmured my name. - -“Good bye, Lucille,” I whispered. “Good bye, my dear love, good bye.” - -Then I went out to meet my foe. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - A DUEL ON THE SANDS. - - -My legs and arms were stiff from long sitting, and with the cold. When I -was out on the sands, away from Lucille, I ran up and down the beach to -start my blood. I beat my arms about my body to limber them, and rubbed -my hands and wrists. Then when I was glowing from the exercise, I dashed -the sea water over my face and neck until I tingled all over. On I -hurried now to the place of meeting. I could see Sir George walking -slowly along the beach, and I marked that Simon was left behind, near to -where they had kindled their watch-fire the night before. As I went -along I looked out on the sea, which had turned to a rosy golden color -under the rays of the sun. The waves glistened and sparkled before they -broke in foam and bubbles on the shelving beach, hissing as they rushed -up the incline, and then, chasing each other back into the ocean again, -they dragged with them bits of sea weed, little stones and tiny pieces -of tinted shells. I walked just on the edge of the wet sand, for it was -easier going there, being firm from the beating of the waves, and I saw -that Sir George coming toward me did likewise. - -Now I had fought many duels, but never such a deliberately planned one -as this was. Usually it was when my blood and that of my companion was -hot. It was a blow, a curse, a rush to a secluded spot where we could -indulge in a bit of sword play and not be interrupted, and in a little -while a body with a sword thrust, lying on the sward. The slayer being -hurried off to a wine house with his friends. At most times, too, there -had been seconds, and a few onlookers, though, when occasion forbade -them, we made shift to do without. - -There was the time I had met de Gloise, back of the chapel that stands -on the left of the road, as you leave the northern road from Paris. We -had no attendants then, but were able to accomplish some pretty sword -strokes. He gave me a thrust in the shoulder, while, by some chance, my -weapon went into his throat, and he never sang any more of those funny -French songs. - -And there was Gandes, who was accounted an excellent blade. He and I had -it out, early one morning. ’Twas about whether he or I could drink the -most red wine, if I recall the cause of the quarrel, for I was rather -wild those days. - -Neither of us was sober enough to do more than a slouchy bit of work -with the weapons, for we had spent the night together at the Owl and -Peacock, before we quarreled, as to which was the wiser bird of the -twain painted above the inn door. We went out into the yard, where only -the stable boys were rubbing their sleepy eyes, and crossed swords. Poor -Gandes. I thrust him through the body, though, sober, I would not have -harmed him so much, as he was my best friend. He gave me a hasty cut in -the side which made me stiff for many a day. - -Then there was the time when I trod on a stranger’s toes, in Munich, he -being, at the time, about to call on a lady. He called me a clumsy lout, -and I replied with hot words. So we had it out there in the moonlight, -behind a church. He was a most delightful man with a sword, and it was a -real honor to engage him, for he had several passes that quite puzzled -me for a time. But I managed to reach under his guard, and give him a -wound in the arm pit, which must have prevented him from holding a blade -for some time. On his side, he came near to catching me unawares, and, -the result was a lunge, that, had it been six inches lower, must have -ended my fighting days. As it was, I bear the scar on my left cheek yet. - -Thus I mused as I walked along to meet Sir George. I knew this would be -no boys’ affair, and I resolved to attempt none of those niceties of the -fence, of which I am capable. For I was not in the mind to take chances -on my life now, since it had become precious to me from yester eve, when -I found my love again. I would let slip no chance, though, to kill my -foe, as only his death could wipe out the insult to Lucille. - -We had now come so near that we could greet each other. I saluted with -my sword, and Sir George returned the compliment gravely. The next -instant we were both looking over the ground, whereon we were to engage. - -The place we had selected the night before, was on a sort of sandy -knoll, and the height of it above the surrounding beach prevented the -waves from washing up on it, save when the tide was full. The ground -there seemed to be dry and rather shifting, offering no secure -foot-hold. - -“It is a little better in this direction,” said Sir George, indicating a -shallow hollow place in the sand behind him. - -I agreed with him, for there the waters of the tides had washed up on -the sand, packing it firmly down. - -This place, however, lay a little farther toward the sea, and made it -necessary for us, if we would fight there, to stand, at times, with our -ankles in the wet. It seemed to be the nearest place that suited, and -was, in truth, a choice spot for a bit of sword play. - -We threw off our upper garments. Our weapons were out of the scabbards -as one, and we advanced until we stood facing each other. Sir George -turned his gaze for an instant toward the rising sun on his left. Then -he looked me in the eyes. - -“Guard,” he said, quickly. - -“On guard,” said I. - -Our swords crossed a second later, and the battle between us was on. - -For the first time I noticed how pale Sir George was. There were dark -rings under his eyes, and his face bore marks of his passion and his -recent sufferings, physical and mental. But it was no time for such -observations as these. His steel clicked viciously on mine, and I knew, -by the pressure and the way he lunged, that he was trying to make short -work of it. - -The clash of our blades, both good ones, mingled with the roar of the -surf. It was thrust and parry, parry and thrust, the keen pointed -weapons gliding along their lengths like serpents. We circled about one -another, each watching, with jealous eyes, for a false move, a misstep. -Three times did he thrust at my heart, thinking to catch me off guard, -but, each time, my blade was there before his, and the sword slipped off -with a hiss as of hot iron. - -I tried many a stroke and thrust that I had found of service heretofore, -but ever did I find his wrist ready, and he turned aside my point once -when I could have sworn that I would have ended it. He laughed at me. - -He thrust at my throat, and, when I would have parried it, he shifted -his point, on a sudden, toward my heart. It was an old trick, and I knew -how to meet it. When I had turned his blade away by a simple shift of my -weapon, I laughed back at him, and responded with so quick a lunge that -I pricked him in the shoulder, thus getting the honor of first blood. -And I laughed again, as he frowned. - -But mortal arms and wrists could not stand the strain much longer, and -we were both panting, while the sweat stood in beads on our brows. -Through it all our eyes never for an instant left each other’s gaze. - -Again and again I thrust, until I had his wrist weary turning them -aside. Ever I sought to reach one spot, not that I hoped to wound him -there, but I had a trick I wished to work. His lips opened, that he -might breathe more freely, and I saw his chin quiver, while a drop of -sweat, that had come out on his forehead, rolled down on his cheek. I -knew the tide was on the point of turning now, and the struggle that had -been an even one, was a jot in my favor. I had forced him to the -defensive. - -He saw the gleam of triumph in my eye, and, as if to assure me and -himself that he was as fresh as ever, he smiled and tossed back his -head. - -We had circled about each other so often, neither giving a step, that -there was a little ridge of sand made by our feet, enclosing a spot that -bore no mark. Slowly, so slowly that to an onlooker it could not have -been said when it happened, Sir George began to step back. It was but a -slight shifting of the feet, a settling of the body on the right leg -that did it, until, when another minute or two had passed he was without -the ring, and I stood in the centre. - -The one sweat drop had been followed by others, and he was breathing -with an effort. His face became paler, nor was his sword as quick to -respond to the parry. I pressed him hard, with the result that I touched -him in the arm twice. I felt, rather than saw, that I had him now at an -advantage. - -Ha! Another inch and I would have ended it then. But I had not given him -credit for the knowledge of that trick. He met my lunge, and turned it -off to such account that he nipped me in the neck; only a slight wound, -however. The sight of my blood seemed to enrage him, for he came at me -fiercely, and I was forced for a moment to adopt a defense. - -Then, slowly but surely, I made him give ground again. I could see the -fear and dread come into his eyes, as I had seen it in other eyes -before. - -“How long is it to last?” he muttered, foolishly using his breath in -words. Yet, in his agony, and it was agony when he saw death in front of -him, he smiled. And it seemed like the same smile I had seen, when he -stood urging on the men, as I was beneath the great press. - -I did not answer, but pushed my sword point more and more near to his -heart. Twice I tried to reach over his guard, but each time he had been -too quick for me, and my thrusts went high in the air. As I recovered my -balance a curious thing happened. - -A wave, bigger than any that had come before, broke upon the beach and -rushed toward us in a mass of foam and water. In an instant we were -lunging at one another knee deep in the sea. As the water flowed down -the incline again it swept the sand from beneath our feet, and we had -hard work to stand upright. But even that did not stop him from making a -fierce thrust at my throat so that I had to be on the alert to force his -point away. - -The next instant came a woman’s scream. We both turned, forgetting for -the time that our very lives depended on the watch we kept of the other. - -Lucille was on the beach, running toward us! - -My heart gave a throb, and I half turned myself about. The next moment I -realized my folly, and was facing my enemy again. But that one moment -was almost too long. - -I had without thinking lowered the point of my weapon and given Sir -George the very opening he wanted. - -Like a snake his steel slipped half its length over mine, and the point -was toward my heart. For the life of me I could not help the gasp that -my breath gave. In my desperation I tried a parry that de Sceaul had -once taught me. I dared not hope it would be effective, for I was too -late with it. - -His sword drew sparks from mine as it rasped along the length; the point -was before my eyes. - -With a last fearful lunge toward him I managed to force his weapon up, -with my own pointing heavenward, and only just in time, for the point -tore a furrow through the skin of my forehead. - -And then there was a sudden snap, and a sound of ringing steel. I saw in -the hand of Sir George only the hilt of his sword. In his eyes was a -look of wonder, and his head was thrown back, in the effort to see what -had become of his blade. - -Next, ere either of us had time to move, the broken sword, whole from -the point to where it joined the hilt, and which had been tossed high in -the air by the force of my upward parry, and the spring of the broken -steel, came down like an Indian arrow, point first. - -And it struck him in the throat, just where there is the hollow, -scooped-out place, in the breast bone. It went in nigh a foot, and stuck -up, a fearful thing to behold, while, for half the length that protruded -the spurting blood dyed it red. - -Sir George stood for an instant without a movement. Then he began -swaying and struggling not to fall, as does a tree, part cut through. He -tried to speak, through the blood that rushed to his lips. Then he -staggered, and came down on his knees. - -He was close to death, and, strange chance, not so much by my hand as by -his own. For a second I stood and looked at him, while he endeavored to -regain his feet, but he only pitched forward, and lay prone upon the -sand, crimson with his blood. - -At the same moment a wave came up, covering him from sight, and nearly -washing me from where I was. Lucille, with a cry of horror at what she -had seen, ran toward us. As the water receded it undermined the sand -where I stood, so that I was hard put to retain my place. Then I saw -that Sir George was like to be carried out to sea. He dug his hands -frantically into the yielding beach, but his nails only tore deep -furrows in the earth. His eyes sought mine. - -I would not let a dog thus die. So I leaped out after him, catching him -about the waist, and, after a struggle against the action of the -undertow, that seemed bound to get us both, I managed to half drag, half -carry him up the slope, out of reach of the water. - -Then, as I stooped over, and drew the sword blade from his throat, to -have a rush of blood follow, I looked up, and there stood Lucille. - -“Are you wounded, Edward?” she asked, her voice trembling. - -“Only a scratch,” I replied. - -“And--and--Sir George?” she faltered. - -“’Tis a grievous hurt,” I said, and with that Sir George, whose eyes had -been closed, since I carried him out of the water, opened them. - -“You have won,” he said, quietly, and he turned so that he might not -look at either Lucille or me. - -“Oh, Edward, Edward,” sobbed Lucille. Then I led her away. - -Simon, who had been absent all this time, came racing up the sandy -stretch now. He cast himself down beside the body of his master, -caressing him, and kissing his cold face. - -“Water,” gasped Sir George. - -Before Simon could rise I ran to the spring near the rock and hurried -back with my cap full of the liquid. As I neared the place where the -dying man lay, I saw something white, like a piece of parchment, in -Simon’s hand, and the sailor hurriedly thrust it into his pocket. - -Sir George drank eagerly, and Simon and I bathed his face. - -The sun was fully up now, flooding us all in the golden light. The tide -came farther on the sands, the gulls flitted out over the waves, and, in -the woods back of us the birds were singing. It hardly seemed as if a -few minutes ago that two men were battling there for each other’s lives, -and that now one was dying. - -I walked slowly away, as I thought Sir George might not like me near him -in his last moments. But he raised his hand, and beckoned to me to -approach. When I had leaned over him, for he could only whisper, I heard -him say, between his gasps: - -“Well--I have lost--but the stake--the stake was worth playing for. Had -I my life to live over again, the chance to--to once more live and -love--and--fight, I would not change one jot. I had deep laid plans, yet -they failed. You were in my path, and, when I thought I had made an end -for you--you came back to torment me, to rob me of my love.” - -“Not to rob you,” I protested. “It was a fair fight, and she had a right -to choose. ’Twas you who sought to rob me.” - -“Well, it is all over now,” he rejoined. “We have been good foes, and -you were a brave man. I honor you for it.” - -“Nay, as for the honor of the sword, ’tis yours as much as mine,” I -said. “Better blade have I never met, and I have crossed with many.” - -He smiled, a little smile of contempt. A man who is done with this world -can afford to laugh at the power of steel. - -“Let it pass,” he continued, speaking with greater ease now that he was -near the end. “Let it pass. And now seeing that I have not much longer -in the land, truly a most pleasant land, in spite of all that is said -against it, dare I make bold to ask a favor?” - -“I will serve you, if I may,” I answered. - -“Oh, it is only a small matter,” he rejoined. “’Tis this. When I am -laid--laid away, let Simon accompany you to Elizabeth town. He has a -mission for me there that I will not be able to accomplish. - -“Oh, my God!” he exclaimed suddenly, and his face told of the suffering -he felt. - -I started to raise him up, that he might rest more easily. - -“It is nothing,” he said. “Dying is a little harder than I thought,” and -he actually smiled at me. - -“Might I speak to--to her?” he asked, as a child would plead. - -I started after Lucille, and found her weeping behind the knoll where we -had appointed to fight. - -“Come,” was all I said. - -She followed me without a word, and, when we neared the place where Sir -George was dying, I would have hung back, letting her go to him alone. - -However, he motioned me to approach with her, and so it was that we -stood, Lucille and Simon and I, at his side. - -“Madame,” he said, “will you forgive me for all I have done? For the -trick I played on you?” - -“Yes, my lord,” answered Lucille. “Though it was a grievous wrong, yet, -since you are near to death I do forgive you, freely and fully.” - -“I thank you,” he said, simply. - -“And you, sir?” looking at me. - -“I, too, can afford to forgive and forget,” I replied, as I took -Lucille’s hand. - -“It is enough,” were his next words. Then a tremor seemed to pass over -him. I turned Lucille away that she might not see the end. - -“Good bye--Lucille,” whispered, rather than spoke, Sir George. - -“Good bye, my lord,” came falteringly from Lucille’s lips, and she burst -into tears, with her head on my shoulder. I led her away. - -When I turned to look at him I saw that the end was come. He had turned -over on his face, and his head was resting on his folded arms, while a -choking sob shook his body. He was weeping in death, this man who had -dared so much for love, and lost. - -Simon, who had knelt down by his master, leaned over him. He appeared to -be listening. Then he arose, raised his hands to heaven and gave a great -cry. - -Thus died Sir George Keith, a brave man, a bold man, and--well, he is -dead. May he rest in peace. - -And we covered him up with the sand, Simon and I; with the sand whereon -he had fought his last fight. - -I was anxious, now, to be away from the place, and to get Lucille to -some shelter. We lighted a fire, and roasted some of the bacon, making a -scanty meal, and, ere the sun was mid-day high, we were ready to start. - -“Come,” I said, cheerfully, “our path lies before us, and if we hasten -we may reach Elizabeth town by night.” - -“Any place away from this,” sighed Lucille. “I shall have unpleasant -memories of it for many a day.” - -We managed to scramble to the top of the cliff, and found the place -where Kit was tethered. The mare was most glad to see me, and whinnied -with delight, as I rubbed her nose. My saddle made a poor shift for -Lucille, but I padded it with my coat, making the best seat I could. -Then, with a last look at the beach, whereon so much had passed, I -called to Kit, Simon and I stepped out, and we laid our course to the -southwest. - -The way was rough and soon we had left the wood and were traveling over -a marsh that required us to be careful where we stepped. Our progress -was slow, but I hoped, if we could not reach Elizabeth, that we could -get to a farm house, where we might spend the night. Simon walked on -ahead, while I kept at Lucille’s side. We found much to talk of, for -love furnishes many topics. - -The sun went lower in the west, yet we had not come upon sight of a -dwelling. It was lonesome and dreary enough, and Lucille looked at me -once or twice, with fear in her eyes. - -“We will soon be there,” I said, though I did not believe so, for I -feared we had mistaken the road. - -As it grew dusk we came to the edge of the marsh and entered the woods -again. Still there was no sign of house or hut. I gave up then, -convinced that we were off the trail, and must spend another night in -the open. It was not a pleasant prospect, but there was no help for it. - -There was a sound in the underbrush, and a trapper came out. I was right -glad to see him. After a little conversation I asked him the way to -Elizabeth town, and he told me that we had come past it, that it was -nearly a day’s journey to the northwest. I had circled around it in my -wandering, and Sir George had sailed past it. Truly it was strange that -we should have ever met. - -“Well,” I said as happily as I could, when the trapper had crashed away, -“we must do the best we can. It is only one day lost.” - -I found a place where four trees grew together almost in the form of a -square. Simon and I cut down cedar boughs, and made a rude roof between -the trunks. Then we enclosed the sides, spread more branches and leaves -on the ground, and had a forest bower, full of many cracks and chinks, -but some shelter from the wind and dew. - -Simon lighted a fire with my tinder box, and we cooked almost our last -piece of bacon. We finished the meal in silence. I wrapped Lucille in my -coat when she went inside the shelter we had made. She called a -good-night to both of us. - -Then Simon and I sat down beside the glowing embers for another night -watch. We did not speak. The woods were deeply quiet, save for the hoot -of an owl or the howl of a wolf. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT. - - -The hours grew as we sat by the fire, and, presently, I noticed that -Simon’s head was fallen forward, and he slept. I had hard work to fight -off the slumber, as I had not closed my eyes for two nights, and was -weary with my journey. I knew I dared not sleep, for, though I did not -fear Simon, nor hardly an attack from the wolves, while the fire burned, -yet there was a feeling of vague uneasiness with me, a dread that some -nameless thing was abroad in the forest, and I could not shake it off. - -Simon stirred uneasily, and then I heard a faint, far-off sound, as of -some one walking cautiously through the underbrush. Could it be Indians? -Our fire was not brilliant now, but, fearful that even its faint glow -would betray us, I scooped up a handful of earth, and dashed it on the -embers, extinguishing them. - -Nearer and nearer came the sound until it was almost upon us. I reached -over and touched Simon, who awoke with a start. Then he heard the sound -and looked about in alarm. I took up my flint-lock and gave Simon one of -the two pistols I had, at the same time motioning him to make no noise. - -“Indians,” he whispered, and I nodded. - -The next moment we saw through an opening between the trees not fifty -feet away dim shadows in the night; a line of figures which we made out -to be the red men of the woods. One behind the other they marched, -silent, almost, as spirits, save for a little rustle of the leaves as -they brushed by them. - -Each warrior had a gun, and they wore their war feathers. I counted six -score ere the last one passed and I knew there would be no peace in the -land for a time. - -It was the beginning of the Indian uprising of which I had heard when -near New York, and, with that savage band abroad our lives were scarce -worth a flint. - -Simon and I cowered in silence until we saw no more shadows, and then we -breathed, it seemed for the first time since the Indians had come into -view. The sailor spoke no word, but he handed the pistol back to me, -like a man who was glad he had had no use for it. - -With the savages on the war path it was little chance that Elizabeth -would escape an attack. - -Should we then push on there? I tried to think of a better plan, but -there seemed none. We would be as much exposed to attack in retracing -our steps, as in going on. If we could reach the town the block house -might afford us protection until help came. Once in Elizabeth, too, -Simon and I could aid the settlers in defending the place from the -Indian attack. There was nothing to do but go on as soon as it was -light. - -That it might be a race for life toward the end, seemed certain, as we -could not travel without leaving a trail that even an Indian boy might -follow. - -I waited impatiently for the daylight, and it came so slowly that I was -minded to wake Lucille, and start ere the dawn. But I feared to get on -the wrong path, and so I waited, counting the minutes until the first -flush in the east. - -No sooner had it tinged the sky than I roused Simon, who had fallen -asleep again, and bade him get Kit in readiness. I entered the bower and -kissed Lucille, whereat she awoke with a start. - -“Are we home, Edward?” she asked. - -“Almost,” I said, cheerfully. - -I dared light no fire, for fear of the tale the smoke would tell, so we -ate the remainder of our bacon cold, with the dry biscuit, washing the -poor meal down with water from a near-by brook. Then observing all the -caution we could we took up our journey again. - -There seemed to be a better path now, though it was far from easy -traveling. When we had occasion to speak it was in whispers. I watched -with jealous eyes every bush and tree, starting at each sound, while -Lucille on Kit’s back was pale with fear. - -The morning had turned to noon. Our only meal was water, drunk from oak -leaves, that I fashioned to form a cup. The spirits I saved, for there -was no telling when I could get more. Most anxiously did we strain our -eyes for the sight of a house. Yet we went fully two miles after our -halt at noon, ere we found one. It was Simon who first saw it. He -pointed between the trees and said: - -“Look.” - -“What is it?” asked Lucille. - -“A place where some one lives, I hope,” was my reply. We increased our -pace. As we came nearer the house I thought that it was strangely still -and quiet about the spot. Kit, too, pricked up her ears, and sniffed as -if she did not like the air. It was a time to be cautious and so I led -the mare with Lucille behind a clump of trees. Bidding Simon take one of -the pistols, and stay there on guard, I went forward. I looked on every -side of me. - -Though it was a farm house there seemed to be no evidence of life. There -were no cows in the meadow that stretched out in back, and not even a -dog ran out to bark. The chickens and ducks appeared to have flown away. -I saw that the barn door was open. - -It was a strange house with no one on guard at such a time. I proceeded -more slowly until I reached the kitchen door, which was unlatched. A -woman’s dress on the floor caught my eye. Thinking now that all was -right, and that I would find the family within I crossed the threshold, -giving a knock to announce my coming. - -Then such a sight of horror as met my gaze! - -On the floor were the dead bodies of a man, a woman and two little -girls. Their heads were away from me, but when my eyes had become -accustomed to the dimness of the room, I saw that each one had been -scalped. It needed no writing on the wall to tell that Indians had been -there, and recently. With fear-blanched face I ran back to where I had -left Lucille and Simon. The latter saw the cause of my return in my -manner, but Lucille asked: - -“Were the people there, Edward?” - -“No,” I said, “they had gone out.” - -I knew now that our only hope lay in pushing on with all speed, and -without stopping to explain further I led Kit out into the road, which -was fairly good. - -“We must hasten, Simon,” I said, and under my breath I told him what I -had seen. - -Kit trotted off, and Simon and I had to run to keep up with her. Lucille -inquired, with fright showing in her eyes, why we had so suddenly left -the vicinity of the farm. I told her I had learned at the house that by -hastening on we could reach Elizabeth ere dark, and I was anxious to do -so. - -Already it was getting dusk. We passed by farm houses at short distances -apart now, so I knew the town must be near. There was no sign of life in -any of the dwellings, however, and in fancy I saw within them such a -scene as I had first come upon. At other places there were household -articles scattered about, which showed how the families must have fled -at the first alarm of the Indians. - -Copper kettles, warming-pans, a spinning wheel, now and then a chest of -linen, strewn along the road, told how the colonists had packed whatever -of their possessions they could in a cart and hurried off to the block -house, to be safe from attack. What they did not take with them the -Indians carried off or burned. - -I glanced on all sides of us. It was so dark that I could scarce see, -though I made out the village a short distance ahead. The log block -house stood on top of a little hill, and a fire burned on one corner of -the roof, a signal to refugees. - -My eye had no sooner caught sight of this, and I turned to tell Lucille -that our journey was at an end, than Simon gave a cry. He pointed behind -us, terror in his face. - -I looked, and there, on the brow of the hill we had just descended were -the figures of a score of Indians! - -They were a quarter of a mile behind us, and we were half a mile from -the fort. - -I gave Kit a blow across the flank with my sword scabbard. She sprang -forward. At the same time Simon and I broke into a run. A yell from the -savages told us we had been observed, and that they were in hot pursuit. - -They were afoot, and I knew that Lucille was safe from them, for Kit -would carry her to the block. - -“Ride on ahead,” I called to her. “Simon and I will hold them in play -until you are safe, Lucille. Ride on for your life!” - -“I will not leave you, Edward,” she called back, and she tried to pull -the mare up. - -“On, Kit, on!” I shouted. - -The mare heard and started at a sharp gallop. - -Lucille clung to her seat, and waved her hand back at me. - -Though Simon and I had made good speed the Indians were now within -range. They shot a flight of arrows, and several, who had muskets, -discharged them. They did not hit either of us, and Lucille was now out -of danger. Not so, however, Simon and I. On came the savages, running -with great speed, and uttering their war cries. - -There were three fleeter of foot than the others, and they were in the -lead. I saw if we were to gain the block house we must dispose of these -or halt them for a time. Bidding Simon halt we drew up short in the -road. I told him to fire at the one on the left with his pistol, while I -took the one on the right with the flint lock. - -Two quick shots rang out in the darkness. Simon only wounded his man, -but I had better luck, and the ball went through his body, so that he -fell doubled up in a heap, and then was still. - -The enraged yells of his companions told us he was dead. The whole party -stopped short and that gave us the chance we wanted. At top speed we -resumed the race to the fort. Lucille was almost there now, and we could -see the gate cautiously opened to let her in. - -“Quick, Simon,” I called, for the Indians were after us again, and we -could not hope with but a single charge in a pistol to halt them. - -Poor Simon was almost done for with the run. His breath came in gasps. I -caught him by the arm, and was helping him along. The nearest Indian was -not a rod away. With head down, panting from the exertion and almost -ready to give up I half led, half dragged Simon on. - -Then, and it was a welcome sight, the heavy log gate of the block house -swung open. A score of armed men in close formation emerged. I could see -the matches of some of the muskets burning. The Indians saw them, too. -With a final yell of rage and defiance they abandoned the chase, turned -back, and were soon lost to sight in the darkness, which had now fallen. - -Simon and I reached the gate, the men opening to let us pass inside. -One, who wore a sword, and who seemed to be in command, said: - -“You were only just in time, sir. Had the maid not ridden up when she -did and warned us of your approach we might not have made the sally, for -we were deep in council, planning how best this uprising of the savages -can be met.” - -“I give you thanks,” I said, noting that Lucille had dismounted, and was -with some of the women. - -“Few are needed,” rejoined the man who had first spoken, “seeing that -you are two men, one with a goodly weapon; for we have need of fighters -now. As for your companion I note that he carries a pistol with the -powder pan empty. We will give him a musket that he may do his share in -the defense. The smaller weapons carry only a little way. I am in -command here,” he went on. “Perhaps you may have heard of me?” - -“I have not the honor,” I said, “having but just arrived from a -distance, and indeed coming here by a mere chance.” - -“Well, then,” went on the commander of the little fort, “I am Captain -Philip Carteret, brother to His Excellency, Sir George Carteret, -Governor of the Jersey Province. - -“My brother sailed for London a month ago,” went on the Captain, -“leaving me in charge of the Colony. Much have I found to do, settling -the disputes among the people, and now with this uprising of the -savages, there is like to be more work. But you have a soldierly bearing -and, I doubt not, will be glad of a chance to fire a gun at the red -men.” - -“That I will,” was my answer. “You guessed right when you spoke of my -bearing. I am Captain Edward Amherst, late of Salem town, in -Massachusetts, whence I led a company against St. Johns. This is Simon -Rogers, a sailor who has business of his own here, and is only a fellow -traveler with me, though we have fought together. The maid who rode up -on the mare is my promised wife, whom I have brought here that we may -wed.” - -The introductions being over Captain Carteret led the way into the -block, and the door was carefully secured. Pine torches gave a ruddy, -smoky light to the scene, which was of great confusion. - -Men were here and there, some looking to see that their weapons were -loaded, others mending a broken stock or whetting up rusty sword blades. -Women were huddled in corners, some weeping, some gazing on with -frightened eyes, and some trying to comfort crying children. All about -were scattered household goods, through the piles of which soldiers made -their way to the various parts of the block house. I had hardly time to -take this all in and see that Lucille was being cared for by some of the -calmer women, when a messenger bade me to supper with Captain Carteret. -Right glad I was of the invitation, too. - -The Captain’s voice told me to enter when I had knocked at the door the -messenger indicated. On the rough table was a smoking hot meal. Of all -the confused assemblage the cook, it seemed, had kept his head. I did -full justice to the roast deer’s flesh, and the fish with the yellow -corn bread that went with it. When the edge had gone from my appetite -the Captain told me of the situation. A friendly savage had brought word -of the Indian uprising two days ago. Messengers were sent to as many of -the outlying farm houses as possible, and the people made all haste to -the fort. - -“Can you stand a siege?” I asked, wishing to know for Lucille’s sake, -how matters stood. - -“The place is stout enough,” said the Captain, “and we have men in -sufficient numbers, with a goodly supply of powder and ball. But the -provisions are a point of worry to me. There was not time enough to lay -in a full larder, and, with all the women and children to feed beside -the men at arms, I fear it will go hard if we are cooped up here for any -time. But we will do the best we can.” - -“How many men have you?” - -“There are four score fit for fighting,” was the Captain’s answer. - -At the close of the meal I made my excuses and went to find Lucille. She -met me at the entrance of the women’s apartment, having come out to -learn where I was. I told her how strong the fort was, how we had plenty -of men to defend it with, and enough of ammunition for all the Indians -in Jersey. She had recovered somewhat from her recent fatigue, and -looked more beautiful than ever, with her hair tossed about, and the -roses in her cheeks. - -The women, she said, had been most kind to her. - -“It is a comfort to speak to some one in petticoats again,” she said. -“Just think, I have been over a month, and could not even learn if my -skirt hung properly.” - -“A most woeful lack,” I said mockingly. For there was no immediate -danger now, and we could afford to jest. - -“Truly a great deprivation,” said Lucille, laughing. - -I left her after a time, kissing her good-night, and bidding her be of -cheer. Then I went back to Captain Carteret, to consult with him about -the defense of the block. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - HOW SIMON KEPT HIS OATH. - - -Summed up our situation was this. We had a few more than four score men -with which to stand against an attack of ten times that number of -Indians. And, as we would need to detail some men to put out fires, -started by blazing arrows, it would reduce our fighting force to about -eighty men. - -Fortunately we had plenty of arms, powder was in abundance, and we had -lead enough to make all the balls we could fire. There were a number of -women, Captain Carteret said, who could mould bullets, and some who were -able to load muskets. - -The block house was a strong and well built place consisting of an upper -and lower story, well pierced with loops, and comfortable quarters for -men and women. All about the place was a stout palisade of tough green -timber. We did not fear that the block nor the palisade could be set on -fire from the ground, but, as the roof slabs were dry from the sun, -there was some danger that an arrow, carrying a flaming bunch of tow, -might start a blaze over our heads. - -However, there was a little place, like a watch tower, on the southeast -angle of the fort, and we reckoned that if we placed two men there they -could quench any fire which started on the roof. - -These matters having been talked of, Captain Carteret tallied the men. -He gave me charge of two squads to look after the north and west sides -of the block, while he took care of the others. Ammunition was dealt -out, instructions given and a watch set, for though we did not expect a -night attack it was as well to be prepared. Then I went to the room -where the men not on duty were to sleep, and lay down on a rude couch. - -It seemed that I had been slumbering but a little while, during which I -thought I was back in Salem gaol, ere there came a thundering summons at -the door, and I leaped up to find it almost dawn. Once more came the -knock, then the warning: - -“The Indians! The Indians! Hurry!” - -I needed no second telling. It was the message I had been waiting for, -and it meant there was sharp work ahead. - -I drew on my boots, buttoned my coat about me, and, wondering how -Lucille had fared, grabbed up my sword and gun, to hasten where I might -find Captain Carteret. - -I met him in the main room, where all was confusion. Men were getting in -each other’s way, some were looking for their garments, and many for -their weapons, so that little speed in preparation resulted. Had the -enemy been more alert they would have had us at a disadvantage. But the -red men were wary about rushing the palisades when they knew, as they -must, what force was behind them. - -Captain Carteret was busy answering a dozen questions at once. His -lieutenants were issuing guns to those who had neglected to secure them -the night before. Powder horns were being filled from casks of the black -mixture, bullet moulds were gotten ready, and some women were melting -lead, while a number were dishing up the breakfast. It was a cold gray -dawn, hardly light enough to see by. - -“Hot work,” was the Captain’s greeting to me, as he waved half a dozen -men with inquiries aside, to drain a mug of ale. “The scouts came in an -hour ago with the news that the skulking devils were moving about in all -their war paint, getting ready for an attack. The most of them are well -armed too, having as good muskets as we have. Well, ’tis as I often -remark, those in authority will never seem to learn that they are -putting weapons into the hands of devils, when they supply guns and -ammunition to the Indians.” - -“How many are there?” I asked. - -“About four hundred out there now as near as could be made out. There -are some of the Assumpinks, a few Roanokes, plenty of Mingoes, a score -of Andastakas and the rest Nashaimes and Shackamaxons. They will not be -here for an hour yet, since an Indian loves not to fight on an empty -stomach, when he can sound his war whoop on a full one.” - -“The devils know they have us cooped up here where we cannot get away,” -I remarked. - -“Aye, that they do, Captain,” agreed the acting Governor. “And, if we do -not stand them off until help arrives from Newark, it will go hard with -us who are alive after the place is taken.” - -Something like order now began to make itself felt. Breakfasts were -hastily eaten, and the men sent to which ever side of the palisade they -were to defend. The muskets were all loaded, pails of water set handy -and boys were appointed to carry the discharged guns from the men to the -women, bringing back loaded ones in their place. Oh, how I wished for a -cannon or two on top of the block. Captain Carteret and I were about to -leave the main room, and go to our stations, when there came a knock at -the door. Simon entered as the Captain called out “come in.” - -The sailor looked at the commander, but did not appear to see me. He -seemed to be excited about something, and was fumbling in his jacket -pocket. - -“I have business with you, Captain Carteret,” he said. - -I started to leave. - -“It concerns you also, Captain Amherst,” went on the sailor, so I -remained wondering what was to come. Doubtless a request concerning his -position in the block. - -But Simon pulled from his inner pocket a folded parchment, which, by -certain stains of sea water on it, I knew must have been on board the -Eagle, probably a document that Sir George Keith carried, and had -desired Simon to deliver for him, when he found himself unable. - -“When I have told what I have to tell,” began Simon, “and so fulfilled -my oath, I pray that there may be holden no enmity against me. For I -only do what I am bound to do.” - -“Say on,” came from Captain Carteret. “If you are in no fault none will -bear you ill will. Be brief, for time presses.” - -I stood there, wondering how Simon’s oath could have aught to do with -me. - -“Well, then,” went on Simon, “I am, or was a servant to Sir George -Keith, who lately died.” - -“What, Sir George Keith, of Lincolnshire?” interrupted Captain Carteret, -“was he in these parts?” - -“He--he was,” said Simon, with such a hesitation over the words that the -commander cried out: - -“Do you mean that he is dead?” - -Simon nodded. - -“Dead,” the sailor continued, “and lying beneath the sands, unless, as -is no doubt the case, the waves have ere this washed his body out to -sea.” - -The Captain looked at Simon curiously and then at me. - -“Before my lord died,” resumed Simon, “he called to me, and with almost -his last words swore me that I would do as he bade me, so that he might -be revenged on the man who had slain him.” - -I started at this, for I began to see which way the wind blew. - -“Having given my oath,” went on Simon, “I left my master, after he had -been foully slain----” - -“’Tis a lie!” I cried, white with anger. “Sir George was killed in a -fair combat, and he would have made an end of me had not his sword -broke.” - -In great wonder Captain Carteret held up his hand to end our dispute, -and Simon resumed. - -“He gave me a message,” he said, like a child who repeats a lesson well -learned, “and it was of this import. ‘Say to Sir George Carteret, or to -his representative, that a traitor walks abroad in the land. I pray you -to see to it that he is taken and sent to England to answer for the -crime against His Majesty. As you are my friend fail not.’ And I took an -oath that I would do this, which I have done. Before he died Sir George -Keith gave me a parchment to give to the Governor, when I should find -him, as I have now, or one who stands for him. Therefore I have kept my -oath.” - -“And the document, the parchment,” said Carteret hastily, “where is it, -man? What is it all about, now that you have done talking?” - -“This is the document,” said the sailor, and he gave a water stained -parchment to the commander. - -Now there was silence in the apartment, while a man might have counted a -score. - -“Warrant, royal warrant,” read the Captain, bringing his eyes close to -the writing, while I listened, my heart almost ceasing to beat. Had I -fought so hard only to lose all at the end? - -“Hum, what is this? ‘Warrant from His Majesty----’” - -The reading was not finished, for it was interrupted by such a chorus of -savage yells sounding hideously from without, that it seemed the Indians -must be at the very door. At the same time we heard our men shout a -defiant reply, and then began shooting apparently on all sides at once. - -“Quick!” cried the Captain, “to your men, Amherst. The imps have begun -the attack. This matter can wait,” and he thrust the warrant into his -pocket. “Join the defense,” to Simon. “I will see you again. Hurry now.” - -Out ran Carteret, while I followed at his heels. There were many -emotions in my heart. As I passed the women’s quarters I saw Lucille -standing in the doorway. I blew a kiss to her from my finger tips as I -had no time to stop. - -“Keep up a good spirit,” I shouted. - -She waved her hand in reply, and I went to the fight with a happier -mind. A minute later I was among my men at the palisade, cautioning them -not to waste powder and ball. - -That there was need of all our defenders I saw as soon as I peered -through a loop. For though not a foe was in sight save now and then when -one stepped from behind a tree or stone to deliver a shot, yet the puffs -of smoke all about us told me the scouts had not correctly rated the -strength of the enemy. They numbered nearer to twenty score than to -eight. The war party must have been joined by another band in the night. - -Never had I heard such a din before. It seemed like one long endless -screech that rose and fell as might a weird song of death. - -The savages would remain concealed while loading their guns. Then they -would peer out unexpectedly from behind some tree stump or stone, fire, -and drop back again before our men had time to take aim. It was like -shooting at quail. - -This kind of firing kept up for some time with little advantage to our -side. We had four men badly hurt by bullets that came in the loops, or -by splinters knocked from the logs. And, as far as I could see, we had -not killed a single Indian. I ordered my men to cease firing, as it was -but a waste of good powder and ball, and the women were weary reloading -the guns. I noted that Carteret’s men had likewise held their fire. - -“We will try an old trick and see how it works,” I remarked to my squad. -“It may be we can teach these red men something of the arts of war.” - -I told off twenty of the best shots, and stationed them at the farther -ends of the sides of the palisade where I was in charge, leaving the -middle undefended. I gave four men two long sticks each, and had them -place hats and caps on the ends. These men I bade lie down on the -ground, about the centre of the palisade. - -The score with the guns I had stationed at the upper loops, where they -stood on a little ledge of wood, built there for that purpose. Each man -had two loaded guns with him. The rest of my defenders I grouped near -the loops where the men with the caps on the sticks were. I told them, -when I gave the word, to fire as quickly as they could, but not to be -particular whether they aimed or not, as long as they kept up a steady -fusillade. All was now arranged to my satisfaction. - -“Ready!” I called. - -Up went the long sticks with the hats on the ends, and, at the same time -the guns of the men near them rattled out with flame and smoke. To the -Indians it must have looked just as I intended it should, as if we were -desperate and were attempting a sally under the protection of the fire -of a few of the men. The sight of the dozen caps at the top of the -palisade must have looked like the heads of men trying to climb over. - -As there was no firing from the two ends of the stockade where I had -stationed the score of men, the Indians were deceived into believing -that part deserted. Those savages opposite the loops there at once -leaped out from behind their cover to take part in the fight they looked -for in front of the middle of the palisade, as soon as our soldiers -should have climbed over. - -They uttered yells and whoops, and half the caps were riddled with -bullets. But half a hundred red skins were in the open now in front of -my marksmen. - -“Let them have it all together!” I cried. “In the name of the King and -Elizabeth! Fire!” - -There was a burst of fire and a hail of lead into the half naked ranks, -and the screeches that followed told us we had done some scath. Ere they -had time to recover from their surprise my men let them have the -contents of the second guns right in their midst. - -When the smoke blew away we counted twenty-three dead bodies, while -several more were desperately wounded. We had struck them a hard blow -with no loss to ourselves, and they retreated to cover again. - -“Ha, that was well done; most excellently done,” I heard a voice behind -me say. - -I turned about. - -“Traitor, or no traitor, that was as prettily planned and executed as I -could do myself,” and Carteret stood beside me. - -“I am no traitor,” I said sternly, but, when I would have said more he -stopped me. - -“They have learned a lesson that will serve them for some time,” the -Captain went on. “But, Amherst, grave matters press on the two sides I -command. I have lost three men killed, and the rest seem afraid to -fight, saying there is some mischief in the air. I think the devils are -massing to rush the place. At least there is something afoot, for they -have not fired a shot for the last five minutes. That is why I came -here.” - -I went with the Captain to the south side and looked from a loop. There -was not an Indian in sight, nor were there any of the wicked puffs of -smoke to tell where they hid. It was puzzling. - -“Have you noticed any suspicious movement?” I asked. - -“None,” he said, “save that one of my men remarked not long since that -he never knew before how many stumps there were in the open space -between the block and the forest.” - -“Stumps?” I said, and then I looked out again. - -“Aye, stumps,” said Carteret. “For myself I cannot call to mind when -there were so many there, but, perchance I never noticed it closely.” - -I saw what it meant now. - -“They are stumps that have put forth green shoots since morn,” I said. -“And, mark you how those same stumps seem to have legs?” - -“Green sprouts? Legs?” repeated the Captain, like a man sorely puzzled. - -“Yes,” I said, “look.” Then I showed him that, though the body of the -stump was black and dead, yet on the top were bright green little twigs. - -Carteret rubbed his eyes to see better. - -“Note,” I went on, “that large stump with knobs on it, which give it the -appearance of a man’s face.” - -“I see it,” he replied. - -“There was a stone beside it three minutes ago,” I proceeded, “but it is -gone now.” - -“Did the stone move?” he asked. - -“Or the stump,” I suggested, and then he knew what I meant. - -Every stump, and there were three score, hid an Indian. As the red men -slowly wiggled along after the manner of snakes, they pushed the dead -wood ahead of them to deceive us and protect themselves. It was a clever -ruse, but we must consider how to beat it. We could not hope to hit the -savages while they were so well protected. I said so, and the Captain -agreed with me. Then I called to mind his remark about traitors. - -“It is perhaps ill for one accused of treason to advise what to do,” I -said stiffly. - -“Tut, tut, man, I have not judged you yet,” he spoke quickly. “Every man -is innocent until he is proved guilty. To me you are what you seem, a -brave soldier. That is enough for us now.” - -I liked him better after that, and told him a plan I had formed. It -would need to be put into operation quickly, as the stumps were -approaching nearer. - -It was the plan of the Indians to get as near to the stockade as -possible under cover of the stumps, and then to make a rush. Then the -block would be turned to a shambles, for we could not cope with the -overwhelming numbers that would clamber in, once all our force was -engaged on one side. The only way I saw to defeat the enemy was to fire -as many volleys as we could just as they charged on us, throwing them -into a panic as quickly as possible, and breaking up their ranks. - -I thought, as did the Captain, that we could safely draw most of the men -to the south side of the stockade, leaving a few on the other sides to -keep up a slow fire, so that the Indians would not see that we had -discovered their ruse. Carteret agreed that this was the best to be -done. - -Accordingly most of the force was summoned quietly to the south face, -and all the available muskets were collected, so that there was three -for each man. The guns were all loaded, one being held ready to fire -when the word was given, the other two being on the ground back of each -defender. I had the women loaders come as near to the men as was safe, -so that they could be on hand to charge the first gun as soon as it was -fired, and the second one taken up. They could do the same with the -second gun, and, as they were quick fingered, we would be able to fire -five volleys so rapidly that I did not believe the line of Indians would -be able to travel more than half way to the palisade from the place -where they emerged from behind the stumps. Then having sent two more men -to the little watch tower to pick off the Indians who might get to the -top of the stockade I reckoned that we were all prepared. - -It was a pity, I thought, that the block was not built with bastions, so -that we could deliver a cross fire. But I nearly secured this effect by -having the men cut the loops slanting so that the gun barrels could be -pointed in to the left and right from either side. - -Closer and closer came the stumps. We could see now that the twigs of -green extended back beyond the logs, trailing on the ground. Beneath -this green bower was the Indian. On they came slowly, like emerald -serpents, with huge black heads. Of a sudden I noted that the forward -movement had ceased. There were undulations of the trailing twigs. - -“Make ready!” I shouted. “Here they come!” - -And on they came with a rush. Whooping, yelling and screaming like so -many imps of darkness, nigh a hundred of them, and each one with a gun -or tomahawk. The dead stumps had come to life. - -“Fire!” shouted the Captain and I in the same breath. - -The volley that answered laid many of the savages low. Backward each man -threw his discharged piece, to have it snatched up by the waiting women, -who braved death in their own defense. Up were caught the second guns. - -“Fire!” I called again. - -Once more the muskets spat out death. A score of red men toppled over on -their faces, their dying yells sounding high above the din. The useless -guns were tossed aside, and the third musket thrust through the loops. - -The bullets of the attackers rattled on the logs of the palisade as hail -in winter. Several of our men were killed because the loops were so -large. - -The triple rain of lead had cut a wide swath in the Indians’ ranks, but -they never seemed to heed, and came on as fiercely as at first. They -were so near now that when the men tried to draw back the discharged -guns from the loops some of the enemy seized them by the barrels and -tried to pull them through the slits. - -By this time the women had the first lot of muskets reloaded. It was -almost our last hope. - -“Fire!” I called again, drawing my sword, in anticipation of a rush of -savages over the palisade. - -The fourth volley pealed out. As the smoke rolled away I saw a few -hideous faces, surrounded with feathers, thrust over the top of the -logs. The men in the tower fired, and they dropped back. - -Four more of our men fell away from the loops; three dead, the other -sorely wounded. The remainder of the defenders seized the muskets they -had fired the second time, which would have made the fifth round. If it -went out, and did not stay the assault, then it was all over with us. - -But it did. - -I peered out and saw the Indians on a dead run for the forest. They had -enough of the white man’s leaden medicine. And they did not stop to take -their dead with them, in such great haste were they. But they could -scarce have done so, had they desired, for the dead far outnumbered the -living. Our volleys had mowed them down as a reaper does the ripe grain. - -For a time we were safe, but at great cost, for we had lost ten men, and -there was much sorrow in the block. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - IN THE NAME OF THE KING. - - -Captain Carteret and I clasped hands when we saw that the enemy had been -repelled for the time. They hardly would renew the fight for a few -hours, I thought, and we would have a chance to rest and get something -to eat, for it was now afternoon, and we all knew that breakfast had -been a long way back. So leaving a sentinel on guard at each face of the -palisade, we sent the other men away. Carteret and I went to his -quarters. - -As the door opened I saw Simon standing in the centre of the room. - -“Have you been here since the fighting began?” asked the Captain of him. - -“I have,” answered Simon. “My life was not my own to lose it by a stray -bullet. When my oath is fulfilled I will fight.” - -“There was need of every man,” replied Carteret sternly, “oaths or no -oaths. I like not cowards, even though they come with warrants from the -King.” - -Simon made no response. - -“Now, as concerns this matter,” continued the commander, “which we had -to break off when the battle began. Sir George Keith, and a braver man -there never lived, was my boyhood friend, Amherst, and I am much grieved -to learn that he is no more. I would have served him living, and, if I -can I will do so dead. It seems, Amherst, you are interested in the -affair, the nature of which is not clear to me. Let us see what is in -the royal warrant,” and he drew the parchment from his pocket. - -“What is it about, Simon, for I am no hand at the law.” - -Thereupon Simon related the tale, as he had it from his master, I -suppose, of how I had fought on the side of Duke Monmouth, and had been -adjudged a traitor, but had escaped ere I could be sold to slavery. As -Simon progressed I saw the Captain’s face grow grave and stern, for, it -seemed, he was a great friend at court, and all his people had been -against Monmouth. Therefore he had little liking for a rebel like -myself, and one who was accused of treason. - -“What have you to say?” asked Carteret, when Simon had finished. - -“Much,” I replied, and I began to think. - -Truly I seemed to be in sore straits. If there was but some way out of -it with honor, most gladly would I have welcomed it. For I could not let -myself be taken now, and separated from Lucille, just when I had found -her again. If I was sent back to England under arrest as a traitor -(though I never admitted I was one, for I had no mind to betray my own -country) I might count on a long imprisonment, if not death, and I would -never see my love more. Then I hoped that a plan of escape might come to -me, and so, after all, foil Simon. - -“The matter need not be decided now,” I said as though I had my case all -prepared, but only waited convenience to try it. “There is no occasion -for haste, as I promise I will not run out among the red devils howling -for our scalps. Let it rest.” - -“Suppose you are killed?” suggested Simon. “What then becomes of the -warrant?” - -“Why, you may keep it, Simon,” I said. “There is no law that will reach -the dead.” - -“But I am under oath to a dead man to see the warrant properly served on -a live man,” expostulated the sailor, “and you are the person -mentioned.” - -“’Tis a serious matter,” spoke up the Captain, “and one, the like of -which I never knew before. To be strictly within the law I must arrest -you, though you need not hand over your sword, nor suffer imprisonment. -For we need your counsel and stout arm in the defense of the block. The -Indians have only tasted blood, and want more. Our stubborn defense has -roused them to a pitch of fury, and they will soon be swarming about our -ears again.” - -“Then I am to consider myself a prisoner,” I said, as calmly as I could; -for I did not like Captain Carteret’s easy compliance with Simon’s -demands. - -“A prisoner, if you please,” replied the Captain. “The other details may -wait until the more pressing matter of the Indian attack is settled. -After that we may have no need of captors or prisoners, either.” - -“’Tis very likely,” I said grimly, “seeing that we have but seventy -fighting men left to stand against more than seven hundred.” - -But I was not as easy as I pretended about the matter of the royal -warrant. I knew it would not dared be ignored by Carteret, and Simon -would see to it that the Captain did not fail to execute it. - -“Yes, it is necessary that you be considered under arrest,” went on the -commander, “though never did a jailer serve a warrant with less liking -for the task. For, mark you, Amherst, I had a liking for you as soon as -you and the sweet maid came in, and the affection has grown when I see -how well you can fight,” and all the while he was turning the document -over and over in his hand, as if he had hold of an unpleasant object. He -looked on both sides of the parchment, but made no move to open it and -learn the contents. Simon was watching both of us with a pleased light -in his eyes. - -“Since then you are under arrest,” proceeded the Captain, “I believe it -is in accord with the law that I read the warrant to you. I am not very -well versed in legal lore, but, mayhap, I can make some small shift at -this.” - -Thereupon Carteret, assuming a dignified air, that was in strange -keeping with his powder-grimed face, and his battle-torn clothing, -opened the warrant. He read over the first few lines to himself, and -then burst out with: - -“Providence preserve us! But this is more than passing wonderful and -strange! Can it be that I read aright?” - -And while Simon watched him eagerly, and I with fear at what was to -come, the Captain read what was written, skipping half a dozen words, -every now and then. - -“‘Warrant--hum--for one Captain Edward Amherst--hum--did on divers -occasions--hum--practice the said detestable arts, wickedly and -feloniously and traitorously, upon and against--hum--the deponents John -Bly, Deliverance Hobbs and Benjamin Proctor.’ What is this? ‘Wherefore, -that is to say, the said--in manner following--hum--is hereby charged -with witchcraft.’ - -“Witchcraft!” he fairly shouted at the end. “Witchcraft? Has that vile -malady come among us?” - -“Witchcraft?” faltered Simon, his face white with fear. - -“Witchcraft?” I cried out, wondering what would happen next. - -“Witchcraft? Who talks of witchcraft?” asked a sweet voice behind us, -and we turned to behold Lucille, who had come in unobserved. - -“Aye, witchcraft,” replied Captain Carteret, the first to recover from -the surprise. “’Tis little, madame, that you can have to do with this -crime, which makes the bravest and boldest to shudder in fear. For the -evil repute of it and the terror it has wrought, has spread to Elizabeth -town, even from Salem.” - -“Perchance I may have more to do with it than at first appears,” said -Lucille. Then I happened to remember something of a certain document she -had. - -“Let us consider,” went on Carteret, moving a little away from me, and -taking care not to look me in the eye. “Simon, you had this warrant, and -when you gave it to me I supposed it was for treason against His Most -Gracious Majesty, as you stated. ’Tis so endorsed on the outside. How -came you by it?” - -“From Sir George Keith,” answered Simon, “as he lay dying on the sands, -slain----” - -“Nay, not slain,” I interrupted sternly, “speak the truth. Not slain, -but killed in a fair fight, though it was not my sword that dealt the -fatal blow.” - -“When he lay dying,” went on Simon, correcting himself, but, otherwise, -not heeding me, “he called me, his bond servant, to him, and made me -swear an oath that I would take the warrant, and following Captain -Amherst, command the first King’s representative I met, to serve it. -This I did, for Sir George obtained permission from Captain Amherst, -that I might accompany him to this place.” - -“Said he what the warrant was for?” asked Carteret. - -“Only that it was for treason,” responded Simon. “I marked that he -pulled two documents from his pocket, looked at them both, and giving me -one, replaced the other in his breast. Then he died, and we buried him -in the sands.” - -I knew then what had occurred. Sir George had made an error. He -possessed the original warrant of treason against me, and also the one -for witchcraft that he had been at pains to secure in Salem. The two -documents were together, and, knowing that the charge of being a witch -had failed, he sought, even though he knew he would be dead, to have me -apprehended on the other. But he had given the wrong warrant to Simon. -So that now the only document I feared was buried with the dead. Ere -this the sea had probably washed away all trace of the grave, and, -mayhap, the silent occupant. - -I was a free man! - -Sir George had overreached himself, and set me at liberty, when he meant -to send me to prison. - -“Know you aught of this witchcraft?” asked the Captain of Simon, never -looking at me. - -“I heard somewhat of it,” was the sailor’s answer. “There was talk, when -I left Salem, that Captain Amherst and others had done many grievous -wrongs to innocent persons. I heard something, too, of a warrant for -him, but I was not there at the time, being away on business for my -lord. Doubtless Captain Amherst fled ere the warrant could be served. -But ’tis strange, though,” went on Simon, “that Sir George should speak -of a charge of high treason against the King, and give me only a warrant -for witchcraft.” - -“His mind may have played him false,” suggested Carteret. “This often -occurs to those about to die.” - -“Perchance,” said Simon, gloomily. - -But I knew what had happened. - -“No matter,” came from Carteret, “the wording of the warrant is of small -consequence. Witchcraft being a crime, may well be considered treason -against His Majesty, and that is what Sir George meant, I suppose. So, -albeit I am little versed in the manner of apprehending spirits, yet I -must do my duty, for I am the Governor now, and the representative of -the King. ’Tis ill to judge a man ere he is tried, and you may prove no -witch, Captain Amherst, but an honest gentleman, and a soldier. -Therefore assuming that you are such, yet I want your promise, or, -seeing that it savors of war now, your parole, that you will not -escape.” - -“Escape?” I inquired. “Escape? Where to? How?” for I was not yet ready -to tell certain things. - -“You must promise that you will not try to get away by any means such as -witches use; the riding of broom sticks, of fence rails, or on the back -of a black cat (though I do not believe we have one in the place) since -I have heard all these means mentioned as being of service to witches -when they wish to escape through the air.” - -“I promise,” I replied, as gravely as I could. - -“And also promise that you will work no harm to any in the block house -by the black art,” went on Carteret. “Though it might serve, could you -practice some devil’s trick on those red servants of His Majesty of the -lower regions, who howl without. Say, Captain,” he continued, eagerly, -and looking at me for the first time since he had read the warrant, -“would it not be within your province and power to summon a horde of -witches and have them torment the Indians? That would be fine. The -savages would be filled with fear and trembling and the terror of death, -and leave us alone. - -“Could you not work some such black art as that,” he went on earnestly. -“’Twould be a noble use for your powers, and might even serve to absolve -you when it comes to trial. What say you?” - -“Why do you speak like a child?” I answered with some anger. “Enough of -this. I give the promises you want readily, because there is no need to -make them. I have no more power as a witch than have you or Simon -or----” - -“The Lord forbid!” exclaimed Carteret, with fervor. And he shrank back -as if to escape contact with me. - -“Then you cannot ride a fence rail?” he asked when he had studied over -the matter a while longer. - -“Nay,” I said, mockingly, for I was weary of the farce. - -“Nor a broom stick?” - -“Nay.” - -“Nor a black cat?” - -“Peace! Peace!” I cried; “this is worse than to fight the Indians.” - -“And you can work no magic on them, then?” persisted Carteret. - -“Not so much as would cause a papoose to cry out.” - -I thought the commander looked disappointed, forgetting his fear of my -witch powers in his desire to see them worked on the savages. - -“Well, you may consider that you are on parole,” he went on after a -pause. - -“And you will see, will you not, Captain Carteret, that he is sent back -to Governor Phips?” asked Simon. “For that was the last wish of Sir -George.” - -“Tut, tut, Simon,” said Carteret, “the matter is out of your hands now, -though you did your part, and kept your oath as you should. Captain -Amherst is my prisoner on parole, and I will consider what further to -do, when we have more time, and a greater security in which to discuss -it.” - -“But I have somewhat to say now, if it please you, Captain Carteret,” I -broke in, at the same time stepping forward. Lucille kept near me. “It -will not be much.” - -“Well?” - -“Since it seems that Simon has this warrant against me,” I began, “I -will tell you that in Salem town, whence I came I was arrested as a -witch about a month back.” - -Carteret started as though to leave the room. - -“Bah!” I cried, “are you afraid of that man? Why, you would have laughed -had you been there to have heard the tales of witchcraft related as -evidence in court.” - -And then I told Carteret all that had happened, save only about the -first warrant Sir George had, which was for treason, sure enough, though -I did not hold it so. - -“You seem to have suffered much, you and Mistress Lucille,” said the -commander, when I had finished, “and your tale savors of the truth. But -as I am only acting as Governor, and the representative of the King in -the absence of my brother, I must move cautiously in the matter. If I -did not serve the royal warrant, even though it be for witchcraft, which -you say does not exist, I may be held to strict account. So though I am -loath to so do I must hold you as a prisoner under the aforesaid -parole.” - -Lucille had been listening to all that was said. At the last words of -Carteret she took a step forward, and drew from the bosom of her dress a -sea-stained document, the import of which I knew. She held it out to -Carteret. - -“What? More warrants?” he asked, smiling a little. - -“Read,” said Lucille. - -He unfolded the parchment. - -“‘Royal’--hum--there is a blot here,” he read, “‘royal,’ oh yes, -‘pardon,’ that is it. ‘Royal pardon given by His Excellency, Sir William -Phips, Governor of Massachusetts, to one Captain Edward Amherst, of -Salem town, who is accused of the crime of witchcraft.’ Why--why----” - -“Aye, ‘why, why,’” mimicked Lucille. “What now of prisoners and -paroles?” - -Carteret stared at the pardon in his hand. - -“Why, this nullifies the warrant,” he said slowly, “if it be a true -pardon.” - -“True?” exclaimed Lucille. “You will find it true enough. I saw it -written. Read to the end.” - -Captain Carteret read: - -“‘Witness our hand and seal, in the name of His Majesty the King.’” - -Then while we stood silent, there arose a terrible cry outside. It was -followed by musket shots, and then we heard the Indian war whoop. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - THE LAST FIGHT. - - -“Another attack!” exclaimed Carteret. “Quick, Amherst, or they’ll be -swarming about our ears. Take charge of your men again. It is our last -chance!” - -“And my parole?” I asked, coldly. - -“Is not required. You are not on parole. You are free.” - -Out dashed Carteret, tossing the pardon to Lucille. - -“It will be a battle to the death,” he called back. - -Simon, who looked the picture of disappointed rage, hurried from the -room. I had only time to embrace and kiss Lucille, to tell her to keep -up a brave heart, and then I rushed out to take my place among my men. - -The din was terrific. Added to the yells of the savages, and the gun -shots, were the cries of defiance from those within the stockade who had -rallied to the fight, discharging their muskets as fast as they could -load. So quickly had the attack of the Indians been met, due to the -vigilance of the sentinels, that only a few of the red men gained the -top of the palisades. These had been shot down, and the van of the -storming force had been obliged to retreat, but they fired from behind -rocks and trees, some of the bullets wounding our soldiers. - -I reached the stockade at a point where there were none of my men, just -as one savage, his scalp lock gay with feathers, gained the top of the -posts, and with reckless bravery leaped down inside. No sooner had he -recovered his footing than he dashed straight at me. I was so surprised -at the suddenness of his appearance and action, that I stood still for a -moment. - -The Indian raised his arm, there was a flash of light, and his tomahawk -grazed my temple, cutting the skin slightly. Then the fellow sprang at -me. But my sword was out, and ere he reached me I had run him through -the body. So he never threw any more tomahawks. - -The attack on the fort was becoming more fierce every second. I was -startled to see that the sun had gone down, and that it would be dark in -a little while. This was borne upon me when I saw the ruddy reflection -of a fire which the Indians had kindled in front of the block. It shone -on the logs, but cast into shadow the savages who were behind it. Thus -they could see whatever went on in the place, while we were blinded by -the glare, and could not observe them. - -Our only hope lay in keeping up a rapid fire, so that they might not get -near enough to charge. And this hope was bound to become futile soon. -Indeed our position was most trying. I was encouraging my men all I -could, firing a musket every time I saw so much as a finger of the enemy -exposed, and all the while trying to devise some plan to beat off the -foe when Captain Carteret sent a messenger to bid me come to him. -Telling the men to be as sparing of the powder as they could, and to -never leave the loops for an instant, I went to the commander. - -I found him loading and firing away at a great rate. He took me to one -side. - -“I’ve been noticing some sort of a movement among the Indians at the -rear of the place,” he said. “I fear they are up to some trick. It looks -as if they were carrying brush and branches of trees about.” - -“That means but one thing,” I said. - -“What?” - -“They are going to smoke and burn us out. Going to try us by fire as -well as by bullets.” - -“To the tower,” he rejoined, “we can see what they are doing from -there.” - -It was as I had said. Already the savages had piled up a big heap of -brush within a short distance of the north wall of the palisade. - -“Well,” said Carteret grimly, “I guess they mean to get at us after -all.” - -“It looks so,” said I. - -“Have you any plan?” inquired the Captain. - -“Have you?” I asked, but he made no reply. - -The sight of one of our men rolling out a keg of powder, from which to -distribute a supply, gave me an idea. - -“How much powder have we?” I asked of Carteret. - -“Three kegs,” he answered. “Two of a hundred and fifty pounds’ weight -each, and one smaller.” - -“It might serve,” I said, half to myself. - -“What?” asked my companion. - -Then I told him a plan I had. We went down from the tower. - -“Bring the powder here,” I said, “the two large barrels,” and it was -fetched by four men, two carrying a keg between them. At my direction -they also got some strong rope. I called Carteret out of hearing of the -men. - -“What I am going to do has some danger in it,” I said, “and, seeing that -I may not return, I charge you to care for--for Mistress Lucille, -after--well--after I am dead.” - -“She shall be to me as my own daughter,” he exclaimed, grasping my hand -heartily. - -“This is what I will do,” I said. “The Indians are so busy carrying -brush now that they are giving little heed to aught else, even to each -other. I believe I can go out among them under cover of the dark, escape -detection, and help them at their work.” - -“What serves that?” - -“Much, I hope,” was my reply. “I did not tell you all of the plan -before. My brush will be of good barrel staves, and within those same -staves will be powder. I will hide the two barrels in the brush-heap, -which I can easily do in the confusion, light the slow matches fastened -to them, come back to the block--if I can--then wait for what happens.” - -“What will happen?” - -“If all goes as I hope,” I said, “the Indians will be gathered about the -brush heap setting it on fire. Then will come my explosion.” - -“Good!” exclaimed Carteret. “That ought to serve our purpose. If it only -kills enough of the devils the rest will be so frightened that they will -not remain long in the neighborhood of Elizabeth. But can you unaided -carry those two barrels over the palisade?” - -“I have done heavier things,” I answered, thinking of the Salem press. - -“It is a risk,” remarked the Captain. “Once among them it will go hard -with you if their lynx eyes spy you out.” - -“Which is just what I do not intend them to do,” I said. “There is a -dead Indian within the stockade. I will put on his feathers, adopt his -style of dress, and play at being a savage.” - -“’Tis somewhat foolhardy,” commented Carteret, “but you are a brave man, -and we have need of such now.” - -“Any man would be brave, if he fought for what I do,” was the reply. - -“Then go,” responded the commander, “and may the Lord go with you.” - -So I made my preparations. - -It was a matter of a few minutes to strip from the dead Indian his -feathered head-dress with which I managed to decorate myself so that, in -the dark, I might pass for a red man. I took off my jacket and trousers, -slipping on the breeches of the savage, and, when thus attired I rubbed -the upper part of my body, my face and hands, with damp powder, so that -my white skin might not betray me. - -During this time the firing was not so brisk, either within or without, -for our men were saving their powder, and the Indians were busy heaping -up brush. The pile was now as large as a house, being within a few feet -of the stockade. It was between us and the foe, so we had little chance -to fire at them on that side of the block. - -It was fairly dark now, but we saw the savages snatching up brands from -the fire they had kindled in front and running with them to the large -heap. - -Carteret helped me make my last arrangements. I selected a place to get -over the stockade, that seemed to be somewhat screened from observation. -The powder kegs were tied to a rope. I scaled the logs, got on top, -hauled the barrels up, and let them down on the outside. Then I -scrambled down. For the first time I was a little afraid. Not so much -for what might happen to me, as for those I had left behind--for -Lucille. It was no small risk, too, this taking of nearly all the powder -from the fort. But it seemed the best we could do. - -At the foot of the stockade I fastened the kegs over my shoulders with -the rope, one keg behind and the other in front. Up to this time I had -been hidden by the black shadow of the stockade, but now I was to emerge -into the open, when the deception I was practicing might be evident. The -barrels on my back and breast bulged out like some deformity; no light -load, either. I gathered up some brush, arranged it over the kegs as -well as I could and stepped boldly out. - -Before I had gone far, I picked up a large branch that some Indian had -dropped. This served as a screen for me, as I held it over my shoulder, -and stooped as I plodded on. I must have borne some resemblance to the -dusky, brush-laden figures all about me, for several savages passed -close by me, and gave no sign that I was not one of them. - -I nearly dropped my load, when, as I was near the pile, a tall Indian, -who seemed to be a chief, addressed some words to me. I recalled that -there were red men from several different tribes mingled together, so I -merely grunted in my throat, which sounds, I hoped, he would take for an -answer in his tongue. He appeared to do so, for he passed on, leaving me -alone, though in a cold sweat from the danger. - -I was now in the midst of the Indians. They were all about me, hurrying -to and fro, getting in each others’ way, all the while adding to the -size of the pile of brush and wood. I crouched lower and lower, as I -neared the common centre, seeming to stoop under the weight of my -burden. The middle of the outer circle of the stack was where I wanted -to put the powder, that its force might be extended over a large space. -As I neared the spot I noted but one Indian near me. He had a small -tree-top, which he cast on the heap. As he turned away to get more fuel, -I managed to get rid of the kegs of powder. I rolled them under the edge -of the brush, working quickly and in silence. The fuses, which were made -of a number of slow matches fastened together, I trailed out on the -ground as far as they would go. - -A loud call in the Indian tongue was now given. It was taken up, being -repeated from mouth to mouth, with different inflections. Soon I saw -what seemed like fireflies moving about in the darkness. But they were -human insects, and the lights they bore were brands to ignite the huge -pile of brush, which was so large that it needed to be set ablaze in -many places at once. - -I lighted the fuse, the flash of my tinder-box being unnoticed amid so -many lights. There were no less than two hundred savages in a circle -about the heap, many busy setting it on fire. From the forest all around -more Indians were hastening to be ready for the rush, when the flames -had burned a way for them. I saw the spark of the fuse spluttering along -the ground, eating its way to the powder. It would burn for two minutes. -Then I ran for the stockade. As I did so I went, full-tilt, into a -half-naked savage. - -He held a torch, the light of which must have showed him I was not of -his people. He opened his mouth to yell an alarm, but I knocked the -brand from his hand; then, while he stood still in surprise, I struck -him in the face with my fist. He staggered back, but before he could -recover, I was at the foot of the palisade. I heard him yell, as I -grasped the rope I had left dangling, but there was so much shouting and -crying out, that his was unnoticed. As I went up, hand over hand, I saw -that the pile was on fire in many places. - -Down I jumped inside the stockade. Carteret met me. - -“What success?” he asked quickly. - -“All is well so far,” I said. - -“Edward!” exclaimed a voice. - -I turned, to see Lucille standing behind the Captain. I caught her in my -arms. - -“To the block!” I cried. “The explosion will occur in half a minute.” - -Lucille clung in fright to me. - -“Are all the men back away from the north wall?” I called to Carteret. - -“Yes,” he shouted back. - -“What is it, Edward?” sobbed Lucille. - -“It is life or death,” I answered, as I ran with her into the block -house. - -The savages were yelling in chorus, like ten thousand devils now. The -flames were beginning to take hold of the dry brush, which was crackling -and snapping as if hungry to get at us. Inside the little fort were -huddled all that was left of the defenders, men, women and children. I -set Lucille down, but kept my arm about her. The fuses should have -burned to the end by this time. We could hear ourselves breathing while -we waited. Carteret turned to speak to me. - -The next instant there was a glare that lighted up the sky, turning the -space between the palisade and the block from darkness into a noon-day -brightness! - -Then a crash so loud, so terrifying, so awful, that the very earth and -sky seemed rent asunder as by a hundred thunderbolts. The solid ground -rocked; a very cradle in the hand of a giant. A great wind blew, howling -through the openings in the logs. - -The sound deafened us. The blast swayed us as if a hurricane had swooped -down from the sky. Men caught their breath. Women screamed. Children -wailed as in fright at some unseen spirit of the night. - -We heard the north wall of the stockade give a rending crack, succeeded -by a mighty crash. Then it fell outward, where the pile of brush had -been. - -As for the block it pitched and seemed to toss--a frail ship on the -billows of the earth. - -To the terrible noise and glare succeeded silence and darkness as of the -tomb. Slowly our sight and hearing came back. - -Carteret and I staggered from the block and looked to where the north -wall had been. It was not there. In its place was a chasm, so deep that -it would have hidden the fort. Its sides were lined with blazing brands -from the scattered brush-heap. By the light of these, and by the glimmer -of the stars, we observed scores upon scores of silent dark forms in the -big hole, or near it on the earth. Toward the edge of the forest we saw -crouching forms hurrying off to bury themselves deeper in the woods, -away from the terror behind them. - -We were saved! - -The savages not killed had fled away, but of all that band scarce a -quarter lived to tell the tale. - -A great cheer went up from the crowd within the block, when it was seen -what had occurred. Men cast their muskets aside, embraced their wives -and kissed their little ones. - -“May the Lord bless you,” said Carteret to me, “it was you who saved -us.” - -“Aye! Aye! A cheer for Captain Amherst!” cried several men. They gave -it, crowding about, trying to clasp me by the hand. - -“It was nothing--nothing,” I protested, “any one of you would have done -the same, had you the chance.” - -But they would not have it so, and, at length, weary of the praise, I -slipped away, to resume my own civilized dress. - -The women busied themselves getting a late supper, which was eaten with -thankful hearts. After it was over, Lucille made me tell her all that -had taken place. - -“And who carried out the powder?” she asked when I had finished. - -“That was a small matter,” I said. “Having a little strength, more, -perhaps, than some of the others, I did it,” was my answer. - -“Were you not afraid?” she inquired. - -“Only that I might not again look into your dear eyes.” - -She hid them from me with her hand. I pulled the little palm away, -kissing her on the lips. - -So we sat talking until it was late. The block became quiet, for it was -filled with weary men and sorrowful women, who needed rest. We bade each -other good-night, Lucille going to the women’s apartment, while I -started for Captain Carteret’s room, where I was to sleep. - -As I walked along the passage, I thought I heard a footstep behind me. I -turned quickly. At the far end of the corridor, where a single candle -threw a fitful gleam, I saw Simon. - -He appeared to be gliding along, as if afraid of being seen. He slipped -in an open doorway when he saw me turn. - -Was he following me? What did he want? - -Carteret was not yet in. I threw myself down on a bench, meaning but to -rest until the Captain arrived. But, so weary was I, that, no sooner had -my head fallen back than I was asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - SIMON. - - -There seemed to be much tumult in the block when I awoke. Captain -Carteret was writing at a small table, as I sat up, rubbing my eyes. - -“Well, have you slept enough?” he asked. - -“I could rest longer,” I said, “but it is not my habit to sleep much -after the sun is first up in the morning.” - -“Morning,” he laughed. “Why, man, ’tis long past noon now. I would not -let them disturb you, though many were clamoring for a look at the hero -of the occasion.” - -“Enough,” I said. “I had much rather have a breakfast than pose as a -hero, which I am not.” - -“Breakfast in the afternoon?” - -“Are you jesting?” - -“Look at the sun,” was his reply. - -I glanced from a window. It was half way down in the west. I had slept -nearly eighteen hours. - -“We will soon have supper,” went on the Captain. “Meanwhile I’ll let you -know how matters stand.” - -Scouts had been sent out, he said, and, for miles around had found no -trace of Indians, save the dead ones. One wounded savage had been -brought in. With what little English he had, he told how the war party -had fled to the four winds. They had been given a severe lesson, he -said, and one that would put an end to Indian uprisings in New Jersey -for many years. - -Men had been set at work burying the bodies. Others were rebuilding the -stockade, and some were detailed to lay to rest our dead. - -Many families, who lived near by, had gone back to their homes, to begin -life where they had left off when the Indians came. Wagons laden with -household goods were leaving the fort. Only a few farmhouses had been -burned by the savages. - -“I am writing to Governor Phips,” said Carteret, “to tell him you are -here, and send him back the warrant for witchcraft, which is of no use, -since he has pardoned you. That was a marvelous tale you told, of the -days in Salem.” - -“Do not recall them,” I begged. “They were days of sorrow and peril.” - -“Lieutenant Jenkins is about to sail for Boston in a few days,” went on -the Captain, “and he will take this missive to Sir William Phips. So -that matter is ended.” - -“What of Simon?” - -“I have not seen him since that time we were all in the room together,” -said Carteret, “but he is doubtless about somewhere. He will probably -want to leave this place now. If you wish I will offer him passage to -Boston with Master Jenkins. He can join his friends there.” - -“I think I should like that,” I replied. “For, somehow, I am not at ease -while he is about, particularly as Mistress Lucille is here.” - -“Then he goes to Boston, friend Amherst.” - -The Captain and I fell to talking of the future. Supper was served ere -we had finished, and we continued over the meal. He asked me if I would -not like to settle in Elizabeth. - -“Or there is a little town, called Newark, on the Passaic River,” he -added, “not far from here. That is a pleasant place, I am told. The -Indians, I hear, are most kind and trustworthy, as they were here before -this uprising, trading with the settlers in land and furs, greatly to -the advantage of the town folk. You might like it there.” - -“I will make no plans until I have talked with Mistress Lucille,” I -replied. - -“That reminds me,” exclaimed Carteret. “She sent in three times, while -you were asleep, to have me let her know the instant you were awake. I -forgot all about it.” - -I did not stay to eat more, when I heard that. I found Lucille sitting -alone in the doorway of the women’s room, looking at the men repairing -the stockade. - -“It seemed as if you were never coming,” she said, when I had greeted -her. “Captain Carteret would not let me see you. But never mind, you are -with me now,” and she blushed at her boldness. - -“I wanted to talk to you, Edward, and see if you had made any plans for -the future,” went on Lucille, after a pause. “Have you thought that our -coming here was an accident, and that I can scarce go traveling about -with you as if--as if----” - -Her face crimsoned again. - -“Aye, we are like strangers in a strange land,” I said bitterly, for now -that the strain of battle was over, I saw the plight in which we were; -myself penniless. - -“I have the clothes I stand in,” I added. - -“Nothing more?” asked Lucille, softly. - -“My sword,” I answered, not looking up, for my mind was busy. - -“No more?” - -“My horse.” - -“No more?” - -Her voice went so strange that I looked at her. Her eyes were dim with -tears. - -“Forgive, me, sweetheart,” I cried, clasping her close to me. “I have -you, and, with you, more than all the world.” - -“You were near to forgetting your great wealth,” she said, mockingly, -while she struggled to free herself. “Perchance ’tis of little value, -after all.” - -“Nay, sweet,” I replied. “’Tis so great that I wonder at myself for -possessing it.” - -“Yet you thought of your sword first.” - -“Forgive me.” - -“And then your horse.” - -“Will you not forgive?” - -“And of me last,” she persisted, trying to escape from my arms. - -“It was because with them I won you,” I whispered. - -“I shall be jealous of your sword.” - -“No more,” I cried, drawing it from the scabbard. “’Tis a pretty piece -of steel, but, if it should come between us, see----” - -I raised it high in the air, my hands on either end. - -“I’ll snap it in twain.” - -I brought the weapon half way down, as though I would break it across my -knee. - -“Nay! Nay! Edward!” she exclaimed, catching my arm. “I did but jest. Put -it up. There is need of a sword in this land.” - -I sheathed my blade, sitting down beside Lucille. - -“Seriously, now, what is to become of me?” she asked. - -“Why,” I answered, as gaily as I could, “since you are mine, you must -follow my poor fortunes, it would seem; that is, if you are willing to -follow one who has but----” - -“But his sword,” she broke in, smiling at me. - -“Nay, I had not finished. But his love, his sword, his horse, and the -clothes on his back.” - -“Except for my love, I am even poorer than that,” confessed Lucille, -“unless I could go back to Salem, and that I will not. There was some -little money that my father left, but it was nearly spent. I have no -sword, no horse, and only this poor sea-stained dress.” - -“Yet in it I would rather have you than the most richly robed lady in -all the world,” I cried. - -“Come,” I went on, “we are betrothed,” and I took her by the hand. “Let -us go to the good dominie here, ask him to join us in wedlock, then we -may seek our fortune as man and wife.” - -“What? Wed in this frock?” Lucille looked at it as if it was all rags, -but indeed it was a pretty dress. - -“What matters the gown?” I asked. - -“Why, I would be the laughing stock of the Colony if I plighted my troth -in this,” responded Lucille. “We must wait until I can get some new -garments.” - -“From where?” - -Then we both laughed, for, between us we had not so much as a shilling, -I having spent my last on my journey. The laugh did us good, and we felt -brighter after it. - -While we were talking Captain Carteret passed. He was not going to stop, -but I called to him. - -“What now?” he asked. - -“We were talking of the future, Lucille and I. We are betrothed, as you -know, Carteret, and I have just urged her to come with me to the -dominie’s.” - -“Surely,” he exclaimed. “That would be fine. We could trim up the block -house, and have a regular wedding feast. Mistress Carteret would be glad -to help, for there has been very little merrymaking, of late, and a -wedding would be the very thing to take the gloom away. When can it be? -Next week, or the week after.” - -“Next week!” cried Lucille, with such an accent of horror in her voice -that Carteret and I had to laugh. - -“Why, you see, Captain,” I went on, never heeding Lucille’s sly punches -in my ribs, “she says she has no clothes; a woman’s ever ready excuse. -Her gowns were left behind in Salem town. She will not be wed in the -garments which were drenched by the sea. So, I fear, we must wait until -I can raise a few pounds, and then----” - -But Lucille, with a reproachful glance at me, ran away, leaving the -Captain and I alone. - -“I marvel at you,” said Carteret. - -“Why?” - -“Talking of raising a few pounds. There is not a man in the Colony, -myself included, who would not be glad to give you----” - -I stopped him with a look. - -“Tut, tut, man, do not go off half-cocked, I was not going to offer you -charity. But if I can put you in the way to get a position that -pays----” - -“My everlasting thanks are yours,” I interrupted. - -“I am about to resign the command of the forces here,” Carteret went on, -“for my brother, the Governor, has some plans afoot, and needs my aid -elsewhere. I have talked with the men, and they all agree that, after I -left, they would have no other captain than yourself. The pay is not -large, for the Colony is young yet, but you and Mistress Lucille could -live in such comfort as there is here, on it. What say you? Will you -take it?” - -I could not answer at first. It seemed almost too good to be true. After -all our troubles to find a haven at last, and one that promised so much. - -“Carteret,” I began, brokenly, “I cannot thank you enough. I----” but -there was something in my voice that would not let me go on. - -“Then do not try,” he said, cheerfully. “I know how you feel. I will -carry your answer to the men. They are waiting for it. The sooner I turn -the command of the Colony over to you, the quicker I can get away. Is it -yes or no?” - -“Yes, with all my heart,” I said, giving him my hand, and there was a -lump as big as an egg in my throat. - -Carteret turned away, while I hastened to find Lucille and tell her the -good news. She could have her wedding gown now, I told myself. - -She was not in the room with the other women. It was getting dusk, and I -hastened through many apartments in search of her. Once or twice I -called her name, but there was no answer. I went out of the block. Near -the door I confronted Simon. His face was so pale that I was startled. - -“What is the matter, man? Are you ill?” I asked. - -“No,” he answered, huskily. “I am not sick. I was thinking of Sir -George. I am without a master now.” - -“I hear you are to leave us, Simon,” I said. - -“Yes,” he replied, “Captain Carteret has been kind enough to get me -passage to Boston. Thence I can sail for England, to Sir George’s -kinfolk.” - -“Well, a pleasant voyage,” I called, as I was about to pass on. - -“Wait,” he said, thickly. - -I turned around. - -“Captain Amherst,” he began, “you have much reason to hate me.” - -“Oh, that is past and gone,” I responded, as heartily as I could, for I -did not like the man, and indeed, though he only acted for another, he -was a bitter foe. - -“Perhaps I should not have done what I did,” he went on, “but Sir George -swore me to an oath.” - -“’Tis past,” I said. “You only served your master.” - -“Then you forgive me?” - -“Aye, surely,” I murmured, impatient to be away and find Lucille. - -Simon came toward me, holding out his hand. I marked that it was his -left, but I was too hurried to give it a thought, so I clasped it -firmly. - -His fingers closed over mine with the grip of a vise. He pulled me near -him. His right hand shot out from his jacket, beneath which it was -hidden. In it I caught the glitter of a knife. I saw him raise it above -my head. - -There was no time for me to draw my sword. I threw up my left arm to -protect my head. Simon’s hand came down. - -There was a pain in my arm, as if a hot iron had seared me. Then I felt -it, ten times as hot, in my side. My ears rang with the roar of waters; -my eyes saw only blackness. - -I felt a warm gush of blood; I heard a confused murmur, a woman’s shrill -scream--Lucille’s voice. Then Simon leaned over me, as I was -falling--falling--falling--down into some bottomless pit. - -“Traitor and murderer!” he cried. “I have kept my oath!” - -It was night. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - THE END OF CAPTAIN AMHERST. - - -For weeks and weeks, it seemed to me, I was living over again the scenes -through which I had passed in later years. Now I was charging at the -battle of Sedgemoor, then before Judge Jeffreys, with my comrades. Next -came wanderings, fightings, travelings. In my delirium I went through -the witch press once more, with many a struggle to escape. I fought the -French and Indians; I swam in the sea to save Lucille. I went down in -great caverns of the ocean to bring her back to me, and saw her lying -amid rainbow colored shells, tangled weeds weaving their long green -sinuous lengths into her hair. - -I fought the duel with Sir George, feeling his steel pierce my side like -a big knife which was turned ’round and ’round. Horrible red Indians, -with fierce painted faces came to torment me, though I fought them off -time after time. I heard over again the explosion of the powder kegs; -felt the mighty wind swoop down; was rocked to and fro by the blast. - -I listened to my voice shouting out, only it did not sound like me, but -as some one else afar off. At intervals I went floating through the air, -a very bird on wings. Then I looked back to see a body that looked like -mine lying on a bed. And the features were changed; the frame that had -been robust was like a boy’s. - -Then gradually all these things passed away, so that there was nothing -but darkness and daylight; daylight and darkness. Ever through it all, a -dear dim ghost of one I loved came and went--a woman. When she was near, -whether it was day or night, I was at ease; her cool hand chilled the -fever that burned in my brain. When she was gone it was dark, though it -was day. - -Out of all this peace came at length. - -One day I opened my eyes seeing aright. - -I was in a room which the sun entered to make bright and cheerful. The -beams overhead reflected back the light, a fire on the hearth threw out -a genial warmth, the kettle on the hob hummed and hissed, a great mother -cat, by the chimney place, purred in contentment. - -There was a movement in the room. A woman stood over me looking down. I -seemed to know, rather than see, that she was the woman of my -dreams--Lucille. - -I glanced up at her. Her face was alight with love and tenderness. I -tried to speak--to rise--but the strength, of which I used to boast, had -left me. I could only murmur her name. - -“Dear heart,” she whispered. “Thank God, you know me. Oh, Edward, it was -so long--oh! so long--that I stood by you, only to hear you fighting all -your battles over again, with never a sign to show that you knew I was -near. Oh, I am so glad!” - -Then, woman like, she burst into tears, which she tried in vain to -check. - -“My, my! What’s this?” called a cheery voice. “Come, Mistress Lucille, -have you no better caution than to weep in here. Fie upon you. All hope -is not gone yet.” - -A woman in a gray dress with a spotless apron over it, bustled to my -bed. - -“I am not crying, Madame Carteret,” said Lucille with indignation in her -tone. - -“’Tis much like it,” said the other. - -“Well, then, if I am, it is for joy. Edward--I mean Captain Amherst--is -sensible again. He tried to speak my name, for he knew me when I turned -his pillow.” - -“Is it possible?” - -Madame Carteret, wife of the Captain, in whose house I was, came over to -look down on me. I smiled; it was all I could do, but that was as good -to me as a hearty laugh, since I had come back from the land of terrible -dreams. The Captain’s wife bustled away. Lucille, drying her eyes, -smiling through her tears, came to stand near me. - -“What has happened?” I whispered, but she prevented any more questions -by placing her fingers on my lips. I kissed the rosy tips, whereat she -drew them quickly away. Then I repeated what I had said. - -“Hush,” she replied. “You are not to talk. The doctor says you are too -weak.” - -Indeed I was, as I found when I tried to rise, for I fell back like a -babe. Just then Madame Carteret came back with some broth in a bowl. It -tasted so well that I disposed of all of it. She laughed as one well -pleased. - -The last drop gone I sighed from very comfort. Lucille, taking pity on -the anxious look of inquiry I turned on her, related all that had -transpired. - -“I was coming through the corridor in the dark,” she said, “and I saw -Simon strike at you. Oh I was so frightened! I screamed when his knife -glittered. He started, moving his hand just a trifle as he heard me. -Perchance that saved your life, for Doctor Graydon, who has been in long -attendance on you, said that had the point gone an inch higher it would -have touched the heart, and that would have been an end of Captain -Amherst.” - -I looked the love and devotion at Lucille I could not express in -actions. - -“Even at that,” she went on, “there was a grievous wound in your arm and -one in your side. For six weeks you have been in that bed, knowing none -of us, and at times so far away from us, that we feared to see you -travel off altogether.” - -“But I came back to you,” I said softly. - -“Yes, dear; but you must not talk now. I will tell you the rest. - -“After he had stabbed you Simon dropped his knife and fled. I ran to -you, but you were as one dead. Captain Carteret and some of the men -carried you into the house. We have nursed you ever since, Madame -Carteret and I.” - -I looked at Lucille’s face, noting that she had grown thin and pale, but -yet more beautiful. I pressed her hand to my lips. - -“Simon did not escape,” she went on after a pause. “Not long afterward -his body was found in the woods, an Indian arrow through his heart. So -now, dear, horrible as it all was, our enemies are gone. We have only -ourselves left.” - -Then while the shadows began to lengthen, the day to die, I fell asleep -again. Not as before, disturbed by unpleasant dreams, but as a tired -child. When I awoke in the morning I felt like a new man. The blood of -health flowed through my veins; I felt the strength coming back to me. -Lucille entered; a streak of sunshine. She smiled at me. I had propped -myself up in bed, and that sign that I was on the mend seemed to give -her pleasure. - -“We must have Master Graydon in to see the improvement,” she said. “He -will doubtless change the physic, giving you some herbs that will put -you quickly on the way to recovery.” - -“I pray so,” I answered, “for I am full sick of staying here like a -woman.” - -“Are you then so ready to leave us?” - -“Only that I may make ready to stay with you forever,” at which Lucille -blushed prettily. - -We talked, or rather Lucille did, and I listened, of many things. She -told how she had heard I was to be in command of the military force of -Elizabeth; that I was already considered the Captain. Every day since I -had been wounded some of the men had called to see how I was. As for -Captain Carteret, he had gone to London on business, and would not -return to the Colony until spring. - -Matters were progressing well in the town. The Indians had buried the -hatchet, having had enough of fighting, and were at peace with the -settlers. The crops, too, though suffering somewhat from the -depredations of the red men, were plenty, so fertile was the land. The -store-houses and barns were better filled than any year since the Colony -had been in existence, and winter, which was already at hand, would find -the village in good shape. - -The repairs to the block house had been finished, the few houses in the -town that had been burned by the Indians were being rebuilt. A band of -settlers had come from Pennsylvania, so that we now numbered some two -hundred men, and nearly half as many women. - -It was late in November, the leaves were all off the trees, there had -been little flurries of snow, the winds were mournful, and on every side -one could see that winter was fairly come. I had been able to leave my -bed. One afternoon, when the sun was setting behind a bank of gray -clouds that promised a storm Lucille and I stood at the west window -looking out. - -“It is going to snow,” said she, mournfully. - -“I love the white flakes,” I said cheerfully. - -“They are so cold, so cheerless, so dead, so cruel to the flowers and -birds. Why do you love them?” - -“Because they dance down so merrily. Because they cover up the dull -brown earth from us until it blossoms out again. Because,” and I took -her hand, “it was through a snow storm that I went to find my love.” - -“Poor reason, Edward.” - -“The best of reasons, sweetheart.” - -Days came and went, bringing me back health and strength. Slowly I -walked about the house until I came to venturing out into the snow when -the weather was fine. I became acquainted with the towns-folk, a thing I -had not had time to do before. To while away the hours, some of the men -who had fought with me in the block would come in. Then, sitting beside -the blazing logs on the hearth, we would fight the battle all over -again. - -Lucille was ever near me, her sweet face always in view, when I looked -up, smiling with the love in her eyes. - -The winter snows melted. Green grass and shrubs began to peep up through -the warm earth. The buds on the trees swelled with the sap, bears -crawled from hollow logs, the birds flew northward. - -The songsters of early spring flitted about the house as I sat in front -one day watching them gather material for their nests. It reminded me -that I had better see to providing a nest for my song bird. Lucille sat -near me. I had not spoken for a space. - -“Are you watching the birds?” she asked. - -“Aye. Thinking that I might well be about their trade.” - -Lucille did not answer. - -“Sweetheart,” I said softly, “’tis little time we have had for love -since I found you the second time, and I would know whether you are of -the same mind that you were. For I love you now; I will love you always, -I love you more and more every day. Tell me: Do you love me yet? Has the -time brought no change?” - -How anxiously did I wait for the answer. Now that I was broken in -strength, with not the prospect of attaining distinction in arms that I -once had, sick, enfeebled in body, but not in spirit, could I hope that -she still loved me? - -“Tell me,” I whispered softly, “has time wrought no change, Lucille?” - -She let the lids fall over her eyes, then with a little tremor, she -looked into my face. Sweetly as the murmur of a south wind in the trees -she said: - -“Time has wrought no change.” A pause. “I love you, with all my heart.” - -Then, ere she could answer more, I had her in my arms, from which she -struggled to be free, at first, but, when she found I held her close, -she was quiet. I kissed her on the mouth. - -“Don’t, Edward,” she cried in sudden terror, “some one is coming.” - -I resumed my seat on the bench. - -“I have something to tell you,” I said, after a little. “You must not -call me Edward.” - -“Oh, then,” with a mock air of admiration, “Captain Amherst, Your -Excellency, I pray your pardon.” - -“Nor yet Captain Amherst,” I went on, smiling. - -“What then, may it please you, sir?” - -“That is it.” - -“What?” - -“Sir.” - -“Sir who or what?” - -“Sir Francis Dane,” I replied, with as grand a manner as I could assume, -having a deep cut in my side. - -For a moment Lucille glanced at me, then I saw that she feared my mind -was wandering again. - -“Come into the house,” she said, soothingly, “’tis too chilling out -here. Come in, and Master Graydon shall prescribe for you. Come, -Edward.” - -“Not Edward.” - -“Well, then, Sir Francis Dane,” spoken as one might to a peevish child. -“The strain has been too much for you, Ed--Sir Francis. Go and lie down, -until you are recovered.” - -I burst into a laugh, whereat Lucille seemed all the more frightened. I -could not cease from laughing as I looked at her. - -She took me gently by the arm, and tried to lead me in, but I stooped -over, kissing her. - -“Do not be frightened, sweet,” I said. “I am not wandering in my mind. I -have a secret to tell you.” - -“Will it frighten me?” - -“I hope not.” - -Then I told her of the cause for my coming to America, because I wished -to escape those who would imprison me for having fought on the side of -the defeated King Monmouth. I was Sir Francis Dane, I said, but had -taken the name of Captain Edward Amherst, as a measure of safety. When I -had made an end I smiled down on her. - -“Then it is good bye to Captain Amherst,” she remarked. - -“Aye, ’tis the end of him,” I said. - -“I am not sure but that I liked him better than I will Sir Francis -Dane,” went on Lucille. “For the latter is much of a stranger to me.” - -“Will you have to begin to love over again?” I asked. - -“Nay,” was her only reply, in a low voice. - -“Sir Francis, Sir Francis,” she continued, after a moment’s pause. “Hum, -’tis a rather nice name.” Then she seemed to be thinking. - -“Why,” she exclaimed, suddenly, “it is a titled name, is it not? You -must be a person of distinction over in England.” - -“I was,” I replied, dryly. Sedgemoor had taken all the distinction from -me, depriving me of lands and title. - -“Hum, Sir Francis Dane. I wonder if he will care for plain Lucille de -Guilfort,” with a playful air of sadness. - -My answer was a kiss. - -“I love you, Lucille,” I said fervently, when she had escaped from me. - -“Well,” she remarked, plaintively, “I loved you as plain Captain -Amherst, perforce I must do so, since you are now Sir Francis Dane, -accustomed to being obeyed, I presume.” - -“To the letter,” I answered, sternly. - -“Now that is over,” I went on, “when are we to wed?” - -“Not too soon. Wait until spring.” - -“That will be in March.” - -“Oh! ’Tis too early. There is much to be done. Linen to make up, dresses -to fashion and, indeed, if it were not for the kindness of Madame -Carteret I would have no gown now, but the sorry garment you found me -in.” - -“That is more precious to me than cloth of gold would be,” I replied. -“The flutter of it, as the Eagle headed for shore, seemed to tell me you -were there. But, since March is too early, it must be the next month,” I -said, firmly. - -“Let it be so,” she responded, with a little sigh. “In April then; the -month of tears and sunshine.” - -“Let us hope that ours will all be sunshine,” I suggested. - -“We have had enough of tears to make it so,” was her reply, as she -smiled brightly. - -That matter being settled we had much more to talk of, the day and many -succeeding ones, seeming all too short for us. I was recovering slowly, -and was able to be all about. I took an active charge of the military -matters of the town, for my wound was healing, and I hoped in a short -time that I would be nearly as strong as I was before. I took up my -abode with the innkeeper, for Lucille said it was not seemly that we -should dwell under the same roof longer. She, however, remained with -Madame Carteret, weaving and spinning in preparation for the spring. - -It was close to the first of April when news came one day that there was -a ship down the bay, and that Captain Carteret had returned on her. This -was a glad message for me, and I prepared to take a few of the men, -marching down to meet him. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - AN ORDER FROM THE KING. - - -I was half way on the road to the block house, to see if I could muster -up a guard, with which to go down and meet the Captain, when I spied him -coming along at a quick pace. - -“Well-a-day,” he cried, when he had caught sight of me. “This is quite a -change, since I last saw you. Come, man, your hand. - -“Why,” he exclaimed, when I had gripped his palm, “you have some of your -strength back again, I see--and feel.” - -“A little,” I replied, as I grasped his other hand, in heartiness to -have him back once more. - -There were tears in my eyes. I did not try to hide them, for Carteret -had been more than a brother to me; his good wife a very mother to -Lucille. I think he felt my gratitude, for he did not speak, only -returning my hand pressure. - -“Well,” he said again, after a little pause, while we walked on together -toward his house, “this is better than being cooped up in the block, -with those devils howling on the outside. Though,” he added, with a -laugh, “we soon made them change their tune.” - -He asked me how long I had suffered from the attack of Simon, and what -had become of the sailor. I told him what I had heard. - -“I did not like to leave you,” he said, “but the call for me was urgent. -I thought I left you in safe hands, when Mistress Lucille took charge of -the nursing.” - -“You did, indeed,” I replied. - -“How is she; and how progresses your courtship?” - -“Very well, to both questions. Since your kindness in turning this -command over to me I have been assured of a livelihood; quiet, perhaps, -compared to what I hoped for, but a sure one. ’Tis a place befitting a -man who is about to take unto himself a wife.” - -“Then you are soon to wed?” - -“Within a fortnight. Lucille is busy now, preparing what she is pleased -to term her linen. As for me I have little to get. I trust that from my -wage here I can fit up some small house that will do for a time. I had -hopes of taking her to a place befitting her station, to a fine home. -But poverty is a hard taskmaster.” - -“Yet he drives light when love holds the reins.” - -“True,” I assented. “We shall not fare so badly, I hope.” - -“Then Mistress Lucille is prepared to face poverty with you?” - -“She is,” I said, “and seems happy in the prospect.” - -The Captain was laughing now. I looked at him to find the cause, but was -at a loss. - -“You know I have been to London?” he inquired, after his merriment had -spent itself. - -“Aye, so I heard.” - -“And to Colchester also.” - -“Nay; were you?” I asked, suddenly. That had been the home of the Danes -for centuries. - -“To Colchester?” - -“Aye. And while there I heard somewhat of you.” - -“’Twas likely,” I answered, “seeing that my father, Sir Edward Dane, -owned quite an estate there.” - -“It is of that same estate I would speak,” went on Carteret. “I found -out more of your story than you had time to tell me hurriedly ere I -sailed. Your offense against the crown had been nearly forgotten at -court. Learning which, while I was in London, I set certain influences -to work. I am not without friends in the King’s circles, and, between us -we began planning to get back what of your father’s wealth we could, -that you might enjoy it. - -“First, and it was a matter of no little difficulty, we had you granted -a full and free pardon for all acts of treason of whatever nature. To -bring this about after the way had been paved, I sought an audience with -His Majesty. I have a little gift of eloquence, so I described to the -King how you blew the heathen into the air. He listened to me more -kindly after that. Being fond of fighting he made me tell him the whole -circumstance, which I flatter myself I did with some credit to you. When -I had finished the King clapped his hand down on his thigh, bursting out -with: - -“‘By my sword, Carteret, but I could hardly have planned or executed it -better myself,’ which you may take as a fine compliment, for His Majesty -thinks himself a great soldier.” - -“’Twas as much your credit as mine,” I said to the Captain. - -“Well, never mind that. The King inquired all about you, also of Sir -George Keith, whose acts I in no way glossed over, though he was my -friend. His Majesty cut me short with: ‘Enough, enough, Carteret.’ -Calling for a quill and ink horn, he had signed a pardon ere I knew what -he was about. There it is,” exclaimed Carteret, thrusting a legal -looking paper, covered with red seals, into my hand. I took it, hardly -able to speak a word. - -“Once that was done I breathed easier,” continued the Captain. “But His -Majesty did not stop there. He called his secretary, who told the King, -in answer to a question, that your father’s lands had been confiscated -to the crown. - -“‘It is needful that we recompense your bold soldier somewhat,’ said His -Majesty to me, when he had whispered for a time with his officers. ‘I -have signed an order on my treasurer for ten thousand pounds, which you -will convey to Sir Francis Dane, with my best wishes.’ - -“I must have shown some surprise when His Majesty gave you the ‘sir,’ -for he said: - -“‘I have restored his title to him, Carteret. As for his estates, it is -not likely that he would come back to claim them now, so I have given -you, for him, what they are considered by my treasurer to be worth--ten -thousand pounds. If, when you reach America, you find that he desires -more----’ - -“‘Oh, ’tis enough, Your Majesty,’ I said quickly, lest he might change -his mind. - -“Then I bowed myself out, after thanking him most warmly in my name and -your own. - -“I lost little time in hastening to the treasury in the palace where the -King’s order was honored. I soon transacted what business I had in -London, set sail again, and, after a pleasant voyage, here I am. As for -the money, it is safe in my strong box at home. I stopped there ere I -went in search of you. Mistress Lucille told me where you had started -for. - -“Now, is not that good news?” - -I was beyond speaking, though I tried to thank him. I could only hold -out my hand. - -“I’ll not grasp it until you promise to remember that it is a hand and -not a sword hilt,” said the Captain, so earnestly, that I laughed ere I -assured him that I would not grip him as hard as I did at first. - -Joy lent me such speed as we walked to the house, where I knew I would -find Lucille, that Carteret called on me several times to halt, and to -walk more slowly. - -“When you get as old as I am,” he said, “you will be glad to travel less -speedily.” - -“Not with such good news as I carry,” was my answer. - -“I found him,” cried the Captain, as we entered the room where Lucille -and Madame Carteret were seated. - -He went out for a minute. When he returned he had in each hand a stout -sack. It was the money, some of it in gold, that clinked right merrily. -Carteret came over, holding out the bags to me. - -I took one, laid it at Lucille’s feet, saying, as I smiled at her: - -“With all my worldly goods I thee endow.” - -The other sack I held out to Carteret. - -“It is yours,” I said, “according to all the laws of arms. Take it.” - -“Law or no law, I’ll have none of it,” he answered gruffly, I believe, -to hide his feelings. “Begone with it. Place it with the other beside -Mistress Lucille. Why,” he went on, “I have enough now to do the good -wife and myself as long as we live, and there’s not a soul I care to -leave any wealth to. Put it with the other. You will find a use for all -of it--when you are wed.” - -I was forced to obey him, though I felt that he should have had a half -share of what he got for me, but all my argument was in vain. - -Lucille and I were left alone in the room. She looked down on the sacks -of gold, then up at me. - -“So you are Sir Francis, after all?” she asked. - -“It seems so,” was my reply. “How do you like the name?” - -“It has a wholesome sound,” she answered, repeating it over and over -again. “But Edward was not so poor a one. It did much for me.” - -“So will Sir Francis, sweetheart,” I said. - -“However, since the King has given it back to you, I suppose you will -keep it?” - -“I will, indeed. It is a proud name, and many brave men and fair women -have been known by it.” - -It was getting late when we ceased talking, though we had said scarce -half of what was in our minds. - -A week passed. There were but seven days more ere we would be wed. The -block house had been fixed on as the place where the brief ceremony -might fittingly be held. We had decided to make it a merry gathering, -where all who would, might come and be happy. - -The weather was now that of a mild early spring. The tender green of the -trees and shrubs, made the land a mass of verdure. Gardens were being -made, farms plowed, sheep let out to pasture, and the colonists all -around were busy. The town was prospering under the hand of Providence. -All that remained to bring to mind the late Indian uprising were the -ruins of a burned dwelling here and there. Back on the hillside was a -sadder recollection; a few rough stones to mark the graves of those who -had fallen in the great battle. To me there remained the scars on my arm -and side, where Simon’s knife had entered, and the furrow of a bullet -across one cheek. - -I would that some other pen could set down what is to follow. For, -though I can tell poorly enough, perhaps, concerning battles, sieges and -fighting, with which I am somewhat familiar, it is hard to tell of -scenes of baking, stewing, cooking and sewing, which now seemed to -centre about me. Verily it appeared, that last week, as if I might as -well bid my sword farewell, to take up a bodkin or a ladle in its place, -so little use did I seem to have for the weapon. - -Every time I went to Captain Carteret’s house, to have a few minutes -with Lucille, I found her busy with either a stew-pan or a needle. From -a maid, that had been wont to pay some small heed to what I said, she -had come, almost, to hold me in as little importance as any man in the -Colony. She would leave me in a moment, no matter what we were talking -of, if Madame Carteret, or one of the women, called her. - -What I did say she either heard not, or forgot as speedily as I had -spoken. - -Such bustling about as there was in the kitchen. I made bold to poke -myself in, once, but quickly drew out again. For in that short space I -nearly received a blow, accidental though it was, with a wooden pestle -on one side of my head, while another woman was within an ace of dousing -me with a jar of molasses she carried. - -It seemed that Lucille’s wedding (I dared not call it mine) was the -first one in the Colony in a number of years, and the women folk were so -distracted by the thoughts of it, that they were at their wits’ end. -They made plans by the dozens, as they did cakes, only to unmake them -ere night. Indeed, next to myself, whom nobody consulted, Lucille had as -little to say as if she was but to be an onlooker. I was hard put, at -times, when I was ordered around like a school boy by the women. But -Lucille, who had more of it than I did, took it with good grace, just as -if she had been used to it all her life. - -While the women were thus making ready the kitchen and gown part of the -affair, the men, who were pleased to call me Captain, had taken such -command of the block house, that I was hardly welcome there. The main -room I was by no means allowed to enter. It was the largest in the -place, and the door was kept carefully barred to me. There was much -coming and going, bringing in of evergreen boughs, foliage, and small -branches of trees, covered with bright red berries. - -Several friendly Indians were seen about the town, bearing bundles, that -I could note, by an occasional glimpse, contained goods of their -workmanship. Stag horns polished until they glistened in the sun, soft -tanned skins of the deer, furry hides of the bear and wild-cat, all -these were carried into the block, and hidden in the room that was -closed to me. - -So busy was every one but myself that I wandered about the settlement, -like a man without friends. I had a few matters to look after, though. - -With my wealth, so strangely restored to me, I purchased a roomy and -comfortable house, the best in the town, save Carteret’s, which one of -the settlers was anxious to sell. There was a cunning cabinet maker and -carpenter in the village, and I had them alter the dwelling to suit my -ideas. I sent privately to New York for some furnishings, hired a man -and maid servant, and the place began to look like a home, only lacking -a mistress. I laid out a good-sized garden, had the farm plowed and -sowed, and supplied with horses and cows, so that there was a promise of -plenty to eat and drink. On the day before the one set for the ceremony, -I sat down, tired but happy, to spend the last few hours of my life as a -lone man. I was glad that the time was so short. - -CHAPTER XXX. - -LOVE, HONOR AND OBEY. - -It was the 26th day of April. The air smelled of balmy spring, a warm -sun was overhead, a gentle breeze stirred the leaves amid which the -birds sang, and the whole earth seemed a happy place. I jumped out of -bed to look over the new suit, which I had, after much time and thought, -managed to get together. It was of dark plum-colored stuff, soft to the -touch, and became me as well as any coat and breeches I ever had. I laid -out a new pair of boots, the pliable leather black and shiny, spread out -my cloak on the bed, and was ready to dress for the wedding. I strapped -my sword on, feeling that I was now in proper trim for the occasion. The -weapon was the same good one which had stood me in such stead all along. -It had received many a hard knock, the scabbard was not as free from -dents as when I had it from the maker, it was rather rusty, too, I -thought, the blade being stained here and there. - -I sent to the innkeeper for some rags and rotten stone, that I might -polish the steel up. Master Aleworthy appeared himself with the stuff. -When he saw my fine looks (for I do myself that credit) he would not let -me burnish up the weapon, but insisted on doing it for me. A very proper -attempt he made of it, too, for, when he had finished it shone like a -new shilling. - -“Now for breakfast,” he said. - -“Not for me,” I replied, “there will be plenty of fodder when this -affair is over.” - -“But, Sir Francis, ’twill be a long time to then.” - -“Short enough,” was my answer. - -I strode out across the fields to the Captain’s house, hoping I might -get a glimpse of Lucille. But if she had been hard to see a week ago, -she was ten times more so now. At every door I tried I was bidden to -take myself off, and call again. Finally, being somewhat vexed, I called -to one saucy hussy: - -“Know, madame, that I am to wed to-day. That I am the groom.” - -“Aye, I know it,” she responded, as cool as you please. “You will be -sent for when you are wanted.” - -With that I had to be content, kicking my heels up and down the garden -path. Noon was the time. It wanted two hours yet. - -It seemed a month that I was in the garden. At last some one beckoned to -me, and I was admitted in to see Lucille. - -I would have gone up, before them all, to kiss her heartily, but she -held me off with her little hands, while a chorus of protests from all -the women told me I must respect the manner in which she was adorned. -Indeed, she made a handsome appearance. The dress was of soft, -gray-white, shimmering silk, with pieces of lace as long as my gun -barrel all about it, hung on after the manner of the clinging vine that -twines about a tree. The sleeves had it in, I think, also, the neck, -while there was a plenty trailing down the front and lower edge. She -wore a crown of glossy green leaves, a single white flower in her dark -hair. - -The plan was for the party to go to the block house in carts, half a -score of which, festooned with evergreens, were in waiting. Instead of -letting Lucille and me go on together, which seemed to me to be the most -sensible way, she rode with James Blithly, a great booby of a chap, -while I had to sit in the cart with Mistress Alice Turner, a sweet -enough maid. She was talkative, and I was not so, on the way, I had to -keep answering “yes” and “no” to her questions. - -It looked as though all the Colony and the folk from ten miles around -had come to the wedding. There were nearly three hundred people in view -when we neared the place where Dominie Worthington was awaiting us. -There were a number of Indians and their squaws, friendly, all of them, -who had gathered to see how the pale faces took their brides. They -laughed, smiled and greeted me with “How, Cap’n,” while some held out -their pipes, which, as was their custom, I puffed a few whiffs from, to -show that we were at peace, though indeed, the ceremony lacked much of -the solemnity usually associated with it. - -The block house at last. The drum beat as Carteret, in my honor, drew -the men up in double file. Lucille and I, with those who were to attend -us, dismounted from the carts, marching between the lines of -soldier-colonists into the main room. Then I was allowed to move up -beside Lucille, while both of us looked about in wonder. - -Never had such a bower for the plighting of love been constructed -before. The rough hewn walls had been covered with green boughs, red -berries gleaming amidst the foliage. On the floor the boards were hidden -from view by furs in such quantity that they overlapped. The stag -antlers, fastened here and there, served as hooks, whereon were -suspended bows, arrows, swords, guns, powder-horns, Indian shields, -curious stone hatchets, and many of the red-men’s household implements. -Gay colored baskets added to the color of the scene. - -A little wooden altar had been made, but it was almost hidden from view -by trailing, green vines. The men-at-arms filed in, taking their places -on either side of the chamber. Then came the town-folk, and the friendly -Indians, squaws, and even settlers from Newark, so that the place was -well nigh filled. - -Dominie Worthington took his place. Lucille and I stood together, with -Alice Turner and James Blithly on either side. Then, ere he began to say -the words that would unite us, Master Worthington lifted up his voice in -prayer. - -Then came the promises, the pledges--“Love, Honor and obey”--“till death -do you part”--solemn yet sweet. “Whom God hath joined together, let not -man put asunder.” - -We were man and wife. - -Then indeed came happy confusion and laughter. We were overwhelmed, -Lucille and I. But Carteret charged down on us, in the nick of time, to -rescue us from the friendly enemy that swarmed about us. How quick was -the journey back to the Captain’s house, and what a feast was there -spread out for all who wished to come. - -So often was the health of Lucille and myself proposed and drunk, that I -lost track of those who did me the honor to touch glasses. There was gay -laughter, songs and talk, merrymaking among the young people, and over -all good-fellowship and much cheer, with Lucille happiest of the women, -and I of the men. It grew night, but hundreds of candles chased the -gloom away. - -So it had come about, after many days, with force and with arms I had -won my bride. - -We were to go to the home I had prepared. Lucille kissed Madame Carteret -and others of her women friends, while I had my own cart and horses -brought up to the door. - -There were farewells by the score, laughter and tears from the women, -cheers from the men. The driver spoke to his team, they leaped forward. -Lucille and I had begun our life’s journey together. - -It was not far to the house. The door was opened on a blaze of candles. - -“Welcome home, sweetheart,” I said, kissing her. - -“Oh, Francis,” she exclaimed, looking about. “It is perfect. How good of -you to do all this for me.” - -“Do you like it?” - -“It is more than I dreamed.” - -A little wind, coming in the windows, flickered the candles. The breeze -seemed to sigh in contentment at our happiness. The servants closed the -door. We were alone--my wife and I. - - - - - - - - - THE END. - - - =“More Ex=Tank Tales”= - - By CLARENCE LOUIS CULLEN. - - With Introduction by the Author. - - _12mo, 250 Pages. Cloth Bound. Price, One Dollar._ - - -------------- - -Some readers will wonder what is meant by “More Ex-Tank Tales.” In -explanation would say that the stories compiled in the book under the -above title appeared in the _New York Sun_ from time to time, and they -have achieved well-merited notoriety. They are sketches about men who -have indulged in spirituous liquors to such an extent as to cause their -comrades to term them “tanks.” Having overcome the desire for -intoxicating beverages (reformed in fact), they take great pleasure, and -give the same to the reader, in recounting some of their adventures. -Following is the =_Table of Contents_=: - -TALE THE FIRST.--Wherein Ex-Tank No. 18 Marvelously Winneth Out as ye - Auctioneer of Antiques. - -TALE THE SECOND.--In Which Ex-Tank No. 17 Meeteth Up With ye Renowned - Singer and Yodler, “Fritz” Emmet, and the Consequences. - -TALE THE THIRD.--Wherein Ex-Tank No. 11 Ascertaineth the Advantages of - Being Mistaken for ye Wearer of the Senatorial Toga. - -TALE THE FOURTH.--Which Sheweth Ex-Tank No. 28 as the Natural and - Successful Enemy of ye Guileful Gold Brick Purveyor. - -TALE THE FIFTH--Wherein is Depicted the Woe of Ex-Tank No. 7 Growing Out - of His Being Mistaken for ye Doppelgaenger. - -TALE THE SIXTH.--Wherein Ex-Tank No. 10 Mournfully Portrayeth the - Difficulties he Encountered in Forsaking ye Golden Pacific Sands. - -TALE THE SEVENTH--In Which Ex-Tank No. 23 Sheweth the Possibilities - Lurking in the Involuntary Handling of ye “Ringer.” - -TALE THE EIGHTH--Describeth, Through the Lips of Ex-Tank (Ultlander) No. - 37, the Manifold Woes of Him Who First Butteth into ye Burg of New - York. - -TALE THE NINTH.--Wherein Ex-Tank (Hoodoo) No. 13 Hath a Good Word to Say - of ye Slumbersome Burg, Philadelphia-by-Schuylkill. - -TALE THE TENTH--In Which Ex-Tank No. 22 Narrowly Escapeth the Dangers of - ye Vasty Deep. - -TALE THE ELEVENTH.--Wherein Ex-Tank No. 14, by Means of ye Raffling - Stunt, Returneth to His Home Like Santa Claus. - -TALE THE TWELFTH.--Wherein Ex-Tank No. 12 Starts on a Journey from - Denver to Manhattan Beach. - -Sent by mail, postpaid to any address, upon receipt of price, $1.90. -Address all orders to - - =J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.= - - -=_It is possible_= - -That you are tired of hearing and reading about the =Letters of this one -and that one=, but we desire to call your attention to the fact that - - =“THE LETTERS OF MILDRED’S MOTHER TO MILDRED”= - -are entirely different from any that you have thus far read. Mildred is -a girl in the chorus at one of New York’s famous theatres, and her -mother is a woman who “travels” with a friend by the name of Blanche. -The book is written by =E.D. Price=, “The Man Behind the Scenes,” one -well qualified to touch upon the stage side of life. - -The following is the Table of Contents: - -Mother at the Races. Mother at a Chicago Hotel. Mother Goes Yachting. -Mother Escapes Matrimony. Mother Meets Nature’s Noblemen. - -Mother Joins the Repertoire Company. Mother in the One Night Stands. -Mother and the Theatrical Angel. Mother Returns to Mildred. - -Read what Blakely Hall says of it: - -“I don’t know whether you are aware of it or not, but you are turning -out wonderful, accurate and convincing character studies in the -Mildred’s Mother articles. They are as refreshing and invigorating as -showers on the hottest July day.” - -The book is well printed on fine laid paper, handsomely bound in cloth, -with attractive side stamp, and has already run into its third edition. -For sale everywhere, or it will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any -address upon receipt of price, $1.00. Address all orders to - - =J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.= - - - Don’t Fail - To Read - - =RESURRECTION,= - - BY - - =COUNT LEO TOLSTOI,= - - and considered by critics to be his =MASTERPIECE=. - - =Special Limited Edition.= - - Bound in Paper Covers, Price 50 Cents. - - Sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. - - --------------------- - - FOR SALE EVERYWHERE! - - --------------------- - - =J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.= - - - =THE KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS.= - - By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, - - Author of “Quo Vadis,” “With Fire and Sword,” Etc. - - -------------- - - Translated Direct from the Polish by BASIL DAHL. - - -------------- - - _1 vol. 12mo. 400 pages. Price, Bound in Paper - Cover, 50 Cents; Bound in Cloth, $1.00._ - -A book that holds your almost breathless attention as in a vise from the -very beginning, for in it love and strife, the most thrilling of all -worldly subjects, are described masterfully.--_The Boston Journal._ - -It seems superior to “Quo Vadis” in strength and realism.--_The -Churchman._ - -Presenting scene after scene of exceptional power and beauty.--_Saturday -Evening Post_, Philadelphia. - -The rushing life of the tale is as resistless as a force of -nature.--_San Francisco Call._ - -We say “great” advisedly, for Mr. Sienkiewicz here equals in force, -variety and tremendous exposition of primitive passions, his famous -Polish trilogy, “With Fire and Sword,” “The Deluge,” and “Pan -Michael.”--_The Outlook._ - -The construction of the story is beyond praise. It is difficult -to conceive of any one who will not pick up the book with -eagerness.--_Chicago Evening Post._ - - -------------- - -Price, bound in paper covers, 50 cents; handsomely bound in cloth, one -dollar. Sent by mail, postpaid, to any address, on receipt of price. -Address all orders to - - J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - P.O. Box 2767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK - - - =When Shiloh Came,= - - =BY= - - =Ambrose Lester Jackson.= - - -------------- - - =_12mo, 320 Pages. Bound in Extra Cloth, $1.50._= - - -------------- - - =Seven Full-page Illustrations by the Author.= - - -------------- - -This book is not a religious novel of the style and quality usually -offered to the public. It is rather a prose poem, in which the splendid -decadence of an ancient idolatry is pictured with rare felicity by a new -writer of brilliant promise. - -The book will be read with deep interest, because there is a certain -power in its pages that will impress and fascinate the mind. It contains -enough of plot, mystery, adventure, and the like, to hold the attention, -while the underlying thought of dissatisfaction with the heathen gods, -and expectation of something better, lifts it far above the level of -mere sensational fiction. Moreover, its locale is new. The usual -background of stories of the times antecedent, or subsequent, to the -birth of Christ, is either Rome, or Jerusalem; but the scene of this -charming romance is in that far removed region of the Orient known to -the ancients as Magog and Shem, and to modern geographers as -Beloochistan. - -The prologue to the story is a masterpiece of poetic imagery; the story -itself is an idyl of surpassing beauty. - -We anticipate a very large sale for this work among all denominations of -religious people. - -It is handsomely bound in the highest style of the bookmaker’s art, and -is illustrated by seven full-page unique illustrations from original -designs by the Author who is not only an able author, but also an artist -of unequalled ability. - -The book is for sale by all bookdealers everywhere, or it will be sent -by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, $1.50. - -☞ =Agents Wanted= to sell this book in every church and community, to -whom we offer very liberal terms. Address - - =J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK= - - -_When an Author_ - -has finished his work he is sometimes at a loss to know just how or -where to get it published upon the best terms. - -To all such we desire to offer our services _free of charge_ so far as -giving advice, information, hints and helps to get a publisher who will -publish and put the book on the market. - -We are in want of first-class manuscripts, and if accepted will publish -them for authors upon very favorable terms, will purchase them outright, -or publish them on royalty. - -We will examine manuscripts, and make some definite business proposition -for their publication within two weeks after receiving them. - -We have been in the Publishing business twenty-five years, and authors -may depend upon fair and honorable treatment from us. - -Correspondence solicited, and it will _be answered promptly_. Address -all manuscripts and communications to - - J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, - P.O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -On p. 212, the printer transposed the third and fourth lines of the -paragraph beginning: “So we stood thus....” - -As printed: - -So we stood thus, perchance while a man might have counted a score -slowly. Around us was the waste of =[to go to pieces every second. -Between us, as pale as death,]= =[waters. Under our feet the quivering -Eagle, that was like]= was Lucille, the cause of both of us being there. -Perhaps she was dead, and our bitter words were spoken in vain. - -Corrected: - -So we stood thus, perchance while a man might have counted a score -slowly. Around us was the waste of =[waters. Under our feet the -quivering Eagle, that was like]= =[to go to pieces every second. Between -us, as pale as death,]= was Lucille, the cause of both of us being -there. Perhaps she was dead, and our bitter words were spoken in vain. - -Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. -The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions. - - 30.24 Lord prevent that they cast their eyes this Replaced. - way[?/!]” - - 55.26 I had to rout up Wil[l]is, Added. - - 127.26 as though they were [p/b]ut pebbles. Replaced. - - 149.23 and I wondered va[ug/gu]ely Transposed. - - 154.13 and your po[r]ker was a fine fat one Added. - - 164.21 when I asked if I was not [t]o hang Added. - - 174.17 to burn us like rats in a tra[y/p]. Replaced. - - 187.5 “Oh, the vill[ia/ai]n,” Transposed. - - 188.4 and Nanette ac[c]ompanied them. Added. - - 199.13 “I suppose I must,” he said sullenly[.] Added. - - 199.27 a voyage he couldn’t see the end of[.] Added. - - 231.17 from the charge of wit[c]hcraft Added. - - 257.15 and then we[b / b]reathed, it seemed Transposed. - - 262.11 or halt them for a[ ]time Added. - - 265.16 Messenger[s] were sent Added. - - 278.24 into a panic as quickly as possibl[y/e] Replaced. - - 295.25 they might not get near enough to charge[.] Added. - - 301.14 to ignite the hug[h/e] pile of brush Replaced. - - 304.26 “And who car[r]ied out the powder?” Added. - - 316.13 feeling his [s]teel pierce my side Added. - - 333.10 “With all my wor[l]dly goods I thee endow.” Added. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of With Force and Arms, by Howard R. 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