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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9263-0.txt b/9263-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b973fbe --- /dev/null +++ b/9263-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9244 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Midst of Alarms + +Author: Robert Barr + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9263] +This file was first posted on September 16, 2003 +Last Updated: October 31, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS + +By Robert Barr + +1894 + + + +TO E.B. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +In the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropolitan Grand Hotel in +Buffalo, Professor Stillson Renmark stood and looked about him with the +anxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy splendor of the modern +American house of entertainment. The professor had paused halfway +between the door and the marble counter, because he began to fear that +he had arrived at an inopportune time, that something unusual was going +on. The hurry and bustle bewildered him. + +An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was standing at the door, its +steps backed over the curbstone, and beside it was a broad, flat van, +on which stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron-bound trunks +belonging to commercial travelers, and the more fragile, but not less +bulky, saratogas, doubtless the property of the ladies who sat patiently +in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had just arrived was backing up to +the curb, and the irate driver used language suitable to the occasion; +for the two restive horses were not behaving exactly in the way he +liked. + +A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and mournful, voice was filling +the air with the information that a train was about to depart for +Albany, Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. When he came to +the words “the East,” his voice dropped to a sad minor key, as if the +man despaired of the fate of those who took their departure in that +direction. Every now and then a brazen gong sounded sharply; and one of +the negroes who sat in a row on a bench along the marble-paneled wall +sprang forward to the counter, took somebody’s handbag, and disappeared +in the direction of the elevator with the newly arrived guest following +him. Groups of men stood here and there conversing, heedless of the rush +of arrival and departure around them. + +Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows sat a row of men, some +talking, some reading, and some gazing outside, but all with their feet +on the brass rail which had been apparently put there for that purpose. +Nearly everybody was smoking a cigar. A lady of dignified mien came down +the hall to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to the clerk, +who bent his well-groomed head deferentially on one side as he listened +to what she had to say. The men instantly made way for her. She passed +along among them as composedly as if she were in her own drawing room, +inclining her head slightly to one or other of her acquaintances, which +salutation was gravely acknowledged by the raising of the hat and the +temporary removal of the cigar from the lips. + +All this was very strange to the professor, and he felt himself in a new +world, with whose customs he was not familiar. Nobody paid the slightest +attention to him as he stood there among it all with his satchel in his +hand. As he timidly edged up to the counter, and tried to accumulate +courage enough to address the clerk, a young man came forward, flung his +handbag on the polished top of the counter, metaphorically brushed the +professor aside, pulled the bulky register toward him, and inscribed his +name on the page with a rapidity equaled only by the illegibility of the +result. + +“Hello, Sam!” he said to the clerk. “How’s things? Get my telegram?” + +“Yes,” answered the clerk; “but I can’t give you 27. It’s been taken for +a week. I reserved 85 for you, and had to hold on with my teeth to do +that.” + +The reply of the young man was merely a brief mention of the place of +torment. + +“It _is_ hot,” said the clerk blandly. “In from Cleveland?” + +“Yes. Any letters for me?” + +“Couple of telegrams. You’ll find them up in 85.” + +“Oh, you were cocksure I’d take that room?” + +“I was cocksure you’d have to. It is that or the fifth floor. We’re +full. Couldn’t give a better room to the President if he came.” + +“Oh, well, what’s good enough for the President I can put up with for a +couple of days.” + +The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The negro sprang forward +and took the “grip.” + +“Eighty-five,” said the clerk; and the drummer and the Negro +disappeared. + +“Is there any place where I could leave my bag for a while?” the +professor at last said timidly to the clerk. + +“Your bag?” + +The professor held it up in view. + +“Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?” And the clerk’s hand +hovered over the bell. + +“No. At least, not just yet. You see, I’m----” + +“All right. The baggage man there to the left will check it for you.” + +“Any letters for Bond?” said a man, pushing himself in front of +the professor. The clerk pulled out a fat bunch of letters from the +compartment marked “B,” and handed the whole lot to the inquirer, who +went rapidly over them, selected two that appeared to be addressed to +him, and gave the letters a push toward the clerk, who placed them where +they were before. + +The professor paused a moment, then, realizing that the clerk had +forgotten him, sought the baggage man, whom he found in a room filled +with trunks and valises. The room communicated with the great hall +by means of a square opening whose lower ledge was breast high. The +professor stood before it, and handed the valise to the man behind +this opening, who rapidly attached one brass check to the handle with a +leather thong, and flung the other piece of brass to the professor. +The latter was not sure but there was something to pay, still he quite +correctly assumed that if there had been the somewhat brusque man would +have had no hesitation in mentioning the fact; in which surmise his +natural common sense proved a sure guide among strange surroundings. +There was no false delicacy about the baggage man. + +Although the professor was to a certain extent bewildered by the +condition of things, there was still in his nature a certain dogged +persistence that had before now stood him in good stead, and which had +enabled him to distance, in the long run, much more brilliant men. He +was not at all satisfied with his brief interview with the clerk. He +resolved to approach that busy individual again, if he could arrest his +attention. It was some time before he caught the speaker’s eye, as it +were, but when he did so, he said: + +“I was about to say to you that I am waiting for a friend from New York +who may not yet have arrived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the----” + +“Oh, Dick Yates! Certainly. He’s here.” Turning to the negro, he said: +“Go down to the billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he is +not, look for him at the bar.” + +The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Apparently not noticing the +look of amazement that had stolen over the professor’s face, the clerk +said: + +“If you wait in the reading room, I’ll send Yates to you when he comes. +The boy will find him if he’s in the house; but he may be uptown.” + +The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging clerk further, did not +ask him where the reading room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurrying +porter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer: + +“Dining room next floor. Reading, smoking, and writing rooms up the +hall. Billiard room, bar, and lavatory downstairs.” + +The professor, after getting into the barber shop and the cigar store, +finally found his way into the reading room. Numerous daily papers were +scattered around on the table, each attached to a long, clumsy cleft +holder made of wood; while other journals, similarly encumbered, hung +from racks against the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easy +leather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a paper, drew a thin +book from his pocket, in which he was soon so absorbed that he became +entirely unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light touch on the +shoulder brought him up from his book into the world again, and he saw, +looking down on him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. + +“I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are a guest of this +house?” + +A shade of apprehension crossed the professor’s face as he slipped the +book into his pocket. He had vaguely felt that he was trespassing when +he first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were confirmed. + +“I--I am not exactly a guest,” he stammered. + +“What do you mean by not exactly a guest?” continued the other, +regarding the professor with a cold and scrutinizing gaze. “A man is +either a guest or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your case?” + +“I presume, technically speaking, I am not.” + +“Technically speaking! More evasions. Let me ask you, sir, as an +ostensibly honest man, if you imagine that all this luxury--this--this +elegance--is maintained for nothing? Do you think, sir, that it is +provided for any man who has cheek enough to step out of the street +and enjoy it? Is it kept up, I ask, for people who are, technically +speaking, not guests?” + +The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the face of the +unfortunate professor. He had nothing to say. He realized that his +conduct was too flagrant to admit of defense, so he attempted none. +Suddenly the countenance of his questioner lit up with a smile, and he +smote the professor on the shoulder. + +“Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven’t changed a particle in fifteen +years! You don’t mean to pretend you don’t know me?” + +“You can’t--you can’t be Richard Yates?” + +“I not only can, but I can’t be anybody else. I know, because I have +often tried. Well, well, well, well! Stilly we used to call you; don’t +you remember? I’ll never forget that time we sang ‘Oft in the stilly +night’ in front of your window when you were studying for the exams. You +always _were_ a quiet fellow, Stilly. I’ve been waiting for you nearly +a whole day. I was up just now with a party of friends when the boy +brought me your card--a little philanthropic gathering--sort of mutual +benefit arrangement, you know: each of us contributed what we could +spare to a general fund, which was given to some deserving person in the +crowd.” + +“Yes,” said the professor dryly. “I heard the clerk telling the boy +where he would be most likely to find you.” + +“Oh, you did, eh?” cried Yates, with a laugh. “Yes, Sam generally knows +where to send for me; but he needn’t have been so darned public about +it. Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to go in print and what +should have the blue pencil run through it. Sam is very discreet, as a +general thing; but then he knew, of course, the moment he set eyes on +you, that you were an old pal of mine.” + +Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery laugh for so evidently +wicked a man. + +“Come along,” he said, taking the professor by the arm. “We must get you +located.” + +They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the clerk’s counter. + +“I say, Sam,” cried Yates, “can’t you do something better for us than +the fifth floor? I didn’t come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. No +sky parlors for me, if I can help it.” + +“I’m sorry, Dick,” said the clerk; “but I expect the fifth floor will be +gone when the Chicago express gets in.” + +“Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?” + +“I can let you have 518. That’s the next room to yours. Really, they’re +the most comfortable rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout over +the lake. I wouldn’t mind having a sight of the lake myself, if I could +leave the desk.” + +“All right. But I didn’t come to look at the lake, nor yet at the +railroad tracks this side, nor at Buffalo Creek either, beautiful and +romantic as it is, nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousand +locomotives that pass within hearing distance for the delight of your +guests. The fact is that, always excepting Chicago, Buffalo is more +like--for the professor’s sake I’ll say Hades, than any other place in +America.” + +“Oh, Buffalo’s all right,” said the clerk, with that feeling of local +loyalty which all Americans possess. “Say, are you here on this Fenian +snap?” + +“What Fenian snap?” asked the newspaper man. + +“Oh! don’t you know about it? I thought, the moment I saw you, that you +were here for this affair. Well, don’t say I told you, but I can put you +on to one of the big guns if you want the particulars. They say they’re +going to take Canada. I told ‘em that I wouldn’t take Canada as a gift, +let alone fight for it. I’ve _been_ there.” + +Yates’ newspaper instinct thrilled him as he thought of the possible +sensation. Then the light slowly died out of his eyes when he looked at +the professor, who had flushed somewhat and compressed his lips as he +listened to the slighting remarks on his country. + +“Well, Sam,” said the newspaper man at last, “it isn’t more than once +in a lifetime that you’ll find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but +the fact is I’m on my vacation just now. About the first I’ve had for +fifteen years; so, you see, I must take care of it. No, let the _Argus_ +get scooped, if it wants to. They’ll value my services all the more when +I get back. No. 518, I think you said?” + +The clerk handed over the key, and the professor gave the boy the check +for his valise at Yates’ suggestion. + +“Now, get a move on you,” said Yates to the elevator boy. “We’re going +right through with you.” + +And so the two friends were shot up together to the fifth floor. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The sky parlor, as Yates had termed it, certainly commanded a very +extensive view. Immediately underneath was a wilderness of roofs. +Farther along were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and a line +of masts and propeller funnels marked the windings of Buffalo Creek, +along whose banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked by some +tremendous letter of the alphabet, done in white paint against the +somber brown of the big building. Still farther to the west was a more +grateful and comforting sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted with +white sails and an occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under the +broiling sun. Over the water, through the distant summer haze, there +could be seen the dim line of the Canadian shore. + +“Sit you down,” cried Yates, putting both hands on the other’s +shoulders, and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placing +his finger on the electric button, he added: “What will you drink?” + +“I’ll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble,” said +Renmark. + +Yates’ hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side, and +he looked reproachfully at the professor. + +“Great Heavens!” he cried, “have something mild. Don’t go rashly in +for Buffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to it +gradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter.” + +“Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order what +you like for yourself.” + +“Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that.” He pushed the button, +and, when the boy appeared, said: “Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge +it to Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water for +Yates, No. 520. There,” he continued gleefully, “I’m going to have all +the drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I’ll pay the bill, but +I’ll keep the account to hold over your head in the future. Professor +Stillson Renmark, debtor to Metropolitan Grand--one sherry cobbler, one +gin sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, then, Stilly, let’s talk +business. You’re not married, I take it, or you wouldn’t have responded +to my invitation so promptly.” The professor shook his head. “Neither am +I. You never had the courage to propose to a girl; and I never had the +time.” + +“Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the old days, Richard,” + said Renmark quietly. + +Yates laughed. “Well, it didn’t hold me back any, to my knowledge. +Now I’ll tell you how I’ve got along since we attended old Scragmore’s +academy together, fifteen years ago. How time does fly! When I left, I +tried teaching for one short month. I had some theories on the education +of our youth which did not seem to chime in with the prejudices the +school trustees had already formed on the subject.” + +The professor was at once all attention. Touch a man on his business, +and he generally responds by being interested. + +“And what were your theories?” he asked. + +“Well, I thought a teacher should look after the physical as well as +the mental welfare of his pupils. It did not seem to me that his duty to +those under his charge ended with mere book learning.” + +“I quite agree with you,” said the professor cordially. + +“Thanks. Well, the trustees didn’t. I joined the boys at their games, +hoping my example would have an influence on their conduct on the +playground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a rattling good +cricket club. You may not remember that I stood rather better in cricket +at the academy than I did in mathematics or grammar. By handicapping me +with several poor players, and having the best players among the boys in +opposition, we made a pretty evenly matched team at school section No. +12. One day, at noon, we began a game. The grounds were in excellent +condition, and the opposition boys were at their best. My side was +getting the worst of it. I was very much interested; and, when one +o’clock came, I thought it a pity to call school and spoil so good and +interesting a contest. The boys were unanimously of the same opinion. +The girls were happy, picnicking under the trees. So we played cricket +all the afternoon.” + +“I think that was carrying your theory a little too far,” said the +professor dubiously. + +“Just what the trustees thought when they came to hear of it. So they +dismissed me; and I think my leaving was the only case on record where +the pupils genuinely mourned a teacher’s departure. I shook the dust of +Canada from my feet, and have never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, +continuing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello! here’s your +drinks at last, Stilly. I had forgotten about them--an unusual thing +with me. That’s all right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hits +the spot on a hot day.) Well, where was I? Oh, yes, at Buffalo. I got +a place on a paper here, at just enough to keep life in me; but I liked +the work. Then I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, afterward +to Albany at a still bigger salary, and of course Albany is only a few +hours from New York, and that is where all newspaper men ultimately +land, if they are worth their salt. I saw a small section of the war as +special correspondent, got hurt, and rounded up in the hospital. Since +then, although only a reporter, I am about the top of the tree in that +line, and make enough money to pay my poker debts and purchase iced +drinks to soothe the asperities of the game. When there is anything big +going on anywhere in the country, I am there, with other fellows to do +the drudgery; I writing the picturesque descriptions and interviewing +the big men. My stuff goes red-hot over the telegraph wire, and the +humble postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I am acquainted +with every hotel clerk that amounts to anything from New York to San +Francisco. If I could save money, I should be rich, for I make plenty; +but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket has lost me a lot of cash, +and I don’t seem to be able to get it mended. Now, you’ve listened with +your customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, as you called +it, full sway. I am grateful. I will reciprocate. How about yourself?” + +The professor spoke slowly. “I have had no such adventurous career,” he +began. “I have not shaken Canadian dust from my feet, and have not +made any great success. I have simply plodded; and am in no danger of +becoming rich, although I suppose I spend as little as any man. After +you were expel--after you left the aca----” + +“Don’t mutilate the good old English language, Stilly. You were right +in the first place. I am not thin-skinned. You were saying after I was +expelled. Go on.” + +“I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. You remember, you were +very indignant at the time, and----” + +“Of course I was--and am still, for that matter. It was an outrage!” + +“I thought it was proved that you helped to put the pony in the +principal’s room.” + +“Oh, certainly. _That_. Of course. But what I detested was the way +the principal worked the thing. He allowed that villain Spink to turn +evidence against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, whereas +I could claim no such honor. It was Spink’s own project, which I fell +in with, as I did with every disreputable thing proposed. Of course the +principal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. Do you happen +to know if Spink has been hanged yet?” + +“I believe he is a very reputable business man in Montreal, and much +respected.” + +“I might have suspected that. Well, you keep your eye on the respected +Spink. If he doesn’t fail some day, and make a lot of money, I’m a +Dutchman. But go on. This is digression. By the way, just push that +electric button. You’re nearest, and it is too hot to move. Thanks. +After I was expelled----” + +“After your departure I took a diploma, and for a year or two taught a +class in the academy. Then, as I studied during my spare time, I got a +chance as master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, as I think, +though the recommendation of Principal Scragmore. I had my degree by +this time. Then----” + +There was a gentle tap at the door. + +“Come in!” shouted Yates. “Oh, it’s you. Just bring up another cooling +cobbler, will you? and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room +518. Yes; and then----” + +“And then there came the opening in University College, Toronto. I had +the good fortune to be appointed. There I am still, and there I suppose +I shall stay. I know very few people, and am better acquainted with +books than with men. Those whom I have the privilege of knowing are +mostly studious persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in the +world of learning. I have not had your advantage, of meeting statesmen +who guide the destinies of a great empire. + +“No; you always were lucky, Stilly. My experience is that the chaps who +do the guiding are more anxious about their own pockets, or their own +political advancement, than they are of the destinies. Still, the empire +seems to take its course westward just the same. So old Scragmore’s been +your friend, has he?” + +“He has, indeed.” + +“Well, he insulted me only the other day.” + +“You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentlemanly and scholarly a man as +Principal Scragmore insulting anybody.” + +“Oh, you don’t know him as I do. It was like this: I wanted to find out +where you were, for reasons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgeled +my brains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, and enclosed a +stamped and addressed envelope, as all unsought contributors should +do. He answered--But I have his reply somewhere. You shall read it for +yourself.” + +Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which he +hurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: “I +thought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven’t I paid that +bill yet? This pass is run out. Must get another.” Then he smiled and +sighed as he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparently he +could not find the document he sought. + +“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me the +prepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of no +use in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn’t +pay the postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double. +Still, I don’t mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. He went +on to say that, of all the members of our class, you--_you_!--were the +only one who had reflected credit on it. That was the insult. The idea +of his making such a statement, when I had told him I was on the New +York _Argus_! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonder if he ever heard of +Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course. No? Well, Brown, +by his own exertions, became president of the Alum Bank in New York, +wrecked it, and got off to Canada with a clear half million. _Yes_, +sir. I saw him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps the finest span and +carriage in the city, and lives in a palace. Could buy out old Scragmore +a thousand times, and never feel it. Most liberal contributor to the +cause of education that there is in Canada. He says education made him, +and he’s not a man to go back on education. And yet Scragmore has the +cheek to say that _you_ were the only man in the class who reflects +credit on it!” + +The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a cooling +sip of the cobbler. + +“You see, Yates, people’s opinions differ. A man like Brown may not be +Principal Scragmore’s ideal. The principal may be local in his ideals of +a successful man, or of one who reflects credit on his teaching.” + +“Local? You bet he’s local. Too darned local for me. It would do that +man good to live in New York for a year. But I’m going to get even with +him. I’m going to write him up. I’ll give him a column and a half; see +if I don’t. I’ll get his photograph, and publish a newspaper portrait +of him. If that doesn’t make him quake, he’s a cast-iron man. Say, you +haven’t a photograph of old Scrag that you can lend me, have you?” + +“I have; but I won’t lend it for such a purpose. However, never mind +the principal. Tell me your plans. I am at your disposal for a couple of +weeks, or longer if necessary.” + +“Good boy! Well, I’ll tell you how it is. I want rest and quiet, and the +woods, for a week or two. This is how it happened: I have been steadily +at the grindstone, except for a while in the hospital; and that, you +will admit, is not much of a vacation. The work interests me, and I +am always in the thick of it. Now, it’s like this in the newspaper +business: Your chief is never the person to suggest that you take a +vacation. He is usually short of men and long on things to do, so if you +don’t worry him into letting you off, he won’t lose any sleep over it. +He’s content to let well enough alone every time. Then there is always +somebody who wants to get away on pressing business,--grandmother’s +funeral, and that sort of thing,--so if a fellow is content to work +right along, his chief is quite content to let him. That’s the way +affairs have gone for years with me. The other week I went over to +Washington to interview a senator on the political prospects. I tell +you what it is, Stilly, without bragging, there are some big men in the +States whom no one but me _can_ interview. And yet old Scrag says I’m +no credit to his class! Why, last year my political predictions were +telegraphed all over this country, and have since appeared in the +European press. No credit! By Jove, I would like to have old Scrag in a +twenty-four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, for about ten minutes!” + +“I doubt if he would shine under those circumstances. But never mind +him. He spoke, for once, without due reflection, and with perhaps an +exaggerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. What happened when +you went to Washington?” + +“A strange thing happened. When I was admitted to the senator’s library, +I saw another fellow, whom I thought I knew, sitting there. I said to +the senator: ‘I will come when you are alone.’ The senator looked up +in surprise, and said: ‘I am alone.’ I didn’t say anything, but went +on with my interview; and the other fellow took notes all the time. +I didn’t like this, but said nothing, for the senator is not a man to +offend, and it is by not offending these fellows that I can get the +information I do. Well, the other fellow came out with me, and as +I looked at him I saw that he was myself. This did not strike me as +strange at the time, but I argued with him all the way to New York, +and tried to show him that he wasn’t treating me fairly. I wrote up +the interview, with the other fellow interfering all the while, so I +compromised, and half the time put in what he suggested, and half the +time what I wanted in myself. When the political editor went over +the stuff, he looked alarmed. I told him frankly just how I had +been interfered with, and he looked none the less alarmed when I had +finished. He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor metaphorically took +me to pieces, and then said to my chief: ‘This man is simply worked to +death. He must have a vacation, and a real one, with absolutely nothing +to think of, or he is going to collapse, and that with a suddenness +which will surprise everybody.’ The chief, to my astonishment, consented +without a murmur, and even upbraided me for not going away sooner. Then +the doctor said to me: ‘You get some companion--some man with no brains, +if possible, who will not discuss politics, who has no opinion on +anything that any sane man would care to talk about, and who couldn’t +say a bright thing if he tried for a year. Get such a man to go off to +the woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As far away from post +offices and telegraph offices as possible. And, by the way, don’t leave +your address at the _Argus_ office.’ Thus it happened, Stilly, when he +described this man so graphically, I at once thought of you.” + +“I am deeply gratified, I am sure,” said the professor, with the ghost +of a smile, “to be so promptly remembered in such a connection, and if +I can be of service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, that +you have no intention of stopping in Buffalo?” + +“You bet I haven’t. I’m in for the forest primeval, the murmuring +pines and the hemlock, bearded with moss and green in the something or +other--I forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and lie on +my back instead, on the sward or in a hammock. I’m going to avoid all +boarding houses or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of +the forest.” + +“There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore.” + +“No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake Shore +Railroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. _No_, +sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired a tent and a lot +of cooking things. I’m going to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow; +and then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart it somewhere +into the woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. We shall have to be near +a farmhouse, so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of +course, is a disadvantage; but I shall try to get near someone who has +never even heard of New York.” + +“You may find that somewhat difficult.” + +“Oh, I don’t know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence in the +Canadians.” + +“Often the narrowest,” said the professor slowly, “are those who think +themselves the most cosmopolitan.” + +“Right you are,” cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, and +seeing nothing applicable to his case in it. “Well, I’ve laid in about +half a ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug.” + +“An empty one?” + +“Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess, +is good whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at the +customhouse. I don’t suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentucky +article, but you and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And, +talking of whisky, just press the button once again.” + +The professor did so, saying: + +“The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smoking +less, did he?” + +“In my case? Well, come to think of it, there _was_ some conversation in +that direction. Don’t remember at the moment just what it amounted to; +but all physicians have their little fads, you know. It doesn’t do to +humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the professor +wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, and put plenty of ice +in it; but don’t neglect the gin on that account. Certainly; charge it +to room 518.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +“What’s all this tackle?” asked the burly and somewhat red-faced customs +officer at Fort Erie. + +“This,” said Yates, “is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertaining +thereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shall +doubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty. This +is a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attention +to the fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately prevents me +making a libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friend has +in that valise I don’t know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and would +advise you to search him.” + +“My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearing +apparel,” said the professor, opening his grip. + +The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, and +evidently did not like the tone of the American. He seemed to be +treating the customs department in a light and airy manner, and the +officer was too much impressed by the dignity of his position not to +resent flippancy. Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in the +air, and the officer resolved that no Fenian should get into the country +without paying duty. + +“Where are you going with this tent?” + +“I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don’t know the +country about here. Say, Stilly, I’m off uptown to attend to the +emptiness in this stone utensil. I’ve been empty too often myself not +to sympathize with its condition. You wrestle this matter out about the +tent. You know the ways of the country, whereas I don’t.” + +It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of +his friend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with the +officer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously over +his shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marched up +the hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war +tunes. + +“Now,” he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar, +“fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it with the +old familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith.” + +The bartender did as he was requested. + +“Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be +taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?” + +The barkeeper smiled. “How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?” + +“I can suggest nothing better,” replied Yates. “If you are sure you know +how to make it.” + +The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said, +with the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer: + +“I am a Kentucky man myself.” + +“Shake!” cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar. +“How is it you happened to be here?” + +“Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, where +I can at least look at God’s country.” + +“Hold on,” protested Yates. “You’re making only _one_ cocktail.” + +“Didn’t you say one?” asked the man, pausing in the compounding. + +“Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with me on +this.” + +“Just as you say,” replied the other, as he prepared enough for two. + +“Now I’ll tell you my fix,” said Yates confidentially. “I’ve got a tent +and some camp things down below at the customhouse shanty, and I want +to get them taken into the woods, where I can camp out with a friend. I +want a place where we can have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know the +country round here? Perhaps you could recommend a spot.” + +“Well, for all the time I’ve been here, I know precious little about the +back country. I’ve been down the road to Niagara Falls, but never back +in the woods. I suppose you want some place by the lake or the river?” + +“No, I don’t. I want to get clear back into the forest--if there is a +forest.” + +“Well, there’s a man in to-day from somewhere near Ridgeway, I think. +He’s got a hay rack with him, and that would be just the thing to take +your tent and poles. Wouldn’t be very comfortable traveling for you, but +it would be all right for the tent, if it’s a big one.” + +“That will suit us exactly. We don’t care a cent about the comfort. +Roughing it is what we came for. Where will I find him?” + +“Oh, he’ll be along here soon. That’s his team tied there on the side +street. If he happens to be in good humor, he’ll take your things, and +as like as not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiram Bartlett’s +his name. And, talking of the old Nick himself, here he is. I say, Mr. +Bartlett, this gentleman was wondering if you couldn’t tote out some of +his belongings. He’s going out your way.” + +Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry specimen of the Canadian farmer +who evidently paid little attention to the subject of dress. He said +nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, with something of +contempt and suspicion in his glance. + +Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance of all mankind. +“Come in, Mr. Bartlett,” he said cheerily, “and try one of my friend’s +excellent cocktails.” + +“I take mine straight,” growled Bartlett gruffly, although he stepped +inside the open door. “I don’t want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain +whisky’s good enough for any man, if he _is_ a man. I don’t take no +water, neither. I’ve got trouble enough.” + +The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the decanter over to the +newcomer. + +“Right you are,” assented Yates cordially. + +The farmer did not thaw out in the least because of this prompt +agreement with him, but sipped his whisky gloomily, as if it were a most +disagreeable medicine. + +“What did you want me to take out?” he said at last. + +“A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of jolly good tobacco.” + +“How much are you willing to pay?” + +“Oh, I don’t know. I’m always willing to do what’s right. How would five +dollars strike you?” + +The farmer scowled and shook his head. + +“Too much,” he said, as Yates was about to offer more. “‘Taint worth it. +Two and a half would be about the right figure. Don’no but that’s too +much. I’ll think on it going home, and charge you what it’s worth. I’ll +be ready to leave in about an hour, if that suits you. That’s my team on +the other side of the road. If it’s gone when you come back, I’m gone, +an’ you’ll have to get somebody else.” + +With this Bartlett drew his coat sleeve across his mouth and departed. + +“That’s him exactly,” said the barkeeper. “He’s the most cantankerous +crank in the township. And say, let me give you a pointer. If the +subject of 1812 comes up,--the war, you know,--you’d better admit that +we got thrashed out of our boots; that is, if you want to get along with +Hiram. He hates Yankees like poison.” + +“And did we get thrashed in 1812?” asked Yates, who was more familiar +with current topics than with the history of the past. + +“Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told him once that we got what +we wanted from old England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. So I +give you the warning, if you want to get along with him.” + +“Thank you. I’ll remember it. So long.” + +This friendly hint from the man in the tavern offers a key to the +solution of the problem of Yates’ success on the New York press. He +could get news when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as he +undoubtedly was, he somehow got into the inner confidences of all sorts +of men in a way that made them give him an inkling of anything that +was going on for the mere love of him; and thus Yates often received +valuable assistance from his acquaintances which other reporters could +not get for money. + +The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a bench by the +customhouse, chatting with the officer, and gazing at the rapidly +flowing broad blue river in front of them. + +“I have got a man,” said Yates, “who will take us out into the +wilderness in about an hour’s time. Suppose we explore the town. I +expect nobody will run away with the tent till we come back.” + +“I’ll look after that,” said the officer; and, thanking him, the two +friends strolled up the street. They were a trifle late in getting back, +and when they reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on the point +of driving home. He gruffly consented to take them, if they did not keep +him more than five minutes loading up. The tent and its belongings +were speedily placed on the hay rack, and then Bartlett drove up to the +tavern and waited, saying nothing, although he had been in such a hurry +a few moments before. Yates did not like to ask the cause of the delay; +so the three sat there silently. After a while Yates said as mildly as +he could: + +“Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett?” + +“Yes,” answered the driver in a surly tone. “I’m waiting for you to +go in fur that jug. I don’t suppose you filled it to leave it on the +counter.” + +“By Jove!” cried Yates, springing off, “I had forgotten all about it, +which shows the extraordinary effect this country has on me already.” + The professor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with the jar in his +hand, and Bartlett started his team. They drove out of the village and +up a slight hill, going for a mile or two along a straight and somewhat +sandy road. Then they turned into the Ridge Road, as Bartlett called it, +in answer to a question by the professor, and there was no need to ask +why it was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather stony, the road +being, in places, on the bare rock. It paid not the slightest attention +to Euclid’s definition of a straight line, and in this respect was +rather a welcome change from the average American road. Sometimes they +passed along avenues of overbranching trees, which were evidently relics +of the forest that once covered all the district. The road followed the +ridge, and on each side were frequently to be seen wide vistas of lower +lying country. All along the road were comfortable farmhouses; and it +was evident that a prosperous community flourished along the ridge. + +Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the professor, who sat next to +him. + +“You a Canadian?” + +“Yes.” + +“Where’s _he_ from?” + +“My friend is from New York,” answered the innocent professor. + +“Humph!” grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper than ever, after which he +became silent again. The team was not going very fast, although neither +the load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was muttering a good deal to +himself, and now and then brought down his whip savagely on one or the +other of the horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals quickened +their pace he hauled them in roughly. Nevertheless, they were going +quickly enough to be overtaking a young woman who was walking on alone. +Although she must have heard them coming over the rocky road she did not +turn her head, but walked along with the free and springy step of one +who is not only accustomed to walking, but who likes it. Bartlett paid +no attention to the girl; the professor was endeavoring to read his thin +book as well as a man might who is being jolted frequently; but Yates, +as soon as he recognized that the pedestrian was young, pulled up his +collar, adjusted his necktie with care, and placed his hat in a somewhat +more jaunty and fetching position. + +“Are you going to offer that girl a ride?” he said to Bartlett. + +“No, I’m not.” + +“I think that is rather uncivil,” he added, forgetting the warning he +had had. + +“You do, eh? Well, you offer her a ride. You hired the team.” + +“By Jove! I will,” said Yates, placing his hand on the outside of the +rack, and springing lightly to the ground. + +“Likely thing,” growled Bartlett to the professor, “that she’s going to +ride with the like of him.” + +The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hat +to the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing. + +“Fur two cents,” continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, “I’d whip +up the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way.” + +“From what I know of my friend,” answered the professor slowly, “I think +he would not object in the slightest.” + +Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mind +about galloping his horses. + +Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with great +politeness to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with a +thrill of admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had an +eye for the beautiful. + +“Our conveyance,” he began, “is not as comfortable as it might be, yet I +shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities.” + +The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, and +for a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choice +for her rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase she +answered briefly: + +“Thank you. I prefer to walk.” + +“Well, I don’t know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come all the +way from the village?” + +“Yes.” + +“That is a long distance, and you must be very tired.” There was no +reply; so Yates continued. “At least, I thought it a long distance; but +perhaps that was because I was riding on Bartlett’s hay rack. There is +no ‘downy bed of ease’ about his vehicle.” + +As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to its +side, said in a husky whisper to the professor: + +“Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent.” + +“Cover it up yourself,” briefly replied the other; “it isn’t mine.” + +Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flap +of the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his action he +took up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. He was +flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind the wagon, +and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead, now +quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance between herself +and the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic of him, made +up his mind that this was a case of country diffidence, which was best +to be met by the bringing down of his conversation to the level of his +hearer’s intelligence. + +“Have you been marketing?” he asked. + +“Yes.” + +“Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?” + +“We are farmers,” she answered, “and we sell butter and eggs”--a +pause--“and that sort of thing.” + +Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane he +looked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a +turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless with +the exercise of walking. + +“Now, in my country,” continued the New Yorker, “we idolize our women. +Pretty girls don’t tramp miles to market with butter and eggs.” + +“Aren’t the girls pretty--in your country?” + +Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about +this girl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about the +conversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment was doubtful, +for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smooth brow. + +“You bet they’re pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. It seems +their birthright. When I say American, I mean the whole continent, of +course. I’m from the States myself--from New York.” He gave an extra +twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself with that air of +conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of the +metropolis. “But over in the States we think the men should do all the +work, and that the women should--well, spend the money. I must do our +ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to their share of +the arrangement.” + +“It should be a delightful country to live in--for the women.” + +“They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that America +was paradise for women, purgatory for men, and--well, an entirely +different sort of place for oxen.” + +There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. +As he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just the faintest +suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she could answer, +if she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter of hoofs on +the hard road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whose slender +jet-black polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came +dashing past the wagon. On seeing the two walking together the driver +hauled up his team with a suddenness that was evidently not relished by +the spirited dappled span he drove. + +“Hello, Margaret!” he cried; “am I late? Have you walked in all the +way?” + +“You are just in good time,” answered the girl, without looking toward +Yates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put her +foot on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. It +needed no second glance to see that he was her brother, not only on +account of the family resemblance between them, but also because +he allowed her to get into the buggy without offering the slightest +assistance, which, indeed, was not needed, and graciously permitted her +to place the duster that covered his knees over her own lap as well. The +restive team trotted rapidly down the road for a few rods, until they +came to a wide place in the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly +within an ace of upsetting the buggy; but the young man evidently knew +his business, and held them in with a firm hand. The wagon was jogging +along where the road was very narrow, and Bartlett kept his team +stolidly in the center of the way. + +“Hello, there, Bartlett!” shouted the young man in the buggy; “half the +road, you know--half the road.” + +“Take it,” cried Bartlett over his shoulder. + +“Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I’ll run you down.” + +“You just try it.” + +Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against his +young neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognized +that a heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light and +expensive buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knew +just where to touch the elder on the raw. His sister’s hand was placed +appealingly on his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. + +“Come, now, you move out, or I’ll have the law on you.” + +“The law!” roared Bartlett; “you just try it on.” + +“Should think you’d had enough of it by this time.” + +“Oh, don’t, don’t, Henry!” protested the girl in distress. + +“There aint no law,” yelled Bartlett, “that kin make a man with a load +move out fur anything.” + +“You haven’t any load, unless it’s in that jug.” + +Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under +its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the +buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that +this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly +forward, and said to Bartlett: + +“Better drive aside a little, and let them pass.” + +“You ‘tend to your own business,” cried the thoroughly enraged farmer. + +“I will,” said Yates shortly, striding to the horses’ heads. He took +them by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett’s maledictions and pulling at +the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by. + +“Thank you!” cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage +rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road. + +Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he +threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended. + +“You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin’ Yank? You +do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an’ me a-holdin’ the lines! +Now you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear +me?” + +“Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you.” + +“Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent.” + +“No, it doesn’t.” + +“Don’t it, eh? Well, then, you’ll lick me fust; and that’s something no +Yank ever did nor kin do.” + +“I’ll do it with pleasure.” + +“Come, come,” cried the professor, getting down on the road, “this has +gone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don’t mind it; he +means no disrespect.” + +“Don’t you interfere. You’re all right, an’ I aint got nothin’ ag’in +you. But I’m goin’ to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; see +if I don’t. We met ‘em in 1812, an’ we fit ‘em an’ we licked ‘em, an’ we +can do it ag’in. I’ll learn ye to take my horses by the head.” + +“Teach,” suggested Yates tantalizingly. + +Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and +grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, +but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett’s right leg +became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced +the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break. He gave +way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came down on his back +with a thud that seemed to shake the universe. + +“There, darn ye!” cried the triumphant farmer; “that’s 1812 and +Queenstown Heights for ye. How do you like ‘em?” + +Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off his +coat. + +“Now, now, Yates,” said the professor soothingly, “let it go at this. +You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked anxiously, as he noticed how white +the young man was around the lips. + +“Look here, Renmark; you’re a sensible man. There is a time to interfere +and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certain international +element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, you stand aside, +like a good fellow, for I don’t want to have to thrash both of you.” + +The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called him +by his last name, matters were serious. + +“Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again.” + +“I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yank +ever raised on pumpkin pie that can stand ag’in that grapevine twist.” + +“Try the grapevine once more.” + +Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look in +the young man’s face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can +attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, who +shifted his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At last +Bartlett sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting on a +piece of the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birds buzzing +in his head, while stars and the landscape around joined in a dance +together. The blow was sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder. + +“That,” said Yates, standing over him, “is 1776--the Revolution--when, +to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you +like it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view +of history than you have done. Don’t confine yourself too much to one +period. Study up the War of the Revolution a bit.” + +Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until the +surrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, +without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horses +and patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place +and drove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, but +Yates, putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along in +front, switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walking stick +as he proceeded. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently something +on his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growing louder +and louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck the horses, +pulled them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last he said +abruptly to the professor: + +“What’s this Revolution he talked about?” + +“It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776.” + +“Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?” + +“The colonies fought with England.” + +“What colonies?” + +“The country now called the United States.” + +“They fit with England, eh? Which licked?” + +“The colonies won their independence.” + +“That means they licked us. I don’t believe a word of it. ‘Pears to me +I’d ‘a’ heard of it; fur I’ve lived in these parts a long time.” + +“It was a little before your day.” + +“So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an’ I never heard him tell of +this Revolution. He’d ‘a’ known, I sh’d think. There’s a nigger in the +fence somewheres.” + +“Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French.” + +“Ah, that was it, was it? I’ll bet England never knew the Revolution was +a-goin’ on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldn’t thrash ‘em, and it +don’t stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was some +skullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. I +got a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss.” + +The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character of +Napoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemed +a good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, +and he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usual +from the whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. +Yates was some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, when +the horses, apparently of their own accord, turned in at an open gateway +and proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a large barn, +past a comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front. + +“This is my place,” said Bartlett shortly. + +“I wish you had told me a few minutes ago,” replied the professor, +springing off, “so that I might have called to my friend.” + +“I’m not frettin’ about him,” said Bartlett, throwing the reins to a +young man who came out of the house. + +Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. +Yates apparently did not hear him, but something about the next house +attracted the pedestrian’s attention, and after standing for a moment +and gazing toward the west he looked around and saw the professor +beckoning to him. When the two men met, Yates said: + +“So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the next +house. I saw the buggy in the yard.” + +“She? Who?” + +“Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. I’m going to buy our +supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, +how is my old friend 1812?” + +“He doesn’t seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was more +troubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him.” + +“News to him, eh? Well, I’m glad I knocked something into his head.” + +“You certainly did it most unscientifically.” + +“How do you mean--unscientifically?” + +“In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly delivered +undercut.” + +Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, +learned man know anything about undercuts or science in blows? + +“Well, you must admit I got there just the same.” + +“Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But you +had such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any display +of surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrown away.” + +“Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! +What do you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of +self-defense?” + +“Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in this belligerent +manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a few hints from +me.” + +“With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly.” + +As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a wooden +rocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road. + +“What an old tyrant that man must be in his home!” said Yates. There was +no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot. + +“The old woman’s setting out supper,” said the farmer gruffly, that +piece of information being apparently as near as he could get toward +inviting them to share his hospitality. Yates didn’t know whether it was +meant for an invitation or not, but he answered shortly: + +“Thanks, we won’t stay.” + +“Speak fur yourself, please,” snarled Bartlett. + +“Of course I go with my friend,” said Renmark; “but we are obliged for +the invitation.” + +“Please yourselves.” + +“What’s that?” cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as a +stout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the front +door. “Won’t stay? _Who_ won’t stay? I’d like to see anybody leave my +house hungry when there’s a meal on the table! And, young men, if you +can get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I’ll give you, +why, you’re welcome to go there next time, but this meal you’ll have +here, inside of ten minutes. Hiram, that’s your fault. You always invite +a person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!” + +Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal at +the two men, but said nothing. + +“Never mind him,” continued Mrs. Bartlett. “You’re at my house; and, +whatever my neighbors may say ag’in me, I never heard anybody complain +of the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Come +right in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort +is dusty enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. +Besides, a wash is refreshing after a hot day.” + +There was no denying the cordiality of this invitation, and Yates, whose +natural gallantry was at once aroused, responded with the readiness of a +courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house; but as Yates passed +the farmer the latter cleared his throat with an effort, and, throwing +his thumb over his shoulder in the direction his wife had taken, said in +a husky whisper: + +“No call to--to mention the Revolution, you know.” + +“Certainly not,” answered Yates, with a wink that took in the situation. +“Shall we sample the jug before or after supper?” + +“After, if it’s all the same to you;” adding, “out in the barn.” + +Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the house. + +The young men were shown into a bedroom of more than ordinary size, on +the upper floor. Everything about the house was of the most dainty and +scrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort pervaded the +place. Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a housekeeper to be proud of. Two +large pitchers of cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as had +been predicted, was most refreshing. + +“I say,” cried Yates, “it’s rather cheeky to accept a man’s hospitality +after knocking him down.” + +“It would be for most people, but I think you underestimate your cheek, +as you call it.” + +“Bravo, Stilly! You’re blossoming out. That’s repartee, that is. With +the accent on the rap, too. Never you mind; I think old 1812 and I will +get on all right after this. It doesn’t seem to bother him any, so I +don’t see why it should worry me. Nice motherly old lady, isn’t she?” + +“Who? 1812?” + +“No; Mrs. 1812. I’m sorry I complimented you on your repartee. You’ll +get conceited. Remember that what in the newspaper man is clever, in a +grave professor is rank flippancy. Let’s go down.” + +The table was covered with a cloth as white and spotless as good linen +can well be. The bread was genuine homemade, a term so often misused +in the cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light as to +interior. The butter, cool from the rock cellar, was of a refreshing +yellow hue. The sight of the well-loaded table was most welcome to +the eyes of hungry travelers. There was, as Yates afterward remarked, +“abundance, and plenty of it.” + +“Come, father!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young men appeared; they +heard the rocking chair creak on the veranda in prompt answer to the +summons. + +“This is my son, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Bartlett, indicating the young +man who stood in a noncommittal attitude near a corner of the room. +The professor recognized him as the person who had taken charge of the +horses when his father came home. There was evidently something of +his father’s demeanor about the young man, who awkwardly and silently +responded to the recognition of the strangers. + +“And this is my daughter,” continued the good woman. “Now, what might +your names be?” + +“My name is Yates, and this is my friend Professor Renmark of T’ronto,” + pronouncing the name of the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas! too +often done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially extended his hand +to the young woman. “How do you do, Miss Bartlett?” he said, “I am happy +to meet you.” + +The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped they had a pleasant +trip out from Fort Erie. + +“Oh, we had,” said Yates, looking for a moment at his host, whose eyes +were fixed on the tablecloth, and who appeared to be quite content to +let his wife run the show. “The road’s a little rocky in places, but +it’s very pleasant.” + +“Now, you sit down here, and you here,” said Mrs. Bartlett; “and I do +hope you have brought good appetites with you.” + +The strangers took their places, and Yates had a chance to look at the +younger member of the family, which opportunity he did not let slip. +It was hard to believe that she was the daughter of so crusty a man +as Hiram Bartlett. Her cheeks were rosy, with dimples in them that +constantly came and went in her incessant efforts to keep from laughing. +Her hair, which hung about her plump shoulders, was a lovely golden +brown. Although her dress was of the cheapest material, it was neatly +cut and fitted; and her dainty white apron added that touch of wholesome +cleanliness which was so noticeable everywhere in the house. A bit of +blue ribbon at her white throat, and a pretty spring flower just +below it, completed a charming picture, which a more critical and less +susceptible man than Yates might have contemplated with pleasure. + +Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, and her father +grimly at the other. The mother sat at the side, apparently looking +on that position as one of vantage for commanding the whole field, and +keeping her husband and her daughter both under her eye. The teapot and +cups were set before the young woman. She did not pour out the tea at +once, but seemed to be waiting instructions from her mother. That +good lady was gazing with some sternness at her husband, he vainly +endeavoring to look at the ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew his +open hand nervously down his face, which was of unusual gravity even for +him. Finally he cast an appealing glance at his wife, who sat with her +hands folded on her lap, but her eyes were unrelenting. After a +moment’s hopeless irresolution Bartlett bent his head over his plate and +murmured: + +“For what we are about to receive, oh, make us truly thankful. Amen.” + +Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also bowed her head when she +saw surrender in the troubled eyes of her husband. + +Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen nothing of this silent +struggle of the eyes, being exceedingly hungry, was making every +preparation for the energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent most +of his life in hotels and New York boarding houses, so that if he ever +knew the adage, “Grace before meat,” he had forgotten it. In the midst +of his preparations came the devout words, and they came upon him as a +stupefying surprise. Although naturally a resourceful man, he was not +quick enough this time to cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett’s golden +head was bowed, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Yates’ look of +amazed bewilderment and his sudden halt of surprise. When all heads were +raised, the young girl’s still remained where it was, while her plump +shoulders quivered. Then she covered her face with her apron, and the +silvery ripple of a laugh came like a smothered musical chime trickling +through her fingers. + +“Why, _Kitty_!” cried her mother in astonishment, “whatever is the +matter with you?” + +The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. “You’ll have to pour out +the tea, mother!” She exclaimed, as she fled from the room. + +“For the land’s sake!” cried the astonished mother, rising to take her +frivolous daughter’s place, “what ails the child? I don’t see what there +is to laugh at.” + +Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently also of the opinion that +there was no occasion for mirth. The professor was equally in the dark. + +“I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett,” said Yates, “that I am the innocent cause +of Miss Kitty’s mirth. You see, madam--it’s a pathetic thing to say, but +really I have had no home life. Although I attend church regularly, of +course,” he added with jaunty mendacity, “I must confess that I haven’t +heard grace at meals for years and years, and--well, I wasn’t just +prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhibition of myself, which +your daughter was quick to see.” + +“It wasn’t very polite,” said Mrs. Bartlett with some asperity. + +“I know that,” pleaded Yates with contrition, “but I assure you it was +unintentional on my part.” + +“Bless the man!” cried his hostess. “I don’t mean you. I mean Kitty. But +that girl never _could_ keep her face straight. She always favored me +more than her father.” + +This statement was not difficult to believe, for Hiram at that moment +looked as if he had never smiled in his life. He sat silent throughout +the meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough for two. + +“Well, for my part,” she said, “I don’t know what farming’s coming to! +Henry Howard and Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud as +Punch in their new covered buggy. Things is very different from what +they was when I was a girl. Then a farmer’s daughter had to work. Now +Margaret’s took her diploma at the ladies’ college, and Arthur he’s +begun at the university, and Henry’s sporting round in a new buggy. They +have a piano there, with the organ moved out into the back room.” + +“The whole Howard lot’s a stuck-up set,” muttered the farmer. + +But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn’t have that. Any detraction that was necessary +she felt competent to supply, without help from the nominal head of the +house. + +“No, I don’t go so far as to say that. Neither would you, Hiram, if you +hadn’t lost your lawsuit about the line fence; and served you right, +too, for it wouldn’t have been begun if I had been at home at the time. +Not but what Margaret’s a good housekeeper, for she wouldn’t be her +mother’s daughter if she wasn’t that; but it does seem to me a queer way +to raise farmers’ children, and I only hope they can keep it up. There +were no pianos nor French and German in _my_ young days.” + +“You ought to hear her play! My lands!” cried young Bartlett, who spoke +for the first time. His admiration for her accomplishment evidently went +beyond his powers of expression. + +Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the conversation had taken, +and he looked somewhat uneasily at the two strangers. The professor’s +countenance was open and frank, and he was listening with respectful +interest to Mrs. Bartlett’s talk. Yates bent over his plate with flushed +face, and confined himself strictly to the business in hand. + +“I am glad,” said the professor innocently to Yates, “that you made the +young lady’s acquaintance. I must ask you for an introduction.” + +For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but he looked at his +friend with an expression that was not kindly. The latter, in answer to +Mrs. Bartlett’s inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard on the +road, and how Yates, with his usual kindness of heart, had offered the +young woman the hospitalities of the hay rack. Two persons at the table +were much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It was young Hiram +who brought about this boon. He was interested in the tent, and he +wanted to know. Two things seemed to bother the boy: First, he was +anxious to learn what diabolical cause had been at work to induce two +apparently sane men to give up the comforts of home and live in this +exposed manner, if they were not compelled to do so. Second, he desired +to find out why people who had the privilege of living in large cities +came of their own accord into the uninteresting country, anyhow. Even +when explanations were offered, the problem seemed still beyond him. + +After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, where the air was cool +and the view extensive. Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the young men +pitching the tent that night. “Goodness knows, you will have enough of +it, with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty of room here, and +you will have one comfortable night on the Ridge, at any rate. Then in +the morning you can find a place in the woods to suit you, and my boy +will take an ax and cut stakes for you, and help to put up your precious +tent. Only remember that when it rains you are to come to the house, +or you will catch your deaths with cold and rheumatism. It will be very +nice till the novelty wears off; then you are quite welcome to the front +rooms upstairs, and Hiram can take the tent back to Erie the first time +he goes to town.” + +Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for granted. It never seemed +to occur to her that any of her rulings might be questioned. Hiram sat +gazing silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. + +Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of the veranda, with +his back against one of the pillars, in such a position that he might, +without turning his head, look through the open doorway into the room. +where Miss Bartlett was busily but silently clearing away the tea +things. The young man caught fleeting glimpses of her as she moved +airily about her work. He drew a cigar from his case, cut off the end +with his knife, and lit a match on the sole of his boot, doing this with +an easy automatic familiarity that required no attention on his part; +all of which aroused the respectful envy of young Hiram, who sat on a +wooden chair, leaning forward, eagerly watching the man from New York. + +“Have a cigar?” said Yates, offering the case to young Hiram. + +“No, no; thank you,” gasped the boy, aghast at the reckless audacity of +the proposal. + +“What’s that?” cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although she was talking volubly +to the professor, her maternal vigilance never even nodded, much less +slept. “A cigar? Not likely! I’ll say this for my husband and my boy: +that, whatever else they may have done, they have never smoked nor +touched a drop of liquor since I’ve known them, and, please God, they +never will.” + +“Oh, I guess it wouldn’t hurt them,” said Yates, with a lack of tact +that was not habitual. He fell several degrees in the estimation of his +hostess. + +“Hurt ‘em?” cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. “I guess it won’t get +a chance to.” She turned to the professor, who was a good +listener--respectful and deferential, with little to say for himself. +She rocked gently to and fro as she talked. + +Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinxlike attitude that gave +no outward indication of his mental uneasiness. He was thinking gloomily +that it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlett unexpectedly in the +streets of Fort Erie on one of those rare occasions when he was +enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season. He had the most pessimistic +forebodings of what the future might have in store for him. Sometimes, +when neighbors or customers “treated” him in the village, and he felt he +had taken all the whisky that cloves would conceal, he took a five-cent +cigar instead of a drink. He did not particularly like the smoking of +it, but there was a certain devil-may-care recklessness in going down +the street with a lighted cigar in his teeth, which had all the more +fascination for him because of its manifest danger. He felt at these +times that he was going the pace, and that it is well our women do not +know of all the wickedness there is in this world. He did not fear that +any neighbor might tell his wife, for there were depths to which no +person could convince Mrs. Bartlett he would descend. But he thought +with horror of some combination of circumstances that might bring his +wife to town unknown to him on a day when he indulged. He pictured, with +a shudder, meeting her unexpectedly on the uncertain plank sidewalk of +Fort Erie, he smoking a cigar. When this nightmare presented itself to +him, he resolved never to touch a cigar again; but he well knew that the +best resolutions fade away if a man is excited with two or three glasses +of liquor. + +When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with the professor, Yates looked +up at young Hiram and winked. The boy flushed with pleasure under the +comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him in the attractive halo +of crime that enveloped the fascinating personality of the man from New +York. It seemed to say: + +“That’s all right, but we are men of the world. _We_ know.” + +Young Hiram’s devotion to the Goddess Nicotine had never reached the +altitude of a cigar. He had surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secluded +corner behind the barn in days when his father was away. He feared +both his father and his mother, and so was in an even more embarrassing +situation than old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to tobacco +by smoking cigarettes of cane made from abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline +was fashionable, even in the country, in those days, and ribs of +cane were used before the metallic distenders of dresses came in. One +hoop-skirt, whose usefulness as an article of adornment was gone, would +furnish delight and smoking material for a company of boys for a month. +The cane smoke made the tongue rather raw, but the wickedness was +undeniable. Yates’ wink seemed to recognize young Hiram as a comrade +worthy to offer incense at the shrine, and the boy was a firm friend of +Yates from the moment the eyelid of the latter drooped. + +The tea things having been cleared away, Yates got no more glimpses of +the girl through the open door. He rose from his lowly seat and strolled +toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He remembered that he +had forgotten something, and cudgeled his brains to make out what it +was. He gazed down the road at the house of the Howards, which naturally +brought to his recollection his meeting with the young girl on the road. +There was a pang of discomfiture in this thought when he remembered +the accomplishments attributed to her by Mrs. Bartlett. He recalled his +condescending tone to her, and recollected his anxiety about the jar. +The jar! That was what he had forgotten. He flashed a glance at old +Hiram, and noted that the farmer was looking at him with something like +reproach in his eyes. Yates moved his head almost imperceptibly toward +the barn, and the farmer’s eyes dropped to the floor of the veranda. The +young man nonchalantly strolled past the end of the house. + +“I guess I’ll go to look after the horses,” said the farmer, rising. + +“The horses are all right, father. I saw to them,” put in his son, but +the old man frowned him down, and slouched around the corner of the +house. Mrs. Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to notice. So +good a listener did not fall to her lot every day. + +“Here’s looking at you,” said Yates, strolling into the barn, taking +a telescopic metal cup from his pocket, and clinking it into receptive +shape by a jerk of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to Hiram, +who declined any such modern improvement. + +“Help yourself in that thing. The jug’s good enough for me.” + +“Three fingers” of the liquid gurgled out into the patented vessel, and +the farmer took the jar, after a furtive look over his shoulder. + +“Well, here’s luck.” The newspaper man tossed off the potion with the +facility of long experience, shutting up the dish with his thumb and +finger, as if it were a metallic opera hat. + +The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. Then he smote in the cork +with his open palm. + +“Better bury it in the wheat bin,” he said morosely. “The boy might find +it if you put it among the oats--feedin’ the horses, ye know.” + +“Mighty good place,” assented Yates, as the golden grain flowed in a +wave over the submerged jar. “I say, old man, you know the spot; you’ve +been here before.” + +Bartlett’s lowering countenance indicated resentment at the imputation, +but he neither affirmed nor denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, +while the farmer went through a small doorway that led to the stable. A +moment later he heard Hiram calling loudly to his son to bring the pails +and water the horses. + +“Evidently preparing an _alibi_,” said Yates, smiling to himself, as he +sauntered toward the gate. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +“What’s up? what’s up?” cried Yates drowsily next morning, as a +prolonged hammering at his door awakened him. + +“Well, _you’re_ not, anyhow.” He recognized the voice of young Hiram. “I +say, breakfast’s ready. The professor has been up an hour.” + +“All right; I’ll be down shortly,” said Yates, yawning, adding to +himself: “Hang the professor!” The sun was streaming in through the +east window, but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a short +distance above the horizon in the morning. He pulled his watch from +the pocket of his vest, hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seven +o’clock. He placed it to his ear, thinking it had stopped, but found +himself mistaken. + +“What an unearthly hour,” he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates’ +years on a morning newspaper had made seven o’clock something like +midnight to him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o’clock, +his usual time of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed +thoughtless cruelty. However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs. + +They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, +which was at once dining room and parlor. + +“Waiting for you,” said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set +of jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss +Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning. + +“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.” he said. + +“No fear,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “If breakfast’s a minute later than +seven o’clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious +hungry by that time.” + +“By that time?” echoed Yates. “Then do they get up before seven?” + +“Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!” exclaimed Mrs. +Bartlett, laughing. + +“Why, everything’s done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows +milked--everything. There never was a better motto made than the one you +learned when you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about: + + “‘Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’ + +I’m sorry you don’t believe in it, Mr. Yates.” + +“Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates with some loftiness; “but I’d like to +see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I’m healthy enough, +quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admit that +I’m wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after two o’clock, and +rarely wake before noon.” + +Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the New +Yorker, wishing he was as clever. + +“For the land’s sake!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminine +profanity, “What do you do up so late as that?” + +“Writing, writing,” said Yates airily; “articles that make dynasties +tremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suits +afterward, as the case may be.” + +Young Hiram had no patience with one’s profession as a topic of +conversation. The tent and its future position was the burning question +with him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in order to +avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning of the +meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown them how +evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, the boy +had never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. He +was darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharply reprimanded by +his voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and would +like to have laughed. As it was, she contented herself with a sly glance +at Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actually blushed at young +Hiram’s allusion to the confusing incident of the day before. + +The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew a herring across the +scent. + +“Mr. Bartlett has been good enough,” said he, changing the subject, “to +say we may camp in the woods at the back of the farm. I have been out +there this morning, and it certainly is a lovely spot.” + +“We’re awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett,” said Yates. “Of course Renmark +went out there merely to show the difference between the ant and the +butterfly. You’ll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. Bartlett. +He looks honest; but you wait.” + +“I know just the spot for the tent,” cried young Hiram--“down in the +hollow by the creek. Then you won’t need to haul water.” + +“Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague,” said Mrs. Bartlett. +Malaria had not then been invented. “Take my advice, and put your +tent--if you _will_ put it up at all--on the highest ground you can +find. Hauling water won’t hurt you.” + +“I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. My friend uses no +water--you ought to have seen his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have it +somewhere, and am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent as a +warning to the youth of this neighborhood--and what water I need I can +easily carry up from the creek.” + +The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. Bartlett evidently took a +large discount from all that Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. + +After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The horses were hitched +to the wagon, which still contained the tent and fittings. Young Hiram +threw an ax and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted to his place, +and drove up the lane leading to the forest, followed by Yates and +Renmark on foot, leaving the farmer in his barnyard with a cheery +good-by, which he did not see fit to return. + +First, a field of wheat; next, an expanse of waving hay that soon would +be ready for the scythe; then, a pasture field, in which some young +horses galloped to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessed +horses, whinnying sympathetically, off the next with flying heels wildly +flung in the air, rejoicing in their own contrast of liberty, standing +at the farther corner and snorting defiance to all the world; last, the +cool shade of the woods into which the lane ran, losing its identity as +a wagon road in diverging cow paths. Young Hiram knew the locality well, +and drove direct to an ideal place for camping. Yates was enchanted. He +included all that section of the country in a sweeping wave of his hand, +and burst forth: + + “‘This is the spot, the center of the grove: + There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. + In such a place as this, at such an hour, + We’ll raise a tent to ward off sun and shower.’ + +Shakespeare improved.” + +“I think you are mistaken,” said Renmark. + +“Not a bit it. Couldn’t be a better camping ground.” + +“Yes; I know that. I picked it out two hours ago. But you were wrong in +your quotation. It is not by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem to +think.” + +“Isn’t it? Some other fellow, eh? Well, if Shake is satisfied, I am. Do +you know, Renny, I calculate that, line for line, I’ve written about ten +times as much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognize that fact? Not a +bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, Stilly.” + +“It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do toward putting up the tent?” + +“Everything, my boy, everything. I know more about putting up tents than +you do about science, or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you cut +me some stakes about two feet long--stout ones. Here, professor, throw +off that coat and _négligé_ manner, and grasp this spade. I want some +trenches dug.” + +Yates certainly made good his words. He understood the putting up of +tents, his experience in the army being not yet remote. Young Hiram +gazed with growing admiration at Yates’ deftness and evident knowledge +of what he was about, while his contempt for the professor’s futile +struggle with a spade entangled in tree roots was hardly repressed. + +“Better give me that spade,” he said at length; but there was an element +of stubbornness in Renmark’s character. He struggled on. + +At last the work was completed, stakes driven, ropes tightened, trenches +dug. + +Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the country. + + “Thus the canvas tent has risen, + All the slanting stakes are driven, + Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood: + Mops his brow, the tired professor; + Grins with satisfaction, Hiram; + Dances wildly, the reporter-- + Calls aloud for gin and water. + +Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar on it!” And the +frivolous Yates poked the professor in the ribs. + +“Richard,” said the latter, “I can stand only a certain amount of +this sort of thing. I don’t wish to call any man a fool, but you act +remarkably like one.” + +“Don’t be mealy-mouthed, Renny; call a spade a spade. By George! young +Hiram has gone off and forgotten his--And the ax, too! Perhaps they’re +left for us. He’s a good fellow, is young Hiram. A fool? Of course I’m +a fool. That’s what I came for, and that’s what I’m going to be for the +next two weeks. ‘A fool--a fool, I met a fool i’ the forest’--just the +spot for him. Who could be wise here after years of brick and mortar? + +“Where are your eyes, Renny,” he cried, “that you don’t grow wild when +you look around you? See the dappled sunlight filtering through the +leaves; listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches; hear the +trickle of the brook down there; notice the smooth bark of the beech +and the rugged covering of the oak; smell the wholesome woodland scents. +Renmark, you have no soul, or you could not be so unmoved. It is like +paradise. It is--Say, Renny, by Jove, I’ve forgotten that jug at the +barn!” + +“It will be left there.” + +“Will it? Oh, well, if you say so.” + +“I do say so. I looked around for it this morning to smash it, but +couldn’t find it.” + +“Why didn’t you ask old Bartlett?” + +“I did; but he didn’t know where it was.” + +Yates threw himself down on the moss and laughed, flinging his arms and +legs about with the joy of living. + +“Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable clothes with you? Well, +then, go into the tent and put them on; then come out and lie on your +back and look up at the leaves. You’re a good fellow, Renny, but decent +clothes spoil you. You won’t know yourself when you get ancient duds +on your back. Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that our ancestors +fought for. When you come out, we’ll settle who’s to cook and who to +wash dishes. I’ve settled it already in my own mind, but I am not so +selfish as to refuse to discuss the matter with you.” + +When the professor came out of the tent, Yates roared. Renmark himself +smiled; he knew the effect would appeal to Yates. + +“By Jove! old man, I ought to have included a mirror in the outfit. +The look of learned respectability, set off with the garments of a +disreputable tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing. Well, +you can’t spoil _that_ suit, anyhow. Now sprawl.” + +“I’m very comfortable standing up, thank you.” + +“Get down on your back. You hear me?” + +“Put me there.” + +“You mean it?” asked Yates, sitting up. + +“Certainly.” + +“Say, Renny, beware. I don’t want to hurt you.” + +“I’ll forgive you for once.” + +“On your head be it.” + +“On my back, you mean.” + +“That’s not bad, Renny,” cried Yates, springing to his feet. “Now, it +will hurt. You have fair warning. I have spoken.” + +The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates tried to do it gently at +first, but, finding he could not touch his opponent, struck out more +earnestly, again giving a friendly warning. This went on ineffectually +for some time, when the professor, with a quick movement, swung around +his foot with the airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yates just +behind the knee, at the same time giving him a slight tap on the breast. +Yates was instantly on his back. + +“Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn’t fair. That was a kick.” + +“No, it wasn’t. It is merely a little French touch. I learned it in +Paris. They _do_ kick there, you know; and it is good to know how to use +your feet as well as your fists if you are set on by three, as I was one +night in the Latin Quarter.” + +Yates sat up. + +“Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?” + +“Several times.” + +Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said: + +“Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never saw a Bool-var in my life. +You must teach me that little kick.” + +“With pleasure,” said Renmark, sitting down, while the other sprawled at +full length. “Teaching is my business, and I shall be glad to exercise +any talents I may have in that line. In endeavoring to instruct a +New York man the first step is to convince him that he doesn’t know +everything. That is the difficult point. Afterward everything is easy.” + +“Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be severe. Know that you +are forgiven. This delicious sylvan retreat does not lend itself to +acrimonious dispute, or, in plain English, quarreling. Let dogs delight, +if they want to; I refuse to be goaded by your querulous nature into +giving anything but the soft answer. Now to business. Nothing is +so conducive to friendship, when two people are camping out, as a +definition of the duties of each at the beginning. Do you follow me?” + +“Perfectly. What do you propose?” + +“I propose that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes. We will forage +for food alternate days.” + +“Very well. I agree to that.” + +Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his friend with reproach +in his eyes. “See here, Renmark; are you resolved to force on an +international complication the very first day? That’s no fair show to +give a man.” + +“What isn’t?” + +“Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of meanness in your character, +Renny, that I never suspected. You know that people who camp out always +object to the part assigned them by their fellow-campers. I counted on +that. I’ll do anything but wash dishes.” + +“Then why didn’t you say so?” + +“Because any sane man would have said ‘no’ when I suggested cooking, +merely _because_ I suggested it. There is no diplomacy about you, +Renmark. A man doesn’t know where to find you when you act like that. +When you refused to do the cooking, I would have said: ‘Very well, then, +I’ll do it,’ and everything would have been lovely; but now----” + +Yates lay down again in disgust. There are moments in life when language +fails a man. + +“Then it’s settled that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes?” said +the professor. + +“Settled? Oh yes, if you say so; but all the pleasure of getting one’s +own way by the use of one’s brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with in +that objectionably civil manner.” + +“Well, that point being arranged, who begins the foraging--you or I?” + +“Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to the house of the +Howards, and I need an excuse for the first visit; therefore I shall +forage to a limited extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not get +any, you perhaps should bring some from whatever farmhouse you choose as +the scene of your operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, fresh +or stale. When in doubt, buy more bread. You can never go wrong, and the +bread won’t.” + +“What else should I get? Milk, I suppose?” + +“Certainly; eggs, butter--anything. Mrs. Bartlett will give you hints on +what to get that will be more valuable than mine.” + +“Have you all the cooking utensils you need?” + +“I think so. The villain from whom I hired the outfit said it was +complete. Doubtless he lied; but we’ll manage, I think.” + +“Very well. If you wait until I change my clothes, I’ll go with you as +far as the road.” + +“My dear fellow, be advised, and don’t change. You’ll get everything +twenty per cent. cheaper in that rig-out. Besides, you are so much more +picturesque. Your costume may save us from starvation if we run short +of cash. You can get enough for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, +well, if you insist, I’ll wait. Good advice is thrown away on a man like +you.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Margaret Howard stood at the kitchen table kneading dough. The room was +called the kitchen, which it was not, except in winter. The stove was +moved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached through the open door +leading to the kitchen veranda. + +When the stove went out or came in, it marked the approach or the +departure of summer. It was the heavy pendulum whose swing this way or +that indicated the two great changes of the year. No job about the +farm was so much disliked by the farmer and his boys as the semiannual +removal of the stove. Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged to go +together again; the stove was heavy and cumbersome, and many a pain in a +rural back dated from the journey of the stove from outhouse to kitchen. + +The kitchen itself was a one-story building, which projected back from +the two-story farmhouse, giving the whole a T-shape. There was a veranda +on each side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front of the house +itself. + +Margaret’s sleeves were turned back nearly to her elbows, showing a pair +of white and shapely arms. Now and then she deftly dusted the kneading +board with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as she pressed +her open palms into the smooth, white, spongy mass, the table groaned +protestingly. She cut the roll with a knife into lumps that were patted +into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of snow, in the +sheet-iron pan. + +At this moment there was a rap at the open kitchen door, and Margaret +turned round, startled, for visitors were rare at that hour of the day; +besides, neighbors seldom made such a concession to formality as to +knock. The young girl flushed as she recognized the man who had spoken +to her the day before. He stood smiling in the doorway, with his hat in +his hand. She uttered no word of greeting or welcome, but stood looking +at him, with her hand on the floury table. + +“Good-morning, Miss Howard,” said Yates blithely; “may I come in? I have +been knocking for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so I took the +liberty of coming around.” + +“I did not hear you knock,” answered Margaret. She neglected to invite +him in, but he took the permission for granted and entered, seating +himself as one who had come to stay. “You must excuse me for going on +with my work,” she added; “bread at this stage will not wait.” + +“Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me interrupt you. I have made +my own bread for years, but not in that way. I am glad that you are +making bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some.” + +“Really? Perhaps I can sell you some butter and eggs as well.” + +Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner of his which had much +to do with his getting on in the world. It was difficult to remain long +angry with so buoyant a nature. + +“Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven’t forgiven me for that remark. You +surely could not have thought I meant it. I really intended it for a +joke, but I am willing to admit, now that I look back on it, that the +joke was rather poor; but, then, most of my jokes are rather shopworn.” + +“I am afraid I lack a sense of humor.” + +“All women do,” said Yates with easy confidence. “At least, all I’ve +ever met.” + +Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he now placed at the end of +the table, tilting it back until his shoulders rested against the +wall. His feet were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and forth, +fanning himself, for it was warm. In this position he could look up at +the face of the pretty girl before him, whose smooth brow was touched +with just the slightest indication of a faint frown. She did not +even glance at the self-confident young man, but kept her eyes fixed +resolutely on her work. In the silence the table creaked as Margaret +kneaded the dough. Yates felt an unaccustomed sensation of embarrassment +creeping over him, and realized that he would have to re-erect the +conversation on a new basis. It was manifestly absurd that a resourceful +New Yorker, who had conversed unabashed with presidents, senators, +generals, and other great people of a great nation, should be put out of +countenance by the unaccountable coldness of a country girl in the wilds +of Canada. + +“I have not had an opportunity of properly introducing myself,” he +said at last, when the creaking of the table, slight as it was, became +insupportable. “My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New York. I +am camping out in this neighborhood to relieve, as it were, a mental +strain--the result of years of literary work.” + +Yates knew from long experience that the quickest and surest road to a +woman’s confidence was through her sympathy. “Mental strain” struck +him as a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and the hollow eye of the +devoted student. + +“Is your work mental, then?” asked Margaret incredulously, flashing, for +the first time, a dark-eyed look at him. + +“Yes,” Yates laughed uneasily. He had manifestly missed fire. “I notice +by your tone that you evidently think my equipment meager. You should +not judge by appearances, Miss Howard. Most of us are better than we +seem, pessimists to the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I was saying, +the camping company consists of two partners. We are so different +in every respect that we are the best of friends. My partner is Mr. +Stillson Renmark, professor of something or other in University College, +Toronto.” + +For the first time Margaret exhibited some interest in the conversation. + +“Professor Renmark? I have heard of him.” + +“Dear me! I had no idea the fame of the professor had penetrated beyond +the precincts of the university--if a university has precincts. He told +me it had all the modern improvements, but I suspected at the time that +was merely Renny’s brag.” + +The frown on the girl’s brow deepened, and Yates was quick to see that +he had lost ground again, if, indeed, he had ever gained any, which he +began to doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk about the +university. He was just about to say something deferentially about that +institution, for he was not a man who would speak disrespectfully of +the equator if he thought he might curry favor with his auditor by +doing otherwise, when it occurred to him that Miss Howard’s interest was +centered in the man, and not in the university. + +“In this world, Miss Howard,” he continued, “true merit rarely finds +its reward; at least, the reward shows some reluctance in making itself +visible in time for man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a man so +worthy that I was rather astonished to learn that you knew of him. I +am glad for his sake that it is so, for no man more thoroughly deserves +fame than he.” + +“I know nothing of him,” said Margaret, “except what my brother has +written. My brother is a student at the university.” + +“Is he really? And what is he going in for?” + +“A good education.” + +Yates laughed. + +“Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a person to have about him. +I often wish I had had a university training. Still, it is not valued +in an American newspaper office as much as might be. Yet,” he added in +a tone that showed he did not desire to be unfair to a man of education, +“I have known some university men who became passably good reporters in +time.” + +The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to the work in hand. +She had the rare gift of silence, and these intervals of quiet abashed +Yates, whose most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any man +on earth. Opposition, or even abuse, merely served as a spur to his +volubility, but taciturnity disconcerted him. + +“Well,” he cried at length, with something like desperation, “let us +abandon this animated discussion on the subject of education, and take +up the more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, Miss Howard, +that I am an expert in bread making?” + +“I think you said already that you made your bread.” + +“Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the sweat of my good lead +pencil. Still, I have made bread in my time, and I believe that some of +those who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The endurance of the human +frame is something marvelous, when you come to think of it. I did the +baking in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the contents of a +sack of flour into a trough made out of a log, pour in a pail or two +of melted snow, and mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer’s +assistant making mortar. There was nothing small or mean about my bread +making. I was in the wholesale trade.” + +“I pity the unfortunate lumbermen.” + +“Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss Howard. You ought to pity me +for having to pander to such appetites as those men brought in from +the woods with them. They never complained of the quality of the bread, +although there was occasionally some grumbling about the quantity. I +have fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to a sawmill, but their +voracity was nothing to that of a big lumberman just in from felling +trees. Enough, and plenty of it, is what he wants. No ‘tabbledote’ for +him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it right away. If there is +any washing necessary, he is content to do it after the meal. I +know nothing, except a morning paper, that has such an appetite for +miscellaneous stuff as the man of the woods.” + +The girl made no remark, but Yates could see that she was interested in +his talk in spite of herself. The bread was now in the pans, and she +had drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the baking board +had disappeared, and the surface of the table was cleaned. With a +light, deft motion of her two hands she had whisked over its surface the +spotlessly white cloth, which flowed in waves over the table and finally +settled calmly in its place like the placid face of a pond in the +moonlight. Yates realized that the way to success lay in keeping the +conversation in his own hands and not depending on any response. In this +way a man may best display the store of knowledge he possesses, to +the admiration and bewilderment of his audience, even though his store +consists merely of samples like the outfit of a commercial traveler; yet +a commercial traveler who knows his business can so arrange his samples +on the table of his room in a hotel that they give the onlooker an idea +of the vastness and wealth of the warehouses from which they are drawn. + +“Bread,” said Yates with the serious air of a very learned man, “is a +most interesting subject. It is a historical subject--it is a biblical +subject. As an article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Bible than +any other. It is used in parable and to point a moral. ‘Ye must not live +on bread alone.’” + +From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his listener he feared he +had not quoted correctly. He knew he was not now among that portion of +his samples with which he was most familiar, so he hastened back to the +historical aspect of his subject. Few people could skate over thinner +ice than Richard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused him to +return to more solid footing. + +“Now, in this country bread has gone through three distinct stages, and +although I am a strong believer in progress, yet, in the case of our +most important article of food, I hold that the bread of to-day is +inferior to the bread our mothers used to make, or perhaps, I should +say, our grandmothers. This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the age +of machinery--and machinery, while it may be quicker, is certainly not +so thorough as old-fashioned hand work. There is a new writer in England +named Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He would like to see +it abolished--at least, so he says. I will send for one of his books, +and show it to you, if you will let me.” + +“You, in New York, surely do not call the author of ‘Modern Painters’ +and ‘The Seven Lamps of Architecture’ a new man. My father has one of +his books which must be nearly twenty years old.” + +This was the longest speech Margaret had made to him, and, as he said +afterward to the professor in describing its effects, it took him right +off his feet. He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, that he +had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. The allusion he had made to +him he had heard someone else use, and he had worked it into an article +before now with telling effect. “As Mr. Ruskin says” looked well in a +newspaper column, giving an air of erudition and research to it. Mr. +Yates, however, was not at the present moment prepared to enter into a +discussion on either the age or the merits of the English writer. + +“Ah, well,” he said, “technically speaking, of course, Ruskin is not a +new man. What I meant was that he is looked on--ah--in New York as--that +is--you know--as comparatively new--comparatively new. But, as I was +saying about bread, the old log-house era of bread, as I might call it, +produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this country. It was the +salt-rising kind, and was baked in a round, flat-bottomed iron kettle. +Did you ever see the baking kettle of other days?” + +“I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never uses it now. It was +placed on the hot embers, was it not?” + +“Exactly,” said Yates, noting with pleasure that the girl was thawing, +as he expressed it to himself. “The hot coals were drawn out and the +kettle placed upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals were +put on he top of it. The bread was firm and white and sweet inside, with +the most delicious golden brown crust all around. Ah, that was bread! +but perhaps I appreciated it because I was always hungry in those days. +Then came the alleged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That was the +second stage in the evolution of bread in this country. It also belonged +to the log-house and open-fireplace era. Bread baked by direct heat from +the fire and reflected heat from the polished tin. I think our present +cast-iron stove arrangement is preferable to that, although not up to +the old-time kettle.” + +If Margaret had been a reader of the New York _Argus_, she would have +noticed that the facts set forth by her visitor had already appeared in +that paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled “Our Daily Bread.” + In the pause that ensued after Yates had finished his dissertation on +the staff of life the stillness was broken by a long wailing cry. It +began with one continued, sustained note, and ended with a wail half +a tone below the first. The girl paid no attention to it, but Yates +started to his feet. + +“In the name of--What’s that?” + +Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the stillness was again +broken by what appeared to be the more distant notes of a bugle. + +“The first,” she said, “was Kitty Bartlett’s voice calling the men home +from the field for dinner. Mrs. Bartlett is a very good housekeeper +and is usually a few minutes ahead of the neighbors with the meals. The +second was the sound of a horn farther up the road. It is what you would +deplore as the age of tin applied to the dinner call, just as your tin +oven supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty’s call much better +than the tin horn. It seems to me more musical, although it appeared to +startle you.” + +“Oh, you can talk!” cried Yates with audacious admiration, at which the +girl colored slightly and seemed to retire within herself again. “And +you can make fun of people’s historical lore, too. Which do you use--the +tin horn or the natural voice?” + +“Neither. If you will look outside, you will see a flag at the top of a +pole. That is our signal.” + +It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was intended as an +intimation that he might see many things outside to interest him. He +felt that his visit had not been at all the brilliant success he had +anticipated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely an excuse. He +had expected to be able to efface the unfavorable impression he knew he +had made by his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the day before, +and he realized that his position was still the same. A good deal of +Yates’ success in life came from the fact that he never knew when he was +beaten. He did not admit defeat now, but he saw he had, for some reason, +not gained any advantage in a preliminary skirmish. He concluded it +would be well to retire in good order, and renew the contest at some +future time. He was so unused to anything like a rebuff that all +his fighting qualities were up in arms, and he resolved to show this +unimpressionable girl that he was not a man to be lightly valued. + +As he rose the door from the main portion of the house opened, and +there entered a woman hardly yet past middle age, who had once been +undoubtedly handsome, but on whose worn and faded face was the look +of patient weariness which so often is the result of a youth spent in +helping a husband to overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an American +bush farm. When the farm is conquered, the victor is usually vanquished. +It needed no second glance to see that she was the mother from whom +the daughter had inherited her good looks. Mrs. Howard did not appear +surprised to see a stranger standing there; in fact, the faculty of +being surprised at anything seemed to have left her. Margaret introduced +them quietly, and went about her preparation for the meal. Yates greeted +Mrs. Howard with effusion. He had come, he said, on a bread mission. He +thought he knew something about bread, but he now learned he came too +early in the day. He hoped he might have the privilege of repeating his +visit. + +“But you are not going now?” said Mrs. Howard with hospitable anxiety. + +“I fear I have already stayed too long,” answered Yates lingeringly. +“My partner, Professor Renmark, is also on a foraging expedition at your +neighbors’, the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp long ago, and +will be expecting me.” + +“No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let anyone go when there is +a meal on the way.” + +“I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by staying. I imagine there +is quite enough to do in every farmhouse without entertaining any chance +tramp who happens along. Don’t you agree with me for once, Miss Howard?” + +Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish to stay unless +Margaret added her invitation to her mother’s. He felt vaguely that +his reluctance did him credit, and that he was improving. He could not +remember a time when he had not taken without question whatever the gods +sent, and this unaccustomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspect that +there were depths in his nature hitherto unexplored. It always flatters +a man to realize that he is deeper than he thought. + +Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner because Yates likened himself to +a tramp, and Margaret said coldly: + +“Mother’s motto is that one more or less never makes any difference.” + +“And what is your motto, Miss Howard?” + +“I don’t think Margaret has any,” said Mrs. Howard, answering for her +daughter. “She is like her father. She reads a great deal and doesn’t +talk much. He would read all the time, if he did not have to work. I see +Margaret has already invited you, for she has put an extra plate on the +table.” + +“Ah, then,” said Yates, “I shall have much pleasure in accepting both +the verbal and the crockery invitation. I am sorry for the professor at +his lonely meal by the tent; for he is a martyr to duty, and I feel sure +Mrs. Bartlett will not be able to keep him.” + +Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in to them, from the +outside, where Margaret was, a cheery voice which Yates had no +difficulty in recognizing as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. + +“Hello, Margaret!” she said. “Is he here?” + +The reply was inaudible. + +“Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited city fellow.” + +There was evidently an admonition and a warning. + +“Well, I don’t care if he does. I’ll tell him so to his face. It might +do him good.” + +Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in the doorway. On the fair +curls, which were flying about her shoulders, had been carelessly +placed her brother’s straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her face was +flushed with running; and of the fact that she was a very lovely girl +there was not the slightest doubt. + +“How de do?” she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: “I +knew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There’s going to be +war in our house. Mother’s made a prisoner of the professor already, +but he doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s going back to the tent, and she’s +packing up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, till I get +back. He said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. +We both told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn’t leave a place +where there was good cooking for all the professors in the world.” + +“You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett,” said Yates, +somewhat piqued by her frankness. + +“Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but he +doesn’t know when he’s well off, just the same. You do. He’s a quiet, +stubborn man.” + +“And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett--a quiet, stubborn man, +or one who is conceited?” + +Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace of +embarrassment. “Detest, you mean. I’m sure I don’t know. Margaret, which +is the most objectionable?” + +Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenly +questioned, but said nothing. + +Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, +like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: “Well, I must be off, +or mother will have to tie up the professor to keep him,” and was off +accordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn. + +“Extraordinary girl,” remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls and calico +dress disappeared. + +“She is a good girl,” cried Margaret emphatically. + +“Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don’t you think she is +somewhat free with her opinions about other people?” asked Yates. + +“She did not know that you were within hearing when she first spoke, and +after that she brazened it out. That’s her way. But she’s a kind girl +and good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken the trouble to come +over here merely because your friend happened to be surly.” + +“Oh, Renny is anything but surly,” said Yates, as quick to defend his +friend as she was to stand up for hers. “As I was saying a moment ago, +he is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the camp, nothing +would keep him. Now he will have a good dinner in peace when he knows I +am not waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he will get when +I take to the cooking.” + +By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had done its work, and +Margaret’s father and brother arrived from the field. They put their +broad straw hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking water +in a tin basin from the rain barrel, placed it on a bench outside and +proceeded to wash vigorously. + +Mr. Howard was much more interested in his guest than his daughter had +apparently been. Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had a +sympathetic audience, and he showed an easy familiarity with the great +people of this earth that was fascinating to a man who had read much of +them, but who was, in a measure, locked out of the bustling world. Yates +knew many of the generals in the late war, and all of the politicians. +Of the latter there was not an honest man among them, according to the +reporter; of the former there were few who had not made the most ghastly +mistakes. He looked on the world as a vast hoard of commonplace people, +wherein the men of real genius were buried out of sight, if there were +any men of genius, which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top were +there either through their own intrigues or because they had been forced +up by circumstances. His opinions sometimes caused a look of pain to +cross the face of the older man, who was enthusiastic in his quiet way, +and had his heroes. He would have been a strong Republican if he had +lived in the States; and he had watched the four-years’ struggle, +through the papers, with keen and absorbed interest. The North had been +fighting, in his opinion, for the great and undying principle of human +liberty, and had deservedly won. Yates had no such delusion. It was a +politicians’ war, he said. Principle wasn’t in it. The North would have +been quite willing to let slavery stand if the situation had not been +forced by the firing on Fort Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not +at all meet the approval of Mr. Yates. + +“Oh, yes,” he said, “I suppose Grant will go down into history as a +great general. The truth is that he simply knew how to subtract. That +is all there is in it. He had the additional boon of an utter lack of +imagination. We had many generals who were greater than Grant, but they +were troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin the best general +in the world. Now, take yourself, for example. If you were to kill a man +unintentionally, your conscience would trouble you all the rest of your +life. Think how you would feel, then, if you were to cause the death of +ten thousand men all in a lump. It would break you down. The mistake an +ordinary man makes may result in the loss of a few dollars, which can be +replaced; but if a general makes a mistake, the loss can never be made +up, for his mistakes are estimated by the lives of men. He says ‘Go’ +when he should have said ‘Come.’ He says ‘Attack’ when he should have +said ‘Retreat.’ What is the result? Five, ten, or fifteen thousand men, +many of them better men than he is, left dead on the field. Grant had +nothing of this feeling. He simply knew how to subtract, as I said +before. It is like this: You have fifty thousand men and I have +twenty-five thousand. When I kill twenty-five thousand of your men and +you kill twenty-five thousand of my men, you have twenty-five thousand +left and I have none. You are the victor, and the thoughtless crowd +howls about you, but that does not make you out the greatest general +by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant’s number, and Grant had Lee’s, the +result would have been reversed. Grant set himself to do this little sum +in subtraction, and he did it--did it probably as quickly as any other +man would have done it, and he knew that when it was done the war would +have to stop. That’s all there was to it.” + +The older man shook his head. “I doubt,” he said, “if history will take +your view either of the motives of those in power or of the way the war +was carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, heroically fought by +those deluded people who were in the wrong, and stubbornly contested at +immense self-sacrifice by those who were in the right.” + +“What a pity it was,” said young Howard to the newspaper man, with a +rudeness that drew a frown from his father, “that you didn’t get to show +‘em how to carry on the war.” + +“Well,” said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “I flatter +myself that I would have given them some valuable pointers. Still, it is +too late to bemoan their neglect now.” + +“Oh, you may have a chance yet,” continued the unabashed young man. +“They say the Fenians are coming over here this time sure. You ought to +volunteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how a war ought to +be carried on.” + +“Oh, there’s nothing in the Fenian scare! They won’t venture over. They +fight with their mouths. It’s the safest way.” + +“I believe you,” said the youth significantly. + +Perhaps it was because the boy had been so inconsiderate as to make +these remarks that Yates received a cordial invitation from both Mr. +and Mrs. Howard to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Of this +privilege Yates resolved to avail himself, but he would have prized it +more if Miss Margaret had added her word--which she did not, perhaps +because she was so busy looking after the bread. Yates knew, however, +that with a woman apparent progress is rarely synonymous with real +progress. This knowledge soothed his disappointment. + +As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his own feelings with +something like astonishment. The march of events was rapid even for him, +who was not slow in anything he undertook. + +“It is the result of leisure,” he said to himself. “It is the first +breathing time I have had for fifteen years. Not two days of my vacation +gone, and here I am hopelessly in love!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Yates had intended to call at the Bartletts’ and escort Renmark back +to the woods; but when he got outside he forgot the existence of the +professor, and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, switching +at the weeds that always grow in great profusion along the ditches of a +Canadian country thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and as Yates +wandered on in the direction of the forest he thought of many things. +He had feared that he would find life deadly dull so far from New York, +without even the consolation of a morning-paper, the feverish reading of +which had become a sort of vice with him, like smoking. He had imagined +that he could not exist without his morning paper, but he now realized +that it was not nearly so important a factor in life as he had supposed; +yet he sighed when he thought of it, and wished he had one with him of +current date. He could now, for the first time in many years, read a +paper without that vague fear which always possessed him when he took up +an opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Before he could enjoy it +his habit was to scan it over rapidly to see if it contained any item of +news which he himself had missed the previous day. The impending “scoop” + hangs over the head of the newspaper man like the sword so often quoted. +Great as the joy of beating the opposition press is, it never takes +the poignancy of the sting away from a beating received. If a terrible +disaster took place, and another paper gave fuller particulars than the +_Argus_ did, Yates found himself almost wishing the accident had +not occurred, although he recognized such a wish as decidedly +unprofessional. + +Richard’s idea of the correct spirit in a reporter was exemplified by +an old broken-down, out-of-work morning newspaper man, who had not long +before committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for the evening +papers to get the sensational item. He had sent in to the paper for +which he formerly worked a full account of the fatality, accurately +headed and sub-headed; and, in his note to the city editor, he told why +he had chosen the hour of 7 P.M. as the time for his departure from an +unappreciative world. + +“Ah, well,” said Yates under his breath, and suddenly pulling himself +together, “I mustn’t think of New York if I intend to stay here for a +couple of weeks. I’ll be city-sick the first thing I know, and then I’ll +make a break for the metropolis. This will never do. The air here is +enchanting, it fills a man with new life. This is the spot for me, and +I’ll stick to it till I’m right again. Hang New York! But I mustn’t +think of Broadway or I’m done for.” + +He came to the spot in the road where he could see the white side of +the tent under the dark trees, and climbed up on the rail fence, +sitting there for a few moments. The occasional call of a quail from a +neighboring field was the only sound that broke the intense stillness. +The warm smell of spring was in the air. The buds had but recently +broken, and the woods, intensely green, had a look of newness and +freshness that was comforting to the eye and grateful to the other +senses. The world seemed to be but lately made. The young man breathed +deeply of the vivifying air, and said: “No, there’s nothing the matter +with this place, Dick. New York’s a fool to it.” Then, with a sigh, +he added: “If I can stand it for two weeks. I wonder how the boys are +getting on without me.” + +In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back to the great city, +although he told himself that it wouldn’t do. He gazed at the peaceful, +spreading landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw nothing. The +roar of the streets was in his ears. Suddenly his reverie was broken by +a voice from the forest. + +“I say, Yates, where’s the bread?” + +Yates looked quickly around, somewhat startled, and saw the professor +coming toward him. + +“The bread? I forgot all about it. No; I didn’t either. They were +baking--that was it. I am to go for it later in the day. What loot did +you rake in, professor?” + +“Vegetables mostly.” + +“That’s all right. Have a good dinner?” + +“Excellent.” + +“So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I was just counting the +farmhouses in sight. What do you say to boarding round among them? You +are a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. Isn’t education in +this country encouraged by paying the teacher as little as possible, +and letting him take it out in eating his way from one house to another? +Ever board around, Renny?” + +“Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, it is out of date now.” + +“That’s a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, Renmark. We become less +brave as we grow older. By the way, how is old man Bartlett? As well as +could be expected?” + +“He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has sent out two chairs to the +tent; she fears we will get rheumatism if we sit on the ground.” + +“She is a kind woman, Renny, and a thoughtful. And that reminds me: I +have a hammock somewhere among my belongings. I will swing it up. Chairs +are comfortable, but a hammock is luxury.” + +Yates slid down from the fence top, and together the two men walked to +the tent. The hammock was unfurled and slung between two trees. Yates +tested it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its restful folds +of network. He was swaying indolently several feet from the ground when +he said to Renmark: + +“I call this paradise--paradise regained; but it will be paradise lost +next month. Now, professor, I am ready to do the cooking, but I have a +fancy for doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the useful prosaic +man executes. Where are your vegetables, Renny? Potatoes and carrots, +eh? Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny; but first you must bring +some water from the spring.” + +The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. Yates continued to swing +in the hammock alternating directions with rhapsodies on the beauties +of the day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said but little, and +attended strictly to the business in hand. The vegetables finished, he +took a book from his valise, tilted a chair back against a tree, and +began to read. + +“I’m depending upon you for the bread,” he said to the drowsy man in the +hammock. + +“Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not misplaced. I shall +presently journey down into the realms of civilization, and fill +the long-felt want. I shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartlett +homestead, but I warn you that if there is a meal on, at either place, +you will not have me here to test your first efforts at cooking. So you +may have to wait until breakfast for my opinion.” + +Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly from the hammock, and +looked regretfully at it when he stood once more on the ground. + +“This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the curse of life here +below. It is what we are all after. If it were not for the necessity +of bread and clothing, what a good time a fellow might have. Well, my +blessing, Renny. Good-by.” + +Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he came to the beginning +of a lane which led to the Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer and his +son at work in the back fields. From between the distant house and barn +there arose, straight up into the still air, a blue column of smoke, +which, reaching a certain height, spread out like a thin, hazy cloud +above the dwelling. At first Yates thought that some of the outhouses +were on fire, and he quickened his pace to a run; but a moment’s +reflection showed him that the column was plainly visible to the workers +in the fields, and that if anything were wrong they would not continue +placidly at their labor. When he had walked the long length of the lane, +and had safely rounded the corner of the barn, he saw, in the open space +between that building and the house, a huge camp fire blazing. From a +pole, upheld by two crotched supports, hung a big iron kettle over +the flames. The caldron was full nearly to the brim, and the steam +was already beginning to rise from its surface, although the fire +had evidently been but recently kindled. The smoke was not now so +voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with a big-brimmed straw hat +in her hands, fanning it away from her face, while the hat at the same +time protected her rosy countenance from the fire. She plainly was +not prepared to receive visitors, and she started when the young man +addressed her, flushing still more deeply, apparently annoyed at his +unwelcome appearance. + +“Good-afternoon,” he said cordially. “Preparing for washing? I thought +Monday was washing day.” + +“It is.” + +“Then I have not been misinformed. And you are not preparing for +washing?” + +“We are.” + +Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of herself, had to permit +a smile to brighten her own features. She always found it difficult +remain solemn for any length of time. + +“This is obviously a conundrum,” said Yates, ticking off the items on +his four fingers. “First, Monday is washing day. Second, this is not +Monday. Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are preparing for +washing. I give it up, Miss Bartlett. Please tell me the answer.” + +“The answer is that I am making soap; soft soap, if you know what that +is.” + +“Practically, I don’t know what it is; but I have heard the term used +in a political connection. In the States we say that if a man is very +diplomatic he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricating qualities. +Sam Slick used the term ‘soft sawder’ in the same way; but what sawder +is, soft or hard, I haven’t the slightest idea.” + +“I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates.” + +“Me? Bless you, no. I’m a humble gleaner in the field of knowledge. +That’s why I brought a Toronto professor with me. I want to learn +something. Won’t you teach me how to make soap?” + +“I’m very busy just now. When I said that we were preparing for washing, +I should perhaps have told you there was something else we are not +prepared for to-day.” + +“What is that?” + +“A visitor.” + +“Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on me. I’m not a +visitor. I’m a friend of the family. I want to help. You will find me a +most diligent student. Won’t you give me a chance?” + +“All the hard work’s done. But perhaps you knew that before you came.” + +Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed deeply. + +“That’s what it is to be a misunderstood man. So you think, among other +bad qualities, I have the habit of shirking work? Let me tell you, Miss +Bartlett, that the reason I am here is because I have worked too hard. +Now, confess that you are sorry for what you said--trampling on an +already downtrodden man.” + +Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed also, for his sense of +comradeship was strong. + +“You don’t look as if you had ever worked in your life; I don’t believe +you know what work is.” + +“But there are different kinds of labor. Don’t you call writing work?” + +“No.” + +“That’s just where you’re mistaken. It is, and hard work, too. I’ll tell +you about the newspaper business if you’ll tell me about soap making. +Fair exchange. I wish you would take me as a pupil, Miss Bartlett; you +would find me quick at picking up things.” + +“Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful of water.” + +“I’ll do it,” cried Yates sternly; “I’ll do it, though it blast me.” + +Yates picked up the wooden pail, painted blue on the outside, with a +red stripe near the top for ornament, and cream-colored inside. It was +called a “patent pail” in those days, as it was a comparatively recent +innovation, being cheaper, lighter, and stronger than the tin pail which +it was rapidly replacing. At the well was a stout pole, pinned +through the center to the upright support on which it swung, like the +walking-beam of an engine. The thick end, which rested on the ground, +was loaded with heavy stones; while from the thin end, high in the air, +there dangled over the mouth of the well a slim pole with a hook. This +hook was ingeniously furnished with a spring of hickory, which snapped +when the handle of the pail was placed on the hook, and prevented the +“patent” utensil from slipping off when it was lowered to the surface of +the water. Yates speedily recognized the usefulness of this contrivance, +for he found that the filling of a wooden pail in a deep well was not +the simple affair it looked. The bucket bobbed about on the surface of +the water. Once he forgot the necessity of keeping a stout grip on +the pole, and the next instant the pail came up to the sunlight with a +suddenness that was terrifying. Only an equally sudden backward jump on +Yates’ part saved his head. Miss Bartlett was pleased to look upon this +incident as funny. Yates was so startled by the unexpected revolt of the +pail that his native courtesy did not get a chance to prevent Kitty from +drawing up the water herself. She lowered the vessel, pulling down the +pole in a hand-over-hand manner that the young man thought decidedly +fetching, and then she gave an almost imperceptible twist to the +arrangement that resulted in instant success. The next thing Yates knew +the full pail was resting on the well curb, and the hickory spring had +given the click that released the handle. + +“There,” said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, “that’s how it’s done.” + +“I see the result, Miss Bartlett; but I’m not sure I can do the trick. +These things are not so simple as they seem. What is the next step?” + +“Pour the water into the leach.” + +“Into the what?” + +“Into the leach, I said. Where else?” + +“Oh, I’m up a tree again. I see I don’t even know the A B C of this +business. In the old days the leech was a physician. You don’t mean I’m +to drown a doctor?” + +“This is the leach,” said Kitty, pointing to a large, yellowish, upright +wooden cylinder, which rested on some slanting boards, down the surface +of which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a trough. + +As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his hand he saw that the +cylinder was filled nearly to the top with sodden wood ashes. He poured +in the water, and it sank quickly out of sight. + +“So this is part of the soap-making equipment?” he said, stepping down; +“I thought the iron kettle over the fire was the whole factory. Tell me +about the leach.” + +“That is where the hard work of soap making comes in,” said Kitty, +stirring the contents of the iron kettle with a long stick. “Keeping +the leach supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the ashes are +dry. If you put in five more pails of water, I will tell you about it.” + +“Right!” cried Yates, pleased to see that the girl’s evident objection +to his presence at first was fast disappearing. “Now you’ll understand +how energetic I am. I’m a handy man about a place.” + +When he had completed his task, she was still stirring the thickening +liquid in the caldron, guarding her face from the fire with her +big straw hat. Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about her +shoulders; and Yates, as he put the pail in its place, when it had +been emptied the fifth time, thought she formed a very pretty picture +standing there by the fire, even if she were making soft soap. + +“The wicked genii has finished the task set him by the fairy princess. +Now for the reward. I want all the particulars about the leach. In the +first place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder that I have, +without apparent effect, been pouring water into? Is it manufactured or +natural?” + +“Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree.” + +“Buttonwood? I don’t think I ever heard of that. I know the beech and +the maple, and some kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why the +buttonwood?” + +“The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to the purpose. It is a +tree that is very fine to look at. It seems all right, but it generally +isn’t. It is hollow or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timber +made from it is of little value, as it doesn’t last. Yet you can’t tell +until you begin to chop whether it is of any use or not.” Kitty shot a +quick glance at the young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. + +“Go on, Miss Bartlett; I see what you mean. There are men like the +buttonwood tree. The woods are full of them. I’ve met lots of that +kind, fair to look upon, but hollow. Of course you don’t mean anything +personal; for you must have seen my worth by the way I stuck to the +water hauling. But go on.” + +“Dear me, I never thought of such a thing; but a guilty conscience, they +say----” said Kitty, with a giggle. + +“Of course they say; but it’s wrong, like most other things they say. +It’s the man with the guilty conscience who looks you straight in the +eye. Now that the buttonwood is chopped down, what’s the next thing to +be done?” + +“It is sawn off at the proper length, square at one end and slanting at +the other.” + +“Why slanting?” + +“Don’t you see, the foundation of plank on which it rests is inclined, +so the end of the leach that is down must be slantingly cut, otherwise +it would not stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the first +windstorm.” + +“I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up?” + +“Oh, dear no; not yet. They build a fire in it when it gets dry enough.” + +“Really? I think I understand the comprehensive scheme, but I slip up +on the details, as when I tried to submerge that wooden pail. What’s the +fire for?” + +“To burn out what remains of the soft inside wood, so as to leave +only the hard outside shell. Then the charring of the inner surface is +supposed to make the leach better--more water-tight, perhaps.” + +“Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up?” + +“Yes; and gradually filled with ashes. When it is full, we pour the +water in it, and catch the lye as it drips out. This is put in the +caldron with grease, pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when it boils +long enough, the result is soft soap.” + +“And if you boil it too long, what is the result?” + +“Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long.” + +The conversation was here interrupted by a hissing in the fire, caused +by the tumultuous boiling over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in a +basin of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously. + +“You see,” she said reproachfully, “the result of keeping me talking +nonsense to you. Now you will have to make up for it by bringing in some +wood and putting more water into the leach.” + +“With the utmost pleasure,” cried Yates, springing to his feet. “It is a +delight to atone for a fault by obeying your commands.” + +The girl laughed. “Buttonwood,” she said. Before Yates could think of +anything to say in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. + +“How is the soap getting on, Kitty?” she asked. “Why, Mr. Yates, are you +here?” + +“Am I here? I should say I was. Very much here. I’m the hired man. I’m +the hewer of wood and the hauler of water, or, to speak more correctly, +I’m the hauler of both. And, besides, I’ve been learning how to make +soap, Mrs. Bartlett.” + +“Well, it won’t hurt you to know how.” + +“You bet it won’t. When I get back to New York, the first thing I shall +do will be to chop down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can find +one, and set up a leach for myself. Lye comes useful in running a +paper.” + +Mrs. Bartlett’s eyes twinkled, for, although she did not quite +understand his nonsense, she knew it was nonsense, and she had a liking +for frivolous persons, her own husband being so somber-minded. + +“Tea is ready,” she said. “Of course you will stay, Mr. Yates.” + +“Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously do so. I haven’t earned +a meal since the last one. No; my conscience won’t let me accept, but +thank you all the same.” + +“Nonsense; my conscience won’t let you go away hungry. If nobody were +to eat but those who earn their victuals, there would be more starving +people in the world than there are. Of course you’ll stay.” + +“Now, that’s what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like to have a chance of +refusing an invitation I yearn for, and then be forced to accept. That’s +true hospitality.” Then in a whisper he added to Kitty; “If you dare to +say ‘buttonwood,’ Miss Bartlett, you and I will quarrel.” + +But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had appeared on the scene, +but industriously stirred the contents of the iron kettle. + +“Kitty,” said the mother, “you call the men to supper.” + +“I can’t leave this,” said Kitty, flushing; “it will boil over. You +call, mother.” + +So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side of her mouth, and gave +the long wailing cry, which was faintly answered from the fields, and +Yates, who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satisfaction that +Kitty had refused doubtless because he was there. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +“I tell you what it is, Renny,” said Yates, a few days after the soap +episode, as he swung in his hammock at the camp, “I’m learning something +new every day.” + +“Not really?” asked the professor in surprise. + +“Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. My chief pleasure in life, +professor, is the surprising of you. I sometimes wonder why it delights +me; it is so easily done.” + +“Never mind about that. What have you been learning?” + +“Wisdom, my boy; wisdom in solid chunks. In the first place, I am +learning to admire the resourcefulness of these people around us. +Practically, they make everything they need. They are the most +self-helping people that I was ever thrown among. I look upon theirs as +the ideal life.” + +“I think you said something like that when we first came here.” + +“I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am talking now about farm +life. Farmers eliminate the middleman pretty effectually, and that in +itself is going a long way toward complete happiness. Take the making +of soap, that I told you about; there you have it, cheap and good. When +you’ve made it, you know what is in it, and I’ll be hanged if you do +when you pay a big price for it in New York. Here they make pretty +nearly everything they need, except the wagon and the crockery; and I’m +not sure but they made them a few years back. Now, when a man with a +good sharp ax and a jack-knife can do anything from building his house +to whittling out a chair, he’s the most independent man on earth. Nobody +lives better than these people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. +Perhaps the country air helps; but it seems to me I never tasted such +meals as Mrs. Bartlett, for instance, gets up. They buy nothing at the +stores except the tea, and I confess I prefer milk myself. My tastes +were always simple.” + +“And what is the deduction?” + +“Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old Hiram has an anvil and an +amateur forge. He can tinker up almost anything, and that eliminates the +blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, and other tools, and +that eliminates the carpenter. The women eliminate the baker, the soap +boiler, and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have eliminated +all the middlemen, then comes independence, and consequently complete +happiness. You can’t keep happiness away with a shotgun then.” + +“But what is to become of the blacksmith, the carpenter, and all the +rest?” + +“Let them take up land and be happy too; there’s plenty of land. The +land is waiting for them. Then look how the master is eliminated. That’s +the most beautiful riddance of all. Even the carpenter and blacksmith +usually have to work under a boss; and if not, they have to depend on +the men who employ them. The farmer has to please nobody but himself. +That adds to his independence. That’s why old Hiram is ready to fight +the first comer on the slightest provocation. He doesn’t care whom he +offends, so long as it isn’t his wife. These people know how to make +what they want, and what they can’t make they do without. That’s the +way to form a great nation. You raise, in this way, a self-sustaining, +resolute, unconquerable people. The reason the North conquered the South +was because we drew our armies mostly from the self-reliant farming +class, while we had to fight a people accustomed for generations to +having things done for them.” + +“Why don’t you buy a farm, Yates?” + +“Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. I am like the drunkard +who admires a temperate life, yet can’t pass a ginshop. The city virus +is in my blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quite satisfied +with the tendency of farm life; it is unfortunately in a transition +state. It is at the frame-house stage, and will soon blossom into the +red-brick stage. The log-house era is what I yearn for. Then everything +a person needed was made on the farm. When the brick-house era sets in, +the middleman will be rampant. I saw the other day at the Howards’ a set +of ancient stones that interested me as much as an Assyrian marble would +interest you. They were old, home-made millstones, and they have not +been used since the frame house was built. The grist mill at the village +put them out of date. And just here, notice the subtlety of the crafty +middleman. The farmer takes his grist to the mill, and the miller does +not charge him cash for grinding it. He takes toll out of the bags, +and the farmer has a vague idea that he gets his grinding for almost +nothing. The old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer’s son won’t +be as happy in the brick house which the mason will build for him as his +grandfather was in the log house he built for himself. And fools call +this change the advance of civilization.” + +“There is something to be said for the old order of things,” admitted +Renmark. “If a person could unite the advantages of what we call +civilization with the advantages of a pastoral life, he would inaugurate +a condition of things that would be truly idyllic.” + +“That’s so, Renmark, that’s so!” cried Yates enthusiastically. “A +brownstone mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of Lake +Superior! That would suit me down to the ground. Spend half the year in +each place.” + +“Yes,” said the professor meditatively; “a log hut on the rocks and +under the trees, with the lake in front, would be very nice if the hut +had a good library attached.” + +“And a daily paper. Don’t forget the press.” + +“No. I draw the line there. The daily paper would mean the daily steamer +or the daily train. The one would frighten away the fish, and the other +would disturb the stillness with its whistle.” + +Yates sighed. “I forgot about the drawbacks,” he said. “That’s the +trouble with civilization. You can’t have the things you want without +bringing in their trail so many things you don’t want. I shall have to +give up the daily paper.” + +“Then there is another objection, worse than either steamer or train.” + +“What’s that?” + +“The daily paper itself.” + +Yates sat up indignantly. + +“Renmark!” he cried, “that’s blasphemy. For Heaven’s sake, man, hold +something sacred. If you don’t respect the press, what do you respect? +Not my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you wouldn’t talk +in that flippant manner. If you speak kindly of my daily paper, I’ll +tolerate your library.” + +“And that reminds me: Have you brought any books with you, Yates? I have +gone through most of mine already, although many of them will bear going +over again; still, I have so much time on my hands that I think I may +indulge in a little general reading. When you wrote asking me to meet +you in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp through the +country, so I did not bring as many books with me as I should have done +if I had known you were going to camp out.” + +Yates sprang from the hammock. + +“Books? Well, I should say so! Perhaps you think I don’t read anything +but the daily papers. I’d have you know that I am something of a reader +myself. You mustn’t imagine you monopolize all the culture in the +township, professor.” + +The young man went into the tent, and shortly returned with an armful of +yellow-covered, paper-bound small volumes, which he flung in profusion +at the feet of the man from Toronto. They were mostly Beadle’s Dime +Novels, which had a great sale at the time. + +“There,” he said, “you have quantity, quality, and variety, as I have +before remarked. ‘The Murderous Sioux of Kalamazoo;’ that’s a good one. +A hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the word. The one you are +looking at is a pirate story, judging by the burning ship on the cover. +But for first-class highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. +That’s the ‘Sixteen String Jack set.’ They’re immense, if they do cost +a quarter each. You must begin at the right volume, or you’ll be sorry. +You see, they never really end, although every volume is supposed to be +complete in itself. They leave off at the most exciting point, and are +continued in the next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it’s +rather exasperating if you begin at the last book. You’ll enjoy this +lot. I’m glad I brought them along.” + +“It is a blessing,” said Renmark, with the ghost of a smile about his +lips. “I can truthfully say that they are entirely new to me.” + +“That’s all right, my boy,” cried Yates loftily, with a wave of his +hand. “Use them as if they were your own.” + +Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity of the books. + +“These will do excellently for lighting our morning camp fire,” he said. +“And if you will allow me to treat them as if they were my own, that is +the use to which I will put them. You surely do not mean to say that you +read such trash as this, Yates?” + +“Trash?” exclaimed Yates indignantly. “It serves me right. That’s what +a man gets for being decent to you, Renny. Well, you’re not compelled to +read them; but if you put one of them in the fire, your stupid treatises +will follow, if they are not too solid to burn. You don’t know good +literature when you see it.” + +The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit which comes to a +man through the possession of a real sheepskin diploma, granted by a +university of good standing, did not think it necessary to defend his +literary taste. He busied himself in pruning a stick he had cut in the +forest, and finally he got it into the semblance of a walking cane. He +was an athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not suit him as +it did Yates. He tested the stick in various ways when he had trimmed it +to his satisfaction. + +“Are you ready for a ten-mile walk?” he asked of the man in the hammock. + +“Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking here below, and he +doesn’t want it ten miles in length either. I’m easily satisfied. You’re +off, are you? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back some bread +when you return to camp. It’s the one safe thing to do.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Renmark walked through the woods and then across the fields, until he +came to the road. He avoided the habitations of man as much as he could, +for he was neither so sociably inclined nor so frequently hungry as was +his companion. He strode along the road, not caring much where it led +him. Everyone he met gave him “Good-day,” after the friendly custom +of the country. Those with wagons or lighter vehicles going in his +direction usually offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that a man +should choose to walk when it was not compulsory. The professor, like +most silent men, found himself good company, and did not feel the +need of companionship in his walks. He had felt relieved rather than +disappointed when Yates refused to accompany him. And Yates, swinging +drowsily in his hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men are firm +and intimate friends, the first few days of camping out together is a +severe strain on their regard for each other. If Damon and Pythias had +occupied a tent together for a week, the worst enemy of either, or both, +might at the end of that time have ventured into the camp in safety, and +would have been welcome. + +Renmark thought of these things as he walked along. His few days’ +intimacy with Yates had shown him how far apart they had managed to get +by following paths that diverged more and more widely the farther they +were trodden. The friendship of their youth had turned out to be merely +ephemeral. Neither would now choose the other as an intimate associate. +Another illusion had gone. + +“I have surely enough self-control,” said Renmark to himself, as he +walked on, “to stand his shallow flippancy for another week, and not let +him see what I think of him.” + +Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence of +the camp. “That man is an exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faults +of the species abnormally developed. If I once open out on him, he will +learn more truth about himself in ten minutes than he ever heard in +his life before. What an unbearable prig he has grown to be.” Thus ran +Yates’ thoughts as he swung in his hammock, looking up at the ceiling of +green leaves. + +Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of them thought. If +it had been, then were marriage not only a failure, but a practical +impossibility. If two men can get over the first few days in camp +without a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the tension relaxes. + +Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid little heed to those he +met; but one driver drew up his horse and accosted him. + +“Good-day,” he said. “How are you getting on in the tent?” + +The professor was surprised at the question. Had their tenting-out +eccentricity gone all over the country? He was not a quick man +at recognizing people, belonging, as he did, to the +“I-remember-your-face-but-can’t-recall-your-name” fraternity. It had +been said of him that he never, at any one time, knew the names of more +than half a dozen students in his class; but this was an undergraduate +libel on him. The young man who had accosted him was driving a single +horse, attached to what he termed a “democrat”--a four-wheeled light +wagon, not so slim and elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as +a wagon. Renmark looked up at the driver with confused unrecognition, +troubled because he vaguely felt that he had met him somewhere before. +But his surprise at being addressed speedily changed into amazement as +he looked from the driver to the load. The “democrat” was heaped +with books. The larger volumes were stuck along the sides with some +regularity, and in this way kept the miscellaneous pile from being +shaken out on the road. His eye glittered with a new interest as it +rested on the many-colored bindings; and he recognized in the pile the +peculiar brown covers of the “Bohn” edition of classic translations, +that were scattered like so many turnips over the top of this ridge of +literature. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming. How +came a farmer’s boy to be driving a wagon load of books in the wilds of +the country as nonchalantly as if they were so many bushels of potatoes? + +The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for the load was heavy and +the sand was deep, saw that the stranger not only did not recognize him, +but that from the moment he saw the books he had forgotten everything +else. It was evidently necessary to speak again. + +“If you are coming back, will you have a ride?” he asked. + +“I--I think I will,” said the professor, descending to earth again and +climbing up beside the boy. + +“I see you don’t remember me,” said the latter, starting his horse +again. “My name is Howard. I passed you in my buggy when you were +coming in with your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner--what’s his +name--Yates, isn’t it?--had dinner at our house the other day.” + +“Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had seen you before; but it +was only for a moment, you know. I have a very poor memory so far as +people are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. Are these +your books? And how do you happen to have such a quantity?” + +“Oh, this is the library,” said young Howard. + +“The library?” + +“Yes, the township library, you know.” + +“Oh! The township has a library, then? I didn’t know.” + +“Well, it’s part of it. This is a fifth part. You know about township +libraries, don’t you? Your partner said you were a college man.” + +Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he was never reluctant to +admit it. + +“I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know nothing of township +libraries. Please, tell me about them.” + +Young Howard was eager to give information to a college man, especially +on the subject of books, which he regarded as belonging to the province +of college-bred men. He was pleased also to discover that city people +did not know everything. He had long had the idea that they did, and +this belief had been annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness of +Yates. The professor evidently was a decent fellow, who did not pretend +to universal knowledge. This was encouraging. He liked Renmark better +than Yates, and was glad he had offered him a ride, although, of course, +that was the custom; still, a person with one horse and a heavy load is +exempt on a sandy road. + +“Well, you see,” he said in explanation, “it’s like this: The township +votes a sum of money, say a hundred dollars, or two hundred, as the case +may be. They give notice to the Government of the amount voted, and the +Government adds the same amount to the township money. It’s like the old +game: you think of a number, and they double it. The Government has a +depository of books, in Toronto, I think, and they sell them cheaper +than the bookstores do. At any rate, the four hundred dollars’ worth are +bought, or whatever the amount is, and the books are the property of the +township. Five persons are picked out in the township as librarians, and +they have to give security. My father is librarian for this section. +The library is divided into five parts, and each librarian gets a share. +Once a year I go to the next section and get all their books. They go +to the next section, again, and get all the books at that place. A man +comes to our house to-day and takes all we have. So we get a complete +change every year, and in five years we get back the first batch, which +by that time we have forgotten all about. To-day is changing day all +around.” + +“And the books are lent to any person in each section who wishes to read +them?” asked the professor. + +“Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can have a book out for +two weeks; after that time there is a fine, but Margaret never fines +anyone.” + +“And do people have to pay to take out the books?” + +“Not likely!” said Howard with fine contempt. “You wouldn’t expect +people to pay for reading books; would you, now?” + +“No, I suppose not. And who selected the volumes?” + +“Well, the township can select the books if it likes, or it can send a +committee to select them; but they didn’t think it worth the trouble +and expense. People grumbled enough at wasting money on books as it was, +even if they did buy them at half price. Still, others said it was +a pity not to get the money out of the Government when they had the +chance. I don’t believe any of them cared very much about the books, +except father and a few others. So the Government chose the books. +They’ll do that if you leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash they +sent, if you take my word for it. I believe they shoved off on us all +the things no on else would buy. Even when they did pick out novels, +they were just as tough as the history books. ‘Adam Bede’ is one. They +say that’s a novel. I tried it, but I would rather read the history of +Josephus any day. There’s some fighting in that, if it is a history. +Then there’s any amount of biography books. They’re no good. There’s a +‘History of Napoleon.’ Old Bartlett’s got that, and he won’t give it up. +He says he was taxed for the library against his will. He dares them +to go to law about it, and it aint worth while for one book. The other +sections are all asking for that book; not that they want it, but the +whole country knows that old Bartlett’s a-holding on to it, so they’d +like to see some fun. Bartlett’s read that book fourteen times, and it’s +all he knows. I tell Margaret she ought to fine him, and keep on fining, +but she won’t do it. I guess Bartlett thinks the book belongs to him +by this time. Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. Bartlett,--so does +everybody,--but old Bartlett’s a seed. There he sits now on his veranda, +and it’s a wonder he’s not reading the ‘History of Napoleon.’” + +They were passing the Bartlett house, and young Howard raised his voice +and called out: + +“I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. This is changing day, +you know. Shall I come up for it, or will you bring it down? If you +fetch it to the gate, I’ll cart it home now.” + +The old man paid no heed to what was said to him; but Mrs. Bartlett, +attracted by the outcry, came to the door. + +“You go along with your books, you young rascal!” she cried, coming +down to the gate when she saw the professor. “That’s a nice way to carry +bound books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I’ll warrant you have lost +a dozen between Mallory’s and here. But easy come, easy go. It’s plain +to be seen they didn’t cost you anything. I don’t know what the world’s +a-coming to when the township spends its money in books, as if taxes +weren’t heavy enough already. Won’t you come in, Mr. Renmark? Tea’s on +the table.” + +“Mr. Renmark’s coming with me this trip, Mrs. Bartlett,” young Howard +said before the professor had time to reply; “but I’ll come over and +take tea, if you’ll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse up.” + +“You go along with your nonsense,” she said; “I know you.” Then in a +lower voice she asked: “How is your mother, Henry--and Margaret?” + +“They’re pretty well, thanks.” + +“Tell them I’m going to run over to see them some day soon, but that +need not keep them from coming to see me. The old man’s going to town +to-morrow,” and with this hint, after again inviting the professor to a +meal, she departed up the path to the house. + +“I think I’ll get down here,” said Renmark, halfway between the two +houses. “I am very much obliged to you for the ride, and also for what +you told me about the books. It was very interesting.” + +“Nonsense!” cried young Howard; “I’m not going to let you do anything of +the sort. You’re coming home with me. You want to see the books, don’t +you? Very well, then, come along, Margaret is always impatient on +changing day, she’s so anxious to see the books, and father generally +comes in early from the fields for the same reason.” + +As they approached the Howard homestead they noticed Margaret waiting +for them at the gate; but when the girl saw that a stranger was in +the wagon, she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, seeing this +retreat, regretted he had not accepted Mrs. Bartlett’s invitation. He +was a sensitive man, and did not realize that others were sometimes +as shy as himself. He felt he was intruding, and that at a sacred +moment--the moment of the arrival of the library. He was such a lover of +books, and valued so highly the privilege of being alone with them, that +he fancied he saw in the abrupt departure of Margaret the same feeling +of resentment he would himself have experienced if a visitor had +encroached upon him in his favorite nook in the fine room that held the +library of the university. + +When the wagon stopped in the lane, Renmark said hesitatingly: + +“I think I’ll not stay, if you don’t mind. My friend is waiting for me +at the camp, and will be wondering what has become of me.” + +“Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he never bothers about anybody else +as long as he is comfortable himself. That’s how I sized him up, at any +rate. Besides, you’re never going back on carrying in the books, are +you? I counted on your help. I don’t want to do it, and it don’t seem +the square thing to let Margaret do it all alone; does it, now?” + +“Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall----” + +“Of course you can. Besides, I know my father wants to see you, anyhow. +Don’t you, father?” + +The old man was coming round from the back of the house to meet them. + +“Don’t I what?” he asked. + +“You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark when Margaret told you +what Yates had said to her about him.” + +Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many people had made him the +subject of conversation, rather suspecting at the same time that the boy +was making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out his hand. + +“So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very pleased to see you. +Yes, as Henry was saying, I have been wanting to see you ever since my +daughter spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that his brother is a +pupil of yours?” + +“Oh! is Arthur Howard your son?” cried Renmark, warming up at once. “I +did not know it. There are many young men at the college, and I have but +the vaguest idea from what parts of the country they all come. A teacher +should have no favorites, but I must confess to a strong liking for your +son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said about every member of my +class.” + +“Arthur was always studious, so we thought we would give him a chance. +I am glad to hear he behaves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, +and I hope my boys will have an easier time than I had. But come in, +come in. The missus and Margaret will be glad to see you, and hear how +the boy is coming on with his studies.” + +So they went in together. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +“Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that would +fetch you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!” + +Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thought +the forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected his +wits he saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashing +through the woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by a +strap attached to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still resounded +in the depths of the woods, and rang in Yates’ ears as he pulled himself +together. + +“Did you--ah--make any remarks?” asked Yates quietly. + +The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise. + +“I say, don’t you know that it’s not healthy to go to sleep in the +middle of the day?” + +“Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I can +stand it, if the middle of the day can. I’ve a strong constitution. Now, +what do you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man’s bedroom in +that reckless fashion?” + +The boy laughed. + +“I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for I +saw the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago.” + +“Oh! Where was he going?” + +“Hanged if I know, and he didn’t look as if he knew himself. He’s a +queer fish, aint he?” + +“He is. Everybody can’t be as sensible and handsome as we are, you know. +Where are you going with those horses, young man?” + +“To get them shod. Won’t you come along? You can ride the horse I’m on. +It’s got a bridle. I’ll ride the one with the halter.” + +“How far away is the blacksmith’s shop?” + +“Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads.” + +“Well,” said Yates, “there’s merit in the idea. I take it your generous +offer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication.” + +“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” + +“There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of one +of those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kick +or buck, or playfully roll over a person?” + +“No,” cried, young Bartlett indignantly. “This is no circus. Why, a baby +could ride this horse.” + +“Well, that’s about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I’m a trifle +out of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, +and I haven’t been on one of them for a week.” + +“Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you set +your mind to.” + +Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, +so he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on the horse +with both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slipped to the +ground. + +“Wait till I throw down the fence,” he said. + +Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two went trotting down the +road. He managed to hold his place with some little uncertainty, but the +joggling up and down worried him. He never seemed to alight in quite the +same place on the horse’s back, and this gave an element of chance to +his position which embarrassed him. He expected to come down some time +and find the horse wasn’t there. The boy laughed at his riding, but +Yates was too much engaged in keeping his position to mind that very +much. + +“D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that’s what’s +the m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me.” His conversation seemed to be shaken +out of him by the trotting of the horse. “I say, Bartlett, I can’t stand +this any longer. I’d rather walk.” + +“You’re all right,” said the boy; “we’ll make him canter.” + +He struck the horse over the flank with the loose end of the halter +rein. + +“Here!” shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and grasping the mane. +“Don’t make him go faster, you young fiend. I’ll murder you when I get +off--and that will be soon.” + +“You’re all right,” repeated young Bartlett, and, much to his +astonishment, Yates found it to be so. When the horse broke into a +canter, Yates thought the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, and +as soothing as a rocking chair. + +“This is an improvement. But we’ve got to keep it up, for if this brute +suddenly changes to a trot, I’m done for.” + +“We’ll keep it up until we come in sight of the Corners, then we’ll slow +down to a walk. There’s sure to be a lot of fellows at the blacksmith’s +shop, so we’ll come in on them easy like.” + +“You’re a good fellow, Bartlett,” said Yates. “I suspected you of +tricks at first. I’m afraid, if I had got another chap in such a fix, I +wouldn’t have let him off as easily as you have me. The temptation would +have been too great.” + +When they reached the blacksmith’s shop at the Corners, they found four +horses in the building ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, +and then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of the smithy. The +shop was built of rough boards, and the inside was blackened with soot. +It was not well lighted, the two windows being obscured with much +smoke, so that they were useless as far as their original purpose was +concerned; but the doorway, as wide as that of a barn, allowed all the +light to come in that the smith needed for his work. At the far end +and darkest corner of the place stood the forge, with the large bellows +behind it, concealed, for the most part, by the chimney. The forge was +perhaps six feet square and three or four feet high, built of plank and +filled in with earth. The top was covered with cinders and coal, while +in the center glowed the red core of the fire, with blue flames hovering +over it. The man who worked the bellows chewed tobacco, and now and then +projected the juice with deadly accuracy right into the center of the +fire, where it made a momentary hiss and dark spot. All the frequenters +of the smithy admired Sandy’s skill in expectoration, and many tried +in vain to emulate it. The envious said it was due to the peculiar +formation of his front teeth, the upper row being prominent, and the +two middle teeth set far apart, as if one were missing. But this was +jealousy; Sandy’s perfection in the art was due to no favoritism of +nature, but to constant and long-continued practice. Occasionally with +his callous right hand, never removing his left from the lever, Sandy +pulled an iron bar out of the fire and examined it critically. The +incandescent end of the bar radiated a blinding white light when it was +gently withdrawn, and illuminated the man’s head, making his beardless +face look, against its dark background, like the smudged countenance of +some cynical demon glowing with a fire from within. The end of the bar +which he held must have been very hot to an ordinary mortal, as everyone +in the shop knew, all of them, at their initiation to the country club, +having been handed a black piece of iron from Sandy’s hand, which he +held unflinchingly, but which the innocent receiver usually dropped with +a yell. This was Sandy’s favorite joke, and made life worth living for +him. It was perhaps not so good as the blacksmith’s own bit of humor, +but public opinion was divided on that point. Every great man has his +own particular set of admirers; and there were some who said,--under +their breaths, of course,--that Sandy could turn a horseshoe as well +as Macdonald himself. Experts, however, while admitting Sandy’s general +genius, did not go so far as this. + +About half a dozen members of the club were present, and most of them +stood leaning against something with hands deep in their trousers +pockets; one was sitting on the blacksmith’s bench, with his legs +dangling down. On the bench tools were scattered around so thickly that +he had had to clear a place before he could sit down; the taking of this +liberty proved the man to be an old and privileged member. He sat there +whittling a stick, aimlessly bringing it to a fine point, examining it +frequently with a critical air, as if he were engaged in some delicate +operation which required great discrimination. + +The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to one of the horses, the +hind hoof of the animal, between his knees, resting on his leathern +apron. The horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, not +liking what was going on. Macdonald swore at it fluently, and requested +it to stand still, holding the foot as firmly as if it were in his own +iron vise, which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With his +right hand he held a hot horseshoe, attached to an iron punch that had +been driven into one of the nail holes, and this he pressed against the +upraised hoof, as though sealing a document with a gigantic seal. Smoke +and flame rose from the contact of the hot iron with the hoof, and the +air was filled with the not unpleasant odor of burning horn. The smith’s +tool box, with hammer, pinchers, and nails, lay on the earthern floor +within easy reach. The sweat poured from his grimy brow; for it was a +hot job, and Macdonald was in the habit of making the most of his work. +He was called the hardest working man in that part of the country, +and he was proud of the designation. He was a standing reproach to the +loafers who frequented his shop, and that fact gave him pleasure in +their company. Besides, a man must have an audience when he is an expert +in swearing. Macdonald’s profanity was largely automatic,--a natural +gift, as it were,--and he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when +you got him fighting angry, he always forgot to swear; but in his calm +moments oaths rolled easily and picturesquely from his lips, and gave +fluency to his conversation. Macdonald enjoyed the reputation round +about of being a wicked man, which he was not; his language was against +him, that was all. This reputation had a misty halo thrown around it by +Macdonald’s unknown doings “down East,” from which mystical region he +had come. No one knew just what Macdonald had done, but it was admitted +on all sides that he must have had some terrible experiences, although +he was still a young man and unmarried. He used to say: “When you have +come through what I have, you won’t be so ready to pick a quarrel with a +man.” + +This must have meant something significant, but the blacksmith never +took anyone into his confidence; and “down East” is a vague place, a +sort of indefinite, unlocalized no-man’s-land, situated anywhere between +Toronto and Quebec. Almost anything might have happened in such a space +of country. Macdonald’s favorite way of crushing an opponent was to say: +“When you’ve had some of my experiences, young man, you’ll know better’n +to talk like that.” All this gave a certain fascination to friendship +with the blacksmith; and the farmers’ boys felt that they were playing +with fire when in his company, getting, as it were, a glimpse of the +dangerous side of life. As for work, the blacksmith reveled in it, and +made it practically his only vice. He did everything with full steam on, +and was, as has been said, a constant reproach to loafers all over the +country. When there was no work to do, he made work. When there was work +to do, he did it with a rush, sweeping the sweat from his grimy brow +with his hooked fore finger, and flecking it to the floor with a flirt +of the right hand, loose on the wrist, in a way that made his thumb +and fore finger snap together like the crack of a whip. This action was +always accompanied with a long-drawn breath, almost a sigh, that seemed +to say: “I wish I had the easy times you fellows have.” In fact, since +he came to the neighborhood the current phrase, “He works like a steer” + had given way to, “He works like Macdonald,” except with the older +people, who find it hard to change phrases. Yet everyone liked the +blacksmith, and took no special offense at his untiring industry, +looking at it rather as an example to others. + +He did not look up as the two newcomers entered, but industriously pared +down the hoof with a curiously formed knife turned like a hook at the +point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, and rasped the +hoof into shape with a long, broad file. Not till he let the foot drop +on the earthen floor, and slapped the impatient horse on the flank, did +he deign to answer young Bartlett’s inquiry. + +“No,” he said, wringing the perspiration from his forehead, “all these +horses aint ahead of you, and you won’t need to come next week. That’s +the last hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to my shop and go +away again, while the breath of life is left in me. And I don’t do it, +either, by sitting on a bench and whittling a stick.” + +“That’s so. That’s so,” said Sandy, chuckling, in the admiring tone of +one who intimated that, when the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. “That’s +one on you, Sam.” + +“I guess I can stand it, if he can,” said the whittler from the bench; +which was considered fair repartee. + +“Sit it, you mean,” said young Bartlett, laughing with the others at his +own joke. + +“But,” said the blacksmith severely, “we’re out of shoes, and you’ll +have to wait till we turn some, that is, if you don’t want the old ones +reset. Are they good enough?” + +“I guess so, if you can find ‘em; but they’re out in the fields. Didn’t +think I’d bring the horses in while they held on, did you?” + Then, suddenly remembering his duties, he said by, way of general +introduction: “Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Yates from New York.” + +The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the high spirits of the +crowd. They had imagined from the cut of his clothes that he was a +storekeeper from some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, +these two occupations being the highest social position to which a man +might attain. They were prepared to hear that he was from Welland, or +perhaps St. Catherines; but New York! that was a crusher. Macdonald, +however, was not a man to be put down in his own shop and before his +own admirers. He was not going to let his prestige slip from him merely +because a man from New York had happened along. He could not claim to +know the city, for the stranger would quickly detect the imposture and +probably expose him; but the slightly superior air which Yates wore +irritated him, while it abashed the others. Even Sandy was silent. + +“I’ve met some people from New York down East,” he said in an offhand +manner, as if, after all, a man might meet a New Yorker and still not +sink into the ground. + +“Really?” said Yates. “I hope you liked them.” + +“Oh, so-so,” replied the blacksmith airily. “There’s good and bad among +them, like the rest of us.” + +“Ah, you noticed that,” said Yates. “Well, I’ve often thought the same +myself. It’s a safe remark to make; there is generally no disputing it.” + +The condescending air of the New Yorker was maddening, and Macdonald +realized that he was losing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates’ tone +was so exasperating to the blacksmith that he felt any language at his +disposal inadequate to cope with it. The time for the practical joke +had arrived. The conceit of this man must be taken down. He would try +Sandy’s method, and, if that failed, it would at least draw attention +from himself to his helper. + +“Being as you’re from New York, maybe you can decide a little bet Sandy +here wants to have with somebody.” + +Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar that always lay near +enough the fire to be uncomfortably warm. + +“How much do you reckon that weighs?” he said, with critical nicety +estimating its ounces in his swaying hand. Sandy had never done +it better. There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, +unsophisticated countenance, and the crowd looked on in breathless +suspense. + +Bartlett was about to step forward and save his friend, but a wicked +glare from Macdonald restrained him; besides, he felt, somehow, that +his sympathies were with his neighbors, and not with the stranger he had +brought among them. He thought resentfully that Yates might have been +less high and mighty. In fact, when he asked him to come he had imagined +his brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would reflect glory on +himself. Now he fancied he was included in the general scorn Yates took +such little pains to conceal. + +Yates glanced at the piece of iron and, without taking his hands from +his pockets, said carelessly: + +“Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of pounds.” + +“Heft it,” said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out to him. + +“No, thank you,” replied Yates, with a smile. “Do you think I have never +picked up a hot horseshoe before? If you are anxious to know its weight, +why don’t you take it over to the grocery store and have it weighed?” + +“‘Taint hot,” said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and flung the iron back on +the forge. “If it was, I couldn’t have held it s’long.” + +“Oh, no,” returned Yates, with a grin, “of course not. I don’t know what +a blacksmith’s hands are, do I? Try something fresh.” + +Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him among his crowd, for they +all evidently felt as much involved in the failure of Sandy’s trick as +he did himself; but he was sure that in future some man, hard pushed in +argument, would fling the New Yorker at him. In the crisis he showed the +instinct of a Napoleon. + +“Well, boys,” he cried, “fun’s fun, but I’ve got to work. I have to earn +my living, anyhow.” + +Yates enjoyed his victory; they wouldn’t try “getting at” him again, he +said to himself. + +Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the bar of white-hot iron. He +gave a scarcely perceptible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready with tobacco +juice, spat with great directness on the top of the anvil. Macdonald +placed the hot iron on the spot, and quickly smote it a stalwart blow +with the heavy hammer. The result was appalling. An instantaneous +spreading fan of apparently molten iron lit up the place as if it were a +flash of lightning. There was a crash like the bursting of a cannon. +The shop was filled for a moment with a shower of brilliant sparks, that +flew like meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone was prepared +for the explosion except Yates. He sprang back with a cry, tripped, +and, without having time to get the use of his hands to ease his fall, +tumbled and rolled to the horses’ heels. The animals, frightened by the +report, stamped around; and Yates had to hustle on his hands and knees +to safer quarters, exhibiting more celerity than dignity. The blacksmith +never smiled, but everyone else roared. The reputation of the country +was safe. Sandy doubled himself up in his boisterous mirth. + +“There’s no one like the old man!” he shouted. “Oh, lordy! lordy! He’s +all wool, and a yard wide.” + +Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, laughing with the rest +of them. + +“If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten it. That’s one on me, +as this youth in spasms said a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I’ll treat +the crowd, if there’s a place handy.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +People who have but a superficial knowledge of the life and times +here set down may possibly claim that the grocery store, and not the +blacksmith’s shop, used to be the real country club--the place where the +politics of the country were discussed; where the doings of great men +were commended or condemned, and the government criticised. It is true +that the grocery store was the club of the village, when a place like +the Corners grew to be a village; but the blacksmith’s shop was usually +the first building erected on the spot where a village was ultimately +to stand. It was the nucleus. As a place grew, and enervating luxury set +in, the grocery store slowly supplanted the blacksmith’s shop, because +people found a nail keg, or a box of crackers, more comfortable to sit +on than the limited seats at their disposal in a smithy; moreover, in +winter the store, with its red-hot box stove, was a place of warmth and +joy, but the reveling in such an atmosphere of comfort meant that the +members of the club had to live close at hand, for no man would brave +the storms of a Canadian winter night, and journey a mile or two through +the snow, to enjoy even the pleasures of the store. So the grocery was +essentially a village club, and not a rural club. + +Of course, as civilization advanced, the blacksmith found it impossible +to compete with the grocer. He could not offer the same inducements. The +grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the grateful epicurism of +the Athenaeum, the Reform, or the Carlton. It catered to the appetite of +man, besides supplying him with the intellectual stimulus of debate. +A box of soda crackers was generally open, and, although such biscuits +were always dry, they were good to munch, if consumed slowly. The barrel +of hazel nuts never had a lid on. The raisins, in their square box, with +blue-tinted paper, setting forth the word “Malaga” under the colored +picture of joyous Spanish grape pickers, stood on the shelves behind +the counter, at an angle suited to display the contents to all comers, +requiring an exceptionally long reach, and more than an ordinary amount +of cheek, before they were got at; but the barrel of Muscavado brown +sugar was where everyone could dip his hand in; while the man on the +keg of tenpenny nails might extend his arm over into the display window, +where the highly colored candies exhibited themselves, although +the person who meddled often with them was frowned upon, for it was +etiquette in the club not to purloin things which were expensive. +The grocer himself drew the line at the candies, and a second helping +usually brought forth the mild reproof: + +“Shall I charge that, Sam; or would you rather pay for it now?” + +All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat surreptitious way, and the +takers generally wore an absent-minded look, as if the purloining was +not quite intentional on their part. But they were all good customers +of the grocer, and the abstractions were doubtless looked on by him as +being in the way of trade; just as the giving of a present with a pound +of tea, or a watch with a suit of clothes, became in later days. Be +that as it may, he never said anything unless his generosity was taken +advantage of, which was rarely the case. + +Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious feast, that helped to +lighten the shelves and burden the till. This ordinarily took the form +of a splurge in cove oysters. Cove oysters came from Baltimore, of +course, in round tins; they were introduced into Canada long before the +square tin boxes that now come in winter from the same bivalvular city. +Cove oysters were partly cooked before being tinned, so that they would, +as the advertisements say, keep in any climate. They did not require ice +around them, as do the square tins which now contain the raw oysters. +Someone present would say: + +“What’s the matter with having a feed of cove oysters?” + +He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so from each member, +and the whole was expended in several cans of oysters and a few pounds +of crackers. The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top of the hot +stove. The contents of the cans were emptied into this handy dish, milk +was added, and broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency to the +result. There were always plenty of plates, for the store supplied the +crockery of the neighborhood. There were also plenty of spoons, for +everything was to be had at the grocery. What more could the most +exacting man need? On a particularly reckless night the feast ended with +several tins of peaches, which needed no cooking, but only a sprinkling +of sugar. The grocer was always an expert at cooking cove oysters and at +opening tins of peaches. + +There was a general feeling among the members that, by indulging in +these banquets, they were going the pace rather; and some of the older +heads feebly protested against the indulgence of the times, but it was +noticed that they never refrained from doing their share when it came to +spoon work. + +“A man has but one life to live,” the younger and more reckless would +say, as if that excused the extravagance; for a member rarely got away +without being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when they had +peaches as well as oysters. + +The grocery at the Corners had been but recently established and as yet +the blacksmith’s shop had not looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald was +monarch of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favorite gathering +place for miles around. The smithy was also the patriotic center of the +district, as a blacksmith’s shop must be as long as anvils can take the +place of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th of May, the queen’s +birthday, celebrated locally as the only day in the year, except +Sundays, when Macdonald’s face was clean and when he did no work, the +firing of the anvils aroused the echoes of the locality. On that great +day the grocer supplied the powder, which was worth three York shillings +a pound--a York shilling being sixpence halfpenny. It took two men to +carry an anvil, with a good deal of grunting; but Macdonald, if the +crowd were big enough, made nothing of picking it up, hoisting it on his +shoulder, and flinging it down on the green in front of his shop. In the +iron mass there is a square hole, and when the anvil was placed upside +down, the hole was uppermost. It was filled with powder, and a wooden +plug, with a notch cut in it, was pounded in with a sledge hammer. +Powder was sprinkled from the notch over the surface of the anvil, and +then the crowd stood back and held its breath. It was a most exciting +moment. Macdonald would come running out of the shop bareheaded, holding +a long iron bar, the wavering, red-hot end of which descended on the +anvil, while the blacksmith shouted in a terrifying voice: “Look out, +there!” The loose powder hissed and spat for a moment, then bang went +the cannon, and a great cloud of smoke rolled upward, while the rousing +cheers came echoing back from the surrounding forests. The helper, with +the powder-horn, would spring to the anvil and pour the black explosive +into the hole, while another stood ready with plug and hammer. The +delicious scent of burned gunpowder filled the air, and was inhaled by +all the youngsters with satisfaction, for now they realized what real +war was. Thus the salutes were fired, and thus the royal birthday was +fittingly celebrated. + +Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade was much brisker, as +then a plug was not needed. The hole in the lower anvil was filled with +powder, and the other anvil was placed over it. This was much quicker +than pounding in a plug, and had quite as striking and detonating an +effect. The upper anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain’s shot-laden frog, +and fell over on its side. The smoke rolled up as usual, and the report +was equally gratifying. + +Yates learned all these things as he sat in the blacksmith’s shop, for +they were still in the month of May, and the smoke of the echoing anvils +had hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to tell him of the +glory of the day. One or two were good enough to express regret that he +had not been there to see. After the disaster which had overturned Yates +things had gone on very smoothly, and he had become one of the crowd, as +it were. The fact that he was originally a Canadian told in his favor, +although he had been contaminated by long residence in the States. + +Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horseshoes from long rods of +iron. Usually an extended line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackened +scantling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing the shop +overhead, just under the roof. These were the work of Macdonald’s +comparatively leisure days, and they were ready to be fitted to the +hoofs of any horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion there +had been such a run on his stock that it was exhausted, a depletion +the smith seemed to regard as a reproach on himself, for he told Yates +several times that he often had as many as three dozen shoes up aloft +for a rainy day. + +When the sledge hammer work was to be done, one of those present stepped +forward and swung the heavy sledge, keeping stroke for stroke with +Macdonald’s one-handed hammer, all of which required a nice ear for +time. This assistance was supposed to be rendered by Sandy; but, as he +remarked, he was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his skill was at +liberty to do so. Sandy seemed to spend most of his time at the bellows, +and when he was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as he called +him, he was commending the expertness of the _pro tem._ amateur, the +wielder of the sledge. It was fun to the amateur, and it was an old +thing with Sandy, so he never protested against this interference with +his duty, believing in giving everyone a chance, especially when it came +to swinging a heavy hammer. The whole scene brought back to Yates the +days of his youth, especially when Macdonald, putting the finishing +strokes to his shoe, let his hammer periodically tinkle with musical +clangor on the anvil, ringing forth a tintinnabulation that chimed +melodiously on the ear--a sort of anvil-chorus accompaniment to his +mechanical skill. He was a real sleight-of-hand man, and the anvil was +his orchestra. + +Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural club. As the members +thawed out he found them all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, +they were appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently new to +them, and nothing puts a man into a genial frame of mind so quickly as +an attentive, sympathetic audience. Few men could tell a story better +than Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of interested hearers. He +hated to have to explain the points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what +story-teller does not? A cold and critical man like the professor +froze the spring of narration at its source. Besides, Renmark had an +objectionable habit of tracing the recital to its origin; it annoyed +Yates to tell a modern yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, or +some other prehistoric poacher on the good things men were to say, had +forestalled him by a thousand years or so. When a man is quick to see +the point of your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you are apt to +form a high opinion of his good sense, and to value his companionship. + +When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, who was delighted at +the impression Yates had made, was preparing to go, the whole company +protested against the New Yorker’s departure. This was real flattery. + +“What’s your hurry, Bartlett?” asked the whittler. “You can’t do +anything this afternoon, if you do go home. It’s a poor time this to +mend a bad day’s work. If you stay, he’ll stay; won’t you, Mr. Yates? +Macdonald is going to set tires, and he needs us all to look on and see +that he does it right; don’t you, Mac?” + +“Yes; I get a lot of help from you while there’s a stick to whittle,” + replied the smith. + +“Then there’s the protracted meeting to-night at the schoolhouse,” put +in another, anxious that all the attractions of the place should be +brought forward. + +“That’s so,” said the whittler; “I had forgotten about that. It’s the +first night, so we must all be there to encourage old Benderson. You’ll +be on hand to-night, won’t you, Macdonald?” + +The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to Sandy and asked him +savagely what in ---- and ---nation he was standing gawking there for. +Why didn’t he go outside and get things ready for the tire setting? What +in thunder was he paying him for, anyhow? Wasn’t there enough loafers +round, without him joining the ranks? + +Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when the smith’s back was +turned, he shrugged his shoulders, took a fresh bite of tobacco from the +plug which he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others as he did +so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out of the shop, saying in a whisper +as he passed the whittler: + +“I wouldn’t rile the old man, if I were you.” + +The club then adjourned to the outside, all except those who sat on the +bench. Yates asked: + +“What’s the matter with Macdonald? Doesn’t he like protracted meetings? +And, by the way, what are protracted meetings?” + +“They’re revival meetings--religious meetings, you know, for converting +sinners.” + +“Really?” said Yates. “But why protracted? Are they kept on for a week +or two?” + +“Yes; I suppose that’s why, although, to tell the truth, I never knew +the reason for the name. Protracted meetings always stood for just the +same thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as meaning that one +thing, without thinking why.” + +“And doesn’t Macdonald like them?” + +“Well, you see, it’s like this: He never wants to go to a protracted +meeting, yet he can’t keep away. He’s like a drunkard and the corner +tavern. He can’t pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. +Macdonald’s always the first one to go up to the penitent bench. They +rake him in every time. He has religion real bad for a couple of +weeks, and then he backslides. He doesn’t seem able to stand either the +converting or the backsliding. I suppose some time they will gather him +in finally, and he will stick and become a class leader, but he hasn’t +stuck up to date.” + +“Then he doesn’t like to hear the subject spoken of?” + +“You bet he don’t. It isn’t safe to twit him about it either. To tell +the truth, I was pleased when I heard him swear at Sandy; then I knew it +was all right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad man to tackle +when he’s mad. There’s nobody in this district can handle him. I’d +sooner get a blow from a sledge hammer than meet Mac’s fist when his +dander is up. But so long as he swears it’s all right. Say, you’ll stay +down for the meeting, won’t you?” + +“I think I will. I’ll see what young Bartlett intends to do. It isn’t +very far to walk, in any case.” + +“There will be lots of nice girls going your way to-night after the +meeting. I don’t know but I’ll jog along in that direction myself when +it’s over. That’s the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow.” + +The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, and joined the crowd +outside. Young Bartlett sat on one of the horses, loath to leave while +the tire setting was going on. + +“Are you coming, Yates?” he shouted, as his comrade appeared. + +“I think I’ll stay for the meeting,” said Yates, approaching him and +patting the horse. He had no desire for mounting and riding away in the +presence of that critical assemblage. + +“All right,” said young Bartlett. “I guess I’ll be down at the meeting, +too; then I can show you the way home.” + +“Thanks,” said Yates; “I’ll be on the lookout for you.” + +Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of +dust. The others had also departed with their shod horses; but there +were several new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather than +diminished. They sat around on the fence, or on the logs dumped down by +the wayside. + +Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was a convenient way of using +the weed, and required no matches, besides being safer for men who had +to frequent inflammable barns. + +A circular fire burned in front of the shop, oak bark being the main +fuel used. Iron wagon tires lay hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald +and Sandy bustled about making preparations, their faces, more hideous +in the bright sunlight than in the comparative obscurity of the shop, +giving them the appearance of two evil spirits about to attend some +incantation scene of which the circular fire was the visible indication. +Crosstrees, of four pieces of squared timber, lay near the fire, with a +tireless wheel placed flat upon them, the hub in the square hole at the +center. Shiftless farmers always resisted having tires set until they +would no longer stay on the wheel. The inevitable day was postponed, +time and again, by a soaking of the wheels overnight in some convenient +puddle of water; but as the warmer and dryer weather approached this +device, supplemented by wooden wedges, no longer sufficed, and the tires +had to be set for summer work. Frequently the tire rolled off on the +sandy highway, and the farmer was reluctantly compelled to borrow a rail +from the nearest fence, and place it so as to support the axle; he then +put the denuded wheel and its tire on the wagon, and drove slowly to the +nearest blacksmith’s shop, his vehicle “trailing like a wounded duck,” + the rail leaving a snake’s track behind it on the dusty road. + +The blacksmith had previously cut and welded the tire, reducing its +circumference, and when it was hot enough, he and Sandy, each with a +pair of tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It was pressed +and hammered down on the blazing rim of the wheel, and instantly Sandy +and Macdonald, with two pails of water that stood handy, poured the +cold liquid around the red-hot zone, enveloping themselves in clouds +of steam, the quick contraction clamping the iron on the wood until the +joints cracked together. There could be no loitering; quick work was +necessary, or a spoiled wheel was the result. Macdonald, alternately +spluttering through fire and steam, was in his element. Even Sandy had +to be on the keen jump, without a moment to call his plug of tobacco his +own. Macdonald fussed and fussed, but got through an immense amount of +work in an incredibly short space of time, cursing Sandy pretty much all +the while; yet that useful man never replied in kind, contenting himself +with a wink at the crowd when he got the chance, and saying under his +breath: + +“The old man’s in great fettle to-day.” + +Thus everybody enjoyed himself: Macdonald, because he was the center +figure in a saturnalia of work; Sandy, because no matter how hard a man +has to work he can chew tobacco all the time; the crowd, because the +spectacle of fire, water, and steam was fine, and they didn’t have to do +anything but sit around and look on. The sun got lower and lower as, one +by one, the spectators departed to do their chores, and prepare for the +evening meeting. Yates at the invitation of the whittler went home with +him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Margaret had never met any man but her father who was so fond of +books as Professor Renmark. The young fellows of her acquaintance +read scarcely anything but the weekly papers; they went with some care +through the yellow almanac that was given away free, with the grocer’s +name printed on the back. The marvelous cures the almanac recorded were +of little interest, and were chiefly read by the older folk, but the +young men reveled in the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, +their only drawback being that one could never tell the stories at a +paring-bee or other social gathering, because everyone in the company +had read them. A few of the young men came sheepishly round to get a +book out of the library, but it was evident that their interest was not +so much in the volume as in the librarian, and when that fact became +apparent to the girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought to be cold +and proud by the youth of the neighborhood, or “stuck-up,” as they +expressed it. + +To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revelation. He could talk of +other things than the weather, live stock, and the prospects for the +crops. The conversation at first did not include Margaret, but she +listened to every word of it with interest. Her father and mother were +anxious to hear about their boy; and from that engrossing subject the +talk soon drifted to university life, and the differences between city +and country. At last the farmer, with a sigh, arose to go. There is +little time for pleasant talk on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret, +remembering her duties as librarian, began to take in the books from the +wagon to the front room. Renmark, slow in most things, was quick enough +to offer his assistance on this occasion; but he reddened somewhat as he +did so, for he was unused to being a squire of dames. + +“I wish you would let me do the porterage,” he said. “I would like to +earn the right to look at these books sometimes, even though I may not +have the privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident of the +township.” + +“The librarian,” answered Margaret, with a smile, “seems to be at +liberty to use her own discretion in the matter of lending. No one has +authority to look over her accounts, or to censure her if she lends +recklessly. So, if you wish to borrow books, all you have to do is to +ask for them.” + +“You may be sure I shall avail myself of the permission. But my +conscience will be easier if I am allowed to carry them in.” + +“You will be permitted to help. I like carrying them. There is no more +delicious armful than books.” + +As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face radiant with enthusiasm, +the disconcerting thought came suddenly that perhaps her statement +might not be accurate. No such thought had ever suggested itself to him +before, and it now filled him with guilty confusion. He met the clear, +honest gaze of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered lamely: + +“I--I too am very fond of books.” + +Together they carried in the several hundred volumes, and then began to +arrange them. + +“Have you no catalogue?” he asked. + +“No. We never seem to need one. People come and look over the library, +and take out whatever book they fancy.” + +“Yes, but still every library ought to be catalogued. Cataloguing is an +art in itself. I have paid a good deal of attention to it, and will show +you how it is done, if you care to know.” + +“Oh, I wish you would.” + +“How do you keep a record of the volumes that are out?” + +“I just write the name of the person, the title, and the date in this +blank book. When the volume is returned, I score out the record.” + +“I see,” said Renmark dubiously. + +“That isn’t right, is it? Is there a better way?” + +“Well, for a small library, that ought to do; but if you were handling +many books, I think confusion might result.” + +“Do tell me the right way. I should like to know, even if it is a small +library.” + +“There are several methods, but I am by no means sure your way is not +the simplest, and therefore the best in this instance.” + +“I’m not going to be put off like that,” said Margaret, laughing. “A +collection of books is a collection of books, whether large or small, +and deserves respect and the best of treatment. Now, what method is used +in large libraries?” + +“Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though slips of paper would +do. When any person wants to take out a book, let him make out a card, +giving the date and the name or number of the book; he then must sign +the card, and there you are. He cannot deny having had the book, for +you have his own signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a +box according to dates, and when a book is returned, you tear up the +recording paper.” + +“I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt it.” + +“Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few hundred cards. We’ll have +them here in a day or two.” + +“Oh, I don’t want to put you to that trouble.” + +“It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let us attack the +catalogue. Have you a blank book anywhere about? We will first make an +alphabetical list; then we will arrange them under the heads of history, +biography, fiction, and so on.” + +Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue took a long time. Both +were absorbed in their occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straight +and narrow path, but in this instance there were so many delightful side +excursions that rapid progress could not be expected. To a reader the +mere mention of a book brings up recollections. Margaret was reading +out the names; Renmark, on slips of paper, each with a letter on it, was +writing them down. + +“Oh, have you that book?” he would say, looking up as a title was +mentioned. “Have you ever read it?” + +“No; for, you see, this part of the library is all new to me. Why, here +is one of which the leaves are not even cut. No one has read it. Is it +good?” + +“One of the best,” Renmark would say, taking the volume. “Yes, I know +this edition. Let me read you one passage.” + +And Margaret would sit in the rocking while he cut the leaves and found +the place. One extract was sure to suggest another, and time passed +before the title of the book found its way to the proper slip of +paper. These excursions into literature were most interesting to both +excursionists, but they interfered with cataloguing. Renmark read +and read, ever and anon stopping to explain some point, or quote what +someone else had said on the same subject, marking the place in the +book, as he paused, with inserted fore finger. Margaret swayed back and +forth in the comfortable rocking chair, and listened intently, her large +dark eyes fixed upon him so earnestly that now and then, when he met +them, he seemed disconcerted for a moment. But the girl did not notice +this. At the end of one of his dissertations she leaned her elbow on the +arm of the chair, with her cheek resting against her hand, and said: + +“How very clear you make everything, Mr. Renmark.” + +“Do you think so?” he said with a smile. “It’s my business, you know.” + +“I think it’s a shame that girls are not allowed to go to the +university; don’t you?” + +“Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, and I am not quite +prepared to say.” + +“Well, I think it most unfair. The university is supported by the +Government, is it not? Then why should half of the population be shut +out from its advantages?” + +“I’m afraid it wouldn’t do, you know.” + +“Why?” + +“There are many reasons,” he replied evasively. + +“What are they? Do you think girls could not learn, or are not as +capable of hard study as well as----” + +“It isn’t that,” he interrupted; “there are plenty of girls’ schools in +the country, you know. Some very good ones in Toronto itself, for that +matter.” + +“Yes; but why shouldn’t I go to the university with my brother? There +are plenty of boys’ schools, too, but the university is the university. +I suppose my father helps to support it. Why, then, should one child be +allowed to attend and the other not? It isn’t at all just.” + +“It wouldn’t do,” said the professor more firmly, the more he thought +about it. + +“Would you take that as a satisfying reason from one or your students?” + +“What?” + +“The phrase, ‘It wouldn’t do.’” + +Renmark laughed. + +“I’m afraid not,” he said; “but, then, I’m very exacting in class. Now, +if you want to know, why do you not ask your father?” + +“Father and I have discussed the question, often, and he quite agrees +with me in thinking it unfair.” + +“Oh, does he?” said Renmark, taken aback; although, when he reflected, +he realized that the father doubtless knew as little about the dangers +of the city as the daughter did. + +“And what does your mother say?” + +“Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper it is all that is +required. So you will have to give me a good reason, if there is one, +for nobody else in this house argues on your side of the question.” + +“Well,” said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, “if you don’t know by the +time you are twenty-five, I’ll promise to discuss the whole subject with +you.” + +Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. + +“Twenty-five?” she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity of youth: +“That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I’ll find out +before that time.” + +“I think you will,” Renmark answered. + +They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of her +brother. + +“Hello, you two!” he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. “It +seems the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual.” + +Margaret rose with dignity. + +“We are cataloguing,” she said severely. + +“Oh, that’s what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or is +two company when they’re cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it +is?” + +“I’m afraid I must be off,” said the professor, rising. “My companion in +camp won’t know what has become of me.” + +“Oh, he’s all right!” said Henry. “He’s down at the Corners, and is +going to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a +while ago; he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went with +him. I guess Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, +will you go to the meeting? I’m going. Young Bartlett’s going, and so is +Kitty. Won’t you come, too, Mr. Renmark? It’s great fun.” + +“Don’t talk like that about a religious gathering, Henry,” said his +sister, frowning. + +“Well, that’s what it is, anyhow.” + +“Is it a prayer meeting?” asked the professor, looking at the girl. + +“You bet it is!” cried Henry enthusiastically, giving no one a chance +to speak but himself. “It’s a prayer meeting, and every other kind +of meeting all rolled into one. It’s a revival meeting; a protracted +meeting, that’s what it is. You had better come with us, Mr. Renmark, +and then you can see what it is like. You can walk home with Yates.” + +This attractive _dénouement_ did not seem to appeal so strongly to the +professor as the boy expected, for he made no answer. + +“You will come, sis; won’t you?” urged the boy. + +“Are you sure Kitty is going?” + +“Of course she is. You don’t think she’d miss it, do you? They’ll soon +be here, too; better go and get ready.” + +“I’ll see what mother says,” replied Margaret as she left the room. +She shortly returned, dressed ready for the meeting, and the professor +concluded he would go also. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Anyone passing the Corners that evening would have quickly seen that +something important was on. Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, +drawn in toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses were tied. +Some had evidently come from afar, for the fame of the revivalist was +widespread. The women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, which +was brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The men stood around outside in +groups, while many sat in rows on the fences, all conversing about every +conceivable topic except religion. They apparently acted on the theory +that there would be enough religion to satisfy the most exacting when +they went inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fence with the +whittler, whose guest he had been. It was getting too dark for +satisfactory whittling, so the man with the jack-knife improved the time +by cutting notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when this failed, +there was always a satisfaction in opening and shutting a knife that had +a powerful spring at the back of it, added to which was the pleasurable +danger of cutting his fingers. They were discussing the Fenian question, +which at that time was occupying the minds of Canadians to some extent. +Yates was telling them what he knew of the brotherhood in New York, and +the strength of it, which his auditors seemed inclined to underestimate. +Nobody believed that the Fenians would be so foolhardy as to attempt an +invasion of Canada; but Yates held that if they did they would give the +Canadians more trouble than was expected. + +“Oh, we’ll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come over here. They’ll be +glad enough to get back if he tackles them.” + +“With his tongue,” added another. + +“By the way,” said the whittler, “did young Bartlett say he was coming +to-night? I hope he’ll bring his sister if he does. Didn’t any of you +fellows ask him to bring her? He’d never think of it if he wasn’t told. +He has no consideration for the rest of us.” + +“Why didn’t you ask him? I hear you have taken to going in that +direction yourself.” + +“Who? Me?” asked the whittler, quite unconcerned. “I have no chance in +that quarter, especially when the old man’s around.” + +There was a sound of singing from the schoolhouse. The double doors were +wide open, and as the light streamed out the people began to stream in. + +“Where’s Macdonald?” asked Yates. + +“Oh, I guess he’s taken to the woods. He washes his face, and then he +hides. He has the sense to wash his face first, for he knows he will +have to come. You’ll see him back before they start the second hymn.” + +“Well, boys!” said one, getting down from the fence and stretching his +arms above his head with a yawn, “I guess, if we’re going in, it’s about +time.” + +One after another they got down from the fence, the whittler shutting +his knife with a reluctant snap, and putting it in his pocket with +evident regret. The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to its +utmost capacity--women on one side of the room, and men on the other; +although near the door there was no such division, all the occupants +of the back benches being men and boys. The congregation was standing, +singing a hymn, when Yates and his comrades entered, so their quiet +incoming was not noticed. The teacher’s desk had been moved from the +platform on which it usually stood, and now occupied a corner on the +men’s side of the house. It was used as a seat by two or three, who +wished to be near the front, and at the same time keep an eye on the +rest of the assemblage. The local preacher stood on the edge of the +platform, beating time gently with his hymn book, but not singing, as +he had neither voice nor ear for music, and happily recognized the fact. +The singing was led by a man in the middle of the room. + +At the back of the platform, near the wall, were two chairs, on one of +which sat the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who was to conduct the revival. He was +a stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see his face, for it +was buried in his hands, his head being bowed in silent prayer. It was +generally understood that he had spent a youth of fearful wickedness, +and he always referred to himself as a brand snatched from the burning. +It was even hinted that at one time he had been a card player, but no +one knew this for a fact. Many of the local preachers had not the power +of exhortation, therefore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had +that gift abnormally developed, was too valuable to be localized; so he +spent the year going from place to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, +or frightening into the fold those stray sheep that hovered on the +outskirts; once they were within the religious ring-fence the local +minister was supposed to keep them there. The latter, who had given out +the hymn, was a man of very different caliber. He was tall, pale, and +thin, and his long black coat hung on him as if it were on a post. When +the hymn was finished; and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, +found seats as best they could at the end near the door. This was the +portion of the hall where the scoffers assembled, but it was also +the portion which yielded most fruit, if the revival happened to be a +successful one. Yates, seeing the place so full, and noticing two empty +benches up at the front, asked the whittler why they were not occupied. + +“They’ll be occupied pretty soon.” + +“Who are they being kept for?” + +“Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. You never can tell. That’s +the penitents’ bench.” + +The local preacher knelt on the platform, and offered up a prayer. He +asked the Lord to bless the efforts of the brother who was with them +there that night, and to crown his labors with success; through his +instrumentality to call many wandering sinners home. There were cries +of “Amen” and “Bless the Lord” from different parts of the hall as the +prayer was being made. On rising, another hymn was given out: + + “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. + Let earth receive her King.” + +The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune began high, and +ran down to the bottom of the scale by the time it reached the end of +the first line. When the congregation had got two-thirds of the way +down, they found they could go no farther, not even those who sang bass. +The leader, in some confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, and his +miscalculation was looked upon as exceedingly funny by the reckless +spirits at the back of the hall. The door opened quietly; and they all +turned expecting to see Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had washed +his face with but indifferent success, and the bulge in his cheek, +like a wen, showed that he had not abandoned tobacco on entering the +schoolhouse. He tiptoed to a place beside his friends. + +“The old man’s outside,” he whispered to the youth who sat nearest him, +holding his hand to the side of his mouth so that the sound would not +travel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him in a friendly sort of +way. + +The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went on, gradually recovering +from the misadventure at starting. When it was finished, the preacher +sat down beside the revivalist. His part of the work was done, as there +was no formal introduction of speaker to audience to be gone through. +The other remained as he was with bowed head, for what appeared to be a +long time. + +A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whisperings among the +scoffers ceased. + +At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, arose, and came to the +front of the platform. He had a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, +with the heavy jaw of a stubborn man--a man not easily beaten. “Open the +door,” he said in a quiet voice. + +In the last few meetings he had held he had found this an effective +beginning. It was new to his present audience. Usually a knot of people +stood outside, and if they were there, he made an appeal to them, +through the open door, to enter. If no one was there, he had a lesson to +impart, based on the silence and the darkness. In this instance it +was hard to say which was the more surprised, the revivalist or the +congregation. Sandy, being on his feet, stepped to the door, and threw +it open. He was so astonished at what he saw that he slid behind the +open door out of sight. Macdonald stood there, against the darkness +beyond, in a crouching attitude, as if about to spring. He had evidently +been trying to see what was going on through the keyhole; and, being +taken unawares by the sudden opening of the door, had not had time to +recover himself. No retreat was now possible. He stood up with haggard +face, like a man who has been on a spree, and, without a word, walked +in. Those on the bench in front of Yates moved together a little closer, +and the blacksmith sat down on the vacant space left at the outside. In +his confusion he drew his hand across his brow, and snapped his fingers +loudly in the silence. A few faces at the back wore a grin, and would +have laughed had not Sandy, closing the door quietly, given them one +menacing look which quelled their merriment. He was not going to have +the “old man” made fun of in his extremity; and they all had respect +enough for Sandy’s fist not to run the risk of encountering it after the +meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to be dreaded in a fight; +but the chances were that for the next two or three weeks, if the +revival were a success, there would be no danger from that quarter. +Sandy, however, was permanently among the unconverted, and therefore to +be feared, as being always ready to stand up for his employer, either +with voice or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson had witnessed +suggested no remarks at the time, so, being a wise man, he said nothing. +The congregation wondered how he had known Macdonald was at the door, +and none more than Macdonald himself. It seemed to many that the +revivalist had a gift of divination denied to themselves, and this +belief left them in a frame of mind more than ever ready to profit by +the discourse they were about to hear. + +Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that nevertheless penetrated to +every part of the room. He had a voice of peculiar quality, as sweet +as the tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music; now and then +there was a manly ring in it which thrilled his listeners. “A week ago +to-night,” he said, “at this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of one +who is now among the blessed. It is four years since he found salvation, +by the mercy of God, through the humble instrumentality of the least of +his servants. It was my blessed privilege to see that young man--that +boy almost--pledge his soul to Jesus. He was less than twenty when he +gave himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long life were as strong as +the hopes of the youngest here to-night. Yet he was struck down in the +early flush of manhood--struck down almost without warning. When I +heard of his brief illness, although knowing nothing of its seriousness, +something urged me to go to him, and at once. When I reached the house, +they told me that he had asked to see me, and that they had just sent a +messenger to the telegraph office with a dispatch for me. I said: ‘God +telegraphed to me.’ They took me to the bedside of my young friend, whom +I had last seen as hearty and strong as anyone here.” + +Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with emotion, told the story +of the deathbed scene. His language was simple and touching, and it +was evident to the most callous auditor that he spoke from the heart, +describing in pathetic words the scene he had witnessed. His unadorned +eloquence went straight home to every listener, and many an eye dimmed +as he put before them a graphic picture of the serenity attending the +end of a well-spent life. + +“As I came through among you to-night,” he continued, “as you stood +together in groups outside this building, I caught a chance expression +that one of you uttered. A man was speaking of some neighbor who, at +this busy season of the year, had been unable to get help. I think the +one to whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy man were here, +and the answer was: ‘No; he has not a minute to call his own.’ The +phrase has haunted me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. ‘Not a +minute to call his own!’ I thought of it as I sat before you. I thought +of it as I rose to address you. I think of it now. Who has a minute to +call his own?” The soft tones of the preacher’s voice had given place to +a ringing cry that echoed from the roof down on their heads. “Have you? +Have I? Has any king, any prince, any president, any ruler over men, +a minute or a moment he can call his own? Not one. Not one of all the +teeming millions on this earth. The minutes that are past are yours. +What use have you made of them? All your efforts, all your prayers, will +not change the deeds done in any one of those minutes that are past, and +those only are yours. The chiseled stone is not more fixed than are the +deeds of the minutes that are past. Their record is for you or against +you. But where now are those minutes of the future--those minutes that, +from this time onward, you will be able to call your own when they are +spent? They are in the hand of God--in his hand to give or to withhold. +And who can count them in the hand of God? Not you, not I, not the +wisest man upon the earth. Man may number the miles from here to the +farthest visible star; but he cannot tell you,--_you_; I don’t mean your +neighbor, I mean _you_,--he cannot tell YOU whether your minutes are to +be one or a thousand. They are doled out to you, and you are responsible +for them. But there will come a moment,--it may be to-night, it may be a +year hence,--when the hand of God will close, and you will have had your +sum. Then time will end for you, and eternity begin. Are you prepared +for that awful moment--that moment when the last is given you, and the +next withheld? What if it came now? Are you prepared for it? Are you +ready to welcome it, as did our brother who died at this hour one short +week ago? His was not the only deathbed I have attended. Some scenes +have been so seared into my brain that I can never forget them. A year +ago I was called to the bedside of a dying man, old in years and old in +sin. Often had he been called, but he put Christ away from him, saying: +‘At a more convenient season.’ He knew the path, but he walked not +therein. And when at last God’s patience ended, and this man was +stricken down, he, foolish to the last, called for me, the servant, +instead of to God, the Master. When I reached his side, the stamp of +death was on his face. The biting finger of agony had drawn lines upon +his haggard brow. A great fear was upon him, and he gripped my hand with +the cold grasp of death itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I +saw the angel of peace standing by the bed, but it stood aloof, as one +often offended. It seemed to me at the head of the bed the demon of +eternal darkness bent over, whispering to him: ‘It is too late! it is +too late!’ The dying man looked at me--oh, such a look! May you never be +called upon to witness its like. He gasped: ‘I have lived--I have +lived a sinful life. Is it too late?’ ‘No,’ I said, trembling. ‘Say you +believe.’ His lips moved, but no sound came. He died as he had lived. +The one necessary minute was withheld. Do you hear? _It--was--withheld!_ +He had not the minute to call his own. Not that minute in which to turn +from everlasting damnation. He--went--down--into--_hell_, dying as he +had lived.” + +The preacher’s voice rose until it sounded like a trumpet blast. His +eyes shone, and his face flushed with the fervor of his theme. Then +followed, as rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture of +hell and the day of judgment. Sobs and groans were heard in every part +of the room. “Come--now--_now_!” he cried, “Now is the appointed time, +now is the day of salvation. Come now; and as you rise pray God that +in his mercy he may spare you strength and life to reach the penitent +bench.” + +Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching out his hands, he broke +forth, with his splendid tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, with its +spirited marching time: + +[Musical score: Come ye sinners, poor and needy, + Weak and wounded, sick and sore; + Jesus ready stands to save you. + Full of pity, love, and power.] + +The whole congregation joined him. Everyone knew the words and the tune. +It seemed a relief to the pent-up feelings to sing at the top of the +voice. The chorus rose like a triumphal march: + +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear name; + Glory, honour, and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] + +As the congregation sang the preacher in stentorian tones urged sinners +to seek the Lord while he was yet to be found. + +Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he tugged at his collar, +as if he were choking. He could not understand the strange exaltation +that had come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. All those +around him were much moved. There were now no scoffers at the back of +the room. Most of them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at the +other. It only needed a beginning, and the penitent bench would be +crowded. Many eyes were turned on Macdonald. His face was livid, and +great beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand clutched +the back of the seat before him, and the muscles stood out on the +portion of his arm that was bare. He stared like a hypnotized man at +the preacher. His teeth were set, and he breathed hard, as would a man +engaged in a struggle. At last the hand of the preacher seemed to be +pointed directly at him. He rose tremblingly to his feet and staggered +down the aisle, flinging himself on his knees, with his head on his +arms, beside the penitent bench, groaning aloud. + +“Bless the Lord!” cried the preacher. + +It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the aisle, with pale faces, +many with tears streaming from their eyes, walked the young men and the +old. Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on their lips, saw +their sons fall prostrate before the penitent bench. Soon the contrite +had to kneel wherever they could. The ringing salvation march filled the +air, mingled with cries of joy and devout ejaculations. + +“God!” cried Yates, tearing off his collar, “what is the matter with me? +I never felt like this before. I must get into the open air.” + +He made for the door, and escaped unnoticed in the excitement of the +moment. He stood for a time by the fence outside, breathing deeply +of the cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly to him. He +clutched the fence, fearing he was about to faint. Partially recovering +himself at last, he ran with all his might up the road, while there rang +in his ears the marching words: + +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear Name. + Glory, honour and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +When people are thrown together, especially when they are young, the +mutual relationship existing between them rarely remains stationary. +It drifts toward like or dislike; and cases have been known where it +progressed into love or hatred. + +Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became at least very firm friends. +Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. These two had a +good foundation on which to build up an acquaintance in the fact +that Margaret’s brother was a student in the university of which the +professor was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference, +which, if it leads not to heated argument, but is soberly discussed, +lends itself even more to the building of friendship than subjects of +agreement. Margaret held, as has been indicated in a previous chapter, +that the university was wrong in closing its doors to women. Renmark, +up to the time of their first conversation on the subject, had given the +matter but little thought; yet he developed an opinion contrary to that +of Margaret, and was too honest a man, or too little of a diplomatist, +to conceal it. On one occasion Yates had been present, and he threw +himself, with the energy that distinguished him, into the woman side of +the question--cordially agreeing with Margaret, citing instances, and +holding those who were against the admission of women up to ridicule, +taunting them with fear of feminine competition. Margaret became silent +as the champion of her cause waxed the more eloquent; but whether she +liked Richard Yates the better for his championship who that is not +versed in the ways of women can say? As the hope of winning her regard +was the sole basis of Yates’ uncompromising views on the subject, it +is likely that he was successful, for his experiences with the sex were +large and varied. Margaret was certainly attracted toward Renmark, whose +deep scholarship even his excessive self-depreciation could not entirely +conceal; and he, in turn, had naturally a schoolmaster’s enthusiasm +over a pupil who so earnestly desired advancement in knowledge. Had he +described his feelings to Yates, who was an expert in many matters, +he would perhaps have learned that he was in love; but Renmark was a +reticent man, not much given either to introspection or to being lavish +with his confidences. As to Margaret, who can plummet the depth of a +young girl’s regard until she herself gives some indication? All that +one is able to record is that she was kinder to Yates than she had been +at the beginning. + +Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had a +sincere liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fell +into the error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, whereas +she was merely a girl who had an inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and +one who took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even +Yates made a slight mistake regarding her on one occasion, when they +were having an evening walk together, with that freedom from chaperonage +which is the birthright of every American girl, whether she belongs to a +farmhouse or to the palace of a millionaire. + +In describing the incident afterward to Renmark, (for Yates had nothing +of his comrade’s reserve in these matters) he said: + +“She left a diagram of her four fingers on my cheek that felt like one +of those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap of +a lady’s fan in admonition, but never in my life have I met a gentle +reproof that felt so much like a censure from the paw of our friend Tom +Sayers.” + +Renmark said with some severity that he hoped Yates would not forget +that he was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. + +“Oh, _that’s_ all right,” said Yates. “If you have any spare sympathy +to bestow, keep it for me. My neighbors are amply able, and more than +willing, to take care of themselves.” + +And now as to Richard Yates himself. One would imagine that here, at +least, a conscientious relater of events would have an easy task. Alas! +such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all odds the +most complex and bewildering of the four. He was deeply and truly in +love with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare as +a young man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make her believe. +Cases have been known where a chance meeting with one girl, and not with +another, has settled who was to be a young man’s companion during a long +life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and made +no secret of his perplexity to his friend. He complained sometimes that +he got little help toward the solution of the problem, but generally +he was quite content to sit under the trees with Renmark and weigh the +different advantages of each of the girls. He sometimes appealed to +his friend, as a man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing an +education that extended far into conic sections and algebraic formulae, +to balance up the lists, and give him a candid and statistical opinion +as to which of the two he should favor with serious proposals. When +these appeals for help were coldly received, he accused his friend of +lack of sympathy with his dilemma, said that he was a soulless man, and +that if he had a heart it had become incrusted with the useless _debris_ +of a higher education, and swore to confide in him no more. He would +search for a friend, he said, who had something human about him. The +search for the sympathetic friend, however, seemed to be unsuccessful; +for Yates always returned to Renmark, to have, as he remarked, ice water +dashed upon his duplex-burning passion. + +It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of May, 1866, and Yates +was swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under his head, +gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through the green +branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend was +unromantically peeling potatoes near the door of the tent. + +“The human heart, Renny,” said the man in the hammock reflectively, “is +a remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume, from your +lack of interest, that you haven’t given the subject much study, except, +perhaps, in a physiological way. At the present moment it is to me +the only theme worthy of a man’s entire attention. Perhaps that is the +result of spring, as the poet says; but, anyhow, it presents new aspects +to me each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery: that the +girl I am with last seems to me the most desirable. That is contrary to +the observation of philosophers of bygone days. Absence makes the heart +grow fonder, _they_ say. I don’t find it so. Presence is what plays the +very deuce with me. Now, how do you account for it, Stilly?” + +The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attended +to the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky, and fixed +them on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. + +“Mr. Renmark,” he drawled at last, “I am convinced that your treatment +of the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled the +day before, and left to soak in cold water until to-morrow’s dinner. Of +course I admire the industry that gets work well over before its results +are called for. Nothing is more annoying than work left untouched until +the last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtue may be carried +to excess, and a man may be too previous.” + +“Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. You +may perhaps remember that for two days I have been doing your share as +well as my own.” + +“Oh, I am not complaining about _that_, at all,” said the hammock +magnanimously. “You are acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will +be of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My +only desire is that your education should be as complete as possible, +and to this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire for +scullery work. I should suggest that, instead of going to the trouble of +entirely removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way, +you should merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. Then, +rather than cook the potatoes in the slow and soggy manner that seems to +delight you, you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the +water. The remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting +potato would be white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the +condition of a wet sponge.” + +“The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you +are not satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practical +object lesson.” + +The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. + +“Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the +cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should demean +himself by attending to the prosaic details of household affairs. I am +doubly in love, and much more, therefore, as that old bore Euclid used +to say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for.” + +“All right, then; don’t criticise.” + +“Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in your curt suggestion. A +man who is unable, or unwilling, to work in the vineyard should not +find fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time of +asking, add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like +the good fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To +which of those two charming, but totally unlike, girls would you give +the preference?” + +“Damn!” said the professor quietly. + +“Hello, Renny!” cried Yates, raising his head. “Have you cut your +finger? I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife.” + +But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word given +above is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemed +to lose all relationship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, and, +in a certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself for +using it, but there had been moments during the past few days when the +ordinary expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematics +did not fit the occasion. + +Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadway +near them. + +“Is Richard Yates there?” hailed the voice. + +“Yes. Who wants him?” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. + +“I do,” said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tired +horse, tied the animal to a sapling,--which, judging by the horse’s +condition, was an entirely unnecessary operation,--jumped over the +rail fence, and approached through the woods. The young men saw, coming +toward them, a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. + +“I’m Yates. What is it?” + +“Well,” said the lad, “I’ve had a hunt and a half for you. Here’s a +telegram.” + +“How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address.” + +“That’s just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York +a pile of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woods +without leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow.” The young +man looked at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good +or bad according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates +took the yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, without opening +it, repeated his question: + +“But how on earth did you find me?” + +“Well, it wasn’t easy;” said the boy. “My horse is about done out. I’m +from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no +expense; and we haven’t. There are seven other fellows scouring the +country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more +have gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other +messenger has been here before me, has he?” asked the boy with a touch +of anxiety in his voice. + +“No; you are the first.” + +“I’m glad of that. I’ve been ‘most all over Canada. I got on your trail +about two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you +were up here. Is there any answer?” + +Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read it with +a deepening frown. It was to this effect: + +“Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get +there as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. +General O’Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you every +facility when you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they will +report to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold +the telegraph wire, and send over all the stuff the wire will carry. +Draw on us for cash you need; and don’t spare expense.” + +When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line of +language that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admiration +of the Buffalo telegraph boy. + +“Heavens and earth and the lower regions! I’m here on my vacation. I’m +not going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn’t +those fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don’t know when they’re +well off. The Fenians be hanged!” + +“Guess that’s what they will be,” said the telegraph boy. “Any answer, +sir?” + +“No. Tell ‘em you couldn’t find me.” + +“Don’t expect the boy to tell a lie,” said the professor, speaking for +the first time. + +“Oh, I don’t mind a lie!” exclaimed the boy, “but not that one. No, sir. +I’ve had too much trouble finding you. I’m not going to pretend I’m no +good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I’ll tell any other +lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it will oblige you.” + +Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip his +fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and +he at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of the +fruits of his enterprise. + +“No,” he said, “that won’t do. No; you have found me, and you’re a +young fellow who will be president of the telegraph company some day, or +perhaps hold the less important office of the United States presidency. +Who knows? Have you a telegraph blank?” + +“Of course,” said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet +by his side. Yates took the paper, and flung himself down under the +tree. + +“Here’s a pencil,” said the messenger. + +“A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you,” replied Yates, +taking one out of his inside pocket. “Now, Renmark, I’m not going to +tell a lie on this occasion,” he continued. + +“I think the truth is better on all occasions.” + +“Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth.” + +Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. +Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: “Say, Renmark, are you +a doctor?” + +“Of laws,” replied his friend. + +“Oh, that will do just as well.” And he finished his writing. + +“How is this?” he cried, holding the paper at arm’s length: + +“L. F. SPENCER, + +“_Managing Editor ‘Argus,’ New York:_ + +“I’m flat on my back. Haven’t done a hand’s turn for a week. Am under +the constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors in +Canada, who even prepares my food for me. Since leaving New York trouble +of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. +Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here until +present complications have yielded to treatment. + +“Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence.” + +“YATES. + +“There,” said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finished +the reading. “What do you think of that?” + +The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly saw +through it, but not quite, grinned, and said: “Is it true?” + +“Of course it’s true!” cried Yates, indignant at the unjust suspicion. +“It is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor, +there, if it isn’t true. Now, my boy, will you give this in when you +get back to the office? Tell ‘em to rush it through to New York. I +would mark it ‘rush’ only that never does any good, and always makes the +operator mad.” + +The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. + +“It’s to be paid for at the other end,” continued Yates. + +“Oh, that’s all right,” answered the messenger with a certain +condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. +“Well, so long,” he added. “I hope you’ll soon be better, Mr. Yates.” + +Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. + +“Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see that. They’ll perhaps +question you when you get back. What will you say?” + +“Oh, I’ll tell ‘em what a hard job I had to find you, and let ‘em know +nobody else could ‘a’ done it, and I’ll say you’re a pretty sick man. I +won’t tell ‘em you gave me a dollar!” + +“Right you are, sonny; _you’ll_ get along. Here’s five dollars, all in +one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take them back with +you. There’s no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck +of the woods.” + +The boy stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if it +represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and +waved his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and walked +slowly back to the tent. He threw himself once more into the hammock. As +he expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although +he had been prepared for silence, the silence irritated him. He felt ill +used at having so unsympathetic a companion. + +“Look here, Renmark; why don’t you say something?” + +“There is nothing to say.” + +“Oh, yes, there is. You don’t approve of me, do you?” + +“I don’t suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not.” + +“Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even the humblest +of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve +of me? People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more +uncomfortable than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One’s +own conscience one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of +another man is beyond one’s control. Now, it is like this: I am here for +quiet and rest. I have earned both, and I think I am justified in----” + +“Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I +am tired of it.” + +“And of me, too, I suppose?” + +“Well, yes, rather--if you want to know.” + +Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter +with Bartlett on the road Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The +reporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, hesitating. The +other, his heavy brows drawn, while not in an aggressive attitude, +was plainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not to +strike. This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The +reporter realized that he had forced the conversation, and remembered he +had invited Renmark to accompany him. Although this recollection stayed +his hand, it had no effect on his tongue. + +“I believe,” he said slowly, “that it would do you good for once to hear +a straight, square, unbiased opinion of yourself. You have associated so +long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may interest you +to know what a man of the world thinks of you. A few years of +schoolmastering is enough to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, of all +the----” + +The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence: + +“Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives?” + +The reporter’s hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over his +face, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced a +smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. + +Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who had received an +unexpected blow. + +“I say, Renny,” he wailed, “it’s another of those cursed telegraph +messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign +it ‘Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.’ That will give it a sort of official, +medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy +was here. Tell him I’m lying down.” He flung himself into the hammock, +and Renmark, after a moment’s hesitation, walked toward the boy at the +fence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time +he returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the +hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and +scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor +stood there for a few moments in silence. + +“Perhaps,” he said at last, “you’ll be good enough to go on with your +remarks.” + +“I was merely going to say,” answered Yates wearily, “that you are a +mighty good fellow, Renny. People who camp out always have rows. That is +our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is something like +married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on both sides. That +philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I am really very +much worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling +myself into the chasm like that Roman fellow; but, hang it! I’ve been +flinging myself into chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it +done? There’s always a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them +to understand in the _Argus_ office that I am on my vacation.” + +“They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you’re on +your deathbed.” + +Yates laughed. “That’s so,” he said; “but, you see, Renny, we New +Yorkers live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration that if I did not put +it strongly it wouldn’t have any effect. You’ve got to give a big dose +to a man who has been taking poison all his life. They will take off +ninety per cent. from any statement I make, anyhow; so, you see, I have +to pile it up pretty high before the remaining ten per cent. amounts to +anything.” + +The conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigs +behind them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nervously on +the fence, turned round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the +underbrush. His face was red; he had evidently been running. + +“Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates,” he panted. “The fellows that brought +‘em said they were important; so I ran out with them myself, for fear +they wouldn’t find you. One of them’s from Port Colborne, the other’s +from Buffalo.” + +Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the +receipt of one as an event in a man’s life. He was astonished to see +Yates receive the double event with a listlessness that he could not +help thinking was merely assumed for effect. Yates held them in his +hand, and did not tear them up at once out of consideration for the +feelings of the young man, who had had a race to deliver them. + +“Here’s two books they wanted you to sign. They’re tired out, and +mother’s giving them something to eat.” + +“Professor, you sign for me, won’t you?” said Yates. + +Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would hear something of the +contents of the important messages; but Yates did not even open the +envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringing them. + +“Stuck-up cuss!” muttered young Bartlett to himself, as he shoved the +signed books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush +again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their +contents into little pieces, and scattered them as before. + +“Begins to look like autumn,” he said, “with the yellow leaves strewing +the ground.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Before night three more telegraph boys found Yates, and three more +telegrams in sections helped to carpet the floor of the forest. The +usually high spirits of the newspaper man went down and down under the +repeated visitations. At last he did not even swear, which, in the +case of Yates, always indicated extreme depression. As night drew on he +feebly remarked to the professor that he was more tired than he had ever +been in going through an election campaign. He went to his tent bunk +early, in a state of such utter dejection that Renmark felt sorry for +him, and tried ineffectually to cheer him up. + +“If they would all come together,” said Yates bitterly, “so that one +comprehensive effort of malediction would include the lot and have +it over, it wouldn’t be so bad; but this constant dribbling in of +messengers would wear out the patience of a saint.” + +As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his bunk Renmark said that +things would look brighter in the morning--which was a safe remark to +make, for the night was dark. + +Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for some moments. At +last he said slowly: “There is no one so obtuse as the thoroughly good +man. It is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He is but the +outward symptom of the inward trouble. What you are seeing is an example +of the workings of conscience where you thought conscience was absent. +The trouble with me is that I know the newspaper depends on me, and +that it will be the first time I have failed. It is the newspaper +man’s instinct to be in the center of the fray. He yearns to scoop the +opposition press. I will get a night’s sleep if I can, and to-morrow, I +know, I shall capitulate. I will hunt out General O’Neill, and interview +him on the field of slaughter. I will telegraph pages. I will refurbish +my military vocabulary, and speak of deploying and massing and throwing +out advance guards, and that sort of thing. I will move detachments and +advance brigades, and invent strategy. We will have desperate fighting +in the columns of the _Argus_, whatever there is on the fields +of Canada. But to a man who has seen real war this _opéra-bouffe_ +masquerade of fighting----I don’t want to say anything harsh, but to me +it is offensive.” + +He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, sitting on the bottom of +an upturned pail, as he said this. Then he reached for his hip pocket +and drew out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, to the +professor, who, not knowing his friend carried such an instrument, +instinctively shrank from it. + +“Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation and soak it with the +potatoes. If another messenger comes in on me to-night, I know I shall +riddle him if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me he is +innocent, and I don’t want to shed the only blood that will be spilled +during this awful campaign.” + +How long they had been asleep they did not know, as the ghost-stories +have it, but both were suddenly awakened by a commotion outside. It was +intensely dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they noticed a +faint moving blur of light, which made itself just visible through the +canvas. + +“It’s another of those fiendish messengers,” whispered Yates. “Gi’ me +that revolver.” + +“Hush!” said the other below his breath. “There’s about a dozen men out +there, judging by the footfalls. I heard them coming.” + +“Let’s fire into the tent and be done with it,” said a voice outside. + +“No, no,” cried another; “no man shoot. It makes too much noise, and +there must be others about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed?” + +There was a murmur, apparently in the affirmative. + +“Very well, then. Murphy and O’Rourick, come round to this side. You +three stay where you are. Tim, you go to that end; and, Doolin, come +with me.” + +“The Fenian army, by all the gods!” whispered Yates, groping for his +clothes. “Renny, give me that revolver, and I’ll show you more fun than +a funeral.” + +“No, no. They’re at least three to our one. We’re in a trap here, and +helpless.” + +“Oh, just let me jump out among ‘em and begin the fireworks. Those I +didn’t shoot would die of fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woods with +a lantern--with a _lantern_, Renny! Think of that! Oh, this is pie! Let +me at ‘em.” + +“Hush! Keep quiet! They’ll hear you.” + +“Tim, bring the lantern round to this side.” The blur of light moved +along the canvas. “There’s a man with his back against the wall of the +tent. Just touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let him know +we’re here.” + +“There may be twenty in the tent,” said Murphy cautiously. + +“Do what I tell you,” answered the man in command. + +Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, and sunk the deadly point +of the instrument into the bag of potatoes. + +“Faith, he sleeps sound,” said Murphy with a tremor of fear in his +voice, as there was no demonstration on the part of the bag. + +The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of the tent: + +“What the old Harry do you fellows think you’re doing, anyhow? What’s +the matter with you? What do you want?” + +There was a moment’s silence, broken only by a nervous scuffling of feet +and the clicking of gun-locks. + +“How many are there of you in there?” said the stern voice of the chief. + +“Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and one ready to fight the lot +of you if you are anxious for a scrimmage.” + +“Come out one by one,” was the next command. + +“We’ll come out one by one,” said Yates, emerging in his shirt sleeves, +“but you can’t expect us to keep it up long, as there are only two of +us.” + +The professor next appeared, with his coat on. The situation certainly +did not look inviting. The lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glow +on the severe face of the commander, as the footlights might illuminate +the figure of a brigand in a wood on the stage. The face of the officer +showed that he was greatly impressed with the importance and danger +of his position. Yates glanced about him with a smile, all his recent +dejection gone now that he was in the midst of a row. + +“Which is Murphy,” he said, “and which is Doolin? Hello, alderman!” he +cried, as his eyes rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man who +held his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce determination in his +face that might have made an opponent quail. “When did you leave New +York? and who’s running the city now that you’re gone?” + +The men had evidently a sense of humor, in spite of their bloodthirsty +business, for a smile flickered on their faces in the lantern light, and +several bayonets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard face of the +commander did not relax. + +“You are doing yourself no good by your talk,” he said solemnly. “What +you say will be used against you.” + +“Yes, and what you do will be used against _you_; and don’t forget that +fact. It’s you who are in danger--not I. You are, at this moment, making +about the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada.” + +“Pinion these men!” cried the captain gruffly. + +“Pinion nothing!” shouted Yates, shaking off the grasp of a man who +had sprung to his side. But both Yates and Renmark were speedily +overpowered; and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. Murphy +pathetically remarked that they had no rope. The captain was a man of +resource. + +“Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them.” + +“And when you’re at it, Murphy,” said Yates, “cut off enough more to +hang yourself with. You’ll need it before long. And remember that any +damage you do to that tent you’ll have to pay for. It’s hired.” + +Yates gave them all the trouble he could while they tied his elbows +and wrists together, offering sardonic suggestions and cursing their +clumsiness. Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation was finished, +the professor said with the calm confidence of one who has an empire +behind him and knows it: + +“I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed on British soil; and +that I, on whom it is committed, am a British subject.” + +“Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it impossible to keep your +mouth shut, do not use the word ‘subject’ but ‘citizen.’” + +“I am satisfied with the word, and with the protection given to those +who use it.” + +“Look here, Renmark; you had better let me do the talking. You will only +put your foot in it. I know the kind of men I have to deal with; you +evidently don’t.” + +In tying the professor they came upon the pistol in his coat pocket. +Murphy held it up to the light. + +“I thought you said you were unarmed?” remarked the captain severely, +taking the revolver in his hand. + +“I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the professor would not let me +use it. If he had, all of you would be running for dear life through the +woods.” + +“You admit that you are a British subject?” said the captain to Renmark, +ignoring Yates. + +“He doesn’t admit it, he brags of it,” said the latter before Renmark +could speak. “You can’t scare him; so quit this fooling, and let us know +how long we are to stand here trussed up like this.” + +“I propose, captain,” said the red-headed man, “that we shoot these men +where they stand, and report to the general. They are spies. They are +armed, and they denied it. It’s according to the rules of war, captain.” + +“Rules of war? What do you know of the rules of war, you red-headed +Senegambian? Rules of Hoyle! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine. +Come, captain, undo these ropes, and make up your mind quickly. Trot us +along to General O’Neill just as fast as you can. The sooner you get +us there the more time you will have for being sorry over what you have +done.” + +The captain still hesitated, and looked from one to the other of his +men, as if to make up his mind whether they would obey him if he went to +extremities. Yates’ quick eye noted that the two prisoners had nothing +to hope for, even from the men who smiled. The shooting of two unarmed +and bound men seemed to them about the correct way of beginning a great +struggle for freedom. + +“Well,” said the captain at length, “we must do it in proper form, so I +suppose we should have a court-martial. Are you agreed?” + +They were unanimously agreed. + +“Look here,” cried Yates, and there was a certain impressiveness in his +voice in spite of his former levity; “this farce has gone just as far as +it is going. Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat pocket you will +find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two received by me within the +last twenty-four hours. Then you will see whom you propose to shoot.” + +The telegram was found, and the captain read it, while Tim held the +lantern. He looked from under his knitted brows at the newspaper man. + +“Then you are one of the _Argus_ staff.” + +“I am chief of the _Argus_ staff. As you see, five of my men will be +with General O’Neill to-morrow. The first question they will ask him +will be: ‘Where is Yates?’ The next thing that will happen will be that +you will be hanged for your stupidity, not by Canada nor by the State +of New York, but by your general, who will curse your memory ever after. +You are fooling not with a subject this time, but with a citizen; and +your general is not such an idiot as to monkey with the United States +Government; and, what is a blamed sight worse, with the great American +press. Come, captain, we’ve had enough of this. Cut these cords just as +quickly as you can, and take us to the general. We were going to see him +in the morning, anyhow.” + +“But this man says he is a Canadian.” + +“That’s all right. My friend is _me_. If you touch him, you touch me. +Now, hurry up, climb down from your perch. I shall have enough trouble +now, getting the general to forgive all the blunders you have made +to-night, without your adding insult to injury. Tell your men to untie +us, and throw the ropes back into the tent. It will soon be daylight. +Hustle, and let us be off.” + +“Untie them,” said the captain, with a sigh. + +Yates shook himself when his arms regained their freedom. + +“Now, Tim,” he said, “run into that tent and bring out my coat. It’s +chilly here.” + +Tim did instantly as requested, and helped Yates on with the coat. + +“Good boy!” said, Yates. “You’ve evidently been porter in a hotel.” + +Tim grinned. + +“I think,” said Yates meditatively, “that if I you look under the +right-hand bunk, Tim, you will find a jug. It belongs to the professor, +although he has hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion from himself. +Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not as full as it was, but +there’s enough to go round, if the professor does not take more than his +share.” + +The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipation, and Renmark looked +astonished to see the jar brought forth. “You first, professor,” said +Yates; and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The learned man shook +his head. Yates laughed, and took it himself. + +“Well, here’s to you, boys,” he said. “And may you all get back as +safely to New York as I will.” The jar passed down along the line, until +Tim finished its contents. + +“Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army,” cried Yates, taking +Renmark’s arm; and they began their march through the woods. “Great +Caesar! Stilly,” he continued to his friend, “this is rest and quiet +with a vengeance, isn’t it?” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost in +the presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain something +like military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, +however, that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests are not +as trimly kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, +but three times he tumbled over some obstruction, and disappeared +suddenly from view, uttering maledictions. His final effort in this +line was a triumph. He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When +all attempts at reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in +go-as-you-please fashion, and found they did better without the light +than with it. In fact, although it was not yet four o’clock, daybreak +was already filtering through the trees, and the woods were perceptibly +lighter. + +“We must be getting near the camp,” said the captain. + +“Will I shout, sir?” asked Murphy. + +“No, no; we can’t miss it. Keep on as you are doing.” + +They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered on +among the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle +echoed through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their heads. + +“Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?” cried the alderman, who +recognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back. + +“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said the sentry, stopping in his flight. The +captain strode angrily toward him. + +“What do you mean by firing like that? Don’t you know enough to ask for +the counter-sign before shooting?” + +“Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, then, ye see, I never +can hit anything; so it’s little difference it makes.” + +The shot had roused the camp, and there was now wild commotion, +everybody thinking the Canadians were upon them. + +A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Renmark. Both were astonished +to see the number of men that O’Neill had under his command. They found +a motley crowd. Some tattered United States uniforms were among them, +but the greater number were dressed as ordinary individuals, although +a few had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. Sleeping out for +a couple of nights had given the gathering the unkempt appearance of a +great company of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable from the +men at first, but afterward Yates noticed that they, mostly in plain +clothes and slouch hats, had sword belts buckled around them; and one +or two had swords that had evidently seen service in the United States +cavalry. + +“It’s all right, boys,” cried the captain to the excited mob. “It was +only that fool Lynch who fired at us. There’s nobody hurt. Where’s the +general?” + +“Here he comes,” said half a dozen voices at once, and the crowd made +way for him. + +General O’Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen’s costume, and did not +wear even a sword belt. On his head of light hair was a black soft felt +hat. His face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked more like +a clerk from a grocery store than the commander of an army. He was +evidently somewhere between thirty-five and forty years of age. + +“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said. “Why are you back? Any news?” + +The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied: + +“We took two prisoners, sir. They were encamped in a tent in the woods. +One of them says he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, so I +brought them in.” + +“I wish you had brought in the tent, too,” said the general with a wan +smile. “It would be an improvement on sleeping in the open air. Are +these the prisoners? I don’t know either of them.” + +“The captain makes a mistake in saying that I claimed a personal +acquaintance with you, general. What I said was that you would +recognize, somewhat quicker than he did, who I was, and the desirability +of treating me with reasonable decency. Just show the general that +telegram you took from my coat pocket, captain.” + +The paper was produced, and O’Neill read it over once or twice. + +“You are on the New York _Argus_, then?” + +“Very much so, general.” + +“I hope you have not been roughly used?” + +“Oh, no; merely tied up in a hard knot, and threatened with +shooting--that’s all.” + +“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Still, you must make some allowance at a +time like this. If you will come with me, I will write you a pass which +will prevent any similar mistake happening in the future.” The general +led the way to a smoldering camp fire, where, out of a valise, he took +writing materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to write. After +he had written “Headquarters of the Grand Army of the Irish Republic” + he looked up, and asked Yates his Christian name. Being answered, he +inquired the name of his friend. + +“I want nothing from you,” interposed Renmark. “Don’t put my name on the +paper.” + +“Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates. “Never mind him, general. He’s a +learned man who doesn’t know when to talk and when not to. As you march +up to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, which will explain +everything. Renmark’s drunk, not to put too fine a point upon it; and he +imagines himself a British subject.” + +The Fenian general looked up at the professor. + +“Are you a Canadian?” he asked. + +“Certainly I am.” + +“Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you must give me your word +that, should you fall in with the enemy, you will give no information +to them of our position, numbers, or of anything else you may have seen +while with us.” + +“I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I should fall in with the +Canadian troops, I will tell them where you are, that you are from eight +hundred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking set of vagabonds I +have ever seen out of jail.” + +General O’Neill frowned, and looked from one to the other. + +“Do you realize that you confess to being a spy, and that it becomes my +duty to have you taken out and shot?” + +“In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fooling. All of you that +don’t escape will be either in jail or shot before twenty-four hours.” + +“Well, by the gods, it won’t help _you_ any. I’ll have you shot inside +of ten minutes, instead of twenty-four hours.” + +“Hold on, general, hold on!” cried Yates, as the angry man rose and +confronted the two. “I admit that he richly deserves shooting, if you +were the fool killer, which you are not. But it won’t do, I will be +responsible for him. Just finish that pass for me, and I will take care +of the professor. Shoot me if you like, but don’t touch him. He hasn’t +any sense, as you can see; but I am not to blame for that, nor are you. +If you take to shooting everybody who is an ass, general, you won’t have +any ammunition left with which to conquer Canada.” + +The general smiled in spite of himself, and resumed the writing of the +pass. “There,” he said, handing the paper to Yates. “You see, we always +like to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent friend, and I +hope you will exercise more control over him, if you meet the Canadians, +than you were able to exert here. Don’t you think, on the whole, you had +better stay with us? We are going to march in a couple of hours, when +the men have had a little rest.” He added in a lower voice, so that the +professor could not hear: “You didn’t see anything of the Canadians, I +suppose?” + +“Not a sign. No, I don’t think I’ll stay. There will be five of our +fellows here some time to-day, I expect, and that will be more than +enough. I’m really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and quiet. I’m +beginning to think I have made a mistake in location.” + +Yates bade good-by to the commander, and walked with his friend out +of the camp. They threaded their way among sleeping men and groups of +stacked guns. On the top of one of the bayonets was hung a tall silk +hat, which looked most incongruous in such a place. + +“I think,” said Yates, “that we will make for the Ridge Road, which must +lie somewhere in this direction. It will be easier walking than through +the woods; and, besides, I want to stop at one of the farmhouses and get +some breakfast. I’m as hungry as a bear after tramping so long.” + +“Very well,” answered the professor shortly. + +The two stumbled along until they reached the edge of the wood; then, +crossing some open fields, they came presently upon the road, near the +spot where the fist fight had taken place between Yates and Bartlett. +The comrades, now with greater comfort, walked silently along the road +toward the west, with the reddening east behind them. The whole scene +was strangely quiet and peaceful, and the recollection of the weird camp +they had left in the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morning air +was sweet, and the birds were beginning to sing. Yates had intended to +give the professor a piece of his mind regarding the lack of tact +and common sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, but, somehow, the +scarcely awakened day did not lend itself to controversy, and the serene +stillness soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly that popular +war song, “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,” and then broke +in with the question: + +“Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on the bayonet?” + +“Yes,” answered the professor; “and I saw five others scattered around +the camp.” + +“Jingo! you were observant. I can imagine nothing quite so ridiculous as +a man going to war in a tall silk hat.” + +The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to “Rally +round the flag.” + +“I presume,” he said at length, “there is little use in attempting to +improve the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a fool +you made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to be +slightly off the center.” + +“I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds.” + +“They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also be +well-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves.” + +“While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came in +with several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, +and another party started out to get some more.” + +“Oh, that isn’t stealing, Renmark; that’s requisitioning. You mustn’t +use such reckless language. I imagine the second party has been +successful; for here are three of them all mounted.” + +The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of the +two men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. +Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them held +revolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no +visible revolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward the +pedestrians, the other two taking positions on each side of the wagon +way. + +“Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?” cried +the foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance. + +“It’s all right, commodore,” said Yates jauntily, “and the top of the +morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the +camp, and we are going to get something to eat.” + +“I must have a more satisfactory answer than that.” + +“Well, here you have it, then,” answered Yates, pulling out his folded +pass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully. “You +find that all right, I expect?” + +“Right enough to cause your immediate arrest.” + +“But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is in his +own handwriting.” + +“I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does not +run quite as far as the queen’s writ in this country yet. I arrest you +in the name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, and shoot +them down if they make any resistance.” So saying, the rider slipped +from his horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs joined +by a short, stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing, grasped +Renmark’s wrist. + +“I’m a Canadian,” said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. “You +mustn’t put handcuffs on me.” + +“You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; if +you are what you say, you will not resist arrest.” + +“I will go with you, but you mustn’t handcuff me.” + +“Oh, mustn’t I?” And, with a quick movement indicative of long practice +with resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of the +clasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr. + +Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes. He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the +cocked revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constable +held his struggling manacled hand with grim determination. + +“Hold on!” cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking the +representative of the law. “Don’t shoot,” he shouted to the man on +horseback; “it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. +You are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed and on +foot. There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you +are more of a rebel at the present moment than O’Neill. He owes no +allegiance, and you do. Have you no respect for the forms of law and +order? You are an anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You +_would_ sing ‘God save the Queen!’ in the wrong place a while ago, so +now be satisfied that you have got her, or, rather, that she has +got you. Now, constable, do you want to hitch the other end of that +arrangement on my wrist? or have you another pair for my own special +use? + +“I’ll take your wrist, if you please.” + +“All right; here you are.” Yates drew back his coat sleeve, and +presented his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The +constable mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him, watching +him all the while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners, handcuffed +together, took the middle of the road, with a horseman on each side +of them, the constable bringing up the rear; thus they marched on, the +professor gloomy from the indignity put upon them, and the newspaper man +as joyous as the now thoroughly awakened birds. The scouts concluded +to go no farther toward the enemy, but to return to the Canadian forces +with their prisoners. They marched down the road, all silent except +Yates, who enlivened the morning air with the singing of “John Brown.” + +“Keep quiet,” said the constable curtly. + +“All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of a +friend. We want to go and get something to eat.” + +“You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers of +the volunteers.” + +“And where, may I ask, are they?” + +“You may ask, but I will not answer.” + +“Now, Renmark,” said Yates to his companion, “the tough part of this +episode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett’s house, and feast merely +on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett is always glad +to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty.” + +As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kitty on +the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing earnestly +at the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the group she +disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came out Mrs. +Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old man himself. + +They all came down to the gate and waited. + +“Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!” cried Yates cheerily. “You see, the professor +has got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share his +fate, like the good dog Tray.” + +“What’s all this about?” cried Mrs. Bartlett. + +The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarly +to them. “They’re Fenian prisoners,” he said. + +“Nonsense!” cried Mrs. Bartlett--the old man, as usual, keeping his +mouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking--“they’re +not Fenians. They’ve been camping on our farm for a week or more.” + +“That may be,” said the constable firmly, “but I have the best of +evidence against them; and, if I’m not very much mistaken, they’ll hang +for it.” + +Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry of +anguish at this remark, and disappeared again. + +“We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs. +Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of the +Canadians.” + +“What! hanging?” + +“No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged,--I hope I am +not so pernickety as all that,--but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will sympathize +with me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at this +moment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had +in your house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this +hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything.” + +Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible state +of indignation. + +“Stoliker,” she exclaimed, “I’m ashamed of you! You may hang a man if +you like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in with +me,” she said to the prisoners. + +“Madam,” said Stoliker severely, “you must not interfere with the course +of the law.” + +“The course of stuff and nonsense!” cried the angry woman. “Do you think +I am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven’t I chased you out of this very +orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes, and boxed +your ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enough to fill your +pockets with the best apples on the place, after giving you what you +deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I’ll box your ears now if you +say anything more. Get down off your horse, and have something to eat +yourself. I dare say you need it.” + +“This is what I call a rescue,” whispered Yates to his linked companion. + +What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer with +justice is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her own +way? Stoliker looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of the +house, but the old man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say: +“You see how it is yourself. I am helpless.” + +Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to the +house. + +“All I ask of you now,” said Yates, “is that you will give Renmark and +me seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, even for +an instant.” + +Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at the +same time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. +Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse. +Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject, +if this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second +concession, and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying he +thought he recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in +upon them. + +“Come, Sam,” she said, “no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse and +come in. How’s your mother?” + +“She’s pretty well, thank you,” said Sam sheepishly, coming down on his +feet again. + +Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on the +prisoners, but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she +looked with the utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact that +the poor young man had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well. + +“Take off these handcuffs, Sam,” said Mrs. Bartlett, “until they have +breakfast, at least.” + +Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them into +his pocket. + +“Ah, now!” said Yates, looking at his red wrist, “we can breathe easier; +and I, for one, can eat more.” + +The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist, +but had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make the early +meal as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival. Stoliker +began to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty were unpopular. Old +Hiram could always be depended upon to add somberness and taciturnity to +a wedding feast; the professor, never the liveliest of companions, sat +silent, with clouded brow, and vexed even the cheerful Mrs. Bartlett +by having evidently no appetite. When the hurried meal was over, Yates, +noticing that Miss Kitty had left the room, sprang up and walked toward +the kitchen door. Stoliker was on his feet in an instant, and made as +though to follow him. + +“Sit down,” said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time. “He +is not going to escape. Don’t be afraid. He has done nothing, and has no +fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupid officials +arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians, but you take +excellent care to keep out of their way, and give your attention to +molesting perfectly inoffensive people.” + +“Good for you, professor!” cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. “That’s the +truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?” + +“Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o’clock +this morning,--or at least an advance guard did,--and after talking of +shooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead. +Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should not +be troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinks +is deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped the +handcuffs on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our +heads.” + +“It isn’t my place to ask questions,” retorted Stoliker doggedly. “You +can tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, +I’ll say nothing against it.” + +Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the +precaution to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly +round as the door closed. Before she could speak the young man caught +her by the plump shoulders--a thing which he certainly had no right to +do. + +“Miss Kitty Bartlett,” he said, “you’ve been crying.” + +“I haven’t; and if I had, it is nothing to you.” + +“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. Don’t deny it. For whom were you +crying? The professor?” + +“No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough to +think so.” + +“_Me_ conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whom were you +crying? I must know.” + +“Please let me go, Mr. Yates,” said Kitty, with an effort at dignity. + +“Dick is my name, Kit.” + +“Well, mine is not Kit. + +“You’re quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty, +which is much prettier than the abbreviation.” + +“I did not ‘mention it.’ Please let me go. Nobody has the right to call +me anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, _you_ haven’t, anyhow.” + +“Well, Kitty, don’t you think it is about time to give somebody the +right? Why won’t you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether +I should have accused you of crying? Look up--Miss Bartlett.” + +“Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute.” + +“Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We’ll risk mother. Besides, I’m +not in the least afraid of her, and I don’t believe you are. I think +she is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind; +otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye.” + +“I hate that man,” said Kitty inconsequently. + +“I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. +Kitty, why don’t you look up at me? Are you afraid?” + +“What should I be afraid of?” asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance +from her pretty blue eyes. “Not of you, I hope.” + +“Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why +I came out here?” + +“For something more to eat, very likely,” said the girl mischievously. + +“Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. +Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew +me into the kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own +lips. _That_ was the reason!” + +He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what +was about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought +he had taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of +this kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but +she did not strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he +merely attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because +she had been taken so completely by surprise. + +“I shall call my mother,” she threatened. + +“Oh, no, you won’t. Besides, she wouldn’t come.” Then this frivolous +young man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, “Here’s to +the girl that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother,” ending with +the wish that she should live and die an old maid and never get another. +Kitty should not have smiled, but she did; she should have rebuked his +levity, but she didn’t. + +“It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and +dying an old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for the +prevention of such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval +of it.” + +Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself +away from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining +room, and expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. +Miss Kitty stood with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring +flower, which she had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the +window-ledge. She smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed so +interested in botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether she +was paying attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan might +have been can only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they should +be interrupted at this critical moment by the one person on earth who +could make Yates’ tongue falter. + +The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood on +the threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her dark +hair down over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairly +took Yates’ breath away. She did not notice him. + +“O Kitty,” she cried, “those wretches have stolen all our horses! Is +your father here?” + +“What wretches?” asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled by the +sudden advent of her friend. + +“The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields, +and your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you.” + +“Have they taken your own horse, too?” + +“No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come near +the house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you.” And Margaret’s hand, with +the unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, which +Yates thought too becoming ever to be put in order again. + +Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty’s evident embarrassment, +that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two. + +“I must tell your father about it,” she said hurriedly, and before Yates +could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she was taken +aback to see so many sitting round the table. + +There was a moment’s silence between the two in the kitchen, but the +spell was broken. + +“I--I don’t suppose there will be any trouble about getting back the +horses,” said Yates hesitatingly. “If you lose them, the Government will +have to pay.” + +“I presume so,” answered Kitty coldly; then: “Excuse me, Mr. Yates; I +mustn’t stay here any longer.” So saying, she followed Margaret into the +other room. + +Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties of +preference had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that he +had had a narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committed +himself. Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticed +her friend’s evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered +whether this would help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finally +made up his mind to favor her with his serious attentions. Still, he +reflected that, after all, they were both country girls, and would no +doubt be only too eager to accept a chance to live in New York. Thus +his mind gradually resumed its normal state of self-confidence; and he +argued that, whatever Margaret’s suspicions were, they could not but +make him more precious in her eyes. He knew of instances where the very +danger of losing a man had turned a woman’s wavering mind entirely +in the man’s favor. When he had reached this point, the door from the +dining room opened, and Stoliker appeared. + +“We are waiting for you,” said the constable. + +“All right. I am ready.” + +As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talking +earnestly. + +“I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. +“I would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men.” + +“Come along,” said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs from his +pocket. + +“If you three men,” continued Mrs. Bartlett, “cannot take those two to +camp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I’ll go +along with you myself and protect you, and see that they don’t escape. +You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have any +manhood about you--which I doubt.” + +“I must do my duty.” + +The professor rose from his chair. “Mr. Stoliker,” he said with +determination, “my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will +make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear +investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a +handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you.” + +A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, +caused the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and said +in a contrite voice: + +“Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon.” + +Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried: + +“Don’t beg my pardon, but--smash him.” + +Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited +girl hid her blushing face on her friend’s shoulder, while Kitty +lovingly stroked her dark, tangled hair. + +Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual +quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the tension +of the situation. + +“Come, come, Stoliker, don’t be an idiot. I do not object in the least +to the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff +me. It hasn’t struck your luminous mind that you have not the first +tittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the +greatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. +The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a good +many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have +exceeded it in the case of the professor. I hope you have no property; +for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay sweetly for putting the +handcuffs on him without a warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. +What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?” continued Yates, suddenly +appealing to the old man. “I think it is a thousand dollars.” + +Hiram said gloomily that he didn’t know. Stoliker was hit on a tender +spot, for he owned a farm. + +“Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. +Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted.” + +The good woman smiled and shook hands with him. + +“Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have +another.” + +Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his +horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the +dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event +of the stealing of the horses. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of the +Canadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more military +than the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by a +picket before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not to +shoot until he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, they +came in full view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked very +spick and span in uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear light +of the fair June morning. The guns, topped by a bristle of bayonets +which glittered as the rising sun shone on them, were stacked with neat +precision here and there. The men were preparing their breakfast, and +a temporary halt had been called for that purpose. The volunteers were +scattered by the side of the road and in the fields. Renmark recognized +the colors of the regiment from his own city, and noticed that there +was with it a company that was strange to him. Although led to them +a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride in the regiment and their trim +appearance--a pride that was both national and civic. He instinctively +held himself more erect as he approached. + +“Renmark,” said Yates, looking at him with a smile, “you are making a +thoroughly British mistake.” + +“What do you mean? I haven’t spoken.” + +“No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. You +think this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempt +tramps we saw in the woods this morning.” + +“I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over--which I very much +doubt.” + +“That’s just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, who +know all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will be the +worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part of the +country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comrades fall, +with the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If they don’t turn +and run, then I’m a Dutchman. I’ve seen raw recruits before. They should +have a company of older men here who have seen service to steady them. +The fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs, in the damp +woods, as we stepped over them. They are veterans. What will be but a +mere skirmish to them will seem to these boys the most awful tragedy +that ever happened. Why, many of them look as if they might be +university lads.” + +“They are,” said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. + +“Well, I can’t see what your stupid government means by sending them +here alone. They should have at least one company of regulars with +them.” + +“Probably the regulars are on the way.” + +“Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, +or the fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with their +meal, the Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is to +be a fight, it will be before a very few hours--before one hour passes, +you are going to see a miniature Bull Run.” + +Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiring +for news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all +the telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those in +command of the companies did not even know that the enemy had left that +locality. They were now on their way to a point where they were to meet +Colonel Peacocke’s force of regulars--a point which they were destined +never to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up his +prisoners, together with the incriminating paper that Yates had +handed to him. The officer’s decision was short and sharp, as military +decisions are generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to take +both the prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. There was no +time now for an inquiry into the case,--that could come afterward,--and, +so long as the men were safe in jail, everything would be all right. To +this the constable mildly interposed two objections. In the first place, +he said, he was with the volunteers not in his capacity as constable, +but in the position of guide and man who knew the country. In the second +place, there was no jail at Port Colborne. + +“Where is the nearest jail?” + +“The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town,” replied the +constable. + +“Very well; take them there.” + +“But I am here as guide,” repeated Stoliker. + +The officer hesitated for a moment. “You haven’t handcuffs with you, I +presume?” + +“Yes, I have,” said Stoliker, producing the implements. + +“Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the company +over to Welland with them. How far is it across country?” + +Stoliker told him. + +The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him: + +“You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver these +men up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but you +take a revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shoot them.” + +The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. “I am not a policeman,” he +said. “I am a soldier.” + +“Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I order +you to take these men to Welland.” + +The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a +murmur rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently +sympathized with their comrade’s objection to the duties of a policeman. +One of them made his way through the crowd, and cried: + +“Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He’s no Fenian.” + Two or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, +pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with +his class. Among others young Howard pressed forward. + +“It is nonsense,” he cried, “talking about sending Professor Renmark to +jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We’ll all go +bail for the professor.” + +The officer wavered. “If you know him,” he said, “that is a different +matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the +Fenians, recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the +Fenian cause. I can’t let him go free.” + +“Are you the chief in command here?” asked Renmark. + +“No, I am not.” + +“Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He +is a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. +If you insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken +before the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall +together. I am exactly as guilty or innocent as he is.” + +“We can’t bother the colonel about every triviality.” + +“A man’s liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense, +are you fighting for but liberty?” + +“Thanks, Renmark, thanks,” said Yates; “but I don’t care to see the +colonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all this +bother. I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, if +I have to go to jail for them. I’m coming reluctantly to the belief that +jail’s the most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow.” + +“But this is an outrage,” cried the professor indignantly. + +“Of course it is,” replied Yates wearily; “but the woods are full of +them. There’s always outrages going on, especially in so-called free +countries; therefore one more or less won’t make much difference. Come, +officer, who’s going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go +by myself? I’m a Fenian from ‘way back, and came here especially to +overturn the throne and take it home with me. For Heaven’s sake, know +your own mind one way or other, and let us end this conference.” + +The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker to +handcuff the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer at +Welland. + +“But I want assistance,” objected Stoliker. “The prisoner is a bigger +man than I am.” The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this +self-evident fact. + +“If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders.” + +No one volunteered to accompany the constable. + +“Take this revolver with you,” continued the officer, “and if he +attempts to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, so +I can’t send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to.” + +“Howard knows the way,” persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke up with +great indignation: “Yes, but Howard isn’t constable, and Stoliker is. +I’m not going.” + +Renmark went up to his friend. + +“Who’s acting foolishly now, Yates?” he said. “Why don’t you insist on +seeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would be allowed +off.” + +“Don’t make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussy +individual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squad +of volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officers +always stick by each other; they’re bound to. I want to go alone with +Stoliker. I have a score to settle with him.” + +“Now, don’t do anything rash. You’ve done nothing so far; but if you +assault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter.” + +“Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a short +time since?” + +“Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now.” + +“See here, Renny,” whispered Yates; “you get back to the tent, and see +that everything’s all right. I’ll be with you in an hour or so. Don’t +look so frightened. I won’t hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, +and I won’t get there if the colonel sends an escort. I’m going to use +Stoliker as a shield when the bullets begin flying.” + +The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker very +reluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own left +wrist, while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, who +embarrassed him with kindly assistance. The two manacled men disappeared +down the road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in to continue their +morning’s march. + +Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. “I +say, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?” + +“I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is an +old schoolfellow of mine.” + +“What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to rather +like the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known you +were in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would only have +been too glad to be of assistance to you.” + +“They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well.” + +“What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?” + +“Yes,” said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encountered +the eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was the +brother’s favorite. + +“Fall back, there!” cried the officer to Renmark. + +“May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me take +part?” + +“No,” said the officer with some hauteur; “this is no place for +civilians.” Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the whole +company, as far as martial experience went, were merely civilians +dressed in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates’ +ominous prediction regarding them. + +“I say, Mr. Renmark,” cried young Howard, as the company moved off, “if +you see any of them, don’t tell them I’m here--especially Margaret. It +might make them uneasy. I’ll get leave when this is over, and drop in on +them.” + +The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidently no +premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left the road, +and struck across country in the direction of the tent. + +Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road toward +Welland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative +and entertaining--indeed, Yates’ conversation often went beyond +entertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed +the affairs of both countries, showed a way out of all political +difficulties, gave reasons for the practical use of common sense in +every emergency, passed opinions on the methods of agriculture adopted +in various parts of the country, told stories of the war, gave instances +of men in captivity murdering those who were in charge of them, deduced +from these anecdotes the foolishness of resisting lawful authority +lawfully exercised, and, in general, showed that he was a man who +respected power and the exercise thereof. Suddenly branching to more +practical matters, he exclaimed: + +“Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?” + +Stoliker had never counted them. + +“Well, that’s encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that it requires +an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely have something +to drink before long.” + +“I never drink while on duty,” said Stoliker curtly. + +“Oh, well, don’t apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I’ll be +only too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired the useful +practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anything can be +done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don’t believe in the word +‘can’t,’ either with or without the mark of elision.” + +Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. + +“I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I’m tired of walking. I’ve been +on my feet ever since three this morning.” + +“I have no authority to hire a buggy.” + +“But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?” + +“I make him move,” said Stoliker shortly. + +“Ah, I see. That’s a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable.” + +They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried: + +“Let’s sit down and have a rest. I’m done out. The sun is hot, and the +road dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day’s young, yet.” + +“I’ll let you have fifteen minutes.” + +They sat down together. “I wish a team would come along,” said Yates +with a sigh. + +“No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhood +stolen, and the troops on the roads.” + +“That’s so,” assented Yates sleepily. + +He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and his +eyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leaned +toward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates’ left arm fell across +the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him. +The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he took +no risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, he +reflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, +for he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner +who escaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the good +intentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too polite and +good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that the prisoner +was a much cleverer man than he. + +“Here, sit up,” he said gruffly. “I’m not paid to carry you, you know.” + +“What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?” cried Yates rapidly, blinking +his eyes and straightening up. “Oh, it’s only you, Stoliker. I thought +it was my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?” + +“Either that or pretending--I don’t know which, and I don’t care.” + +“Oh! I must have been pretending,” answered Yates drowsily; “I can’t +have dropped asleep. How long have we been here?” + +“About five minutes.” + +“All right.” And Yates’ head began to droop again. + +This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitate +sleep so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each +time saved himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. +Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, +with a greater lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, +carrying the constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff +nipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, +instinctively grasped the links between with his right hand, to save his +wrist. Like a cat, Yates was upon him, showing marvelous agility for a +man who had just tumbled in a heap. The next instant he held aloft the +revolver, crying triumphantly: + +“How’s that, umpire? Out, I expect.” + +The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist, realizing +the helplessness of a struggle. + +“Now, Stoliker,” said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, “what have you +to say before I fire?” + +“Nothing,” answered the constable, “except that you will be hanged at +Welland, instead of staying a few days in jail.” + +Yates laughed. “That’s not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there’s +some grit in you, if you _are_ a man-catcher. Still, you were not in +very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want this +pistol again, just watch where it alights.” And Yates, taking the weapon +by the muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. + +Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his +pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he could +to the spot where the revolver fell. + +“Is that how you mark the place?” asked Yates; “or is it some spell that +will enable you to find the pistol?” + +“Neither,” answered the constable quietly. “It is the key of the +handcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland.” + +Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at the +little man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attempted to +search for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to one that +Stoliker would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key, in +which case the reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law. + +“Stoliker, you’re evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours. +That wasn’t a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause you some +personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I’m not +going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I have +gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me.” + +“I shall not move,” replied the constable firmly. + +“Very well, stay there,” said Yates, twisting his hand around so as to +grasp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked up +the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stoliker +set his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow. +Nothing was said by either until several hundred yards were thus +traversed. Then Yates stopped. + +“Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, I +hope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with me +quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same in +the end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see the +fight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don’t want to lose +any more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, and +having me explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we go +through the fields.” + +One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise man always +accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossed the rail +fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together--Stoliker +silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who is certain of +ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with all its machinery +working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, and instructive by +turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when the unresponsiveness +of the other rendered conversation difficult. + +“Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent, +scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city’s +din is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and +the drowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed ‘bumble’! The +green fields, the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, +untainted by city smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blue +unclouded sky--how can human spite and human passion exist in such a +paradise? Does it all not make you feel as if you were an innocent child +again, with motives pure and conscience white?” + +If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. With +clouded brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. +But, although the constable made no reply, there was an answer that +electrified Yates, and put all thought of the beauty of the country out +of his mind. The dull report of a musket, far in front of them, suddenly +broke the silence, followed by several scattering shots, and then the +roar of a volley. This was sharply answered by the ring of rifles to the +right. With an oath, Yates broke into a run. + +“They’re at it!” he cried, “and all on account of your confounded +obstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire, and +the Canadians have not been long in replying.” + +The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates was +aroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicating +smell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleaming eye. + +“Come on, you loitering idiot!” he cried to the constable, who had +difficulty in keeping pace with him; “come on, or, by the gods! I’ll +break your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from it.” + +The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of war, +and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the insane +glare of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his fear to +Yates. + +“Come on, _you_!” he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twist to +the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractory +criminals. “I am as eager to see the fight as you are.” + +The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said: +“That’s the ticket, I’m with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a +hurry if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intend +to use you as a shield from the bullets.” + +“That’s all right,” answered the little constable, panting. “Two sides +are firing. I’ll shield you on one side, and you’ll have to shield me on +the other.” + +Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding the +houses, they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the +trees, showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond. Yates +made the constable cross the fence and the road, and take to the fields +again, bringing him around behind Bartlett’s house and barn. No one +was visible near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at the back +watching, with pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now and then +covering her ears with her hands as the sound of an extra loud volley +assailed them. Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for help. + +“If you do that again,” cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, “I’ll +choke you!” + +But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned +with a frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when she +recognized the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand away +from the constable’s throat. + +“Where is your father or your brother?” demanded the constable. + +“I don’t know.” + +“Where is your mother?” + +“She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill.” + +“Are you all alone?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance to +this prisoner, but to do as I tell you.” + +“And I command you, in the name of the President,” cried Yates, “to +keep your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty,” he +continued in a milder tone, “could you tell me where to get a file, so +that I may cut these wrist ornaments? Don’t you get it. You are to do +nothing. Just indicate where the file is. The law mustn’t have any hold +on you, as it seems to have on me.” + +“Why don’t you make him unlock them?” asked Kitty. + +“Because the villain threw away the key in the fields.” + +“He couldn’t have done that.” + +The constable caught his breath. + +“But he did. I saw him.” + +“And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of his +watch chain. He hasn’t thrown that away.” + +She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her. + +“Don’t touch him. I’m playing a lone hand here.” He jerked out the +chain, and the real key dangled from it. + +“Well, Stoliker,” he said, “I don’t know which to admire most--your +cleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett’s acuteness of +observation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?” + +“Yes; but you mustn’t hurt him.” + +“No fear. I think too much of him. Don’t you come in. I’ll be out in a +moment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet.” + +Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square +oaken post which was part of the framework of the building, and which +formed one side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the +hay mow. + +“Now, Stoliker,” he, said solemnly, “you realize, of course, that I +don’t want to hurt you yet you also realize that I _must_ hurt you if +you attempt any tricks. I can’t take any risks, please remember that; +and recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be in the +State of New York. So don’t compel me to smash your head against this +post.” He, with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist; then, +drawing Stoliker’s right hand around the post, he snapped the same clasp +on the constable’s hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man, with his +cheek against the oak, was in the comical position of lovingly embracing +the post. + +“I’ll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be more +comfortable--unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. Then I +must bid you good-by.” + +Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him. + +“I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty,” he said, “so that poor +Stoliker will get a rest.” + +They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased, +except a desultory shot here and there across the country. + +“I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can,” he +continued. “This country is getting too hot for me.” + +“You are much safer here,” said the girl, with downcast eyes. “A man has +brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up and down +the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from this side.” + +“You don’t say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to do with +Stoliker? I can’t keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets loose +I’m done for.” + +“Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I go +for her?” + +“I don’t think it would be any use. Stoliker’s a stubborn animal. He has +suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We’ll bring him +a chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him.” + +When the chair was placed at Stoliker’s disposal, he sat down upon it, +still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of the +solemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyes +with the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates. + +“How long am I to be kept here?” asked the constable. + +“Oh, not long,” answered Yates cheerily; “not a moment longer than is +necessary. I’ll telegraph when I’m safe in New York State; so you won’t +be here more than a day or two.” + +This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker. + +“Look here,” he said; “I guess I know as well as the next man when I’m +beaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff’s +orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don’t believe you’ve +done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn’t have acted quite the way you did. +If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. As it is, +if you unlock those cuffs, I’ll give you my word I’ll do nothing more +unless I’m ordered to. Like as not they’ve forgotten all about you by +this time; and there’s nothing on record, anyhow.” + +“Do you mean it? Will you act square?” + +“Certainly I’ll act square. I don’t suppose you doubt that. I didn’t ask +any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you.” + +“Enough said,” cried Yates. “I’ll risk it.” + +Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he was released. + +“I wonder,” he said, now that Kitty was gone, “if there is anything to +eat in the house?” + +“Shake!” cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. “Another great and +mutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who did +not want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when +all was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before he +realized that things had reached a crisis. + +When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. +The fortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn +before the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried to +sample the contents and had found nothing. + +“Hang it all!” said Yates to himself, “I wonder what the five assistants +that the _Argus_ sent me have done with themselves? If they are with +the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are captured by +the Canadians, they won’t be able to get an account of this scrimmage +through to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest item of the +year--it’s international, by George! It may involve England and the +United States in a war, if both sides are not extra mild and cautious. I +can’t run the chance of the paper being left in the lurch. Let me think +a minute. Is it my tip to follow the Canadians or the Fenians? I wonder +is which is running the faster? My men are evidently with the Fenians, +if they were on the ground at all. If I go after the Irish Republic, I +shall run the risk of duplicating things; but if I follow the Canadians, +they may put me under arrest. Then we have more Fenian sympathizers +among our readers than Canadians, so the account from the invasion side +of the fence will be the more popular. Yet a Canadian version would be +a good thing, if I were sure the rest of the boys got in their work, and +the chances are that the other papers won’t have any reporters among the +Canucks. Heavens! What is a man to do? I’ll toss up for it. Heads, the +Fenians.” + +He spun the coin in the air, and caught it. “Heads it is! The Fenians +are my victims. I’m camping on their trail, anyhow. Besides, it’s safer +than following the Canadians, even though Stoliker has got my pass.” + +Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the forest. The scent of a +big item was in his nostrils, and it stimulated him like champagne. +What was temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of defeating the +opposition press? + +A blind man might have followed the trail of the retreating army. They +had thrown away, as they passed through the woods, every article that +impeded their progress. Once he came on a man lying with his face in the +dead leaves. He turned him over. + +“His troubles are past, poor devil,” said Yates, as he pushed on. + +“Halt! Throw up your hands!” came a cry from in front of him. + +Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his hands, being an adaptable +man. + +“What’s the trouble?” he shouted. “I’m retreating, too.” + +“Then retreat five steps farther. I’ll count the steps. One.” + +Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that a man behind a tree was +covering him with a gun. The next step revealed a second captor, with +a huge upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. Both men had +blackened faces, and resembled thoroughly disreputable fiends of +the forest. Seated on the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozen +dejected prisoners. The man with the gun swore fearfully, but his +comrade with the hammer was silent. + +“Come,” said the marksman, “you blank scoundrel, and take a seat with +your fellow-scoundrels. If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I’ll +fill you full of buckshot!” + +“Oh, I’m not going to run, Sandy,” cried Yates, recognizing him. “Why +should I? I’ve always enjoyed your company, and Macdonald’s. How are +you, Mac? Is this a little private raid of your own? For which side are +you fighting? And I say, Sandy, what’s the weight of that old-fashioned +bar of iron you have in your hands? I’d like to decide a bet. Let me +heft it, as you said in the shop.” + +“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Sandy in a disappointed tone, lowering his +gun. “I thought we had raked in another of them. The old man and I want +to make it an even dozen.” + +“Well, I don’t think you’ll capture any more. I saw nobody as I came +through the woods. What are you going to do with this crowd?” + +“Brain ‘em,” said Macdonald laconically, speaking for the first time. +Then he added reluctantly: “If any of ‘em tries to escape.” + +The prisoners were all evidently too tired and despondent to make +any attempt at regaining their liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald’s +shoulder at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head he seemed +to indicate that he would like to have some private conversation with +the newspaper man. + +“I’m not your prisoner, am I?” asked Yates. + +“No,” said Macdonald. “You may go if you like, but not in the direction +the Fenians have gone.” + +“I guess I won’t need to go any farther, if you will give me permission +to interview your prisoners. I merely want to get some points about the +fight.” + +“That’s all right,” said the blacksmith, “as long as you don’t try to +help them. If you do, I warn you there will be trouble.” + +Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, out of hearing of +the others, leaving Macdonald and his sledge-hammer on guard. + +When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested his arms on his gun, +in a pathfinder attitude. + +“Say,” he began anxiously, “you haven’t got some powder and shot on you +by any chance?” + +“Not an ounce. Haven’t you any ammunition?” + +“No, and haven’t had all through the fight. You see, we left the shop in +such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man +on horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the old man he +grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left at the shop +for repairs, and off we started. I’m not sure that it would shoot if I +had ammunition, but I’d like to try. I’ve scared some of them Fee-neens +nigh to death with it, but I was always afraid one of them would pull a +real gun on me, and then I don’t know just what I’d ‘a’ done.” + +Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but +was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: “Next battle there is you won’t +find me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I’d sooner have the old +man’s sledge. It don’t miss fire.” His eye brightened as he thought of +Macdonald. “Say,” he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his +shoulder, “the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?” + +“He is,” said Yates, “but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear +nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?” + +“Oh, well, you see,” said Sandy apologetically, “it don’t come as +natural to me as chewing, but, then, somebody’s got to swear. The old +man’s converted, you know.” + +“Ah, hasn’t he backslid yet?” + +“No, he hasn’t. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, +but it didn’t; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little +cussing,--not that anyone can cuss like the boss,--he’ll pull through. +I think he’ll stick this time. You’d ought to have seen him wading into +them d--d Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing ‘Onward, Christian +soldiers.’ Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when +things got hot, he pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I +tell you, it was a sight. He bowled ‘em over like nine-pins. You ought +to ‘a’ been there.” + +“Yes,” said Yates regretfully. “I missed it, all on account of that +accursed Stoliker. Well, there’s no use crying over spilled milk, but +I’ll tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I’ll let +you know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of +tobacco that you ever put your teeth into.” + +Sandy’s eyes glittered. “Bless you!” was all he could say, as he bit off +a corner of the offered plug. + +“You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I +thought you were out.” + +“I haven’t had a bite all day. That’s the trouble with leaving in a +hurry.” + +“Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get back +and interview those fellows. There’s no time to be lost.” + +When they reached the group, Macdonald said: + +“Here’s a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, +and that you will vouch for him.” + +Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, +yet fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and +wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognized one +of the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New +York _Blade_. This was even worse than he had anticipated. + +“Hello, Jimmy!” he said, “how did you get here?” + +“I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face.” + +“Whose a--fool?” cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. He +boggled slightly as he came to the “adjective,” but got over it safely. +It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, and +cursed Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent +of profanity. Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, +not knowing that he was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, +wondering how he had attained such proficiency in malediction; for, +like all true artists, he was quite unconscious of his own merit in that +direction. + +“Tell this hammer wielder that I’m no anvil. Tell him that I’m a +newspaper man, and didn’t come here to fight. He says that if you +guarantee that I’m no Fenian he’ll let me go.” + +Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked to do +a favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconvenience himself, +but he never forgot the fact that business was business. + +“I can’t conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy,” said Yates soothingly. +“How am I to know you are not a Fenian?” + +“Bosh!” cried Hawkins angrily. “Conscientiously? A lot you think of +conscience when there is an item to be had.” + +“We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy,” continued Yates +feelingly. “We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons that +you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of telling +a lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don’t you, Mr. Macdonald? You would +not advise me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you?” + +“Certainly not,” said the blacksmith earnestly. + +“You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me,” cried the +indignant _Blade_ man. “You know very well I’m not a Fenian.” + +“Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspect myself +of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?” + +“What’s your game?” asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that he +himself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival’s dilemma. + +“My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episode sent +over the wires to the _Argus_. You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. When +the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will +save you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do so without +prejudice, as the lawyers say, for I have always held that that will be +the ultimate end of all the _Blade_ staff. + +“Look here, Yates; play fair. Don’t run in any conscientious guff on a +prisoner. You see, I have known you these many years.” + +“Yes, and little have you profited by a noble example. It is your +knowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let you out +of your hole without due consideration.” + +“Are you willing to make a bargain? + +“Always--when the balance of trade is on my side.” + +“Well, if you give me a fair start, I’ll give you some exclusive +information that you can’t get otherwise.” + +“What is it?” + +“Oh, I wasn’t born yesterday, Dick.” + +“That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven’t +you something more attractive to offer?” + +“Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the +fight written out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on a +telegraph wire. I’ll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, +if you will get me out of this hole, as you call it. I’ll give you +permission to use the information in any way you choose, if you will +extricate me, and all I ask is a fair start in the race for a telegraph +office.” + +Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments. + +“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Jimmy,” he finally said. “I’ll buy that +account from you, and give you more money than the _Blade_ will. And +when I get back to New York I’ll place you on the staff of the _Argus_ +at a higher salary than the _Blade_ gives you--taking your own word for +the amount.” + +“What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely.” + +“Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow.” + +“Perhaps. But it won’t be sold by me. I’ll burn my copy before I will +let you have a glimpse of it. That don’t need to interfere with your +making me an offer of a better position when we get back to New York; +but while my paper depends on me, I won’t go back on it.” + +“Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. I always +was weak where the interests of the _Argus_ were concerned. You haven’t +any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?” + +“I have, but I won’t lend it.” + +Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. + +“Now, Mac,” he said, “tell me all you saw of this fight.” + +The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark +on his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of +sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. One after +another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered together all the +materials for that excellent full-page account “by an eyewitness” that +afterward appeared in the columns of the _Argus_. He had a wonderful +memory, and simply jotted down figures with which he did not care to +burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and then at the facts +they were giving Yates, but the _Argus_ man said nothing, merely setting +down in shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins sneered at, +which Yates considered was more than likely accurate and important. When +he had got all he wanted, he rose. + +“Shall I send you help, Mac?” he asked. + +“No,” said the smith; “I think I’ll take these fellows to the shop, and +hold them there till called for. You can’t vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr. +Yates?” + +“Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These +half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always +seem to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorant +co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you’ll enjoy life down +at Mac’s shop. It’s the best place I’ve struck since I’ve been in the +district. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you. +I’ll make careful inquiries into your opinions, and as soon as I am +convinced that you can be set free with safety to the community I’ll +drop in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so long.” + +Yates’ one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write his +article as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fears +about the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying +to get through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. He +quickly made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, +if the Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride as +rapidly as he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reached +the edge of the woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. +He found young Bartlett at the barn. + +“Any news of the horses yet?” was the first question he asked. + +“No,” said young Bartlett gloomily; “guess they’ve rode away with them.” + +“Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraph +office. Where is the likeliest place to find one?” + +“I don’t know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraph +boy’s nag; it’s in the stable now, having a feed.” + +“What telegraph boy?” + +“Oh, didn’t you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and I +thought he had found you.” + +“No, I haven’t been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has some +news for me. I’m going to the house to write, so send him in as soon as +he gets back. Be sure you don’t let him get away before I see him.” + +“I’ll lock the stable,” said young Bartlett, “and then he won’t get the +horse, at any rate.” + +Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that the +girl cried anxiously: + +“Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?” + +“No, Kitty; I’m after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have +in the house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil +mark.” + +“A copy book--such as the children use in school?” + +“Just the thing.” + +In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials he +required ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, and +went to work as if he were in his own den in the _Argus_ building. + +“This is a ---- of a vacation,” he muttered to himself, as he drove his +pencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took no note +of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself and sprang to +his feet. + +“What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?” he cried. “Well, it +doesn’t matter; I’ll take the horse without his permission.” + +He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhat +surprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the good +things which that kitchen always afforded. + +“Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?” + +“I wouldn’t let him go in to disturb you while you were writing,” said +Kitty, the boy’s mouth being too full to permit of a reply. + +“Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that down and come in here; I want +to talk to you for a minute.” + +The boy followed him into the front room. + +“Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for the rest of the day.” + +“You can’t have it,” said the boy promptly. + +“Can’t have it? I must have it. Why, I’ll take it. You don’t imagine you +can stop me, do you?” + +The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms across his breast. + +“What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates?” he asked. + +“I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I’ll pay you well for +it.” + +“And what am I here for?” + +“Why, to eat, of course. They’ll feed you high while you wait.” + +“Canadian telegraph office?” + +“Certainly.” + +“It’s no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians couldn’t telegraph all you’ve +written in two weeks. I know ‘em,” said the boy with infinite scorn. +“Besides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, and you can’t +get a private message through till it gets over its fright.” + +“By George!” cried Yates, taken aback, “I hadn’t thought of that. Are +you sure, boy?” + +“Dead certain.” + +“Then what’s to be done? I must get through to Buffalo.” + +“You can’t. United States troops won’t let you. They’re stopping +everybody--except me,” he added, drawing himself up, as if he were the +one individual who stood in with the United States Government. + +“Can you get this dispatch through?” + +“You bet! That’s why I came back. I knew, as soon as I looked at you, +that you would write two or three columns of telegraph; and your paper +said ‘Spare no expense,’ you remember. So says I to myself: ‘I’ll help +Mr. Yates to spare no expense. I’ll get fifty dollars from that young +man, seeing I’m the only person who can get across in time.’” + +“You were mighty sure of it, weren’t you?” + +“You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and ready, I’m fed and ready, +and we’re losing valuable time waiting for that fifty dollars.” + +“Suppose you meet another newspaper man who wants to get his dispatch +through to another paper, what will you do?” + +“Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet two other newspaper men, +that will be one hundred and fifty dollars; but if you want to make sure +that I won’t meet any more newspaper men, let us call it one hundred +dollars, and I’ll take the risk of the odd fifty for the ready cash; +then if I meet a dozen newspaper men, I’ll tell them I’m a telegraph boy +on a vacation.” + +“Quite so. I think you will be able to take care of yourself in a cold +and callous world. Now, look here, young man; I’ll trust you if you’ll +trust me. I’m not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay by results. +If you don’t get this dispatch through, you don’t get anything. I’ll +give you an order for a hundred dollars, and as soon as I get to Buffalo +I’ll pay you the cash. I’ll have to draw on the _Argus_ when I get to +Buffalo; if my article has appeared, you get your cash; if it hasn’t, +you’re out. See?” + +“Yes, I see. It won’t do, Mr. Yates.” + +“Why won’t it do?” + +“Because I say it won’t. This is a cash transaction. Money down, or you +don’t get the goods. I’ll get it through all right, but if I just miss, +I’m not going to lose the money.” + +“Very well, I’ll take it to the Canadian telegraph office.” + +“All right, Mr. Yates. I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were some +good. You aint got no sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at your +tent, there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of men out of the +woods. When one of them sees my uniform, he sings out he’d give me +twenty-five dollars to take his stuff. I said I’d see him later, and I +will. Good-by, Mr. Yates.” + +“Hold on, there! You’re a young villain. You’ll end in state’s prison +yet, but here’s your money. Now, you ride like a house a-fire.” + +After watching the departing boy until he was out of sight Yates, with +a feeling of relief, started back to the tent. He was worried about the +interview the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, now that it +was too late, whether, after all, he had not Hawkins’ manuscript in his +pocket. He wished he had searched him. That trouble, however, did not +prevent him from sleeping like the dead the moment he lay down in the +tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The result of the struggle was similar in effect to an American railway +accident of the first class. One officer and five privates were killed +on the Canadian side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. The +number of the Fenians killed will probably never be known. Several +were buried on the field of battle, others were taken back by O’Neill’s +brigade when they retreated. + +Although the engagement ended as Yates had predicted, yet he was wrong +in his estimate of the Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underrated +by men of experience in military matters. The boys fought well, even +when they saw their ensign fall dead before them. If the affair had been +left entirely in their hands, the result might have been different--as +was shown afterward, when the volunteers, unimpeded by regulars, quickly +put down a much more formidable rising in the Northwest. But in the +present case they were hampered by their dependence on the British +troops, whose commander moved them with all the ponderous slowness of +real war, and approached O’Neill as if he had been approaching Napoleon. +He thus managed to get in a day after the fair on every occasion, +being too late for the fight at Ridgeway, and too late to capture any +considerable number of the flying Fenians at Fort Erie. The campaign, on +the Canadian side, was magnificently planned and wretchedly carried out. +The volunteers and regulars were to meet at a point close to where +the fight took place, but the British commander delayed two hours in +starting, which fact the Canadian colonel did not learn until too +late. These blunders culminated in a ghastly mistake on the field. The +Canadian colonel ordered his men to charge across an open field, and +attack the Fenian force in the woods--a brilliant but foolish move. To +the command the volunteers gallantly responded, but against stupidity +the gods are powerless. In the field they were appalled to hear the +order given to form square and receive cavalry. Even the schoolboys knew +the Fenians could have no cavalry. + +Having formed their square, the Canadians found themselves the helpless +targets of the Fenians in the woods. If O’Neill’s forces had shot with +reasonable precision, they must have cut the volunteers to pieces. The +latter were victorious, if they had only known it; but, in this hopeless +square, panic seized them, and it was every man for himself; at the same +time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as they could. This farce +is known as the battle of Ridgeway, and would have been comical had it +not been that death hovered over it. The comedy, without the tragedy, +was enacted a day or two before at a bloodless skirmish which took place +near a hamlet called Waterloo, which affray is dignified in Canadian +annals as the second battle of that name. + +When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, who had watched the contest +with all the helpless anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing the danger, but +having no influence upon the result, followed them, making a wide detour +to avoid the chance shots which were still flying. He expected to come +up with the volunteers on the road, but was not successful. Through +various miscalculations he did not succeed in finding them until toward +evening. At first they told him that young Howard was with the company, +and unhurt, but further inquiry soon disclosed the fact that he had not +been seen since the fight. He was not among those who were killed or +wounded, and it was nightfall before Renmark realized that opposite his +name on the roll would be placed the ominous word “missing.” Renmark +remembered that the boy had said he would visit his home if he got +leave; but no leave had been asked for. At last Renmark was convinced +that young Howard was either badly wounded or dead. The possibility of +his desertion the professor did not consider for a moment, although he +admitted to himself that it was hard to tell what panic of fear might +come over a boy who, for the first time in his life, found bullets +flying about his ears. + +With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and made his way to the fatal +field. He found nothing on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, +he came across several bodies lying where they fell; but they were all +those of strangers. Even in the darkness he would have had no difficulty +in recognizing the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He walked +down to the Howard homestead, hoping, yet fearing, to hear the boy’s +voice--the voice of a deserter. Everything was silent about the house, +although a light shone through an upper window, and also through one +below. He paused at the gate, not knowing what to do. It was evident +the boy was not here, yet how to find the father or brother, without +alarming Margaret or her mother, puzzled him. As he stood there the door +opened, and he recognized Mrs. Bartlett and Margaret standing in the +light. He moved away from the gate, and heard the older woman say: + +“Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now that she has fallen into +a nice sleep. I wouldn’t disturb her to-night, if I were you. It is +nothing but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It’s all +over now, thank God. Good-night, Margaret.” + +The good woman came through the gate, and then ran, with all the +speed of sixteen, toward her own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, +listening to the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, but +Renmark thought he had never seen anyone so lovely; and he was startled +to find that he had a most un-professor-like longing to take her in his +arms and comfort her. Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared it +would be his fate to add to her anxiety; and it was not until he saw she +was about to close the door that he found courage to speak. + +“Margaret,” he said. + +The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, and +the cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with an +unknown joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there, +with wide eyes and suspended breath, gazing into the darkness. Renmark +stepped into the light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue +and anxiety. + +“Margaret,” he said again, “I want to speak with you a moment. Where is +your brother?” + +“He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. There +is something wrong,” she continued, stepping down beside him. “I can see +it in your face. What is it?” + +“Is your father in the house?” + +“Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me what it is. It is better +to tell me.” + +Renmark hesitated. + +“Don’t keep me in suspense like this,” cried the girl in a low but +intense voice. “You have said too much or too little. Has anything +happened to Henry?” + +“No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed?” + +“I _am_ alarmed. Tell, me quickly.” And the girl in her excitement laid +her hands imploringly on his. + +“Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you know +that?” + +“He never told me. I understand--I think so, but I hope not. He was in +the battle today. Is he--has he been--hurt?” + +“I don’t know. I’m afraid so,” said Renmark hurriedly, now that the +truth had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of the +girl’s unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. “He was with +the volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don’t know +where he is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he +has been left behind. I have been all over the ground.” + +“Yes, yes?” + +“But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him.” + +“Take me to where the volunteers were,” she sobbed. “I know what has +happened. Come quickly.” + +“Will you not put something on your head?” + +“No, no. Come at once.” Then, pausing, she said: “Shall we need a +lantern?” + +“No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house.” + +Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Renmark had some trouble +in keeping pace with her. She turned at the side road, and sped up the +gentle ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. + +“Here is the place,” said Renmark. + +“He could not have been hit in the field,” she cried breathlessly, “for +then he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing a +fence. If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did you search +this field?” + +“Every bit of it. He is not here.” + +“Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the second +fence. Did you see the battle?” + +“Yes.” + +“Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?” + +“No; they did not leave the woods.” + +“Then, if he was struck, it could not have been far from the other side +of the second fence. He would be the last to retreat; and that is why +the others did not see him,” said the girl, with confident pride in her +brother’s courage. + +They crossed the first fence; the road, and the second fence, the girl +walking ahead for a few paces. She stopped, and leaned for a moment +against a tree. “It must have been about here,” she said in a voice +hardly audible. “Have you searched on this side?” + +“Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and woods.” + +“No, no, not there; but down along the fence. He knew every inch of +this ground. If he were wounded here, he would at once try to reach our +house. Search down along the fence. I--I cannot go.” + +Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made +by the zigzag of the rails; and he knew, without looking back, that +Margaret, with feminine inconsistency, was following him. Suddenly she +darted past him, and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing out a +cry that cut Renmark like a knife. + +The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his outstretched hand +grasping the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far, +and reached an insurmountable obstacle. + +Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and rapidly ran his hand +over the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy +passed over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. + +“He is alive!” he cried. “He will get well, Margaret.” A statement +somewhat premature to make on so hasty an examination. + +He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the girl he loved. He was +amazed to see her eyes almost luminous in the darkness, blazing with +wrath. + +“When did you know he was with the volunteers?” + +“This morning--early,” said the professor, taken aback. + +“Why didn’t you tell me?” + +“He asked me not to do so.” + +“He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man’s sense. You +had no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know, and your +duty to tell me. Through your negligence and stupidity my brother has +lain here all day--perhaps dying,” she added with a break in her angry +voice. + +“If you had known--I didn’t know anything was wrong until I saw the +volunteers. I have not lost a moment since.” + +“I should have known he was missing, without going to the volunteers.” + +Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, from a girl whom he had +made the mistake of believing to be without a temper of her own, that +he knew not what to say. He was, however, to have one more example of +inconsistency. + +“Why do you stand there doing nothing, now that I have found him?” she +demanded. + +It was on his tongue to say: “I stand here because you stand there +unjustly quarreling with me,” but he did not say it. Renmark was not a +ready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. + +“Margaret,” he said sternly, “throw down that fence.” + +This curt command, delivered in his most schoolmastery manner, was +instantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to a +young woman, but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts of +America. A rail fence lends itself readily to demolition. Margaret +tossed a rail to the right, one to the left, and to the right again, +until an open gap took the place of that part of the fence. The +professor examined the young soldier in the meantime, and found his leg +had been broken by a musket ball. He raised him up tenderly in his arms, +and was pleased to hear a groan escape his lips. He walked through the +open gap and along the road toward the house, bearing the unconscious +form of his pupil. Margaret silently kept close to his side, her fingers +every now and then unconsciously caressing the damp, curly locks of her +brother. + +“We shall have to get a doctor?” Her assertion was half an inquiry. + +“Certainly.” + +“We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that I should +tell you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there.” + +“We cannot help disturbing someone.” + +“I do not think it will be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur, I +will go for the doctor, and no one need know.” + +“I will go for the doctor.” + +“You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, +and will soon be back.” + +“But there are prowlers and stragglers all along the roads. It is not +safe for you to go alone.” + +“It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen can +overtake Gypsy. Now, don’t say anything more. It is best that I should +go. I will run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will take the +lamp to the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry +him around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show +you the way.” + +With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried his burden alone. She +was waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way round the +house, to where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn under an +apple tree. The light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the boy +gently upon the dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmark +whose room he was in. It was decorated with those pretty little +knickknacks so dear to the heart of a girl in a snuggery she can call +her own. + +“It is not likely you will be disturbed here,” she whispered, “until I +come back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor.” + +“Don’t you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don’t like +the thought of your going alone.” + +“No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You do not know the way. I +shall be very much quicker. If Arthur should--should--wake, he will know +you, and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were a stranger.” + +Margaret was gone before he could say anything more, and Renmark sat +down, devoutly hoping no one would rap at the door of the room while he +was there. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse, when she opened the stable +door, and Gypsy replied with that affectionate, low guttural whinny +which the Scotch graphically term “nickering.” She patted the little +animal; and if Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at that +hour of the night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing its +nose lovingly up and down Margaret’s sleeve as she buckled the different +straps. There was evidently a good understanding between the two. + +“No, Gyp,” she whispered, “I have nothing for you to-night--nothing but +hard work and quick work. Now, you mustn’t make a noise till we get past +the house.” + +On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, which she always +carried, but never used. Gyp had never felt the indignity of the lash, +and was always willing to do what was required merely for a word. + +Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and there +was therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although +the passing of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that if her +father heard the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come out +to investigate. Halfway between her own home and Bartlett’s house she +sprang lightly into the saddle. + +“Now, then, Gyp!” + +No second word was required. Away they sped down the road toward the +east, the mild June air coming sweet and cool and fresh from the distant +lake, laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. The stillness +was intense, broken only by the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, +America’s one-phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and eerie +note of a distant loon. + +The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shown +anywhere. The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter of the +day; and the population, scattered as it was, appeared to have retired +into its shell. A spell of silence and darkness was over the land, and +the rapid hoof beats of the horse sounded with startling distinctness +on the harder portions of the road, emphasized by intervals of complete +stillness, when the fetlocks sank in the sand and progress was more +difficult for the plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear that +Margaret felt on her night journey was when she entered the dark arch +of an avenue of old forest trees that bordered the road, like a great, +gloomy cathedral aisle, in the shadow of which anything might be hidden. +Once the horse, with a jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead: +Margaret caught her breath as she saw, or fancied she saw, several men +stretched on the roadside, asleep or dead. Once in the open again she +breathed more freely, and if it had not been for the jump of the horse, +she would have accused her imagination of playing her a trick. Just as +she had completely reassured herself a shadow moved from the fence to +the middle of the road, and a sharp voice cried: + +“Halt!” + +The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted its two +front hoofs together, and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so +quickly to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Margaret kept +her seat. She saw in front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready +to fire if she attempted to disobey his command. + +“Who are you, and where are you going?” he demanded. + +“Oh, please let me pass!” pleaded Margaret with a tremor of fear in her +voice. “I am going for a doctor--for my brother; he is badly wounded, +and will perhaps die if I am delayed.” + +The man laughed. + +“Oho!” he cried, coming closer; “a woman, is it? and a young one, +too, or I’m a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I’ll have to +investigate this. The brother business won’t work with an old soldier. +It’s your lover you’re riding for at this time of the night, or I’m no +judge of the sex. Just slip down, my lady, and see if you don’t like me +better than him; remember that all cats are black in the dark. Get down, +I tell you.” + +“If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. +I must get to the doctor.” + +“There’s no ‘must’ with a bayonet in front of you. If he has been +wounded, there’s plenty of better men killed to-day. Come down, my +dear.” + +Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in the darkness, the man +saw her intention. + +“You can’t escape, my pretty. If you try it, you’ll not be hurt, but +I’ll kill your horse. If you move, I’ll put a bullet through him.” + +“Kill my horse?” breathed Margaret in horror, a fear coming over her +that she had not felt at the thought of danger to herself. + +“Yes, missy,” said the man, approaching nearer, and laying his hand on +Gypsy’s bridle. “But there will be no need of that. Besides, it +would make too much noise, and might bring us company, which would be +inconvenient. So come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are.” + +“If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here and be +your prisoner.” + +The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. This was a good joke. + +“Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn’t born so recently as all that. A girl in +the hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, +or I’ll take you off. This is war time, and I’m not going to waste any +more pretty talk on you.” + +The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at her, and something +in his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that +he apparently was not prepared for any sudden movement. Her right hand, +hanging down at her side, had grasped the short riding whip, and, with +a swiftness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she struck him +one stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought down the +lash on the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with her left +over her enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the horse sprang +forward, bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatter that +woke the echoes; then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped +along the road like the wind. It was the first time he had ever felt the +cut of a whip, and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further +obstruction on the road, turned her horse’s head toward the rail fence, +and went over it like a bird. In the field, where fast going in the dark +had dangers, Margaret tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse +would not have it so. He shook his head angrily whenever he thought +of the indignity of that blow, while Margaret leaned over and tried to +explain and beg pardon for her offense. The second fence was crossed +with a clean-cut leap, and only once in the next field did the horse +stumble, but quickly recovered and went on at the same breakneck gait. +The next fence, gallantly vaulted over, brought them to the side road, +half a mile up which stood the doctor’s house. Margaret saw the futility +of attempting a reconciliation until the goal was won. There, with +difficulty, the horse was stopped, and the girl struck the panes of the +upper window, through which a light shone, with her riding whip. +The window was raised, and the situation speedily explained to the +physician. + +“I will be with you in a moment,” he said. + +Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her arms around the neck +of the trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, and +sniffed the air with offended dignity. + +“It _was_ a shame, Gyp,” she cried, almost tearfully, stroking the +glossy neck of her resentful friend; “it was, it was, and I know it; but +what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only protector I had, and you _did_ +bowl him over beautifully; no other horse could have done it so well. +It’s wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike +you.” + +Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss of the head that the +wheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult more +than the pain; and from her--there was the sting of it. + +“I know--I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; and I don’t blame you +for being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there was no +time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That’s why it came +down so hard. If I had said a word, he would have got out of the way, +coward that he was, and then would have shot you--_you_, Gypsy! Think of +it!” + +If a man can be molded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, how can +a horse expect to be exempt from her influence. Gypsy showed signs of +melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. + +“And it will never happen again, Gypsy--never, never. As soon as we +are safe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you +wouldn’t----” + +Gypsy’s head rested on Margaret’s shoulder, and we must draw a veil over +the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle +with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar of friendship +the unoffending whip was doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. + +When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, +and proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way--the +Concession, as it was called. + +They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light in the +window. + +The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from the +house, and walked together to the window with the stealthy steps of +a pair of housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closed +window, and thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. She tapped +lightly on the pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. + +“We were getting very anxious about you,” he whispered. + +“Hello, Peggy!” said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his head +slightly from the pillow and dropping it back again. + +Margaret stooped over and kissed him. + +“My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!” + +“Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was going to +die within sight of the house.” + +The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited until +the examination was over, and then went out to find her. + +She sprang forward to meet him. + +“It is all right,” he said. “There is nothing to fear. He has been +exhausted by loss of blood, but a few days’ quiet will set that right. +Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience at +being kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks.” + +“Oh, I am so glad! and--and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. Renmark!” + +“I have done nothing--except make blunders,” replied the professor with +a bitterness that surprised and hurt her. + +“How can you say that? You have done everything. We owe his life to +you.” + +Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlier +part of the night had deeply pained him, and he hoped for some hint of +disclaimer from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did not realize +that the words were spoken in a state of intense excitement and fear, +that another woman would probably have expressed her condition of mind +by fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had left +absolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark +spoke: + +“I must be getting back to the tent, if it still exists. I think I had +an appointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to this +moment I had forgotten it. Good-night.” + +Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had done +to offend him. He stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much the +direction he took, but automatically going the nearest way to the tent. +Fatigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were as +lead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull ache where his heart +was supposed to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of +himself. He entered the tent, and was startled by the voice of Yates: + +“Hello! hello! Is that you, Stoliker?” + +“No; it is Renmark. Are you asleep?” + +“I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Have +you provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?” + +“There’s a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven’t been near the +tent since early morning.” + +“All right; only don’t expect a recommendation from me as cook. I’m not +yet hungry enough for raw potatoes. What time has it got to be?” + +“I’m sure I don’t know.” + +“Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I’m the latest edition of Rip +Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was +dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk.” + +“What have you done with him?” + +“I’m not wide enough awake to remember. I _think_ I killed him, but +wouldn’t be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that very +likely he is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. What have you +been prowling after all night?” + +There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep. + +“I’ll ask _you_ in the morning,” muttered Yates drowsily--after which +there was silence in the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Yates had stubbornly refused to give up his search for rest and quiet +in spite of the discomfort of living in a leaky and battered tent. He +expressed regret that he had not originally camped in the middle of +Broadway, as being a quieter and less exciting spot than the place he +had chosen; but, having made the choice, he was going to see the last +dog hung, he said. Renmark had become less and less of a comrade. He was +silent, and almost as gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yates tried +to cheer him up by showing him how much worse another man’s position +might be, Renmark generally ended the talk by taking to the wood. + +“Just reflect on my position,” Yates would say. “Here I am dead in love +with two lovely girls, both of whom are merely waiting for the word. To +one of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, to a man of my +temperament, inclines me somewhat to the other. Here I am anxious to +confide in you, and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talk +about the complication. You have no sympathy for me, Renny, when I need +sympathy; while I am bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won’t +have it. Now, what would you do if you were in my fix? If you would take +five minutes and show me clearly which of the two girls I really ought +to marry, it would help me ever so much, for then I would be sure to +settle on the other. It is the indecision that is slowly but surely +sapping my vitality.” + +By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over his eyes, +and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in the silent +halls of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates +generally looked after his retreating figure without anger, but with +mild wonder. + +“Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst,” he would say with a +sigh. “It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down about one’s +ears in this way.” At their last talk of this kind Yates resolved not to +discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisis came. +The crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the +latter lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrilling romance. The +camp was strewn with these engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates +had read many of them, hoping to came across a case similar to his own, +but up to the time of Stoliker’s visit he had not succeeded. + +“Hello, Stoliker! how’s things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want to +have another tour across country with me?” + +“No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow or +next day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side; though +you need never say I told you. Of course, if they give the warrant to +me, I shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may be done to you, +still, the country is in a state of excitement, and you will at least be +put to some inconvenience.” + +“Stoliker,” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, “you are a white +man! You’re a good fellow, Stoliker, and I’m ever so much obliged. +If you ever come to New York, you call on me at the _Argus_ +office,--anybody will show you where it is,--and I’ll give you the +liveliest time you ever had in your life. It won’t cost you a cent, +either.” + +“That’s all right,” said the constable. “Now, if I were you, I would +light out to-morrow at the latest.” + +“I will,” said Yates. + +Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after a +moment’s thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It was +dark before he had finished, and Renmark returned. + +“Stilly,” cried the reporter cheerily, “there’s a warrant out for my +arrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!” + +“What! to jail?” cried his horrified friend, his conscience now +troubling him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an old +comrade. + +“Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, which is pretty much +the same thing. Still, thank goodness, I don’t need to stay there long. +I’ll be in New York before I’m many days older. I yearn to plunge into +the arena once more. The still, calm peacefulness of this whole vacation +has made me long for excitement again, and I’m glad the warrant has +pushed me into the turmoil.” + +“Well, Richard, I’m sorry you have to go under such conditions. I’m +afraid I have not been as companionable a comrade as you should have +had.” + +“Oh, you’re all right, Renny. The trouble with you is that you have +drawn a little circle around Toronto University, and said to yourself: +‘This is the world.’ It isn’t, you know. There is something outside of +all that.” + +“Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours is around the +_Argus_ office.” + +“Yes, but there are special wires from that little circle to all the +rest of the world, and soon there will be an Atlantic cable.” + +“I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; still, there is +something outside of New York, even.” + +“You bet your life there is; and, now that you are in a more sympathetic +frame of mind, it is that I want to talk with you about. Those two girls +are outside my little circle, and I want to bring one of them within it. +Now, Renmark, which of those girls would you choose if you were me?” + +The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was silent for a moment. +At last he said, speaking slowly: + +“I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite appreciate my point of +view. As you may think I have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will +try for the first and final time to explain it. I hold that any man who +marries a good woman gets more than he deserves, no matter how worthy he +may be. I have a profound respect for all women, and I think that your +light chatter about choosing between two is an insult to both of them. I +think either of them is infinitely too good for you--or for me either.” + +“Oh, you do, do you? Perhaps you think that you would make a much better +husband than I. If that is the case, allow me to say you are entirely +wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill her with your gloomy +fits. I wouldn’t go off in the woods and sulk, anyhow.” + +“If you are referring to me, I will further inform you that I had +either to go off in the woods or knock you down. I chose the less of two +evils.” + +“Think you could do it, I suppose? Renny, you’re conceited. You’re not +the first man who has made such a mistake, and found he was barking +up the wrong tree when it was too late for anything but bandages and +arnica.” + +“I have tried to show you how I feel regarding this matter. I might have +known I should not succeed. We will end the discussion, if you please.” + +“Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, Renny, I’ll tell you +what you need. You need a good, sensible wife worse than any man I +know. It is not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. You will, +before long, grow a crust on you like a snail, or a lobster, or any +other cold-blooded animal that gets a shell on itself. Then nothing can +be done for you. Now, let me save you, Renny, before it is too late. +Here is my proposition: You choose one of those girls and marry her. +I’ll take the other. I’m not as unselfish as I may seem in this, for +your choice will save me the worry of making up my own mind. According +to your talk, either of the girls is too good for you, and for once I +entirely agree with you. But let that pass. Now, which one is it to be?” + +“Good God! man, do you think I am going to bargain with you about my +future wife?” + +“That’s right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. It shows you are not +yet the prig you would have folks believe. There’s still hope for you, +professor. Now, I’ll go further with you. Although I cannot make up my +mind just what to do myself, I can tell instantly which is the girl for +you, and thus we solve both problems at one stroke. You need a wife +who will take you in hand. You need one who will not put up with your +tantrums, who will be cheerful, and who will make a man of you. Kitty +Bartlett is the girl. She will tyrannize over you, just as her mother +does over the old man. She will keep house to the queen’s taste, and +delight in getting you good things to eat. Why, everything is as plain +as a pikestaff. That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. You +marry Kitty, and I’ll marry Margaret. Come, let’s shake hands over it.” + Yates held up his right hand, ready to slap it down on the open palm of +the professor, but there was no response. Yates’ hand came down to his +side again, but he had not yet lost the enthusiasm of his proposal. The +more he thought of it the more fitting it seemed. + +“Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed girl that, if I am as +flippant as you say, she will be just the wife for me. There are depths +in my character, Renmark, that you have not suspected.” + +“Oh, you’re deep.” + +“I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman would develop the best +that is in me. Now, what do you say, Renny?” + +“I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, dark as it is.” + +“Ah, well,” said Yates with a sigh, “there’s no doing anything with you +or for you. I’ve tried my best; that is one consolation. Don’t go away. +I’ll let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up.” + +And Yates drew a silver half dollar from his pocket. “Heads for +Margaret!” he cried. Renmark clinched his fist, took a step forward, +then checked himself, remembering that this was his last night with the +man who had at least once been his friend. + +Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in one hand, and +slapped the other over it. + +“Now for the turning point in the lives of two innocent beings.” He +raised the covering hand, and peered at the coin in the gathering gloom. +“Heads it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard Yates. Congratulate +me, professor.” + +Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object lesson in self-control. +Yates set his hat more jauntily on his head, and slipped the +epoch-making coin into his trousers pocket. + +“Good-by, old man,” he said. “I’ll see you later, and tell you all the +particulars.” + +Without waiting for the answer, for which he probably knew there would +have been little use in delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprang +over it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood still for some +minutes, then, quietly gathering underbrush and sticks large and small, +lighted a fire, and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Yates walked merrily down the road, whistling “Gayly the troubadour.” + Perhaps there is no moment in a man’s life when he feels the joy of +being alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to a girl of whose +favorable answer he is reasonably sure--unless it be the moment he walks +away an accepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, with its +soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air laden with the perfumes +of wood and field. The enchantment of the hour threw its spell over the +young man, and he resolved to live a better life, and be worthy of the +girl he had chosen, or, rather, that fate had chosen for him. He paused +a moment, leaning over the fence near the Howard homestead, for he had +not yet settled in his own mind the details of the meeting. He would +not go in, for in that case he knew he would have to talk, perhaps for +hours, with everyone but the person he wished to meet. If he announced +himself and asked to see Margaret alone, his doing so would embarrass +her at the very beginning. Yates was naturally too much of a diplomat to +begin awkwardly. As he stood there, wishing chance would bring her out +of the house, there appeared a light in the door-window of the room +where he knew the convalescent boy lay. Margaret’s shadow formed a +silhouette on the blind. Yates caught up a handful of sand, and flung +it lightly against the pane. Its soft patter evidently attracted the +attention of the girl, for, after a moment’s pause, the window opened +carefully, while Margaret stepped quickly out and closed it, quietly +standing there. + +“Margaret,” whispered Yates hardly above his breath. + +The girl advanced toward the fence. + +“Is that _you_?” she whispered in return, with an accent on the last +word that thrilled her listener. The accent told plainly as speech that +the word represented the one man on earth to her. + +“Yes,” answered Yates, springing over the fence and approaching her. + +“Oh!” cried Margaret, starting back, then checking herself, with a catch +in her voice. “You--you startled me--Mr. Yates.” + +“Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. Margaret, I wanted to see +you alone. You know why I have come.” He tried to grasp both her hands, +but she put them resolutely behind her, seemingly wishing to retreat, +yet standing her ground. + +“Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it is with me. I love you, +Margaret, loyally and truly. It seems as if I had loved you all my life. +I certainly have since the first day I saw you.” + +“Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this.” + +“My darling, how else _can_ I talk to you? It cannot be a surprise to +you, Margaret. You must have known it long ago.” + +“I did not, indeed I did not--if you really mean it.” + +“Mean it? I never meant anything as I mean this. It is everything to +me, and nothing else is anything. I have knocked about the world a good +deal, I admit, but I never was in love before--never knew what love was +until I met you. I tell you that----” + +“Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything more. If it is really +true, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said or +done has made you believe that--that--Oh, I do not know what to say! I +never thought you could be in earnest about anything.” + +“You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Margaret. Others have, but I +did not expect it of you. You are far and away better than I am. No one +knows that so well as I. I do not pretend to be worthy of you, but I +will be a devoted husband to you. Any man who gets the love of a good +woman,” continued Yates earnestly, plagiarizing Renmark, “gets more +than he deserves; but surely such love as mine is not given merely to be +scornfully trampled underfoot.” + +“I do not treat your--you scornfully. I am only sorry if what you say is +true.” + +“Why do you say _if_ it is true? Don’t you know it is true?” + +“Then I am very sorry--very, _very_ sorry, and I hope it is through +no fault of mine. But you will soon forget me. When you return to New +York----” + +“Margaret,” said the young man bitterly, “I shall never forget you. +Think what you are doing before it is too late. Think how much this +means to me. If you finally refuse me, you will wreck my life. I am the +sort of man that a woman can make or mar. Do not, I beg of you, ruin the +life of the man who loves you.” + +“I am not a missionary,” cried Margaret with sudden anger. “If your life +is to be wrecked, it will be through your own foolishness, and not from +any act of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I am to be +held responsible. I have no wish to influence your future one way or +another.” + +“Not for good, Margaret?” asked Yates with tender reproach. + +“No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends on anyone but himself is +not my ideal of a man.” + +“Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to attain it.” + +Margaret was silent. + +“You think it will be useless for me to try?” + +“As far as I am concerned, yes.” + +“Margaret, I want to ask you one more question. I have no right to, but +I beg you to answer me. Are you in love with anyone else?” + +“No!” cried Margaret hotly. “How dare you ask me such a question?” + +“Oh, it is not a crime--that is, being in love with someone else is not. +I’ll tell you why I dare ask. I swear, by all the gods, that I shall win +you--if not this year, then next; and if not next, then the year after. +I was a coward to talk as I did; but I love you more now than I did even +then. All I want to know is that you are not in love with another man. + +“I think you are very cruel in persisting as you do, when you have had +your answer. I say no. Never! never! never!--this year nor any other +year. Is not that enough?” + +“Not for me. A woman’s ‘no’ may ultimately mean ‘yes.’” + +“That is true, Mr. Yates,” replied Margaret, drawing herself up as one +who makes a final plunge. “You remember the question you asked me just +now?--whether I cared for anyone else? I said ‘no.’ That ‘no’ meant +‘yes.’” + +He was standing between her and the window, so she could not escape by +the way she came. He saw she meditated flight, and made as though he +would intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran around the +house, and he heard a door open and shut. + +He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to the fence, climbing +slowly over where he had leaped so lightly a few minutes before, and +walked down the road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he was a +coward for talking to her as he had done about his wrecked life, yet +he knew now that every word he had spoken was true. What did the future +hold out to him? Not even the incentive to live. He found himself +walking toward the tent, but, not wishing to meet Renmark in his present +frame of mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. He was tired +and broken, and resolved to stay in camp until they arrested him. Then +perhaps she might have some pity on him. Who was the other man she +loved? or had she merely said that to give finality to her refusal? In +his present mood he pictured the worst, and imagined her the wife of +some neighboring farmer--perhaps even of Stoliker. These country girls, +he said to himself, never believed a man was worth looking at unless +he owned a farm. He would save his money, and buy up the whole +neighborhood; _then_ she would realize what she had missed. He climbed +up on the fence beside the road, and sat on the top rail, with his heels +resting on a lower one, so that he might enjoy his misery without the +fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination pictured himself as the owner +in a few years’ time of a large section of that part of the country, +with mortgages on a good deal of the remainder, including the farm owned +by Margaret’s husband. He saw her now, a farmer’s faded wife, coming +to him and begging for further time in which to pay the seven per cent. +due. He knew he would act magnanimously on such an occasion, and grandly +give her husband all the time he required. Perhaps then she would +realize the mistake she had made. Or perhaps fame, rather than riches, +would be his line. His name would ring throughout the land. He might +become a great politician, and bankrupt Canada with a rigid tariff +law. The unfairness of making the whole innocent people suffer for the +inconsiderate act of one of them did not occur to him at the moment, +for he was humiliated and hurt. There is no bitterness like that which +assails the man who has been rejected by the girl he adores--while it +lasts. His eye wandered toward the black mass of the Howard house. It +was as dark as his thoughts. He turned his head slowly around, and, like +a bright star of hope, there glimmered up the road a flickering light +from the Bartletts’ parlor window. Although time had stopped as far as +he was concerned, he was convinced it could not be very late, or the +Bartletts would have gone to bed. It is always difficult to realize that +the greatest of catastrophes are generally over in a few minutes. It +seemed an age since he walked so hopefully away from the tent. As he +looked at the light the thought struck him that perhaps Kitty was alone +in the parlor. She at least would not have treated him so badly as the +other girl; and--and she was pretty, too, come to think of it. He always +did like a blonde better than a brunette. + +A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used in some parts of the +country in such a manner as to impress the sitter with the fact of its +extreme discomfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is not wanted +in that immediate neighborhood. Yates recollected this, with a smile, +as he slid off and stumbled into the ditch by the side of the road. His +mind had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten about the ditch. As +he walked along the road toward the star that guided him he remembered +he had recklessly offered Miss Kitty to the callous professor. After +all, no one knew about the episode of a short time before except himself +and Margaret, and he felt convinced she was not a girl to boast of her +conquests. Anyhow, it didn’t matter. A man is surely master of himself. + +As he neared the window he looked in. People are not particular about +lowering the blinds in the country. He was rather disappointed to see +Mrs. Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious woman she +was. Still it was consoling to note that none of the men-folks were +present, and that Kitty, with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, +sat reading a book he had lent to her. He rapped at the door, and it was +opened by Mrs. Bartlett, with some surprise. + +“For the land’s sake! is that you, Mr. Yates?” + +“It is.” + +“Come right in. Why, what’s the matter with you? You look as if you had +lost your best friend. Ah, I see how it is,”--Yates started,--“you have +run out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry as a bear.” + +“You’ve hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped around to see if I +could borrow a loaf of bread. We don’t bake till to-morrow.” + +Mrs. Bartlett laughed. + +“Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I’ll get you a loaf in a +minute. Are you sure one is enough?” + +“Quite enough, thank you.” + +The good woman bustled out to the other room for the loaf, and Yates +made good use of her temporary absence. + +“Kitty,” he whispered, “I want to see you alone for a few minutes. I’ll +wait for you at the gate. Can you slip out?” + +Kitty blushed very red and nodded. + +“They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I’m off to-morrow before +they can serve it. But I couldn’t go without seeing you. You’ll come, +sure?” + +Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in alarm when he spoke of +the warrant. Before anything further could be said Mrs. Bartlett came +in, and Kitty was absorbed in her book. + +“Won’t you have something to eat now before you go back?” + +“Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the professor is waiting for +me.” + +“Let him wait, if he didn’t have sense enough to come.” + +“He didn’t. I offered him the chance.” + +“It won’t take us a moment to set the table. It is not the least +trouble.” + +“Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am not in the slightest +degree hungry now. I am merely taking some thought of the morrow. No; I +must be going, and thank you very much.” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the door, “if there’s anything +you want, come to me, and I will let you have it if it’s in the house.” + +“You are too good to me,” said the young man with genuine feeling, “and +I don’t deserve it; but I may remind you of your promise--to-morrow.” + +“See that you do,” she answered. “Good-night.” + +Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the post, where he forgot +it, much to the astonishment of the donor in the morning. He did not +have to wait long, for Kitty came around the house somewhat shrinkingly, +as one who was doing the most wicked thing that had been done since the +world began. Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one of her unresisting +hands in his. + +“I must be off to-morrow,” he began. + +“I am very sorry,” answered Kitty in a whisper. + +“Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. But I intend to come +back, if you will let me. Kitty, you remember that talk we had in the +kitchen, when we--when there was an interruption, and when I had to go +away with our friend Stoliker?” + +Kitty indicated that she remembered it. + +“Well, of course you know what I wanted to say to you. Of course you +know what I want to say to you now.” + +It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, for Kitty had not the +slightest idea, and wanted to go into the house, for it was late, and +her mother would miss her. + +“Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that I love you. You must +know that I have loved you ever since the first day I saw you, when you +laughed at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make something of me, +if that is possible. I am a worthless fellow, not half good enough for a +little pet like you; but, Kitty, if you will only say ‘yes,’ I will try, +and try hard, to be a better man than I have ever been before.” + +Kitty did not say “yes” but she placed her disengaged hand, warm and +soft, upon his, and Yates was not the man to have any hesitation about +what to do next. To practical people it may seem an astonishing thing +that, the object of the interview being happily accomplished, there +should be any need of prolonging it; yet the two lingered there, and he +told her much of his past life, and of how lonely and sordid it had been +because he had no one to care for him--at which her pretty eyes filled +with tears. She felt proud and happy to think she had won the first +great love of a talented man’s life, and hoped she would make him happy, +and in a measure atone for the emptiness of the life that had gone +before. She prayed that he might always be as fond of her as he was +then, and resolved to be worthy of him if she could. + +Strange to say, her wishes have been amply fulfilled, and few wives are +as happy or as proud of their husbands as Kitty Yates. The one woman who +might have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life merely kissed +her tenderly when Kitty told her of the great joy that had come to her, +and said she was sure she would be happy; and thus for the second time +Margaret told the thing that was not, but for once Margaret was wrong in +her fears. + +Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving his loaf on the +gatepost behind him. Few realize that it is quite as pleasant to be +loved as to love. The verb “to love” has many conjugations. The earth he +trod was like no other ground he had ever walked upon. The magic of the +June night was never so enchanting before. He strode along with his head +and his thoughts in the clouds, and the Providence that cares for the +intoxicated looked after him, and saw that the accepted lover came to no +harm. He leaped the fence without even putting his hand to it, and then +was brought to earth again by the picture of a man sitting with his head +in his hands beside a dying fire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Yates stood for a moment regarding the dejected attitude of his friend. + +“Hello, old man!” he cried, “you have the most ‘hark-from-the-tombs’ +appearance I ever saw. What’s the matter?” + +Renmark looked up. + +“Oh, it’s you, is it?” + +“Of course it’s I. Been expecting anybody else?” + +“No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking of a variety of things.” + +“You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my boy. She’s mine, and I’m +hers--which are two ways of stating the same delightful fact. I’m up +in a balloon, Renny. I’m engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, and most +delightful girl there is from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What d’ye +think of that? Say, Renmark, there’s nothing on earth like it. You +ought to reform and go in for being in love. It would make a man of you. +Champagne isn’t to be compared to it. Get up here and dance, and don’t +sit there like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you comprehend that I am to +be married to the darlingest girl that lives?” + +“God help her!” + +“That’s what I say. Every day of her life, bless her! But I don’t say it +quite in that tone, Renmark. What’s the matter with you? One would think +you were in love with the girl yourself, if such a thing were possible.” + +“Why is it not possible?” + +“If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first time. Because you +are a fossil. You are too good, Renny; therefore dull and uninteresting. +Now, there is nothing a woman likes so much as to reclaim a man. It +always annoys a woman to know that the man she is interested in has a +past with which she has had nothing to do. If he is wicked and she can +sort of make him over, like an old dress, she revels in the process. She +flatters herself she makes a new man of him, and thinks she owns that +new man by right of manufacture. We owe it to the sex, Renny, to give +‘em a chance at reforming us. I have known men who hated tobacco take +to smoking merely to give it up joyfully for the sake of the women +they loved. Now, if a man is perfect to begin with, what is a dear, +ministering angel of a woman to do with him? Manifestly nothing. The +trouble with you, Renny, is that you are too evidently ruled by a +good and well-trained conscience, and naturally all women you meet +intuitively see this, and have no use for you. A little wickedness would +be the making of you.” + +“You think, then, that if a man’s impulse is to do what his conscience +tells him is wrong, he should follow his impulse, and not his +conscience?” + +“You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. I believe that an +occasional blow-out is good for a man. But if you ever have an impulse +of that kind, I think you should give way to it for once, just to see +how it feels. A man who is too good gets conceited about himself.” + +“I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates,” said the professor, rising. +“I will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. My +conscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a long +and happy life with the girl you have--I won’t say chosen, but tossed up +for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break every +bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates.” + +“Oh, I say, Renmark, you’re crazy.” + +“Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. A lunatic +is sometimes dangerous.” + +“Oh, go away. You’re dreaming. You’re talking in your sleep. What! +Fight? Tonight? Nonsense!” + +“Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?” + +“No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don’t wish to fight at +all, especially to-night. I’m a reformed man, I tell you. I have no +desire to bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow.” + +“Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself.” + +“It’s impossible to fight here in the dark. Don’t flatter yourself for +a moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limbered +up, while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous.” + +Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into a +blaze. + +“There,” he said, “that’s better. Now, let me have a look at you. In the +name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?” + +“I refuse to give my reason.” + +“Then I refuse to fight. I’ll run, and I can beat you in a foot race any +day in the week. Why, you’re worse than her father. He at least let me +know why he fought me.” + +“Whose father?” + +“Kitty’s father, of course--my future father-in-law. And that’s another +ordeal ahead of me. I haven’t spoken to the old man yet, and I need all +my fighting grit for that.” + +“What are you talking about?” + +“Isn’t my language plain? It usually is.” + +“To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to Miss +Bartlett. Am I right?” + +“Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can’t we +postpone our fracas until daylight? I don’t want to gather any more +wood. Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thus +ruin whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?” + +“Say? I say I am an idiot.” + +“Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you.” + +“Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar--to Miss Howard?” + +“Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget. +You remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred to +it a moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time. +Well, I don’t care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know the +beginning, you will have to know the end, because I want to wring a +sacred promise from you. You are never to mention this episode of the +toss-up, or of my confession, to any living soul. The telling of it +might do harm, and it couldn’t possibly do any good. Will you promise?” + +“Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to.” + +“I don’t exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you should +understand how the land lies, so you won’t make any mistake. Not on _my_ +account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty’s ears. Yes, +I proposed to Margaret--first. She wouldn’t look at me. Can you credit +that?” + +“Well, now that you mention it, I----” + +“Exactly. I see you _can_ credit it. Well, I couldn’t at first; but +Margaret knows her own mind, there’s no question about _that_. Say! +she’s in love with some other fellow. I found out that much.” + +“You asked her, I presume.” + +“Well, it’s my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I do +that for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when it +comes to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, and +then bolted.” + +“You must have used great tact and delicacy.” + +“See here, Renmark; I’m not going to stand any of your sneering. I told +you this was a sore subject with me. I’m not telling you because I like +to, but because I have to. Don’t put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark. +If _I_ talk fight, I won’t begin for no reason and then back out for no +reason. I’ll go on.” + +“I’ll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?” + +“Nothing else. Isn’t that enough? It was more than enough for me--at the +time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sitting on the +fence and thinking about it.” + +“So long as that?” + +Yates rose from the fire indignantly. + +“I take that back, too,” cried the professor hastily. “I didn’t mean +it.” + +“It strikes me you’ve become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don’t you +think it’s about time we took to our bunks? It’s late.” + +Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendly +fence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendly +stars. He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with its +impressive stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stops in +mid-ocean. After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful stars he +climbed the fence and walked down the road, taking little heed of the +direction. The still night was a soothing companion. He came at last to +a sleeping village of wooden houses, and through the center of the town +ran a single line of rails, an iron link connecting the unknown hamlet +with all civilization. A red and a green light glimmered down the line, +giving the only indication that a train ever came that way. As he went a +mile or two farther the cool breath of the great lake made itself felt, +and after crossing a field he suddenly came upon the water, finding all +further progress in that direction barred. Huge sand dunes formed the +shore, covered with sighing pines. At the foot of the dunes stretched +a broad beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast with the darker +water; and at long intervals fell the light ripple of the languid summer +waves, running up the beach with a half-asleep whisper, that became +softer and softer until it was merged in the silence beyond. Far out on +the dark waters a point of light, like a floating star, showed where a +steamer was slowly making her way; and so still was the night that he +felt rather than heard her pulsating engines. It was the only sign of +life visible from that enchanted bay--the bay of the silver beach. + +Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. +The point of light gradually worked its way to the west, following, +doubtless unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around the +headland, taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. But the +world is very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he thinks +he is. Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees, which +cry he was astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat up and +listened. Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat, and +someone stepped ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowy forms +of three men. Nothing was said, but they got silently into the boat, +which might have been Charon’s craft for all he could see of it. The +rattle of the rowlocks and the plash of oars followed, while a voice +cautioned the rowers to make less noise. It was evident that some +belated fugitives were eluding the authorities of both countries. +Renmark thought, with a smile, that if Yates were in his place he would +at least give them a fright. A sharp command to an imaginary company +to load and fire would travel far on such a night, and would give the +rowers a few moments of great discomfort. Renmark, however, did not +shout, but treated the episode as part of the mystical dream, and lay +down on the sand again. He noticed that the water in the east seemed +to feel the approach of morning even before the sky. Gradually the +day dawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the coming sun +spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched the glory +of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty of the +bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back for the +village and the camp beyond. + +The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to see +Stoliker on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistants +were with him, also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed by +the sight of Renmark, but he was there to do his duty. + +“Hello!” he cried, “you’re up early. I have a warrant for the arrest of +your friend: I suppose you won’t tell me where he is?” + +“You can’t expect me to give any information that will get a friend into +trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing.” + +“That’s as may turn out before a jury,” said one of the assistants +gravely. + +“Yes,” assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. “That is +for judge and jury to determine--not you.” + +“Well,” said Renmark, “I will not inform about anybody, unless I am +compelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where I +have been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. If +you go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat’s keel on the +sand, and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore in +the night, and a man got on board. I don’t say who the man was, and I +had nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. That +is all the information I have to give.” + +Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. “What did I tell you?” he +asked. “We were right on his track.” + +“You said the railroad,” grumbled the man who had spoken before. + +“Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake and +see the traces. Then we can return the warrant.” + +Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfast +without disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporter +and told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back to +New York without delay. + +Yates yawned sleepily. + +“Yes,” he said, “I’ve been dreaming it all out. I’ll get father-in-law +to tote me out to Fort Erie to-night.” + +“Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?” + +“Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I’m going +down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the old folks, +you know. I’ll spend the rest of the day making up for that interview +by talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for me there, and, +now that he thinks I’m gone, he will likely make a visit to the tent. +Stoliker is a good fellow, but his strong point is duty, you know; and +if he’s certain I’m gone, he’ll give his country the worth of its money +by searching. I won’t be back for dinner, so you can put in your time +reading my Dime Novels. I make no reflections on your cooking, Renny, +now that the vacation is over; but I have my preferences, and they +incline toward a final meal with the Bartletts. If I were you, I’d have +a nap. You look tired out.” + +“I am,” said the professor. + +Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear of +the camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, when she +got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hear Stoliker +and his satellites search the premises, just as Yates had predicted they +would; and when he finally awoke, he found to his astonishment that +it was nearly dark. But he was all the better for his sleep, and he +attended to his personal appearance with more than ordinary care. + +Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grim +stolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known by +him to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond his +comprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the first +time in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse for +going there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which he sat at +one of the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparent effect +on him. He even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and a man +who can do that can do anything. To bring up a daughter who would +deliberately accept a man from “the States,” and to have a wife who +would aid and abet such an action, giving comfort and support to the +enemy, seemed to him traitorous to all the traditions of 1812, or any +other date in the history of the two countries. At times wild ideas of +getting blind full, and going home to break every breakable thing in the +house, rose in his mind; but prudence whispered that he had to live all +the rest of his life with his wife, and he realized that this scheme of +vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he untied his patient team, after +paying his bill, and drove silently home, not having returned, even by +a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him that day. He was somewhat +relieved to find no questions were asked, and that his wife recognized +the fact that he was passing through a crisis. Nevertheless, there was +a steely glitter in her eye under which he uneasily quailed, for it told +him a line had been reached which it would not be well for him to cross. +She forgave, but it must not go any further. + +When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with some +trepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement. + +“No one but Margaret,” said Kitty. + +“And what did she say?” asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion was +of no importance. + +“She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make a +good husband.” + +“She’s rather a nice girl, is Margaret,” remarked Yates, with the air +of a man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than his own, +but indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth for him. + +“She is a lovely girl,” said Kitty enthusiastically. “I wonder, Dick, +when you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me.” + +“The idea! I haven’t a word to say against Margaret; but, compared with +my girl----” + +And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frame +of mind. + +As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had acted +very handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. But as +he approached the house his courage began to fail him, and he thought +it better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had sat the night +before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But as he +sat there it was destined that Yates should receive some information +which would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly out of the gate +in the gathering darkness. They strolled together up the road past him, +absorbed in themselves. When directly opposite the reporter, Renmark put +his arm around Margaret’s waist, and Yates nearly fell off the fence. +He held his breath until they were safely out of hearing, then slid down +and crawled along in the shadow until he came to the side road, up which +he walked, thoughtfully pausing every few moments to remark: “Well, I’ll +be----” But speech seemed to have failed him; he could get no further. + +He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last time +at the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the somber +trees. He had no energy left to climb over. + +“Well, I’m a chimpanzee,” he muttered to himself at last. “The highest +bidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn’t have +believed it of you. _You_ a newspaper man? _You_ a reporter from ‘way +back? _You_ up to snuff? Yates, I’m ashamed to be seen in your company! +Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter in from a country +newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think that this thing has +been going on right under your well-developed nose, and you never saw +it--worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; that it was thrust at +you twenty times a day--nearly got your stupid head smashed on account +of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent little lamb that you are, +and never even suspected! Dick, you’re a three-sheet-poster fool in +colored ink. And to think that both of them know all about the first +proposal! _Both_ of them! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a long way from +New York.” + +THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 9263-0.txt or 9263-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/2/6/9263/ + +Produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/9263-0.zip b/9263-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8071c6a --- /dev/null +++ b/9263-0.zip diff --git a/9263-8.txt b/9263-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41e4a40 --- /dev/null +++ b/9263-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9244 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Midst of Alarms + +Author: Robert Barr + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9263] +This file was first posted on September 16, 2003 +Last Updated: May 28, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS + +By Robert Barr + +1894 + + + +TO E.B. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +In the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropolitan Grand Hotel in +Buffalo, Professor Stillson Renmark stood and looked about him with the +anxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy splendor of the modern +American house of entertainment. The professor had paused halfway +between the door and the marble counter, because he began to fear that +he had arrived at an inopportune time, that something unusual was going +on. The hurry and bustle bewildered him. + +An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was standing at the door, its +steps backed over the curbstone, and beside it was a broad, flat van, +on which stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron-bound trunks +belonging to commercial travelers, and the more fragile, but not less +bulky, saratogas, doubtless the property of the ladies who sat patiently +in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had just arrived was backing up to +the curb, and the irate driver used language suitable to the occasion; +for the two restive horses were not behaving exactly in the way he +liked. + +A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and mournful, voice was filling +the air with the information that a train was about to depart for +Albany, Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. When he came to +the words "the East," his voice dropped to a sad minor key, as if the +man despaired of the fate of those who took their departure in that +direction. Every now and then a brazen gong sounded sharply; and one of +the negroes who sat in a row on a bench along the marble-paneled wall +sprang forward to the counter, took somebody's handbag, and disappeared +in the direction of the elevator with the newly arrived guest following +him. Groups of men stood here and there conversing, heedless of the rush +of arrival and departure around them. + +Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows sat a row of men, some +talking, some reading, and some gazing outside, but all with their feet +on the brass rail which had been apparently put there for that purpose. +Nearly everybody was smoking a cigar. A lady of dignified mien came down +the hall to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to the clerk, +who bent his well-groomed head deferentially on one side as he listened +to what she had to say. The men instantly made way for her. She passed +along among them as composedly as if she were in her own drawing room, +inclining her head slightly to one or other of her acquaintances, which +salutation was gravely acknowledged by the raising of the hat and the +temporary removal of the cigar from the lips. + +All this was very strange to the professor, and he felt himself in a new +world, with whose customs he was not familiar. Nobody paid the slightest +attention to him as he stood there among it all with his satchel in his +hand. As he timidly edged up to the counter, and tried to accumulate +courage enough to address the clerk, a young man came forward, flung his +handbag on the polished top of the counter, metaphorically brushed the +professor aside, pulled the bulky register toward him, and inscribed his +name on the page with a rapidity equaled only by the illegibility of the +result. + +"Hello, Sam!" he said to the clerk. "How's things? Get my telegram?" + +"Yes," answered the clerk; "but I can't give you 27. It's been taken for +a week. I reserved 85 for you, and had to hold on with my teeth to do +that." + +The reply of the young man was merely a brief mention of the place of +torment. + +"It _is_ hot," said the clerk blandly. "In from Cleveland?" + +"Yes. Any letters for me?" + +"Couple of telegrams. You'll find them up in 85." + +"Oh, you were cocksure I'd take that room?" + +"I was cocksure you'd have to. It is that or the fifth floor. We're +full. Couldn't give a better room to the President if he came." + +"Oh, well, what's good enough for the President I can put up with for a +couple of days." + +The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The negro sprang forward +and took the "grip." + +"Eighty-five," said the clerk; and the drummer and the Negro +disappeared. + +"Is there any place where I could leave my bag for a while?" the +professor at last said timidly to the clerk. + +"Your bag?" + +The professor held it up in view. + +"Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?" And the clerk's hand +hovered over the bell. + +"No. At least, not just yet. You see, I'm----" + +"All right. The baggage man there to the left will check it for you." + +"Any letters for Bond?" said a man, pushing himself in front of +the professor. The clerk pulled out a fat bunch of letters from the +compartment marked "B," and handed the whole lot to the inquirer, who +went rapidly over them, selected two that appeared to be addressed to +him, and gave the letters a push toward the clerk, who placed them where +they were before. + +The professor paused a moment, then, realizing that the clerk had +forgotten him, sought the baggage man, whom he found in a room filled +with trunks and valises. The room communicated with the great hall +by means of a square opening whose lower ledge was breast high. The +professor stood before it, and handed the valise to the man behind +this opening, who rapidly attached one brass check to the handle with a +leather thong, and flung the other piece of brass to the professor. +The latter was not sure but there was something to pay, still he quite +correctly assumed that if there had been the somewhat brusque man would +have had no hesitation in mentioning the fact; in which surmise his +natural common sense proved a sure guide among strange surroundings. +There was no false delicacy about the baggage man. + +Although the professor was to a certain extent bewildered by the +condition of things, there was still in his nature a certain dogged +persistence that had before now stood him in good stead, and which had +enabled him to distance, in the long run, much more brilliant men. He +was not at all satisfied with his brief interview with the clerk. He +resolved to approach that busy individual again, if he could arrest his +attention. It was some time before he caught the speaker's eye, as it +were, but when he did so, he said: + +"I was about to say to you that I am waiting for a friend from New York +who may not yet have arrived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the----" + +"Oh, Dick Yates! Certainly. He's here." Turning to the negro, he said: +"Go down to the billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he is +not, look for him at the bar." + +The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Apparently not noticing the +look of amazement that had stolen over the professor's face, the clerk +said: + +"If you wait in the reading room, I'll send Yates to you when he comes. +The boy will find him if he's in the house; but he may be uptown." + +The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging clerk further, did not +ask him where the reading room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurrying +porter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer: + +"Dining room next floor. Reading, smoking, and writing rooms up the +hall. Billiard room, bar, and lavatory downstairs." + +The professor, after getting into the barber shop and the cigar store, +finally found his way into the reading room. Numerous daily papers were +scattered around on the table, each attached to a long, clumsy cleft +holder made of wood; while other journals, similarly encumbered, hung +from racks against the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easy +leather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a paper, drew a thin +book from his pocket, in which he was soon so absorbed that he became +entirely unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light touch on the +shoulder brought him up from his book into the world again, and he saw, +looking down on him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are a guest of this +house?" + +A shade of apprehension crossed the professor's face as he slipped the +book into his pocket. He had vaguely felt that he was trespassing when +he first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were confirmed. + +"I--I am not exactly a guest," he stammered. + +"What do you mean by not exactly a guest?" continued the other, +regarding the professor with a cold and scrutinizing gaze. "A man is +either a guest or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your case?" + +"I presume, technically speaking, I am not." + +"Technically speaking! More evasions. Let me ask you, sir, as an +ostensibly honest man, if you imagine that all this luxury--this--this +elegance--is maintained for nothing? Do you think, sir, that it is +provided for any man who has cheek enough to step out of the street +and enjoy it? Is it kept up, I ask, for people who are, technically +speaking, not guests?" + +The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the face of the +unfortunate professor. He had nothing to say. He realized that his +conduct was too flagrant to admit of defense, so he attempted none. +Suddenly the countenance of his questioner lit up with a smile, and he +smote the professor on the shoulder. + +"Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven't changed a particle in fifteen +years! You don't mean to pretend you don't know me?" + +"You can't--you can't be Richard Yates?" + +"I not only can, but I can't be anybody else. I know, because I have +often tried. Well, well, well, well! Stilly we used to call you; don't +you remember? I'll never forget that time we sang 'Oft in the stilly +night' in front of your window when you were studying for the exams. You +always _were_ a quiet fellow, Stilly. I've been waiting for you nearly +a whole day. I was up just now with a party of friends when the boy +brought me your card--a little philanthropic gathering--sort of mutual +benefit arrangement, you know: each of us contributed what we could +spare to a general fund, which was given to some deserving person in the +crowd." + +"Yes," said the professor dryly. "I heard the clerk telling the boy +where he would be most likely to find you." + +"Oh, you did, eh?" cried Yates, with a laugh. "Yes, Sam generally knows +where to send for me; but he needn't have been so darned public about +it. Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to go in print and what +should have the blue pencil run through it. Sam is very discreet, as a +general thing; but then he knew, of course, the moment he set eyes on +you, that you were an old pal of mine." + +Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery laugh for so evidently +wicked a man. + +"Come along," he said, taking the professor by the arm. "We must get you +located." + +They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the clerk's counter. + +"I say, Sam," cried Yates, "can't you do something better for us than +the fifth floor? I didn't come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. No +sky parlors for me, if I can help it." + +"I'm sorry, Dick," said the clerk; "but I expect the fifth floor will be +gone when the Chicago express gets in." + +"Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?" + +"I can let you have 518. That's the next room to yours. Really, they're +the most comfortable rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout over +the lake. I wouldn't mind having a sight of the lake myself, if I could +leave the desk." + +"All right. But I didn't come to look at the lake, nor yet at the +railroad tracks this side, nor at Buffalo Creek either, beautiful and +romantic as it is, nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousand +locomotives that pass within hearing distance for the delight of your +guests. The fact is that, always excepting Chicago, Buffalo is more +like--for the professor's sake I'll say Hades, than any other place in +America." + +"Oh, Buffalo's all right," said the clerk, with that feeling of local +loyalty which all Americans possess. "Say, are you here on this Fenian +snap?" + +"What Fenian snap?" asked the newspaper man. + +"Oh! don't you know about it? I thought, the moment I saw you, that you +were here for this affair. Well, don't say I told you, but I can put you +on to one of the big guns if you want the particulars. They say they're +going to take Canada. I told 'em that I wouldn't take Canada as a gift, +let alone fight for it. I've _been_ there." + +Yates' newspaper instinct thrilled him as he thought of the possible +sensation. Then the light slowly died out of his eyes when he looked at +the professor, who had flushed somewhat and compressed his lips as he +listened to the slighting remarks on his country. + +"Well, Sam," said the newspaper man at last, "it isn't more than once +in a lifetime that you'll find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but +the fact is I'm on my vacation just now. About the first I've had for +fifteen years; so, you see, I must take care of it. No, let the _Argus_ +get scooped, if it wants to. They'll value my services all the more when +I get back. No. 518, I think you said?" + +The clerk handed over the key, and the professor gave the boy the check +for his valise at Yates' suggestion. + +"Now, get a move on you," said Yates to the elevator boy. "We're going +right through with you." + +And so the two friends were shot up together to the fifth floor. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The sky parlor, as Yates had termed it, certainly commanded a very +extensive view. Immediately underneath was a wilderness of roofs. +Farther along were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and a line +of masts and propeller funnels marked the windings of Buffalo Creek, +along whose banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked by some +tremendous letter of the alphabet, done in white paint against the +somber brown of the big building. Still farther to the west was a more +grateful and comforting sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted with +white sails and an occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under the +broiling sun. Over the water, through the distant summer haze, there +could be seen the dim line of the Canadian shore. + +"Sit you down," cried Yates, putting both hands on the other's +shoulders, and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placing +his finger on the electric button, he added: "What will you drink?" + +"I'll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble," said +Renmark. + +Yates' hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side, and +he looked reproachfully at the professor. + +"Great Heavens!" he cried, "have something mild. Don't go rashly in +for Buffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to it +gradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter." + +"Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order what +you like for yourself." + +"Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that." He pushed the button, +and, when the boy appeared, said: "Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge +it to Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water for +Yates, No. 520. There," he continued gleefully, "I'm going to have all +the drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I'll pay the bill, but +I'll keep the account to hold over your head in the future. Professor +Stillson Renmark, debtor to Metropolitan Grand--one sherry cobbler, one +gin sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, then, Stilly, let's talk +business. You're not married, I take it, or you wouldn't have responded +to my invitation so promptly." The professor shook his head. "Neither am +I. You never had the courage to propose to a girl; and I never had the +time." + +"Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the old days, Richard," +said Renmark quietly. + +Yates laughed. "Well, it didn't hold me back any, to my knowledge. +Now I'll tell you how I've got along since we attended old Scragmore's +academy together, fifteen years ago. How time does fly! When I left, I +tried teaching for one short month. I had some theories on the education +of our youth which did not seem to chime in with the prejudices the +school trustees had already formed on the subject." + +The professor was at once all attention. Touch a man on his business, +and he generally responds by being interested. + +"And what were your theories?" he asked. + +"Well, I thought a teacher should look after the physical as well as +the mental welfare of his pupils. It did not seem to me that his duty to +those under his charge ended with mere book learning." + +"I quite agree with you," said the professor cordially. + +"Thanks. Well, the trustees didn't. I joined the boys at their games, +hoping my example would have an influence on their conduct on the +playground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a rattling good +cricket club. You may not remember that I stood rather better in cricket +at the academy than I did in mathematics or grammar. By handicapping me +with several poor players, and having the best players among the boys in +opposition, we made a pretty evenly matched team at school section No. +12. One day, at noon, we began a game. The grounds were in excellent +condition, and the opposition boys were at their best. My side was +getting the worst of it. I was very much interested; and, when one +o'clock came, I thought it a pity to call school and spoil so good and +interesting a contest. The boys were unanimously of the same opinion. +The girls were happy, picnicking under the trees. So we played cricket +all the afternoon." + +"I think that was carrying your theory a little too far," said the +professor dubiously. + +"Just what the trustees thought when they came to hear of it. So they +dismissed me; and I think my leaving was the only case on record where +the pupils genuinely mourned a teacher's departure. I shook the dust of +Canada from my feet, and have never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, +continuing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello! here's your +drinks at last, Stilly. I had forgotten about them--an unusual thing +with me. That's all right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hits +the spot on a hot day.) Well, where was I? Oh, yes, at Buffalo. I got +a place on a paper here, at just enough to keep life in me; but I liked +the work. Then I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, afterward +to Albany at a still bigger salary, and of course Albany is only a few +hours from New York, and that is where all newspaper men ultimately +land, if they are worth their salt. I saw a small section of the war as +special correspondent, got hurt, and rounded up in the hospital. Since +then, although only a reporter, I am about the top of the tree in that +line, and make enough money to pay my poker debts and purchase iced +drinks to soothe the asperities of the game. When there is anything big +going on anywhere in the country, I am there, with other fellows to do +the drudgery; I writing the picturesque descriptions and interviewing +the big men. My stuff goes red-hot over the telegraph wire, and the +humble postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I am acquainted +with every hotel clerk that amounts to anything from New York to San +Francisco. If I could save money, I should be rich, for I make plenty; +but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket has lost me a lot of cash, +and I don't seem to be able to get it mended. Now, you've listened with +your customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, as you called +it, full sway. I am grateful. I will reciprocate. How about yourself?" + +The professor spoke slowly. "I have had no such adventurous career," he +began. "I have not shaken Canadian dust from my feet, and have not +made any great success. I have simply plodded; and am in no danger of +becoming rich, although I suppose I spend as little as any man. After +you were expel--after you left the aca----" + +"Don't mutilate the good old English language, Stilly. You were right +in the first place. I am not thin-skinned. You were saying after I was +expelled. Go on." + +"I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. You remember, you were +very indignant at the time, and----" + +"Of course I was--and am still, for that matter. It was an outrage!" + +"I thought it was proved that you helped to put the pony in the +principal's room." + +"Oh, certainly. _That_. Of course. But what I detested was the way +the principal worked the thing. He allowed that villain Spink to turn +evidence against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, whereas +I could claim no such honor. It was Spink's own project, which I fell +in with, as I did with every disreputable thing proposed. Of course the +principal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. Do you happen +to know if Spink has been hanged yet?" + +"I believe he is a very reputable business man in Montreal, and much +respected." + +"I might have suspected that. Well, you keep your eye on the respected +Spink. If he doesn't fail some day, and make a lot of money, I'm a +Dutchman. But go on. This is digression. By the way, just push that +electric button. You're nearest, and it is too hot to move. Thanks. +After I was expelled----" + +"After your departure I took a diploma, and for a year or two taught a +class in the academy. Then, as I studied during my spare time, I got a +chance as master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, as I think, +though the recommendation of Principal Scragmore. I had my degree by +this time. Then----" + +There was a gentle tap at the door. + +"Come in!" shouted Yates. "Oh, it's you. Just bring up another cooling +cobbler, will you? and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room +518. Yes; and then----" + +"And then there came the opening in University College, Toronto. I had +the good fortune to be appointed. There I am still, and there I suppose +I shall stay. I know very few people, and am better acquainted with +books than with men. Those whom I have the privilege of knowing are +mostly studious persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in the +world of learning. I have not had your advantage, of meeting statesmen +who guide the destinies of a great empire. + +"No; you always were lucky, Stilly. My experience is that the chaps who +do the guiding are more anxious about their own pockets, or their own +political advancement, than they are of the destinies. Still, the empire +seems to take its course westward just the same. So old Scragmore's been +your friend, has he?" + +"He has, indeed." + +"Well, he insulted me only the other day." + +"You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentlemanly and scholarly a man as +Principal Scragmore insulting anybody." + +"Oh, you don't know him as I do. It was like this: I wanted to find out +where you were, for reasons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgeled +my brains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, and enclosed a +stamped and addressed envelope, as all unsought contributors should +do. He answered--But I have his reply somewhere. You shall read it for +yourself." + +Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which he +hurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: "I +thought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven't I paid that +bill yet? This pass is run out. Must get another." Then he smiled and +sighed as he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparently he +could not find the document he sought. + +"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me the +prepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of no +use in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn't +pay the postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double. +Still, I don't mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. He went +on to say that, of all the members of our class, you--_you_!--were the +only one who had reflected credit on it. That was the insult. The idea +of his making such a statement, when I had told him I was on the New +York _Argus_! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonder if he ever heard of +Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course. No? Well, Brown, +by his own exertions, became president of the Alum Bank in New York, +wrecked it, and got off to Canada with a clear half million. _Yes_, +sir. I saw him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps the finest span and +carriage in the city, and lives in a palace. Could buy out old Scragmore +a thousand times, and never feel it. Most liberal contributor to the +cause of education that there is in Canada. He says education made him, +and he's not a man to go back on education. And yet Scragmore has the +cheek to say that _you_ were the only man in the class who reflects +credit on it!" + +The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a cooling +sip of the cobbler. + +"You see, Yates, people's opinions differ. A man like Brown may not be +Principal Scragmore's ideal. The principal may be local in his ideals of +a successful man, or of one who reflects credit on his teaching." + +"Local? You bet he's local. Too darned local for me. It would do that +man good to live in New York for a year. But I'm going to get even with +him. I'm going to write him up. I'll give him a column and a half; see +if I don't. I'll get his photograph, and publish a newspaper portrait +of him. If that doesn't make him quake, he's a cast-iron man. Say, you +haven't a photograph of old Scrag that you can lend me, have you?" + +"I have; but I won't lend it for such a purpose. However, never mind +the principal. Tell me your plans. I am at your disposal for a couple of +weeks, or longer if necessary." + +"Good boy! Well, I'll tell you how it is. I want rest and quiet, and the +woods, for a week or two. This is how it happened: I have been steadily +at the grindstone, except for a while in the hospital; and that, you +will admit, is not much of a vacation. The work interests me, and I +am always in the thick of it. Now, it's like this in the newspaper +business: Your chief is never the person to suggest that you take a +vacation. He is usually short of men and long on things to do, so if you +don't worry him into letting you off, he won't lose any sleep over it. +He's content to let well enough alone every time. Then there is always +somebody who wants to get away on pressing business,--grandmother's +funeral, and that sort of thing,--so if a fellow is content to work +right along, his chief is quite content to let him. That's the way +affairs have gone for years with me. The other week I went over to +Washington to interview a senator on the political prospects. I tell +you what it is, Stilly, without bragging, there are some big men in the +States whom no one but me _can_ interview. And yet old Scrag says I'm +no credit to his class! Why, last year my political predictions were +telegraphed all over this country, and have since appeared in the +European press. No credit! By Jove, I would like to have old Scrag in a +twenty-four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, for about ten minutes!" + +"I doubt if he would shine under those circumstances. But never mind +him. He spoke, for once, without due reflection, and with perhaps an +exaggerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. What happened when +you went to Washington?" + +"A strange thing happened. When I was admitted to the senator's library, +I saw another fellow, whom I thought I knew, sitting there. I said to +the senator: 'I will come when you are alone.' The senator looked up +in surprise, and said: 'I am alone.' I didn't say anything, but went +on with my interview; and the other fellow took notes all the time. +I didn't like this, but said nothing, for the senator is not a man to +offend, and it is by not offending these fellows that I can get the +information I do. Well, the other fellow came out with me, and as +I looked at him I saw that he was myself. This did not strike me as +strange at the time, but I argued with him all the way to New York, +and tried to show him that he wasn't treating me fairly. I wrote up +the interview, with the other fellow interfering all the while, so I +compromised, and half the time put in what he suggested, and half the +time what I wanted in myself. When the political editor went over +the stuff, he looked alarmed. I told him frankly just how I had +been interfered with, and he looked none the less alarmed when I had +finished. He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor metaphorically took +me to pieces, and then said to my chief: 'This man is simply worked to +death. He must have a vacation, and a real one, with absolutely nothing +to think of, or he is going to collapse, and that with a suddenness +which will surprise everybody.' The chief, to my astonishment, consented +without a murmur, and even upbraided me for not going away sooner. Then +the doctor said to me: 'You get some companion--some man with no brains, +if possible, who will not discuss politics, who has no opinion on +anything that any sane man would care to talk about, and who couldn't +say a bright thing if he tried for a year. Get such a man to go off to +the woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As far away from post +offices and telegraph offices as possible. And, by the way, don't leave +your address at the _Argus_ office.' Thus it happened, Stilly, when he +described this man so graphically, I at once thought of you." + +"I am deeply gratified, I am sure," said the professor, with the ghost +of a smile, "to be so promptly remembered in such a connection, and if +I can be of service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, that +you have no intention of stopping in Buffalo?" + +"You bet I haven't. I'm in for the forest primeval, the murmuring +pines and the hemlock, bearded with moss and green in the something or +other--I forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and lie on +my back instead, on the sward or in a hammock. I'm going to avoid all +boarding houses or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of +the forest." + +"There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore." + +"No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake Shore +Railroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. _No_, +sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired a tent and a lot +of cooking things. I'm going to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow; +and then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart it somewhere +into the woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. We shall have to be near +a farmhouse, so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of +course, is a disadvantage; but I shall try to get near someone who has +never even heard of New York." + +"You may find that somewhat difficult." + +"Oh, I don't know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence in the +Canadians." + +"Often the narrowest," said the professor slowly, "are those who think +themselves the most cosmopolitan." + +"Right you are," cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, and +seeing nothing applicable to his case in it. "Well, I've laid in about +half a ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug." + +"An empty one?" + +"Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess, +is good whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at the +customhouse. I don't suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentucky +article, but you and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And, +talking of whisky, just press the button once again." + +The professor did so, saying: + +"The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smoking +less, did he?" + +"In my case? Well, come to think of it, there _was_ some conversation in +that direction. Don't remember at the moment just what it amounted to; +but all physicians have their little fads, you know. It doesn't do to +humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the professor +wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, and put plenty of ice +in it; but don't neglect the gin on that account. Certainly; charge it +to room 518." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"What's all this tackle?" asked the burly and somewhat red-faced customs +officer at Fort Erie. + +"This," said Yates, "is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertaining +thereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shall +doubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty. This +is a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attention +to the fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately prevents me +making a libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friend has +in that valise I don't know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and would +advise you to search him." + +"My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearing +apparel," said the professor, opening his grip. + +The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, and +evidently did not like the tone of the American. He seemed to be +treating the customs department in a light and airy manner, and the +officer was too much impressed by the dignity of his position not to +resent flippancy. Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in the +air, and the officer resolved that no Fenian should get into the country +without paying duty. + +"Where are you going with this tent?" + +"I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don't know the +country about here. Say, Stilly, I'm off uptown to attend to the +emptiness in this stone utensil. I've been empty too often myself not +to sympathize with its condition. You wrestle this matter out about the +tent. You know the ways of the country, whereas I don't." + +It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of +his friend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with the +officer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously over +his shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marched up +the hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war +tunes. + +"Now," he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar, +"fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it with the +old familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith." + +The bartender did as he was requested. + +"Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be +taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?" + +The barkeeper smiled. "How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?" + +"I can suggest nothing better," replied Yates. "If you are sure you know +how to make it." + +The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said, +with the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer: + +"I am a Kentucky man myself." + +"Shake!" cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar. +"How is it you happened to be here?" + +"Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, where +I can at least look at God's country." + +"Hold on," protested Yates. "You're making only _one_ cocktail." + +"Didn't you say one?" asked the man, pausing in the compounding. + +"Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with me on +this." + +"Just as you say," replied the other, as he prepared enough for two. + +"Now I'll tell you my fix," said Yates confidentially. "I've got a tent +and some camp things down below at the customhouse shanty, and I want +to get them taken into the woods, where I can camp out with a friend. I +want a place where we can have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know the +country round here? Perhaps you could recommend a spot." + +"Well, for all the time I've been here, I know precious little about the +back country. I've been down the road to Niagara Falls, but never back +in the woods. I suppose you want some place by the lake or the river?" + +"No, I don't. I want to get clear back into the forest--if there is a +forest." + +"Well, there's a man in to-day from somewhere near Ridgeway, I think. +He's got a hay rack with him, and that would be just the thing to take +your tent and poles. Wouldn't be very comfortable traveling for you, but +it would be all right for the tent, if it's a big one." + +"That will suit us exactly. We don't care a cent about the comfort. +Roughing it is what we came for. Where will I find him?" + +"Oh, he'll be along here soon. That's his team tied there on the side +street. If he happens to be in good humor, he'll take your things, and +as like as not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiram Bartlett's +his name. And, talking of the old Nick himself, here he is. I say, Mr. +Bartlett, this gentleman was wondering if you couldn't tote out some of +his belongings. He's going out your way." + +Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry specimen of the Canadian farmer +who evidently paid little attention to the subject of dress. He said +nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, with something of +contempt and suspicion in his glance. + +Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance of all mankind. +"Come in, Mr. Bartlett," he said cheerily, "and try one of my friend's +excellent cocktails." + +"I take mine straight," growled Bartlett gruffly, although he stepped +inside the open door. "I don't want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain +whisky's good enough for any man, if he _is_ a man. I don't take no +water, neither. I've got trouble enough." + +The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the decanter over to the +newcomer. + +"Right you are," assented Yates cordially. + +The farmer did not thaw out in the least because of this prompt +agreement with him, but sipped his whisky gloomily, as if it were a most +disagreeable medicine. + +"What did you want me to take out?" he said at last. + +"A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of jolly good tobacco." + +"How much are you willing to pay?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I'm always willing to do what's right. How would five +dollars strike you?" + +The farmer scowled and shook his head. + +"Too much," he said, as Yates was about to offer more. "'Taint worth it. +Two and a half would be about the right figure. Don'no but that's too +much. I'll think on it going home, and charge you what it's worth. I'll +be ready to leave in about an hour, if that suits you. That's my team on +the other side of the road. If it's gone when you come back, I'm gone, +an' you'll have to get somebody else." + +With this Bartlett drew his coat sleeve across his mouth and departed. + +"That's him exactly," said the barkeeper. "He's the most cantankerous +crank in the township. And say, let me give you a pointer. If the +subject of 1812 comes up,--the war, you know,--you'd better admit that +we got thrashed out of our boots; that is, if you want to get along with +Hiram. He hates Yankees like poison." + +"And did we get thrashed in 1812?" asked Yates, who was more familiar +with current topics than with the history of the past. + +"Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told him once that we got what +we wanted from old England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. So I +give you the warning, if you want to get along with him." + +"Thank you. I'll remember it. So long." + +This friendly hint from the man in the tavern offers a key to the +solution of the problem of Yates' success on the New York press. He +could get news when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as he +undoubtedly was, he somehow got into the inner confidences of all sorts +of men in a way that made them give him an inkling of anything that +was going on for the mere love of him; and thus Yates often received +valuable assistance from his acquaintances which other reporters could +not get for money. + +The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a bench by the +customhouse, chatting with the officer, and gazing at the rapidly +flowing broad blue river in front of them. + +"I have got a man," said Yates, "who will take us out into the +wilderness in about an hour's time. Suppose we explore the town. I +expect nobody will run away with the tent till we come back." + +"I'll look after that," said the officer; and, thanking him, the two +friends strolled up the street. They were a trifle late in getting back, +and when they reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on the point +of driving home. He gruffly consented to take them, if they did not keep +him more than five minutes loading up. The tent and its belongings +were speedily placed on the hay rack, and then Bartlett drove up to the +tavern and waited, saying nothing, although he had been in such a hurry +a few moments before. Yates did not like to ask the cause of the delay; +so the three sat there silently. After a while Yates said as mildly as +he could: + +"Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett?" + +"Yes," answered the driver in a surly tone. "I'm waiting for you to +go in fur that jug. I don't suppose you filled it to leave it on the +counter." + +"By Jove!" cried Yates, springing off, "I had forgotten all about it, +which shows the extraordinary effect this country has on me already." +The professor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with the jar in his +hand, and Bartlett started his team. They drove out of the village and +up a slight hill, going for a mile or two along a straight and somewhat +sandy road. Then they turned into the Ridge Road, as Bartlett called it, +in answer to a question by the professor, and there was no need to ask +why it was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather stony, the road +being, in places, on the bare rock. It paid not the slightest attention +to Euclid's definition of a straight line, and in this respect was +rather a welcome change from the average American road. Sometimes they +passed along avenues of overbranching trees, which were evidently relics +of the forest that once covered all the district. The road followed the +ridge, and on each side were frequently to be seen wide vistas of lower +lying country. All along the road were comfortable farmhouses; and it +was evident that a prosperous community flourished along the ridge. + +Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the professor, who sat next to +him. + +"You a Canadian?" + +"Yes." + +"Where's _he_ from?" + +"My friend is from New York," answered the innocent professor. + +"Humph!" grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper than ever, after which he +became silent again. The team was not going very fast, although neither +the load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was muttering a good deal to +himself, and now and then brought down his whip savagely on one or the +other of the horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals quickened +their pace he hauled them in roughly. Nevertheless, they were going +quickly enough to be overtaking a young woman who was walking on alone. +Although she must have heard them coming over the rocky road she did not +turn her head, but walked along with the free and springy step of one +who is not only accustomed to walking, but who likes it. Bartlett paid +no attention to the girl; the professor was endeavoring to read his thin +book as well as a man might who is being jolted frequently; but Yates, +as soon as he recognized that the pedestrian was young, pulled up his +collar, adjusted his necktie with care, and placed his hat in a somewhat +more jaunty and fetching position. + +"Are you going to offer that girl a ride?" he said to Bartlett. + +"No, I'm not." + +"I think that is rather uncivil," he added, forgetting the warning he +had had. + +"You do, eh? Well, you offer her a ride. You hired the team." + +"By Jove! I will," said Yates, placing his hand on the outside of the +rack, and springing lightly to the ground. + +"Likely thing," growled Bartlett to the professor, "that she's going to +ride with the like of him." + +The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hat +to the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing. + +"Fur two cents," continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, "I'd whip +up the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way." + +"From what I know of my friend," answered the professor slowly, "I think +he would not object in the slightest." + +Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mind +about galloping his horses. + +Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with great +politeness to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with a +thrill of admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had an +eye for the beautiful. + +"Our conveyance," he began, "is not as comfortable as it might be, yet I +shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities." + +The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, and +for a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choice +for her rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase she +answered briefly: + +"Thank you. I prefer to walk." + +"Well, I don't know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come all the +way from the village?" + +"Yes." + +"That is a long distance, and you must be very tired." There was no +reply; so Yates continued. "At least, I thought it a long distance; but +perhaps that was because I was riding on Bartlett's hay rack. There is +no 'downy bed of ease' about his vehicle." + +As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to its +side, said in a husky whisper to the professor: + +"Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent." + +"Cover it up yourself," briefly replied the other; "it isn't mine." + +Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flap +of the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his action he +took up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. He was +flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind the wagon, +and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead, now +quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance between herself +and the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic of him, made +up his mind that this was a case of country diffidence, which was best +to be met by the bringing down of his conversation to the level of his +hearer's intelligence. + +"Have you been marketing?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?" + +"We are farmers," she answered, "and we sell butter and eggs"--a +pause--"and that sort of thing." + +Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane he +looked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a +turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless with +the exercise of walking. + +"Now, in my country," continued the New Yorker, "we idolize our women. +Pretty girls don't tramp miles to market with butter and eggs." + +"Aren't the girls pretty--in your country?" + +Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about +this girl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about the +conversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment was doubtful, +for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smooth brow. + +"You bet they're pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. It seems +their birthright. When I say American, I mean the whole continent, of +course. I'm from the States myself--from New York." He gave an extra +twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself with that air of +conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of the +metropolis. "But over in the States we think the men should do all the +work, and that the women should--well, spend the money. I must do our +ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to their share of +the arrangement." + +"It should be a delightful country to live in--for the women." + +"They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that America +was paradise for women, purgatory for men, and--well, an entirely +different sort of place for oxen." + +There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. +As he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just the faintest +suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she could answer, +if she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter of hoofs on +the hard road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whose slender +jet-black polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came +dashing past the wagon. On seeing the two walking together the driver +hauled up his team with a suddenness that was evidently not relished by +the spirited dappled span he drove. + +"Hello, Margaret!" he cried; "am I late? Have you walked in all the +way?" + +"You are just in good time," answered the girl, without looking toward +Yates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put her +foot on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. It +needed no second glance to see that he was her brother, not only on +account of the family resemblance between them, but also because +he allowed her to get into the buggy without offering the slightest +assistance, which, indeed, was not needed, and graciously permitted her +to place the duster that covered his knees over her own lap as well. The +restive team trotted rapidly down the road for a few rods, until they +came to a wide place in the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly +within an ace of upsetting the buggy; but the young man evidently knew +his business, and held them in with a firm hand. The wagon was jogging +along where the road was very narrow, and Bartlett kept his team +stolidly in the center of the way. + +"Hello, there, Bartlett!" shouted the young man in the buggy; "half the +road, you know--half the road." + +"Take it," cried Bartlett over his shoulder. + +"Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I'll run you down." + +"You just try it." + +Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against his +young neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognized +that a heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light and +expensive buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knew +just where to touch the elder on the raw. His sister's hand was placed +appealingly on his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. + +"Come, now, you move out, or I'll have the law on you." + +"The law!" roared Bartlett; "you just try it on." + +"Should think you'd had enough of it by this time." + +"Oh, don't, don't, Henry!" protested the girl in distress. + +"There aint no law," yelled Bartlett, "that kin make a man with a load +move out fur anything." + +"You haven't any load, unless it's in that jug." + +Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under +its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the +buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that +this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly +forward, and said to Bartlett: + +"Better drive aside a little, and let them pass." + +"You 'tend to your own business," cried the thoroughly enraged farmer. + +"I will," said Yates shortly, striding to the horses' heads. He took +them by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett's maledictions and pulling at +the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by. + +"Thank you!" cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage +rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road. + +Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he +threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended. + +"You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin' Yank? You +do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an' me a-holdin' the lines! +Now you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear +me?" + +"Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you." + +"Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent." + +"No, it doesn't." + +"Don't it, eh? Well, then, you'll lick me fust; and that's something no +Yank ever did nor kin do." + +"I'll do it with pleasure." + +"Come, come," cried the professor, getting down on the road, "this has +gone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don't mind it; he +means no disrespect." + +"Don't you interfere. You're all right, an' I aint got nothin' ag'in +you. But I'm goin' to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; see +if I don't. We met 'em in 1812, an' we fit 'em an' we licked 'em, an' we +can do it ag'in. I'll learn ye to take my horses by the head." + +"Teach," suggested Yates tantalizingly. + +Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and +grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, +but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett's right leg +became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced +the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break. He gave +way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came down on his back +with a thud that seemed to shake the universe. + +"There, darn ye!" cried the triumphant farmer; "that's 1812 and +Queenstown Heights for ye. How do you like 'em?" + +Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off his +coat. + +"Now, now, Yates," said the professor soothingly, "let it go at this. +You're not hurt, are you?" he asked anxiously, as he noticed how white +the young man was around the lips. + +"Look here, Renmark; you're a sensible man. There is a time to interfere +and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certain international +element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, you stand aside, +like a good fellow, for I don't want to have to thrash both of you." + +The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called him +by his last name, matters were serious. + +"Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again." + +"I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yank +ever raised on pumpkin pie that can stand ag'in that grapevine twist." + +"Try the grapevine once more." + +Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look in +the young man's face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can +attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, who +shifted his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At last +Bartlett sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting on a +piece of the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birds buzzing +in his head, while stars and the landscape around joined in a dance +together. The blow was sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder. + +"That," said Yates, standing over him, "is 1776--the Revolution--when, +to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you +like it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view +of history than you have done. Don't confine yourself too much to one +period. Study up the War of the Revolution a bit." + +Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until the +surrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, +without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horses +and patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place +and drove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, but +Yates, putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along in +front, switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walking stick +as he proceeded. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently something +on his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growing louder +and louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck the horses, +pulled them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last he said +abruptly to the professor: + +"What's this Revolution he talked about?" + +"It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776." + +"Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?" + +"The colonies fought with England." + +"What colonies?" + +"The country now called the United States." + +"They fit with England, eh? Which licked?" + +"The colonies won their independence." + +"That means they licked us. I don't believe a word of it. 'Pears to me +I'd 'a' heard of it; fur I've lived in these parts a long time." + +"It was a little before your day." + +"So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an' I never heard him tell of +this Revolution. He'd 'a' known, I sh'd think. There's a nigger in the +fence somewheres." + +"Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French." + +"Ah, that was it, was it? I'll bet England never knew the Revolution was +a-goin' on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldn't thrash 'em, and it +don't stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was some +skullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. I +got a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss." + +The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character of +Napoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemed +a good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, +and he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usual +from the whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. +Yates was some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, when +the horses, apparently of their own accord, turned in at an open gateway +and proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a large barn, +past a comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front. + +"This is my place," said Bartlett shortly. + +"I wish you had told me a few minutes ago," replied the professor, +springing off, "so that I might have called to my friend." + +"I'm not frettin' about him," said Bartlett, throwing the reins to a +young man who came out of the house. + +Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. +Yates apparently did not hear him, but something about the next house +attracted the pedestrian's attention, and after standing for a moment +and gazing toward the west he looked around and saw the professor +beckoning to him. When the two men met, Yates said: + +"So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the next +house. I saw the buggy in the yard." + +"She? Who?" + +"Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. I'm going to buy our +supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, +how is my old friend 1812?" + +"He doesn't seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was more +troubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him." + +"News to him, eh? Well, I'm glad I knocked something into his head." + +"You certainly did it most unscientifically." + +"How do you mean--unscientifically?" + +"In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly delivered +undercut." + +Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, +learned man know anything about undercuts or science in blows? + +"Well, you must admit I got there just the same." + +"Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But you +had such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any display +of surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrown away." + +"Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! +What do you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of +self-defense?" + +"Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in this belligerent +manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a few hints from +me." + +"With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly." + +As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a wooden +rocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road. + +"What an old tyrant that man must be in his home!" said Yates. There was +no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot. + +"The old woman's setting out supper," said the farmer gruffly, that +piece of information being apparently as near as he could get toward +inviting them to share his hospitality. Yates didn't know whether it was +meant for an invitation or not, but he answered shortly: + +"Thanks, we won't stay." + +"Speak fur yourself, please," snarled Bartlett. + +"Of course I go with my friend," said Renmark; "but we are obliged for +the invitation." + +"Please yourselves." + +"What's that?" cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as a +stout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the front +door. "Won't stay? _Who_ won't stay? I'd like to see anybody leave my +house hungry when there's a meal on the table! And, young men, if you +can get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I'll give you, +why, you're welcome to go there next time, but this meal you'll have +here, inside of ten minutes. Hiram, that's your fault. You always invite +a person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!" + +Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal at +the two men, but said nothing. + +"Never mind him," continued Mrs. Bartlett. "You're at my house; and, +whatever my neighbors may say ag'in me, I never heard anybody complain +of the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Come +right in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort +is dusty enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. +Besides, a wash is refreshing after a hot day." + +There was no denying the cordiality of this invitation, and Yates, whose +natural gallantry was at once aroused, responded with the readiness of a +courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house; but as Yates passed +the farmer the latter cleared his throat with an effort, and, throwing +his thumb over his shoulder in the direction his wife had taken, said in +a husky whisper: + +"No call to--to mention the Revolution, you know." + +"Certainly not," answered Yates, with a wink that took in the situation. +"Shall we sample the jug before or after supper?" + +"After, if it's all the same to you;" adding, "out in the barn." + +Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the house. + +The young men were shown into a bedroom of more than ordinary size, on +the upper floor. Everything about the house was of the most dainty and +scrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort pervaded the +place. Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a housekeeper to be proud of. Two +large pitchers of cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as had +been predicted, was most refreshing. + +"I say," cried Yates, "it's rather cheeky to accept a man's hospitality +after knocking him down." + +"It would be for most people, but I think you underestimate your cheek, +as you call it." + +"Bravo, Stilly! You're blossoming out. That's repartee, that is. With +the accent on the rap, too. Never you mind; I think old 1812 and I will +get on all right after this. It doesn't seem to bother him any, so I +don't see why it should worry me. Nice motherly old lady, isn't she?" + +"Who? 1812?" + +"No; Mrs. 1812. I'm sorry I complimented you on your repartee. You'll +get conceited. Remember that what in the newspaper man is clever, in a +grave professor is rank flippancy. Let's go down." + +The table was covered with a cloth as white and spotless as good linen +can well be. The bread was genuine homemade, a term so often misused +in the cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light as to +interior. The butter, cool from the rock cellar, was of a refreshing +yellow hue. The sight of the well-loaded table was most welcome to +the eyes of hungry travelers. There was, as Yates afterward remarked, +"abundance, and plenty of it." + +"Come, father!" cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young men appeared; they +heard the rocking chair creak on the veranda in prompt answer to the +summons. + +"This is my son, gentlemen," said Mrs. Bartlett, indicating the young +man who stood in a noncommittal attitude near a corner of the room. +The professor recognized him as the person who had taken charge of the +horses when his father came home. There was evidently something of +his father's demeanor about the young man, who awkwardly and silently +responded to the recognition of the strangers. + +"And this is my daughter," continued the good woman. "Now, what might +your names be?" + +"My name is Yates, and this is my friend Professor Renmark of T'ronto," +pronouncing the name of the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas! too +often done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially extended his hand +to the young woman. "How do you do, Miss Bartlett?" he said, "I am happy +to meet you." + +The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped they had a pleasant +trip out from Fort Erie. + +"Oh, we had," said Yates, looking for a moment at his host, whose eyes +were fixed on the tablecloth, and who appeared to be quite content to +let his wife run the show. "The road's a little rocky in places, but +it's very pleasant." + +"Now, you sit down here, and you here," said Mrs. Bartlett; "and I do +hope you have brought good appetites with you." + +The strangers took their places, and Yates had a chance to look at the +younger member of the family, which opportunity he did not let slip. +It was hard to believe that she was the daughter of so crusty a man +as Hiram Bartlett. Her cheeks were rosy, with dimples in them that +constantly came and went in her incessant efforts to keep from laughing. +Her hair, which hung about her plump shoulders, was a lovely golden +brown. Although her dress was of the cheapest material, it was neatly +cut and fitted; and her dainty white apron added that touch of wholesome +cleanliness which was so noticeable everywhere in the house. A bit of +blue ribbon at her white throat, and a pretty spring flower just +below it, completed a charming picture, which a more critical and less +susceptible man than Yates might have contemplated with pleasure. + +Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, and her father +grimly at the other. The mother sat at the side, apparently looking +on that position as one of vantage for commanding the whole field, and +keeping her husband and her daughter both under her eye. The teapot and +cups were set before the young woman. She did not pour out the tea at +once, but seemed to be waiting instructions from her mother. That +good lady was gazing with some sternness at her husband, he vainly +endeavoring to look at the ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew his +open hand nervously down his face, which was of unusual gravity even for +him. Finally he cast an appealing glance at his wife, who sat with her +hands folded on her lap, but her eyes were unrelenting. After a +moment's hopeless irresolution Bartlett bent his head over his plate and +murmured: + +"For what we are about to receive, oh, make us truly thankful. Amen." + +Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also bowed her head when she +saw surrender in the troubled eyes of her husband. + +Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen nothing of this silent +struggle of the eyes, being exceedingly hungry, was making every +preparation for the energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent most +of his life in hotels and New York boarding houses, so that if he ever +knew the adage, "Grace before meat," he had forgotten it. In the midst +of his preparations came the devout words, and they came upon him as a +stupefying surprise. Although naturally a resourceful man, he was not +quick enough this time to cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett's golden +head was bowed, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Yates' look of +amazed bewilderment and his sudden halt of surprise. When all heads were +raised, the young girl's still remained where it was, while her plump +shoulders quivered. Then she covered her face with her apron, and the +silvery ripple of a laugh came like a smothered musical chime trickling +through her fingers. + +"Why, _Kitty_!" cried her mother in astonishment, "whatever is the +matter with you?" + +The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. "You'll have to pour out +the tea, mother!" She exclaimed, as she fled from the room. + +"For the land's sake!" cried the astonished mother, rising to take her +frivolous daughter's place, "what ails the child? I don't see what there +is to laugh at." + +Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently also of the opinion that +there was no occasion for mirth. The professor was equally in the dark. + +"I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett," said Yates, "that I am the innocent cause +of Miss Kitty's mirth. You see, madam--it's a pathetic thing to say, but +really I have had no home life. Although I attend church regularly, of +course," he added with jaunty mendacity, "I must confess that I haven't +heard grace at meals for years and years, and--well, I wasn't just +prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhibition of myself, which +your daughter was quick to see." + +"It wasn't very polite," said Mrs. Bartlett with some asperity. + +"I know that," pleaded Yates with contrition, "but I assure you it was +unintentional on my part." + +"Bless the man!" cried his hostess. "I don't mean you. I mean Kitty. But +that girl never _could_ keep her face straight. She always favored me +more than her father." + +This statement was not difficult to believe, for Hiram at that moment +looked as if he had never smiled in his life. He sat silent throughout +the meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough for two. + +"Well, for my part," she said, "I don't know what farming's coming to! +Henry Howard and Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud as +Punch in their new covered buggy. Things is very different from what +they was when I was a girl. Then a farmer's daughter had to work. Now +Margaret's took her diploma at the ladies' college, and Arthur he's +begun at the university, and Henry's sporting round in a new buggy. They +have a piano there, with the organ moved out into the back room." + +"The whole Howard lot's a stuck-up set," muttered the farmer. + +But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn't have that. Any detraction that was necessary +she felt competent to supply, without help from the nominal head of the +house. + +"No, I don't go so far as to say that. Neither would you, Hiram, if you +hadn't lost your lawsuit about the line fence; and served you right, +too, for it wouldn't have been begun if I had been at home at the time. +Not but what Margaret's a good housekeeper, for she wouldn't be her +mother's daughter if she wasn't that; but it does seem to me a queer way +to raise farmers' children, and I only hope they can keep it up. There +were no pianos nor French and German in _my_ young days." + +"You ought to hear her play! My lands!" cried young Bartlett, who spoke +for the first time. His admiration for her accomplishment evidently went +beyond his powers of expression. + +Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the conversation had taken, +and he looked somewhat uneasily at the two strangers. The professor's +countenance was open and frank, and he was listening with respectful +interest to Mrs. Bartlett's talk. Yates bent over his plate with flushed +face, and confined himself strictly to the business in hand. + +"I am glad," said the professor innocently to Yates, "that you made the +young lady's acquaintance. I must ask you for an introduction." + +For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but he looked at his +friend with an expression that was not kindly. The latter, in answer to +Mrs. Bartlett's inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard on the +road, and how Yates, with his usual kindness of heart, had offered the +young woman the hospitalities of the hay rack. Two persons at the table +were much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It was young Hiram +who brought about this boon. He was interested in the tent, and he +wanted to know. Two things seemed to bother the boy: First, he was +anxious to learn what diabolical cause had been at work to induce two +apparently sane men to give up the comforts of home and live in this +exposed manner, if they were not compelled to do so. Second, he desired +to find out why people who had the privilege of living in large cities +came of their own accord into the uninteresting country, anyhow. Even +when explanations were offered, the problem seemed still beyond him. + +After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, where the air was cool +and the view extensive. Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the young men +pitching the tent that night. "Goodness knows, you will have enough of +it, with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty of room here, and +you will have one comfortable night on the Ridge, at any rate. Then in +the morning you can find a place in the woods to suit you, and my boy +will take an ax and cut stakes for you, and help to put up your precious +tent. Only remember that when it rains you are to come to the house, +or you will catch your deaths with cold and rheumatism. It will be very +nice till the novelty wears off; then you are quite welcome to the front +rooms upstairs, and Hiram can take the tent back to Erie the first time +he goes to town." + +Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for granted. It never seemed +to occur to her that any of her rulings might be questioned. Hiram sat +gazing silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. + +Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of the veranda, with +his back against one of the pillars, in such a position that he might, +without turning his head, look through the open doorway into the room. +where Miss Bartlett was busily but silently clearing away the tea +things. The young man caught fleeting glimpses of her as she moved +airily about her work. He drew a cigar from his case, cut off the end +with his knife, and lit a match on the sole of his boot, doing this with +an easy automatic familiarity that required no attention on his part; +all of which aroused the respectful envy of young Hiram, who sat on a +wooden chair, leaning forward, eagerly watching the man from New York. + +"Have a cigar?" said Yates, offering the case to young Hiram. + +"No, no; thank you," gasped the boy, aghast at the reckless audacity of +the proposal. + +"What's that?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although she was talking volubly +to the professor, her maternal vigilance never even nodded, much less +slept. "A cigar? Not likely! I'll say this for my husband and my boy: +that, whatever else they may have done, they have never smoked nor +touched a drop of liquor since I've known them, and, please God, they +never will." + +"Oh, I guess it wouldn't hurt them," said Yates, with a lack of tact +that was not habitual. He fell several degrees in the estimation of his +hostess. + +"Hurt 'em?" cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. "I guess it won't get +a chance to." She turned to the professor, who was a good +listener--respectful and deferential, with little to say for himself. +She rocked gently to and fro as she talked. + +Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinxlike attitude that gave +no outward indication of his mental uneasiness. He was thinking gloomily +that it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlett unexpectedly in the +streets of Fort Erie on one of those rare occasions when he was +enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season. He had the most pessimistic +forebodings of what the future might have in store for him. Sometimes, +when neighbors or customers "treated" him in the village, and he felt he +had taken all the whisky that cloves would conceal, he took a five-cent +cigar instead of a drink. He did not particularly like the smoking of +it, but there was a certain devil-may-care recklessness in going down +the street with a lighted cigar in his teeth, which had all the more +fascination for him because of its manifest danger. He felt at these +times that he was going the pace, and that it is well our women do not +know of all the wickedness there is in this world. He did not fear that +any neighbor might tell his wife, for there were depths to which no +person could convince Mrs. Bartlett he would descend. But he thought +with horror of some combination of circumstances that might bring his +wife to town unknown to him on a day when he indulged. He pictured, with +a shudder, meeting her unexpectedly on the uncertain plank sidewalk of +Fort Erie, he smoking a cigar. When this nightmare presented itself to +him, he resolved never to touch a cigar again; but he well knew that the +best resolutions fade away if a man is excited with two or three glasses +of liquor. + +When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with the professor, Yates looked +up at young Hiram and winked. The boy flushed with pleasure under the +comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him in the attractive halo +of crime that enveloped the fascinating personality of the man from New +York. It seemed to say: + +"That's all right, but we are men of the world. _We_ know." + +Young Hiram's devotion to the Goddess Nicotine had never reached the +altitude of a cigar. He had surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secluded +corner behind the barn in days when his father was away. He feared +both his father and his mother, and so was in an even more embarrassing +situation than old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to tobacco +by smoking cigarettes of cane made from abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline +was fashionable, even in the country, in those days, and ribs of +cane were used before the metallic distenders of dresses came in. One +hoop-skirt, whose usefulness as an article of adornment was gone, would +furnish delight and smoking material for a company of boys for a month. +The cane smoke made the tongue rather raw, but the wickedness was +undeniable. Yates' wink seemed to recognize young Hiram as a comrade +worthy to offer incense at the shrine, and the boy was a firm friend of +Yates from the moment the eyelid of the latter drooped. + +The tea things having been cleared away, Yates got no more glimpses of +the girl through the open door. He rose from his lowly seat and strolled +toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He remembered that he +had forgotten something, and cudgeled his brains to make out what it +was. He gazed down the road at the house of the Howards, which naturally +brought to his recollection his meeting with the young girl on the road. +There was a pang of discomfiture in this thought when he remembered +the accomplishments attributed to her by Mrs. Bartlett. He recalled his +condescending tone to her, and recollected his anxiety about the jar. +The jar! That was what he had forgotten. He flashed a glance at old +Hiram, and noted that the farmer was looking at him with something like +reproach in his eyes. Yates moved his head almost imperceptibly toward +the barn, and the farmer's eyes dropped to the floor of the veranda. The +young man nonchalantly strolled past the end of the house. + +"I guess I'll go to look after the horses," said the farmer, rising. + +"The horses are all right, father. I saw to them," put in his son, but +the old man frowned him down, and slouched around the corner of the +house. Mrs. Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to notice. So +good a listener did not fall to her lot every day. + +"Here's looking at you," said Yates, strolling into the barn, taking +a telescopic metal cup from his pocket, and clinking it into receptive +shape by a jerk of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to Hiram, +who declined any such modern improvement. + +"Help yourself in that thing. The jug's good enough for me." + +"Three fingers" of the liquid gurgled out into the patented vessel, and +the farmer took the jar, after a furtive look over his shoulder. + +"Well, here's luck." The newspaper man tossed off the potion with the +facility of long experience, shutting up the dish with his thumb and +finger, as if it were a metallic opera hat. + +The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. Then he smote in the cork +with his open palm. + +"Better bury it in the wheat bin," he said morosely. "The boy might find +it if you put it among the oats--feedin' the horses, ye know." + +"Mighty good place," assented Yates, as the golden grain flowed in a +wave over the submerged jar. "I say, old man, you know the spot; you've +been here before." + +Bartlett's lowering countenance indicated resentment at the imputation, +but he neither affirmed nor denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, +while the farmer went through a small doorway that led to the stable. A +moment later he heard Hiram calling loudly to his son to bring the pails +and water the horses. + +"Evidently preparing an _alibi_," said Yates, smiling to himself, as he +sauntered toward the gate. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"What's up? what's up?" cried Yates drowsily next morning, as a +prolonged hammering at his door awakened him. + +"Well, _you're_ not, anyhow." He recognized the voice of young Hiram. "I +say, breakfast's ready. The professor has been up an hour." + +"All right; I'll be down shortly," said Yates, yawning, adding to +himself: "Hang the professor!" The sun was streaming in through the +east window, but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a short +distance above the horizon in the morning. He pulled his watch from +the pocket of his vest, hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seven +o'clock. He placed it to his ear, thinking it had stopped, but found +himself mistaken. + +"What an unearthly hour," he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates' +years on a morning newspaper had made seven o'clock something like +midnight to him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o'clock, +his usual time of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed +thoughtless cruelty. However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs. + +They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, +which was at once dining room and parlor. + +"Waiting for you," said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set +of jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss +Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning. + +"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." he said. + +"No fear," cried Mrs. Bartlett. "If breakfast's a minute later than +seven o'clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious +hungry by that time." + +"By that time?" echoed Yates. "Then do they get up before seven?" + +"Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!" exclaimed Mrs. +Bartlett, laughing. + +"Why, everything's done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows +milked--everything. There never was a better motto made than the one you +learned when you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about: + + "'Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.' + +I'm sorry you don't believe in it, Mr. Yates." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Yates with some loftiness; "but I'd like to +see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I'm healthy enough, +quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admit that +I'm wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after two o'clock, and +rarely wake before noon." + +Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the New +Yorker, wishing he was as clever. + +"For the land's sake!" cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminine +profanity, "What do you do up so late as that?" + +"Writing, writing," said Yates airily; "articles that make dynasties +tremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suits +afterward, as the case may be." + +Young Hiram had no patience with one's profession as a topic of +conversation. The tent and its future position was the burning question +with him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in order to +avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning of the +meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown them how +evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, the boy +had never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. He +was darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharply reprimanded by +his voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and would +like to have laughed. As it was, she contented herself with a sly glance +at Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actually blushed at young +Hiram's allusion to the confusing incident of the day before. + +The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew a herring across the +scent. + +"Mr. Bartlett has been good enough," said he, changing the subject, "to +say we may camp in the woods at the back of the farm. I have been out +there this morning, and it certainly is a lovely spot." + +"We're awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett," said Yates. "Of course Renmark +went out there merely to show the difference between the ant and the +butterfly. You'll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. Bartlett. +He looks honest; but you wait." + +"I know just the spot for the tent," cried young Hiram--"down in the +hollow by the creek. Then you won't need to haul water." + +"Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague," said Mrs. Bartlett. +Malaria had not then been invented. "Take my advice, and put your +tent--if you _will_ put it up at all--on the highest ground you can +find. Hauling water won't hurt you." + +"I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. My friend uses no +water--you ought to have seen his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have it +somewhere, and am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent as a +warning to the youth of this neighborhood--and what water I need I can +easily carry up from the creek." + +The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. Bartlett evidently took a +large discount from all that Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. + +After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The horses were hitched +to the wagon, which still contained the tent and fittings. Young Hiram +threw an ax and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted to his place, +and drove up the lane leading to the forest, followed by Yates and +Renmark on foot, leaving the farmer in his barnyard with a cheery +good-by, which he did not see fit to return. + +First, a field of wheat; next, an expanse of waving hay that soon would +be ready for the scythe; then, a pasture field, in which some young +horses galloped to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessed +horses, whinnying sympathetically, off the next with flying heels wildly +flung in the air, rejoicing in their own contrast of liberty, standing +at the farther corner and snorting defiance to all the world; last, the +cool shade of the woods into which the lane ran, losing its identity as +a wagon road in diverging cow paths. Young Hiram knew the locality well, +and drove direct to an ideal place for camping. Yates was enchanted. He +included all that section of the country in a sweeping wave of his hand, +and burst forth: + + "'This is the spot, the center of the grove: + There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. + In such a place as this, at such an hour, + We'll raise a tent to ward off sun and shower.' + +Shakespeare improved." + +"I think you are mistaken," said Renmark. + +"Not a bit it. Couldn't be a better camping ground." + +"Yes; I know that. I picked it out two hours ago. But you were wrong in +your quotation. It is not by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem to +think." + +"Isn't it? Some other fellow, eh? Well, if Shake is satisfied, I am. Do +you know, Renny, I calculate that, line for line, I've written about ten +times as much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognize that fact? Not a +bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, Stilly." + +"It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do toward putting up the tent?" + +"Everything, my boy, everything. I know more about putting up tents than +you do about science, or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you cut +me some stakes about two feet long--stout ones. Here, professor, throw +off that coat and _nglig_ manner, and grasp this spade. I want some +trenches dug." + +Yates certainly made good his words. He understood the putting up of +tents, his experience in the army being not yet remote. Young Hiram +gazed with growing admiration at Yates' deftness and evident knowledge +of what he was about, while his contempt for the professor's futile +struggle with a spade entangled in tree roots was hardly repressed. + +"Better give me that spade," he said at length; but there was an element +of stubbornness in Renmark's character. He struggled on. + +At last the work was completed, stakes driven, ropes tightened, trenches +dug. + +Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the country. + + "Thus the canvas tent has risen, + All the slanting stakes are driven, + Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood: + Mops his brow, the tired professor; + Grins with satisfaction, Hiram; + Dances wildly, the reporter-- + Calls aloud for gin and water. + +Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar on it!" And the +frivolous Yates poked the professor in the ribs. + +"Richard," said the latter, "I can stand only a certain amount of +this sort of thing. I don't wish to call any man a fool, but you act +remarkably like one." + +"Don't be mealy-mouthed, Renny; call a spade a spade. By George! young +Hiram has gone off and forgotten his--And the ax, too! Perhaps they're +left for us. He's a good fellow, is young Hiram. A fool? Of course I'm +a fool. That's what I came for, and that's what I'm going to be for the +next two weeks. 'A fool--a fool, I met a fool i' the forest'--just the +spot for him. Who could be wise here after years of brick and mortar? + +"Where are your eyes, Renny," he cried, "that you don't grow wild when +you look around you? See the dappled sunlight filtering through the +leaves; listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches; hear the +trickle of the brook down there; notice the smooth bark of the beech +and the rugged covering of the oak; smell the wholesome woodland scents. +Renmark, you have no soul, or you could not be so unmoved. It is like +paradise. It is--Say, Renny, by Jove, I've forgotten that jug at the +barn!" + +"It will be left there." + +"Will it? Oh, well, if you say so." + +"I do say so. I looked around for it this morning to smash it, but +couldn't find it." + +"Why didn't you ask old Bartlett?" + +"I did; but he didn't know where it was." + +Yates threw himself down on the moss and laughed, flinging his arms and +legs about with the joy of living. + +"Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable clothes with you? Well, +then, go into the tent and put them on; then come out and lie on your +back and look up at the leaves. You're a good fellow, Renny, but decent +clothes spoil you. You won't know yourself when you get ancient duds +on your back. Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that our ancestors +fought for. When you come out, we'll settle who's to cook and who to +wash dishes. I've settled it already in my own mind, but I am not so +selfish as to refuse to discuss the matter with you." + +When the professor came out of the tent, Yates roared. Renmark himself +smiled; he knew the effect would appeal to Yates. + +"By Jove! old man, I ought to have included a mirror in the outfit. +The look of learned respectability, set off with the garments of a +disreputable tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing. Well, +you can't spoil _that_ suit, anyhow. Now sprawl." + +"I'm very comfortable standing up, thank you." + +"Get down on your back. You hear me?" + +"Put me there." + +"You mean it?" asked Yates, sitting up. + +"Certainly." + +"Say, Renny, beware. I don't want to hurt you." + +"I'll forgive you for once." + +"On your head be it." + +"On my back, you mean." + +"That's not bad, Renny," cried Yates, springing to his feet. "Now, it +will hurt. You have fair warning. I have spoken." + +The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates tried to do it gently at +first, but, finding he could not touch his opponent, struck out more +earnestly, again giving a friendly warning. This went on ineffectually +for some time, when the professor, with a quick movement, swung around +his foot with the airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yates just +behind the knee, at the same time giving him a slight tap on the breast. +Yates was instantly on his back. + +"Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn't fair. That was a kick." + +"No, it wasn't. It is merely a little French touch. I learned it in +Paris. They _do_ kick there, you know; and it is good to know how to use +your feet as well as your fists if you are set on by three, as I was one +night in the Latin Quarter." + +Yates sat up. + +"Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?" + +"Several times." + +Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said: + +"Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never saw a Bool-var in my life. +You must teach me that little kick." + +"With pleasure," said Renmark, sitting down, while the other sprawled at +full length. "Teaching is my business, and I shall be glad to exercise +any talents I may have in that line. In endeavoring to instruct a +New York man the first step is to convince him that he doesn't know +everything. That is the difficult point. Afterward everything is easy." + +"Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be severe. Know that you +are forgiven. This delicious sylvan retreat does not lend itself to +acrimonious dispute, or, in plain English, quarreling. Let dogs delight, +if they want to; I refuse to be goaded by your querulous nature into +giving anything but the soft answer. Now to business. Nothing is +so conducive to friendship, when two people are camping out, as a +definition of the duties of each at the beginning. Do you follow me?" + +"Perfectly. What do you propose?" + +"I propose that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes. We will forage +for food alternate days." + +"Very well. I agree to that." + +Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his friend with reproach +in his eyes. "See here, Renmark; are you resolved to force on an +international complication the very first day? That's no fair show to +give a man." + +"What isn't?" + +"Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of meanness in your character, +Renny, that I never suspected. You know that people who camp out always +object to the part assigned them by their fellow-campers. I counted on +that. I'll do anything but wash dishes." + +"Then why didn't you say so?" + +"Because any sane man would have said 'no' when I suggested cooking, +merely _because_ I suggested it. There is no diplomacy about you, +Renmark. A man doesn't know where to find you when you act like that. +When you refused to do the cooking, I would have said: 'Very well, then, +I'll do it,' and everything would have been lovely; but now----" + +Yates lay down again in disgust. There are moments in life when language +fails a man. + +"Then it's settled that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes?" said +the professor. + +"Settled? Oh yes, if you say so; but all the pleasure of getting one's +own way by the use of one's brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with in +that objectionably civil manner." + +"Well, that point being arranged, who begins the foraging--you or I?" + +"Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to the house of the +Howards, and I need an excuse for the first visit; therefore I shall +forage to a limited extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not get +any, you perhaps should bring some from whatever farmhouse you choose as +the scene of your operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, fresh +or stale. When in doubt, buy more bread. You can never go wrong, and the +bread won't." + +"What else should I get? Milk, I suppose?" + +"Certainly; eggs, butter--anything. Mrs. Bartlett will give you hints on +what to get that will be more valuable than mine." + +"Have you all the cooking utensils you need?" + +"I think so. The villain from whom I hired the outfit said it was +complete. Doubtless he lied; but we'll manage, I think." + +"Very well. If you wait until I change my clothes, I'll go with you as +far as the road." + +"My dear fellow, be advised, and don't change. You'll get everything +twenty per cent. cheaper in that rig-out. Besides, you are so much more +picturesque. Your costume may save us from starvation if we run short +of cash. You can get enough for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, +well, if you insist, I'll wait. Good advice is thrown away on a man like +you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Margaret Howard stood at the kitchen table kneading dough. The room was +called the kitchen, which it was not, except in winter. The stove was +moved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached through the open door +leading to the kitchen veranda. + +When the stove went out or came in, it marked the approach or the +departure of summer. It was the heavy pendulum whose swing this way or +that indicated the two great changes of the year. No job about the +farm was so much disliked by the farmer and his boys as the semiannual +removal of the stove. Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged to go +together again; the stove was heavy and cumbersome, and many a pain in a +rural back dated from the journey of the stove from outhouse to kitchen. + +The kitchen itself was a one-story building, which projected back from +the two-story farmhouse, giving the whole a T-shape. There was a veranda +on each side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front of the house +itself. + +Margaret's sleeves were turned back nearly to her elbows, showing a pair +of white and shapely arms. Now and then she deftly dusted the kneading +board with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as she pressed +her open palms into the smooth, white, spongy mass, the table groaned +protestingly. She cut the roll with a knife into lumps that were patted +into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of snow, in the +sheet-iron pan. + +At this moment there was a rap at the open kitchen door, and Margaret +turned round, startled, for visitors were rare at that hour of the day; +besides, neighbors seldom made such a concession to formality as to +knock. The young girl flushed as she recognized the man who had spoken +to her the day before. He stood smiling in the doorway, with his hat in +his hand. She uttered no word of greeting or welcome, but stood looking +at him, with her hand on the floury table. + +"Good-morning, Miss Howard," said Yates blithely; "may I come in? I have +been knocking for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so I took the +liberty of coming around." + +"I did not hear you knock," answered Margaret. She neglected to invite +him in, but he took the permission for granted and entered, seating +himself as one who had come to stay. "You must excuse me for going on +with my work," she added; "bread at this stage will not wait." + +"Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me interrupt you. I have made +my own bread for years, but not in that way. I am glad that you are +making bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some." + +"Really? Perhaps I can sell you some butter and eggs as well." + +Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner of his which had much +to do with his getting on in the world. It was difficult to remain long +angry with so buoyant a nature. + +"Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven't forgiven me for that remark. You +surely could not have thought I meant it. I really intended it for a +joke, but I am willing to admit, now that I look back on it, that the +joke was rather poor; but, then, most of my jokes are rather shopworn." + +"I am afraid I lack a sense of humor." + +"All women do," said Yates with easy confidence. "At least, all I've +ever met." + +Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he now placed at the end of +the table, tilting it back until his shoulders rested against the +wall. His feet were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and forth, +fanning himself, for it was warm. In this position he could look up at +the face of the pretty girl before him, whose smooth brow was touched +with just the slightest indication of a faint frown. She did not +even glance at the self-confident young man, but kept her eyes fixed +resolutely on her work. In the silence the table creaked as Margaret +kneaded the dough. Yates felt an unaccustomed sensation of embarrassment +creeping over him, and realized that he would have to re-erect the +conversation on a new basis. It was manifestly absurd that a resourceful +New Yorker, who had conversed unabashed with presidents, senators, +generals, and other great people of a great nation, should be put out of +countenance by the unaccountable coldness of a country girl in the wilds +of Canada. + +"I have not had an opportunity of properly introducing myself," he +said at last, when the creaking of the table, slight as it was, became +insupportable. "My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New York. I +am camping out in this neighborhood to relieve, as it were, a mental +strain--the result of years of literary work." + +Yates knew from long experience that the quickest and surest road to a +woman's confidence was through her sympathy. "Mental strain" struck +him as a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and the hollow eye of the +devoted student. + +"Is your work mental, then?" asked Margaret incredulously, flashing, for +the first time, a dark-eyed look at him. + +"Yes," Yates laughed uneasily. He had manifestly missed fire. "I notice +by your tone that you evidently think my equipment meager. You should +not judge by appearances, Miss Howard. Most of us are better than we +seem, pessimists to the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I was saying, +the camping company consists of two partners. We are so different +in every respect that we are the best of friends. My partner is Mr. +Stillson Renmark, professor of something or other in University College, +Toronto." + +For the first time Margaret exhibited some interest in the conversation. + +"Professor Renmark? I have heard of him." + +"Dear me! I had no idea the fame of the professor had penetrated beyond +the precincts of the university--if a university has precincts. He told +me it had all the modern improvements, but I suspected at the time that +was merely Renny's brag." + +The frown on the girl's brow deepened, and Yates was quick to see that +he had lost ground again, if, indeed, he had ever gained any, which he +began to doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk about the +university. He was just about to say something deferentially about that +institution, for he was not a man who would speak disrespectfully of +the equator if he thought he might curry favor with his auditor by +doing otherwise, when it occurred to him that Miss Howard's interest was +centered in the man, and not in the university. + +"In this world, Miss Howard," he continued, "true merit rarely finds +its reward; at least, the reward shows some reluctance in making itself +visible in time for man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a man so +worthy that I was rather astonished to learn that you knew of him. I +am glad for his sake that it is so, for no man more thoroughly deserves +fame than he." + +"I know nothing of him," said Margaret, "except what my brother has +written. My brother is a student at the university." + +"Is he really? And what is he going in for?" + +"A good education." + +Yates laughed. + +"Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a person to have about him. +I often wish I had had a university training. Still, it is not valued +in an American newspaper office as much as might be. Yet," he added in +a tone that showed he did not desire to be unfair to a man of education, +"I have known some university men who became passably good reporters in +time." + +The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to the work in hand. +She had the rare gift of silence, and these intervals of quiet abashed +Yates, whose most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any man +on earth. Opposition, or even abuse, merely served as a spur to his +volubility, but taciturnity disconcerted him. + +"Well," he cried at length, with something like desperation, "let us +abandon this animated discussion on the subject of education, and take +up the more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, Miss Howard, +that I am an expert in bread making?" + +"I think you said already that you made your bread." + +"Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the sweat of my good lead +pencil. Still, I have made bread in my time, and I believe that some of +those who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The endurance of the human +frame is something marvelous, when you come to think of it. I did the +baking in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the contents of a +sack of flour into a trough made out of a log, pour in a pail or two +of melted snow, and mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer's +assistant making mortar. There was nothing small or mean about my bread +making. I was in the wholesale trade." + +"I pity the unfortunate lumbermen." + +"Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss Howard. You ought to pity me +for having to pander to such appetites as those men brought in from +the woods with them. They never complained of the quality of the bread, +although there was occasionally some grumbling about the quantity. I +have fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to a sawmill, but their +voracity was nothing to that of a big lumberman just in from felling +trees. Enough, and plenty of it, is what he wants. No 'tabbledote' for +him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it right away. If there is +any washing necessary, he is content to do it after the meal. I +know nothing, except a morning paper, that has such an appetite for +miscellaneous stuff as the man of the woods." + +The girl made no remark, but Yates could see that she was interested in +his talk in spite of herself. The bread was now in the pans, and she +had drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the baking board +had disappeared, and the surface of the table was cleaned. With a +light, deft motion of her two hands she had whisked over its surface the +spotlessly white cloth, which flowed in waves over the table and finally +settled calmly in its place like the placid face of a pond in the +moonlight. Yates realized that the way to success lay in keeping the +conversation in his own hands and not depending on any response. In this +way a man may best display the store of knowledge he possesses, to +the admiration and bewilderment of his audience, even though his store +consists merely of samples like the outfit of a commercial traveler; yet +a commercial traveler who knows his business can so arrange his samples +on the table of his room in a hotel that they give the onlooker an idea +of the vastness and wealth of the warehouses from which they are drawn. + +"Bread," said Yates with the serious air of a very learned man, "is a +most interesting subject. It is a historical subject--it is a biblical +subject. As an article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Bible than +any other. It is used in parable and to point a moral. 'Ye must not live +on bread alone.'" + +From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his listener he feared he +had not quoted correctly. He knew he was not now among that portion of +his samples with which he was most familiar, so he hastened back to the +historical aspect of his subject. Few people could skate over thinner +ice than Richard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused him to +return to more solid footing. + +"Now, in this country bread has gone through three distinct stages, and +although I am a strong believer in progress, yet, in the case of our +most important article of food, I hold that the bread of to-day is +inferior to the bread our mothers used to make, or perhaps, I should +say, our grandmothers. This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the age +of machinery--and machinery, while it may be quicker, is certainly not +so thorough as old-fashioned hand work. There is a new writer in England +named Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He would like to see +it abolished--at least, so he says. I will send for one of his books, +and show it to you, if you will let me." + +"You, in New York, surely do not call the author of 'Modern Painters' +and 'The Seven Lamps of Architecture' a new man. My father has one of +his books which must be nearly twenty years old." + +This was the longest speech Margaret had made to him, and, as he said +afterward to the professor in describing its effects, it took him right +off his feet. He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, that he +had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. The allusion he had made to +him he had heard someone else use, and he had worked it into an article +before now with telling effect. "As Mr. Ruskin says" looked well in a +newspaper column, giving an air of erudition and research to it. Mr. +Yates, however, was not at the present moment prepared to enter into a +discussion on either the age or the merits of the English writer. + +"Ah, well," he said, "technically speaking, of course, Ruskin is not a +new man. What I meant was that he is looked on--ah--in New York as--that +is--you know--as comparatively new--comparatively new. But, as I was +saying about bread, the old log-house era of bread, as I might call it, +produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this country. It was the +salt-rising kind, and was baked in a round, flat-bottomed iron kettle. +Did you ever see the baking kettle of other days?" + +"I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never uses it now. It was +placed on the hot embers, was it not?" + +"Exactly," said Yates, noting with pleasure that the girl was thawing, +as he expressed it to himself. "The hot coals were drawn out and the +kettle placed upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals were +put on he top of it. The bread was firm and white and sweet inside, with +the most delicious golden brown crust all around. Ah, that was bread! +but perhaps I appreciated it because I was always hungry in those days. +Then came the alleged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That was the +second stage in the evolution of bread in this country. It also belonged +to the log-house and open-fireplace era. Bread baked by direct heat from +the fire and reflected heat from the polished tin. I think our present +cast-iron stove arrangement is preferable to that, although not up to +the old-time kettle." + +If Margaret had been a reader of the New York _Argus_, she would have +noticed that the facts set forth by her visitor had already appeared in +that paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled "Our Daily Bread." +In the pause that ensued after Yates had finished his dissertation on +the staff of life the stillness was broken by a long wailing cry. It +began with one continued, sustained note, and ended with a wail half +a tone below the first. The girl paid no attention to it, but Yates +started to his feet. + +"In the name of--What's that?" + +Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the stillness was again +broken by what appeared to be the more distant notes of a bugle. + +"The first," she said, "was Kitty Bartlett's voice calling the men home +from the field for dinner. Mrs. Bartlett is a very good housekeeper +and is usually a few minutes ahead of the neighbors with the meals. The +second was the sound of a horn farther up the road. It is what you would +deplore as the age of tin applied to the dinner call, just as your tin +oven supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty's call much better +than the tin horn. It seems to me more musical, although it appeared to +startle you." + +"Oh, you can talk!" cried Yates with audacious admiration, at which the +girl colored slightly and seemed to retire within herself again. "And +you can make fun of people's historical lore, too. Which do you use--the +tin horn or the natural voice?" + +"Neither. If you will look outside, you will see a flag at the top of a +pole. That is our signal." + +It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was intended as an +intimation that he might see many things outside to interest him. He +felt that his visit had not been at all the brilliant success he had +anticipated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely an excuse. He +had expected to be able to efface the unfavorable impression he knew he +had made by his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the day before, +and he realized that his position was still the same. A good deal of +Yates' success in life came from the fact that he never knew when he was +beaten. He did not admit defeat now, but he saw he had, for some reason, +not gained any advantage in a preliminary skirmish. He concluded it +would be well to retire in good order, and renew the contest at some +future time. He was so unused to anything like a rebuff that all +his fighting qualities were up in arms, and he resolved to show this +unimpressionable girl that he was not a man to be lightly valued. + +As he rose the door from the main portion of the house opened, and +there entered a woman hardly yet past middle age, who had once been +undoubtedly handsome, but on whose worn and faded face was the look +of patient weariness which so often is the result of a youth spent in +helping a husband to overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an American +bush farm. When the farm is conquered, the victor is usually vanquished. +It needed no second glance to see that she was the mother from whom +the daughter had inherited her good looks. Mrs. Howard did not appear +surprised to see a stranger standing there; in fact, the faculty of +being surprised at anything seemed to have left her. Margaret introduced +them quietly, and went about her preparation for the meal. Yates greeted +Mrs. Howard with effusion. He had come, he said, on a bread mission. He +thought he knew something about bread, but he now learned he came too +early in the day. He hoped he might have the privilege of repeating his +visit. + +"But you are not going now?" said Mrs. Howard with hospitable anxiety. + +"I fear I have already stayed too long," answered Yates lingeringly. +"My partner, Professor Renmark, is also on a foraging expedition at your +neighbors', the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp long ago, and +will be expecting me." + +"No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let anyone go when there is +a meal on the way." + +"I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by staying. I imagine there +is quite enough to do in every farmhouse without entertaining any chance +tramp who happens along. Don't you agree with me for once, Miss Howard?" + +Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish to stay unless +Margaret added her invitation to her mother's. He felt vaguely that +his reluctance did him credit, and that he was improving. He could not +remember a time when he had not taken without question whatever the gods +sent, and this unaccustomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspect that +there were depths in his nature hitherto unexplored. It always flatters +a man to realize that he is deeper than he thought. + +Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner because Yates likened himself to +a tramp, and Margaret said coldly: + +"Mother's motto is that one more or less never makes any difference." + +"And what is your motto, Miss Howard?" + +"I don't think Margaret has any," said Mrs. Howard, answering for her +daughter. "She is like her father. She reads a great deal and doesn't +talk much. He would read all the time, if he did not have to work. I see +Margaret has already invited you, for she has put an extra plate on the +table." + +"Ah, then," said Yates, "I shall have much pleasure in accepting both +the verbal and the crockery invitation. I am sorry for the professor at +his lonely meal by the tent; for he is a martyr to duty, and I feel sure +Mrs. Bartlett will not be able to keep him." + +Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in to them, from the +outside, where Margaret was, a cheery voice which Yates had no +difficulty in recognizing as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. + +"Hello, Margaret!" she said. "Is he here?" + +The reply was inaudible. + +"Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited city fellow." + +There was evidently an admonition and a warning. + +"Well, I don't care if he does. I'll tell him so to his face. It might +do him good." + +Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in the doorway. On the fair +curls, which were flying about her shoulders, had been carelessly +placed her brother's straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her face was +flushed with running; and of the fact that she was a very lovely girl +there was not the slightest doubt. + +"How de do?" she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: "I +knew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There's going to be +war in our house. Mother's made a prisoner of the professor already, +but he doesn't know it. He thinks he's going back to the tent, and she's +packing up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, till I get +back. He said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. +We both told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn't leave a place +where there was good cooking for all the professors in the world." + +"You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett," said Yates, +somewhat piqued by her frankness. + +"Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but he +doesn't know when he's well off, just the same. You do. He's a quiet, +stubborn man." + +"And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett--a quiet, stubborn man, +or one who is conceited?" + +Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace of +embarrassment. "Detest, you mean. I'm sure I don't know. Margaret, which +is the most objectionable?" + +Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenly +questioned, but said nothing. + +Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, +like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: "Well, I must be off, +or mother will have to tie up the professor to keep him," and was off +accordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn. + +"Extraordinary girl," remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls and calico +dress disappeared. + +"She is a good girl," cried Margaret emphatically. + +"Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don't you think she is +somewhat free with her opinions about other people?" asked Yates. + +"She did not know that you were within hearing when she first spoke, and +after that she brazened it out. That's her way. But she's a kind girl +and good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken the trouble to come +over here merely because your friend happened to be surly." + +"Oh, Renny is anything but surly," said Yates, as quick to defend his +friend as she was to stand up for hers. "As I was saying a moment ago, +he is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the camp, nothing +would keep him. Now he will have a good dinner in peace when he knows I +am not waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he will get when +I take to the cooking." + +By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had done its work, and +Margaret's father and brother arrived from the field. They put their +broad straw hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking water +in a tin basin from the rain barrel, placed it on a bench outside and +proceeded to wash vigorously. + +Mr. Howard was much more interested in his guest than his daughter had +apparently been. Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had a +sympathetic audience, and he showed an easy familiarity with the great +people of this earth that was fascinating to a man who had read much of +them, but who was, in a measure, locked out of the bustling world. Yates +knew many of the generals in the late war, and all of the politicians. +Of the latter there was not an honest man among them, according to the +reporter; of the former there were few who had not made the most ghastly +mistakes. He looked on the world as a vast hoard of commonplace people, +wherein the men of real genius were buried out of sight, if there were +any men of genius, which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top were +there either through their own intrigues or because they had been forced +up by circumstances. His opinions sometimes caused a look of pain to +cross the face of the older man, who was enthusiastic in his quiet way, +and had his heroes. He would have been a strong Republican if he had +lived in the States; and he had watched the four-years' struggle, +through the papers, with keen and absorbed interest. The North had been +fighting, in his opinion, for the great and undying principle of human +liberty, and had deservedly won. Yates had no such delusion. It was a +politicians' war, he said. Principle wasn't in it. The North would have +been quite willing to let slavery stand if the situation had not been +forced by the firing on Fort Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not +at all meet the approval of Mr. Yates. + +"Oh, yes," he said, "I suppose Grant will go down into history as a +great general. The truth is that he simply knew how to subtract. That +is all there is in it. He had the additional boon of an utter lack of +imagination. We had many generals who were greater than Grant, but they +were troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin the best general +in the world. Now, take yourself, for example. If you were to kill a man +unintentionally, your conscience would trouble you all the rest of your +life. Think how you would feel, then, if you were to cause the death of +ten thousand men all in a lump. It would break you down. The mistake an +ordinary man makes may result in the loss of a few dollars, which can be +replaced; but if a general makes a mistake, the loss can never be made +up, for his mistakes are estimated by the lives of men. He says 'Go' +when he should have said 'Come.' He says 'Attack' when he should have +said 'Retreat.' What is the result? Five, ten, or fifteen thousand men, +many of them better men than he is, left dead on the field. Grant had +nothing of this feeling. He simply knew how to subtract, as I said +before. It is like this: You have fifty thousand men and I have +twenty-five thousand. When I kill twenty-five thousand of your men and +you kill twenty-five thousand of my men, you have twenty-five thousand +left and I have none. You are the victor, and the thoughtless crowd +howls about you, but that does not make you out the greatest general +by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant's number, and Grant had Lee's, the +result would have been reversed. Grant set himself to do this little sum +in subtraction, and he did it--did it probably as quickly as any other +man would have done it, and he knew that when it was done the war would +have to stop. That's all there was to it." + +The older man shook his head. "I doubt," he said, "if history will take +your view either of the motives of those in power or of the way the war +was carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, heroically fought by +those deluded people who were in the wrong, and stubbornly contested at +immense self-sacrifice by those who were in the right." + +"What a pity it was," said young Howard to the newspaper man, with a +rudeness that drew a frown from his father, "that you didn't get to show +'em how to carry on the war." + +"Well," said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, "I flatter +myself that I would have given them some valuable pointers. Still, it is +too late to bemoan their neglect now." + +"Oh, you may have a chance yet," continued the unabashed young man. +"They say the Fenians are coming over here this time sure. You ought to +volunteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how a war ought to +be carried on." + +"Oh, there's nothing in the Fenian scare! They won't venture over. They +fight with their mouths. It's the safest way." + +"I believe you," said the youth significantly. + +Perhaps it was because the boy had been so inconsiderate as to make +these remarks that Yates received a cordial invitation from both Mr. +and Mrs. Howard to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Of this +privilege Yates resolved to avail himself, but he would have prized it +more if Miss Margaret had added her word--which she did not, perhaps +because she was so busy looking after the bread. Yates knew, however, +that with a woman apparent progress is rarely synonymous with real +progress. This knowledge soothed his disappointment. + +As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his own feelings with +something like astonishment. The march of events was rapid even for him, +who was not slow in anything he undertook. + +"It is the result of leisure," he said to himself. "It is the first +breathing time I have had for fifteen years. Not two days of my vacation +gone, and here I am hopelessly in love!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Yates had intended to call at the Bartletts' and escort Renmark back +to the woods; but when he got outside he forgot the existence of the +professor, and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, switching +at the weeds that always grow in great profusion along the ditches of a +Canadian country thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and as Yates +wandered on in the direction of the forest he thought of many things. +He had feared that he would find life deadly dull so far from New York, +without even the consolation of a morning-paper, the feverish reading of +which had become a sort of vice with him, like smoking. He had imagined +that he could not exist without his morning paper, but he now realized +that it was not nearly so important a factor in life as he had supposed; +yet he sighed when he thought of it, and wished he had one with him of +current date. He could now, for the first time in many years, read a +paper without that vague fear which always possessed him when he took up +an opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Before he could enjoy it +his habit was to scan it over rapidly to see if it contained any item of +news which he himself had missed the previous day. The impending "scoop" +hangs over the head of the newspaper man like the sword so often quoted. +Great as the joy of beating the opposition press is, it never takes +the poignancy of the sting away from a beating received. If a terrible +disaster took place, and another paper gave fuller particulars than the +_Argus_ did, Yates found himself almost wishing the accident had +not occurred, although he recognized such a wish as decidedly +unprofessional. + +Richard's idea of the correct spirit in a reporter was exemplified by +an old broken-down, out-of-work morning newspaper man, who had not long +before committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for the evening +papers to get the sensational item. He had sent in to the paper for +which he formerly worked a full account of the fatality, accurately +headed and sub-headed; and, in his note to the city editor, he told why +he had chosen the hour of 7 P.M. as the time for his departure from an +unappreciative world. + +"Ah, well," said Yates under his breath, and suddenly pulling himself +together, "I mustn't think of New York if I intend to stay here for a +couple of weeks. I'll be city-sick the first thing I know, and then I'll +make a break for the metropolis. This will never do. The air here is +enchanting, it fills a man with new life. This is the spot for me, and +I'll stick to it till I'm right again. Hang New York! But I mustn't +think of Broadway or I'm done for." + +He came to the spot in the road where he could see the white side of +the tent under the dark trees, and climbed up on the rail fence, +sitting there for a few moments. The occasional call of a quail from a +neighboring field was the only sound that broke the intense stillness. +The warm smell of spring was in the air. The buds had but recently +broken, and the woods, intensely green, had a look of newness and +freshness that was comforting to the eye and grateful to the other +senses. The world seemed to be but lately made. The young man breathed +deeply of the vivifying air, and said: "No, there's nothing the matter +with this place, Dick. New York's a fool to it." Then, with a sigh, +he added: "If I can stand it for two weeks. I wonder how the boys are +getting on without me." + +In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back to the great city, +although he told himself that it wouldn't do. He gazed at the peaceful, +spreading landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw nothing. The +roar of the streets was in his ears. Suddenly his reverie was broken by +a voice from the forest. + +"I say, Yates, where's the bread?" + +Yates looked quickly around, somewhat startled, and saw the professor +coming toward him. + +"The bread? I forgot all about it. No; I didn't either. They were +baking--that was it. I am to go for it later in the day. What loot did +you rake in, professor?" + +"Vegetables mostly." + +"That's all right. Have a good dinner?" + +"Excellent." + +"So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I was just counting the +farmhouses in sight. What do you say to boarding round among them? You +are a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. Isn't education in +this country encouraged by paying the teacher as little as possible, +and letting him take it out in eating his way from one house to another? +Ever board around, Renny?" + +"Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, it is out of date now." + +"That's a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, Renmark. We become less +brave as we grow older. By the way, how is old man Bartlett? As well as +could be expected?" + +"He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has sent out two chairs to the +tent; she fears we will get rheumatism if we sit on the ground." + +"She is a kind woman, Renny, and a thoughtful. And that reminds me: I +have a hammock somewhere among my belongings. I will swing it up. Chairs +are comfortable, but a hammock is luxury." + +Yates slid down from the fence top, and together the two men walked to +the tent. The hammock was unfurled and slung between two trees. Yates +tested it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its restful folds +of network. He was swaying indolently several feet from the ground when +he said to Renmark: + +"I call this paradise--paradise regained; but it will be paradise lost +next month. Now, professor, I am ready to do the cooking, but I have a +fancy for doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the useful prosaic +man executes. Where are your vegetables, Renny? Potatoes and carrots, +eh? Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny; but first you must bring +some water from the spring." + +The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. Yates continued to swing +in the hammock alternating directions with rhapsodies on the beauties +of the day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said but little, and +attended strictly to the business in hand. The vegetables finished, he +took a book from his valise, tilted a chair back against a tree, and +began to read. + +"I'm depending upon you for the bread," he said to the drowsy man in the +hammock. + +"Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not misplaced. I shall +presently journey down into the realms of civilization, and fill +the long-felt want. I shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartlett +homestead, but I warn you that if there is a meal on, at either place, +you will not have me here to test your first efforts at cooking. So you +may have to wait until breakfast for my opinion." + +Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly from the hammock, and +looked regretfully at it when he stood once more on the ground. + +"This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the curse of life here +below. It is what we are all after. If it were not for the necessity +of bread and clothing, what a good time a fellow might have. Well, my +blessing, Renny. Good-by." + +Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he came to the beginning +of a lane which led to the Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer and his +son at work in the back fields. From between the distant house and barn +there arose, straight up into the still air, a blue column of smoke, +which, reaching a certain height, spread out like a thin, hazy cloud +above the dwelling. At first Yates thought that some of the outhouses +were on fire, and he quickened his pace to a run; but a moment's +reflection showed him that the column was plainly visible to the workers +in the fields, and that if anything were wrong they would not continue +placidly at their labor. When he had walked the long length of the lane, +and had safely rounded the corner of the barn, he saw, in the open space +between that building and the house, a huge camp fire blazing. From a +pole, upheld by two crotched supports, hung a big iron kettle over +the flames. The caldron was full nearly to the brim, and the steam +was already beginning to rise from its surface, although the fire +had evidently been but recently kindled. The smoke was not now so +voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with a big-brimmed straw hat +in her hands, fanning it away from her face, while the hat at the same +time protected her rosy countenance from the fire. She plainly was +not prepared to receive visitors, and she started when the young man +addressed her, flushing still more deeply, apparently annoyed at his +unwelcome appearance. + +"Good-afternoon," he said cordially. "Preparing for washing? I thought +Monday was washing day." + +"It is." + +"Then I have not been misinformed. And you are not preparing for +washing?" + +"We are." + +Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of herself, had to permit +a smile to brighten her own features. She always found it difficult +remain solemn for any length of time. + +"This is obviously a conundrum," said Yates, ticking off the items on +his four fingers. "First, Monday is washing day. Second, this is not +Monday. Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are preparing for +washing. I give it up, Miss Bartlett. Please tell me the answer." + +"The answer is that I am making soap; soft soap, if you know what that +is." + +"Practically, I don't know what it is; but I have heard the term used +in a political connection. In the States we say that if a man is very +diplomatic he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricating qualities. +Sam Slick used the term 'soft sawder' in the same way; but what sawder +is, soft or hard, I haven't the slightest idea." + +"I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates." + +"Me? Bless you, no. I'm a humble gleaner in the field of knowledge. +That's why I brought a Toronto professor with me. I want to learn +something. Won't you teach me how to make soap?" + +"I'm very busy just now. When I said that we were preparing for washing, +I should perhaps have told you there was something else we are not +prepared for to-day." + +"What is that?" + +"A visitor." + +"Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on me. I'm not a +visitor. I'm a friend of the family. I want to help. You will find me a +most diligent student. Won't you give me a chance?" + +"All the hard work's done. But perhaps you knew that before you came." + +Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed deeply. + +"That's what it is to be a misunderstood man. So you think, among other +bad qualities, I have the habit of shirking work? Let me tell you, Miss +Bartlett, that the reason I am here is because I have worked too hard. +Now, confess that you are sorry for what you said--trampling on an +already downtrodden man." + +Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed also, for his sense of +comradeship was strong. + +"You don't look as if you had ever worked in your life; I don't believe +you know what work is." + +"But there are different kinds of labor. Don't you call writing work?" + +"No." + +"That's just where you're mistaken. It is, and hard work, too. I'll tell +you about the newspaper business if you'll tell me about soap making. +Fair exchange. I wish you would take me as a pupil, Miss Bartlett; you +would find me quick at picking up things." + +"Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful of water." + +"I'll do it," cried Yates sternly; "I'll do it, though it blast me." + +Yates picked up the wooden pail, painted blue on the outside, with a +red stripe near the top for ornament, and cream-colored inside. It was +called a "patent pail" in those days, as it was a comparatively recent +innovation, being cheaper, lighter, and stronger than the tin pail which +it was rapidly replacing. At the well was a stout pole, pinned +through the center to the upright support on which it swung, like the +walking-beam of an engine. The thick end, which rested on the ground, +was loaded with heavy stones; while from the thin end, high in the air, +there dangled over the mouth of the well a slim pole with a hook. This +hook was ingeniously furnished with a spring of hickory, which snapped +when the handle of the pail was placed on the hook, and prevented the +"patent" utensil from slipping off when it was lowered to the surface of +the water. Yates speedily recognized the usefulness of this contrivance, +for he found that the filling of a wooden pail in a deep well was not +the simple affair it looked. The bucket bobbed about on the surface of +the water. Once he forgot the necessity of keeping a stout grip on +the pole, and the next instant the pail came up to the sunlight with a +suddenness that was terrifying. Only an equally sudden backward jump on +Yates' part saved his head. Miss Bartlett was pleased to look upon this +incident as funny. Yates was so startled by the unexpected revolt of the +pail that his native courtesy did not get a chance to prevent Kitty from +drawing up the water herself. She lowered the vessel, pulling down the +pole in a hand-over-hand manner that the young man thought decidedly +fetching, and then she gave an almost imperceptible twist to the +arrangement that resulted in instant success. The next thing Yates knew +the full pail was resting on the well curb, and the hickory spring had +given the click that released the handle. + +"There," said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, "that's how it's done." + +"I see the result, Miss Bartlett; but I'm not sure I can do the trick. +These things are not so simple as they seem. What is the next step?" + +"Pour the water into the leach." + +"Into the what?" + +"Into the leach, I said. Where else?" + +"Oh, I'm up a tree again. I see I don't even know the A B C of this +business. In the old days the leech was a physician. You don't mean I'm +to drown a doctor?" + +"This is the leach," said Kitty, pointing to a large, yellowish, upright +wooden cylinder, which rested on some slanting boards, down the surface +of which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a trough. + +As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his hand he saw that the +cylinder was filled nearly to the top with sodden wood ashes. He poured +in the water, and it sank quickly out of sight. + +"So this is part of the soap-making equipment?" he said, stepping down; +"I thought the iron kettle over the fire was the whole factory. Tell me +about the leach." + +"That is where the hard work of soap making comes in," said Kitty, +stirring the contents of the iron kettle with a long stick. "Keeping +the leach supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the ashes are +dry. If you put in five more pails of water, I will tell you about it." + +"Right!" cried Yates, pleased to see that the girl's evident objection +to his presence at first was fast disappearing. "Now you'll understand +how energetic I am. I'm a handy man about a place." + +When he had completed his task, she was still stirring the thickening +liquid in the caldron, guarding her face from the fire with her +big straw hat. Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about her +shoulders; and Yates, as he put the pail in its place, when it had +been emptied the fifth time, thought she formed a very pretty picture +standing there by the fire, even if she were making soft soap. + +"The wicked genii has finished the task set him by the fairy princess. +Now for the reward. I want all the particulars about the leach. In the +first place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder that I have, +without apparent effect, been pouring water into? Is it manufactured or +natural?" + +"Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree." + +"Buttonwood? I don't think I ever heard of that. I know the beech and +the maple, and some kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why the +buttonwood?" + +"The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to the purpose. It is a +tree that is very fine to look at. It seems all right, but it generally +isn't. It is hollow or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timber +made from it is of little value, as it doesn't last. Yet you can't tell +until you begin to chop whether it is of any use or not." Kitty shot a +quick glance at the young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. + +"Go on, Miss Bartlett; I see what you mean. There are men like the +buttonwood tree. The woods are full of them. I've met lots of that +kind, fair to look upon, but hollow. Of course you don't mean anything +personal; for you must have seen my worth by the way I stuck to the +water hauling. But go on." + +"Dear me, I never thought of such a thing; but a guilty conscience, they +say----" said Kitty, with a giggle. + +"Of course they say; but it's wrong, like most other things they say. +It's the man with the guilty conscience who looks you straight in the +eye. Now that the buttonwood is chopped down, what's the next thing to +be done?" + +"It is sawn off at the proper length, square at one end and slanting at +the other." + +"Why slanting?" + +"Don't you see, the foundation of plank on which it rests is inclined, +so the end of the leach that is down must be slantingly cut, otherwise +it would not stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the first +windstorm." + +"I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up?" + +"Oh, dear no; not yet. They build a fire in it when it gets dry enough." + +"Really? I think I understand the comprehensive scheme, but I slip up +on the details, as when I tried to submerge that wooden pail. What's the +fire for?" + +"To burn out what remains of the soft inside wood, so as to leave +only the hard outside shell. Then the charring of the inner surface is +supposed to make the leach better--more water-tight, perhaps." + +"Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up?" + +"Yes; and gradually filled with ashes. When it is full, we pour the +water in it, and catch the lye as it drips out. This is put in the +caldron with grease, pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when it boils +long enough, the result is soft soap." + +"And if you boil it too long, what is the result?" + +"Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long." + +The conversation was here interrupted by a hissing in the fire, caused +by the tumultuous boiling over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in a +basin of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously. + +"You see," she said reproachfully, "the result of keeping me talking +nonsense to you. Now you will have to make up for it by bringing in some +wood and putting more water into the leach." + +"With the utmost pleasure," cried Yates, springing to his feet. "It is a +delight to atone for a fault by obeying your commands." + +The girl laughed. "Buttonwood," she said. Before Yates could think of +anything to say in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. + +"How is the soap getting on, Kitty?" she asked. "Why, Mr. Yates, are you +here?" + +"Am I here? I should say I was. Very much here. I'm the hired man. I'm +the hewer of wood and the hauler of water, or, to speak more correctly, +I'm the hauler of both. And, besides, I've been learning how to make +soap, Mrs. Bartlett." + +"Well, it won't hurt you to know how." + +"You bet it won't. When I get back to New York, the first thing I shall +do will be to chop down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can find +one, and set up a leach for myself. Lye comes useful in running a +paper." + +Mrs. Bartlett's eyes twinkled, for, although she did not quite +understand his nonsense, she knew it was nonsense, and she had a liking +for frivolous persons, her own husband being so somber-minded. + +"Tea is ready," she said. "Of course you will stay, Mr. Yates." + +"Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously do so. I haven't earned +a meal since the last one. No; my conscience won't let me accept, but +thank you all the same." + +"Nonsense; my conscience won't let you go away hungry. If nobody were +to eat but those who earn their victuals, there would be more starving +people in the world than there are. Of course you'll stay." + +"Now, that's what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like to have a chance of +refusing an invitation I yearn for, and then be forced to accept. That's +true hospitality." Then in a whisper he added to Kitty; "If you dare to +say 'buttonwood,' Miss Bartlett, you and I will quarrel." + +But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had appeared on the scene, +but industriously stirred the contents of the iron kettle. + +"Kitty," said the mother, "you call the men to supper." + +"I can't leave this," said Kitty, flushing; "it will boil over. You +call, mother." + +So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side of her mouth, and gave +the long wailing cry, which was faintly answered from the fields, and +Yates, who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satisfaction that +Kitty had refused doubtless because he was there. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"I tell you what it is, Renny," said Yates, a few days after the soap +episode, as he swung in his hammock at the camp, "I'm learning something +new every day." + +"Not really?" asked the professor in surprise. + +"Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. My chief pleasure in life, +professor, is the surprising of you. I sometimes wonder why it delights +me; it is so easily done." + +"Never mind about that. What have you been learning?" + +"Wisdom, my boy; wisdom in solid chunks. In the first place, I am +learning to admire the resourcefulness of these people around us. +Practically, they make everything they need. They are the most +self-helping people that I was ever thrown among. I look upon theirs as +the ideal life." + +"I think you said something like that when we first came here." + +"I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am talking now about farm +life. Farmers eliminate the middleman pretty effectually, and that in +itself is going a long way toward complete happiness. Take the making +of soap, that I told you about; there you have it, cheap and good. When +you've made it, you know what is in it, and I'll be hanged if you do +when you pay a big price for it in New York. Here they make pretty +nearly everything they need, except the wagon and the crockery; and I'm +not sure but they made them a few years back. Now, when a man with a +good sharp ax and a jack-knife can do anything from building his house +to whittling out a chair, he's the most independent man on earth. Nobody +lives better than these people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. +Perhaps the country air helps; but it seems to me I never tasted such +meals as Mrs. Bartlett, for instance, gets up. They buy nothing at the +stores except the tea, and I confess I prefer milk myself. My tastes +were always simple." + +"And what is the deduction?" + +"Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old Hiram has an anvil and an +amateur forge. He can tinker up almost anything, and that eliminates the +blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, and other tools, and +that eliminates the carpenter. The women eliminate the baker, the soap +boiler, and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have eliminated +all the middlemen, then comes independence, and consequently complete +happiness. You can't keep happiness away with a shotgun then." + +"But what is to become of the blacksmith, the carpenter, and all the +rest?" + +"Let them take up land and be happy too; there's plenty of land. The +land is waiting for them. Then look how the master is eliminated. That's +the most beautiful riddance of all. Even the carpenter and blacksmith +usually have to work under a boss; and if not, they have to depend on +the men who employ them. The farmer has to please nobody but himself. +That adds to his independence. That's why old Hiram is ready to fight +the first comer on the slightest provocation. He doesn't care whom he +offends, so long as it isn't his wife. These people know how to make +what they want, and what they can't make they do without. That's the +way to form a great nation. You raise, in this way, a self-sustaining, +resolute, unconquerable people. The reason the North conquered the South +was because we drew our armies mostly from the self-reliant farming +class, while we had to fight a people accustomed for generations to +having things done for them." + +"Why don't you buy a farm, Yates?" + +"Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. I am like the drunkard +who admires a temperate life, yet can't pass a ginshop. The city virus +is in my blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quite satisfied +with the tendency of farm life; it is unfortunately in a transition +state. It is at the frame-house stage, and will soon blossom into the +red-brick stage. The log-house era is what I yearn for. Then everything +a person needed was made on the farm. When the brick-house era sets in, +the middleman will be rampant. I saw the other day at the Howards' a set +of ancient stones that interested me as much as an Assyrian marble would +interest you. They were old, home-made millstones, and they have not +been used since the frame house was built. The grist mill at the village +put them out of date. And just here, notice the subtlety of the crafty +middleman. The farmer takes his grist to the mill, and the miller does +not charge him cash for grinding it. He takes toll out of the bags, +and the farmer has a vague idea that he gets his grinding for almost +nothing. The old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer's son won't +be as happy in the brick house which the mason will build for him as his +grandfather was in the log house he built for himself. And fools call +this change the advance of civilization." + +"There is something to be said for the old order of things," admitted +Renmark. "If a person could unite the advantages of what we call +civilization with the advantages of a pastoral life, he would inaugurate +a condition of things that would be truly idyllic." + +"That's so, Renmark, that's so!" cried Yates enthusiastically. "A +brownstone mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of Lake +Superior! That would suit me down to the ground. Spend half the year in +each place." + +"Yes," said the professor meditatively; "a log hut on the rocks and +under the trees, with the lake in front, would be very nice if the hut +had a good library attached." + +"And a daily paper. Don't forget the press." + +"No. I draw the line there. The daily paper would mean the daily steamer +or the daily train. The one would frighten away the fish, and the other +would disturb the stillness with its whistle." + +Yates sighed. "I forgot about the drawbacks," he said. "That's the +trouble with civilization. You can't have the things you want without +bringing in their trail so many things you don't want. I shall have to +give up the daily paper." + +"Then there is another objection, worse than either steamer or train." + +"What's that?" + +"The daily paper itself." + +Yates sat up indignantly. + +"Renmark!" he cried, "that's blasphemy. For Heaven's sake, man, hold +something sacred. If you don't respect the press, what do you respect? +Not my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you wouldn't talk +in that flippant manner. If you speak kindly of my daily paper, I'll +tolerate your library." + +"And that reminds me: Have you brought any books with you, Yates? I have +gone through most of mine already, although many of them will bear going +over again; still, I have so much time on my hands that I think I may +indulge in a little general reading. When you wrote asking me to meet +you in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp through the +country, so I did not bring as many books with me as I should have done +if I had known you were going to camp out." + +Yates sprang from the hammock. + +"Books? Well, I should say so! Perhaps you think I don't read anything +but the daily papers. I'd have you know that I am something of a reader +myself. You mustn't imagine you monopolize all the culture in the +township, professor." + +The young man went into the tent, and shortly returned with an armful of +yellow-covered, paper-bound small volumes, which he flung in profusion +at the feet of the man from Toronto. They were mostly Beadle's Dime +Novels, which had a great sale at the time. + +"There," he said, "you have quantity, quality, and variety, as I have +before remarked. 'The Murderous Sioux of Kalamazoo;' that's a good one. +A hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the word. The one you are +looking at is a pirate story, judging by the burning ship on the cover. +But for first-class highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. +That's the 'Sixteen String Jack set.' They're immense, if they do cost +a quarter each. You must begin at the right volume, or you'll be sorry. +You see, they never really end, although every volume is supposed to be +complete in itself. They leave off at the most exciting point, and are +continued in the next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it's +rather exasperating if you begin at the last book. You'll enjoy this +lot. I'm glad I brought them along." + +"It is a blessing," said Renmark, with the ghost of a smile about his +lips. "I can truthfully say that they are entirely new to me." + +"That's all right, my boy," cried Yates loftily, with a wave of his +hand. "Use them as if they were your own." + +Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity of the books. + +"These will do excellently for lighting our morning camp fire," he said. +"And if you will allow me to treat them as if they were my own, that is +the use to which I will put them. You surely do not mean to say that you +read such trash as this, Yates?" + +"Trash?" exclaimed Yates indignantly. "It serves me right. That's what +a man gets for being decent to you, Renny. Well, you're not compelled to +read them; but if you put one of them in the fire, your stupid treatises +will follow, if they are not too solid to burn. You don't know good +literature when you see it." + +The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit which comes to a +man through the possession of a real sheepskin diploma, granted by a +university of good standing, did not think it necessary to defend his +literary taste. He busied himself in pruning a stick he had cut in the +forest, and finally he got it into the semblance of a walking cane. He +was an athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not suit him as +it did Yates. He tested the stick in various ways when he had trimmed it +to his satisfaction. + +"Are you ready for a ten-mile walk?" he asked of the man in the hammock. + +"Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking here below, and he +doesn't want it ten miles in length either. I'm easily satisfied. You're +off, are you? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back some bread +when you return to camp. It's the one safe thing to do." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Renmark walked through the woods and then across the fields, until he +came to the road. He avoided the habitations of man as much as he could, +for he was neither so sociably inclined nor so frequently hungry as was +his companion. He strode along the road, not caring much where it led +him. Everyone he met gave him "Good-day," after the friendly custom +of the country. Those with wagons or lighter vehicles going in his +direction usually offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that a man +should choose to walk when it was not compulsory. The professor, like +most silent men, found himself good company, and did not feel the +need of companionship in his walks. He had felt relieved rather than +disappointed when Yates refused to accompany him. And Yates, swinging +drowsily in his hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men are firm +and intimate friends, the first few days of camping out together is a +severe strain on their regard for each other. If Damon and Pythias had +occupied a tent together for a week, the worst enemy of either, or both, +might at the end of that time have ventured into the camp in safety, and +would have been welcome. + +Renmark thought of these things as he walked along. His few days' +intimacy with Yates had shown him how far apart they had managed to get +by following paths that diverged more and more widely the farther they +were trodden. The friendship of their youth had turned out to be merely +ephemeral. Neither would now choose the other as an intimate associate. +Another illusion had gone. + +"I have surely enough self-control," said Renmark to himself, as he +walked on, "to stand his shallow flippancy for another week, and not let +him see what I think of him." + +Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence of +the camp. "That man is an exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faults +of the species abnormally developed. If I once open out on him, he will +learn more truth about himself in ten minutes than he ever heard in +his life before. What an unbearable prig he has grown to be." Thus ran +Yates' thoughts as he swung in his hammock, looking up at the ceiling of +green leaves. + +Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of them thought. If +it had been, then were marriage not only a failure, but a practical +impossibility. If two men can get over the first few days in camp +without a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the tension relaxes. + +Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid little heed to those he +met; but one driver drew up his horse and accosted him. + +"Good-day," he said. "How are you getting on in the tent?" + +The professor was surprised at the question. Had their tenting-out +eccentricity gone all over the country? He was not a quick man +at recognizing people, belonging, as he did, to the +"I-remember-your-face-but-can't-recall-your-name" fraternity. It had +been said of him that he never, at any one time, knew the names of more +than half a dozen students in his class; but this was an undergraduate +libel on him. The young man who had accosted him was driving a single +horse, attached to what he termed a "democrat"--a four-wheeled light +wagon, not so slim and elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as +a wagon. Renmark looked up at the driver with confused unrecognition, +troubled because he vaguely felt that he had met him somewhere before. +But his surprise at being addressed speedily changed into amazement as +he looked from the driver to the load. The "democrat" was heaped +with books. The larger volumes were stuck along the sides with some +regularity, and in this way kept the miscellaneous pile from being +shaken out on the road. His eye glittered with a new interest as it +rested on the many-colored bindings; and he recognized in the pile the +peculiar brown covers of the "Bohn" edition of classic translations, +that were scattered like so many turnips over the top of this ridge of +literature. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming. How +came a farmer's boy to be driving a wagon load of books in the wilds of +the country as nonchalantly as if they were so many bushels of potatoes? + +The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for the load was heavy and +the sand was deep, saw that the stranger not only did not recognize him, +but that from the moment he saw the books he had forgotten everything +else. It was evidently necessary to speak again. + +"If you are coming back, will you have a ride?" he asked. + +"I--I think I will," said the professor, descending to earth again and +climbing up beside the boy. + +"I see you don't remember me," said the latter, starting his horse +again. "My name is Howard. I passed you in my buggy when you were +coming in with your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner--what's his +name--Yates, isn't it?--had dinner at our house the other day." + +"Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had seen you before; but it +was only for a moment, you know. I have a very poor memory so far as +people are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. Are these +your books? And how do you happen to have such a quantity?" + +"Oh, this is the library," said young Howard. + +"The library?" + +"Yes, the township library, you know." + +"Oh! The township has a library, then? I didn't know." + +"Well, it's part of it. This is a fifth part. You know about township +libraries, don't you? Your partner said you were a college man." + +Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he was never reluctant to +admit it. + +"I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know nothing of township +libraries. Please, tell me about them." + +Young Howard was eager to give information to a college man, especially +on the subject of books, which he regarded as belonging to the province +of college-bred men. He was pleased also to discover that city people +did not know everything. He had long had the idea that they did, and +this belief had been annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness of +Yates. The professor evidently was a decent fellow, who did not pretend +to universal knowledge. This was encouraging. He liked Renmark better +than Yates, and was glad he had offered him a ride, although, of course, +that was the custom; still, a person with one horse and a heavy load is +exempt on a sandy road. + +"Well, you see," he said in explanation, "it's like this: The township +votes a sum of money, say a hundred dollars, or two hundred, as the case +may be. They give notice to the Government of the amount voted, and the +Government adds the same amount to the township money. It's like the old +game: you think of a number, and they double it. The Government has a +depository of books, in Toronto, I think, and they sell them cheaper +than the bookstores do. At any rate, the four hundred dollars' worth are +bought, or whatever the amount is, and the books are the property of the +township. Five persons are picked out in the township as librarians, and +they have to give security. My father is librarian for this section. +The library is divided into five parts, and each librarian gets a share. +Once a year I go to the next section and get all their books. They go +to the next section, again, and get all the books at that place. A man +comes to our house to-day and takes all we have. So we get a complete +change every year, and in five years we get back the first batch, which +by that time we have forgotten all about. To-day is changing day all +around." + +"And the books are lent to any person in each section who wishes to read +them?" asked the professor. + +"Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can have a book out for +two weeks; after that time there is a fine, but Margaret never fines +anyone." + +"And do people have to pay to take out the books?" + +"Not likely!" said Howard with fine contempt. "You wouldn't expect +people to pay for reading books; would you, now?" + +"No, I suppose not. And who selected the volumes?" + +"Well, the township can select the books if it likes, or it can send a +committee to select them; but they didn't think it worth the trouble +and expense. People grumbled enough at wasting money on books as it was, +even if they did buy them at half price. Still, others said it was +a pity not to get the money out of the Government when they had the +chance. I don't believe any of them cared very much about the books, +except father and a few others. So the Government chose the books. +They'll do that if you leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash they +sent, if you take my word for it. I believe they shoved off on us all +the things no on else would buy. Even when they did pick out novels, +they were just as tough as the history books. 'Adam Bede' is one. They +say that's a novel. I tried it, but I would rather read the history of +Josephus any day. There's some fighting in that, if it is a history. +Then there's any amount of biography books. They're no good. There's a +'History of Napoleon.' Old Bartlett's got that, and he won't give it up. +He says he was taxed for the library against his will. He dares them +to go to law about it, and it aint worth while for one book. The other +sections are all asking for that book; not that they want it, but the +whole country knows that old Bartlett's a-holding on to it, so they'd +like to see some fun. Bartlett's read that book fourteen times, and it's +all he knows. I tell Margaret she ought to fine him, and keep on fining, +but she won't do it. I guess Bartlett thinks the book belongs to him +by this time. Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. Bartlett,--so does +everybody,--but old Bartlett's a seed. There he sits now on his veranda, +and it's a wonder he's not reading the 'History of Napoleon.'" + +They were passing the Bartlett house, and young Howard raised his voice +and called out: + +"I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. This is changing day, +you know. Shall I come up for it, or will you bring it down? If you +fetch it to the gate, I'll cart it home now." + +The old man paid no heed to what was said to him; but Mrs. Bartlett, +attracted by the outcry, came to the door. + +"You go along with your books, you young rascal!" she cried, coming +down to the gate when she saw the professor. "That's a nice way to carry +bound books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I'll warrant you have lost +a dozen between Mallory's and here. But easy come, easy go. It's plain +to be seen they didn't cost you anything. I don't know what the world's +a-coming to when the township spends its money in books, as if taxes +weren't heavy enough already. Won't you come in, Mr. Renmark? Tea's on +the table." + +"Mr. Renmark's coming with me this trip, Mrs. Bartlett," young Howard +said before the professor had time to reply; "but I'll come over and +take tea, if you'll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse up." + +"You go along with your nonsense," she said; "I know you." Then in a +lower voice she asked: "How is your mother, Henry--and Margaret?" + +"They're pretty well, thanks." + +"Tell them I'm going to run over to see them some day soon, but that +need not keep them from coming to see me. The old man's going to town +to-morrow," and with this hint, after again inviting the professor to a +meal, she departed up the path to the house. + +"I think I'll get down here," said Renmark, halfway between the two +houses. "I am very much obliged to you for the ride, and also for what +you told me about the books. It was very interesting." + +"Nonsense!" cried young Howard; "I'm not going to let you do anything of +the sort. You're coming home with me. You want to see the books, don't +you? Very well, then, come along, Margaret is always impatient on +changing day, she's so anxious to see the books, and father generally +comes in early from the fields for the same reason." + +As they approached the Howard homestead they noticed Margaret waiting +for them at the gate; but when the girl saw that a stranger was in +the wagon, she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, seeing this +retreat, regretted he had not accepted Mrs. Bartlett's invitation. He +was a sensitive man, and did not realize that others were sometimes +as shy as himself. He felt he was intruding, and that at a sacred +moment--the moment of the arrival of the library. He was such a lover of +books, and valued so highly the privilege of being alone with them, that +he fancied he saw in the abrupt departure of Margaret the same feeling +of resentment he would himself have experienced if a visitor had +encroached upon him in his favorite nook in the fine room that held the +library of the university. + +When the wagon stopped in the lane, Renmark said hesitatingly: + +"I think I'll not stay, if you don't mind. My friend is waiting for me +at the camp, and will be wondering what has become of me." + +"Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he never bothers about anybody else +as long as he is comfortable himself. That's how I sized him up, at any +rate. Besides, you're never going back on carrying in the books, are +you? I counted on your help. I don't want to do it, and it don't seem +the square thing to let Margaret do it all alone; does it, now?" + +"Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall----" + +"Of course you can. Besides, I know my father wants to see you, anyhow. +Don't you, father?" + +The old man was coming round from the back of the house to meet them. + +"Don't I what?" he asked. + +"You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark when Margaret told you +what Yates had said to her about him." + +Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many people had made him the +subject of conversation, rather suspecting at the same time that the boy +was making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out his hand. + +"So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very pleased to see you. +Yes, as Henry was saying, I have been wanting to see you ever since my +daughter spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that his brother is a +pupil of yours?" + +"Oh! is Arthur Howard your son?" cried Renmark, warming up at once. "I +did not know it. There are many young men at the college, and I have but +the vaguest idea from what parts of the country they all come. A teacher +should have no favorites, but I must confess to a strong liking for your +son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said about every member of my +class." + +"Arthur was always studious, so we thought we would give him a chance. +I am glad to hear he behaves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, +and I hope my boys will have an easier time than I had. But come in, +come in. The missus and Margaret will be glad to see you, and hear how +the boy is coming on with his studies." + +So they went in together. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that would +fetch you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!" + +Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thought +the forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected his +wits he saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashing +through the woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by a +strap attached to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still resounded +in the depths of the woods, and rang in Yates' ears as he pulled himself +together. + +"Did you--ah--make any remarks?" asked Yates quietly. + +The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise. + +"I say, don't you know that it's not healthy to go to sleep in the +middle of the day?" + +"Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I can +stand it, if the middle of the day can. I've a strong constitution. Now, +what do you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man's bedroom in +that reckless fashion?" + +The boy laughed. + +"I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for I +saw the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago." + +"Oh! Where was he going?" + +"Hanged if I know, and he didn't look as if he knew himself. He's a +queer fish, aint he?" + +"He is. Everybody can't be as sensible and handsome as we are, you know. +Where are you going with those horses, young man?" + +"To get them shod. Won't you come along? You can ride the horse I'm on. +It's got a bridle. I'll ride the one with the halter." + +"How far away is the blacksmith's shop?" + +"Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads." + +"Well," said Yates, "there's merit in the idea. I take it your generous +offer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication." + +"I don't understand. What do you mean?" + +"There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of one +of those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kick +or buck, or playfully roll over a person?" + +"No," cried, young Bartlett indignantly. "This is no circus. Why, a baby +could ride this horse." + +"Well, that's about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I'm a trifle +out of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, +and I haven't been on one of them for a week." + +"Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you set +your mind to." + +Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, +so he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on the horse +with both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slipped to the +ground. + +"Wait till I throw down the fence," he said. + +Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two went trotting down the +road. He managed to hold his place with some little uncertainty, but the +joggling up and down worried him. He never seemed to alight in quite the +same place on the horse's back, and this gave an element of chance to +his position which embarrassed him. He expected to come down some time +and find the horse wasn't there. The boy laughed at his riding, but +Yates was too much engaged in keeping his position to mind that very +much. + +"D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that's what's +the m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me." His conversation seemed to be shaken +out of him by the trotting of the horse. "I say, Bartlett, I can't stand +this any longer. I'd rather walk." + +"You're all right," said the boy; "we'll make him canter." + +He struck the horse over the flank with the loose end of the halter +rein. + +"Here!" shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and grasping the mane. +"Don't make him go faster, you young fiend. I'll murder you when I get +off--and that will be soon." + +"You're all right," repeated young Bartlett, and, much to his +astonishment, Yates found it to be so. When the horse broke into a +canter, Yates thought the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, and +as soothing as a rocking chair. + +"This is an improvement. But we've got to keep it up, for if this brute +suddenly changes to a trot, I'm done for." + +"We'll keep it up until we come in sight of the Corners, then we'll slow +down to a walk. There's sure to be a lot of fellows at the blacksmith's +shop, so we'll come in on them easy like." + +"You're a good fellow, Bartlett," said Yates. "I suspected you of +tricks at first. I'm afraid, if I had got another chap in such a fix, I +wouldn't have let him off as easily as you have me. The temptation would +have been too great." + +When they reached the blacksmith's shop at the Corners, they found four +horses in the building ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, +and then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of the smithy. The +shop was built of rough boards, and the inside was blackened with soot. +It was not well lighted, the two windows being obscured with much +smoke, so that they were useless as far as their original purpose was +concerned; but the doorway, as wide as that of a barn, allowed all the +light to come in that the smith needed for his work. At the far end +and darkest corner of the place stood the forge, with the large bellows +behind it, concealed, for the most part, by the chimney. The forge was +perhaps six feet square and three or four feet high, built of plank and +filled in with earth. The top was covered with cinders and coal, while +in the center glowed the red core of the fire, with blue flames hovering +over it. The man who worked the bellows chewed tobacco, and now and then +projected the juice with deadly accuracy right into the center of the +fire, where it made a momentary hiss and dark spot. All the frequenters +of the smithy admired Sandy's skill in expectoration, and many tried +in vain to emulate it. The envious said it was due to the peculiar +formation of his front teeth, the upper row being prominent, and the +two middle teeth set far apart, as if one were missing. But this was +jealousy; Sandy's perfection in the art was due to no favoritism of +nature, but to constant and long-continued practice. Occasionally with +his callous right hand, never removing his left from the lever, Sandy +pulled an iron bar out of the fire and examined it critically. The +incandescent end of the bar radiated a blinding white light when it was +gently withdrawn, and illuminated the man's head, making his beardless +face look, against its dark background, like the smudged countenance of +some cynical demon glowing with a fire from within. The end of the bar +which he held must have been very hot to an ordinary mortal, as everyone +in the shop knew, all of them, at their initiation to the country club, +having been handed a black piece of iron from Sandy's hand, which he +held unflinchingly, but which the innocent receiver usually dropped with +a yell. This was Sandy's favorite joke, and made life worth living for +him. It was perhaps not so good as the blacksmith's own bit of humor, +but public opinion was divided on that point. Every great man has his +own particular set of admirers; and there were some who said,--under +their breaths, of course,--that Sandy could turn a horseshoe as well +as Macdonald himself. Experts, however, while admitting Sandy's general +genius, did not go so far as this. + +About half a dozen members of the club were present, and most of them +stood leaning against something with hands deep in their trousers +pockets; one was sitting on the blacksmith's bench, with his legs +dangling down. On the bench tools were scattered around so thickly that +he had had to clear a place before he could sit down; the taking of this +liberty proved the man to be an old and privileged member. He sat there +whittling a stick, aimlessly bringing it to a fine point, examining it +frequently with a critical air, as if he were engaged in some delicate +operation which required great discrimination. + +The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to one of the horses, the +hind hoof of the animal, between his knees, resting on his leathern +apron. The horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, not +liking what was going on. Macdonald swore at it fluently, and requested +it to stand still, holding the foot as firmly as if it were in his own +iron vise, which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With his +right hand he held a hot horseshoe, attached to an iron punch that had +been driven into one of the nail holes, and this he pressed against the +upraised hoof, as though sealing a document with a gigantic seal. Smoke +and flame rose from the contact of the hot iron with the hoof, and the +air was filled with the not unpleasant odor of burning horn. The smith's +tool box, with hammer, pinchers, and nails, lay on the earthern floor +within easy reach. The sweat poured from his grimy brow; for it was a +hot job, and Macdonald was in the habit of making the most of his work. +He was called the hardest working man in that part of the country, +and he was proud of the designation. He was a standing reproach to the +loafers who frequented his shop, and that fact gave him pleasure in +their company. Besides, a man must have an audience when he is an expert +in swearing. Macdonald's profanity was largely automatic,--a natural +gift, as it were,--and he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when +you got him fighting angry, he always forgot to swear; but in his calm +moments oaths rolled easily and picturesquely from his lips, and gave +fluency to his conversation. Macdonald enjoyed the reputation round +about of being a wicked man, which he was not; his language was against +him, that was all. This reputation had a misty halo thrown around it by +Macdonald's unknown doings "down East," from which mystical region he +had come. No one knew just what Macdonald had done, but it was admitted +on all sides that he must have had some terrible experiences, although +he was still a young man and unmarried. He used to say: "When you have +come through what I have, you won't be so ready to pick a quarrel with a +man." + +This must have meant something significant, but the blacksmith never +took anyone into his confidence; and "down East" is a vague place, a +sort of indefinite, unlocalized no-man's-land, situated anywhere between +Toronto and Quebec. Almost anything might have happened in such a space +of country. Macdonald's favorite way of crushing an opponent was to say: +"When you've had some of my experiences, young man, you'll know better'n +to talk like that." All this gave a certain fascination to friendship +with the blacksmith; and the farmers' boys felt that they were playing +with fire when in his company, getting, as it were, a glimpse of the +dangerous side of life. As for work, the blacksmith reveled in it, and +made it practically his only vice. He did everything with full steam on, +and was, as has been said, a constant reproach to loafers all over the +country. When there was no work to do, he made work. When there was work +to do, he did it with a rush, sweeping the sweat from his grimy brow +with his hooked fore finger, and flecking it to the floor with a flirt +of the right hand, loose on the wrist, in a way that made his thumb +and fore finger snap together like the crack of a whip. This action was +always accompanied with a long-drawn breath, almost a sigh, that seemed +to say: "I wish I had the easy times you fellows have." In fact, since +he came to the neighborhood the current phrase, "He works like a steer" +had given way to, "He works like Macdonald," except with the older +people, who find it hard to change phrases. Yet everyone liked the +blacksmith, and took no special offense at his untiring industry, +looking at it rather as an example to others. + +He did not look up as the two newcomers entered, but industriously pared +down the hoof with a curiously formed knife turned like a hook at the +point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, and rasped the +hoof into shape with a long, broad file. Not till he let the foot drop +on the earthen floor, and slapped the impatient horse on the flank, did +he deign to answer young Bartlett's inquiry. + +"No," he said, wringing the perspiration from his forehead, "all these +horses aint ahead of you, and you won't need to come next week. That's +the last hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to my shop and go +away again, while the breath of life is left in me. And I don't do it, +either, by sitting on a bench and whittling a stick." + +"That's so. That's so," said Sandy, chuckling, in the admiring tone of +one who intimated that, when the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. "That's +one on you, Sam." + +"I guess I can stand it, if he can," said the whittler from the bench; +which was considered fair repartee. + +"Sit it, you mean," said young Bartlett, laughing with the others at his +own joke. + +"But," said the blacksmith severely, "we're out of shoes, and you'll +have to wait till we turn some, that is, if you don't want the old ones +reset. Are they good enough?" + +"I guess so, if you can find 'em; but they're out in the fields. Didn't +think I'd bring the horses in while they held on, did you?" +Then, suddenly remembering his duties, he said by, way of general +introduction: "Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Yates from New York." + +The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the high spirits of the +crowd. They had imagined from the cut of his clothes that he was a +storekeeper from some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, +these two occupations being the highest social position to which a man +might attain. They were prepared to hear that he was from Welland, or +perhaps St. Catherines; but New York! that was a crusher. Macdonald, +however, was not a man to be put down in his own shop and before his +own admirers. He was not going to let his prestige slip from him merely +because a man from New York had happened along. He could not claim to +know the city, for the stranger would quickly detect the imposture and +probably expose him; but the slightly superior air which Yates wore +irritated him, while it abashed the others. Even Sandy was silent. + +"I've met some people from New York down East," he said in an offhand +manner, as if, after all, a man might meet a New Yorker and still not +sink into the ground. + +"Really?" said Yates. "I hope you liked them." + +"Oh, so-so," replied the blacksmith airily. "There's good and bad among +them, like the rest of us." + +"Ah, you noticed that," said Yates. "Well, I've often thought the same +myself. It's a safe remark to make; there is generally no disputing it." + +The condescending air of the New Yorker was maddening, and Macdonald +realized that he was losing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates' tone +was so exasperating to the blacksmith that he felt any language at his +disposal inadequate to cope with it. The time for the practical joke +had arrived. The conceit of this man must be taken down. He would try +Sandy's method, and, if that failed, it would at least draw attention +from himself to his helper. + +"Being as you're from New York, maybe you can decide a little bet Sandy +here wants to have with somebody." + +Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar that always lay near +enough the fire to be uncomfortably warm. + +"How much do you reckon that weighs?" he said, with critical nicety +estimating its ounces in his swaying hand. Sandy had never done +it better. There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, +unsophisticated countenance, and the crowd looked on in breathless +suspense. + +Bartlett was about to step forward and save his friend, but a wicked +glare from Macdonald restrained him; besides, he felt, somehow, that +his sympathies were with his neighbors, and not with the stranger he had +brought among them. He thought resentfully that Yates might have been +less high and mighty. In fact, when he asked him to come he had imagined +his brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would reflect glory on +himself. Now he fancied he was included in the general scorn Yates took +such little pains to conceal. + +Yates glanced at the piece of iron and, without taking his hands from +his pockets, said carelessly: + +"Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of pounds." + +"Heft it," said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out to him. + +"No, thank you," replied Yates, with a smile. "Do you think I have never +picked up a hot horseshoe before? If you are anxious to know its weight, +why don't you take it over to the grocery store and have it weighed?" + +"'Taint hot," said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and flung the iron back on +the forge. "If it was, I couldn't have held it s'long." + +"Oh, no," returned Yates, with a grin, "of course not. I don't know what +a blacksmith's hands are, do I? Try something fresh." + +Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him among his crowd, for they +all evidently felt as much involved in the failure of Sandy's trick as +he did himself; but he was sure that in future some man, hard pushed in +argument, would fling the New Yorker at him. In the crisis he showed the +instinct of a Napoleon. + +"Well, boys," he cried, "fun's fun, but I've got to work. I have to earn +my living, anyhow." + +Yates enjoyed his victory; they wouldn't try "getting at" him again, he +said to himself. + +Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the bar of white-hot iron. He +gave a scarcely perceptible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready with tobacco +juice, spat with great directness on the top of the anvil. Macdonald +placed the hot iron on the spot, and quickly smote it a stalwart blow +with the heavy hammer. The result was appalling. An instantaneous +spreading fan of apparently molten iron lit up the place as if it were a +flash of lightning. There was a crash like the bursting of a cannon. +The shop was filled for a moment with a shower of brilliant sparks, that +flew like meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone was prepared +for the explosion except Yates. He sprang back with a cry, tripped, +and, without having time to get the use of his hands to ease his fall, +tumbled and rolled to the horses' heels. The animals, frightened by the +report, stamped around; and Yates had to hustle on his hands and knees +to safer quarters, exhibiting more celerity than dignity. The blacksmith +never smiled, but everyone else roared. The reputation of the country +was safe. Sandy doubled himself up in his boisterous mirth. + +"There's no one like the old man!" he shouted. "Oh, lordy! lordy! He's +all wool, and a yard wide." + +Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, laughing with the rest +of them. + +"If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten it. That's one on me, +as this youth in spasms said a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I'll treat +the crowd, if there's a place handy." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +People who have but a superficial knowledge of the life and times +here set down may possibly claim that the grocery store, and not the +blacksmith's shop, used to be the real country club--the place where the +politics of the country were discussed; where the doings of great men +were commended or condemned, and the government criticised. It is true +that the grocery store was the club of the village, when a place like +the Corners grew to be a village; but the blacksmith's shop was usually +the first building erected on the spot where a village was ultimately +to stand. It was the nucleus. As a place grew, and enervating luxury set +in, the grocery store slowly supplanted the blacksmith's shop, because +people found a nail keg, or a box of crackers, more comfortable to sit +on than the limited seats at their disposal in a smithy; moreover, in +winter the store, with its red-hot box stove, was a place of warmth and +joy, but the reveling in such an atmosphere of comfort meant that the +members of the club had to live close at hand, for no man would brave +the storms of a Canadian winter night, and journey a mile or two through +the snow, to enjoy even the pleasures of the store. So the grocery was +essentially a village club, and not a rural club. + +Of course, as civilization advanced, the blacksmith found it impossible +to compete with the grocer. He could not offer the same inducements. The +grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the grateful epicurism of +the Athenaeum, the Reform, or the Carlton. It catered to the appetite of +man, besides supplying him with the intellectual stimulus of debate. +A box of soda crackers was generally open, and, although such biscuits +were always dry, they were good to munch, if consumed slowly. The barrel +of hazel nuts never had a lid on. The raisins, in their square box, with +blue-tinted paper, setting forth the word "Malaga" under the colored +picture of joyous Spanish grape pickers, stood on the shelves behind +the counter, at an angle suited to display the contents to all comers, +requiring an exceptionally long reach, and more than an ordinary amount +of cheek, before they were got at; but the barrel of Muscavado brown +sugar was where everyone could dip his hand in; while the man on the +keg of tenpenny nails might extend his arm over into the display window, +where the highly colored candies exhibited themselves, although +the person who meddled often with them was frowned upon, for it was +etiquette in the club not to purloin things which were expensive. +The grocer himself drew the line at the candies, and a second helping +usually brought forth the mild reproof: + +"Shall I charge that, Sam; or would you rather pay for it now?" + +All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat surreptitious way, and the +takers generally wore an absent-minded look, as if the purloining was +not quite intentional on their part. But they were all good customers +of the grocer, and the abstractions were doubtless looked on by him as +being in the way of trade; just as the giving of a present with a pound +of tea, or a watch with a suit of clothes, became in later days. Be +that as it may, he never said anything unless his generosity was taken +advantage of, which was rarely the case. + +Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious feast, that helped to +lighten the shelves and burden the till. This ordinarily took the form +of a splurge in cove oysters. Cove oysters came from Baltimore, of +course, in round tins; they were introduced into Canada long before the +square tin boxes that now come in winter from the same bivalvular city. +Cove oysters were partly cooked before being tinned, so that they would, +as the advertisements say, keep in any climate. They did not require ice +around them, as do the square tins which now contain the raw oysters. +Someone present would say: + +"What's the matter with having a feed of cove oysters?" + +He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so from each member, +and the whole was expended in several cans of oysters and a few pounds +of crackers. The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top of the hot +stove. The contents of the cans were emptied into this handy dish, milk +was added, and broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency to the +result. There were always plenty of plates, for the store supplied the +crockery of the neighborhood. There were also plenty of spoons, for +everything was to be had at the grocery. What more could the most +exacting man need? On a particularly reckless night the feast ended with +several tins of peaches, which needed no cooking, but only a sprinkling +of sugar. The grocer was always an expert at cooking cove oysters and at +opening tins of peaches. + +There was a general feeling among the members that, by indulging in +these banquets, they were going the pace rather; and some of the older +heads feebly protested against the indulgence of the times, but it was +noticed that they never refrained from doing their share when it came to +spoon work. + +"A man has but one life to live," the younger and more reckless would +say, as if that excused the extravagance; for a member rarely got away +without being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when they had +peaches as well as oysters. + +The grocery at the Corners had been but recently established and as yet +the blacksmith's shop had not looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald was +monarch of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favorite gathering +place for miles around. The smithy was also the patriotic center of the +district, as a blacksmith's shop must be as long as anvils can take the +place of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th of May, the queen's +birthday, celebrated locally as the only day in the year, except +Sundays, when Macdonald's face was clean and when he did no work, the +firing of the anvils aroused the echoes of the locality. On that great +day the grocer supplied the powder, which was worth three York shillings +a pound--a York shilling being sixpence halfpenny. It took two men to +carry an anvil, with a good deal of grunting; but Macdonald, if the +crowd were big enough, made nothing of picking it up, hoisting it on his +shoulder, and flinging it down on the green in front of his shop. In the +iron mass there is a square hole, and when the anvil was placed upside +down, the hole was uppermost. It was filled with powder, and a wooden +plug, with a notch cut in it, was pounded in with a sledge hammer. +Powder was sprinkled from the notch over the surface of the anvil, and +then the crowd stood back and held its breath. It was a most exciting +moment. Macdonald would come running out of the shop bareheaded, holding +a long iron bar, the wavering, red-hot end of which descended on the +anvil, while the blacksmith shouted in a terrifying voice: "Look out, +there!" The loose powder hissed and spat for a moment, then bang went +the cannon, and a great cloud of smoke rolled upward, while the rousing +cheers came echoing back from the surrounding forests. The helper, with +the powder-horn, would spring to the anvil and pour the black explosive +into the hole, while another stood ready with plug and hammer. The +delicious scent of burned gunpowder filled the air, and was inhaled by +all the youngsters with satisfaction, for now they realized what real +war was. Thus the salutes were fired, and thus the royal birthday was +fittingly celebrated. + +Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade was much brisker, as +then a plug was not needed. The hole in the lower anvil was filled with +powder, and the other anvil was placed over it. This was much quicker +than pounding in a plug, and had quite as striking and detonating an +effect. The upper anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain's shot-laden frog, +and fell over on its side. The smoke rolled up as usual, and the report +was equally gratifying. + +Yates learned all these things as he sat in the blacksmith's shop, for +they were still in the month of May, and the smoke of the echoing anvils +had hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to tell him of the +glory of the day. One or two were good enough to express regret that he +had not been there to see. After the disaster which had overturned Yates +things had gone on very smoothly, and he had become one of the crowd, as +it were. The fact that he was originally a Canadian told in his favor, +although he had been contaminated by long residence in the States. + +Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horseshoes from long rods of +iron. Usually an extended line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackened +scantling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing the shop +overhead, just under the roof. These were the work of Macdonald's +comparatively leisure days, and they were ready to be fitted to the +hoofs of any horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion there +had been such a run on his stock that it was exhausted, a depletion +the smith seemed to regard as a reproach on himself, for he told Yates +several times that he often had as many as three dozen shoes up aloft +for a rainy day. + +When the sledge hammer work was to be done, one of those present stepped +forward and swung the heavy sledge, keeping stroke for stroke with +Macdonald's one-handed hammer, all of which required a nice ear for +time. This assistance was supposed to be rendered by Sandy; but, as he +remarked, he was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his skill was at +liberty to do so. Sandy seemed to spend most of his time at the bellows, +and when he was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as he called +him, he was commending the expertness of the _pro tem._ amateur, the +wielder of the sledge. It was fun to the amateur, and it was an old +thing with Sandy, so he never protested against this interference with +his duty, believing in giving everyone a chance, especially when it came +to swinging a heavy hammer. The whole scene brought back to Yates the +days of his youth, especially when Macdonald, putting the finishing +strokes to his shoe, let his hammer periodically tinkle with musical +clangor on the anvil, ringing forth a tintinnabulation that chimed +melodiously on the ear--a sort of anvil-chorus accompaniment to his +mechanical skill. He was a real sleight-of-hand man, and the anvil was +his orchestra. + +Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural club. As the members +thawed out he found them all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, +they were appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently new to +them, and nothing puts a man into a genial frame of mind so quickly as +an attentive, sympathetic audience. Few men could tell a story better +than Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of interested hearers. He +hated to have to explain the points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what +story-teller does not? A cold and critical man like the professor +froze the spring of narration at its source. Besides, Renmark had an +objectionable habit of tracing the recital to its origin; it annoyed +Yates to tell a modern yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, or +some other prehistoric poacher on the good things men were to say, had +forestalled him by a thousand years or so. When a man is quick to see +the point of your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you are apt to +form a high opinion of his good sense, and to value his companionship. + +When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, who was delighted at +the impression Yates had made, was preparing to go, the whole company +protested against the New Yorker's departure. This was real flattery. + +"What's your hurry, Bartlett?" asked the whittler. "You can't do +anything this afternoon, if you do go home. It's a poor time this to +mend a bad day's work. If you stay, he'll stay; won't you, Mr. Yates? +Macdonald is going to set tires, and he needs us all to look on and see +that he does it right; don't you, Mac?" + +"Yes; I get a lot of help from you while there's a stick to whittle," +replied the smith. + +"Then there's the protracted meeting to-night at the schoolhouse," put +in another, anxious that all the attractions of the place should be +brought forward. + +"That's so," said the whittler; "I had forgotten about that. It's the +first night, so we must all be there to encourage old Benderson. You'll +be on hand to-night, won't you, Macdonald?" + +The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to Sandy and asked him +savagely what in ---- and ---nation he was standing gawking there for. +Why didn't he go outside and get things ready for the tire setting? What +in thunder was he paying him for, anyhow? Wasn't there enough loafers +round, without him joining the ranks? + +Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when the smith's back was +turned, he shrugged his shoulders, took a fresh bite of tobacco from the +plug which he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others as he did +so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out of the shop, saying in a whisper +as he passed the whittler: + +"I wouldn't rile the old man, if I were you." + +The club then adjourned to the outside, all except those who sat on the +bench. Yates asked: + +"What's the matter with Macdonald? Doesn't he like protracted meetings? +And, by the way, what are protracted meetings?" + +"They're revival meetings--religious meetings, you know, for converting +sinners." + +"Really?" said Yates. "But why protracted? Are they kept on for a week +or two?" + +"Yes; I suppose that's why, although, to tell the truth, I never knew +the reason for the name. Protracted meetings always stood for just the +same thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as meaning that one +thing, without thinking why." + +"And doesn't Macdonald like them?" + +"Well, you see, it's like this: He never wants to go to a protracted +meeting, yet he can't keep away. He's like a drunkard and the corner +tavern. He can't pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. +Macdonald's always the first one to go up to the penitent bench. They +rake him in every time. He has religion real bad for a couple of +weeks, and then he backslides. He doesn't seem able to stand either the +converting or the backsliding. I suppose some time they will gather him +in finally, and he will stick and become a class leader, but he hasn't +stuck up to date." + +"Then he doesn't like to hear the subject spoken of?" + +"You bet he don't. It isn't safe to twit him about it either. To tell +the truth, I was pleased when I heard him swear at Sandy; then I knew it +was all right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad man to tackle +when he's mad. There's nobody in this district can handle him. I'd +sooner get a blow from a sledge hammer than meet Mac's fist when his +dander is up. But so long as he swears it's all right. Say, you'll stay +down for the meeting, won't you?" + +"I think I will. I'll see what young Bartlett intends to do. It isn't +very far to walk, in any case." + +"There will be lots of nice girls going your way to-night after the +meeting. I don't know but I'll jog along in that direction myself when +it's over. That's the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow." + +The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, and joined the crowd +outside. Young Bartlett sat on one of the horses, loath to leave while +the tire setting was going on. + +"Are you coming, Yates?" he shouted, as his comrade appeared. + +"I think I'll stay for the meeting," said Yates, approaching him and +patting the horse. He had no desire for mounting and riding away in the +presence of that critical assemblage. + +"All right," said young Bartlett. "I guess I'll be down at the meeting, +too; then I can show you the way home." + +"Thanks," said Yates; "I'll be on the lookout for you." + +Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of +dust. The others had also departed with their shod horses; but there +were several new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather than +diminished. They sat around on the fence, or on the logs dumped down by +the wayside. + +Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was a convenient way of using +the weed, and required no matches, besides being safer for men who had +to frequent inflammable barns. + +A circular fire burned in front of the shop, oak bark being the main +fuel used. Iron wagon tires lay hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald +and Sandy bustled about making preparations, their faces, more hideous +in the bright sunlight than in the comparative obscurity of the shop, +giving them the appearance of two evil spirits about to attend some +incantation scene of which the circular fire was the visible indication. +Crosstrees, of four pieces of squared timber, lay near the fire, with a +tireless wheel placed flat upon them, the hub in the square hole at the +center. Shiftless farmers always resisted having tires set until they +would no longer stay on the wheel. The inevitable day was postponed, +time and again, by a soaking of the wheels overnight in some convenient +puddle of water; but as the warmer and dryer weather approached this +device, supplemented by wooden wedges, no longer sufficed, and the tires +had to be set for summer work. Frequently the tire rolled off on the +sandy highway, and the farmer was reluctantly compelled to borrow a rail +from the nearest fence, and place it so as to support the axle; he then +put the denuded wheel and its tire on the wagon, and drove slowly to the +nearest blacksmith's shop, his vehicle "trailing like a wounded duck," +the rail leaving a snake's track behind it on the dusty road. + +The blacksmith had previously cut and welded the tire, reducing its +circumference, and when it was hot enough, he and Sandy, each with a +pair of tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It was pressed +and hammered down on the blazing rim of the wheel, and instantly Sandy +and Macdonald, with two pails of water that stood handy, poured the +cold liquid around the red-hot zone, enveloping themselves in clouds +of steam, the quick contraction clamping the iron on the wood until the +joints cracked together. There could be no loitering; quick work was +necessary, or a spoiled wheel was the result. Macdonald, alternately +spluttering through fire and steam, was in his element. Even Sandy had +to be on the keen jump, without a moment to call his plug of tobacco his +own. Macdonald fussed and fussed, but got through an immense amount of +work in an incredibly short space of time, cursing Sandy pretty much all +the while; yet that useful man never replied in kind, contenting himself +with a wink at the crowd when he got the chance, and saying under his +breath: + +"The old man's in great fettle to-day." + +Thus everybody enjoyed himself: Macdonald, because he was the center +figure in a saturnalia of work; Sandy, because no matter how hard a man +has to work he can chew tobacco all the time; the crowd, because the +spectacle of fire, water, and steam was fine, and they didn't have to do +anything but sit around and look on. The sun got lower and lower as, one +by one, the spectators departed to do their chores, and prepare for the +evening meeting. Yates at the invitation of the whittler went home with +him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Margaret had never met any man but her father who was so fond of +books as Professor Renmark. The young fellows of her acquaintance +read scarcely anything but the weekly papers; they went with some care +through the yellow almanac that was given away free, with the grocer's +name printed on the back. The marvelous cures the almanac recorded were +of little interest, and were chiefly read by the older folk, but the +young men reveled in the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, +their only drawback being that one could never tell the stories at a +paring-bee or other social gathering, because everyone in the company +had read them. A few of the young men came sheepishly round to get a +book out of the library, but it was evident that their interest was not +so much in the volume as in the librarian, and when that fact became +apparent to the girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought to be cold +and proud by the youth of the neighborhood, or "stuck-up," as they +expressed it. + +To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revelation. He could talk of +other things than the weather, live stock, and the prospects for the +crops. The conversation at first did not include Margaret, but she +listened to every word of it with interest. Her father and mother were +anxious to hear about their boy; and from that engrossing subject the +talk soon drifted to university life, and the differences between city +and country. At last the farmer, with a sigh, arose to go. There is +little time for pleasant talk on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret, +remembering her duties as librarian, began to take in the books from the +wagon to the front room. Renmark, slow in most things, was quick enough +to offer his assistance on this occasion; but he reddened somewhat as he +did so, for he was unused to being a squire of dames. + +"I wish you would let me do the porterage," he said. "I would like to +earn the right to look at these books sometimes, even though I may not +have the privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident of the +township." + +"The librarian," answered Margaret, with a smile, "seems to be at +liberty to use her own discretion in the matter of lending. No one has +authority to look over her accounts, or to censure her if she lends +recklessly. So, if you wish to borrow books, all you have to do is to +ask for them." + +"You may be sure I shall avail myself of the permission. But my +conscience will be easier if I am allowed to carry them in." + +"You will be permitted to help. I like carrying them. There is no more +delicious armful than books." + +As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face radiant with enthusiasm, +the disconcerting thought came suddenly that perhaps her statement +might not be accurate. No such thought had ever suggested itself to him +before, and it now filled him with guilty confusion. He met the clear, +honest gaze of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered lamely: + +"I--I too am very fond of books." + +Together they carried in the several hundred volumes, and then began to +arrange them. + +"Have you no catalogue?" he asked. + +"No. We never seem to need one. People come and look over the library, +and take out whatever book they fancy." + +"Yes, but still every library ought to be catalogued. Cataloguing is an +art in itself. I have paid a good deal of attention to it, and will show +you how it is done, if you care to know." + +"Oh, I wish you would." + +"How do you keep a record of the volumes that are out?" + +"I just write the name of the person, the title, and the date in this +blank book. When the volume is returned, I score out the record." + +"I see," said Renmark dubiously. + +"That isn't right, is it? Is there a better way?" + +"Well, for a small library, that ought to do; but if you were handling +many books, I think confusion might result." + +"Do tell me the right way. I should like to know, even if it is a small +library." + +"There are several methods, but I am by no means sure your way is not +the simplest, and therefore the best in this instance." + +"I'm not going to be put off like that," said Margaret, laughing. "A +collection of books is a collection of books, whether large or small, +and deserves respect and the best of treatment. Now, what method is used +in large libraries?" + +"Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though slips of paper would +do. When any person wants to take out a book, let him make out a card, +giving the date and the name or number of the book; he then must sign +the card, and there you are. He cannot deny having had the book, for +you have his own signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a +box according to dates, and when a book is returned, you tear up the +recording paper." + +"I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt it." + +"Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few hundred cards. We'll have +them here in a day or two." + +"Oh, I don't want to put you to that trouble." + +"It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let us attack the +catalogue. Have you a blank book anywhere about? We will first make an +alphabetical list; then we will arrange them under the heads of history, +biography, fiction, and so on." + +Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue took a long time. Both +were absorbed in their occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straight +and narrow path, but in this instance there were so many delightful side +excursions that rapid progress could not be expected. To a reader the +mere mention of a book brings up recollections. Margaret was reading +out the names; Renmark, on slips of paper, each with a letter on it, was +writing them down. + +"Oh, have you that book?" he would say, looking up as a title was +mentioned. "Have you ever read it?" + +"No; for, you see, this part of the library is all new to me. Why, here +is one of which the leaves are not even cut. No one has read it. Is it +good?" + +"One of the best," Renmark would say, taking the volume. "Yes, I know +this edition. Let me read you one passage." + +And Margaret would sit in the rocking while he cut the leaves and found +the place. One extract was sure to suggest another, and time passed +before the title of the book found its way to the proper slip of +paper. These excursions into literature were most interesting to both +excursionists, but they interfered with cataloguing. Renmark read +and read, ever and anon stopping to explain some point, or quote what +someone else had said on the same subject, marking the place in the +book, as he paused, with inserted fore finger. Margaret swayed back and +forth in the comfortable rocking chair, and listened intently, her large +dark eyes fixed upon him so earnestly that now and then, when he met +them, he seemed disconcerted for a moment. But the girl did not notice +this. At the end of one of his dissertations she leaned her elbow on the +arm of the chair, with her cheek resting against her hand, and said: + +"How very clear you make everything, Mr. Renmark." + +"Do you think so?" he said with a smile. "It's my business, you know." + +"I think it's a shame that girls are not allowed to go to the +university; don't you?" + +"Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, and I am not quite +prepared to say." + +"Well, I think it most unfair. The university is supported by the +Government, is it not? Then why should half of the population be shut +out from its advantages?" + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't do, you know." + +"Why?" + +"There are many reasons," he replied evasively. + +"What are they? Do you think girls could not learn, or are not as +capable of hard study as well as----" + +"It isn't that," he interrupted; "there are plenty of girls' schools in +the country, you know. Some very good ones in Toronto itself, for that +matter." + +"Yes; but why shouldn't I go to the university with my brother? There +are plenty of boys' schools, too, but the university is the university. +I suppose my father helps to support it. Why, then, should one child be +allowed to attend and the other not? It isn't at all just." + +"It wouldn't do," said the professor more firmly, the more he thought +about it. + +"Would you take that as a satisfying reason from one or your students?" + +"What?" + +"The phrase, 'It wouldn't do.'" + +Renmark laughed. + +"I'm afraid not," he said; "but, then, I'm very exacting in class. Now, +if you want to know, why do you not ask your father?" + +"Father and I have discussed the question, often, and he quite agrees +with me in thinking it unfair." + +"Oh, does he?" said Renmark, taken aback; although, when he reflected, +he realized that the father doubtless knew as little about the dangers +of the city as the daughter did. + +"And what does your mother say?" + +"Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper it is all that is +required. So you will have to give me a good reason, if there is one, +for nobody else in this house argues on your side of the question." + +"Well," said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, "if you don't know by the +time you are twenty-five, I'll promise to discuss the whole subject with +you." + +Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. + +"Twenty-five?" she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity of youth: +"That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I'll find out +before that time." + +"I think you will," Renmark answered. + +They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of her +brother. + +"Hello, you two!" he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. "It +seems the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual." + +Margaret rose with dignity. + +"We are cataloguing," she said severely. + +"Oh, that's what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or is +two company when they're cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it +is?" + +"I'm afraid I must be off," said the professor, rising. "My companion in +camp won't know what has become of me." + +"Oh, he's all right!" said Henry. "He's down at the Corners, and is +going to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a +while ago; he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went with +him. I guess Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, +will you go to the meeting? I'm going. Young Bartlett's going, and so is +Kitty. Won't you come, too, Mr. Renmark? It's great fun." + +"Don't talk like that about a religious gathering, Henry," said his +sister, frowning. + +"Well, that's what it is, anyhow." + +"Is it a prayer meeting?" asked the professor, looking at the girl. + +"You bet it is!" cried Henry enthusiastically, giving no one a chance +to speak but himself. "It's a prayer meeting, and every other kind +of meeting all rolled into one. It's a revival meeting; a protracted +meeting, that's what it is. You had better come with us, Mr. Renmark, +and then you can see what it is like. You can walk home with Yates." + +This attractive _dnouement_ did not seem to appeal so strongly to the +professor as the boy expected, for he made no answer. + +"You will come, sis; won't you?" urged the boy. + +"Are you sure Kitty is going?" + +"Of course she is. You don't think she'd miss it, do you? They'll soon +be here, too; better go and get ready." + +"I'll see what mother says," replied Margaret as she left the room. +She shortly returned, dressed ready for the meeting, and the professor +concluded he would go also. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Anyone passing the Corners that evening would have quickly seen that +something important was on. Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, +drawn in toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses were tied. +Some had evidently come from afar, for the fame of the revivalist was +widespread. The women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, which +was brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The men stood around outside in +groups, while many sat in rows on the fences, all conversing about every +conceivable topic except religion. They apparently acted on the theory +that there would be enough religion to satisfy the most exacting when +they went inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fence with the +whittler, whose guest he had been. It was getting too dark for +satisfactory whittling, so the man with the jack-knife improved the time +by cutting notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when this failed, +there was always a satisfaction in opening and shutting a knife that had +a powerful spring at the back of it, added to which was the pleasurable +danger of cutting his fingers. They were discussing the Fenian question, +which at that time was occupying the minds of Canadians to some extent. +Yates was telling them what he knew of the brotherhood in New York, and +the strength of it, which his auditors seemed inclined to underestimate. +Nobody believed that the Fenians would be so foolhardy as to attempt an +invasion of Canada; but Yates held that if they did they would give the +Canadians more trouble than was expected. + +"Oh, we'll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come over here. They'll be +glad enough to get back if he tackles them." + +"With his tongue," added another. + +"By the way," said the whittler, "did young Bartlett say he was coming +to-night? I hope he'll bring his sister if he does. Didn't any of you +fellows ask him to bring her? He'd never think of it if he wasn't told. +He has no consideration for the rest of us." + +"Why didn't you ask him? I hear you have taken to going in that +direction yourself." + +"Who? Me?" asked the whittler, quite unconcerned. "I have no chance in +that quarter, especially when the old man's around." + +There was a sound of singing from the schoolhouse. The double doors were +wide open, and as the light streamed out the people began to stream in. + +"Where's Macdonald?" asked Yates. + +"Oh, I guess he's taken to the woods. He washes his face, and then he +hides. He has the sense to wash his face first, for he knows he will +have to come. You'll see him back before they start the second hymn." + +"Well, boys!" said one, getting down from the fence and stretching his +arms above his head with a yawn, "I guess, if we're going in, it's about +time." + +One after another they got down from the fence, the whittler shutting +his knife with a reluctant snap, and putting it in his pocket with +evident regret. The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to its +utmost capacity--women on one side of the room, and men on the other; +although near the door there was no such division, all the occupants +of the back benches being men and boys. The congregation was standing, +singing a hymn, when Yates and his comrades entered, so their quiet +incoming was not noticed. The teacher's desk had been moved from the +platform on which it usually stood, and now occupied a corner on the +men's side of the house. It was used as a seat by two or three, who +wished to be near the front, and at the same time keep an eye on the +rest of the assemblage. The local preacher stood on the edge of the +platform, beating time gently with his hymn book, but not singing, as +he had neither voice nor ear for music, and happily recognized the fact. +The singing was led by a man in the middle of the room. + +At the back of the platform, near the wall, were two chairs, on one of +which sat the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who was to conduct the revival. He was +a stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see his face, for it +was buried in his hands, his head being bowed in silent prayer. It was +generally understood that he had spent a youth of fearful wickedness, +and he always referred to himself as a brand snatched from the burning. +It was even hinted that at one time he had been a card player, but no +one knew this for a fact. Many of the local preachers had not the power +of exhortation, therefore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had +that gift abnormally developed, was too valuable to be localized; so he +spent the year going from place to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, +or frightening into the fold those stray sheep that hovered on the +outskirts; once they were within the religious ring-fence the local +minister was supposed to keep them there. The latter, who had given out +the hymn, was a man of very different caliber. He was tall, pale, and +thin, and his long black coat hung on him as if it were on a post. When +the hymn was finished; and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, +found seats as best they could at the end near the door. This was the +portion of the hall where the scoffers assembled, but it was also +the portion which yielded most fruit, if the revival happened to be a +successful one. Yates, seeing the place so full, and noticing two empty +benches up at the front, asked the whittler why they were not occupied. + +"They'll be occupied pretty soon." + +"Who are they being kept for?" + +"Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. You never can tell. That's +the penitents' bench." + +The local preacher knelt on the platform, and offered up a prayer. He +asked the Lord to bless the efforts of the brother who was with them +there that night, and to crown his labors with success; through his +instrumentality to call many wandering sinners home. There were cries +of "Amen" and "Bless the Lord" from different parts of the hall as the +prayer was being made. On rising, another hymn was given out: + + "Joy to the world, the Lord is come. + Let earth receive her King." + +The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune began high, and +ran down to the bottom of the scale by the time it reached the end of +the first line. When the congregation had got two-thirds of the way +down, they found they could go no farther, not even those who sang bass. +The leader, in some confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, and his +miscalculation was looked upon as exceedingly funny by the reckless +spirits at the back of the hall. The door opened quietly; and they all +turned expecting to see Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had washed +his face with but indifferent success, and the bulge in his cheek, +like a wen, showed that he had not abandoned tobacco on entering the +schoolhouse. He tiptoed to a place beside his friends. + +"The old man's outside," he whispered to the youth who sat nearest him, +holding his hand to the side of his mouth so that the sound would not +travel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him in a friendly sort of +way. + +The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went on, gradually recovering +from the misadventure at starting. When it was finished, the preacher +sat down beside the revivalist. His part of the work was done, as there +was no formal introduction of speaker to audience to be gone through. +The other remained as he was with bowed head, for what appeared to be a +long time. + +A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whisperings among the +scoffers ceased. + +At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, arose, and came to the +front of the platform. He had a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, +with the heavy jaw of a stubborn man--a man not easily beaten. "Open the +door," he said in a quiet voice. + +In the last few meetings he had held he had found this an effective +beginning. It was new to his present audience. Usually a knot of people +stood outside, and if they were there, he made an appeal to them, +through the open door, to enter. If no one was there, he had a lesson to +impart, based on the silence and the darkness. In this instance it +was hard to say which was the more surprised, the revivalist or the +congregation. Sandy, being on his feet, stepped to the door, and threw +it open. He was so astonished at what he saw that he slid behind the +open door out of sight. Macdonald stood there, against the darkness +beyond, in a crouching attitude, as if about to spring. He had evidently +been trying to see what was going on through the keyhole; and, being +taken unawares by the sudden opening of the door, had not had time to +recover himself. No retreat was now possible. He stood up with haggard +face, like a man who has been on a spree, and, without a word, walked +in. Those on the bench in front of Yates moved together a little closer, +and the blacksmith sat down on the vacant space left at the outside. In +his confusion he drew his hand across his brow, and snapped his fingers +loudly in the silence. A few faces at the back wore a grin, and would +have laughed had not Sandy, closing the door quietly, given them one +menacing look which quelled their merriment. He was not going to have +the "old man" made fun of in his extremity; and they all had respect +enough for Sandy's fist not to run the risk of encountering it after the +meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to be dreaded in a fight; +but the chances were that for the next two or three weeks, if the +revival were a success, there would be no danger from that quarter. +Sandy, however, was permanently among the unconverted, and therefore to +be feared, as being always ready to stand up for his employer, either +with voice or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson had witnessed +suggested no remarks at the time, so, being a wise man, he said nothing. +The congregation wondered how he had known Macdonald was at the door, +and none more than Macdonald himself. It seemed to many that the +revivalist had a gift of divination denied to themselves, and this +belief left them in a frame of mind more than ever ready to profit by +the discourse they were about to hear. + +Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that nevertheless penetrated to +every part of the room. He had a voice of peculiar quality, as sweet +as the tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music; now and then +there was a manly ring in it which thrilled his listeners. "A week ago +to-night," he said, "at this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of one +who is now among the blessed. It is four years since he found salvation, +by the mercy of God, through the humble instrumentality of the least of +his servants. It was my blessed privilege to see that young man--that +boy almost--pledge his soul to Jesus. He was less than twenty when he +gave himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long life were as strong as +the hopes of the youngest here to-night. Yet he was struck down in the +early flush of manhood--struck down almost without warning. When I +heard of his brief illness, although knowing nothing of its seriousness, +something urged me to go to him, and at once. When I reached the house, +they told me that he had asked to see me, and that they had just sent a +messenger to the telegraph office with a dispatch for me. I said: 'God +telegraphed to me.' They took me to the bedside of my young friend, whom +I had last seen as hearty and strong as anyone here." + +Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with emotion, told the story +of the deathbed scene. His language was simple and touching, and it +was evident to the most callous auditor that he spoke from the heart, +describing in pathetic words the scene he had witnessed. His unadorned +eloquence went straight home to every listener, and many an eye dimmed +as he put before them a graphic picture of the serenity attending the +end of a well-spent life. + +"As I came through among you to-night," he continued, "as you stood +together in groups outside this building, I caught a chance expression +that one of you uttered. A man was speaking of some neighbor who, at +this busy season of the year, had been unable to get help. I think the +one to whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy man were here, +and the answer was: 'No; he has not a minute to call his own.' The +phrase has haunted me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. 'Not a +minute to call his own!' I thought of it as I sat before you. I thought +of it as I rose to address you. I think of it now. Who has a minute to +call his own?" The soft tones of the preacher's voice had given place to +a ringing cry that echoed from the roof down on their heads. "Have you? +Have I? Has any king, any prince, any president, any ruler over men, +a minute or a moment he can call his own? Not one. Not one of all the +teeming millions on this earth. The minutes that are past are yours. +What use have you made of them? All your efforts, all your prayers, will +not change the deeds done in any one of those minutes that are past, and +those only are yours. The chiseled stone is not more fixed than are the +deeds of the minutes that are past. Their record is for you or against +you. But where now are those minutes of the future--those minutes that, +from this time onward, you will be able to call your own when they are +spent? They are in the hand of God--in his hand to give or to withhold. +And who can count them in the hand of God? Not you, not I, not the +wisest man upon the earth. Man may number the miles from here to the +farthest visible star; but he cannot tell you,--_you_; I don't mean your +neighbor, I mean _you_,--he cannot tell YOU whether your minutes are to +be one or a thousand. They are doled out to you, and you are responsible +for them. But there will come a moment,--it may be to-night, it may be a +year hence,--when the hand of God will close, and you will have had your +sum. Then time will end for you, and eternity begin. Are you prepared +for that awful moment--that moment when the last is given you, and the +next withheld? What if it came now? Are you prepared for it? Are you +ready to welcome it, as did our brother who died at this hour one short +week ago? His was not the only deathbed I have attended. Some scenes +have been so seared into my brain that I can never forget them. A year +ago I was called to the bedside of a dying man, old in years and old in +sin. Often had he been called, but he put Christ away from him, saying: +'At a more convenient season.' He knew the path, but he walked not +therein. And when at last God's patience ended, and this man was +stricken down, he, foolish to the last, called for me, the servant, +instead of to God, the Master. When I reached his side, the stamp of +death was on his face. The biting finger of agony had drawn lines upon +his haggard brow. A great fear was upon him, and he gripped my hand with +the cold grasp of death itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I +saw the angel of peace standing by the bed, but it stood aloof, as one +often offended. It seemed to me at the head of the bed the demon of +eternal darkness bent over, whispering to him: 'It is too late! it is +too late!' The dying man looked at me--oh, such a look! May you never be +called upon to witness its like. He gasped: 'I have lived--I have +lived a sinful life. Is it too late?' 'No,' I said, trembling. 'Say you +believe.' His lips moved, but no sound came. He died as he had lived. +The one necessary minute was withheld. Do you hear? _It--was--withheld!_ +He had not the minute to call his own. Not that minute in which to turn +from everlasting damnation. He--went--down--into--_hell_, dying as he +had lived." + +The preacher's voice rose until it sounded like a trumpet blast. His +eyes shone, and his face flushed with the fervor of his theme. Then +followed, as rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture of +hell and the day of judgment. Sobs and groans were heard in every part +of the room. "Come--now--_now_!" he cried, "Now is the appointed time, +now is the day of salvation. Come now; and as you rise pray God that +in his mercy he may spare you strength and life to reach the penitent +bench." + +Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching out his hands, he broke +forth, with his splendid tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, with its +spirited marching time: + +[Musical score: Come ye sinners, poor and needy, + Weak and wounded, sick and sore; + Jesus ready stands to save you. + Full of pity, love, and power.] + +The whole congregation joined him. Everyone knew the words and the tune. +It seemed a relief to the pent-up feelings to sing at the top of the +voice. The chorus rose like a triumphal march: + +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear name; + Glory, honour, and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] + +As the congregation sang the preacher in stentorian tones urged sinners +to seek the Lord while he was yet to be found. + +Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he tugged at his collar, +as if he were choking. He could not understand the strange exaltation +that had come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. All those +around him were much moved. There were now no scoffers at the back of +the room. Most of them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at the +other. It only needed a beginning, and the penitent bench would be +crowded. Many eyes were turned on Macdonald. His face was livid, and +great beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand clutched +the back of the seat before him, and the muscles stood out on the +portion of his arm that was bare. He stared like a hypnotized man at +the preacher. His teeth were set, and he breathed hard, as would a man +engaged in a struggle. At last the hand of the preacher seemed to be +pointed directly at him. He rose tremblingly to his feet and staggered +down the aisle, flinging himself on his knees, with his head on his +arms, beside the penitent bench, groaning aloud. + +"Bless the Lord!" cried the preacher. + +It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the aisle, with pale faces, +many with tears streaming from their eyes, walked the young men and the +old. Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on their lips, saw +their sons fall prostrate before the penitent bench. Soon the contrite +had to kneel wherever they could. The ringing salvation march filled the +air, mingled with cries of joy and devout ejaculations. + +"God!" cried Yates, tearing off his collar, "what is the matter with me? +I never felt like this before. I must get into the open air." + +He made for the door, and escaped unnoticed in the excitement of the +moment. He stood for a time by the fence outside, breathing deeply +of the cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly to him. He +clutched the fence, fearing he was about to faint. Partially recovering +himself at last, he ran with all his might up the road, while there rang +in his ears the marching words: + +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear Name. + Glory, honour and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +When people are thrown together, especially when they are young, the +mutual relationship existing between them rarely remains stationary. +It drifts toward like or dislike; and cases have been known where it +progressed into love or hatred. + +Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became at least very firm friends. +Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. These two had a +good foundation on which to build up an acquaintance in the fact +that Margaret's brother was a student in the university of which the +professor was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference, +which, if it leads not to heated argument, but is soberly discussed, +lends itself even more to the building of friendship than subjects of +agreement. Margaret held, as has been indicated in a previous chapter, +that the university was wrong in closing its doors to women. Renmark, +up to the time of their first conversation on the subject, had given the +matter but little thought; yet he developed an opinion contrary to that +of Margaret, and was too honest a man, or too little of a diplomatist, +to conceal it. On one occasion Yates had been present, and he threw +himself, with the energy that distinguished him, into the woman side of +the question--cordially agreeing with Margaret, citing instances, and +holding those who were against the admission of women up to ridicule, +taunting them with fear of feminine competition. Margaret became silent +as the champion of her cause waxed the more eloquent; but whether she +liked Richard Yates the better for his championship who that is not +versed in the ways of women can say? As the hope of winning her regard +was the sole basis of Yates' uncompromising views on the subject, it +is likely that he was successful, for his experiences with the sex were +large and varied. Margaret was certainly attracted toward Renmark, whose +deep scholarship even his excessive self-depreciation could not entirely +conceal; and he, in turn, had naturally a schoolmaster's enthusiasm +over a pupil who so earnestly desired advancement in knowledge. Had he +described his feelings to Yates, who was an expert in many matters, +he would perhaps have learned that he was in love; but Renmark was a +reticent man, not much given either to introspection or to being lavish +with his confidences. As to Margaret, who can plummet the depth of a +young girl's regard until she herself gives some indication? All that +one is able to record is that she was kinder to Yates than she had been +at the beginning. + +Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had a +sincere liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fell +into the error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, whereas +she was merely a girl who had an inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and +one who took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even +Yates made a slight mistake regarding her on one occasion, when they +were having an evening walk together, with that freedom from chaperonage +which is the birthright of every American girl, whether she belongs to a +farmhouse or to the palace of a millionaire. + +In describing the incident afterward to Renmark, (for Yates had nothing +of his comrade's reserve in these matters) he said: + +"She left a diagram of her four fingers on my cheek that felt like one +of those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap of +a lady's fan in admonition, but never in my life have I met a gentle +reproof that felt so much like a censure from the paw of our friend Tom +Sayers." + +Renmark said with some severity that he hoped Yates would not forget +that he was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. + +"Oh, _that's_ all right," said Yates. "If you have any spare sympathy +to bestow, keep it for me. My neighbors are amply able, and more than +willing, to take care of themselves." + +And now as to Richard Yates himself. One would imagine that here, at +least, a conscientious relater of events would have an easy task. Alas! +such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all odds the +most complex and bewildering of the four. He was deeply and truly in +love with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare as +a young man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make her believe. +Cases have been known where a chance meeting with one girl, and not with +another, has settled who was to be a young man's companion during a long +life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and made +no secret of his perplexity to his friend. He complained sometimes that +he got little help toward the solution of the problem, but generally +he was quite content to sit under the trees with Renmark and weigh the +different advantages of each of the girls. He sometimes appealed to +his friend, as a man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing an +education that extended far into conic sections and algebraic formulae, +to balance up the lists, and give him a candid and statistical opinion +as to which of the two he should favor with serious proposals. When +these appeals for help were coldly received, he accused his friend of +lack of sympathy with his dilemma, said that he was a soulless man, and +that if he had a heart it had become incrusted with the useless _debris_ +of a higher education, and swore to confide in him no more. He would +search for a friend, he said, who had something human about him. The +search for the sympathetic friend, however, seemed to be unsuccessful; +for Yates always returned to Renmark, to have, as he remarked, ice water +dashed upon his duplex-burning passion. + +It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of May, 1866, and Yates +was swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under his head, +gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through the green +branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend was +unromantically peeling potatoes near the door of the tent. + +"The human heart, Renny," said the man in the hammock reflectively, "is +a remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume, from your +lack of interest, that you haven't given the subject much study, except, +perhaps, in a physiological way. At the present moment it is to me +the only theme worthy of a man's entire attention. Perhaps that is the +result of spring, as the poet says; but, anyhow, it presents new aspects +to me each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery: that the +girl I am with last seems to me the most desirable. That is contrary to +the observation of philosophers of bygone days. Absence makes the heart +grow fonder, _they_ say. I don't find it so. Presence is what plays the +very deuce with me. Now, how do you account for it, Stilly?" + +The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attended +to the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky, and fixed +them on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. + +"Mr. Renmark," he drawled at last, "I am convinced that your treatment +of the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled the +day before, and left to soak in cold water until to-morrow's dinner. Of +course I admire the industry that gets work well over before its results +are called for. Nothing is more annoying than work left untouched until +the last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtue may be carried +to excess, and a man may be too previous." + +"Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. You +may perhaps remember that for two days I have been doing your share as +well as my own." + +"Oh, I am not complaining about _that_, at all," said the hammock +magnanimously. "You are acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will +be of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My +only desire is that your education should be as complete as possible, +and to this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire for +scullery work. I should suggest that, instead of going to the trouble of +entirely removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way, +you should merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. Then, +rather than cook the potatoes in the slow and soggy manner that seems to +delight you, you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the +water. The remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting +potato would be white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the +condition of a wet sponge." + +"The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you +are not satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practical +object lesson." + +The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. + +"Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the +cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should demean +himself by attending to the prosaic details of household affairs. I am +doubly in love, and much more, therefore, as that old bore Euclid used +to say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for." + +"All right, then; don't criticise." + +"Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in your curt suggestion. A +man who is unable, or unwilling, to work in the vineyard should not +find fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time of +asking, add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like +the good fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To +which of those two charming, but totally unlike, girls would you give +the preference?" + +"Damn!" said the professor quietly. + +"Hello, Renny!" cried Yates, raising his head. "Have you cut your +finger? I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife." + +But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word given +above is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemed +to lose all relationship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, and, +in a certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself for +using it, but there had been moments during the past few days when the +ordinary expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematics +did not fit the occasion. + +Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadway +near them. + +"Is Richard Yates there?" hailed the voice. + +"Yes. Who wants him?" cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. + +"I do," said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tired +horse, tied the animal to a sapling,--which, judging by the horse's +condition, was an entirely unnecessary operation,--jumped over the +rail fence, and approached through the woods. The young men saw, coming +toward them, a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. + +"I'm Yates. What is it?" + +"Well," said the lad, "I've had a hunt and a half for you. Here's a +telegram." + +"How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address." + +"That's just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York +a pile of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woods +without leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow." The young +man looked at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good +or bad according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates +took the yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, without opening +it, repeated his question: + +"But how on earth did you find me?" + +"Well, it wasn't easy;" said the boy. "My horse is about done out. I'm +from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no +expense; and we haven't. There are seven other fellows scouring the +country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more +have gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other +messenger has been here before me, has he?" asked the boy with a touch +of anxiety in his voice. + +"No; you are the first." + +"I'm glad of that. I've been 'most all over Canada. I got on your trail +about two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you +were up here. Is there any answer?" + +Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read it with +a deepening frown. It was to this effect: + +"Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get +there as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. +General O'Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you every +facility when you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they will +report to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold +the telegraph wire, and send over all the stuff the wire will carry. +Draw on us for cash you need; and don't spare expense." + +When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line of +language that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admiration +of the Buffalo telegraph boy. + +"Heavens and earth and the lower regions! I'm here on my vacation. I'm +not going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn't +those fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don't know when they're +well off. The Fenians be hanged!" + +"Guess that's what they will be," said the telegraph boy. "Any answer, +sir?" + +"No. Tell 'em you couldn't find me." + +"Don't expect the boy to tell a lie," said the professor, speaking for +the first time. + +"Oh, I don't mind a lie!" exclaimed the boy, "but not that one. No, sir. +I've had too much trouble finding you. I'm not going to pretend I'm no +good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I'll tell any other +lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it will oblige you." + +Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip his +fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and +he at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of the +fruits of his enterprise. + +"No," he said, "that won't do. No; you have found me, and you're a +young fellow who will be president of the telegraph company some day, or +perhaps hold the less important office of the United States presidency. +Who knows? Have you a telegraph blank?" + +"Of course," said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet +by his side. Yates took the paper, and flung himself down under the +tree. + +"Here's a pencil," said the messenger. + +"A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you," replied Yates, +taking one out of his inside pocket. "Now, Renmark, I'm not going to +tell a lie on this occasion," he continued. + +"I think the truth is better on all occasions." + +"Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth." + +Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. +Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: "Say, Renmark, are you +a doctor?" + +"Of laws," replied his friend. + +"Oh, that will do just as well." And he finished his writing. + +"How is this?" he cried, holding the paper at arm's length: + +"L. F. SPENCER, + +"_Managing Editor 'Argus,' New York:_ + +"I'm flat on my back. Haven't done a hand's turn for a week. Am under +the constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors in +Canada, who even prepares my food for me. Since leaving New York trouble +of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. +Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here until +present complications have yielded to treatment. + +"Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence." + +"YATES. + +"There," said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finished +the reading. "What do you think of that?" + +The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly saw +through it, but not quite, grinned, and said: "Is it true?" + +"Of course it's true!" cried Yates, indignant at the unjust suspicion. +"It is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor, +there, if it isn't true. Now, my boy, will you give this in when you +get back to the office? Tell 'em to rush it through to New York. I +would mark it 'rush' only that never does any good, and always makes the +operator mad." + +The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. + +"It's to be paid for at the other end," continued Yates. + +"Oh, that's all right," answered the messenger with a certain +condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. +"Well, so long," he added. "I hope you'll soon be better, Mr. Yates." + +Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. + +"Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see that. They'll perhaps +question you when you get back. What will you say?" + +"Oh, I'll tell 'em what a hard job I had to find you, and let 'em know +nobody else could 'a' done it, and I'll say you're a pretty sick man. I +won't tell 'em you gave me a dollar!" + +"Right you are, sonny; _you'll_ get along. Here's five dollars, all in +one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take them back with +you. There's no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck +of the woods." + +The boy stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if it +represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and +waved his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and walked +slowly back to the tent. He threw himself once more into the hammock. As +he expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although +he had been prepared for silence, the silence irritated him. He felt ill +used at having so unsympathetic a companion. + +"Look here, Renmark; why don't you say something?" + +"There is nothing to say." + +"Oh, yes, there is. You don't approve of me, do you?" + +"I don't suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not." + +"Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even the humblest +of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve +of me? People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more +uncomfortable than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One's +own conscience one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of +another man is beyond one's control. Now, it is like this: I am here for +quiet and rest. I have earned both, and I think I am justified in----" + +"Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I +am tired of it." + +"And of me, too, I suppose?" + +"Well, yes, rather--if you want to know." + +Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter +with Bartlett on the road Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The +reporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, hesitating. The +other, his heavy brows drawn, while not in an aggressive attitude, +was plainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not to +strike. This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The +reporter realized that he had forced the conversation, and remembered he +had invited Renmark to accompany him. Although this recollection stayed +his hand, it had no effect on his tongue. + +"I believe," he said slowly, "that it would do you good for once to hear +a straight, square, unbiased opinion of yourself. You have associated so +long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may interest you +to know what a man of the world thinks of you. A few years of +schoolmastering is enough to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, of all +the----" + +The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence: + +"Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives?" + +The reporter's hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over his +face, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced a +smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. + +Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who had received an +unexpected blow. + +"I say, Renny," he wailed, "it's another of those cursed telegraph +messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign +it 'Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.' That will give it a sort of official, +medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy +was here. Tell him I'm lying down." He flung himself into the hammock, +and Renmark, after a moment's hesitation, walked toward the boy at the +fence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time +he returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the +hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and +scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor +stood there for a few moments in silence. + +"Perhaps," he said at last, "you'll be good enough to go on with your +remarks." + +"I was merely going to say," answered Yates wearily, "that you are a +mighty good fellow, Renny. People who camp out always have rows. That is +our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is something like +married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on both sides. That +philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I am really very +much worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling +myself into the chasm like that Roman fellow; but, hang it! I've been +flinging myself into chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it +done? There's always a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them +to understand in the _Argus_ office that I am on my vacation." + +"They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you're on +your deathbed." + +Yates laughed. "That's so," he said; "but, you see, Renny, we New +Yorkers live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration that if I did not put +it strongly it wouldn't have any effect. You've got to give a big dose +to a man who has been taking poison all his life. They will take off +ninety per cent. from any statement I make, anyhow; so, you see, I have +to pile it up pretty high before the remaining ten per cent. amounts to +anything." + +The conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigs +behind them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nervously on +the fence, turned round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the +underbrush. His face was red; he had evidently been running. + +"Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates," he panted. "The fellows that brought +'em said they were important; so I ran out with them myself, for fear +they wouldn't find you. One of them's from Port Colborne, the other's +from Buffalo." + +Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the +receipt of one as an event in a man's life. He was astonished to see +Yates receive the double event with a listlessness that he could not +help thinking was merely assumed for effect. Yates held them in his +hand, and did not tear them up at once out of consideration for the +feelings of the young man, who had had a race to deliver them. + +"Here's two books they wanted you to sign. They're tired out, and +mother's giving them something to eat." + +"Professor, you sign for me, won't you?" said Yates. + +Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would hear something of the +contents of the important messages; but Yates did not even open the +envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringing them. + +"Stuck-up cuss!" muttered young Bartlett to himself, as he shoved the +signed books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush +again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their +contents into little pieces, and scattered them as before. + +"Begins to look like autumn," he said, "with the yellow leaves strewing +the ground." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Before night three more telegraph boys found Yates, and three more +telegrams in sections helped to carpet the floor of the forest. The +usually high spirits of the newspaper man went down and down under the +repeated visitations. At last he did not even swear, which, in the +case of Yates, always indicated extreme depression. As night drew on he +feebly remarked to the professor that he was more tired than he had ever +been in going through an election campaign. He went to his tent bunk +early, in a state of such utter dejection that Renmark felt sorry for +him, and tried ineffectually to cheer him up. + +"If they would all come together," said Yates bitterly, "so that one +comprehensive effort of malediction would include the lot and have +it over, it wouldn't be so bad; but this constant dribbling in of +messengers would wear out the patience of a saint." + +As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his bunk Renmark said that +things would look brighter in the morning--which was a safe remark to +make, for the night was dark. + +Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for some moments. At +last he said slowly: "There is no one so obtuse as the thoroughly good +man. It is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He is but the +outward symptom of the inward trouble. What you are seeing is an example +of the workings of conscience where you thought conscience was absent. +The trouble with me is that I know the newspaper depends on me, and +that it will be the first time I have failed. It is the newspaper +man's instinct to be in the center of the fray. He yearns to scoop the +opposition press. I will get a night's sleep if I can, and to-morrow, I +know, I shall capitulate. I will hunt out General O'Neill, and interview +him on the field of slaughter. I will telegraph pages. I will refurbish +my military vocabulary, and speak of deploying and massing and throwing +out advance guards, and that sort of thing. I will move detachments and +advance brigades, and invent strategy. We will have desperate fighting +in the columns of the _Argus_, whatever there is on the fields +of Canada. But to a man who has seen real war this _opra-bouffe_ +masquerade of fighting----I don't want to say anything harsh, but to me +it is offensive." + +He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, sitting on the bottom of +an upturned pail, as he said this. Then he reached for his hip pocket +and drew out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, to the +professor, who, not knowing his friend carried such an instrument, +instinctively shrank from it. + +"Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation and soak it with the +potatoes. If another messenger comes in on me to-night, I know I shall +riddle him if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me he is +innocent, and I don't want to shed the only blood that will be spilled +during this awful campaign." + +How long they had been asleep they did not know, as the ghost-stories +have it, but both were suddenly awakened by a commotion outside. It was +intensely dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they noticed a +faint moving blur of light, which made itself just visible through the +canvas. + +"It's another of those fiendish messengers," whispered Yates. "Gi' me +that revolver." + +"Hush!" said the other below his breath. "There's about a dozen men out +there, judging by the footfalls. I heard them coming." + +"Let's fire into the tent and be done with it," said a voice outside. + +"No, no," cried another; "no man shoot. It makes too much noise, and +there must be others about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed?" + +There was a murmur, apparently in the affirmative. + +"Very well, then. Murphy and O'Rourick, come round to this side. You +three stay where you are. Tim, you go to that end; and, Doolin, come +with me." + +"The Fenian army, by all the gods!" whispered Yates, groping for his +clothes. "Renny, give me that revolver, and I'll show you more fun than +a funeral." + +"No, no. They're at least three to our one. We're in a trap here, and +helpless." + +"Oh, just let me jump out among 'em and begin the fireworks. Those I +didn't shoot would die of fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woods with +a lantern--with a _lantern_, Renny! Think of that! Oh, this is pie! Let +me at 'em." + +"Hush! Keep quiet! They'll hear you." + +"Tim, bring the lantern round to this side." The blur of light moved +along the canvas. "There's a man with his back against the wall of the +tent. Just touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let him know +we're here." + +"There may be twenty in the tent," said Murphy cautiously. + +"Do what I tell you," answered the man in command. + +Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, and sunk the deadly point +of the instrument into the bag of potatoes. + +"Faith, he sleeps sound," said Murphy with a tremor of fear in his +voice, as there was no demonstration on the part of the bag. + +The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of the tent: + +"What the old Harry do you fellows think you're doing, anyhow? What's +the matter with you? What do you want?" + +There was a moment's silence, broken only by a nervous scuffling of feet +and the clicking of gun-locks. + +"How many are there of you in there?" said the stern voice of the chief. + +"Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and one ready to fight the lot +of you if you are anxious for a scrimmage." + +"Come out one by one," was the next command. + +"We'll come out one by one," said Yates, emerging in his shirt sleeves, +"but you can't expect us to keep it up long, as there are only two of +us." + +The professor next appeared, with his coat on. The situation certainly +did not look inviting. The lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glow +on the severe face of the commander, as the footlights might illuminate +the figure of a brigand in a wood on the stage. The face of the officer +showed that he was greatly impressed with the importance and danger +of his position. Yates glanced about him with a smile, all his recent +dejection gone now that he was in the midst of a row. + +"Which is Murphy," he said, "and which is Doolin? Hello, alderman!" he +cried, as his eyes rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man who +held his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce determination in his +face that might have made an opponent quail. "When did you leave New +York? and who's running the city now that you're gone?" + +The men had evidently a sense of humor, in spite of their bloodthirsty +business, for a smile flickered on their faces in the lantern light, and +several bayonets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard face of the +commander did not relax. + +"You are doing yourself no good by your talk," he said solemnly. "What +you say will be used against you." + +"Yes, and what you do will be used against _you_; and don't forget that +fact. It's you who are in danger--not I. You are, at this moment, making +about the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada." + +"Pinion these men!" cried the captain gruffly. + +"Pinion nothing!" shouted Yates, shaking off the grasp of a man who +had sprung to his side. But both Yates and Renmark were speedily +overpowered; and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. Murphy +pathetically remarked that they had no rope. The captain was a man of +resource. + +"Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them." + +"And when you're at it, Murphy," said Yates, "cut off enough more to +hang yourself with. You'll need it before long. And remember that any +damage you do to that tent you'll have to pay for. It's hired." + +Yates gave them all the trouble he could while they tied his elbows +and wrists together, offering sardonic suggestions and cursing their +clumsiness. Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation was finished, +the professor said with the calm confidence of one who has an empire +behind him and knows it: + +"I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed on British soil; and +that I, on whom it is committed, am a British subject." + +"Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it impossible to keep your +mouth shut, do not use the word 'subject' but 'citizen.'" + +"I am satisfied with the word, and with the protection given to those +who use it." + +"Look here, Renmark; you had better let me do the talking. You will only +put your foot in it. I know the kind of men I have to deal with; you +evidently don't." + +In tying the professor they came upon the pistol in his coat pocket. +Murphy held it up to the light. + +"I thought you said you were unarmed?" remarked the captain severely, +taking the revolver in his hand. + +"I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the professor would not let me +use it. If he had, all of you would be running for dear life through the +woods." + +"You admit that you are a British subject?" said the captain to Renmark, +ignoring Yates. + +"He doesn't admit it, he brags of it," said the latter before Renmark +could speak. "You can't scare him; so quit this fooling, and let us know +how long we are to stand here trussed up like this." + +"I propose, captain," said the red-headed man, "that we shoot these men +where they stand, and report to the general. They are spies. They are +armed, and they denied it. It's according to the rules of war, captain." + +"Rules of war? What do you know of the rules of war, you red-headed +Senegambian? Rules of Hoyle! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine. +Come, captain, undo these ropes, and make up your mind quickly. Trot us +along to General O'Neill just as fast as you can. The sooner you get +us there the more time you will have for being sorry over what you have +done." + +The captain still hesitated, and looked from one to the other of his +men, as if to make up his mind whether they would obey him if he went to +extremities. Yates' quick eye noted that the two prisoners had nothing +to hope for, even from the men who smiled. The shooting of two unarmed +and bound men seemed to them about the correct way of beginning a great +struggle for freedom. + +"Well," said the captain at length, "we must do it in proper form, so I +suppose we should have a court-martial. Are you agreed?" + +They were unanimously agreed. + +"Look here," cried Yates, and there was a certain impressiveness in his +voice in spite of his former levity; "this farce has gone just as far as +it is going. Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat pocket you will +find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two received by me within the +last twenty-four hours. Then you will see whom you propose to shoot." + +The telegram was found, and the captain read it, while Tim held the +lantern. He looked from under his knitted brows at the newspaper man. + +"Then you are one of the _Argus_ staff." + +"I am chief of the _Argus_ staff. As you see, five of my men will be +with General O'Neill to-morrow. The first question they will ask him +will be: 'Where is Yates?' The next thing that will happen will be that +you will be hanged for your stupidity, not by Canada nor by the State +of New York, but by your general, who will curse your memory ever after. +You are fooling not with a subject this time, but with a citizen; and +your general is not such an idiot as to monkey with the United States +Government; and, what is a blamed sight worse, with the great American +press. Come, captain, we've had enough of this. Cut these cords just as +quickly as you can, and take us to the general. We were going to see him +in the morning, anyhow." + +"But this man says he is a Canadian." + +"That's all right. My friend is _me_. If you touch him, you touch me. +Now, hurry up, climb down from your perch. I shall have enough trouble +now, getting the general to forgive all the blunders you have made +to-night, without your adding insult to injury. Tell your men to untie +us, and throw the ropes back into the tent. It will soon be daylight. +Hustle, and let us be off." + +"Untie them," said the captain, with a sigh. + +Yates shook himself when his arms regained their freedom. + +"Now, Tim," he said, "run into that tent and bring out my coat. It's +chilly here." + +Tim did instantly as requested, and helped Yates on with the coat. + +"Good boy!" said, Yates. "You've evidently been porter in a hotel." + +Tim grinned. + +"I think," said Yates meditatively, "that if I you look under the +right-hand bunk, Tim, you will find a jug. It belongs to the professor, +although he has hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion from himself. +Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not as full as it was, but +there's enough to go round, if the professor does not take more than his +share." + +The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipation, and Renmark looked +astonished to see the jar brought forth. "You first, professor," said +Yates; and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The learned man shook +his head. Yates laughed, and took it himself. + +"Well, here's to you, boys," he said. "And may you all get back as +safely to New York as I will." The jar passed down along the line, until +Tim finished its contents. + +"Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army," cried Yates, taking +Renmark's arm; and they began their march through the woods. "Great +Caesar! Stilly," he continued to his friend, "this is rest and quiet +with a vengeance, isn't it?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost in +the presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain something +like military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, +however, that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests are not +as trimly kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, +but three times he tumbled over some obstruction, and disappeared +suddenly from view, uttering maledictions. His final effort in this +line was a triumph. He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When +all attempts at reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in +go-as-you-please fashion, and found they did better without the light +than with it. In fact, although it was not yet four o'clock, daybreak +was already filtering through the trees, and the woods were perceptibly +lighter. + +"We must be getting near the camp," said the captain. + +"Will I shout, sir?" asked Murphy. + +"No, no; we can't miss it. Keep on as you are doing." + +They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered on +among the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle +echoed through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their heads. + +"Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?" cried the alderman, who +recognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back. + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" said the sentry, stopping in his flight. The +captain strode angrily toward him. + +"What do you mean by firing like that? Don't you know enough to ask for +the counter-sign before shooting?" + +"Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, then, ye see, I never +can hit anything; so it's little difference it makes." + +The shot had roused the camp, and there was now wild commotion, +everybody thinking the Canadians were upon them. + +A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Renmark. Both were astonished +to see the number of men that O'Neill had under his command. They found +a motley crowd. Some tattered United States uniforms were among them, +but the greater number were dressed as ordinary individuals, although +a few had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. Sleeping out for +a couple of nights had given the gathering the unkempt appearance of a +great company of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable from the +men at first, but afterward Yates noticed that they, mostly in plain +clothes and slouch hats, had sword belts buckled around them; and one +or two had swords that had evidently seen service in the United States +cavalry. + +"It's all right, boys," cried the captain to the excited mob. "It was +only that fool Lynch who fired at us. There's nobody hurt. Where's the +general?" + +"Here he comes," said half a dozen voices at once, and the crowd made +way for him. + +General O'Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen's costume, and did not +wear even a sword belt. On his head of light hair was a black soft felt +hat. His face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked more like +a clerk from a grocery store than the commander of an army. He was +evidently somewhere between thirty-five and forty years of age. + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Why are you back? Any news?" + +The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied: + +"We took two prisoners, sir. They were encamped in a tent in the woods. +One of them says he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, so I +brought them in." + +"I wish you had brought in the tent, too," said the general with a wan +smile. "It would be an improvement on sleeping in the open air. Are +these the prisoners? I don't know either of them." + +"The captain makes a mistake in saying that I claimed a personal +acquaintance with you, general. What I said was that you would +recognize, somewhat quicker than he did, who I was, and the desirability +of treating me with reasonable decency. Just show the general that +telegram you took from my coat pocket, captain." + +The paper was produced, and O'Neill read it over once or twice. + +"You are on the New York _Argus_, then?" + +"Very much so, general." + +"I hope you have not been roughly used?" + +"Oh, no; merely tied up in a hard knot, and threatened with +shooting--that's all." + +"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Still, you must make some allowance at a +time like this. If you will come with me, I will write you a pass which +will prevent any similar mistake happening in the future." The general +led the way to a smoldering camp fire, where, out of a valise, he took +writing materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to write. After +he had written "Headquarters of the Grand Army of the Irish Republic" +he looked up, and asked Yates his Christian name. Being answered, he +inquired the name of his friend. + +"I want nothing from you," interposed Renmark. "Don't put my name on the +paper." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Yates. "Never mind him, general. He's a +learned man who doesn't know when to talk and when not to. As you march +up to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, which will explain +everything. Renmark's drunk, not to put too fine a point upon it; and he +imagines himself a British subject." + +The Fenian general looked up at the professor. + +"Are you a Canadian?" he asked. + +"Certainly I am." + +"Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you must give me your word +that, should you fall in with the enemy, you will give no information +to them of our position, numbers, or of anything else you may have seen +while with us." + +"I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I should fall in with the +Canadian troops, I will tell them where you are, that you are from eight +hundred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking set of vagabonds I +have ever seen out of jail." + +General O'Neill frowned, and looked from one to the other. + +"Do you realize that you confess to being a spy, and that it becomes my +duty to have you taken out and shot?" + +"In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fooling. All of you that +don't escape will be either in jail or shot before twenty-four hours." + +"Well, by the gods, it won't help _you_ any. I'll have you shot inside +of ten minutes, instead of twenty-four hours." + +"Hold on, general, hold on!" cried Yates, as the angry man rose and +confronted the two. "I admit that he richly deserves shooting, if you +were the fool killer, which you are not. But it won't do, I will be +responsible for him. Just finish that pass for me, and I will take care +of the professor. Shoot me if you like, but don't touch him. He hasn't +any sense, as you can see; but I am not to blame for that, nor are you. +If you take to shooting everybody who is an ass, general, you won't have +any ammunition left with which to conquer Canada." + +The general smiled in spite of himself, and resumed the writing of the +pass. "There," he said, handing the paper to Yates. "You see, we always +like to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent friend, and I +hope you will exercise more control over him, if you meet the Canadians, +than you were able to exert here. Don't you think, on the whole, you had +better stay with us? We are going to march in a couple of hours, when +the men have had a little rest." He added in a lower voice, so that the +professor could not hear: "You didn't see anything of the Canadians, I +suppose?" + +"Not a sign. No, I don't think I'll stay. There will be five of our +fellows here some time to-day, I expect, and that will be more than +enough. I'm really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and quiet. I'm +beginning to think I have made a mistake in location." + +Yates bade good-by to the commander, and walked with his friend out +of the camp. They threaded their way among sleeping men and groups of +stacked guns. On the top of one of the bayonets was hung a tall silk +hat, which looked most incongruous in such a place. + +"I think," said Yates, "that we will make for the Ridge Road, which must +lie somewhere in this direction. It will be easier walking than through +the woods; and, besides, I want to stop at one of the farmhouses and get +some breakfast. I'm as hungry as a bear after tramping so long." + +"Very well," answered the professor shortly. + +The two stumbled along until they reached the edge of the wood; then, +crossing some open fields, they came presently upon the road, near the +spot where the fist fight had taken place between Yates and Bartlett. +The comrades, now with greater comfort, walked silently along the road +toward the west, with the reddening east behind them. The whole scene +was strangely quiet and peaceful, and the recollection of the weird camp +they had left in the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morning air +was sweet, and the birds were beginning to sing. Yates had intended to +give the professor a piece of his mind regarding the lack of tact +and common sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, but, somehow, the +scarcely awakened day did not lend itself to controversy, and the serene +stillness soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly that popular +war song, "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," and then broke +in with the question: + +"Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on the bayonet?" + +"Yes," answered the professor; "and I saw five others scattered around +the camp." + +"Jingo! you were observant. I can imagine nothing quite so ridiculous as +a man going to war in a tall silk hat." + +The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to "Rally +round the flag." + +"I presume," he said at length, "there is little use in attempting to +improve the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a fool +you made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to be +slightly off the center." + +"I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds." + +"They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also be +well-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves." + +"While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came in +with several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, +and another party started out to get some more." + +"Oh, that isn't stealing, Renmark; that's requisitioning. You mustn't +use such reckless language. I imagine the second party has been +successful; for here are three of them all mounted." + +The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of the +two men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. +Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them held +revolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no +visible revolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward the +pedestrians, the other two taking positions on each side of the wagon +way. + +"Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?" cried +the foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance. + +"It's all right, commodore," said Yates jauntily, "and the top of the +morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the +camp, and we are going to get something to eat." + +"I must have a more satisfactory answer than that." + +"Well, here you have it, then," answered Yates, pulling out his folded +pass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully. "You +find that all right, I expect?" + +"Right enough to cause your immediate arrest." + +"But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is in his +own handwriting." + +"I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does not +run quite as far as the queen's writ in this country yet. I arrest you +in the name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, and shoot +them down if they make any resistance." So saying, the rider slipped +from his horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs joined +by a short, stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing, grasped +Renmark's wrist. + +"I'm a Canadian," said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. "You +mustn't put handcuffs on me." + +"You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; if +you are what you say, you will not resist arrest." + +"I will go with you, but you mustn't handcuff me." + +"Oh, mustn't I?" And, with a quick movement indicative of long practice +with resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of the +clasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr. + +Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes. He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the +cocked revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constable +held his struggling manacled hand with grim determination. + +"Hold on!" cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking the +representative of the law. "Don't shoot," he shouted to the man on +horseback; "it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. +You are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed and on +foot. There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you +are more of a rebel at the present moment than O'Neill. He owes no +allegiance, and you do. Have you no respect for the forms of law and +order? You are an anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You +_would_ sing 'God save the Queen!' in the wrong place a while ago, so +now be satisfied that you have got her, or, rather, that she has +got you. Now, constable, do you want to hitch the other end of that +arrangement on my wrist? or have you another pair for my own special +use? + +"I'll take your wrist, if you please." + +"All right; here you are." Yates drew back his coat sleeve, and +presented his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The +constable mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him, watching +him all the while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners, handcuffed +together, took the middle of the road, with a horseman on each side +of them, the constable bringing up the rear; thus they marched on, the +professor gloomy from the indignity put upon them, and the newspaper man +as joyous as the now thoroughly awakened birds. The scouts concluded +to go no farther toward the enemy, but to return to the Canadian forces +with their prisoners. They marched down the road, all silent except +Yates, who enlivened the morning air with the singing of "John Brown." + +"Keep quiet," said the constable curtly. + +"All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of a +friend. We want to go and get something to eat." + +"You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers of +the volunteers." + +"And where, may I ask, are they?" + +"You may ask, but I will not answer." + +"Now, Renmark," said Yates to his companion, "the tough part of this +episode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett's house, and feast merely +on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett is always glad +to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty." + +As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kitty on +the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing earnestly +at the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the group she +disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came out Mrs. +Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old man himself. + +They all came down to the gate and waited. + +"Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!" cried Yates cheerily. "You see, the professor +has got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share his +fate, like the good dog Tray." + +"What's all this about?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. + +The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarly +to them. "They're Fenian prisoners," he said. + +"Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Bartlett--the old man, as usual, keeping his +mouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking--"they're +not Fenians. They've been camping on our farm for a week or more." + +"That may be," said the constable firmly, "but I have the best of +evidence against them; and, if I'm not very much mistaken, they'll hang +for it." + +Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry of +anguish at this remark, and disappeared again. + +"We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs. +Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of the +Canadians." + +"What! hanging?" + +"No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged,--I hope I am +not so pernickety as all that,--but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will sympathize +with me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at this +moment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had +in your house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this +hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything." + +Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible state +of indignation. + +"Stoliker," she exclaimed, "I'm ashamed of you! You may hang a man if +you like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in with +me," she said to the prisoners. + +"Madam," said Stoliker severely, "you must not interfere with the course +of the law." + +"The course of stuff and nonsense!" cried the angry woman. "Do you think +I am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven't I chased you out of this very +orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes, and boxed +your ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enough to fill your +pockets with the best apples on the place, after giving you what you +deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I'll box your ears now if you +say anything more. Get down off your horse, and have something to eat +yourself. I dare say you need it." + +"This is what I call a rescue," whispered Yates to his linked companion. + +What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer with +justice is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her own +way? Stoliker looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of the +house, but the old man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say: +"You see how it is yourself. I am helpless." + +Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to the +house. + +"All I ask of you now," said Yates, "is that you will give Renmark and +me seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, even for +an instant." + +Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at the +same time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. +Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse. +Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject, +if this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second +concession, and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying he +thought he recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in +upon them. + +"Come, Sam," she said, "no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse and +come in. How's your mother?" + +"She's pretty well, thank you," said Sam sheepishly, coming down on his +feet again. + +Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on the +prisoners, but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she +looked with the utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact that +the poor young man had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well. + +"Take off these handcuffs, Sam," said Mrs. Bartlett, "until they have +breakfast, at least." + +Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them into +his pocket. + +"Ah, now!" said Yates, looking at his red wrist, "we can breathe easier; +and I, for one, can eat more." + +The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist, +but had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make the early +meal as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival. Stoliker +began to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty were unpopular. Old +Hiram could always be depended upon to add somberness and taciturnity to +a wedding feast; the professor, never the liveliest of companions, sat +silent, with clouded brow, and vexed even the cheerful Mrs. Bartlett +by having evidently no appetite. When the hurried meal was over, Yates, +noticing that Miss Kitty had left the room, sprang up and walked toward +the kitchen door. Stoliker was on his feet in an instant, and made as +though to follow him. + +"Sit down," said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time. "He +is not going to escape. Don't be afraid. He has done nothing, and has no +fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupid officials +arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians, but you take +excellent care to keep out of their way, and give your attention to +molesting perfectly inoffensive people." + +"Good for you, professor!" cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. "That's the +truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?" + +"Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o'clock +this morning,--or at least an advance guard did,--and after talking of +shooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead. +Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should not +be troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinks +is deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped the +handcuffs on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our +heads." + +"It isn't my place to ask questions," retorted Stoliker doggedly. "You +can tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, +I'll say nothing against it." + +Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the +precaution to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly +round as the door closed. Before she could speak the young man caught +her by the plump shoulders--a thing which he certainly had no right to +do. + +"Miss Kitty Bartlett," he said, "you've been crying." + +"I haven't; and if I had, it is nothing to you." + +"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Don't deny it. For whom were you +crying? The professor?" + +"No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough to +think so." + +"_Me_ conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whom were you +crying? I must know." + +"Please let me go, Mr. Yates," said Kitty, with an effort at dignity. + +"Dick is my name, Kit." + +"Well, mine is not Kit. + +"You're quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty, +which is much prettier than the abbreviation." + +"I did not 'mention it.' Please let me go. Nobody has the right to call +me anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, _you_ haven't, anyhow." + +"Well, Kitty, don't you think it is about time to give somebody the +right? Why won't you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether +I should have accused you of crying? Look up--Miss Bartlett." + +"Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute." + +"Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We'll risk mother. Besides, I'm +not in the least afraid of her, and I don't believe you are. I think +she is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind; +otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye." + +"I hate that man," said Kitty inconsequently. + +"I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. +Kitty, why don't you look up at me? Are you afraid?" + +"What should I be afraid of?" asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance +from her pretty blue eyes. "Not of you, I hope." + +"Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why +I came out here?" + +"For something more to eat, very likely," said the girl mischievously. + +"Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. +Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew +me into the kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own +lips. _That_ was the reason!" + +He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what +was about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought +he had taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of +this kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but +she did not strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he +merely attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because +she had been taken so completely by surprise. + +"I shall call my mother," she threatened. + +"Oh, no, you won't. Besides, she wouldn't come." Then this frivolous +young man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, "Here's to +the girl that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother," ending with +the wish that she should live and die an old maid and never get another. +Kitty should not have smiled, but she did; she should have rebuked his +levity, but she didn't. + +"It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and +dying an old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for the +prevention of such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval +of it." + +Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself +away from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining +room, and expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. +Miss Kitty stood with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring +flower, which she had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the +window-ledge. She smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed so +interested in botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether she +was paying attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan might +have been can only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they should +be interrupted at this critical moment by the one person on earth who +could make Yates' tongue falter. + +The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood on +the threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her dark +hair down over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairly +took Yates' breath away. She did not notice him. + +"O Kitty," she cried, "those wretches have stolen all our horses! Is +your father here?" + +"What wretches?" asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled by the +sudden advent of her friend. + +"The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields, +and your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you." + +"Have they taken your own horse, too?" + +"No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come near +the house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you." And Margaret's hand, with +the unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, which +Yates thought too becoming ever to be put in order again. + +Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty's evident embarrassment, +that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two. + +"I must tell your father about it," she said hurriedly, and before Yates +could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she was taken +aback to see so many sitting round the table. + +There was a moment's silence between the two in the kitchen, but the +spell was broken. + +"I--I don't suppose there will be any trouble about getting back the +horses," said Yates hesitatingly. "If you lose them, the Government will +have to pay." + +"I presume so," answered Kitty coldly; then: "Excuse me, Mr. Yates; I +mustn't stay here any longer." So saying, she followed Margaret into the +other room. + +Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties of +preference had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that he +had had a narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committed +himself. Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticed +her friend's evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered +whether this would help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finally +made up his mind to favor her with his serious attentions. Still, he +reflected that, after all, they were both country girls, and would no +doubt be only too eager to accept a chance to live in New York. Thus +his mind gradually resumed its normal state of self-confidence; and he +argued that, whatever Margaret's suspicions were, they could not but +make him more precious in her eyes. He knew of instances where the very +danger of losing a man had turned a woman's wavering mind entirely +in the man's favor. When he had reached this point, the door from the +dining room opened, and Stoliker appeared. + +"We are waiting for you," said the constable. + +"All right. I am ready." + +As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talking +earnestly. + +"I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours," cried Mrs. Bartlett. +"I would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men." + +"Come along," said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs from his +pocket. + +"If you three men," continued Mrs. Bartlett, "cannot take those two to +camp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I'll go +along with you myself and protect you, and see that they don't escape. +You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have any +manhood about you--which I doubt." + +"I must do my duty." + +The professor rose from his chair. "Mr. Stoliker," he said with +determination, "my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will +make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear +investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a +handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you." + +A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, +caused the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and said +in a contrite voice: + +"Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon." + +Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried: + +"Don't beg my pardon, but--smash him." + +Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited +girl hid her blushing face on her friend's shoulder, while Kitty +lovingly stroked her dark, tangled hair. + +Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual +quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the tension +of the situation. + +"Come, come, Stoliker, don't be an idiot. I do not object in the least +to the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff +me. It hasn't struck your luminous mind that you have not the first +tittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the +greatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. +The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good +many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have +exceeded it in the case of the professor. I hope you have no property; +for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay sweetly for putting the +handcuffs on him without a warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. +What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?" continued Yates, suddenly +appealing to the old man. "I think it is a thousand dollars." + +Hiram said gloomily that he didn't know. Stoliker was hit on a tender +spot, for he owned a farm. + +"Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. +Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted." + +The good woman smiled and shook hands with him. + +"Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have +another." + +Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his +horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the +dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event +of the stealing of the horses. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of the +Canadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more military +than the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by a +picket before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not to +shoot until he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, they +came in full view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked very +spick and span in uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear light +of the fair June morning. The guns, topped by a bristle of bayonets +which glittered as the rising sun shone on them, were stacked with neat +precision here and there. The men were preparing their breakfast, and +a temporary halt had been called for that purpose. The volunteers were +scattered by the side of the road and in the fields. Renmark recognized +the colors of the regiment from his own city, and noticed that there +was with it a company that was strange to him. Although led to them +a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride in the regiment and their trim +appearance--a pride that was both national and civic. He instinctively +held himself more erect as he approached. + +"Renmark," said Yates, looking at him with a smile, "you are making a +thoroughly British mistake." + +"What do you mean? I haven't spoken." + +"No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. You +think this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempt +tramps we saw in the woods this morning." + +"I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over--which I very much +doubt." + +"That's just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, who +know all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will be the +worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part of the +country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comrades fall, +with the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If they don't turn +and run, then I'm a Dutchman. I've seen raw recruits before. They should +have a company of older men here who have seen service to steady them. +The fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs, in the damp +woods, as we stepped over them. They are veterans. What will be but a +mere skirmish to them will seem to these boys the most awful tragedy +that ever happened. Why, many of them look as if they might be +university lads." + +"They are," said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. + +"Well, I can't see what your stupid government means by sending them +here alone. They should have at least one company of regulars with +them." + +"Probably the regulars are on the way." + +"Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, +or the fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with their +meal, the Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is to +be a fight, it will be before a very few hours--before one hour passes, +you are going to see a miniature Bull Run." + +Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiring +for news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all +the telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those in +command of the companies did not even know that the enemy had left that +locality. They were now on their way to a point where they were to meet +Colonel Peacocke's force of regulars--a point which they were destined +never to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up his +prisoners, together with the incriminating paper that Yates had +handed to him. The officer's decision was short and sharp, as military +decisions are generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to take +both the prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. There was no +time now for an inquiry into the case,--that could come afterward,--and, +so long as the men were safe in jail, everything would be all right. To +this the constable mildly interposed two objections. In the first place, +he said, he was with the volunteers not in his capacity as constable, +but in the position of guide and man who knew the country. In the second +place, there was no jail at Port Colborne. + +"Where is the nearest jail?" + +"The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town," replied the +constable. + +"Very well; take them there." + +"But I am here as guide," repeated Stoliker. + +The officer hesitated for a moment. "You haven't handcuffs with you, I +presume?" + +"Yes, I have," said Stoliker, producing the implements. + +"Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the company +over to Welland with them. How far is it across country?" + +Stoliker told him. + +The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him: + +"You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver these +men up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but you +take a revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shoot them." + +The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. "I am not a policeman," he +said. "I am a soldier." + +"Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I order +you to take these men to Welland." + +The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a +murmur rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently +sympathized with their comrade's objection to the duties of a policeman. +One of them made his way through the crowd, and cried: + +"Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He's no Fenian." +Two or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, +pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with +his class. Among others young Howard pressed forward. + +"It is nonsense," he cried, "talking about sending Professor Renmark to +jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We'll all go +bail for the professor." + +The officer wavered. "If you know him," he said, "that is a different +matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the +Fenians, recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the +Fenian cause. I can't let him go free." + +"Are you the chief in command here?" asked Renmark. + +"No, I am not." + +"Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He +is a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. +If you insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken +before the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall +together. I am exactly as guilty or innocent as he is." + +"We can't bother the colonel about every triviality." + +"A man's liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense, +are you fighting for but liberty?" + +"Thanks, Renmark, thanks," said Yates; "but I don't care to see the +colonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all this +bother. I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, if +I have to go to jail for them. I'm coming reluctantly to the belief that +jail's the most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow." + +"But this is an outrage," cried the professor indignantly. + +"Of course it is," replied Yates wearily; "but the woods are full of +them. There's always outrages going on, especially in so-called free +countries; therefore one more or less won't make much difference. Come, +officer, who's going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go +by myself? I'm a Fenian from 'way back, and came here especially to +overturn the throne and take it home with me. For Heaven's sake, know +your own mind one way or other, and let us end this conference." + +The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker to +handcuff the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer at +Welland. + +"But I want assistance," objected Stoliker. "The prisoner is a bigger +man than I am." The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this +self-evident fact. + +"If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders." + +No one volunteered to accompany the constable. + +"Take this revolver with you," continued the officer, "and if he +attempts to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, so +I can't send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to." + +"Howard knows the way," persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke up with +great indignation: "Yes, but Howard isn't constable, and Stoliker is. +I'm not going." + +Renmark went up to his friend. + +"Who's acting foolishly now, Yates?" he said. "Why don't you insist on +seeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would be allowed +off." + +"Don't make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussy +individual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squad +of volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officers +always stick by each other; they're bound to. I want to go alone with +Stoliker. I have a score to settle with him." + +"Now, don't do anything rash. You've done nothing so far; but if you +assault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter." + +"Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a short +time since?" + +"Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now." + +"See here, Renny," whispered Yates; "you get back to the tent, and see +that everything's all right. I'll be with you in an hour or so. Don't +look so frightened. I won't hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, +and I won't get there if the colonel sends an escort. I'm going to use +Stoliker as a shield when the bullets begin flying." + +The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker very +reluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own left +wrist, while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, who +embarrassed him with kindly assistance. The two manacled men disappeared +down the road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in to continue their +morning's march. + +Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. "I +say, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?" + +"I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is an +old schoolfellow of mine." + +"What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to rather +like the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known you +were in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would only have +been too glad to be of assistance to you." + +"They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well." + +"What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?" + +"Yes," said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encountered +the eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was the +brother's favorite. + +"Fall back, there!" cried the officer to Renmark. + +"May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me take +part?" + +"No," said the officer with some hauteur; "this is no place for +civilians." Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the whole +company, as far as martial experience went, were merely civilians +dressed in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates' +ominous prediction regarding them. + +"I say, Mr. Renmark," cried young Howard, as the company moved off, "if +you see any of them, don't tell them I'm here--especially Margaret. It +might make them uneasy. I'll get leave when this is over, and drop in on +them." + +The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidently no +premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left the road, +and struck across country in the direction of the tent. + +Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road toward +Welland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative +and entertaining--indeed, Yates' conversation often went beyond +entertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed +the affairs of both countries, showed a way out of all political +difficulties, gave reasons for the practical use of common sense in +every emergency, passed opinions on the methods of agriculture adopted +in various parts of the country, told stories of the war, gave instances +of men in captivity murdering those who were in charge of them, deduced +from these anecdotes the foolishness of resisting lawful authority +lawfully exercised, and, in general, showed that he was a man who +respected power and the exercise thereof. Suddenly branching to more +practical matters, he exclaimed: + +"Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?" + +Stoliker had never counted them. + +"Well, that's encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that it requires +an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely have something +to drink before long." + +"I never drink while on duty," said Stoliker curtly. + +"Oh, well, don't apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I'll be +only too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired the useful +practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anything can be +done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don't believe in the word +'can't,' either with or without the mark of elision." + +Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. + +"I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I'm tired of walking. I've been +on my feet ever since three this morning." + +"I have no authority to hire a buggy." + +"But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?" + +"I make him move," said Stoliker shortly. + +"Ah, I see. That's a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable." + +They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried: + +"Let's sit down and have a rest. I'm done out. The sun is hot, and the +road dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day's young, yet." + +"I'll let you have fifteen minutes." + +They sat down together. "I wish a team would come along," said Yates +with a sigh. + +"No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhood +stolen, and the troops on the roads." + +"That's so," assented Yates sleepily. + +He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and his +eyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leaned +toward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates' left arm fell across +the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him. +The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he took +no risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, he +reflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, +for he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner +who escaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the good +intentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too polite and +good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that the prisoner +was a much cleverer man than he. + +"Here, sit up," he said gruffly. "I'm not paid to carry you, you know." + +"What's that? What's that? What's that?" cried Yates rapidly, blinking +his eyes and straightening up. "Oh, it's only you, Stoliker. I thought +it was my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?" + +"Either that or pretending--I don't know which, and I don't care." + +"Oh! I must have been pretending," answered Yates drowsily; "I can't +have dropped asleep. How long have we been here?" + +"About five minutes." + +"All right." And Yates' head began to droop again. + +This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitate +sleep so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each +time saved himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. +Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, +with a greater lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, +carrying the constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff +nipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, +instinctively grasped the links between with his right hand, to save his +wrist. Like a cat, Yates was upon him, showing marvelous agility for a +man who had just tumbled in a heap. The next instant he held aloft the +revolver, crying triumphantly: + +"How's that, umpire? Out, I expect." + +The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist, realizing +the helplessness of a struggle. + +"Now, Stoliker," said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, "what have you +to say before I fire?" + +"Nothing," answered the constable, "except that you will be hanged at +Welland, instead of staying a few days in jail." + +Yates laughed. "That's not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there's +some grit in you, if you _are_ a man-catcher. Still, you were not in +very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want this +pistol again, just watch where it alights." And Yates, taking the weapon +by the muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. + +Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his +pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he could +to the spot where the revolver fell. + +"Is that how you mark the place?" asked Yates; "or is it some spell that +will enable you to find the pistol?" + +"Neither," answered the constable quietly. "It is the key of the +handcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland." + +Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at the +little man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attempted to +search for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to one that +Stoliker would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key, in +which case the reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law. + +"Stoliker, you're evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours. +That wasn't a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause you some +personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I'm not +going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I have +gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me." + +"I shall not move," replied the constable firmly. + +"Very well, stay there," said Yates, twisting his hand around so as to +grasp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked up +the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stoliker +set his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow. +Nothing was said by either until several hundred yards were thus +traversed. Then Yates stopped. + +"Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, I +hope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with me +quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same in +the end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see the +fight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don't want to lose +any more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, and +having me explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we go +through the fields." + +One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise man always +accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossed the rail +fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together--Stoliker +silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who is certain of +ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with all its machinery +working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, and instructive by +turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when the unresponsiveness +of the other rendered conversation difficult. + +"Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent, +scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city's +din is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and +the drowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed 'bumble'! The +green fields, the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, +untainted by city smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blue +unclouded sky--how can human spite and human passion exist in such a +paradise? Does it all not make you feel as if you were an innocent child +again, with motives pure and conscience white?" + +If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. With +clouded brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. +But, although the constable made no reply, there was an answer that +electrified Yates, and put all thought of the beauty of the country out +of his mind. The dull report of a musket, far in front of them, suddenly +broke the silence, followed by several scattering shots, and then the +roar of a volley. This was sharply answered by the ring of rifles to the +right. With an oath, Yates broke into a run. + +"They're at it!" he cried, "and all on account of your confounded +obstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire, and +the Canadians have not been long in replying." + +The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates was +aroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicating +smell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleaming eye. + +"Come on, you loitering idiot!" he cried to the constable, who had +difficulty in keeping pace with him; "come on, or, by the gods! I'll +break your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from it." + +The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of war, +and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the insane +glare of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his fear to +Yates. + +"Come on, _you_!" he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twist to +the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractory +criminals. "I am as eager to see the fight as you are." + +The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said: +"That's the ticket, I'm with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a +hurry if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intend +to use you as a shield from the bullets." + +"That's all right," answered the little constable, panting. "Two sides +are firing. I'll shield you on one side, and you'll have to shield me on +the other." + +Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding the +houses, they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the +trees, showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond. Yates +made the constable cross the fence and the road, and take to the fields +again, bringing him around behind Bartlett's house and barn. No one +was visible near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at the back +watching, with pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now and then +covering her ears with her hands as the sound of an extra loud volley +assailed them. Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for help. + +"If you do that again," cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, "I'll +choke you!" + +But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned +with a frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when she +recognized the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand away +from the constable's throat. + +"Where is your father or your brother?" demanded the constable. + +"I don't know." + +"Where is your mother?" + +"She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill." + +"Are you all alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance to +this prisoner, but to do as I tell you." + +"And I command you, in the name of the President," cried Yates, "to +keep your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty," he +continued in a milder tone, "could you tell me where to get a file, so +that I may cut these wrist ornaments? Don't you get it. You are to do +nothing. Just indicate where the file is. The law mustn't have any hold +on you, as it seems to have on me." + +"Why don't you make him unlock them?" asked Kitty. + +"Because the villain threw away the key in the fields." + +"He couldn't have done that." + +The constable caught his breath. + +"But he did. I saw him." + +"And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of his +watch chain. He hasn't thrown that away." + +She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her. + +"Don't touch him. I'm playing a lone hand here." He jerked out the +chain, and the real key dangled from it. + +"Well, Stoliker," he said, "I don't know which to admire most--your +cleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett's acuteness of +observation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?" + +"Yes; but you mustn't hurt him." + +"No fear. I think too much of him. Don't you come in. I'll be out in a +moment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet." + +Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square +oaken post which was part of the framework of the building, and which +formed one side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the +hay mow. + +"Now, Stoliker," he, said solemnly, "you realize, of course, that I +don't want to hurt you yet you also realize that I _must_ hurt you if +you attempt any tricks. I can't take any risks, please remember that; +and recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be in the +State of New York. So don't compel me to smash your head against this +post." He, with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist; then, +drawing Stoliker's right hand around the post, he snapped the same clasp +on the constable's hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man, with his +cheek against the oak, was in the comical position of lovingly embracing +the post. + +"I'll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be more +comfortable--unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. Then I +must bid you good-by." + +Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him. + +"I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty," he said, "so that poor +Stoliker will get a rest." + +They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased, +except a desultory shot here and there across the country. + +"I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can," he +continued. "This country is getting too hot for me." + +"You are much safer here," said the girl, with downcast eyes. "A man has +brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up and down +the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from this side." + +"You don't say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to do with +Stoliker? I can't keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets loose +I'm done for." + +"Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I go +for her?" + +"I don't think it would be any use. Stoliker's a stubborn animal. He has +suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We'll bring him +a chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him." + +When the chair was placed at Stoliker's disposal, he sat down upon it, +still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of the +solemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyes +with the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates. + +"How long am I to be kept here?" asked the constable. + +"Oh, not long," answered Yates cheerily; "not a moment longer than is +necessary. I'll telegraph when I'm safe in New York State; so you won't +be here more than a day or two." + +This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker. + +"Look here," he said; "I guess I know as well as the next man when I'm +beaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff's +orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don't believe you've +done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn't have acted quite the way you did. +If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. As it is, +if you unlock those cuffs, I'll give you my word I'll do nothing more +unless I'm ordered to. Like as not they've forgotten all about you by +this time; and there's nothing on record, anyhow." + +"Do you mean it? Will you act square?" + +"Certainly I'll act square. I don't suppose you doubt that. I didn't ask +any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you." + +"Enough said," cried Yates. "I'll risk it." + +Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he was released. + +"I wonder," he said, now that Kitty was gone, "if there is anything to +eat in the house?" + +"Shake!" cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. "Another great and +mutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who did +not want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when +all was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before he +realized that things had reached a crisis. + +When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. +The fortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn +before the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried to +sample the contents and had found nothing. + +"Hang it all!" said Yates to himself, "I wonder what the five assistants +that the _Argus_ sent me have done with themselves? If they are with +the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are captured by +the Canadians, they won't be able to get an account of this scrimmage +through to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest item of the +year--it's international, by George! It may involve England and the +United States in a war, if both sides are not extra mild and cautious. I +can't run the chance of the paper being left in the lurch. Let me think +a minute. Is it my tip to follow the Canadians or the Fenians? I wonder +is which is running the faster? My men are evidently with the Fenians, +if they were on the ground at all. If I go after the Irish Republic, I +shall run the risk of duplicating things; but if I follow the Canadians, +they may put me under arrest. Then we have more Fenian sympathizers +among our readers than Canadians, so the account from the invasion side +of the fence will be the more popular. Yet a Canadian version would be +a good thing, if I were sure the rest of the boys got in their work, and +the chances are that the other papers won't have any reporters among the +Canucks. Heavens! What is a man to do? I'll toss up for it. Heads, the +Fenians." + +He spun the coin in the air, and caught it. "Heads it is! The Fenians +are my victims. I'm camping on their trail, anyhow. Besides, it's safer +than following the Canadians, even though Stoliker has got my pass." + +Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the forest. The scent of a +big item was in his nostrils, and it stimulated him like champagne. +What was temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of defeating the +opposition press? + +A blind man might have followed the trail of the retreating army. They +had thrown away, as they passed through the woods, every article that +impeded their progress. Once he came on a man lying with his face in the +dead leaves. He turned him over. + +"His troubles are past, poor devil," said Yates, as he pushed on. + +"Halt! Throw up your hands!" came a cry from in front of him. + +Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his hands, being an adaptable +man. + +"What's the trouble?" he shouted. "I'm retreating, too." + +"Then retreat five steps farther. I'll count the steps. One." + +Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that a man behind a tree was +covering him with a gun. The next step revealed a second captor, with +a huge upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. Both men had +blackened faces, and resembled thoroughly disreputable fiends of +the forest. Seated on the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozen +dejected prisoners. The man with the gun swore fearfully, but his +comrade with the hammer was silent. + +"Come," said the marksman, "you blank scoundrel, and take a seat with +your fellow-scoundrels. If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I'll +fill you full of buckshot!" + +"Oh, I'm not going to run, Sandy," cried Yates, recognizing him. "Why +should I? I've always enjoyed your company, and Macdonald's. How are +you, Mac? Is this a little private raid of your own? For which side are +you fighting? And I say, Sandy, what's the weight of that old-fashioned +bar of iron you have in your hands? I'd like to decide a bet. Let me +heft it, as you said in the shop." + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Sandy in a disappointed tone, lowering his +gun. "I thought we had raked in another of them. The old man and I want +to make it an even dozen." + +"Well, I don't think you'll capture any more. I saw nobody as I came +through the woods. What are you going to do with this crowd?" + +"Brain 'em," said Macdonald laconically, speaking for the first time. +Then he added reluctantly: "If any of 'em tries to escape." + +The prisoners were all evidently too tired and despondent to make +any attempt at regaining their liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald's +shoulder at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head he seemed +to indicate that he would like to have some private conversation with +the newspaper man. + +"I'm not your prisoner, am I?" asked Yates. + +"No," said Macdonald. "You may go if you like, but not in the direction +the Fenians have gone." + +"I guess I won't need to go any farther, if you will give me permission +to interview your prisoners. I merely want to get some points about the +fight." + +"That's all right," said the blacksmith, "as long as you don't try to +help them. If you do, I warn you there will be trouble." + +Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, out of hearing of +the others, leaving Macdonald and his sledge-hammer on guard. + +When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested his arms on his gun, +in a pathfinder attitude. + +"Say," he began anxiously, "you haven't got some powder and shot on you +by any chance?" + +"Not an ounce. Haven't you any ammunition?" + +"No, and haven't had all through the fight. You see, we left the shop in +such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man +on horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the old man he +grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left at the shop +for repairs, and off we started. I'm not sure that it would shoot if I +had ammunition, but I'd like to try. I've scared some of them Fee-neens +nigh to death with it, but I was always afraid one of them would pull a +real gun on me, and then I don't know just what I'd 'a' done." + +Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but +was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: "Next battle there is you won't +find me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I'd sooner have the old +man's sledge. It don't miss fire." His eye brightened as he thought of +Macdonald. "Say," he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his +shoulder, "the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?" + +"He is," said Yates, "but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear +nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?" + +"Oh, well, you see," said Sandy apologetically, "it don't come as +natural to me as chewing, but, then, somebody's got to swear. The old +man's converted, you know." + +"Ah, hasn't he backslid yet?" + +"No, he hasn't. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, +but it didn't; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little +cussing,--not that anyone can cuss like the boss,--he'll pull through. +I think he'll stick this time. You'd ought to have seen him wading into +them d--d Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing 'Onward, Christian +soldiers.' Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when +things got hot, he pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I +tell you, it was a sight. He bowled 'em over like nine-pins. You ought +to 'a' been there." + +"Yes," said Yates regretfully. "I missed it, all on account of that +accursed Stoliker. Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, but +I'll tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I'll let +you know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of +tobacco that you ever put your teeth into." + +Sandy's eyes glittered. "Bless you!" was all he could say, as he bit off +a corner of the offered plug. + +"You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I +thought you were out." + +"I haven't had a bite all day. That's the trouble with leaving in a +hurry." + +"Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get back +and interview those fellows. There's no time to be lost." + +When they reached the group, Macdonald said: + +"Here's a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, +and that you will vouch for him." + +Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, +yet fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and +wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognized one +of the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New +York _Blade_. This was even worse than he had anticipated. + +"Hello, Jimmy!" he said, "how did you get here?" + +"I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face." + +"Whose a--fool?" cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. He +boggled slightly as he came to the "adjective," but got over it safely. +It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, and +cursed Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent +of profanity. Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, +not knowing that he was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, +wondering how he had attained such proficiency in malediction; for, +like all true artists, he was quite unconscious of his own merit in that +direction. + +"Tell this hammer wielder that I'm no anvil. Tell him that I'm a +newspaper man, and didn't come here to fight. He says that if you +guarantee that I'm no Fenian he'll let me go." + +Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked to do +a favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconvenience himself, +but he never forgot the fact that business was business. + +"I can't conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy," said Yates soothingly. +"How am I to know you are not a Fenian?" + +"Bosh!" cried Hawkins angrily. "Conscientiously? A lot you think of +conscience when there is an item to be had." + +"We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy," continued Yates +feelingly. "We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons that +you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of telling +a lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don't you, Mr. Macdonald? You would +not advise me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you?" + +"Certainly not," said the blacksmith earnestly. + +"You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me," cried the +indignant _Blade_ man. "You know very well I'm not a Fenian." + +"Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspect myself +of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?" + +"What's your game?" asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that he +himself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival's dilemma. + +"My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episode sent +over the wires to the _Argus_. You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. When +the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will +save you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do so without +prejudice, as the lawyers say, for I have always held that that will be +the ultimate end of all the _Blade_ staff. + +"Look here, Yates; play fair. Don't run in any conscientious guff on a +prisoner. You see, I have known you these many years." + +"Yes, and little have you profited by a noble example. It is your +knowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let you out +of your hole without due consideration." + +"Are you willing to make a bargain? + +"Always--when the balance of trade is on my side." + +"Well, if you give me a fair start, I'll give you some exclusive +information that you can't get otherwise." + +"What is it?" + +"Oh, I wasn't born yesterday, Dick." + +"That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven't +you something more attractive to offer?" + +"Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the +fight written out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on a +telegraph wire. I'll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, +if you will get me out of this hole, as you call it. I'll give you +permission to use the information in any way you choose, if you will +extricate me, and all I ask is a fair start in the race for a telegraph +office." + +Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Jimmy," he finally said. "I'll buy that +account from you, and give you more money than the _Blade_ will. And +when I get back to New York I'll place you on the staff of the _Argus_ +at a higher salary than the _Blade_ gives you--taking your own word for +the amount." + +"What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely." + +"Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow." + +"Perhaps. But it won't be sold by me. I'll burn my copy before I will +let you have a glimpse of it. That don't need to interfere with your +making me an offer of a better position when we get back to New York; +but while my paper depends on me, I won't go back on it." + +"Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. I always +was weak where the interests of the _Argus_ were concerned. You haven't +any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?" + +"I have, but I won't lend it." + +Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. + +"Now, Mac," he said, "tell me all you saw of this fight." + +The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark +on his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of +sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. One after +another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered together all the +materials for that excellent full-page account "by an eyewitness" that +afterward appeared in the columns of the _Argus_. He had a wonderful +memory, and simply jotted down figures with which he did not care to +burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and then at the facts +they were giving Yates, but the _Argus_ man said nothing, merely setting +down in shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins sneered at, +which Yates considered was more than likely accurate and important. When +he had got all he wanted, he rose. + +"Shall I send you help, Mac?" he asked. + +"No," said the smith; "I think I'll take these fellows to the shop, and +hold them there till called for. You can't vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr. +Yates?" + +"Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These +half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always +seem to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorant +co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you'll enjoy life down +at Mac's shop. It's the best place I've struck since I've been in the +district. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you. +I'll make careful inquiries into your opinions, and as soon as I am +convinced that you can be set free with safety to the community I'll +drop in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so long." + +Yates' one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write his +article as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fears +about the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying +to get through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. He +quickly made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, +if the Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride as +rapidly as he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reached +the edge of the woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. +He found young Bartlett at the barn. + +"Any news of the horses yet?" was the first question he asked. + +"No," said young Bartlett gloomily; "guess they've rode away with them." + +"Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraph +office. Where is the likeliest place to find one?" + +"I don't know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraph +boy's nag; it's in the stable now, having a feed." + +"What telegraph boy?" + +"Oh, didn't you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and I +thought he had found you." + +"No, I haven't been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has some +news for me. I'm going to the house to write, so send him in as soon as +he gets back. Be sure you don't let him get away before I see him." + +"I'll lock the stable," said young Bartlett, "and then he won't get the +horse, at any rate." + +Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that the +girl cried anxiously: + +"Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?" + +"No, Kitty; I'm after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have +in the house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil +mark." + +"A copy book--such as the children use in school?" + +"Just the thing." + +In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials he +required ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, and +went to work as if he were in his own den in the _Argus_ building. + +"This is a ---- of a vacation," he muttered to himself, as he drove his +pencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took no note +of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself and sprang to +his feet. + +"What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?" he cried. "Well, it +doesn't matter; I'll take the horse without his permission." + +He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhat +surprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the good +things which that kitchen always afforded. + +"Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?" + +"I wouldn't let him go in to disturb you while you were writing," said +Kitty, the boy's mouth being too full to permit of a reply. + +"Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that down and come in here; I want +to talk to you for a minute." + +The boy followed him into the front room. + +"Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for the rest of the day." + +"You can't have it," said the boy promptly. + +"Can't have it? I must have it. Why, I'll take it. You don't imagine you +can stop me, do you?" + +The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms across his breast. + +"What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates?" he asked. + +"I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I'll pay you well for +it." + +"And what am I here for?" + +"Why, to eat, of course. They'll feed you high while you wait." + +"Canadian telegraph office?" + +"Certainly." + +"It's no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians couldn't telegraph all you've +written in two weeks. I know 'em," said the boy with infinite scorn. +"Besides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, and you can't +get a private message through till it gets over its fright." + +"By George!" cried Yates, taken aback, "I hadn't thought of that. Are +you sure, boy?" + +"Dead certain." + +"Then what's to be done? I must get through to Buffalo." + +"You can't. United States troops won't let you. They're stopping +everybody--except me," he added, drawing himself up, as if he were the +one individual who stood in with the United States Government. + +"Can you get this dispatch through?" + +"You bet! That's why I came back. I knew, as soon as I looked at you, +that you would write two or three columns of telegraph; and your paper +said 'Spare no expense,' you remember. So says I to myself: 'I'll help +Mr. Yates to spare no expense. I'll get fifty dollars from that young +man, seeing I'm the only person who can get across in time.'" + +"You were mighty sure of it, weren't you?" + +"You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and ready, I'm fed and ready, +and we're losing valuable time waiting for that fifty dollars." + +"Suppose you meet another newspaper man who wants to get his dispatch +through to another paper, what will you do?" + +"Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet two other newspaper men, +that will be one hundred and fifty dollars; but if you want to make sure +that I won't meet any more newspaper men, let us call it one hundred +dollars, and I'll take the risk of the odd fifty for the ready cash; +then if I meet a dozen newspaper men, I'll tell them I'm a telegraph boy +on a vacation." + +"Quite so. I think you will be able to take care of yourself in a cold +and callous world. Now, look here, young man; I'll trust you if you'll +trust me. I'm not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay by results. +If you don't get this dispatch through, you don't get anything. I'll +give you an order for a hundred dollars, and as soon as I get to Buffalo +I'll pay you the cash. I'll have to draw on the _Argus_ when I get to +Buffalo; if my article has appeared, you get your cash; if it hasn't, +you're out. See?" + +"Yes, I see. It won't do, Mr. Yates." + +"Why won't it do?" + +"Because I say it won't. This is a cash transaction. Money down, or you +don't get the goods. I'll get it through all right, but if I just miss, +I'm not going to lose the money." + +"Very well, I'll take it to the Canadian telegraph office." + +"All right, Mr. Yates. I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were some +good. You aint got no sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at your +tent, there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of men out of the +woods. When one of them sees my uniform, he sings out he'd give me +twenty-five dollars to take his stuff. I said I'd see him later, and I +will. Good-by, Mr. Yates." + +"Hold on, there! You're a young villain. You'll end in state's prison +yet, but here's your money. Now, you ride like a house a-fire." + +After watching the departing boy until he was out of sight Yates, with +a feeling of relief, started back to the tent. He was worried about the +interview the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, now that it +was too late, whether, after all, he had not Hawkins' manuscript in his +pocket. He wished he had searched him. That trouble, however, did not +prevent him from sleeping like the dead the moment he lay down in the +tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The result of the struggle was similar in effect to an American railway +accident of the first class. One officer and five privates were killed +on the Canadian side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. The +number of the Fenians killed will probably never be known. Several +were buried on the field of battle, others were taken back by O'Neill's +brigade when they retreated. + +Although the engagement ended as Yates had predicted, yet he was wrong +in his estimate of the Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underrated +by men of experience in military matters. The boys fought well, even +when they saw their ensign fall dead before them. If the affair had been +left entirely in their hands, the result might have been different--as +was shown afterward, when the volunteers, unimpeded by regulars, quickly +put down a much more formidable rising in the Northwest. But in the +present case they were hampered by their dependence on the British +troops, whose commander moved them with all the ponderous slowness of +real war, and approached O'Neill as if he had been approaching Napoleon. +He thus managed to get in a day after the fair on every occasion, +being too late for the fight at Ridgeway, and too late to capture any +considerable number of the flying Fenians at Fort Erie. The campaign, on +the Canadian side, was magnificently planned and wretchedly carried out. +The volunteers and regulars were to meet at a point close to where +the fight took place, but the British commander delayed two hours in +starting, which fact the Canadian colonel did not learn until too +late. These blunders culminated in a ghastly mistake on the field. The +Canadian colonel ordered his men to charge across an open field, and +attack the Fenian force in the woods--a brilliant but foolish move. To +the command the volunteers gallantly responded, but against stupidity +the gods are powerless. In the field they were appalled to hear the +order given to form square and receive cavalry. Even the schoolboys knew +the Fenians could have no cavalry. + +Having formed their square, the Canadians found themselves the helpless +targets of the Fenians in the woods. If O'Neill's forces had shot with +reasonable precision, they must have cut the volunteers to pieces. The +latter were victorious, if they had only known it; but, in this hopeless +square, panic seized them, and it was every man for himself; at the same +time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as they could. This farce +is known as the battle of Ridgeway, and would have been comical had it +not been that death hovered over it. The comedy, without the tragedy, +was enacted a day or two before at a bloodless skirmish which took place +near a hamlet called Waterloo, which affray is dignified in Canadian +annals as the second battle of that name. + +When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, who had watched the contest +with all the helpless anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing the danger, but +having no influence upon the result, followed them, making a wide detour +to avoid the chance shots which were still flying. He expected to come +up with the volunteers on the road, but was not successful. Through +various miscalculations he did not succeed in finding them until toward +evening. At first they told him that young Howard was with the company, +and unhurt, but further inquiry soon disclosed the fact that he had not +been seen since the fight. He was not among those who were killed or +wounded, and it was nightfall before Renmark realized that opposite his +name on the roll would be placed the ominous word "missing." Renmark +remembered that the boy had said he would visit his home if he got +leave; but no leave had been asked for. At last Renmark was convinced +that young Howard was either badly wounded or dead. The possibility of +his desertion the professor did not consider for a moment, although he +admitted to himself that it was hard to tell what panic of fear might +come over a boy who, for the first time in his life, found bullets +flying about his ears. + +With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and made his way to the fatal +field. He found nothing on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, +he came across several bodies lying where they fell; but they were all +those of strangers. Even in the darkness he would have had no difficulty +in recognizing the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He walked +down to the Howard homestead, hoping, yet fearing, to hear the boy's +voice--the voice of a deserter. Everything was silent about the house, +although a light shone through an upper window, and also through one +below. He paused at the gate, not knowing what to do. It was evident +the boy was not here, yet how to find the father or brother, without +alarming Margaret or her mother, puzzled him. As he stood there the door +opened, and he recognized Mrs. Bartlett and Margaret standing in the +light. He moved away from the gate, and heard the older woman say: + +"Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now that she has fallen into +a nice sleep. I wouldn't disturb her to-night, if I were you. It is +nothing but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It's all +over now, thank God. Good-night, Margaret." + +The good woman came through the gate, and then ran, with all the +speed of sixteen, toward her own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, +listening to the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, but +Renmark thought he had never seen anyone so lovely; and he was startled +to find that he had a most un-professor-like longing to take her in his +arms and comfort her. Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared it +would be his fate to add to her anxiety; and it was not until he saw she +was about to close the door that he found courage to speak. + +"Margaret," he said. + +The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, and +the cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with an +unknown joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there, +with wide eyes and suspended breath, gazing into the darkness. Renmark +stepped into the light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue +and anxiety. + +"Margaret," he said again, "I want to speak with you a moment. Where is +your brother?" + +"He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. There +is something wrong," she continued, stepping down beside him. "I can see +it in your face. What is it?" + +"Is your father in the house?" + +"Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me what it is. It is better +to tell me." + +Renmark hesitated. + +"Don't keep me in suspense like this," cried the girl in a low but +intense voice. "You have said too much or too little. Has anything +happened to Henry?" + +"No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed?" + +"I _am_ alarmed. Tell, me quickly." And the girl in her excitement laid +her hands imploringly on his. + +"Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you know +that?" + +"He never told me. I understand--I think so, but I hope not. He was in +the battle today. Is he--has he been--hurt?" + +"I don't know. I'm afraid so," said Renmark hurriedly, now that the +truth had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of the +girl's unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. "He was with +the volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don't know +where he is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he +has been left behind. I have been all over the ground." + +"Yes, yes?" + +"But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him." + +"Take me to where the volunteers were," she sobbed. "I know what has +happened. Come quickly." + +"Will you not put something on your head?" + +"No, no. Come at once." Then, pausing, she said: "Shall we need a +lantern?" + +"No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house." + +Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Renmark had some trouble +in keeping pace with her. She turned at the side road, and sped up the +gentle ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. + +"Here is the place," said Renmark. + +"He could not have been hit in the field," she cried breathlessly, "for +then he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing a +fence. If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did you search +this field?" + +"Every bit of it. He is not here." + +"Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the second +fence. Did you see the battle?" + +"Yes." + +"Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?" + +"No; they did not leave the woods." + +"Then, if he was struck, it could not have been far from the other side +of the second fence. He would be the last to retreat; and that is why +the others did not see him," said the girl, with confident pride in her +brother's courage. + +They crossed the first fence; the road, and the second fence, the girl +walking ahead for a few paces. She stopped, and leaned for a moment +against a tree. "It must have been about here," she said in a voice +hardly audible. "Have you searched on this side?" + +"Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and woods." + +"No, no, not there; but down along the fence. He knew every inch of +this ground. If he were wounded here, he would at once try to reach our +house. Search down along the fence. I--I cannot go." + +Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made +by the zigzag of the rails; and he knew, without looking back, that +Margaret, with feminine inconsistency, was following him. Suddenly she +darted past him, and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing out a +cry that cut Renmark like a knife. + +The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his outstretched hand +grasping the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far, +and reached an insurmountable obstacle. + +Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and rapidly ran his hand +over the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy +passed over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. + +"He is alive!" he cried. "He will get well, Margaret." A statement +somewhat premature to make on so hasty an examination. + +He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the girl he loved. He was +amazed to see her eyes almost luminous in the darkness, blazing with +wrath. + +"When did you know he was with the volunteers?" + +"This morning--early," said the professor, taken aback. + +"Why didn't you tell me?" + +"He asked me not to do so." + +"He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man's sense. You +had no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know, and your +duty to tell me. Through your negligence and stupidity my brother has +lain here all day--perhaps dying," she added with a break in her angry +voice. + +"If you had known--I didn't know anything was wrong until I saw the +volunteers. I have not lost a moment since." + +"I should have known he was missing, without going to the volunteers." + +Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, from a girl whom he had +made the mistake of believing to be without a temper of her own, that +he knew not what to say. He was, however, to have one more example of +inconsistency. + +"Why do you stand there doing nothing, now that I have found him?" she +demanded. + +It was on his tongue to say: "I stand here because you stand there +unjustly quarreling with me," but he did not say it. Renmark was not a +ready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. + +"Margaret," he said sternly, "throw down that fence." + +This curt command, delivered in his most schoolmastery manner, was +instantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to a +young woman, but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts of +America. A rail fence lends itself readily to demolition. Margaret +tossed a rail to the right, one to the left, and to the right again, +until an open gap took the place of that part of the fence. The +professor examined the young soldier in the meantime, and found his leg +had been broken by a musket ball. He raised him up tenderly in his arms, +and was pleased to hear a groan escape his lips. He walked through the +open gap and along the road toward the house, bearing the unconscious +form of his pupil. Margaret silently kept close to his side, her fingers +every now and then unconsciously caressing the damp, curly locks of her +brother. + +"We shall have to get a doctor?" Her assertion was half an inquiry. + +"Certainly." + +"We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that I should +tell you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there." + +"We cannot help disturbing someone." + +"I do not think it will be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur, I +will go for the doctor, and no one need know." + +"I will go for the doctor." + +"You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, +and will soon be back." + +"But there are prowlers and stragglers all along the roads. It is not +safe for you to go alone." + +"It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen can +overtake Gypsy. Now, don't say anything more. It is best that I should +go. I will run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will take the +lamp to the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry +him around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show +you the way." + +With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried his burden alone. She +was waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way round the +house, to where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn under an +apple tree. The light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the boy +gently upon the dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmark +whose room he was in. It was decorated with those pretty little +knickknacks so dear to the heart of a girl in a snuggery she can call +her own. + +"It is not likely you will be disturbed here," she whispered, "until I +come back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor." + +"Don't you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don't like +the thought of your going alone." + +"No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You do not know the way. I +shall be very much quicker. If Arthur should--should--wake, he will know +you, and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were a stranger." + +Margaret was gone before he could say anything more, and Renmark sat +down, devoutly hoping no one would rap at the door of the room while he +was there. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse, when she opened the stable +door, and Gypsy replied with that affectionate, low guttural whinny +which the Scotch graphically term "nickering." She patted the little +animal; and if Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at that +hour of the night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing its +nose lovingly up and down Margaret's sleeve as she buckled the different +straps. There was evidently a good understanding between the two. + +"No, Gyp," she whispered, "I have nothing for you to-night--nothing but +hard work and quick work. Now, you mustn't make a noise till we get past +the house." + +On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, which she always +carried, but never used. Gyp had never felt the indignity of the lash, +and was always willing to do what was required merely for a word. + +Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and there +was therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although +the passing of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that if her +father heard the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come out +to investigate. Halfway between her own home and Bartlett's house she +sprang lightly into the saddle. + +"Now, then, Gyp!" + +No second word was required. Away they sped down the road toward the +east, the mild June air coming sweet and cool and fresh from the distant +lake, laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. The stillness +was intense, broken only by the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, +America's one-phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and eerie +note of a distant loon. + +The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shown +anywhere. The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter of the +day; and the population, scattered as it was, appeared to have retired +into its shell. A spell of silence and darkness was over the land, and +the rapid hoof beats of the horse sounded with startling distinctness +on the harder portions of the road, emphasized by intervals of complete +stillness, when the fetlocks sank in the sand and progress was more +difficult for the plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear that +Margaret felt on her night journey was when she entered the dark arch +of an avenue of old forest trees that bordered the road, like a great, +gloomy cathedral aisle, in the shadow of which anything might be hidden. +Once the horse, with a jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead: +Margaret caught her breath as she saw, or fancied she saw, several men +stretched on the roadside, asleep or dead. Once in the open again she +breathed more freely, and if it had not been for the jump of the horse, +she would have accused her imagination of playing her a trick. Just as +she had completely reassured herself a shadow moved from the fence to +the middle of the road, and a sharp voice cried: + +"Halt!" + +The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted its two +front hoofs together, and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so +quickly to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Margaret kept +her seat. She saw in front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready +to fire if she attempted to disobey his command. + +"Who are you, and where are you going?" he demanded. + +"Oh, please let me pass!" pleaded Margaret with a tremor of fear in her +voice. "I am going for a doctor--for my brother; he is badly wounded, +and will perhaps die if I am delayed." + +The man laughed. + +"Oho!" he cried, coming closer; "a woman, is it? and a young one, +too, or I'm a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I'll have to +investigate this. The brother business won't work with an old soldier. +It's your lover you're riding for at this time of the night, or I'm no +judge of the sex. Just slip down, my lady, and see if you don't like me +better than him; remember that all cats are black in the dark. Get down, +I tell you." + +"If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. +I must get to the doctor." + +"There's no 'must' with a bayonet in front of you. If he has been +wounded, there's plenty of better men killed to-day. Come down, my +dear." + +Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in the darkness, the man +saw her intention. + +"You can't escape, my pretty. If you try it, you'll not be hurt, but +I'll kill your horse. If you move, I'll put a bullet through him." + +"Kill my horse?" breathed Margaret in horror, a fear coming over her +that she had not felt at the thought of danger to herself. + +"Yes, missy," said the man, approaching nearer, and laying his hand on +Gypsy's bridle. "But there will be no need of that. Besides, it +would make too much noise, and might bring us company, which would be +inconvenient. So come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are." + +"If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here and be +your prisoner." + +The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. This was a good joke. + +"Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn't born so recently as all that. A girl in +the hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, +or I'll take you off. This is war time, and I'm not going to waste any +more pretty talk on you." + +The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at her, and something +in his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that +he apparently was not prepared for any sudden movement. Her right hand, +hanging down at her side, had grasped the short riding whip, and, with +a swiftness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she struck him +one stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought down the +lash on the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with her left +over her enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the horse sprang +forward, bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatter that +woke the echoes; then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped +along the road like the wind. It was the first time he had ever felt the +cut of a whip, and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further +obstruction on the road, turned her horse's head toward the rail fence, +and went over it like a bird. In the field, where fast going in the dark +had dangers, Margaret tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse +would not have it so. He shook his head angrily whenever he thought +of the indignity of that blow, while Margaret leaned over and tried to +explain and beg pardon for her offense. The second fence was crossed +with a clean-cut leap, and only once in the next field did the horse +stumble, but quickly recovered and went on at the same breakneck gait. +The next fence, gallantly vaulted over, brought them to the side road, +half a mile up which stood the doctor's house. Margaret saw the futility +of attempting a reconciliation until the goal was won. There, with +difficulty, the horse was stopped, and the girl struck the panes of the +upper window, through which a light shone, with her riding whip. +The window was raised, and the situation speedily explained to the +physician. + +"I will be with you in a moment," he said. + +Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her arms around the neck +of the trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, and +sniffed the air with offended dignity. + +"It _was_ a shame, Gyp," she cried, almost tearfully, stroking the +glossy neck of her resentful friend; "it was, it was, and I know it; but +what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only protector I had, and you _did_ +bowl him over beautifully; no other horse could have done it so well. +It's wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike +you." + +Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss of the head that the +wheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult more +than the pain; and from her--there was the sting of it. + +"I know--I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; and I don't blame you +for being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there was no +time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That's why it came +down so hard. If I had said a word, he would have got out of the way, +coward that he was, and then would have shot you--_you_, Gypsy! Think of +it!" + +If a man can be molded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, how can +a horse expect to be exempt from her influence. Gypsy showed signs of +melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. + +"And it will never happen again, Gypsy--never, never. As soon as we +are safe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you +wouldn't----" + +Gypsy's head rested on Margaret's shoulder, and we must draw a veil over +the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle +with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar of friendship +the unoffending whip was doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. + +When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, +and proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way--the +Concession, as it was called. + +They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light in the +window. + +The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from the +house, and walked together to the window with the stealthy steps of +a pair of housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closed +window, and thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. She tapped +lightly on the pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. + +"We were getting very anxious about you," he whispered. + +"Hello, Peggy!" said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his head +slightly from the pillow and dropping it back again. + +Margaret stooped over and kissed him. + +"My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!" + +"Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was going to +die within sight of the house." + +The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited until +the examination was over, and then went out to find her. + +She sprang forward to meet him. + +"It is all right," he said. "There is nothing to fear. He has been +exhausted by loss of blood, but a few days' quiet will set that right. +Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience at +being kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks." + +"Oh, I am so glad! and--and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. Renmark!" + +"I have done nothing--except make blunders," replied the professor with +a bitterness that surprised and hurt her. + +"How can you say that? You have done everything. We owe his life to +you." + +Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlier +part of the night had deeply pained him, and he hoped for some hint of +disclaimer from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did not realize +that the words were spoken in a state of intense excitement and fear, +that another woman would probably have expressed her condition of mind +by fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had left +absolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark +spoke: + +"I must be getting back to the tent, if it still exists. I think I had +an appointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to this +moment I had forgotten it. Good-night." + +Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had done +to offend him. He stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much the +direction he took, but automatically going the nearest way to the tent. +Fatigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were as +lead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull ache where his heart +was supposed to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of +himself. He entered the tent, and was startled by the voice of Yates: + +"Hello! hello! Is that you, Stoliker?" + +"No; it is Renmark. Are you asleep?" + +"I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Have +you provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?" + +"There's a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven't been near the +tent since early morning." + +"All right; only don't expect a recommendation from me as cook. I'm not +yet hungry enough for raw potatoes. What time has it got to be?" + +"I'm sure I don't know." + +"Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I'm the latest edition of Rip +Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was +dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk." + +"What have you done with him?" + +"I'm not wide enough awake to remember. I _think_ I killed him, but +wouldn't be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that very +likely he is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. What have you +been prowling after all night?" + +There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep. + +"I'll ask _you_ in the morning," muttered Yates drowsily--after which +there was silence in the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Yates had stubbornly refused to give up his search for rest and quiet +in spite of the discomfort of living in a leaky and battered tent. He +expressed regret that he had not originally camped in the middle of +Broadway, as being a quieter and less exciting spot than the place he +had chosen; but, having made the choice, he was going to see the last +dog hung, he said. Renmark had become less and less of a comrade. He was +silent, and almost as gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yates tried +to cheer him up by showing him how much worse another man's position +might be, Renmark generally ended the talk by taking to the wood. + +"Just reflect on my position," Yates would say. "Here I am dead in love +with two lovely girls, both of whom are merely waiting for the word. To +one of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, to a man of my +temperament, inclines me somewhat to the other. Here I am anxious to +confide in you, and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talk +about the complication. You have no sympathy for me, Renny, when I need +sympathy; while I am bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won't +have it. Now, what would you do if you were in my fix? If you would take +five minutes and show me clearly which of the two girls I really ought +to marry, it would help me ever so much, for then I would be sure to +settle on the other. It is the indecision that is slowly but surely +sapping my vitality." + +By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over his eyes, +and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in the silent +halls of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates +generally looked after his retreating figure without anger, but with +mild wonder. + +"Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst," he would say with a +sigh. "It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down about one's +ears in this way." At their last talk of this kind Yates resolved not to +discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisis came. +The crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the +latter lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrilling romance. The +camp was strewn with these engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates +had read many of them, hoping to came across a case similar to his own, +but up to the time of Stoliker's visit he had not succeeded. + +"Hello, Stoliker! how's things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want to +have another tour across country with me?" + +"No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow or +next day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side; though +you need never say I told you. Of course, if they give the warrant to +me, I shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may be done to you, +still, the country is in a state of excitement, and you will at least be +put to some inconvenience." + +"Stoliker," cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, "you are a white +man! You're a good fellow, Stoliker, and I'm ever so much obliged. +If you ever come to New York, you call on me at the _Argus_ +office,--anybody will show you where it is,--and I'll give you the +liveliest time you ever had in your life. It won't cost you a cent, +either." + +"That's all right," said the constable. "Now, if I were you, I would +light out to-morrow at the latest." + +"I will," said Yates. + +Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after a +moment's thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It was +dark before he had finished, and Renmark returned. + +"Stilly," cried the reporter cheerily, "there's a warrant out for my +arrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!" + +"What! to jail?" cried his horrified friend, his conscience now +troubling him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an old +comrade. + +"Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, which is pretty much +the same thing. Still, thank goodness, I don't need to stay there long. +I'll be in New York before I'm many days older. I yearn to plunge into +the arena once more. The still, calm peacefulness of this whole vacation +has made me long for excitement again, and I'm glad the warrant has +pushed me into the turmoil." + +"Well, Richard, I'm sorry you have to go under such conditions. I'm +afraid I have not been as companionable a comrade as you should have +had." + +"Oh, you're all right, Renny. The trouble with you is that you have +drawn a little circle around Toronto University, and said to yourself: +'This is the world.' It isn't, you know. There is something outside of +all that." + +"Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours is around the +_Argus_ office." + +"Yes, but there are special wires from that little circle to all the +rest of the world, and soon there will be an Atlantic cable." + +"I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; still, there is +something outside of New York, even." + +"You bet your life there is; and, now that you are in a more sympathetic +frame of mind, it is that I want to talk with you about. Those two girls +are outside my little circle, and I want to bring one of them within it. +Now, Renmark, which of those girls would you choose if you were me?" + +The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was silent for a moment. +At last he said, speaking slowly: + +"I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite appreciate my point of +view. As you may think I have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will +try for the first and final time to explain it. I hold that any man who +marries a good woman gets more than he deserves, no matter how worthy he +may be. I have a profound respect for all women, and I think that your +light chatter about choosing between two is an insult to both of them. I +think either of them is infinitely too good for you--or for me either." + +"Oh, you do, do you? Perhaps you think that you would make a much better +husband than I. If that is the case, allow me to say you are entirely +wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill her with your gloomy +fits. I wouldn't go off in the woods and sulk, anyhow." + +"If you are referring to me, I will further inform you that I had +either to go off in the woods or knock you down. I chose the less of two +evils." + +"Think you could do it, I suppose? Renny, you're conceited. You're not +the first man who has made such a mistake, and found he was barking +up the wrong tree when it was too late for anything but bandages and +arnica." + +"I have tried to show you how I feel regarding this matter. I might have +known I should not succeed. We will end the discussion, if you please." + +"Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, Renny, I'll tell you +what you need. You need a good, sensible wife worse than any man I +know. It is not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. You will, +before long, grow a crust on you like a snail, or a lobster, or any +other cold-blooded animal that gets a shell on itself. Then nothing can +be done for you. Now, let me save you, Renny, before it is too late. +Here is my proposition: You choose one of those girls and marry her. +I'll take the other. I'm not as unselfish as I may seem in this, for +your choice will save me the worry of making up my own mind. According +to your talk, either of the girls is too good for you, and for once I +entirely agree with you. But let that pass. Now, which one is it to be?" + +"Good God! man, do you think I am going to bargain with you about my +future wife?" + +"That's right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. It shows you are not +yet the prig you would have folks believe. There's still hope for you, +professor. Now, I'll go further with you. Although I cannot make up my +mind just what to do myself, I can tell instantly which is the girl for +you, and thus we solve both problems at one stroke. You need a wife +who will take you in hand. You need one who will not put up with your +tantrums, who will be cheerful, and who will make a man of you. Kitty +Bartlett is the girl. She will tyrannize over you, just as her mother +does over the old man. She will keep house to the queen's taste, and +delight in getting you good things to eat. Why, everything is as plain +as a pikestaff. That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. You +marry Kitty, and I'll marry Margaret. Come, let's shake hands over it." +Yates held up his right hand, ready to slap it down on the open palm of +the professor, but there was no response. Yates' hand came down to his +side again, but he had not yet lost the enthusiasm of his proposal. The +more he thought of it the more fitting it seemed. + +"Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed girl that, if I am as +flippant as you say, she will be just the wife for me. There are depths +in my character, Renmark, that you have not suspected." + +"Oh, you're deep." + +"I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman would develop the best +that is in me. Now, what do you say, Renny?" + +"I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, dark as it is." + +"Ah, well," said Yates with a sigh, "there's no doing anything with you +or for you. I've tried my best; that is one consolation. Don't go away. +I'll let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up." + +And Yates drew a silver half dollar from his pocket. "Heads for +Margaret!" he cried. Renmark clinched his fist, took a step forward, +then checked himself, remembering that this was his last night with the +man who had at least once been his friend. + +Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in one hand, and +slapped the other over it. + +"Now for the turning point in the lives of two innocent beings." He +raised the covering hand, and peered at the coin in the gathering gloom. +"Heads it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard Yates. Congratulate +me, professor." + +Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object lesson in self-control. +Yates set his hat more jauntily on his head, and slipped the +epoch-making coin into his trousers pocket. + +"Good-by, old man," he said. "I'll see you later, and tell you all the +particulars." + +Without waiting for the answer, for which he probably knew there would +have been little use in delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprang +over it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood still for some +minutes, then, quietly gathering underbrush and sticks large and small, +lighted a fire, and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Yates walked merrily down the road, whistling "Gayly the troubadour." +Perhaps there is no moment in a man's life when he feels the joy of +being alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to a girl of whose +favorable answer he is reasonably sure--unless it be the moment he walks +away an accepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, with its +soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air laden with the perfumes +of wood and field. The enchantment of the hour threw its spell over the +young man, and he resolved to live a better life, and be worthy of the +girl he had chosen, or, rather, that fate had chosen for him. He paused +a moment, leaning over the fence near the Howard homestead, for he had +not yet settled in his own mind the details of the meeting. He would +not go in, for in that case he knew he would have to talk, perhaps for +hours, with everyone but the person he wished to meet. If he announced +himself and asked to see Margaret alone, his doing so would embarrass +her at the very beginning. Yates was naturally too much of a diplomat to +begin awkwardly. As he stood there, wishing chance would bring her out +of the house, there appeared a light in the door-window of the room +where he knew the convalescent boy lay. Margaret's shadow formed a +silhouette on the blind. Yates caught up a handful of sand, and flung +it lightly against the pane. Its soft patter evidently attracted the +attention of the girl, for, after a moment's pause, the window opened +carefully, while Margaret stepped quickly out and closed it, quietly +standing there. + +"Margaret," whispered Yates hardly above his breath. + +The girl advanced toward the fence. + +"Is that _you_?" she whispered in return, with an accent on the last +word that thrilled her listener. The accent told plainly as speech that +the word represented the one man on earth to her. + +"Yes," answered Yates, springing over the fence and approaching her. + +"Oh!" cried Margaret, starting back, then checking herself, with a catch +in her voice. "You--you startled me--Mr. Yates." + +"Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. Margaret, I wanted to see +you alone. You know why I have come." He tried to grasp both her hands, +but she put them resolutely behind her, seemingly wishing to retreat, +yet standing her ground. + +"Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it is with me. I love you, +Margaret, loyally and truly. It seems as if I had loved you all my life. +I certainly have since the first day I saw you." + +"Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this." + +"My darling, how else _can_ I talk to you? It cannot be a surprise to +you, Margaret. You must have known it long ago." + +"I did not, indeed I did not--if you really mean it." + +"Mean it? I never meant anything as I mean this. It is everything to +me, and nothing else is anything. I have knocked about the world a good +deal, I admit, but I never was in love before--never knew what love was +until I met you. I tell you that----" + +"Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything more. If it is really +true, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said or +done has made you believe that--that--Oh, I do not know what to say! I +never thought you could be in earnest about anything." + +"You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Margaret. Others have, but I +did not expect it of you. You are far and away better than I am. No one +knows that so well as I. I do not pretend to be worthy of you, but I +will be a devoted husband to you. Any man who gets the love of a good +woman," continued Yates earnestly, plagiarizing Renmark, "gets more +than he deserves; but surely such love as mine is not given merely to be +scornfully trampled underfoot." + +"I do not treat your--you scornfully. I am only sorry if what you say is +true." + +"Why do you say _if_ it is true? Don't you know it is true?" + +"Then I am very sorry--very, _very_ sorry, and I hope it is through +no fault of mine. But you will soon forget me. When you return to New +York----" + +"Margaret," said the young man bitterly, "I shall never forget you. +Think what you are doing before it is too late. Think how much this +means to me. If you finally refuse me, you will wreck my life. I am the +sort of man that a woman can make or mar. Do not, I beg of you, ruin the +life of the man who loves you." + +"I am not a missionary," cried Margaret with sudden anger. "If your life +is to be wrecked, it will be through your own foolishness, and not from +any act of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I am to be +held responsible. I have no wish to influence your future one way or +another." + +"Not for good, Margaret?" asked Yates with tender reproach. + +"No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends on anyone but himself is +not my ideal of a man." + +"Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to attain it." + +Margaret was silent. + +"You think it will be useless for me to try?" + +"As far as I am concerned, yes." + +"Margaret, I want to ask you one more question. I have no right to, but +I beg you to answer me. Are you in love with anyone else?" + +"No!" cried Margaret hotly. "How dare you ask me such a question?" + +"Oh, it is not a crime--that is, being in love with someone else is not. +I'll tell you why I dare ask. I swear, by all the gods, that I shall win +you--if not this year, then next; and if not next, then the year after. +I was a coward to talk as I did; but I love you more now than I did even +then. All I want to know is that you are not in love with another man. + +"I think you are very cruel in persisting as you do, when you have had +your answer. I say no. Never! never! never!--this year nor any other +year. Is not that enough?" + +"Not for me. A woman's 'no' may ultimately mean 'yes.'" + +"That is true, Mr. Yates," replied Margaret, drawing herself up as one +who makes a final plunge. "You remember the question you asked me just +now?--whether I cared for anyone else? I said 'no.' That 'no' meant +'yes.'" + +He was standing between her and the window, so she could not escape by +the way she came. He saw she meditated flight, and made as though he +would intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran around the +house, and he heard a door open and shut. + +He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to the fence, climbing +slowly over where he had leaped so lightly a few minutes before, and +walked down the road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he was a +coward for talking to her as he had done about his wrecked life, yet +he knew now that every word he had spoken was true. What did the future +hold out to him? Not even the incentive to live. He found himself +walking toward the tent, but, not wishing to meet Renmark in his present +frame of mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. He was tired +and broken, and resolved to stay in camp until they arrested him. Then +perhaps she might have some pity on him. Who was the other man she +loved? or had she merely said that to give finality to her refusal? In +his present mood he pictured the worst, and imagined her the wife of +some neighboring farmer--perhaps even of Stoliker. These country girls, +he said to himself, never believed a man was worth looking at unless +he owned a farm. He would save his money, and buy up the whole +neighborhood; _then_ she would realize what she had missed. He climbed +up on the fence beside the road, and sat on the top rail, with his heels +resting on a lower one, so that he might enjoy his misery without the +fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination pictured himself as the owner +in a few years' time of a large section of that part of the country, +with mortgages on a good deal of the remainder, including the farm owned +by Margaret's husband. He saw her now, a farmer's faded wife, coming +to him and begging for further time in which to pay the seven per cent. +due. He knew he would act magnanimously on such an occasion, and grandly +give her husband all the time he required. Perhaps then she would +realize the mistake she had made. Or perhaps fame, rather than riches, +would be his line. His name would ring throughout the land. He might +become a great politician, and bankrupt Canada with a rigid tariff +law. The unfairness of making the whole innocent people suffer for the +inconsiderate act of one of them did not occur to him at the moment, +for he was humiliated and hurt. There is no bitterness like that which +assails the man who has been rejected by the girl he adores--while it +lasts. His eye wandered toward the black mass of the Howard house. It +was as dark as his thoughts. He turned his head slowly around, and, like +a bright star of hope, there glimmered up the road a flickering light +from the Bartletts' parlor window. Although time had stopped as far as +he was concerned, he was convinced it could not be very late, or the +Bartletts would have gone to bed. It is always difficult to realize that +the greatest of catastrophes are generally over in a few minutes. It +seemed an age since he walked so hopefully away from the tent. As he +looked at the light the thought struck him that perhaps Kitty was alone +in the parlor. She at least would not have treated him so badly as the +other girl; and--and she was pretty, too, come to think of it. He always +did like a blonde better than a brunette. + +A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used in some parts of the +country in such a manner as to impress the sitter with the fact of its +extreme discomfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is not wanted +in that immediate neighborhood. Yates recollected this, with a smile, +as he slid off and stumbled into the ditch by the side of the road. His +mind had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten about the ditch. As +he walked along the road toward the star that guided him he remembered +he had recklessly offered Miss Kitty to the callous professor. After +all, no one knew about the episode of a short time before except himself +and Margaret, and he felt convinced she was not a girl to boast of her +conquests. Anyhow, it didn't matter. A man is surely master of himself. + +As he neared the window he looked in. People are not particular about +lowering the blinds in the country. He was rather disappointed to see +Mrs. Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious woman she +was. Still it was consoling to note that none of the men-folks were +present, and that Kitty, with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, +sat reading a book he had lent to her. He rapped at the door, and it was +opened by Mrs. Bartlett, with some surprise. + +"For the land's sake! is that you, Mr. Yates?" + +"It is." + +"Come right in. Why, what's the matter with you? You look as if you had +lost your best friend. Ah, I see how it is,"--Yates started,--"you have +run out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry as a bear." + +"You've hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped around to see if I +could borrow a loaf of bread. We don't bake till to-morrow." + +Mrs. Bartlett laughed. + +"Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I'll get you a loaf in a +minute. Are you sure one is enough?" + +"Quite enough, thank you." + +The good woman bustled out to the other room for the loaf, and Yates +made good use of her temporary absence. + +"Kitty," he whispered, "I want to see you alone for a few minutes. I'll +wait for you at the gate. Can you slip out?" + +Kitty blushed very red and nodded. + +"They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I'm off to-morrow before +they can serve it. But I couldn't go without seeing you. You'll come, +sure?" + +Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in alarm when he spoke of +the warrant. Before anything further could be said Mrs. Bartlett came +in, and Kitty was absorbed in her book. + +"Won't you have something to eat now before you go back?" + +"Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the professor is waiting for +me." + +"Let him wait, if he didn't have sense enough to come." + +"He didn't. I offered him the chance." + +"It won't take us a moment to set the table. It is not the least +trouble." + +"Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am not in the slightest +degree hungry now. I am merely taking some thought of the morrow. No; I +must be going, and thank you very much." + +"Well," said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the door, "if there's anything +you want, come to me, and I will let you have it if it's in the house." + +"You are too good to me," said the young man with genuine feeling, "and +I don't deserve it; but I may remind you of your promise--to-morrow." + +"See that you do," she answered. "Good-night." + +Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the post, where he forgot +it, much to the astonishment of the donor in the morning. He did not +have to wait long, for Kitty came around the house somewhat shrinkingly, +as one who was doing the most wicked thing that had been done since the +world began. Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one of her unresisting +hands in his. + +"I must be off to-morrow," he began. + +"I am very sorry," answered Kitty in a whisper. + +"Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. But I intend to come +back, if you will let me. Kitty, you remember that talk we had in the +kitchen, when we--when there was an interruption, and when I had to go +away with our friend Stoliker?" + +Kitty indicated that she remembered it. + +"Well, of course you know what I wanted to say to you. Of course you +know what I want to say to you now." + +It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, for Kitty had not the +slightest idea, and wanted to go into the house, for it was late, and +her mother would miss her. + +"Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that I love you. You must +know that I have loved you ever since the first day I saw you, when you +laughed at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make something of me, +if that is possible. I am a worthless fellow, not half good enough for a +little pet like you; but, Kitty, if you will only say 'yes,' I will try, +and try hard, to be a better man than I have ever been before." + +Kitty did not say "yes" but she placed her disengaged hand, warm and +soft, upon his, and Yates was not the man to have any hesitation about +what to do next. To practical people it may seem an astonishing thing +that, the object of the interview being happily accomplished, there +should be any need of prolonging it; yet the two lingered there, and he +told her much of his past life, and of how lonely and sordid it had been +because he had no one to care for him--at which her pretty eyes filled +with tears. She felt proud and happy to think she had won the first +great love of a talented man's life, and hoped she would make him happy, +and in a measure atone for the emptiness of the life that had gone +before. She prayed that he might always be as fond of her as he was +then, and resolved to be worthy of him if she could. + +Strange to say, her wishes have been amply fulfilled, and few wives are +as happy or as proud of their husbands as Kitty Yates. The one woman who +might have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life merely kissed +her tenderly when Kitty told her of the great joy that had come to her, +and said she was sure she would be happy; and thus for the second time +Margaret told the thing that was not, but for once Margaret was wrong in +her fears. + +Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving his loaf on the +gatepost behind him. Few realize that it is quite as pleasant to be +loved as to love. The verb "to love" has many conjugations. The earth he +trod was like no other ground he had ever walked upon. The magic of the +June night was never so enchanting before. He strode along with his head +and his thoughts in the clouds, and the Providence that cares for the +intoxicated looked after him, and saw that the accepted lover came to no +harm. He leaped the fence without even putting his hand to it, and then +was brought to earth again by the picture of a man sitting with his head +in his hands beside a dying fire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Yates stood for a moment regarding the dejected attitude of his friend. + +"Hello, old man!" he cried, "you have the most 'hark-from-the-tombs' +appearance I ever saw. What's the matter?" + +Renmark looked up. + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" + +"Of course it's I. Been expecting anybody else?" + +"No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking of a variety of things." + +"You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my boy. She's mine, and I'm +hers--which are two ways of stating the same delightful fact. I'm up +in a balloon, Renny. I'm engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, and most +delightful girl there is from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What d'ye +think of that? Say, Renmark, there's nothing on earth like it. You +ought to reform and go in for being in love. It would make a man of you. +Champagne isn't to be compared to it. Get up here and dance, and don't +sit there like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you comprehend that I am to +be married to the darlingest girl that lives?" + +"God help her!" + +"That's what I say. Every day of her life, bless her! But I don't say it +quite in that tone, Renmark. What's the matter with you? One would think +you were in love with the girl yourself, if such a thing were possible." + +"Why is it not possible?" + +"If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first time. Because you +are a fossil. You are too good, Renny; therefore dull and uninteresting. +Now, there is nothing a woman likes so much as to reclaim a man. It +always annoys a woman to know that the man she is interested in has a +past with which she has had nothing to do. If he is wicked and she can +sort of make him over, like an old dress, she revels in the process. She +flatters herself she makes a new man of him, and thinks she owns that +new man by right of manufacture. We owe it to the sex, Renny, to give +'em a chance at reforming us. I have known men who hated tobacco take +to smoking merely to give it up joyfully for the sake of the women +they loved. Now, if a man is perfect to begin with, what is a dear, +ministering angel of a woman to do with him? Manifestly nothing. The +trouble with you, Renny, is that you are too evidently ruled by a +good and well-trained conscience, and naturally all women you meet +intuitively see this, and have no use for you. A little wickedness would +be the making of you." + +"You think, then, that if a man's impulse is to do what his conscience +tells him is wrong, he should follow his impulse, and not his +conscience?" + +"You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. I believe that an +occasional blow-out is good for a man. But if you ever have an impulse +of that kind, I think you should give way to it for once, just to see +how it feels. A man who is too good gets conceited about himself." + +"I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates," said the professor, rising. +"I will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. My +conscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a long +and happy life with the girl you have--I won't say chosen, but tossed up +for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break every +bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates." + +"Oh, I say, Renmark, you're crazy." + +"Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. A lunatic +is sometimes dangerous." + +"Oh, go away. You're dreaming. You're talking in your sleep. What! +Fight? Tonight? Nonsense!" + +"Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?" + +"No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don't wish to fight at +all, especially to-night. I'm a reformed man, I tell you. I have no +desire to bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow." + +"Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself." + +"It's impossible to fight here in the dark. Don't flatter yourself for +a moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limbered +up, while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous." + +Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into a +blaze. + +"There," he said, "that's better. Now, let me have a look at you. In the +name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?" + +"I refuse to give my reason." + +"Then I refuse to fight. I'll run, and I can beat you in a foot race any +day in the week. Why, you're worse than her father. He at least let me +know why he fought me." + +"Whose father?" + +"Kitty's father, of course--my future father-in-law. And that's another +ordeal ahead of me. I haven't spoken to the old man yet, and I need all +my fighting grit for that." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"Isn't my language plain? It usually is." + +"To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to Miss +Bartlett. Am I right?" + +"Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can't we +postpone our fracas until daylight? I don't want to gather any more +wood. Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thus +ruin whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?" + +"Say? I say I am an idiot." + +"Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you." + +"Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar--to Miss Howard?" + +"Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget. +You remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred to +it a moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time. +Well, I don't care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know the +beginning, you will have to know the end, because I want to wring a +sacred promise from you. You are never to mention this episode of the +toss-up, or of my confession, to any living soul. The telling of it +might do harm, and it couldn't possibly do any good. Will you promise?" + +"Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to." + +"I don't exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you should +understand how the land lies, so you won't make any mistake. Not on _my_ +account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty's ears. Yes, +I proposed to Margaret--first. She wouldn't look at me. Can you credit +that?" + +"Well, now that you mention it, I----" + +"Exactly. I see you _can_ credit it. Well, I couldn't at first; but +Margaret knows her own mind, there's no question about _that_. Say! +she's in love with some other fellow. I found out that much." + +"You asked her, I presume." + +"Well, it's my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I do +that for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when it +comes to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, and +then bolted." + +"You must have used great tact and delicacy." + +"See here, Renmark; I'm not going to stand any of your sneering. I told +you this was a sore subject with me. I'm not telling you because I like +to, but because I have to. Don't put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark. +If _I_ talk fight, I won't begin for no reason and then back out for no +reason. I'll go on." + +"I'll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?" + +"Nothing else. Isn't that enough? It was more than enough for me--at the +time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sitting on the +fence and thinking about it." + +"So long as that?" + +Yates rose from the fire indignantly. + +"I take that back, too," cried the professor hastily. "I didn't mean +it." + +"It strikes me you've become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don't you +think it's about time we took to our bunks? It's late." + +Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendly +fence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendly +stars. He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with its +impressive stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stops in +mid-ocean. After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful stars he +climbed the fence and walked down the road, taking little heed of the +direction. The still night was a soothing companion. He came at last to +a sleeping village of wooden houses, and through the center of the town +ran a single line of rails, an iron link connecting the unknown hamlet +with all civilization. A red and a green light glimmered down the line, +giving the only indication that a train ever came that way. As he went a +mile or two farther the cool breath of the great lake made itself felt, +and after crossing a field he suddenly came upon the water, finding all +further progress in that direction barred. Huge sand dunes formed the +shore, covered with sighing pines. At the foot of the dunes stretched +a broad beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast with the darker +water; and at long intervals fell the light ripple of the languid summer +waves, running up the beach with a half-asleep whisper, that became +softer and softer until it was merged in the silence beyond. Far out on +the dark waters a point of light, like a floating star, showed where a +steamer was slowly making her way; and so still was the night that he +felt rather than heard her pulsating engines. It was the only sign of +life visible from that enchanted bay--the bay of the silver beach. + +Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. +The point of light gradually worked its way to the west, following, +doubtless unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around the +headland, taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. But the +world is very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he thinks +he is. Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees, which +cry he was astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat up and +listened. Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat, and +someone stepped ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowy forms +of three men. Nothing was said, but they got silently into the boat, +which might have been Charon's craft for all he could see of it. The +rattle of the rowlocks and the plash of oars followed, while a voice +cautioned the rowers to make less noise. It was evident that some +belated fugitives were eluding the authorities of both countries. +Renmark thought, with a smile, that if Yates were in his place he would +at least give them a fright. A sharp command to an imaginary company +to load and fire would travel far on such a night, and would give the +rowers a few moments of great discomfort. Renmark, however, did not +shout, but treated the episode as part of the mystical dream, and lay +down on the sand again. He noticed that the water in the east seemed +to feel the approach of morning even before the sky. Gradually the +day dawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the coming sun +spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched the glory +of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty of the +bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back for the +village and the camp beyond. + +The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to see +Stoliker on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistants +were with him, also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed by +the sight of Renmark, but he was there to do his duty. + +"Hello!" he cried, "you're up early. I have a warrant for the arrest of +your friend: I suppose you won't tell me where he is?" + +"You can't expect me to give any information that will get a friend into +trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing." + +"That's as may turn out before a jury," said one of the assistants +gravely. + +"Yes," assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. "That is +for judge and jury to determine--not you." + +"Well," said Renmark, "I will not inform about anybody, unless I am +compelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where I +have been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. If +you go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat's keel on the +sand, and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore in +the night, and a man got on board. I don't say who the man was, and I +had nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. That +is all the information I have to give." + +Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. "What did I tell you?" he +asked. "We were right on his track." + +"You said the railroad," grumbled the man who had spoken before. + +"Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake and +see the traces. Then we can return the warrant." + +Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfast +without disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporter +and told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back to +New York without delay. + +Yates yawned sleepily. + +"Yes," he said, "I've been dreaming it all out. I'll get father-in-law +to tote me out to Fort Erie to-night." + +"Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?" + +"Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I'm going +down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the old folks, +you know. I'll spend the rest of the day making up for that interview +by talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for me there, and, +now that he thinks I'm gone, he will likely make a visit to the tent. +Stoliker is a good fellow, but his strong point is duty, you know; and +if he's certain I'm gone, he'll give his country the worth of its money +by searching. I won't be back for dinner, so you can put in your time +reading my Dime Novels. I make no reflections on your cooking, Renny, +now that the vacation is over; but I have my preferences, and they +incline toward a final meal with the Bartletts. If I were you, I'd have +a nap. You look tired out." + +"I am," said the professor. + +Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear of +the camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, when she +got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hear Stoliker +and his satellites search the premises, just as Yates had predicted they +would; and when he finally awoke, he found to his astonishment that +it was nearly dark. But he was all the better for his sleep, and he +attended to his personal appearance with more than ordinary care. + +Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grim +stolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known by +him to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond his +comprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the first +time in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse for +going there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which he sat at +one of the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparent effect +on him. He even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and a man +who can do that can do anything. To bring up a daughter who would +deliberately accept a man from "the States," and to have a wife who +would aid and abet such an action, giving comfort and support to the +enemy, seemed to him traitorous to all the traditions of 1812, or any +other date in the history of the two countries. At times wild ideas of +getting blind full, and going home to break every breakable thing in the +house, rose in his mind; but prudence whispered that he had to live all +the rest of his life with his wife, and he realized that this scheme of +vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he untied his patient team, after +paying his bill, and drove silently home, not having returned, even by +a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him that day. He was somewhat +relieved to find no questions were asked, and that his wife recognized +the fact that he was passing through a crisis. Nevertheless, there was +a steely glitter in her eye under which he uneasily quailed, for it told +him a line had been reached which it would not be well for him to cross. +She forgave, but it must not go any further. + +When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with some +trepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement. + +"No one but Margaret," said Kitty. + +"And what did she say?" asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion was +of no importance. + +"She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make a +good husband." + +"She's rather a nice girl, is Margaret," remarked Yates, with the air +of a man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than his own, +but indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth for him. + +"She is a lovely girl," said Kitty enthusiastically. "I wonder, Dick, +when you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me." + +"The idea! I haven't a word to say against Margaret; but, compared with +my girl----" + +And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frame +of mind. + +As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had acted +very handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. But as +he approached the house his courage began to fail him, and he thought +it better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had sat the night +before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But as he +sat there it was destined that Yates should receive some information +which would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly out of the gate +in the gathering darkness. They strolled together up the road past him, +absorbed in themselves. When directly opposite the reporter, Renmark put +his arm around Margaret's waist, and Yates nearly fell off the fence. +He held his breath until they were safely out of hearing, then slid down +and crawled along in the shadow until he came to the side road, up which +he walked, thoughtfully pausing every few moments to remark: "Well, I'll +be----" But speech seemed to have failed him; he could get no further. + +He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last time +at the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the somber +trees. He had no energy left to climb over. + +"Well, I'm a chimpanzee," he muttered to himself at last. "The highest +bidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn't have +believed it of you. _You_ a newspaper man? _You_ a reporter from 'way +back? _You_ up to snuff? Yates, I'm ashamed to be seen in your company! +Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter in from a country +newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think that this thing has +been going on right under your well-developed nose, and you never saw +it--worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; that it was thrust at +you twenty times a day--nearly got your stupid head smashed on account +of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent little lamb that you are, +and never even suspected! Dick, you're a three-sheet-poster fool in +colored ink. And to think that both of them know all about the first +proposal! _Both_ of them! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a long way from +New York." + +THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 9263-8.txt or 9263-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/2/6/9263/ + +Produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Midst of Alarms + +Author: Robert Barr + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9263] +This file was first posted on September 16, 2003 +Last Updated: October 31, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + + + + +Text file produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS + </h1> + <h2> + By Robert Barr + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1894 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + TO E.B. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + In the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropolitan Grand Hotel in + Buffalo, Professor Stillson Renmark stood and looked about him with the + anxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy splendor of the modern + American house of entertainment. The professor had paused halfway between + the door and the marble counter, because he began to fear that he had + arrived at an inopportune time, that something unusual was going on. The + hurry and bustle bewildered him. + </p> + <p> + An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was standing at the door, its + steps backed over the curbstone, and beside it was a broad, flat van, on + which stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron-bound trunks + belonging to commercial travelers, and the more fragile, but not less + bulky, saratogas, doubtless the property of the ladies who sat patiently + in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had just arrived was backing up to + the curb, and the irate driver used language suitable to the occasion; for + the two restive horses were not behaving exactly in the way he liked. + </p> + <p> + A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and mournful, voice was filling + the air with the information that a train was about to depart for Albany, + Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. When he came to the words + “the East,” his voice dropped to a sad minor key, as if the man despaired + of the fate of those who took their departure in that direction. Every now + and then a brazen gong sounded sharply; and one of the negroes who sat in + a row on a bench along the marble-paneled wall sprang forward to the + counter, took somebody’s handbag, and disappeared in the direction of the + elevator with the newly arrived guest following him. Groups of men stood + here and there conversing, heedless of the rush of arrival and departure + around them. + </p> + <p> + Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows sat a row of men, some + talking, some reading, and some gazing outside, but all with their feet on + the brass rail which had been apparently put there for that purpose. + Nearly everybody was smoking a cigar. A lady of dignified mien came down + the hall to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to the clerk, who + bent his well-groomed head deferentially on one side as he listened to + what she had to say. The men instantly made way for her. She passed along + among them as composedly as if she were in her own drawing room, inclining + her head slightly to one or other of her acquaintances, which salutation + was gravely acknowledged by the raising of the hat and the temporary + removal of the cigar from the lips. + </p> + <p> + All this was very strange to the professor, and he felt himself in a new + world, with whose customs he was not familiar. Nobody paid the slightest + attention to him as he stood there among it all with his satchel in his + hand. As he timidly edged up to the counter, and tried to accumulate + courage enough to address the clerk, a young man came forward, flung his + handbag on the polished top of the counter, metaphorically brushed the + professor aside, pulled the bulky register toward him, and inscribed his + name on the page with a rapidity equaled only by the illegibility of the + result. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Sam!” he said to the clerk. “How’s things? Get my telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the clerk; “but I can’t give you 27. It’s been taken for a + week. I reserved 85 for you, and had to hold on with my teeth to do that.” + </p> + <p> + The reply of the young man was merely a brief mention of the place of + torment. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> hot,” said the clerk blandly. “In from Cleveland?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Any letters for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Couple of telegrams. You’ll find them up in 85.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were cocksure I’d take that room?” + </p> + <p> + “I was cocksure you’d have to. It is that or the fifth floor. We’re full. + Couldn’t give a better room to the President if he came.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, what’s good enough for the President I can put up with for a + couple of days.” + </p> + <p> + The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The negro sprang forward and + took the “grip.” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty-five,” said the clerk; and the drummer and the Negro disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any place where I could leave my bag for a while?” the professor + at last said timidly to the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Your bag?” + </p> + <p> + The professor held it up in view. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?” And the clerk’s hand hovered + over the bell. + </p> + <p> + “No. At least, not just yet. You see, I’m——” + </p> + <p> + “All right. The baggage man there to the left will check it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Any letters for Bond?” said a man, pushing himself in front of the + professor. The clerk pulled out a fat bunch of letters from the + compartment marked “B,” and handed the whole lot to the inquirer, who went + rapidly over them, selected two that appeared to be addressed to him, and + gave the letters a push toward the clerk, who placed them where they were + before. + </p> + <p> + The professor paused a moment, then, realizing that the clerk had + forgotten him, sought the baggage man, whom he found in a room filled with + trunks and valises. The room communicated with the great hall by means of + a square opening whose lower ledge was breast high. The professor stood + before it, and handed the valise to the man behind this opening, who + rapidly attached one brass check to the handle with a leather thong, and + flung the other piece of brass to the professor. The latter was not sure + but there was something to pay, still he quite correctly assumed that if + there had been the somewhat brusque man would have had no hesitation in + mentioning the fact; in which surmise his natural common sense proved a + sure guide among strange surroundings. There was no false delicacy about + the baggage man. + </p> + <p> + Although the professor was to a certain extent bewildered by the condition + of things, there was still in his nature a certain dogged persistence that + had before now stood him in good stead, and which had enabled him to + distance, in the long run, much more brilliant men. He was not at all + satisfied with his brief interview with the clerk. He resolved to approach + that busy individual again, if he could arrest his attention. It was some + time before he caught the speaker’s eye, as it were, but when he did so, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “I was about to say to you that I am waiting for a friend from New York + who may not yet have arrived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick Yates! Certainly. He’s here.” Turning to the negro, he said: “Go + down to the billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he is not, + look for him at the bar.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Apparently not noticing the look + of amazement that had stolen over the professor’s face, the clerk said: + </p> + <p> + “If you wait in the reading room, I’ll send Yates to you when he comes. + The boy will find him if he’s in the house; but he may be uptown.” + </p> + <p> + The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging clerk further, did not + ask him where the reading room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurrying + porter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer: + </p> + <p> + “Dining room next floor. Reading, smoking, and writing rooms up the hall. + Billiard room, bar, and lavatory downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + The professor, after getting into the barber shop and the cigar store, + finally found his way into the reading room. Numerous daily papers were + scattered around on the table, each attached to a long, clumsy cleft + holder made of wood; while other journals, similarly encumbered, hung from + racks against the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easy + leather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a paper, drew a thin + book from his pocket, in which he was soon so absorbed that he became + entirely unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light touch on the + shoulder brought him up from his book into the world again, and he saw, + looking down on him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are a guest of this house?” + </p> + <p> + A shade of apprehension crossed the professor’s face as he slipped the + book into his pocket. He had vaguely felt that he was trespassing when he + first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were confirmed. + </p> + <p> + “I—I am not exactly a guest,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by not exactly a guest?” continued the other, regarding + the professor with a cold and scrutinizing gaze. “A man is either a guest + or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your case?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume, technically speaking, I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Technically speaking! More evasions. Let me ask you, sir, as an + ostensibly honest man, if you imagine that all this luxury—this—this + elegance—is maintained for nothing? Do you think, sir, that it is + provided for any man who has cheek enough to step out of the street and + enjoy it? Is it kept up, I ask, for people who are, technically speaking, + not guests?” + </p> + <p> + The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the face of the unfortunate + professor. He had nothing to say. He realized that his conduct was too + flagrant to admit of defense, so he attempted none. Suddenly the + countenance of his questioner lit up with a smile, and he smote the + professor on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven’t changed a particle in fifteen + years! You don’t mean to pretend you don’t know me?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t—you can’t be Richard Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “I not only can, but I can’t be anybody else. I know, because I have often + tried. Well, well, well, well! Stilly we used to call you; don’t you + remember? I’ll never forget that time we sang ‘Oft in the stilly night’ in + front of your window when you were studying for the exams. You always <i>were</i> + a quiet fellow, Stilly. I’ve been waiting for you nearly a whole day. I + was up just now with a party of friends when the boy brought me your card—a + little philanthropic gathering—sort of mutual benefit arrangement, + you know: each of us contributed what we could spare to a general fund, + which was given to some deserving person in the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the professor dryly. “I heard the clerk telling the boy where + he would be most likely to find you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you did, eh?” cried Yates, with a laugh. “Yes, Sam generally knows + where to send for me; but he needn’t have been so darned public about it. + Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to go in print and what should + have the blue pencil run through it. Sam is very discreet, as a general + thing; but then he knew, of course, the moment he set eyes on you, that + you were an old pal of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery laugh for so evidently + wicked a man. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” he said, taking the professor by the arm. “We must get you + located.” + </p> + <p> + They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the clerk’s counter. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Sam,” cried Yates, “can’t you do something better for us than the + fifth floor? I didn’t come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. No sky + parlors for me, if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry, Dick,” said the clerk; “but I expect the fifth floor will be + gone when the Chicago express gets in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “I can let you have 518. That’s the next room to yours. Really, they’re + the most comfortable rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout over + the lake. I wouldn’t mind having a sight of the lake myself, if I could + leave the desk.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. But I didn’t come to look at the lake, nor yet at the railroad + tracks this side, nor at Buffalo Creek either, beautiful and romantic as + it is, nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousand locomotives that + pass within hearing distance for the delight of your guests. The fact is + that, always excepting Chicago, Buffalo is more like—for the + professor’s sake I’ll say Hades, than any other place in America.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Buffalo’s all right,” said the clerk, with that feeling of local + loyalty which all Americans possess. “Say, are you here on this Fenian + snap?” + </p> + <p> + “What Fenian snap?” asked the newspaper man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t you know about it? I thought, the moment I saw you, that you + were here for this affair. Well, don’t say I told you, but I can put you + on to one of the big guns if you want the particulars. They say they’re + going to take Canada. I told ‘em that I wouldn’t take Canada as a gift, + let alone fight for it. I’ve <i>been</i> there.” + </p> + <p> + Yates’ newspaper instinct thrilled him as he thought of the possible + sensation. Then the light slowly died out of his eyes when he looked at + the professor, who had flushed somewhat and compressed his lips as he + listened to the slighting remarks on his country. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sam,” said the newspaper man at last, “it isn’t more than once in a + lifetime that you’ll find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but the + fact is I’m on my vacation just now. About the first I’ve had for fifteen + years; so, you see, I must take care of it. No, let the <i>Argus</i> get + scooped, if it wants to. They’ll value my services all the more when I get + back. No. 518, I think you said?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk handed over the key, and the professor gave the boy the check + for his valise at Yates’ suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Now, get a move on you,” said Yates to the elevator boy. “We’re going + right through with you.” + </p> + <p> + And so the two friends were shot up together to the fifth floor. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + The sky parlor, as Yates had termed it, certainly commanded a very + extensive view. Immediately underneath was a wilderness of roofs. Farther + along were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and a line of masts + and propeller funnels marked the windings of Buffalo Creek, along whose + banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked by some tremendous letter + of the alphabet, done in white paint against the somber brown of the big + building. Still farther to the west was a more grateful and comforting + sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted with white sails and an + occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under the broiling sun. Over the + water, through the distant summer haze, there could be seen the dim line + of the Canadian shore. + </p> + <p> + “Sit you down,” cried Yates, putting both hands on the other’s shoulders, + and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placing his finger on + the electric button, he added: “What will you drink?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble,” said + Renmark. + </p> + <p> + Yates’ hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side, and + he looked reproachfully at the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Great Heavens!” he cried, “have something mild. Don’t go rashly in for + Buffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to it + gradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order what you + like for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that.” He pushed the button, and, + when the boy appeared, said: “Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge it to + Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water for Yates, + No. 520. There,” he continued gleefully, “I’m going to have all the + drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I’ll pay the bill, but I’ll + keep the account to hold over your head in the future. Professor Stillson + Renmark, debtor to Metropolitan Grand—one sherry cobbler, one gin + sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, then, Stilly, let’s talk + business. You’re not married, I take it, or you wouldn’t have responded to + my invitation so promptly.” The professor shook his head. “Neither am I. + You never had the courage to propose to a girl; and I never had the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the old days, Richard,” said + Renmark quietly. + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. “Well, it didn’t hold me back any, to my knowledge. Now + I’ll tell you how I’ve got along since we attended old Scragmore’s academy + together, fifteen years ago. How time does fly! When I left, I tried + teaching for one short month. I had some theories on the education of our + youth which did not seem to chime in with the prejudices the school + trustees had already formed on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + The professor was at once all attention. Touch a man on his business, and + he generally responds by being interested. + </p> + <p> + “And what were your theories?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought a teacher should look after the physical as well as the + mental welfare of his pupils. It did not seem to me that his duty to those + under his charge ended with mere book learning.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” said the professor cordially. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. Well, the trustees didn’t. I joined the boys at their games, + hoping my example would have an influence on their conduct on the + playground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a rattling good cricket + club. You may not remember that I stood rather better in cricket at the + academy than I did in mathematics or grammar. By handicapping me with + several poor players, and having the best players among the boys in + opposition, we made a pretty evenly matched team at school section No. 12. + One day, at noon, we began a game. The grounds were in excellent + condition, and the opposition boys were at their best. My side was getting + the worst of it. I was very much interested; and, when one o’clock came, I + thought it a pity to call school and spoil so good and interesting a + contest. The boys were unanimously of the same opinion. The girls were + happy, picnicking under the trees. So we played cricket all the + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that was carrying your theory a little too far,” said the + professor dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Just what the trustees thought when they came to hear of it. So they + dismissed me; and I think my leaving was the only case on record where the + pupils genuinely mourned a teacher’s departure. I shook the dust of Canada + from my feet, and have never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, + continuing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello! here’s your drinks + at last, Stilly. I had forgotten about them—an unusual thing with + me. That’s all right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hits the spot + on a hot day.) Well, where was I? Oh, yes, at Buffalo. I got a place on a + paper here, at just enough to keep life in me; but I liked the work. Then + I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, afterward to Albany at a still + bigger salary, and of course Albany is only a few hours from New York, and + that is where all newspaper men ultimately land, if they are worth their + salt. I saw a small section of the war as special correspondent, got hurt, + and rounded up in the hospital. Since then, although only a reporter, I am + about the top of the tree in that line, and make enough money to pay my + poker debts and purchase iced drinks to soothe the asperities of the game. + When there is anything big going on anywhere in the country, I am there, + with other fellows to do the drudgery; I writing the picturesque + descriptions and interviewing the big men. My stuff goes red-hot over the + telegraph wire, and the humble postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I + am acquainted with every hotel clerk that amounts to anything from New + York to San Francisco. If I could save money, I should be rich, for I make + plenty; but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket has lost me a lot of + cash, and I don’t seem to be able to get it mended. Now, you’ve listened + with your customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, as you + called it, full sway. I am grateful. I will reciprocate. How about + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + The professor spoke slowly. “I have had no such adventurous career,” he + began. “I have not shaken Canadian dust from my feet, and have not made + any great success. I have simply plodded; and am in no danger of becoming + rich, although I suppose I spend as little as any man. After you were + expel—after you left the aca——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mutilate the good old English language, Stilly. You were right in + the first place. I am not thin-skinned. You were saying after I was + expelled. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. You remember, you were very + indignant at the time, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I was—and am still, for that matter. It was an outrage!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was proved that you helped to put the pony in the + principal’s room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly. <i>That</i>. Of course. But what I detested was the way + the principal worked the thing. He allowed that villain Spink to turn + evidence against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, whereas I + could claim no such honor. It was Spink’s own project, which I fell in + with, as I did with every disreputable thing proposed. Of course the + principal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. Do you happen to + know if Spink has been hanged yet?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he is a very reputable business man in Montreal, and much + respected.” + </p> + <p> + “I might have suspected that. Well, you keep your eye on the respected + Spink. If he doesn’t fail some day, and make a lot of money, I’m a + Dutchman. But go on. This is digression. By the way, just push that + electric button. You’re nearest, and it is too hot to move. Thanks. After + I was expelled——” + </p> + <p> + “After your departure I took a diploma, and for a year or two taught a + class in the academy. Then, as I studied during my spare time, I got a + chance as master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, as I think, + though the recommendation of Principal Scragmore. I had my degree by this + time. Then——” + </p> + <p> + There was a gentle tap at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” shouted Yates. “Oh, it’s you. Just bring up another cooling + cobbler, will you? and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room + 518. Yes; and then——” + </p> + <p> + “And then there came the opening in University College, Toronto. I had the + good fortune to be appointed. There I am still, and there I suppose I + shall stay. I know very few people, and am better acquainted with books + than with men. Those whom I have the privilege of knowing are mostly + studious persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in the world of + learning. I have not had your advantage, of meeting statesmen who guide + the destinies of a great empire. + </p> + <p> + “No; you always were lucky, Stilly. My experience is that the chaps who do + the guiding are more anxious about their own pockets, or their own + political advancement, than they are of the destinies. Still, the empire + seems to take its course westward just the same. So old Scragmore’s been + your friend, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “He has, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he insulted me only the other day.” + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentlemanly and scholarly a man as + Principal Scragmore insulting anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don’t know him as I do. It was like this: I wanted to find out + where you were, for reasons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgeled my + brains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, and enclosed a stamped + and addressed envelope, as all unsought contributors should do. He + answered—But I have his reply somewhere. You shall read it for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which he + hurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: “I + thought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven’t I paid that bill + yet? This pass is run out. Must get another.” Then he smiled and sighed as + he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparently he could not + find the document he sought. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me the + prepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of no use + in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn’t pay the + postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double. Still, I + don’t mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. He went on to say + that, of all the members of our class, you—<i>you</i>!—were + the only one who had reflected credit on it. That was the insult. The idea + of his making such a statement, when I had told him I was on the New York + <i>Argus</i>! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonder if he ever heard of + Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course. No? Well, Brown, by his + own exertions, became president of the Alum Bank in New York, wrecked it, + and got off to Canada with a clear half million. <i>Yes</i>, sir. I saw + him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps the finest span and carriage in + the city, and lives in a palace. Could buy out old Scragmore a thousand + times, and never feel it. Most liberal contributor to the cause of + education that there is in Canada. He says education made him, and he’s + not a man to go back on education. And yet Scragmore has the cheek to say + that <i>you</i> were the only man in the class who reflects credit on it!” + </p> + <p> + The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a cooling sip + of the cobbler. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Yates, people’s opinions differ. A man like Brown may not be + Principal Scragmore’s ideal. The principal may be local in his ideals of a + successful man, or of one who reflects credit on his teaching.” + </p> + <p> + “Local? You bet he’s local. Too darned local for me. It would do that man + good to live in New York for a year. But I’m going to get even with him. + I’m going to write him up. I’ll give him a column and a half; see if I + don’t. I’ll get his photograph, and publish a newspaper portrait of him. + If that doesn’t make him quake, he’s a cast-iron man. Say, you haven’t a + photograph of old Scrag that you can lend me, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have; but I won’t lend it for such a purpose. However, never mind the + principal. Tell me your plans. I am at your disposal for a couple of + weeks, or longer if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy! Well, I’ll tell you how it is. I want rest and quiet, and the + woods, for a week or two. This is how it happened: I have been steadily at + the grindstone, except for a while in the hospital; and that, you will + admit, is not much of a vacation. The work interests me, and I am always + in the thick of it. Now, it’s like this in the newspaper business: Your + chief is never the person to suggest that you take a vacation. He is + usually short of men and long on things to do, so if you don’t worry him + into letting you off, he won’t lose any sleep over it. He’s content to let + well enough alone every time. Then there is always somebody who wants to + get away on pressing business,—grandmother’s funeral, and that sort + of thing,—so if a fellow is content to work right along, his chief + is quite content to let him. That’s the way affairs have gone for years + with me. The other week I went over to Washington to interview a senator + on the political prospects. I tell you what it is, Stilly, without + bragging, there are some big men in the States whom no one but me <i>can</i> + interview. And yet old Scrag says I’m no credit to his class! Why, last + year my political predictions were telegraphed all over this country, and + have since appeared in the European press. No credit! By Jove, I would + like to have old Scrag in a twenty-four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, + for about ten minutes!” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if he would shine under those circumstances. But never mind him. + He spoke, for once, without due reflection, and with perhaps an + exaggerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. What happened when + you went to Washington?” + </p> + <p> + “A strange thing happened. When I was admitted to the senator’s library, I + saw another fellow, whom I thought I knew, sitting there. I said to the + senator: ‘I will come when you are alone.’ The senator looked up in + surprise, and said: ‘I am alone.’ I didn’t say anything, but went on with + my interview; and the other fellow took notes all the time. I didn’t like + this, but said nothing, for the senator is not a man to offend, and it is + by not offending these fellows that I can get the information I do. Well, + the other fellow came out with me, and as I looked at him I saw that he + was myself. This did not strike me as strange at the time, but I argued + with him all the way to New York, and tried to show him that he wasn’t + treating me fairly. I wrote up the interview, with the other fellow + interfering all the while, so I compromised, and half the time put in what + he suggested, and half the time what I wanted in myself. When the + political editor went over the stuff, he looked alarmed. I told him + frankly just how I had been interfered with, and he looked none the less + alarmed when I had finished. He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor + metaphorically took me to pieces, and then said to my chief: ‘This man is + simply worked to death. He must have a vacation, and a real one, with + absolutely nothing to think of, or he is going to collapse, and that with + a suddenness which will surprise everybody.’ The chief, to my + astonishment, consented without a murmur, and even upbraided me for not + going away sooner. Then the doctor said to me: ‘You get some companion—some + man with no brains, if possible, who will not discuss politics, who has no + opinion on anything that any sane man would care to talk about, and who + couldn’t say a bright thing if he tried for a year. Get such a man to go + off to the woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As far away from + post offices and telegraph offices as possible. And, by the way, don’t + leave your address at the <i>Argus</i> office.’ Thus it happened, Stilly, + when he described this man so graphically, I at once thought of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am deeply gratified, I am sure,” said the professor, with the ghost of + a smile, “to be so promptly remembered in such a connection, and if I can + be of service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, that you have + no intention of stopping in Buffalo?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I haven’t. I’m in for the forest primeval, the murmuring pines + and the hemlock, bearded with moss and green in the something or other—I + forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and lie on my back + instead, on the sward or in a hammock. I’m going to avoid all boarding + houses or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of the + forest.” + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake Shore + Railroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. <i>No</i>, + sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired a tent and a lot of + cooking things. I’m going to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow; and + then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart it somewhere into the + woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. We shall have to be near a farmhouse, + so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of course, is a + disadvantage; but I shall try to get near someone who has never even heard + of New York.” + </p> + <p> + “You may find that somewhat difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence in the + Canadians.” + </p> + <p> + “Often the narrowest,” said the professor slowly, “are those who think + themselves the most cosmopolitan.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, and seeing + nothing applicable to his case in it. “Well, I’ve laid in about half a + ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug.” + </p> + <p> + “An empty one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess, is + good whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at the customhouse. + I don’t suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentucky article, but you + and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And, talking of whisky, + just press the button once again.” + </p> + <p> + The professor did so, saying: + </p> + <p> + “The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smoking + less, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “In my case? Well, come to think of it, there <i>was</i> some conversation + in that direction. Don’t remember at the moment just what it amounted to; + but all physicians have their little fads, you know. It doesn’t do to + humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the professor + wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, and put plenty of ice + in it; but don’t neglect the gin on that account. Certainly; charge it to + room 518.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + “What’s all this tackle?” asked the burly and somewhat red-faced customs + officer at Fort Erie. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Yates, “is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertaining + thereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shall + doubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty. This is + a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attention to the + fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately prevents me making a + libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friend has in that + valise I don’t know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and would advise you + to search him.” + </p> + <p> + “My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearing + apparel,” said the professor, opening his grip. + </p> + <p> + The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, and + evidently did not like the tone of the American. He seemed to be treating + the customs department in a light and airy manner, and the officer was too + much impressed by the dignity of his position not to resent flippancy. + Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in the air, and the officer + resolved that no Fenian should get into the country without paying duty. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going with this tent?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don’t know the country + about here. Say, Stilly, I’m off uptown to attend to the emptiness in this + stone utensil. I’ve been empty too often myself not to sympathize with its + condition. You wrestle this matter out about the tent. You know the ways + of the country, whereas I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of his + friend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with the + officer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously over his + shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marched up the + hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war tunes. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar, + “fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it with the + old familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith.” + </p> + <p> + The bartender did as he was requested. + </p> + <p> + “Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be + taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?” + </p> + <p> + The barkeeper smiled. “How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?” + </p> + <p> + “I can suggest nothing better,” replied Yates. “If you are sure you know + how to make it.” + </p> + <p> + The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said, with + the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer: + </p> + <p> + “I am a Kentucky man myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar. “How + is it you happened to be here?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, where I + can at least look at God’s country.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on,” protested Yates. “You’re making only <i>one</i> cocktail.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you say one?” asked the man, pausing in the compounding. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with me on + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say,” replied the other, as he prepared enough for two. + </p> + <p> + “Now I’ll tell you my fix,” said Yates confidentially. “I’ve got a tent + and some camp things down below at the customhouse shanty, and I want to + get them taken into the woods, where I can camp out with a friend. I want + a place where we can have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know the country + round here? Perhaps you could recommend a spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for all the time I’ve been here, I know precious little about the + back country. I’ve been down the road to Niagara Falls, but never back in + the woods. I suppose you want some place by the lake or the river?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t. I want to get clear back into the forest—if there is a + forest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there’s a man in to-day from somewhere near Ridgeway, I think. He’s + got a hay rack with him, and that would be just the thing to take your + tent and poles. Wouldn’t be very comfortable traveling for you, but it + would be all right for the tent, if it’s a big one.” + </p> + <p> + “That will suit us exactly. We don’t care a cent about the comfort. + Roughing it is what we came for. Where will I find him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’ll be along here soon. That’s his team tied there on the side + street. If he happens to be in good humor, he’ll take your things, and as + like as not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiram Bartlett’s his + name. And, talking of the old Nick himself, here he is. I say, Mr. + Bartlett, this gentleman was wondering if you couldn’t tote out some of + his belongings. He’s going out your way.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry specimen of the Canadian farmer + who evidently paid little attention to the subject of dress. He said + nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, with something of contempt + and suspicion in his glance. + </p> + <p> + Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance of all mankind. “Come + in, Mr. Bartlett,” he said cheerily, “and try one of my friend’s excellent + cocktails.” + </p> + <p> + “I take mine straight,” growled Bartlett gruffly, although he stepped + inside the open door. “I don’t want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain + whisky’s good enough for any man, if he <i>is</i> a man. I don’t take no + water, neither. I’ve got trouble enough.” + </p> + <p> + The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the decanter over to the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” assented Yates cordially. + </p> + <p> + The farmer did not thaw out in the least because of this prompt agreement + with him, but sipped his whisky gloomily, as if it were a most + disagreeable medicine. + </p> + <p> + “What did you want me to take out?” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of jolly good tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + “How much are you willing to pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know. I’m always willing to do what’s right. How would five + dollars strike you?” + </p> + <p> + The farmer scowled and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Too much,” he said, as Yates was about to offer more. “‘Taint worth it. + Two and a half would be about the right figure. Don’no but that’s too + much. I’ll think on it going home, and charge you what it’s worth. I’ll be + ready to leave in about an hour, if that suits you. That’s my team on the + other side of the road. If it’s gone when you come back, I’m gone, an’ + you’ll have to get somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + With this Bartlett drew his coat sleeve across his mouth and departed. + </p> + <p> + “That’s him exactly,” said the barkeeper. “He’s the most cantankerous + crank in the township. And say, let me give you a pointer. If the subject + of 1812 comes up,—the war, you know,—you’d better admit that + we got thrashed out of our boots; that is, if you want to get along with + Hiram. He hates Yankees like poison.” + </p> + <p> + “And did we get thrashed in 1812?” asked Yates, who was more familiar with + current topics than with the history of the past. + </p> + <p> + “Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told him once that we got what we + wanted from old England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. So I give + you the warning, if you want to get along with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I’ll remember it. So long.” + </p> + <p> + This friendly hint from the man in the tavern offers a key to the solution + of the problem of Yates’ success on the New York press. He could get news + when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as he undoubtedly was, he + somehow got into the inner confidences of all sorts of men in a way that + made them give him an inkling of anything that was going on for the mere + love of him; and thus Yates often received valuable assistance from his + acquaintances which other reporters could not get for money. + </p> + <p> + The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a bench by the customhouse, + chatting with the officer, and gazing at the rapidly flowing broad blue + river in front of them. + </p> + <p> + “I have got a man,” said Yates, “who will take us out into the wilderness + in about an hour’s time. Suppose we explore the town. I expect nobody will + run away with the tent till we come back.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll look after that,” said the officer; and, thanking him, the two + friends strolled up the street. They were a trifle late in getting back, + and when they reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on the point of + driving home. He gruffly consented to take them, if they did not keep him + more than five minutes loading up. The tent and its belongings were + speedily placed on the hay rack, and then Bartlett drove up to the tavern + and waited, saying nothing, although he had been in such a hurry a few + moments before. Yates did not like to ask the cause of the delay; so the + three sat there silently. After a while Yates said as mildly as he could: + </p> + <p> + “Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the driver in a surly tone. “I’m waiting for you to go in + fur that jug. I don’t suppose you filled it to leave it on the counter.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” cried Yates, springing off, “I had forgotten all about it, + which shows the extraordinary effect this country has on me already.” The + professor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with the jar in his hand, + and Bartlett started his team. They drove out of the village and up a + slight hill, going for a mile or two along a straight and somewhat sandy + road. Then they turned into the Ridge Road, as Bartlett called it, in + answer to a question by the professor, and there was no need to ask why it + was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather stony, the road being, in + places, on the bare rock. It paid not the slightest attention to Euclid’s + definition of a straight line, and in this respect was rather a welcome + change from the average American road. Sometimes they passed along avenues + of overbranching trees, which were evidently relics of the forest that + once covered all the district. The road followed the ridge, and on each + side were frequently to be seen wide vistas of lower lying country. All + along the road were comfortable farmhouses; and it was evident that a + prosperous community flourished along the ridge. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the professor, who sat next to him. + </p> + <p> + “You a Canadian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s <i>he</i> from?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend is from New York,” answered the innocent professor. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper than ever, after which he + became silent again. The team was not going very fast, although neither + the load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was muttering a good deal to + himself, and now and then brought down his whip savagely on one or the + other of the horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals quickened + their pace he hauled them in roughly. Nevertheless, they were going + quickly enough to be overtaking a young woman who was walking on alone. + Although she must have heard them coming over the rocky road she did not + turn her head, but walked along with the free and springy step of one who + is not only accustomed to walking, but who likes it. Bartlett paid no + attention to the girl; the professor was endeavoring to read his thin book + as well as a man might who is being jolted frequently; but Yates, as soon + as he recognized that the pedestrian was young, pulled up his collar, + adjusted his necktie with care, and placed his hat in a somewhat more + jaunty and fetching position. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to offer that girl a ride?” he said to Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m not.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is rather uncivil,” he added, forgetting the warning he had + had. + </p> + <p> + “You do, eh? Well, you offer her a ride. You hired the team.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! I will,” said Yates, placing his hand on the outside of the + rack, and springing lightly to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Likely thing,” growled Bartlett to the professor, “that she’s going to + ride with the like of him.” + </p> + <p> + The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hat to + the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Fur two cents,” continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, “I’d whip up + the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “From what I know of my friend,” answered the professor slowly, “I think + he would not object in the slightest.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mind + about galloping his horses. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with great politeness + to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with a thrill of + admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had an eye for the + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Our conveyance,” he began, “is not as comfortable as it might be, yet I + shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, and for + a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choice for her + rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase she answered + briefly: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I prefer to walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come all the + way from the village?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a long distance, and you must be very tired.” There was no reply; + so Yates continued. “At least, I thought it a long distance; but perhaps + that was because I was riding on Bartlett’s hay rack. There is no ‘downy + bed of ease’ about his vehicle.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to its + side, said in a husky whisper to the professor: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent.” + </p> + <p> + “Cover it up yourself,” briefly replied the other; “it isn’t mine.” + </p> + <p> + Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flap of + the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his action he took + up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. He was + flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind the wagon, + and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead, now + quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance between herself and + the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic of him, made up his + mind that this was a case of country diffidence, which was best to be met + by the bringing down of his conversation to the level of his hearer’s + intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been marketing?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?” + </p> + <p> + “We are farmers,” she answered, “and we sell butter and eggs”—a + pause—“and that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane he + looked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a + turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless with the + exercise of walking. + </p> + <p> + “Now, in my country,” continued the New Yorker, “we idolize our women. + Pretty girls don’t tramp miles to market with butter and eggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t the girls pretty—in your country?” + </p> + <p> + Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about this + girl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about the + conversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment was doubtful, + for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smooth brow. + </p> + <p> + “You bet they’re pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. It seems + their birthright. When I say American, I mean the whole continent, of + course. I’m from the States myself—from New York.” He gave an extra + twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself with that air of + conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of the + metropolis. “But over in the States we think the men should do all the + work, and that the women should—well, spend the money. I must do our + ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to their share of the + arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + “It should be a delightful country to live in—for the women.” + </p> + <p> + “They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that America was + paradise for women, purgatory for men, and—well, an entirely + different sort of place for oxen.” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. As + he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just the faintest + suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she could answer, if + she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter of hoofs on the hard + road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whose slender jet-black + polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came dashing past + the wagon. On seeing the two walking together the driver hauled up his + team with a suddenness that was evidently not relished by the spirited + dappled span he drove. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Margaret!” he cried; “am I late? Have you walked in all the way?” + </p> + <p> + “You are just in good time,” answered the girl, without looking toward + Yates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put her foot + on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. It needed no + second glance to see that he was her brother, not only on account of the + family resemblance between them, but also because he allowed her to get + into the buggy without offering the slightest assistance, which, indeed, + was not needed, and graciously permitted her to place the duster that + covered his knees over her own lap as well. The restive team trotted + rapidly down the road for a few rods, until they came to a wide place in + the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly within an ace of upsetting + the buggy; but the young man evidently knew his business, and held them in + with a firm hand. The wagon was jogging along where the road was very + narrow, and Bartlett kept his team stolidly in the center of the way. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, there, Bartlett!” shouted the young man in the buggy; “half the + road, you know—half the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it,” cried Bartlett over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I’ll run you down.” + </p> + <p> + “You just try it.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against his young + neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognized that a + heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light and expensive + buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knew just where to + touch the elder on the raw. His sister’s hand was placed appealingly on + his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, you move out, or I’ll have the law on you.” + </p> + <p> + “The law!” roared Bartlett; “you just try it on.” + </p> + <p> + “Should think you’d had enough of it by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t, don’t, Henry!” protested the girl in distress. + </p> + <p> + “There aint no law,” yelled Bartlett, “that kin make a man with a load + move out fur anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t any load, unless it’s in that jug.” + </p> + <p> + Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under + its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the + buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that + this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly + forward, and said to Bartlett: + </p> + <p> + “Better drive aside a little, and let them pass.” + </p> + <p> + “You ‘tend to your own business,” cried the thoroughly enraged farmer. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Yates shortly, striding to the horses’ heads. He took them + by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett’s maledictions and pulling at the + lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage + rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he + threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended. + </p> + <p> + “You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin’ Yank? You + do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an’ me a-holdin’ the lines! Now + you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t it, eh? Well, then, you’ll lick me fust; and that’s something no + Yank ever did nor kin do.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” cried the professor, getting down on the road, “this has + gone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don’t mind it; he + means no disrespect.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you interfere. You’re all right, an’ I aint got nothin’ ag’in you. + But I’m goin’ to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; see if I + don’t. We met ‘em in 1812, an’ we fit ‘em an’ we licked ‘em, an’ we can do + it ag’in. I’ll learn ye to take my horses by the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Teach,” suggested Yates tantalizingly. + </p> + <p> + Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and + grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, + but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett’s right leg + became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced + the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break. He gave + way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came down on his back with + a thud that seemed to shake the universe. + </p> + <p> + “There, darn ye!” cried the triumphant farmer; “that’s 1812 and Queenstown + Heights for ye. How do you like ‘em?” + </p> + <p> + Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off his + coat. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now, Yates,” said the professor soothingly, “let it go at this. + You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked anxiously, as he noticed how white the + young man was around the lips. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; you’re a sensible man. There is a time to interfere + and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certain international + element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, you stand aside, like + a good fellow, for I don’t want to have to thrash both of you.” + </p> + <p> + The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called him by + his last name, matters were serious. + </p> + <p> + “Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again.” + </p> + <p> + “I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yank ever + raised on pumpkin pie that can stand ag’in that grapevine twist.” + </p> + <p> + “Try the grapevine once more.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look in the + young man’s face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can + attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, who shifted + his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At last Bartlett + sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting on a piece of + the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birds buzzing in his + head, while stars and the landscape around joined in a dance together. The + blow was sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Yates, standing over him, “is 1776—the Revolution—when, + to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you like + it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view of history + than you have done. Don’t confine yourself too much to one period. Study + up the War of the Revolution a bit.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until the + surrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, + without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horses + and patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place and + drove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, but Yates, + putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along in front, + switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walking stick as he + proceeded. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently something on + his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growing louder and + louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck the horses, pulled + them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last he said abruptly to + the professor: + </p> + <p> + “What’s this Revolution he talked about?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776.” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?” + </p> + <p> + “The colonies fought with England.” + </p> + <p> + “What colonies?” + </p> + <p> + “The country now called the United States.” + </p> + <p> + “They fit with England, eh? Which licked?” + </p> + <p> + “The colonies won their independence.” + </p> + <p> + “That means they licked us. I don’t believe a word of it. ‘Pears to me I’d + ‘a’ heard of it; fur I’ve lived in these parts a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a little before your day.” + </p> + <p> + “So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an’ I never heard him tell of this + Revolution. He’d ‘a’ known, I sh’d think. There’s a nigger in the fence + somewheres.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that was it, was it? I’ll bet England never knew the Revolution was + a-goin’ on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldn’t thrash ‘em, and it + don’t stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was some + skullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. I got + a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss.” + </p> + <p> + The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character of + Napoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemed a + good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, and + he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usual from the + whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. Yates was + some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, when the horses, + apparently of their own accord, turned in at an open gateway and + proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a large barn, past a + comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front. + </p> + <p> + “This is my place,” said Bartlett shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had told me a few minutes ago,” replied the professor, + springing off, “so that I might have called to my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not frettin’ about him,” said Bartlett, throwing the reins to a young + man who came out of the house. + </p> + <p> + Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. Yates + apparently did not hear him, but something about the next house attracted + the pedestrian’s attention, and after standing for a moment and gazing + toward the west he looked around and saw the professor beckoning to him. + When the two men met, Yates said: + </p> + <p> + “So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the next house. + I saw the buggy in the yard.” + </p> + <p> + “She? Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. I’m going to buy our + supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, how + is my old friend 1812?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was more + troubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him.” + </p> + <p> + “News to him, eh? Well, I’m glad I knocked something into his head.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly did it most unscientifically.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean—unscientifically?” + </p> + <p> + “In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly delivered + undercut.” + </p> + <p> + Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, learned + man know anything about undercuts or science in blows? + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must admit I got there just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But you had + such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any display of + surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrown away.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! What do + you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of self-defense?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in this belligerent + manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a few hints from me.” + </p> + <p> + “With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly.” + </p> + <p> + As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a wooden + rocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road. + </p> + <p> + “What an old tyrant that man must be in his home!” said Yates. There was + no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot. + </p> + <p> + “The old woman’s setting out supper,” said the farmer gruffly, that piece + of information being apparently as near as he could get toward inviting + them to share his hospitality. Yates didn’t know whether it was meant for + an invitation or not, but he answered shortly: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, we won’t stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak fur yourself, please,” snarled Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I go with my friend,” said Renmark; “but we are obliged for the + invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “Please yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as a + stout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the front + door. “Won’t stay? <i>Who</i> won’t stay? I’d like to see anybody leave my + house hungry when there’s a meal on the table! And, young men, if you can + get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I’ll give you, why, + you’re welcome to go there next time, but this meal you’ll have here, + inside of ten minutes. Hiram, that’s your fault. You always invite a + person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!” + </p> + <p> + Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal at the + two men, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind him,” continued Mrs. Bartlett. “You’re at my house; and, + whatever my neighbors may say ag’in me, I never heard anybody complain of + the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Come right + in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort is dusty + enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. Besides, a wash + is refreshing after a hot day.” + </p> + <p> + There was no denying the cordiality of this invitation, and Yates, whose + natural gallantry was at once aroused, responded with the readiness of a + courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house; but as Yates passed + the farmer the latter cleared his throat with an effort, and, throwing his + thumb over his shoulder in the direction his wife had taken, said in a + husky whisper: + </p> + <p> + “No call to—to mention the Revolution, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” answered Yates, with a wink that took in the situation. + “Shall we sample the jug before or after supper?” + </p> + <p> + “After, if it’s all the same to you;” adding, “out in the barn.” + </p> + <p> + Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the house. + </p> + <p> + The young men were shown into a bedroom of more than ordinary size, on the + upper floor. Everything about the house was of the most dainty and + scrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort pervaded the place. + Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a housekeeper to be proud of. Two large + pitchers of cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as had been + predicted, was most refreshing. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” cried Yates, “it’s rather cheeky to accept a man’s hospitality + after knocking him down.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be for most people, but I think you underestimate your cheek, as + you call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Stilly! You’re blossoming out. That’s repartee, that is. With the + accent on the rap, too. Never you mind; I think old 1812 and I will get on + all right after this. It doesn’t seem to bother him any, so I don’t see + why it should worry me. Nice motherly old lady, isn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? 1812?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Mrs. 1812. I’m sorry I complimented you on your repartee. You’ll get + conceited. Remember that what in the newspaper man is clever, in a grave + professor is rank flippancy. Let’s go down.” + </p> + <p> + The table was covered with a cloth as white and spotless as good linen can + well be. The bread was genuine homemade, a term so often misused in the + cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light as to interior. The + butter, cool from the rock cellar, was of a refreshing yellow hue. The + sight of the well-loaded table was most welcome to the eyes of hungry + travelers. There was, as Yates afterward remarked, “abundance, and plenty + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, father!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young men appeared; they heard + the rocking chair creak on the veranda in prompt answer to the summons. + </p> + <p> + “This is my son, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Bartlett, indicating the young man + who stood in a noncommittal attitude near a corner of the room. The + professor recognized him as the person who had taken charge of the horses + when his father came home. There was evidently something of his father’s + demeanor about the young man, who awkwardly and silently responded to the + recognition of the strangers. + </p> + <p> + “And this is my daughter,” continued the good woman. “Now, what might your + names be?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Yates, and this is my friend Professor Renmark of T’ronto,” + pronouncing the name of the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas! too + often done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially extended his hand to + the young woman. “How do you do, Miss Bartlett?” he said, “I am happy to + meet you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped they had a pleasant trip + out from Fort Erie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we had,” said Yates, looking for a moment at his host, whose eyes + were fixed on the tablecloth, and who appeared to be quite content to let + his wife run the show. “The road’s a little rocky in places, but it’s very + pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you sit down here, and you here,” said Mrs. Bartlett; “and I do hope + you have brought good appetites with you.” + </p> + <p> + The strangers took their places, and Yates had a chance to look at the + younger member of the family, which opportunity he did not let slip. It + was hard to believe that she was the daughter of so crusty a man as Hiram + Bartlett. Her cheeks were rosy, with dimples in them that constantly came + and went in her incessant efforts to keep from laughing. Her hair, which + hung about her plump shoulders, was a lovely golden brown. Although her + dress was of the cheapest material, it was neatly cut and fitted; and her + dainty white apron added that touch of wholesome cleanliness which was so + noticeable everywhere in the house. A bit of blue ribbon at her white + throat, and a pretty spring flower just below it, completed a charming + picture, which a more critical and less susceptible man than Yates might + have contemplated with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, and her father grimly + at the other. The mother sat at the side, apparently looking on that + position as one of vantage for commanding the whole field, and keeping her + husband and her daughter both under her eye. The teapot and cups were set + before the young woman. She did not pour out the tea at once, but seemed + to be waiting instructions from her mother. That good lady was gazing with + some sternness at her husband, he vainly endeavoring to look at the + ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew his open hand nervously down his + face, which was of unusual gravity even for him. Finally he cast an + appealing glance at his wife, who sat with her hands folded on her lap, + but her eyes were unrelenting. After a moment’s hopeless irresolution + Bartlett bent his head over his plate and murmured: + </p> + <p> + “For what we are about to receive, oh, make us truly thankful. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also bowed her head when she + saw surrender in the troubled eyes of her husband. + </p> + <p> + Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen nothing of this silent struggle + of the eyes, being exceedingly hungry, was making every preparation for + the energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent most of his life in + hotels and New York boarding houses, so that if he ever knew the adage, + “Grace before meat,” he had forgotten it. In the midst of his preparations + came the devout words, and they came upon him as a stupefying surprise. + Although naturally a resourceful man, he was not quick enough this time to + cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett’s golden head was bowed, but out of the + corner of her eye she saw Yates’ look of amazed bewilderment and his + sudden halt of surprise. When all heads were raised, the young girl’s + still remained where it was, while her plump shoulders quivered. Then she + covered her face with her apron, and the silvery ripple of a laugh came + like a smothered musical chime trickling through her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Why, <i>Kitty</i>!” cried her mother in astonishment, “whatever is the + matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. “You’ll have to pour out the + tea, mother!” She exclaimed, as she fled from the room. + </p> + <p> + “For the land’s sake!” cried the astonished mother, rising to take her + frivolous daughter’s place, “what ails the child? I don’t see what there + is to laugh at.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently also of the opinion that + there was no occasion for mirth. The professor was equally in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett,” said Yates, “that I am the innocent cause of + Miss Kitty’s mirth. You see, madam—it’s a pathetic thing to say, but + really I have had no home life. Although I attend church regularly, of + course,” he added with jaunty mendacity, “I must confess that I haven’t + heard grace at meals for years and years, and—well, I wasn’t just + prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhibition of myself, which + your daughter was quick to see.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t very polite,” said Mrs. Bartlett with some asperity. + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” pleaded Yates with contrition, “but I assure you it was + unintentional on my part.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless the man!” cried his hostess. “I don’t mean you. I mean Kitty. But + that girl never <i>could</i> keep her face straight. She always favored me + more than her father.” + </p> + <p> + This statement was not difficult to believe, for Hiram at that moment + looked as if he had never smiled in his life. He sat silent throughout the + meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough for two. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for my part,” she said, “I don’t know what farming’s coming to! + Henry Howard and Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud as Punch + in their new covered buggy. Things is very different from what they was + when I was a girl. Then a farmer’s daughter had to work. Now Margaret’s + took her diploma at the ladies’ college, and Arthur he’s begun at the + university, and Henry’s sporting round in a new buggy. They have a piano + there, with the organ moved out into the back room.” + </p> + <p> + “The whole Howard lot’s a stuck-up set,” muttered the farmer. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn’t have that. Any detraction that was necessary + she felt competent to supply, without help from the nominal head of the + house. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t go so far as to say that. Neither would you, Hiram, if you + hadn’t lost your lawsuit about the line fence; and served you right, too, + for it wouldn’t have been begun if I had been at home at the time. Not but + what Margaret’s a good housekeeper, for she wouldn’t be her mother’s + daughter if she wasn’t that; but it does seem to me a queer way to raise + farmers’ children, and I only hope they can keep it up. There were no + pianos nor French and German in <i>my</i> young days.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to hear her play! My lands!” cried young Bartlett, who spoke + for the first time. His admiration for her accomplishment evidently went + beyond his powers of expression. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the conversation had taken, and + he looked somewhat uneasily at the two strangers. The professor’s + countenance was open and frank, and he was listening with respectful + interest to Mrs. Bartlett’s talk. Yates bent over his plate with flushed + face, and confined himself strictly to the business in hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said the professor innocently to Yates, “that you made the + young lady’s acquaintance. I must ask you for an introduction.” + </p> + <p> + For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but he looked at his friend + with an expression that was not kindly. The latter, in answer to Mrs. + Bartlett’s inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard on the road, + and how Yates, with his usual kindness of heart, had offered the young + woman the hospitalities of the hay rack. Two persons at the table were + much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It was young Hiram who + brought about this boon. He was interested in the tent, and he wanted to + know. Two things seemed to bother the boy: First, he was anxious to learn + what diabolical cause had been at work to induce two apparently sane men + to give up the comforts of home and live in this exposed manner, if they + were not compelled to do so. Second, he desired to find out why people who + had the privilege of living in large cities came of their own accord into + the uninteresting country, anyhow. Even when explanations were offered, + the problem seemed still beyond him. + </p> + <p> + After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, where the air was cool + and the view extensive. Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the young men + pitching the tent that night. “Goodness knows, you will have enough of it, + with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty of room here, and you + will have one comfortable night on the Ridge, at any rate. Then in the + morning you can find a place in the woods to suit you, and my boy will + take an ax and cut stakes for you, and help to put up your precious tent. + Only remember that when it rains you are to come to the house, or you will + catch your deaths with cold and rheumatism. It will be very nice till the + novelty wears off; then you are quite welcome to the front rooms upstairs, + and Hiram can take the tent back to Erie the first time he goes to town.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for granted. It never seemed to + occur to her that any of her rulings might be questioned. Hiram sat gazing + silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. + </p> + <p> + Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of the veranda, with his + back against one of the pillars, in such a position that he might, without + turning his head, look through the open doorway into the room. where Miss + Bartlett was busily but silently clearing away the tea things. The young + man caught fleeting glimpses of her as she moved airily about her work. He + drew a cigar from his case, cut off the end with his knife, and lit a + match on the sole of his boot, doing this with an easy automatic + familiarity that required no attention on his part; all of which aroused + the respectful envy of young Hiram, who sat on a wooden chair, leaning + forward, eagerly watching the man from New York. + </p> + <p> + “Have a cigar?” said Yates, offering the case to young Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; thank you,” gasped the boy, aghast at the reckless audacity of + the proposal. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although she was talking volubly to + the professor, her maternal vigilance never even nodded, much less slept. + “A cigar? Not likely! I’ll say this for my husband and my boy: that, + whatever else they may have done, they have never smoked nor touched a + drop of liquor since I’ve known them, and, please God, they never will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess it wouldn’t hurt them,” said Yates, with a lack of tact that + was not habitual. He fell several degrees in the estimation of his + hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Hurt ‘em?” cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. “I guess it won’t get a + chance to.” She turned to the professor, who was a good listener—respectful + and deferential, with little to say for himself. She rocked gently to and + fro as she talked. + </p> + <p> + Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinxlike attitude that gave no + outward indication of his mental uneasiness. He was thinking gloomily that + it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlett unexpectedly in the + streets of Fort Erie on one of those rare occasions when he was enjoying + the pleasures of sin for a season. He had the most pessimistic forebodings + of what the future might have in store for him. Sometimes, when neighbors + or customers “treated” him in the village, and he felt he had taken all + the whisky that cloves would conceal, he took a five-cent cigar instead of + a drink. He did not particularly like the smoking of it, but there was a + certain devil-may-care recklessness in going down the street with a + lighted cigar in his teeth, which had all the more fascination for him + because of its manifest danger. He felt at these times that he was going + the pace, and that it is well our women do not know of all the wickedness + there is in this world. He did not fear that any neighbor might tell his + wife, for there were depths to which no person could convince Mrs. + Bartlett he would descend. But he thought with horror of some combination + of circumstances that might bring his wife to town unknown to him on a day + when he indulged. He pictured, with a shudder, meeting her unexpectedly on + the uncertain plank sidewalk of Fort Erie, he smoking a cigar. When this + nightmare presented itself to him, he resolved never to touch a cigar + again; but he well knew that the best resolutions fade away if a man is + excited with two or three glasses of liquor. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with the professor, Yates looked + up at young Hiram and winked. The boy flushed with pleasure under the + comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him in the attractive halo of + crime that enveloped the fascinating personality of the man from New York. + It seemed to say: + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, but we are men of the world. <i>We</i> know.” + </p> + <p> + Young Hiram’s devotion to the Goddess Nicotine had never reached the + altitude of a cigar. He had surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secluded + corner behind the barn in days when his father was away. He feared both + his father and his mother, and so was in an even more embarrassing + situation than old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to tobacco by + smoking cigarettes of cane made from abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline was + fashionable, even in the country, in those days, and ribs of cane were + used before the metallic distenders of dresses came in. One hoop-skirt, + whose usefulness as an article of adornment was gone, would furnish + delight and smoking material for a company of boys for a month. The cane + smoke made the tongue rather raw, but the wickedness was undeniable. + Yates’ wink seemed to recognize young Hiram as a comrade worthy to offer + incense at the shrine, and the boy was a firm friend of Yates from the + moment the eyelid of the latter drooped. + </p> + <p> + The tea things having been cleared away, Yates got no more glimpses of the + girl through the open door. He rose from his lowly seat and strolled + toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He remembered that he had + forgotten something, and cudgeled his brains to make out what it was. He + gazed down the road at the house of the Howards, which naturally brought + to his recollection his meeting with the young girl on the road. There was + a pang of discomfiture in this thought when he remembered the + accomplishments attributed to her by Mrs. Bartlett. He recalled his + condescending tone to her, and recollected his anxiety about the jar. The + jar! That was what he had forgotten. He flashed a glance at old Hiram, and + noted that the farmer was looking at him with something like reproach in + his eyes. Yates moved his head almost imperceptibly toward the barn, and + the farmer’s eyes dropped to the floor of the veranda. The young man + nonchalantly strolled past the end of the house. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I’ll go to look after the horses,” said the farmer, rising. + </p> + <p> + “The horses are all right, father. I saw to them,” put in his son, but the + old man frowned him down, and slouched around the corner of the house. + Mrs. Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to notice. So good a + listener did not fall to her lot every day. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s looking at you,” said Yates, strolling into the barn, taking a + telescopic metal cup from his pocket, and clinking it into receptive shape + by a jerk of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to Hiram, who + declined any such modern improvement. + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself in that thing. The jug’s good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Three fingers” of the liquid gurgled out into the patented vessel, and + the farmer took the jar, after a furtive look over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here’s luck.” The newspaper man tossed off the potion with the + facility of long experience, shutting up the dish with his thumb and + finger, as if it were a metallic opera hat. + </p> + <p> + The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. Then he smote in the cork + with his open palm. + </p> + <p> + “Better bury it in the wheat bin,” he said morosely. “The boy might find + it if you put it among the oats—feedin’ the horses, ye know.” + </p> + <p> + “Mighty good place,” assented Yates, as the golden grain flowed in a wave + over the submerged jar. “I say, old man, you know the spot; you’ve been + here before.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett’s lowering countenance indicated resentment at the imputation, + but he neither affirmed nor denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, while + the farmer went through a small doorway that led to the stable. A moment + later he heard Hiram calling loudly to his son to bring the pails and + water the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently preparing an <i>alibi</i>,” said Yates, smiling to himself, as + he sauntered toward the gate. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + “What’s up? what’s up?” cried Yates drowsily next morning, as a prolonged + hammering at his door awakened him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>you’re</i> not, anyhow.” He recognized the voice of young Hiram. + “I say, breakfast’s ready. The professor has been up an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I’ll be down shortly,” said Yates, yawning, adding to himself: + “Hang the professor!” The sun was streaming in through the east window, + but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a short distance above + the horizon in the morning. He pulled his watch from the pocket of his + vest, hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seven o’clock. He placed it + to his ear, thinking it had stopped, but found himself mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “What an unearthly hour,” he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates’ years + on a morning newspaper had made seven o’clock something like midnight to + him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o’clock, his usual time + of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed thoughtless cruelty. + However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs. + </p> + <p> + They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, which + was at once dining room and parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for you,” said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set of + jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss + Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No fear,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “If breakfast’s a minute later than seven + o’clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious hungry + by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “By that time?” echoed Yates. “Then do they get up before seven?” + </p> + <p> + “Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!” exclaimed Mrs. Bartlett, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, everything’s done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows milked—everything. + There never was a better motto made than the one you learned when you were + a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’ +</pre> + <p> + I’m sorry you don’t believe in it, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates with some loftiness; “but I’d like to + see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I’m healthy enough, + quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admit that I’m + wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after two o’clock, and + rarely wake before noon.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the New + Yorker, wishing he was as clever. + </p> + <p> + “For the land’s sake!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminine profanity, + “What do you do up so late as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Writing, writing,” said Yates airily; “articles that make dynasties + tremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suits + afterward, as the case may be.” + </p> + <p> + Young Hiram had no patience with one’s profession as a topic of + conversation. The tent and its future position was the burning question + with him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in order to + avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning of the + meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown them how + evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, the boy had + never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. He was + darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharply reprimanded by his + voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and would like + to have laughed. As it was, she contented herself with a sly glance at + Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actually blushed at young Hiram’s + allusion to the confusing incident of the day before. + </p> + <p> + The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew a herring across the + scent. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bartlett has been good enough,” said he, changing the subject, “to + say we may camp in the woods at the back of the farm. I have been out + there this morning, and it certainly is a lovely spot.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett,” said Yates. “Of course Renmark went + out there merely to show the difference between the ant and the butterfly. + You’ll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. Bartlett. He looks + honest; but you wait.” + </p> + <p> + “I know just the spot for the tent,” cried young Hiram—“down in the + hollow by the creek. Then you won’t need to haul water.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague,” said Mrs. Bartlett. + Malaria had not then been invented. “Take my advice, and put your tent—if + you <i>will</i> put it up at all—on the highest ground you can find. + Hauling water won’t hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. My friend uses no water—you + ought to have seen his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have it somewhere, and + am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent as a warning to the youth + of this neighborhood—and what water I need I can easily carry up + from the creek.” + </p> + <p> + The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. Bartlett evidently took a + large discount from all that Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The horses were hitched to + the wagon, which still contained the tent and fittings. Young Hiram threw + an ax and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted to his place, and drove + up the lane leading to the forest, followed by Yates and Renmark on foot, + leaving the farmer in his barnyard with a cheery good-by, which he did not + see fit to return. + </p> + <p> + First, a field of wheat; next, an expanse of waving hay that soon would be + ready for the scythe; then, a pasture field, in which some young horses + galloped to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessed horses, + whinnying sympathetically, off the next with flying heels wildly flung in + the air, rejoicing in their own contrast of liberty, standing at the + farther corner and snorting defiance to all the world; last, the cool + shade of the woods into which the lane ran, losing its identity as a wagon + road in diverging cow paths. Young Hiram knew the locality well, and drove + direct to an ideal place for camping. Yates was enchanted. He included all + that section of the country in a sweeping wave of his hand, and burst + forth: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘This is the spot, the center of the grove: + There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. + In such a place as this, at such an hour, + We’ll raise a tent to ward off sun and shower.’ +</pre> + <p> + Shakespeare improved.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are mistaken,” said Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit it. Couldn’t be a better camping ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I know that. I picked it out two hours ago. But you were wrong in + your quotation. It is not by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem to + think.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it? Some other fellow, eh? Well, if Shake is satisfied, I am. Do + you know, Renny, I calculate that, line for line, I’ve written about ten + times as much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognize that fact? Not a + bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, Stilly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do toward putting up the tent?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, my boy, everything. I know more about putting up tents than + you do about science, or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you cut + me some stakes about two feet long—stout ones. Here, professor, + throw off that coat and <i>négligé</i> manner, and grasp this spade. I + want some trenches dug.” + </p> + <p> + Yates certainly made good his words. He understood the putting up of + tents, his experience in the army being not yet remote. Young Hiram gazed + with growing admiration at Yates’ deftness and evident knowledge of what + he was about, while his contempt for the professor’s futile struggle with + a spade entangled in tree roots was hardly repressed. + </p> + <p> + “Better give me that spade,” he said at length; but there was an element + of stubbornness in Renmark’s character. He struggled on. + </p> + <p> + At last the work was completed, stakes driven, ropes tightened, trenches + dug. + </p> + <p> + Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the country. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Thus the canvas tent has risen, + All the slanting stakes are driven, + Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood: + Mops his brow, the tired professor; + Grins with satisfaction, Hiram; + Dances wildly, the reporter— + Calls aloud for gin and water. +</pre> + <p> + Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar on it!” And the + frivolous Yates poked the professor in the ribs. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” said the latter, “I can stand only a certain amount of this + sort of thing. I don’t wish to call any man a fool, but you act remarkably + like one.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be mealy-mouthed, Renny; call a spade a spade. By George! young + Hiram has gone off and forgotten his—And the ax, too! Perhaps + they’re left for us. He’s a good fellow, is young Hiram. A fool? Of course + I’m a fool. That’s what I came for, and that’s what I’m going to be for + the next two weeks. ‘A fool—a fool, I met a fool i’ the forest’—just + the spot for him. Who could be wise here after years of brick and mortar? + </p> + <p> + “Where are your eyes, Renny,” he cried, “that you don’t grow wild when you + look around you? See the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves; + listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches; hear the trickle of the + brook down there; notice the smooth bark of the beech and the rugged + covering of the oak; smell the wholesome woodland scents. Renmark, you + have no soul, or you could not be so unmoved. It is like paradise. It is—Say, + Renny, by Jove, I’ve forgotten that jug at the barn!” + </p> + <p> + “It will be left there.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it? Oh, well, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I do say so. I looked around for it this morning to smash it, but + couldn’t find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you ask old Bartlett?” + </p> + <p> + “I did; but he didn’t know where it was.” + </p> + <p> + Yates threw himself down on the moss and laughed, flinging his arms and + legs about with the joy of living. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable clothes with you? Well, + then, go into the tent and put them on; then come out and lie on your back + and look up at the leaves. You’re a good fellow, Renny, but decent clothes + spoil you. You won’t know yourself when you get ancient duds on your back. + Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that our ancestors fought for. When + you come out, we’ll settle who’s to cook and who to wash dishes. I’ve + settled it already in my own mind, but I am not so selfish as to refuse to + discuss the matter with you.” + </p> + <p> + When the professor came out of the tent, Yates roared. Renmark himself + smiled; he knew the effect would appeal to Yates. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! old man, I ought to have included a mirror in the outfit. The + look of learned respectability, set off with the garments of a + disreputable tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing. Well, you + can’t spoil <i>that</i> suit, anyhow. Now sprawl.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m very comfortable standing up, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Get down on your back. You hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Put me there.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean it?” asked Yates, sitting up. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Renny, beware. I don’t want to hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll forgive you for once.” + </p> + <p> + “On your head be it.” + </p> + <p> + “On my back, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not bad, Renny,” cried Yates, springing to his feet. “Now, it will + hurt. You have fair warning. I have spoken.” + </p> + <p> + The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates tried to do it gently at + first, but, finding he could not touch his opponent, struck out more + earnestly, again giving a friendly warning. This went on ineffectually for + some time, when the professor, with a quick movement, swung around his + foot with the airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yates just behind + the knee, at the same time giving him a slight tap on the breast. Yates + was instantly on his back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn’t fair. That was a kick.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it wasn’t. It is merely a little French touch. I learned it in Paris. + They <i>do</i> kick there, you know; and it is good to know how to use + your feet as well as your fists if you are set on by three, as I was one + night in the Latin Quarter.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sat up. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Several times.” + </p> + <p> + Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said: + </p> + <p> + “Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never saw a Bool-var in my life. + You must teach me that little kick.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” said Renmark, sitting down, while the other sprawled at + full length. “Teaching is my business, and I shall be glad to exercise any + talents I may have in that line. In endeavoring to instruct a New York man + the first step is to convince him that he doesn’t know everything. That is + the difficult point. Afterward everything is easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be severe. Know that you are + forgiven. This delicious sylvan retreat does not lend itself to + acrimonious dispute, or, in plain English, quarreling. Let dogs delight, + if they want to; I refuse to be goaded by your querulous nature into + giving anything but the soft answer. Now to business. Nothing is so + conducive to friendship, when two people are camping out, as a definition + of the duties of each at the beginning. Do you follow me?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. What do you propose?” + </p> + <p> + “I propose that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes. We will forage + for food alternate days.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I agree to that.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his friend with reproach in + his eyes. “See here, Renmark; are you resolved to force on an + international complication the very first day? That’s no fair show to give + a man.” + </p> + <p> + “What isn’t?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of meanness in your character, + Renny, that I never suspected. You know that people who camp out always + object to the part assigned them by their fellow-campers. I counted on + that. I’ll do anything but wash dishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn’t you say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because any sane man would have said ‘no’ when I suggested cooking, + merely <i>because</i> I suggested it. There is no diplomacy about you, + Renmark. A man doesn’t know where to find you when you act like that. When + you refused to do the cooking, I would have said: ‘Very well, then, I’ll + do it,’ and everything would have been lovely; but now——” + </p> + <p> + Yates lay down again in disgust. There are moments in life when language + fails a man. + </p> + <p> + “Then it’s settled that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes?” said + the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Settled? Oh yes, if you say so; but all the pleasure of getting one’s own + way by the use of one’s brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with in that + objectionably civil manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that point being arranged, who begins the foraging—you or I?” + </p> + <p> + “Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to the house of the Howards, + and I need an excuse for the first visit; therefore I shall forage to a + limited extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not get any, you + perhaps should bring some from whatever farmhouse you choose as the scene + of your operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, fresh or stale. + When in doubt, buy more bread. You can never go wrong, and the bread + won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “What else should I get? Milk, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; eggs, butter—anything. Mrs. Bartlett will give you hints + on what to get that will be more valuable than mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you all the cooking utensils you need?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. The villain from whom I hired the outfit said it was + complete. Doubtless he lied; but we’ll manage, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. If you wait until I change my clothes, I’ll go with you as far + as the road.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, be advised, and don’t change. You’ll get everything + twenty per cent. cheaper in that rig-out. Besides, you are so much more + picturesque. Your costume may save us from starvation if we run short of + cash. You can get enough for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, well, + if you insist, I’ll wait. Good advice is thrown away on a man like you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret Howard stood at the kitchen table kneading dough. The room was + called the kitchen, which it was not, except in winter. The stove was + moved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached through the open door + leading to the kitchen veranda. + </p> + <p> + When the stove went out or came in, it marked the approach or the + departure of summer. It was the heavy pendulum whose swing this way or + that indicated the two great changes of the year. No job about the farm + was so much disliked by the farmer and his boys as the semiannual removal + of the stove. Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged to go together + again; the stove was heavy and cumbersome, and many a pain in a rural back + dated from the journey of the stove from outhouse to kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The kitchen itself was a one-story building, which projected back from the + two-story farmhouse, giving the whole a T-shape. There was a veranda on + each side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front of the house + itself. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s sleeves were turned back nearly to her elbows, showing a pair + of white and shapely arms. Now and then she deftly dusted the kneading + board with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as she pressed her + open palms into the smooth, white, spongy mass, the table groaned + protestingly. She cut the roll with a knife into lumps that were patted + into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of snow, in the + sheet-iron pan. + </p> + <p> + At this moment there was a rap at the open kitchen door, and Margaret + turned round, startled, for visitors were rare at that hour of the day; + besides, neighbors seldom made such a concession to formality as to knock. + The young girl flushed as she recognized the man who had spoken to her the + day before. He stood smiling in the doorway, with his hat in his hand. She + uttered no word of greeting or welcome, but stood looking at him, with her + hand on the floury table. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Miss Howard,” said Yates blithely; “may I come in? I have + been knocking for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so I took the + liberty of coming around.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear you knock,” answered Margaret. She neglected to invite him + in, but he took the permission for granted and entered, seating himself as + one who had come to stay. “You must excuse me for going on with my work,” + she added; “bread at this stage will not wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me interrupt you. I have made my + own bread for years, but not in that way. I am glad that you are making + bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? Perhaps I can sell you some butter and eggs as well.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner of his which had much to + do with his getting on in the world. It was difficult to remain long angry + with so buoyant a nature. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven’t forgiven me for that remark. You + surely could not have thought I meant it. I really intended it for a joke, + but I am willing to admit, now that I look back on it, that the joke was + rather poor; but, then, most of my jokes are rather shopworn.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I lack a sense of humor.” + </p> + <p> + “All women do,” said Yates with easy confidence. “At least, all I’ve ever + met.” + </p> + <p> + Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he now placed at the end of the + table, tilting it back until his shoulders rested against the wall. His + feet were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and forth, fanning + himself, for it was warm. In this position he could look up at the face of + the pretty girl before him, whose smooth brow was touched with just the + slightest indication of a faint frown. She did not even glance at the + self-confident young man, but kept her eyes fixed resolutely on her work. + In the silence the table creaked as Margaret kneaded the dough. Yates felt + an unaccustomed sensation of embarrassment creeping over him, and realized + that he would have to re-erect the conversation on a new basis. It was + manifestly absurd that a resourceful New Yorker, who had conversed + unabashed with presidents, senators, generals, and other great people of a + great nation, should be put out of countenance by the unaccountable + coldness of a country girl in the wilds of Canada. + </p> + <p> + “I have not had an opportunity of properly introducing myself,” he said at + last, when the creaking of the table, slight as it was, became + insupportable. “My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New York. I am + camping out in this neighborhood to relieve, as it were, a mental strain—the + result of years of literary work.” + </p> + <p> + Yates knew from long experience that the quickest and surest road to a + woman’s confidence was through her sympathy. “Mental strain” struck him as + a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and the hollow eye of the devoted + student. + </p> + <p> + “Is your work mental, then?” asked Margaret incredulously, flashing, for + the first time, a dark-eyed look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Yates laughed uneasily. He had manifestly missed fire. “I notice by + your tone that you evidently think my equipment meager. You should not + judge by appearances, Miss Howard. Most of us are better than we seem, + pessimists to the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I was saying, the + camping company consists of two partners. We are so different in every + respect that we are the best of friends. My partner is Mr. Stillson + Renmark, professor of something or other in University College, Toronto.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Margaret exhibited some interest in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Renmark? I have heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! I had no idea the fame of the professor had penetrated beyond + the precincts of the university—if a university has precincts. He + told me it had all the modern improvements, but I suspected at the time + that was merely Renny’s brag.” + </p> + <p> + The frown on the girl’s brow deepened, and Yates was quick to see that he + had lost ground again, if, indeed, he had ever gained any, which he began + to doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk about the university. + He was just about to say something deferentially about that institution, + for he was not a man who would speak disrespectfully of the equator if he + thought he might curry favor with his auditor by doing otherwise, when it + occurred to him that Miss Howard’s interest was centered in the man, and + not in the university. + </p> + <p> + “In this world, Miss Howard,” he continued, “true merit rarely finds its + reward; at least, the reward shows some reluctance in making itself + visible in time for man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a man so worthy + that I was rather astonished to learn that you knew of him. I am glad for + his sake that it is so, for no man more thoroughly deserves fame than he.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of him,” said Margaret, “except what my brother has + written. My brother is a student at the university.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he really? And what is he going in for?” + </p> + <p> + “A good education.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a person to have about him. I + often wish I had had a university training. Still, it is not valued in an + American newspaper office as much as might be. Yet,” he added in a tone + that showed he did not desire to be unfair to a man of education, “I have + known some university men who became passably good reporters in time.” + </p> + <p> + The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to the work in hand. She + had the rare gift of silence, and these intervals of quiet abashed Yates, + whose most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any man on earth. + Opposition, or even abuse, merely served as a spur to his volubility, but + taciturnity disconcerted him. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he cried at length, with something like desperation, “let us + abandon this animated discussion on the subject of education, and take up + the more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, Miss Howard, that I + am an expert in bread making?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you said already that you made your bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the sweat of my good lead + pencil. Still, I have made bread in my time, and I believe that some of + those who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The endurance of the human + frame is something marvelous, when you come to think of it. I did the + baking in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the contents of a sack of + flour into a trough made out of a log, pour in a pail or two of melted + snow, and mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer’s assistant + making mortar. There was nothing small or mean about my bread making. I + was in the wholesale trade.” + </p> + <p> + “I pity the unfortunate lumbermen.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss Howard. You ought to pity me + for having to pander to such appetites as those men brought in from the + woods with them. They never complained of the quality of the bread, + although there was occasionally some grumbling about the quantity. I have + fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to a sawmill, but their + voracity was nothing to that of a big lumberman just in from felling + trees. Enough, and plenty of it, is what he wants. No ‘tabbledote’ for + him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it right away. If there is any + washing necessary, he is content to do it after the meal. I know nothing, + except a morning paper, that has such an appetite for miscellaneous stuff + as the man of the woods.” + </p> + <p> + The girl made no remark, but Yates could see that she was interested in + his talk in spite of herself. The bread was now in the pans, and she had + drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the baking board had + disappeared, and the surface of the table was cleaned. With a light, deft + motion of her two hands she had whisked over its surface the spotlessly + white cloth, which flowed in waves over the table and finally settled + calmly in its place like the placid face of a pond in the moonlight. Yates + realized that the way to success lay in keeping the conversation in his + own hands and not depending on any response. In this way a man may best + display the store of knowledge he possesses, to the admiration and + bewilderment of his audience, even though his store consists merely of + samples like the outfit of a commercial traveler; yet a commercial + traveler who knows his business can so arrange his samples on the table of + his room in a hotel that they give the onlooker an idea of the vastness + and wealth of the warehouses from which they are drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Bread,” said Yates with the serious air of a very learned man, “is a most + interesting subject. It is a historical subject—it is a biblical + subject. As an article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Bible than + any other. It is used in parable and to point a moral. ‘Ye must not live + on bread alone.’” + </p> + <p> + From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his listener he feared he + had not quoted correctly. He knew he was not now among that portion of his + samples with which he was most familiar, so he hastened back to the + historical aspect of his subject. Few people could skate over thinner ice + than Richard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused him to return + to more solid footing. + </p> + <p> + “Now, in this country bread has gone through three distinct stages, and + although I am a strong believer in progress, yet, in the case of our most + important article of food, I hold that the bread of to-day is inferior to + the bread our mothers used to make, or perhaps, I should say, our + grandmothers. This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the age of + machinery—and machinery, while it may be quicker, is certainly not + so thorough as old-fashioned hand work. There is a new writer in England + named Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He would like to see it + abolished—at least, so he says. I will send for one of his books, + and show it to you, if you will let me.” + </p> + <p> + “You, in New York, surely do not call the author of ‘Modern Painters’ and + ‘The Seven Lamps of Architecture’ a new man. My father has one of his + books which must be nearly twenty years old.” + </p> + <p> + This was the longest speech Margaret had made to him, and, as he said + afterward to the professor in describing its effects, it took him right + off his feet. He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, that he + had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. The allusion he had made to + him he had heard someone else use, and he had worked it into an article + before now with telling effect. “As Mr. Ruskin says” looked well in a + newspaper column, giving an air of erudition and research to it. Mr. + Yates, however, was not at the present moment prepared to enter into a + discussion on either the age or the merits of the English writer. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” he said, “technically speaking, of course, Ruskin is not a new + man. What I meant was that he is looked on—ah—in New York as—that + is—you know—as comparatively new—comparatively new. But, + as I was saying about bread, the old log-house era of bread, as I might + call it, produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this country. It + was the salt-rising kind, and was baked in a round, flat-bottomed iron + kettle. Did you ever see the baking kettle of other days?” + </p> + <p> + “I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never uses it now. It was + placed on the hot embers, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Yates, noting with pleasure that the girl was thawing, as + he expressed it to himself. “The hot coals were drawn out and the kettle + placed upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals were put on he + top of it. The bread was firm and white and sweet inside, with the most + delicious golden brown crust all around. Ah, that was bread! but perhaps I + appreciated it because I was always hungry in those days. Then came the + alleged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That was the second stage in + the evolution of bread in this country. It also belonged to the log-house + and open-fireplace era. Bread baked by direct heat from the fire and + reflected heat from the polished tin. I think our present cast-iron stove + arrangement is preferable to that, although not up to the old-time + kettle.” + </p> + <p> + If Margaret had been a reader of the New York <i>Argus</i>, she would have + noticed that the facts set forth by her visitor had already appeared in + that paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled “Our Daily Bread.” In + the pause that ensued after Yates had finished his dissertation on the + staff of life the stillness was broken by a long wailing cry. It began + with one continued, sustained note, and ended with a wail half a tone + below the first. The girl paid no attention to it, but Yates started to + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of—What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the stillness was again + broken by what appeared to be the more distant notes of a bugle. + </p> + <p> + “The first,” she said, “was Kitty Bartlett’s voice calling the men home + from the field for dinner. Mrs. Bartlett is a very good housekeeper and is + usually a few minutes ahead of the neighbors with the meals. The second + was the sound of a horn farther up the road. It is what you would deplore + as the age of tin applied to the dinner call, just as your tin oven + supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty’s call much better than + the tin horn. It seems to me more musical, although it appeared to startle + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can talk!” cried Yates with audacious admiration, at which the + girl colored slightly and seemed to retire within herself again. “And you + can make fun of people’s historical lore, too. Which do you use—the + tin horn or the natural voice?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither. If you will look outside, you will see a flag at the top of a + pole. That is our signal.” + </p> + <p> + It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was intended as an + intimation that he might see many things outside to interest him. He felt + that his visit had not been at all the brilliant success he had + anticipated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely an excuse. He + had expected to be able to efface the unfavorable impression he knew he + had made by his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the day before, and + he realized that his position was still the same. A good deal of Yates’ + success in life came from the fact that he never knew when he was beaten. + He did not admit defeat now, but he saw he had, for some reason, not + gained any advantage in a preliminary skirmish. He concluded it would be + well to retire in good order, and renew the contest at some future time. + He was so unused to anything like a rebuff that all his fighting qualities + were up in arms, and he resolved to show this unimpressionable girl that + he was not a man to be lightly valued. + </p> + <p> + As he rose the door from the main portion of the house opened, and there + entered a woman hardly yet past middle age, who had once been undoubtedly + handsome, but on whose worn and faded face was the look of patient + weariness which so often is the result of a youth spent in helping a + husband to overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an American bush farm. When + the farm is conquered, the victor is usually vanquished. It needed no + second glance to see that she was the mother from whom the daughter had + inherited her good looks. Mrs. Howard did not appear surprised to see a + stranger standing there; in fact, the faculty of being surprised at + anything seemed to have left her. Margaret introduced them quietly, and + went about her preparation for the meal. Yates greeted Mrs. Howard with + effusion. He had come, he said, on a bread mission. He thought he knew + something about bread, but he now learned he came too early in the day. He + hoped he might have the privilege of repeating his visit. + </p> + <p> + “But you are not going now?” said Mrs. Howard with hospitable anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “I fear I have already stayed too long,” answered Yates lingeringly. “My + partner, Professor Renmark, is also on a foraging expedition at your + neighbors’, the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp long ago, and will + be expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let anyone go when there is a + meal on the way.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by staying. I imagine there + is quite enough to do in every farmhouse without entertaining any chance + tramp who happens along. Don’t you agree with me for once, Miss Howard?” + </p> + <p> + Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish to stay unless Margaret + added her invitation to her mother’s. He felt vaguely that his reluctance + did him credit, and that he was improving. He could not remember a time + when he had not taken without question whatever the gods sent, and this + unaccustomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspect that there were depths + in his nature hitherto unexplored. It always flatters a man to realize + that he is deeper than he thought. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner because Yates likened himself to a + tramp, and Margaret said coldly: + </p> + <p> + “Mother’s motto is that one more or less never makes any difference.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is your motto, Miss Howard?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think Margaret has any,” said Mrs. Howard, answering for her + daughter. “She is like her father. She reads a great deal and doesn’t talk + much. He would read all the time, if he did not have to work. I see + Margaret has already invited you, for she has put an extra plate on the + table.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then,” said Yates, “I shall have much pleasure in accepting both the + verbal and the crockery invitation. I am sorry for the professor at his + lonely meal by the tent; for he is a martyr to duty, and I feel sure Mrs. + Bartlett will not be able to keep him.” + </p> + <p> + Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in to them, from the outside, + where Margaret was, a cheery voice which Yates had no difficulty in + recognizing as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Margaret!” she said. “Is he here?” + </p> + <p> + The reply was inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited city fellow.” + </p> + <p> + There was evidently an admonition and a warning. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t care if he does. I’ll tell him so to his face. It might do + him good.” + </p> + <p> + Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in the doorway. On the fair + curls, which were flying about her shoulders, had been carelessly placed + her brother’s straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her face was flushed + with running; and of the fact that she was a very lovely girl there was + not the slightest doubt. + </p> + <p> + “How de do?” she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: “I + knew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There’s going to be war + in our house. Mother’s made a prisoner of the professor already, but he + doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s going back to the tent, and she’s packing + up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, till I get back. He + said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. We both + told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn’t leave a place where there + was good cooking for all the professors in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett,” said Yates, + somewhat piqued by her frankness. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but he + doesn’t know when he’s well off, just the same. You do. He’s a quiet, + stubborn man.” + </p> + <p> + “And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett—a quiet, stubborn + man, or one who is conceited?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. + “Detest, you mean. I’m sure I don’t know. Margaret, which is the most + objectionable?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenly + questioned, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, + like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: “Well, I must be off, or + mother will have to tie up the professor to keep him,” and was off + accordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn. + </p> + <p> + “Extraordinary girl,” remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls and calico + dress disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “She is a good girl,” cried Margaret emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don’t you think she is + somewhat free with her opinions about other people?” asked Yates. + </p> + <p> + “She did not know that you were within hearing when she first spoke, and + after that she brazened it out. That’s her way. But she’s a kind girl and + good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken the trouble to come over + here merely because your friend happened to be surly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Renny is anything but surly,” said Yates, as quick to defend his + friend as she was to stand up for hers. “As I was saying a moment ago, he + is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the camp, nothing would + keep him. Now he will have a good dinner in peace when he knows I am not + waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he will get when I take to + the cooking.” + </p> + <p> + By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had done its work, and + Margaret’s father and brother arrived from the field. They put their broad + straw hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking water in a tin + basin from the rain barrel, placed it on a bench outside and proceeded to + wash vigorously. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Howard was much more interested in his guest than his daughter had + apparently been. Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had a + sympathetic audience, and he showed an easy familiarity with the great + people of this earth that was fascinating to a man who had read much of + them, but who was, in a measure, locked out of the bustling world. Yates + knew many of the generals in the late war, and all of the politicians. Of + the latter there was not an honest man among them, according to the + reporter; of the former there were few who had not made the most ghastly + mistakes. He looked on the world as a vast hoard of commonplace people, + wherein the men of real genius were buried out of sight, if there were any + men of genius, which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top were there + either through their own intrigues or because they had been forced up by + circumstances. His opinions sometimes caused a look of pain to cross the + face of the older man, who was enthusiastic in his quiet way, and had his + heroes. He would have been a strong Republican if he had lived in the + States; and he had watched the four-years’ struggle, through the papers, + with keen and absorbed interest. The North had been fighting, in his + opinion, for the great and undying principle of human liberty, and had + deservedly won. Yates had no such delusion. It was a politicians’ war, he + said. Principle wasn’t in it. The North would have been quite willing to + let slavery stand if the situation had not been forced by the firing on + Fort Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not at all meet the approval + of Mr. Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” he said, “I suppose Grant will go down into history as a great + general. The truth is that he simply knew how to subtract. That is all + there is in it. He had the additional boon of an utter lack of + imagination. We had many generals who were greater than Grant, but they + were troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin the best general in + the world. Now, take yourself, for example. If you were to kill a man + unintentionally, your conscience would trouble you all the rest of your + life. Think how you would feel, then, if you were to cause the death of + ten thousand men all in a lump. It would break you down. The mistake an + ordinary man makes may result in the loss of a few dollars, which can be + replaced; but if a general makes a mistake, the loss can never be made up, + for his mistakes are estimated by the lives of men. He says ‘Go’ when he + should have said ‘Come.’ He says ‘Attack’ when he should have said + ‘Retreat.’ What is the result? Five, ten, or fifteen thousand men, many of + them better men than he is, left dead on the field. Grant had nothing of + this feeling. He simply knew how to subtract, as I said before. It is like + this: You have fifty thousand men and I have twenty-five thousand. When I + kill twenty-five thousand of your men and you kill twenty-five thousand of + my men, you have twenty-five thousand left and I have none. You are the + victor, and the thoughtless crowd howls about you, but that does not make + you out the greatest general by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant’s + number, and Grant had Lee’s, the result would have been reversed. Grant + set himself to do this little sum in subtraction, and he did it—did + it probably as quickly as any other man would have done it, and he knew + that when it was done the war would have to stop. That’s all there was to + it.” + </p> + <p> + The older man shook his head. “I doubt,” he said, “if history will take + your view either of the motives of those in power or of the way the war + was carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, heroically fought by + those deluded people who were in the wrong, and stubbornly contested at + immense self-sacrifice by those who were in the right.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity it was,” said young Howard to the newspaper man, with a + rudeness that drew a frown from his father, “that you didn’t get to show + ‘em how to carry on the war.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “I flatter myself + that I would have given them some valuable pointers. Still, it is too late + to bemoan their neglect now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you may have a chance yet,” continued the unabashed young man. “They + say the Fenians are coming over here this time sure. You ought to + volunteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how a war ought to be + carried on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s nothing in the Fenian scare! They won’t venture over. They + fight with their mouths. It’s the safest way.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” said the youth significantly. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because the boy had been so inconsiderate as to make these + remarks that Yates received a cordial invitation from both Mr. and Mrs. + Howard to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Of this privilege + Yates resolved to avail himself, but he would have prized it more if Miss + Margaret had added her word—which she did not, perhaps because she + was so busy looking after the bread. Yates knew, however, that with a + woman apparent progress is rarely synonymous with real progress. This + knowledge soothed his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his own feelings with something + like astonishment. The march of events was rapid even for him, who was not + slow in anything he undertook. + </p> + <p> + “It is the result of leisure,” he said to himself. “It is the first + breathing time I have had for fifteen years. Not two days of my vacation + gone, and here I am hopelessly in love!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + Yates had intended to call at the Bartletts’ and escort Renmark back to + the woods; but when he got outside he forgot the existence of the + professor, and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, switching at + the weeds that always grow in great profusion along the ditches of a + Canadian country thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and as Yates + wandered on in the direction of the forest he thought of many things. He + had feared that he would find life deadly dull so far from New York, + without even the consolation of a morning-paper, the feverish reading of + which had become a sort of vice with him, like smoking. He had imagined + that he could not exist without his morning paper, but he now realized + that it was not nearly so important a factor in life as he had supposed; + yet he sighed when he thought of it, and wished he had one with him of + current date. He could now, for the first time in many years, read a paper + without that vague fear which always possessed him when he took up an + opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Before he could enjoy it his + habit was to scan it over rapidly to see if it contained any item of news + which he himself had missed the previous day. The impending “scoop” hangs + over the head of the newspaper man like the sword so often quoted. Great + as the joy of beating the opposition press is, it never takes the + poignancy of the sting away from a beating received. If a terrible + disaster took place, and another paper gave fuller particulars than the <i>Argus</i> + did, Yates found himself almost wishing the accident had not occurred, + although he recognized such a wish as decidedly unprofessional. + </p> + <p> + Richard’s idea of the correct spirit in a reporter was exemplified by an + old broken-down, out-of-work morning newspaper man, who had not long + before committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for the evening + papers to get the sensational item. He had sent in to the paper for which + he formerly worked a full account of the fatality, accurately headed and + sub-headed; and, in his note to the city editor, he told why he had chosen + the hour of 7 P.M. as the time for his departure from an unappreciative + world. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” said Yates under his breath, and suddenly pulling himself + together, “I mustn’t think of New York if I intend to stay here for a + couple of weeks. I’ll be city-sick the first thing I know, and then I’ll + make a break for the metropolis. This will never do. The air here is + enchanting, it fills a man with new life. This is the spot for me, and + I’ll stick to it till I’m right again. Hang New York! But I mustn’t think + of Broadway or I’m done for.” + </p> + <p> + He came to the spot in the road where he could see the white side of the + tent under the dark trees, and climbed up on the rail fence, sitting there + for a few moments. The occasional call of a quail from a neighboring field + was the only sound that broke the intense stillness. The warm smell of + spring was in the air. The buds had but recently broken, and the woods, + intensely green, had a look of newness and freshness that was comforting + to the eye and grateful to the other senses. The world seemed to be but + lately made. The young man breathed deeply of the vivifying air, and said: + “No, there’s nothing the matter with this place, Dick. New York’s a fool + to it.” Then, with a sigh, he added: “If I can stand it for two weeks. I + wonder how the boys are getting on without me.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back to the great city, + although he told himself that it wouldn’t do. He gazed at the peaceful, + spreading landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw nothing. The roar + of the streets was in his ears. Suddenly his reverie was broken by a voice + from the forest. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Yates, where’s the bread?” + </p> + <p> + Yates looked quickly around, somewhat startled, and saw the professor + coming toward him. + </p> + <p> + “The bread? I forgot all about it. No; I didn’t either. They were baking—that + was it. I am to go for it later in the day. What loot did you rake in, + professor?” + </p> + <p> + “Vegetables mostly.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right. Have a good dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I was just counting the + farmhouses in sight. What do you say to boarding round among them? You are + a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. Isn’t education in this + country encouraged by paying the teacher as little as possible, and + letting him take it out in eating his way from one house to another? Ever + board around, Renny?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, it is out of date now.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, Renmark. We become less + brave as we grow older. By the way, how is old man Bartlett? As well as + could be expected?” + </p> + <p> + “He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has sent out two chairs to the + tent; she fears we will get rheumatism if we sit on the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a kind woman, Renny, and a thoughtful. And that reminds me: I have + a hammock somewhere among my belongings. I will swing it up. Chairs are + comfortable, but a hammock is luxury.” + </p> + <p> + Yates slid down from the fence top, and together the two men walked to the + tent. The hammock was unfurled and slung between two trees. Yates tested + it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its restful folds of + network. He was swaying indolently several feet from the ground when he + said to Renmark: + </p> + <p> + “I call this paradise—paradise regained; but it will be paradise + lost next month. Now, professor, I am ready to do the cooking, but I have + a fancy for doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the useful prosaic + man executes. Where are your vegetables, Renny? Potatoes and carrots, eh? + Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny; but first you must bring some + water from the spring.” + </p> + <p> + The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. Yates continued to swing + in the hammock alternating directions with rhapsodies on the beauties of + the day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said but little, and + attended strictly to the business in hand. The vegetables finished, he + took a book from his valise, tilted a chair back against a tree, and began + to read. + </p> + <p> + “I’m depending upon you for the bread,” he said to the drowsy man in the + hammock. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not misplaced. I shall presently + journey down into the realms of civilization, and fill the long-felt want. + I shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartlett homestead, but I warn you + that if there is a meal on, at either place, you will not have me here to + test your first efforts at cooking. So you may have to wait until + breakfast for my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly from the hammock, and + looked regretfully at it when he stood once more on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the curse of life here below. + It is what we are all after. If it were not for the necessity of bread and + clothing, what a good time a fellow might have. Well, my blessing, Renny. + Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he came to the beginning of + a lane which led to the Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer and his son + at work in the back fields. From between the distant house and barn there + arose, straight up into the still air, a blue column of smoke, which, + reaching a certain height, spread out like a thin, hazy cloud above the + dwelling. At first Yates thought that some of the outhouses were on fire, + and he quickened his pace to a run; but a moment’s reflection showed him + that the column was plainly visible to the workers in the fields, and that + if anything were wrong they would not continue placidly at their labor. + When he had walked the long length of the lane, and had safely rounded the + corner of the barn, he saw, in the open space between that building and + the house, a huge camp fire blazing. From a pole, upheld by two crotched + supports, hung a big iron kettle over the flames. The caldron was full + nearly to the brim, and the steam was already beginning to rise from its + surface, although the fire had evidently been but recently kindled. The + smoke was not now so voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with a + big-brimmed straw hat in her hands, fanning it away from her face, while + the hat at the same time protected her rosy countenance from the fire. She + plainly was not prepared to receive visitors, and she started when the + young man addressed her, flushing still more deeply, apparently annoyed at + his unwelcome appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Good-afternoon,” he said cordially. “Preparing for washing? I thought + Monday was washing day.” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have not been misinformed. And you are not preparing for washing?” + </p> + <p> + “We are.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of herself, had to permit a + smile to brighten her own features. She always found it difficult remain + solemn for any length of time. + </p> + <p> + “This is obviously a conundrum,” said Yates, ticking off the items on his + four fingers. “First, Monday is washing day. Second, this is not Monday. + Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are preparing for washing. I give + it up, Miss Bartlett. Please tell me the answer.” + </p> + <p> + “The answer is that I am making soap; soft soap, if you know what that + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Practically, I don’t know what it is; but I have heard the term used in a + political connection. In the States we say that if a man is very + diplomatic he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricating qualities. + Sam Slick used the term ‘soft sawder’ in the same way; but what sawder is, + soft or hard, I haven’t the slightest idea.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Bless you, no. I’m a humble gleaner in the field of knowledge. That’s + why I brought a Toronto professor with me. I want to learn something. + Won’t you teach me how to make soap?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m very busy just now. When I said that we were preparing for washing, I + should perhaps have told you there was something else we are not prepared + for to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “A visitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on me. I’m not a visitor. + I’m a friend of the family. I want to help. You will find me a most + diligent student. Won’t you give me a chance?” + </p> + <p> + “All the hard work’s done. But perhaps you knew that before you came.” + </p> + <p> + Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what it is to be a misunderstood man. So you think, among other + bad qualities, I have the habit of shirking work? Let me tell you, Miss + Bartlett, that the reason I am here is because I have worked too hard. + Now, confess that you are sorry for what you said—trampling on an + already downtrodden man.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed also, for his sense of + comradeship was strong. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t look as if you had ever worked in your life; I don’t believe + you know what work is.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are different kinds of labor. Don’t you call writing work?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just where you’re mistaken. It is, and hard work, too. I’ll tell + you about the newspaper business if you’ll tell me about soap making. Fair + exchange. I wish you would take me as a pupil, Miss Bartlett; you would + find me quick at picking up things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful of water.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it,” cried Yates sternly; “I’ll do it, though it blast me.” + </p> + <p> + Yates picked up the wooden pail, painted blue on the outside, with a red + stripe near the top for ornament, and cream-colored inside. It was called + a “patent pail” in those days, as it was a comparatively recent + innovation, being cheaper, lighter, and stronger than the tin pail which + it was rapidly replacing. At the well was a stout pole, pinned through the + center to the upright support on which it swung, like the walking-beam of + an engine. The thick end, which rested on the ground, was loaded with + heavy stones; while from the thin end, high in the air, there dangled over + the mouth of the well a slim pole with a hook. This hook was ingeniously + furnished with a spring of hickory, which snapped when the handle of the + pail was placed on the hook, and prevented the “patent” utensil from + slipping off when it was lowered to the surface of the water. Yates + speedily recognized the usefulness of this contrivance, for he found that + the filling of a wooden pail in a deep well was not the simple affair it + looked. The bucket bobbed about on the surface of the water. Once he + forgot the necessity of keeping a stout grip on the pole, and the next + instant the pail came up to the sunlight with a suddenness that was + terrifying. Only an equally sudden backward jump on Yates’ part saved his + head. Miss Bartlett was pleased to look upon this incident as funny. Yates + was so startled by the unexpected revolt of the pail that his native + courtesy did not get a chance to prevent Kitty from drawing up the water + herself. She lowered the vessel, pulling down the pole in a hand-over-hand + manner that the young man thought decidedly fetching, and then she gave an + almost imperceptible twist to the arrangement that resulted in instant + success. The next thing Yates knew the full pail was resting on the well + curb, and the hickory spring had given the click that released the handle. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, “that’s how it’s done.” + </p> + <p> + “I see the result, Miss Bartlett; but I’m not sure I can do the trick. + These things are not so simple as they seem. What is the next step?” + </p> + <p> + “Pour the water into the leach.” + </p> + <p> + “Into the what?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the leach, I said. Where else?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m up a tree again. I see I don’t even know the A B C of this + business. In the old days the leech was a physician. You don’t mean I’m to + drown a doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the leach,” said Kitty, pointing to a large, yellowish, upright + wooden cylinder, which rested on some slanting boards, down the surface of + which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a trough. + </p> + <p> + As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his hand he saw that the + cylinder was filled nearly to the top with sodden wood ashes. He poured in + the water, and it sank quickly out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “So this is part of the soap-making equipment?” he said, stepping down; “I + thought the iron kettle over the fire was the whole factory. Tell me about + the leach.” + </p> + <p> + “That is where the hard work of soap making comes in,” said Kitty, + stirring the contents of the iron kettle with a long stick. “Keeping the + leach supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the ashes are dry. + If you put in five more pails of water, I will tell you about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” cried Yates, pleased to see that the girl’s evident objection to + his presence at first was fast disappearing. “Now you’ll understand how + energetic I am. I’m a handy man about a place.” + </p> + <p> + When he had completed his task, she was still stirring the thickening + liquid in the caldron, guarding her face from the fire with her big straw + hat. Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about her shoulders; and + Yates, as he put the pail in its place, when it had been emptied the fifth + time, thought she formed a very pretty picture standing there by the fire, + even if she were making soft soap. + </p> + <p> + “The wicked genii has finished the task set him by the fairy princess. Now + for the reward. I want all the particulars about the leach. In the first + place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder that I have, without + apparent effect, been pouring water into? Is it manufactured or natural?” + </p> + <p> + “Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree.” + </p> + <p> + “Buttonwood? I don’t think I ever heard of that. I know the beech and the + maple, and some kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why the + buttonwood?” + </p> + <p> + “The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to the purpose. It is a tree + that is very fine to look at. It seems all right, but it generally isn’t. + It is hollow or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timber made from + it is of little value, as it doesn’t last. Yet you can’t tell until you + begin to chop whether it is of any use or not.” Kitty shot a quick glance + at the young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Miss Bartlett; I see what you mean. There are men like the + buttonwood tree. The woods are full of them. I’ve met lots of that kind, + fair to look upon, but hollow. Of course you don’t mean anything personal; + for you must have seen my worth by the way I stuck to the water hauling. + But go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, I never thought of such a thing; but a guilty conscience, they + say——” said Kitty, with a giggle. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they say; but it’s wrong, like most other things they say. It’s + the man with the guilty conscience who looks you straight in the eye. Now + that the buttonwood is chopped down, what’s the next thing to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “It is sawn off at the proper length, square at one end and slanting at + the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Why slanting?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see, the foundation of plank on which it rests is inclined, so + the end of the leach that is down must be slantingly cut, otherwise it + would not stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the first + windstorm.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no; not yet. They build a fire in it when it gets dry enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? I think I understand the comprehensive scheme, but I slip up on + the details, as when I tried to submerge that wooden pail. What’s the fire + for?” + </p> + <p> + “To burn out what remains of the soft inside wood, so as to leave only the + hard outside shell. Then the charring of the inner surface is supposed to + make the leach better—more water-tight, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and gradually filled with ashes. When it is full, we pour the water + in it, and catch the lye as it drips out. This is put in the caldron with + grease, pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when it boils long enough, + the result is soft soap.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you boil it too long, what is the result?” + </p> + <p> + “Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was here interrupted by a hissing in the fire, caused by + the tumultuous boiling over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in a basin + of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said reproachfully, “the result of keeping me talking + nonsense to you. Now you will have to make up for it by bringing in some + wood and putting more water into the leach.” + </p> + <p> + “With the utmost pleasure,” cried Yates, springing to his feet. “It is a + delight to atone for a fault by obeying your commands.” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed. “Buttonwood,” she said. Before Yates could think of + anything to say in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. + </p> + <p> + “How is the soap getting on, Kitty?” she asked. “Why, Mr. Yates, are you + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I here? I should say I was. Very much here. I’m the hired man. I’m the + hewer of wood and the hauler of water, or, to speak more correctly, I’m + the hauler of both. And, besides, I’ve been learning how to make soap, + Mrs. Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it won’t hurt you to know how.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet it won’t. When I get back to New York, the first thing I shall do + will be to chop down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can find one, and + set up a leach for myself. Lye comes useful in running a paper.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett’s eyes twinkled, for, although she did not quite understand + his nonsense, she knew it was nonsense, and she had a liking for frivolous + persons, her own husband being so somber-minded. + </p> + <p> + “Tea is ready,” she said. “Of course you will stay, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously do so. I haven’t earned a + meal since the last one. No; my conscience won’t let me accept, but thank + you all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense; my conscience won’t let you go away hungry. If nobody were to + eat but those who earn their victuals, there would be more starving people + in the world than there are. Of course you’ll stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that’s what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like to have a chance of + refusing an invitation I yearn for, and then be forced to accept. That’s + true hospitality.” Then in a whisper he added to Kitty; “If you dare to + say ‘buttonwood,’ Miss Bartlett, you and I will quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had appeared on the scene, but + industriously stirred the contents of the iron kettle. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty,” said the mother, “you call the men to supper.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t leave this,” said Kitty, flushing; “it will boil over. You call, + mother.” + </p> + <p> + So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side of her mouth, and gave + the long wailing cry, which was faintly answered from the fields, and + Yates, who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satisfaction that Kitty + had refused doubtless because he was there. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + “I tell you what it is, Renny,” said Yates, a few days after the soap + episode, as he swung in his hammock at the camp, “I’m learning something + new every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Not really?” asked the professor in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. My chief pleasure in life, + professor, is the surprising of you. I sometimes wonder why it delights + me; it is so easily done.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about that. What have you been learning?” + </p> + <p> + “Wisdom, my boy; wisdom in solid chunks. In the first place, I am learning + to admire the resourcefulness of these people around us. Practically, they + make everything they need. They are the most self-helping people that I + was ever thrown among. I look upon theirs as the ideal life.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you said something like that when we first came here.” + </p> + <p> + “I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am talking now about farm + life. Farmers eliminate the middleman pretty effectually, and that in + itself is going a long way toward complete happiness. Take the making of + soap, that I told you about; there you have it, cheap and good. When + you’ve made it, you know what is in it, and I’ll be hanged if you do when + you pay a big price for it in New York. Here they make pretty nearly + everything they need, except the wagon and the crockery; and I’m not sure + but they made them a few years back. Now, when a man with a good sharp ax + and a jack-knife can do anything from building his house to whittling out + a chair, he’s the most independent man on earth. Nobody lives better than + these people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. Perhaps the country + air helps; but it seems to me I never tasted such meals as Mrs. Bartlett, + for instance, gets up. They buy nothing at the stores except the tea, and + I confess I prefer milk myself. My tastes were always simple.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is the deduction?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old Hiram has an anvil and an + amateur forge. He can tinker up almost anything, and that eliminates the + blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, and other tools, and that + eliminates the carpenter. The women eliminate the baker, the soap boiler, + and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have eliminated all the + middlemen, then comes independence, and consequently complete happiness. + You can’t keep happiness away with a shotgun then.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is to become of the blacksmith, the carpenter, and all the + rest?” + </p> + <p> + “Let them take up land and be happy too; there’s plenty of land. The land + is waiting for them. Then look how the master is eliminated. That’s the + most beautiful riddance of all. Even the carpenter and blacksmith usually + have to work under a boss; and if not, they have to depend on the men who + employ them. The farmer has to please nobody but himself. That adds to his + independence. That’s why old Hiram is ready to fight the first comer on + the slightest provocation. He doesn’t care whom he offends, so long as it + isn’t his wife. These people know how to make what they want, and what + they can’t make they do without. That’s the way to form a great nation. + You raise, in this way, a self-sustaining, resolute, unconquerable people. + The reason the North conquered the South was because we drew our armies + mostly from the self-reliant farming class, while we had to fight a people + accustomed for generations to having things done for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you buy a farm, Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. I am like the drunkard + who admires a temperate life, yet can’t pass a ginshop. The city virus is + in my blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quite satisfied with + the tendency of farm life; it is unfortunately in a transition state. It + is at the frame-house stage, and will soon blossom into the red-brick + stage. The log-house era is what I yearn for. Then everything a person + needed was made on the farm. When the brick-house era sets in, the + middleman will be rampant. I saw the other day at the Howards’ a set of + ancient stones that interested me as much as an Assyrian marble would + interest you. They were old, home-made millstones, and they have not been + used since the frame house was built. The grist mill at the village put + them out of date. And just here, notice the subtlety of the crafty + middleman. The farmer takes his grist to the mill, and the miller does not + charge him cash for grinding it. He takes toll out of the bags, and the + farmer has a vague idea that he gets his grinding for almost nothing. The + old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer’s son won’t be as happy in + the brick house which the mason will build for him as his grandfather was + in the log house he built for himself. And fools call this change the + advance of civilization.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something to be said for the old order of things,” admitted + Renmark. “If a person could unite the advantages of what we call + civilization with the advantages of a pastoral life, he would inaugurate a + condition of things that would be truly idyllic.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so, Renmark, that’s so!” cried Yates enthusiastically. “A + brownstone mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of Lake + Superior! That would suit me down to the ground. Spend half the year in + each place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the professor meditatively; “a log hut on the rocks and under + the trees, with the lake in front, would be very nice if the hut had a + good library attached.” + </p> + <p> + “And a daily paper. Don’t forget the press.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I draw the line there. The daily paper would mean the daily steamer + or the daily train. The one would frighten away the fish, and the other + would disturb the stillness with its whistle.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sighed. “I forgot about the drawbacks,” he said. “That’s the trouble + with civilization. You can’t have the things you want without bringing in + their trail so many things you don’t want. I shall have to give up the + daily paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is another objection, worse than either steamer or train.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “The daily paper itself.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sat up indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Renmark!” he cried, “that’s blasphemy. For Heaven’s sake, man, hold + something sacred. If you don’t respect the press, what do you respect? Not + my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you wouldn’t talk in that + flippant manner. If you speak kindly of my daily paper, I’ll tolerate your + library.” + </p> + <p> + “And that reminds me: Have you brought any books with you, Yates? I have + gone through most of mine already, although many of them will bear going + over again; still, I have so much time on my hands that I think I may + indulge in a little general reading. When you wrote asking me to meet you + in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp through the country, + so I did not bring as many books with me as I should have done if I had + known you were going to camp out.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sprang from the hammock. + </p> + <p> + “Books? Well, I should say so! Perhaps you think I don’t read anything but + the daily papers. I’d have you know that I am something of a reader + myself. You mustn’t imagine you monopolize all the culture in the + township, professor.” + </p> + <p> + The young man went into the tent, and shortly returned with an armful of + yellow-covered, paper-bound small volumes, which he flung in profusion at + the feet of the man from Toronto. They were mostly Beadle’s Dime Novels, + which had a great sale at the time. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “you have quantity, quality, and variety, as I have + before remarked. ‘The Murderous Sioux of Kalamazoo;’ that’s a good one. A + hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the word. The one you are + looking at is a pirate story, judging by the burning ship on the cover. + But for first-class highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. + That’s the ‘Sixteen String Jack set.’ They’re immense, if they do cost a + quarter each. You must begin at the right volume, or you’ll be sorry. You + see, they never really end, although every volume is supposed to be + complete in itself. They leave off at the most exciting point, and are + continued in the next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it’s + rather exasperating if you begin at the last book. You’ll enjoy this lot. + I’m glad I brought them along.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a blessing,” said Renmark, with the ghost of a smile about his + lips. “I can truthfully say that they are entirely new to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, my boy,” cried Yates loftily, with a wave of his hand. + “Use them as if they were your own.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity of the books. + </p> + <p> + “These will do excellently for lighting our morning camp fire,” he said. + “And if you will allow me to treat them as if they were my own, that is + the use to which I will put them. You surely do not mean to say that you + read such trash as this, Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “Trash?” exclaimed Yates indignantly. “It serves me right. That’s what a + man gets for being decent to you, Renny. Well, you’re not compelled to + read them; but if you put one of them in the fire, your stupid treatises + will follow, if they are not too solid to burn. You don’t know good + literature when you see it.” + </p> + <p> + The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit which comes to a man + through the possession of a real sheepskin diploma, granted by a + university of good standing, did not think it necessary to defend his + literary taste. He busied himself in pruning a stick he had cut in the + forest, and finally he got it into the semblance of a walking cane. He was + an athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not suit him as it did + Yates. He tested the stick in various ways when he had trimmed it to his + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready for a ten-mile walk?” he asked of the man in the hammock. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking here below, and he + doesn’t want it ten miles in length either. I’m easily satisfied. You’re + off, are you? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back some bread when + you return to camp. It’s the one safe thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + Renmark walked through the woods and then across the fields, until he came + to the road. He avoided the habitations of man as much as he could, for he + was neither so sociably inclined nor so frequently hungry as was his + companion. He strode along the road, not caring much where it led him. + Everyone he met gave him “Good-day,” after the friendly custom of the + country. Those with wagons or lighter vehicles going in his direction + usually offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that a man should + choose to walk when it was not compulsory. The professor, like most silent + men, found himself good company, and did not feel the need of + companionship in his walks. He had felt relieved rather than disappointed + when Yates refused to accompany him. And Yates, swinging drowsily in his + hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men are firm and intimate + friends, the first few days of camping out together is a severe strain on + their regard for each other. If Damon and Pythias had occupied a tent + together for a week, the worst enemy of either, or both, might at the end + of that time have ventured into the camp in safety, and would have been + welcome. + </p> + <p> + Renmark thought of these things as he walked along. His few days’ intimacy + with Yates had shown him how far apart they had managed to get by + following paths that diverged more and more widely the farther they were + trodden. The friendship of their youth had turned out to be merely + ephemeral. Neither would now choose the other as an intimate associate. + Another illusion had gone. + </p> + <p> + “I have surely enough self-control,” said Renmark to himself, as he walked + on, “to stand his shallow flippancy for another week, and not let him see + what I think of him.” + </p> + <p> + Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence of the + camp. “That man is an exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faults of the + species abnormally developed. If I once open out on him, he will learn + more truth about himself in ten minutes than he ever heard in his life + before. What an unbearable prig he has grown to be.” Thus ran Yates’ + thoughts as he swung in his hammock, looking up at the ceiling of green + leaves. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of them thought. If it had + been, then were marriage not only a failure, but a practical + impossibility. If two men can get over the first few days in camp without + a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the tension relaxes. + </p> + <p> + Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid little heed to those he + met; but one driver drew up his horse and accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day,” he said. “How are you getting on in the tent?” + </p> + <p> + The professor was surprised at the question. Had their tenting-out + eccentricity gone all over the country? He was not a quick man at + recognizing people, belonging, as he did, to the + “I-remember-your-face-but-can’t-recall-your-name” fraternity. It had been + said of him that he never, at any one time, knew the names of more than + half a dozen students in his class; but this was an undergraduate libel on + him. The young man who had accosted him was driving a single horse, + attached to what he termed a “democrat”—a four-wheeled light wagon, + not so slim and elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as a wagon. + Renmark looked up at the driver with confused unrecognition, troubled + because he vaguely felt that he had met him somewhere before. But his + surprise at being addressed speedily changed into amazement as he looked + from the driver to the load. The “democrat” was heaped with books. The + larger volumes were stuck along the sides with some regularity, and in + this way kept the miscellaneous pile from being shaken out on the road. + His eye glittered with a new interest as it rested on the many-colored + bindings; and he recognized in the pile the peculiar brown covers of the + “Bohn” edition of classic translations, that were scattered like so many + turnips over the top of this ridge of literature. He rubbed his eyes to + make sure he was not dreaming. How came a farmer’s boy to be driving a + wagon load of books in the wilds of the country as nonchalantly as if they + were so many bushels of potatoes? + </p> + <p> + The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for the load was heavy and + the sand was deep, saw that the stranger not only did not recognize him, + but that from the moment he saw the books he had forgotten everything + else. It was evidently necessary to speak again. + </p> + <p> + “If you are coming back, will you have a ride?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I—I think I will,” said the professor, descending to earth again + and climbing up beside the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I see you don’t remember me,” said the latter, starting his horse again. + “My name is Howard. I passed you in my buggy when you were coming in with + your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner—what’s his name—Yates, + isn’t it?—had dinner at our house the other day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had seen you before; but it was + only for a moment, you know. I have a very poor memory so far as people + are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. Are these your books? + And how do you happen to have such a quantity?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is the library,” said young Howard. + </p> + <p> + “The library?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the township library, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! The township has a library, then? I didn’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s part of it. This is a fifth part. You know about township + libraries, don’t you? Your partner said you were a college man.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he was never reluctant to admit + it. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know nothing of township + libraries. Please, tell me about them.” + </p> + <p> + Young Howard was eager to give information to a college man, especially on + the subject of books, which he regarded as belonging to the province of + college-bred men. He was pleased also to discover that city people did not + know everything. He had long had the idea that they did, and this belief + had been annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness of Yates. The + professor evidently was a decent fellow, who did not pretend to universal + knowledge. This was encouraging. He liked Renmark better than Yates, and + was glad he had offered him a ride, although, of course, that was the + custom; still, a person with one horse and a heavy load is exempt on a + sandy road. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see,” he said in explanation, “it’s like this: The township + votes a sum of money, say a hundred dollars, or two hundred, as the case + may be. They give notice to the Government of the amount voted, and the + Government adds the same amount to the township money. It’s like the old + game: you think of a number, and they double it. The Government has a + depository of books, in Toronto, I think, and they sell them cheaper than + the bookstores do. At any rate, the four hundred dollars’ worth are + bought, or whatever the amount is, and the books are the property of the + township. Five persons are picked out in the township as librarians, and + they have to give security. My father is librarian for this section. The + library is divided into five parts, and each librarian gets a share. Once + a year I go to the next section and get all their books. They go to the + next section, again, and get all the books at that place. A man comes to + our house to-day and takes all we have. So we get a complete change every + year, and in five years we get back the first batch, which by that time we + have forgotten all about. To-day is changing day all around.” + </p> + <p> + “And the books are lent to any person in each section who wishes to read + them?” asked the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can have a book out for two + weeks; after that time there is a fine, but Margaret never fines anyone.” + </p> + <p> + “And do people have to pay to take out the books?” + </p> + <p> + “Not likely!” said Howard with fine contempt. “You wouldn’t expect people + to pay for reading books; would you, now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not. And who selected the volumes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the township can select the books if it likes, or it can send a + committee to select them; but they didn’t think it worth the trouble and + expense. People grumbled enough at wasting money on books as it was, even + if they did buy them at half price. Still, others said it was a pity not + to get the money out of the Government when they had the chance. I don’t + believe any of them cared very much about the books, except father and a + few others. So the Government chose the books. They’ll do that if you + leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash they sent, if you take my word + for it. I believe they shoved off on us all the things no on else would + buy. Even when they did pick out novels, they were just as tough as the + history books. ‘Adam Bede’ is one. They say that’s a novel. I tried it, + but I would rather read the history of Josephus any day. There’s some + fighting in that, if it is a history. Then there’s any amount of biography + books. They’re no good. There’s a ‘History of Napoleon.’ Old Bartlett’s + got that, and he won’t give it up. He says he was taxed for the library + against his will. He dares them to go to law about it, and it aint worth + while for one book. The other sections are all asking for that book; not + that they want it, but the whole country knows that old Bartlett’s + a-holding on to it, so they’d like to see some fun. Bartlett’s read that + book fourteen times, and it’s all he knows. I tell Margaret she ought to + fine him, and keep on fining, but she won’t do it. I guess Bartlett thinks + the book belongs to him by this time. Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. + Bartlett,—so does everybody,—but old Bartlett’s a seed. There + he sits now on his veranda, and it’s a wonder he’s not reading the + ‘History of Napoleon.’” + </p> + <p> + They were passing the Bartlett house, and young Howard raised his voice + and called out: + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. This is changing day, + you know. Shall I come up for it, or will you bring it down? If you fetch + it to the gate, I’ll cart it home now.” + </p> + <p> + The old man paid no heed to what was said to him; but Mrs. Bartlett, + attracted by the outcry, came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “You go along with your books, you young rascal!” she cried, coming down + to the gate when she saw the professor. “That’s a nice way to carry bound + books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I’ll warrant you have lost a dozen + between Mallory’s and here. But easy come, easy go. It’s plain to be seen + they didn’t cost you anything. I don’t know what the world’s a-coming to + when the township spends its money in books, as if taxes weren’t heavy + enough already. Won’t you come in, Mr. Renmark? Tea’s on the table.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Renmark’s coming with me this trip, Mrs. Bartlett,” young Howard said + before the professor had time to reply; “but I’ll come over and take tea, + if you’ll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse up.” + </p> + <p> + “You go along with your nonsense,” she said; “I know you.” Then in a lower + voice she asked: “How is your mother, Henry—and Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “They’re pretty well, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them I’m going to run over to see them some day soon, but that need + not keep them from coming to see me. The old man’s going to town + to-morrow,” and with this hint, after again inviting the professor to a + meal, she departed up the path to the house. + </p> + <p> + “I think I’ll get down here,” said Renmark, halfway between the two + houses. “I am very much obliged to you for the ride, and also for what you + told me about the books. It was very interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried young Howard; “I’m not going to let you do anything of + the sort. You’re coming home with me. You want to see the books, don’t + you? Very well, then, come along, Margaret is always impatient on changing + day, she’s so anxious to see the books, and father generally comes in + early from the fields for the same reason.” + </p> + <p> + As they approached the Howard homestead they noticed Margaret waiting for + them at the gate; but when the girl saw that a stranger was in the wagon, + she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, seeing this retreat, + regretted he had not accepted Mrs. Bartlett’s invitation. He was a + sensitive man, and did not realize that others were sometimes as shy as + himself. He felt he was intruding, and that at a sacred moment—the + moment of the arrival of the library. He was such a lover of books, and + valued so highly the privilege of being alone with them, that he fancied + he saw in the abrupt departure of Margaret the same feeling of resentment + he would himself have experienced if a visitor had encroached upon him in + his favorite nook in the fine room that held the library of the + university. + </p> + <p> + When the wagon stopped in the lane, Renmark said hesitatingly: + </p> + <p> + “I think I’ll not stay, if you don’t mind. My friend is waiting for me at + the camp, and will be wondering what has become of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he never bothers about anybody else + as long as he is comfortable himself. That’s how I sized him up, at any + rate. Besides, you’re never going back on carrying in the books, are you? + I counted on your help. I don’t want to do it, and it don’t seem the + square thing to let Margaret do it all alone; does it, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can. Besides, I know my father wants to see you, anyhow. + Don’t you, father?” + </p> + <p> + The old man was coming round from the back of the house to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark when Margaret told you what + Yates had said to her about him.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many people had made him the + subject of conversation, rather suspecting at the same time that the boy + was making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very pleased to see you. Yes, + as Henry was saying, I have been wanting to see you ever since my daughter + spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that his brother is a pupil of + yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! is Arthur Howard your son?” cried Renmark, warming up at once. “I did + not know it. There are many young men at the college, and I have but the + vaguest idea from what parts of the country they all come. A teacher + should have no favorites, but I must confess to a strong liking for your + son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said about every member of my + class.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur was always studious, so we thought we would give him a chance. I + am glad to hear he behaves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, and + I hope my boys will have an easier time than I had. But come in, come in. + The missus and Margaret will be glad to see you, and hear how the boy is + coming on with his studies.” + </p> + <p> + So they went in together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + “Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that would fetch + you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!” + </p> + <p> + Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thought the + forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected his wits he + saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashing through the + woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by a strap attached + to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still resounded in the depths of + the woods, and rang in Yates’ ears as he pulled himself together. + </p> + <p> + “Did you—ah—make any remarks?” asked Yates quietly. + </p> + <p> + The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I say, don’t you know that it’s not healthy to go to sleep in the middle + of the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I can stand + it, if the middle of the day can. I’ve a strong constitution. Now, what do + you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man’s bedroom in that reckless + fashion?” + </p> + <p> + The boy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for I saw + the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Where was he going?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged if I know, and he didn’t look as if he knew himself. He’s a queer + fish, aint he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is. Everybody can’t be as sensible and handsome as we are, you know. + Where are you going with those horses, young man?” + </p> + <p> + “To get them shod. Won’t you come along? You can ride the horse I’m on. + It’s got a bridle. I’ll ride the one with the halter.” + </p> + <p> + “How far away is the blacksmith’s shop?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Yates, “there’s merit in the idea. I take it your generous + offer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of one of + those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kick or + buck, or playfully roll over a person?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried, young Bartlett indignantly. “This is no circus. Why, a baby + could ride this horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I’m a trifle out + of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, and I + haven’t been on one of them for a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you set your + mind to.” + </p> + <p> + Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, so + he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on the horse with + both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slipped to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “Wait till I throw down the fence,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two went trotting down the + road. He managed to hold his place with some little uncertainty, but the + joggling up and down worried him. He never seemed to alight in quite the + same place on the horse’s back, and this gave an element of chance to his + position which embarrassed him. He expected to come down some time and + find the horse wasn’t there. The boy laughed at his riding, but Yates was + too much engaged in keeping his position to mind that very much. + </p> + <p> + “D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that’s what’s the + m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me.” His conversation seemed to be shaken out of + him by the trotting of the horse. “I say, Bartlett, I can’t stand this any + longer. I’d rather walk.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right,” said the boy; “we’ll make him canter.” + </p> + <p> + He struck the horse over the flank with the loose end of the halter rein. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and grasping the mane. “Don’t + make him go faster, you young fiend. I’ll murder you when I get off—and + that will be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right,” repeated young Bartlett, and, much to his + astonishment, Yates found it to be so. When the horse broke into a canter, + Yates thought the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, and as soothing + as a rocking chair. + </p> + <p> + “This is an improvement. But we’ve got to keep it up, for if this brute + suddenly changes to a trot, I’m done for.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll keep it up until we come in sight of the Corners, then we’ll slow + down to a walk. There’s sure to be a lot of fellows at the blacksmith’s + shop, so we’ll come in on them easy like.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re a good fellow, Bartlett,” said Yates. “I suspected you of tricks + at first. I’m afraid, if I had got another chap in such a fix, I wouldn’t + have let him off as easily as you have me. The temptation would have been + too great.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the blacksmith’s shop at the Corners, they found four + horses in the building ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, and + then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of the smithy. The shop + was built of rough boards, and the inside was blackened with soot. It was + not well lighted, the two windows being obscured with much smoke, so that + they were useless as far as their original purpose was concerned; but the + doorway, as wide as that of a barn, allowed all the light to come in that + the smith needed for his work. At the far end and darkest corner of the + place stood the forge, with the large bellows behind it, concealed, for + the most part, by the chimney. The forge was perhaps six feet square and + three or four feet high, built of plank and filled in with earth. The top + was covered with cinders and coal, while in the center glowed the red core + of the fire, with blue flames hovering over it. The man who worked the + bellows chewed tobacco, and now and then projected the juice with deadly + accuracy right into the center of the fire, where it made a momentary hiss + and dark spot. All the frequenters of the smithy admired Sandy’s skill in + expectoration, and many tried in vain to emulate it. The envious said it + was due to the peculiar formation of his front teeth, the upper row being + prominent, and the two middle teeth set far apart, as if one were missing. + But this was jealousy; Sandy’s perfection in the art was due to no + favoritism of nature, but to constant and long-continued practice. + Occasionally with his callous right hand, never removing his left from the + lever, Sandy pulled an iron bar out of the fire and examined it + critically. The incandescent end of the bar radiated a blinding white + light when it was gently withdrawn, and illuminated the man’s head, making + his beardless face look, against its dark background, like the smudged + countenance of some cynical demon glowing with a fire from within. The end + of the bar which he held must have been very hot to an ordinary mortal, as + everyone in the shop knew, all of them, at their initiation to the country + club, having been handed a black piece of iron from Sandy’s hand, which he + held unflinchingly, but which the innocent receiver usually dropped with a + yell. This was Sandy’s favorite joke, and made life worth living for him. + It was perhaps not so good as the blacksmith’s own bit of humor, but + public opinion was divided on that point. Every great man has his own + particular set of admirers; and there were some who said,—under + their breaths, of course,—that Sandy could turn a horseshoe as well + as Macdonald himself. Experts, however, while admitting Sandy’s general + genius, did not go so far as this. + </p> + <p> + About half a dozen members of the club were present, and most of them + stood leaning against something with hands deep in their trousers pockets; + one was sitting on the blacksmith’s bench, with his legs dangling down. On + the bench tools were scattered around so thickly that he had had to clear + a place before he could sit down; the taking of this liberty proved the + man to be an old and privileged member. He sat there whittling a stick, + aimlessly bringing it to a fine point, examining it frequently with a + critical air, as if he were engaged in some delicate operation which + required great discrimination. + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to one of the horses, the + hind hoof of the animal, between his knees, resting on his leathern apron. + The horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, not liking what + was going on. Macdonald swore at it fluently, and requested it to stand + still, holding the foot as firmly as if it were in his own iron vise, + which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With his right hand he + held a hot horseshoe, attached to an iron punch that had been driven into + one of the nail holes, and this he pressed against the upraised hoof, as + though sealing a document with a gigantic seal. Smoke and flame rose from + the contact of the hot iron with the hoof, and the air was filled with the + not unpleasant odor of burning horn. The smith’s tool box, with hammer, + pinchers, and nails, lay on the earthern floor within easy reach. The + sweat poured from his grimy brow; for it was a hot job, and Macdonald was + in the habit of making the most of his work. He was called the hardest + working man in that part of the country, and he was proud of the + designation. He was a standing reproach to the loafers who frequented his + shop, and that fact gave him pleasure in their company. Besides, a man + must have an audience when he is an expert in swearing. Macdonald’s + profanity was largely automatic,—a natural gift, as it were,—and + he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when you got him fighting angry, he + always forgot to swear; but in his calm moments oaths rolled easily and + picturesquely from his lips, and gave fluency to his conversation. + Macdonald enjoyed the reputation round about of being a wicked man, which + he was not; his language was against him, that was all. This reputation + had a misty halo thrown around it by Macdonald’s unknown doings “down + East,” from which mystical region he had come. No one knew just what + Macdonald had done, but it was admitted on all sides that he must have had + some terrible experiences, although he was still a young man and + unmarried. He used to say: “When you have come through what I have, you + won’t be so ready to pick a quarrel with a man.” + </p> + <p> + This must have meant something significant, but the blacksmith never took + anyone into his confidence; and “down East” is a vague place, a sort of + indefinite, unlocalized no-man’s-land, situated anywhere between Toronto + and Quebec. Almost anything might have happened in such a space of + country. Macdonald’s favorite way of crushing an opponent was to say: + “When you’ve had some of my experiences, young man, you’ll know better’n + to talk like that.” All this gave a certain fascination to friendship with + the blacksmith; and the farmers’ boys felt that they were playing with + fire when in his company, getting, as it were, a glimpse of the dangerous + side of life. As for work, the blacksmith reveled in it, and made it + practically his only vice. He did everything with full steam on, and was, + as has been said, a constant reproach to loafers all over the country. + When there was no work to do, he made work. When there was work to do, he + did it with a rush, sweeping the sweat from his grimy brow with his hooked + fore finger, and flecking it to the floor with a flirt of the right hand, + loose on the wrist, in a way that made his thumb and fore finger snap + together like the crack of a whip. This action was always accompanied with + a long-drawn breath, almost a sigh, that seemed to say: “I wish I had the + easy times you fellows have.” In fact, since he came to the neighborhood + the current phrase, “He works like a steer” had given way to, “He works + like Macdonald,” except with the older people, who find it hard to change + phrases. Yet everyone liked the blacksmith, and took no special offense at + his untiring industry, looking at it rather as an example to others. + </p> + <p> + He did not look up as the two newcomers entered, but industriously pared + down the hoof with a curiously formed knife turned like a hook at the + point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, and rasped the hoof + into shape with a long, broad file. Not till he let the foot drop on the + earthen floor, and slapped the impatient horse on the flank, did he deign + to answer young Bartlett’s inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, wringing the perspiration from his forehead, “all these + horses aint ahead of you, and you won’t need to come next week. That’s the + last hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to my shop and go away + again, while the breath of life is left in me. And I don’t do it, either, + by sitting on a bench and whittling a stick.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so. That’s so,” said Sandy, chuckling, in the admiring tone of one + who intimated that, when the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. “That’s one + on you, Sam.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I can stand it, if he can,” said the whittler from the bench; + which was considered fair repartee. + </p> + <p> + “Sit it, you mean,” said young Bartlett, laughing with the others at his + own joke. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the blacksmith severely, “we’re out of shoes, and you’ll have + to wait till we turn some, that is, if you don’t want the old ones reset. + Are they good enough?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so, if you can find ‘em; but they’re out in the fields. Didn’t + think I’d bring the horses in while they held on, did you?” Then, suddenly + remembering his duties, he said by, way of general introduction: + “Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Yates from New York.” + </p> + <p> + The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the high spirits of the + crowd. They had imagined from the cut of his clothes that he was a + storekeeper from some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, + these two occupations being the highest social position to which a man + might attain. They were prepared to hear that he was from Welland, or + perhaps St. Catherines; but New York! that was a crusher. Macdonald, + however, was not a man to be put down in his own shop and before his own + admirers. He was not going to let his prestige slip from him merely + because a man from New York had happened along. He could not claim to know + the city, for the stranger would quickly detect the imposture and probably + expose him; but the slightly superior air which Yates wore irritated him, + while it abashed the others. Even Sandy was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve met some people from New York down East,” he said in an offhand + manner, as if, after all, a man might meet a New Yorker and still not sink + into the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Yates. “I hope you liked them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so-so,” replied the blacksmith airily. “There’s good and bad among + them, like the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you noticed that,” said Yates. “Well, I’ve often thought the same + myself. It’s a safe remark to make; there is generally no disputing it.” + </p> + <p> + The condescending air of the New Yorker was maddening, and Macdonald + realized that he was losing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates’ tone was + so exasperating to the blacksmith that he felt any language at his + disposal inadequate to cope with it. The time for the practical joke had + arrived. The conceit of this man must be taken down. He would try Sandy’s + method, and, if that failed, it would at least draw attention from himself + to his helper. + </p> + <p> + “Being as you’re from New York, maybe you can decide a little bet Sandy + here wants to have with somebody.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar that always lay near + enough the fire to be uncomfortably warm. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you reckon that weighs?” he said, with critical nicety + estimating its ounces in his swaying hand. Sandy had never done it better. + There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, unsophisticated + countenance, and the crowd looked on in breathless suspense. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett was about to step forward and save his friend, but a wicked glare + from Macdonald restrained him; besides, he felt, somehow, that his + sympathies were with his neighbors, and not with the stranger he had + brought among them. He thought resentfully that Yates might have been less + high and mighty. In fact, when he asked him to come he had imagined his + brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would reflect glory on himself. + Now he fancied he was included in the general scorn Yates took such little + pains to conceal. + </p> + <p> + Yates glanced at the piece of iron and, without taking his hands from his + pockets, said carelessly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Heft it,” said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out to him. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” replied Yates, with a smile. “Do you think I have never + picked up a hot horseshoe before? If you are anxious to know its weight, + why don’t you take it over to the grocery store and have it weighed?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Taint hot,” said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and flung the iron back on + the forge. “If it was, I couldn’t have held it s’long.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” returned Yates, with a grin, “of course not. I don’t know what a + blacksmith’s hands are, do I? Try something fresh.” + </p> + <p> + Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him among his crowd, for they all + evidently felt as much involved in the failure of Sandy’s trick as he did + himself; but he was sure that in future some man, hard pushed in argument, + would fling the New Yorker at him. In the crisis he showed the instinct of + a Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boys,” he cried, “fun’s fun, but I’ve got to work. I have to earn + my living, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Yates enjoyed his victory; they wouldn’t try “getting at” him again, he + said to himself. + </p> + <p> + Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the bar of white-hot iron. He + gave a scarcely perceptible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready with tobacco + juice, spat with great directness on the top of the anvil. Macdonald + placed the hot iron on the spot, and quickly smote it a stalwart blow with + the heavy hammer. The result was appalling. An instantaneous spreading fan + of apparently molten iron lit up the place as if it were a flash of + lightning. There was a crash like the bursting of a cannon. The shop was + filled for a moment with a shower of brilliant sparks, that flew like + meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone was prepared for the + explosion except Yates. He sprang back with a cry, tripped, and, without + having time to get the use of his hands to ease his fall, tumbled and + rolled to the horses’ heels. The animals, frightened by the report, + stamped around; and Yates had to hustle on his hands and knees to safer + quarters, exhibiting more celerity than dignity. The blacksmith never + smiled, but everyone else roared. The reputation of the country was safe. + Sandy doubled himself up in his boisterous mirth. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no one like the old man!” he shouted. “Oh, lordy! lordy! He’s all + wool, and a yard wide.” + </p> + <p> + Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, laughing with the rest of + them. + </p> + <p> + “If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten it. That’s one on me, + as this youth in spasms said a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I’ll treat + the crowd, if there’s a place handy.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + People who have but a superficial knowledge of the life and times here set + down may possibly claim that the grocery store, and not the blacksmith’s + shop, used to be the real country club—the place where the politics + of the country were discussed; where the doings of great men were + commended or condemned, and the government criticised. It is true that the + grocery store was the club of the village, when a place like the Corners + grew to be a village; but the blacksmith’s shop was usually the first + building erected on the spot where a village was ultimately to stand. It + was the nucleus. As a place grew, and enervating luxury set in, the + grocery store slowly supplanted the blacksmith’s shop, because people + found a nail keg, or a box of crackers, more comfortable to sit on than + the limited seats at their disposal in a smithy; moreover, in winter the + store, with its red-hot box stove, was a place of warmth and joy, but the + reveling in such an atmosphere of comfort meant that the members of the + club had to live close at hand, for no man would brave the storms of a + Canadian winter night, and journey a mile or two through the snow, to + enjoy even the pleasures of the store. So the grocery was essentially a + village club, and not a rural club. + </p> + <p> + Of course, as civilization advanced, the blacksmith found it impossible to + compete with the grocer. He could not offer the same inducements. The + grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the grateful epicurism of + the Athenaeum, the Reform, or the Carlton. It catered to the appetite of + man, besides supplying him with the intellectual stimulus of debate. A box + of soda crackers was generally open, and, although such biscuits were + always dry, they were good to munch, if consumed slowly. The barrel of + hazel nuts never had a lid on. The raisins, in their square box, with + blue-tinted paper, setting forth the word “Malaga” under the colored + picture of joyous Spanish grape pickers, stood on the shelves behind the + counter, at an angle suited to display the contents to all comers, + requiring an exceptionally long reach, and more than an ordinary amount of + cheek, before they were got at; but the barrel of Muscavado brown sugar + was where everyone could dip his hand in; while the man on the keg of + tenpenny nails might extend his arm over into the display window, where + the highly colored candies exhibited themselves, although the person who + meddled often with them was frowned upon, for it was etiquette in the club + not to purloin things which were expensive. The grocer himself drew the + line at the candies, and a second helping usually brought forth the mild + reproof: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I charge that, Sam; or would you rather pay for it now?” + </p> + <p> + All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat surreptitious way, and the + takers generally wore an absent-minded look, as if the purloining was not + quite intentional on their part. But they were all good customers of the + grocer, and the abstractions were doubtless looked on by him as being in + the way of trade; just as the giving of a present with a pound of tea, or + a watch with a suit of clothes, became in later days. Be that as it may, + he never said anything unless his generosity was taken advantage of, which + was rarely the case. + </p> + <p> + Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious feast, that helped to + lighten the shelves and burden the till. This ordinarily took the form of + a splurge in cove oysters. Cove oysters came from Baltimore, of course, in + round tins; they were introduced into Canada long before the square tin + boxes that now come in winter from the same bivalvular city. Cove oysters + were partly cooked before being tinned, so that they would, as the + advertisements say, keep in any climate. They did not require ice around + them, as do the square tins which now contain the raw oysters. Someone + present would say: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with having a feed of cove oysters?” + </p> + <p> + He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so from each member, and + the whole was expended in several cans of oysters and a few pounds of + crackers. The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top of the hot stove. + The contents of the cans were emptied into this handy dish, milk was + added, and broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency to the + result. There were always plenty of plates, for the store supplied the + crockery of the neighborhood. There were also plenty of spoons, for + everything was to be had at the grocery. What more could the most exacting + man need? On a particularly reckless night the feast ended with several + tins of peaches, which needed no cooking, but only a sprinkling of sugar. + The grocer was always an expert at cooking cove oysters and at opening + tins of peaches. + </p> + <p> + There was a general feeling among the members that, by indulging in these + banquets, they were going the pace rather; and some of the older heads + feebly protested against the indulgence of the times, but it was noticed + that they never refrained from doing their share when it came to spoon + work. + </p> + <p> + “A man has but one life to live,” the younger and more reckless would say, + as if that excused the extravagance; for a member rarely got away without + being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when they had peaches as + well as oysters. + </p> + <p> + The grocery at the Corners had been but recently established and as yet + the blacksmith’s shop had not looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald was + monarch of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favorite gathering place + for miles around. The smithy was also the patriotic center of the + district, as a blacksmith’s shop must be as long as anvils can take the + place of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th of May, the queen’s + birthday, celebrated locally as the only day in the year, except Sundays, + when Macdonald’s face was clean and when he did no work, the firing of the + anvils aroused the echoes of the locality. On that great day the grocer + supplied the powder, which was worth three York shillings a pound—a + York shilling being sixpence halfpenny. It took two men to carry an anvil, + with a good deal of grunting; but Macdonald, if the crowd were big enough, + made nothing of picking it up, hoisting it on his shoulder, and flinging + it down on the green in front of his shop. In the iron mass there is a + square hole, and when the anvil was placed upside down, the hole was + uppermost. It was filled with powder, and a wooden plug, with a notch cut + in it, was pounded in with a sledge hammer. Powder was sprinkled from the + notch over the surface of the anvil, and then the crowd stood back and + held its breath. It was a most exciting moment. Macdonald would come + running out of the shop bareheaded, holding a long iron bar, the wavering, + red-hot end of which descended on the anvil, while the blacksmith shouted + in a terrifying voice: “Look out, there!” The loose powder hissed and spat + for a moment, then bang went the cannon, and a great cloud of smoke rolled + upward, while the rousing cheers came echoing back from the surrounding + forests. The helper, with the powder-horn, would spring to the anvil and + pour the black explosive into the hole, while another stood ready with + plug and hammer. The delicious scent of burned gunpowder filled the air, + and was inhaled by all the youngsters with satisfaction, for now they + realized what real war was. Thus the salutes were fired, and thus the + royal birthday was fittingly celebrated. + </p> + <p> + Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade was much brisker, as then a + plug was not needed. The hole in the lower anvil was filled with powder, + and the other anvil was placed over it. This was much quicker than + pounding in a plug, and had quite as striking and detonating an effect. + The upper anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain’s shot-laden frog, and fell + over on its side. The smoke rolled up as usual, and the report was equally + gratifying. + </p> + <p> + Yates learned all these things as he sat in the blacksmith’s shop, for + they were still in the month of May, and the smoke of the echoing anvils + had hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to tell him of the + glory of the day. One or two were good enough to express regret that he + had not been there to see. After the disaster which had overturned Yates + things had gone on very smoothly, and he had become one of the crowd, as + it were. The fact that he was originally a Canadian told in his favor, + although he had been contaminated by long residence in the States. + </p> + <p> + Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horseshoes from long rods of iron. + Usually an extended line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackened + scantling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing the shop + overhead, just under the roof. These were the work of Macdonald’s + comparatively leisure days, and they were ready to be fitted to the hoofs + of any horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion there had been + such a run on his stock that it was exhausted, a depletion the smith + seemed to regard as a reproach on himself, for he told Yates several times + that he often had as many as three dozen shoes up aloft for a rainy day. + </p> + <p> + When the sledge hammer work was to be done, one of those present stepped + forward and swung the heavy sledge, keeping stroke for stroke with + Macdonald’s one-handed hammer, all of which required a nice ear for time. + This assistance was supposed to be rendered by Sandy; but, as he remarked, + he was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his skill was at liberty to + do so. Sandy seemed to spend most of his time at the bellows, and when he + was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as he called him, he was + commending the expertness of the <i>pro tem.</i> amateur, the wielder of + the sledge. It was fun to the amateur, and it was an old thing with Sandy, + so he never protested against this interference with his duty, believing + in giving everyone a chance, especially when it came to swinging a heavy + hammer. The whole scene brought back to Yates the days of his youth, + especially when Macdonald, putting the finishing strokes to his shoe, let + his hammer periodically tinkle with musical clangor on the anvil, ringing + forth a tintinnabulation that chimed melodiously on the ear—a sort + of anvil-chorus accompaniment to his mechanical skill. He was a real + sleight-of-hand man, and the anvil was his orchestra. + </p> + <p> + Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural club. As the members + thawed out he found them all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, they + were appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently new to them, + and nothing puts a man into a genial frame of mind so quickly as an + attentive, sympathetic audience. Few men could tell a story better than + Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of interested hearers. He hated + to have to explain the points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what + story-teller does not? A cold and critical man like the professor froze + the spring of narration at its source. Besides, Renmark had an + objectionable habit of tracing the recital to its origin; it annoyed Yates + to tell a modern yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, or some other + prehistoric poacher on the good things men were to say, had forestalled + him by a thousand years or so. When a man is quick to see the point of + your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you are apt to form a high + opinion of his good sense, and to value his companionship. + </p> + <p> + When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, who was delighted at the + impression Yates had made, was preparing to go, the whole company + protested against the New Yorker’s departure. This was real flattery. + </p> + <p> + “What’s your hurry, Bartlett?” asked the whittler. “You can’t do anything + this afternoon, if you do go home. It’s a poor time this to mend a bad + day’s work. If you stay, he’ll stay; won’t you, Mr. Yates? Macdonald is + going to set tires, and he needs us all to look on and see that he does it + right; don’t you, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I get a lot of help from you while there’s a stick to whittle,” + replied the smith. + </p> + <p> + “Then there’s the protracted meeting to-night at the schoolhouse,” put in + another, anxious that all the attractions of the place should be brought + forward. + </p> + <p> + “That’s so,” said the whittler; “I had forgotten about that. It’s the + first night, so we must all be there to encourage old Benderson. You’ll be + on hand to-night, won’t you, Macdonald?” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to Sandy and asked him savagely + what in —— and —-nation he was standing gawking there + for. Why didn’t he go outside and get things ready for the tire setting? + What in thunder was he paying him for, anyhow? Wasn’t there enough loafers + round, without him joining the ranks? + </p> + <p> + Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when the smith’s back was + turned, he shrugged his shoulders, took a fresh bite of tobacco from the + plug which he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others as he did + so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out of the shop, saying in a whisper + as he passed the whittler: + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t rile the old man, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + The club then adjourned to the outside, all except those who sat on the + bench. Yates asked: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with Macdonald? Doesn’t he like protracted meetings? + And, by the way, what are protracted meetings?” + </p> + <p> + “They’re revival meetings—religious meetings, you know, for + converting sinners.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Yates. “But why protracted? Are they kept on for a week or + two?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I suppose that’s why, although, to tell the truth, I never knew the + reason for the name. Protracted meetings always stood for just the same + thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as meaning that one thing, + without thinking why.” + </p> + <p> + “And doesn’t Macdonald like them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, it’s like this: He never wants to go to a protracted + meeting, yet he can’t keep away. He’s like a drunkard and the corner + tavern. He can’t pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. + Macdonald’s always the first one to go up to the penitent bench. They rake + him in every time. He has religion real bad for a couple of weeks, and + then he backslides. He doesn’t seem able to stand either the converting or + the backsliding. I suppose some time they will gather him in finally, and + he will stick and become a class leader, but he hasn’t stuck up to date.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he doesn’t like to hear the subject spoken of?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet he don’t. It isn’t safe to twit him about it either. To tell the + truth, I was pleased when I heard him swear at Sandy; then I knew it was + all right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad man to tackle when + he’s mad. There’s nobody in this district can handle him. I’d sooner get a + blow from a sledge hammer than meet Mac’s fist when his dander is up. But + so long as he swears it’s all right. Say, you’ll stay down for the + meeting, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I will. I’ll see what young Bartlett intends to do. It isn’t very + far to walk, in any case.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be lots of nice girls going your way to-night after the + meeting. I don’t know but I’ll jog along in that direction myself when + it’s over. That’s the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, and joined the crowd + outside. Young Bartlett sat on one of the horses, loath to leave while the + tire setting was going on. + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming, Yates?” he shouted, as his comrade appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I think I’ll stay for the meeting,” said Yates, approaching him and + patting the horse. He had no desire for mounting and riding away in the + presence of that critical assemblage. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said young Bartlett. “I guess I’ll be down at the meeting, + too; then I can show you the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” said Yates; “I’ll be on the lookout for you.” + </p> + <p> + Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of + dust. The others had also departed with their shod horses; but there were + several new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather than + diminished. They sat around on the fence, or on the logs dumped down by + the wayside. + </p> + <p> + Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was a convenient way of using the + weed, and required no matches, besides being safer for men who had to + frequent inflammable barns. + </p> + <p> + A circular fire burned in front of the shop, oak bark being the main fuel + used. Iron wagon tires lay hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald and + Sandy bustled about making preparations, their faces, more hideous in the + bright sunlight than in the comparative obscurity of the shop, giving them + the appearance of two evil spirits about to attend some incantation scene + of which the circular fire was the visible indication. Crosstrees, of four + pieces of squared timber, lay near the fire, with a tireless wheel placed + flat upon them, the hub in the square hole at the center. Shiftless + farmers always resisted having tires set until they would no longer stay + on the wheel. The inevitable day was postponed, time and again, by a + soaking of the wheels overnight in some convenient puddle of water; but as + the warmer and dryer weather approached this device, supplemented by + wooden wedges, no longer sufficed, and the tires had to be set for summer + work. Frequently the tire rolled off on the sandy highway, and the farmer + was reluctantly compelled to borrow a rail from the nearest fence, and + place it so as to support the axle; he then put the denuded wheel and its + tire on the wagon, and drove slowly to the nearest blacksmith’s shop, his + vehicle “trailing like a wounded duck,” the rail leaving a snake’s track + behind it on the dusty road. + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith had previously cut and welded the tire, reducing its + circumference, and when it was hot enough, he and Sandy, each with a pair + of tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It was pressed and + hammered down on the blazing rim of the wheel, and instantly Sandy and + Macdonald, with two pails of water that stood handy, poured the cold + liquid around the red-hot zone, enveloping themselves in clouds of steam, + the quick contraction clamping the iron on the wood until the joints + cracked together. There could be no loitering; quick work was necessary, + or a spoiled wheel was the result. Macdonald, alternately spluttering + through fire and steam, was in his element. Even Sandy had to be on the + keen jump, without a moment to call his plug of tobacco his own. Macdonald + fussed and fussed, but got through an immense amount of work in an + incredibly short space of time, cursing Sandy pretty much all the while; + yet that useful man never replied in kind, contenting himself with a wink + at the crowd when he got the chance, and saying under his breath: + </p> + <p> + “The old man’s in great fettle to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Thus everybody enjoyed himself: Macdonald, because he was the center + figure in a saturnalia of work; Sandy, because no matter how hard a man + has to work he can chew tobacco all the time; the crowd, because the + spectacle of fire, water, and steam was fine, and they didn’t have to do + anything but sit around and look on. The sun got lower and lower as, one + by one, the spectators departed to do their chores, and prepare for the + evening meeting. Yates at the invitation of the whittler went home with + him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret had never met any man but her father who was so fond of books as + Professor Renmark. The young fellows of her acquaintance read scarcely + anything but the weekly papers; they went with some care through the + yellow almanac that was given away free, with the grocer’s name printed on + the back. The marvelous cures the almanac recorded were of little + interest, and were chiefly read by the older folk, but the young men + reveled in the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, their only + drawback being that one could never tell the stories at a paring-bee or + other social gathering, because everyone in the company had read them. A + few of the young men came sheepishly round to get a book out of the + library, but it was evident that their interest was not so much in the + volume as in the librarian, and when that fact became apparent to the + girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought to be cold and proud by the + youth of the neighborhood, or “stuck-up,” as they expressed it. + </p> + <p> + To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revelation. He could talk of other + things than the weather, live stock, and the prospects for the crops. The + conversation at first did not include Margaret, but she listened to every + word of it with interest. Her father and mother were anxious to hear about + their boy; and from that engrossing subject the talk soon drifted to + university life, and the differences between city and country. At last the + farmer, with a sigh, arose to go. There is little time for pleasant talk + on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret, remembering her duties as + librarian, began to take in the books from the wagon to the front room. + Renmark, slow in most things, was quick enough to offer his assistance on + this occasion; but he reddened somewhat as he did so, for he was unused to + being a squire of dames. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would let me do the porterage,” he said. “I would like to earn + the right to look at these books sometimes, even though I may not have the + privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident of the township.” + </p> + <p> + “The librarian,” answered Margaret, with a smile, “seems to be at liberty + to use her own discretion in the matter of lending. No one has authority + to look over her accounts, or to censure her if she lends recklessly. So, + if you wish to borrow books, all you have to do is to ask for them.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure I shall avail myself of the permission. But my conscience + will be easier if I am allowed to carry them in.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be permitted to help. I like carrying them. There is no more + delicious armful than books.” + </p> + <p> + As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face radiant with enthusiasm, + the disconcerting thought came suddenly that perhaps her statement might + not be accurate. No such thought had ever suggested itself to him before, + and it now filled him with guilty confusion. He met the clear, honest gaze + of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered lamely: + </p> + <p> + “I—I too am very fond of books.” + </p> + <p> + Together they carried in the several hundred volumes, and then began to + arrange them. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no catalogue?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. We never seem to need one. People come and look over the library, and + take out whatever book they fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but still every library ought to be catalogued. Cataloguing is an + art in itself. I have paid a good deal of attention to it, and will show + you how it is done, if you care to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish you would.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you keep a record of the volumes that are out?” + </p> + <p> + “I just write the name of the person, the title, and the date in this + blank book. When the volume is returned, I score out the record.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Renmark dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “That isn’t right, is it? Is there a better way?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for a small library, that ought to do; but if you were handling + many books, I think confusion might result.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell me the right way. I should like to know, even if it is a small + library.” + </p> + <p> + “There are several methods, but I am by no means sure your way is not the + simplest, and therefore the best in this instance.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not going to be put off like that,” said Margaret, laughing. “A + collection of books is a collection of books, whether large or small, and + deserves respect and the best of treatment. Now, what method is used in + large libraries?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though slips of paper would do. + When any person wants to take out a book, let him make out a card, giving + the date and the name or number of the book; he then must sign the card, + and there you are. He cannot deny having had the book, for you have his + own signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a box according to + dates, and when a book is returned, you tear up the recording paper.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few hundred cards. We’ll have + them here in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t want to put you to that trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let us attack the + catalogue. Have you a blank book anywhere about? We will first make an + alphabetical list; then we will arrange them under the heads of history, + biography, fiction, and so on.” + </p> + <p> + Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue took a long time. Both + were absorbed in their occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straight and + narrow path, but in this instance there were so many delightful side + excursions that rapid progress could not be expected. To a reader the mere + mention of a book brings up recollections. Margaret was reading out the + names; Renmark, on slips of paper, each with a letter on it, was writing + them down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you that book?” he would say, looking up as a title was + mentioned. “Have you ever read it?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for, you see, this part of the library is all new to me. Why, here is + one of which the leaves are not even cut. No one has read it. Is it good?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the best,” Renmark would say, taking the volume. “Yes, I know this + edition. Let me read you one passage.” + </p> + <p> + And Margaret would sit in the rocking while he cut the leaves and found + the place. One extract was sure to suggest another, and time passed before + the title of the book found its way to the proper slip of paper. These + excursions into literature were most interesting to both excursionists, + but they interfered with cataloguing. Renmark read and read, ever and anon + stopping to explain some point, or quote what someone else had said on the + same subject, marking the place in the book, as he paused, with inserted + fore finger. Margaret swayed back and forth in the comfortable rocking + chair, and listened intently, her large dark eyes fixed upon him so + earnestly that now and then, when he met them, he seemed disconcerted for + a moment. But the girl did not notice this. At the end of one of his + dissertations she leaned her elbow on the arm of the chair, with her cheek + resting against her hand, and said: + </p> + <p> + “How very clear you make everything, Mr. Renmark.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” he said with a smile. “It’s my business, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s a shame that girls are not allowed to go to the university; + don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, and I am not quite + prepared to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think it most unfair. The university is supported by the + Government, is it not? Then why should half of the population be shut out + from its advantages?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid it wouldn’t do, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “There are many reasons,” he replied evasively. + </p> + <p> + “What are they? Do you think girls could not learn, or are not as capable + of hard study as well as——” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t that,” he interrupted; “there are plenty of girls’ schools in + the country, you know. Some very good ones in Toronto itself, for that + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why shouldn’t I go to the university with my brother? There are + plenty of boys’ schools, too, but the university is the university. I + suppose my father helps to support it. Why, then, should one child be + allowed to attend and the other not? It isn’t at all just.” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn’t do,” said the professor more firmly, the more he thought + about it. + </p> + <p> + “Would you take that as a satisfying reason from one or your students?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The phrase, ‘It wouldn’t do.’” + </p> + <p> + Renmark laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid not,” he said; “but, then, I’m very exacting in class. Now, if + you want to know, why do you not ask your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Father and I have discussed the question, often, and he quite agrees with + me in thinking it unfair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, does he?” said Renmark, taken aback; although, when he reflected, he + realized that the father doubtless knew as little about the dangers of the + city as the daughter did. + </p> + <p> + “And what does your mother say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper it is all that is + required. So you will have to give me a good reason, if there is one, for + nobody else in this house argues on your side of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, “if you don’t know by the + time you are twenty-five, I’ll promise to discuss the whole subject with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five?” she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity of youth: + “That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I’ll find out + before that time.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you will,” Renmark answered. + </p> + <p> + They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of her + brother. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, you two!” he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. “It seems + the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret rose with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “We are cataloguing,” she said severely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or is two + company when they’re cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it is?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I must be off,” said the professor, rising. “My companion in + camp won’t know what has become of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s all right!” said Henry. “He’s down at the Corners, and is going + to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a while ago; + he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went with him. I guess + Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, will you go to the + meeting? I’m going. Young Bartlett’s going, and so is Kitty. Won’t you + come, too, Mr. Renmark? It’s great fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk like that about a religious gathering, Henry,” said his + sister, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s what it is, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a prayer meeting?” asked the professor, looking at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “You bet it is!” cried Henry enthusiastically, giving no one a chance to + speak but himself. “It’s a prayer meeting, and every other kind of meeting + all rolled into one. It’s a revival meeting; a protracted meeting, that’s + what it is. You had better come with us, Mr. Renmark, and then you can see + what it is like. You can walk home with Yates.” + </p> + <p> + This attractive <i>dénouement</i> did not seem to appeal so strongly to + the professor as the boy expected, for he made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “You will come, sis; won’t you?” urged the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure Kitty is going?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she is. You don’t think she’d miss it, do you? They’ll soon be + here, too; better go and get ready.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll see what mother says,” replied Margaret as she left the room. She + shortly returned, dressed ready for the meeting, and the professor + concluded he would go also. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + Anyone passing the Corners that evening would have quickly seen that + something important was on. Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, drawn + in toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses were tied. Some had + evidently come from afar, for the fame of the revivalist was widespread. + The women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, which was + brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The men stood around outside in + groups, while many sat in rows on the fences, all conversing about every + conceivable topic except religion. They apparently acted on the theory + that there would be enough religion to satisfy the most exacting when they + went inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fence with the whittler, + whose guest he had been. It was getting too dark for satisfactory + whittling, so the man with the jack-knife improved the time by cutting + notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when this failed, there was + always a satisfaction in opening and shutting a knife that had a powerful + spring at the back of it, added to which was the pleasurable danger of + cutting his fingers. They were discussing the Fenian question, which at + that time was occupying the minds of Canadians to some extent. Yates was + telling them what he knew of the brotherhood in New York, and the strength + of it, which his auditors seemed inclined to underestimate. Nobody + believed that the Fenians would be so foolhardy as to attempt an invasion + of Canada; but Yates held that if they did they would give the Canadians + more trouble than was expected. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we’ll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come over here. They’ll be + glad enough to get back if he tackles them.” + </p> + <p> + “With his tongue,” added another. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said the whittler, “did young Bartlett say he was coming + to-night? I hope he’ll bring his sister if he does. Didn’t any of you + fellows ask him to bring her? He’d never think of it if he wasn’t told. He + has no consideration for the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you ask him? I hear you have taken to going in that direction + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Me?” asked the whittler, quite unconcerned. “I have no chance in + that quarter, especially when the old man’s around.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of singing from the schoolhouse. The double doors were + wide open, and as the light streamed out the people began to stream in. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Macdonald?” asked Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess he’s taken to the woods. He washes his face, and then he + hides. He has the sense to wash his face first, for he knows he will have + to come. You’ll see him back before they start the second hymn.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, boys!” said one, getting down from the fence and stretching his + arms above his head with a yawn, “I guess, if we’re going in, it’s about + time.” + </p> + <p> + One after another they got down from the fence, the whittler shutting his + knife with a reluctant snap, and putting it in his pocket with evident + regret. The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to its utmost + capacity—women on one side of the room, and men on the other; + although near the door there was no such division, all the occupants of + the back benches being men and boys. The congregation was standing, + singing a hymn, when Yates and his comrades entered, so their quiet + incoming was not noticed. The teacher’s desk had been moved from the + platform on which it usually stood, and now occupied a corner on the men’s + side of the house. It was used as a seat by two or three, who wished to be + near the front, and at the same time keep an eye on the rest of the + assemblage. The local preacher stood on the edge of the platform, beating + time gently with his hymn book, but not singing, as he had neither voice + nor ear for music, and happily recognized the fact. The singing was led by + a man in the middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + At the back of the platform, near the wall, were two chairs, on one of + which sat the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who was to conduct the revival. He was a + stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see his face, for it was + buried in his hands, his head being bowed in silent prayer. It was + generally understood that he had spent a youth of fearful wickedness, and + he always referred to himself as a brand snatched from the burning. It was + even hinted that at one time he had been a card player, but no one knew + this for a fact. Many of the local preachers had not the power of + exhortation, therefore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had that + gift abnormally developed, was too valuable to be localized; so he spent + the year going from place to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, or + frightening into the fold those stray sheep that hovered on the outskirts; + once they were within the religious ring-fence the local minister was + supposed to keep them there. The latter, who had given out the hymn, was a + man of very different caliber. He was tall, pale, and thin, and his long + black coat hung on him as if it were on a post. When the hymn was + finished; and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, found seats as + best they could at the end near the door. This was the portion of the hall + where the scoffers assembled, but it was also the portion which yielded + most fruit, if the revival happened to be a successful one. Yates, seeing + the place so full, and noticing two empty benches up at the front, asked + the whittler why they were not occupied. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll be occupied pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they being kept for?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. You never can tell. That’s + the penitents’ bench.” + </p> + <p> + The local preacher knelt on the platform, and offered up a prayer. He + asked the Lord to bless the efforts of the brother who was with them there + that night, and to crown his labors with success; through his + instrumentality to call many wandering sinners home. There were cries of + “Amen” and “Bless the Lord” from different parts of the hall as the prayer + was being made. On rising, another hymn was given out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. + Let earth receive her King.” + </pre> + <p> + The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune began high, and ran + down to the bottom of the scale by the time it reached the end of the + first line. When the congregation had got two-thirds of the way down, they + found they could go no farther, not even those who sang bass. The leader, + in some confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, and his miscalculation + was looked upon as exceedingly funny by the reckless spirits at the back + of the hall. The door opened quietly; and they all turned expecting to see + Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had washed his face with but + indifferent success, and the bulge in his cheek, like a wen, showed that + he had not abandoned tobacco on entering the schoolhouse. He tiptoed to a + place beside his friends. + </p> + <p> + “The old man’s outside,” he whispered to the youth who sat nearest him, + holding his hand to the side of his mouth so that the sound would not + travel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him in a friendly sort of + way. + </p> + <p> + The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went on, gradually recovering + from the misadventure at starting. When it was finished, the preacher sat + down beside the revivalist. His part of the work was done, as there was no + formal introduction of speaker to audience to be gone through. The other + remained as he was with bowed head, for what appeared to be a long time. + </p> + <p> + A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whisperings among the + scoffers ceased. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, arose, and came to the front + of the platform. He had a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, with the + heavy jaw of a stubborn man—a man not easily beaten. “Open the + door,” he said in a quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + In the last few meetings he had held he had found this an effective + beginning. It was new to his present audience. Usually a knot of people + stood outside, and if they were there, he made an appeal to them, through + the open door, to enter. If no one was there, he had a lesson to impart, + based on the silence and the darkness. In this instance it was hard to say + which was the more surprised, the revivalist or the congregation. Sandy, + being on his feet, stepped to the door, and threw it open. He was so + astonished at what he saw that he slid behind the open door out of sight. + Macdonald stood there, against the darkness beyond, in a crouching + attitude, as if about to spring. He had evidently been trying to see what + was going on through the keyhole; and, being taken unawares by the sudden + opening of the door, had not had time to recover himself. No retreat was + now possible. He stood up with haggard face, like a man who has been on a + spree, and, without a word, walked in. Those on the bench in front of + Yates moved together a little closer, and the blacksmith sat down on the + vacant space left at the outside. In his confusion he drew his hand across + his brow, and snapped his fingers loudly in the silence. A few faces at + the back wore a grin, and would have laughed had not Sandy, closing the + door quietly, given them one menacing look which quelled their merriment. + He was not going to have the “old man” made fun of in his extremity; and + they all had respect enough for Sandy’s fist not to run the risk of + encountering it after the meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to + be dreaded in a fight; but the chances were that for the next two or three + weeks, if the revival were a success, there would be no danger from that + quarter. Sandy, however, was permanently among the unconverted, and + therefore to be feared, as being always ready to stand up for his + employer, either with voice or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson + had witnessed suggested no remarks at the time, so, being a wise man, he + said nothing. The congregation wondered how he had known Macdonald was at + the door, and none more than Macdonald himself. It seemed to many that the + revivalist had a gift of divination denied to themselves, and this belief + left them in a frame of mind more than ever ready to profit by the + discourse they were about to hear. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that nevertheless penetrated to + every part of the room. He had a voice of peculiar quality, as sweet as + the tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music; now and then there + was a manly ring in it which thrilled his listeners. “A week ago + to-night,” he said, “at this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of one who + is now among the blessed. It is four years since he found salvation, by + the mercy of God, through the humble instrumentality of the least of his + servants. It was my blessed privilege to see that young man—that boy + almost—pledge his soul to Jesus. He was less than twenty when he + gave himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long life were as strong as the + hopes of the youngest here to-night. Yet he was struck down in the early + flush of manhood—struck down almost without warning. When I heard of + his brief illness, although knowing nothing of its seriousness, something + urged me to go to him, and at once. When I reached the house, they told me + that he had asked to see me, and that they had just sent a messenger to + the telegraph office with a dispatch for me. I said: ‘God telegraphed to + me.’ They took me to the bedside of my young friend, whom I had last seen + as hearty and strong as anyone here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with emotion, told the story of + the deathbed scene. His language was simple and touching, and it was + evident to the most callous auditor that he spoke from the heart, + describing in pathetic words the scene he had witnessed. His unadorned + eloquence went straight home to every listener, and many an eye dimmed as + he put before them a graphic picture of the serenity attending the end of + a well-spent life. + </p> + <p> + “As I came through among you to-night,” he continued, “as you stood + together in groups outside this building, I caught a chance expression + that one of you uttered. A man was speaking of some neighbor who, at this + busy season of the year, had been unable to get help. I think the one to + whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy man were here, and the + answer was: ‘No; he has not a minute to call his own.’ The phrase has + haunted me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. ‘Not a minute to call + his own!’ I thought of it as I sat before you. I thought of it as I rose + to address you. I think of it now. Who has a minute to call his own?” The + soft tones of the preacher’s voice had given place to a ringing cry that + echoed from the roof down on their heads. “Have you? Have I? Has any king, + any prince, any president, any ruler over men, a minute or a moment he can + call his own? Not one. Not one of all the teeming millions on this earth. + The minutes that are past are yours. What use have you made of them? All + your efforts, all your prayers, will not change the deeds done in any one + of those minutes that are past, and those only are yours. The chiseled + stone is not more fixed than are the deeds of the minutes that are past. + Their record is for you or against you. But where now are those minutes of + the future—those minutes that, from this time onward, you will be + able to call your own when they are spent? They are in the hand of God—in + his hand to give or to withhold. And who can count them in the hand of + God? Not you, not I, not the wisest man upon the earth. Man may number the + miles from here to the farthest visible star; but he cannot tell you,—<i>you</i>; + I don’t mean your neighbor, I mean <i>you</i>,—he cannot tell YOU + whether your minutes are to be one or a thousand. They are doled out to + you, and you are responsible for them. But there will come a moment,—it + may be to-night, it may be a year hence,—when the hand of God will + close, and you will have had your sum. Then time will end for you, and + eternity begin. Are you prepared for that awful moment—that moment + when the last is given you, and the next withheld? What if it came now? + Are you prepared for it? Are you ready to welcome it, as did our brother + who died at this hour one short week ago? His was not the only deathbed I + have attended. Some scenes have been so seared into my brain that I can + never forget them. A year ago I was called to the bedside of a dying man, + old in years and old in sin. Often had he been called, but he put Christ + away from him, saying: ‘At a more convenient season.’ He knew the path, + but he walked not therein. And when at last God’s patience ended, and this + man was stricken down, he, foolish to the last, called for me, the + servant, instead of to God, the Master. When I reached his side, the stamp + of death was on his face. The biting finger of agony had drawn lines upon + his haggard brow. A great fear was upon him, and he gripped my hand with + the cold grasp of death itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I + saw the angel of peace standing by the bed, but it stood aloof, as one + often offended. It seemed to me at the head of the bed the demon of + eternal darkness bent over, whispering to him: ‘It is too late! it is too + late!’ The dying man looked at me—oh, such a look! May you never be + called upon to witness its like. He gasped: ‘I have lived—I have + lived a sinful life. Is it too late?’ ‘No,’ I said, trembling. ‘Say you + believe.’ His lips moved, but no sound came. He died as he had lived. The + one necessary minute was withheld. Do you hear? <i>It—was—withheld!</i> + He had not the minute to call his own. Not that minute in which to turn + from everlasting damnation. He—went—down—into—<i>hell</i>, + dying as he had lived.” + </p> + <p> + The preacher’s voice rose until it sounded like a trumpet blast. His eyes + shone, and his face flushed with the fervor of his theme. Then followed, + as rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture of hell and the + day of judgment. Sobs and groans were heard in every part of the room. + “Come—now—<i>now</i>!” he cried, “Now is the appointed time, + now is the day of salvation. Come now; and as you rise pray God that in + his mercy he may spare you strength and life to reach the penitent bench.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching out his hands, he broke + forth, with his splendid tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, with its + spirited marching time: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Musical score: Come ye sinners, poor and needy, + Weak and wounded, sick and sore; + Jesus ready stands to save you. + Full of pity, love, and power.] +</pre> + <p> + The whole congregation joined him. Everyone knew the words and the tune. + It seemed a relief to the pent-up feelings to sing at the top of the + voice. The chorus rose like a triumphal march: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear name; + Glory, honour, and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] +</pre> + <p> + As the congregation sang the preacher in stentorian tones urged sinners to + seek the Lord while he was yet to be found. + </p> + <p> + Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he tugged at his collar, as + if he were choking. He could not understand the strange exaltation that + had come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. All those around him + were much moved. There were now no scoffers at the back of the room. Most + of them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at the other. It only + needed a beginning, and the penitent bench would be crowded. Many eyes + were turned on Macdonald. His face was livid, and great beads of + perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand clutched the back of the + seat before him, and the muscles stood out on the portion of his arm that + was bare. He stared like a hypnotized man at the preacher. His teeth were + set, and he breathed hard, as would a man engaged in a struggle. At last + the hand of the preacher seemed to be pointed directly at him. He rose + tremblingly to his feet and staggered down the aisle, flinging himself on + his knees, with his head on his arms, beside the penitent bench, groaning + aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Bless the Lord!” cried the preacher. + </p> + <p> + It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the aisle, with pale faces, many + with tears streaming from their eyes, walked the young men and the old. + Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on their lips, saw their + sons fall prostrate before the penitent bench. Soon the contrite had to + kneel wherever they could. The ringing salvation march filled the air, + mingled with cries of joy and devout ejaculations. + </p> + <p> + “God!” cried Yates, tearing off his collar, “what is the matter with me? I + never felt like this before. I must get into the open air.” + </p> + <p> + He made for the door, and escaped unnoticed in the excitement of the + moment. He stood for a time by the fence outside, breathing deeply of the + cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly to him. He clutched + the fence, fearing he was about to faint. Partially recovering himself at + last, he ran with all his might up the road, while there rang in his ears + the marching words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear Name. + Glory, honour and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + When people are thrown together, especially when they are young, the + mutual relationship existing between them rarely remains stationary. It + drifts toward like or dislike; and cases have been known where it + progressed into love or hatred. + </p> + <p> + Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became at least very firm friends. + Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. These two had a + good foundation on which to build up an acquaintance in the fact that + Margaret’s brother was a student in the university of which the professor + was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference, which, if it + leads not to heated argument, but is soberly discussed, lends itself even + more to the building of friendship than subjects of agreement. Margaret + held, as has been indicated in a previous chapter, that the university was + wrong in closing its doors to women. Renmark, up to the time of their + first conversation on the subject, had given the matter but little + thought; yet he developed an opinion contrary to that of Margaret, and was + too honest a man, or too little of a diplomatist, to conceal it. On one + occasion Yates had been present, and he threw himself, with the energy + that distinguished him, into the woman side of the question—cordially + agreeing with Margaret, citing instances, and holding those who were + against the admission of women up to ridicule, taunting them with fear of + feminine competition. Margaret became silent as the champion of her cause + waxed the more eloquent; but whether she liked Richard Yates the better + for his championship who that is not versed in the ways of women can say? + As the hope of winning her regard was the sole basis of Yates’ + uncompromising views on the subject, it is likely that he was successful, + for his experiences with the sex were large and varied. Margaret was + certainly attracted toward Renmark, whose deep scholarship even his + excessive self-depreciation could not entirely conceal; and he, in turn, + had naturally a schoolmaster’s enthusiasm over a pupil who so earnestly + desired advancement in knowledge. Had he described his feelings to Yates, + who was an expert in many matters, he would perhaps have learned that he + was in love; but Renmark was a reticent man, not much given either to + introspection or to being lavish with his confidences. As to Margaret, who + can plummet the depth of a young girl’s regard until she herself gives + some indication? All that one is able to record is that she was kinder to + Yates than she had been at the beginning. + </p> + <p> + Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had a sincere + liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fell into the + error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, whereas she was + merely a girl who had an inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and one who + took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even Yates made + a slight mistake regarding her on one occasion, when they were having an + evening walk together, with that freedom from chaperonage which is the + birthright of every American girl, whether she belongs to a farmhouse or + to the palace of a millionaire. + </p> + <p> + In describing the incident afterward to Renmark, (for Yates had nothing of + his comrade’s reserve in these matters) he said: + </p> + <p> + “She left a diagram of her four fingers on my cheek that felt like one of + those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap of a + lady’s fan in admonition, but never in my life have I met a gentle reproof + that felt so much like a censure from the paw of our friend Tom Sayers.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark said with some severity that he hoped Yates would not forget that + he was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>that’s</i> all right,” said Yates. “If you have any spare sympathy + to bestow, keep it for me. My neighbors are amply able, and more than + willing, to take care of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + And now as to Richard Yates himself. One would imagine that here, at + least, a conscientious relater of events would have an easy task. Alas! + such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all odds the + most complex and bewildering of the four. He was deeply and truly in love + with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare as a young + man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make her believe. Cases + have been known where a chance meeting with one girl, and not with + another, has settled who was to be a young man’s companion during a long + life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and made no + secret of his perplexity to his friend. He complained sometimes that he + got little help toward the solution of the problem, but generally he was + quite content to sit under the trees with Renmark and weigh the different + advantages of each of the girls. He sometimes appealed to his friend, as a + man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing an education that + extended far into conic sections and algebraic formulae, to balance up the + lists, and give him a candid and statistical opinion as to which of the + two he should favor with serious proposals. When these appeals for help + were coldly received, he accused his friend of lack of sympathy with his + dilemma, said that he was a soulless man, and that if he had a heart it + had become incrusted with the useless <i>debris</i> of a higher education, + and swore to confide in him no more. He would search for a friend, he + said, who had something human about him. The search for the sympathetic + friend, however, seemed to be unsuccessful; for Yates always returned to + Renmark, to have, as he remarked, ice water dashed upon his duplex-burning + passion. + </p> + <p> + It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of May, 1866, and Yates was + swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under his head, + gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through the green + branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend was + unromantically peeling potatoes near the door of the tent. + </p> + <p> + “The human heart, Renny,” said the man in the hammock reflectively, “is a + remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume, from your lack + of interest, that you haven’t given the subject much study, except, + perhaps, in a physiological way. At the present moment it is to me the + only theme worthy of a man’s entire attention. Perhaps that is the result + of spring, as the poet says; but, anyhow, it presents new aspects to me + each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery: that the girl I am + with last seems to me the most desirable. That is contrary to the + observation of philosophers of bygone days. Absence makes the heart grow + fonder, <i>they</i> say. I don’t find it so. Presence is what plays the + very deuce with me. Now, how do you account for it, Stilly?” + </p> + <p> + The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attended to + the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky, and fixed them + on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Renmark,” he drawled at last, “I am convinced that your treatment of + the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled the day + before, and left to soak in cold water until to-morrow’s dinner. Of course + I admire the industry that gets work well over before its results are + called for. Nothing is more annoying than work left untouched until the + last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtue may be carried to + excess, and a man may be too previous.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. You may + perhaps remember that for two days I have been doing your share as well as + my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am not complaining about <i>that</i>, at all,” said the hammock + magnanimously. “You are acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will be + of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My only + desire is that your education should be as complete as possible, and to + this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire for scullery + work. I should suggest that, instead of going to the trouble of entirely + removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way, you should + merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. Then, rather than + cook the potatoes in the slow and soggy manner that seems to delight you, + you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the water. The + remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting potato would be + white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the condition of a wet + sponge.” + </p> + <p> + “The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you are not + satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practical object + lesson.” + </p> + <p> + The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the + cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should demean + himself by attending to the prosaic details of household affairs. I am + doubly in love, and much more, therefore, as that old bore Euclid used to + say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, then; don’t criticise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in your curt suggestion. A + man who is unable, or unwilling, to work in the vineyard should not find + fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time of asking, + add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like the good + fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To which of + those two charming, but totally unlike, girls would you give the + preference?” + </p> + <p> + “Damn!” said the professor quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Renny!” cried Yates, raising his head. “Have you cut your finger? + I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife.” + </p> + <p> + But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word given above + is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemed to lose + all relationship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, and, in a + certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself for using it, but + there had been moments during the past few days when the ordinary + expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematics did not fit + the occasion. + </p> + <p> + Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadway near + them. + </p> + <p> + “Is Richard Yates there?” hailed the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Who wants him?” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tired + horse, tied the animal to a sapling,—which, judging by the horse’s + condition, was an entirely unnecessary operation,—jumped over the + rail fence, and approached through the woods. The young men saw, coming + toward them, a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. + </p> + <p> + “I’m Yates. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the lad, “I’ve had a hunt and a half for you. Here’s a + telegram.” + </p> + <p> + “How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York a pile + of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woods without + leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow.” The young man looked + at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good or bad + according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates took the + yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, without opening it, + repeated his question: + </p> + <p> + “But how on earth did you find me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it wasn’t easy;” said the boy. “My horse is about done out. I’m + from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no + expense; and we haven’t. There are seven other fellows scouring the + country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more have + gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other messenger + has been here before me, has he?” asked the boy with a touch of anxiety in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “No; you are the first.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad of that. I’ve been ‘most all over Canada. I got on your trail + about two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you + were up here. Is there any answer?” + </p> + <p> + Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read it with a + deepening frown. It was to this effect: + </p> + <p> + “Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get there + as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. General + O’Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you every facility when + you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they will report to you. Place + one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold the telegraph wire, and + send over all the stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for cash you need; + and don’t spare expense.” + </p> + <p> + When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line of + language that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admiration of + the Buffalo telegraph boy. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens and earth and the lower regions! I’m here on my vacation. I’m not + going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn’t those + fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don’t know when they’re well + off. The Fenians be hanged!” + </p> + <p> + “Guess that’s what they will be,” said the telegraph boy. “Any answer, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Tell ‘em you couldn’t find me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t expect the boy to tell a lie,” said the professor, speaking for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t mind a lie!” exclaimed the boy, “but not that one. No, sir. + I’ve had too much trouble finding you. I’m not going to pretend I’m no + good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I’ll tell any other + lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it will oblige you.” + </p> + <p> + Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip his + fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and he + at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of the fruits + of his enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “that won’t do. No; you have found me, and you’re a young + fellow who will be president of the telegraph company some day, or perhaps + hold the less important office of the United States presidency. Who knows? + Have you a telegraph blank?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet + by his side. Yates took the paper, and flung himself down under the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a pencil,” said the messenger. + </p> + <p> + “A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you,” replied Yates, + taking one out of his inside pocket. “Now, Renmark, I’m not going to tell + a lie on this occasion,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I think the truth is better on all occasions.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth.” + </p> + <p> + Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. + Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: “Say, Renmark, are you a + doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Of laws,” replied his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that will do just as well.” And he finished his writing. + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” he cried, holding the paper at arm’s length: + </p> + <h3> + “L. F. SPENCER, + </h3> + <p> + “<i>Managing Editor ‘Argus,’ New York:</i> + </p> + <p> + “I’m flat on my back. Haven’t done a hand’s turn for a week. Am under the + constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors in + Canada, who even prepares my food for me. Since leaving New York trouble + of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. + Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here until + present complications have yielded to treatment. + </p> + <p> + “Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence.” + </p> + <h3> + “YATES. + </h3> + <p> + “There,” said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finished the + reading. “What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly saw through + it, but not quite, grinned, and said: “Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it’s true!” cried Yates, indignant at the unjust suspicion. “It + is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor, + there, if it isn’t true. Now, my boy, will you give this in when you get + back to the office? Tell ‘em to rush it through to New York. I would mark + it ‘rush’ only that never does any good, and always makes the operator + mad.” + </p> + <p> + The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s to be paid for at the other end,” continued Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” answered the messenger with a certain + condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. + “Well, so long,” he added. “I hope you’ll soon be better, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see that. They’ll perhaps + question you when you get back. What will you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’ll tell ‘em what a hard job I had to find you, and let ‘em know + nobody else could ‘a’ done it, and I’ll say you’re a pretty sick man. I + won’t tell ‘em you gave me a dollar!” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, sonny; <i>you’ll</i> get along. Here’s five dollars, all + in one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take them back with + you. There’s no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck of + the woods.” + </p> + <p> + The boy stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if it + represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and waved + his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and walked slowly + back to the tent. He threw himself once more into the hammock. As he + expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although he had + been prepared for silence, the silence irritated him. He felt ill used at + having so unsympathetic a companion. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; why don’t you say something?” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, there is. You don’t approve of me, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even the humblest + of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve of me? + People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more uncomfortable + than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One’s own conscience + one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of another man is beyond + one’s control. Now, it is like this: I am here for quiet and rest. I have + earned both, and I think I am justified in——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I + am tired of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And of me, too, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, rather—if you want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter + with Bartlett on the road Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The + reporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, hesitating. The + other, his heavy brows drawn, while not in an aggressive attitude, was + plainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not to strike. + This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The reporter + realized that he had forced the conversation, and remembered he had + invited Renmark to accompany him. Although this recollection stayed his + hand, it had no effect on his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” he said slowly, “that it would do you good for once to hear a + straight, square, unbiased opinion of yourself. You have associated so + long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may interest you to + know what a man of the world thinks of you. A few years of schoolmastering + is enough to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, of all the——” + </p> + <p> + The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence: + </p> + <p> + “Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives?” + </p> + <p> + The reporter’s hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over his + face, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced a + smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. + </p> + <p> + Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who had received an unexpected + blow. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Renny,” he wailed, “it’s another of those cursed telegraph + messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign it + ‘Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.’ That will give it a sort of official, + medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy was + here. Tell him I’m lying down.” He flung himself into the hammock, and + Renmark, after a moment’s hesitation, walked toward the boy at the fence, + who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time he + returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the + hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and + scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor + stood there for a few moments in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he said at last, “you’ll be good enough to go on with your + remarks.” + </p> + <p> + “I was merely going to say,” answered Yates wearily, “that you are a + mighty good fellow, Renny. People who camp out always have rows. That is + our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is something like + married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on both sides. That + philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I am really very much + worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling myself + into the chasm like that Roman fellow; but, hang it! I’ve been flinging + myself into chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it done? There’s + always a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them to understand in + the <i>Argus</i> office that I am on my vacation.” + </p> + <p> + “They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you’re on your + deathbed.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. “That’s so,” he said; “but, you see, Renny, we New Yorkers + live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration that if I did not put it + strongly it wouldn’t have any effect. You’ve got to give a big dose to a + man who has been taking poison all his life. They will take off ninety per + cent. from any statement I make, anyhow; so, you see, I have to pile it up + pretty high before the remaining ten per cent. amounts to anything.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigs behind + them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nervously on the fence, + turned round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the underbrush. His + face was red; he had evidently been running. + </p> + <p> + “Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates,” he panted. “The fellows that brought + ‘em said they were important; so I ran out with them myself, for fear they + wouldn’t find you. One of them’s from Port Colborne, the other’s from + Buffalo.” + </p> + <p> + Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the receipt + of one as an event in a man’s life. He was astonished to see Yates receive + the double event with a listlessness that he could not help thinking was + merely assumed for effect. Yates held them in his hand, and did not tear + them up at once out of consideration for the feelings of the young man, + who had had a race to deliver them. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s two books they wanted you to sign. They’re tired out, and mother’s + giving them something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “Professor, you sign for me, won’t you?” said Yates. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would hear something of the + contents of the important messages; but Yates did not even open the + envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringing them. + </p> + <p> + “Stuck-up cuss!” muttered young Bartlett to himself, as he shoved the + signed books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush + again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their contents + into little pieces, and scattered them as before. + </p> + <p> + “Begins to look like autumn,” he said, “with the yellow leaves strewing + the ground.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + Before night three more telegraph boys found Yates, and three more + telegrams in sections helped to carpet the floor of the forest. The + usually high spirits of the newspaper man went down and down under the + repeated visitations. At last he did not even swear, which, in the case of + Yates, always indicated extreme depression. As night drew on he feebly + remarked to the professor that he was more tired than he had ever been in + going through an election campaign. He went to his tent bunk early, in a + state of such utter dejection that Renmark felt sorry for him, and tried + ineffectually to cheer him up. + </p> + <p> + “If they would all come together,” said Yates bitterly, “so that one + comprehensive effort of malediction would include the lot and have it + over, it wouldn’t be so bad; but this constant dribbling in of messengers + would wear out the patience of a saint.” + </p> + <p> + As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his bunk Renmark said that + things would look brighter in the morning—which was a safe remark to + make, for the night was dark. + </p> + <p> + Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for some moments. At last + he said slowly: “There is no one so obtuse as the thoroughly good man. It + is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He is but the outward + symptom of the inward trouble. What you are seeing is an example of the + workings of conscience where you thought conscience was absent. The + trouble with me is that I know the newspaper depends on me, and that it + will be the first time I have failed. It is the newspaper man’s instinct + to be in the center of the fray. He yearns to scoop the opposition press. + I will get a night’s sleep if I can, and to-morrow, I know, I shall + capitulate. I will hunt out General O’Neill, and interview him on the + field of slaughter. I will telegraph pages. I will refurbish my military + vocabulary, and speak of deploying and massing and throwing out advance + guards, and that sort of thing. I will move detachments and advance + brigades, and invent strategy. We will have desperate fighting in the + columns of the <i>Argus</i>, whatever there is on the fields of Canada. + But to a man who has seen real war this <i>opéra-bouffe</i> masquerade of + fighting——I don’t want to say anything harsh, but to me it is + offensive.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, sitting on the bottom of an + upturned pail, as he said this. Then he reached for his hip pocket and + drew out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, to the professor, + who, not knowing his friend carried such an instrument, instinctively + shrank from it. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation and soak it with the + potatoes. If another messenger comes in on me to-night, I know I shall + riddle him if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me he is + innocent, and I don’t want to shed the only blood that will be spilled + during this awful campaign.” + </p> + <p> + How long they had been asleep they did not know, as the ghost-stories have + it, but both were suddenly awakened by a commotion outside. It was + intensely dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they noticed a faint + moving blur of light, which made itself just visible through the canvas. + </p> + <p> + “It’s another of those fiendish messengers,” whispered Yates. “Gi’ me that + revolver.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the other below his breath. “There’s about a dozen men out + there, judging by the footfalls. I heard them coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s fire into the tent and be done with it,” said a voice outside. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried another; “no man shoot. It makes too much noise, and there + must be others about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed?” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur, apparently in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Murphy and O’Rourick, come round to this side. You three + stay where you are. Tim, you go to that end; and, Doolin, come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The Fenian army, by all the gods!” whispered Yates, groping for his + clothes. “Renny, give me that revolver, and I’ll show you more fun than a + funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. They’re at least three to our one. We’re in a trap here, and + helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just let me jump out among ‘em and begin the fireworks. Those I + didn’t shoot would die of fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woods with a + lantern—with a <i>lantern</i>, Renny! Think of that! Oh, this is + pie! Let me at ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Keep quiet! They’ll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tim, bring the lantern round to this side.” The blur of light moved along + the canvas. “There’s a man with his back against the wall of the tent. + Just touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let him know we’re here.” + </p> + <p> + “There may be twenty in the tent,” said Murphy cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Do what I tell you,” answered the man in command. + </p> + <p> + Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, and sunk the deadly point + of the instrument into the bag of potatoes. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, he sleeps sound,” said Murphy with a tremor of fear in his voice, + as there was no demonstration on the part of the bag. + </p> + <p> + The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of the tent: + </p> + <p> + “What the old Harry do you fellows think you’re doing, anyhow? What’s the + matter with you? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence, broken only by a nervous scuffling of feet + and the clicking of gun-locks. + </p> + <p> + “How many are there of you in there?” said the stern voice of the chief. + </p> + <p> + “Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and one ready to fight the lot of + you if you are anxious for a scrimmage.” + </p> + <p> + “Come out one by one,” was the next command. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll come out one by one,” said Yates, emerging in his shirt sleeves, + “but you can’t expect us to keep it up long, as there are only two of us.” + </p> + <p> + The professor next appeared, with his coat on. The situation certainly did + not look inviting. The lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glow on the + severe face of the commander, as the footlights might illuminate the + figure of a brigand in a wood on the stage. The face of the officer showed + that he was greatly impressed with the importance and danger of his + position. Yates glanced about him with a smile, all his recent dejection + gone now that he was in the midst of a row. + </p> + <p> + “Which is Murphy,” he said, “and which is Doolin? Hello, alderman!” he + cried, as his eyes rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man who held + his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce determination in his face that + might have made an opponent quail. “When did you leave New York? and who’s + running the city now that you’re gone?” + </p> + <p> + The men had evidently a sense of humor, in spite of their bloodthirsty + business, for a smile flickered on their faces in the lantern light, and + several bayonets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard face of the + commander did not relax. + </p> + <p> + “You are doing yourself no good by your talk,” he said solemnly. “What you + say will be used against you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and what you do will be used against <i>you</i>; and don’t forget + that fact. It’s you who are in danger—not I. You are, at this + moment, making about the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada.” + </p> + <p> + “Pinion these men!” cried the captain gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Pinion nothing!” shouted Yates, shaking off the grasp of a man who had + sprung to his side. But both Yates and Renmark were speedily overpowered; + and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. Murphy pathetically + remarked that they had no rope. The captain was a man of resource. + </p> + <p> + “Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you’re at it, Murphy,” said Yates, “cut off enough more to hang + yourself with. You’ll need it before long. And remember that any damage + you do to that tent you’ll have to pay for. It’s hired.” + </p> + <p> + Yates gave them all the trouble he could while they tied his elbows and + wrists together, offering sardonic suggestions and cursing their + clumsiness. Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation was finished, + the professor said with the calm confidence of one who has an empire + behind him and knows it: + </p> + <p> + “I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed on British soil; and that + I, on whom it is committed, am a British subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it impossible to keep your mouth + shut, do not use the word ‘subject’ but ‘citizen.’” + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied with the word, and with the protection given to those who + use it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; you had better let me do the talking. You will only + put your foot in it. I know the kind of men I have to deal with; you + evidently don’t.” + </p> + <p> + In tying the professor they came upon the pistol in his coat pocket. + Murphy held it up to the light. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you said you were unarmed?” remarked the captain severely, + taking the revolver in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the professor would not let me + use it. If he had, all of you would be running for dear life through the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + “You admit that you are a British subject?” said the captain to Renmark, + ignoring Yates. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t admit it, he brags of it,” said the latter before Renmark + could speak. “You can’t scare him; so quit this fooling, and let us know + how long we are to stand here trussed up like this.” + </p> + <p> + “I propose, captain,” said the red-headed man, “that we shoot these men + where they stand, and report to the general. They are spies. They are + armed, and they denied it. It’s according to the rules of war, captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Rules of war? What do you know of the rules of war, you red-headed + Senegambian? Rules of Hoyle! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine. Come, + captain, undo these ropes, and make up your mind quickly. Trot us along to + General O’Neill just as fast as you can. The sooner you get us there the + more time you will have for being sorry over what you have done.” + </p> + <p> + The captain still hesitated, and looked from one to the other of his men, + as if to make up his mind whether they would obey him if he went to + extremities. Yates’ quick eye noted that the two prisoners had nothing to + hope for, even from the men who smiled. The shooting of two unarmed and + bound men seemed to them about the correct way of beginning a great + struggle for freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the captain at length, “we must do it in proper form, so I + suppose we should have a court-martial. Are you agreed?” + </p> + <p> + They were unanimously agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” cried Yates, and there was a certain impressiveness in his + voice in spite of his former levity; “this farce has gone just as far as + it is going. Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat pocket you will + find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two received by me within the + last twenty-four hours. Then you will see whom you propose to shoot.” + </p> + <p> + The telegram was found, and the captain read it, while Tim held the + lantern. He looked from under his knitted brows at the newspaper man. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are one of the <i>Argus</i> staff.” + </p> + <p> + “I am chief of the <i>Argus</i> staff. As you see, five of my men will be + with General O’Neill to-morrow. The first question they will ask him will + be: ‘Where is Yates?’ The next thing that will happen will be that you + will be hanged for your stupidity, not by Canada nor by the State of New + York, but by your general, who will curse your memory ever after. You are + fooling not with a subject this time, but with a citizen; and your general + is not such an idiot as to monkey with the United States Government; and, + what is a blamed sight worse, with the great American press. Come, + captain, we’ve had enough of this. Cut these cords just as quickly as you + can, and take us to the general. We were going to see him in the morning, + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But this man says he is a Canadian.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right. My friend is <i>me</i>. If you touch him, you touch me. + Now, hurry up, climb down from your perch. I shall have enough trouble + now, getting the general to forgive all the blunders you have made + to-night, without your adding insult to injury. Tell your men to untie us, + and throw the ropes back into the tent. It will soon be daylight. Hustle, + and let us be off.” + </p> + <p> + “Untie them,” said the captain, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + Yates shook himself when his arms regained their freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tim,” he said, “run into that tent and bring out my coat. It’s + chilly here.” + </p> + <p> + Tim did instantly as requested, and helped Yates on with the coat. + </p> + <p> + “Good boy!” said, Yates. “You’ve evidently been porter in a hotel.” + </p> + <p> + Tim grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Yates meditatively, “that if I you look under the + right-hand bunk, Tim, you will find a jug. It belongs to the professor, + although he has hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion from himself. + Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not as full as it was, but + there’s enough to go round, if the professor does not take more than his + share.” + </p> + <p> + The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipation, and Renmark looked + astonished to see the jar brought forth. “You first, professor,” said + Yates; and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The learned man shook + his head. Yates laughed, and took it himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here’s to you, boys,” he said. “And may you all get back as safely + to New York as I will.” The jar passed down along the line, until Tim + finished its contents. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army,” cried Yates, taking + Renmark’s arm; and they began their march through the woods. “Great + Caesar! Stilly,” he continued to his friend, “this is rest and quiet with + a vengeance, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost in the + presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain something like + military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, however, + that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests are not as trimly + kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, but three + times he tumbled over some obstruction, and disappeared suddenly from + view, uttering maledictions. His final effort in this line was a triumph. + He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When all attempts at + reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in go-as-you-please fashion, + and found they did better without the light than with it. In fact, + although it was not yet four o’clock, daybreak was already filtering + through the trees, and the woods were perceptibly lighter. + </p> + <p> + “We must be getting near the camp,” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Will I shout, sir?” asked Murphy. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; we can’t miss it. Keep on as you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered on among + the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle echoed + through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?” cried the alderman, who + recognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” said the sentry, stopping in his flight. The + captain strode angrily toward him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by firing like that? Don’t you know enough to ask for + the counter-sign before shooting?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, then, ye see, I never + can hit anything; so it’s little difference it makes.” + </p> + <p> + The shot had roused the camp, and there was now wild commotion, everybody + thinking the Canadians were upon them. + </p> + <p> + A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Renmark. Both were astonished to + see the number of men that O’Neill had under his command. They found a + motley crowd. Some tattered United States uniforms were among them, but + the greater number were dressed as ordinary individuals, although a few + had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. Sleeping out for a couple + of nights had given the gathering the unkempt appearance of a great + company of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable from the men at + first, but afterward Yates noticed that they, mostly in plain clothes and + slouch hats, had sword belts buckled around them; and one or two had + swords that had evidently seen service in the United States cavalry. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, boys,” cried the captain to the excited mob. “It was only + that fool Lynch who fired at us. There’s nobody hurt. Where’s the + general?” + </p> + <p> + “Here he comes,” said half a dozen voices at once, and the crowd made way + for him. + </p> + <p> + General O’Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen’s costume, and did not + wear even a sword belt. On his head of light hair was a black soft felt + hat. His face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked more like a + clerk from a grocery store than the commander of an army. He was evidently + somewhere between thirty-five and forty years of age. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said. “Why are you back? Any news?” + </p> + <p> + The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “We took two prisoners, sir. They were encamped in a tent in the woods. + One of them says he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, so I + brought them in.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had brought in the tent, too,” said the general with a wan + smile. “It would be an improvement on sleeping in the open air. Are these + the prisoners? I don’t know either of them.” + </p> + <p> + “The captain makes a mistake in saying that I claimed a personal + acquaintance with you, general. What I said was that you would recognize, + somewhat quicker than he did, who I was, and the desirability of treating + me with reasonable decency. Just show the general that telegram you took + from my coat pocket, captain.” + </p> + <p> + The paper was produced, and O’Neill read it over once or twice. + </p> + <p> + “You are on the New York <i>Argus</i>, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much so, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you have not been roughly used?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; merely tied up in a hard knot, and threatened with shooting—that’s + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Still, you must make some allowance at a time + like this. If you will come with me, I will write you a pass which will + prevent any similar mistake happening in the future.” The general led the + way to a smoldering camp fire, where, out of a valise, he took writing + materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to write. After he had + written “Headquarters of the Grand Army of the Irish Republic” he looked + up, and asked Yates his Christian name. Being answered, he inquired the + name of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I want nothing from you,” interposed Renmark. “Don’t put my name on the + paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates. “Never mind him, general. He’s a + learned man who doesn’t know when to talk and when not to. As you march up + to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, which will explain + everything. Renmark’s drunk, not to put too fine a point upon it; and he + imagines himself a British subject.” + </p> + <p> + The Fenian general looked up at the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Canadian?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you must give me your word + that, should you fall in with the enemy, you will give no information to + them of our position, numbers, or of anything else you may have seen while + with us.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I should fall in with the + Canadian troops, I will tell them where you are, that you are from eight + hundred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking set of vagabonds I + have ever seen out of jail.” + </p> + <p> + General O’Neill frowned, and looked from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize that you confess to being a spy, and that it becomes my + duty to have you taken out and shot?” + </p> + <p> + “In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fooling. All of you that don’t + escape will be either in jail or shot before twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, by the gods, it won’t help <i>you</i> any. I’ll have you shot + inside of ten minutes, instead of twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, general, hold on!” cried Yates, as the angry man rose and + confronted the two. “I admit that he richly deserves shooting, if you were + the fool killer, which you are not. But it won’t do, I will be responsible + for him. Just finish that pass for me, and I will take care of the + professor. Shoot me if you like, but don’t touch him. He hasn’t any sense, + as you can see; but I am not to blame for that, nor are you. If you take + to shooting everybody who is an ass, general, you won’t have any + ammunition left with which to conquer Canada.” + </p> + <p> + The general smiled in spite of himself, and resumed the writing of the + pass. “There,” he said, handing the paper to Yates. “You see, we always + like to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent friend, and I hope + you will exercise more control over him, if you meet the Canadians, than + you were able to exert here. Don’t you think, on the whole, you had better + stay with us? We are going to march in a couple of hours, when the men + have had a little rest.” He added in a lower voice, so that the professor + could not hear: “You didn’t see anything of the Canadians, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a sign. No, I don’t think I’ll stay. There will be five of our + fellows here some time to-day, I expect, and that will be more than + enough. I’m really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and quiet. I’m + beginning to think I have made a mistake in location.” + </p> + <p> + Yates bade good-by to the commander, and walked with his friend out of the + camp. They threaded their way among sleeping men and groups of stacked + guns. On the top of one of the bayonets was hung a tall silk hat, which + looked most incongruous in such a place. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Yates, “that we will make for the Ridge Road, which must + lie somewhere in this direction. It will be easier walking than through + the woods; and, besides, I want to stop at one of the farmhouses and get + some breakfast. I’m as hungry as a bear after tramping so long.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” answered the professor shortly. + </p> + <p> + The two stumbled along until they reached the edge of the wood; then, + crossing some open fields, they came presently upon the road, near the + spot where the fist fight had taken place between Yates and Bartlett. The + comrades, now with greater comfort, walked silently along the road toward + the west, with the reddening east behind them. The whole scene was + strangely quiet and peaceful, and the recollection of the weird camp they + had left in the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morning air was + sweet, and the birds were beginning to sing. Yates had intended to give + the professor a piece of his mind regarding the lack of tact and common + sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, but, somehow, the scarcely + awakened day did not lend itself to controversy, and the serene stillness + soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly that popular war song, + “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,” and then broke in with the + question: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on the bayonet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the professor; “and I saw five others scattered around the + camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Jingo! you were observant. I can imagine nothing quite so ridiculous as a + man going to war in a tall silk hat.” + </p> + <p> + The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to “Rally + round the flag.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” he said at length, “there is little use in attempting to + improve the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a fool you + made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to be slightly + off the center.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds.” + </p> + <p> + “They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also be + well-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came in with + several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, and + another party started out to get some more.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that isn’t stealing, Renmark; that’s requisitioning. You mustn’t use + such reckless language. I imagine the second party has been successful; + for here are three of them all mounted.” + </p> + <p> + The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of the + two men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. + Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them held + revolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no visible + revolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward the pedestrians, + the other two taking positions on each side of the wagon way. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?” cried the + foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, commodore,” said Yates jauntily, “and the top of the + morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the + camp, and we are going to get something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have a more satisfactory answer than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here you have it, then,” answered Yates, pulling out his folded + pass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully. “You + find that all right, I expect?” + </p> + <p> + “Right enough to cause your immediate arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is in his + own handwriting.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does not run + quite as far as the queen’s writ in this country yet. I arrest you in the + name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, and shoot them + down if they make any resistance.” So saying, the rider slipped from his + horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs joined by a short, + stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing, grasped Renmark’s + wrist. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a Canadian,” said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. “You + mustn’t put handcuffs on me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; if + you are what you say, you will not resist arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you, but you mustn’t handcuff me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mustn’t I?” And, with a quick movement indicative of long practice + with resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of the + clasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr. + </p> + <p> + Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes. + He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the cocked + revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constable held his + struggling manacled hand with grim determination. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking the + representative of the law. “Don’t shoot,” he shouted to the man on + horseback; “it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. You + are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed and on foot. + There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you are more of a + rebel at the present moment than O’Neill. He owes no allegiance, and you + do. Have you no respect for the forms of law and order? You are an + anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You <i>would</i> sing ‘God + save the Queen!’ in the wrong place a while ago, so now be satisfied that + you have got her, or, rather, that she has got you. Now, constable, do you + want to hitch the other end of that arrangement on my wrist? or have you + another pair for my own special use? + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take your wrist, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; here you are.” Yates drew back his coat sleeve, and presented + his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The constable + mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him, watching him all the + while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners, handcuffed together, took + the middle of the road, with a horseman on each side of them, the + constable bringing up the rear; thus they marched on, the professor gloomy + from the indignity put upon them, and the newspaper man as joyous as the + now thoroughly awakened birds. The scouts concluded to go no farther + toward the enemy, but to return to the Canadian forces with their + prisoners. They marched down the road, all silent except Yates, who + enlivened the morning air with the singing of “John Brown.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet,” said the constable curtly. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of a + friend. We want to go and get something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers of the + volunteers.” + </p> + <p> + “And where, may I ask, are they?” + </p> + <p> + “You may ask, but I will not answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Renmark,” said Yates to his companion, “the tough part of this + episode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett’s house, and feast merely + on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett is always glad + to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty.” + </p> + <p> + As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kitty on + the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing earnestly at + the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the group she + disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came out Mrs. + Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old man himself. + </p> + <p> + They all came down to the gate and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!” cried Yates cheerily. “You see, the professor has + got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share his fate, + like the good dog Tray.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this about?” cried Mrs. Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarly to + them. “They’re Fenian prisoners,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Mrs. Bartlett—the old man, as usual, keeping his + mouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking—“they’re + not Fenians. They’ve been camping on our farm for a week or more.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” said the constable firmly, “but I have the best of evidence + against them; and, if I’m not very much mistaken, they’ll hang for it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry of + anguish at this remark, and disappeared again. + </p> + <p> + “We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs. + Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of the + Canadians.” + </p> + <p> + “What! hanging?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged,—I hope I + am not so pernickety as all that,—but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will + sympathize with me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at + this moment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had + in your house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this + hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible state of + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker,” she exclaimed, “I’m ashamed of you! You may hang a man if you + like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in with me,” she + said to the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said Stoliker severely, “you must not interfere with the course + of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “The course of stuff and nonsense!” cried the angry woman. “Do you think I + am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven’t I chased you out of this very + orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes, and boxed your + ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enough to fill your + pockets with the best apples on the place, after giving you what you + deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I’ll box your ears now if you say + anything more. Get down off your horse, and have something to eat + yourself. I dare say you need it.” + </p> + <p> + “This is what I call a rescue,” whispered Yates to his linked companion. + </p> + <p> + What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer with justice + is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her own way? Stoliker + looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of the house, but the old + man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say: “You see how it is + yourself. I am helpless.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to the house. + </p> + <p> + “All I ask of you now,” said Yates, “is that you will give Renmark and me + seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, even for an + instant.” + </p> + <p> + Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at the same + time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. + Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse. + Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject, if + this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second concession, + and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying he thought he + recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in upon them. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Sam,” she said, “no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse and come + in. How’s your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s pretty well, thank you,” said Sam sheepishly, coming down on his + feet again. + </p> + <p> + Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on the prisoners, + but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she looked with the + utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact that the poor young man + had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well. + </p> + <p> + “Take off these handcuffs, Sam,” said Mrs. Bartlett, “until they have + breakfast, at least.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them into his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now!” said Yates, looking at his red wrist, “we can breathe easier; + and I, for one, can eat more.” + </p> + <p> + The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist, but + had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make the early meal + as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival. Stoliker began + to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty were unpopular. Old Hiram could + always be depended upon to add somberness and taciturnity to a wedding + feast; the professor, never the liveliest of companions, sat silent, with + clouded brow, and vexed even the cheerful Mrs. Bartlett by having + evidently no appetite. When the hurried meal was over, Yates, noticing + that Miss Kitty had left the room, sprang up and walked toward the kitchen + door. Stoliker was on his feet in an instant, and made as though to follow + him. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time. “He + is not going to escape. Don’t be afraid. He has done nothing, and has no + fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupid officials + arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians, but you take + excellent care to keep out of their way, and give your attention to + molesting perfectly inoffensive people.” + </p> + <p> + “Good for you, professor!” cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. “That’s the + truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?” + </p> + <p> + “Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o’clock this + morning,—or at least an advance guard did,—and after talking + of shooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead. + Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should not be + troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinks is + deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped the handcuffs + on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our heads.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t my place to ask questions,” retorted Stoliker doggedly. “You can + tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, I’ll say + nothing against it.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the precaution + to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly round as the + door closed. Before she could speak the young man caught her by the plump + shoulders—a thing which he certainly had no right to do. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Kitty Bartlett,” he said, “you’ve been crying.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t; and if I had, it is nothing to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. Don’t deny it. For whom were you crying? + The professor?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough to + think so.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Me</i> conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whom were + you crying? I must know.” + </p> + <p> + “Please let me go, Mr. Yates,” said Kitty, with an effort at dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Dick is my name, Kit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mine is not Kit. + </p> + <p> + “You’re quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty, which + is much prettier than the abbreviation.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not ‘mention it.’ Please let me go. Nobody has the right to call me + anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, <i>you</i> haven’t, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kitty, don’t you think it is about time to give somebody the right? + Why won’t you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether I should + have accused you of crying? Look up—Miss Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We’ll risk mother. Besides, I’m + not in the least afraid of her, and I don’t believe you are. I think she + is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind; otherwise, + I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate that man,” said Kitty inconsequently. + </p> + <p> + “I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. Kitty, + why don’t you look up at me? Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “What should I be afraid of?” asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance + from her pretty blue eyes. “Not of you, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why I + came out here?” + </p> + <p> + “For something more to eat, very likely,” said the girl mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. Besides, + I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew me into the + kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own lips. <i>That</i> + was the reason!” + </p> + <p> + He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what was + about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought he had + taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of this + kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but she did not + strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he merely + attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because she had + been taken so completely by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I shall call my mother,” she threatened. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you won’t. Besides, she wouldn’t come.” Then this frivolous young + man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, “Here’s to the girl + that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother,” ending with the wish + that she should live and die an old maid and never get another. Kitty + should not have smiled, but she did; she should have rebuked his levity, + but she didn’t. + </p> + <p> + “It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and dying an + old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for the prevention of + such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval of it.” + </p> + <p> + Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself away + from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining room, and + expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. Miss Kitty stood + with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring flower, which she + had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the window-ledge. She + smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed so interested in + botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether she was paying + attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan might have been can + only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they should be interrupted at + this critical moment by the one person on earth who could make Yates’ + tongue falter. + </p> + <p> + The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood on the + threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her dark hair down + over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairly took Yates’ + breath away. She did not notice him. + </p> + <p> + “O Kitty,” she cried, “those wretches have stolen all our horses! Is your + father here?” + </p> + <p> + “What wretches?” asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled by the + sudden advent of her friend. + </p> + <p> + “The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields, and + your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have they taken your own horse, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come near the + house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you.” And Margaret’s hand, with the + unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, which Yates + thought too becoming ever to be put in order again. + </p> + <p> + Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty’s evident embarrassment, + that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell your father about it,” she said hurriedly, and before Yates + could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she was taken aback + to see so many sitting round the table. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence between the two in the kitchen, but the spell + was broken. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don’t suppose there will be any trouble about getting back the + horses,” said Yates hesitatingly. “If you lose them, the Government will + have to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume so,” answered Kitty coldly; then: “Excuse me, Mr. Yates; I + mustn’t stay here any longer.” So saying, she followed Margaret into the + other room. + </p> + <p> + Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties of preference + had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that he had had a + narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committed himself. + Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticed her friend’s + evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered whether this would + help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finally made up his mind to + favor her with his serious attentions. Still, he reflected that, after + all, they were both country girls, and would no doubt be only too eager to + accept a chance to live in New York. Thus his mind gradually resumed its + normal state of self-confidence; and he argued that, whatever Margaret’s + suspicions were, they could not but make him more precious in her eyes. He + knew of instances where the very danger of losing a man had turned a + woman’s wavering mind entirely in the man’s favor. When he had reached + this point, the door from the dining room opened, and Stoliker appeared. + </p> + <p> + “We are waiting for you,” said the constable. + </p> + <p> + “All right. I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talking + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “I + would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs from his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “If you three men,” continued Mrs. Bartlett, “cannot take those two to + camp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I’ll go + along with you myself and protect you, and see that they don’t escape. You + ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have any manhood + about you—which I doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “I must do my duty.” + </p> + <p> + The professor rose from his chair. “Mr. Stoliker,” he said with + determination, “my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will + make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear + investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a + handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you.” + </p> + <p> + A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, caused + the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and said in a + contrite voice: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t beg my pardon, but—smash him.” + </p> + <p> + Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited + girl hid her blushing face on her friend’s shoulder, while Kitty lovingly + stroked her dark, tangled hair. + </p> + <p> + Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual + quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the tension + of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Stoliker, don’t be an idiot. I do not object in the least to + the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff me. It + hasn’t struck your luminous mind that you have not the first tittle of + evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the greatest criminal + in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. The truth is, + Stoliker, that I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a good many dollars. You + talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have exceeded it in the + case of the professor. I hope you have no property; for the professor can, + if he likes, make you pay sweetly for putting the handcuffs on him without + a warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. What is the penalty for + false arrest, Hiram?” continued Yates, suddenly appealing to the old man. + “I think it is a thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram said gloomily that he didn’t know. Stoliker was hit on a tender + spot, for he owned a farm. + </p> + <p> + “Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. + Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman smiled and shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have another.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his + horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the + dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event of + the stealing of the horses. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <p> + When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of the + Canadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more military than + the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by a picket + before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not to shoot until + he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, they came in full + view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked very spick and span in + uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear light of the fair June + morning. The guns, topped by a bristle of bayonets which glittered as the + rising sun shone on them, were stacked with neat precision here and there. + The men were preparing their breakfast, and a temporary halt had been + called for that purpose. The volunteers were scattered by the side of the + road and in the fields. Renmark recognized the colors of the regiment from + his own city, and noticed that there was with it a company that was + strange to him. Although led to them a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride + in the regiment and their trim appearance—a pride that was both + national and civic. He instinctively held himself more erect as he + approached. + </p> + <p> + “Renmark,” said Yates, looking at him with a smile, “you are making a + thoroughly British mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? I haven’t spoken.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. You + think this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempt + tramps we saw in the woods this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over—which I very much + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, who + know all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will be the + worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part of the + country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comrades fall, with + the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If they don’t turn and + run, then I’m a Dutchman. I’ve seen raw recruits before. They should have + a company of older men here who have seen service to steady them. The + fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs, in the damp woods, as + we stepped over them. They are veterans. What will be but a mere skirmish + to them will seem to these boys the most awful tragedy that ever happened. + Why, many of them look as if they might be university lads.” + </p> + <p> + “They are,” said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can’t see what your stupid government means by sending them here + alone. They should have at least one company of regulars with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably the regulars are on the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, or the + fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with their meal, the + Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is to be a fight, + it will be before a very few hours—before one hour passes, you are + going to see a miniature Bull Run.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiring for + news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all the + telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those in command of + the companies did not even know that the enemy had left that locality. + They were now on their way to a point where they were to meet Colonel + Peacocke’s force of regulars—a point which they were destined never + to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up his prisoners, + together with the incriminating paper that Yates had handed to him. The + officer’s decision was short and sharp, as military decisions are + generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to take both the + prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. There was no time now for + an inquiry into the case,—that could come afterward,—and, so + long as the men were safe in jail, everything would be all right. To this + the constable mildly interposed two objections. In the first place, he + said, he was with the volunteers not in his capacity as constable, but in + the position of guide and man who knew the country. In the second place, + there was no jail at Port Colborne. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the nearest jail?” + </p> + <p> + “The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town,” replied the + constable. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; take them there.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am here as guide,” repeated Stoliker. + </p> + <p> + The officer hesitated for a moment. “You haven’t handcuffs with you, I + presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have,” said Stoliker, producing the implements. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the company + over to Welland with them. How far is it across country?” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker told him. + </p> + <p> + The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver these men + up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but you take a + revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shoot them.” + </p> + <p> + The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. “I am not a policeman,” he + said. “I am a soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I order + you to take these men to Welland.” + </p> + <p> + The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a murmur + rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently sympathized + with their comrade’s objection to the duties of a policeman. One of them + made his way through the crowd, and cried: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He’s no Fenian.” Two + or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, pushing + up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with his class. + Among others young Howard pressed forward. + </p> + <p> + “It is nonsense,” he cried, “talking about sending Professor Renmark to + jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We’ll all go + bail for the professor.” + </p> + <p> + The officer wavered. “If you know him,” he said, “that is a different + matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the Fenians, + recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the Fenian cause. + I can’t let him go free.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the chief in command here?” asked Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He is + a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. If you + insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken before + the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall together. I am + exactly as guilty or innocent as he is.” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t bother the colonel about every triviality.” + </p> + <p> + “A man’s liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense, are + you fighting for but liberty?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Renmark, thanks,” said Yates; “but I don’t care to see the + colonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all this bother. + I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, if I have to + go to jail for them. I’m coming reluctantly to the belief that jail’s the + most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is an outrage,” cried the professor indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” replied Yates wearily; “but the woods are full of them. + There’s always outrages going on, especially in so-called free countries; + therefore one more or less won’t make much difference. Come, officer, + who’s going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go by myself? I’m a + Fenian from ‘way back, and came here especially to overturn the throne and + take it home with me. For Heaven’s sake, know your own mind one way or + other, and let us end this conference.” + </p> + <p> + The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker to handcuff + the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer at Welland. + </p> + <p> + “But I want assistance,” objected Stoliker. “The prisoner is a bigger man + than I am.” The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this self-evident + fact. + </p> + <p> + “If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders.” + </p> + <p> + No one volunteered to accompany the constable. + </p> + <p> + “Take this revolver with you,” continued the officer, “and if he attempts + to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, so I can’t + send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “Howard knows the way,” persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke up with + great indignation: “Yes, but Howard isn’t constable, and Stoliker is. I’m + not going.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark went up to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s acting foolishly now, Yates?” he said. “Why don’t you insist on + seeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would be allowed + off.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussy + individual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squad of + volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officers always + stick by each other; they’re bound to. I want to go alone with Stoliker. I + have a score to settle with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don’t do anything rash. You’ve done nothing so far; but if you + assault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a short time + since?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Renny,” whispered Yates; “you get back to the tent, and see + that everything’s all right. I’ll be with you in an hour or so. Don’t look + so frightened. I won’t hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, and I + won’t get there if the colonel sends an escort. I’m going to use Stoliker + as a shield when the bullets begin flying.” + </p> + <p> + The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker very + reluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own left wrist, + while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, who embarrassed + him with kindly assistance. The two manacled men disappeared down the + road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in to continue their morning’s + march. + </p> + <p> + Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. “I + say, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is an old + schoolfellow of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to rather + like the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known you were + in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would only have been + too glad to be of assistance to you.” + </p> + <p> + “They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encountered + the eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was the + brother’s favorite. + </p> + <p> + “Fall back, there!” cried the officer to Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me take + part?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the officer with some hauteur; “this is no place for + civilians.” Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the whole + company, as far as martial experience went, were merely civilians dressed + in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates’ ominous + prediction regarding them. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mr. Renmark,” cried young Howard, as the company moved off, “if + you see any of them, don’t tell them I’m here—especially Margaret. + It might make them uneasy. I’ll get leave when this is over, and drop in + on them.” + </p> + <p> + The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidently no + premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left the road, + and struck across country in the direction of the tent. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road toward + Welland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative and + entertaining—indeed, Yates’ conversation often went beyond + entertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed the affairs + of both countries, showed a way out of all political difficulties, gave + reasons for the practical use of common sense in every emergency, passed + opinions on the methods of agriculture adopted in various parts of the + country, told stories of the war, gave instances of men in captivity + murdering those who were in charge of them, deduced from these anecdotes + the foolishness of resisting lawful authority lawfully exercised, and, in + general, showed that he was a man who respected power and the exercise + thereof. Suddenly branching to more practical matters, he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker had never counted them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that it requires + an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely have something + to drink before long.” + </p> + <p> + “I never drink while on duty,” said Stoliker curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, don’t apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I’ll be + only too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired the useful + practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anything can be + done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don’t believe in the word + ‘can’t,’ either with or without the mark of elision.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I’m tired of walking. I’ve been + on my feet ever since three this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no authority to hire a buggy.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?” + </p> + <p> + “I make him move,” said Stoliker shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see. That’s a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable.” + </p> + <p> + They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried: + </p> + <p> + “Let’s sit down and have a rest. I’m done out. The sun is hot, and the + road dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day’s young, yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll let you have fifteen minutes.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down together. “I wish a team would come along,” said Yates with + a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhood stolen, + and the troops on the roads.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so,” assented Yates sleepily. + </p> + <p> + He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and his + eyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leaned + toward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates’ left arm fell across + the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him. + The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he took no + risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, he + reflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, for + he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner who + escaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the good + intentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too polite and + good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that the prisoner + was a much cleverer man than he. + </p> + <p> + “Here, sit up,” he said gruffly. “I’m not paid to carry you, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?” cried Yates rapidly, blinking his + eyes and straightening up. “Oh, it’s only you, Stoliker. I thought it was + my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Either that or pretending—I don’t know which, and I don’t care.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I must have been pretending,” answered Yates drowsily; “I can’t have + dropped asleep. How long have we been here?” + </p> + <p> + “About five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” And Yates’ head began to droop again. + </p> + <p> + This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitate sleep + so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each time saved + himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. Nevertheless, + Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, with a greater + lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, carrying the + constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff nipped the wrist of + Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, instinctively grasped the + links between with his right hand, to save his wrist. Like a cat, Yates + was upon him, showing marvelous agility for a man who had just tumbled in + a heap. The next instant he held aloft the revolver, crying triumphantly: + </p> + <p> + “How’s that, umpire? Out, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist, realizing + the helplessness of a struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Stoliker,” said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, “what have you to + say before I fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” answered the constable, “except that you will be hanged at + Welland, instead of staying a few days in jail.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. “That’s not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there’s + some grit in you, if you <i>are</i> a man-catcher. Still, you were not in + very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want this pistol + again, just watch where it alights.” And Yates, taking the weapon by the + muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. + </p> + <p> + Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his + pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he could + to the spot where the revolver fell. + </p> + <p> + “Is that how you mark the place?” asked Yates; “or is it some spell that + will enable you to find the pistol?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither,” answered the constable quietly. “It is the key of the + handcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland.” + </p> + <p> + Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at the little + man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attempted to search + for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to one that Stoliker + would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key, in which case the + reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law. + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker, you’re evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours. That + wasn’t a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause you some + personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I’m not + going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I have + gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not move,” replied the constable firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, stay there,” said Yates, twisting his hand around so as to + grasp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked up + the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stoliker set + his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow. Nothing + was said by either until several hundred yards were thus traversed. Then + Yates stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, I + hope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with me + quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same in + the end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see the + fight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don’t want to lose any + more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, and having me + explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we go through the + fields.” + </p> + <p> + One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise man always + accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossed the rail + fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together—Stoliker + silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who is certain of + ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with all its machinery + working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, and instructive by + turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when the unresponsiveness of + the other rendered conversation difficult. + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent, + scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city’s + din is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and the + drowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed ‘bumble’! The green fields, + the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, untainted by city + smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blue unclouded sky—how + can human spite and human passion exist in such a paradise? Does it all + not make you feel as if you were an innocent child again, with motives + pure and conscience white?” + </p> + <p> + If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. With clouded + brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. But, although + the constable made no reply, there was an answer that electrified Yates, + and put all thought of the beauty of the country out of his mind. The dull + report of a musket, far in front of them, suddenly broke the silence, + followed by several scattering shots, and then the roar of a volley. This + was sharply answered by the ring of rifles to the right. With an oath, + Yates broke into a run. + </p> + <p> + “They’re at it!” he cried, “and all on account of your confounded + obstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire, and + the Canadians have not been long in replying.” + </p> + <p> + The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates was + aroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicating + smell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleaming eye. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, you loitering idiot!” he cried to the constable, who had + difficulty in keeping pace with him; “come on, or, by the gods! I’ll break + your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from it.” + </p> + <p> + The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of war, + and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the insane glare + of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his fear to Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, <i>you</i>!” he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twist to + the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractory + criminals. “I am as eager to see the fight as you are.” + </p> + <p> + The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said: + “That’s the ticket, I’m with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a hurry + if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intend to use + you as a shield from the bullets.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” answered the little constable, panting. “Two sides are + firing. I’ll shield you on one side, and you’ll have to shield me on the + other.” + </p> + <p> + Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding the houses, + they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the trees, + showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond. Yates made the + constable cross the fence and the road, and take to the fields again, + bringing him around behind Bartlett’s house and barn. No one was visible + near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at the back watching, with + pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now and then covering her ears + with her hands as the sound of an extra loud volley assailed them. + Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for help. + </p> + <p> + “If you do that again,” cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, “I’ll + choke you!” + </p> + <p> + But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned with a + frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when she recognized + the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand away from the + constable’s throat. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your father or your brother?” demanded the constable. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you all alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance to + this prisoner, but to do as I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I command you, in the name of the President,” cried Yates, “to keep + your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty,” he continued + in a milder tone, “could you tell me where to get a file, so that I may + cut these wrist ornaments? Don’t you get it. You are to do nothing. Just + indicate where the file is. The law mustn’t have any hold on you, as it + seems to have on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you make him unlock them?” asked Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Because the villain threw away the key in the fields.” + </p> + <p> + “He couldn’t have done that.” + </p> + <p> + The constable caught his breath. + </p> + <p> + “But he did. I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of his + watch chain. He hasn’t thrown that away.” + </p> + <p> + She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t touch him. I’m playing a lone hand here.” He jerked out the chain, + and the real key dangled from it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Stoliker,” he said, “I don’t know which to admire most—your + cleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett’s acuteness of + observation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you mustn’t hurt him.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear. I think too much of him. Don’t you come in. I’ll be out in a + moment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet.” + </p> + <p> + Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square oaken + post which was part of the framework of the building, and which formed one + side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the hay mow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Stoliker,” he, said solemnly, “you realize, of course, that I don’t + want to hurt you yet you also realize that I <i>must</i> hurt you if you + attempt any tricks. I can’t take any risks, please remember that; and + recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be in the State of + New York. So don’t compel me to smash your head against this post.” He, + with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist; then, drawing + Stoliker’s right hand around the post, he snapped the same clasp on the + constable’s hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man, with his cheek + against the oak, was in the comical position of lovingly embracing the + post. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be more + comfortable—unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. + Then I must bid you good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + “I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty,” he said, “so that poor Stoliker + will get a rest.” + </p> + <p> + They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased, + except a desultory shot here and there across the country. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can,” he + continued. “This country is getting too hot for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are much safer here,” said the girl, with downcast eyes. “A man has + brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up and down + the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from this side.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to do with + Stoliker? I can’t keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets loose I’m + done for.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I go for + her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would be any use. Stoliker’s a stubborn animal. He has + suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We’ll bring him a + chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him.” + </p> + <p> + When the chair was placed at Stoliker’s disposal, he sat down upon it, + still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of the + solemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyes + with the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates. + </p> + <p> + “How long am I to be kept here?” asked the constable. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not long,” answered Yates cheerily; “not a moment longer than is + necessary. I’ll telegraph when I’m safe in New York State; so you won’t be + here more than a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said; “I guess I know as well as the next man when I’m + beaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff’s + orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don’t believe you’ve + done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn’t have acted quite the way you did. + If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. As it is, if you + unlock those cuffs, I’ll give you my word I’ll do nothing more unless I’m + ordered to. Like as not they’ve forgotten all about you by this time; and + there’s nothing on record, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean it? Will you act square?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I’ll act square. I don’t suppose you doubt that. I didn’t ask + any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough said,” cried Yates. “I’ll risk it.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he was released. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he said, now that Kitty was gone, “if there is anything to eat + in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. “Another great and + mutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who did + not want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when all + was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before he realized + that things had reached a crisis. + </p> + <p> + When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. The + fortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn before + the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried to sample + the contents and had found nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it all!” said Yates to himself, “I wonder what the five assistants + that the <i>Argus</i> sent me have done with themselves? If they are with + the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are captured by the + Canadians, they won’t be able to get an account of this scrimmage through + to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest item of the year—it’s + international, by George! It may involve England and the United States in + a war, if both sides are not extra mild and cautious. I can’t run the + chance of the paper being left in the lurch. Let me think a minute. Is it + my tip to follow the Canadians or the Fenians? I wonder is which is + running the faster? My men are evidently with the Fenians, if they were on + the ground at all. If I go after the Irish Republic, I shall run the risk + of duplicating things; but if I follow the Canadians, they may put me + under arrest. Then we have more Fenian sympathizers among our readers than + Canadians, so the account from the invasion side of the fence will be the + more popular. Yet a Canadian version would be a good thing, if I were sure + the rest of the boys got in their work, and the chances are that the other + papers won’t have any reporters among the Canucks. Heavens! What is a man + to do? I’ll toss up for it. Heads, the Fenians.” + </p> + <p> + He spun the coin in the air, and caught it. “Heads it is! The Fenians are + my victims. I’m camping on their trail, anyhow. Besides, it’s safer than + following the Canadians, even though Stoliker has got my pass.” + </p> + <p> + Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the forest. The scent of a big + item was in his nostrils, and it stimulated him like champagne. What was + temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of defeating the opposition + press? + </p> + <p> + A blind man might have followed the trail of the retreating army. They had + thrown away, as they passed through the woods, every article that impeded + their progress. Once he came on a man lying with his face in the dead + leaves. He turned him over. + </p> + <p> + “His troubles are past, poor devil,” said Yates, as he pushed on. + </p> + <p> + “Halt! Throw up your hands!” came a cry from in front of him. + </p> + <p> + Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his hands, being an adaptable + man. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the trouble?” he shouted. “I’m retreating, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Then retreat five steps farther. I’ll count the steps. One.” + </p> + <p> + Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that a man behind a tree was + covering him with a gun. The next step revealed a second captor, with a + huge upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. Both men had + blackened faces, and resembled thoroughly disreputable fiends of the + forest. Seated on the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozen dejected + prisoners. The man with the gun swore fearfully, but his comrade with the + hammer was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the marksman, “you blank scoundrel, and take a seat with your + fellow-scoundrels. If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I’ll fill you + full of buckshot!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m not going to run, Sandy,” cried Yates, recognizing him. “Why + should I? I’ve always enjoyed your company, and Macdonald’s. How are you, + Mac? Is this a little private raid of your own? For which side are you + fighting? And I say, Sandy, what’s the weight of that old-fashioned bar of + iron you have in your hands? I’d like to decide a bet. Let me heft it, as + you said in the shop.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Sandy in a disappointed tone, lowering his + gun. “I thought we had raked in another of them. The old man and I want to + make it an even dozen.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t think you’ll capture any more. I saw nobody as I came + through the woods. What are you going to do with this crowd?” + </p> + <p> + “Brain ‘em,” said Macdonald laconically, speaking for the first time. Then + he added reluctantly: “If any of ‘em tries to escape.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoners were all evidently too tired and despondent to make any + attempt at regaining their liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald’s shoulder + at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head he seemed to indicate + that he would like to have some private conversation with the newspaper + man. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not your prisoner, am I?” asked Yates. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Macdonald. “You may go if you like, but not in the direction + the Fenians have gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I won’t need to go any farther, if you will give me permission to + interview your prisoners. I merely want to get some points about the + fight.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” said the blacksmith, “as long as you don’t try to help + them. If you do, I warn you there will be trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, out of hearing of the + others, leaving Macdonald and his sledge-hammer on guard. + </p> + <p> + When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested his arms on his gun, in + a pathfinder attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he began anxiously, “you haven’t got some powder and shot on you by + any chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Not an ounce. Haven’t you any ammunition?” + </p> + <p> + “No, and haven’t had all through the fight. You see, we left the shop in + such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man on + horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the old man he + grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left at the shop for + repairs, and off we started. I’m not sure that it would shoot if I had + ammunition, but I’d like to try. I’ve scared some of them Fee-neens nigh + to death with it, but I was always afraid one of them would pull a real + gun on me, and then I don’t know just what I’d ‘a’ done.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but + was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: “Next battle there is you won’t find + me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I’d sooner have the old man’s + sledge. It don’t miss fire.” His eye brightened as he thought of + Macdonald. “Say,” he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his + shoulder, “the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” said Yates, “but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear + nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, you see,” said Sandy apologetically, “it don’t come as natural + to me as chewing, but, then, somebody’s got to swear. The old man’s + converted, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, hasn’t he backslid yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he hasn’t. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, but + it didn’t; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little cussing,—not + that anyone can cuss like the boss,—he’ll pull through. I think + he’ll stick this time. You’d ought to have seen him wading into them d—d + Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing ‘Onward, Christian soldiers.’ + Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when things got hot, he + pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I tell you, it was a + sight. He bowled ‘em over like nine-pins. You ought to ‘a’ been there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Yates regretfully. “I missed it, all on account of that + accursed Stoliker. Well, there’s no use crying over spilled milk, but I’ll + tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I’ll let you + know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of + tobacco that you ever put your teeth into.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy’s eyes glittered. “Bless you!” was all he could say, as he bit off a + corner of the offered plug. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I + thought you were out.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t had a bite all day. That’s the trouble with leaving in a + hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get back + and interview those fellows. There’s no time to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the group, Macdonald said: + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, + and that you will vouch for him.” + </p> + <p> + Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, yet + fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and + wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognized one of + the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New York + <i>Blade</i>. This was even worse than he had anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Jimmy!” he said, “how did you get here?” + </p> + <p> + “I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose a—fool?” cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. + He boggled slightly as he came to the “adjective,” but got over it safely. + It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, and cursed + Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent of profanity. + Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, not knowing that he + was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, wondering how he had + attained such proficiency in malediction; for, like all true artists, he + was quite unconscious of his own merit in that direction. + </p> + <p> + “Tell this hammer wielder that I’m no anvil. Tell him that I’m a newspaper + man, and didn’t come here to fight. He says that if you guarantee that I’m + no Fenian he’ll let me go.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked to do a + favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconvenience himself, but + he never forgot the fact that business was business. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy,” said Yates soothingly. + “How am I to know you are not a Fenian?” + </p> + <p> + “Bosh!” cried Hawkins angrily. “Conscientiously? A lot you think of + conscience when there is an item to be had.” + </p> + <p> + “We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy,” continued Yates + feelingly. “We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons that + you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of telling a + lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don’t you, Mr. Macdonald? You would not + advise me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the blacksmith earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me,” cried the + indignant <i>Blade</i> man. “You know very well I’m not a Fenian.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspect myself + of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s your game?” asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that he + himself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival’s dilemma. + </p> + <p> + “My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episode sent + over the wires to the <i>Argus</i>. You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. + When the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will save + you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do so without prejudice, + as the lawyers say, for I have always held that that will be the ultimate + end of all the <i>Blade</i> staff. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Yates; play fair. Don’t run in any conscientious guff on a + prisoner. You see, I have known you these many years.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and little have you profited by a noble example. It is your + knowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let you out + of your hole without due consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you willing to make a bargain? + </p> + <p> + “Always—when the balance of trade is on my side.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you give me a fair start, I’ll give you some exclusive + information that you can’t get otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wasn’t born yesterday, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven’t you + something more attractive to offer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the fight + written out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on a telegraph + wire. I’ll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, if you will get + me out of this hole, as you call it. I’ll give you permission to use the + information in any way you choose, if you will extricate me, and all I ask + is a fair start in the race for a telegraph office.” + </p> + <p> + Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Jimmy,” he finally said. “I’ll buy that + account from you, and give you more money than the <i>Blade</i> will. And + when I get back to New York I’ll place you on the staff of the <i>Argus</i> + at a higher salary than the <i>Blade</i> gives you—taking your own + word for the amount.” + </p> + <p> + “What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. But it won’t be sold by me. I’ll burn my copy before I will let + you have a glimpse of it. That don’t need to interfere with your making me + an offer of a better position when we get back to New York; but while my + paper depends on me, I won’t go back on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. I always + was weak where the interests of the <i>Argus</i> were concerned. You + haven’t any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, but I won’t lend it.” + </p> + <p> + Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mac,” he said, “tell me all you saw of this fight.” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark on + his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of + sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. One after + another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered together all the + materials for that excellent full-page account “by an eyewitness” that + afterward appeared in the columns of the <i>Argus</i>. He had a wonderful + memory, and simply jotted down figures with which he did not care to + burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and then at the facts they + were giving Yates, but the <i>Argus</i> man said nothing, merely setting + down in shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins sneered at, which + Yates considered was more than likely accurate and important. When he had + got all he wanted, he rose. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I send you help, Mac?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the smith; “I think I’ll take these fellows to the shop, and + hold them there till called for. You can’t vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr. + Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These + half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always seem + to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorant + co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you’ll enjoy life down at + Mac’s shop. It’s the best place I’ve struck since I’ve been in the + district. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you. + I’ll make careful inquiries into your opinions, and as soon as I am + convinced that you can be set free with safety to the community I’ll drop + in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so long.” + </p> + <p> + Yates’ one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write his + article as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fears about + the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying to get + through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. He quickly + made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, if the + Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride as rapidly as + he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reached the edge of the + woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. He found young + Bartlett at the barn. + </p> + <p> + “Any news of the horses yet?” was the first question he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said young Bartlett gloomily; “guess they’ve rode away with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraph office. + Where is the likeliest place to find one?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraph boy’s + nag; it’s in the stable now, having a feed.” + </p> + <p> + “What telegraph boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, didn’t you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and I + thought he had found you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven’t been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has some news + for me. I’m going to the house to write, so send him in as soon as he gets + back. Be sure you don’t let him get away before I see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll lock the stable,” said young Bartlett, “and then he won’t get the + horse, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that the girl + cried anxiously: + </p> + <p> + “Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Kitty; I’m after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have in + the house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil mark.” + </p> + <p> + “A copy book—such as the children use in school?” + </p> + <p> + “Just the thing.” + </p> + <p> + In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials he required + ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, and went to + work as if he were in his own den in the <i>Argus</i> building. + </p> + <p> + “This is a —— of a vacation,” he muttered to himself, as he + drove his pencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took + no note of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself and + sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?” he cried. “Well, it + doesn’t matter; I’ll take the horse without his permission.” + </p> + <p> + He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhat + surprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the good + things which that kitchen always afforded. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t let him go in to disturb you while you were writing,” said + Kitty, the boy’s mouth being too full to permit of a reply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that down and come in here; I want + to talk to you for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + The boy followed him into the front room. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for the rest of the day.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t have it,” said the boy promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t have it? I must have it. Why, I’ll take it. You don’t imagine you + can stop me, do you?” + </p> + <p> + The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms across his breast. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I’ll pay you well for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what am I here for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to eat, of course. They’ll feed you high while you wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Canadian telegraph office?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians couldn’t telegraph all you’ve + written in two weeks. I know ‘em,” said the boy with infinite scorn. + “Besides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, and you can’t get + a private message through till it gets over its fright.” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Yates, taken aback, “I hadn’t thought of that. Are you + sure, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what’s to be done? I must get through to Buffalo.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t. United States troops won’t let you. They’re stopping everybody—except + me,” he added, drawing himself up, as if he were the one individual who + stood in with the United States Government. + </p> + <p> + “Can you get this dispatch through?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet! That’s why I came back. I knew, as soon as I looked at you, that + you would write two or three columns of telegraph; and your paper said + ‘Spare no expense,’ you remember. So says I to myself: ‘I’ll help Mr. + Yates to spare no expense. I’ll get fifty dollars from that young man, + seeing I’m the only person who can get across in time.’” + </p> + <p> + “You were mighty sure of it, weren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and ready, I’m fed and ready, + and we’re losing valuable time waiting for that fifty dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you meet another newspaper man who wants to get his dispatch + through to another paper, what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet two other newspaper men, that + will be one hundred and fifty dollars; but if you want to make sure that I + won’t meet any more newspaper men, let us call it one hundred dollars, and + I’ll take the risk of the odd fifty for the ready cash; then if I meet a + dozen newspaper men, I’ll tell them I’m a telegraph boy on a vacation.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. I think you will be able to take care of yourself in a cold and + callous world. Now, look here, young man; I’ll trust you if you’ll trust + me. I’m not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay by results. If you + don’t get this dispatch through, you don’t get anything. I’ll give you an + order for a hundred dollars, and as soon as I get to Buffalo I’ll pay you + the cash. I’ll have to draw on the <i>Argus</i> when I get to Buffalo; if + my article has appeared, you get your cash; if it hasn’t, you’re out. + See?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see. It won’t do, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Why won’t it do?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I say it won’t. This is a cash transaction. Money down, or you + don’t get the goods. I’ll get it through all right, but if I just miss, + I’m not going to lose the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I’ll take it to the Canadian telegraph office.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Mr. Yates. I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were some + good. You aint got no sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at your tent, + there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of men out of the woods. When + one of them sees my uniform, he sings out he’d give me twenty-five dollars + to take his stuff. I said I’d see him later, and I will. Good-by, Mr. + Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, there! You’re a young villain. You’ll end in state’s prison yet, + but here’s your money. Now, you ride like a house a-fire.” + </p> + <p> + After watching the departing boy until he was out of sight Yates, with a + feeling of relief, started back to the tent. He was worried about the + interview the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, now that it was + too late, whether, after all, he had not Hawkins’ manuscript in his + pocket. He wished he had searched him. That trouble, however, did not + prevent him from sleeping like the dead the moment he lay down in the + tent. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + The result of the struggle was similar in effect to an American railway + accident of the first class. One officer and five privates were killed on + the Canadian side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. The number + of the Fenians killed will probably never be known. Several were buried on + the field of battle, others were taken back by O’Neill’s brigade when they + retreated. + </p> + <p> + Although the engagement ended as Yates had predicted, yet he was wrong in + his estimate of the Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underrated by men + of experience in military matters. The boys fought well, even when they + saw their ensign fall dead before them. If the affair had been left + entirely in their hands, the result might have been different—as was + shown afterward, when the volunteers, unimpeded by regulars, quickly put + down a much more formidable rising in the Northwest. But in the present + case they were hampered by their dependence on the British troops, whose + commander moved them with all the ponderous slowness of real war, and + approached O’Neill as if he had been approaching Napoleon. He thus managed + to get in a day after the fair on every occasion, being too late for the + fight at Ridgeway, and too late to capture any considerable number of the + flying Fenians at Fort Erie. The campaign, on the Canadian side, was + magnificently planned and wretchedly carried out. The volunteers and + regulars were to meet at a point close to where the fight took place, but + the British commander delayed two hours in starting, which fact the + Canadian colonel did not learn until too late. These blunders culminated + in a ghastly mistake on the field. The Canadian colonel ordered his men to + charge across an open field, and attack the Fenian force in the woods—a + brilliant but foolish move. To the command the volunteers gallantly + responded, but against stupidity the gods are powerless. In the field they + were appalled to hear the order given to form square and receive cavalry. + Even the schoolboys knew the Fenians could have no cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Having formed their square, the Canadians found themselves the helpless + targets of the Fenians in the woods. If O’Neill’s forces had shot with + reasonable precision, they must have cut the volunteers to pieces. The + latter were victorious, if they had only known it; but, in this hopeless + square, panic seized them, and it was every man for himself; at the same + time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as they could. This farce + is known as the battle of Ridgeway, and would have been comical had it not + been that death hovered over it. The comedy, without the tragedy, was + enacted a day or two before at a bloodless skirmish which took place near + a hamlet called Waterloo, which affray is dignified in Canadian annals as + the second battle of that name. + </p> + <p> + When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, who had watched the contest + with all the helpless anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing the danger, but + having no influence upon the result, followed them, making a wide detour + to avoid the chance shots which were still flying. He expected to come up + with the volunteers on the road, but was not successful. Through various + miscalculations he did not succeed in finding them until toward evening. + At first they told him that young Howard was with the company, and unhurt, + but further inquiry soon disclosed the fact that he had not been seen + since the fight. He was not among those who were killed or wounded, and it + was nightfall before Renmark realized that opposite his name on the roll + would be placed the ominous word “missing.” Renmark remembered that the + boy had said he would visit his home if he got leave; but no leave had + been asked for. At last Renmark was convinced that young Howard was either + badly wounded or dead. The possibility of his desertion the professor did + not consider for a moment, although he admitted to himself that it was + hard to tell what panic of fear might come over a boy who, for the first + time in his life, found bullets flying about his ears. + </p> + <p> + With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and made his way to the fatal + field. He found nothing on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, he + came across several bodies lying where they fell; but they were all those + of strangers. Even in the darkness he would have had no difficulty in + recognizing the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He walked down to + the Howard homestead, hoping, yet fearing, to hear the boy’s voice—the + voice of a deserter. Everything was silent about the house, although a + light shone through an upper window, and also through one below. He paused + at the gate, not knowing what to do. It was evident the boy was not here, + yet how to find the father or brother, without alarming Margaret or her + mother, puzzled him. As he stood there the door opened, and he recognized + Mrs. Bartlett and Margaret standing in the light. He moved away from the + gate, and heard the older woman say: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now that she has fallen into a + nice sleep. I wouldn’t disturb her to-night, if I were you. It is nothing + but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It’s all over now, + thank God. Good-night, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman came through the gate, and then ran, with all the speed of + sixteen, toward her own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, listening to + the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, but Renmark thought he + had never seen anyone so lovely; and he was startled to find that he had a + most un-professor-like longing to take her in his arms and comfort her. + Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared it would be his fate to add + to her anxiety; and it was not until he saw she was about to close the + door that he found courage to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, and the + cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with an unknown + joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there, with wide eyes + and suspended breath, gazing into the darkness. Renmark stepped into the + light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue and anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said again, “I want to speak with you a moment. Where is + your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. There is + something wrong,” she continued, stepping down beside him. “I can see it + in your face. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is your father in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me what it is. It is better to + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t keep me in suspense like this,” cried the girl in a low but intense + voice. “You have said too much or too little. Has anything happened to + Henry?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> alarmed. Tell, me quickly.” And the girl in her excitement + laid her hands imploringly on his. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you know + that?” + </p> + <p> + “He never told me. I understand—I think so, but I hope not. He was + in the battle today. Is he—has he been—hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I’m afraid so,” said Renmark hurriedly, now that the truth + had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of the girl’s + unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. “He was with the + volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don’t know where he + is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he has been + left behind. I have been all over the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes?” + </p> + <p> + “But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me to where the volunteers were,” she sobbed. “I know what has + happened. Come quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not put something on your head?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Come at once.” Then, pausing, she said: “Shall we need a + lantern?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Renmark had some trouble in + keeping pace with her. She turned at the side road, and sped up the gentle + ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the place,” said Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “He could not have been hit in the field,” she cried breathlessly, “for + then he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing a + fence. If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did you search this + field?” + </p> + <p> + “Every bit of it. He is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the second + fence. Did you see the battle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they did not leave the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if he was struck, it could not have been far from the other side of + the second fence. He would be the last to retreat; and that is why the + others did not see him,” said the girl, with confident pride in her + brother’s courage. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the first fence; the road, and the second fence, the girl + walking ahead for a few paces. She stopped, and leaned for a moment + against a tree. “It must have been about here,” she said in a voice hardly + audible. “Have you searched on this side?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and woods.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not there; but down along the fence. He knew every inch of this + ground. If he were wounded here, he would at once try to reach our house. + Search down along the fence. I—I cannot go.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made by the + zigzag of the rails; and he knew, without looking back, that Margaret, + with feminine inconsistency, was following him. Suddenly she darted past + him, and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing out a cry that cut + Renmark like a knife. + </p> + <p> + The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his outstretched hand grasping + the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far, and reached + an insurmountable obstacle. + </p> + <p> + Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and rapidly ran his hand over + the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy passed + over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. + </p> + <p> + “He is alive!” he cried. “He will get well, Margaret.” A statement + somewhat premature to make on so hasty an examination. + </p> + <p> + He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the girl he loved. He was + amazed to see her eyes almost luminous in the darkness, blazing with + wrath. + </p> + <p> + “When did you know he was with the volunteers?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning—early,” said the professor, taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked me not to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man’s sense. You had + no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know, and your duty + to tell me. Through your negligence and stupidity my brother has lain here + all day—perhaps dying,” she added with a break in her angry voice. + </p> + <p> + “If you had known—I didn’t know anything was wrong until I saw the + volunteers. I have not lost a moment since.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have known he was missing, without going to the volunteers.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, from a girl whom he had + made the mistake of believing to be without a temper of her own, that he + knew not what to say. He was, however, to have one more example of + inconsistency. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you stand there doing nothing, now that I have found him?” she + demanded. + </p> + <p> + It was on his tongue to say: “I stand here because you stand there + unjustly quarreling with me,” but he did not say it. Renmark was not a + ready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said sternly, “throw down that fence.” + </p> + <p> + This curt command, delivered in his most schoolmastery manner, was + instantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to a young + woman, but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts of America. A + rail fence lends itself readily to demolition. Margaret tossed a rail to + the right, one to the left, and to the right again, until an open gap took + the place of that part of the fence. The professor examined the young + soldier in the meantime, and found his leg had been broken by a musket + ball. He raised him up tenderly in his arms, and was pleased to hear a + groan escape his lips. He walked through the open gap and along the road + toward the house, bearing the unconscious form of his pupil. Margaret + silently kept close to his side, her fingers every now and then + unconsciously caressing the damp, curly locks of her brother. + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to get a doctor?” Her assertion was half an inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that I should tell + you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot help disturbing someone.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it will be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur, I will + go for the doctor, and no one need know.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go for the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, and + will soon be back.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are prowlers and stragglers all along the roads. It is not safe + for you to go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen can + overtake Gypsy. Now, don’t say anything more. It is best that I should go. + I will run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will take the lamp to + the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry him + around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show you the + way.” + </p> + <p> + With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried his burden alone. She was + waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way round the house, to + where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn under an apple tree. The + light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the boy gently upon the + dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmark whose room he was + in. It was decorated with those pretty little knickknacks so dear to the + heart of a girl in a snuggery she can call her own. + </p> + <p> + “It is not likely you will be disturbed here,” she whispered, “until I + come back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don’t like + the thought of your going alone.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You do not know the way. I shall + be very much quicker. If Arthur should—should—wake, he will + know you, and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were a stranger.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was gone before he could say anything more, and Renmark sat down, + devoutly hoping no one would rap at the door of the room while he was + there. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse, when she opened the stable door, + and Gypsy replied with that affectionate, low guttural whinny which the + Scotch graphically term “nickering.” She patted the little animal; and if + Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at that hour of the + night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing its nose lovingly up + and down Margaret’s sleeve as she buckled the different straps. There was + evidently a good understanding between the two. + </p> + <p> + “No, Gyp,” she whispered, “I have nothing for you to-night—nothing + but hard work and quick work. Now, you mustn’t make a noise till we get + past the house.” + </p> + <p> + On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, which she always + carried, but never used. Gyp had never felt the indignity of the lash, and + was always willing to do what was required merely for a word. + </p> + <p> + Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and there was + therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although the passing + of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that if her father heard + the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come out to investigate. + Halfway between her own home and Bartlett’s house she sprang lightly into + the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, Gyp!” + </p> + <p> + No second word was required. Away they sped down the road toward the east, + the mild June air coming sweet and cool and fresh from the distant lake, + laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. The stillness was + intense, broken only by the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, America’s + one-phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and eerie note of a + distant loon. + </p> + <p> + The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shown anywhere. + The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter of the day; and + the population, scattered as it was, appeared to have retired into its + shell. A spell of silence and darkness was over the land, and the rapid + hoof beats of the horse sounded with startling distinctness on the harder + portions of the road, emphasized by intervals of complete stillness, when + the fetlocks sank in the sand and progress was more difficult for the + plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear that Margaret felt on her + night journey was when she entered the dark arch of an avenue of old + forest trees that bordered the road, like a great, gloomy cathedral aisle, + in the shadow of which anything might be hidden. Once the horse, with a + jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead: Margaret caught her + breath as she saw, or fancied she saw, several men stretched on the + roadside, asleep or dead. Once in the open again she breathed more freely, + and if it had not been for the jump of the horse, she would have accused + her imagination of playing her a trick. Just as she had completely + reassured herself a shadow moved from the fence to the middle of the road, + and a sharp voice cried: + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” + </p> + <p> + The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted its two + front hoofs together, and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so + quickly to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Margaret kept her + seat. She saw in front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready to fire + if she attempted to disobey his command. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, and where are you going?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please let me pass!” pleaded Margaret with a tremor of fear in her + voice. “I am going for a doctor—for my brother; he is badly wounded, + and will perhaps die if I am delayed.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” he cried, coming closer; “a woman, is it? and a young one, too, or + I’m a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I’ll have to investigate + this. The brother business won’t work with an old soldier. It’s your lover + you’re riding for at this time of the night, or I’m no judge of the sex. + Just slip down, my lady, and see if you don’t like me better than him; + remember that all cats are black in the dark. Get down, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. I + must get to the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no ‘must’ with a bayonet in front of you. If he has been wounded, + there’s plenty of better men killed to-day. Come down, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in the darkness, the man + saw her intention. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t escape, my pretty. If you try it, you’ll not be hurt, but I’ll + kill your horse. If you move, I’ll put a bullet through him.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill my horse?” breathed Margaret in horror, a fear coming over her that + she had not felt at the thought of danger to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, missy,” said the man, approaching nearer, and laying his hand on + Gypsy’s bridle. “But there will be no need of that. Besides, it would make + too much noise, and might bring us company, which would be inconvenient. + So come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here and be + your prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. This was a good joke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn’t born so recently as all that. A girl in the + hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, or + I’ll take you off. This is war time, and I’m not going to waste any more + pretty talk on you.” + </p> + <p> + The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at her, and something in + his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that he + apparently was not prepared for any sudden movement. Her right hand, + hanging down at her side, had grasped the short riding whip, and, with a + swiftness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she struck him one + stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought down the lash on + the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with her left over her + enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the horse sprang forward, + bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatter that woke the + echoes; then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped along the road + like the wind. It was the first time he had ever felt the cut of a whip, + and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further obstruction on + the road, turned her horse’s head toward the rail fence, and went over it + like a bird. In the field, where fast going in the dark had dangers, + Margaret tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse would not have it + so. He shook his head angrily whenever he thought of the indignity of that + blow, while Margaret leaned over and tried to explain and beg pardon for + her offense. The second fence was crossed with a clean-cut leap, and only + once in the next field did the horse stumble, but quickly recovered and + went on at the same breakneck gait. The next fence, gallantly vaulted + over, brought them to the side road, half a mile up which stood the + doctor’s house. Margaret saw the futility of attempting a reconciliation + until the goal was won. There, with difficulty, the horse was stopped, and + the girl struck the panes of the upper window, through which a light + shone, with her riding whip. The window was raised, and the situation + speedily explained to the physician. + </p> + <p> + “I will be with you in a moment,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her arms around the neck of + the trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, and sniffed + the air with offended dignity. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>was</i> a shame, Gyp,” she cried, almost tearfully, stroking the + glossy neck of her resentful friend; “it was, it was, and I know it; but + what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only protector I had, and you <i>did</i> + bowl him over beautifully; no other horse could have done it so well. It’s + wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike you.” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss of the head that the + wheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult more + than the pain; and from her—there was the sting of it. + </p> + <p> + “I know—I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; and I don’t blame you + for being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there was no + time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That’s why it came + down so hard. If I had said a word, he would have got out of the way, + coward that he was, and then would have shot you—<i>you</i>, Gypsy! + Think of it!” + </p> + <p> + If a man can be molded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, how can a + horse expect to be exempt from her influence. Gypsy showed signs of + melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. + </p> + <p> + “And it will never happen again, Gypsy—never, never. As soon as we + are safe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you + wouldn’t——” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy’s head rested on Margaret’s shoulder, and we must draw a veil over + the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle + with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar of friendship + the unoffending whip was doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, and + proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way—the + Concession, as it was called. + </p> + <p> + They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light in the + window. + </p> + <p> + The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from the + house, and walked together to the window with the stealthy steps of a pair + of housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closed window, and + thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. She tapped lightly on + the pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. + </p> + <p> + “We were getting very anxious about you,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Peggy!” said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his head slightly + from the pillow and dropping it back again. + </p> + <p> + Margaret stooped over and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was going to + die within sight of the house.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited until the + examination was over, and then went out to find her. + </p> + <p> + She sprang forward to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right,” he said. “There is nothing to fear. He has been + exhausted by loss of blood, but a few days’ quiet will set that right. + Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience at being + kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad! and—and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. + Renmark!” + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing—except make blunders,” replied the professor + with a bitterness that surprised and hurt her. + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that? You have done everything. We owe his life to you.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlier + part of the night had deeply pained him, and he hoped for some hint of + disclaimer from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did not realize + that the words were spoken in a state of intense excitement and fear, that + another woman would probably have expressed her condition of mind by + fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had left + absolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark + spoke: + </p> + <p> + “I must be getting back to the tent, if it still exists. I think I had an + appointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to this moment + I had forgotten it. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had done to + offend him. He stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much the + direction he took, but automatically going the nearest way to the tent. + Fatigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were as + lead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull ache where his heart was + supposed to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of himself. He + entered the tent, and was startled by the voice of Yates: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! hello! Is that you, Stoliker?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is Renmark. Are you asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Have you + provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven’t been near the + tent since early morning.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; only don’t expect a recommendation from me as cook. I’m not + yet hungry enough for raw potatoes. What time has it got to be?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I’m the latest edition of Rip + Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was + dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not wide enough awake to remember. I <i>think</i> I killed him, but + wouldn’t be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that very likely + he is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. What have you been + prowling after all night?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll ask <i>you</i> in the morning,” muttered Yates drowsily—after + which there was silence in the tent. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <p> + Yates had stubbornly refused to give up his search for rest and quiet in + spite of the discomfort of living in a leaky and battered tent. He + expressed regret that he had not originally camped in the middle of + Broadway, as being a quieter and less exciting spot than the place he had + chosen; but, having made the choice, he was going to see the last dog + hung, he said. Renmark had become less and less of a comrade. He was + silent, and almost as gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yates tried + to cheer him up by showing him how much worse another man’s position might + be, Renmark generally ended the talk by taking to the wood. + </p> + <p> + “Just reflect on my position,” Yates would say. “Here I am dead in love + with two lovely girls, both of whom are merely waiting for the word. To + one of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, to a man of my + temperament, inclines me somewhat to the other. Here I am anxious to + confide in you, and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talk about + the complication. You have no sympathy for me, Renny, when I need + sympathy; while I am bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won’t + have it. Now, what would you do if you were in my fix? If you would take + five minutes and show me clearly which of the two girls I really ought to + marry, it would help me ever so much, for then I would be sure to settle + on the other. It is the indecision that is slowly but surely sapping my + vitality.” + </p> + <p> + By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over his eyes, + and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in the silent halls + of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates generally + looked after his retreating figure without anger, but with mild wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst,” he would say with a + sigh. “It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down about one’s + ears in this way.” At their last talk of this kind Yates resolved not to + discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisis came. The + crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the latter + lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrilling romance. The camp was + strewn with these engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates had read many + of them, hoping to came across a case similar to his own, but up to the + time of Stoliker’s visit he had not succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Stoliker! how’s things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want to have + another tour across country with me?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow or next + day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side; though you + need never say I told you. Of course, if they give the warrant to me, I + shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may be done to you, still, + the country is in a state of excitement, and you will at least be put to + some inconvenience.” + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker,” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, “you are a white + man! You’re a good fellow, Stoliker, and I’m ever so much obliged. If you + ever come to New York, you call on me at the <i>Argus</i> office,—anybody + will show you where it is,—and I’ll give you the liveliest time you + ever had in your life. It won’t cost you a cent, either.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” said the constable. “Now, if I were you, I would light + out to-morrow at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Yates. + </p> + <p> + Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after a moment’s + thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It was dark before + he had finished, and Renmark returned. + </p> + <p> + “Stilly,” cried the reporter cheerily, “there’s a warrant out for my + arrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!” + </p> + <p> + “What! to jail?” cried his horrified friend, his conscience now troubling + him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an old comrade. + </p> + <p> + “Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, which is pretty much the + same thing. Still, thank goodness, I don’t need to stay there long. I’ll + be in New York before I’m many days older. I yearn to plunge into the + arena once more. The still, calm peacefulness of this whole vacation has + made me long for excitement again, and I’m glad the warrant has pushed me + into the turmoil.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Richard, I’m sorry you have to go under such conditions. I’m afraid + I have not been as companionable a comrade as you should have had.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re all right, Renny. The trouble with you is that you have drawn + a little circle around Toronto University, and said to yourself: ‘This is + the world.’ It isn’t, you know. There is something outside of all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours is around the <i>Argus</i> + office.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but there are special wires from that little circle to all the rest + of the world, and soon there will be an Atlantic cable.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; still, there is + something outside of New York, even.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet your life there is; and, now that you are in a more sympathetic + frame of mind, it is that I want to talk with you about. Those two girls + are outside my little circle, and I want to bring one of them within it. + Now, Renmark, which of those girls would you choose if you were me?” + </p> + <p> + The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was silent for a moment. At + last he said, speaking slowly: + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite appreciate my point of + view. As you may think I have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will try + for the first and final time to explain it. I hold that any man who + marries a good woman gets more than he deserves, no matter how worthy he + may be. I have a profound respect for all women, and I think that your + light chatter about choosing between two is an insult to both of them. I + think either of them is infinitely too good for you—or for me + either.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do, do you? Perhaps you think that you would make a much better + husband than I. If that is the case, allow me to say you are entirely + wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill her with your gloomy + fits. I wouldn’t go off in the woods and sulk, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are referring to me, I will further inform you that I had either + to go off in the woods or knock you down. I chose the less of two evils.” + </p> + <p> + “Think you could do it, I suppose? Renny, you’re conceited. You’re not the + first man who has made such a mistake, and found he was barking up the + wrong tree when it was too late for anything but bandages and arnica.” + </p> + <p> + “I have tried to show you how I feel regarding this matter. I might have + known I should not succeed. We will end the discussion, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, Renny, I’ll tell you what + you need. You need a good, sensible wife worse than any man I know. It is + not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. You will, before long, + grow a crust on you like a snail, or a lobster, or any other cold-blooded + animal that gets a shell on itself. Then nothing can be done for you. Now, + let me save you, Renny, before it is too late. Here is my proposition: You + choose one of those girls and marry her. I’ll take the other. I’m not as + unselfish as I may seem in this, for your choice will save me the worry of + making up my own mind. According to your talk, either of the girls is too + good for you, and for once I entirely agree with you. But let that pass. + Now, which one is it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! man, do you think I am going to bargain with you about my + future wife?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. It shows you are not yet + the prig you would have folks believe. There’s still hope for you, + professor. Now, I’ll go further with you. Although I cannot make up my + mind just what to do myself, I can tell instantly which is the girl for + you, and thus we solve both problems at one stroke. You need a wife who + will take you in hand. You need one who will not put up with your + tantrums, who will be cheerful, and who will make a man of you. Kitty + Bartlett is the girl. She will tyrannize over you, just as her mother does + over the old man. She will keep house to the queen’s taste, and delight in + getting you good things to eat. Why, everything is as plain as a + pikestaff. That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. You marry + Kitty, and I’ll marry Margaret. Come, let’s shake hands over it.” Yates + held up his right hand, ready to slap it down on the open palm of the + professor, but there was no response. Yates’ hand came down to his side + again, but he had not yet lost the enthusiasm of his proposal. The more he + thought of it the more fitting it seemed. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed girl that, if I am as + flippant as you say, she will be just the wife for me. There are depths in + my character, Renmark, that you have not suspected.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re deep.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman would develop the best that + is in me. Now, what do you say, Renny?” + </p> + <p> + “I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, dark as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” said Yates with a sigh, “there’s no doing anything with you or + for you. I’ve tried my best; that is one consolation. Don’t go away. I’ll + let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up.” + </p> + <p> + And Yates drew a silver half dollar from his pocket. “Heads for Margaret!” + he cried. Renmark clinched his fist, took a step forward, then checked + himself, remembering that this was his last night with the man who had at + least once been his friend. + </p> + <p> + Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in one hand, and slapped + the other over it. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the turning point in the lives of two innocent beings.” He raised + the covering hand, and peered at the coin in the gathering gloom. “Heads + it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard Yates. Congratulate me, + professor.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object lesson in self-control. + Yates set his hat more jauntily on his head, and slipped the epoch-making + coin into his trousers pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, old man,” he said. “I’ll see you later, and tell you all the + particulars.” + </p> + <p> + Without waiting for the answer, for which he probably knew there would + have been little use in delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprang + over it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood still for some + minutes, then, quietly gathering underbrush and sticks large and small, + lighted a fire, and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + Yates walked merrily down the road, whistling “Gayly the troubadour.” + Perhaps there is no moment in a man’s life when he feels the joy of being + alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to a girl of whose + favorable answer he is reasonably sure—unless it be the moment he + walks away an accepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, with + its soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air laden with the perfumes + of wood and field. The enchantment of the hour threw its spell over the + young man, and he resolved to live a better life, and be worthy of the + girl he had chosen, or, rather, that fate had chosen for him. He paused a + moment, leaning over the fence near the Howard homestead, for he had not + yet settled in his own mind the details of the meeting. He would not go + in, for in that case he knew he would have to talk, perhaps for hours, + with everyone but the person he wished to meet. If he announced himself + and asked to see Margaret alone, his doing so would embarrass her at the + very beginning. Yates was naturally too much of a diplomat to begin + awkwardly. As he stood there, wishing chance would bring her out of the + house, there appeared a light in the door-window of the room where he knew + the convalescent boy lay. Margaret’s shadow formed a silhouette on the + blind. Yates caught up a handful of sand, and flung it lightly against the + pane. Its soft patter evidently attracted the attention of the girl, for, + after a moment’s pause, the window opened carefully, while Margaret + stepped quickly out and closed it, quietly standing there. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” whispered Yates hardly above his breath. + </p> + <p> + The girl advanced toward the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Is that <i>you</i>?” she whispered in return, with an accent on the last + word that thrilled her listener. The accent told plainly as speech that + the word represented the one man on earth to her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Yates, springing over the fence and approaching her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Margaret, starting back, then checking herself, with a catch + in her voice. “You—you startled me—Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. Margaret, I wanted to see you + alone. You know why I have come.” He tried to grasp both her hands, but + she put them resolutely behind her, seemingly wishing to retreat, yet + standing her ground. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it is with me. I love you, + Margaret, loyally and truly. It seems as if I had loved you all my life. I + certainly have since the first day I saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling, how else <i>can</i> I talk to you? It cannot be a surprise to + you, Margaret. You must have known it long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not, indeed I did not—if you really mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mean it? I never meant anything as I mean this. It is everything to me, + and nothing else is anything. I have knocked about the world a good deal, + I admit, but I never was in love before—never knew what love was + until I met you. I tell you that——” + </p> + <p> + “Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything more. If it is really + true, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said or done + has made you believe that—that—Oh, I do not know what to say! + I never thought you could be in earnest about anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Margaret. Others have, but I did + not expect it of you. You are far and away better than I am. No one knows + that so well as I. I do not pretend to be worthy of you, but I will be a + devoted husband to you. Any man who gets the love of a good woman,” + continued Yates earnestly, plagiarizing Renmark, “gets more than he + deserves; but surely such love as mine is not given merely to be + scornfully trampled underfoot.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not treat your—you scornfully. I am only sorry if what you say + is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say <i>if</i> it is true? Don’t you know it is true?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am very sorry—very, <i>very</i> sorry, and I hope it is + through no fault of mine. But you will soon forget me. When you return to + New York——” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” said the young man bitterly, “I shall never forget you. Think + what you are doing before it is too late. Think how much this means to me. + If you finally refuse me, you will wreck my life. I am the sort of man + that a woman can make or mar. Do not, I beg of you, ruin the life of the + man who loves you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a missionary,” cried Margaret with sudden anger. “If your life + is to be wrecked, it will be through your own foolishness, and not from + any act of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I am to be held + responsible. I have no wish to influence your future one way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for good, Margaret?” asked Yates with tender reproach. + </p> + <p> + “No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends on anyone but himself is not + my ideal of a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to attain it.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You think it will be useless for me to try?” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I am concerned, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, I want to ask you one more question. I have no right to, but I + beg you to answer me. Are you in love with anyone else?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Margaret hotly. “How dare you ask me such a question?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is not a crime—that is, being in love with someone else is + not. I’ll tell you why I dare ask. I swear, by all the gods, that I shall + win you—if not this year, then next; and if not next, then the year + after. I was a coward to talk as I did; but I love you more now than I did + even then. All I want to know is that you are not in love with another + man. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are very cruel in persisting as you do, when you have had + your answer. I say no. Never! never! never!—this year nor any other + year. Is not that enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for me. A woman’s ‘no’ may ultimately mean ‘yes.’” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, Mr. Yates,” replied Margaret, drawing herself up as one who + makes a final plunge. “You remember the question you asked me just now?—whether + I cared for anyone else? I said ‘no.’ That ‘no’ meant ‘yes.’” + </p> + <p> + He was standing between her and the window, so she could not escape by the + way she came. He saw she meditated flight, and made as though he would + intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran around the house, + and he heard a door open and shut. + </p> + <p> + He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to the fence, climbing + slowly over where he had leaped so lightly a few minutes before, and + walked down the road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he was a + coward for talking to her as he had done about his wrecked life, yet he + knew now that every word he had spoken was true. What did the future hold + out to him? Not even the incentive to live. He found himself walking + toward the tent, but, not wishing to meet Renmark in his present frame of + mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. He was tired and broken, + and resolved to stay in camp until they arrested him. Then perhaps she + might have some pity on him. Who was the other man she loved? or had she + merely said that to give finality to her refusal? In his present mood he + pictured the worst, and imagined her the wife of some neighboring farmer—perhaps + even of Stoliker. These country girls, he said to himself, never believed + a man was worth looking at unless he owned a farm. He would save his + money, and buy up the whole neighborhood; <i>then</i> she would realize + what she had missed. He climbed up on the fence beside the road, and sat + on the top rail, with his heels resting on a lower one, so that he might + enjoy his misery without the fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination + pictured himself as the owner in a few years’ time of a large section of + that part of the country, with mortgages on a good deal of the remainder, + including the farm owned by Margaret’s husband. He saw her now, a farmer’s + faded wife, coming to him and begging for further time in which to pay the + seven per cent. due. He knew he would act magnanimously on such an + occasion, and grandly give her husband all the time he required. Perhaps + then she would realize the mistake she had made. Or perhaps fame, rather + than riches, would be his line. His name would ring throughout the land. + He might become a great politician, and bankrupt Canada with a rigid + tariff law. The unfairness of making the whole innocent people suffer for + the inconsiderate act of one of them did not occur to him at the moment, + for he was humiliated and hurt. There is no bitterness like that which + assails the man who has been rejected by the girl he adores—while it + lasts. His eye wandered toward the black mass of the Howard house. It was + as dark as his thoughts. He turned his head slowly around, and, like a + bright star of hope, there glimmered up the road a flickering light from + the Bartletts’ parlor window. Although time had stopped as far as he was + concerned, he was convinced it could not be very late, or the Bartletts + would have gone to bed. It is always difficult to realize that the + greatest of catastrophes are generally over in a few minutes. It seemed an + age since he walked so hopefully away from the tent. As he looked at the + light the thought struck him that perhaps Kitty was alone in the parlor. + She at least would not have treated him so badly as the other girl; and—and + she was pretty, too, come to think of it. He always did like a blonde + better than a brunette. + </p> + <p> + A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used in some parts of the + country in such a manner as to impress the sitter with the fact of its + extreme discomfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is not wanted + in that immediate neighborhood. Yates recollected this, with a smile, as + he slid off and stumbled into the ditch by the side of the road. His mind + had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten about the ditch. As he + walked along the road toward the star that guided him he remembered he had + recklessly offered Miss Kitty to the callous professor. After all, no one + knew about the episode of a short time before except himself and Margaret, + and he felt convinced she was not a girl to boast of her conquests. + Anyhow, it didn’t matter. A man is surely master of himself. + </p> + <p> + As he neared the window he looked in. People are not particular about + lowering the blinds in the country. He was rather disappointed to see Mrs. + Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious woman she was. Still + it was consoling to note that none of the men-folks were present, and that + Kitty, with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, sat reading a book + he had lent to her. He rapped at the door, and it was opened by Mrs. + Bartlett, with some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “For the land’s sake! is that you, Mr. Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “Come right in. Why, what’s the matter with you? You look as if you had + lost your best friend. Ah, I see how it is,”—Yates started,—“you + have run out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry as a bear.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped around to see if I + could borrow a loaf of bread. We don’t bake till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I’ll get you a loaf in a + minute. Are you sure one is enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite enough, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman bustled out to the other room for the loaf, and Yates made + good use of her temporary absence. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty,” he whispered, “I want to see you alone for a few minutes. I’ll + wait for you at the gate. Can you slip out?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty blushed very red and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I’m off to-morrow before they + can serve it. But I couldn’t go without seeing you. You’ll come, sure?” + </p> + <p> + Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in alarm when he spoke of the + warrant. Before anything further could be said Mrs. Bartlett came in, and + Kitty was absorbed in her book. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you have something to eat now before you go back?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the professor is waiting for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him wait, if he didn’t have sense enough to come.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t. I offered him the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t take us a moment to set the table. It is not the least trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am not in the slightest + degree hungry now. I am merely taking some thought of the morrow. No; I + must be going, and thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the door, “if there’s anything + you want, come to me, and I will let you have it if it’s in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too good to me,” said the young man with genuine feeling, “and I + don’t deserve it; but I may remind you of your promise—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “See that you do,” she answered. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the post, where he forgot + it, much to the astonishment of the donor in the morning. He did not have + to wait long, for Kitty came around the house somewhat shrinkingly, as one + who was doing the most wicked thing that had been done since the world + began. Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one of her unresisting hands + in his. + </p> + <p> + “I must be off to-morrow,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” answered Kitty in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. But I intend to come back, + if you will let me. Kitty, you remember that talk we had in the kitchen, + when we—when there was an interruption, and when I had to go away + with our friend Stoliker?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty indicated that she remembered it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course you know what I wanted to say to you. Of course you know + what I want to say to you now.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, for Kitty had not the + slightest idea, and wanted to go into the house, for it was late, and her + mother would miss her. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that I love you. You must know + that I have loved you ever since the first day I saw you, when you laughed + at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make something of me, if that is + possible. I am a worthless fellow, not half good enough for a little pet + like you; but, Kitty, if you will only say ‘yes,’ I will try, and try + hard, to be a better man than I have ever been before.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty did not say “yes” but she placed her disengaged hand, warm and soft, + upon his, and Yates was not the man to have any hesitation about what to + do next. To practical people it may seem an astonishing thing that, the + object of the interview being happily accomplished, there should be any + need of prolonging it; yet the two lingered there, and he told her much of + his past life, and of how lonely and sordid it had been because he had no + one to care for him—at which her pretty eyes filled with tears. She + felt proud and happy to think she had won the first great love of a + talented man’s life, and hoped she would make him happy, and in a measure + atone for the emptiness of the life that had gone before. She prayed that + he might always be as fond of her as he was then, and resolved to be + worthy of him if she could. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, her wishes have been amply fulfilled, and few wives are as + happy or as proud of their husbands as Kitty Yates. The one woman who + might have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life merely kissed her + tenderly when Kitty told her of the great joy that had come to her, and + said she was sure she would be happy; and thus for the second time + Margaret told the thing that was not, but for once Margaret was wrong in + her fears. + </p> + <p> + Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving his loaf on the gatepost + behind him. Few realize that it is quite as pleasant to be loved as to + love. The verb “to love” has many conjugations. The earth he trod was like + no other ground he had ever walked upon. The magic of the June night was + never so enchanting before. He strode along with his head and his thoughts + in the clouds, and the Providence that cares for the intoxicated looked + after him, and saw that the accepted lover came to no harm. He leaped the + fence without even putting his hand to it, and then was brought to earth + again by the picture of a man sitting with his head in his hands beside a + dying fire. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> + <p> + Yates stood for a moment regarding the dejected attitude of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old man!” he cried, “you have the most ‘hark-from-the-tombs’ + appearance I ever saw. What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Renmark looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it’s I. Been expecting anybody else?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking of a variety of things.” + </p> + <p> + “You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my boy. She’s mine, and I’m + hers—which are two ways of stating the same delightful fact. I’m up + in a balloon, Renny. I’m engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, and most + delightful girl there is from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What d’ye think + of that? Say, Renmark, there’s nothing on earth like it. You ought to + reform and go in for being in love. It would make a man of you. Champagne + isn’t to be compared to it. Get up here and dance, and don’t sit there + like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you comprehend that I am to be married + to the darlingest girl that lives?” + </p> + <p> + “God help her!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I say. Every day of her life, bless her! But I don’t say it + quite in that tone, Renmark. What’s the matter with you? One would think + you were in love with the girl yourself, if such a thing were possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it not possible?” + </p> + <p> + “If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first time. Because you are a + fossil. You are too good, Renny; therefore dull and uninteresting. Now, + there is nothing a woman likes so much as to reclaim a man. It always + annoys a woman to know that the man she is interested in has a past with + which she has had nothing to do. If he is wicked and she can sort of make + him over, like an old dress, she revels in the process. She flatters + herself she makes a new man of him, and thinks she owns that new man by + right of manufacture. We owe it to the sex, Renny, to give ‘em a chance at + reforming us. I have known men who hated tobacco take to smoking merely to + give it up joyfully for the sake of the women they loved. Now, if a man is + perfect to begin with, what is a dear, ministering angel of a woman to do + with him? Manifestly nothing. The trouble with you, Renny, is that you are + too evidently ruled by a good and well-trained conscience, and naturally + all women you meet intuitively see this, and have no use for you. A little + wickedness would be the making of you.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, that if a man’s impulse is to do what his conscience + tells him is wrong, he should follow his impulse, and not his conscience?” + </p> + <p> + “You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. I believe that an + occasional blow-out is good for a man. But if you ever have an impulse of + that kind, I think you should give way to it for once, just to see how it + feels. A man who is too good gets conceited about himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates,” said the professor, rising. “I + will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. My + conscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a long + and happy life with the girl you have—I won’t say chosen, but tossed + up for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break every + bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Renmark, you’re crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. A lunatic + is sometimes dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go away. You’re dreaming. You’re talking in your sleep. What! Fight? + Tonight? Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don’t wish to fight at all, + especially to-night. I’m a reformed man, I tell you. I have no desire to + bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s impossible to fight here in the dark. Don’t flatter yourself for a + moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limbered up, + while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into a + blaze. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “that’s better. Now, let me have a look at you. In the + name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to give my reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I refuse to fight. I’ll run, and I can beat you in a foot race any + day in the week. Why, you’re worse than her father. He at least let me + know why he fought me.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose father?” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty’s father, of course—my future father-in-law. And that’s + another ordeal ahead of me. I haven’t spoken to the old man yet, and I + need all my fighting grit for that.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t my language plain? It usually is.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to Miss + Bartlett. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can’t we + postpone our fracas until daylight? I don’t want to gather any more wood. + Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thus ruin + whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Say? I say I am an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar—to Miss Howard?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget. You + remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred to it a + moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time. Well, I + don’t care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know the beginning, + you will have to know the end, because I want to wring a sacred promise + from you. You are never to mention this episode of the toss-up, or of my + confession, to any living soul. The telling of it might do harm, and it + couldn’t possibly do any good. Will you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you should + understand how the land lies, so you won’t make any mistake. Not on <i>my</i> + account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty’s ears. Yes, I + proposed to Margaret—first. She wouldn’t look at me. Can you credit + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now that you mention it, I——” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I see you <i>can</i> credit it. Well, I couldn’t at first; but + Margaret knows her own mind, there’s no question about <i>that</i>. Say! + she’s in love with some other fellow. I found out that much.” + </p> + <p> + “You asked her, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I do that + for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when it comes + to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, and then + bolted.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have used great tact and delicacy.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Renmark; I’m not going to stand any of your sneering. I told + you this was a sore subject with me. I’m not telling you because I like + to, but because I have to. Don’t put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark. If + <i>I</i> talk fight, I won’t begin for no reason and then back out for no + reason. I’ll go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else. Isn’t that enough? It was more than enough for me—at + the time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sitting on + the fence and thinking about it.” + </p> + <p> + “So long as that?” + </p> + <p> + Yates rose from the fire indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “I take that back, too,” cried the professor hastily. “I didn’t mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me you’ve become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don’t you + think it’s about time we took to our bunks? It’s late.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendly + fence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendly stars. + He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with its impressive + stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stops in mid-ocean. + After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful stars he climbed the + fence and walked down the road, taking little heed of the direction. The + still night was a soothing companion. He came at last to a sleeping + village of wooden houses, and through the center of the town ran a single + line of rails, an iron link connecting the unknown hamlet with all + civilization. A red and a green light glimmered down the line, giving the + only indication that a train ever came that way. As he went a mile or two + farther the cool breath of the great lake made itself felt, and after + crossing a field he suddenly came upon the water, finding all further + progress in that direction barred. Huge sand dunes formed the shore, + covered with sighing pines. At the foot of the dunes stretched a broad + beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast with the darker water; and + at long intervals fell the light ripple of the languid summer waves, + running up the beach with a half-asleep whisper, that became softer and + softer until it was merged in the silence beyond. Far out on the dark + waters a point of light, like a floating star, showed where a steamer was + slowly making her way; and so still was the night that he felt rather than + heard her pulsating engines. It was the only sign of life visible from + that enchanted bay—the bay of the silver beach. + </p> + <p> + Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. The + point of light gradually worked its way to the west, following, doubtless + unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around the headland, + taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. But the world is + very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he thinks he is. + Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees, which cry he was + astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat up and listened. + Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat, and someone stepped + ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowy forms of three men. + Nothing was said, but they got silently into the boat, which might have + been Charon’s craft for all he could see of it. The rattle of the rowlocks + and the plash of oars followed, while a voice cautioned the rowers to make + less noise. It was evident that some belated fugitives were eluding the + authorities of both countries. Renmark thought, with a smile, that if + Yates were in his place he would at least give them a fright. A sharp + command to an imaginary company to load and fire would travel far on such + a night, and would give the rowers a few moments of great discomfort. + Renmark, however, did not shout, but treated the episode as part of the + mystical dream, and lay down on the sand again. He noticed that the water + in the east seemed to feel the approach of morning even before the sky. + Gradually the day dawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the + coming sun spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched + the glory of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty of + the bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back for the + village and the camp beyond. + </p> + <p> + The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to see Stoliker + on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistants were with him, + also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed by the sight of + Renmark, but he was there to do his duty. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he cried, “you’re up early. I have a warrant for the arrest of + your friend: I suppose you won’t tell me where he is?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t expect me to give any information that will get a friend into + trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s as may turn out before a jury,” said one of the assistants + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. “That is for + judge and jury to determine—not you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Renmark, “I will not inform about anybody, unless I am + compelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where I + have been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. If you + go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat’s keel on the sand, + and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore in the + night, and a man got on board. I don’t say who the man was, and I had + nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. That is + all the information I have to give.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. “What did I tell you?” he + asked. “We were right on his track.” + </p> + <p> + “You said the railroad,” grumbled the man who had spoken before. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake and see + the traces. Then we can return the warrant.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfast + without disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporter + and told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back to New + York without delay. + </p> + <p> + Yates yawned sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I’ve been dreaming it all out. I’ll get father-in-law to + tote me out to Fort Erie to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?” + </p> + <p> + “Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I’m going + down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the old folks, you + know. I’ll spend the rest of the day making up for that interview by + talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for me there, and, now that + he thinks I’m gone, he will likely make a visit to the tent. Stoliker is a + good fellow, but his strong point is duty, you know; and if he’s certain + I’m gone, he’ll give his country the worth of its money by searching. I + won’t be back for dinner, so you can put in your time reading my Dime + Novels. I make no reflections on your cooking, Renny, now that the + vacation is over; but I have my preferences, and they incline toward a + final meal with the Bartletts. If I were you, I’d have a nap. You look + tired out.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said the professor. + </p> + <p> + Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear of + the camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, when she + got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hear Stoliker and + his satellites search the premises, just as Yates had predicted they + would; and when he finally awoke, he found to his astonishment that it was + nearly dark. But he was all the better for his sleep, and he attended to + his personal appearance with more than ordinary care. + </p> + <p> + Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grim + stolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known by him + to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond his + comprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the first time + in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse for going + there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which he sat at one of + the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparent effect on him. He + even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and a man who can do that + can do anything. To bring up a daughter who would deliberately accept a + man from “the States,” and to have a wife who would aid and abet such an + action, giving comfort and support to the enemy, seemed to him traitorous + to all the traditions of 1812, or any other date in the history of the two + countries. At times wild ideas of getting blind full, and going home to + break every breakable thing in the house, rose in his mind; but prudence + whispered that he had to live all the rest of his life with his wife, and + he realized that this scheme of vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he + untied his patient team, after paying his bill, and drove silently home, + not having returned, even by a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him + that day. He was somewhat relieved to find no questions were asked, and + that his wife recognized the fact that he was passing through a crisis. + Nevertheless, there was a steely glitter in her eye under which he + uneasily quailed, for it told him a line had been reached which it would + not be well for him to cross. She forgave, but it must not go any further. + </p> + <p> + When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with some + trepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement. + </p> + <p> + “No one but Margaret,” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say?” asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion was of + no importance. + </p> + <p> + “She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make a + good husband.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s rather a nice girl, is Margaret,” remarked Yates, with the air of a + man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than his own, but + indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth for him. + </p> + <p> + “She is a lovely girl,” said Kitty enthusiastically. “I wonder, Dick, when + you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea! I haven’t a word to say against Margaret; but, compared with my + girl——” + </p> + <p> + And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frame of + mind. + </p> + <p> + As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had acted very + handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. But as he + approached the house his courage began to fail him, and he thought it + better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had sat the night + before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But as he sat + there it was destined that Yates should receive some information which + would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly out of the gate in the + gathering darkness. They strolled together up the road past him, absorbed + in themselves. When directly opposite the reporter, Renmark put his arm + around Margaret’s waist, and Yates nearly fell off the fence. He held his + breath until they were safely out of hearing, then slid down and crawled + along in the shadow until he came to the side road, up which he walked, + thoughtfully pausing every few moments to remark: “Well, I’ll be——” + But speech seemed to have failed him; he could get no further. + </p> + <p> + He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last time at + the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the somber + trees. He had no energy left to climb over. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m a chimpanzee,” he muttered to himself at last. “The highest + bidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn’t have + believed it of you. <i>You</i> a newspaper man? <i>You</i> a reporter from + ‘way back? <i>You</i> up to snuff? Yates, I’m ashamed to be seen in your + company! Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter in from a + country newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think that this thing + has been going on right under your well-developed nose, and you never saw + it—worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; that it was thrust + at you twenty times a day—nearly got your stupid head smashed on + account of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent little lamb that you + are, and never even suspected! Dick, you’re a three-sheet-poster fool in + colored ink. And to think that both of them know all about the first + proposal! <i>Both</i> of them! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a long way + from New York.” + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 9263-h.htm or 9263-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/2/6/9263/ + + +Text file produced by Lee Dawei, William A. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Midst of Alarms + +Author: Robert Barr + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9263] +This file was first posted on September 16, 2003 +Last Updated: May 28, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS + +By Robert Barr + +1894 + + + +TO E.B. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +In the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropolitan Grand Hotel in +Buffalo, Professor Stillson Renmark stood and looked about him with the +anxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy splendor of the modern +American house of entertainment. The professor had paused halfway +between the door and the marble counter, because he began to fear that +he had arrived at an inopportune time, that something unusual was going +on. The hurry and bustle bewildered him. + +An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was standing at the door, its +steps backed over the curbstone, and beside it was a broad, flat van, +on which stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron-bound trunks +belonging to commercial travelers, and the more fragile, but not less +bulky, saratogas, doubtless the property of the ladies who sat patiently +in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had just arrived was backing up to +the curb, and the irate driver used language suitable to the occasion; +for the two restive horses were not behaving exactly in the way he +liked. + +A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and mournful, voice was filling +the air with the information that a train was about to depart for +Albany, Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. When he came to +the words "the East," his voice dropped to a sad minor key, as if the +man despaired of the fate of those who took their departure in that +direction. Every now and then a brazen gong sounded sharply; and one of +the negroes who sat in a row on a bench along the marble-paneled wall +sprang forward to the counter, took somebody's handbag, and disappeared +in the direction of the elevator with the newly arrived guest following +him. Groups of men stood here and there conversing, heedless of the rush +of arrival and departure around them. + +Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows sat a row of men, some +talking, some reading, and some gazing outside, but all with their feet +on the brass rail which had been apparently put there for that purpose. +Nearly everybody was smoking a cigar. A lady of dignified mien came down +the hall to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to the clerk, +who bent his well-groomed head deferentially on one side as he listened +to what she had to say. The men instantly made way for her. She passed +along among them as composedly as if she were in her own drawing room, +inclining her head slightly to one or other of her acquaintances, which +salutation was gravely acknowledged by the raising of the hat and the +temporary removal of the cigar from the lips. + +All this was very strange to the professor, and he felt himself in a new +world, with whose customs he was not familiar. Nobody paid the slightest +attention to him as he stood there among it all with his satchel in his +hand. As he timidly edged up to the counter, and tried to accumulate +courage enough to address the clerk, a young man came forward, flung his +handbag on the polished top of the counter, metaphorically brushed the +professor aside, pulled the bulky register toward him, and inscribed his +name on the page with a rapidity equaled only by the illegibility of the +result. + +"Hello, Sam!" he said to the clerk. "How's things? Get my telegram?" + +"Yes," answered the clerk; "but I can't give you 27. It's been taken for +a week. I reserved 85 for you, and had to hold on with my teeth to do +that." + +The reply of the young man was merely a brief mention of the place of +torment. + +"It _is_ hot," said the clerk blandly. "In from Cleveland?" + +"Yes. Any letters for me?" + +"Couple of telegrams. You'll find them up in 85." + +"Oh, you were cocksure I'd take that room?" + +"I was cocksure you'd have to. It is that or the fifth floor. We're +full. Couldn't give a better room to the President if he came." + +"Oh, well, what's good enough for the President I can put up with for a +couple of days." + +The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The negro sprang forward +and took the "grip." + +"Eighty-five," said the clerk; and the drummer and the Negro +disappeared. + +"Is there any place where I could leave my bag for a while?" the +professor at last said timidly to the clerk. + +"Your bag?" + +The professor held it up in view. + +"Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?" And the clerk's hand +hovered over the bell. + +"No. At least, not just yet. You see, I'm----" + +"All right. The baggage man there to the left will check it for you." + +"Any letters for Bond?" said a man, pushing himself in front of +the professor. The clerk pulled out a fat bunch of letters from the +compartment marked "B," and handed the whole lot to the inquirer, who +went rapidly over them, selected two that appeared to be addressed to +him, and gave the letters a push toward the clerk, who placed them where +they were before. + +The professor paused a moment, then, realizing that the clerk had +forgotten him, sought the baggage man, whom he found in a room filled +with trunks and valises. The room communicated with the great hall +by means of a square opening whose lower ledge was breast high. The +professor stood before it, and handed the valise to the man behind +this opening, who rapidly attached one brass check to the handle with a +leather thong, and flung the other piece of brass to the professor. +The latter was not sure but there was something to pay, still he quite +correctly assumed that if there had been the somewhat brusque man would +have had no hesitation in mentioning the fact; in which surmise his +natural common sense proved a sure guide among strange surroundings. +There was no false delicacy about the baggage man. + +Although the professor was to a certain extent bewildered by the +condition of things, there was still in his nature a certain dogged +persistence that had before now stood him in good stead, and which had +enabled him to distance, in the long run, much more brilliant men. He +was not at all satisfied with his brief interview with the clerk. He +resolved to approach that busy individual again, if he could arrest his +attention. It was some time before he caught the speaker's eye, as it +were, but when he did so, he said: + +"I was about to say to you that I am waiting for a friend from New York +who may not yet have arrived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the----" + +"Oh, Dick Yates! Certainly. He's here." Turning to the negro, he said: +"Go down to the billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he is +not, look for him at the bar." + +The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Apparently not noticing the +look of amazement that had stolen over the professor's face, the clerk +said: + +"If you wait in the reading room, I'll send Yates to you when he comes. +The boy will find him if he's in the house; but he may be uptown." + +The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging clerk further, did not +ask him where the reading room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurrying +porter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer: + +"Dining room next floor. Reading, smoking, and writing rooms up the +hall. Billiard room, bar, and lavatory downstairs." + +The professor, after getting into the barber shop and the cigar store, +finally found his way into the reading room. Numerous daily papers were +scattered around on the table, each attached to a long, clumsy cleft +holder made of wood; while other journals, similarly encumbered, hung +from racks against the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easy +leather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a paper, drew a thin +book from his pocket, in which he was soon so absorbed that he became +entirely unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light touch on the +shoulder brought him up from his book into the world again, and he saw, +looking down on him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are a guest of this +house?" + +A shade of apprehension crossed the professor's face as he slipped the +book into his pocket. He had vaguely felt that he was trespassing when +he first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were confirmed. + +"I--I am not exactly a guest," he stammered. + +"What do you mean by not exactly a guest?" continued the other, +regarding the professor with a cold and scrutinizing gaze. "A man is +either a guest or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your case?" + +"I presume, technically speaking, I am not." + +"Technically speaking! More evasions. Let me ask you, sir, as an +ostensibly honest man, if you imagine that all this luxury--this--this +elegance--is maintained for nothing? Do you think, sir, that it is +provided for any man who has cheek enough to step out of the street +and enjoy it? Is it kept up, I ask, for people who are, technically +speaking, not guests?" + +The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the face of the +unfortunate professor. He had nothing to say. He realized that his +conduct was too flagrant to admit of defense, so he attempted none. +Suddenly the countenance of his questioner lit up with a smile, and he +smote the professor on the shoulder. + +"Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven't changed a particle in fifteen +years! You don't mean to pretend you don't know me?" + +"You can't--you can't be Richard Yates?" + +"I not only can, but I can't be anybody else. I know, because I have +often tried. Well, well, well, well! Stilly we used to call you; don't +you remember? I'll never forget that time we sang 'Oft in the stilly +night' in front of your window when you were studying for the exams. You +always _were_ a quiet fellow, Stilly. I've been waiting for you nearly +a whole day. I was up just now with a party of friends when the boy +brought me your card--a little philanthropic gathering--sort of mutual +benefit arrangement, you know: each of us contributed what we could +spare to a general fund, which was given to some deserving person in the +crowd." + +"Yes," said the professor dryly. "I heard the clerk telling the boy +where he would be most likely to find you." + +"Oh, you did, eh?" cried Yates, with a laugh. "Yes, Sam generally knows +where to send for me; but he needn't have been so darned public about +it. Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to go in print and what +should have the blue pencil run through it. Sam is very discreet, as a +general thing; but then he knew, of course, the moment he set eyes on +you, that you were an old pal of mine." + +Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery laugh for so evidently +wicked a man. + +"Come along," he said, taking the professor by the arm. "We must get you +located." + +They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the clerk's counter. + +"I say, Sam," cried Yates, "can't you do something better for us than +the fifth floor? I didn't come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. No +sky parlors for me, if I can help it." + +"I'm sorry, Dick," said the clerk; "but I expect the fifth floor will be +gone when the Chicago express gets in." + +"Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?" + +"I can let you have 518. That's the next room to yours. Really, they're +the most comfortable rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout over +the lake. I wouldn't mind having a sight of the lake myself, if I could +leave the desk." + +"All right. But I didn't come to look at the lake, nor yet at the +railroad tracks this side, nor at Buffalo Creek either, beautiful and +romantic as it is, nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousand +locomotives that pass within hearing distance for the delight of your +guests. The fact is that, always excepting Chicago, Buffalo is more +like--for the professor's sake I'll say Hades, than any other place in +America." + +"Oh, Buffalo's all right," said the clerk, with that feeling of local +loyalty which all Americans possess. "Say, are you here on this Fenian +snap?" + +"What Fenian snap?" asked the newspaper man. + +"Oh! don't you know about it? I thought, the moment I saw you, that you +were here for this affair. Well, don't say I told you, but I can put you +on to one of the big guns if you want the particulars. They say they're +going to take Canada. I told 'em that I wouldn't take Canada as a gift, +let alone fight for it. I've _been_ there." + +Yates' newspaper instinct thrilled him as he thought of the possible +sensation. Then the light slowly died out of his eyes when he looked at +the professor, who had flushed somewhat and compressed his lips as he +listened to the slighting remarks on his country. + +"Well, Sam," said the newspaper man at last, "it isn't more than once +in a lifetime that you'll find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but +the fact is I'm on my vacation just now. About the first I've had for +fifteen years; so, you see, I must take care of it. No, let the _Argus_ +get scooped, if it wants to. They'll value my services all the more when +I get back. No. 518, I think you said?" + +The clerk handed over the key, and the professor gave the boy the check +for his valise at Yates' suggestion. + +"Now, get a move on you," said Yates to the elevator boy. "We're going +right through with you." + +And so the two friends were shot up together to the fifth floor. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The sky parlor, as Yates had termed it, certainly commanded a very +extensive view. Immediately underneath was a wilderness of roofs. +Farther along were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and a line +of masts and propeller funnels marked the windings of Buffalo Creek, +along whose banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked by some +tremendous letter of the alphabet, done in white paint against the +somber brown of the big building. Still farther to the west was a more +grateful and comforting sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted with +white sails and an occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under the +broiling sun. Over the water, through the distant summer haze, there +could be seen the dim line of the Canadian shore. + +"Sit you down," cried Yates, putting both hands on the other's +shoulders, and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placing +his finger on the electric button, he added: "What will you drink?" + +"I'll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble," said +Renmark. + +Yates' hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side, and +he looked reproachfully at the professor. + +"Great Heavens!" he cried, "have something mild. Don't go rashly in +for Buffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to it +gradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter." + +"Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order what +you like for yourself." + +"Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that." He pushed the button, +and, when the boy appeared, said: "Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge +it to Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water for +Yates, No. 520. There," he continued gleefully, "I'm going to have all +the drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I'll pay the bill, but +I'll keep the account to hold over your head in the future. Professor +Stillson Renmark, debtor to Metropolitan Grand--one sherry cobbler, one +gin sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, then, Stilly, let's talk +business. You're not married, I take it, or you wouldn't have responded +to my invitation so promptly." The professor shook his head. "Neither am +I. You never had the courage to propose to a girl; and I never had the +time." + +"Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the old days, Richard," +said Renmark quietly. + +Yates laughed. "Well, it didn't hold me back any, to my knowledge. +Now I'll tell you how I've got along since we attended old Scragmore's +academy together, fifteen years ago. How time does fly! When I left, I +tried teaching for one short month. I had some theories on the education +of our youth which did not seem to chime in with the prejudices the +school trustees had already formed on the subject." + +The professor was at once all attention. Touch a man on his business, +and he generally responds by being interested. + +"And what were your theories?" he asked. + +"Well, I thought a teacher should look after the physical as well as +the mental welfare of his pupils. It did not seem to me that his duty to +those under his charge ended with mere book learning." + +"I quite agree with you," said the professor cordially. + +"Thanks. Well, the trustees didn't. I joined the boys at their games, +hoping my example would have an influence on their conduct on the +playground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a rattling good +cricket club. You may not remember that I stood rather better in cricket +at the academy than I did in mathematics or grammar. By handicapping me +with several poor players, and having the best players among the boys in +opposition, we made a pretty evenly matched team at school section No. +12. One day, at noon, we began a game. The grounds were in excellent +condition, and the opposition boys were at their best. My side was +getting the worst of it. I was very much interested; and, when one +o'clock came, I thought it a pity to call school and spoil so good and +interesting a contest. The boys were unanimously of the same opinion. +The girls were happy, picnicking under the trees. So we played cricket +all the afternoon." + +"I think that was carrying your theory a little too far," said the +professor dubiously. + +"Just what the trustees thought when they came to hear of it. So they +dismissed me; and I think my leaving was the only case on record where +the pupils genuinely mourned a teacher's departure. I shook the dust of +Canada from my feet, and have never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, +continuing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello! here's your +drinks at last, Stilly. I had forgotten about them--an unusual thing +with me. That's all right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hits +the spot on a hot day.) Well, where was I? Oh, yes, at Buffalo. I got +a place on a paper here, at just enough to keep life in me; but I liked +the work. Then I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, afterward +to Albany at a still bigger salary, and of course Albany is only a few +hours from New York, and that is where all newspaper men ultimately +land, if they are worth their salt. I saw a small section of the war as +special correspondent, got hurt, and rounded up in the hospital. Since +then, although only a reporter, I am about the top of the tree in that +line, and make enough money to pay my poker debts and purchase iced +drinks to soothe the asperities of the game. When there is anything big +going on anywhere in the country, I am there, with other fellows to do +the drudgery; I writing the picturesque descriptions and interviewing +the big men. My stuff goes red-hot over the telegraph wire, and the +humble postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I am acquainted +with every hotel clerk that amounts to anything from New York to San +Francisco. If I could save money, I should be rich, for I make plenty; +but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket has lost me a lot of cash, +and I don't seem to be able to get it mended. Now, you've listened with +your customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, as you called +it, full sway. I am grateful. I will reciprocate. How about yourself?" + +The professor spoke slowly. "I have had no such adventurous career," he +began. "I have not shaken Canadian dust from my feet, and have not +made any great success. I have simply plodded; and am in no danger of +becoming rich, although I suppose I spend as little as any man. After +you were expel--after you left the aca----" + +"Don't mutilate the good old English language, Stilly. You were right +in the first place. I am not thin-skinned. You were saying after I was +expelled. Go on." + +"I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. You remember, you were +very indignant at the time, and----" + +"Of course I was--and am still, for that matter. It was an outrage!" + +"I thought it was proved that you helped to put the pony in the +principal's room." + +"Oh, certainly. _That_. Of course. But what I detested was the way +the principal worked the thing. He allowed that villain Spink to turn +evidence against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, whereas +I could claim no such honor. It was Spink's own project, which I fell +in with, as I did with every disreputable thing proposed. Of course the +principal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. Do you happen +to know if Spink has been hanged yet?" + +"I believe he is a very reputable business man in Montreal, and much +respected." + +"I might have suspected that. Well, you keep your eye on the respected +Spink. If he doesn't fail some day, and make a lot of money, I'm a +Dutchman. But go on. This is digression. By the way, just push that +electric button. You're nearest, and it is too hot to move. Thanks. +After I was expelled----" + +"After your departure I took a diploma, and for a year or two taught a +class in the academy. Then, as I studied during my spare time, I got a +chance as master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, as I think, +though the recommendation of Principal Scragmore. I had my degree by +this time. Then----" + +There was a gentle tap at the door. + +"Come in!" shouted Yates. "Oh, it's you. Just bring up another cooling +cobbler, will you? and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room +518. Yes; and then----" + +"And then there came the opening in University College, Toronto. I had +the good fortune to be appointed. There I am still, and there I suppose +I shall stay. I know very few people, and am better acquainted with +books than with men. Those whom I have the privilege of knowing are +mostly studious persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in the +world of learning. I have not had your advantage, of meeting statesmen +who guide the destinies of a great empire. + +"No; you always were lucky, Stilly. My experience is that the chaps who +do the guiding are more anxious about their own pockets, or their own +political advancement, than they are of the destinies. Still, the empire +seems to take its course westward just the same. So old Scragmore's been +your friend, has he?" + +"He has, indeed." + +"Well, he insulted me only the other day." + +"You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentlemanly and scholarly a man as +Principal Scragmore insulting anybody." + +"Oh, you don't know him as I do. It was like this: I wanted to find out +where you were, for reasons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgeled +my brains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, and enclosed a +stamped and addressed envelope, as all unsought contributors should +do. He answered--But I have his reply somewhere. You shall read it for +yourself." + +Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which he +hurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: "I +thought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven't I paid that +bill yet? This pass is run out. Must get another." Then he smiled and +sighed as he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparently he +could not find the document he sought. + +"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me the +prepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of no +use in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn't +pay the postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double. +Still, I don't mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. He went +on to say that, of all the members of our class, you--_you_!--were the +only one who had reflected credit on it. That was the insult. The idea +of his making such a statement, when I had told him I was on the New +York _Argus_! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonder if he ever heard of +Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course. No? Well, Brown, +by his own exertions, became president of the Alum Bank in New York, +wrecked it, and got off to Canada with a clear half million. _Yes_, +sir. I saw him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps the finest span and +carriage in the city, and lives in a palace. Could buy out old Scragmore +a thousand times, and never feel it. Most liberal contributor to the +cause of education that there is in Canada. He says education made him, +and he's not a man to go back on education. And yet Scragmore has the +cheek to say that _you_ were the only man in the class who reflects +credit on it!" + +The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a cooling +sip of the cobbler. + +"You see, Yates, people's opinions differ. A man like Brown may not be +Principal Scragmore's ideal. The principal may be local in his ideals of +a successful man, or of one who reflects credit on his teaching." + +"Local? You bet he's local. Too darned local for me. It would do that +man good to live in New York for a year. But I'm going to get even with +him. I'm going to write him up. I'll give him a column and a half; see +if I don't. I'll get his photograph, and publish a newspaper portrait +of him. If that doesn't make him quake, he's a cast-iron man. Say, you +haven't a photograph of old Scrag that you can lend me, have you?" + +"I have; but I won't lend it for such a purpose. However, never mind +the principal. Tell me your plans. I am at your disposal for a couple of +weeks, or longer if necessary." + +"Good boy! Well, I'll tell you how it is. I want rest and quiet, and the +woods, for a week or two. This is how it happened: I have been steadily +at the grindstone, except for a while in the hospital; and that, you +will admit, is not much of a vacation. The work interests me, and I +am always in the thick of it. Now, it's like this in the newspaper +business: Your chief is never the person to suggest that you take a +vacation. He is usually short of men and long on things to do, so if you +don't worry him into letting you off, he won't lose any sleep over it. +He's content to let well enough alone every time. Then there is always +somebody who wants to get away on pressing business,--grandmother's +funeral, and that sort of thing,--so if a fellow is content to work +right along, his chief is quite content to let him. That's the way +affairs have gone for years with me. The other week I went over to +Washington to interview a senator on the political prospects. I tell +you what it is, Stilly, without bragging, there are some big men in the +States whom no one but me _can_ interview. And yet old Scrag says I'm +no credit to his class! Why, last year my political predictions were +telegraphed all over this country, and have since appeared in the +European press. No credit! By Jove, I would like to have old Scrag in a +twenty-four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, for about ten minutes!" + +"I doubt if he would shine under those circumstances. But never mind +him. He spoke, for once, without due reflection, and with perhaps an +exaggerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. What happened when +you went to Washington?" + +"A strange thing happened. When I was admitted to the senator's library, +I saw another fellow, whom I thought I knew, sitting there. I said to +the senator: 'I will come when you are alone.' The senator looked up +in surprise, and said: 'I am alone.' I didn't say anything, but went +on with my interview; and the other fellow took notes all the time. +I didn't like this, but said nothing, for the senator is not a man to +offend, and it is by not offending these fellows that I can get the +information I do. Well, the other fellow came out with me, and as +I looked at him I saw that he was myself. This did not strike me as +strange at the time, but I argued with him all the way to New York, +and tried to show him that he wasn't treating me fairly. I wrote up +the interview, with the other fellow interfering all the while, so I +compromised, and half the time put in what he suggested, and half the +time what I wanted in myself. When the political editor went over +the stuff, he looked alarmed. I told him frankly just how I had +been interfered with, and he looked none the less alarmed when I had +finished. He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor metaphorically took +me to pieces, and then said to my chief: 'This man is simply worked to +death. He must have a vacation, and a real one, with absolutely nothing +to think of, or he is going to collapse, and that with a suddenness +which will surprise everybody.' The chief, to my astonishment, consented +without a murmur, and even upbraided me for not going away sooner. Then +the doctor said to me: 'You get some companion--some man with no brains, +if possible, who will not discuss politics, who has no opinion on +anything that any sane man would care to talk about, and who couldn't +say a bright thing if he tried for a year. Get such a man to go off to +the woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As far away from post +offices and telegraph offices as possible. And, by the way, don't leave +your address at the _Argus_ office.' Thus it happened, Stilly, when he +described this man so graphically, I at once thought of you." + +"I am deeply gratified, I am sure," said the professor, with the ghost +of a smile, "to be so promptly remembered in such a connection, and if +I can be of service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, that +you have no intention of stopping in Buffalo?" + +"You bet I haven't. I'm in for the forest primeval, the murmuring +pines and the hemlock, bearded with moss and green in the something or +other--I forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and lie on +my back instead, on the sward or in a hammock. I'm going to avoid all +boarding houses or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of +the forest." + +"There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore." + +"No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake Shore +Railroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. _No_, +sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired a tent and a lot +of cooking things. I'm going to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow; +and then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart it somewhere +into the woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. We shall have to be near +a farmhouse, so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of +course, is a disadvantage; but I shall try to get near someone who has +never even heard of New York." + +"You may find that somewhat difficult." + +"Oh, I don't know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence in the +Canadians." + +"Often the narrowest," said the professor slowly, "are those who think +themselves the most cosmopolitan." + +"Right you are," cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, and +seeing nothing applicable to his case in it. "Well, I've laid in about +half a ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug." + +"An empty one?" + +"Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess, +is good whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at the +customhouse. I don't suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentucky +article, but you and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And, +talking of whisky, just press the button once again." + +The professor did so, saying: + +"The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smoking +less, did he?" + +"In my case? Well, come to think of it, there _was_ some conversation in +that direction. Don't remember at the moment just what it amounted to; +but all physicians have their little fads, you know. It doesn't do to +humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the professor +wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, and put plenty of ice +in it; but don't neglect the gin on that account. Certainly; charge it +to room 518." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"What's all this tackle?" asked the burly and somewhat red-faced customs +officer at Fort Erie. + +"This," said Yates, "is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertaining +thereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shall +doubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty. This +is a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attention +to the fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately prevents me +making a libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friend has +in that valise I don't know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and would +advise you to search him." + +"My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearing +apparel," said the professor, opening his grip. + +The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, and +evidently did not like the tone of the American. He seemed to be +treating the customs department in a light and airy manner, and the +officer was too much impressed by the dignity of his position not to +resent flippancy. Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in the +air, and the officer resolved that no Fenian should get into the country +without paying duty. + +"Where are you going with this tent?" + +"I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don't know the +country about here. Say, Stilly, I'm off uptown to attend to the +emptiness in this stone utensil. I've been empty too often myself not +to sympathize with its condition. You wrestle this matter out about the +tent. You know the ways of the country, whereas I don't." + +It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of +his friend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with the +officer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously over +his shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marched up +the hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war +tunes. + +"Now," he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar, +"fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it with the +old familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith." + +The bartender did as he was requested. + +"Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be +taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?" + +The barkeeper smiled. "How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?" + +"I can suggest nothing better," replied Yates. "If you are sure you know +how to make it." + +The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said, +with the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer: + +"I am a Kentucky man myself." + +"Shake!" cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar. +"How is it you happened to be here?" + +"Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, where +I can at least look at God's country." + +"Hold on," protested Yates. "You're making only _one_ cocktail." + +"Didn't you say one?" asked the man, pausing in the compounding. + +"Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with me on +this." + +"Just as you say," replied the other, as he prepared enough for two. + +"Now I'll tell you my fix," said Yates confidentially. "I've got a tent +and some camp things down below at the customhouse shanty, and I want +to get them taken into the woods, where I can camp out with a friend. I +want a place where we can have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know the +country round here? Perhaps you could recommend a spot." + +"Well, for all the time I've been here, I know precious little about the +back country. I've been down the road to Niagara Falls, but never back +in the woods. I suppose you want some place by the lake or the river?" + +"No, I don't. I want to get clear back into the forest--if there is a +forest." + +"Well, there's a man in to-day from somewhere near Ridgeway, I think. +He's got a hay rack with him, and that would be just the thing to take +your tent and poles. Wouldn't be very comfortable traveling for you, but +it would be all right for the tent, if it's a big one." + +"That will suit us exactly. We don't care a cent about the comfort. +Roughing it is what we came for. Where will I find him?" + +"Oh, he'll be along here soon. That's his team tied there on the side +street. If he happens to be in good humor, he'll take your things, and +as like as not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiram Bartlett's +his name. And, talking of the old Nick himself, here he is. I say, Mr. +Bartlett, this gentleman was wondering if you couldn't tote out some of +his belongings. He's going out your way." + +Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry specimen of the Canadian farmer +who evidently paid little attention to the subject of dress. He said +nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, with something of +contempt and suspicion in his glance. + +Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance of all mankind. +"Come in, Mr. Bartlett," he said cheerily, "and try one of my friend's +excellent cocktails." + +"I take mine straight," growled Bartlett gruffly, although he stepped +inside the open door. "I don't want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain +whisky's good enough for any man, if he _is_ a man. I don't take no +water, neither. I've got trouble enough." + +The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the decanter over to the +newcomer. + +"Right you are," assented Yates cordially. + +The farmer did not thaw out in the least because of this prompt +agreement with him, but sipped his whisky gloomily, as if it were a most +disagreeable medicine. + +"What did you want me to take out?" he said at last. + +"A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of jolly good tobacco." + +"How much are you willing to pay?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I'm always willing to do what's right. How would five +dollars strike you?" + +The farmer scowled and shook his head. + +"Too much," he said, as Yates was about to offer more. "'Taint worth it. +Two and a half would be about the right figure. Don'no but that's too +much. I'll think on it going home, and charge you what it's worth. I'll +be ready to leave in about an hour, if that suits you. That's my team on +the other side of the road. If it's gone when you come back, I'm gone, +an' you'll have to get somebody else." + +With this Bartlett drew his coat sleeve across his mouth and departed. + +"That's him exactly," said the barkeeper. "He's the most cantankerous +crank in the township. And say, let me give you a pointer. If the +subject of 1812 comes up,--the war, you know,--you'd better admit that +we got thrashed out of our boots; that is, if you want to get along with +Hiram. He hates Yankees like poison." + +"And did we get thrashed in 1812?" asked Yates, who was more familiar +with current topics than with the history of the past. + +"Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told him once that we got what +we wanted from old England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. So I +give you the warning, if you want to get along with him." + +"Thank you. I'll remember it. So long." + +This friendly hint from the man in the tavern offers a key to the +solution of the problem of Yates' success on the New York press. He +could get news when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as he +undoubtedly was, he somehow got into the inner confidences of all sorts +of men in a way that made them give him an inkling of anything that +was going on for the mere love of him; and thus Yates often received +valuable assistance from his acquaintances which other reporters could +not get for money. + +The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a bench by the +customhouse, chatting with the officer, and gazing at the rapidly +flowing broad blue river in front of them. + +"I have got a man," said Yates, "who will take us out into the +wilderness in about an hour's time. Suppose we explore the town. I +expect nobody will run away with the tent till we come back." + +"I'll look after that," said the officer; and, thanking him, the two +friends strolled up the street. They were a trifle late in getting back, +and when they reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on the point +of driving home. He gruffly consented to take them, if they did not keep +him more than five minutes loading up. The tent and its belongings +were speedily placed on the hay rack, and then Bartlett drove up to the +tavern and waited, saying nothing, although he had been in such a hurry +a few moments before. Yates did not like to ask the cause of the delay; +so the three sat there silently. After a while Yates said as mildly as +he could: + +"Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett?" + +"Yes," answered the driver in a surly tone. "I'm waiting for you to +go in fur that jug. I don't suppose you filled it to leave it on the +counter." + +"By Jove!" cried Yates, springing off, "I had forgotten all about it, +which shows the extraordinary effect this country has on me already." +The professor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with the jar in his +hand, and Bartlett started his team. They drove out of the village and +up a slight hill, going for a mile or two along a straight and somewhat +sandy road. Then they turned into the Ridge Road, as Bartlett called it, +in answer to a question by the professor, and there was no need to ask +why it was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather stony, the road +being, in places, on the bare rock. It paid not the slightest attention +to Euclid's definition of a straight line, and in this respect was +rather a welcome change from the average American road. Sometimes they +passed along avenues of overbranching trees, which were evidently relics +of the forest that once covered all the district. The road followed the +ridge, and on each side were frequently to be seen wide vistas of lower +lying country. All along the road were comfortable farmhouses; and it +was evident that a prosperous community flourished along the ridge. + +Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the professor, who sat next to +him. + +"You a Canadian?" + +"Yes." + +"Where's _he_ from?" + +"My friend is from New York," answered the innocent professor. + +"Humph!" grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper than ever, after which he +became silent again. The team was not going very fast, although neither +the load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was muttering a good deal to +himself, and now and then brought down his whip savagely on one or the +other of the horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals quickened +their pace he hauled them in roughly. Nevertheless, they were going +quickly enough to be overtaking a young woman who was walking on alone. +Although she must have heard them coming over the rocky road she did not +turn her head, but walked along with the free and springy step of one +who is not only accustomed to walking, but who likes it. Bartlett paid +no attention to the girl; the professor was endeavoring to read his thin +book as well as a man might who is being jolted frequently; but Yates, +as soon as he recognized that the pedestrian was young, pulled up his +collar, adjusted his necktie with care, and placed his hat in a somewhat +more jaunty and fetching position. + +"Are you going to offer that girl a ride?" he said to Bartlett. + +"No, I'm not." + +"I think that is rather uncivil," he added, forgetting the warning he +had had. + +"You do, eh? Well, you offer her a ride. You hired the team." + +"By Jove! I will," said Yates, placing his hand on the outside of the +rack, and springing lightly to the ground. + +"Likely thing," growled Bartlett to the professor, "that she's going to +ride with the like of him." + +The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hat +to the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing. + +"Fur two cents," continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, "I'd whip +up the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way." + +"From what I know of my friend," answered the professor slowly, "I think +he would not object in the slightest." + +Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mind +about galloping his horses. + +Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with great +politeness to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with a +thrill of admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had an +eye for the beautiful. + +"Our conveyance," he began, "is not as comfortable as it might be, yet I +shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities." + +The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, and +for a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choice +for her rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase she +answered briefly: + +"Thank you. I prefer to walk." + +"Well, I don't know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come all the +way from the village?" + +"Yes." + +"That is a long distance, and you must be very tired." There was no +reply; so Yates continued. "At least, I thought it a long distance; but +perhaps that was because I was riding on Bartlett's hay rack. There is +no 'downy bed of ease' about his vehicle." + +As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to its +side, said in a husky whisper to the professor: + +"Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent." + +"Cover it up yourself," briefly replied the other; "it isn't mine." + +Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flap +of the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his action he +took up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. He was +flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind the wagon, +and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead, now +quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance between herself +and the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic of him, made +up his mind that this was a case of country diffidence, which was best +to be met by the bringing down of his conversation to the level of his +hearer's intelligence. + +"Have you been marketing?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?" + +"We are farmers," she answered, "and we sell butter and eggs"--a +pause--"and that sort of thing." + +Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane he +looked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a +turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless with +the exercise of walking. + +"Now, in my country," continued the New Yorker, "we idolize our women. +Pretty girls don't tramp miles to market with butter and eggs." + +"Aren't the girls pretty--in your country?" + +Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about +this girl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about the +conversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment was doubtful, +for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smooth brow. + +"You bet they're pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. It seems +their birthright. When I say American, I mean the whole continent, of +course. I'm from the States myself--from New York." He gave an extra +twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself with that air of +conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of the +metropolis. "But over in the States we think the men should do all the +work, and that the women should--well, spend the money. I must do our +ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to their share of +the arrangement." + +"It should be a delightful country to live in--for the women." + +"They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that America +was paradise for women, purgatory for men, and--well, an entirely +different sort of place for oxen." + +There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. +As he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just the faintest +suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she could answer, +if she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter of hoofs on +the hard road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whose slender +jet-black polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came +dashing past the wagon. On seeing the two walking together the driver +hauled up his team with a suddenness that was evidently not relished by +the spirited dappled span he drove. + +"Hello, Margaret!" he cried; "am I late? Have you walked in all the +way?" + +"You are just in good time," answered the girl, without looking toward +Yates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put her +foot on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. It +needed no second glance to see that he was her brother, not only on +account of the family resemblance between them, but also because +he allowed her to get into the buggy without offering the slightest +assistance, which, indeed, was not needed, and graciously permitted her +to place the duster that covered his knees over her own lap as well. The +restive team trotted rapidly down the road for a few rods, until they +came to a wide place in the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly +within an ace of upsetting the buggy; but the young man evidently knew +his business, and held them in with a firm hand. The wagon was jogging +along where the road was very narrow, and Bartlett kept his team +stolidly in the center of the way. + +"Hello, there, Bartlett!" shouted the young man in the buggy; "half the +road, you know--half the road." + +"Take it," cried Bartlett over his shoulder. + +"Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I'll run you down." + +"You just try it." + +Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against his +young neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognized +that a heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light and +expensive buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knew +just where to touch the elder on the raw. His sister's hand was placed +appealingly on his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. + +"Come, now, you move out, or I'll have the law on you." + +"The law!" roared Bartlett; "you just try it on." + +"Should think you'd had enough of it by this time." + +"Oh, don't, don't, Henry!" protested the girl in distress. + +"There aint no law," yelled Bartlett, "that kin make a man with a load +move out fur anything." + +"You haven't any load, unless it's in that jug." + +Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under +its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the +buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that +this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly +forward, and said to Bartlett: + +"Better drive aside a little, and let them pass." + +"You 'tend to your own business," cried the thoroughly enraged farmer. + +"I will," said Yates shortly, striding to the horses' heads. He took +them by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett's maledictions and pulling at +the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by. + +"Thank you!" cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage +rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road. + +Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he +threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended. + +"You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin' Yank? You +do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an' me a-holdin' the lines! +Now you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear +me?" + +"Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you." + +"Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent." + +"No, it doesn't." + +"Don't it, eh? Well, then, you'll lick me fust; and that's something no +Yank ever did nor kin do." + +"I'll do it with pleasure." + +"Come, come," cried the professor, getting down on the road, "this has +gone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don't mind it; he +means no disrespect." + +"Don't you interfere. You're all right, an' I aint got nothin' ag'in +you. But I'm goin' to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; see +if I don't. We met 'em in 1812, an' we fit 'em an' we licked 'em, an' we +can do it ag'in. I'll learn ye to take my horses by the head." + +"Teach," suggested Yates tantalizingly. + +Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and +grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, +but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett's right leg +became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced +the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break. He gave +way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came down on his back +with a thud that seemed to shake the universe. + +"There, darn ye!" cried the triumphant farmer; "that's 1812 and +Queenstown Heights for ye. How do you like 'em?" + +Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off his +coat. + +"Now, now, Yates," said the professor soothingly, "let it go at this. +You're not hurt, are you?" he asked anxiously, as he noticed how white +the young man was around the lips. + +"Look here, Renmark; you're a sensible man. There is a time to interfere +and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certain international +element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, you stand aside, +like a good fellow, for I don't want to have to thrash both of you." + +The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called him +by his last name, matters were serious. + +"Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again." + +"I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yank +ever raised on pumpkin pie that can stand ag'in that grapevine twist." + +"Try the grapevine once more." + +Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look in +the young man's face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can +attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, who +shifted his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At last +Bartlett sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting on a +piece of the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birds buzzing +in his head, while stars and the landscape around joined in a dance +together. The blow was sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder. + +"That," said Yates, standing over him, "is 1776--the Revolution--when, +to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you +like it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view +of history than you have done. Don't confine yourself too much to one +period. Study up the War of the Revolution a bit." + +Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until the +surrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, +without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horses +and patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place +and drove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, but +Yates, putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along in +front, switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walking stick +as he proceeded. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently something +on his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growing louder +and louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck the horses, +pulled them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last he said +abruptly to the professor: + +"What's this Revolution he talked about?" + +"It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776." + +"Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?" + +"The colonies fought with England." + +"What colonies?" + +"The country now called the United States." + +"They fit with England, eh? Which licked?" + +"The colonies won their independence." + +"That means they licked us. I don't believe a word of it. 'Pears to me +I'd 'a' heard of it; fur I've lived in these parts a long time." + +"It was a little before your day." + +"So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an' I never heard him tell of +this Revolution. He'd 'a' known, I sh'd think. There's a nigger in the +fence somewheres." + +"Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French." + +"Ah, that was it, was it? I'll bet England never knew the Revolution was +a-goin' on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldn't thrash 'em, and it +don't stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was some +skullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. I +got a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss." + +The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character of +Napoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemed +a good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, +and he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usual +from the whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. +Yates was some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, when +the horses, apparently of their own accord, turned in at an open gateway +and proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a large barn, +past a comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front. + +"This is my place," said Bartlett shortly. + +"I wish you had told me a few minutes ago," replied the professor, +springing off, "so that I might have called to my friend." + +"I'm not frettin' about him," said Bartlett, throwing the reins to a +young man who came out of the house. + +Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. +Yates apparently did not hear him, but something about the next house +attracted the pedestrian's attention, and after standing for a moment +and gazing toward the west he looked around and saw the professor +beckoning to him. When the two men met, Yates said: + +"So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the next +house. I saw the buggy in the yard." + +"She? Who?" + +"Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. I'm going to buy our +supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, +how is my old friend 1812?" + +"He doesn't seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was more +troubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him." + +"News to him, eh? Well, I'm glad I knocked something into his head." + +"You certainly did it most unscientifically." + +"How do you mean--unscientifically?" + +"In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly delivered +undercut." + +Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, +learned man know anything about undercuts or science in blows? + +"Well, you must admit I got there just the same." + +"Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But you +had such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any display +of surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrown away." + +"Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! +What do you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of +self-defense?" + +"Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in this belligerent +manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a few hints from +me." + +"With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly." + +As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a wooden +rocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road. + +"What an old tyrant that man must be in his home!" said Yates. There was +no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot. + +"The old woman's setting out supper," said the farmer gruffly, that +piece of information being apparently as near as he could get toward +inviting them to share his hospitality. Yates didn't know whether it was +meant for an invitation or not, but he answered shortly: + +"Thanks, we won't stay." + +"Speak fur yourself, please," snarled Bartlett. + +"Of course I go with my friend," said Renmark; "but we are obliged for +the invitation." + +"Please yourselves." + +"What's that?" cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as a +stout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the front +door. "Won't stay? _Who_ won't stay? I'd like to see anybody leave my +house hungry when there's a meal on the table! And, young men, if you +can get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I'll give you, +why, you're welcome to go there next time, but this meal you'll have +here, inside of ten minutes. Hiram, that's your fault. You always invite +a person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!" + +Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal at +the two men, but said nothing. + +"Never mind him," continued Mrs. Bartlett. "You're at my house; and, +whatever my neighbors may say ag'in me, I never heard anybody complain +of the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Come +right in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort +is dusty enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. +Besides, a wash is refreshing after a hot day." + +There was no denying the cordiality of this invitation, and Yates, whose +natural gallantry was at once aroused, responded with the readiness of a +courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house; but as Yates passed +the farmer the latter cleared his throat with an effort, and, throwing +his thumb over his shoulder in the direction his wife had taken, said in +a husky whisper: + +"No call to--to mention the Revolution, you know." + +"Certainly not," answered Yates, with a wink that took in the situation. +"Shall we sample the jug before or after supper?" + +"After, if it's all the same to you;" adding, "out in the barn." + +Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the house. + +The young men were shown into a bedroom of more than ordinary size, on +the upper floor. Everything about the house was of the most dainty and +scrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort pervaded the +place. Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a housekeeper to be proud of. Two +large pitchers of cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as had +been predicted, was most refreshing. + +"I say," cried Yates, "it's rather cheeky to accept a man's hospitality +after knocking him down." + +"It would be for most people, but I think you underestimate your cheek, +as you call it." + +"Bravo, Stilly! You're blossoming out. That's repartee, that is. With +the accent on the rap, too. Never you mind; I think old 1812 and I will +get on all right after this. It doesn't seem to bother him any, so I +don't see why it should worry me. Nice motherly old lady, isn't she?" + +"Who? 1812?" + +"No; Mrs. 1812. I'm sorry I complimented you on your repartee. You'll +get conceited. Remember that what in the newspaper man is clever, in a +grave professor is rank flippancy. Let's go down." + +The table was covered with a cloth as white and spotless as good linen +can well be. The bread was genuine homemade, a term so often misused +in the cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light as to +interior. The butter, cool from the rock cellar, was of a refreshing +yellow hue. The sight of the well-loaded table was most welcome to +the eyes of hungry travelers. There was, as Yates afterward remarked, +"abundance, and plenty of it." + +"Come, father!" cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young men appeared; they +heard the rocking chair creak on the veranda in prompt answer to the +summons. + +"This is my son, gentlemen," said Mrs. Bartlett, indicating the young +man who stood in a noncommittal attitude near a corner of the room. +The professor recognized him as the person who had taken charge of the +horses when his father came home. There was evidently something of +his father's demeanor about the young man, who awkwardly and silently +responded to the recognition of the strangers. + +"And this is my daughter," continued the good woman. "Now, what might +your names be?" + +"My name is Yates, and this is my friend Professor Renmark of T'ronto," +pronouncing the name of the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas! too +often done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially extended his hand +to the young woman. "How do you do, Miss Bartlett?" he said, "I am happy +to meet you." + +The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped they had a pleasant +trip out from Fort Erie. + +"Oh, we had," said Yates, looking for a moment at his host, whose eyes +were fixed on the tablecloth, and who appeared to be quite content to +let his wife run the show. "The road's a little rocky in places, but +it's very pleasant." + +"Now, you sit down here, and you here," said Mrs. Bartlett; "and I do +hope you have brought good appetites with you." + +The strangers took their places, and Yates had a chance to look at the +younger member of the family, which opportunity he did not let slip. +It was hard to believe that she was the daughter of so crusty a man +as Hiram Bartlett. Her cheeks were rosy, with dimples in them that +constantly came and went in her incessant efforts to keep from laughing. +Her hair, which hung about her plump shoulders, was a lovely golden +brown. Although her dress was of the cheapest material, it was neatly +cut and fitted; and her dainty white apron added that touch of wholesome +cleanliness which was so noticeable everywhere in the house. A bit of +blue ribbon at her white throat, and a pretty spring flower just +below it, completed a charming picture, which a more critical and less +susceptible man than Yates might have contemplated with pleasure. + +Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, and her father +grimly at the other. The mother sat at the side, apparently looking +on that position as one of vantage for commanding the whole field, and +keeping her husband and her daughter both under her eye. The teapot and +cups were set before the young woman. She did not pour out the tea at +once, but seemed to be waiting instructions from her mother. That +good lady was gazing with some sternness at her husband, he vainly +endeavoring to look at the ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew his +open hand nervously down his face, which was of unusual gravity even for +him. Finally he cast an appealing glance at his wife, who sat with her +hands folded on her lap, but her eyes were unrelenting. After a +moment's hopeless irresolution Bartlett bent his head over his plate and +murmured: + +"For what we are about to receive, oh, make us truly thankful. Amen." + +Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also bowed her head when she +saw surrender in the troubled eyes of her husband. + +Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen nothing of this silent +struggle of the eyes, being exceedingly hungry, was making every +preparation for the energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent most +of his life in hotels and New York boarding houses, so that if he ever +knew the adage, "Grace before meat," he had forgotten it. In the midst +of his preparations came the devout words, and they came upon him as a +stupefying surprise. Although naturally a resourceful man, he was not +quick enough this time to cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett's golden +head was bowed, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Yates' look of +amazed bewilderment and his sudden halt of surprise. When all heads were +raised, the young girl's still remained where it was, while her plump +shoulders quivered. Then she covered her face with her apron, and the +silvery ripple of a laugh came like a smothered musical chime trickling +through her fingers. + +"Why, _Kitty_!" cried her mother in astonishment, "whatever is the +matter with you?" + +The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. "You'll have to pour out +the tea, mother!" She exclaimed, as she fled from the room. + +"For the land's sake!" cried the astonished mother, rising to take her +frivolous daughter's place, "what ails the child? I don't see what there +is to laugh at." + +Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently also of the opinion that +there was no occasion for mirth. The professor was equally in the dark. + +"I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett," said Yates, "that I am the innocent cause +of Miss Kitty's mirth. You see, madam--it's a pathetic thing to say, but +really I have had no home life. Although I attend church regularly, of +course," he added with jaunty mendacity, "I must confess that I haven't +heard grace at meals for years and years, and--well, I wasn't just +prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhibition of myself, which +your daughter was quick to see." + +"It wasn't very polite," said Mrs. Bartlett with some asperity. + +"I know that," pleaded Yates with contrition, "but I assure you it was +unintentional on my part." + +"Bless the man!" cried his hostess. "I don't mean you. I mean Kitty. But +that girl never _could_ keep her face straight. She always favored me +more than her father." + +This statement was not difficult to believe, for Hiram at that moment +looked as if he had never smiled in his life. He sat silent throughout +the meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough for two. + +"Well, for my part," she said, "I don't know what farming's coming to! +Henry Howard and Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud as +Punch in their new covered buggy. Things is very different from what +they was when I was a girl. Then a farmer's daughter had to work. Now +Margaret's took her diploma at the ladies' college, and Arthur he's +begun at the university, and Henry's sporting round in a new buggy. They +have a piano there, with the organ moved out into the back room." + +"The whole Howard lot's a stuck-up set," muttered the farmer. + +But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn't have that. Any detraction that was necessary +she felt competent to supply, without help from the nominal head of the +house. + +"No, I don't go so far as to say that. Neither would you, Hiram, if you +hadn't lost your lawsuit about the line fence; and served you right, +too, for it wouldn't have been begun if I had been at home at the time. +Not but what Margaret's a good housekeeper, for she wouldn't be her +mother's daughter if she wasn't that; but it does seem to me a queer way +to raise farmers' children, and I only hope they can keep it up. There +were no pianos nor French and German in _my_ young days." + +"You ought to hear her play! My lands!" cried young Bartlett, who spoke +for the first time. His admiration for her accomplishment evidently went +beyond his powers of expression. + +Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the conversation had taken, +and he looked somewhat uneasily at the two strangers. The professor's +countenance was open and frank, and he was listening with respectful +interest to Mrs. Bartlett's talk. Yates bent over his plate with flushed +face, and confined himself strictly to the business in hand. + +"I am glad," said the professor innocently to Yates, "that you made the +young lady's acquaintance. I must ask you for an introduction." + +For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but he looked at his +friend with an expression that was not kindly. The latter, in answer to +Mrs. Bartlett's inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard on the +road, and how Yates, with his usual kindness of heart, had offered the +young woman the hospitalities of the hay rack. Two persons at the table +were much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It was young Hiram +who brought about this boon. He was interested in the tent, and he +wanted to know. Two things seemed to bother the boy: First, he was +anxious to learn what diabolical cause had been at work to induce two +apparently sane men to give up the comforts of home and live in this +exposed manner, if they were not compelled to do so. Second, he desired +to find out why people who had the privilege of living in large cities +came of their own accord into the uninteresting country, anyhow. Even +when explanations were offered, the problem seemed still beyond him. + +After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, where the air was cool +and the view extensive. Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the young men +pitching the tent that night. "Goodness knows, you will have enough of +it, with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty of room here, and +you will have one comfortable night on the Ridge, at any rate. Then in +the morning you can find a place in the woods to suit you, and my boy +will take an ax and cut stakes for you, and help to put up your precious +tent. Only remember that when it rains you are to come to the house, +or you will catch your deaths with cold and rheumatism. It will be very +nice till the novelty wears off; then you are quite welcome to the front +rooms upstairs, and Hiram can take the tent back to Erie the first time +he goes to town." + +Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for granted. It never seemed +to occur to her that any of her rulings might be questioned. Hiram sat +gazing silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. + +Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of the veranda, with +his back against one of the pillars, in such a position that he might, +without turning his head, look through the open doorway into the room. +where Miss Bartlett was busily but silently clearing away the tea +things. The young man caught fleeting glimpses of her as she moved +airily about her work. He drew a cigar from his case, cut off the end +with his knife, and lit a match on the sole of his boot, doing this with +an easy automatic familiarity that required no attention on his part; +all of which aroused the respectful envy of young Hiram, who sat on a +wooden chair, leaning forward, eagerly watching the man from New York. + +"Have a cigar?" said Yates, offering the case to young Hiram. + +"No, no; thank you," gasped the boy, aghast at the reckless audacity of +the proposal. + +"What's that?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although she was talking volubly +to the professor, her maternal vigilance never even nodded, much less +slept. "A cigar? Not likely! I'll say this for my husband and my boy: +that, whatever else they may have done, they have never smoked nor +touched a drop of liquor since I've known them, and, please God, they +never will." + +"Oh, I guess it wouldn't hurt them," said Yates, with a lack of tact +that was not habitual. He fell several degrees in the estimation of his +hostess. + +"Hurt 'em?" cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. "I guess it won't get +a chance to." She turned to the professor, who was a good +listener--respectful and deferential, with little to say for himself. +She rocked gently to and fro as she talked. + +Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinxlike attitude that gave +no outward indication of his mental uneasiness. He was thinking gloomily +that it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlett unexpectedly in the +streets of Fort Erie on one of those rare occasions when he was +enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season. He had the most pessimistic +forebodings of what the future might have in store for him. Sometimes, +when neighbors or customers "treated" him in the village, and he felt he +had taken all the whisky that cloves would conceal, he took a five-cent +cigar instead of a drink. He did not particularly like the smoking of +it, but there was a certain devil-may-care recklessness in going down +the street with a lighted cigar in his teeth, which had all the more +fascination for him because of its manifest danger. He felt at these +times that he was going the pace, and that it is well our women do not +know of all the wickedness there is in this world. He did not fear that +any neighbor might tell his wife, for there were depths to which no +person could convince Mrs. Bartlett he would descend. But he thought +with horror of some combination of circumstances that might bring his +wife to town unknown to him on a day when he indulged. He pictured, with +a shudder, meeting her unexpectedly on the uncertain plank sidewalk of +Fort Erie, he smoking a cigar. When this nightmare presented itself to +him, he resolved never to touch a cigar again; but he well knew that the +best resolutions fade away if a man is excited with two or three glasses +of liquor. + +When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with the professor, Yates looked +up at young Hiram and winked. The boy flushed with pleasure under the +comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him in the attractive halo +of crime that enveloped the fascinating personality of the man from New +York. It seemed to say: + +"That's all right, but we are men of the world. _We_ know." + +Young Hiram's devotion to the Goddess Nicotine had never reached the +altitude of a cigar. He had surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secluded +corner behind the barn in days when his father was away. He feared +both his father and his mother, and so was in an even more embarrassing +situation than old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to tobacco +by smoking cigarettes of cane made from abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline +was fashionable, even in the country, in those days, and ribs of +cane were used before the metallic distenders of dresses came in. One +hoop-skirt, whose usefulness as an article of adornment was gone, would +furnish delight and smoking material for a company of boys for a month. +The cane smoke made the tongue rather raw, but the wickedness was +undeniable. Yates' wink seemed to recognize young Hiram as a comrade +worthy to offer incense at the shrine, and the boy was a firm friend of +Yates from the moment the eyelid of the latter drooped. + +The tea things having been cleared away, Yates got no more glimpses of +the girl through the open door. He rose from his lowly seat and strolled +toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He remembered that he +had forgotten something, and cudgeled his brains to make out what it +was. He gazed down the road at the house of the Howards, which naturally +brought to his recollection his meeting with the young girl on the road. +There was a pang of discomfiture in this thought when he remembered +the accomplishments attributed to her by Mrs. Bartlett. He recalled his +condescending tone to her, and recollected his anxiety about the jar. +The jar! That was what he had forgotten. He flashed a glance at old +Hiram, and noted that the farmer was looking at him with something like +reproach in his eyes. Yates moved his head almost imperceptibly toward +the barn, and the farmer's eyes dropped to the floor of the veranda. The +young man nonchalantly strolled past the end of the house. + +"I guess I'll go to look after the horses," said the farmer, rising. + +"The horses are all right, father. I saw to them," put in his son, but +the old man frowned him down, and slouched around the corner of the +house. Mrs. Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to notice. So +good a listener did not fall to her lot every day. + +"Here's looking at you," said Yates, strolling into the barn, taking +a telescopic metal cup from his pocket, and clinking it into receptive +shape by a jerk of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to Hiram, +who declined any such modern improvement. + +"Help yourself in that thing. The jug's good enough for me." + +"Three fingers" of the liquid gurgled out into the patented vessel, and +the farmer took the jar, after a furtive look over his shoulder. + +"Well, here's luck." The newspaper man tossed off the potion with the +facility of long experience, shutting up the dish with his thumb and +finger, as if it were a metallic opera hat. + +The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. Then he smote in the cork +with his open palm. + +"Better bury it in the wheat bin," he said morosely. "The boy might find +it if you put it among the oats--feedin' the horses, ye know." + +"Mighty good place," assented Yates, as the golden grain flowed in a +wave over the submerged jar. "I say, old man, you know the spot; you've +been here before." + +Bartlett's lowering countenance indicated resentment at the imputation, +but he neither affirmed nor denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, +while the farmer went through a small doorway that led to the stable. A +moment later he heard Hiram calling loudly to his son to bring the pails +and water the horses. + +"Evidently preparing an _alibi_," said Yates, smiling to himself, as he +sauntered toward the gate. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"What's up? what's up?" cried Yates drowsily next morning, as a +prolonged hammering at his door awakened him. + +"Well, _you're_ not, anyhow." He recognized the voice of young Hiram. "I +say, breakfast's ready. The professor has been up an hour." + +"All right; I'll be down shortly," said Yates, yawning, adding to +himself: "Hang the professor!" The sun was streaming in through the +east window, but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a short +distance above the horizon in the morning. He pulled his watch from +the pocket of his vest, hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seven +o'clock. He placed it to his ear, thinking it had stopped, but found +himself mistaken. + +"What an unearthly hour," he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates' +years on a morning newspaper had made seven o'clock something like +midnight to him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o'clock, +his usual time of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed +thoughtless cruelty. However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs. + +They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, +which was at once dining room and parlor. + +"Waiting for you," said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set +of jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss +Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning. + +"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." he said. + +"No fear," cried Mrs. Bartlett. "If breakfast's a minute later than +seven o'clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious +hungry by that time." + +"By that time?" echoed Yates. "Then do they get up before seven?" + +"Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!" exclaimed Mrs. +Bartlett, laughing. + +"Why, everything's done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows +milked--everything. There never was a better motto made than the one you +learned when you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about: + + "'Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.' + +I'm sorry you don't believe in it, Mr. Yates." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Yates with some loftiness; "but I'd like to +see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I'm healthy enough, +quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admit that +I'm wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after two o'clock, and +rarely wake before noon." + +Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the New +Yorker, wishing he was as clever. + +"For the land's sake!" cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminine +profanity, "What do you do up so late as that?" + +"Writing, writing," said Yates airily; "articles that make dynasties +tremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suits +afterward, as the case may be." + +Young Hiram had no patience with one's profession as a topic of +conversation. The tent and its future position was the burning question +with him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in order to +avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning of the +meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown them how +evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, the boy +had never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. He +was darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharply reprimanded by +his voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and would +like to have laughed. As it was, she contented herself with a sly glance +at Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actually blushed at young +Hiram's allusion to the confusing incident of the day before. + +The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew a herring across the +scent. + +"Mr. Bartlett has been good enough," said he, changing the subject, "to +say we may camp in the woods at the back of the farm. I have been out +there this morning, and it certainly is a lovely spot." + +"We're awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett," said Yates. "Of course Renmark +went out there merely to show the difference between the ant and the +butterfly. You'll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. Bartlett. +He looks honest; but you wait." + +"I know just the spot for the tent," cried young Hiram--"down in the +hollow by the creek. Then you won't need to haul water." + +"Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague," said Mrs. Bartlett. +Malaria had not then been invented. "Take my advice, and put your +tent--if you _will_ put it up at all--on the highest ground you can +find. Hauling water won't hurt you." + +"I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. My friend uses no +water--you ought to have seen his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have it +somewhere, and am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent as a +warning to the youth of this neighborhood--and what water I need I can +easily carry up from the creek." + +The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. Bartlett evidently took a +large discount from all that Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. + +After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The horses were hitched +to the wagon, which still contained the tent and fittings. Young Hiram +threw an ax and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted to his place, +and drove up the lane leading to the forest, followed by Yates and +Renmark on foot, leaving the farmer in his barnyard with a cheery +good-by, which he did not see fit to return. + +First, a field of wheat; next, an expanse of waving hay that soon would +be ready for the scythe; then, a pasture field, in which some young +horses galloped to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessed +horses, whinnying sympathetically, off the next with flying heels wildly +flung in the air, rejoicing in their own contrast of liberty, standing +at the farther corner and snorting defiance to all the world; last, the +cool shade of the woods into which the lane ran, losing its identity as +a wagon road in diverging cow paths. Young Hiram knew the locality well, +and drove direct to an ideal place for camping. Yates was enchanted. He +included all that section of the country in a sweeping wave of his hand, +and burst forth: + + "'This is the spot, the center of the grove: + There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. + In such a place as this, at such an hour, + We'll raise a tent to ward off sun and shower.' + +Shakespeare improved." + +"I think you are mistaken," said Renmark. + +"Not a bit it. Couldn't be a better camping ground." + +"Yes; I know that. I picked it out two hours ago. But you were wrong in +your quotation. It is not by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem to +think." + +"Isn't it? Some other fellow, eh? Well, if Shake is satisfied, I am. Do +you know, Renny, I calculate that, line for line, I've written about ten +times as much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognize that fact? Not a +bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, Stilly." + +"It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do toward putting up the tent?" + +"Everything, my boy, everything. I know more about putting up tents than +you do about science, or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you cut +me some stakes about two feet long--stout ones. Here, professor, throw +off that coat and _neglige_ manner, and grasp this spade. I want some +trenches dug." + +Yates certainly made good his words. He understood the putting up of +tents, his experience in the army being not yet remote. Young Hiram +gazed with growing admiration at Yates' deftness and evident knowledge +of what he was about, while his contempt for the professor's futile +struggle with a spade entangled in tree roots was hardly repressed. + +"Better give me that spade," he said at length; but there was an element +of stubbornness in Renmark's character. He struggled on. + +At last the work was completed, stakes driven, ropes tightened, trenches +dug. + +Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the country. + + "Thus the canvas tent has risen, + All the slanting stakes are driven, + Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood: + Mops his brow, the tired professor; + Grins with satisfaction, Hiram; + Dances wildly, the reporter-- + Calls aloud for gin and water. + +Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar on it!" And the +frivolous Yates poked the professor in the ribs. + +"Richard," said the latter, "I can stand only a certain amount of +this sort of thing. I don't wish to call any man a fool, but you act +remarkably like one." + +"Don't be mealy-mouthed, Renny; call a spade a spade. By George! young +Hiram has gone off and forgotten his--And the ax, too! Perhaps they're +left for us. He's a good fellow, is young Hiram. A fool? Of course I'm +a fool. That's what I came for, and that's what I'm going to be for the +next two weeks. 'A fool--a fool, I met a fool i' the forest'--just the +spot for him. Who could be wise here after years of brick and mortar? + +"Where are your eyes, Renny," he cried, "that you don't grow wild when +you look around you? See the dappled sunlight filtering through the +leaves; listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches; hear the +trickle of the brook down there; notice the smooth bark of the beech +and the rugged covering of the oak; smell the wholesome woodland scents. +Renmark, you have no soul, or you could not be so unmoved. It is like +paradise. It is--Say, Renny, by Jove, I've forgotten that jug at the +barn!" + +"It will be left there." + +"Will it? Oh, well, if you say so." + +"I do say so. I looked around for it this morning to smash it, but +couldn't find it." + +"Why didn't you ask old Bartlett?" + +"I did; but he didn't know where it was." + +Yates threw himself down on the moss and laughed, flinging his arms and +legs about with the joy of living. + +"Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable clothes with you? Well, +then, go into the tent and put them on; then come out and lie on your +back and look up at the leaves. You're a good fellow, Renny, but decent +clothes spoil you. You won't know yourself when you get ancient duds +on your back. Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that our ancestors +fought for. When you come out, we'll settle who's to cook and who to +wash dishes. I've settled it already in my own mind, but I am not so +selfish as to refuse to discuss the matter with you." + +When the professor came out of the tent, Yates roared. Renmark himself +smiled; he knew the effect would appeal to Yates. + +"By Jove! old man, I ought to have included a mirror in the outfit. +The look of learned respectability, set off with the garments of a +disreputable tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing. Well, +you can't spoil _that_ suit, anyhow. Now sprawl." + +"I'm very comfortable standing up, thank you." + +"Get down on your back. You hear me?" + +"Put me there." + +"You mean it?" asked Yates, sitting up. + +"Certainly." + +"Say, Renny, beware. I don't want to hurt you." + +"I'll forgive you for once." + +"On your head be it." + +"On my back, you mean." + +"That's not bad, Renny," cried Yates, springing to his feet. "Now, it +will hurt. You have fair warning. I have spoken." + +The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates tried to do it gently at +first, but, finding he could not touch his opponent, struck out more +earnestly, again giving a friendly warning. This went on ineffectually +for some time, when the professor, with a quick movement, swung around +his foot with the airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yates just +behind the knee, at the same time giving him a slight tap on the breast. +Yates was instantly on his back. + +"Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn't fair. That was a kick." + +"No, it wasn't. It is merely a little French touch. I learned it in +Paris. They _do_ kick there, you know; and it is good to know how to use +your feet as well as your fists if you are set on by three, as I was one +night in the Latin Quarter." + +Yates sat up. + +"Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?" + +"Several times." + +Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said: + +"Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never saw a Bool-var in my life. +You must teach me that little kick." + +"With pleasure," said Renmark, sitting down, while the other sprawled at +full length. "Teaching is my business, and I shall be glad to exercise +any talents I may have in that line. In endeavoring to instruct a +New York man the first step is to convince him that he doesn't know +everything. That is the difficult point. Afterward everything is easy." + +"Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be severe. Know that you +are forgiven. This delicious sylvan retreat does not lend itself to +acrimonious dispute, or, in plain English, quarreling. Let dogs delight, +if they want to; I refuse to be goaded by your querulous nature into +giving anything but the soft answer. Now to business. Nothing is +so conducive to friendship, when two people are camping out, as a +definition of the duties of each at the beginning. Do you follow me?" + +"Perfectly. What do you propose?" + +"I propose that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes. We will forage +for food alternate days." + +"Very well. I agree to that." + +Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his friend with reproach +in his eyes. "See here, Renmark; are you resolved to force on an +international complication the very first day? That's no fair show to +give a man." + +"What isn't?" + +"Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of meanness in your character, +Renny, that I never suspected. You know that people who camp out always +object to the part assigned them by their fellow-campers. I counted on +that. I'll do anything but wash dishes." + +"Then why didn't you say so?" + +"Because any sane man would have said 'no' when I suggested cooking, +merely _because_ I suggested it. There is no diplomacy about you, +Renmark. A man doesn't know where to find you when you act like that. +When you refused to do the cooking, I would have said: 'Very well, then, +I'll do it,' and everything would have been lovely; but now----" + +Yates lay down again in disgust. There are moments in life when language +fails a man. + +"Then it's settled that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes?" said +the professor. + +"Settled? Oh yes, if you say so; but all the pleasure of getting one's +own way by the use of one's brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with in +that objectionably civil manner." + +"Well, that point being arranged, who begins the foraging--you or I?" + +"Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to the house of the +Howards, and I need an excuse for the first visit; therefore I shall +forage to a limited extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not get +any, you perhaps should bring some from whatever farmhouse you choose as +the scene of your operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, fresh +or stale. When in doubt, buy more bread. You can never go wrong, and the +bread won't." + +"What else should I get? Milk, I suppose?" + +"Certainly; eggs, butter--anything. Mrs. Bartlett will give you hints on +what to get that will be more valuable than mine." + +"Have you all the cooking utensils you need?" + +"I think so. The villain from whom I hired the outfit said it was +complete. Doubtless he lied; but we'll manage, I think." + +"Very well. If you wait until I change my clothes, I'll go with you as +far as the road." + +"My dear fellow, be advised, and don't change. You'll get everything +twenty per cent. cheaper in that rig-out. Besides, you are so much more +picturesque. Your costume may save us from starvation if we run short +of cash. You can get enough for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, +well, if you insist, I'll wait. Good advice is thrown away on a man like +you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Margaret Howard stood at the kitchen table kneading dough. The room was +called the kitchen, which it was not, except in winter. The stove was +moved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached through the open door +leading to the kitchen veranda. + +When the stove went out or came in, it marked the approach or the +departure of summer. It was the heavy pendulum whose swing this way or +that indicated the two great changes of the year. No job about the +farm was so much disliked by the farmer and his boys as the semiannual +removal of the stove. Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged to go +together again; the stove was heavy and cumbersome, and many a pain in a +rural back dated from the journey of the stove from outhouse to kitchen. + +The kitchen itself was a one-story building, which projected back from +the two-story farmhouse, giving the whole a T-shape. There was a veranda +on each side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front of the house +itself. + +Margaret's sleeves were turned back nearly to her elbows, showing a pair +of white and shapely arms. Now and then she deftly dusted the kneading +board with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as she pressed +her open palms into the smooth, white, spongy mass, the table groaned +protestingly. She cut the roll with a knife into lumps that were patted +into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of snow, in the +sheet-iron pan. + +At this moment there was a rap at the open kitchen door, and Margaret +turned round, startled, for visitors were rare at that hour of the day; +besides, neighbors seldom made such a concession to formality as to +knock. The young girl flushed as she recognized the man who had spoken +to her the day before. He stood smiling in the doorway, with his hat in +his hand. She uttered no word of greeting or welcome, but stood looking +at him, with her hand on the floury table. + +"Good-morning, Miss Howard," said Yates blithely; "may I come in? I have +been knocking for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so I took the +liberty of coming around." + +"I did not hear you knock," answered Margaret. She neglected to invite +him in, but he took the permission for granted and entered, seating +himself as one who had come to stay. "You must excuse me for going on +with my work," she added; "bread at this stage will not wait." + +"Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me interrupt you. I have made +my own bread for years, but not in that way. I am glad that you are +making bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some." + +"Really? Perhaps I can sell you some butter and eggs as well." + +Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner of his which had much +to do with his getting on in the world. It was difficult to remain long +angry with so buoyant a nature. + +"Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven't forgiven me for that remark. You +surely could not have thought I meant it. I really intended it for a +joke, but I am willing to admit, now that I look back on it, that the +joke was rather poor; but, then, most of my jokes are rather shopworn." + +"I am afraid I lack a sense of humor." + +"All women do," said Yates with easy confidence. "At least, all I've +ever met." + +Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he now placed at the end of +the table, tilting it back until his shoulders rested against the +wall. His feet were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and forth, +fanning himself, for it was warm. In this position he could look up at +the face of the pretty girl before him, whose smooth brow was touched +with just the slightest indication of a faint frown. She did not +even glance at the self-confident young man, but kept her eyes fixed +resolutely on her work. In the silence the table creaked as Margaret +kneaded the dough. Yates felt an unaccustomed sensation of embarrassment +creeping over him, and realized that he would have to re-erect the +conversation on a new basis. It was manifestly absurd that a resourceful +New Yorker, who had conversed unabashed with presidents, senators, +generals, and other great people of a great nation, should be put out of +countenance by the unaccountable coldness of a country girl in the wilds +of Canada. + +"I have not had an opportunity of properly introducing myself," he +said at last, when the creaking of the table, slight as it was, became +insupportable. "My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New York. I +am camping out in this neighborhood to relieve, as it were, a mental +strain--the result of years of literary work." + +Yates knew from long experience that the quickest and surest road to a +woman's confidence was through her sympathy. "Mental strain" struck +him as a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and the hollow eye of the +devoted student. + +"Is your work mental, then?" asked Margaret incredulously, flashing, for +the first time, a dark-eyed look at him. + +"Yes," Yates laughed uneasily. He had manifestly missed fire. "I notice +by your tone that you evidently think my equipment meager. You should +not judge by appearances, Miss Howard. Most of us are better than we +seem, pessimists to the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I was saying, +the camping company consists of two partners. We are so different +in every respect that we are the best of friends. My partner is Mr. +Stillson Renmark, professor of something or other in University College, +Toronto." + +For the first time Margaret exhibited some interest in the conversation. + +"Professor Renmark? I have heard of him." + +"Dear me! I had no idea the fame of the professor had penetrated beyond +the precincts of the university--if a university has precincts. He told +me it had all the modern improvements, but I suspected at the time that +was merely Renny's brag." + +The frown on the girl's brow deepened, and Yates was quick to see that +he had lost ground again, if, indeed, he had ever gained any, which he +began to doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk about the +university. He was just about to say something deferentially about that +institution, for he was not a man who would speak disrespectfully of +the equator if he thought he might curry favor with his auditor by +doing otherwise, when it occurred to him that Miss Howard's interest was +centered in the man, and not in the university. + +"In this world, Miss Howard," he continued, "true merit rarely finds +its reward; at least, the reward shows some reluctance in making itself +visible in time for man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a man so +worthy that I was rather astonished to learn that you knew of him. I +am glad for his sake that it is so, for no man more thoroughly deserves +fame than he." + +"I know nothing of him," said Margaret, "except what my brother has +written. My brother is a student at the university." + +"Is he really? And what is he going in for?" + +"A good education." + +Yates laughed. + +"Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a person to have about him. +I often wish I had had a university training. Still, it is not valued +in an American newspaper office as much as might be. Yet," he added in +a tone that showed he did not desire to be unfair to a man of education, +"I have known some university men who became passably good reporters in +time." + +The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to the work in hand. +She had the rare gift of silence, and these intervals of quiet abashed +Yates, whose most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any man +on earth. Opposition, or even abuse, merely served as a spur to his +volubility, but taciturnity disconcerted him. + +"Well," he cried at length, with something like desperation, "let us +abandon this animated discussion on the subject of education, and take +up the more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, Miss Howard, +that I am an expert in bread making?" + +"I think you said already that you made your bread." + +"Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the sweat of my good lead +pencil. Still, I have made bread in my time, and I believe that some of +those who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The endurance of the human +frame is something marvelous, when you come to think of it. I did the +baking in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the contents of a +sack of flour into a trough made out of a log, pour in a pail or two +of melted snow, and mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer's +assistant making mortar. There was nothing small or mean about my bread +making. I was in the wholesale trade." + +"I pity the unfortunate lumbermen." + +"Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss Howard. You ought to pity me +for having to pander to such appetites as those men brought in from +the woods with them. They never complained of the quality of the bread, +although there was occasionally some grumbling about the quantity. I +have fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to a sawmill, but their +voracity was nothing to that of a big lumberman just in from felling +trees. Enough, and plenty of it, is what he wants. No 'tabbledote' for +him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it right away. If there is +any washing necessary, he is content to do it after the meal. I +know nothing, except a morning paper, that has such an appetite for +miscellaneous stuff as the man of the woods." + +The girl made no remark, but Yates could see that she was interested in +his talk in spite of herself. The bread was now in the pans, and she +had drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the baking board +had disappeared, and the surface of the table was cleaned. With a +light, deft motion of her two hands she had whisked over its surface the +spotlessly white cloth, which flowed in waves over the table and finally +settled calmly in its place like the placid face of a pond in the +moonlight. Yates realized that the way to success lay in keeping the +conversation in his own hands and not depending on any response. In this +way a man may best display the store of knowledge he possesses, to +the admiration and bewilderment of his audience, even though his store +consists merely of samples like the outfit of a commercial traveler; yet +a commercial traveler who knows his business can so arrange his samples +on the table of his room in a hotel that they give the onlooker an idea +of the vastness and wealth of the warehouses from which they are drawn. + +"Bread," said Yates with the serious air of a very learned man, "is a +most interesting subject. It is a historical subject--it is a biblical +subject. As an article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Bible than +any other. It is used in parable and to point a moral. 'Ye must not live +on bread alone.'" + +From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his listener he feared he +had not quoted correctly. He knew he was not now among that portion of +his samples with which he was most familiar, so he hastened back to the +historical aspect of his subject. Few people could skate over thinner +ice than Richard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused him to +return to more solid footing. + +"Now, in this country bread has gone through three distinct stages, and +although I am a strong believer in progress, yet, in the case of our +most important article of food, I hold that the bread of to-day is +inferior to the bread our mothers used to make, or perhaps, I should +say, our grandmothers. This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the age +of machinery--and machinery, while it may be quicker, is certainly not +so thorough as old-fashioned hand work. There is a new writer in England +named Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He would like to see +it abolished--at least, so he says. I will send for one of his books, +and show it to you, if you will let me." + +"You, in New York, surely do not call the author of 'Modern Painters' +and 'The Seven Lamps of Architecture' a new man. My father has one of +his books which must be nearly twenty years old." + +This was the longest speech Margaret had made to him, and, as he said +afterward to the professor in describing its effects, it took him right +off his feet. He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, that he +had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. The allusion he had made to +him he had heard someone else use, and he had worked it into an article +before now with telling effect. "As Mr. Ruskin says" looked well in a +newspaper column, giving an air of erudition and research to it. Mr. +Yates, however, was not at the present moment prepared to enter into a +discussion on either the age or the merits of the English writer. + +"Ah, well," he said, "technically speaking, of course, Ruskin is not a +new man. What I meant was that he is looked on--ah--in New York as--that +is--you know--as comparatively new--comparatively new. But, as I was +saying about bread, the old log-house era of bread, as I might call it, +produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this country. It was the +salt-rising kind, and was baked in a round, flat-bottomed iron kettle. +Did you ever see the baking kettle of other days?" + +"I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never uses it now. It was +placed on the hot embers, was it not?" + +"Exactly," said Yates, noting with pleasure that the girl was thawing, +as he expressed it to himself. "The hot coals were drawn out and the +kettle placed upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals were +put on he top of it. The bread was firm and white and sweet inside, with +the most delicious golden brown crust all around. Ah, that was bread! +but perhaps I appreciated it because I was always hungry in those days. +Then came the alleged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That was the +second stage in the evolution of bread in this country. It also belonged +to the log-house and open-fireplace era. Bread baked by direct heat from +the fire and reflected heat from the polished tin. I think our present +cast-iron stove arrangement is preferable to that, although not up to +the old-time kettle." + +If Margaret had been a reader of the New York _Argus_, she would have +noticed that the facts set forth by her visitor had already appeared in +that paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled "Our Daily Bread." +In the pause that ensued after Yates had finished his dissertation on +the staff of life the stillness was broken by a long wailing cry. It +began with one continued, sustained note, and ended with a wail half +a tone below the first. The girl paid no attention to it, but Yates +started to his feet. + +"In the name of--What's that?" + +Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the stillness was again +broken by what appeared to be the more distant notes of a bugle. + +"The first," she said, "was Kitty Bartlett's voice calling the men home +from the field for dinner. Mrs. Bartlett is a very good housekeeper +and is usually a few minutes ahead of the neighbors with the meals. The +second was the sound of a horn farther up the road. It is what you would +deplore as the age of tin applied to the dinner call, just as your tin +oven supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty's call much better +than the tin horn. It seems to me more musical, although it appeared to +startle you." + +"Oh, you can talk!" cried Yates with audacious admiration, at which the +girl colored slightly and seemed to retire within herself again. "And +you can make fun of people's historical lore, too. Which do you use--the +tin horn or the natural voice?" + +"Neither. If you will look outside, you will see a flag at the top of a +pole. That is our signal." + +It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was intended as an +intimation that he might see many things outside to interest him. He +felt that his visit had not been at all the brilliant success he had +anticipated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely an excuse. He +had expected to be able to efface the unfavorable impression he knew he +had made by his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the day before, +and he realized that his position was still the same. A good deal of +Yates' success in life came from the fact that he never knew when he was +beaten. He did not admit defeat now, but he saw he had, for some reason, +not gained any advantage in a preliminary skirmish. He concluded it +would be well to retire in good order, and renew the contest at some +future time. He was so unused to anything like a rebuff that all +his fighting qualities were up in arms, and he resolved to show this +unimpressionable girl that he was not a man to be lightly valued. + +As he rose the door from the main portion of the house opened, and +there entered a woman hardly yet past middle age, who had once been +undoubtedly handsome, but on whose worn and faded face was the look +of patient weariness which so often is the result of a youth spent in +helping a husband to overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an American +bush farm. When the farm is conquered, the victor is usually vanquished. +It needed no second glance to see that she was the mother from whom +the daughter had inherited her good looks. Mrs. Howard did not appear +surprised to see a stranger standing there; in fact, the faculty of +being surprised at anything seemed to have left her. Margaret introduced +them quietly, and went about her preparation for the meal. Yates greeted +Mrs. Howard with effusion. He had come, he said, on a bread mission. He +thought he knew something about bread, but he now learned he came too +early in the day. He hoped he might have the privilege of repeating his +visit. + +"But you are not going now?" said Mrs. Howard with hospitable anxiety. + +"I fear I have already stayed too long," answered Yates lingeringly. +"My partner, Professor Renmark, is also on a foraging expedition at your +neighbors', the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp long ago, and +will be expecting me." + +"No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let anyone go when there is +a meal on the way." + +"I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by staying. I imagine there +is quite enough to do in every farmhouse without entertaining any chance +tramp who happens along. Don't you agree with me for once, Miss Howard?" + +Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish to stay unless +Margaret added her invitation to her mother's. He felt vaguely that +his reluctance did him credit, and that he was improving. He could not +remember a time when he had not taken without question whatever the gods +sent, and this unaccustomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspect that +there were depths in his nature hitherto unexplored. It always flatters +a man to realize that he is deeper than he thought. + +Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner because Yates likened himself to +a tramp, and Margaret said coldly: + +"Mother's motto is that one more or less never makes any difference." + +"And what is your motto, Miss Howard?" + +"I don't think Margaret has any," said Mrs. Howard, answering for her +daughter. "She is like her father. She reads a great deal and doesn't +talk much. He would read all the time, if he did not have to work. I see +Margaret has already invited you, for she has put an extra plate on the +table." + +"Ah, then," said Yates, "I shall have much pleasure in accepting both +the verbal and the crockery invitation. I am sorry for the professor at +his lonely meal by the tent; for he is a martyr to duty, and I feel sure +Mrs. Bartlett will not be able to keep him." + +Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in to them, from the +outside, where Margaret was, a cheery voice which Yates had no +difficulty in recognizing as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. + +"Hello, Margaret!" she said. "Is he here?" + +The reply was inaudible. + +"Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited city fellow." + +There was evidently an admonition and a warning. + +"Well, I don't care if he does. I'll tell him so to his face. It might +do him good." + +Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in the doorway. On the fair +curls, which were flying about her shoulders, had been carelessly +placed her brother's straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her face was +flushed with running; and of the fact that she was a very lovely girl +there was not the slightest doubt. + +"How de do?" she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: "I +knew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There's going to be +war in our house. Mother's made a prisoner of the professor already, +but he doesn't know it. He thinks he's going back to the tent, and she's +packing up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, till I get +back. He said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. +We both told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn't leave a place +where there was good cooking for all the professors in the world." + +"You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett," said Yates, +somewhat piqued by her frankness. + +"Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but he +doesn't know when he's well off, just the same. You do. He's a quiet, +stubborn man." + +"And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett--a quiet, stubborn man, +or one who is conceited?" + +Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace of +embarrassment. "Detest, you mean. I'm sure I don't know. Margaret, which +is the most objectionable?" + +Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenly +questioned, but said nothing. + +Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, +like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: "Well, I must be off, +or mother will have to tie up the professor to keep him," and was off +accordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn. + +"Extraordinary girl," remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls and calico +dress disappeared. + +"She is a good girl," cried Margaret emphatically. + +"Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don't you think she is +somewhat free with her opinions about other people?" asked Yates. + +"She did not know that you were within hearing when she first spoke, and +after that she brazened it out. That's her way. But she's a kind girl +and good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken the trouble to come +over here merely because your friend happened to be surly." + +"Oh, Renny is anything but surly," said Yates, as quick to defend his +friend as she was to stand up for hers. "As I was saying a moment ago, +he is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the camp, nothing +would keep him. Now he will have a good dinner in peace when he knows I +am not waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he will get when +I take to the cooking." + +By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had done its work, and +Margaret's father and brother arrived from the field. They put their +broad straw hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking water +in a tin basin from the rain barrel, placed it on a bench outside and +proceeded to wash vigorously. + +Mr. Howard was much more interested in his guest than his daughter had +apparently been. Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had a +sympathetic audience, and he showed an easy familiarity with the great +people of this earth that was fascinating to a man who had read much of +them, but who was, in a measure, locked out of the bustling world. Yates +knew many of the generals in the late war, and all of the politicians. +Of the latter there was not an honest man among them, according to the +reporter; of the former there were few who had not made the most ghastly +mistakes. He looked on the world as a vast hoard of commonplace people, +wherein the men of real genius were buried out of sight, if there were +any men of genius, which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top were +there either through their own intrigues or because they had been forced +up by circumstances. His opinions sometimes caused a look of pain to +cross the face of the older man, who was enthusiastic in his quiet way, +and had his heroes. He would have been a strong Republican if he had +lived in the States; and he had watched the four-years' struggle, +through the papers, with keen and absorbed interest. The North had been +fighting, in his opinion, for the great and undying principle of human +liberty, and had deservedly won. Yates had no such delusion. It was a +politicians' war, he said. Principle wasn't in it. The North would have +been quite willing to let slavery stand if the situation had not been +forced by the firing on Fort Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not +at all meet the approval of Mr. Yates. + +"Oh, yes," he said, "I suppose Grant will go down into history as a +great general. The truth is that he simply knew how to subtract. That +is all there is in it. He had the additional boon of an utter lack of +imagination. We had many generals who were greater than Grant, but they +were troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin the best general +in the world. Now, take yourself, for example. If you were to kill a man +unintentionally, your conscience would trouble you all the rest of your +life. Think how you would feel, then, if you were to cause the death of +ten thousand men all in a lump. It would break you down. The mistake an +ordinary man makes may result in the loss of a few dollars, which can be +replaced; but if a general makes a mistake, the loss can never be made +up, for his mistakes are estimated by the lives of men. He says 'Go' +when he should have said 'Come.' He says 'Attack' when he should have +said 'Retreat.' What is the result? Five, ten, or fifteen thousand men, +many of them better men than he is, left dead on the field. Grant had +nothing of this feeling. He simply knew how to subtract, as I said +before. It is like this: You have fifty thousand men and I have +twenty-five thousand. When I kill twenty-five thousand of your men and +you kill twenty-five thousand of my men, you have twenty-five thousand +left and I have none. You are the victor, and the thoughtless crowd +howls about you, but that does not make you out the greatest general +by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant's number, and Grant had Lee's, the +result would have been reversed. Grant set himself to do this little sum +in subtraction, and he did it--did it probably as quickly as any other +man would have done it, and he knew that when it was done the war would +have to stop. That's all there was to it." + +The older man shook his head. "I doubt," he said, "if history will take +your view either of the motives of those in power or of the way the war +was carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, heroically fought by +those deluded people who were in the wrong, and stubbornly contested at +immense self-sacrifice by those who were in the right." + +"What a pity it was," said young Howard to the newspaper man, with a +rudeness that drew a frown from his father, "that you didn't get to show +'em how to carry on the war." + +"Well," said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, "I flatter +myself that I would have given them some valuable pointers. Still, it is +too late to bemoan their neglect now." + +"Oh, you may have a chance yet," continued the unabashed young man. +"They say the Fenians are coming over here this time sure. You ought to +volunteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how a war ought to +be carried on." + +"Oh, there's nothing in the Fenian scare! They won't venture over. They +fight with their mouths. It's the safest way." + +"I believe you," said the youth significantly. + +Perhaps it was because the boy had been so inconsiderate as to make +these remarks that Yates received a cordial invitation from both Mr. +and Mrs. Howard to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Of this +privilege Yates resolved to avail himself, but he would have prized it +more if Miss Margaret had added her word--which she did not, perhaps +because she was so busy looking after the bread. Yates knew, however, +that with a woman apparent progress is rarely synonymous with real +progress. This knowledge soothed his disappointment. + +As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his own feelings with +something like astonishment. The march of events was rapid even for him, +who was not slow in anything he undertook. + +"It is the result of leisure," he said to himself. "It is the first +breathing time I have had for fifteen years. Not two days of my vacation +gone, and here I am hopelessly in love!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Yates had intended to call at the Bartletts' and escort Renmark back +to the woods; but when he got outside he forgot the existence of the +professor, and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, switching +at the weeds that always grow in great profusion along the ditches of a +Canadian country thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and as Yates +wandered on in the direction of the forest he thought of many things. +He had feared that he would find life deadly dull so far from New York, +without even the consolation of a morning-paper, the feverish reading of +which had become a sort of vice with him, like smoking. He had imagined +that he could not exist without his morning paper, but he now realized +that it was not nearly so important a factor in life as he had supposed; +yet he sighed when he thought of it, and wished he had one with him of +current date. He could now, for the first time in many years, read a +paper without that vague fear which always possessed him when he took up +an opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Before he could enjoy it +his habit was to scan it over rapidly to see if it contained any item of +news which he himself had missed the previous day. The impending "scoop" +hangs over the head of the newspaper man like the sword so often quoted. +Great as the joy of beating the opposition press is, it never takes +the poignancy of the sting away from a beating received. If a terrible +disaster took place, and another paper gave fuller particulars than the +_Argus_ did, Yates found himself almost wishing the accident had +not occurred, although he recognized such a wish as decidedly +unprofessional. + +Richard's idea of the correct spirit in a reporter was exemplified by +an old broken-down, out-of-work morning newspaper man, who had not long +before committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for the evening +papers to get the sensational item. He had sent in to the paper for +which he formerly worked a full account of the fatality, accurately +headed and sub-headed; and, in his note to the city editor, he told why +he had chosen the hour of 7 P.M. as the time for his departure from an +unappreciative world. + +"Ah, well," said Yates under his breath, and suddenly pulling himself +together, "I mustn't think of New York if I intend to stay here for a +couple of weeks. I'll be city-sick the first thing I know, and then I'll +make a break for the metropolis. This will never do. The air here is +enchanting, it fills a man with new life. This is the spot for me, and +I'll stick to it till I'm right again. Hang New York! But I mustn't +think of Broadway or I'm done for." + +He came to the spot in the road where he could see the white side of +the tent under the dark trees, and climbed up on the rail fence, +sitting there for a few moments. The occasional call of a quail from a +neighboring field was the only sound that broke the intense stillness. +The warm smell of spring was in the air. The buds had but recently +broken, and the woods, intensely green, had a look of newness and +freshness that was comforting to the eye and grateful to the other +senses. The world seemed to be but lately made. The young man breathed +deeply of the vivifying air, and said: "No, there's nothing the matter +with this place, Dick. New York's a fool to it." Then, with a sigh, +he added: "If I can stand it for two weeks. I wonder how the boys are +getting on without me." + +In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back to the great city, +although he told himself that it wouldn't do. He gazed at the peaceful, +spreading landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw nothing. The +roar of the streets was in his ears. Suddenly his reverie was broken by +a voice from the forest. + +"I say, Yates, where's the bread?" + +Yates looked quickly around, somewhat startled, and saw the professor +coming toward him. + +"The bread? I forgot all about it. No; I didn't either. They were +baking--that was it. I am to go for it later in the day. What loot did +you rake in, professor?" + +"Vegetables mostly." + +"That's all right. Have a good dinner?" + +"Excellent." + +"So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I was just counting the +farmhouses in sight. What do you say to boarding round among them? You +are a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. Isn't education in +this country encouraged by paying the teacher as little as possible, +and letting him take it out in eating his way from one house to another? +Ever board around, Renny?" + +"Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, it is out of date now." + +"That's a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, Renmark. We become less +brave as we grow older. By the way, how is old man Bartlett? As well as +could be expected?" + +"He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has sent out two chairs to the +tent; she fears we will get rheumatism if we sit on the ground." + +"She is a kind woman, Renny, and a thoughtful. And that reminds me: I +have a hammock somewhere among my belongings. I will swing it up. Chairs +are comfortable, but a hammock is luxury." + +Yates slid down from the fence top, and together the two men walked to +the tent. The hammock was unfurled and slung between two trees. Yates +tested it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its restful folds +of network. He was swaying indolently several feet from the ground when +he said to Renmark: + +"I call this paradise--paradise regained; but it will be paradise lost +next month. Now, professor, I am ready to do the cooking, but I have a +fancy for doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the useful prosaic +man executes. Where are your vegetables, Renny? Potatoes and carrots, +eh? Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny; but first you must bring +some water from the spring." + +The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. Yates continued to swing +in the hammock alternating directions with rhapsodies on the beauties +of the day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said but little, and +attended strictly to the business in hand. The vegetables finished, he +took a book from his valise, tilted a chair back against a tree, and +began to read. + +"I'm depending upon you for the bread," he said to the drowsy man in the +hammock. + +"Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not misplaced. I shall +presently journey down into the realms of civilization, and fill +the long-felt want. I shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartlett +homestead, but I warn you that if there is a meal on, at either place, +you will not have me here to test your first efforts at cooking. So you +may have to wait until breakfast for my opinion." + +Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly from the hammock, and +looked regretfully at it when he stood once more on the ground. + +"This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the curse of life here +below. It is what we are all after. If it were not for the necessity +of bread and clothing, what a good time a fellow might have. Well, my +blessing, Renny. Good-by." + +Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he came to the beginning +of a lane which led to the Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer and his +son at work in the back fields. From between the distant house and barn +there arose, straight up into the still air, a blue column of smoke, +which, reaching a certain height, spread out like a thin, hazy cloud +above the dwelling. At first Yates thought that some of the outhouses +were on fire, and he quickened his pace to a run; but a moment's +reflection showed him that the column was plainly visible to the workers +in the fields, and that if anything were wrong they would not continue +placidly at their labor. When he had walked the long length of the lane, +and had safely rounded the corner of the barn, he saw, in the open space +between that building and the house, a huge camp fire blazing. From a +pole, upheld by two crotched supports, hung a big iron kettle over +the flames. The caldron was full nearly to the brim, and the steam +was already beginning to rise from its surface, although the fire +had evidently been but recently kindled. The smoke was not now so +voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with a big-brimmed straw hat +in her hands, fanning it away from her face, while the hat at the same +time protected her rosy countenance from the fire. She plainly was +not prepared to receive visitors, and she started when the young man +addressed her, flushing still more deeply, apparently annoyed at his +unwelcome appearance. + +"Good-afternoon," he said cordially. "Preparing for washing? I thought +Monday was washing day." + +"It is." + +"Then I have not been misinformed. And you are not preparing for +washing?" + +"We are." + +Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of herself, had to permit +a smile to brighten her own features. She always found it difficult +remain solemn for any length of time. + +"This is obviously a conundrum," said Yates, ticking off the items on +his four fingers. "First, Monday is washing day. Second, this is not +Monday. Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are preparing for +washing. I give it up, Miss Bartlett. Please tell me the answer." + +"The answer is that I am making soap; soft soap, if you know what that +is." + +"Practically, I don't know what it is; but I have heard the term used +in a political connection. In the States we say that if a man is very +diplomatic he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricating qualities. +Sam Slick used the term 'soft sawder' in the same way; but what sawder +is, soft or hard, I haven't the slightest idea." + +"I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates." + +"Me? Bless you, no. I'm a humble gleaner in the field of knowledge. +That's why I brought a Toronto professor with me. I want to learn +something. Won't you teach me how to make soap?" + +"I'm very busy just now. When I said that we were preparing for washing, +I should perhaps have told you there was something else we are not +prepared for to-day." + +"What is that?" + +"A visitor." + +"Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on me. I'm not a +visitor. I'm a friend of the family. I want to help. You will find me a +most diligent student. Won't you give me a chance?" + +"All the hard work's done. But perhaps you knew that before you came." + +Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed deeply. + +"That's what it is to be a misunderstood man. So you think, among other +bad qualities, I have the habit of shirking work? Let me tell you, Miss +Bartlett, that the reason I am here is because I have worked too hard. +Now, confess that you are sorry for what you said--trampling on an +already downtrodden man." + +Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed also, for his sense of +comradeship was strong. + +"You don't look as if you had ever worked in your life; I don't believe +you know what work is." + +"But there are different kinds of labor. Don't you call writing work?" + +"No." + +"That's just where you're mistaken. It is, and hard work, too. I'll tell +you about the newspaper business if you'll tell me about soap making. +Fair exchange. I wish you would take me as a pupil, Miss Bartlett; you +would find me quick at picking up things." + +"Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful of water." + +"I'll do it," cried Yates sternly; "I'll do it, though it blast me." + +Yates picked up the wooden pail, painted blue on the outside, with a +red stripe near the top for ornament, and cream-colored inside. It was +called a "patent pail" in those days, as it was a comparatively recent +innovation, being cheaper, lighter, and stronger than the tin pail which +it was rapidly replacing. At the well was a stout pole, pinned +through the center to the upright support on which it swung, like the +walking-beam of an engine. The thick end, which rested on the ground, +was loaded with heavy stones; while from the thin end, high in the air, +there dangled over the mouth of the well a slim pole with a hook. This +hook was ingeniously furnished with a spring of hickory, which snapped +when the handle of the pail was placed on the hook, and prevented the +"patent" utensil from slipping off when it was lowered to the surface of +the water. Yates speedily recognized the usefulness of this contrivance, +for he found that the filling of a wooden pail in a deep well was not +the simple affair it looked. The bucket bobbed about on the surface of +the water. Once he forgot the necessity of keeping a stout grip on +the pole, and the next instant the pail came up to the sunlight with a +suddenness that was terrifying. Only an equally sudden backward jump on +Yates' part saved his head. Miss Bartlett was pleased to look upon this +incident as funny. Yates was so startled by the unexpected revolt of the +pail that his native courtesy did not get a chance to prevent Kitty from +drawing up the water herself. She lowered the vessel, pulling down the +pole in a hand-over-hand manner that the young man thought decidedly +fetching, and then she gave an almost imperceptible twist to the +arrangement that resulted in instant success. The next thing Yates knew +the full pail was resting on the well curb, and the hickory spring had +given the click that released the handle. + +"There," said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, "that's how it's done." + +"I see the result, Miss Bartlett; but I'm not sure I can do the trick. +These things are not so simple as they seem. What is the next step?" + +"Pour the water into the leach." + +"Into the what?" + +"Into the leach, I said. Where else?" + +"Oh, I'm up a tree again. I see I don't even know the A B C of this +business. In the old days the leech was a physician. You don't mean I'm +to drown a doctor?" + +"This is the leach," said Kitty, pointing to a large, yellowish, upright +wooden cylinder, which rested on some slanting boards, down the surface +of which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a trough. + +As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his hand he saw that the +cylinder was filled nearly to the top with sodden wood ashes. He poured +in the water, and it sank quickly out of sight. + +"So this is part of the soap-making equipment?" he said, stepping down; +"I thought the iron kettle over the fire was the whole factory. Tell me +about the leach." + +"That is where the hard work of soap making comes in," said Kitty, +stirring the contents of the iron kettle with a long stick. "Keeping +the leach supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the ashes are +dry. If you put in five more pails of water, I will tell you about it." + +"Right!" cried Yates, pleased to see that the girl's evident objection +to his presence at first was fast disappearing. "Now you'll understand +how energetic I am. I'm a handy man about a place." + +When he had completed his task, she was still stirring the thickening +liquid in the caldron, guarding her face from the fire with her +big straw hat. Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about her +shoulders; and Yates, as he put the pail in its place, when it had +been emptied the fifth time, thought she formed a very pretty picture +standing there by the fire, even if she were making soft soap. + +"The wicked genii has finished the task set him by the fairy princess. +Now for the reward. I want all the particulars about the leach. In the +first place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder that I have, +without apparent effect, been pouring water into? Is it manufactured or +natural?" + +"Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree." + +"Buttonwood? I don't think I ever heard of that. I know the beech and +the maple, and some kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why the +buttonwood?" + +"The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to the purpose. It is a +tree that is very fine to look at. It seems all right, but it generally +isn't. It is hollow or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timber +made from it is of little value, as it doesn't last. Yet you can't tell +until you begin to chop whether it is of any use or not." Kitty shot a +quick glance at the young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. + +"Go on, Miss Bartlett; I see what you mean. There are men like the +buttonwood tree. The woods are full of them. I've met lots of that +kind, fair to look upon, but hollow. Of course you don't mean anything +personal; for you must have seen my worth by the way I stuck to the +water hauling. But go on." + +"Dear me, I never thought of such a thing; but a guilty conscience, they +say----" said Kitty, with a giggle. + +"Of course they say; but it's wrong, like most other things they say. +It's the man with the guilty conscience who looks you straight in the +eye. Now that the buttonwood is chopped down, what's the next thing to +be done?" + +"It is sawn off at the proper length, square at one end and slanting at +the other." + +"Why slanting?" + +"Don't you see, the foundation of plank on which it rests is inclined, +so the end of the leach that is down must be slantingly cut, otherwise +it would not stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the first +windstorm." + +"I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up?" + +"Oh, dear no; not yet. They build a fire in it when it gets dry enough." + +"Really? I think I understand the comprehensive scheme, but I slip up +on the details, as when I tried to submerge that wooden pail. What's the +fire for?" + +"To burn out what remains of the soft inside wood, so as to leave +only the hard outside shell. Then the charring of the inner surface is +supposed to make the leach better--more water-tight, perhaps." + +"Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up?" + +"Yes; and gradually filled with ashes. When it is full, we pour the +water in it, and catch the lye as it drips out. This is put in the +caldron with grease, pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when it boils +long enough, the result is soft soap." + +"And if you boil it too long, what is the result?" + +"Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long." + +The conversation was here interrupted by a hissing in the fire, caused +by the tumultuous boiling over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in a +basin of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously. + +"You see," she said reproachfully, "the result of keeping me talking +nonsense to you. Now you will have to make up for it by bringing in some +wood and putting more water into the leach." + +"With the utmost pleasure," cried Yates, springing to his feet. "It is a +delight to atone for a fault by obeying your commands." + +The girl laughed. "Buttonwood," she said. Before Yates could think of +anything to say in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. + +"How is the soap getting on, Kitty?" she asked. "Why, Mr. Yates, are you +here?" + +"Am I here? I should say I was. Very much here. I'm the hired man. I'm +the hewer of wood and the hauler of water, or, to speak more correctly, +I'm the hauler of both. And, besides, I've been learning how to make +soap, Mrs. Bartlett." + +"Well, it won't hurt you to know how." + +"You bet it won't. When I get back to New York, the first thing I shall +do will be to chop down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can find +one, and set up a leach for myself. Lye comes useful in running a +paper." + +Mrs. Bartlett's eyes twinkled, for, although she did not quite +understand his nonsense, she knew it was nonsense, and she had a liking +for frivolous persons, her own husband being so somber-minded. + +"Tea is ready," she said. "Of course you will stay, Mr. Yates." + +"Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously do so. I haven't earned +a meal since the last one. No; my conscience won't let me accept, but +thank you all the same." + +"Nonsense; my conscience won't let you go away hungry. If nobody were +to eat but those who earn their victuals, there would be more starving +people in the world than there are. Of course you'll stay." + +"Now, that's what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like to have a chance of +refusing an invitation I yearn for, and then be forced to accept. That's +true hospitality." Then in a whisper he added to Kitty; "If you dare to +say 'buttonwood,' Miss Bartlett, you and I will quarrel." + +But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had appeared on the scene, +but industriously stirred the contents of the iron kettle. + +"Kitty," said the mother, "you call the men to supper." + +"I can't leave this," said Kitty, flushing; "it will boil over. You +call, mother." + +So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side of her mouth, and gave +the long wailing cry, which was faintly answered from the fields, and +Yates, who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satisfaction that +Kitty had refused doubtless because he was there. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"I tell you what it is, Renny," said Yates, a few days after the soap +episode, as he swung in his hammock at the camp, "I'm learning something +new every day." + +"Not really?" asked the professor in surprise. + +"Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. My chief pleasure in life, +professor, is the surprising of you. I sometimes wonder why it delights +me; it is so easily done." + +"Never mind about that. What have you been learning?" + +"Wisdom, my boy; wisdom in solid chunks. In the first place, I am +learning to admire the resourcefulness of these people around us. +Practically, they make everything they need. They are the most +self-helping people that I was ever thrown among. I look upon theirs as +the ideal life." + +"I think you said something like that when we first came here." + +"I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am talking now about farm +life. Farmers eliminate the middleman pretty effectually, and that in +itself is going a long way toward complete happiness. Take the making +of soap, that I told you about; there you have it, cheap and good. When +you've made it, you know what is in it, and I'll be hanged if you do +when you pay a big price for it in New York. Here they make pretty +nearly everything they need, except the wagon and the crockery; and I'm +not sure but they made them a few years back. Now, when a man with a +good sharp ax and a jack-knife can do anything from building his house +to whittling out a chair, he's the most independent man on earth. Nobody +lives better than these people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. +Perhaps the country air helps; but it seems to me I never tasted such +meals as Mrs. Bartlett, for instance, gets up. They buy nothing at the +stores except the tea, and I confess I prefer milk myself. My tastes +were always simple." + +"And what is the deduction?" + +"Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old Hiram has an anvil and an +amateur forge. He can tinker up almost anything, and that eliminates the +blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, and other tools, and +that eliminates the carpenter. The women eliminate the baker, the soap +boiler, and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have eliminated +all the middlemen, then comes independence, and consequently complete +happiness. You can't keep happiness away with a shotgun then." + +"But what is to become of the blacksmith, the carpenter, and all the +rest?" + +"Let them take up land and be happy too; there's plenty of land. The +land is waiting for them. Then look how the master is eliminated. That's +the most beautiful riddance of all. Even the carpenter and blacksmith +usually have to work under a boss; and if not, they have to depend on +the men who employ them. The farmer has to please nobody but himself. +That adds to his independence. That's why old Hiram is ready to fight +the first comer on the slightest provocation. He doesn't care whom he +offends, so long as it isn't his wife. These people know how to make +what they want, and what they can't make they do without. That's the +way to form a great nation. You raise, in this way, a self-sustaining, +resolute, unconquerable people. The reason the North conquered the South +was because we drew our armies mostly from the self-reliant farming +class, while we had to fight a people accustomed for generations to +having things done for them." + +"Why don't you buy a farm, Yates?" + +"Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. I am like the drunkard +who admires a temperate life, yet can't pass a ginshop. The city virus +is in my blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quite satisfied +with the tendency of farm life; it is unfortunately in a transition +state. It is at the frame-house stage, and will soon blossom into the +red-brick stage. The log-house era is what I yearn for. Then everything +a person needed was made on the farm. When the brick-house era sets in, +the middleman will be rampant. I saw the other day at the Howards' a set +of ancient stones that interested me as much as an Assyrian marble would +interest you. They were old, home-made millstones, and they have not +been used since the frame house was built. The grist mill at the village +put them out of date. And just here, notice the subtlety of the crafty +middleman. The farmer takes his grist to the mill, and the miller does +not charge him cash for grinding it. He takes toll out of the bags, +and the farmer has a vague idea that he gets his grinding for almost +nothing. The old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer's son won't +be as happy in the brick house which the mason will build for him as his +grandfather was in the log house he built for himself. And fools call +this change the advance of civilization." + +"There is something to be said for the old order of things," admitted +Renmark. "If a person could unite the advantages of what we call +civilization with the advantages of a pastoral life, he would inaugurate +a condition of things that would be truly idyllic." + +"That's so, Renmark, that's so!" cried Yates enthusiastically. "A +brownstone mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of Lake +Superior! That would suit me down to the ground. Spend half the year in +each place." + +"Yes," said the professor meditatively; "a log hut on the rocks and +under the trees, with the lake in front, would be very nice if the hut +had a good library attached." + +"And a daily paper. Don't forget the press." + +"No. I draw the line there. The daily paper would mean the daily steamer +or the daily train. The one would frighten away the fish, and the other +would disturb the stillness with its whistle." + +Yates sighed. "I forgot about the drawbacks," he said. "That's the +trouble with civilization. You can't have the things you want without +bringing in their trail so many things you don't want. I shall have to +give up the daily paper." + +"Then there is another objection, worse than either steamer or train." + +"What's that?" + +"The daily paper itself." + +Yates sat up indignantly. + +"Renmark!" he cried, "that's blasphemy. For Heaven's sake, man, hold +something sacred. If you don't respect the press, what do you respect? +Not my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you wouldn't talk +in that flippant manner. If you speak kindly of my daily paper, I'll +tolerate your library." + +"And that reminds me: Have you brought any books with you, Yates? I have +gone through most of mine already, although many of them will bear going +over again; still, I have so much time on my hands that I think I may +indulge in a little general reading. When you wrote asking me to meet +you in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp through the +country, so I did not bring as many books with me as I should have done +if I had known you were going to camp out." + +Yates sprang from the hammock. + +"Books? Well, I should say so! Perhaps you think I don't read anything +but the daily papers. I'd have you know that I am something of a reader +myself. You mustn't imagine you monopolize all the culture in the +township, professor." + +The young man went into the tent, and shortly returned with an armful of +yellow-covered, paper-bound small volumes, which he flung in profusion +at the feet of the man from Toronto. They were mostly Beadle's Dime +Novels, which had a great sale at the time. + +"There," he said, "you have quantity, quality, and variety, as I have +before remarked. 'The Murderous Sioux of Kalamazoo;' that's a good one. +A hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the word. The one you are +looking at is a pirate story, judging by the burning ship on the cover. +But for first-class highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. +That's the 'Sixteen String Jack set.' They're immense, if they do cost +a quarter each. You must begin at the right volume, or you'll be sorry. +You see, they never really end, although every volume is supposed to be +complete in itself. They leave off at the most exciting point, and are +continued in the next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it's +rather exasperating if you begin at the last book. You'll enjoy this +lot. I'm glad I brought them along." + +"It is a blessing," said Renmark, with the ghost of a smile about his +lips. "I can truthfully say that they are entirely new to me." + +"That's all right, my boy," cried Yates loftily, with a wave of his +hand. "Use them as if they were your own." + +Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity of the books. + +"These will do excellently for lighting our morning camp fire," he said. +"And if you will allow me to treat them as if they were my own, that is +the use to which I will put them. You surely do not mean to say that you +read such trash as this, Yates?" + +"Trash?" exclaimed Yates indignantly. "It serves me right. That's what +a man gets for being decent to you, Renny. Well, you're not compelled to +read them; but if you put one of them in the fire, your stupid treatises +will follow, if they are not too solid to burn. You don't know good +literature when you see it." + +The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit which comes to a +man through the possession of a real sheepskin diploma, granted by a +university of good standing, did not think it necessary to defend his +literary taste. He busied himself in pruning a stick he had cut in the +forest, and finally he got it into the semblance of a walking cane. He +was an athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not suit him as +it did Yates. He tested the stick in various ways when he had trimmed it +to his satisfaction. + +"Are you ready for a ten-mile walk?" he asked of the man in the hammock. + +"Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking here below, and he +doesn't want it ten miles in length either. I'm easily satisfied. You're +off, are you? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back some bread +when you return to camp. It's the one safe thing to do." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Renmark walked through the woods and then across the fields, until he +came to the road. He avoided the habitations of man as much as he could, +for he was neither so sociably inclined nor so frequently hungry as was +his companion. He strode along the road, not caring much where it led +him. Everyone he met gave him "Good-day," after the friendly custom +of the country. Those with wagons or lighter vehicles going in his +direction usually offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that a man +should choose to walk when it was not compulsory. The professor, like +most silent men, found himself good company, and did not feel the +need of companionship in his walks. He had felt relieved rather than +disappointed when Yates refused to accompany him. And Yates, swinging +drowsily in his hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men are firm +and intimate friends, the first few days of camping out together is a +severe strain on their regard for each other. If Damon and Pythias had +occupied a tent together for a week, the worst enemy of either, or both, +might at the end of that time have ventured into the camp in safety, and +would have been welcome. + +Renmark thought of these things as he walked along. His few days' +intimacy with Yates had shown him how far apart they had managed to get +by following paths that diverged more and more widely the farther they +were trodden. The friendship of their youth had turned out to be merely +ephemeral. Neither would now choose the other as an intimate associate. +Another illusion had gone. + +"I have surely enough self-control," said Renmark to himself, as he +walked on, "to stand his shallow flippancy for another week, and not let +him see what I think of him." + +Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence of +the camp. "That man is an exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faults +of the species abnormally developed. If I once open out on him, he will +learn more truth about himself in ten minutes than he ever heard in +his life before. What an unbearable prig he has grown to be." Thus ran +Yates' thoughts as he swung in his hammock, looking up at the ceiling of +green leaves. + +Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of them thought. If +it had been, then were marriage not only a failure, but a practical +impossibility. If two men can get over the first few days in camp +without a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the tension relaxes. + +Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid little heed to those he +met; but one driver drew up his horse and accosted him. + +"Good-day," he said. "How are you getting on in the tent?" + +The professor was surprised at the question. Had their tenting-out +eccentricity gone all over the country? He was not a quick man +at recognizing people, belonging, as he did, to the +"I-remember-your-face-but-can't-recall-your-name" fraternity. It had +been said of him that he never, at any one time, knew the names of more +than half a dozen students in his class; but this was an undergraduate +libel on him. The young man who had accosted him was driving a single +horse, attached to what he termed a "democrat"--a four-wheeled light +wagon, not so slim and elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as +a wagon. Renmark looked up at the driver with confused unrecognition, +troubled because he vaguely felt that he had met him somewhere before. +But his surprise at being addressed speedily changed into amazement as +he looked from the driver to the load. The "democrat" was heaped +with books. The larger volumes were stuck along the sides with some +regularity, and in this way kept the miscellaneous pile from being +shaken out on the road. His eye glittered with a new interest as it +rested on the many-colored bindings; and he recognized in the pile the +peculiar brown covers of the "Bohn" edition of classic translations, +that were scattered like so many turnips over the top of this ridge of +literature. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming. How +came a farmer's boy to be driving a wagon load of books in the wilds of +the country as nonchalantly as if they were so many bushels of potatoes? + +The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for the load was heavy and +the sand was deep, saw that the stranger not only did not recognize him, +but that from the moment he saw the books he had forgotten everything +else. It was evidently necessary to speak again. + +"If you are coming back, will you have a ride?" he asked. + +"I--I think I will," said the professor, descending to earth again and +climbing up beside the boy. + +"I see you don't remember me," said the latter, starting his horse +again. "My name is Howard. I passed you in my buggy when you were +coming in with your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner--what's his +name--Yates, isn't it?--had dinner at our house the other day." + +"Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had seen you before; but it +was only for a moment, you know. I have a very poor memory so far as +people are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. Are these +your books? And how do you happen to have such a quantity?" + +"Oh, this is the library," said young Howard. + +"The library?" + +"Yes, the township library, you know." + +"Oh! The township has a library, then? I didn't know." + +"Well, it's part of it. This is a fifth part. You know about township +libraries, don't you? Your partner said you were a college man." + +Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he was never reluctant to +admit it. + +"I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know nothing of township +libraries. Please, tell me about them." + +Young Howard was eager to give information to a college man, especially +on the subject of books, which he regarded as belonging to the province +of college-bred men. He was pleased also to discover that city people +did not know everything. He had long had the idea that they did, and +this belief had been annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness of +Yates. The professor evidently was a decent fellow, who did not pretend +to universal knowledge. This was encouraging. He liked Renmark better +than Yates, and was glad he had offered him a ride, although, of course, +that was the custom; still, a person with one horse and a heavy load is +exempt on a sandy road. + +"Well, you see," he said in explanation, "it's like this: The township +votes a sum of money, say a hundred dollars, or two hundred, as the case +may be. They give notice to the Government of the amount voted, and the +Government adds the same amount to the township money. It's like the old +game: you think of a number, and they double it. The Government has a +depository of books, in Toronto, I think, and they sell them cheaper +than the bookstores do. At any rate, the four hundred dollars' worth are +bought, or whatever the amount is, and the books are the property of the +township. Five persons are picked out in the township as librarians, and +they have to give security. My father is librarian for this section. +The library is divided into five parts, and each librarian gets a share. +Once a year I go to the next section and get all their books. They go +to the next section, again, and get all the books at that place. A man +comes to our house to-day and takes all we have. So we get a complete +change every year, and in five years we get back the first batch, which +by that time we have forgotten all about. To-day is changing day all +around." + +"And the books are lent to any person in each section who wishes to read +them?" asked the professor. + +"Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can have a book out for +two weeks; after that time there is a fine, but Margaret never fines +anyone." + +"And do people have to pay to take out the books?" + +"Not likely!" said Howard with fine contempt. "You wouldn't expect +people to pay for reading books; would you, now?" + +"No, I suppose not. And who selected the volumes?" + +"Well, the township can select the books if it likes, or it can send a +committee to select them; but they didn't think it worth the trouble +and expense. People grumbled enough at wasting money on books as it was, +even if they did buy them at half price. Still, others said it was +a pity not to get the money out of the Government when they had the +chance. I don't believe any of them cared very much about the books, +except father and a few others. So the Government chose the books. +They'll do that if you leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash they +sent, if you take my word for it. I believe they shoved off on us all +the things no on else would buy. Even when they did pick out novels, +they were just as tough as the history books. 'Adam Bede' is one. They +say that's a novel. I tried it, but I would rather read the history of +Josephus any day. There's some fighting in that, if it is a history. +Then there's any amount of biography books. They're no good. There's a +'History of Napoleon.' Old Bartlett's got that, and he won't give it up. +He says he was taxed for the library against his will. He dares them +to go to law about it, and it aint worth while for one book. The other +sections are all asking for that book; not that they want it, but the +whole country knows that old Bartlett's a-holding on to it, so they'd +like to see some fun. Bartlett's read that book fourteen times, and it's +all he knows. I tell Margaret she ought to fine him, and keep on fining, +but she won't do it. I guess Bartlett thinks the book belongs to him +by this time. Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. Bartlett,--so does +everybody,--but old Bartlett's a seed. There he sits now on his veranda, +and it's a wonder he's not reading the 'History of Napoleon.'" + +They were passing the Bartlett house, and young Howard raised his voice +and called out: + +"I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. This is changing day, +you know. Shall I come up for it, or will you bring it down? If you +fetch it to the gate, I'll cart it home now." + +The old man paid no heed to what was said to him; but Mrs. Bartlett, +attracted by the outcry, came to the door. + +"You go along with your books, you young rascal!" she cried, coming +down to the gate when she saw the professor. "That's a nice way to carry +bound books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I'll warrant you have lost +a dozen between Mallory's and here. But easy come, easy go. It's plain +to be seen they didn't cost you anything. I don't know what the world's +a-coming to when the township spends its money in books, as if taxes +weren't heavy enough already. Won't you come in, Mr. Renmark? Tea's on +the table." + +"Mr. Renmark's coming with me this trip, Mrs. Bartlett," young Howard +said before the professor had time to reply; "but I'll come over and +take tea, if you'll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse up." + +"You go along with your nonsense," she said; "I know you." Then in a +lower voice she asked: "How is your mother, Henry--and Margaret?" + +"They're pretty well, thanks." + +"Tell them I'm going to run over to see them some day soon, but that +need not keep them from coming to see me. The old man's going to town +to-morrow," and with this hint, after again inviting the professor to a +meal, she departed up the path to the house. + +"I think I'll get down here," said Renmark, halfway between the two +houses. "I am very much obliged to you for the ride, and also for what +you told me about the books. It was very interesting." + +"Nonsense!" cried young Howard; "I'm not going to let you do anything of +the sort. You're coming home with me. You want to see the books, don't +you? Very well, then, come along, Margaret is always impatient on +changing day, she's so anxious to see the books, and father generally +comes in early from the fields for the same reason." + +As they approached the Howard homestead they noticed Margaret waiting +for them at the gate; but when the girl saw that a stranger was in +the wagon, she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, seeing this +retreat, regretted he had not accepted Mrs. Bartlett's invitation. He +was a sensitive man, and did not realize that others were sometimes +as shy as himself. He felt he was intruding, and that at a sacred +moment--the moment of the arrival of the library. He was such a lover of +books, and valued so highly the privilege of being alone with them, that +he fancied he saw in the abrupt departure of Margaret the same feeling +of resentment he would himself have experienced if a visitor had +encroached upon him in his favorite nook in the fine room that held the +library of the university. + +When the wagon stopped in the lane, Renmark said hesitatingly: + +"I think I'll not stay, if you don't mind. My friend is waiting for me +at the camp, and will be wondering what has become of me." + +"Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he never bothers about anybody else +as long as he is comfortable himself. That's how I sized him up, at any +rate. Besides, you're never going back on carrying in the books, are +you? I counted on your help. I don't want to do it, and it don't seem +the square thing to let Margaret do it all alone; does it, now?" + +"Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall----" + +"Of course you can. Besides, I know my father wants to see you, anyhow. +Don't you, father?" + +The old man was coming round from the back of the house to meet them. + +"Don't I what?" he asked. + +"You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark when Margaret told you +what Yates had said to her about him." + +Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many people had made him the +subject of conversation, rather suspecting at the same time that the boy +was making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out his hand. + +"So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very pleased to see you. +Yes, as Henry was saying, I have been wanting to see you ever since my +daughter spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that his brother is a +pupil of yours?" + +"Oh! is Arthur Howard your son?" cried Renmark, warming up at once. "I +did not know it. There are many young men at the college, and I have but +the vaguest idea from what parts of the country they all come. A teacher +should have no favorites, but I must confess to a strong liking for your +son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said about every member of my +class." + +"Arthur was always studious, so we thought we would give him a chance. +I am glad to hear he behaves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, +and I hope my boys will have an easier time than I had. But come in, +come in. The missus and Margaret will be glad to see you, and hear how +the boy is coming on with his studies." + +So they went in together. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that would +fetch you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!" + +Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thought +the forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected his +wits he saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashing +through the woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by a +strap attached to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still resounded +in the depths of the woods, and rang in Yates' ears as he pulled himself +together. + +"Did you--ah--make any remarks?" asked Yates quietly. + +The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise. + +"I say, don't you know that it's not healthy to go to sleep in the +middle of the day?" + +"Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I can +stand it, if the middle of the day can. I've a strong constitution. Now, +what do you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man's bedroom in +that reckless fashion?" + +The boy laughed. + +"I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for I +saw the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago." + +"Oh! Where was he going?" + +"Hanged if I know, and he didn't look as if he knew himself. He's a +queer fish, aint he?" + +"He is. Everybody can't be as sensible and handsome as we are, you know. +Where are you going with those horses, young man?" + +"To get them shod. Won't you come along? You can ride the horse I'm on. +It's got a bridle. I'll ride the one with the halter." + +"How far away is the blacksmith's shop?" + +"Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads." + +"Well," said Yates, "there's merit in the idea. I take it your generous +offer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication." + +"I don't understand. What do you mean?" + +"There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of one +of those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kick +or buck, or playfully roll over a person?" + +"No," cried, young Bartlett indignantly. "This is no circus. Why, a baby +could ride this horse." + +"Well, that's about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I'm a trifle +out of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, +and I haven't been on one of them for a week." + +"Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you set +your mind to." + +Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, +so he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on the horse +with both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slipped to the +ground. + +"Wait till I throw down the fence," he said. + +Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two went trotting down the +road. He managed to hold his place with some little uncertainty, but the +joggling up and down worried him. He never seemed to alight in quite the +same place on the horse's back, and this gave an element of chance to +his position which embarrassed him. He expected to come down some time +and find the horse wasn't there. The boy laughed at his riding, but +Yates was too much engaged in keeping his position to mind that very +much. + +"D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that's what's +the m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me." His conversation seemed to be shaken +out of him by the trotting of the horse. "I say, Bartlett, I can't stand +this any longer. I'd rather walk." + +"You're all right," said the boy; "we'll make him canter." + +He struck the horse over the flank with the loose end of the halter +rein. + +"Here!" shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and grasping the mane. +"Don't make him go faster, you young fiend. I'll murder you when I get +off--and that will be soon." + +"You're all right," repeated young Bartlett, and, much to his +astonishment, Yates found it to be so. When the horse broke into a +canter, Yates thought the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, and +as soothing as a rocking chair. + +"This is an improvement. But we've got to keep it up, for if this brute +suddenly changes to a trot, I'm done for." + +"We'll keep it up until we come in sight of the Corners, then we'll slow +down to a walk. There's sure to be a lot of fellows at the blacksmith's +shop, so we'll come in on them easy like." + +"You're a good fellow, Bartlett," said Yates. "I suspected you of +tricks at first. I'm afraid, if I had got another chap in such a fix, I +wouldn't have let him off as easily as you have me. The temptation would +have been too great." + +When they reached the blacksmith's shop at the Corners, they found four +horses in the building ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, +and then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of the smithy. The +shop was built of rough boards, and the inside was blackened with soot. +It was not well lighted, the two windows being obscured with much +smoke, so that they were useless as far as their original purpose was +concerned; but the doorway, as wide as that of a barn, allowed all the +light to come in that the smith needed for his work. At the far end +and darkest corner of the place stood the forge, with the large bellows +behind it, concealed, for the most part, by the chimney. The forge was +perhaps six feet square and three or four feet high, built of plank and +filled in with earth. The top was covered with cinders and coal, while +in the center glowed the red core of the fire, with blue flames hovering +over it. The man who worked the bellows chewed tobacco, and now and then +projected the juice with deadly accuracy right into the center of the +fire, where it made a momentary hiss and dark spot. All the frequenters +of the smithy admired Sandy's skill in expectoration, and many tried +in vain to emulate it. The envious said it was due to the peculiar +formation of his front teeth, the upper row being prominent, and the +two middle teeth set far apart, as if one were missing. But this was +jealousy; Sandy's perfection in the art was due to no favoritism of +nature, but to constant and long-continued practice. Occasionally with +his callous right hand, never removing his left from the lever, Sandy +pulled an iron bar out of the fire and examined it critically. The +incandescent end of the bar radiated a blinding white light when it was +gently withdrawn, and illuminated the man's head, making his beardless +face look, against its dark background, like the smudged countenance of +some cynical demon glowing with a fire from within. The end of the bar +which he held must have been very hot to an ordinary mortal, as everyone +in the shop knew, all of them, at their initiation to the country club, +having been handed a black piece of iron from Sandy's hand, which he +held unflinchingly, but which the innocent receiver usually dropped with +a yell. This was Sandy's favorite joke, and made life worth living for +him. It was perhaps not so good as the blacksmith's own bit of humor, +but public opinion was divided on that point. Every great man has his +own particular set of admirers; and there were some who said,--under +their breaths, of course,--that Sandy could turn a horseshoe as well +as Macdonald himself. Experts, however, while admitting Sandy's general +genius, did not go so far as this. + +About half a dozen members of the club were present, and most of them +stood leaning against something with hands deep in their trousers +pockets; one was sitting on the blacksmith's bench, with his legs +dangling down. On the bench tools were scattered around so thickly that +he had had to clear a place before he could sit down; the taking of this +liberty proved the man to be an old and privileged member. He sat there +whittling a stick, aimlessly bringing it to a fine point, examining it +frequently with a critical air, as if he were engaged in some delicate +operation which required great discrimination. + +The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to one of the horses, the +hind hoof of the animal, between his knees, resting on his leathern +apron. The horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, not +liking what was going on. Macdonald swore at it fluently, and requested +it to stand still, holding the foot as firmly as if it were in his own +iron vise, which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With his +right hand he held a hot horseshoe, attached to an iron punch that had +been driven into one of the nail holes, and this he pressed against the +upraised hoof, as though sealing a document with a gigantic seal. Smoke +and flame rose from the contact of the hot iron with the hoof, and the +air was filled with the not unpleasant odor of burning horn. The smith's +tool box, with hammer, pinchers, and nails, lay on the earthern floor +within easy reach. The sweat poured from his grimy brow; for it was a +hot job, and Macdonald was in the habit of making the most of his work. +He was called the hardest working man in that part of the country, +and he was proud of the designation. He was a standing reproach to the +loafers who frequented his shop, and that fact gave him pleasure in +their company. Besides, a man must have an audience when he is an expert +in swearing. Macdonald's profanity was largely automatic,--a natural +gift, as it were,--and he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when +you got him fighting angry, he always forgot to swear; but in his calm +moments oaths rolled easily and picturesquely from his lips, and gave +fluency to his conversation. Macdonald enjoyed the reputation round +about of being a wicked man, which he was not; his language was against +him, that was all. This reputation had a misty halo thrown around it by +Macdonald's unknown doings "down East," from which mystical region he +had come. No one knew just what Macdonald had done, but it was admitted +on all sides that he must have had some terrible experiences, although +he was still a young man and unmarried. He used to say: "When you have +come through what I have, you won't be so ready to pick a quarrel with a +man." + +This must have meant something significant, but the blacksmith never +took anyone into his confidence; and "down East" is a vague place, a +sort of indefinite, unlocalized no-man's-land, situated anywhere between +Toronto and Quebec. Almost anything might have happened in such a space +of country. Macdonald's favorite way of crushing an opponent was to say: +"When you've had some of my experiences, young man, you'll know better'n +to talk like that." All this gave a certain fascination to friendship +with the blacksmith; and the farmers' boys felt that they were playing +with fire when in his company, getting, as it were, a glimpse of the +dangerous side of life. As for work, the blacksmith reveled in it, and +made it practically his only vice. He did everything with full steam on, +and was, as has been said, a constant reproach to loafers all over the +country. When there was no work to do, he made work. When there was work +to do, he did it with a rush, sweeping the sweat from his grimy brow +with his hooked fore finger, and flecking it to the floor with a flirt +of the right hand, loose on the wrist, in a way that made his thumb +and fore finger snap together like the crack of a whip. This action was +always accompanied with a long-drawn breath, almost a sigh, that seemed +to say: "I wish I had the easy times you fellows have." In fact, since +he came to the neighborhood the current phrase, "He works like a steer" +had given way to, "He works like Macdonald," except with the older +people, who find it hard to change phrases. Yet everyone liked the +blacksmith, and took no special offense at his untiring industry, +looking at it rather as an example to others. + +He did not look up as the two newcomers entered, but industriously pared +down the hoof with a curiously formed knife turned like a hook at the +point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, and rasped the +hoof into shape with a long, broad file. Not till he let the foot drop +on the earthen floor, and slapped the impatient horse on the flank, did +he deign to answer young Bartlett's inquiry. + +"No," he said, wringing the perspiration from his forehead, "all these +horses aint ahead of you, and you won't need to come next week. That's +the last hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to my shop and go +away again, while the breath of life is left in me. And I don't do it, +either, by sitting on a bench and whittling a stick." + +"That's so. That's so," said Sandy, chuckling, in the admiring tone of +one who intimated that, when the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. "That's +one on you, Sam." + +"I guess I can stand it, if he can," said the whittler from the bench; +which was considered fair repartee. + +"Sit it, you mean," said young Bartlett, laughing with the others at his +own joke. + +"But," said the blacksmith severely, "we're out of shoes, and you'll +have to wait till we turn some, that is, if you don't want the old ones +reset. Are they good enough?" + +"I guess so, if you can find 'em; but they're out in the fields. Didn't +think I'd bring the horses in while they held on, did you?" +Then, suddenly remembering his duties, he said by, way of general +introduction: "Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Yates from New York." + +The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the high spirits of the +crowd. They had imagined from the cut of his clothes that he was a +storekeeper from some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, +these two occupations being the highest social position to which a man +might attain. They were prepared to hear that he was from Welland, or +perhaps St. Catherines; but New York! that was a crusher. Macdonald, +however, was not a man to be put down in his own shop and before his +own admirers. He was not going to let his prestige slip from him merely +because a man from New York had happened along. He could not claim to +know the city, for the stranger would quickly detect the imposture and +probably expose him; but the slightly superior air which Yates wore +irritated him, while it abashed the others. Even Sandy was silent. + +"I've met some people from New York down East," he said in an offhand +manner, as if, after all, a man might meet a New Yorker and still not +sink into the ground. + +"Really?" said Yates. "I hope you liked them." + +"Oh, so-so," replied the blacksmith airily. "There's good and bad among +them, like the rest of us." + +"Ah, you noticed that," said Yates. "Well, I've often thought the same +myself. It's a safe remark to make; there is generally no disputing it." + +The condescending air of the New Yorker was maddening, and Macdonald +realized that he was losing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates' tone +was so exasperating to the blacksmith that he felt any language at his +disposal inadequate to cope with it. The time for the practical joke +had arrived. The conceit of this man must be taken down. He would try +Sandy's method, and, if that failed, it would at least draw attention +from himself to his helper. + +"Being as you're from New York, maybe you can decide a little bet Sandy +here wants to have with somebody." + +Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar that always lay near +enough the fire to be uncomfortably warm. + +"How much do you reckon that weighs?" he said, with critical nicety +estimating its ounces in his swaying hand. Sandy had never done +it better. There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, +unsophisticated countenance, and the crowd looked on in breathless +suspense. + +Bartlett was about to step forward and save his friend, but a wicked +glare from Macdonald restrained him; besides, he felt, somehow, that +his sympathies were with his neighbors, and not with the stranger he had +brought among them. He thought resentfully that Yates might have been +less high and mighty. In fact, when he asked him to come he had imagined +his brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would reflect glory on +himself. Now he fancied he was included in the general scorn Yates took +such little pains to conceal. + +Yates glanced at the piece of iron and, without taking his hands from +his pockets, said carelessly: + +"Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of pounds." + +"Heft it," said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out to him. + +"No, thank you," replied Yates, with a smile. "Do you think I have never +picked up a hot horseshoe before? If you are anxious to know its weight, +why don't you take it over to the grocery store and have it weighed?" + +"'Taint hot," said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and flung the iron back on +the forge. "If it was, I couldn't have held it s'long." + +"Oh, no," returned Yates, with a grin, "of course not. I don't know what +a blacksmith's hands are, do I? Try something fresh." + +Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him among his crowd, for they +all evidently felt as much involved in the failure of Sandy's trick as +he did himself; but he was sure that in future some man, hard pushed in +argument, would fling the New Yorker at him. In the crisis he showed the +instinct of a Napoleon. + +"Well, boys," he cried, "fun's fun, but I've got to work. I have to earn +my living, anyhow." + +Yates enjoyed his victory; they wouldn't try "getting at" him again, he +said to himself. + +Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the bar of white-hot iron. He +gave a scarcely perceptible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready with tobacco +juice, spat with great directness on the top of the anvil. Macdonald +placed the hot iron on the spot, and quickly smote it a stalwart blow +with the heavy hammer. The result was appalling. An instantaneous +spreading fan of apparently molten iron lit up the place as if it were a +flash of lightning. There was a crash like the bursting of a cannon. +The shop was filled for a moment with a shower of brilliant sparks, that +flew like meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone was prepared +for the explosion except Yates. He sprang back with a cry, tripped, +and, without having time to get the use of his hands to ease his fall, +tumbled and rolled to the horses' heels. The animals, frightened by the +report, stamped around; and Yates had to hustle on his hands and knees +to safer quarters, exhibiting more celerity than dignity. The blacksmith +never smiled, but everyone else roared. The reputation of the country +was safe. Sandy doubled himself up in his boisterous mirth. + +"There's no one like the old man!" he shouted. "Oh, lordy! lordy! He's +all wool, and a yard wide." + +Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, laughing with the rest +of them. + +"If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten it. That's one on me, +as this youth in spasms said a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I'll treat +the crowd, if there's a place handy." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +People who have but a superficial knowledge of the life and times +here set down may possibly claim that the grocery store, and not the +blacksmith's shop, used to be the real country club--the place where the +politics of the country were discussed; where the doings of great men +were commended or condemned, and the government criticised. It is true +that the grocery store was the club of the village, when a place like +the Corners grew to be a village; but the blacksmith's shop was usually +the first building erected on the spot where a village was ultimately +to stand. It was the nucleus. As a place grew, and enervating luxury set +in, the grocery store slowly supplanted the blacksmith's shop, because +people found a nail keg, or a box of crackers, more comfortable to sit +on than the limited seats at their disposal in a smithy; moreover, in +winter the store, with its red-hot box stove, was a place of warmth and +joy, but the reveling in such an atmosphere of comfort meant that the +members of the club had to live close at hand, for no man would brave +the storms of a Canadian winter night, and journey a mile or two through +the snow, to enjoy even the pleasures of the store. So the grocery was +essentially a village club, and not a rural club. + +Of course, as civilization advanced, the blacksmith found it impossible +to compete with the grocer. He could not offer the same inducements. The +grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the grateful epicurism of +the Athenaeum, the Reform, or the Carlton. It catered to the appetite of +man, besides supplying him with the intellectual stimulus of debate. +A box of soda crackers was generally open, and, although such biscuits +were always dry, they were good to munch, if consumed slowly. The barrel +of hazel nuts never had a lid on. The raisins, in their square box, with +blue-tinted paper, setting forth the word "Malaga" under the colored +picture of joyous Spanish grape pickers, stood on the shelves behind +the counter, at an angle suited to display the contents to all comers, +requiring an exceptionally long reach, and more than an ordinary amount +of cheek, before they were got at; but the barrel of Muscavado brown +sugar was where everyone could dip his hand in; while the man on the +keg of tenpenny nails might extend his arm over into the display window, +where the highly colored candies exhibited themselves, although +the person who meddled often with them was frowned upon, for it was +etiquette in the club not to purloin things which were expensive. +The grocer himself drew the line at the candies, and a second helping +usually brought forth the mild reproof: + +"Shall I charge that, Sam; or would you rather pay for it now?" + +All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat surreptitious way, and the +takers generally wore an absent-minded look, as if the purloining was +not quite intentional on their part. But they were all good customers +of the grocer, and the abstractions were doubtless looked on by him as +being in the way of trade; just as the giving of a present with a pound +of tea, or a watch with a suit of clothes, became in later days. Be +that as it may, he never said anything unless his generosity was taken +advantage of, which was rarely the case. + +Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious feast, that helped to +lighten the shelves and burden the till. This ordinarily took the form +of a splurge in cove oysters. Cove oysters came from Baltimore, of +course, in round tins; they were introduced into Canada long before the +square tin boxes that now come in winter from the same bivalvular city. +Cove oysters were partly cooked before being tinned, so that they would, +as the advertisements say, keep in any climate. They did not require ice +around them, as do the square tins which now contain the raw oysters. +Someone present would say: + +"What's the matter with having a feed of cove oysters?" + +He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so from each member, +and the whole was expended in several cans of oysters and a few pounds +of crackers. The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top of the hot +stove. The contents of the cans were emptied into this handy dish, milk +was added, and broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency to the +result. There were always plenty of plates, for the store supplied the +crockery of the neighborhood. There were also plenty of spoons, for +everything was to be had at the grocery. What more could the most +exacting man need? On a particularly reckless night the feast ended with +several tins of peaches, which needed no cooking, but only a sprinkling +of sugar. The grocer was always an expert at cooking cove oysters and at +opening tins of peaches. + +There was a general feeling among the members that, by indulging in +these banquets, they were going the pace rather; and some of the older +heads feebly protested against the indulgence of the times, but it was +noticed that they never refrained from doing their share when it came to +spoon work. + +"A man has but one life to live," the younger and more reckless would +say, as if that excused the extravagance; for a member rarely got away +without being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when they had +peaches as well as oysters. + +The grocery at the Corners had been but recently established and as yet +the blacksmith's shop had not looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald was +monarch of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favorite gathering +place for miles around. The smithy was also the patriotic center of the +district, as a blacksmith's shop must be as long as anvils can take the +place of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th of May, the queen's +birthday, celebrated locally as the only day in the year, except +Sundays, when Macdonald's face was clean and when he did no work, the +firing of the anvils aroused the echoes of the locality. On that great +day the grocer supplied the powder, which was worth three York shillings +a pound--a York shilling being sixpence halfpenny. It took two men to +carry an anvil, with a good deal of grunting; but Macdonald, if the +crowd were big enough, made nothing of picking it up, hoisting it on his +shoulder, and flinging it down on the green in front of his shop. In the +iron mass there is a square hole, and when the anvil was placed upside +down, the hole was uppermost. It was filled with powder, and a wooden +plug, with a notch cut in it, was pounded in with a sledge hammer. +Powder was sprinkled from the notch over the surface of the anvil, and +then the crowd stood back and held its breath. It was a most exciting +moment. Macdonald would come running out of the shop bareheaded, holding +a long iron bar, the wavering, red-hot end of which descended on the +anvil, while the blacksmith shouted in a terrifying voice: "Look out, +there!" The loose powder hissed and spat for a moment, then bang went +the cannon, and a great cloud of smoke rolled upward, while the rousing +cheers came echoing back from the surrounding forests. The helper, with +the powder-horn, would spring to the anvil and pour the black explosive +into the hole, while another stood ready with plug and hammer. The +delicious scent of burned gunpowder filled the air, and was inhaled by +all the youngsters with satisfaction, for now they realized what real +war was. Thus the salutes were fired, and thus the royal birthday was +fittingly celebrated. + +Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade was much brisker, as +then a plug was not needed. The hole in the lower anvil was filled with +powder, and the other anvil was placed over it. This was much quicker +than pounding in a plug, and had quite as striking and detonating an +effect. The upper anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain's shot-laden frog, +and fell over on its side. The smoke rolled up as usual, and the report +was equally gratifying. + +Yates learned all these things as he sat in the blacksmith's shop, for +they were still in the month of May, and the smoke of the echoing anvils +had hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to tell him of the +glory of the day. One or two were good enough to express regret that he +had not been there to see. After the disaster which had overturned Yates +things had gone on very smoothly, and he had become one of the crowd, as +it were. The fact that he was originally a Canadian told in his favor, +although he had been contaminated by long residence in the States. + +Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horseshoes from long rods of +iron. Usually an extended line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackened +scantling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing the shop +overhead, just under the roof. These were the work of Macdonald's +comparatively leisure days, and they were ready to be fitted to the +hoofs of any horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion there +had been such a run on his stock that it was exhausted, a depletion +the smith seemed to regard as a reproach on himself, for he told Yates +several times that he often had as many as three dozen shoes up aloft +for a rainy day. + +When the sledge hammer work was to be done, one of those present stepped +forward and swung the heavy sledge, keeping stroke for stroke with +Macdonald's one-handed hammer, all of which required a nice ear for +time. This assistance was supposed to be rendered by Sandy; but, as he +remarked, he was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his skill was at +liberty to do so. Sandy seemed to spend most of his time at the bellows, +and when he was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as he called +him, he was commending the expertness of the _pro tem._ amateur, the +wielder of the sledge. It was fun to the amateur, and it was an old +thing with Sandy, so he never protested against this interference with +his duty, believing in giving everyone a chance, especially when it came +to swinging a heavy hammer. The whole scene brought back to Yates the +days of his youth, especially when Macdonald, putting the finishing +strokes to his shoe, let his hammer periodically tinkle with musical +clangor on the anvil, ringing forth a tintinnabulation that chimed +melodiously on the ear--a sort of anvil-chorus accompaniment to his +mechanical skill. He was a real sleight-of-hand man, and the anvil was +his orchestra. + +Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural club. As the members +thawed out he found them all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, +they were appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently new to +them, and nothing puts a man into a genial frame of mind so quickly as +an attentive, sympathetic audience. Few men could tell a story better +than Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of interested hearers. He +hated to have to explain the points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what +story-teller does not? A cold and critical man like the professor +froze the spring of narration at its source. Besides, Renmark had an +objectionable habit of tracing the recital to its origin; it annoyed +Yates to tell a modern yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, or +some other prehistoric poacher on the good things men were to say, had +forestalled him by a thousand years or so. When a man is quick to see +the point of your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you are apt to +form a high opinion of his good sense, and to value his companionship. + +When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, who was delighted at +the impression Yates had made, was preparing to go, the whole company +protested against the New Yorker's departure. This was real flattery. + +"What's your hurry, Bartlett?" asked the whittler. "You can't do +anything this afternoon, if you do go home. It's a poor time this to +mend a bad day's work. If you stay, he'll stay; won't you, Mr. Yates? +Macdonald is going to set tires, and he needs us all to look on and see +that he does it right; don't you, Mac?" + +"Yes; I get a lot of help from you while there's a stick to whittle," +replied the smith. + +"Then there's the protracted meeting to-night at the schoolhouse," put +in another, anxious that all the attractions of the place should be +brought forward. + +"That's so," said the whittler; "I had forgotten about that. It's the +first night, so we must all be there to encourage old Benderson. You'll +be on hand to-night, won't you, Macdonald?" + +The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to Sandy and asked him +savagely what in ---- and ---nation he was standing gawking there for. +Why didn't he go outside and get things ready for the tire setting? What +in thunder was he paying him for, anyhow? Wasn't there enough loafers +round, without him joining the ranks? + +Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when the smith's back was +turned, he shrugged his shoulders, took a fresh bite of tobacco from the +plug which he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others as he did +so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out of the shop, saying in a whisper +as he passed the whittler: + +"I wouldn't rile the old man, if I were you." + +The club then adjourned to the outside, all except those who sat on the +bench. Yates asked: + +"What's the matter with Macdonald? Doesn't he like protracted meetings? +And, by the way, what are protracted meetings?" + +"They're revival meetings--religious meetings, you know, for converting +sinners." + +"Really?" said Yates. "But why protracted? Are they kept on for a week +or two?" + +"Yes; I suppose that's why, although, to tell the truth, I never knew +the reason for the name. Protracted meetings always stood for just the +same thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as meaning that one +thing, without thinking why." + +"And doesn't Macdonald like them?" + +"Well, you see, it's like this: He never wants to go to a protracted +meeting, yet he can't keep away. He's like a drunkard and the corner +tavern. He can't pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. +Macdonald's always the first one to go up to the penitent bench. They +rake him in every time. He has religion real bad for a couple of +weeks, and then he backslides. He doesn't seem able to stand either the +converting or the backsliding. I suppose some time they will gather him +in finally, and he will stick and become a class leader, but he hasn't +stuck up to date." + +"Then he doesn't like to hear the subject spoken of?" + +"You bet he don't. It isn't safe to twit him about it either. To tell +the truth, I was pleased when I heard him swear at Sandy; then I knew it +was all right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad man to tackle +when he's mad. There's nobody in this district can handle him. I'd +sooner get a blow from a sledge hammer than meet Mac's fist when his +dander is up. But so long as he swears it's all right. Say, you'll stay +down for the meeting, won't you?" + +"I think I will. I'll see what young Bartlett intends to do. It isn't +very far to walk, in any case." + +"There will be lots of nice girls going your way to-night after the +meeting. I don't know but I'll jog along in that direction myself when +it's over. That's the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow." + +The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, and joined the crowd +outside. Young Bartlett sat on one of the horses, loath to leave while +the tire setting was going on. + +"Are you coming, Yates?" he shouted, as his comrade appeared. + +"I think I'll stay for the meeting," said Yates, approaching him and +patting the horse. He had no desire for mounting and riding away in the +presence of that critical assemblage. + +"All right," said young Bartlett. "I guess I'll be down at the meeting, +too; then I can show you the way home." + +"Thanks," said Yates; "I'll be on the lookout for you." + +Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of +dust. The others had also departed with their shod horses; but there +were several new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather than +diminished. They sat around on the fence, or on the logs dumped down by +the wayside. + +Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was a convenient way of using +the weed, and required no matches, besides being safer for men who had +to frequent inflammable barns. + +A circular fire burned in front of the shop, oak bark being the main +fuel used. Iron wagon tires lay hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald +and Sandy bustled about making preparations, their faces, more hideous +in the bright sunlight than in the comparative obscurity of the shop, +giving them the appearance of two evil spirits about to attend some +incantation scene of which the circular fire was the visible indication. +Crosstrees, of four pieces of squared timber, lay near the fire, with a +tireless wheel placed flat upon them, the hub in the square hole at the +center. Shiftless farmers always resisted having tires set until they +would no longer stay on the wheel. The inevitable day was postponed, +time and again, by a soaking of the wheels overnight in some convenient +puddle of water; but as the warmer and dryer weather approached this +device, supplemented by wooden wedges, no longer sufficed, and the tires +had to be set for summer work. Frequently the tire rolled off on the +sandy highway, and the farmer was reluctantly compelled to borrow a rail +from the nearest fence, and place it so as to support the axle; he then +put the denuded wheel and its tire on the wagon, and drove slowly to the +nearest blacksmith's shop, his vehicle "trailing like a wounded duck," +the rail leaving a snake's track behind it on the dusty road. + +The blacksmith had previously cut and welded the tire, reducing its +circumference, and when it was hot enough, he and Sandy, each with a +pair of tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It was pressed +and hammered down on the blazing rim of the wheel, and instantly Sandy +and Macdonald, with two pails of water that stood handy, poured the +cold liquid around the red-hot zone, enveloping themselves in clouds +of steam, the quick contraction clamping the iron on the wood until the +joints cracked together. There could be no loitering; quick work was +necessary, or a spoiled wheel was the result. Macdonald, alternately +spluttering through fire and steam, was in his element. Even Sandy had +to be on the keen jump, without a moment to call his plug of tobacco his +own. Macdonald fussed and fussed, but got through an immense amount of +work in an incredibly short space of time, cursing Sandy pretty much all +the while; yet that useful man never replied in kind, contenting himself +with a wink at the crowd when he got the chance, and saying under his +breath: + +"The old man's in great fettle to-day." + +Thus everybody enjoyed himself: Macdonald, because he was the center +figure in a saturnalia of work; Sandy, because no matter how hard a man +has to work he can chew tobacco all the time; the crowd, because the +spectacle of fire, water, and steam was fine, and they didn't have to do +anything but sit around and look on. The sun got lower and lower as, one +by one, the spectators departed to do their chores, and prepare for the +evening meeting. Yates at the invitation of the whittler went home with +him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Margaret had never met any man but her father who was so fond of +books as Professor Renmark. The young fellows of her acquaintance +read scarcely anything but the weekly papers; they went with some care +through the yellow almanac that was given away free, with the grocer's +name printed on the back. The marvelous cures the almanac recorded were +of little interest, and were chiefly read by the older folk, but the +young men reveled in the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, +their only drawback being that one could never tell the stories at a +paring-bee or other social gathering, because everyone in the company +had read them. A few of the young men came sheepishly round to get a +book out of the library, but it was evident that their interest was not +so much in the volume as in the librarian, and when that fact became +apparent to the girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought to be cold +and proud by the youth of the neighborhood, or "stuck-up," as they +expressed it. + +To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revelation. He could talk of +other things than the weather, live stock, and the prospects for the +crops. The conversation at first did not include Margaret, but she +listened to every word of it with interest. Her father and mother were +anxious to hear about their boy; and from that engrossing subject the +talk soon drifted to university life, and the differences between city +and country. At last the farmer, with a sigh, arose to go. There is +little time for pleasant talk on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret, +remembering her duties as librarian, began to take in the books from the +wagon to the front room. Renmark, slow in most things, was quick enough +to offer his assistance on this occasion; but he reddened somewhat as he +did so, for he was unused to being a squire of dames. + +"I wish you would let me do the porterage," he said. "I would like to +earn the right to look at these books sometimes, even though I may not +have the privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident of the +township." + +"The librarian," answered Margaret, with a smile, "seems to be at +liberty to use her own discretion in the matter of lending. No one has +authority to look over her accounts, or to censure her if she lends +recklessly. So, if you wish to borrow books, all you have to do is to +ask for them." + +"You may be sure I shall avail myself of the permission. But my +conscience will be easier if I am allowed to carry them in." + +"You will be permitted to help. I like carrying them. There is no more +delicious armful than books." + +As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face radiant with enthusiasm, +the disconcerting thought came suddenly that perhaps her statement +might not be accurate. No such thought had ever suggested itself to him +before, and it now filled him with guilty confusion. He met the clear, +honest gaze of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered lamely: + +"I--I too am very fond of books." + +Together they carried in the several hundred volumes, and then began to +arrange them. + +"Have you no catalogue?" he asked. + +"No. We never seem to need one. People come and look over the library, +and take out whatever book they fancy." + +"Yes, but still every library ought to be catalogued. Cataloguing is an +art in itself. I have paid a good deal of attention to it, and will show +you how it is done, if you care to know." + +"Oh, I wish you would." + +"How do you keep a record of the volumes that are out?" + +"I just write the name of the person, the title, and the date in this +blank book. When the volume is returned, I score out the record." + +"I see," said Renmark dubiously. + +"That isn't right, is it? Is there a better way?" + +"Well, for a small library, that ought to do; but if you were handling +many books, I think confusion might result." + +"Do tell me the right way. I should like to know, even if it is a small +library." + +"There are several methods, but I am by no means sure your way is not +the simplest, and therefore the best in this instance." + +"I'm not going to be put off like that," said Margaret, laughing. "A +collection of books is a collection of books, whether large or small, +and deserves respect and the best of treatment. Now, what method is used +in large libraries?" + +"Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though slips of paper would +do. When any person wants to take out a book, let him make out a card, +giving the date and the name or number of the book; he then must sign +the card, and there you are. He cannot deny having had the book, for +you have his own signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a +box according to dates, and when a book is returned, you tear up the +recording paper." + +"I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt it." + +"Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few hundred cards. We'll have +them here in a day or two." + +"Oh, I don't want to put you to that trouble." + +"It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let us attack the +catalogue. Have you a blank book anywhere about? We will first make an +alphabetical list; then we will arrange them under the heads of history, +biography, fiction, and so on." + +Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue took a long time. Both +were absorbed in their occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straight +and narrow path, but in this instance there were so many delightful side +excursions that rapid progress could not be expected. To a reader the +mere mention of a book brings up recollections. Margaret was reading +out the names; Renmark, on slips of paper, each with a letter on it, was +writing them down. + +"Oh, have you that book?" he would say, looking up as a title was +mentioned. "Have you ever read it?" + +"No; for, you see, this part of the library is all new to me. Why, here +is one of which the leaves are not even cut. No one has read it. Is it +good?" + +"One of the best," Renmark would say, taking the volume. "Yes, I know +this edition. Let me read you one passage." + +And Margaret would sit in the rocking while he cut the leaves and found +the place. One extract was sure to suggest another, and time passed +before the title of the book found its way to the proper slip of +paper. These excursions into literature were most interesting to both +excursionists, but they interfered with cataloguing. Renmark read +and read, ever and anon stopping to explain some point, or quote what +someone else had said on the same subject, marking the place in the +book, as he paused, with inserted fore finger. Margaret swayed back and +forth in the comfortable rocking chair, and listened intently, her large +dark eyes fixed upon him so earnestly that now and then, when he met +them, he seemed disconcerted for a moment. But the girl did not notice +this. At the end of one of his dissertations she leaned her elbow on the +arm of the chair, with her cheek resting against her hand, and said: + +"How very clear you make everything, Mr. Renmark." + +"Do you think so?" he said with a smile. "It's my business, you know." + +"I think it's a shame that girls are not allowed to go to the +university; don't you?" + +"Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, and I am not quite +prepared to say." + +"Well, I think it most unfair. The university is supported by the +Government, is it not? Then why should half of the population be shut +out from its advantages?" + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't do, you know." + +"Why?" + +"There are many reasons," he replied evasively. + +"What are they? Do you think girls could not learn, or are not as +capable of hard study as well as----" + +"It isn't that," he interrupted; "there are plenty of girls' schools in +the country, you know. Some very good ones in Toronto itself, for that +matter." + +"Yes; but why shouldn't I go to the university with my brother? There +are plenty of boys' schools, too, but the university is the university. +I suppose my father helps to support it. Why, then, should one child be +allowed to attend and the other not? It isn't at all just." + +"It wouldn't do," said the professor more firmly, the more he thought +about it. + +"Would you take that as a satisfying reason from one or your students?" + +"What?" + +"The phrase, 'It wouldn't do.'" + +Renmark laughed. + +"I'm afraid not," he said; "but, then, I'm very exacting in class. Now, +if you want to know, why do you not ask your father?" + +"Father and I have discussed the question, often, and he quite agrees +with me in thinking it unfair." + +"Oh, does he?" said Renmark, taken aback; although, when he reflected, +he realized that the father doubtless knew as little about the dangers +of the city as the daughter did. + +"And what does your mother say?" + +"Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper it is all that is +required. So you will have to give me a good reason, if there is one, +for nobody else in this house argues on your side of the question." + +"Well," said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, "if you don't know by the +time you are twenty-five, I'll promise to discuss the whole subject with +you." + +Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. + +"Twenty-five?" she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity of youth: +"That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I'll find out +before that time." + +"I think you will," Renmark answered. + +They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of her +brother. + +"Hello, you two!" he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. "It +seems the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual." + +Margaret rose with dignity. + +"We are cataloguing," she said severely. + +"Oh, that's what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or is +two company when they're cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it +is?" + +"I'm afraid I must be off," said the professor, rising. "My companion in +camp won't know what has become of me." + +"Oh, he's all right!" said Henry. "He's down at the Corners, and is +going to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a +while ago; he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went with +him. I guess Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, +will you go to the meeting? I'm going. Young Bartlett's going, and so is +Kitty. Won't you come, too, Mr. Renmark? It's great fun." + +"Don't talk like that about a religious gathering, Henry," said his +sister, frowning. + +"Well, that's what it is, anyhow." + +"Is it a prayer meeting?" asked the professor, looking at the girl. + +"You bet it is!" cried Henry enthusiastically, giving no one a chance +to speak but himself. "It's a prayer meeting, and every other kind +of meeting all rolled into one. It's a revival meeting; a protracted +meeting, that's what it is. You had better come with us, Mr. Renmark, +and then you can see what it is like. You can walk home with Yates." + +This attractive _denouement_ did not seem to appeal so strongly to the +professor as the boy expected, for he made no answer. + +"You will come, sis; won't you?" urged the boy. + +"Are you sure Kitty is going?" + +"Of course she is. You don't think she'd miss it, do you? They'll soon +be here, too; better go and get ready." + +"I'll see what mother says," replied Margaret as she left the room. +She shortly returned, dressed ready for the meeting, and the professor +concluded he would go also. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Anyone passing the Corners that evening would have quickly seen that +something important was on. Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, +drawn in toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses were tied. +Some had evidently come from afar, for the fame of the revivalist was +widespread. The women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, which +was brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The men stood around outside in +groups, while many sat in rows on the fences, all conversing about every +conceivable topic except religion. They apparently acted on the theory +that there would be enough religion to satisfy the most exacting when +they went inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fence with the +whittler, whose guest he had been. It was getting too dark for +satisfactory whittling, so the man with the jack-knife improved the time +by cutting notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when this failed, +there was always a satisfaction in opening and shutting a knife that had +a powerful spring at the back of it, added to which was the pleasurable +danger of cutting his fingers. They were discussing the Fenian question, +which at that time was occupying the minds of Canadians to some extent. +Yates was telling them what he knew of the brotherhood in New York, and +the strength of it, which his auditors seemed inclined to underestimate. +Nobody believed that the Fenians would be so foolhardy as to attempt an +invasion of Canada; but Yates held that if they did they would give the +Canadians more trouble than was expected. + +"Oh, we'll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come over here. They'll be +glad enough to get back if he tackles them." + +"With his tongue," added another. + +"By the way," said the whittler, "did young Bartlett say he was coming +to-night? I hope he'll bring his sister if he does. Didn't any of you +fellows ask him to bring her? He'd never think of it if he wasn't told. +He has no consideration for the rest of us." + +"Why didn't you ask him? I hear you have taken to going in that +direction yourself." + +"Who? Me?" asked the whittler, quite unconcerned. "I have no chance in +that quarter, especially when the old man's around." + +There was a sound of singing from the schoolhouse. The double doors were +wide open, and as the light streamed out the people began to stream in. + +"Where's Macdonald?" asked Yates. + +"Oh, I guess he's taken to the woods. He washes his face, and then he +hides. He has the sense to wash his face first, for he knows he will +have to come. You'll see him back before they start the second hymn." + +"Well, boys!" said one, getting down from the fence and stretching his +arms above his head with a yawn, "I guess, if we're going in, it's about +time." + +One after another they got down from the fence, the whittler shutting +his knife with a reluctant snap, and putting it in his pocket with +evident regret. The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to its +utmost capacity--women on one side of the room, and men on the other; +although near the door there was no such division, all the occupants +of the back benches being men and boys. The congregation was standing, +singing a hymn, when Yates and his comrades entered, so their quiet +incoming was not noticed. The teacher's desk had been moved from the +platform on which it usually stood, and now occupied a corner on the +men's side of the house. It was used as a seat by two or three, who +wished to be near the front, and at the same time keep an eye on the +rest of the assemblage. The local preacher stood on the edge of the +platform, beating time gently with his hymn book, but not singing, as +he had neither voice nor ear for music, and happily recognized the fact. +The singing was led by a man in the middle of the room. + +At the back of the platform, near the wall, were two chairs, on one of +which sat the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who was to conduct the revival. He was +a stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see his face, for it +was buried in his hands, his head being bowed in silent prayer. It was +generally understood that he had spent a youth of fearful wickedness, +and he always referred to himself as a brand snatched from the burning. +It was even hinted that at one time he had been a card player, but no +one knew this for a fact. Many of the local preachers had not the power +of exhortation, therefore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had +that gift abnormally developed, was too valuable to be localized; so he +spent the year going from place to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, +or frightening into the fold those stray sheep that hovered on the +outskirts; once they were within the religious ring-fence the local +minister was supposed to keep them there. The latter, who had given out +the hymn, was a man of very different caliber. He was tall, pale, and +thin, and his long black coat hung on him as if it were on a post. When +the hymn was finished; and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, +found seats as best they could at the end near the door. This was the +portion of the hall where the scoffers assembled, but it was also +the portion which yielded most fruit, if the revival happened to be a +successful one. Yates, seeing the place so full, and noticing two empty +benches up at the front, asked the whittler why they were not occupied. + +"They'll be occupied pretty soon." + +"Who are they being kept for?" + +"Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. You never can tell. That's +the penitents' bench." + +The local preacher knelt on the platform, and offered up a prayer. He +asked the Lord to bless the efforts of the brother who was with them +there that night, and to crown his labors with success; through his +instrumentality to call many wandering sinners home. There were cries +of "Amen" and "Bless the Lord" from different parts of the hall as the +prayer was being made. On rising, another hymn was given out: + + "Joy to the world, the Lord is come. + Let earth receive her King." + +The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune began high, and +ran down to the bottom of the scale by the time it reached the end of +the first line. When the congregation had got two-thirds of the way +down, they found they could go no farther, not even those who sang bass. +The leader, in some confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, and his +miscalculation was looked upon as exceedingly funny by the reckless +spirits at the back of the hall. The door opened quietly; and they all +turned expecting to see Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had washed +his face with but indifferent success, and the bulge in his cheek, +like a wen, showed that he had not abandoned tobacco on entering the +schoolhouse. He tiptoed to a place beside his friends. + +"The old man's outside," he whispered to the youth who sat nearest him, +holding his hand to the side of his mouth so that the sound would not +travel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him in a friendly sort of +way. + +The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went on, gradually recovering +from the misadventure at starting. When it was finished, the preacher +sat down beside the revivalist. His part of the work was done, as there +was no formal introduction of speaker to audience to be gone through. +The other remained as he was with bowed head, for what appeared to be a +long time. + +A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whisperings among the +scoffers ceased. + +At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, arose, and came to the +front of the platform. He had a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, +with the heavy jaw of a stubborn man--a man not easily beaten. "Open the +door," he said in a quiet voice. + +In the last few meetings he had held he had found this an effective +beginning. It was new to his present audience. Usually a knot of people +stood outside, and if they were there, he made an appeal to them, +through the open door, to enter. If no one was there, he had a lesson to +impart, based on the silence and the darkness. In this instance it +was hard to say which was the more surprised, the revivalist or the +congregation. Sandy, being on his feet, stepped to the door, and threw +it open. He was so astonished at what he saw that he slid behind the +open door out of sight. Macdonald stood there, against the darkness +beyond, in a crouching attitude, as if about to spring. He had evidently +been trying to see what was going on through the keyhole; and, being +taken unawares by the sudden opening of the door, had not had time to +recover himself. No retreat was now possible. He stood up with haggard +face, like a man who has been on a spree, and, without a word, walked +in. Those on the bench in front of Yates moved together a little closer, +and the blacksmith sat down on the vacant space left at the outside. In +his confusion he drew his hand across his brow, and snapped his fingers +loudly in the silence. A few faces at the back wore a grin, and would +have laughed had not Sandy, closing the door quietly, given them one +menacing look which quelled their merriment. He was not going to have +the "old man" made fun of in his extremity; and they all had respect +enough for Sandy's fist not to run the risk of encountering it after the +meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to be dreaded in a fight; +but the chances were that for the next two or three weeks, if the +revival were a success, there would be no danger from that quarter. +Sandy, however, was permanently among the unconverted, and therefore to +be feared, as being always ready to stand up for his employer, either +with voice or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson had witnessed +suggested no remarks at the time, so, being a wise man, he said nothing. +The congregation wondered how he had known Macdonald was at the door, +and none more than Macdonald himself. It seemed to many that the +revivalist had a gift of divination denied to themselves, and this +belief left them in a frame of mind more than ever ready to profit by +the discourse they were about to hear. + +Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that nevertheless penetrated to +every part of the room. He had a voice of peculiar quality, as sweet +as the tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music; now and then +there was a manly ring in it which thrilled his listeners. "A week ago +to-night," he said, "at this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of one +who is now among the blessed. It is four years since he found salvation, +by the mercy of God, through the humble instrumentality of the least of +his servants. It was my blessed privilege to see that young man--that +boy almost--pledge his soul to Jesus. He was less than twenty when he +gave himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long life were as strong as +the hopes of the youngest here to-night. Yet he was struck down in the +early flush of manhood--struck down almost without warning. When I +heard of his brief illness, although knowing nothing of its seriousness, +something urged me to go to him, and at once. When I reached the house, +they told me that he had asked to see me, and that they had just sent a +messenger to the telegraph office with a dispatch for me. I said: 'God +telegraphed to me.' They took me to the bedside of my young friend, whom +I had last seen as hearty and strong as anyone here." + +Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with emotion, told the story +of the deathbed scene. His language was simple and touching, and it +was evident to the most callous auditor that he spoke from the heart, +describing in pathetic words the scene he had witnessed. His unadorned +eloquence went straight home to every listener, and many an eye dimmed +as he put before them a graphic picture of the serenity attending the +end of a well-spent life. + +"As I came through among you to-night," he continued, "as you stood +together in groups outside this building, I caught a chance expression +that one of you uttered. A man was speaking of some neighbor who, at +this busy season of the year, had been unable to get help. I think the +one to whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy man were here, +and the answer was: 'No; he has not a minute to call his own.' The +phrase has haunted me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. 'Not a +minute to call his own!' I thought of it as I sat before you. I thought +of it as I rose to address you. I think of it now. Who has a minute to +call his own?" The soft tones of the preacher's voice had given place to +a ringing cry that echoed from the roof down on their heads. "Have you? +Have I? Has any king, any prince, any president, any ruler over men, +a minute or a moment he can call his own? Not one. Not one of all the +teeming millions on this earth. The minutes that are past are yours. +What use have you made of them? All your efforts, all your prayers, will +not change the deeds done in any one of those minutes that are past, and +those only are yours. The chiseled stone is not more fixed than are the +deeds of the minutes that are past. Their record is for you or against +you. But where now are those minutes of the future--those minutes that, +from this time onward, you will be able to call your own when they are +spent? They are in the hand of God--in his hand to give or to withhold. +And who can count them in the hand of God? Not you, not I, not the +wisest man upon the earth. Man may number the miles from here to the +farthest visible star; but he cannot tell you,--_you_; I don't mean your +neighbor, I mean _you_,--he cannot tell YOU whether your minutes are to +be one or a thousand. They are doled out to you, and you are responsible +for them. But there will come a moment,--it may be to-night, it may be a +year hence,--when the hand of God will close, and you will have had your +sum. Then time will end for you, and eternity begin. Are you prepared +for that awful moment--that moment when the last is given you, and the +next withheld? What if it came now? Are you prepared for it? Are you +ready to welcome it, as did our brother who died at this hour one short +week ago? His was not the only deathbed I have attended. Some scenes +have been so seared into my brain that I can never forget them. A year +ago I was called to the bedside of a dying man, old in years and old in +sin. Often had he been called, but he put Christ away from him, saying: +'At a more convenient season.' He knew the path, but he walked not +therein. And when at last God's patience ended, and this man was +stricken down, he, foolish to the last, called for me, the servant, +instead of to God, the Master. When I reached his side, the stamp of +death was on his face. The biting finger of agony had drawn lines upon +his haggard brow. A great fear was upon him, and he gripped my hand with +the cold grasp of death itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I +saw the angel of peace standing by the bed, but it stood aloof, as one +often offended. It seemed to me at the head of the bed the demon of +eternal darkness bent over, whispering to him: 'It is too late! it is +too late!' The dying man looked at me--oh, such a look! May you never be +called upon to witness its like. He gasped: 'I have lived--I have +lived a sinful life. Is it too late?' 'No,' I said, trembling. 'Say you +believe.' His lips moved, but no sound came. He died as he had lived. +The one necessary minute was withheld. Do you hear? _It--was--withheld!_ +He had not the minute to call his own. Not that minute in which to turn +from everlasting damnation. He--went--down--into--_hell_, dying as he +had lived." + +The preacher's voice rose until it sounded like a trumpet blast. His +eyes shone, and his face flushed with the fervor of his theme. Then +followed, as rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture of +hell and the day of judgment. Sobs and groans were heard in every part +of the room. "Come--now--_now_!" he cried, "Now is the appointed time, +now is the day of salvation. Come now; and as you rise pray God that +in his mercy he may spare you strength and life to reach the penitent +bench." + +Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching out his hands, he broke +forth, with his splendid tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, with its +spirited marching time: + +[Musical score: Come ye sinners, poor and needy, + Weak and wounded, sick and sore; + Jesus ready stands to save you. + Full of pity, love, and power.] + +The whole congregation joined him. Everyone knew the words and the tune. +It seemed a relief to the pent-up feelings to sing at the top of the +voice. The chorus rose like a triumphal march: + +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear name; + Glory, honour, and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] + +As the congregation sang the preacher in stentorian tones urged sinners +to seek the Lord while he was yet to be found. + +Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he tugged at his collar, +as if he were choking. He could not understand the strange exaltation +that had come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. All those +around him were much moved. There were now no scoffers at the back of +the room. Most of them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at the +other. It only needed a beginning, and the penitent bench would be +crowded. Many eyes were turned on Macdonald. His face was livid, and +great beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand clutched +the back of the seat before him, and the muscles stood out on the +portion of his arm that was bare. He stared like a hypnotized man at +the preacher. His teeth were set, and he breathed hard, as would a man +engaged in a struggle. At last the hand of the preacher seemed to be +pointed directly at him. He rose tremblingly to his feet and staggered +down the aisle, flinging himself on his knees, with his head on his +arms, beside the penitent bench, groaning aloud. + +"Bless the Lord!" cried the preacher. + +It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the aisle, with pale faces, +many with tears streaming from their eyes, walked the young men and the +old. Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on their lips, saw +their sons fall prostrate before the penitent bench. Soon the contrite +had to kneel wherever they could. The ringing salvation march filled the +air, mingled with cries of joy and devout ejaculations. + +"God!" cried Yates, tearing off his collar, "what is the matter with me? +I never felt like this before. I must get into the open air." + +He made for the door, and escaped unnoticed in the excitement of the +moment. He stood for a time by the fence outside, breathing deeply +of the cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly to him. He +clutched the fence, fearing he was about to faint. Partially recovering +himself at last, he ran with all his might up the road, while there rang +in his ears the marching words: + +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear Name. + Glory, honour and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +When people are thrown together, especially when they are young, the +mutual relationship existing between them rarely remains stationary. +It drifts toward like or dislike; and cases have been known where it +progressed into love or hatred. + +Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became at least very firm friends. +Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. These two had a +good foundation on which to build up an acquaintance in the fact +that Margaret's brother was a student in the university of which the +professor was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference, +which, if it leads not to heated argument, but is soberly discussed, +lends itself even more to the building of friendship than subjects of +agreement. Margaret held, as has been indicated in a previous chapter, +that the university was wrong in closing its doors to women. Renmark, +up to the time of their first conversation on the subject, had given the +matter but little thought; yet he developed an opinion contrary to that +of Margaret, and was too honest a man, or too little of a diplomatist, +to conceal it. On one occasion Yates had been present, and he threw +himself, with the energy that distinguished him, into the woman side of +the question--cordially agreeing with Margaret, citing instances, and +holding those who were against the admission of women up to ridicule, +taunting them with fear of feminine competition. Margaret became silent +as the champion of her cause waxed the more eloquent; but whether she +liked Richard Yates the better for his championship who that is not +versed in the ways of women can say? As the hope of winning her regard +was the sole basis of Yates' uncompromising views on the subject, it +is likely that he was successful, for his experiences with the sex were +large and varied. Margaret was certainly attracted toward Renmark, whose +deep scholarship even his excessive self-depreciation could not entirely +conceal; and he, in turn, had naturally a schoolmaster's enthusiasm +over a pupil who so earnestly desired advancement in knowledge. Had he +described his feelings to Yates, who was an expert in many matters, +he would perhaps have learned that he was in love; but Renmark was a +reticent man, not much given either to introspection or to being lavish +with his confidences. As to Margaret, who can plummet the depth of a +young girl's regard until she herself gives some indication? All that +one is able to record is that she was kinder to Yates than she had been +at the beginning. + +Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had a +sincere liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fell +into the error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, whereas +she was merely a girl who had an inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and +one who took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even +Yates made a slight mistake regarding her on one occasion, when they +were having an evening walk together, with that freedom from chaperonage +which is the birthright of every American girl, whether she belongs to a +farmhouse or to the palace of a millionaire. + +In describing the incident afterward to Renmark, (for Yates had nothing +of his comrade's reserve in these matters) he said: + +"She left a diagram of her four fingers on my cheek that felt like one +of those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap of +a lady's fan in admonition, but never in my life have I met a gentle +reproof that felt so much like a censure from the paw of our friend Tom +Sayers." + +Renmark said with some severity that he hoped Yates would not forget +that he was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. + +"Oh, _that's_ all right," said Yates. "If you have any spare sympathy +to bestow, keep it for me. My neighbors are amply able, and more than +willing, to take care of themselves." + +And now as to Richard Yates himself. One would imagine that here, at +least, a conscientious relater of events would have an easy task. Alas! +such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all odds the +most complex and bewildering of the four. He was deeply and truly in +love with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare as +a young man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make her believe. +Cases have been known where a chance meeting with one girl, and not with +another, has settled who was to be a young man's companion during a long +life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and made +no secret of his perplexity to his friend. He complained sometimes that +he got little help toward the solution of the problem, but generally +he was quite content to sit under the trees with Renmark and weigh the +different advantages of each of the girls. He sometimes appealed to +his friend, as a man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing an +education that extended far into conic sections and algebraic formulae, +to balance up the lists, and give him a candid and statistical opinion +as to which of the two he should favor with serious proposals. When +these appeals for help were coldly received, he accused his friend of +lack of sympathy with his dilemma, said that he was a soulless man, and +that if he had a heart it had become incrusted with the useless _debris_ +of a higher education, and swore to confide in him no more. He would +search for a friend, he said, who had something human about him. The +search for the sympathetic friend, however, seemed to be unsuccessful; +for Yates always returned to Renmark, to have, as he remarked, ice water +dashed upon his duplex-burning passion. + +It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of May, 1866, and Yates +was swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under his head, +gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through the green +branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend was +unromantically peeling potatoes near the door of the tent. + +"The human heart, Renny," said the man in the hammock reflectively, "is +a remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume, from your +lack of interest, that you haven't given the subject much study, except, +perhaps, in a physiological way. At the present moment it is to me +the only theme worthy of a man's entire attention. Perhaps that is the +result of spring, as the poet says; but, anyhow, it presents new aspects +to me each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery: that the +girl I am with last seems to me the most desirable. That is contrary to +the observation of philosophers of bygone days. Absence makes the heart +grow fonder, _they_ say. I don't find it so. Presence is what plays the +very deuce with me. Now, how do you account for it, Stilly?" + +The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attended +to the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky, and fixed +them on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. + +"Mr. Renmark," he drawled at last, "I am convinced that your treatment +of the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled the +day before, and left to soak in cold water until to-morrow's dinner. Of +course I admire the industry that gets work well over before its results +are called for. Nothing is more annoying than work left untouched until +the last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtue may be carried +to excess, and a man may be too previous." + +"Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. You +may perhaps remember that for two days I have been doing your share as +well as my own." + +"Oh, I am not complaining about _that_, at all," said the hammock +magnanimously. "You are acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will +be of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My +only desire is that your education should be as complete as possible, +and to this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire for +scullery work. I should suggest that, instead of going to the trouble of +entirely removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way, +you should merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. Then, +rather than cook the potatoes in the slow and soggy manner that seems to +delight you, you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the +water. The remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting +potato would be white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the +condition of a wet sponge." + +"The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you +are not satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practical +object lesson." + +The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. + +"Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the +cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should demean +himself by attending to the prosaic details of household affairs. I am +doubly in love, and much more, therefore, as that old bore Euclid used +to say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for." + +"All right, then; don't criticise." + +"Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in your curt suggestion. A +man who is unable, or unwilling, to work in the vineyard should not +find fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time of +asking, add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like +the good fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To +which of those two charming, but totally unlike, girls would you give +the preference?" + +"Damn!" said the professor quietly. + +"Hello, Renny!" cried Yates, raising his head. "Have you cut your +finger? I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife." + +But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word given +above is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemed +to lose all relationship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, and, +in a certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself for +using it, but there had been moments during the past few days when the +ordinary expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematics +did not fit the occasion. + +Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadway +near them. + +"Is Richard Yates there?" hailed the voice. + +"Yes. Who wants him?" cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. + +"I do," said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tired +horse, tied the animal to a sapling,--which, judging by the horse's +condition, was an entirely unnecessary operation,--jumped over the +rail fence, and approached through the woods. The young men saw, coming +toward them, a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. + +"I'm Yates. What is it?" + +"Well," said the lad, "I've had a hunt and a half for you. Here's a +telegram." + +"How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address." + +"That's just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York +a pile of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woods +without leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow." The young +man looked at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good +or bad according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates +took the yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, without opening +it, repeated his question: + +"But how on earth did you find me?" + +"Well, it wasn't easy;" said the boy. "My horse is about done out. I'm +from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no +expense; and we haven't. There are seven other fellows scouring the +country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more +have gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other +messenger has been here before me, has he?" asked the boy with a touch +of anxiety in his voice. + +"No; you are the first." + +"I'm glad of that. I've been 'most all over Canada. I got on your trail +about two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you +were up here. Is there any answer?" + +Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read it with +a deepening frown. It was to this effect: + +"Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get +there as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. +General O'Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you every +facility when you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they will +report to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold +the telegraph wire, and send over all the stuff the wire will carry. +Draw on us for cash you need; and don't spare expense." + +When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line of +language that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admiration +of the Buffalo telegraph boy. + +"Heavens and earth and the lower regions! I'm here on my vacation. I'm +not going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn't +those fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don't know when they're +well off. The Fenians be hanged!" + +"Guess that's what they will be," said the telegraph boy. "Any answer, +sir?" + +"No. Tell 'em you couldn't find me." + +"Don't expect the boy to tell a lie," said the professor, speaking for +the first time. + +"Oh, I don't mind a lie!" exclaimed the boy, "but not that one. No, sir. +I've had too much trouble finding you. I'm not going to pretend I'm no +good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I'll tell any other +lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it will oblige you." + +Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip his +fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and +he at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of the +fruits of his enterprise. + +"No," he said, "that won't do. No; you have found me, and you're a +young fellow who will be president of the telegraph company some day, or +perhaps hold the less important office of the United States presidency. +Who knows? Have you a telegraph blank?" + +"Of course," said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet +by his side. Yates took the paper, and flung himself down under the +tree. + +"Here's a pencil," said the messenger. + +"A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you," replied Yates, +taking one out of his inside pocket. "Now, Renmark, I'm not going to +tell a lie on this occasion," he continued. + +"I think the truth is better on all occasions." + +"Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth." + +Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. +Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: "Say, Renmark, are you +a doctor?" + +"Of laws," replied his friend. + +"Oh, that will do just as well." And he finished his writing. + +"How is this?" he cried, holding the paper at arm's length: + +"L. F. SPENCER, + +"_Managing Editor 'Argus,' New York:_ + +"I'm flat on my back. Haven't done a hand's turn for a week. Am under +the constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors in +Canada, who even prepares my food for me. Since leaving New York trouble +of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. +Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here until +present complications have yielded to treatment. + +"Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence." + +"YATES. + +"There," said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finished +the reading. "What do you think of that?" + +The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly saw +through it, but not quite, grinned, and said: "Is it true?" + +"Of course it's true!" cried Yates, indignant at the unjust suspicion. +"It is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor, +there, if it isn't true. Now, my boy, will you give this in when you +get back to the office? Tell 'em to rush it through to New York. I +would mark it 'rush' only that never does any good, and always makes the +operator mad." + +The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. + +"It's to be paid for at the other end," continued Yates. + +"Oh, that's all right," answered the messenger with a certain +condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. +"Well, so long," he added. "I hope you'll soon be better, Mr. Yates." + +Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. + +"Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see that. They'll perhaps +question you when you get back. What will you say?" + +"Oh, I'll tell 'em what a hard job I had to find you, and let 'em know +nobody else could 'a' done it, and I'll say you're a pretty sick man. I +won't tell 'em you gave me a dollar!" + +"Right you are, sonny; _you'll_ get along. Here's five dollars, all in +one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take them back with +you. There's no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck +of the woods." + +The boy stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if it +represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and +waved his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and walked +slowly back to the tent. He threw himself once more into the hammock. As +he expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although +he had been prepared for silence, the silence irritated him. He felt ill +used at having so unsympathetic a companion. + +"Look here, Renmark; why don't you say something?" + +"There is nothing to say." + +"Oh, yes, there is. You don't approve of me, do you?" + +"I don't suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not." + +"Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even the humblest +of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve +of me? People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more +uncomfortable than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One's +own conscience one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of +another man is beyond one's control. Now, it is like this: I am here for +quiet and rest. I have earned both, and I think I am justified in----" + +"Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I +am tired of it." + +"And of me, too, I suppose?" + +"Well, yes, rather--if you want to know." + +Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter +with Bartlett on the road Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The +reporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, hesitating. The +other, his heavy brows drawn, while not in an aggressive attitude, +was plainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not to +strike. This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The +reporter realized that he had forced the conversation, and remembered he +had invited Renmark to accompany him. Although this recollection stayed +his hand, it had no effect on his tongue. + +"I believe," he said slowly, "that it would do you good for once to hear +a straight, square, unbiased opinion of yourself. You have associated so +long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may interest you +to know what a man of the world thinks of you. A few years of +schoolmastering is enough to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, of all +the----" + +The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence: + +"Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives?" + +The reporter's hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over his +face, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced a +smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. + +Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who had received an +unexpected blow. + +"I say, Renny," he wailed, "it's another of those cursed telegraph +messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign +it 'Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.' That will give it a sort of official, +medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy +was here. Tell him I'm lying down." He flung himself into the hammock, +and Renmark, after a moment's hesitation, walked toward the boy at the +fence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time +he returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the +hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and +scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor +stood there for a few moments in silence. + +"Perhaps," he said at last, "you'll be good enough to go on with your +remarks." + +"I was merely going to say," answered Yates wearily, "that you are a +mighty good fellow, Renny. People who camp out always have rows. That is +our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is something like +married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on both sides. That +philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I am really very +much worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling +myself into the chasm like that Roman fellow; but, hang it! I've been +flinging myself into chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it +done? There's always a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them +to understand in the _Argus_ office that I am on my vacation." + +"They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you're on +your deathbed." + +Yates laughed. "That's so," he said; "but, you see, Renny, we New +Yorkers live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration that if I did not put +it strongly it wouldn't have any effect. You've got to give a big dose +to a man who has been taking poison all his life. They will take off +ninety per cent. from any statement I make, anyhow; so, you see, I have +to pile it up pretty high before the remaining ten per cent. amounts to +anything." + +The conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigs +behind them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nervously on +the fence, turned round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the +underbrush. His face was red; he had evidently been running. + +"Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates," he panted. "The fellows that brought +'em said they were important; so I ran out with them myself, for fear +they wouldn't find you. One of them's from Port Colborne, the other's +from Buffalo." + +Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the +receipt of one as an event in a man's life. He was astonished to see +Yates receive the double event with a listlessness that he could not +help thinking was merely assumed for effect. Yates held them in his +hand, and did not tear them up at once out of consideration for the +feelings of the young man, who had had a race to deliver them. + +"Here's two books they wanted you to sign. They're tired out, and +mother's giving them something to eat." + +"Professor, you sign for me, won't you?" said Yates. + +Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would hear something of the +contents of the important messages; but Yates did not even open the +envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringing them. + +"Stuck-up cuss!" muttered young Bartlett to himself, as he shoved the +signed books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush +again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their +contents into little pieces, and scattered them as before. + +"Begins to look like autumn," he said, "with the yellow leaves strewing +the ground." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Before night three more telegraph boys found Yates, and three more +telegrams in sections helped to carpet the floor of the forest. The +usually high spirits of the newspaper man went down and down under the +repeated visitations. At last he did not even swear, which, in the +case of Yates, always indicated extreme depression. As night drew on he +feebly remarked to the professor that he was more tired than he had ever +been in going through an election campaign. He went to his tent bunk +early, in a state of such utter dejection that Renmark felt sorry for +him, and tried ineffectually to cheer him up. + +"If they would all come together," said Yates bitterly, "so that one +comprehensive effort of malediction would include the lot and have +it over, it wouldn't be so bad; but this constant dribbling in of +messengers would wear out the patience of a saint." + +As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his bunk Renmark said that +things would look brighter in the morning--which was a safe remark to +make, for the night was dark. + +Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for some moments. At +last he said slowly: "There is no one so obtuse as the thoroughly good +man. It is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He is but the +outward symptom of the inward trouble. What you are seeing is an example +of the workings of conscience where you thought conscience was absent. +The trouble with me is that I know the newspaper depends on me, and +that it will be the first time I have failed. It is the newspaper +man's instinct to be in the center of the fray. He yearns to scoop the +opposition press. I will get a night's sleep if I can, and to-morrow, I +know, I shall capitulate. I will hunt out General O'Neill, and interview +him on the field of slaughter. I will telegraph pages. I will refurbish +my military vocabulary, and speak of deploying and massing and throwing +out advance guards, and that sort of thing. I will move detachments and +advance brigades, and invent strategy. We will have desperate fighting +in the columns of the _Argus_, whatever there is on the fields +of Canada. But to a man who has seen real war this _opera-bouffe_ +masquerade of fighting----I don't want to say anything harsh, but to me +it is offensive." + +He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, sitting on the bottom of +an upturned pail, as he said this. Then he reached for his hip pocket +and drew out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, to the +professor, who, not knowing his friend carried such an instrument, +instinctively shrank from it. + +"Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation and soak it with the +potatoes. If another messenger comes in on me to-night, I know I shall +riddle him if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me he is +innocent, and I don't want to shed the only blood that will be spilled +during this awful campaign." + +How long they had been asleep they did not know, as the ghost-stories +have it, but both were suddenly awakened by a commotion outside. It was +intensely dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they noticed a +faint moving blur of light, which made itself just visible through the +canvas. + +"It's another of those fiendish messengers," whispered Yates. "Gi' me +that revolver." + +"Hush!" said the other below his breath. "There's about a dozen men out +there, judging by the footfalls. I heard them coming." + +"Let's fire into the tent and be done with it," said a voice outside. + +"No, no," cried another; "no man shoot. It makes too much noise, and +there must be others about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed?" + +There was a murmur, apparently in the affirmative. + +"Very well, then. Murphy and O'Rourick, come round to this side. You +three stay where you are. Tim, you go to that end; and, Doolin, come +with me." + +"The Fenian army, by all the gods!" whispered Yates, groping for his +clothes. "Renny, give me that revolver, and I'll show you more fun than +a funeral." + +"No, no. They're at least three to our one. We're in a trap here, and +helpless." + +"Oh, just let me jump out among 'em and begin the fireworks. Those I +didn't shoot would die of fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woods with +a lantern--with a _lantern_, Renny! Think of that! Oh, this is pie! Let +me at 'em." + +"Hush! Keep quiet! They'll hear you." + +"Tim, bring the lantern round to this side." The blur of light moved +along the canvas. "There's a man with his back against the wall of the +tent. Just touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let him know +we're here." + +"There may be twenty in the tent," said Murphy cautiously. + +"Do what I tell you," answered the man in command. + +Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, and sunk the deadly point +of the instrument into the bag of potatoes. + +"Faith, he sleeps sound," said Murphy with a tremor of fear in his +voice, as there was no demonstration on the part of the bag. + +The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of the tent: + +"What the old Harry do you fellows think you're doing, anyhow? What's +the matter with you? What do you want?" + +There was a moment's silence, broken only by a nervous scuffling of feet +and the clicking of gun-locks. + +"How many are there of you in there?" said the stern voice of the chief. + +"Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and one ready to fight the lot +of you if you are anxious for a scrimmage." + +"Come out one by one," was the next command. + +"We'll come out one by one," said Yates, emerging in his shirt sleeves, +"but you can't expect us to keep it up long, as there are only two of +us." + +The professor next appeared, with his coat on. The situation certainly +did not look inviting. The lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glow +on the severe face of the commander, as the footlights might illuminate +the figure of a brigand in a wood on the stage. The face of the officer +showed that he was greatly impressed with the importance and danger +of his position. Yates glanced about him with a smile, all his recent +dejection gone now that he was in the midst of a row. + +"Which is Murphy," he said, "and which is Doolin? Hello, alderman!" he +cried, as his eyes rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man who +held his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce determination in his +face that might have made an opponent quail. "When did you leave New +York? and who's running the city now that you're gone?" + +The men had evidently a sense of humor, in spite of their bloodthirsty +business, for a smile flickered on their faces in the lantern light, and +several bayonets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard face of the +commander did not relax. + +"You are doing yourself no good by your talk," he said solemnly. "What +you say will be used against you." + +"Yes, and what you do will be used against _you_; and don't forget that +fact. It's you who are in danger--not I. You are, at this moment, making +about the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada." + +"Pinion these men!" cried the captain gruffly. + +"Pinion nothing!" shouted Yates, shaking off the grasp of a man who +had sprung to his side. But both Yates and Renmark were speedily +overpowered; and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. Murphy +pathetically remarked that they had no rope. The captain was a man of +resource. + +"Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them." + +"And when you're at it, Murphy," said Yates, "cut off enough more to +hang yourself with. You'll need it before long. And remember that any +damage you do to that tent you'll have to pay for. It's hired." + +Yates gave them all the trouble he could while they tied his elbows +and wrists together, offering sardonic suggestions and cursing their +clumsiness. Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation was finished, +the professor said with the calm confidence of one who has an empire +behind him and knows it: + +"I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed on British soil; and +that I, on whom it is committed, am a British subject." + +"Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it impossible to keep your +mouth shut, do not use the word 'subject' but 'citizen.'" + +"I am satisfied with the word, and with the protection given to those +who use it." + +"Look here, Renmark; you had better let me do the talking. You will only +put your foot in it. I know the kind of men I have to deal with; you +evidently don't." + +In tying the professor they came upon the pistol in his coat pocket. +Murphy held it up to the light. + +"I thought you said you were unarmed?" remarked the captain severely, +taking the revolver in his hand. + +"I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the professor would not let me +use it. If he had, all of you would be running for dear life through the +woods." + +"You admit that you are a British subject?" said the captain to Renmark, +ignoring Yates. + +"He doesn't admit it, he brags of it," said the latter before Renmark +could speak. "You can't scare him; so quit this fooling, and let us know +how long we are to stand here trussed up like this." + +"I propose, captain," said the red-headed man, "that we shoot these men +where they stand, and report to the general. They are spies. They are +armed, and they denied it. It's according to the rules of war, captain." + +"Rules of war? What do you know of the rules of war, you red-headed +Senegambian? Rules of Hoyle! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine. +Come, captain, undo these ropes, and make up your mind quickly. Trot us +along to General O'Neill just as fast as you can. The sooner you get +us there the more time you will have for being sorry over what you have +done." + +The captain still hesitated, and looked from one to the other of his +men, as if to make up his mind whether they would obey him if he went to +extremities. Yates' quick eye noted that the two prisoners had nothing +to hope for, even from the men who smiled. The shooting of two unarmed +and bound men seemed to them about the correct way of beginning a great +struggle for freedom. + +"Well," said the captain at length, "we must do it in proper form, so I +suppose we should have a court-martial. Are you agreed?" + +They were unanimously agreed. + +"Look here," cried Yates, and there was a certain impressiveness in his +voice in spite of his former levity; "this farce has gone just as far as +it is going. Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat pocket you will +find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two received by me within the +last twenty-four hours. Then you will see whom you propose to shoot." + +The telegram was found, and the captain read it, while Tim held the +lantern. He looked from under his knitted brows at the newspaper man. + +"Then you are one of the _Argus_ staff." + +"I am chief of the _Argus_ staff. As you see, five of my men will be +with General O'Neill to-morrow. The first question they will ask him +will be: 'Where is Yates?' The next thing that will happen will be that +you will be hanged for your stupidity, not by Canada nor by the State +of New York, but by your general, who will curse your memory ever after. +You are fooling not with a subject this time, but with a citizen; and +your general is not such an idiot as to monkey with the United States +Government; and, what is a blamed sight worse, with the great American +press. Come, captain, we've had enough of this. Cut these cords just as +quickly as you can, and take us to the general. We were going to see him +in the morning, anyhow." + +"But this man says he is a Canadian." + +"That's all right. My friend is _me_. If you touch him, you touch me. +Now, hurry up, climb down from your perch. I shall have enough trouble +now, getting the general to forgive all the blunders you have made +to-night, without your adding insult to injury. Tell your men to untie +us, and throw the ropes back into the tent. It will soon be daylight. +Hustle, and let us be off." + +"Untie them," said the captain, with a sigh. + +Yates shook himself when his arms regained their freedom. + +"Now, Tim," he said, "run into that tent and bring out my coat. It's +chilly here." + +Tim did instantly as requested, and helped Yates on with the coat. + +"Good boy!" said, Yates. "You've evidently been porter in a hotel." + +Tim grinned. + +"I think," said Yates meditatively, "that if I you look under the +right-hand bunk, Tim, you will find a jug. It belongs to the professor, +although he has hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion from himself. +Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not as full as it was, but +there's enough to go round, if the professor does not take more than his +share." + +The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipation, and Renmark looked +astonished to see the jar brought forth. "You first, professor," said +Yates; and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The learned man shook +his head. Yates laughed, and took it himself. + +"Well, here's to you, boys," he said. "And may you all get back as +safely to New York as I will." The jar passed down along the line, until +Tim finished its contents. + +"Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army," cried Yates, taking +Renmark's arm; and they began their march through the woods. "Great +Caesar! Stilly," he continued to his friend, "this is rest and quiet +with a vengeance, isn't it?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost in +the presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain something +like military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, +however, that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests are not +as trimly kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, +but three times he tumbled over some obstruction, and disappeared +suddenly from view, uttering maledictions. His final effort in this +line was a triumph. He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When +all attempts at reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in +go-as-you-please fashion, and found they did better without the light +than with it. In fact, although it was not yet four o'clock, daybreak +was already filtering through the trees, and the woods were perceptibly +lighter. + +"We must be getting near the camp," said the captain. + +"Will I shout, sir?" asked Murphy. + +"No, no; we can't miss it. Keep on as you are doing." + +They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered on +among the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle +echoed through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their heads. + +"Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?" cried the alderman, who +recognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back. + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" said the sentry, stopping in his flight. The +captain strode angrily toward him. + +"What do you mean by firing like that? Don't you know enough to ask for +the counter-sign before shooting?" + +"Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, then, ye see, I never +can hit anything; so it's little difference it makes." + +The shot had roused the camp, and there was now wild commotion, +everybody thinking the Canadians were upon them. + +A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Renmark. Both were astonished +to see the number of men that O'Neill had under his command. They found +a motley crowd. Some tattered United States uniforms were among them, +but the greater number were dressed as ordinary individuals, although +a few had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. Sleeping out for +a couple of nights had given the gathering the unkempt appearance of a +great company of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable from the +men at first, but afterward Yates noticed that they, mostly in plain +clothes and slouch hats, had sword belts buckled around them; and one +or two had swords that had evidently seen service in the United States +cavalry. + +"It's all right, boys," cried the captain to the excited mob. "It was +only that fool Lynch who fired at us. There's nobody hurt. Where's the +general?" + +"Here he comes," said half a dozen voices at once, and the crowd made +way for him. + +General O'Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen's costume, and did not +wear even a sword belt. On his head of light hair was a black soft felt +hat. His face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked more like +a clerk from a grocery store than the commander of an army. He was +evidently somewhere between thirty-five and forty years of age. + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Why are you back? Any news?" + +The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied: + +"We took two prisoners, sir. They were encamped in a tent in the woods. +One of them says he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, so I +brought them in." + +"I wish you had brought in the tent, too," said the general with a wan +smile. "It would be an improvement on sleeping in the open air. Are +these the prisoners? I don't know either of them." + +"The captain makes a mistake in saying that I claimed a personal +acquaintance with you, general. What I said was that you would +recognize, somewhat quicker than he did, who I was, and the desirability +of treating me with reasonable decency. Just show the general that +telegram you took from my coat pocket, captain." + +The paper was produced, and O'Neill read it over once or twice. + +"You are on the New York _Argus_, then?" + +"Very much so, general." + +"I hope you have not been roughly used?" + +"Oh, no; merely tied up in a hard knot, and threatened with +shooting--that's all." + +"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Still, you must make some allowance at a +time like this. If you will come with me, I will write you a pass which +will prevent any similar mistake happening in the future." The general +led the way to a smoldering camp fire, where, out of a valise, he took +writing materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to write. After +he had written "Headquarters of the Grand Army of the Irish Republic" +he looked up, and asked Yates his Christian name. Being answered, he +inquired the name of his friend. + +"I want nothing from you," interposed Renmark. "Don't put my name on the +paper." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Yates. "Never mind him, general. He's a +learned man who doesn't know when to talk and when not to. As you march +up to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, which will explain +everything. Renmark's drunk, not to put too fine a point upon it; and he +imagines himself a British subject." + +The Fenian general looked up at the professor. + +"Are you a Canadian?" he asked. + +"Certainly I am." + +"Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you must give me your word +that, should you fall in with the enemy, you will give no information +to them of our position, numbers, or of anything else you may have seen +while with us." + +"I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I should fall in with the +Canadian troops, I will tell them where you are, that you are from eight +hundred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking set of vagabonds I +have ever seen out of jail." + +General O'Neill frowned, and looked from one to the other. + +"Do you realize that you confess to being a spy, and that it becomes my +duty to have you taken out and shot?" + +"In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fooling. All of you that +don't escape will be either in jail or shot before twenty-four hours." + +"Well, by the gods, it won't help _you_ any. I'll have you shot inside +of ten minutes, instead of twenty-four hours." + +"Hold on, general, hold on!" cried Yates, as the angry man rose and +confronted the two. "I admit that he richly deserves shooting, if you +were the fool killer, which you are not. But it won't do, I will be +responsible for him. Just finish that pass for me, and I will take care +of the professor. Shoot me if you like, but don't touch him. He hasn't +any sense, as you can see; but I am not to blame for that, nor are you. +If you take to shooting everybody who is an ass, general, you won't have +any ammunition left with which to conquer Canada." + +The general smiled in spite of himself, and resumed the writing of the +pass. "There," he said, handing the paper to Yates. "You see, we always +like to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent friend, and I +hope you will exercise more control over him, if you meet the Canadians, +than you were able to exert here. Don't you think, on the whole, you had +better stay with us? We are going to march in a couple of hours, when +the men have had a little rest." He added in a lower voice, so that the +professor could not hear: "You didn't see anything of the Canadians, I +suppose?" + +"Not a sign. No, I don't think I'll stay. There will be five of our +fellows here some time to-day, I expect, and that will be more than +enough. I'm really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and quiet. I'm +beginning to think I have made a mistake in location." + +Yates bade good-by to the commander, and walked with his friend out +of the camp. They threaded their way among sleeping men and groups of +stacked guns. On the top of one of the bayonets was hung a tall silk +hat, which looked most incongruous in such a place. + +"I think," said Yates, "that we will make for the Ridge Road, which must +lie somewhere in this direction. It will be easier walking than through +the woods; and, besides, I want to stop at one of the farmhouses and get +some breakfast. I'm as hungry as a bear after tramping so long." + +"Very well," answered the professor shortly. + +The two stumbled along until they reached the edge of the wood; then, +crossing some open fields, they came presently upon the road, near the +spot where the fist fight had taken place between Yates and Bartlett. +The comrades, now with greater comfort, walked silently along the road +toward the west, with the reddening east behind them. The whole scene +was strangely quiet and peaceful, and the recollection of the weird camp +they had left in the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morning air +was sweet, and the birds were beginning to sing. Yates had intended to +give the professor a piece of his mind regarding the lack of tact +and common sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, but, somehow, the +scarcely awakened day did not lend itself to controversy, and the serene +stillness soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly that popular +war song, "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," and then broke +in with the question: + +"Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on the bayonet?" + +"Yes," answered the professor; "and I saw five others scattered around +the camp." + +"Jingo! you were observant. I can imagine nothing quite so ridiculous as +a man going to war in a tall silk hat." + +The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to "Rally +round the flag." + +"I presume," he said at length, "there is little use in attempting to +improve the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a fool +you made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to be +slightly off the center." + +"I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds." + +"They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also be +well-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves." + +"While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came in +with several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, +and another party started out to get some more." + +"Oh, that isn't stealing, Renmark; that's requisitioning. You mustn't +use such reckless language. I imagine the second party has been +successful; for here are three of them all mounted." + +The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of the +two men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. +Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them held +revolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no +visible revolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward the +pedestrians, the other two taking positions on each side of the wagon +way. + +"Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?" cried +the foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance. + +"It's all right, commodore," said Yates jauntily, "and the top of the +morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the +camp, and we are going to get something to eat." + +"I must have a more satisfactory answer than that." + +"Well, here you have it, then," answered Yates, pulling out his folded +pass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully. "You +find that all right, I expect?" + +"Right enough to cause your immediate arrest." + +"But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is in his +own handwriting." + +"I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does not +run quite as far as the queen's writ in this country yet. I arrest you +in the name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, and shoot +them down if they make any resistance." So saying, the rider slipped +from his horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs joined +by a short, stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing, grasped +Renmark's wrist. + +"I'm a Canadian," said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. "You +mustn't put handcuffs on me." + +"You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; if +you are what you say, you will not resist arrest." + +"I will go with you, but you mustn't handcuff me." + +"Oh, mustn't I?" And, with a quick movement indicative of long practice +with resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of the +clasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr. + +Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes. He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the +cocked revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constable +held his struggling manacled hand with grim determination. + +"Hold on!" cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking the +representative of the law. "Don't shoot," he shouted to the man on +horseback; "it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. +You are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed and on +foot. There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you +are more of a rebel at the present moment than O'Neill. He owes no +allegiance, and you do. Have you no respect for the forms of law and +order? You are an anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You +_would_ sing 'God save the Queen!' in the wrong place a while ago, so +now be satisfied that you have got her, or, rather, that she has +got you. Now, constable, do you want to hitch the other end of that +arrangement on my wrist? or have you another pair for my own special +use? + +"I'll take your wrist, if you please." + +"All right; here you are." Yates drew back his coat sleeve, and +presented his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The +constable mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him, watching +him all the while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners, handcuffed +together, took the middle of the road, with a horseman on each side +of them, the constable bringing up the rear; thus they marched on, the +professor gloomy from the indignity put upon them, and the newspaper man +as joyous as the now thoroughly awakened birds. The scouts concluded +to go no farther toward the enemy, but to return to the Canadian forces +with their prisoners. They marched down the road, all silent except +Yates, who enlivened the morning air with the singing of "John Brown." + +"Keep quiet," said the constable curtly. + +"All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of a +friend. We want to go and get something to eat." + +"You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers of +the volunteers." + +"And where, may I ask, are they?" + +"You may ask, but I will not answer." + +"Now, Renmark," said Yates to his companion, "the tough part of this +episode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett's house, and feast merely +on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett is always glad +to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty." + +As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kitty on +the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing earnestly +at the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the group she +disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came out Mrs. +Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old man himself. + +They all came down to the gate and waited. + +"Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!" cried Yates cheerily. "You see, the professor +has got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share his +fate, like the good dog Tray." + +"What's all this about?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. + +The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarly +to them. "They're Fenian prisoners," he said. + +"Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Bartlett--the old man, as usual, keeping his +mouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking--"they're +not Fenians. They've been camping on our farm for a week or more." + +"That may be," said the constable firmly, "but I have the best of +evidence against them; and, if I'm not very much mistaken, they'll hang +for it." + +Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry of +anguish at this remark, and disappeared again. + +"We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs. +Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of the +Canadians." + +"What! hanging?" + +"No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged,--I hope I am +not so pernickety as all that,--but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will sympathize +with me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at this +moment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had +in your house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this +hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything." + +Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible state +of indignation. + +"Stoliker," she exclaimed, "I'm ashamed of you! You may hang a man if +you like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in with +me," she said to the prisoners. + +"Madam," said Stoliker severely, "you must not interfere with the course +of the law." + +"The course of stuff and nonsense!" cried the angry woman. "Do you think +I am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven't I chased you out of this very +orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes, and boxed +your ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enough to fill your +pockets with the best apples on the place, after giving you what you +deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I'll box your ears now if you +say anything more. Get down off your horse, and have something to eat +yourself. I dare say you need it." + +"This is what I call a rescue," whispered Yates to his linked companion. + +What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer with +justice is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her own +way? Stoliker looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of the +house, but the old man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say: +"You see how it is yourself. I am helpless." + +Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to the +house. + +"All I ask of you now," said Yates, "is that you will give Renmark and +me seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, even for +an instant." + +Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at the +same time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. +Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse. +Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject, +if this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second +concession, and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying he +thought he recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in +upon them. + +"Come, Sam," she said, "no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse and +come in. How's your mother?" + +"She's pretty well, thank you," said Sam sheepishly, coming down on his +feet again. + +Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on the +prisoners, but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she +looked with the utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact that +the poor young man had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well. + +"Take off these handcuffs, Sam," said Mrs. Bartlett, "until they have +breakfast, at least." + +Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them into +his pocket. + +"Ah, now!" said Yates, looking at his red wrist, "we can breathe easier; +and I, for one, can eat more." + +The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist, +but had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make the early +meal as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival. Stoliker +began to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty were unpopular. Old +Hiram could always be depended upon to add somberness and taciturnity to +a wedding feast; the professor, never the liveliest of companions, sat +silent, with clouded brow, and vexed even the cheerful Mrs. Bartlett +by having evidently no appetite. When the hurried meal was over, Yates, +noticing that Miss Kitty had left the room, sprang up and walked toward +the kitchen door. Stoliker was on his feet in an instant, and made as +though to follow him. + +"Sit down," said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time. "He +is not going to escape. Don't be afraid. He has done nothing, and has no +fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupid officials +arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians, but you take +excellent care to keep out of their way, and give your attention to +molesting perfectly inoffensive people." + +"Good for you, professor!" cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. "That's the +truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?" + +"Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o'clock +this morning,--or at least an advance guard did,--and after talking of +shooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead. +Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should not +be troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinks +is deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped the +handcuffs on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our +heads." + +"It isn't my place to ask questions," retorted Stoliker doggedly. "You +can tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, +I'll say nothing against it." + +Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the +precaution to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly +round as the door closed. Before she could speak the young man caught +her by the plump shoulders--a thing which he certainly had no right to +do. + +"Miss Kitty Bartlett," he said, "you've been crying." + +"I haven't; and if I had, it is nothing to you." + +"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Don't deny it. For whom were you +crying? The professor?" + +"No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough to +think so." + +"_Me_ conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whom were you +crying? I must know." + +"Please let me go, Mr. Yates," said Kitty, with an effort at dignity. + +"Dick is my name, Kit." + +"Well, mine is not Kit. + +"You're quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty, +which is much prettier than the abbreviation." + +"I did not 'mention it.' Please let me go. Nobody has the right to call +me anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, _you_ haven't, anyhow." + +"Well, Kitty, don't you think it is about time to give somebody the +right? Why won't you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether +I should have accused you of crying? Look up--Miss Bartlett." + +"Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute." + +"Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We'll risk mother. Besides, I'm +not in the least afraid of her, and I don't believe you are. I think +she is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind; +otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye." + +"I hate that man," said Kitty inconsequently. + +"I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. +Kitty, why don't you look up at me? Are you afraid?" + +"What should I be afraid of?" asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance +from her pretty blue eyes. "Not of you, I hope." + +"Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why +I came out here?" + +"For something more to eat, very likely," said the girl mischievously. + +"Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. +Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew +me into the kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own +lips. _That_ was the reason!" + +He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what +was about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought +he had taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of +this kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but +she did not strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he +merely attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because +she had been taken so completely by surprise. + +"I shall call my mother," she threatened. + +"Oh, no, you won't. Besides, she wouldn't come." Then this frivolous +young man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, "Here's to +the girl that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother," ending with +the wish that she should live and die an old maid and never get another. +Kitty should not have smiled, but she did; she should have rebuked his +levity, but she didn't. + +"It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and +dying an old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for the +prevention of such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval +of it." + +Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself +away from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining +room, and expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. +Miss Kitty stood with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring +flower, which she had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the +window-ledge. She smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed so +interested in botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether she +was paying attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan might +have been can only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they should +be interrupted at this critical moment by the one person on earth who +could make Yates' tongue falter. + +The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood on +the threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her dark +hair down over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairly +took Yates' breath away. She did not notice him. + +"O Kitty," she cried, "those wretches have stolen all our horses! Is +your father here?" + +"What wretches?" asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled by the +sudden advent of her friend. + +"The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields, +and your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you." + +"Have they taken your own horse, too?" + +"No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come near +the house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you." And Margaret's hand, with +the unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, which +Yates thought too becoming ever to be put in order again. + +Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty's evident embarrassment, +that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two. + +"I must tell your father about it," she said hurriedly, and before Yates +could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she was taken +aback to see so many sitting round the table. + +There was a moment's silence between the two in the kitchen, but the +spell was broken. + +"I--I don't suppose there will be any trouble about getting back the +horses," said Yates hesitatingly. "If you lose them, the Government will +have to pay." + +"I presume so," answered Kitty coldly; then: "Excuse me, Mr. Yates; I +mustn't stay here any longer." So saying, she followed Margaret into the +other room. + +Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties of +preference had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that he +had had a narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committed +himself. Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticed +her friend's evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered +whether this would help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finally +made up his mind to favor her with his serious attentions. Still, he +reflected that, after all, they were both country girls, and would no +doubt be only too eager to accept a chance to live in New York. Thus +his mind gradually resumed its normal state of self-confidence; and he +argued that, whatever Margaret's suspicions were, they could not but +make him more precious in her eyes. He knew of instances where the very +danger of losing a man had turned a woman's wavering mind entirely +in the man's favor. When he had reached this point, the door from the +dining room opened, and Stoliker appeared. + +"We are waiting for you," said the constable. + +"All right. I am ready." + +As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talking +earnestly. + +"I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours," cried Mrs. Bartlett. +"I would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men." + +"Come along," said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs from his +pocket. + +"If you three men," continued Mrs. Bartlett, "cannot take those two to +camp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I'll go +along with you myself and protect you, and see that they don't escape. +You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have any +manhood about you--which I doubt." + +"I must do my duty." + +The professor rose from his chair. "Mr. Stoliker," he said with +determination, "my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will +make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear +investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a +handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you." + +A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, +caused the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and said +in a contrite voice: + +"Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon." + +Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried: + +"Don't beg my pardon, but--smash him." + +Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited +girl hid her blushing face on her friend's shoulder, while Kitty +lovingly stroked her dark, tangled hair. + +Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual +quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the tension +of the situation. + +"Come, come, Stoliker, don't be an idiot. I do not object in the least +to the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff +me. It hasn't struck your luminous mind that you have not the first +tittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the +greatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. +The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good +many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have +exceeded it in the case of the professor. I hope you have no property; +for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay sweetly for putting the +handcuffs on him without a warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. +What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?" continued Yates, suddenly +appealing to the old man. "I think it is a thousand dollars." + +Hiram said gloomily that he didn't know. Stoliker was hit on a tender +spot, for he owned a farm. + +"Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. +Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted." + +The good woman smiled and shook hands with him. + +"Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have +another." + +Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his +horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the +dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event +of the stealing of the horses. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of the +Canadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more military +than the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by a +picket before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not to +shoot until he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, they +came in full view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked very +spick and span in uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear light +of the fair June morning. The guns, topped by a bristle of bayonets +which glittered as the rising sun shone on them, were stacked with neat +precision here and there. The men were preparing their breakfast, and +a temporary halt had been called for that purpose. The volunteers were +scattered by the side of the road and in the fields. Renmark recognized +the colors of the regiment from his own city, and noticed that there +was with it a company that was strange to him. Although led to them +a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride in the regiment and their trim +appearance--a pride that was both national and civic. He instinctively +held himself more erect as he approached. + +"Renmark," said Yates, looking at him with a smile, "you are making a +thoroughly British mistake." + +"What do you mean? I haven't spoken." + +"No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. You +think this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempt +tramps we saw in the woods this morning." + +"I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over--which I very much +doubt." + +"That's just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, who +know all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will be the +worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part of the +country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comrades fall, +with the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If they don't turn +and run, then I'm a Dutchman. I've seen raw recruits before. They should +have a company of older men here who have seen service to steady them. +The fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs, in the damp +woods, as we stepped over them. They are veterans. What will be but a +mere skirmish to them will seem to these boys the most awful tragedy +that ever happened. Why, many of them look as if they might be +university lads." + +"They are," said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. + +"Well, I can't see what your stupid government means by sending them +here alone. They should have at least one company of regulars with +them." + +"Probably the regulars are on the way." + +"Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, +or the fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with their +meal, the Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is to +be a fight, it will be before a very few hours--before one hour passes, +you are going to see a miniature Bull Run." + +Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiring +for news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all +the telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those in +command of the companies did not even know that the enemy had left that +locality. They were now on their way to a point where they were to meet +Colonel Peacocke's force of regulars--a point which they were destined +never to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up his +prisoners, together with the incriminating paper that Yates had +handed to him. The officer's decision was short and sharp, as military +decisions are generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to take +both the prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. There was no +time now for an inquiry into the case,--that could come afterward,--and, +so long as the men were safe in jail, everything would be all right. To +this the constable mildly interposed two objections. In the first place, +he said, he was with the volunteers not in his capacity as constable, +but in the position of guide and man who knew the country. In the second +place, there was no jail at Port Colborne. + +"Where is the nearest jail?" + +"The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town," replied the +constable. + +"Very well; take them there." + +"But I am here as guide," repeated Stoliker. + +The officer hesitated for a moment. "You haven't handcuffs with you, I +presume?" + +"Yes, I have," said Stoliker, producing the implements. + +"Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the company +over to Welland with them. How far is it across country?" + +Stoliker told him. + +The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him: + +"You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver these +men up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but you +take a revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shoot them." + +The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. "I am not a policeman," he +said. "I am a soldier." + +"Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I order +you to take these men to Welland." + +The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a +murmur rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently +sympathized with their comrade's objection to the duties of a policeman. +One of them made his way through the crowd, and cried: + +"Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He's no Fenian." +Two or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, +pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with +his class. Among others young Howard pressed forward. + +"It is nonsense," he cried, "talking about sending Professor Renmark to +jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We'll all go +bail for the professor." + +The officer wavered. "If you know him," he said, "that is a different +matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the +Fenians, recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the +Fenian cause. I can't let him go free." + +"Are you the chief in command here?" asked Renmark. + +"No, I am not." + +"Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He +is a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. +If you insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken +before the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall +together. I am exactly as guilty or innocent as he is." + +"We can't bother the colonel about every triviality." + +"A man's liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense, +are you fighting for but liberty?" + +"Thanks, Renmark, thanks," said Yates; "but I don't care to see the +colonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all this +bother. I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, if +I have to go to jail for them. I'm coming reluctantly to the belief that +jail's the most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow." + +"But this is an outrage," cried the professor indignantly. + +"Of course it is," replied Yates wearily; "but the woods are full of +them. There's always outrages going on, especially in so-called free +countries; therefore one more or less won't make much difference. Come, +officer, who's going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go +by myself? I'm a Fenian from 'way back, and came here especially to +overturn the throne and take it home with me. For Heaven's sake, know +your own mind one way or other, and let us end this conference." + +The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker to +handcuff the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer at +Welland. + +"But I want assistance," objected Stoliker. "The prisoner is a bigger +man than I am." The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this +self-evident fact. + +"If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders." + +No one volunteered to accompany the constable. + +"Take this revolver with you," continued the officer, "and if he +attempts to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, so +I can't send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to." + +"Howard knows the way," persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke up with +great indignation: "Yes, but Howard isn't constable, and Stoliker is. +I'm not going." + +Renmark went up to his friend. + +"Who's acting foolishly now, Yates?" he said. "Why don't you insist on +seeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would be allowed +off." + +"Don't make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussy +individual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squad +of volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officers +always stick by each other; they're bound to. I want to go alone with +Stoliker. I have a score to settle with him." + +"Now, don't do anything rash. You've done nothing so far; but if you +assault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter." + +"Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a short +time since?" + +"Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now." + +"See here, Renny," whispered Yates; "you get back to the tent, and see +that everything's all right. I'll be with you in an hour or so. Don't +look so frightened. I won't hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, +and I won't get there if the colonel sends an escort. I'm going to use +Stoliker as a shield when the bullets begin flying." + +The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker very +reluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own left +wrist, while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, who +embarrassed him with kindly assistance. The two manacled men disappeared +down the road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in to continue their +morning's march. + +Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. "I +say, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?" + +"I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is an +old schoolfellow of mine." + +"What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to rather +like the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known you +were in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would only have +been too glad to be of assistance to you." + +"They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well." + +"What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?" + +"Yes," said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encountered +the eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was the +brother's favorite. + +"Fall back, there!" cried the officer to Renmark. + +"May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me take +part?" + +"No," said the officer with some hauteur; "this is no place for +civilians." Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the whole +company, as far as martial experience went, were merely civilians +dressed in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates' +ominous prediction regarding them. + +"I say, Mr. Renmark," cried young Howard, as the company moved off, "if +you see any of them, don't tell them I'm here--especially Margaret. It +might make them uneasy. I'll get leave when this is over, and drop in on +them." + +The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidently no +premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left the road, +and struck across country in the direction of the tent. + +Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road toward +Welland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative +and entertaining--indeed, Yates' conversation often went beyond +entertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed +the affairs of both countries, showed a way out of all political +difficulties, gave reasons for the practical use of common sense in +every emergency, passed opinions on the methods of agriculture adopted +in various parts of the country, told stories of the war, gave instances +of men in captivity murdering those who were in charge of them, deduced +from these anecdotes the foolishness of resisting lawful authority +lawfully exercised, and, in general, showed that he was a man who +respected power and the exercise thereof. Suddenly branching to more +practical matters, he exclaimed: + +"Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?" + +Stoliker had never counted them. + +"Well, that's encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that it requires +an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely have something +to drink before long." + +"I never drink while on duty," said Stoliker curtly. + +"Oh, well, don't apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I'll be +only too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired the useful +practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anything can be +done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don't believe in the word +'can't,' either with or without the mark of elision." + +Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. + +"I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I'm tired of walking. I've been +on my feet ever since three this morning." + +"I have no authority to hire a buggy." + +"But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?" + +"I make him move," said Stoliker shortly. + +"Ah, I see. That's a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable." + +They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried: + +"Let's sit down and have a rest. I'm done out. The sun is hot, and the +road dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day's young, yet." + +"I'll let you have fifteen minutes." + +They sat down together. "I wish a team would come along," said Yates +with a sigh. + +"No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhood +stolen, and the troops on the roads." + +"That's so," assented Yates sleepily. + +He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and his +eyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leaned +toward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates' left arm fell across +the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him. +The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he took +no risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, he +reflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, +for he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner +who escaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the good +intentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too polite and +good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that the prisoner +was a much cleverer man than he. + +"Here, sit up," he said gruffly. "I'm not paid to carry you, you know." + +"What's that? What's that? What's that?" cried Yates rapidly, blinking +his eyes and straightening up. "Oh, it's only you, Stoliker. I thought +it was my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?" + +"Either that or pretending--I don't know which, and I don't care." + +"Oh! I must have been pretending," answered Yates drowsily; "I can't +have dropped asleep. How long have we been here?" + +"About five minutes." + +"All right." And Yates' head began to droop again. + +This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitate +sleep so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each +time saved himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. +Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, +with a greater lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, +carrying the constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff +nipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, +instinctively grasped the links between with his right hand, to save his +wrist. Like a cat, Yates was upon him, showing marvelous agility for a +man who had just tumbled in a heap. The next instant he held aloft the +revolver, crying triumphantly: + +"How's that, umpire? Out, I expect." + +The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist, realizing +the helplessness of a struggle. + +"Now, Stoliker," said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, "what have you +to say before I fire?" + +"Nothing," answered the constable, "except that you will be hanged at +Welland, instead of staying a few days in jail." + +Yates laughed. "That's not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there's +some grit in you, if you _are_ a man-catcher. Still, you were not in +very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want this +pistol again, just watch where it alights." And Yates, taking the weapon +by the muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. + +Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his +pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he could +to the spot where the revolver fell. + +"Is that how you mark the place?" asked Yates; "or is it some spell that +will enable you to find the pistol?" + +"Neither," answered the constable quietly. "It is the key of the +handcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland." + +Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at the +little man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attempted to +search for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to one that +Stoliker would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key, in +which case the reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law. + +"Stoliker, you're evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours. +That wasn't a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause you some +personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I'm not +going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I have +gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me." + +"I shall not move," replied the constable firmly. + +"Very well, stay there," said Yates, twisting his hand around so as to +grasp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked up +the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stoliker +set his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow. +Nothing was said by either until several hundred yards were thus +traversed. Then Yates stopped. + +"Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, I +hope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with me +quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same in +the end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see the +fight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don't want to lose +any more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, and +having me explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we go +through the fields." + +One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise man always +accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossed the rail +fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together--Stoliker +silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who is certain of +ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with all its machinery +working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, and instructive by +turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when the unresponsiveness +of the other rendered conversation difficult. + +"Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent, +scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city's +din is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and +the drowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed 'bumble'! The +green fields, the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, +untainted by city smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blue +unclouded sky--how can human spite and human passion exist in such a +paradise? Does it all not make you feel as if you were an innocent child +again, with motives pure and conscience white?" + +If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. With +clouded brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. +But, although the constable made no reply, there was an answer that +electrified Yates, and put all thought of the beauty of the country out +of his mind. The dull report of a musket, far in front of them, suddenly +broke the silence, followed by several scattering shots, and then the +roar of a volley. This was sharply answered by the ring of rifles to the +right. With an oath, Yates broke into a run. + +"They're at it!" he cried, "and all on account of your confounded +obstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire, and +the Canadians have not been long in replying." + +The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates was +aroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicating +smell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleaming eye. + +"Come on, you loitering idiot!" he cried to the constable, who had +difficulty in keeping pace with him; "come on, or, by the gods! I'll +break your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from it." + +The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of war, +and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the insane +glare of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his fear to +Yates. + +"Come on, _you_!" he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twist to +the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractory +criminals. "I am as eager to see the fight as you are." + +The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said: +"That's the ticket, I'm with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a +hurry if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intend +to use you as a shield from the bullets." + +"That's all right," answered the little constable, panting. "Two sides +are firing. I'll shield you on one side, and you'll have to shield me on +the other." + +Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding the +houses, they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the +trees, showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond. Yates +made the constable cross the fence and the road, and take to the fields +again, bringing him around behind Bartlett's house and barn. No one +was visible near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at the back +watching, with pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now and then +covering her ears with her hands as the sound of an extra loud volley +assailed them. Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for help. + +"If you do that again," cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, "I'll +choke you!" + +But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned +with a frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when she +recognized the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand away +from the constable's throat. + +"Where is your father or your brother?" demanded the constable. + +"I don't know." + +"Where is your mother?" + +"She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill." + +"Are you all alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance to +this prisoner, but to do as I tell you." + +"And I command you, in the name of the President," cried Yates, "to +keep your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty," he +continued in a milder tone, "could you tell me where to get a file, so +that I may cut these wrist ornaments? Don't you get it. You are to do +nothing. Just indicate where the file is. The law mustn't have any hold +on you, as it seems to have on me." + +"Why don't you make him unlock them?" asked Kitty. + +"Because the villain threw away the key in the fields." + +"He couldn't have done that." + +The constable caught his breath. + +"But he did. I saw him." + +"And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of his +watch chain. He hasn't thrown that away." + +She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her. + +"Don't touch him. I'm playing a lone hand here." He jerked out the +chain, and the real key dangled from it. + +"Well, Stoliker," he said, "I don't know which to admire most--your +cleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett's acuteness of +observation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?" + +"Yes; but you mustn't hurt him." + +"No fear. I think too much of him. Don't you come in. I'll be out in a +moment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet." + +Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square +oaken post which was part of the framework of the building, and which +formed one side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the +hay mow. + +"Now, Stoliker," he, said solemnly, "you realize, of course, that I +don't want to hurt you yet you also realize that I _must_ hurt you if +you attempt any tricks. I can't take any risks, please remember that; +and recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be in the +State of New York. So don't compel me to smash your head against this +post." He, with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist; then, +drawing Stoliker's right hand around the post, he snapped the same clasp +on the constable's hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man, with his +cheek against the oak, was in the comical position of lovingly embracing +the post. + +"I'll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be more +comfortable--unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. Then I +must bid you good-by." + +Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him. + +"I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty," he said, "so that poor +Stoliker will get a rest." + +They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased, +except a desultory shot here and there across the country. + +"I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can," he +continued. "This country is getting too hot for me." + +"You are much safer here," said the girl, with downcast eyes. "A man has +brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up and down +the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from this side." + +"You don't say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to do with +Stoliker? I can't keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets loose +I'm done for." + +"Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I go +for her?" + +"I don't think it would be any use. Stoliker's a stubborn animal. He has +suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We'll bring him +a chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him." + +When the chair was placed at Stoliker's disposal, he sat down upon it, +still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of the +solemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyes +with the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates. + +"How long am I to be kept here?" asked the constable. + +"Oh, not long," answered Yates cheerily; "not a moment longer than is +necessary. I'll telegraph when I'm safe in New York State; so you won't +be here more than a day or two." + +This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker. + +"Look here," he said; "I guess I know as well as the next man when I'm +beaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff's +orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don't believe you've +done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn't have acted quite the way you did. +If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. As it is, +if you unlock those cuffs, I'll give you my word I'll do nothing more +unless I'm ordered to. Like as not they've forgotten all about you by +this time; and there's nothing on record, anyhow." + +"Do you mean it? Will you act square?" + +"Certainly I'll act square. I don't suppose you doubt that. I didn't ask +any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you." + +"Enough said," cried Yates. "I'll risk it." + +Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he was released. + +"I wonder," he said, now that Kitty was gone, "if there is anything to +eat in the house?" + +"Shake!" cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. "Another great and +mutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who did +not want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when +all was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before he +realized that things had reached a crisis. + +When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. +The fortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn +before the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried to +sample the contents and had found nothing. + +"Hang it all!" said Yates to himself, "I wonder what the five assistants +that the _Argus_ sent me have done with themselves? If they are with +the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are captured by +the Canadians, they won't be able to get an account of this scrimmage +through to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest item of the +year--it's international, by George! It may involve England and the +United States in a war, if both sides are not extra mild and cautious. I +can't run the chance of the paper being left in the lurch. Let me think +a minute. Is it my tip to follow the Canadians or the Fenians? I wonder +is which is running the faster? My men are evidently with the Fenians, +if they were on the ground at all. If I go after the Irish Republic, I +shall run the risk of duplicating things; but if I follow the Canadians, +they may put me under arrest. Then we have more Fenian sympathizers +among our readers than Canadians, so the account from the invasion side +of the fence will be the more popular. Yet a Canadian version would be +a good thing, if I were sure the rest of the boys got in their work, and +the chances are that the other papers won't have any reporters among the +Canucks. Heavens! What is a man to do? I'll toss up for it. Heads, the +Fenians." + +He spun the coin in the air, and caught it. "Heads it is! The Fenians +are my victims. I'm camping on their trail, anyhow. Besides, it's safer +than following the Canadians, even though Stoliker has got my pass." + +Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the forest. The scent of a +big item was in his nostrils, and it stimulated him like champagne. +What was temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of defeating the +opposition press? + +A blind man might have followed the trail of the retreating army. They +had thrown away, as they passed through the woods, every article that +impeded their progress. Once he came on a man lying with his face in the +dead leaves. He turned him over. + +"His troubles are past, poor devil," said Yates, as he pushed on. + +"Halt! Throw up your hands!" came a cry from in front of him. + +Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his hands, being an adaptable +man. + +"What's the trouble?" he shouted. "I'm retreating, too." + +"Then retreat five steps farther. I'll count the steps. One." + +Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that a man behind a tree was +covering him with a gun. The next step revealed a second captor, with +a huge upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. Both men had +blackened faces, and resembled thoroughly disreputable fiends of +the forest. Seated on the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozen +dejected prisoners. The man with the gun swore fearfully, but his +comrade with the hammer was silent. + +"Come," said the marksman, "you blank scoundrel, and take a seat with +your fellow-scoundrels. If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I'll +fill you full of buckshot!" + +"Oh, I'm not going to run, Sandy," cried Yates, recognizing him. "Why +should I? I've always enjoyed your company, and Macdonald's. How are +you, Mac? Is this a little private raid of your own? For which side are +you fighting? And I say, Sandy, what's the weight of that old-fashioned +bar of iron you have in your hands? I'd like to decide a bet. Let me +heft it, as you said in the shop." + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Sandy in a disappointed tone, lowering his +gun. "I thought we had raked in another of them. The old man and I want +to make it an even dozen." + +"Well, I don't think you'll capture any more. I saw nobody as I came +through the woods. What are you going to do with this crowd?" + +"Brain 'em," said Macdonald laconically, speaking for the first time. +Then he added reluctantly: "If any of 'em tries to escape." + +The prisoners were all evidently too tired and despondent to make +any attempt at regaining their liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald's +shoulder at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head he seemed +to indicate that he would like to have some private conversation with +the newspaper man. + +"I'm not your prisoner, am I?" asked Yates. + +"No," said Macdonald. "You may go if you like, but not in the direction +the Fenians have gone." + +"I guess I won't need to go any farther, if you will give me permission +to interview your prisoners. I merely want to get some points about the +fight." + +"That's all right," said the blacksmith, "as long as you don't try to +help them. If you do, I warn you there will be trouble." + +Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, out of hearing of +the others, leaving Macdonald and his sledge-hammer on guard. + +When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested his arms on his gun, +in a pathfinder attitude. + +"Say," he began anxiously, "you haven't got some powder and shot on you +by any chance?" + +"Not an ounce. Haven't you any ammunition?" + +"No, and haven't had all through the fight. You see, we left the shop in +such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man +on horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the old man he +grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left at the shop +for repairs, and off we started. I'm not sure that it would shoot if I +had ammunition, but I'd like to try. I've scared some of them Fee-neens +nigh to death with it, but I was always afraid one of them would pull a +real gun on me, and then I don't know just what I'd 'a' done." + +Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but +was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: "Next battle there is you won't +find me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I'd sooner have the old +man's sledge. It don't miss fire." His eye brightened as he thought of +Macdonald. "Say," he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his +shoulder, "the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?" + +"He is," said Yates, "but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear +nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?" + +"Oh, well, you see," said Sandy apologetically, "it don't come as +natural to me as chewing, but, then, somebody's got to swear. The old +man's converted, you know." + +"Ah, hasn't he backslid yet?" + +"No, he hasn't. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, +but it didn't; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little +cussing,--not that anyone can cuss like the boss,--he'll pull through. +I think he'll stick this time. You'd ought to have seen him wading into +them d--d Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing 'Onward, Christian +soldiers.' Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when +things got hot, he pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I +tell you, it was a sight. He bowled 'em over like nine-pins. You ought +to 'a' been there." + +"Yes," said Yates regretfully. "I missed it, all on account of that +accursed Stoliker. Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, but +I'll tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I'll let +you know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of +tobacco that you ever put your teeth into." + +Sandy's eyes glittered. "Bless you!" was all he could say, as he bit off +a corner of the offered plug. + +"You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I +thought you were out." + +"I haven't had a bite all day. That's the trouble with leaving in a +hurry." + +"Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get back +and interview those fellows. There's no time to be lost." + +When they reached the group, Macdonald said: + +"Here's a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, +and that you will vouch for him." + +Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, +yet fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and +wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognized one +of the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New +York _Blade_. This was even worse than he had anticipated. + +"Hello, Jimmy!" he said, "how did you get here?" + +"I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face." + +"Whose a--fool?" cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. He +boggled slightly as he came to the "adjective," but got over it safely. +It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, and +cursed Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent +of profanity. Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, +not knowing that he was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, +wondering how he had attained such proficiency in malediction; for, +like all true artists, he was quite unconscious of his own merit in that +direction. + +"Tell this hammer wielder that I'm no anvil. Tell him that I'm a +newspaper man, and didn't come here to fight. He says that if you +guarantee that I'm no Fenian he'll let me go." + +Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked to do +a favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconvenience himself, +but he never forgot the fact that business was business. + +"I can't conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy," said Yates soothingly. +"How am I to know you are not a Fenian?" + +"Bosh!" cried Hawkins angrily. "Conscientiously? A lot you think of +conscience when there is an item to be had." + +"We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy," continued Yates +feelingly. "We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons that +you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of telling +a lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don't you, Mr. Macdonald? You would +not advise me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you?" + +"Certainly not," said the blacksmith earnestly. + +"You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me," cried the +indignant _Blade_ man. "You know very well I'm not a Fenian." + +"Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspect myself +of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?" + +"What's your game?" asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that he +himself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival's dilemma. + +"My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episode sent +over the wires to the _Argus_. You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. When +the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will +save you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do so without +prejudice, as the lawyers say, for I have always held that that will be +the ultimate end of all the _Blade_ staff. + +"Look here, Yates; play fair. Don't run in any conscientious guff on a +prisoner. You see, I have known you these many years." + +"Yes, and little have you profited by a noble example. It is your +knowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let you out +of your hole without due consideration." + +"Are you willing to make a bargain? + +"Always--when the balance of trade is on my side." + +"Well, if you give me a fair start, I'll give you some exclusive +information that you can't get otherwise." + +"What is it?" + +"Oh, I wasn't born yesterday, Dick." + +"That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven't +you something more attractive to offer?" + +"Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the +fight written out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on a +telegraph wire. I'll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, +if you will get me out of this hole, as you call it. I'll give you +permission to use the information in any way you choose, if you will +extricate me, and all I ask is a fair start in the race for a telegraph +office." + +Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Jimmy," he finally said. "I'll buy that +account from you, and give you more money than the _Blade_ will. And +when I get back to New York I'll place you on the staff of the _Argus_ +at a higher salary than the _Blade_ gives you--taking your own word for +the amount." + +"What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely." + +"Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow." + +"Perhaps. But it won't be sold by me. I'll burn my copy before I will +let you have a glimpse of it. That don't need to interfere with your +making me an offer of a better position when we get back to New York; +but while my paper depends on me, I won't go back on it." + +"Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. I always +was weak where the interests of the _Argus_ were concerned. You haven't +any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?" + +"I have, but I won't lend it." + +Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. + +"Now, Mac," he said, "tell me all you saw of this fight." + +The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark +on his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of +sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. One after +another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered together all the +materials for that excellent full-page account "by an eyewitness" that +afterward appeared in the columns of the _Argus_. He had a wonderful +memory, and simply jotted down figures with which he did not care to +burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and then at the facts +they were giving Yates, but the _Argus_ man said nothing, merely setting +down in shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins sneered at, +which Yates considered was more than likely accurate and important. When +he had got all he wanted, he rose. + +"Shall I send you help, Mac?" he asked. + +"No," said the smith; "I think I'll take these fellows to the shop, and +hold them there till called for. You can't vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr. +Yates?" + +"Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These +half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always +seem to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorant +co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you'll enjoy life down +at Mac's shop. It's the best place I've struck since I've been in the +district. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you. +I'll make careful inquiries into your opinions, and as soon as I am +convinced that you can be set free with safety to the community I'll +drop in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so long." + +Yates' one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write his +article as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fears +about the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying +to get through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. He +quickly made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, +if the Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride as +rapidly as he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reached +the edge of the woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. +He found young Bartlett at the barn. + +"Any news of the horses yet?" was the first question he asked. + +"No," said young Bartlett gloomily; "guess they've rode away with them." + +"Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraph +office. Where is the likeliest place to find one?" + +"I don't know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraph +boy's nag; it's in the stable now, having a feed." + +"What telegraph boy?" + +"Oh, didn't you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and I +thought he had found you." + +"No, I haven't been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has some +news for me. I'm going to the house to write, so send him in as soon as +he gets back. Be sure you don't let him get away before I see him." + +"I'll lock the stable," said young Bartlett, "and then he won't get the +horse, at any rate." + +Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that the +girl cried anxiously: + +"Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?" + +"No, Kitty; I'm after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have +in the house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil +mark." + +"A copy book--such as the children use in school?" + +"Just the thing." + +In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials he +required ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, and +went to work as if he were in his own den in the _Argus_ building. + +"This is a ---- of a vacation," he muttered to himself, as he drove his +pencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took no note +of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself and sprang to +his feet. + +"What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?" he cried. "Well, it +doesn't matter; I'll take the horse without his permission." + +He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhat +surprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the good +things which that kitchen always afforded. + +"Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?" + +"I wouldn't let him go in to disturb you while you were writing," said +Kitty, the boy's mouth being too full to permit of a reply. + +"Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that down and come in here; I want +to talk to you for a minute." + +The boy followed him into the front room. + +"Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for the rest of the day." + +"You can't have it," said the boy promptly. + +"Can't have it? I must have it. Why, I'll take it. You don't imagine you +can stop me, do you?" + +The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms across his breast. + +"What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates?" he asked. + +"I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I'll pay you well for +it." + +"And what am I here for?" + +"Why, to eat, of course. They'll feed you high while you wait." + +"Canadian telegraph office?" + +"Certainly." + +"It's no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians couldn't telegraph all you've +written in two weeks. I know 'em," said the boy with infinite scorn. +"Besides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, and you can't +get a private message through till it gets over its fright." + +"By George!" cried Yates, taken aback, "I hadn't thought of that. Are +you sure, boy?" + +"Dead certain." + +"Then what's to be done? I must get through to Buffalo." + +"You can't. United States troops won't let you. They're stopping +everybody--except me," he added, drawing himself up, as if he were the +one individual who stood in with the United States Government. + +"Can you get this dispatch through?" + +"You bet! That's why I came back. I knew, as soon as I looked at you, +that you would write two or three columns of telegraph; and your paper +said 'Spare no expense,' you remember. So says I to myself: 'I'll help +Mr. Yates to spare no expense. I'll get fifty dollars from that young +man, seeing I'm the only person who can get across in time.'" + +"You were mighty sure of it, weren't you?" + +"You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and ready, I'm fed and ready, +and we're losing valuable time waiting for that fifty dollars." + +"Suppose you meet another newspaper man who wants to get his dispatch +through to another paper, what will you do?" + +"Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet two other newspaper men, +that will be one hundred and fifty dollars; but if you want to make sure +that I won't meet any more newspaper men, let us call it one hundred +dollars, and I'll take the risk of the odd fifty for the ready cash; +then if I meet a dozen newspaper men, I'll tell them I'm a telegraph boy +on a vacation." + +"Quite so. I think you will be able to take care of yourself in a cold +and callous world. Now, look here, young man; I'll trust you if you'll +trust me. I'm not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay by results. +If you don't get this dispatch through, you don't get anything. I'll +give you an order for a hundred dollars, and as soon as I get to Buffalo +I'll pay you the cash. I'll have to draw on the _Argus_ when I get to +Buffalo; if my article has appeared, you get your cash; if it hasn't, +you're out. See?" + +"Yes, I see. It won't do, Mr. Yates." + +"Why won't it do?" + +"Because I say it won't. This is a cash transaction. Money down, or you +don't get the goods. I'll get it through all right, but if I just miss, +I'm not going to lose the money." + +"Very well, I'll take it to the Canadian telegraph office." + +"All right, Mr. Yates. I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were some +good. You aint got no sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at your +tent, there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of men out of the +woods. When one of them sees my uniform, he sings out he'd give me +twenty-five dollars to take his stuff. I said I'd see him later, and I +will. Good-by, Mr. Yates." + +"Hold on, there! You're a young villain. You'll end in state's prison +yet, but here's your money. Now, you ride like a house a-fire." + +After watching the departing boy until he was out of sight Yates, with +a feeling of relief, started back to the tent. He was worried about the +interview the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, now that it +was too late, whether, after all, he had not Hawkins' manuscript in his +pocket. He wished he had searched him. That trouble, however, did not +prevent him from sleeping like the dead the moment he lay down in the +tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The result of the struggle was similar in effect to an American railway +accident of the first class. One officer and five privates were killed +on the Canadian side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. The +number of the Fenians killed will probably never be known. Several +were buried on the field of battle, others were taken back by O'Neill's +brigade when they retreated. + +Although the engagement ended as Yates had predicted, yet he was wrong +in his estimate of the Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underrated +by men of experience in military matters. The boys fought well, even +when they saw their ensign fall dead before them. If the affair had been +left entirely in their hands, the result might have been different--as +was shown afterward, when the volunteers, unimpeded by regulars, quickly +put down a much more formidable rising in the Northwest. But in the +present case they were hampered by their dependence on the British +troops, whose commander moved them with all the ponderous slowness of +real war, and approached O'Neill as if he had been approaching Napoleon. +He thus managed to get in a day after the fair on every occasion, +being too late for the fight at Ridgeway, and too late to capture any +considerable number of the flying Fenians at Fort Erie. The campaign, on +the Canadian side, was magnificently planned and wretchedly carried out. +The volunteers and regulars were to meet at a point close to where +the fight took place, but the British commander delayed two hours in +starting, which fact the Canadian colonel did not learn until too +late. These blunders culminated in a ghastly mistake on the field. The +Canadian colonel ordered his men to charge across an open field, and +attack the Fenian force in the woods--a brilliant but foolish move. To +the command the volunteers gallantly responded, but against stupidity +the gods are powerless. In the field they were appalled to hear the +order given to form square and receive cavalry. Even the schoolboys knew +the Fenians could have no cavalry. + +Having formed their square, the Canadians found themselves the helpless +targets of the Fenians in the woods. If O'Neill's forces had shot with +reasonable precision, they must have cut the volunteers to pieces. The +latter were victorious, if they had only known it; but, in this hopeless +square, panic seized them, and it was every man for himself; at the same +time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as they could. This farce +is known as the battle of Ridgeway, and would have been comical had it +not been that death hovered over it. The comedy, without the tragedy, +was enacted a day or two before at a bloodless skirmish which took place +near a hamlet called Waterloo, which affray is dignified in Canadian +annals as the second battle of that name. + +When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, who had watched the contest +with all the helpless anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing the danger, but +having no influence upon the result, followed them, making a wide detour +to avoid the chance shots which were still flying. He expected to come +up with the volunteers on the road, but was not successful. Through +various miscalculations he did not succeed in finding them until toward +evening. At first they told him that young Howard was with the company, +and unhurt, but further inquiry soon disclosed the fact that he had not +been seen since the fight. He was not among those who were killed or +wounded, and it was nightfall before Renmark realized that opposite his +name on the roll would be placed the ominous word "missing." Renmark +remembered that the boy had said he would visit his home if he got +leave; but no leave had been asked for. At last Renmark was convinced +that young Howard was either badly wounded or dead. The possibility of +his desertion the professor did not consider for a moment, although he +admitted to himself that it was hard to tell what panic of fear might +come over a boy who, for the first time in his life, found bullets +flying about his ears. + +With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and made his way to the fatal +field. He found nothing on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, +he came across several bodies lying where they fell; but they were all +those of strangers. Even in the darkness he would have had no difficulty +in recognizing the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He walked +down to the Howard homestead, hoping, yet fearing, to hear the boy's +voice--the voice of a deserter. Everything was silent about the house, +although a light shone through an upper window, and also through one +below. He paused at the gate, not knowing what to do. It was evident +the boy was not here, yet how to find the father or brother, without +alarming Margaret or her mother, puzzled him. As he stood there the door +opened, and he recognized Mrs. Bartlett and Margaret standing in the +light. He moved away from the gate, and heard the older woman say: + +"Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now that she has fallen into +a nice sleep. I wouldn't disturb her to-night, if I were you. It is +nothing but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It's all +over now, thank God. Good-night, Margaret." + +The good woman came through the gate, and then ran, with all the +speed of sixteen, toward her own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, +listening to the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, but +Renmark thought he had never seen anyone so lovely; and he was startled +to find that he had a most un-professor-like longing to take her in his +arms and comfort her. Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared it +would be his fate to add to her anxiety; and it was not until he saw she +was about to close the door that he found courage to speak. + +"Margaret," he said. + +The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, and +the cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with an +unknown joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there, +with wide eyes and suspended breath, gazing into the darkness. Renmark +stepped into the light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue +and anxiety. + +"Margaret," he said again, "I want to speak with you a moment. Where is +your brother?" + +"He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. There +is something wrong," she continued, stepping down beside him. "I can see +it in your face. What is it?" + +"Is your father in the house?" + +"Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me what it is. It is better +to tell me." + +Renmark hesitated. + +"Don't keep me in suspense like this," cried the girl in a low but +intense voice. "You have said too much or too little. Has anything +happened to Henry?" + +"No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed?" + +"I _am_ alarmed. Tell, me quickly." And the girl in her excitement laid +her hands imploringly on his. + +"Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you know +that?" + +"He never told me. I understand--I think so, but I hope not. He was in +the battle today. Is he--has he been--hurt?" + +"I don't know. I'm afraid so," said Renmark hurriedly, now that the +truth had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of the +girl's unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. "He was with +the volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don't know +where he is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he +has been left behind. I have been all over the ground." + +"Yes, yes?" + +"But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him." + +"Take me to where the volunteers were," she sobbed. "I know what has +happened. Come quickly." + +"Will you not put something on your head?" + +"No, no. Come at once." Then, pausing, she said: "Shall we need a +lantern?" + +"No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house." + +Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Renmark had some trouble +in keeping pace with her. She turned at the side road, and sped up the +gentle ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. + +"Here is the place," said Renmark. + +"He could not have been hit in the field," she cried breathlessly, "for +then he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing a +fence. If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did you search +this field?" + +"Every bit of it. He is not here." + +"Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the second +fence. Did you see the battle?" + +"Yes." + +"Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?" + +"No; they did not leave the woods." + +"Then, if he was struck, it could not have been far from the other side +of the second fence. He would be the last to retreat; and that is why +the others did not see him," said the girl, with confident pride in her +brother's courage. + +They crossed the first fence; the road, and the second fence, the girl +walking ahead for a few paces. She stopped, and leaned for a moment +against a tree. "It must have been about here," she said in a voice +hardly audible. "Have you searched on this side?" + +"Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and woods." + +"No, no, not there; but down along the fence. He knew every inch of +this ground. If he were wounded here, he would at once try to reach our +house. Search down along the fence. I--I cannot go." + +Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made +by the zigzag of the rails; and he knew, without looking back, that +Margaret, with feminine inconsistency, was following him. Suddenly she +darted past him, and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing out a +cry that cut Renmark like a knife. + +The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his outstretched hand +grasping the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far, +and reached an insurmountable obstacle. + +Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and rapidly ran his hand +over the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy +passed over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. + +"He is alive!" he cried. "He will get well, Margaret." A statement +somewhat premature to make on so hasty an examination. + +He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the girl he loved. He was +amazed to see her eyes almost luminous in the darkness, blazing with +wrath. + +"When did you know he was with the volunteers?" + +"This morning--early," said the professor, taken aback. + +"Why didn't you tell me?" + +"He asked me not to do so." + +"He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man's sense. You +had no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know, and your +duty to tell me. Through your negligence and stupidity my brother has +lain here all day--perhaps dying," she added with a break in her angry +voice. + +"If you had known--I didn't know anything was wrong until I saw the +volunteers. I have not lost a moment since." + +"I should have known he was missing, without going to the volunteers." + +Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, from a girl whom he had +made the mistake of believing to be without a temper of her own, that +he knew not what to say. He was, however, to have one more example of +inconsistency. + +"Why do you stand there doing nothing, now that I have found him?" she +demanded. + +It was on his tongue to say: "I stand here because you stand there +unjustly quarreling with me," but he did not say it. Renmark was not a +ready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. + +"Margaret," he said sternly, "throw down that fence." + +This curt command, delivered in his most schoolmastery manner, was +instantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to a +young woman, but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts of +America. A rail fence lends itself readily to demolition. Margaret +tossed a rail to the right, one to the left, and to the right again, +until an open gap took the place of that part of the fence. The +professor examined the young soldier in the meantime, and found his leg +had been broken by a musket ball. He raised him up tenderly in his arms, +and was pleased to hear a groan escape his lips. He walked through the +open gap and along the road toward the house, bearing the unconscious +form of his pupil. Margaret silently kept close to his side, her fingers +every now and then unconsciously caressing the damp, curly locks of her +brother. + +"We shall have to get a doctor?" Her assertion was half an inquiry. + +"Certainly." + +"We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that I should +tell you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there." + +"We cannot help disturbing someone." + +"I do not think it will be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur, I +will go for the doctor, and no one need know." + +"I will go for the doctor." + +"You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, +and will soon be back." + +"But there are prowlers and stragglers all along the roads. It is not +safe for you to go alone." + +"It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen can +overtake Gypsy. Now, don't say anything more. It is best that I should +go. I will run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will take the +lamp to the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry +him around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show +you the way." + +With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried his burden alone. She +was waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way round the +house, to where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn under an +apple tree. The light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the boy +gently upon the dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmark +whose room he was in. It was decorated with those pretty little +knickknacks so dear to the heart of a girl in a snuggery she can call +her own. + +"It is not likely you will be disturbed here," she whispered, "until I +come back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor." + +"Don't you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don't like +the thought of your going alone." + +"No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You do not know the way. I +shall be very much quicker. If Arthur should--should--wake, he will know +you, and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were a stranger." + +Margaret was gone before he could say anything more, and Renmark sat +down, devoutly hoping no one would rap at the door of the room while he +was there. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse, when she opened the stable +door, and Gypsy replied with that affectionate, low guttural whinny +which the Scotch graphically term "nickering." She patted the little +animal; and if Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at that +hour of the night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing its +nose lovingly up and down Margaret's sleeve as she buckled the different +straps. There was evidently a good understanding between the two. + +"No, Gyp," she whispered, "I have nothing for you to-night--nothing but +hard work and quick work. Now, you mustn't make a noise till we get past +the house." + +On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, which she always +carried, but never used. Gyp had never felt the indignity of the lash, +and was always willing to do what was required merely for a word. + +Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and there +was therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although +the passing of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that if her +father heard the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come out +to investigate. Halfway between her own home and Bartlett's house she +sprang lightly into the saddle. + +"Now, then, Gyp!" + +No second word was required. Away they sped down the road toward the +east, the mild June air coming sweet and cool and fresh from the distant +lake, laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. The stillness +was intense, broken only by the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, +America's one-phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and eerie +note of a distant loon. + +The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shown +anywhere. The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter of the +day; and the population, scattered as it was, appeared to have retired +into its shell. A spell of silence and darkness was over the land, and +the rapid hoof beats of the horse sounded with startling distinctness +on the harder portions of the road, emphasized by intervals of complete +stillness, when the fetlocks sank in the sand and progress was more +difficult for the plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear that +Margaret felt on her night journey was when she entered the dark arch +of an avenue of old forest trees that bordered the road, like a great, +gloomy cathedral aisle, in the shadow of which anything might be hidden. +Once the horse, with a jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead: +Margaret caught her breath as she saw, or fancied she saw, several men +stretched on the roadside, asleep or dead. Once in the open again she +breathed more freely, and if it had not been for the jump of the horse, +she would have accused her imagination of playing her a trick. Just as +she had completely reassured herself a shadow moved from the fence to +the middle of the road, and a sharp voice cried: + +"Halt!" + +The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted its two +front hoofs together, and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so +quickly to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Margaret kept +her seat. She saw in front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready +to fire if she attempted to disobey his command. + +"Who are you, and where are you going?" he demanded. + +"Oh, please let me pass!" pleaded Margaret with a tremor of fear in her +voice. "I am going for a doctor--for my brother; he is badly wounded, +and will perhaps die if I am delayed." + +The man laughed. + +"Oho!" he cried, coming closer; "a woman, is it? and a young one, +too, or I'm a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I'll have to +investigate this. The brother business won't work with an old soldier. +It's your lover you're riding for at this time of the night, or I'm no +judge of the sex. Just slip down, my lady, and see if you don't like me +better than him; remember that all cats are black in the dark. Get down, +I tell you." + +"If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. +I must get to the doctor." + +"There's no 'must' with a bayonet in front of you. If he has been +wounded, there's plenty of better men killed to-day. Come down, my +dear." + +Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in the darkness, the man +saw her intention. + +"You can't escape, my pretty. If you try it, you'll not be hurt, but +I'll kill your horse. If you move, I'll put a bullet through him." + +"Kill my horse?" breathed Margaret in horror, a fear coming over her +that she had not felt at the thought of danger to herself. + +"Yes, missy," said the man, approaching nearer, and laying his hand on +Gypsy's bridle. "But there will be no need of that. Besides, it +would make too much noise, and might bring us company, which would be +inconvenient. So come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are." + +"If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here and be +your prisoner." + +The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. This was a good joke. + +"Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn't born so recently as all that. A girl in +the hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, +or I'll take you off. This is war time, and I'm not going to waste any +more pretty talk on you." + +The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at her, and something +in his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that +he apparently was not prepared for any sudden movement. Her right hand, +hanging down at her side, had grasped the short riding whip, and, with +a swiftness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she struck him +one stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought down the +lash on the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with her left +over her enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the horse sprang +forward, bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatter that +woke the echoes; then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped +along the road like the wind. It was the first time he had ever felt the +cut of a whip, and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further +obstruction on the road, turned her horse's head toward the rail fence, +and went over it like a bird. In the field, where fast going in the dark +had dangers, Margaret tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse +would not have it so. He shook his head angrily whenever he thought +of the indignity of that blow, while Margaret leaned over and tried to +explain and beg pardon for her offense. The second fence was crossed +with a clean-cut leap, and only once in the next field did the horse +stumble, but quickly recovered and went on at the same breakneck gait. +The next fence, gallantly vaulted over, brought them to the side road, +half a mile up which stood the doctor's house. Margaret saw the futility +of attempting a reconciliation until the goal was won. There, with +difficulty, the horse was stopped, and the girl struck the panes of the +upper window, through which a light shone, with her riding whip. +The window was raised, and the situation speedily explained to the +physician. + +"I will be with you in a moment," he said. + +Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her arms around the neck +of the trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, and +sniffed the air with offended dignity. + +"It _was_ a shame, Gyp," she cried, almost tearfully, stroking the +glossy neck of her resentful friend; "it was, it was, and I know it; but +what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only protector I had, and you _did_ +bowl him over beautifully; no other horse could have done it so well. +It's wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike +you." + +Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss of the head that the +wheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult more +than the pain; and from her--there was the sting of it. + +"I know--I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; and I don't blame you +for being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there was no +time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That's why it came +down so hard. If I had said a word, he would have got out of the way, +coward that he was, and then would have shot you--_you_, Gypsy! Think of +it!" + +If a man can be molded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, how can +a horse expect to be exempt from her influence. Gypsy showed signs of +melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. + +"And it will never happen again, Gypsy--never, never. As soon as we +are safe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you +wouldn't----" + +Gypsy's head rested on Margaret's shoulder, and we must draw a veil over +the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle +with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar of friendship +the unoffending whip was doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. + +When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, +and proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way--the +Concession, as it was called. + +They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light in the +window. + +The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from the +house, and walked together to the window with the stealthy steps of +a pair of housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closed +window, and thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. She tapped +lightly on the pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. + +"We were getting very anxious about you," he whispered. + +"Hello, Peggy!" said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his head +slightly from the pillow and dropping it back again. + +Margaret stooped over and kissed him. + +"My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!" + +"Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was going to +die within sight of the house." + +The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited until +the examination was over, and then went out to find her. + +She sprang forward to meet him. + +"It is all right," he said. "There is nothing to fear. He has been +exhausted by loss of blood, but a few days' quiet will set that right. +Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience at +being kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks." + +"Oh, I am so glad! and--and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. Renmark!" + +"I have done nothing--except make blunders," replied the professor with +a bitterness that surprised and hurt her. + +"How can you say that? You have done everything. We owe his life to +you." + +Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlier +part of the night had deeply pained him, and he hoped for some hint of +disclaimer from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did not realize +that the words were spoken in a state of intense excitement and fear, +that another woman would probably have expressed her condition of mind +by fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had left +absolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark +spoke: + +"I must be getting back to the tent, if it still exists. I think I had +an appointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to this +moment I had forgotten it. Good-night." + +Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had done +to offend him. He stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much the +direction he took, but automatically going the nearest way to the tent. +Fatigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were as +lead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull ache where his heart +was supposed to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of +himself. He entered the tent, and was startled by the voice of Yates: + +"Hello! hello! Is that you, Stoliker?" + +"No; it is Renmark. Are you asleep?" + +"I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Have +you provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?" + +"There's a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven't been near the +tent since early morning." + +"All right; only don't expect a recommendation from me as cook. I'm not +yet hungry enough for raw potatoes. What time has it got to be?" + +"I'm sure I don't know." + +"Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I'm the latest edition of Rip +Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was +dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk." + +"What have you done with him?" + +"I'm not wide enough awake to remember. I _think_ I killed him, but +wouldn't be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that very +likely he is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. What have you +been prowling after all night?" + +There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep. + +"I'll ask _you_ in the morning," muttered Yates drowsily--after which +there was silence in the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Yates had stubbornly refused to give up his search for rest and quiet +in spite of the discomfort of living in a leaky and battered tent. He +expressed regret that he had not originally camped in the middle of +Broadway, as being a quieter and less exciting spot than the place he +had chosen; but, having made the choice, he was going to see the last +dog hung, he said. Renmark had become less and less of a comrade. He was +silent, and almost as gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yates tried +to cheer him up by showing him how much worse another man's position +might be, Renmark generally ended the talk by taking to the wood. + +"Just reflect on my position," Yates would say. "Here I am dead in love +with two lovely girls, both of whom are merely waiting for the word. To +one of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, to a man of my +temperament, inclines me somewhat to the other. Here I am anxious to +confide in you, and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talk +about the complication. You have no sympathy for me, Renny, when I need +sympathy; while I am bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won't +have it. Now, what would you do if you were in my fix? If you would take +five minutes and show me clearly which of the two girls I really ought +to marry, it would help me ever so much, for then I would be sure to +settle on the other. It is the indecision that is slowly but surely +sapping my vitality." + +By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over his eyes, +and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in the silent +halls of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates +generally looked after his retreating figure without anger, but with +mild wonder. + +"Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst," he would say with a +sigh. "It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down about one's +ears in this way." At their last talk of this kind Yates resolved not to +discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisis came. +The crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the +latter lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrilling romance. The +camp was strewn with these engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates +had read many of them, hoping to came across a case similar to his own, +but up to the time of Stoliker's visit he had not succeeded. + +"Hello, Stoliker! how's things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want to +have another tour across country with me?" + +"No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow or +next day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side; though +you need never say I told you. Of course, if they give the warrant to +me, I shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may be done to you, +still, the country is in a state of excitement, and you will at least be +put to some inconvenience." + +"Stoliker," cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, "you are a white +man! You're a good fellow, Stoliker, and I'm ever so much obliged. +If you ever come to New York, you call on me at the _Argus_ +office,--anybody will show you where it is,--and I'll give you the +liveliest time you ever had in your life. It won't cost you a cent, +either." + +"That's all right," said the constable. "Now, if I were you, I would +light out to-morrow at the latest." + +"I will," said Yates. + +Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after a +moment's thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It was +dark before he had finished, and Renmark returned. + +"Stilly," cried the reporter cheerily, "there's a warrant out for my +arrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!" + +"What! to jail?" cried his horrified friend, his conscience now +troubling him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an old +comrade. + +"Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, which is pretty much +the same thing. Still, thank goodness, I don't need to stay there long. +I'll be in New York before I'm many days older. I yearn to plunge into +the arena once more. The still, calm peacefulness of this whole vacation +has made me long for excitement again, and I'm glad the warrant has +pushed me into the turmoil." + +"Well, Richard, I'm sorry you have to go under such conditions. I'm +afraid I have not been as companionable a comrade as you should have +had." + +"Oh, you're all right, Renny. The trouble with you is that you have +drawn a little circle around Toronto University, and said to yourself: +'This is the world.' It isn't, you know. There is something outside of +all that." + +"Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours is around the +_Argus_ office." + +"Yes, but there are special wires from that little circle to all the +rest of the world, and soon there will be an Atlantic cable." + +"I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; still, there is +something outside of New York, even." + +"You bet your life there is; and, now that you are in a more sympathetic +frame of mind, it is that I want to talk with you about. Those two girls +are outside my little circle, and I want to bring one of them within it. +Now, Renmark, which of those girls would you choose if you were me?" + +The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was silent for a moment. +At last he said, speaking slowly: + +"I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite appreciate my point of +view. As you may think I have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will +try for the first and final time to explain it. I hold that any man who +marries a good woman gets more than he deserves, no matter how worthy he +may be. I have a profound respect for all women, and I think that your +light chatter about choosing between two is an insult to both of them. I +think either of them is infinitely too good for you--or for me either." + +"Oh, you do, do you? Perhaps you think that you would make a much better +husband than I. If that is the case, allow me to say you are entirely +wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill her with your gloomy +fits. I wouldn't go off in the woods and sulk, anyhow." + +"If you are referring to me, I will further inform you that I had +either to go off in the woods or knock you down. I chose the less of two +evils." + +"Think you could do it, I suppose? Renny, you're conceited. You're not +the first man who has made such a mistake, and found he was barking +up the wrong tree when it was too late for anything but bandages and +arnica." + +"I have tried to show you how I feel regarding this matter. I might have +known I should not succeed. We will end the discussion, if you please." + +"Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, Renny, I'll tell you +what you need. You need a good, sensible wife worse than any man I +know. It is not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. You will, +before long, grow a crust on you like a snail, or a lobster, or any +other cold-blooded animal that gets a shell on itself. Then nothing can +be done for you. Now, let me save you, Renny, before it is too late. +Here is my proposition: You choose one of those girls and marry her. +I'll take the other. I'm not as unselfish as I may seem in this, for +your choice will save me the worry of making up my own mind. According +to your talk, either of the girls is too good for you, and for once I +entirely agree with you. But let that pass. Now, which one is it to be?" + +"Good God! man, do you think I am going to bargain with you about my +future wife?" + +"That's right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. It shows you are not +yet the prig you would have folks believe. There's still hope for you, +professor. Now, I'll go further with you. Although I cannot make up my +mind just what to do myself, I can tell instantly which is the girl for +you, and thus we solve both problems at one stroke. You need a wife +who will take you in hand. You need one who will not put up with your +tantrums, who will be cheerful, and who will make a man of you. Kitty +Bartlett is the girl. She will tyrannize over you, just as her mother +does over the old man. She will keep house to the queen's taste, and +delight in getting you good things to eat. Why, everything is as plain +as a pikestaff. That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. You +marry Kitty, and I'll marry Margaret. Come, let's shake hands over it." +Yates held up his right hand, ready to slap it down on the open palm of +the professor, but there was no response. Yates' hand came down to his +side again, but he had not yet lost the enthusiasm of his proposal. The +more he thought of it the more fitting it seemed. + +"Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed girl that, if I am as +flippant as you say, she will be just the wife for me. There are depths +in my character, Renmark, that you have not suspected." + +"Oh, you're deep." + +"I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman would develop the best +that is in me. Now, what do you say, Renny?" + +"I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, dark as it is." + +"Ah, well," said Yates with a sigh, "there's no doing anything with you +or for you. I've tried my best; that is one consolation. Don't go away. +I'll let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up." + +And Yates drew a silver half dollar from his pocket. "Heads for +Margaret!" he cried. Renmark clinched his fist, took a step forward, +then checked himself, remembering that this was his last night with the +man who had at least once been his friend. + +Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in one hand, and +slapped the other over it. + +"Now for the turning point in the lives of two innocent beings." He +raised the covering hand, and peered at the coin in the gathering gloom. +"Heads it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard Yates. Congratulate +me, professor." + +Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object lesson in self-control. +Yates set his hat more jauntily on his head, and slipped the +epoch-making coin into his trousers pocket. + +"Good-by, old man," he said. "I'll see you later, and tell you all the +particulars." + +Without waiting for the answer, for which he probably knew there would +have been little use in delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprang +over it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood still for some +minutes, then, quietly gathering underbrush and sticks large and small, +lighted a fire, and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Yates walked merrily down the road, whistling "Gayly the troubadour." +Perhaps there is no moment in a man's life when he feels the joy of +being alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to a girl of whose +favorable answer he is reasonably sure--unless it be the moment he walks +away an accepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, with its +soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air laden with the perfumes +of wood and field. The enchantment of the hour threw its spell over the +young man, and he resolved to live a better life, and be worthy of the +girl he had chosen, or, rather, that fate had chosen for him. He paused +a moment, leaning over the fence near the Howard homestead, for he had +not yet settled in his own mind the details of the meeting. He would +not go in, for in that case he knew he would have to talk, perhaps for +hours, with everyone but the person he wished to meet. If he announced +himself and asked to see Margaret alone, his doing so would embarrass +her at the very beginning. Yates was naturally too much of a diplomat to +begin awkwardly. As he stood there, wishing chance would bring her out +of the house, there appeared a light in the door-window of the room +where he knew the convalescent boy lay. Margaret's shadow formed a +silhouette on the blind. Yates caught up a handful of sand, and flung +it lightly against the pane. Its soft patter evidently attracted the +attention of the girl, for, after a moment's pause, the window opened +carefully, while Margaret stepped quickly out and closed it, quietly +standing there. + +"Margaret," whispered Yates hardly above his breath. + +The girl advanced toward the fence. + +"Is that _you_?" she whispered in return, with an accent on the last +word that thrilled her listener. The accent told plainly as speech that +the word represented the one man on earth to her. + +"Yes," answered Yates, springing over the fence and approaching her. + +"Oh!" cried Margaret, starting back, then checking herself, with a catch +in her voice. "You--you startled me--Mr. Yates." + +"Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. Margaret, I wanted to see +you alone. You know why I have come." He tried to grasp both her hands, +but she put them resolutely behind her, seemingly wishing to retreat, +yet standing her ground. + +"Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it is with me. I love you, +Margaret, loyally and truly. It seems as if I had loved you all my life. +I certainly have since the first day I saw you." + +"Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this." + +"My darling, how else _can_ I talk to you? It cannot be a surprise to +you, Margaret. You must have known it long ago." + +"I did not, indeed I did not--if you really mean it." + +"Mean it? I never meant anything as I mean this. It is everything to +me, and nothing else is anything. I have knocked about the world a good +deal, I admit, but I never was in love before--never knew what love was +until I met you. I tell you that----" + +"Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything more. If it is really +true, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said or +done has made you believe that--that--Oh, I do not know what to say! I +never thought you could be in earnest about anything." + +"You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Margaret. Others have, but I +did not expect it of you. You are far and away better than I am. No one +knows that so well as I. I do not pretend to be worthy of you, but I +will be a devoted husband to you. Any man who gets the love of a good +woman," continued Yates earnestly, plagiarizing Renmark, "gets more +than he deserves; but surely such love as mine is not given merely to be +scornfully trampled underfoot." + +"I do not treat your--you scornfully. I am only sorry if what you say is +true." + +"Why do you say _if_ it is true? Don't you know it is true?" + +"Then I am very sorry--very, _very_ sorry, and I hope it is through +no fault of mine. But you will soon forget me. When you return to New +York----" + +"Margaret," said the young man bitterly, "I shall never forget you. +Think what you are doing before it is too late. Think how much this +means to me. If you finally refuse me, you will wreck my life. I am the +sort of man that a woman can make or mar. Do not, I beg of you, ruin the +life of the man who loves you." + +"I am not a missionary," cried Margaret with sudden anger. "If your life +is to be wrecked, it will be through your own foolishness, and not from +any act of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I am to be +held responsible. I have no wish to influence your future one way or +another." + +"Not for good, Margaret?" asked Yates with tender reproach. + +"No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends on anyone but himself is +not my ideal of a man." + +"Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to attain it." + +Margaret was silent. + +"You think it will be useless for me to try?" + +"As far as I am concerned, yes." + +"Margaret, I want to ask you one more question. I have no right to, but +I beg you to answer me. Are you in love with anyone else?" + +"No!" cried Margaret hotly. "How dare you ask me such a question?" + +"Oh, it is not a crime--that is, being in love with someone else is not. +I'll tell you why I dare ask. I swear, by all the gods, that I shall win +you--if not this year, then next; and if not next, then the year after. +I was a coward to talk as I did; but I love you more now than I did even +then. All I want to know is that you are not in love with another man. + +"I think you are very cruel in persisting as you do, when you have had +your answer. I say no. Never! never! never!--this year nor any other +year. Is not that enough?" + +"Not for me. A woman's 'no' may ultimately mean 'yes.'" + +"That is true, Mr. Yates," replied Margaret, drawing herself up as one +who makes a final plunge. "You remember the question you asked me just +now?--whether I cared for anyone else? I said 'no.' That 'no' meant +'yes.'" + +He was standing between her and the window, so she could not escape by +the way she came. He saw she meditated flight, and made as though he +would intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran around the +house, and he heard a door open and shut. + +He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to the fence, climbing +slowly over where he had leaped so lightly a few minutes before, and +walked down the road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he was a +coward for talking to her as he had done about his wrecked life, yet +he knew now that every word he had spoken was true. What did the future +hold out to him? Not even the incentive to live. He found himself +walking toward the tent, but, not wishing to meet Renmark in his present +frame of mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. He was tired +and broken, and resolved to stay in camp until they arrested him. Then +perhaps she might have some pity on him. Who was the other man she +loved? or had she merely said that to give finality to her refusal? In +his present mood he pictured the worst, and imagined her the wife of +some neighboring farmer--perhaps even of Stoliker. These country girls, +he said to himself, never believed a man was worth looking at unless +he owned a farm. He would save his money, and buy up the whole +neighborhood; _then_ she would realize what she had missed. He climbed +up on the fence beside the road, and sat on the top rail, with his heels +resting on a lower one, so that he might enjoy his misery without the +fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination pictured himself as the owner +in a few years' time of a large section of that part of the country, +with mortgages on a good deal of the remainder, including the farm owned +by Margaret's husband. He saw her now, a farmer's faded wife, coming +to him and begging for further time in which to pay the seven per cent. +due. He knew he would act magnanimously on such an occasion, and grandly +give her husband all the time he required. Perhaps then she would +realize the mistake she had made. Or perhaps fame, rather than riches, +would be his line. His name would ring throughout the land. He might +become a great politician, and bankrupt Canada with a rigid tariff +law. The unfairness of making the whole innocent people suffer for the +inconsiderate act of one of them did not occur to him at the moment, +for he was humiliated and hurt. There is no bitterness like that which +assails the man who has been rejected by the girl he adores--while it +lasts. His eye wandered toward the black mass of the Howard house. It +was as dark as his thoughts. He turned his head slowly around, and, like +a bright star of hope, there glimmered up the road a flickering light +from the Bartletts' parlor window. Although time had stopped as far as +he was concerned, he was convinced it could not be very late, or the +Bartletts would have gone to bed. It is always difficult to realize that +the greatest of catastrophes are generally over in a few minutes. It +seemed an age since he walked so hopefully away from the tent. As he +looked at the light the thought struck him that perhaps Kitty was alone +in the parlor. She at least would not have treated him so badly as the +other girl; and--and she was pretty, too, come to think of it. He always +did like a blonde better than a brunette. + +A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used in some parts of the +country in such a manner as to impress the sitter with the fact of its +extreme discomfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is not wanted +in that immediate neighborhood. Yates recollected this, with a smile, +as he slid off and stumbled into the ditch by the side of the road. His +mind had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten about the ditch. As +he walked along the road toward the star that guided him he remembered +he had recklessly offered Miss Kitty to the callous professor. After +all, no one knew about the episode of a short time before except himself +and Margaret, and he felt convinced she was not a girl to boast of her +conquests. Anyhow, it didn't matter. A man is surely master of himself. + +As he neared the window he looked in. People are not particular about +lowering the blinds in the country. He was rather disappointed to see +Mrs. Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious woman she +was. Still it was consoling to note that none of the men-folks were +present, and that Kitty, with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, +sat reading a book he had lent to her. He rapped at the door, and it was +opened by Mrs. Bartlett, with some surprise. + +"For the land's sake! is that you, Mr. Yates?" + +"It is." + +"Come right in. Why, what's the matter with you? You look as if you had +lost your best friend. Ah, I see how it is,"--Yates started,--"you have +run out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry as a bear." + +"You've hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped around to see if I +could borrow a loaf of bread. We don't bake till to-morrow." + +Mrs. Bartlett laughed. + +"Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I'll get you a loaf in a +minute. Are you sure one is enough?" + +"Quite enough, thank you." + +The good woman bustled out to the other room for the loaf, and Yates +made good use of her temporary absence. + +"Kitty," he whispered, "I want to see you alone for a few minutes. I'll +wait for you at the gate. Can you slip out?" + +Kitty blushed very red and nodded. + +"They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I'm off to-morrow before +they can serve it. But I couldn't go without seeing you. You'll come, +sure?" + +Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in alarm when he spoke of +the warrant. Before anything further could be said Mrs. Bartlett came +in, and Kitty was absorbed in her book. + +"Won't you have something to eat now before you go back?" + +"Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the professor is waiting for +me." + +"Let him wait, if he didn't have sense enough to come." + +"He didn't. I offered him the chance." + +"It won't take us a moment to set the table. It is not the least +trouble." + +"Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am not in the slightest +degree hungry now. I am merely taking some thought of the morrow. No; I +must be going, and thank you very much." + +"Well," said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the door, "if there's anything +you want, come to me, and I will let you have it if it's in the house." + +"You are too good to me," said the young man with genuine feeling, "and +I don't deserve it; but I may remind you of your promise--to-morrow." + +"See that you do," she answered. "Good-night." + +Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the post, where he forgot +it, much to the astonishment of the donor in the morning. He did not +have to wait long, for Kitty came around the house somewhat shrinkingly, +as one who was doing the most wicked thing that had been done since the +world began. Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one of her unresisting +hands in his. + +"I must be off to-morrow," he began. + +"I am very sorry," answered Kitty in a whisper. + +"Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. But I intend to come +back, if you will let me. Kitty, you remember that talk we had in the +kitchen, when we--when there was an interruption, and when I had to go +away with our friend Stoliker?" + +Kitty indicated that she remembered it. + +"Well, of course you know what I wanted to say to you. Of course you +know what I want to say to you now." + +It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, for Kitty had not the +slightest idea, and wanted to go into the house, for it was late, and +her mother would miss her. + +"Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that I love you. You must +know that I have loved you ever since the first day I saw you, when you +laughed at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make something of me, +if that is possible. I am a worthless fellow, not half good enough for a +little pet like you; but, Kitty, if you will only say 'yes,' I will try, +and try hard, to be a better man than I have ever been before." + +Kitty did not say "yes" but she placed her disengaged hand, warm and +soft, upon his, and Yates was not the man to have any hesitation about +what to do next. To practical people it may seem an astonishing thing +that, the object of the interview being happily accomplished, there +should be any need of prolonging it; yet the two lingered there, and he +told her much of his past life, and of how lonely and sordid it had been +because he had no one to care for him--at which her pretty eyes filled +with tears. She felt proud and happy to think she had won the first +great love of a talented man's life, and hoped she would make him happy, +and in a measure atone for the emptiness of the life that had gone +before. She prayed that he might always be as fond of her as he was +then, and resolved to be worthy of him if she could. + +Strange to say, her wishes have been amply fulfilled, and few wives are +as happy or as proud of their husbands as Kitty Yates. The one woman who +might have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life merely kissed +her tenderly when Kitty told her of the great joy that had come to her, +and said she was sure she would be happy; and thus for the second time +Margaret told the thing that was not, but for once Margaret was wrong in +her fears. + +Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving his loaf on the +gatepost behind him. Few realize that it is quite as pleasant to be +loved as to love. The verb "to love" has many conjugations. The earth he +trod was like no other ground he had ever walked upon. The magic of the +June night was never so enchanting before. He strode along with his head +and his thoughts in the clouds, and the Providence that cares for the +intoxicated looked after him, and saw that the accepted lover came to no +harm. He leaped the fence without even putting his hand to it, and then +was brought to earth again by the picture of a man sitting with his head +in his hands beside a dying fire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Yates stood for a moment regarding the dejected attitude of his friend. + +"Hello, old man!" he cried, "you have the most 'hark-from-the-tombs' +appearance I ever saw. What's the matter?" + +Renmark looked up. + +"Oh, it's you, is it?" + +"Of course it's I. Been expecting anybody else?" + +"No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking of a variety of things." + +"You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my boy. She's mine, and I'm +hers--which are two ways of stating the same delightful fact. I'm up +in a balloon, Renny. I'm engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, and most +delightful girl there is from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What d'ye +think of that? Say, Renmark, there's nothing on earth like it. You +ought to reform and go in for being in love. It would make a man of you. +Champagne isn't to be compared to it. Get up here and dance, and don't +sit there like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you comprehend that I am to +be married to the darlingest girl that lives?" + +"God help her!" + +"That's what I say. Every day of her life, bless her! But I don't say it +quite in that tone, Renmark. What's the matter with you? One would think +you were in love with the girl yourself, if such a thing were possible." + +"Why is it not possible?" + +"If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first time. Because you +are a fossil. You are too good, Renny; therefore dull and uninteresting. +Now, there is nothing a woman likes so much as to reclaim a man. It +always annoys a woman to know that the man she is interested in has a +past with which she has had nothing to do. If he is wicked and she can +sort of make him over, like an old dress, she revels in the process. She +flatters herself she makes a new man of him, and thinks she owns that +new man by right of manufacture. We owe it to the sex, Renny, to give +'em a chance at reforming us. I have known men who hated tobacco take +to smoking merely to give it up joyfully for the sake of the women +they loved. Now, if a man is perfect to begin with, what is a dear, +ministering angel of a woman to do with him? Manifestly nothing. The +trouble with you, Renny, is that you are too evidently ruled by a +good and well-trained conscience, and naturally all women you meet +intuitively see this, and have no use for you. A little wickedness would +be the making of you." + +"You think, then, that if a man's impulse is to do what his conscience +tells him is wrong, he should follow his impulse, and not his +conscience?" + +"You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. I believe that an +occasional blow-out is good for a man. But if you ever have an impulse +of that kind, I think you should give way to it for once, just to see +how it feels. A man who is too good gets conceited about himself." + +"I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates," said the professor, rising. +"I will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. My +conscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a long +and happy life with the girl you have--I won't say chosen, but tossed up +for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break every +bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates." + +"Oh, I say, Renmark, you're crazy." + +"Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. A lunatic +is sometimes dangerous." + +"Oh, go away. You're dreaming. You're talking in your sleep. What! +Fight? Tonight? Nonsense!" + +"Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?" + +"No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don't wish to fight at +all, especially to-night. I'm a reformed man, I tell you. I have no +desire to bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow." + +"Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself." + +"It's impossible to fight here in the dark. Don't flatter yourself for +a moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limbered +up, while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous." + +Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into a +blaze. + +"There," he said, "that's better. Now, let me have a look at you. In the +name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?" + +"I refuse to give my reason." + +"Then I refuse to fight. I'll run, and I can beat you in a foot race any +day in the week. Why, you're worse than her father. He at least let me +know why he fought me." + +"Whose father?" + +"Kitty's father, of course--my future father-in-law. And that's another +ordeal ahead of me. I haven't spoken to the old man yet, and I need all +my fighting grit for that." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"Isn't my language plain? It usually is." + +"To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to Miss +Bartlett. Am I right?" + +"Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can't we +postpone our fracas until daylight? I don't want to gather any more +wood. Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thus +ruin whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?" + +"Say? I say I am an idiot." + +"Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you." + +"Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar--to Miss Howard?" + +"Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget. +You remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred to +it a moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time. +Well, I don't care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know the +beginning, you will have to know the end, because I want to wring a +sacred promise from you. You are never to mention this episode of the +toss-up, or of my confession, to any living soul. The telling of it +might do harm, and it couldn't possibly do any good. Will you promise?" + +"Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to." + +"I don't exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you should +understand how the land lies, so you won't make any mistake. Not on _my_ +account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty's ears. Yes, +I proposed to Margaret--first. She wouldn't look at me. Can you credit +that?" + +"Well, now that you mention it, I----" + +"Exactly. I see you _can_ credit it. Well, I couldn't at first; but +Margaret knows her own mind, there's no question about _that_. Say! +she's in love with some other fellow. I found out that much." + +"You asked her, I presume." + +"Well, it's my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I do +that for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when it +comes to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, and +then bolted." + +"You must have used great tact and delicacy." + +"See here, Renmark; I'm not going to stand any of your sneering. I told +you this was a sore subject with me. I'm not telling you because I like +to, but because I have to. Don't put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark. +If _I_ talk fight, I won't begin for no reason and then back out for no +reason. I'll go on." + +"I'll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?" + +"Nothing else. Isn't that enough? It was more than enough for me--at the +time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sitting on the +fence and thinking about it." + +"So long as that?" + +Yates rose from the fire indignantly. + +"I take that back, too," cried the professor hastily. "I didn't mean +it." + +"It strikes me you've become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don't you +think it's about time we took to our bunks? It's late." + +Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendly +fence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendly +stars. He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with its +impressive stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stops in +mid-ocean. After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful stars he +climbed the fence and walked down the road, taking little heed of the +direction. The still night was a soothing companion. He came at last to +a sleeping village of wooden houses, and through the center of the town +ran a single line of rails, an iron link connecting the unknown hamlet +with all civilization. A red and a green light glimmered down the line, +giving the only indication that a train ever came that way. As he went a +mile or two farther the cool breath of the great lake made itself felt, +and after crossing a field he suddenly came upon the water, finding all +further progress in that direction barred. Huge sand dunes formed the +shore, covered with sighing pines. At the foot of the dunes stretched +a broad beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast with the darker +water; and at long intervals fell the light ripple of the languid summer +waves, running up the beach with a half-asleep whisper, that became +softer and softer until it was merged in the silence beyond. Far out on +the dark waters a point of light, like a floating star, showed where a +steamer was slowly making her way; and so still was the night that he +felt rather than heard her pulsating engines. It was the only sign of +life visible from that enchanted bay--the bay of the silver beach. + +Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. +The point of light gradually worked its way to the west, following, +doubtless unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around the +headland, taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. But the +world is very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he thinks +he is. Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees, which +cry he was astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat up and +listened. Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat, and +someone stepped ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowy forms +of three men. Nothing was said, but they got silently into the boat, +which might have been Charon's craft for all he could see of it. The +rattle of the rowlocks and the plash of oars followed, while a voice +cautioned the rowers to make less noise. It was evident that some +belated fugitives were eluding the authorities of both countries. +Renmark thought, with a smile, that if Yates were in his place he would +at least give them a fright. A sharp command to an imaginary company +to load and fire would travel far on such a night, and would give the +rowers a few moments of great discomfort. Renmark, however, did not +shout, but treated the episode as part of the mystical dream, and lay +down on the sand again. He noticed that the water in the east seemed +to feel the approach of morning even before the sky. Gradually the +day dawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the coming sun +spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched the glory +of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty of the +bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back for the +village and the camp beyond. + +The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to see +Stoliker on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistants +were with him, also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed by +the sight of Renmark, but he was there to do his duty. + +"Hello!" he cried, "you're up early. I have a warrant for the arrest of +your friend: I suppose you won't tell me where he is?" + +"You can't expect me to give any information that will get a friend into +trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing." + +"That's as may turn out before a jury," said one of the assistants +gravely. + +"Yes," assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. "That is +for judge and jury to determine--not you." + +"Well," said Renmark, "I will not inform about anybody, unless I am +compelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where I +have been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. If +you go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat's keel on the +sand, and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore in +the night, and a man got on board. I don't say who the man was, and I +had nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. That +is all the information I have to give." + +Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. "What did I tell you?" he +asked. "We were right on his track." + +"You said the railroad," grumbled the man who had spoken before. + +"Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake and +see the traces. Then we can return the warrant." + +Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfast +without disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporter +and told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back to +New York without delay. + +Yates yawned sleepily. + +"Yes," he said, "I've been dreaming it all out. I'll get father-in-law +to tote me out to Fort Erie to-night." + +"Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?" + +"Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I'm going +down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the old folks, +you know. I'll spend the rest of the day making up for that interview +by talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for me there, and, +now that he thinks I'm gone, he will likely make a visit to the tent. +Stoliker is a good fellow, but his strong point is duty, you know; and +if he's certain I'm gone, he'll give his country the worth of its money +by searching. I won't be back for dinner, so you can put in your time +reading my Dime Novels. I make no reflections on your cooking, Renny, +now that the vacation is over; but I have my preferences, and they +incline toward a final meal with the Bartletts. If I were you, I'd have +a nap. You look tired out." + +"I am," said the professor. + +Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear of +the camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, when she +got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hear Stoliker +and his satellites search the premises, just as Yates had predicted they +would; and when he finally awoke, he found to his astonishment that +it was nearly dark. But he was all the better for his sleep, and he +attended to his personal appearance with more than ordinary care. + +Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grim +stolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known by +him to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond his +comprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the first +time in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse for +going there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which he sat at +one of the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparent effect +on him. He even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and a man +who can do that can do anything. To bring up a daughter who would +deliberately accept a man from "the States," and to have a wife who +would aid and abet such an action, giving comfort and support to the +enemy, seemed to him traitorous to all the traditions of 1812, or any +other date in the history of the two countries. At times wild ideas of +getting blind full, and going home to break every breakable thing in the +house, rose in his mind; but prudence whispered that he had to live all +the rest of his life with his wife, and he realized that this scheme of +vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he untied his patient team, after +paying his bill, and drove silently home, not having returned, even by +a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him that day. He was somewhat +relieved to find no questions were asked, and that his wife recognized +the fact that he was passing through a crisis. Nevertheless, there was +a steely glitter in her eye under which he uneasily quailed, for it told +him a line had been reached which it would not be well for him to cross. +She forgave, but it must not go any further. + +When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with some +trepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement. + +"No one but Margaret," said Kitty. + +"And what did she say?" asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion was +of no importance. + +"She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make a +good husband." + +"She's rather a nice girl, is Margaret," remarked Yates, with the air +of a man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than his own, +but indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth for him. + +"She is a lovely girl," said Kitty enthusiastically. "I wonder, Dick, +when you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me." + +"The idea! I haven't a word to say against Margaret; but, compared with +my girl----" + +And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frame +of mind. + +As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had acted +very handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. But as +he approached the house his courage began to fail him, and he thought +it better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had sat the night +before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But as he +sat there it was destined that Yates should receive some information +which would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly out of the gate +in the gathering darkness. They strolled together up the road past him, +absorbed in themselves. When directly opposite the reporter, Renmark put +his arm around Margaret's waist, and Yates nearly fell off the fence. +He held his breath until they were safely out of hearing, then slid down +and crawled along in the shadow until he came to the side road, up which +he walked, thoughtfully pausing every few moments to remark: "Well, I'll +be----" But speech seemed to have failed him; he could get no further. + +He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last time +at the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the somber +trees. He had no energy left to climb over. + +"Well, I'm a chimpanzee," he muttered to himself at last. "The highest +bidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn't have +believed it of you. _You_ a newspaper man? _You_ a reporter from 'way +back? _You_ up to snuff? Yates, I'm ashamed to be seen in your company! +Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter in from a country +newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think that this thing has +been going on right under your well-developed nose, and you never saw +it--worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; that it was thrust at +you twenty times a day--nearly got your stupid head smashed on account +of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent little lamb that you are, +and never even suspected! Dick, you're a three-sheet-poster fool in +colored ink. And to think that both of them know all about the first +proposal! _Both_ of them! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a long way from +New York." + +THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 9263.txt or 9263.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/2/6/9263/ + +Produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Midst of Alarms + +Author: Robert Barr + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9263] +This file was first posted on September 16, 2003 +Last Updated: October 31, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + + + + +Text file produced by Lee Dawei, William A. Pifer-Foote, and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS + </h1> + <h2> + By Robert Barr + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1894 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + TO E.B. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + In the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropolitan Grand Hotel in + Buffalo, Professor Stillson Renmark stood and looked about him with the + anxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy splendor of the modern + American house of entertainment. The professor had paused halfway between + the door and the marble counter, because he began to fear that he had + arrived at an inopportune time, that something unusual was going on. The + hurry and bustle bewildered him. + </p> + <p> + An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was standing at the door, its + steps backed over the curbstone, and beside it was a broad, flat van, on + which stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron-bound trunks + belonging to commercial travelers, and the more fragile, but not less + bulky, saratogas, doubtless the property of the ladies who sat patiently + in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had just arrived was backing up to + the curb, and the irate driver used language suitable to the occasion; for + the two restive horses were not behaving exactly in the way he liked. + </p> + <p> + A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and mournful, voice was filling + the air with the information that a train was about to depart for Albany, + Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. When he came to the words + “the East,” his voice dropped to a sad minor key, as if the man despaired + of the fate of those who took their departure in that direction. Every now + and then a brazen gong sounded sharply; and one of the negroes who sat in + a row on a bench along the marble-paneled wall sprang forward to the + counter, took somebody’s handbag, and disappeared in the direction of the + elevator with the newly arrived guest following him. Groups of men stood + here and there conversing, heedless of the rush of arrival and departure + around them. + </p> + <p> + Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows sat a row of men, some + talking, some reading, and some gazing outside, but all with their feet on + the brass rail which had been apparently put there for that purpose. + Nearly everybody was smoking a cigar. A lady of dignified mien came down + the hall to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to the clerk, who + bent his well-groomed head deferentially on one side as he listened to + what she had to say. The men instantly made way for her. She passed along + among them as composedly as if she were in her own drawing room, inclining + her head slightly to one or other of her acquaintances, which salutation + was gravely acknowledged by the raising of the hat and the temporary + removal of the cigar from the lips. + </p> + <p> + All this was very strange to the professor, and he felt himself in a new + world, with whose customs he was not familiar. Nobody paid the slightest + attention to him as he stood there among it all with his satchel in his + hand. As he timidly edged up to the counter, and tried to accumulate + courage enough to address the clerk, a young man came forward, flung his + handbag on the polished top of the counter, metaphorically brushed the + professor aside, pulled the bulky register toward him, and inscribed his + name on the page with a rapidity equaled only by the illegibility of the + result. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Sam!” he said to the clerk. “How’s things? Get my telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the clerk; “but I can’t give you 27. It’s been taken for a + week. I reserved 85 for you, and had to hold on with my teeth to do that.” + </p> + <p> + The reply of the young man was merely a brief mention of the place of + torment. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> hot,” said the clerk blandly. “In from Cleveland?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Any letters for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Couple of telegrams. You’ll find them up in 85.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were cocksure I’d take that room?” + </p> + <p> + “I was cocksure you’d have to. It is that or the fifth floor. We’re full. + Couldn’t give a better room to the President if he came.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, what’s good enough for the President I can put up with for a + couple of days.” + </p> + <p> + The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The negro sprang forward and + took the “grip.” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty-five,” said the clerk; and the drummer and the Negro disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any place where I could leave my bag for a while?” the professor + at last said timidly to the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Your bag?” + </p> + <p> + The professor held it up in view. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?” And the clerk’s hand hovered + over the bell. + </p> + <p> + “No. At least, not just yet. You see, I’m——” + </p> + <p> + “All right. The baggage man there to the left will check it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Any letters for Bond?” said a man, pushing himself in front of the + professor. The clerk pulled out a fat bunch of letters from the + compartment marked “B,” and handed the whole lot to the inquirer, who went + rapidly over them, selected two that appeared to be addressed to him, and + gave the letters a push toward the clerk, who placed them where they were + before. + </p> + <p> + The professor paused a moment, then, realizing that the clerk had + forgotten him, sought the baggage man, whom he found in a room filled with + trunks and valises. The room communicated with the great hall by means of + a square opening whose lower ledge was breast high. The professor stood + before it, and handed the valise to the man behind this opening, who + rapidly attached one brass check to the handle with a leather thong, and + flung the other piece of brass to the professor. The latter was not sure + but there was something to pay, still he quite correctly assumed that if + there had been the somewhat brusque man would have had no hesitation in + mentioning the fact; in which surmise his natural common sense proved a + sure guide among strange surroundings. There was no false delicacy about + the baggage man. + </p> + <p> + Although the professor was to a certain extent bewildered by the condition + of things, there was still in his nature a certain dogged persistence that + had before now stood him in good stead, and which had enabled him to + distance, in the long run, much more brilliant men. He was not at all + satisfied with his brief interview with the clerk. He resolved to approach + that busy individual again, if he could arrest his attention. It was some + time before he caught the speaker’s eye, as it were, but when he did so, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “I was about to say to you that I am waiting for a friend from New York + who may not yet have arrived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dick Yates! Certainly. He’s here.” Turning to the negro, he said: “Go + down to the billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he is not, + look for him at the bar.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Apparently not noticing the look + of amazement that had stolen over the professor’s face, the clerk said: + </p> + <p> + “If you wait in the reading room, I’ll send Yates to you when he comes. + The boy will find him if he’s in the house; but he may be uptown.” + </p> + <p> + The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging clerk further, did not + ask him where the reading room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurrying + porter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer: + </p> + <p> + “Dining room next floor. Reading, smoking, and writing rooms up the hall. + Billiard room, bar, and lavatory downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + The professor, after getting into the barber shop and the cigar store, + finally found his way into the reading room. Numerous daily papers were + scattered around on the table, each attached to a long, clumsy cleft + holder made of wood; while other journals, similarly encumbered, hung from + racks against the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easy + leather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a paper, drew a thin + book from his pocket, in which he was soon so absorbed that he became + entirely unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light touch on the + shoulder brought him up from his book into the world again, and he saw, + looking down on him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are a guest of this house?” + </p> + <p> + A shade of apprehension crossed the professor’s face as he slipped the + book into his pocket. He had vaguely felt that he was trespassing when he + first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were confirmed. + </p> + <p> + “I—I am not exactly a guest,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by not exactly a guest?” continued the other, regarding + the professor with a cold and scrutinizing gaze. “A man is either a guest + or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your case?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume, technically speaking, I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Technically speaking! More evasions. Let me ask you, sir, as an + ostensibly honest man, if you imagine that all this luxury—this—this + elegance—is maintained for nothing? Do you think, sir, that it is + provided for any man who has cheek enough to step out of the street and + enjoy it? Is it kept up, I ask, for people who are, technically speaking, + not guests?” + </p> + <p> + The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the face of the unfortunate + professor. He had nothing to say. He realized that his conduct was too + flagrant to admit of defense, so he attempted none. Suddenly the + countenance of his questioner lit up with a smile, and he smote the + professor on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven’t changed a particle in fifteen + years! You don’t mean to pretend you don’t know me?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t—you can’t be Richard Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “I not only can, but I can’t be anybody else. I know, because I have often + tried. Well, well, well, well! Stilly we used to call you; don’t you + remember? I’ll never forget that time we sang ‘Oft in the stilly night’ in + front of your window when you were studying for the exams. You always <i>were</i> + a quiet fellow, Stilly. I’ve been waiting for you nearly a whole day. I + was up just now with a party of friends when the boy brought me your card—a + little philanthropic gathering—sort of mutual benefit arrangement, + you know: each of us contributed what we could spare to a general fund, + which was given to some deserving person in the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the professor dryly. “I heard the clerk telling the boy where + he would be most likely to find you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you did, eh?” cried Yates, with a laugh. “Yes, Sam generally knows + where to send for me; but he needn’t have been so darned public about it. + Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to go in print and what should + have the blue pencil run through it. Sam is very discreet, as a general + thing; but then he knew, of course, the moment he set eyes on you, that + you were an old pal of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery laugh for so evidently + wicked a man. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” he said, taking the professor by the arm. “We must get you + located.” + </p> + <p> + They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the clerk’s counter. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Sam,” cried Yates, “can’t you do something better for us than the + fifth floor? I didn’t come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. No sky + parlors for me, if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry, Dick,” said the clerk; “but I expect the fifth floor will be + gone when the Chicago express gets in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “I can let you have 518. That’s the next room to yours. Really, they’re + the most comfortable rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout over + the lake. I wouldn’t mind having a sight of the lake myself, if I could + leave the desk.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. But I didn’t come to look at the lake, nor yet at the railroad + tracks this side, nor at Buffalo Creek either, beautiful and romantic as + it is, nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousand locomotives that + pass within hearing distance for the delight of your guests. The fact is + that, always excepting Chicago, Buffalo is more like—for the + professor’s sake I’ll say Hades, than any other place in America.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Buffalo’s all right,” said the clerk, with that feeling of local + loyalty which all Americans possess. “Say, are you here on this Fenian + snap?” + </p> + <p> + “What Fenian snap?” asked the newspaper man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t you know about it? I thought, the moment I saw you, that you + were here for this affair. Well, don’t say I told you, but I can put you + on to one of the big guns if you want the particulars. They say they’re + going to take Canada. I told ‘em that I wouldn’t take Canada as a gift, + let alone fight for it. I’ve <i>been</i> there.” + </p> + <p> + Yates’ newspaper instinct thrilled him as he thought of the possible + sensation. Then the light slowly died out of his eyes when he looked at + the professor, who had flushed somewhat and compressed his lips as he + listened to the slighting remarks on his country. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sam,” said the newspaper man at last, “it isn’t more than once in a + lifetime that you’ll find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but the + fact is I’m on my vacation just now. About the first I’ve had for fifteen + years; so, you see, I must take care of it. No, let the <i>Argus</i> get + scooped, if it wants to. They’ll value my services all the more when I get + back. No. 518, I think you said?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk handed over the key, and the professor gave the boy the check + for his valise at Yates’ suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Now, get a move on you,” said Yates to the elevator boy. “We’re going + right through with you.” + </p> + <p> + And so the two friends were shot up together to the fifth floor. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + The sky parlor, as Yates had termed it, certainly commanded a very + extensive view. Immediately underneath was a wilderness of roofs. Farther + along were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and a line of masts + and propeller funnels marked the windings of Buffalo Creek, along whose + banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked by some tremendous letter + of the alphabet, done in white paint against the somber brown of the big + building. Still farther to the west was a more grateful and comforting + sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted with white sails and an + occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under the broiling sun. Over the + water, through the distant summer haze, there could be seen the dim line + of the Canadian shore. + </p> + <p> + “Sit you down,” cried Yates, putting both hands on the other’s shoulders, + and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placing his finger on + the electric button, he added: “What will you drink?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble,” said + Renmark. + </p> + <p> + Yates’ hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side, and + he looked reproachfully at the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Great Heavens!” he cried, “have something mild. Don’t go rashly in for + Buffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to it + gradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order what you + like for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that.” He pushed the button, and, + when the boy appeared, said: “Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge it to + Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water for Yates, + No. 520. There,” he continued gleefully, “I’m going to have all the + drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I’ll pay the bill, but I’ll + keep the account to hold over your head in the future. Professor Stillson + Renmark, debtor to Metropolitan Grand—one sherry cobbler, one gin + sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, then, Stilly, let’s talk + business. You’re not married, I take it, or you wouldn’t have responded to + my invitation so promptly.” The professor shook his head. “Neither am I. + You never had the courage to propose to a girl; and I never had the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the old days, Richard,” said + Renmark quietly. + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. “Well, it didn’t hold me back any, to my knowledge. Now + I’ll tell you how I’ve got along since we attended old Scragmore’s academy + together, fifteen years ago. How time does fly! When I left, I tried + teaching for one short month. I had some theories on the education of our + youth which did not seem to chime in with the prejudices the school + trustees had already formed on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + The professor was at once all attention. Touch a man on his business, and + he generally responds by being interested. + </p> + <p> + “And what were your theories?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought a teacher should look after the physical as well as the + mental welfare of his pupils. It did not seem to me that his duty to those + under his charge ended with mere book learning.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” said the professor cordially. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. Well, the trustees didn’t. I joined the boys at their games, + hoping my example would have an influence on their conduct on the + playground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a rattling good cricket + club. You may not remember that I stood rather better in cricket at the + academy than I did in mathematics or grammar. By handicapping me with + several poor players, and having the best players among the boys in + opposition, we made a pretty evenly matched team at school section No. 12. + One day, at noon, we began a game. The grounds were in excellent + condition, and the opposition boys were at their best. My side was getting + the worst of it. I was very much interested; and, when one o’clock came, I + thought it a pity to call school and spoil so good and interesting a + contest. The boys were unanimously of the same opinion. The girls were + happy, picnicking under the trees. So we played cricket all the + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that was carrying your theory a little too far,” said the + professor dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Just what the trustees thought when they came to hear of it. So they + dismissed me; and I think my leaving was the only case on record where the + pupils genuinely mourned a teacher’s departure. I shook the dust of Canada + from my feet, and have never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, + continuing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello! here’s your drinks + at last, Stilly. I had forgotten about them—an unusual thing with + me. That’s all right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hits the spot + on a hot day.) Well, where was I? Oh, yes, at Buffalo. I got a place on a + paper here, at just enough to keep life in me; but I liked the work. Then + I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, afterward to Albany at a still + bigger salary, and of course Albany is only a few hours from New York, and + that is where all newspaper men ultimately land, if they are worth their + salt. I saw a small section of the war as special correspondent, got hurt, + and rounded up in the hospital. Since then, although only a reporter, I am + about the top of the tree in that line, and make enough money to pay my + poker debts and purchase iced drinks to soothe the asperities of the game. + When there is anything big going on anywhere in the country, I am there, + with other fellows to do the drudgery; I writing the picturesque + descriptions and interviewing the big men. My stuff goes red-hot over the + telegraph wire, and the humble postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I + am acquainted with every hotel clerk that amounts to anything from New + York to San Francisco. If I could save money, I should be rich, for I make + plenty; but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket has lost me a lot of + cash, and I don’t seem to be able to get it mended. Now, you’ve listened + with your customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, as you + called it, full sway. I am grateful. I will reciprocate. How about + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + The professor spoke slowly. “I have had no such adventurous career,” he + began. “I have not shaken Canadian dust from my feet, and have not made + any great success. I have simply plodded; and am in no danger of becoming + rich, although I suppose I spend as little as any man. After you were + expel—after you left the aca——” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mutilate the good old English language, Stilly. You were right in + the first place. I am not thin-skinned. You were saying after I was + expelled. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. You remember, you were very + indignant at the time, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I was—and am still, for that matter. It was an outrage!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was proved that you helped to put the pony in the + principal’s room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly. <i>That</i>. Of course. But what I detested was the way + the principal worked the thing. He allowed that villain Spink to turn + evidence against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, whereas I + could claim no such honor. It was Spink’s own project, which I fell in + with, as I did with every disreputable thing proposed. Of course the + principal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. Do you happen to + know if Spink has been hanged yet?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he is a very reputable business man in Montreal, and much + respected.” + </p> + <p> + “I might have suspected that. Well, you keep your eye on the respected + Spink. If he doesn’t fail some day, and make a lot of money, I’m a + Dutchman. But go on. This is digression. By the way, just push that + electric button. You’re nearest, and it is too hot to move. Thanks. After + I was expelled——” + </p> + <p> + “After your departure I took a diploma, and for a year or two taught a + class in the academy. Then, as I studied during my spare time, I got a + chance as master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, as I think, + though the recommendation of Principal Scragmore. I had my degree by this + time. Then——” + </p> + <p> + There was a gentle tap at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” shouted Yates. “Oh, it’s you. Just bring up another cooling + cobbler, will you? and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room + 518. Yes; and then——” + </p> + <p> + “And then there came the opening in University College, Toronto. I had the + good fortune to be appointed. There I am still, and there I suppose I + shall stay. I know very few people, and am better acquainted with books + than with men. Those whom I have the privilege of knowing are mostly + studious persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in the world of + learning. I have not had your advantage, of meeting statesmen who guide + the destinies of a great empire. + </p> + <p> + “No; you always were lucky, Stilly. My experience is that the chaps who do + the guiding are more anxious about their own pockets, or their own + political advancement, than they are of the destinies. Still, the empire + seems to take its course westward just the same. So old Scragmore’s been + your friend, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “He has, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he insulted me only the other day.” + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentlemanly and scholarly a man as + Principal Scragmore insulting anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don’t know him as I do. It was like this: I wanted to find out + where you were, for reasons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgeled my + brains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, and enclosed a stamped + and addressed envelope, as all unsought contributors should do. He + answered—But I have his reply somewhere. You shall read it for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which he + hurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: “I + thought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven’t I paid that bill + yet? This pass is run out. Must get another.” Then he smiled and sighed as + he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparently he could not + find the document he sought. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me the + prepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of no use + in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn’t pay the + postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double. Still, I + don’t mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. He went on to say + that, of all the members of our class, you—<i>you</i>!—were + the only one who had reflected credit on it. That was the insult. The idea + of his making such a statement, when I had told him I was on the New York + <i>Argus</i>! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonder if he ever heard of + Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course. No? Well, Brown, by his + own exertions, became president of the Alum Bank in New York, wrecked it, + and got off to Canada with a clear half million. <i>Yes</i>, sir. I saw + him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps the finest span and carriage in + the city, and lives in a palace. Could buy out old Scragmore a thousand + times, and never feel it. Most liberal contributor to the cause of + education that there is in Canada. He says education made him, and he’s + not a man to go back on education. And yet Scragmore has the cheek to say + that <i>you</i> were the only man in the class who reflects credit on it!” + </p> + <p> + The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a cooling sip + of the cobbler. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Yates, people’s opinions differ. A man like Brown may not be + Principal Scragmore’s ideal. The principal may be local in his ideals of a + successful man, or of one who reflects credit on his teaching.” + </p> + <p> + “Local? You bet he’s local. Too darned local for me. It would do that man + good to live in New York for a year. But I’m going to get even with him. + I’m going to write him up. I’ll give him a column and a half; see if I + don’t. I’ll get his photograph, and publish a newspaper portrait of him. + If that doesn’t make him quake, he’s a cast-iron man. Say, you haven’t a + photograph of old Scrag that you can lend me, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have; but I won’t lend it for such a purpose. However, never mind the + principal. Tell me your plans. I am at your disposal for a couple of + weeks, or longer if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy! Well, I’ll tell you how it is. I want rest and quiet, and the + woods, for a week or two. This is how it happened: I have been steadily at + the grindstone, except for a while in the hospital; and that, you will + admit, is not much of a vacation. The work interests me, and I am always + in the thick of it. Now, it’s like this in the newspaper business: Your + chief is never the person to suggest that you take a vacation. He is + usually short of men and long on things to do, so if you don’t worry him + into letting you off, he won’t lose any sleep over it. He’s content to let + well enough alone every time. Then there is always somebody who wants to + get away on pressing business,—grandmother’s funeral, and that sort + of thing,—so if a fellow is content to work right along, his chief + is quite content to let him. That’s the way affairs have gone for years + with me. The other week I went over to Washington to interview a senator + on the political prospects. I tell you what it is, Stilly, without + bragging, there are some big men in the States whom no one but me <i>can</i> + interview. And yet old Scrag says I’m no credit to his class! Why, last + year my political predictions were telegraphed all over this country, and + have since appeared in the European press. No credit! By Jove, I would + like to have old Scrag in a twenty-four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, + for about ten minutes!” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if he would shine under those circumstances. But never mind him. + He spoke, for once, without due reflection, and with perhaps an + exaggerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. What happened when + you went to Washington?” + </p> + <p> + “A strange thing happened. When I was admitted to the senator’s library, I + saw another fellow, whom I thought I knew, sitting there. I said to the + senator: ‘I will come when you are alone.’ The senator looked up in + surprise, and said: ‘I am alone.’ I didn’t say anything, but went on with + my interview; and the other fellow took notes all the time. I didn’t like + this, but said nothing, for the senator is not a man to offend, and it is + by not offending these fellows that I can get the information I do. Well, + the other fellow came out with me, and as I looked at him I saw that he + was myself. This did not strike me as strange at the time, but I argued + with him all the way to New York, and tried to show him that he wasn’t + treating me fairly. I wrote up the interview, with the other fellow + interfering all the while, so I compromised, and half the time put in what + he suggested, and half the time what I wanted in myself. When the + political editor went over the stuff, he looked alarmed. I told him + frankly just how I had been interfered with, and he looked none the less + alarmed when I had finished. He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor + metaphorically took me to pieces, and then said to my chief: ‘This man is + simply worked to death. He must have a vacation, and a real one, with + absolutely nothing to think of, or he is going to collapse, and that with + a suddenness which will surprise everybody.’ The chief, to my + astonishment, consented without a murmur, and even upbraided me for not + going away sooner. Then the doctor said to me: ‘You get some companion—some + man with no brains, if possible, who will not discuss politics, who has no + opinion on anything that any sane man would care to talk about, and who + couldn’t say a bright thing if he tried for a year. Get such a man to go + off to the woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As far away from + post offices and telegraph offices as possible. And, by the way, don’t + leave your address at the <i>Argus</i> office.’ Thus it happened, Stilly, + when he described this man so graphically, I at once thought of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am deeply gratified, I am sure,” said the professor, with the ghost of + a smile, “to be so promptly remembered in such a connection, and if I can + be of service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, that you have + no intention of stopping in Buffalo?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I haven’t. I’m in for the forest primeval, the murmuring pines + and the hemlock, bearded with moss and green in the something or other—I + forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and lie on my back + instead, on the sward or in a hammock. I’m going to avoid all boarding + houses or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of the + forest.” + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake Shore + Railroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. <i>No</i>, + sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired a tent and a lot of + cooking things. I’m going to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow; and + then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart it somewhere into the + woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. We shall have to be near a farmhouse, + so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of course, is a + disadvantage; but I shall try to get near someone who has never even heard + of New York.” + </p> + <p> + “You may find that somewhat difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence in the + Canadians.” + </p> + <p> + “Often the narrowest,” said the professor slowly, “are those who think + themselves the most cosmopolitan.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, and seeing + nothing applicable to his case in it. “Well, I’ve laid in about half a + ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug.” + </p> + <p> + “An empty one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess, is + good whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at the customhouse. + I don’t suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentucky article, but you + and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And, talking of whisky, + just press the button once again.” + </p> + <p> + The professor did so, saying: + </p> + <p> + “The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smoking + less, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “In my case? Well, come to think of it, there <i>was</i> some conversation + in that direction. Don’t remember at the moment just what it amounted to; + but all physicians have their little fads, you know. It doesn’t do to + humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the professor + wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, and put plenty of ice + in it; but don’t neglect the gin on that account. Certainly; charge it to + room 518.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + “What’s all this tackle?” asked the burly and somewhat red-faced customs + officer at Fort Erie. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Yates, “is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertaining + thereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shall + doubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty. This is + a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attention to the + fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately prevents me making a + libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friend has in that + valise I don’t know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and would advise you + to search him.” + </p> + <p> + “My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearing + apparel,” said the professor, opening his grip. + </p> + <p> + The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, and + evidently did not like the tone of the American. He seemed to be treating + the customs department in a light and airy manner, and the officer was too + much impressed by the dignity of his position not to resent flippancy. + Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in the air, and the officer + resolved that no Fenian should get into the country without paying duty. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going with this tent?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don’t know the country + about here. Say, Stilly, I’m off uptown to attend to the emptiness in this + stone utensil. I’ve been empty too often myself not to sympathize with its + condition. You wrestle this matter out about the tent. You know the ways + of the country, whereas I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of his + friend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with the + officer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously over his + shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marched up the + hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war tunes. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar, + “fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it with the + old familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith.” + </p> + <p> + The bartender did as he was requested. + </p> + <p> + “Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may be + taken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?” + </p> + <p> + The barkeeper smiled. “How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?” + </p> + <p> + “I can suggest nothing better,” replied Yates. “If you are sure you know + how to make it.” + </p> + <p> + The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said, with + the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer: + </p> + <p> + “I am a Kentucky man myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar. “How + is it you happened to be here?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, where I + can at least look at God’s country.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on,” protested Yates. “You’re making only <i>one</i> cocktail.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you say one?” asked the man, pausing in the compounding. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with me on + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say,” replied the other, as he prepared enough for two. + </p> + <p> + “Now I’ll tell you my fix,” said Yates confidentially. “I’ve got a tent + and some camp things down below at the customhouse shanty, and I want to + get them taken into the woods, where I can camp out with a friend. I want + a place where we can have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know the country + round here? Perhaps you could recommend a spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for all the time I’ve been here, I know precious little about the + back country. I’ve been down the road to Niagara Falls, but never back in + the woods. I suppose you want some place by the lake or the river?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t. I want to get clear back into the forest—if there is a + forest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there’s a man in to-day from somewhere near Ridgeway, I think. He’s + got a hay rack with him, and that would be just the thing to take your + tent and poles. Wouldn’t be very comfortable traveling for you, but it + would be all right for the tent, if it’s a big one.” + </p> + <p> + “That will suit us exactly. We don’t care a cent about the comfort. + Roughing it is what we came for. Where will I find him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’ll be along here soon. That’s his team tied there on the side + street. If he happens to be in good humor, he’ll take your things, and as + like as not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiram Bartlett’s his + name. And, talking of the old Nick himself, here he is. I say, Mr. + Bartlett, this gentleman was wondering if you couldn’t tote out some of + his belongings. He’s going out your way.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry specimen of the Canadian farmer + who evidently paid little attention to the subject of dress. He said + nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, with something of contempt + and suspicion in his glance. + </p> + <p> + Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance of all mankind. “Come + in, Mr. Bartlett,” he said cheerily, “and try one of my friend’s excellent + cocktails.” + </p> + <p> + “I take mine straight,” growled Bartlett gruffly, although he stepped + inside the open door. “I don’t want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain + whisky’s good enough for any man, if he <i>is</i> a man. I don’t take no + water, neither. I’ve got trouble enough.” + </p> + <p> + The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the decanter over to the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are,” assented Yates cordially. + </p> + <p> + The farmer did not thaw out in the least because of this prompt agreement + with him, but sipped his whisky gloomily, as if it were a most + disagreeable medicine. + </p> + <p> + “What did you want me to take out?” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of jolly good tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + “How much are you willing to pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know. I’m always willing to do what’s right. How would five + dollars strike you?” + </p> + <p> + The farmer scowled and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Too much,” he said, as Yates was about to offer more. “‘Taint worth it. + Two and a half would be about the right figure. Don’no but that’s too + much. I’ll think on it going home, and charge you what it’s worth. I’ll be + ready to leave in about an hour, if that suits you. That’s my team on the + other side of the road. If it’s gone when you come back, I’m gone, an’ + you’ll have to get somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + With this Bartlett drew his coat sleeve across his mouth and departed. + </p> + <p> + “That’s him exactly,” said the barkeeper. “He’s the most cantankerous + crank in the township. And say, let me give you a pointer. If the subject + of 1812 comes up,—the war, you know,—you’d better admit that + we got thrashed out of our boots; that is, if you want to get along with + Hiram. He hates Yankees like poison.” + </p> + <p> + “And did we get thrashed in 1812?” asked Yates, who was more familiar with + current topics than with the history of the past. + </p> + <p> + “Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told him once that we got what we + wanted from old England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. So I give + you the warning, if you want to get along with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I’ll remember it. So long.” + </p> + <p> + This friendly hint from the man in the tavern offers a key to the solution + of the problem of Yates’ success on the New York press. He could get news + when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as he undoubtedly was, he + somehow got into the inner confidences of all sorts of men in a way that + made them give him an inkling of anything that was going on for the mere + love of him; and thus Yates often received valuable assistance from his + acquaintances which other reporters could not get for money. + </p> + <p> + The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a bench by the customhouse, + chatting with the officer, and gazing at the rapidly flowing broad blue + river in front of them. + </p> + <p> + “I have got a man,” said Yates, “who will take us out into the wilderness + in about an hour’s time. Suppose we explore the town. I expect nobody will + run away with the tent till we come back.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll look after that,” said the officer; and, thanking him, the two + friends strolled up the street. They were a trifle late in getting back, + and when they reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on the point of + driving home. He gruffly consented to take them, if they did not keep him + more than five minutes loading up. The tent and its belongings were + speedily placed on the hay rack, and then Bartlett drove up to the tavern + and waited, saying nothing, although he had been in such a hurry a few + moments before. Yates did not like to ask the cause of the delay; so the + three sat there silently. After a while Yates said as mildly as he could: + </p> + <p> + “Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the driver in a surly tone. “I’m waiting for you to go in + fur that jug. I don’t suppose you filled it to leave it on the counter.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” cried Yates, springing off, “I had forgotten all about it, + which shows the extraordinary effect this country has on me already.” The + professor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with the jar in his hand, + and Bartlett started his team. They drove out of the village and up a + slight hill, going for a mile or two along a straight and somewhat sandy + road. Then they turned into the Ridge Road, as Bartlett called it, in + answer to a question by the professor, and there was no need to ask why it + was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather stony, the road being, in + places, on the bare rock. It paid not the slightest attention to Euclid’s + definition of a straight line, and in this respect was rather a welcome + change from the average American road. Sometimes they passed along avenues + of overbranching trees, which were evidently relics of the forest that + once covered all the district. The road followed the ridge, and on each + side were frequently to be seen wide vistas of lower lying country. All + along the road were comfortable farmhouses; and it was evident that a + prosperous community flourished along the ridge. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the professor, who sat next to him. + </p> + <p> + “You a Canadian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s <i>he</i> from?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend is from New York,” answered the innocent professor. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper than ever, after which he + became silent again. The team was not going very fast, although neither + the load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was muttering a good deal to + himself, and now and then brought down his whip savagely on one or the + other of the horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals quickened + their pace he hauled them in roughly. Nevertheless, they were going + quickly enough to be overtaking a young woman who was walking on alone. + Although she must have heard them coming over the rocky road she did not + turn her head, but walked along with the free and springy step of one who + is not only accustomed to walking, but who likes it. Bartlett paid no + attention to the girl; the professor was endeavoring to read his thin book + as well as a man might who is being jolted frequently; but Yates, as soon + as he recognized that the pedestrian was young, pulled up his collar, + adjusted his necktie with care, and placed his hat in a somewhat more + jaunty and fetching position. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to offer that girl a ride?” he said to Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m not.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is rather uncivil,” he added, forgetting the warning he had + had. + </p> + <p> + “You do, eh? Well, you offer her a ride. You hired the team.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! I will,” said Yates, placing his hand on the outside of the + rack, and springing lightly to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Likely thing,” growled Bartlett to the professor, “that she’s going to + ride with the like of him.” + </p> + <p> + The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hat to + the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Fur two cents,” continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, “I’d whip up + the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “From what I know of my friend,” answered the professor slowly, “I think + he would not object in the slightest.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mind + about galloping his horses. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with great politeness + to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with a thrill of + admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had an eye for the + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Our conveyance,” he began, “is not as comfortable as it might be, yet I + shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, and for + a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choice for her + rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase she answered + briefly: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I prefer to walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come all the + way from the village?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a long distance, and you must be very tired.” There was no reply; + so Yates continued. “At least, I thought it a long distance; but perhaps + that was because I was riding on Bartlett’s hay rack. There is no ‘downy + bed of ease’ about his vehicle.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to its + side, said in a husky whisper to the professor: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent.” + </p> + <p> + “Cover it up yourself,” briefly replied the other; “it isn’t mine.” + </p> + <p> + Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flap of + the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his action he took + up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. He was + flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind the wagon, + and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead, now + quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance between herself and + the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic of him, made up his + mind that this was a case of country diffidence, which was best to be met + by the bringing down of his conversation to the level of his hearer’s + intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been marketing?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?” + </p> + <p> + “We are farmers,” she answered, “and we sell butter and eggs”—a + pause—“and that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane he + looked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a + turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless with the + exercise of walking. + </p> + <p> + “Now, in my country,” continued the New Yorker, “we idolize our women. + Pretty girls don’t tramp miles to market with butter and eggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t the girls pretty—in your country?” + </p> + <p> + Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about this + girl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about the + conversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment was doubtful, + for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smooth brow. + </p> + <p> + “You bet they’re pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. It seems + their birthright. When I say American, I mean the whole continent, of + course. I’m from the States myself—from New York.” He gave an extra + twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself with that air of + conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of the + metropolis. “But over in the States we think the men should do all the + work, and that the women should—well, spend the money. I must do our + ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to their share of the + arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + “It should be a delightful country to live in—for the women.” + </p> + <p> + “They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that America was + paradise for women, purgatory for men, and—well, an entirely + different sort of place for oxen.” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. As + he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just the faintest + suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she could answer, if + she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter of hoofs on the hard + road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whose slender jet-black + polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came dashing past + the wagon. On seeing the two walking together the driver hauled up his + team with a suddenness that was evidently not relished by the spirited + dappled span he drove. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Margaret!” he cried; “am I late? Have you walked in all the way?” + </p> + <p> + “You are just in good time,” answered the girl, without looking toward + Yates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put her foot + on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. It needed no + second glance to see that he was her brother, not only on account of the + family resemblance between them, but also because he allowed her to get + into the buggy without offering the slightest assistance, which, indeed, + was not needed, and graciously permitted her to place the duster that + covered his knees over her own lap as well. The restive team trotted + rapidly down the road for a few rods, until they came to a wide place in + the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly within an ace of upsetting + the buggy; but the young man evidently knew his business, and held them in + with a firm hand. The wagon was jogging along where the road was very + narrow, and Bartlett kept his team stolidly in the center of the way. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, there, Bartlett!” shouted the young man in the buggy; “half the + road, you know—half the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it,” cried Bartlett over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I’ll run you down.” + </p> + <p> + “You just try it.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against his young + neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognized that a + heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light and expensive + buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knew just where to + touch the elder on the raw. His sister’s hand was placed appealingly on + his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now, you move out, or I’ll have the law on you.” + </p> + <p> + “The law!” roared Bartlett; “you just try it on.” + </p> + <p> + “Should think you’d had enough of it by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t, don’t, Henry!” protested the girl in distress. + </p> + <p> + “There aint no law,” yelled Bartlett, “that kin make a man with a load + move out fur anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t any load, unless it’s in that jug.” + </p> + <p> + Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out from under + its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the two in the + buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that + this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. He stepped briskly + forward, and said to Bartlett: + </p> + <p> + “Better drive aside a little, and let them pass.” + </p> + <p> + “You ‘tend to your own business,” cried the thoroughly enraged farmer. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Yates shortly, striding to the horses’ heads. He took them + by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett’s maledictions and pulling at the + lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” cried the young man. The light and glittering carriage + rapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then he + threw the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended. + </p> + <p> + “You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin’ Yank? You + do, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an’ me a-holdin’ the lines! Now + you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t it, eh? Well, then, you’ll lick me fust; and that’s something no + Yank ever did nor kin do.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” cried the professor, getting down on the road, “this has + gone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don’t mind it; he + means no disrespect.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you interfere. You’re all right, an’ I aint got nothin’ ag’in you. + But I’m goin’ to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; see if I + don’t. We met ‘em in 1812, an’ we fit ‘em an’ we licked ‘em, an’ we can do + it ag’in. I’ll learn ye to take my horses by the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Teach,” suggested Yates tantalizingly. + </p> + <p> + Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him and + grasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, + but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett’s right leg + became twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedily convinced + the younger man he would have to give way or a bone would break. He gave + way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came down on his back with + a thud that seemed to shake the universe. + </p> + <p> + “There, darn ye!” cried the triumphant farmer; “that’s 1812 and Queenstown + Heights for ye. How do you like ‘em?” + </p> + <p> + Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off his + coat. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now, Yates,” said the professor soothingly, “let it go at this. + You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked anxiously, as he noticed how white the + young man was around the lips. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; you’re a sensible man. There is a time to interfere + and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certain international + element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, you stand aside, like + a good fellow, for I don’t want to have to thrash both of you.” + </p> + <p> + The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called him by + his last name, matters were serious. + </p> + <p> + “Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again.” + </p> + <p> + “I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yank ever + raised on pumpkin pie that can stand ag’in that grapevine twist.” + </p> + <p> + “Try the grapevine once more.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look in the + young man’s face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can + attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, who shifted + his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At last Bartlett + sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting on a piece of + the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birds buzzing in his + head, while stars and the landscape around joined in a dance together. The + blow was sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Yates, standing over him, “is 1776—the Revolution—when, + to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you like + it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view of history + than you have done. Don’t confine yourself too much to one period. Study + up the War of the Revolution a bit.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until the + surrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, + without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horses + and patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place and + drove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, but Yates, + putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along in front, + switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walking stick as he + proceeded. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently something on + his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growing louder and + louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck the horses, pulled + them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last he said abruptly to + the professor: + </p> + <p> + “What’s this Revolution he talked about?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776.” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?” + </p> + <p> + “The colonies fought with England.” + </p> + <p> + “What colonies?” + </p> + <p> + “The country now called the United States.” + </p> + <p> + “They fit with England, eh? Which licked?” + </p> + <p> + “The colonies won their independence.” + </p> + <p> + “That means they licked us. I don’t believe a word of it. ‘Pears to me I’d + ‘a’ heard of it; fur I’ve lived in these parts a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a little before your day.” + </p> + <p> + “So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an’ I never heard him tell of this + Revolution. He’d ‘a’ known, I sh’d think. There’s a nigger in the fence + somewheres.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that was it, was it? I’ll bet England never knew the Revolution was + a-goin’ on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldn’t thrash ‘em, and it + don’t stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was some + skullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. I got + a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss.” + </p> + <p> + The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character of + Napoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemed a + good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, and + he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usual from the + whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. Yates was + some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, when the horses, + apparently of their own accord, turned in at an open gateway and + proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a large barn, past a + comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front. + </p> + <p> + “This is my place,” said Bartlett shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had told me a few minutes ago,” replied the professor, + springing off, “so that I might have called to my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not frettin’ about him,” said Bartlett, throwing the reins to a young + man who came out of the house. + </p> + <p> + Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. Yates + apparently did not hear him, but something about the next house attracted + the pedestrian’s attention, and after standing for a moment and gazing + toward the west he looked around and saw the professor beckoning to him. + When the two men met, Yates said: + </p> + <p> + “So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the next house. + I saw the buggy in the yard.” + </p> + <p> + “She? Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. I’m going to buy our + supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, how + is my old friend 1812?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was more + troubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him.” + </p> + <p> + “News to him, eh? Well, I’m glad I knocked something into his head.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly did it most unscientifically.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean—unscientifically?” + </p> + <p> + “In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly delivered + undercut.” + </p> + <p> + Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, learned + man know anything about undercuts or science in blows? + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must admit I got there just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But you had + such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any display of + surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrown away.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! What do + you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of self-defense?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in this belligerent + manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a few hints from me.” + </p> + <p> + “With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly.” + </p> + <p> + As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a wooden + rocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road. + </p> + <p> + “What an old tyrant that man must be in his home!” said Yates. There was + no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot. + </p> + <p> + “The old woman’s setting out supper,” said the farmer gruffly, that piece + of information being apparently as near as he could get toward inviting + them to share his hospitality. Yates didn’t know whether it was meant for + an invitation or not, but he answered shortly: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, we won’t stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak fur yourself, please,” snarled Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I go with my friend,” said Renmark; “but we are obliged for the + invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “Please yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as a + stout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the front + door. “Won’t stay? <i>Who</i> won’t stay? I’d like to see anybody leave my + house hungry when there’s a meal on the table! And, young men, if you can + get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I’ll give you, why, + you’re welcome to go there next time, but this meal you’ll have here, + inside of ten minutes. Hiram, that’s your fault. You always invite a + person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!” + </p> + <p> + Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal at the + two men, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind him,” continued Mrs. Bartlett. “You’re at my house; and, + whatever my neighbors may say ag’in me, I never heard anybody complain of + the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Come right + in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort is dusty + enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. Besides, a wash + is refreshing after a hot day.” + </p> + <p> + There was no denying the cordiality of this invitation, and Yates, whose + natural gallantry was at once aroused, responded with the readiness of a + courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house; but as Yates passed + the farmer the latter cleared his throat with an effort, and, throwing his + thumb over his shoulder in the direction his wife had taken, said in a + husky whisper: + </p> + <p> + “No call to—to mention the Revolution, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” answered Yates, with a wink that took in the situation. + “Shall we sample the jug before or after supper?” + </p> + <p> + “After, if it’s all the same to you;” adding, “out in the barn.” + </p> + <p> + Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the house. + </p> + <p> + The young men were shown into a bedroom of more than ordinary size, on the + upper floor. Everything about the house was of the most dainty and + scrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort pervaded the place. + Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a housekeeper to be proud of. Two large + pitchers of cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as had been + predicted, was most refreshing. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” cried Yates, “it’s rather cheeky to accept a man’s hospitality + after knocking him down.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be for most people, but I think you underestimate your cheek, as + you call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Stilly! You’re blossoming out. That’s repartee, that is. With the + accent on the rap, too. Never you mind; I think old 1812 and I will get on + all right after this. It doesn’t seem to bother him any, so I don’t see + why it should worry me. Nice motherly old lady, isn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? 1812?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Mrs. 1812. I’m sorry I complimented you on your repartee. You’ll get + conceited. Remember that what in the newspaper man is clever, in a grave + professor is rank flippancy. Let’s go down.” + </p> + <p> + The table was covered with a cloth as white and spotless as good linen can + well be. The bread was genuine homemade, a term so often misused in the + cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light as to interior. The + butter, cool from the rock cellar, was of a refreshing yellow hue. The + sight of the well-loaded table was most welcome to the eyes of hungry + travelers. There was, as Yates afterward remarked, “abundance, and plenty + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, father!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young men appeared; they heard + the rocking chair creak on the veranda in prompt answer to the summons. + </p> + <p> + “This is my son, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Bartlett, indicating the young man + who stood in a noncommittal attitude near a corner of the room. The + professor recognized him as the person who had taken charge of the horses + when his father came home. There was evidently something of his father’s + demeanor about the young man, who awkwardly and silently responded to the + recognition of the strangers. + </p> + <p> + “And this is my daughter,” continued the good woman. “Now, what might your + names be?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Yates, and this is my friend Professor Renmark of T’ronto,” + pronouncing the name of the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas! too + often done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially extended his hand to + the young woman. “How do you do, Miss Bartlett?” he said, “I am happy to + meet you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped they had a pleasant trip + out from Fort Erie. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we had,” said Yates, looking for a moment at his host, whose eyes + were fixed on the tablecloth, and who appeared to be quite content to let + his wife run the show. “The road’s a little rocky in places, but it’s very + pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you sit down here, and you here,” said Mrs. Bartlett; “and I do hope + you have brought good appetites with you.” + </p> + <p> + The strangers took their places, and Yates had a chance to look at the + younger member of the family, which opportunity he did not let slip. It + was hard to believe that she was the daughter of so crusty a man as Hiram + Bartlett. Her cheeks were rosy, with dimples in them that constantly came + and went in her incessant efforts to keep from laughing. Her hair, which + hung about her plump shoulders, was a lovely golden brown. Although her + dress was of the cheapest material, it was neatly cut and fitted; and her + dainty white apron added that touch of wholesome cleanliness which was so + noticeable everywhere in the house. A bit of blue ribbon at her white + throat, and a pretty spring flower just below it, completed a charming + picture, which a more critical and less susceptible man than Yates might + have contemplated with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, and her father grimly + at the other. The mother sat at the side, apparently looking on that + position as one of vantage for commanding the whole field, and keeping her + husband and her daughter both under her eye. The teapot and cups were set + before the young woman. She did not pour out the tea at once, but seemed + to be waiting instructions from her mother. That good lady was gazing with + some sternness at her husband, he vainly endeavoring to look at the + ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew his open hand nervously down his + face, which was of unusual gravity even for him. Finally he cast an + appealing glance at his wife, who sat with her hands folded on her lap, + but her eyes were unrelenting. After a moment’s hopeless irresolution + Bartlett bent his head over his plate and murmured: + </p> + <p> + “For what we are about to receive, oh, make us truly thankful. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also bowed her head when she + saw surrender in the troubled eyes of her husband. + </p> + <p> + Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen nothing of this silent struggle + of the eyes, being exceedingly hungry, was making every preparation for + the energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent most of his life in + hotels and New York boarding houses, so that if he ever knew the adage, + “Grace before meat,” he had forgotten it. In the midst of his preparations + came the devout words, and they came upon him as a stupefying surprise. + Although naturally a resourceful man, he was not quick enough this time to + cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett’s golden head was bowed, but out of the + corner of her eye she saw Yates’ look of amazed bewilderment and his + sudden halt of surprise. When all heads were raised, the young girl’s + still remained where it was, while her plump shoulders quivered. Then she + covered her face with her apron, and the silvery ripple of a laugh came + like a smothered musical chime trickling through her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Why, <i>Kitty</i>!” cried her mother in astonishment, “whatever is the + matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. “You’ll have to pour out the + tea, mother!” She exclaimed, as she fled from the room. + </p> + <p> + “For the land’s sake!” cried the astonished mother, rising to take her + frivolous daughter’s place, “what ails the child? I don’t see what there + is to laugh at.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently also of the opinion that + there was no occasion for mirth. The professor was equally in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett,” said Yates, “that I am the innocent cause of + Miss Kitty’s mirth. You see, madam—it’s a pathetic thing to say, but + really I have had no home life. Although I attend church regularly, of + course,” he added with jaunty mendacity, “I must confess that I haven’t + heard grace at meals for years and years, and—well, I wasn’t just + prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhibition of myself, which + your daughter was quick to see.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t very polite,” said Mrs. Bartlett with some asperity. + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” pleaded Yates with contrition, “but I assure you it was + unintentional on my part.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless the man!” cried his hostess. “I don’t mean you. I mean Kitty. But + that girl never <i>could</i> keep her face straight. She always favored me + more than her father.” + </p> + <p> + This statement was not difficult to believe, for Hiram at that moment + looked as if he had never smiled in his life. He sat silent throughout the + meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough for two. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for my part,” she said, “I don’t know what farming’s coming to! + Henry Howard and Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud as Punch + in their new covered buggy. Things is very different from what they was + when I was a girl. Then a farmer’s daughter had to work. Now Margaret’s + took her diploma at the ladies’ college, and Arthur he’s begun at the + university, and Henry’s sporting round in a new buggy. They have a piano + there, with the organ moved out into the back room.” + </p> + <p> + “The whole Howard lot’s a stuck-up set,” muttered the farmer. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn’t have that. Any detraction that was necessary + she felt competent to supply, without help from the nominal head of the + house. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t go so far as to say that. Neither would you, Hiram, if you + hadn’t lost your lawsuit about the line fence; and served you right, too, + for it wouldn’t have been begun if I had been at home at the time. Not but + what Margaret’s a good housekeeper, for she wouldn’t be her mother’s + daughter if she wasn’t that; but it does seem to me a queer way to raise + farmers’ children, and I only hope they can keep it up. There were no + pianos nor French and German in <i>my</i> young days.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to hear her play! My lands!” cried young Bartlett, who spoke + for the first time. His admiration for her accomplishment evidently went + beyond his powers of expression. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the conversation had taken, and + he looked somewhat uneasily at the two strangers. The professor’s + countenance was open and frank, and he was listening with respectful + interest to Mrs. Bartlett’s talk. Yates bent over his plate with flushed + face, and confined himself strictly to the business in hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said the professor innocently to Yates, “that you made the + young lady’s acquaintance. I must ask you for an introduction.” + </p> + <p> + For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but he looked at his friend + with an expression that was not kindly. The latter, in answer to Mrs. + Bartlett’s inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard on the road, + and how Yates, with his usual kindness of heart, had offered the young + woman the hospitalities of the hay rack. Two persons at the table were + much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It was young Hiram who + brought about this boon. He was interested in the tent, and he wanted to + know. Two things seemed to bother the boy: First, he was anxious to learn + what diabolical cause had been at work to induce two apparently sane men + to give up the comforts of home and live in this exposed manner, if they + were not compelled to do so. Second, he desired to find out why people who + had the privilege of living in large cities came of their own accord into + the uninteresting country, anyhow. Even when explanations were offered, + the problem seemed still beyond him. + </p> + <p> + After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, where the air was cool + and the view extensive. Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the young men + pitching the tent that night. “Goodness knows, you will have enough of it, + with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty of room here, and you + will have one comfortable night on the Ridge, at any rate. Then in the + morning you can find a place in the woods to suit you, and my boy will + take an ax and cut stakes for you, and help to put up your precious tent. + Only remember that when it rains you are to come to the house, or you will + catch your deaths with cold and rheumatism. It will be very nice till the + novelty wears off; then you are quite welcome to the front rooms upstairs, + and Hiram can take the tent back to Erie the first time he goes to town.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for granted. It never seemed to + occur to her that any of her rulings might be questioned. Hiram sat gazing + silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. + </p> + <p> + Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of the veranda, with his + back against one of the pillars, in such a position that he might, without + turning his head, look through the open doorway into the room. where Miss + Bartlett was busily but silently clearing away the tea things. The young + man caught fleeting glimpses of her as she moved airily about her work. He + drew a cigar from his case, cut off the end with his knife, and lit a + match on the sole of his boot, doing this with an easy automatic + familiarity that required no attention on his part; all of which aroused + the respectful envy of young Hiram, who sat on a wooden chair, leaning + forward, eagerly watching the man from New York. + </p> + <p> + “Have a cigar?” said Yates, offering the case to young Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; thank you,” gasped the boy, aghast at the reckless audacity of + the proposal. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although she was talking volubly to + the professor, her maternal vigilance never even nodded, much less slept. + “A cigar? Not likely! I’ll say this for my husband and my boy: that, + whatever else they may have done, they have never smoked nor touched a + drop of liquor since I’ve known them, and, please God, they never will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess it wouldn’t hurt them,” said Yates, with a lack of tact that + was not habitual. He fell several degrees in the estimation of his + hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Hurt ‘em?” cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. “I guess it won’t get a + chance to.” She turned to the professor, who was a good listener—respectful + and deferential, with little to say for himself. She rocked gently to and + fro as she talked. + </p> + <p> + Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinxlike attitude that gave no + outward indication of his mental uneasiness. He was thinking gloomily that + it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlett unexpectedly in the + streets of Fort Erie on one of those rare occasions when he was enjoying + the pleasures of sin for a season. He had the most pessimistic forebodings + of what the future might have in store for him. Sometimes, when neighbors + or customers “treated” him in the village, and he felt he had taken all + the whisky that cloves would conceal, he took a five-cent cigar instead of + a drink. He did not particularly like the smoking of it, but there was a + certain devil-may-care recklessness in going down the street with a + lighted cigar in his teeth, which had all the more fascination for him + because of its manifest danger. He felt at these times that he was going + the pace, and that it is well our women do not know of all the wickedness + there is in this world. He did not fear that any neighbor might tell his + wife, for there were depths to which no person could convince Mrs. + Bartlett he would descend. But he thought with horror of some combination + of circumstances that might bring his wife to town unknown to him on a day + when he indulged. He pictured, with a shudder, meeting her unexpectedly on + the uncertain plank sidewalk of Fort Erie, he smoking a cigar. When this + nightmare presented itself to him, he resolved never to touch a cigar + again; but he well knew that the best resolutions fade away if a man is + excited with two or three glasses of liquor. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with the professor, Yates looked + up at young Hiram and winked. The boy flushed with pleasure under the + comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him in the attractive halo of + crime that enveloped the fascinating personality of the man from New York. + It seemed to say: + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, but we are men of the world. <i>We</i> know.” + </p> + <p> + Young Hiram’s devotion to the Goddess Nicotine had never reached the + altitude of a cigar. He had surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secluded + corner behind the barn in days when his father was away. He feared both + his father and his mother, and so was in an even more embarrassing + situation than old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to tobacco by + smoking cigarettes of cane made from abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline was + fashionable, even in the country, in those days, and ribs of cane were + used before the metallic distenders of dresses came in. One hoop-skirt, + whose usefulness as an article of adornment was gone, would furnish + delight and smoking material for a company of boys for a month. The cane + smoke made the tongue rather raw, but the wickedness was undeniable. + Yates’ wink seemed to recognize young Hiram as a comrade worthy to offer + incense at the shrine, and the boy was a firm friend of Yates from the + moment the eyelid of the latter drooped. + </p> + <p> + The tea things having been cleared away, Yates got no more glimpses of the + girl through the open door. He rose from his lowly seat and strolled + toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He remembered that he had + forgotten something, and cudgeled his brains to make out what it was. He + gazed down the road at the house of the Howards, which naturally brought + to his recollection his meeting with the young girl on the road. There was + a pang of discomfiture in this thought when he remembered the + accomplishments attributed to her by Mrs. Bartlett. He recalled his + condescending tone to her, and recollected his anxiety about the jar. The + jar! That was what he had forgotten. He flashed a glance at old Hiram, and + noted that the farmer was looking at him with something like reproach in + his eyes. Yates moved his head almost imperceptibly toward the barn, and + the farmer’s eyes dropped to the floor of the veranda. The young man + nonchalantly strolled past the end of the house. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I’ll go to look after the horses,” said the farmer, rising. + </p> + <p> + “The horses are all right, father. I saw to them,” put in his son, but the + old man frowned him down, and slouched around the corner of the house. + Mrs. Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to notice. So good a + listener did not fall to her lot every day. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s looking at you,” said Yates, strolling into the barn, taking a + telescopic metal cup from his pocket, and clinking it into receptive shape + by a jerk of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to Hiram, who + declined any such modern improvement. + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself in that thing. The jug’s good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Three fingers” of the liquid gurgled out into the patented vessel, and + the farmer took the jar, after a furtive look over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here’s luck.” The newspaper man tossed off the potion with the + facility of long experience, shutting up the dish with his thumb and + finger, as if it were a metallic opera hat. + </p> + <p> + The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. Then he smote in the cork + with his open palm. + </p> + <p> + “Better bury it in the wheat bin,” he said morosely. “The boy might find + it if you put it among the oats—feedin’ the horses, ye know.” + </p> + <p> + “Mighty good place,” assented Yates, as the golden grain flowed in a wave + over the submerged jar. “I say, old man, you know the spot; you’ve been + here before.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett’s lowering countenance indicated resentment at the imputation, + but he neither affirmed nor denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, while + the farmer went through a small doorway that led to the stable. A moment + later he heard Hiram calling loudly to his son to bring the pails and + water the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently preparing an <i>alibi</i>,” said Yates, smiling to himself, as + he sauntered toward the gate. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + “What’s up? what’s up?” cried Yates drowsily next morning, as a prolonged + hammering at his door awakened him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>you’re</i> not, anyhow.” He recognized the voice of young Hiram. + “I say, breakfast’s ready. The professor has been up an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I’ll be down shortly,” said Yates, yawning, adding to himself: + “Hang the professor!” The sun was streaming in through the east window, + but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a short distance above + the horizon in the morning. He pulled his watch from the pocket of his + vest, hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seven o’clock. He placed it + to his ear, thinking it had stopped, but found himself mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “What an unearthly hour,” he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates’ years + on a morning newspaper had made seven o’clock something like midnight to + him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o’clock, his usual time + of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed thoughtless cruelty. + However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs. + </p> + <p> + They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, which + was at once dining room and parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for you,” said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set of + jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss + Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No fear,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “If breakfast’s a minute later than seven + o’clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious hungry + by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “By that time?” echoed Yates. “Then do they get up before seven?” + </p> + <p> + “Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!” exclaimed Mrs. Bartlett, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, everything’s done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows milked—everything. + There never was a better motto made than the one you learned when you were + a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’ +</pre> + <p> + I’m sorry you don’t believe in it, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates with some loftiness; “but I’d like to + see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I’m healthy enough, + quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admit that I’m + wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after two o’clock, and + rarely wake before noon.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the New + Yorker, wishing he was as clever. + </p> + <p> + “For the land’s sake!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminine profanity, + “What do you do up so late as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Writing, writing,” said Yates airily; “articles that make dynasties + tremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suits + afterward, as the case may be.” + </p> + <p> + Young Hiram had no patience with one’s profession as a topic of + conversation. The tent and its future position was the burning question + with him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in order to + avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning of the + meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown them how + evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, the boy had + never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. He was + darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharply reprimanded by his + voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and would like + to have laughed. As it was, she contented herself with a sly glance at + Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actually blushed at young Hiram’s + allusion to the confusing incident of the day before. + </p> + <p> + The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew a herring across the + scent. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bartlett has been good enough,” said he, changing the subject, “to + say we may camp in the woods at the back of the farm. I have been out + there this morning, and it certainly is a lovely spot.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett,” said Yates. “Of course Renmark went + out there merely to show the difference between the ant and the butterfly. + You’ll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. Bartlett. He looks + honest; but you wait.” + </p> + <p> + “I know just the spot for the tent,” cried young Hiram—“down in the + hollow by the creek. Then you won’t need to haul water.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague,” said Mrs. Bartlett. + Malaria had not then been invented. “Take my advice, and put your tent—if + you <i>will</i> put it up at all—on the highest ground you can find. + Hauling water won’t hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. My friend uses no water—you + ought to have seen his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have it somewhere, and + am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent as a warning to the youth + of this neighborhood—and what water I need I can easily carry up + from the creek.” + </p> + <p> + The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. Bartlett evidently took a + large discount from all that Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The horses were hitched to + the wagon, which still contained the tent and fittings. Young Hiram threw + an ax and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted to his place, and drove + up the lane leading to the forest, followed by Yates and Renmark on foot, + leaving the farmer in his barnyard with a cheery good-by, which he did not + see fit to return. + </p> + <p> + First, a field of wheat; next, an expanse of waving hay that soon would be + ready for the scythe; then, a pasture field, in which some young horses + galloped to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessed horses, + whinnying sympathetically, off the next with flying heels wildly flung in + the air, rejoicing in their own contrast of liberty, standing at the + farther corner and snorting defiance to all the world; last, the cool + shade of the woods into which the lane ran, losing its identity as a wagon + road in diverging cow paths. Young Hiram knew the locality well, and drove + direct to an ideal place for camping. Yates was enchanted. He included all + that section of the country in a sweeping wave of his hand, and burst + forth: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘This is the spot, the center of the grove: + There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. + In such a place as this, at such an hour, + We’ll raise a tent to ward off sun and shower.’ +</pre> + <p> + Shakespeare improved.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are mistaken,” said Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit it. Couldn’t be a better camping ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I know that. I picked it out two hours ago. But you were wrong in + your quotation. It is not by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem to + think.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it? Some other fellow, eh? Well, if Shake is satisfied, I am. Do + you know, Renny, I calculate that, line for line, I’ve written about ten + times as much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognize that fact? Not a + bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, Stilly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do toward putting up the tent?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything, my boy, everything. I know more about putting up tents than + you do about science, or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you cut + me some stakes about two feet long—stout ones. Here, professor, + throw off that coat and <i>négligé</i> manner, and grasp this spade. I + want some trenches dug.” + </p> + <p> + Yates certainly made good his words. He understood the putting up of + tents, his experience in the army being not yet remote. Young Hiram gazed + with growing admiration at Yates’ deftness and evident knowledge of what + he was about, while his contempt for the professor’s futile struggle with + a spade entangled in tree roots was hardly repressed. + </p> + <p> + “Better give me that spade,” he said at length; but there was an element + of stubbornness in Renmark’s character. He struggled on. + </p> + <p> + At last the work was completed, stakes driven, ropes tightened, trenches + dug. + </p> + <p> + Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the country. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Thus the canvas tent has risen, + All the slanting stakes are driven, + Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood: + Mops his brow, the tired professor; + Grins with satisfaction, Hiram; + Dances wildly, the reporter— + Calls aloud for gin and water. +</pre> + <p> + Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar on it!” And the + frivolous Yates poked the professor in the ribs. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” said the latter, “I can stand only a certain amount of this + sort of thing. I don’t wish to call any man a fool, but you act remarkably + like one.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be mealy-mouthed, Renny; call a spade a spade. By George! young + Hiram has gone off and forgotten his—And the ax, too! Perhaps + they’re left for us. He’s a good fellow, is young Hiram. A fool? Of course + I’m a fool. That’s what I came for, and that’s what I’m going to be for + the next two weeks. ‘A fool—a fool, I met a fool i’ the forest’—just + the spot for him. Who could be wise here after years of brick and mortar? + </p> + <p> + “Where are your eyes, Renny,” he cried, “that you don’t grow wild when you + look around you? See the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves; + listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches; hear the trickle of the + brook down there; notice the smooth bark of the beech and the rugged + covering of the oak; smell the wholesome woodland scents. Renmark, you + have no soul, or you could not be so unmoved. It is like paradise. It is—Say, + Renny, by Jove, I’ve forgotten that jug at the barn!” + </p> + <p> + “It will be left there.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it? Oh, well, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I do say so. I looked around for it this morning to smash it, but + couldn’t find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you ask old Bartlett?” + </p> + <p> + “I did; but he didn’t know where it was.” + </p> + <p> + Yates threw himself down on the moss and laughed, flinging his arms and + legs about with the joy of living. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable clothes with you? Well, + then, go into the tent and put them on; then come out and lie on your back + and look up at the leaves. You’re a good fellow, Renny, but decent clothes + spoil you. You won’t know yourself when you get ancient duds on your back. + Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that our ancestors fought for. When + you come out, we’ll settle who’s to cook and who to wash dishes. I’ve + settled it already in my own mind, but I am not so selfish as to refuse to + discuss the matter with you.” + </p> + <p> + When the professor came out of the tent, Yates roared. Renmark himself + smiled; he knew the effect would appeal to Yates. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! old man, I ought to have included a mirror in the outfit. The + look of learned respectability, set off with the garments of a + disreputable tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing. Well, you + can’t spoil <i>that</i> suit, anyhow. Now sprawl.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m very comfortable standing up, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Get down on your back. You hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Put me there.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean it?” asked Yates, sitting up. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Renny, beware. I don’t want to hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll forgive you for once.” + </p> + <p> + “On your head be it.” + </p> + <p> + “On my back, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not bad, Renny,” cried Yates, springing to his feet. “Now, it will + hurt. You have fair warning. I have spoken.” + </p> + <p> + The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates tried to do it gently at + first, but, finding he could not touch his opponent, struck out more + earnestly, again giving a friendly warning. This went on ineffectually for + some time, when the professor, with a quick movement, swung around his + foot with the airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yates just behind + the knee, at the same time giving him a slight tap on the breast. Yates + was instantly on his back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn’t fair. That was a kick.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it wasn’t. It is merely a little French touch. I learned it in Paris. + They <i>do</i> kick there, you know; and it is good to know how to use + your feet as well as your fists if you are set on by three, as I was one + night in the Latin Quarter.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sat up. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Several times.” + </p> + <p> + Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said: + </p> + <p> + “Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never saw a Bool-var in my life. + You must teach me that little kick.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” said Renmark, sitting down, while the other sprawled at + full length. “Teaching is my business, and I shall be glad to exercise any + talents I may have in that line. In endeavoring to instruct a New York man + the first step is to convince him that he doesn’t know everything. That is + the difficult point. Afterward everything is easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be severe. Know that you are + forgiven. This delicious sylvan retreat does not lend itself to + acrimonious dispute, or, in plain English, quarreling. Let dogs delight, + if they want to; I refuse to be goaded by your querulous nature into + giving anything but the soft answer. Now to business. Nothing is so + conducive to friendship, when two people are camping out, as a definition + of the duties of each at the beginning. Do you follow me?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. What do you propose?” + </p> + <p> + “I propose that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes. We will forage + for food alternate days.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I agree to that.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his friend with reproach in + his eyes. “See here, Renmark; are you resolved to force on an + international complication the very first day? That’s no fair show to give + a man.” + </p> + <p> + “What isn’t?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of meanness in your character, + Renny, that I never suspected. You know that people who camp out always + object to the part assigned them by their fellow-campers. I counted on + that. I’ll do anything but wash dishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn’t you say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because any sane man would have said ‘no’ when I suggested cooking, + merely <i>because</i> I suggested it. There is no diplomacy about you, + Renmark. A man doesn’t know where to find you when you act like that. When + you refused to do the cooking, I would have said: ‘Very well, then, I’ll + do it,’ and everything would have been lovely; but now——” + </p> + <p> + Yates lay down again in disgust. There are moments in life when language + fails a man. + </p> + <p> + “Then it’s settled that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes?” said + the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Settled? Oh yes, if you say so; but all the pleasure of getting one’s own + way by the use of one’s brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with in that + objectionably civil manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that point being arranged, who begins the foraging—you or I?” + </p> + <p> + “Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to the house of the Howards, + and I need an excuse for the first visit; therefore I shall forage to a + limited extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not get any, you + perhaps should bring some from whatever farmhouse you choose as the scene + of your operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, fresh or stale. + When in doubt, buy more bread. You can never go wrong, and the bread + won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “What else should I get? Milk, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; eggs, butter—anything. Mrs. Bartlett will give you hints + on what to get that will be more valuable than mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you all the cooking utensils you need?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. The villain from whom I hired the outfit said it was + complete. Doubtless he lied; but we’ll manage, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. If you wait until I change my clothes, I’ll go with you as far + as the road.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, be advised, and don’t change. You’ll get everything + twenty per cent. cheaper in that rig-out. Besides, you are so much more + picturesque. Your costume may save us from starvation if we run short of + cash. You can get enough for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, well, + if you insist, I’ll wait. Good advice is thrown away on a man like you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret Howard stood at the kitchen table kneading dough. The room was + called the kitchen, which it was not, except in winter. The stove was + moved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached through the open door + leading to the kitchen veranda. + </p> + <p> + When the stove went out or came in, it marked the approach or the + departure of summer. It was the heavy pendulum whose swing this way or + that indicated the two great changes of the year. No job about the farm + was so much disliked by the farmer and his boys as the semiannual removal + of the stove. Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged to go together + again; the stove was heavy and cumbersome, and many a pain in a rural back + dated from the journey of the stove from outhouse to kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The kitchen itself was a one-story building, which projected back from the + two-story farmhouse, giving the whole a T-shape. There was a veranda on + each side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front of the house + itself. + </p> + <p> + Margaret’s sleeves were turned back nearly to her elbows, showing a pair + of white and shapely arms. Now and then she deftly dusted the kneading + board with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as she pressed her + open palms into the smooth, white, spongy mass, the table groaned + protestingly. She cut the roll with a knife into lumps that were patted + into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of snow, in the + sheet-iron pan. + </p> + <p> + At this moment there was a rap at the open kitchen door, and Margaret + turned round, startled, for visitors were rare at that hour of the day; + besides, neighbors seldom made such a concession to formality as to knock. + The young girl flushed as she recognized the man who had spoken to her the + day before. He stood smiling in the doorway, with his hat in his hand. She + uttered no word of greeting or welcome, but stood looking at him, with her + hand on the floury table. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Miss Howard,” said Yates blithely; “may I come in? I have + been knocking for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so I took the + liberty of coming around.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear you knock,” answered Margaret. She neglected to invite him + in, but he took the permission for granted and entered, seating himself as + one who had come to stay. “You must excuse me for going on with my work,” + she added; “bread at this stage will not wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me interrupt you. I have made my + own bread for years, but not in that way. I am glad that you are making + bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? Perhaps I can sell you some butter and eggs as well.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner of his which had much to + do with his getting on in the world. It was difficult to remain long angry + with so buoyant a nature. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven’t forgiven me for that remark. You + surely could not have thought I meant it. I really intended it for a joke, + but I am willing to admit, now that I look back on it, that the joke was + rather poor; but, then, most of my jokes are rather shopworn.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I lack a sense of humor.” + </p> + <p> + “All women do,” said Yates with easy confidence. “At least, all I’ve ever + met.” + </p> + <p> + Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he now placed at the end of the + table, tilting it back until his shoulders rested against the wall. His + feet were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and forth, fanning + himself, for it was warm. In this position he could look up at the face of + the pretty girl before him, whose smooth brow was touched with just the + slightest indication of a faint frown. She did not even glance at the + self-confident young man, but kept her eyes fixed resolutely on her work. + In the silence the table creaked as Margaret kneaded the dough. Yates felt + an unaccustomed sensation of embarrassment creeping over him, and realized + that he would have to re-erect the conversation on a new basis. It was + manifestly absurd that a resourceful New Yorker, who had conversed + unabashed with presidents, senators, generals, and other great people of a + great nation, should be put out of countenance by the unaccountable + coldness of a country girl in the wilds of Canada. + </p> + <p> + “I have not had an opportunity of properly introducing myself,” he said at + last, when the creaking of the table, slight as it was, became + insupportable. “My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New York. I am + camping out in this neighborhood to relieve, as it were, a mental strain—the + result of years of literary work.” + </p> + <p> + Yates knew from long experience that the quickest and surest road to a + woman’s confidence was through her sympathy. “Mental strain” struck him as + a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and the hollow eye of the devoted + student. + </p> + <p> + “Is your work mental, then?” asked Margaret incredulously, flashing, for + the first time, a dark-eyed look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Yates laughed uneasily. He had manifestly missed fire. “I notice by + your tone that you evidently think my equipment meager. You should not + judge by appearances, Miss Howard. Most of us are better than we seem, + pessimists to the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I was saying, the + camping company consists of two partners. We are so different in every + respect that we are the best of friends. My partner is Mr. Stillson + Renmark, professor of something or other in University College, Toronto.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Margaret exhibited some interest in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Renmark? I have heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! I had no idea the fame of the professor had penetrated beyond + the precincts of the university—if a university has precincts. He + told me it had all the modern improvements, but I suspected at the time + that was merely Renny’s brag.” + </p> + <p> + The frown on the girl’s brow deepened, and Yates was quick to see that he + had lost ground again, if, indeed, he had ever gained any, which he began + to doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk about the university. + He was just about to say something deferentially about that institution, + for he was not a man who would speak disrespectfully of the equator if he + thought he might curry favor with his auditor by doing otherwise, when it + occurred to him that Miss Howard’s interest was centered in the man, and + not in the university. + </p> + <p> + “In this world, Miss Howard,” he continued, “true merit rarely finds its + reward; at least, the reward shows some reluctance in making itself + visible in time for man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a man so worthy + that I was rather astonished to learn that you knew of him. I am glad for + his sake that it is so, for no man more thoroughly deserves fame than he.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of him,” said Margaret, “except what my brother has + written. My brother is a student at the university.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he really? And what is he going in for?” + </p> + <p> + “A good education.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a person to have about him. I + often wish I had had a university training. Still, it is not valued in an + American newspaper office as much as might be. Yet,” he added in a tone + that showed he did not desire to be unfair to a man of education, “I have + known some university men who became passably good reporters in time.” + </p> + <p> + The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to the work in hand. She + had the rare gift of silence, and these intervals of quiet abashed Yates, + whose most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any man on earth. + Opposition, or even abuse, merely served as a spur to his volubility, but + taciturnity disconcerted him. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he cried at length, with something like desperation, “let us + abandon this animated discussion on the subject of education, and take up + the more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, Miss Howard, that I + am an expert in bread making?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you said already that you made your bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the sweat of my good lead + pencil. Still, I have made bread in my time, and I believe that some of + those who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The endurance of the human + frame is something marvelous, when you come to think of it. I did the + baking in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the contents of a sack of + flour into a trough made out of a log, pour in a pail or two of melted + snow, and mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer’s assistant + making mortar. There was nothing small or mean about my bread making. I + was in the wholesale trade.” + </p> + <p> + “I pity the unfortunate lumbermen.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss Howard. You ought to pity me + for having to pander to such appetites as those men brought in from the + woods with them. They never complained of the quality of the bread, + although there was occasionally some grumbling about the quantity. I have + fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to a sawmill, but their + voracity was nothing to that of a big lumberman just in from felling + trees. Enough, and plenty of it, is what he wants. No ‘tabbledote’ for + him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it right away. If there is any + washing necessary, he is content to do it after the meal. I know nothing, + except a morning paper, that has such an appetite for miscellaneous stuff + as the man of the woods.” + </p> + <p> + The girl made no remark, but Yates could see that she was interested in + his talk in spite of herself. The bread was now in the pans, and she had + drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the baking board had + disappeared, and the surface of the table was cleaned. With a light, deft + motion of her two hands she had whisked over its surface the spotlessly + white cloth, which flowed in waves over the table and finally settled + calmly in its place like the placid face of a pond in the moonlight. Yates + realized that the way to success lay in keeping the conversation in his + own hands and not depending on any response. In this way a man may best + display the store of knowledge he possesses, to the admiration and + bewilderment of his audience, even though his store consists merely of + samples like the outfit of a commercial traveler; yet a commercial + traveler who knows his business can so arrange his samples on the table of + his room in a hotel that they give the onlooker an idea of the vastness + and wealth of the warehouses from which they are drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Bread,” said Yates with the serious air of a very learned man, “is a most + interesting subject. It is a historical subject—it is a biblical + subject. As an article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Bible than + any other. It is used in parable and to point a moral. ‘Ye must not live + on bread alone.’” + </p> + <p> + From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his listener he feared he + had not quoted correctly. He knew he was not now among that portion of his + samples with which he was most familiar, so he hastened back to the + historical aspect of his subject. Few people could skate over thinner ice + than Richard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused him to return + to more solid footing. + </p> + <p> + “Now, in this country bread has gone through three distinct stages, and + although I am a strong believer in progress, yet, in the case of our most + important article of food, I hold that the bread of to-day is inferior to + the bread our mothers used to make, or perhaps, I should say, our + grandmothers. This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the age of + machinery—and machinery, while it may be quicker, is certainly not + so thorough as old-fashioned hand work. There is a new writer in England + named Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He would like to see it + abolished—at least, so he says. I will send for one of his books, + and show it to you, if you will let me.” + </p> + <p> + “You, in New York, surely do not call the author of ‘Modern Painters’ and + ‘The Seven Lamps of Architecture’ a new man. My father has one of his + books which must be nearly twenty years old.” + </p> + <p> + This was the longest speech Margaret had made to him, and, as he said + afterward to the professor in describing its effects, it took him right + off his feet. He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, that he + had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. The allusion he had made to + him he had heard someone else use, and he had worked it into an article + before now with telling effect. “As Mr. Ruskin says” looked well in a + newspaper column, giving an air of erudition and research to it. Mr. + Yates, however, was not at the present moment prepared to enter into a + discussion on either the age or the merits of the English writer. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” he said, “technically speaking, of course, Ruskin is not a new + man. What I meant was that he is looked on—ah—in New York as—that + is—you know—as comparatively new—comparatively new. But, + as I was saying about bread, the old log-house era of bread, as I might + call it, produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this country. It + was the salt-rising kind, and was baked in a round, flat-bottomed iron + kettle. Did you ever see the baking kettle of other days?” + </p> + <p> + “I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never uses it now. It was + placed on the hot embers, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Yates, noting with pleasure that the girl was thawing, as + he expressed it to himself. “The hot coals were drawn out and the kettle + placed upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals were put on he + top of it. The bread was firm and white and sweet inside, with the most + delicious golden brown crust all around. Ah, that was bread! but perhaps I + appreciated it because I was always hungry in those days. Then came the + alleged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That was the second stage in + the evolution of bread in this country. It also belonged to the log-house + and open-fireplace era. Bread baked by direct heat from the fire and + reflected heat from the polished tin. I think our present cast-iron stove + arrangement is preferable to that, although not up to the old-time + kettle.” + </p> + <p> + If Margaret had been a reader of the New York <i>Argus</i>, she would have + noticed that the facts set forth by her visitor had already appeared in + that paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled “Our Daily Bread.” In + the pause that ensued after Yates had finished his dissertation on the + staff of life the stillness was broken by a long wailing cry. It began + with one continued, sustained note, and ended with a wail half a tone + below the first. The girl paid no attention to it, but Yates started to + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of—What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the stillness was again + broken by what appeared to be the more distant notes of a bugle. + </p> + <p> + “The first,” she said, “was Kitty Bartlett’s voice calling the men home + from the field for dinner. Mrs. Bartlett is a very good housekeeper and is + usually a few minutes ahead of the neighbors with the meals. The second + was the sound of a horn farther up the road. It is what you would deplore + as the age of tin applied to the dinner call, just as your tin oven + supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty’s call much better than + the tin horn. It seems to me more musical, although it appeared to startle + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can talk!” cried Yates with audacious admiration, at which the + girl colored slightly and seemed to retire within herself again. “And you + can make fun of people’s historical lore, too. Which do you use—the + tin horn or the natural voice?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither. If you will look outside, you will see a flag at the top of a + pole. That is our signal.” + </p> + <p> + It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was intended as an + intimation that he might see many things outside to interest him. He felt + that his visit had not been at all the brilliant success he had + anticipated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely an excuse. He + had expected to be able to efface the unfavorable impression he knew he + had made by his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the day before, and + he realized that his position was still the same. A good deal of Yates’ + success in life came from the fact that he never knew when he was beaten. + He did not admit defeat now, but he saw he had, for some reason, not + gained any advantage in a preliminary skirmish. He concluded it would be + well to retire in good order, and renew the contest at some future time. + He was so unused to anything like a rebuff that all his fighting qualities + were up in arms, and he resolved to show this unimpressionable girl that + he was not a man to be lightly valued. + </p> + <p> + As he rose the door from the main portion of the house opened, and there + entered a woman hardly yet past middle age, who had once been undoubtedly + handsome, but on whose worn and faded face was the look of patient + weariness which so often is the result of a youth spent in helping a + husband to overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an American bush farm. When + the farm is conquered, the victor is usually vanquished. It needed no + second glance to see that she was the mother from whom the daughter had + inherited her good looks. Mrs. Howard did not appear surprised to see a + stranger standing there; in fact, the faculty of being surprised at + anything seemed to have left her. Margaret introduced them quietly, and + went about her preparation for the meal. Yates greeted Mrs. Howard with + effusion. He had come, he said, on a bread mission. He thought he knew + something about bread, but he now learned he came too early in the day. He + hoped he might have the privilege of repeating his visit. + </p> + <p> + “But you are not going now?” said Mrs. Howard with hospitable anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “I fear I have already stayed too long,” answered Yates lingeringly. “My + partner, Professor Renmark, is also on a foraging expedition at your + neighbors’, the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp long ago, and will + be expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let anyone go when there is a + meal on the way.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by staying. I imagine there + is quite enough to do in every farmhouse without entertaining any chance + tramp who happens along. Don’t you agree with me for once, Miss Howard?” + </p> + <p> + Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish to stay unless Margaret + added her invitation to her mother’s. He felt vaguely that his reluctance + did him credit, and that he was improving. He could not remember a time + when he had not taken without question whatever the gods sent, and this + unaccustomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspect that there were depths + in his nature hitherto unexplored. It always flatters a man to realize + that he is deeper than he thought. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner because Yates likened himself to a + tramp, and Margaret said coldly: + </p> + <p> + “Mother’s motto is that one more or less never makes any difference.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is your motto, Miss Howard?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think Margaret has any,” said Mrs. Howard, answering for her + daughter. “She is like her father. She reads a great deal and doesn’t talk + much. He would read all the time, if he did not have to work. I see + Margaret has already invited you, for she has put an extra plate on the + table.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then,” said Yates, “I shall have much pleasure in accepting both the + verbal and the crockery invitation. I am sorry for the professor at his + lonely meal by the tent; for he is a martyr to duty, and I feel sure Mrs. + Bartlett will not be able to keep him.” + </p> + <p> + Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in to them, from the outside, + where Margaret was, a cheery voice which Yates had no difficulty in + recognizing as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Margaret!” she said. “Is he here?” + </p> + <p> + The reply was inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited city fellow.” + </p> + <p> + There was evidently an admonition and a warning. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t care if he does. I’ll tell him so to his face. It might do + him good.” + </p> + <p> + Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in the doorway. On the fair + curls, which were flying about her shoulders, had been carelessly placed + her brother’s straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her face was flushed + with running; and of the fact that she was a very lovely girl there was + not the slightest doubt. + </p> + <p> + “How de do?” she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: “I + knew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There’s going to be war + in our house. Mother’s made a prisoner of the professor already, but he + doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s going back to the tent, and she’s packing + up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, till I get back. He + said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. We both + told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn’t leave a place where there + was good cooking for all the professors in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett,” said Yates, + somewhat piqued by her frankness. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but he + doesn’t know when he’s well off, just the same. You do. He’s a quiet, + stubborn man.” + </p> + <p> + “And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett—a quiet, stubborn + man, or one who is conceited?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. + “Detest, you mean. I’m sure I don’t know. Margaret, which is the most + objectionable?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenly + questioned, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, + like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: “Well, I must be off, or + mother will have to tie up the professor to keep him,” and was off + accordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn. + </p> + <p> + “Extraordinary girl,” remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls and calico + dress disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “She is a good girl,” cried Margaret emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don’t you think she is + somewhat free with her opinions about other people?” asked Yates. + </p> + <p> + “She did not know that you were within hearing when she first spoke, and + after that she brazened it out. That’s her way. But she’s a kind girl and + good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken the trouble to come over + here merely because your friend happened to be surly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Renny is anything but surly,” said Yates, as quick to defend his + friend as she was to stand up for hers. “As I was saying a moment ago, he + is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the camp, nothing would + keep him. Now he will have a good dinner in peace when he knows I am not + waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he will get when I take to + the cooking.” + </p> + <p> + By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had done its work, and + Margaret’s father and brother arrived from the field. They put their broad + straw hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking water in a tin + basin from the rain barrel, placed it on a bench outside and proceeded to + wash vigorously. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Howard was much more interested in his guest than his daughter had + apparently been. Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had a + sympathetic audience, and he showed an easy familiarity with the great + people of this earth that was fascinating to a man who had read much of + them, but who was, in a measure, locked out of the bustling world. Yates + knew many of the generals in the late war, and all of the politicians. Of + the latter there was not an honest man among them, according to the + reporter; of the former there were few who had not made the most ghastly + mistakes. He looked on the world as a vast hoard of commonplace people, + wherein the men of real genius were buried out of sight, if there were any + men of genius, which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top were there + either through their own intrigues or because they had been forced up by + circumstances. His opinions sometimes caused a look of pain to cross the + face of the older man, who was enthusiastic in his quiet way, and had his + heroes. He would have been a strong Republican if he had lived in the + States; and he had watched the four-years’ struggle, through the papers, + with keen and absorbed interest. The North had been fighting, in his + opinion, for the great and undying principle of human liberty, and had + deservedly won. Yates had no such delusion. It was a politicians’ war, he + said. Principle wasn’t in it. The North would have been quite willing to + let slavery stand if the situation had not been forced by the firing on + Fort Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not at all meet the approval + of Mr. Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” he said, “I suppose Grant will go down into history as a great + general. The truth is that he simply knew how to subtract. That is all + there is in it. He had the additional boon of an utter lack of + imagination. We had many generals who were greater than Grant, but they + were troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin the best general in + the world. Now, take yourself, for example. If you were to kill a man + unintentionally, your conscience would trouble you all the rest of your + life. Think how you would feel, then, if you were to cause the death of + ten thousand men all in a lump. It would break you down. The mistake an + ordinary man makes may result in the loss of a few dollars, which can be + replaced; but if a general makes a mistake, the loss can never be made up, + for his mistakes are estimated by the lives of men. He says ‘Go’ when he + should have said ‘Come.’ He says ‘Attack’ when he should have said + ‘Retreat.’ What is the result? Five, ten, or fifteen thousand men, many of + them better men than he is, left dead on the field. Grant had nothing of + this feeling. He simply knew how to subtract, as I said before. It is like + this: You have fifty thousand men and I have twenty-five thousand. When I + kill twenty-five thousand of your men and you kill twenty-five thousand of + my men, you have twenty-five thousand left and I have none. You are the + victor, and the thoughtless crowd howls about you, but that does not make + you out the greatest general by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant’s + number, and Grant had Lee’s, the result would have been reversed. Grant + set himself to do this little sum in subtraction, and he did it—did + it probably as quickly as any other man would have done it, and he knew + that when it was done the war would have to stop. That’s all there was to + it.” + </p> + <p> + The older man shook his head. “I doubt,” he said, “if history will take + your view either of the motives of those in power or of the way the war + was carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, heroically fought by + those deluded people who were in the wrong, and stubbornly contested at + immense self-sacrifice by those who were in the right.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity it was,” said young Howard to the newspaper man, with a + rudeness that drew a frown from his father, “that you didn’t get to show + ‘em how to carry on the war.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “I flatter myself + that I would have given them some valuable pointers. Still, it is too late + to bemoan their neglect now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you may have a chance yet,” continued the unabashed young man. “They + say the Fenians are coming over here this time sure. You ought to + volunteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how a war ought to be + carried on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s nothing in the Fenian scare! They won’t venture over. They + fight with their mouths. It’s the safest way.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” said the youth significantly. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because the boy had been so inconsiderate as to make these + remarks that Yates received a cordial invitation from both Mr. and Mrs. + Howard to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Of this privilege + Yates resolved to avail himself, but he would have prized it more if Miss + Margaret had added her word—which she did not, perhaps because she + was so busy looking after the bread. Yates knew, however, that with a + woman apparent progress is rarely synonymous with real progress. This + knowledge soothed his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his own feelings with something + like astonishment. The march of events was rapid even for him, who was not + slow in anything he undertook. + </p> + <p> + “It is the result of leisure,” he said to himself. “It is the first + breathing time I have had for fifteen years. Not two days of my vacation + gone, and here I am hopelessly in love!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + Yates had intended to call at the Bartletts’ and escort Renmark back to + the woods; but when he got outside he forgot the existence of the + professor, and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, switching at + the weeds that always grow in great profusion along the ditches of a + Canadian country thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and as Yates + wandered on in the direction of the forest he thought of many things. He + had feared that he would find life deadly dull so far from New York, + without even the consolation of a morning-paper, the feverish reading of + which had become a sort of vice with him, like smoking. He had imagined + that he could not exist without his morning paper, but he now realized + that it was not nearly so important a factor in life as he had supposed; + yet he sighed when he thought of it, and wished he had one with him of + current date. He could now, for the first time in many years, read a paper + without that vague fear which always possessed him when he took up an + opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Before he could enjoy it his + habit was to scan it over rapidly to see if it contained any item of news + which he himself had missed the previous day. The impending “scoop” hangs + over the head of the newspaper man like the sword so often quoted. Great + as the joy of beating the opposition press is, it never takes the + poignancy of the sting away from a beating received. If a terrible + disaster took place, and another paper gave fuller particulars than the <i>Argus</i> + did, Yates found himself almost wishing the accident had not occurred, + although he recognized such a wish as decidedly unprofessional. + </p> + <p> + Richard’s idea of the correct spirit in a reporter was exemplified by an + old broken-down, out-of-work morning newspaper man, who had not long + before committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for the evening + papers to get the sensational item. He had sent in to the paper for which + he formerly worked a full account of the fatality, accurately headed and + sub-headed; and, in his note to the city editor, he told why he had chosen + the hour of 7 P.M. as the time for his departure from an unappreciative + world. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” said Yates under his breath, and suddenly pulling himself + together, “I mustn’t think of New York if I intend to stay here for a + couple of weeks. I’ll be city-sick the first thing I know, and then I’ll + make a break for the metropolis. This will never do. The air here is + enchanting, it fills a man with new life. This is the spot for me, and + I’ll stick to it till I’m right again. Hang New York! But I mustn’t think + of Broadway or I’m done for.” + </p> + <p> + He came to the spot in the road where he could see the white side of the + tent under the dark trees, and climbed up on the rail fence, sitting there + for a few moments. The occasional call of a quail from a neighboring field + was the only sound that broke the intense stillness. The warm smell of + spring was in the air. The buds had but recently broken, and the woods, + intensely green, had a look of newness and freshness that was comforting + to the eye and grateful to the other senses. The world seemed to be but + lately made. The young man breathed deeply of the vivifying air, and said: + “No, there’s nothing the matter with this place, Dick. New York’s a fool + to it.” Then, with a sigh, he added: “If I can stand it for two weeks. I + wonder how the boys are getting on without me.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back to the great city, + although he told himself that it wouldn’t do. He gazed at the peaceful, + spreading landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw nothing. The roar + of the streets was in his ears. Suddenly his reverie was broken by a voice + from the forest. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Yates, where’s the bread?” + </p> + <p> + Yates looked quickly around, somewhat startled, and saw the professor + coming toward him. + </p> + <p> + “The bread? I forgot all about it. No; I didn’t either. They were baking—that + was it. I am to go for it later in the day. What loot did you rake in, + professor?” + </p> + <p> + “Vegetables mostly.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right. Have a good dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I was just counting the + farmhouses in sight. What do you say to boarding round among them? You are + a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. Isn’t education in this + country encouraged by paying the teacher as little as possible, and + letting him take it out in eating his way from one house to another? Ever + board around, Renny?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, it is out of date now.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, Renmark. We become less + brave as we grow older. By the way, how is old man Bartlett? As well as + could be expected?” + </p> + <p> + “He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has sent out two chairs to the + tent; she fears we will get rheumatism if we sit on the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a kind woman, Renny, and a thoughtful. And that reminds me: I have + a hammock somewhere among my belongings. I will swing it up. Chairs are + comfortable, but a hammock is luxury.” + </p> + <p> + Yates slid down from the fence top, and together the two men walked to the + tent. The hammock was unfurled and slung between two trees. Yates tested + it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its restful folds of + network. He was swaying indolently several feet from the ground when he + said to Renmark: + </p> + <p> + “I call this paradise—paradise regained; but it will be paradise + lost next month. Now, professor, I am ready to do the cooking, but I have + a fancy for doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the useful prosaic + man executes. Where are your vegetables, Renny? Potatoes and carrots, eh? + Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny; but first you must bring some + water from the spring.” + </p> + <p> + The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. Yates continued to swing + in the hammock alternating directions with rhapsodies on the beauties of + the day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said but little, and + attended strictly to the business in hand. The vegetables finished, he + took a book from his valise, tilted a chair back against a tree, and began + to read. + </p> + <p> + “I’m depending upon you for the bread,” he said to the drowsy man in the + hammock. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not misplaced. I shall presently + journey down into the realms of civilization, and fill the long-felt want. + I shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartlett homestead, but I warn you + that if there is a meal on, at either place, you will not have me here to + test your first efforts at cooking. So you may have to wait until + breakfast for my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly from the hammock, and + looked regretfully at it when he stood once more on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the curse of life here below. + It is what we are all after. If it were not for the necessity of bread and + clothing, what a good time a fellow might have. Well, my blessing, Renny. + Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he came to the beginning of + a lane which led to the Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer and his son + at work in the back fields. From between the distant house and barn there + arose, straight up into the still air, a blue column of smoke, which, + reaching a certain height, spread out like a thin, hazy cloud above the + dwelling. At first Yates thought that some of the outhouses were on fire, + and he quickened his pace to a run; but a moment’s reflection showed him + that the column was plainly visible to the workers in the fields, and that + if anything were wrong they would not continue placidly at their labor. + When he had walked the long length of the lane, and had safely rounded the + corner of the barn, he saw, in the open space between that building and + the house, a huge camp fire blazing. From a pole, upheld by two crotched + supports, hung a big iron kettle over the flames. The caldron was full + nearly to the brim, and the steam was already beginning to rise from its + surface, although the fire had evidently been but recently kindled. The + smoke was not now so voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with a + big-brimmed straw hat in her hands, fanning it away from her face, while + the hat at the same time protected her rosy countenance from the fire. She + plainly was not prepared to receive visitors, and she started when the + young man addressed her, flushing still more deeply, apparently annoyed at + his unwelcome appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Good-afternoon,” he said cordially. “Preparing for washing? I thought + Monday was washing day.” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have not been misinformed. And you are not preparing for washing?” + </p> + <p> + “We are.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of herself, had to permit a + smile to brighten her own features. She always found it difficult remain + solemn for any length of time. + </p> + <p> + “This is obviously a conundrum,” said Yates, ticking off the items on his + four fingers. “First, Monday is washing day. Second, this is not Monday. + Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are preparing for washing. I give + it up, Miss Bartlett. Please tell me the answer.” + </p> + <p> + “The answer is that I am making soap; soft soap, if you know what that + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Practically, I don’t know what it is; but I have heard the term used in a + political connection. In the States we say that if a man is very + diplomatic he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricating qualities. + Sam Slick used the term ‘soft sawder’ in the same way; but what sawder is, + soft or hard, I haven’t the slightest idea.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Bless you, no. I’m a humble gleaner in the field of knowledge. That’s + why I brought a Toronto professor with me. I want to learn something. + Won’t you teach me how to make soap?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m very busy just now. When I said that we were preparing for washing, I + should perhaps have told you there was something else we are not prepared + for to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “A visitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on me. I’m not a visitor. + I’m a friend of the family. I want to help. You will find me a most + diligent student. Won’t you give me a chance?” + </p> + <p> + “All the hard work’s done. But perhaps you knew that before you came.” + </p> + <p> + Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what it is to be a misunderstood man. So you think, among other + bad qualities, I have the habit of shirking work? Let me tell you, Miss + Bartlett, that the reason I am here is because I have worked too hard. + Now, confess that you are sorry for what you said—trampling on an + already downtrodden man.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed also, for his sense of + comradeship was strong. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t look as if you had ever worked in your life; I don’t believe + you know what work is.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are different kinds of labor. Don’t you call writing work?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just where you’re mistaken. It is, and hard work, too. I’ll tell + you about the newspaper business if you’ll tell me about soap making. Fair + exchange. I wish you would take me as a pupil, Miss Bartlett; you would + find me quick at picking up things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful of water.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it,” cried Yates sternly; “I’ll do it, though it blast me.” + </p> + <p> + Yates picked up the wooden pail, painted blue on the outside, with a red + stripe near the top for ornament, and cream-colored inside. It was called + a “patent pail” in those days, as it was a comparatively recent + innovation, being cheaper, lighter, and stronger than the tin pail which + it was rapidly replacing. At the well was a stout pole, pinned through the + center to the upright support on which it swung, like the walking-beam of + an engine. The thick end, which rested on the ground, was loaded with + heavy stones; while from the thin end, high in the air, there dangled over + the mouth of the well a slim pole with a hook. This hook was ingeniously + furnished with a spring of hickory, which snapped when the handle of the + pail was placed on the hook, and prevented the “patent” utensil from + slipping off when it was lowered to the surface of the water. Yates + speedily recognized the usefulness of this contrivance, for he found that + the filling of a wooden pail in a deep well was not the simple affair it + looked. The bucket bobbed about on the surface of the water. Once he + forgot the necessity of keeping a stout grip on the pole, and the next + instant the pail came up to the sunlight with a suddenness that was + terrifying. Only an equally sudden backward jump on Yates’ part saved his + head. Miss Bartlett was pleased to look upon this incident as funny. Yates + was so startled by the unexpected revolt of the pail that his native + courtesy did not get a chance to prevent Kitty from drawing up the water + herself. She lowered the vessel, pulling down the pole in a hand-over-hand + manner that the young man thought decidedly fetching, and then she gave an + almost imperceptible twist to the arrangement that resulted in instant + success. The next thing Yates knew the full pail was resting on the well + curb, and the hickory spring had given the click that released the handle. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, “that’s how it’s done.” + </p> + <p> + “I see the result, Miss Bartlett; but I’m not sure I can do the trick. + These things are not so simple as they seem. What is the next step?” + </p> + <p> + “Pour the water into the leach.” + </p> + <p> + “Into the what?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the leach, I said. Where else?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m up a tree again. I see I don’t even know the A B C of this + business. In the old days the leech was a physician. You don’t mean I’m to + drown a doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the leach,” said Kitty, pointing to a large, yellowish, upright + wooden cylinder, which rested on some slanting boards, down the surface of + which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a trough. + </p> + <p> + As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his hand he saw that the + cylinder was filled nearly to the top with sodden wood ashes. He poured in + the water, and it sank quickly out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “So this is part of the soap-making equipment?” he said, stepping down; “I + thought the iron kettle over the fire was the whole factory. Tell me about + the leach.” + </p> + <p> + “That is where the hard work of soap making comes in,” said Kitty, + stirring the contents of the iron kettle with a long stick. “Keeping the + leach supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the ashes are dry. + If you put in five more pails of water, I will tell you about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” cried Yates, pleased to see that the girl’s evident objection to + his presence at first was fast disappearing. “Now you’ll understand how + energetic I am. I’m a handy man about a place.” + </p> + <p> + When he had completed his task, she was still stirring the thickening + liquid in the caldron, guarding her face from the fire with her big straw + hat. Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about her shoulders; and + Yates, as he put the pail in its place, when it had been emptied the fifth + time, thought she formed a very pretty picture standing there by the fire, + even if she were making soft soap. + </p> + <p> + “The wicked genii has finished the task set him by the fairy princess. Now + for the reward. I want all the particulars about the leach. In the first + place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder that I have, without + apparent effect, been pouring water into? Is it manufactured or natural?” + </p> + <p> + “Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree.” + </p> + <p> + “Buttonwood? I don’t think I ever heard of that. I know the beech and the + maple, and some kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why the + buttonwood?” + </p> + <p> + “The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to the purpose. It is a tree + that is very fine to look at. It seems all right, but it generally isn’t. + It is hollow or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timber made from + it is of little value, as it doesn’t last. Yet you can’t tell until you + begin to chop whether it is of any use or not.” Kitty shot a quick glance + at the young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Miss Bartlett; I see what you mean. There are men like the + buttonwood tree. The woods are full of them. I’ve met lots of that kind, + fair to look upon, but hollow. Of course you don’t mean anything personal; + for you must have seen my worth by the way I stuck to the water hauling. + But go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, I never thought of such a thing; but a guilty conscience, they + say——” said Kitty, with a giggle. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they say; but it’s wrong, like most other things they say. It’s + the man with the guilty conscience who looks you straight in the eye. Now + that the buttonwood is chopped down, what’s the next thing to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “It is sawn off at the proper length, square at one end and slanting at + the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Why slanting?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see, the foundation of plank on which it rests is inclined, so + the end of the leach that is down must be slantingly cut, otherwise it + would not stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the first + windstorm.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no; not yet. They build a fire in it when it gets dry enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? I think I understand the comprehensive scheme, but I slip up on + the details, as when I tried to submerge that wooden pail. What’s the fire + for?” + </p> + <p> + “To burn out what remains of the soft inside wood, so as to leave only the + hard outside shell. Then the charring of the inner surface is supposed to + make the leach better—more water-tight, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and gradually filled with ashes. When it is full, we pour the water + in it, and catch the lye as it drips out. This is put in the caldron with + grease, pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when it boils long enough, + the result is soft soap.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you boil it too long, what is the result?” + </p> + <p> + “Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was here interrupted by a hissing in the fire, caused by + the tumultuous boiling over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in a basin + of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said reproachfully, “the result of keeping me talking + nonsense to you. Now you will have to make up for it by bringing in some + wood and putting more water into the leach.” + </p> + <p> + “With the utmost pleasure,” cried Yates, springing to his feet. “It is a + delight to atone for a fault by obeying your commands.” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed. “Buttonwood,” she said. Before Yates could think of + anything to say in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. + </p> + <p> + “How is the soap getting on, Kitty?” she asked. “Why, Mr. Yates, are you + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I here? I should say I was. Very much here. I’m the hired man. I’m the + hewer of wood and the hauler of water, or, to speak more correctly, I’m + the hauler of both. And, besides, I’ve been learning how to make soap, + Mrs. Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it won’t hurt you to know how.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet it won’t. When I get back to New York, the first thing I shall do + will be to chop down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can find one, and + set up a leach for myself. Lye comes useful in running a paper.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett’s eyes twinkled, for, although she did not quite understand + his nonsense, she knew it was nonsense, and she had a liking for frivolous + persons, her own husband being so somber-minded. + </p> + <p> + “Tea is ready,” she said. “Of course you will stay, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously do so. I haven’t earned a + meal since the last one. No; my conscience won’t let me accept, but thank + you all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense; my conscience won’t let you go away hungry. If nobody were to + eat but those who earn their victuals, there would be more starving people + in the world than there are. Of course you’ll stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that’s what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like to have a chance of + refusing an invitation I yearn for, and then be forced to accept. That’s + true hospitality.” Then in a whisper he added to Kitty; “If you dare to + say ‘buttonwood,’ Miss Bartlett, you and I will quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had appeared on the scene, but + industriously stirred the contents of the iron kettle. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty,” said the mother, “you call the men to supper.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t leave this,” said Kitty, flushing; “it will boil over. You call, + mother.” + </p> + <p> + So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side of her mouth, and gave + the long wailing cry, which was faintly answered from the fields, and + Yates, who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satisfaction that Kitty + had refused doubtless because he was there. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + “I tell you what it is, Renny,” said Yates, a few days after the soap + episode, as he swung in his hammock at the camp, “I’m learning something + new every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Not really?” asked the professor in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. My chief pleasure in life, + professor, is the surprising of you. I sometimes wonder why it delights + me; it is so easily done.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about that. What have you been learning?” + </p> + <p> + “Wisdom, my boy; wisdom in solid chunks. In the first place, I am learning + to admire the resourcefulness of these people around us. Practically, they + make everything they need. They are the most self-helping people that I + was ever thrown among. I look upon theirs as the ideal life.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you said something like that when we first came here.” + </p> + <p> + “I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am talking now about farm + life. Farmers eliminate the middleman pretty effectually, and that in + itself is going a long way toward complete happiness. Take the making of + soap, that I told you about; there you have it, cheap and good. When + you’ve made it, you know what is in it, and I’ll be hanged if you do when + you pay a big price for it in New York. Here they make pretty nearly + everything they need, except the wagon and the crockery; and I’m not sure + but they made them a few years back. Now, when a man with a good sharp ax + and a jack-knife can do anything from building his house to whittling out + a chair, he’s the most independent man on earth. Nobody lives better than + these people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. Perhaps the country + air helps; but it seems to me I never tasted such meals as Mrs. Bartlett, + for instance, gets up. They buy nothing at the stores except the tea, and + I confess I prefer milk myself. My tastes were always simple.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is the deduction?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old Hiram has an anvil and an + amateur forge. He can tinker up almost anything, and that eliminates the + blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, and other tools, and that + eliminates the carpenter. The women eliminate the baker, the soap boiler, + and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have eliminated all the + middlemen, then comes independence, and consequently complete happiness. + You can’t keep happiness away with a shotgun then.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is to become of the blacksmith, the carpenter, and all the + rest?” + </p> + <p> + “Let them take up land and be happy too; there’s plenty of land. The land + is waiting for them. Then look how the master is eliminated. That’s the + most beautiful riddance of all. Even the carpenter and blacksmith usually + have to work under a boss; and if not, they have to depend on the men who + employ them. The farmer has to please nobody but himself. That adds to his + independence. That’s why old Hiram is ready to fight the first comer on + the slightest provocation. He doesn’t care whom he offends, so long as it + isn’t his wife. These people know how to make what they want, and what + they can’t make they do without. That’s the way to form a great nation. + You raise, in this way, a self-sustaining, resolute, unconquerable people. + The reason the North conquered the South was because we drew our armies + mostly from the self-reliant farming class, while we had to fight a people + accustomed for generations to having things done for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you buy a farm, Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. I am like the drunkard + who admires a temperate life, yet can’t pass a ginshop. The city virus is + in my blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quite satisfied with + the tendency of farm life; it is unfortunately in a transition state. It + is at the frame-house stage, and will soon blossom into the red-brick + stage. The log-house era is what I yearn for. Then everything a person + needed was made on the farm. When the brick-house era sets in, the + middleman will be rampant. I saw the other day at the Howards’ a set of + ancient stones that interested me as much as an Assyrian marble would + interest you. They were old, home-made millstones, and they have not been + used since the frame house was built. The grist mill at the village put + them out of date. And just here, notice the subtlety of the crafty + middleman. The farmer takes his grist to the mill, and the miller does not + charge him cash for grinding it. He takes toll out of the bags, and the + farmer has a vague idea that he gets his grinding for almost nothing. The + old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer’s son won’t be as happy in + the brick house which the mason will build for him as his grandfather was + in the log house he built for himself. And fools call this change the + advance of civilization.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something to be said for the old order of things,” admitted + Renmark. “If a person could unite the advantages of what we call + civilization with the advantages of a pastoral life, he would inaugurate a + condition of things that would be truly idyllic.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so, Renmark, that’s so!” cried Yates enthusiastically. “A + brownstone mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of Lake + Superior! That would suit me down to the ground. Spend half the year in + each place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the professor meditatively; “a log hut on the rocks and under + the trees, with the lake in front, would be very nice if the hut had a + good library attached.” + </p> + <p> + “And a daily paper. Don’t forget the press.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I draw the line there. The daily paper would mean the daily steamer + or the daily train. The one would frighten away the fish, and the other + would disturb the stillness with its whistle.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sighed. “I forgot about the drawbacks,” he said. “That’s the trouble + with civilization. You can’t have the things you want without bringing in + their trail so many things you don’t want. I shall have to give up the + daily paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is another objection, worse than either steamer or train.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “The daily paper itself.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sat up indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Renmark!” he cried, “that’s blasphemy. For Heaven’s sake, man, hold + something sacred. If you don’t respect the press, what do you respect? Not + my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you wouldn’t talk in that + flippant manner. If you speak kindly of my daily paper, I’ll tolerate your + library.” + </p> + <p> + “And that reminds me: Have you brought any books with you, Yates? I have + gone through most of mine already, although many of them will bear going + over again; still, I have so much time on my hands that I think I may + indulge in a little general reading. When you wrote asking me to meet you + in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp through the country, + so I did not bring as many books with me as I should have done if I had + known you were going to camp out.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sprang from the hammock. + </p> + <p> + “Books? Well, I should say so! Perhaps you think I don’t read anything but + the daily papers. I’d have you know that I am something of a reader + myself. You mustn’t imagine you monopolize all the culture in the + township, professor.” + </p> + <p> + The young man went into the tent, and shortly returned with an armful of + yellow-covered, paper-bound small volumes, which he flung in profusion at + the feet of the man from Toronto. They were mostly Beadle’s Dime Novels, + which had a great sale at the time. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “you have quantity, quality, and variety, as I have + before remarked. ‘The Murderous Sioux of Kalamazoo;’ that’s a good one. A + hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the word. The one you are + looking at is a pirate story, judging by the burning ship on the cover. + But for first-class highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. + That’s the ‘Sixteen String Jack set.’ They’re immense, if they do cost a + quarter each. You must begin at the right volume, or you’ll be sorry. You + see, they never really end, although every volume is supposed to be + complete in itself. They leave off at the most exciting point, and are + continued in the next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it’s + rather exasperating if you begin at the last book. You’ll enjoy this lot. + I’m glad I brought them along.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a blessing,” said Renmark, with the ghost of a smile about his + lips. “I can truthfully say that they are entirely new to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, my boy,” cried Yates loftily, with a wave of his hand. + “Use them as if they were your own.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity of the books. + </p> + <p> + “These will do excellently for lighting our morning camp fire,” he said. + “And if you will allow me to treat them as if they were my own, that is + the use to which I will put them. You surely do not mean to say that you + read such trash as this, Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “Trash?” exclaimed Yates indignantly. “It serves me right. That’s what a + man gets for being decent to you, Renny. Well, you’re not compelled to + read them; but if you put one of them in the fire, your stupid treatises + will follow, if they are not too solid to burn. You don’t know good + literature when you see it.” + </p> + <p> + The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit which comes to a man + through the possession of a real sheepskin diploma, granted by a + university of good standing, did not think it necessary to defend his + literary taste. He busied himself in pruning a stick he had cut in the + forest, and finally he got it into the semblance of a walking cane. He was + an athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not suit him as it did + Yates. He tested the stick in various ways when he had trimmed it to his + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready for a ten-mile walk?” he asked of the man in the hammock. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking here below, and he + doesn’t want it ten miles in length either. I’m easily satisfied. You’re + off, are you? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back some bread when + you return to camp. It’s the one safe thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + Renmark walked through the woods and then across the fields, until he came + to the road. He avoided the habitations of man as much as he could, for he + was neither so sociably inclined nor so frequently hungry as was his + companion. He strode along the road, not caring much where it led him. + Everyone he met gave him “Good-day,” after the friendly custom of the + country. Those with wagons or lighter vehicles going in his direction + usually offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that a man should + choose to walk when it was not compulsory. The professor, like most silent + men, found himself good company, and did not feel the need of + companionship in his walks. He had felt relieved rather than disappointed + when Yates refused to accompany him. And Yates, swinging drowsily in his + hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men are firm and intimate + friends, the first few days of camping out together is a severe strain on + their regard for each other. If Damon and Pythias had occupied a tent + together for a week, the worst enemy of either, or both, might at the end + of that time have ventured into the camp in safety, and would have been + welcome. + </p> + <p> + Renmark thought of these things as he walked along. His few days’ intimacy + with Yates had shown him how far apart they had managed to get by + following paths that diverged more and more widely the farther they were + trodden. The friendship of their youth had turned out to be merely + ephemeral. Neither would now choose the other as an intimate associate. + Another illusion had gone. + </p> + <p> + “I have surely enough self-control,” said Renmark to himself, as he walked + on, “to stand his shallow flippancy for another week, and not let him see + what I think of him.” + </p> + <p> + Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence of the + camp. “That man is an exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faults of the + species abnormally developed. If I once open out on him, he will learn + more truth about himself in ten minutes than he ever heard in his life + before. What an unbearable prig he has grown to be.” Thus ran Yates’ + thoughts as he swung in his hammock, looking up at the ceiling of green + leaves. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of them thought. If it had + been, then were marriage not only a failure, but a practical + impossibility. If two men can get over the first few days in camp without + a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the tension relaxes. + </p> + <p> + Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid little heed to those he + met; but one driver drew up his horse and accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day,” he said. “How are you getting on in the tent?” + </p> + <p> + The professor was surprised at the question. Had their tenting-out + eccentricity gone all over the country? He was not a quick man at + recognizing people, belonging, as he did, to the + “I-remember-your-face-but-can’t-recall-your-name” fraternity. It had been + said of him that he never, at any one time, knew the names of more than + half a dozen students in his class; but this was an undergraduate libel on + him. The young man who had accosted him was driving a single horse, + attached to what he termed a “democrat”—a four-wheeled light wagon, + not so slim and elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as a wagon. + Renmark looked up at the driver with confused unrecognition, troubled + because he vaguely felt that he had met him somewhere before. But his + surprise at being addressed speedily changed into amazement as he looked + from the driver to the load. The “democrat” was heaped with books. The + larger volumes were stuck along the sides with some regularity, and in + this way kept the miscellaneous pile from being shaken out on the road. + His eye glittered with a new interest as it rested on the many-colored + bindings; and he recognized in the pile the peculiar brown covers of the + “Bohn” edition of classic translations, that were scattered like so many + turnips over the top of this ridge of literature. He rubbed his eyes to + make sure he was not dreaming. How came a farmer’s boy to be driving a + wagon load of books in the wilds of the country as nonchalantly as if they + were so many bushels of potatoes? + </p> + <p> + The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for the load was heavy and + the sand was deep, saw that the stranger not only did not recognize him, + but that from the moment he saw the books he had forgotten everything + else. It was evidently necessary to speak again. + </p> + <p> + “If you are coming back, will you have a ride?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I—I think I will,” said the professor, descending to earth again + and climbing up beside the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I see you don’t remember me,” said the latter, starting his horse again. + “My name is Howard. I passed you in my buggy when you were coming in with + your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner—what’s his name—Yates, + isn’t it?—had dinner at our house the other day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had seen you before; but it was + only for a moment, you know. I have a very poor memory so far as people + are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. Are these your books? + And how do you happen to have such a quantity?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is the library,” said young Howard. + </p> + <p> + “The library?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the township library, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! The township has a library, then? I didn’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s part of it. This is a fifth part. You know about township + libraries, don’t you? Your partner said you were a college man.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he was never reluctant to admit + it. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know nothing of township + libraries. Please, tell me about them.” + </p> + <p> + Young Howard was eager to give information to a college man, especially on + the subject of books, which he regarded as belonging to the province of + college-bred men. He was pleased also to discover that city people did not + know everything. He had long had the idea that they did, and this belief + had been annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness of Yates. The + professor evidently was a decent fellow, who did not pretend to universal + knowledge. This was encouraging. He liked Renmark better than Yates, and + was glad he had offered him a ride, although, of course, that was the + custom; still, a person with one horse and a heavy load is exempt on a + sandy road. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see,” he said in explanation, “it’s like this: The township + votes a sum of money, say a hundred dollars, or two hundred, as the case + may be. They give notice to the Government of the amount voted, and the + Government adds the same amount to the township money. It’s like the old + game: you think of a number, and they double it. The Government has a + depository of books, in Toronto, I think, and they sell them cheaper than + the bookstores do. At any rate, the four hundred dollars’ worth are + bought, or whatever the amount is, and the books are the property of the + township. Five persons are picked out in the township as librarians, and + they have to give security. My father is librarian for this section. The + library is divided into five parts, and each librarian gets a share. Once + a year I go to the next section and get all their books. They go to the + next section, again, and get all the books at that place. A man comes to + our house to-day and takes all we have. So we get a complete change every + year, and in five years we get back the first batch, which by that time we + have forgotten all about. To-day is changing day all around.” + </p> + <p> + “And the books are lent to any person in each section who wishes to read + them?” asked the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can have a book out for two + weeks; after that time there is a fine, but Margaret never fines anyone.” + </p> + <p> + “And do people have to pay to take out the books?” + </p> + <p> + “Not likely!” said Howard with fine contempt. “You wouldn’t expect people + to pay for reading books; would you, now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not. And who selected the volumes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the township can select the books if it likes, or it can send a + committee to select them; but they didn’t think it worth the trouble and + expense. People grumbled enough at wasting money on books as it was, even + if they did buy them at half price. Still, others said it was a pity not + to get the money out of the Government when they had the chance. I don’t + believe any of them cared very much about the books, except father and a + few others. So the Government chose the books. They’ll do that if you + leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash they sent, if you take my word + for it. I believe they shoved off on us all the things no on else would + buy. Even when they did pick out novels, they were just as tough as the + history books. ‘Adam Bede’ is one. They say that’s a novel. I tried it, + but I would rather read the history of Josephus any day. There’s some + fighting in that, if it is a history. Then there’s any amount of biography + books. They’re no good. There’s a ‘History of Napoleon.’ Old Bartlett’s + got that, and he won’t give it up. He says he was taxed for the library + against his will. He dares them to go to law about it, and it aint worth + while for one book. The other sections are all asking for that book; not + that they want it, but the whole country knows that old Bartlett’s + a-holding on to it, so they’d like to see some fun. Bartlett’s read that + book fourteen times, and it’s all he knows. I tell Margaret she ought to + fine him, and keep on fining, but she won’t do it. I guess Bartlett thinks + the book belongs to him by this time. Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. + Bartlett,—so does everybody,—but old Bartlett’s a seed. There + he sits now on his veranda, and it’s a wonder he’s not reading the + ‘History of Napoleon.’” + </p> + <p> + They were passing the Bartlett house, and young Howard raised his voice + and called out: + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. This is changing day, + you know. Shall I come up for it, or will you bring it down? If you fetch + it to the gate, I’ll cart it home now.” + </p> + <p> + The old man paid no heed to what was said to him; but Mrs. Bartlett, + attracted by the outcry, came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “You go along with your books, you young rascal!” she cried, coming down + to the gate when she saw the professor. “That’s a nice way to carry bound + books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I’ll warrant you have lost a dozen + between Mallory’s and here. But easy come, easy go. It’s plain to be seen + they didn’t cost you anything. I don’t know what the world’s a-coming to + when the township spends its money in books, as if taxes weren’t heavy + enough already. Won’t you come in, Mr. Renmark? Tea’s on the table.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Renmark’s coming with me this trip, Mrs. Bartlett,” young Howard said + before the professor had time to reply; “but I’ll come over and take tea, + if you’ll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse up.” + </p> + <p> + “You go along with your nonsense,” she said; “I know you.” Then in a lower + voice she asked: “How is your mother, Henry—and Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “They’re pretty well, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them I’m going to run over to see them some day soon, but that need + not keep them from coming to see me. The old man’s going to town + to-morrow,” and with this hint, after again inviting the professor to a + meal, she departed up the path to the house. + </p> + <p> + “I think I’ll get down here,” said Renmark, halfway between the two + houses. “I am very much obliged to you for the ride, and also for what you + told me about the books. It was very interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried young Howard; “I’m not going to let you do anything of + the sort. You’re coming home with me. You want to see the books, don’t + you? Very well, then, come along, Margaret is always impatient on changing + day, she’s so anxious to see the books, and father generally comes in + early from the fields for the same reason.” + </p> + <p> + As they approached the Howard homestead they noticed Margaret waiting for + them at the gate; but when the girl saw that a stranger was in the wagon, + she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, seeing this retreat, + regretted he had not accepted Mrs. Bartlett’s invitation. He was a + sensitive man, and did not realize that others were sometimes as shy as + himself. He felt he was intruding, and that at a sacred moment—the + moment of the arrival of the library. He was such a lover of books, and + valued so highly the privilege of being alone with them, that he fancied + he saw in the abrupt departure of Margaret the same feeling of resentment + he would himself have experienced if a visitor had encroached upon him in + his favorite nook in the fine room that held the library of the + university. + </p> + <p> + When the wagon stopped in the lane, Renmark said hesitatingly: + </p> + <p> + “I think I’ll not stay, if you don’t mind. My friend is waiting for me at + the camp, and will be wondering what has become of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he never bothers about anybody else + as long as he is comfortable himself. That’s how I sized him up, at any + rate. Besides, you’re never going back on carrying in the books, are you? + I counted on your help. I don’t want to do it, and it don’t seem the + square thing to let Margaret do it all alone; does it, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall——” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can. Besides, I know my father wants to see you, anyhow. + Don’t you, father?” + </p> + <p> + The old man was coming round from the back of the house to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark when Margaret told you what + Yates had said to her about him.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many people had made him the + subject of conversation, rather suspecting at the same time that the boy + was making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very pleased to see you. Yes, + as Henry was saying, I have been wanting to see you ever since my daughter + spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that his brother is a pupil of + yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! is Arthur Howard your son?” cried Renmark, warming up at once. “I did + not know it. There are many young men at the college, and I have but the + vaguest idea from what parts of the country they all come. A teacher + should have no favorites, but I must confess to a strong liking for your + son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said about every member of my + class.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur was always studious, so we thought we would give him a chance. I + am glad to hear he behaves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, and + I hope my boys will have an easier time than I had. But come in, come in. + The missus and Margaret will be glad to see you, and hear how the boy is + coming on with his studies.” + </p> + <p> + So they went in together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + “Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that would fetch + you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!” + </p> + <p> + Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thought the + forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected his wits he + saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashing through the + woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by a strap attached + to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still resounded in the depths of + the woods, and rang in Yates’ ears as he pulled himself together. + </p> + <p> + “Did you—ah—make any remarks?” asked Yates quietly. + </p> + <p> + The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I say, don’t you know that it’s not healthy to go to sleep in the middle + of the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I can stand + it, if the middle of the day can. I’ve a strong constitution. Now, what do + you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man’s bedroom in that reckless + fashion?” + </p> + <p> + The boy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for I saw + the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Where was he going?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged if I know, and he didn’t look as if he knew himself. He’s a queer + fish, aint he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is. Everybody can’t be as sensible and handsome as we are, you know. + Where are you going with those horses, young man?” + </p> + <p> + “To get them shod. Won’t you come along? You can ride the horse I’m on. + It’s got a bridle. I’ll ride the one with the halter.” + </p> + <p> + “How far away is the blacksmith’s shop?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Yates, “there’s merit in the idea. I take it your generous + offer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of one of + those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kick or + buck, or playfully roll over a person?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried, young Bartlett indignantly. “This is no circus. Why, a baby + could ride this horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I’m a trifle out + of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, and I + haven’t been on one of them for a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you set your + mind to.” + </p> + <p> + Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, so + he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on the horse with + both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slipped to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “Wait till I throw down the fence,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two went trotting down the + road. He managed to hold his place with some little uncertainty, but the + joggling up and down worried him. He never seemed to alight in quite the + same place on the horse’s back, and this gave an element of chance to his + position which embarrassed him. He expected to come down some time and + find the horse wasn’t there. The boy laughed at his riding, but Yates was + too much engaged in keeping his position to mind that very much. + </p> + <p> + “D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that’s what’s the + m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me.” His conversation seemed to be shaken out of + him by the trotting of the horse. “I say, Bartlett, I can’t stand this any + longer. I’d rather walk.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right,” said the boy; “we’ll make him canter.” + </p> + <p> + He struck the horse over the flank with the loose end of the halter rein. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and grasping the mane. “Don’t + make him go faster, you young fiend. I’ll murder you when I get off—and + that will be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right,” repeated young Bartlett, and, much to his + astonishment, Yates found it to be so. When the horse broke into a canter, + Yates thought the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, and as soothing + as a rocking chair. + </p> + <p> + “This is an improvement. But we’ve got to keep it up, for if this brute + suddenly changes to a trot, I’m done for.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll keep it up until we come in sight of the Corners, then we’ll slow + down to a walk. There’s sure to be a lot of fellows at the blacksmith’s + shop, so we’ll come in on them easy like.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re a good fellow, Bartlett,” said Yates. “I suspected you of tricks + at first. I’m afraid, if I had got another chap in such a fix, I wouldn’t + have let him off as easily as you have me. The temptation would have been + too great.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the blacksmith’s shop at the Corners, they found four + horses in the building ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, and + then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of the smithy. The shop + was built of rough boards, and the inside was blackened with soot. It was + not well lighted, the two windows being obscured with much smoke, so that + they were useless as far as their original purpose was concerned; but the + doorway, as wide as that of a barn, allowed all the light to come in that + the smith needed for his work. At the far end and darkest corner of the + place stood the forge, with the large bellows behind it, concealed, for + the most part, by the chimney. The forge was perhaps six feet square and + three or four feet high, built of plank and filled in with earth. The top + was covered with cinders and coal, while in the center glowed the red core + of the fire, with blue flames hovering over it. The man who worked the + bellows chewed tobacco, and now and then projected the juice with deadly + accuracy right into the center of the fire, where it made a momentary hiss + and dark spot. All the frequenters of the smithy admired Sandy’s skill in + expectoration, and many tried in vain to emulate it. The envious said it + was due to the peculiar formation of his front teeth, the upper row being + prominent, and the two middle teeth set far apart, as if one were missing. + But this was jealousy; Sandy’s perfection in the art was due to no + favoritism of nature, but to constant and long-continued practice. + Occasionally with his callous right hand, never removing his left from the + lever, Sandy pulled an iron bar out of the fire and examined it + critically. The incandescent end of the bar radiated a blinding white + light when it was gently withdrawn, and illuminated the man’s head, making + his beardless face look, against its dark background, like the smudged + countenance of some cynical demon glowing with a fire from within. The end + of the bar which he held must have been very hot to an ordinary mortal, as + everyone in the shop knew, all of them, at their initiation to the country + club, having been handed a black piece of iron from Sandy’s hand, which he + held unflinchingly, but which the innocent receiver usually dropped with a + yell. This was Sandy’s favorite joke, and made life worth living for him. + It was perhaps not so good as the blacksmith’s own bit of humor, but + public opinion was divided on that point. Every great man has his own + particular set of admirers; and there were some who said,—under + their breaths, of course,—that Sandy could turn a horseshoe as well + as Macdonald himself. Experts, however, while admitting Sandy’s general + genius, did not go so far as this. + </p> + <p> + About half a dozen members of the club were present, and most of them + stood leaning against something with hands deep in their trousers pockets; + one was sitting on the blacksmith’s bench, with his legs dangling down. On + the bench tools were scattered around so thickly that he had had to clear + a place before he could sit down; the taking of this liberty proved the + man to be an old and privileged member. He sat there whittling a stick, + aimlessly bringing it to a fine point, examining it frequently with a + critical air, as if he were engaged in some delicate operation which + required great discrimination. + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to one of the horses, the + hind hoof of the animal, between his knees, resting on his leathern apron. + The horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, not liking what + was going on. Macdonald swore at it fluently, and requested it to stand + still, holding the foot as firmly as if it were in his own iron vise, + which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With his right hand he + held a hot horseshoe, attached to an iron punch that had been driven into + one of the nail holes, and this he pressed against the upraised hoof, as + though sealing a document with a gigantic seal. Smoke and flame rose from + the contact of the hot iron with the hoof, and the air was filled with the + not unpleasant odor of burning horn. The smith’s tool box, with hammer, + pinchers, and nails, lay on the earthern floor within easy reach. The + sweat poured from his grimy brow; for it was a hot job, and Macdonald was + in the habit of making the most of his work. He was called the hardest + working man in that part of the country, and he was proud of the + designation. He was a standing reproach to the loafers who frequented his + shop, and that fact gave him pleasure in their company. Besides, a man + must have an audience when he is an expert in swearing. Macdonald’s + profanity was largely automatic,—a natural gift, as it were,—and + he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when you got him fighting angry, he + always forgot to swear; but in his calm moments oaths rolled easily and + picturesquely from his lips, and gave fluency to his conversation. + Macdonald enjoyed the reputation round about of being a wicked man, which + he was not; his language was against him, that was all. This reputation + had a misty halo thrown around it by Macdonald’s unknown doings “down + East,” from which mystical region he had come. No one knew just what + Macdonald had done, but it was admitted on all sides that he must have had + some terrible experiences, although he was still a young man and + unmarried. He used to say: “When you have come through what I have, you + won’t be so ready to pick a quarrel with a man.” + </p> + <p> + This must have meant something significant, but the blacksmith never took + anyone into his confidence; and “down East” is a vague place, a sort of + indefinite, unlocalized no-man’s-land, situated anywhere between Toronto + and Quebec. Almost anything might have happened in such a space of + country. Macdonald’s favorite way of crushing an opponent was to say: + “When you’ve had some of my experiences, young man, you’ll know better’n + to talk like that.” All this gave a certain fascination to friendship with + the blacksmith; and the farmers’ boys felt that they were playing with + fire when in his company, getting, as it were, a glimpse of the dangerous + side of life. As for work, the blacksmith reveled in it, and made it + practically his only vice. He did everything with full steam on, and was, + as has been said, a constant reproach to loafers all over the country. + When there was no work to do, he made work. When there was work to do, he + did it with a rush, sweeping the sweat from his grimy brow with his hooked + fore finger, and flecking it to the floor with a flirt of the right hand, + loose on the wrist, in a way that made his thumb and fore finger snap + together like the crack of a whip. This action was always accompanied with + a long-drawn breath, almost a sigh, that seemed to say: “I wish I had the + easy times you fellows have.” In fact, since he came to the neighborhood + the current phrase, “He works like a steer” had given way to, “He works + like Macdonald,” except with the older people, who find it hard to change + phrases. Yet everyone liked the blacksmith, and took no special offense at + his untiring industry, looking at it rather as an example to others. + </p> + <p> + He did not look up as the two newcomers entered, but industriously pared + down the hoof with a curiously formed knife turned like a hook at the + point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, and rasped the hoof + into shape with a long, broad file. Not till he let the foot drop on the + earthen floor, and slapped the impatient horse on the flank, did he deign + to answer young Bartlett’s inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, wringing the perspiration from his forehead, “all these + horses aint ahead of you, and you won’t need to come next week. That’s the + last hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to my shop and go away + again, while the breath of life is left in me. And I don’t do it, either, + by sitting on a bench and whittling a stick.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so. That’s so,” said Sandy, chuckling, in the admiring tone of one + who intimated that, when the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. “That’s one + on you, Sam.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I can stand it, if he can,” said the whittler from the bench; + which was considered fair repartee. + </p> + <p> + “Sit it, you mean,” said young Bartlett, laughing with the others at his + own joke. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the blacksmith severely, “we’re out of shoes, and you’ll have + to wait till we turn some, that is, if you don’t want the old ones reset. + Are they good enough?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so, if you can find ‘em; but they’re out in the fields. Didn’t + think I’d bring the horses in while they held on, did you?” Then, suddenly + remembering his duties, he said by, way of general introduction: + “Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Yates from New York.” + </p> + <p> + The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the high spirits of the + crowd. They had imagined from the cut of his clothes that he was a + storekeeper from some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, + these two occupations being the highest social position to which a man + might attain. They were prepared to hear that he was from Welland, or + perhaps St. Catherines; but New York! that was a crusher. Macdonald, + however, was not a man to be put down in his own shop and before his own + admirers. He was not going to let his prestige slip from him merely + because a man from New York had happened along. He could not claim to know + the city, for the stranger would quickly detect the imposture and probably + expose him; but the slightly superior air which Yates wore irritated him, + while it abashed the others. Even Sandy was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve met some people from New York down East,” he said in an offhand + manner, as if, after all, a man might meet a New Yorker and still not sink + into the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Yates. “I hope you liked them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so-so,” replied the blacksmith airily. “There’s good and bad among + them, like the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you noticed that,” said Yates. “Well, I’ve often thought the same + myself. It’s a safe remark to make; there is generally no disputing it.” + </p> + <p> + The condescending air of the New Yorker was maddening, and Macdonald + realized that he was losing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates’ tone was + so exasperating to the blacksmith that he felt any language at his + disposal inadequate to cope with it. The time for the practical joke had + arrived. The conceit of this man must be taken down. He would try Sandy’s + method, and, if that failed, it would at least draw attention from himself + to his helper. + </p> + <p> + “Being as you’re from New York, maybe you can decide a little bet Sandy + here wants to have with somebody.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar that always lay near + enough the fire to be uncomfortably warm. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you reckon that weighs?” he said, with critical nicety + estimating its ounces in his swaying hand. Sandy had never done it better. + There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, unsophisticated + countenance, and the crowd looked on in breathless suspense. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett was about to step forward and save his friend, but a wicked glare + from Macdonald restrained him; besides, he felt, somehow, that his + sympathies were with his neighbors, and not with the stranger he had + brought among them. He thought resentfully that Yates might have been less + high and mighty. In fact, when he asked him to come he had imagined his + brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would reflect glory on himself. + Now he fancied he was included in the general scorn Yates took such little + pains to conceal. + </p> + <p> + Yates glanced at the piece of iron and, without taking his hands from his + pockets, said carelessly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Heft it,” said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out to him. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” replied Yates, with a smile. “Do you think I have never + picked up a hot horseshoe before? If you are anxious to know its weight, + why don’t you take it over to the grocery store and have it weighed?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Taint hot,” said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and flung the iron back on + the forge. “If it was, I couldn’t have held it s’long.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” returned Yates, with a grin, “of course not. I don’t know what a + blacksmith’s hands are, do I? Try something fresh.” + </p> + <p> + Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him among his crowd, for they all + evidently felt as much involved in the failure of Sandy’s trick as he did + himself; but he was sure that in future some man, hard pushed in argument, + would fling the New Yorker at him. In the crisis he showed the instinct of + a Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boys,” he cried, “fun’s fun, but I’ve got to work. I have to earn + my living, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Yates enjoyed his victory; they wouldn’t try “getting at” him again, he + said to himself. + </p> + <p> + Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the bar of white-hot iron. He + gave a scarcely perceptible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready with tobacco + juice, spat with great directness on the top of the anvil. Macdonald + placed the hot iron on the spot, and quickly smote it a stalwart blow with + the heavy hammer. The result was appalling. An instantaneous spreading fan + of apparently molten iron lit up the place as if it were a flash of + lightning. There was a crash like the bursting of a cannon. The shop was + filled for a moment with a shower of brilliant sparks, that flew like + meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone was prepared for the + explosion except Yates. He sprang back with a cry, tripped, and, without + having time to get the use of his hands to ease his fall, tumbled and + rolled to the horses’ heels. The animals, frightened by the report, + stamped around; and Yates had to hustle on his hands and knees to safer + quarters, exhibiting more celerity than dignity. The blacksmith never + smiled, but everyone else roared. The reputation of the country was safe. + Sandy doubled himself up in his boisterous mirth. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no one like the old man!” he shouted. “Oh, lordy! lordy! He’s all + wool, and a yard wide.” + </p> + <p> + Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, laughing with the rest of + them. + </p> + <p> + “If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten it. That’s one on me, + as this youth in spasms said a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I’ll treat + the crowd, if there’s a place handy.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + People who have but a superficial knowledge of the life and times here set + down may possibly claim that the grocery store, and not the blacksmith’s + shop, used to be the real country club—the place where the politics + of the country were discussed; where the doings of great men were + commended or condemned, and the government criticised. It is true that the + grocery store was the club of the village, when a place like the Corners + grew to be a village; but the blacksmith’s shop was usually the first + building erected on the spot where a village was ultimately to stand. It + was the nucleus. As a place grew, and enervating luxury set in, the + grocery store slowly supplanted the blacksmith’s shop, because people + found a nail keg, or a box of crackers, more comfortable to sit on than + the limited seats at their disposal in a smithy; moreover, in winter the + store, with its red-hot box stove, was a place of warmth and joy, but the + reveling in such an atmosphere of comfort meant that the members of the + club had to live close at hand, for no man would brave the storms of a + Canadian winter night, and journey a mile or two through the snow, to + enjoy even the pleasures of the store. So the grocery was essentially a + village club, and not a rural club. + </p> + <p> + Of course, as civilization advanced, the blacksmith found it impossible to + compete with the grocer. He could not offer the same inducements. The + grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the grateful epicurism of + the Athenaeum, the Reform, or the Carlton. It catered to the appetite of + man, besides supplying him with the intellectual stimulus of debate. A box + of soda crackers was generally open, and, although such biscuits were + always dry, they were good to munch, if consumed slowly. The barrel of + hazel nuts never had a lid on. The raisins, in their square box, with + blue-tinted paper, setting forth the word “Malaga” under the colored + picture of joyous Spanish grape pickers, stood on the shelves behind the + counter, at an angle suited to display the contents to all comers, + requiring an exceptionally long reach, and more than an ordinary amount of + cheek, before they were got at; but the barrel of Muscavado brown sugar + was where everyone could dip his hand in; while the man on the keg of + tenpenny nails might extend his arm over into the display window, where + the highly colored candies exhibited themselves, although the person who + meddled often with them was frowned upon, for it was etiquette in the club + not to purloin things which were expensive. The grocer himself drew the + line at the candies, and a second helping usually brought forth the mild + reproof: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I charge that, Sam; or would you rather pay for it now?” + </p> + <p> + All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat surreptitious way, and the + takers generally wore an absent-minded look, as if the purloining was not + quite intentional on their part. But they were all good customers of the + grocer, and the abstractions were doubtless looked on by him as being in + the way of trade; just as the giving of a present with a pound of tea, or + a watch with a suit of clothes, became in later days. Be that as it may, + he never said anything unless his generosity was taken advantage of, which + was rarely the case. + </p> + <p> + Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious feast, that helped to + lighten the shelves and burden the till. This ordinarily took the form of + a splurge in cove oysters. Cove oysters came from Baltimore, of course, in + round tins; they were introduced into Canada long before the square tin + boxes that now come in winter from the same bivalvular city. Cove oysters + were partly cooked before being tinned, so that they would, as the + advertisements say, keep in any climate. They did not require ice around + them, as do the square tins which now contain the raw oysters. Someone + present would say: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with having a feed of cove oysters?” + </p> + <p> + He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so from each member, and + the whole was expended in several cans of oysters and a few pounds of + crackers. The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top of the hot stove. + The contents of the cans were emptied into this handy dish, milk was + added, and broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency to the + result. There were always plenty of plates, for the store supplied the + crockery of the neighborhood. There were also plenty of spoons, for + everything was to be had at the grocery. What more could the most exacting + man need? On a particularly reckless night the feast ended with several + tins of peaches, which needed no cooking, but only a sprinkling of sugar. + The grocer was always an expert at cooking cove oysters and at opening + tins of peaches. + </p> + <p> + There was a general feeling among the members that, by indulging in these + banquets, they were going the pace rather; and some of the older heads + feebly protested against the indulgence of the times, but it was noticed + that they never refrained from doing their share when it came to spoon + work. + </p> + <p> + “A man has but one life to live,” the younger and more reckless would say, + as if that excused the extravagance; for a member rarely got away without + being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when they had peaches as + well as oysters. + </p> + <p> + The grocery at the Corners had been but recently established and as yet + the blacksmith’s shop had not looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald was + monarch of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favorite gathering place + for miles around. The smithy was also the patriotic center of the + district, as a blacksmith’s shop must be as long as anvils can take the + place of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th of May, the queen’s + birthday, celebrated locally as the only day in the year, except Sundays, + when Macdonald’s face was clean and when he did no work, the firing of the + anvils aroused the echoes of the locality. On that great day the grocer + supplied the powder, which was worth three York shillings a pound—a + York shilling being sixpence halfpenny. It took two men to carry an anvil, + with a good deal of grunting; but Macdonald, if the crowd were big enough, + made nothing of picking it up, hoisting it on his shoulder, and flinging + it down on the green in front of his shop. In the iron mass there is a + square hole, and when the anvil was placed upside down, the hole was + uppermost. It was filled with powder, and a wooden plug, with a notch cut + in it, was pounded in with a sledge hammer. Powder was sprinkled from the + notch over the surface of the anvil, and then the crowd stood back and + held its breath. It was a most exciting moment. Macdonald would come + running out of the shop bareheaded, holding a long iron bar, the wavering, + red-hot end of which descended on the anvil, while the blacksmith shouted + in a terrifying voice: “Look out, there!” The loose powder hissed and spat + for a moment, then bang went the cannon, and a great cloud of smoke rolled + upward, while the rousing cheers came echoing back from the surrounding + forests. The helper, with the powder-horn, would spring to the anvil and + pour the black explosive into the hole, while another stood ready with + plug and hammer. The delicious scent of burned gunpowder filled the air, + and was inhaled by all the youngsters with satisfaction, for now they + realized what real war was. Thus the salutes were fired, and thus the + royal birthday was fittingly celebrated. + </p> + <p> + Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade was much brisker, as then a + plug was not needed. The hole in the lower anvil was filled with powder, + and the other anvil was placed over it. This was much quicker than + pounding in a plug, and had quite as striking and detonating an effect. + The upper anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain’s shot-laden frog, and fell + over on its side. The smoke rolled up as usual, and the report was equally + gratifying. + </p> + <p> + Yates learned all these things as he sat in the blacksmith’s shop, for + they were still in the month of May, and the smoke of the echoing anvils + had hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to tell him of the + glory of the day. One or two were good enough to express regret that he + had not been there to see. After the disaster which had overturned Yates + things had gone on very smoothly, and he had become one of the crowd, as + it were. The fact that he was originally a Canadian told in his favor, + although he had been contaminated by long residence in the States. + </p> + <p> + Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horseshoes from long rods of iron. + Usually an extended line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackened + scantling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing the shop + overhead, just under the roof. These were the work of Macdonald’s + comparatively leisure days, and they were ready to be fitted to the hoofs + of any horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion there had been + such a run on his stock that it was exhausted, a depletion the smith + seemed to regard as a reproach on himself, for he told Yates several times + that he often had as many as three dozen shoes up aloft for a rainy day. + </p> + <p> + When the sledge hammer work was to be done, one of those present stepped + forward and swung the heavy sledge, keeping stroke for stroke with + Macdonald’s one-handed hammer, all of which required a nice ear for time. + This assistance was supposed to be rendered by Sandy; but, as he remarked, + he was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his skill was at liberty to + do so. Sandy seemed to spend most of his time at the bellows, and when he + was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as he called him, he was + commending the expertness of the <i>pro tem.</i> amateur, the wielder of + the sledge. It was fun to the amateur, and it was an old thing with Sandy, + so he never protested against this interference with his duty, believing + in giving everyone a chance, especially when it came to swinging a heavy + hammer. The whole scene brought back to Yates the days of his youth, + especially when Macdonald, putting the finishing strokes to his shoe, let + his hammer periodically tinkle with musical clangor on the anvil, ringing + forth a tintinnabulation that chimed melodiously on the ear—a sort + of anvil-chorus accompaniment to his mechanical skill. He was a real + sleight-of-hand man, and the anvil was his orchestra. + </p> + <p> + Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural club. As the members + thawed out he found them all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, they + were appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently new to them, + and nothing puts a man into a genial frame of mind so quickly as an + attentive, sympathetic audience. Few men could tell a story better than + Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of interested hearers. He hated + to have to explain the points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what + story-teller does not? A cold and critical man like the professor froze + the spring of narration at its source. Besides, Renmark had an + objectionable habit of tracing the recital to its origin; it annoyed Yates + to tell a modern yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, or some other + prehistoric poacher on the good things men were to say, had forestalled + him by a thousand years or so. When a man is quick to see the point of + your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you are apt to form a high + opinion of his good sense, and to value his companionship. + </p> + <p> + When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, who was delighted at the + impression Yates had made, was preparing to go, the whole company + protested against the New Yorker’s departure. This was real flattery. + </p> + <p> + “What’s your hurry, Bartlett?” asked the whittler. “You can’t do anything + this afternoon, if you do go home. It’s a poor time this to mend a bad + day’s work. If you stay, he’ll stay; won’t you, Mr. Yates? Macdonald is + going to set tires, and he needs us all to look on and see that he does it + right; don’t you, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I get a lot of help from you while there’s a stick to whittle,” + replied the smith. + </p> + <p> + “Then there’s the protracted meeting to-night at the schoolhouse,” put in + another, anxious that all the attractions of the place should be brought + forward. + </p> + <p> + “That’s so,” said the whittler; “I had forgotten about that. It’s the + first night, so we must all be there to encourage old Benderson. You’ll be + on hand to-night, won’t you, Macdonald?” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to Sandy and asked him savagely + what in —— and —-nation he was standing gawking there + for. Why didn’t he go outside and get things ready for the tire setting? + What in thunder was he paying him for, anyhow? Wasn’t there enough loafers + round, without him joining the ranks? + </p> + <p> + Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when the smith’s back was + turned, he shrugged his shoulders, took a fresh bite of tobacco from the + plug which he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others as he did + so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out of the shop, saying in a whisper + as he passed the whittler: + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t rile the old man, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + The club then adjourned to the outside, all except those who sat on the + bench. Yates asked: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with Macdonald? Doesn’t he like protracted meetings? + And, by the way, what are protracted meetings?” + </p> + <p> + “They’re revival meetings—religious meetings, you know, for + converting sinners.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Yates. “But why protracted? Are they kept on for a week or + two?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I suppose that’s why, although, to tell the truth, I never knew the + reason for the name. Protracted meetings always stood for just the same + thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as meaning that one thing, + without thinking why.” + </p> + <p> + “And doesn’t Macdonald like them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, it’s like this: He never wants to go to a protracted + meeting, yet he can’t keep away. He’s like a drunkard and the corner + tavern. He can’t pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. + Macdonald’s always the first one to go up to the penitent bench. They rake + him in every time. He has religion real bad for a couple of weeks, and + then he backslides. He doesn’t seem able to stand either the converting or + the backsliding. I suppose some time they will gather him in finally, and + he will stick and become a class leader, but he hasn’t stuck up to date.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he doesn’t like to hear the subject spoken of?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet he don’t. It isn’t safe to twit him about it either. To tell the + truth, I was pleased when I heard him swear at Sandy; then I knew it was + all right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad man to tackle when + he’s mad. There’s nobody in this district can handle him. I’d sooner get a + blow from a sledge hammer than meet Mac’s fist when his dander is up. But + so long as he swears it’s all right. Say, you’ll stay down for the + meeting, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I will. I’ll see what young Bartlett intends to do. It isn’t very + far to walk, in any case.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be lots of nice girls going your way to-night after the + meeting. I don’t know but I’ll jog along in that direction myself when + it’s over. That’s the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, and joined the crowd + outside. Young Bartlett sat on one of the horses, loath to leave while the + tire setting was going on. + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming, Yates?” he shouted, as his comrade appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I think I’ll stay for the meeting,” said Yates, approaching him and + patting the horse. He had no desire for mounting and riding away in the + presence of that critical assemblage. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said young Bartlett. “I guess I’ll be down at the meeting, + too; then I can show you the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” said Yates; “I’ll be on the lookout for you.” + </p> + <p> + Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of + dust. The others had also departed with their shod horses; but there were + several new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather than + diminished. They sat around on the fence, or on the logs dumped down by + the wayside. + </p> + <p> + Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was a convenient way of using the + weed, and required no matches, besides being safer for men who had to + frequent inflammable barns. + </p> + <p> + A circular fire burned in front of the shop, oak bark being the main fuel + used. Iron wagon tires lay hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald and + Sandy bustled about making preparations, their faces, more hideous in the + bright sunlight than in the comparative obscurity of the shop, giving them + the appearance of two evil spirits about to attend some incantation scene + of which the circular fire was the visible indication. Crosstrees, of four + pieces of squared timber, lay near the fire, with a tireless wheel placed + flat upon them, the hub in the square hole at the center. Shiftless + farmers always resisted having tires set until they would no longer stay + on the wheel. The inevitable day was postponed, time and again, by a + soaking of the wheels overnight in some convenient puddle of water; but as + the warmer and dryer weather approached this device, supplemented by + wooden wedges, no longer sufficed, and the tires had to be set for summer + work. Frequently the tire rolled off on the sandy highway, and the farmer + was reluctantly compelled to borrow a rail from the nearest fence, and + place it so as to support the axle; he then put the denuded wheel and its + tire on the wagon, and drove slowly to the nearest blacksmith’s shop, his + vehicle “trailing like a wounded duck,” the rail leaving a snake’s track + behind it on the dusty road. + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith had previously cut and welded the tire, reducing its + circumference, and when it was hot enough, he and Sandy, each with a pair + of tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It was pressed and + hammered down on the blazing rim of the wheel, and instantly Sandy and + Macdonald, with two pails of water that stood handy, poured the cold + liquid around the red-hot zone, enveloping themselves in clouds of steam, + the quick contraction clamping the iron on the wood until the joints + cracked together. There could be no loitering; quick work was necessary, + or a spoiled wheel was the result. Macdonald, alternately spluttering + through fire and steam, was in his element. Even Sandy had to be on the + keen jump, without a moment to call his plug of tobacco his own. Macdonald + fussed and fussed, but got through an immense amount of work in an + incredibly short space of time, cursing Sandy pretty much all the while; + yet that useful man never replied in kind, contenting himself with a wink + at the crowd when he got the chance, and saying under his breath: + </p> + <p> + “The old man’s in great fettle to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Thus everybody enjoyed himself: Macdonald, because he was the center + figure in a saturnalia of work; Sandy, because no matter how hard a man + has to work he can chew tobacco all the time; the crowd, because the + spectacle of fire, water, and steam was fine, and they didn’t have to do + anything but sit around and look on. The sun got lower and lower as, one + by one, the spectators departed to do their chores, and prepare for the + evening meeting. Yates at the invitation of the whittler went home with + him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret had never met any man but her father who was so fond of books as + Professor Renmark. The young fellows of her acquaintance read scarcely + anything but the weekly papers; they went with some care through the + yellow almanac that was given away free, with the grocer’s name printed on + the back. The marvelous cures the almanac recorded were of little + interest, and were chiefly read by the older folk, but the young men + reveled in the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, their only + drawback being that one could never tell the stories at a paring-bee or + other social gathering, because everyone in the company had read them. A + few of the young men came sheepishly round to get a book out of the + library, but it was evident that their interest was not so much in the + volume as in the librarian, and when that fact became apparent to the + girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought to be cold and proud by the + youth of the neighborhood, or “stuck-up,” as they expressed it. + </p> + <p> + To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revelation. He could talk of other + things than the weather, live stock, and the prospects for the crops. The + conversation at first did not include Margaret, but she listened to every + word of it with interest. Her father and mother were anxious to hear about + their boy; and from that engrossing subject the talk soon drifted to + university life, and the differences between city and country. At last the + farmer, with a sigh, arose to go. There is little time for pleasant talk + on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret, remembering her duties as + librarian, began to take in the books from the wagon to the front room. + Renmark, slow in most things, was quick enough to offer his assistance on + this occasion; but he reddened somewhat as he did so, for he was unused to + being a squire of dames. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would let me do the porterage,” he said. “I would like to earn + the right to look at these books sometimes, even though I may not have the + privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident of the township.” + </p> + <p> + “The librarian,” answered Margaret, with a smile, “seems to be at liberty + to use her own discretion in the matter of lending. No one has authority + to look over her accounts, or to censure her if she lends recklessly. So, + if you wish to borrow books, all you have to do is to ask for them.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure I shall avail myself of the permission. But my conscience + will be easier if I am allowed to carry them in.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be permitted to help. I like carrying them. There is no more + delicious armful than books.” + </p> + <p> + As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face radiant with enthusiasm, + the disconcerting thought came suddenly that perhaps her statement might + not be accurate. No such thought had ever suggested itself to him before, + and it now filled him with guilty confusion. He met the clear, honest gaze + of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered lamely: + </p> + <p> + “I—I too am very fond of books.” + </p> + <p> + Together they carried in the several hundred volumes, and then began to + arrange them. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no catalogue?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. We never seem to need one. People come and look over the library, and + take out whatever book they fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but still every library ought to be catalogued. Cataloguing is an + art in itself. I have paid a good deal of attention to it, and will show + you how it is done, if you care to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish you would.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you keep a record of the volumes that are out?” + </p> + <p> + “I just write the name of the person, the title, and the date in this + blank book. When the volume is returned, I score out the record.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Renmark dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “That isn’t right, is it? Is there a better way?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for a small library, that ought to do; but if you were handling + many books, I think confusion might result.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell me the right way. I should like to know, even if it is a small + library.” + </p> + <p> + “There are several methods, but I am by no means sure your way is not the + simplest, and therefore the best in this instance.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not going to be put off like that,” said Margaret, laughing. “A + collection of books is a collection of books, whether large or small, and + deserves respect and the best of treatment. Now, what method is used in + large libraries?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though slips of paper would do. + When any person wants to take out a book, let him make out a card, giving + the date and the name or number of the book; he then must sign the card, + and there you are. He cannot deny having had the book, for you have his + own signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a box according to + dates, and when a book is returned, you tear up the recording paper.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few hundred cards. We’ll have + them here in a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t want to put you to that trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let us attack the + catalogue. Have you a blank book anywhere about? We will first make an + alphabetical list; then we will arrange them under the heads of history, + biography, fiction, and so on.” + </p> + <p> + Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue took a long time. Both + were absorbed in their occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straight and + narrow path, but in this instance there were so many delightful side + excursions that rapid progress could not be expected. To a reader the mere + mention of a book brings up recollections. Margaret was reading out the + names; Renmark, on slips of paper, each with a letter on it, was writing + them down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you that book?” he would say, looking up as a title was + mentioned. “Have you ever read it?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for, you see, this part of the library is all new to me. Why, here is + one of which the leaves are not even cut. No one has read it. Is it good?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the best,” Renmark would say, taking the volume. “Yes, I know this + edition. Let me read you one passage.” + </p> + <p> + And Margaret would sit in the rocking while he cut the leaves and found + the place. One extract was sure to suggest another, and time passed before + the title of the book found its way to the proper slip of paper. These + excursions into literature were most interesting to both excursionists, + but they interfered with cataloguing. Renmark read and read, ever and anon + stopping to explain some point, or quote what someone else had said on the + same subject, marking the place in the book, as he paused, with inserted + fore finger. Margaret swayed back and forth in the comfortable rocking + chair, and listened intently, her large dark eyes fixed upon him so + earnestly that now and then, when he met them, he seemed disconcerted for + a moment. But the girl did not notice this. At the end of one of his + dissertations she leaned her elbow on the arm of the chair, with her cheek + resting against her hand, and said: + </p> + <p> + “How very clear you make everything, Mr. Renmark.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” he said with a smile. “It’s my business, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s a shame that girls are not allowed to go to the university; + don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, and I am not quite + prepared to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think it most unfair. The university is supported by the + Government, is it not? Then why should half of the population be shut out + from its advantages?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid it wouldn’t do, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “There are many reasons,” he replied evasively. + </p> + <p> + “What are they? Do you think girls could not learn, or are not as capable + of hard study as well as——” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t that,” he interrupted; “there are plenty of girls’ schools in + the country, you know. Some very good ones in Toronto itself, for that + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why shouldn’t I go to the university with my brother? There are + plenty of boys’ schools, too, but the university is the university. I + suppose my father helps to support it. Why, then, should one child be + allowed to attend and the other not? It isn’t at all just.” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn’t do,” said the professor more firmly, the more he thought + about it. + </p> + <p> + “Would you take that as a satisfying reason from one or your students?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The phrase, ‘It wouldn’t do.’” + </p> + <p> + Renmark laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid not,” he said; “but, then, I’m very exacting in class. Now, if + you want to know, why do you not ask your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Father and I have discussed the question, often, and he quite agrees with + me in thinking it unfair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, does he?” said Renmark, taken aback; although, when he reflected, he + realized that the father doubtless knew as little about the dangers of the + city as the daughter did. + </p> + <p> + “And what does your mother say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper it is all that is + required. So you will have to give me a good reason, if there is one, for + nobody else in this house argues on your side of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, “if you don’t know by the + time you are twenty-five, I’ll promise to discuss the whole subject with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five?” she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity of youth: + “That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I’ll find out + before that time.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you will,” Renmark answered. + </p> + <p> + They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of her + brother. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, you two!” he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. “It seems + the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret rose with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “We are cataloguing,” she said severely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or is two + company when they’re cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it is?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I must be off,” said the professor, rising. “My companion in + camp won’t know what has become of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s all right!” said Henry. “He’s down at the Corners, and is going + to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a while ago; + he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went with him. I guess + Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, will you go to the + meeting? I’m going. Young Bartlett’s going, and so is Kitty. Won’t you + come, too, Mr. Renmark? It’s great fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk like that about a religious gathering, Henry,” said his + sister, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s what it is, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a prayer meeting?” asked the professor, looking at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “You bet it is!” cried Henry enthusiastically, giving no one a chance to + speak but himself. “It’s a prayer meeting, and every other kind of meeting + all rolled into one. It’s a revival meeting; a protracted meeting, that’s + what it is. You had better come with us, Mr. Renmark, and then you can see + what it is like. You can walk home with Yates.” + </p> + <p> + This attractive <i>dénouement</i> did not seem to appeal so strongly to + the professor as the boy expected, for he made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “You will come, sis; won’t you?” urged the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure Kitty is going?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she is. You don’t think she’d miss it, do you? They’ll soon be + here, too; better go and get ready.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll see what mother says,” replied Margaret as she left the room. She + shortly returned, dressed ready for the meeting, and the professor + concluded he would go also. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + Anyone passing the Corners that evening would have quickly seen that + something important was on. Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, drawn + in toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses were tied. Some had + evidently come from afar, for the fame of the revivalist was widespread. + The women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, which was + brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The men stood around outside in + groups, while many sat in rows on the fences, all conversing about every + conceivable topic except religion. They apparently acted on the theory + that there would be enough religion to satisfy the most exacting when they + went inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fence with the whittler, + whose guest he had been. It was getting too dark for satisfactory + whittling, so the man with the jack-knife improved the time by cutting + notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when this failed, there was + always a satisfaction in opening and shutting a knife that had a powerful + spring at the back of it, added to which was the pleasurable danger of + cutting his fingers. They were discussing the Fenian question, which at + that time was occupying the minds of Canadians to some extent. Yates was + telling them what he knew of the brotherhood in New York, and the strength + of it, which his auditors seemed inclined to underestimate. Nobody + believed that the Fenians would be so foolhardy as to attempt an invasion + of Canada; but Yates held that if they did they would give the Canadians + more trouble than was expected. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we’ll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come over here. They’ll be + glad enough to get back if he tackles them.” + </p> + <p> + “With his tongue,” added another. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said the whittler, “did young Bartlett say he was coming + to-night? I hope he’ll bring his sister if he does. Didn’t any of you + fellows ask him to bring her? He’d never think of it if he wasn’t told. He + has no consideration for the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you ask him? I hear you have taken to going in that direction + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Me?” asked the whittler, quite unconcerned. “I have no chance in + that quarter, especially when the old man’s around.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of singing from the schoolhouse. The double doors were + wide open, and as the light streamed out the people began to stream in. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Macdonald?” asked Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess he’s taken to the woods. He washes his face, and then he + hides. He has the sense to wash his face first, for he knows he will have + to come. You’ll see him back before they start the second hymn.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, boys!” said one, getting down from the fence and stretching his + arms above his head with a yawn, “I guess, if we’re going in, it’s about + time.” + </p> + <p> + One after another they got down from the fence, the whittler shutting his + knife with a reluctant snap, and putting it in his pocket with evident + regret. The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to its utmost + capacity—women on one side of the room, and men on the other; + although near the door there was no such division, all the occupants of + the back benches being men and boys. The congregation was standing, + singing a hymn, when Yates and his comrades entered, so their quiet + incoming was not noticed. The teacher’s desk had been moved from the + platform on which it usually stood, and now occupied a corner on the men’s + side of the house. It was used as a seat by two or three, who wished to be + near the front, and at the same time keep an eye on the rest of the + assemblage. The local preacher stood on the edge of the platform, beating + time gently with his hymn book, but not singing, as he had neither voice + nor ear for music, and happily recognized the fact. The singing was led by + a man in the middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + At the back of the platform, near the wall, were two chairs, on one of + which sat the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who was to conduct the revival. He was a + stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see his face, for it was + buried in his hands, his head being bowed in silent prayer. It was + generally understood that he had spent a youth of fearful wickedness, and + he always referred to himself as a brand snatched from the burning. It was + even hinted that at one time he had been a card player, but no one knew + this for a fact. Many of the local preachers had not the power of + exhortation, therefore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had that + gift abnormally developed, was too valuable to be localized; so he spent + the year going from place to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, or + frightening into the fold those stray sheep that hovered on the outskirts; + once they were within the religious ring-fence the local minister was + supposed to keep them there. The latter, who had given out the hymn, was a + man of very different caliber. He was tall, pale, and thin, and his long + black coat hung on him as if it were on a post. When the hymn was + finished; and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, found seats as + best they could at the end near the door. This was the portion of the hall + where the scoffers assembled, but it was also the portion which yielded + most fruit, if the revival happened to be a successful one. Yates, seeing + the place so full, and noticing two empty benches up at the front, asked + the whittler why they were not occupied. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll be occupied pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they being kept for?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. You never can tell. That’s + the penitents’ bench.” + </p> + <p> + The local preacher knelt on the platform, and offered up a prayer. He + asked the Lord to bless the efforts of the brother who was with them there + that night, and to crown his labors with success; through his + instrumentality to call many wandering sinners home. There were cries of + “Amen” and “Bless the Lord” from different parts of the hall as the prayer + was being made. On rising, another hymn was given out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. + Let earth receive her King.” + </pre> + <p> + The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune began high, and ran + down to the bottom of the scale by the time it reached the end of the + first line. When the congregation had got two-thirds of the way down, they + found they could go no farther, not even those who sang bass. The leader, + in some confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, and his miscalculation + was looked upon as exceedingly funny by the reckless spirits at the back + of the hall. The door opened quietly; and they all turned expecting to see + Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had washed his face with but + indifferent success, and the bulge in his cheek, like a wen, showed that + he had not abandoned tobacco on entering the schoolhouse. He tiptoed to a + place beside his friends. + </p> + <p> + “The old man’s outside,” he whispered to the youth who sat nearest him, + holding his hand to the side of his mouth so that the sound would not + travel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him in a friendly sort of + way. + </p> + <p> + The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went on, gradually recovering + from the misadventure at starting. When it was finished, the preacher sat + down beside the revivalist. His part of the work was done, as there was no + formal introduction of speaker to audience to be gone through. The other + remained as he was with bowed head, for what appeared to be a long time. + </p> + <p> + A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whisperings among the + scoffers ceased. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, arose, and came to the front + of the platform. He had a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, with the + heavy jaw of a stubborn man—a man not easily beaten. “Open the + door,” he said in a quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + In the last few meetings he had held he had found this an effective + beginning. It was new to his present audience. Usually a knot of people + stood outside, and if they were there, he made an appeal to them, through + the open door, to enter. If no one was there, he had a lesson to impart, + based on the silence and the darkness. In this instance it was hard to say + which was the more surprised, the revivalist or the congregation. Sandy, + being on his feet, stepped to the door, and threw it open. He was so + astonished at what he saw that he slid behind the open door out of sight. + Macdonald stood there, against the darkness beyond, in a crouching + attitude, as if about to spring. He had evidently been trying to see what + was going on through the keyhole; and, being taken unawares by the sudden + opening of the door, had not had time to recover himself. No retreat was + now possible. He stood up with haggard face, like a man who has been on a + spree, and, without a word, walked in. Those on the bench in front of + Yates moved together a little closer, and the blacksmith sat down on the + vacant space left at the outside. In his confusion he drew his hand across + his brow, and snapped his fingers loudly in the silence. A few faces at + the back wore a grin, and would have laughed had not Sandy, closing the + door quietly, given them one menacing look which quelled their merriment. + He was not going to have the “old man” made fun of in his extremity; and + they all had respect enough for Sandy’s fist not to run the risk of + encountering it after the meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to + be dreaded in a fight; but the chances were that for the next two or three + weeks, if the revival were a success, there would be no danger from that + quarter. Sandy, however, was permanently among the unconverted, and + therefore to be feared, as being always ready to stand up for his + employer, either with voice or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson + had witnessed suggested no remarks at the time, so, being a wise man, he + said nothing. The congregation wondered how he had known Macdonald was at + the door, and none more than Macdonald himself. It seemed to many that the + revivalist had a gift of divination denied to themselves, and this belief + left them in a frame of mind more than ever ready to profit by the + discourse they were about to hear. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that nevertheless penetrated to + every part of the room. He had a voice of peculiar quality, as sweet as + the tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music; now and then there + was a manly ring in it which thrilled his listeners. “A week ago + to-night,” he said, “at this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of one who + is now among the blessed. It is four years since he found salvation, by + the mercy of God, through the humble instrumentality of the least of his + servants. It was my blessed privilege to see that young man—that boy + almost—pledge his soul to Jesus. He was less than twenty when he + gave himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long life were as strong as the + hopes of the youngest here to-night. Yet he was struck down in the early + flush of manhood—struck down almost without warning. When I heard of + his brief illness, although knowing nothing of its seriousness, something + urged me to go to him, and at once. When I reached the house, they told me + that he had asked to see me, and that they had just sent a messenger to + the telegraph office with a dispatch for me. I said: ‘God telegraphed to + me.’ They took me to the bedside of my young friend, whom I had last seen + as hearty and strong as anyone here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with emotion, told the story of + the deathbed scene. His language was simple and touching, and it was + evident to the most callous auditor that he spoke from the heart, + describing in pathetic words the scene he had witnessed. His unadorned + eloquence went straight home to every listener, and many an eye dimmed as + he put before them a graphic picture of the serenity attending the end of + a well-spent life. + </p> + <p> + “As I came through among you to-night,” he continued, “as you stood + together in groups outside this building, I caught a chance expression + that one of you uttered. A man was speaking of some neighbor who, at this + busy season of the year, had been unable to get help. I think the one to + whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy man were here, and the + answer was: ‘No; he has not a minute to call his own.’ The phrase has + haunted me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. ‘Not a minute to call + his own!’ I thought of it as I sat before you. I thought of it as I rose + to address you. I think of it now. Who has a minute to call his own?” The + soft tones of the preacher’s voice had given place to a ringing cry that + echoed from the roof down on their heads. “Have you? Have I? Has any king, + any prince, any president, any ruler over men, a minute or a moment he can + call his own? Not one. Not one of all the teeming millions on this earth. + The minutes that are past are yours. What use have you made of them? All + your efforts, all your prayers, will not change the deeds done in any one + of those minutes that are past, and those only are yours. The chiseled + stone is not more fixed than are the deeds of the minutes that are past. + Their record is for you or against you. But where now are those minutes of + the future—those minutes that, from this time onward, you will be + able to call your own when they are spent? They are in the hand of God—in + his hand to give or to withhold. And who can count them in the hand of + God? Not you, not I, not the wisest man upon the earth. Man may number the + miles from here to the farthest visible star; but he cannot tell you,—<i>you</i>; + I don’t mean your neighbor, I mean <i>you</i>,—he cannot tell YOU + whether your minutes are to be one or a thousand. They are doled out to + you, and you are responsible for them. But there will come a moment,—it + may be to-night, it may be a year hence,—when the hand of God will + close, and you will have had your sum. Then time will end for you, and + eternity begin. Are you prepared for that awful moment—that moment + when the last is given you, and the next withheld? What if it came now? + Are you prepared for it? Are you ready to welcome it, as did our brother + who died at this hour one short week ago? His was not the only deathbed I + have attended. Some scenes have been so seared into my brain that I can + never forget them. A year ago I was called to the bedside of a dying man, + old in years and old in sin. Often had he been called, but he put Christ + away from him, saying: ‘At a more convenient season.’ He knew the path, + but he walked not therein. And when at last God’s patience ended, and this + man was stricken down, he, foolish to the last, called for me, the + servant, instead of to God, the Master. When I reached his side, the stamp + of death was on his face. The biting finger of agony had drawn lines upon + his haggard brow. A great fear was upon him, and he gripped my hand with + the cold grasp of death itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I + saw the angel of peace standing by the bed, but it stood aloof, as one + often offended. It seemed to me at the head of the bed the demon of + eternal darkness bent over, whispering to him: ‘It is too late! it is too + late!’ The dying man looked at me—oh, such a look! May you never be + called upon to witness its like. He gasped: ‘I have lived—I have + lived a sinful life. Is it too late?’ ‘No,’ I said, trembling. ‘Say you + believe.’ His lips moved, but no sound came. He died as he had lived. The + one necessary minute was withheld. Do you hear? <i>It—was—withheld!</i> + He had not the minute to call his own. Not that minute in which to turn + from everlasting damnation. He—went—down—into—<i>hell</i>, + dying as he had lived.” + </p> + <p> + The preacher’s voice rose until it sounded like a trumpet blast. His eyes + shone, and his face flushed with the fervor of his theme. Then followed, + as rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture of hell and the + day of judgment. Sobs and groans were heard in every part of the room. + “Come—now—<i>now</i>!” he cried, “Now is the appointed time, + now is the day of salvation. Come now; and as you rise pray God that in + his mercy he may spare you strength and life to reach the penitent bench.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching out his hands, he broke + forth, with his splendid tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, with its + spirited marching time: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Musical score: Come ye sinners, poor and needy, + Weak and wounded, sick and sore; + Jesus ready stands to save you. + Full of pity, love, and power.] +</pre> + <p> + The whole congregation joined him. Everyone knew the words and the tune. + It seemed a relief to the pent-up feelings to sing at the top of the + voice. The chorus rose like a triumphal march: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear name; + Glory, honour, and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] +</pre> + <p> + As the congregation sang the preacher in stentorian tones urged sinners to + seek the Lord while he was yet to be found. + </p> + <p> + Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he tugged at his collar, as + if he were choking. He could not understand the strange exaltation that + had come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. All those around him + were much moved. There were now no scoffers at the back of the room. Most + of them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at the other. It only + needed a beginning, and the penitent bench would be crowded. Many eyes + were turned on Macdonald. His face was livid, and great beads of + perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand clutched the back of the + seat before him, and the muscles stood out on the portion of his arm that + was bare. He stared like a hypnotized man at the preacher. His teeth were + set, and he breathed hard, as would a man engaged in a struggle. At last + the hand of the preacher seemed to be pointed directly at him. He rose + tremblingly to his feet and staggered down the aisle, flinging himself on + his knees, with his head on his arms, beside the penitent bench, groaning + aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Bless the Lord!” cried the preacher. + </p> + <p> + It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the aisle, with pale faces, many + with tears streaming from their eyes, walked the young men and the old. + Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on their lips, saw their + sons fall prostrate before the penitent bench. Soon the contrite had to + kneel wherever they could. The ringing salvation march filled the air, + mingled with cries of joy and devout ejaculations. + </p> + <p> + “God!” cried Yates, tearing off his collar, “what is the matter with me? I + never felt like this before. I must get into the open air.” + </p> + <p> + He made for the door, and escaped unnoticed in the excitement of the + moment. He stood for a time by the fence outside, breathing deeply of the + cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly to him. He clutched + the fence, fearing he was about to faint. Partially recovering himself at + last, he ran with all his might up the road, while there rang in his ears + the marching words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, + Sound the praise of His dear Name. + Glory, honour and salvation, + Christ the Lord has come to reign.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + When people are thrown together, especially when they are young, the + mutual relationship existing between them rarely remains stationary. It + drifts toward like or dislike; and cases have been known where it + progressed into love or hatred. + </p> + <p> + Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became at least very firm friends. + Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. These two had a + good foundation on which to build up an acquaintance in the fact that + Margaret’s brother was a student in the university of which the professor + was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference, which, if it + leads not to heated argument, but is soberly discussed, lends itself even + more to the building of friendship than subjects of agreement. Margaret + held, as has been indicated in a previous chapter, that the university was + wrong in closing its doors to women. Renmark, up to the time of their + first conversation on the subject, had given the matter but little + thought; yet he developed an opinion contrary to that of Margaret, and was + too honest a man, or too little of a diplomatist, to conceal it. On one + occasion Yates had been present, and he threw himself, with the energy + that distinguished him, into the woman side of the question—cordially + agreeing with Margaret, citing instances, and holding those who were + against the admission of women up to ridicule, taunting them with fear of + feminine competition. Margaret became silent as the champion of her cause + waxed the more eloquent; but whether she liked Richard Yates the better + for his championship who that is not versed in the ways of women can say? + As the hope of winning her regard was the sole basis of Yates’ + uncompromising views on the subject, it is likely that he was successful, + for his experiences with the sex were large and varied. Margaret was + certainly attracted toward Renmark, whose deep scholarship even his + excessive self-depreciation could not entirely conceal; and he, in turn, + had naturally a schoolmaster’s enthusiasm over a pupil who so earnestly + desired advancement in knowledge. Had he described his feelings to Yates, + who was an expert in many matters, he would perhaps have learned that he + was in love; but Renmark was a reticent man, not much given either to + introspection or to being lavish with his confidences. As to Margaret, who + can plummet the depth of a young girl’s regard until she herself gives + some indication? All that one is able to record is that she was kinder to + Yates than she had been at the beginning. + </p> + <p> + Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had a sincere + liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fell into the + error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, whereas she was + merely a girl who had an inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and one who + took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even Yates made + a slight mistake regarding her on one occasion, when they were having an + evening walk together, with that freedom from chaperonage which is the + birthright of every American girl, whether she belongs to a farmhouse or + to the palace of a millionaire. + </p> + <p> + In describing the incident afterward to Renmark, (for Yates had nothing of + his comrade’s reserve in these matters) he said: + </p> + <p> + “She left a diagram of her four fingers on my cheek that felt like one of + those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap of a + lady’s fan in admonition, but never in my life have I met a gentle reproof + that felt so much like a censure from the paw of our friend Tom Sayers.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark said with some severity that he hoped Yates would not forget that + he was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>that’s</i> all right,” said Yates. “If you have any spare sympathy + to bestow, keep it for me. My neighbors are amply able, and more than + willing, to take care of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + And now as to Richard Yates himself. One would imagine that here, at + least, a conscientious relater of events would have an easy task. Alas! + such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all odds the + most complex and bewildering of the four. He was deeply and truly in love + with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare as a young + man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make her believe. Cases + have been known where a chance meeting with one girl, and not with + another, has settled who was to be a young man’s companion during a long + life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and made no + secret of his perplexity to his friend. He complained sometimes that he + got little help toward the solution of the problem, but generally he was + quite content to sit under the trees with Renmark and weigh the different + advantages of each of the girls. He sometimes appealed to his friend, as a + man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing an education that + extended far into conic sections and algebraic formulae, to balance up the + lists, and give him a candid and statistical opinion as to which of the + two he should favor with serious proposals. When these appeals for help + were coldly received, he accused his friend of lack of sympathy with his + dilemma, said that he was a soulless man, and that if he had a heart it + had become incrusted with the useless <i>debris</i> of a higher education, + and swore to confide in him no more. He would search for a friend, he + said, who had something human about him. The search for the sympathetic + friend, however, seemed to be unsuccessful; for Yates always returned to + Renmark, to have, as he remarked, ice water dashed upon his duplex-burning + passion. + </p> + <p> + It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of May, 1866, and Yates was + swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under his head, + gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through the green + branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend was + unromantically peeling potatoes near the door of the tent. + </p> + <p> + “The human heart, Renny,” said the man in the hammock reflectively, “is a + remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume, from your lack + of interest, that you haven’t given the subject much study, except, + perhaps, in a physiological way. At the present moment it is to me the + only theme worthy of a man’s entire attention. Perhaps that is the result + of spring, as the poet says; but, anyhow, it presents new aspects to me + each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery: that the girl I am + with last seems to me the most desirable. That is contrary to the + observation of philosophers of bygone days. Absence makes the heart grow + fonder, <i>they</i> say. I don’t find it so. Presence is what plays the + very deuce with me. Now, how do you account for it, Stilly?” + </p> + <p> + The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attended to + the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky, and fixed them + on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Renmark,” he drawled at last, “I am convinced that your treatment of + the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled the day + before, and left to soak in cold water until to-morrow’s dinner. Of course + I admire the industry that gets work well over before its results are + called for. Nothing is more annoying than work left untouched until the + last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtue may be carried to + excess, and a man may be too previous.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. You may + perhaps remember that for two days I have been doing your share as well as + my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am not complaining about <i>that</i>, at all,” said the hammock + magnanimously. “You are acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will be + of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My only + desire is that your education should be as complete as possible, and to + this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire for scullery + work. I should suggest that, instead of going to the trouble of entirely + removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way, you should + merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. Then, rather than + cook the potatoes in the slow and soggy manner that seems to delight you, + you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the water. The + remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting potato would be + white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the condition of a wet + sponge.” + </p> + <p> + “The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you are not + satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practical object + lesson.” + </p> + <p> + The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the + cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should demean + himself by attending to the prosaic details of household affairs. I am + doubly in love, and much more, therefore, as that old bore Euclid used to + say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, then; don’t criticise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in your curt suggestion. A + man who is unable, or unwilling, to work in the vineyard should not find + fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time of asking, + add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like the good + fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To which of + those two charming, but totally unlike, girls would you give the + preference?” + </p> + <p> + “Damn!” said the professor quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Renny!” cried Yates, raising his head. “Have you cut your finger? + I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife.” + </p> + <p> + But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word given above + is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemed to lose + all relationship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, and, in a + certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself for using it, but + there had been moments during the past few days when the ordinary + expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematics did not fit + the occasion. + </p> + <p> + Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadway near + them. + </p> + <p> + “Is Richard Yates there?” hailed the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Who wants him?” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tired + horse, tied the animal to a sapling,—which, judging by the horse’s + condition, was an entirely unnecessary operation,—jumped over the + rail fence, and approached through the woods. The young men saw, coming + toward them, a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. + </p> + <p> + “I’m Yates. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the lad, “I’ve had a hunt and a half for you. Here’s a + telegram.” + </p> + <p> + “How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York a pile + of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woods without + leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow.” The young man looked + at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good or bad + according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates took the + yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, without opening it, + repeated his question: + </p> + <p> + “But how on earth did you find me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it wasn’t easy;” said the boy. “My horse is about done out. I’m + from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no + expense; and we haven’t. There are seven other fellows scouring the + country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more have + gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other messenger + has been here before me, has he?” asked the boy with a touch of anxiety in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “No; you are the first.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad of that. I’ve been ‘most all over Canada. I got on your trail + about two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you + were up here. Is there any answer?” + </p> + <p> + Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read it with a + deepening frown. It was to this effect: + </p> + <p> + “Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get there + as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. General + O’Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you every facility when + you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they will report to you. Place + one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold the telegraph wire, and + send over all the stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for cash you need; + and don’t spare expense.” + </p> + <p> + When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line of + language that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admiration of + the Buffalo telegraph boy. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens and earth and the lower regions! I’m here on my vacation. I’m not + going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn’t those + fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don’t know when they’re well + off. The Fenians be hanged!” + </p> + <p> + “Guess that’s what they will be,” said the telegraph boy. “Any answer, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Tell ‘em you couldn’t find me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t expect the boy to tell a lie,” said the professor, speaking for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t mind a lie!” exclaimed the boy, “but not that one. No, sir. + I’ve had too much trouble finding you. I’m not going to pretend I’m no + good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I’ll tell any other + lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it will oblige you.” + </p> + <p> + Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip his + fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and he + at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of the fruits + of his enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “that won’t do. No; you have found me, and you’re a young + fellow who will be president of the telegraph company some day, or perhaps + hold the less important office of the United States presidency. Who knows? + Have you a telegraph blank?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet + by his side. Yates took the paper, and flung himself down under the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a pencil,” said the messenger. + </p> + <p> + “A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you,” replied Yates, + taking one out of his inside pocket. “Now, Renmark, I’m not going to tell + a lie on this occasion,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I think the truth is better on all occasions.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth.” + </p> + <p> + Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. + Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: “Say, Renmark, are you a + doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Of laws,” replied his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that will do just as well.” And he finished his writing. + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” he cried, holding the paper at arm’s length: + </p> + <h3> + “L. F. SPENCER, + </h3> + <p> + “<i>Managing Editor ‘Argus,’ New York:</i> + </p> + <p> + “I’m flat on my back. Haven’t done a hand’s turn for a week. Am under the + constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors in + Canada, who even prepares my food for me. Since leaving New York trouble + of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. + Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here until + present complications have yielded to treatment. + </p> + <p> + “Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence.” + </p> + <h3> + “YATES. + </h3> + <p> + “There,” said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finished the + reading. “What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly saw through + it, but not quite, grinned, and said: “Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it’s true!” cried Yates, indignant at the unjust suspicion. “It + is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor, + there, if it isn’t true. Now, my boy, will you give this in when you get + back to the office? Tell ‘em to rush it through to New York. I would mark + it ‘rush’ only that never does any good, and always makes the operator + mad.” + </p> + <p> + The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s to be paid for at the other end,” continued Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” answered the messenger with a certain + condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. + “Well, so long,” he added. “I hope you’ll soon be better, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see that. They’ll perhaps + question you when you get back. What will you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’ll tell ‘em what a hard job I had to find you, and let ‘em know + nobody else could ‘a’ done it, and I’ll say you’re a pretty sick man. I + won’t tell ‘em you gave me a dollar!” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, sonny; <i>you’ll</i> get along. Here’s five dollars, all + in one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take them back with + you. There’s no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck of + the woods.” + </p> + <p> + The boy stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if it + represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and waved + his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and walked slowly + back to the tent. He threw himself once more into the hammock. As he + expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although he had + been prepared for silence, the silence irritated him. He felt ill used at + having so unsympathetic a companion. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; why don’t you say something?” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, there is. You don’t approve of me, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even the humblest + of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve of me? + People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more uncomfortable + than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One’s own conscience + one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of another man is beyond + one’s control. Now, it is like this: I am here for quiet and rest. I have + earned both, and I think I am justified in——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I + am tired of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And of me, too, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, rather—if you want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter + with Bartlett on the road Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The + reporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, hesitating. The + other, his heavy brows drawn, while not in an aggressive attitude, was + plainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not to strike. + This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The reporter + realized that he had forced the conversation, and remembered he had + invited Renmark to accompany him. Although this recollection stayed his + hand, it had no effect on his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” he said slowly, “that it would do you good for once to hear a + straight, square, unbiased opinion of yourself. You have associated so + long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may interest you to + know what a man of the world thinks of you. A few years of schoolmastering + is enough to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, of all the——” + </p> + <p> + The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence: + </p> + <p> + “Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives?” + </p> + <p> + The reporter’s hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over his + face, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced a + smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. + </p> + <p> + Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who had received an unexpected + blow. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Renny,” he wailed, “it’s another of those cursed telegraph + messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign it + ‘Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.’ That will give it a sort of official, + medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy was + here. Tell him I’m lying down.” He flung himself into the hammock, and + Renmark, after a moment’s hesitation, walked toward the boy at the fence, + who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time he + returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the + hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and + scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor + stood there for a few moments in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he said at last, “you’ll be good enough to go on with your + remarks.” + </p> + <p> + “I was merely going to say,” answered Yates wearily, “that you are a + mighty good fellow, Renny. People who camp out always have rows. That is + our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is something like + married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on both sides. That + philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I am really very much + worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling myself + into the chasm like that Roman fellow; but, hang it! I’ve been flinging + myself into chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it done? There’s + always a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them to understand in + the <i>Argus</i> office that I am on my vacation.” + </p> + <p> + “They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you’re on your + deathbed.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. “That’s so,” he said; “but, you see, Renny, we New Yorkers + live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration that if I did not put it + strongly it wouldn’t have any effect. You’ve got to give a big dose to a + man who has been taking poison all his life. They will take off ninety per + cent. from any statement I make, anyhow; so, you see, I have to pile it up + pretty high before the remaining ten per cent. amounts to anything.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigs behind + them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nervously on the fence, + turned round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the underbrush. His + face was red; he had evidently been running. + </p> + <p> + “Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates,” he panted. “The fellows that brought + ‘em said they were important; so I ran out with them myself, for fear they + wouldn’t find you. One of them’s from Port Colborne, the other’s from + Buffalo.” + </p> + <p> + Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the receipt + of one as an event in a man’s life. He was astonished to see Yates receive + the double event with a listlessness that he could not help thinking was + merely assumed for effect. Yates held them in his hand, and did not tear + them up at once out of consideration for the feelings of the young man, + who had had a race to deliver them. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s two books they wanted you to sign. They’re tired out, and mother’s + giving them something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “Professor, you sign for me, won’t you?” said Yates. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would hear something of the + contents of the important messages; but Yates did not even open the + envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringing them. + </p> + <p> + “Stuck-up cuss!” muttered young Bartlett to himself, as he shoved the + signed books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush + again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their contents + into little pieces, and scattered them as before. + </p> + <p> + “Begins to look like autumn,” he said, “with the yellow leaves strewing + the ground.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + Before night three more telegraph boys found Yates, and three more + telegrams in sections helped to carpet the floor of the forest. The + usually high spirits of the newspaper man went down and down under the + repeated visitations. At last he did not even swear, which, in the case of + Yates, always indicated extreme depression. As night drew on he feebly + remarked to the professor that he was more tired than he had ever been in + going through an election campaign. He went to his tent bunk early, in a + state of such utter dejection that Renmark felt sorry for him, and tried + ineffectually to cheer him up. + </p> + <p> + “If they would all come together,” said Yates bitterly, “so that one + comprehensive effort of malediction would include the lot and have it + over, it wouldn’t be so bad; but this constant dribbling in of messengers + would wear out the patience of a saint.” + </p> + <p> + As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his bunk Renmark said that + things would look brighter in the morning—which was a safe remark to + make, for the night was dark. + </p> + <p> + Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for some moments. At last + he said slowly: “There is no one so obtuse as the thoroughly good man. It + is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He is but the outward + symptom of the inward trouble. What you are seeing is an example of the + workings of conscience where you thought conscience was absent. The + trouble with me is that I know the newspaper depends on me, and that it + will be the first time I have failed. It is the newspaper man’s instinct + to be in the center of the fray. He yearns to scoop the opposition press. + I will get a night’s sleep if I can, and to-morrow, I know, I shall + capitulate. I will hunt out General O’Neill, and interview him on the + field of slaughter. I will telegraph pages. I will refurbish my military + vocabulary, and speak of deploying and massing and throwing out advance + guards, and that sort of thing. I will move detachments and advance + brigades, and invent strategy. We will have desperate fighting in the + columns of the <i>Argus</i>, whatever there is on the fields of Canada. + But to a man who has seen real war this <i>opéra-bouffe</i> masquerade of + fighting——I don’t want to say anything harsh, but to me it is + offensive.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, sitting on the bottom of an + upturned pail, as he said this. Then he reached for his hip pocket and + drew out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, to the professor, + who, not knowing his friend carried such an instrument, instinctively + shrank from it. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation and soak it with the + potatoes. If another messenger comes in on me to-night, I know I shall + riddle him if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me he is + innocent, and I don’t want to shed the only blood that will be spilled + during this awful campaign.” + </p> + <p> + How long they had been asleep they did not know, as the ghost-stories have + it, but both were suddenly awakened by a commotion outside. It was + intensely dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they noticed a faint + moving blur of light, which made itself just visible through the canvas. + </p> + <p> + “It’s another of those fiendish messengers,” whispered Yates. “Gi’ me that + revolver.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the other below his breath. “There’s about a dozen men out + there, judging by the footfalls. I heard them coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s fire into the tent and be done with it,” said a voice outside. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried another; “no man shoot. It makes too much noise, and there + must be others about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed?” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur, apparently in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Murphy and O’Rourick, come round to this side. You three + stay where you are. Tim, you go to that end; and, Doolin, come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The Fenian army, by all the gods!” whispered Yates, groping for his + clothes. “Renny, give me that revolver, and I’ll show you more fun than a + funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. They’re at least three to our one. We’re in a trap here, and + helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just let me jump out among ‘em and begin the fireworks. Those I + didn’t shoot would die of fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woods with a + lantern—with a <i>lantern</i>, Renny! Think of that! Oh, this is + pie! Let me at ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Keep quiet! They’ll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tim, bring the lantern round to this side.” The blur of light moved along + the canvas. “There’s a man with his back against the wall of the tent. + Just touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let him know we’re here.” + </p> + <p> + “There may be twenty in the tent,” said Murphy cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Do what I tell you,” answered the man in command. + </p> + <p> + Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, and sunk the deadly point + of the instrument into the bag of potatoes. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, he sleeps sound,” said Murphy with a tremor of fear in his voice, + as there was no demonstration on the part of the bag. + </p> + <p> + The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of the tent: + </p> + <p> + “What the old Harry do you fellows think you’re doing, anyhow? What’s the + matter with you? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence, broken only by a nervous scuffling of feet + and the clicking of gun-locks. + </p> + <p> + “How many are there of you in there?” said the stern voice of the chief. + </p> + <p> + “Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and one ready to fight the lot of + you if you are anxious for a scrimmage.” + </p> + <p> + “Come out one by one,” was the next command. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll come out one by one,” said Yates, emerging in his shirt sleeves, + “but you can’t expect us to keep it up long, as there are only two of us.” + </p> + <p> + The professor next appeared, with his coat on. The situation certainly did + not look inviting. The lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glow on the + severe face of the commander, as the footlights might illuminate the + figure of a brigand in a wood on the stage. The face of the officer showed + that he was greatly impressed with the importance and danger of his + position. Yates glanced about him with a smile, all his recent dejection + gone now that he was in the midst of a row. + </p> + <p> + “Which is Murphy,” he said, “and which is Doolin? Hello, alderman!” he + cried, as his eyes rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man who held + his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce determination in his face that + might have made an opponent quail. “When did you leave New York? and who’s + running the city now that you’re gone?” + </p> + <p> + The men had evidently a sense of humor, in spite of their bloodthirsty + business, for a smile flickered on their faces in the lantern light, and + several bayonets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard face of the + commander did not relax. + </p> + <p> + “You are doing yourself no good by your talk,” he said solemnly. “What you + say will be used against you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and what you do will be used against <i>you</i>; and don’t forget + that fact. It’s you who are in danger—not I. You are, at this + moment, making about the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada.” + </p> + <p> + “Pinion these men!” cried the captain gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Pinion nothing!” shouted Yates, shaking off the grasp of a man who had + sprung to his side. But both Yates and Renmark were speedily overpowered; + and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. Murphy pathetically + remarked that they had no rope. The captain was a man of resource. + </p> + <p> + “Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you’re at it, Murphy,” said Yates, “cut off enough more to hang + yourself with. You’ll need it before long. And remember that any damage + you do to that tent you’ll have to pay for. It’s hired.” + </p> + <p> + Yates gave them all the trouble he could while they tied his elbows and + wrists together, offering sardonic suggestions and cursing their + clumsiness. Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation was finished, + the professor said with the calm confidence of one who has an empire + behind him and knows it: + </p> + <p> + “I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed on British soil; and that + I, on whom it is committed, am a British subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it impossible to keep your mouth + shut, do not use the word ‘subject’ but ‘citizen.’” + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied with the word, and with the protection given to those who + use it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Renmark; you had better let me do the talking. You will only + put your foot in it. I know the kind of men I have to deal with; you + evidently don’t.” + </p> + <p> + In tying the professor they came upon the pistol in his coat pocket. + Murphy held it up to the light. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you said you were unarmed?” remarked the captain severely, + taking the revolver in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the professor would not let me + use it. If he had, all of you would be running for dear life through the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + “You admit that you are a British subject?” said the captain to Renmark, + ignoring Yates. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t admit it, he brags of it,” said the latter before Renmark + could speak. “You can’t scare him; so quit this fooling, and let us know + how long we are to stand here trussed up like this.” + </p> + <p> + “I propose, captain,” said the red-headed man, “that we shoot these men + where they stand, and report to the general. They are spies. They are + armed, and they denied it. It’s according to the rules of war, captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Rules of war? What do you know of the rules of war, you red-headed + Senegambian? Rules of Hoyle! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine. Come, + captain, undo these ropes, and make up your mind quickly. Trot us along to + General O’Neill just as fast as you can. The sooner you get us there the + more time you will have for being sorry over what you have done.” + </p> + <p> + The captain still hesitated, and looked from one to the other of his men, + as if to make up his mind whether they would obey him if he went to + extremities. Yates’ quick eye noted that the two prisoners had nothing to + hope for, even from the men who smiled. The shooting of two unarmed and + bound men seemed to them about the correct way of beginning a great + struggle for freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the captain at length, “we must do it in proper form, so I + suppose we should have a court-martial. Are you agreed?” + </p> + <p> + They were unanimously agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” cried Yates, and there was a certain impressiveness in his + voice in spite of his former levity; “this farce has gone just as far as + it is going. Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat pocket you will + find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two received by me within the + last twenty-four hours. Then you will see whom you propose to shoot.” + </p> + <p> + The telegram was found, and the captain read it, while Tim held the + lantern. He looked from under his knitted brows at the newspaper man. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are one of the <i>Argus</i> staff.” + </p> + <p> + “I am chief of the <i>Argus</i> staff. As you see, five of my men will be + with General O’Neill to-morrow. The first question they will ask him will + be: ‘Where is Yates?’ The next thing that will happen will be that you + will be hanged for your stupidity, not by Canada nor by the State of New + York, but by your general, who will curse your memory ever after. You are + fooling not with a subject this time, but with a citizen; and your general + is not such an idiot as to monkey with the United States Government; and, + what is a blamed sight worse, with the great American press. Come, + captain, we’ve had enough of this. Cut these cords just as quickly as you + can, and take us to the general. We were going to see him in the morning, + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But this man says he is a Canadian.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right. My friend is <i>me</i>. If you touch him, you touch me. + Now, hurry up, climb down from your perch. I shall have enough trouble + now, getting the general to forgive all the blunders you have made + to-night, without your adding insult to injury. Tell your men to untie us, + and throw the ropes back into the tent. It will soon be daylight. Hustle, + and let us be off.” + </p> + <p> + “Untie them,” said the captain, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + Yates shook himself when his arms regained their freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tim,” he said, “run into that tent and bring out my coat. It’s + chilly here.” + </p> + <p> + Tim did instantly as requested, and helped Yates on with the coat. + </p> + <p> + “Good boy!” said, Yates. “You’ve evidently been porter in a hotel.” + </p> + <p> + Tim grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Yates meditatively, “that if I you look under the + right-hand bunk, Tim, you will find a jug. It belongs to the professor, + although he has hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion from himself. + Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not as full as it was, but + there’s enough to go round, if the professor does not take more than his + share.” + </p> + <p> + The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipation, and Renmark looked + astonished to see the jar brought forth. “You first, professor,” said + Yates; and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The learned man shook + his head. Yates laughed, and took it himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here’s to you, boys,” he said. “And may you all get back as safely + to New York as I will.” The jar passed down along the line, until Tim + finished its contents. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army,” cried Yates, taking + Renmark’s arm; and they began their march through the woods. “Great + Caesar! Stilly,” he continued to his friend, “this is rest and quiet with + a vengeance, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost in the + presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain something like + military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, however, + that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests are not as trimly + kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, but three + times he tumbled over some obstruction, and disappeared suddenly from + view, uttering maledictions. His final effort in this line was a triumph. + He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When all attempts at + reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in go-as-you-please fashion, + and found they did better without the light than with it. In fact, + although it was not yet four o’clock, daybreak was already filtering + through the trees, and the woods were perceptibly lighter. + </p> + <p> + “We must be getting near the camp,” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Will I shout, sir?” asked Murphy. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; we can’t miss it. Keep on as you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered on among + the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle echoed + through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?” cried the alderman, who + recognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” said the sentry, stopping in his flight. The + captain strode angrily toward him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by firing like that? Don’t you know enough to ask for + the counter-sign before shooting?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, then, ye see, I never + can hit anything; so it’s little difference it makes.” + </p> + <p> + The shot had roused the camp, and there was now wild commotion, everybody + thinking the Canadians were upon them. + </p> + <p> + A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Renmark. Both were astonished to + see the number of men that O’Neill had under his command. They found a + motley crowd. Some tattered United States uniforms were among them, but + the greater number were dressed as ordinary individuals, although a few + had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. Sleeping out for a couple + of nights had given the gathering the unkempt appearance of a great + company of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable from the men at + first, but afterward Yates noticed that they, mostly in plain clothes and + slouch hats, had sword belts buckled around them; and one or two had + swords that had evidently seen service in the United States cavalry. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, boys,” cried the captain to the excited mob. “It was only + that fool Lynch who fired at us. There’s nobody hurt. Where’s the + general?” + </p> + <p> + “Here he comes,” said half a dozen voices at once, and the crowd made way + for him. + </p> + <p> + General O’Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen’s costume, and did not + wear even a sword belt. On his head of light hair was a black soft felt + hat. His face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked more like a + clerk from a grocery store than the commander of an army. He was evidently + somewhere between thirty-five and forty years of age. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said. “Why are you back? Any news?” + </p> + <p> + The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “We took two prisoners, sir. They were encamped in a tent in the woods. + One of them says he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, so I + brought them in.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had brought in the tent, too,” said the general with a wan + smile. “It would be an improvement on sleeping in the open air. Are these + the prisoners? I don’t know either of them.” + </p> + <p> + “The captain makes a mistake in saying that I claimed a personal + acquaintance with you, general. What I said was that you would recognize, + somewhat quicker than he did, who I was, and the desirability of treating + me with reasonable decency. Just show the general that telegram you took + from my coat pocket, captain.” + </p> + <p> + The paper was produced, and O’Neill read it over once or twice. + </p> + <p> + “You are on the New York <i>Argus</i>, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much so, general.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you have not been roughly used?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; merely tied up in a hard knot, and threatened with shooting—that’s + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Still, you must make some allowance at a time + like this. If you will come with me, I will write you a pass which will + prevent any similar mistake happening in the future.” The general led the + way to a smoldering camp fire, where, out of a valise, he took writing + materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to write. After he had + written “Headquarters of the Grand Army of the Irish Republic” he looked + up, and asked Yates his Christian name. Being answered, he inquired the + name of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I want nothing from you,” interposed Renmark. “Don’t put my name on the + paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates. “Never mind him, general. He’s a + learned man who doesn’t know when to talk and when not to. As you march up + to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, which will explain + everything. Renmark’s drunk, not to put too fine a point upon it; and he + imagines himself a British subject.” + </p> + <p> + The Fenian general looked up at the professor. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Canadian?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you must give me your word + that, should you fall in with the enemy, you will give no information to + them of our position, numbers, or of anything else you may have seen while + with us.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I should fall in with the + Canadian troops, I will tell them where you are, that you are from eight + hundred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking set of vagabonds I + have ever seen out of jail.” + </p> + <p> + General O’Neill frowned, and looked from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize that you confess to being a spy, and that it becomes my + duty to have you taken out and shot?” + </p> + <p> + “In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fooling. All of you that don’t + escape will be either in jail or shot before twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, by the gods, it won’t help <i>you</i> any. I’ll have you shot + inside of ten minutes, instead of twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, general, hold on!” cried Yates, as the angry man rose and + confronted the two. “I admit that he richly deserves shooting, if you were + the fool killer, which you are not. But it won’t do, I will be responsible + for him. Just finish that pass for me, and I will take care of the + professor. Shoot me if you like, but don’t touch him. He hasn’t any sense, + as you can see; but I am not to blame for that, nor are you. If you take + to shooting everybody who is an ass, general, you won’t have any + ammunition left with which to conquer Canada.” + </p> + <p> + The general smiled in spite of himself, and resumed the writing of the + pass. “There,” he said, handing the paper to Yates. “You see, we always + like to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent friend, and I hope + you will exercise more control over him, if you meet the Canadians, than + you were able to exert here. Don’t you think, on the whole, you had better + stay with us? We are going to march in a couple of hours, when the men + have had a little rest.” He added in a lower voice, so that the professor + could not hear: “You didn’t see anything of the Canadians, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a sign. No, I don’t think I’ll stay. There will be five of our + fellows here some time to-day, I expect, and that will be more than + enough. I’m really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and quiet. I’m + beginning to think I have made a mistake in location.” + </p> + <p> + Yates bade good-by to the commander, and walked with his friend out of the + camp. They threaded their way among sleeping men and groups of stacked + guns. On the top of one of the bayonets was hung a tall silk hat, which + looked most incongruous in such a place. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Yates, “that we will make for the Ridge Road, which must + lie somewhere in this direction. It will be easier walking than through + the woods; and, besides, I want to stop at one of the farmhouses and get + some breakfast. I’m as hungry as a bear after tramping so long.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” answered the professor shortly. + </p> + <p> + The two stumbled along until they reached the edge of the wood; then, + crossing some open fields, they came presently upon the road, near the + spot where the fist fight had taken place between Yates and Bartlett. The + comrades, now with greater comfort, walked silently along the road toward + the west, with the reddening east behind them. The whole scene was + strangely quiet and peaceful, and the recollection of the weird camp they + had left in the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morning air was + sweet, and the birds were beginning to sing. Yates had intended to give + the professor a piece of his mind regarding the lack of tact and common + sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, but, somehow, the scarcely + awakened day did not lend itself to controversy, and the serene stillness + soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly that popular war song, + “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,” and then broke in with the + question: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on the bayonet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the professor; “and I saw five others scattered around the + camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Jingo! you were observant. I can imagine nothing quite so ridiculous as a + man going to war in a tall silk hat.” + </p> + <p> + The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to “Rally + round the flag.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume,” he said at length, “there is little use in attempting to + improve the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a fool you + made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to be slightly + off the center.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds.” + </p> + <p> + “They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also be + well-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came in with + several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, and + another party started out to get some more.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that isn’t stealing, Renmark; that’s requisitioning. You mustn’t use + such reckless language. I imagine the second party has been successful; + for here are three of them all mounted.” + </p> + <p> + The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of the + two men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. + Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them held + revolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no visible + revolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward the pedestrians, + the other two taking positions on each side of the wagon way. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?” cried the + foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, commodore,” said Yates jauntily, “and the top of the + morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the + camp, and we are going to get something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have a more satisfactory answer than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here you have it, then,” answered Yates, pulling out his folded + pass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully. “You + find that all right, I expect?” + </p> + <p> + “Right enough to cause your immediate arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is in his + own handwriting.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does not run + quite as far as the queen’s writ in this country yet. I arrest you in the + name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, and shoot them + down if they make any resistance.” So saying, the rider slipped from his + horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs joined by a short, + stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing, grasped Renmark’s + wrist. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a Canadian,” said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. “You + mustn’t put handcuffs on me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; if + you are what you say, you will not resist arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you, but you mustn’t handcuff me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mustn’t I?” And, with a quick movement indicative of long practice + with resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of the + clasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr. + </p> + <p> + Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes. + He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the cocked + revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constable held his + struggling manacled hand with grim determination. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking the + representative of the law. “Don’t shoot,” he shouted to the man on + horseback; “it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. You + are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed and on foot. + There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you are more of a + rebel at the present moment than O’Neill. He owes no allegiance, and you + do. Have you no respect for the forms of law and order? You are an + anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You <i>would</i> sing ‘God + save the Queen!’ in the wrong place a while ago, so now be satisfied that + you have got her, or, rather, that she has got you. Now, constable, do you + want to hitch the other end of that arrangement on my wrist? or have you + another pair for my own special use? + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take your wrist, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; here you are.” Yates drew back his coat sleeve, and presented + his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The constable + mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him, watching him all the + while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners, handcuffed together, took + the middle of the road, with a horseman on each side of them, the + constable bringing up the rear; thus they marched on, the professor gloomy + from the indignity put upon them, and the newspaper man as joyous as the + now thoroughly awakened birds. The scouts concluded to go no farther + toward the enemy, but to return to the Canadian forces with their + prisoners. They marched down the road, all silent except Yates, who + enlivened the morning air with the singing of “John Brown.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet,” said the constable curtly. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of a + friend. We want to go and get something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers of the + volunteers.” + </p> + <p> + “And where, may I ask, are they?” + </p> + <p> + “You may ask, but I will not answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Renmark,” said Yates to his companion, “the tough part of this + episode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett’s house, and feast merely + on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett is always glad + to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty.” + </p> + <p> + As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kitty on + the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing earnestly at + the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the group she + disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came out Mrs. + Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old man himself. + </p> + <p> + They all came down to the gate and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!” cried Yates cheerily. “You see, the professor has + got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share his fate, + like the good dog Tray.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this about?” cried Mrs. Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarly to + them. “They’re Fenian prisoners,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Mrs. Bartlett—the old man, as usual, keeping his + mouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking—“they’re + not Fenians. They’ve been camping on our farm for a week or more.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” said the constable firmly, “but I have the best of evidence + against them; and, if I’m not very much mistaken, they’ll hang for it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry of + anguish at this remark, and disappeared again. + </p> + <p> + “We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs. + Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of the + Canadians.” + </p> + <p> + “What! hanging?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged,—I hope I + am not so pernickety as all that,—but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will + sympathize with me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at + this moment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had + in your house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this + hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible state of + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker,” she exclaimed, “I’m ashamed of you! You may hang a man if you + like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in with me,” she + said to the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said Stoliker severely, “you must not interfere with the course + of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “The course of stuff and nonsense!” cried the angry woman. “Do you think I + am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven’t I chased you out of this very + orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes, and boxed your + ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enough to fill your + pockets with the best apples on the place, after giving you what you + deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I’ll box your ears now if you say + anything more. Get down off your horse, and have something to eat + yourself. I dare say you need it.” + </p> + <p> + “This is what I call a rescue,” whispered Yates to his linked companion. + </p> + <p> + What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer with justice + is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her own way? Stoliker + looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of the house, but the old + man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say: “You see how it is + yourself. I am helpless.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to the house. + </p> + <p> + “All I ask of you now,” said Yates, “is that you will give Renmark and me + seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, even for an + instant.” + </p> + <p> + Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at the same + time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. + Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse. + Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject, if + this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second concession, + and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying he thought he + recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in upon them. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Sam,” she said, “no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse and come + in. How’s your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s pretty well, thank you,” said Sam sheepishly, coming down on his + feet again. + </p> + <p> + Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on the prisoners, + but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she looked with the + utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact that the poor young man + had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well. + </p> + <p> + “Take off these handcuffs, Sam,” said Mrs. Bartlett, “until they have + breakfast, at least.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them into his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now!” said Yates, looking at his red wrist, “we can breathe easier; + and I, for one, can eat more.” + </p> + <p> + The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist, but + had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make the early meal + as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival. Stoliker began + to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty were unpopular. Old Hiram could + always be depended upon to add somberness and taciturnity to a wedding + feast; the professor, never the liveliest of companions, sat silent, with + clouded brow, and vexed even the cheerful Mrs. Bartlett by having + evidently no appetite. When the hurried meal was over, Yates, noticing + that Miss Kitty had left the room, sprang up and walked toward the kitchen + door. Stoliker was on his feet in an instant, and made as though to follow + him. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time. “He + is not going to escape. Don’t be afraid. He has done nothing, and has no + fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupid officials + arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians, but you take + excellent care to keep out of their way, and give your attention to + molesting perfectly inoffensive people.” + </p> + <p> + “Good for you, professor!” cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. “That’s the + truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?” + </p> + <p> + “Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o’clock this + morning,—or at least an advance guard did,—and after talking + of shooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead. + Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should not be + troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinks is + deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped the handcuffs + on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our heads.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t my place to ask questions,” retorted Stoliker doggedly. “You can + tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, I’ll say + nothing against it.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the precaution + to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly round as the + door closed. Before she could speak the young man caught her by the plump + shoulders—a thing which he certainly had no right to do. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Kitty Bartlett,” he said, “you’ve been crying.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t; and if I had, it is nothing to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. Don’t deny it. For whom were you crying? + The professor?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough to + think so.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Me</i> conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whom were + you crying? I must know.” + </p> + <p> + “Please let me go, Mr. Yates,” said Kitty, with an effort at dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Dick is my name, Kit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mine is not Kit. + </p> + <p> + “You’re quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty, which + is much prettier than the abbreviation.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not ‘mention it.’ Please let me go. Nobody has the right to call me + anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, <i>you</i> haven’t, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kitty, don’t you think it is about time to give somebody the right? + Why won’t you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether I should + have accused you of crying? Look up—Miss Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We’ll risk mother. Besides, I’m + not in the least afraid of her, and I don’t believe you are. I think she + is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind; otherwise, + I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate that man,” said Kitty inconsequently. + </p> + <p> + “I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. Kitty, + why don’t you look up at me? Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “What should I be afraid of?” asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance + from her pretty blue eyes. “Not of you, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why I + came out here?” + </p> + <p> + “For something more to eat, very likely,” said the girl mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. Besides, + I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew me into the + kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own lips. <i>That</i> + was the reason!” + </p> + <p> + He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what was + about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought he had + taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of this + kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but she did not + strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he merely + attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because she had + been taken so completely by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I shall call my mother,” she threatened. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you won’t. Besides, she wouldn’t come.” Then this frivolous young + man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, “Here’s to the girl + that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother,” ending with the wish + that she should live and die an old maid and never get another. Kitty + should not have smiled, but she did; she should have rebuked his levity, + but she didn’t. + </p> + <p> + “It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and dying an + old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for the prevention of + such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval of it.” + </p> + <p> + Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself away + from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining room, and + expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. Miss Kitty stood + with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring flower, which she + had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the window-ledge. She + smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed so interested in + botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether she was paying + attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan might have been can + only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they should be interrupted at + this critical moment by the one person on earth who could make Yates’ + tongue falter. + </p> + <p> + The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood on the + threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her dark hair down + over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairly took Yates’ + breath away. She did not notice him. + </p> + <p> + “O Kitty,” she cried, “those wretches have stolen all our horses! Is your + father here?” + </p> + <p> + “What wretches?” asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled by the + sudden advent of her friend. + </p> + <p> + “The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields, and + your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have they taken your own horse, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come near the + house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you.” And Margaret’s hand, with the + unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, which Yates + thought too becoming ever to be put in order again. + </p> + <p> + Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty’s evident embarrassment, + that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell your father about it,” she said hurriedly, and before Yates + could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she was taken aback + to see so many sitting round the table. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence between the two in the kitchen, but the spell + was broken. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don’t suppose there will be any trouble about getting back the + horses,” said Yates hesitatingly. “If you lose them, the Government will + have to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume so,” answered Kitty coldly; then: “Excuse me, Mr. Yates; I + mustn’t stay here any longer.” So saying, she followed Margaret into the + other room. + </p> + <p> + Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties of preference + had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that he had had a + narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committed himself. + Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticed her friend’s + evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered whether this would + help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finally made up his mind to + favor her with his serious attentions. Still, he reflected that, after + all, they were both country girls, and would no doubt be only too eager to + accept a chance to live in New York. Thus his mind gradually resumed its + normal state of self-confidence; and he argued that, whatever Margaret’s + suspicions were, they could not but make him more precious in her eyes. He + knew of instances where the very danger of losing a man had turned a + woman’s wavering mind entirely in the man’s favor. When he had reached + this point, the door from the dining room opened, and Stoliker appeared. + </p> + <p> + “We are waiting for you,” said the constable. + </p> + <p> + “All right. I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talking + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “I + would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs from his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “If you three men,” continued Mrs. Bartlett, “cannot take those two to + camp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I’ll go + along with you myself and protect you, and see that they don’t escape. You + ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have any manhood + about you—which I doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “I must do my duty.” + </p> + <p> + The professor rose from his chair. “Mr. Stoliker,” he said with + determination, “my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will + make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear + investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a + handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you.” + </p> + <p> + A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, caused + the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and said in a + contrite voice: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t beg my pardon, but—smash him.” + </p> + <p> + Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited + girl hid her blushing face on her friend’s shoulder, while Kitty lovingly + stroked her dark, tangled hair. + </p> + <p> + Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual + quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the tension + of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Stoliker, don’t be an idiot. I do not object in the least to + the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff me. It + hasn’t struck your luminous mind that you have not the first tittle of + evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the greatest criminal + in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. The truth is, + Stoliker, that I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a good many dollars. You + talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have exceeded it in the + case of the professor. I hope you have no property; for the professor can, + if he likes, make you pay sweetly for putting the handcuffs on him without + a warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. What is the penalty for + false arrest, Hiram?” continued Yates, suddenly appealing to the old man. + “I think it is a thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram said gloomily that he didn’t know. Stoliker was hit on a tender + spot, for he owned a farm. + </p> + <p> + “Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. + Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman smiled and shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have another.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his + horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the + dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event of + the stealing of the horses. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <p> + When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of the + Canadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more military than + the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by a picket + before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not to shoot until + he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, they came in full + view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked very spick and span in + uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear light of the fair June + morning. The guns, topped by a bristle of bayonets which glittered as the + rising sun shone on them, were stacked with neat precision here and there. + The men were preparing their breakfast, and a temporary halt had been + called for that purpose. The volunteers were scattered by the side of the + road and in the fields. Renmark recognized the colors of the regiment from + his own city, and noticed that there was with it a company that was + strange to him. Although led to them a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride + in the regiment and their trim appearance—a pride that was both + national and civic. He instinctively held himself more erect as he + approached. + </p> + <p> + “Renmark,” said Yates, looking at him with a smile, “you are making a + thoroughly British mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? I haven’t spoken.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. You + think this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempt + tramps we saw in the woods this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over—which I very much + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, who + know all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will be the + worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part of the + country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comrades fall, with + the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If they don’t turn and + run, then I’m a Dutchman. I’ve seen raw recruits before. They should have + a company of older men here who have seen service to steady them. The + fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs, in the damp woods, as + we stepped over them. They are veterans. What will be but a mere skirmish + to them will seem to these boys the most awful tragedy that ever happened. + Why, many of them look as if they might be university lads.” + </p> + <p> + “They are,” said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can’t see what your stupid government means by sending them here + alone. They should have at least one company of regulars with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably the regulars are on the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, or the + fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with their meal, the + Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is to be a fight, + it will be before a very few hours—before one hour passes, you are + going to see a miniature Bull Run.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiring for + news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all the + telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those in command of + the companies did not even know that the enemy had left that locality. + They were now on their way to a point where they were to meet Colonel + Peacocke’s force of regulars—a point which they were destined never + to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up his prisoners, + together with the incriminating paper that Yates had handed to him. The + officer’s decision was short and sharp, as military decisions are + generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to take both the + prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. There was no time now for + an inquiry into the case,—that could come afterward,—and, so + long as the men were safe in jail, everything would be all right. To this + the constable mildly interposed two objections. In the first place, he + said, he was with the volunteers not in his capacity as constable, but in + the position of guide and man who knew the country. In the second place, + there was no jail at Port Colborne. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the nearest jail?” + </p> + <p> + “The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town,” replied the + constable. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; take them there.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am here as guide,” repeated Stoliker. + </p> + <p> + The officer hesitated for a moment. “You haven’t handcuffs with you, I + presume?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have,” said Stoliker, producing the implements. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the company + over to Welland with them. How far is it across country?” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker told him. + </p> + <p> + The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver these men + up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but you take a + revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shoot them.” + </p> + <p> + The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. “I am not a policeman,” he + said. “I am a soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I order + you to take these men to Welland.” + </p> + <p> + The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a murmur + rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently sympathized + with their comrade’s objection to the duties of a policeman. One of them + made his way through the crowd, and cried: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He’s no Fenian.” Two + or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, pushing + up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with his class. + Among others young Howard pressed forward. + </p> + <p> + “It is nonsense,” he cried, “talking about sending Professor Renmark to + jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We’ll all go + bail for the professor.” + </p> + <p> + The officer wavered. “If you know him,” he said, “that is a different + matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the Fenians, + recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the Fenian cause. + I can’t let him go free.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the chief in command here?” asked Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He is + a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. If you + insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken before + the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall together. I am + exactly as guilty or innocent as he is.” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t bother the colonel about every triviality.” + </p> + <p> + “A man’s liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense, are + you fighting for but liberty?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Renmark, thanks,” said Yates; “but I don’t care to see the + colonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all this bother. + I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, if I have to + go to jail for them. I’m coming reluctantly to the belief that jail’s the + most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is an outrage,” cried the professor indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” replied Yates wearily; “but the woods are full of them. + There’s always outrages going on, especially in so-called free countries; + therefore one more or less won’t make much difference. Come, officer, + who’s going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go by myself? I’m a + Fenian from ‘way back, and came here especially to overturn the throne and + take it home with me. For Heaven’s sake, know your own mind one way or + other, and let us end this conference.” + </p> + <p> + The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker to handcuff + the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer at Welland. + </p> + <p> + “But I want assistance,” objected Stoliker. “The prisoner is a bigger man + than I am.” The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this self-evident + fact. + </p> + <p> + “If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders.” + </p> + <p> + No one volunteered to accompany the constable. + </p> + <p> + “Take this revolver with you,” continued the officer, “and if he attempts + to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, so I can’t + send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “Howard knows the way,” persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke up with + great indignation: “Yes, but Howard isn’t constable, and Stoliker is. I’m + not going.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark went up to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s acting foolishly now, Yates?” he said. “Why don’t you insist on + seeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would be allowed + off.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussy + individual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squad of + volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officers always + stick by each other; they’re bound to. I want to go alone with Stoliker. I + have a score to settle with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don’t do anything rash. You’ve done nothing so far; but if you + assault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a short time + since?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Renny,” whispered Yates; “you get back to the tent, and see + that everything’s all right. I’ll be with you in an hour or so. Don’t look + so frightened. I won’t hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, and I + won’t get there if the colonel sends an escort. I’m going to use Stoliker + as a shield when the bullets begin flying.” + </p> + <p> + The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker very + reluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own left wrist, + while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, who embarrassed + him with kindly assistance. The two manacled men disappeared down the + road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in to continue their morning’s + march. + </p> + <p> + Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. “I + say, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is an old + schoolfellow of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to rather + like the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known you were + in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would only have been + too glad to be of assistance to you.” + </p> + <p> + “They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encountered + the eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was the + brother’s favorite. + </p> + <p> + “Fall back, there!” cried the officer to Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me take + part?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the officer with some hauteur; “this is no place for + civilians.” Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the whole + company, as far as martial experience went, were merely civilians dressed + in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates’ ominous + prediction regarding them. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mr. Renmark,” cried young Howard, as the company moved off, “if + you see any of them, don’t tell them I’m here—especially Margaret. + It might make them uneasy. I’ll get leave when this is over, and drop in + on them.” + </p> + <p> + The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidently no + premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left the road, + and struck across country in the direction of the tent. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road toward + Welland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative and + entertaining—indeed, Yates’ conversation often went beyond + entertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed the affairs + of both countries, showed a way out of all political difficulties, gave + reasons for the practical use of common sense in every emergency, passed + opinions on the methods of agriculture adopted in various parts of the + country, told stories of the war, gave instances of men in captivity + murdering those who were in charge of them, deduced from these anecdotes + the foolishness of resisting lawful authority lawfully exercised, and, in + general, showed that he was a man who respected power and the exercise + thereof. Suddenly branching to more practical matters, he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker had never counted them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that it requires + an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely have something + to drink before long.” + </p> + <p> + “I never drink while on duty,” said Stoliker curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, don’t apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I’ll be + only too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired the useful + practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anything can be + done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don’t believe in the word + ‘can’t,’ either with or without the mark of elision.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I’m tired of walking. I’ve been + on my feet ever since three this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no authority to hire a buggy.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?” + </p> + <p> + “I make him move,” said Stoliker shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see. That’s a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable.” + </p> + <p> + They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried: + </p> + <p> + “Let’s sit down and have a rest. I’m done out. The sun is hot, and the + road dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day’s young, yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll let you have fifteen minutes.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down together. “I wish a team would come along,” said Yates with + a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhood stolen, + and the troops on the roads.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s so,” assented Yates sleepily. + </p> + <p> + He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and his + eyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leaned + toward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates’ left arm fell across + the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him. + The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he took no + risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, he + reflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, for + he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner who + escaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the good + intentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too polite and + good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that the prisoner + was a much cleverer man than he. + </p> + <p> + “Here, sit up,” he said gruffly. “I’m not paid to carry you, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?” cried Yates rapidly, blinking his + eyes and straightening up. “Oh, it’s only you, Stoliker. I thought it was + my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Either that or pretending—I don’t know which, and I don’t care.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I must have been pretending,” answered Yates drowsily; “I can’t have + dropped asleep. How long have we been here?” + </p> + <p> + “About five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” And Yates’ head began to droop again. + </p> + <p> + This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitate sleep + so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each time saved + himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. Nevertheless, + Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, with a greater + lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, carrying the + constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff nipped the wrist of + Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, instinctively grasped the + links between with his right hand, to save his wrist. Like a cat, Yates + was upon him, showing marvelous agility for a man who had just tumbled in + a heap. The next instant he held aloft the revolver, crying triumphantly: + </p> + <p> + “How’s that, umpire? Out, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist, realizing + the helplessness of a struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Stoliker,” said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, “what have you to + say before I fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” answered the constable, “except that you will be hanged at + Welland, instead of staying a few days in jail.” + </p> + <p> + Yates laughed. “That’s not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there’s + some grit in you, if you <i>are</i> a man-catcher. Still, you were not in + very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want this pistol + again, just watch where it alights.” And Yates, taking the weapon by the + muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. + </p> + <p> + Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his + pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he could + to the spot where the revolver fell. + </p> + <p> + “Is that how you mark the place?” asked Yates; “or is it some spell that + will enable you to find the pistol?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither,” answered the constable quietly. “It is the key of the + handcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland.” + </p> + <p> + Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at the little + man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attempted to search + for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to one that Stoliker + would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key, in which case the + reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law. + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker, you’re evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours. That + wasn’t a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause you some + personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I’m not + going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I have + gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not move,” replied the constable firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, stay there,” said Yates, twisting his hand around so as to + grasp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked up + the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stoliker set + his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow. Nothing + was said by either until several hundred yards were thus traversed. Then + Yates stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, I + hope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with me + quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same in + the end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see the + fight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don’t want to lose any + more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, and having me + explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we go through the + fields.” + </p> + <p> + One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise man always + accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossed the rail + fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together—Stoliker + silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who is certain of + ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with all its machinery + working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, and instructive by + turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when the unresponsiveness of + the other rendered conversation difficult. + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent, + scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city’s + din is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and the + drowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed ‘bumble’! The green fields, + the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, untainted by city + smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blue unclouded sky—how + can human spite and human passion exist in such a paradise? Does it all + not make you feel as if you were an innocent child again, with motives + pure and conscience white?” + </p> + <p> + If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. With clouded + brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. But, although + the constable made no reply, there was an answer that electrified Yates, + and put all thought of the beauty of the country out of his mind. The dull + report of a musket, far in front of them, suddenly broke the silence, + followed by several scattering shots, and then the roar of a volley. This + was sharply answered by the ring of rifles to the right. With an oath, + Yates broke into a run. + </p> + <p> + “They’re at it!” he cried, “and all on account of your confounded + obstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire, and + the Canadians have not been long in replying.” + </p> + <p> + The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates was + aroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicating + smell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleaming eye. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, you loitering idiot!” he cried to the constable, who had + difficulty in keeping pace with him; “come on, or, by the gods! I’ll break + your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from it.” + </p> + <p> + The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of war, + and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the insane glare + of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his fear to Yates. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, <i>you</i>!” he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twist to + the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractory + criminals. “I am as eager to see the fight as you are.” + </p> + <p> + The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said: + “That’s the ticket, I’m with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a hurry + if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intend to use + you as a shield from the bullets.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” answered the little constable, panting. “Two sides are + firing. I’ll shield you on one side, and you’ll have to shield me on the + other.” + </p> + <p> + Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding the houses, + they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the trees, + showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond. Yates made the + constable cross the fence and the road, and take to the fields again, + bringing him around behind Bartlett’s house and barn. No one was visible + near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at the back watching, with + pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now and then covering her ears + with her hands as the sound of an extra loud volley assailed them. + Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for help. + </p> + <p> + “If you do that again,” cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, “I’ll + choke you!” + </p> + <p> + But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned with a + frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when she recognized + the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand away from the + constable’s throat. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your father or your brother?” demanded the constable. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you all alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance to + this prisoner, but to do as I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I command you, in the name of the President,” cried Yates, “to keep + your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty,” he continued + in a milder tone, “could you tell me where to get a file, so that I may + cut these wrist ornaments? Don’t you get it. You are to do nothing. Just + indicate where the file is. The law mustn’t have any hold on you, as it + seems to have on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you make him unlock them?” asked Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Because the villain threw away the key in the fields.” + </p> + <p> + “He couldn’t have done that.” + </p> + <p> + The constable caught his breath. + </p> + <p> + “But he did. I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of his + watch chain. He hasn’t thrown that away.” + </p> + <p> + She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t touch him. I’m playing a lone hand here.” He jerked out the chain, + and the real key dangled from it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Stoliker,” he said, “I don’t know which to admire most—your + cleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett’s acuteness of + observation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you mustn’t hurt him.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear. I think too much of him. Don’t you come in. I’ll be out in a + moment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet.” + </p> + <p> + Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square oaken + post which was part of the framework of the building, and which formed one + side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the hay mow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Stoliker,” he, said solemnly, “you realize, of course, that I don’t + want to hurt you yet you also realize that I <i>must</i> hurt you if you + attempt any tricks. I can’t take any risks, please remember that; and + recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be in the State of + New York. So don’t compel me to smash your head against this post.” He, + with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist; then, drawing + Stoliker’s right hand around the post, he snapped the same clasp on the + constable’s hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man, with his cheek + against the oak, was in the comical position of lovingly embracing the + post. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be more + comfortable—unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. + Then I must bid you good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + “I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty,” he said, “so that poor Stoliker + will get a rest.” + </p> + <p> + They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased, + except a desultory shot here and there across the country. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can,” he + continued. “This country is getting too hot for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are much safer here,” said the girl, with downcast eyes. “A man has + brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up and down + the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from this side.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to do with + Stoliker? I can’t keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets loose I’m + done for.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I go for + her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would be any use. Stoliker’s a stubborn animal. He has + suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We’ll bring him a + chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him.” + </p> + <p> + When the chair was placed at Stoliker’s disposal, he sat down upon it, + still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of the + solemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyes + with the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates. + </p> + <p> + “How long am I to be kept here?” asked the constable. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not long,” answered Yates cheerily; “not a moment longer than is + necessary. I’ll telegraph when I’m safe in New York State; so you won’t be + here more than a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said; “I guess I know as well as the next man when I’m + beaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff’s + orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don’t believe you’ve + done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn’t have acted quite the way you did. + If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. As it is, if you + unlock those cuffs, I’ll give you my word I’ll do nothing more unless I’m + ordered to. Like as not they’ve forgotten all about you by this time; and + there’s nothing on record, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean it? Will you act square?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I’ll act square. I don’t suppose you doubt that. I didn’t ask + any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough said,” cried Yates. “I’ll risk it.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he was released. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he said, now that Kitty was gone, “if there is anything to eat + in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. “Another great and + mutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who did + not want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when all + was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before he realized + that things had reached a crisis. + </p> + <p> + When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. The + fortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn before + the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried to sample + the contents and had found nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it all!” said Yates to himself, “I wonder what the five assistants + that the <i>Argus</i> sent me have done with themselves? If they are with + the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are captured by the + Canadians, they won’t be able to get an account of this scrimmage through + to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest item of the year—it’s + international, by George! It may involve England and the United States in + a war, if both sides are not extra mild and cautious. I can’t run the + chance of the paper being left in the lurch. Let me think a minute. Is it + my tip to follow the Canadians or the Fenians? I wonder is which is + running the faster? My men are evidently with the Fenians, if they were on + the ground at all. If I go after the Irish Republic, I shall run the risk + of duplicating things; but if I follow the Canadians, they may put me + under arrest. Then we have more Fenian sympathizers among our readers than + Canadians, so the account from the invasion side of the fence will be the + more popular. Yet a Canadian version would be a good thing, if I were sure + the rest of the boys got in their work, and the chances are that the other + papers won’t have any reporters among the Canucks. Heavens! What is a man + to do? I’ll toss up for it. Heads, the Fenians.” + </p> + <p> + He spun the coin in the air, and caught it. “Heads it is! The Fenians are + my victims. I’m camping on their trail, anyhow. Besides, it’s safer than + following the Canadians, even though Stoliker has got my pass.” + </p> + <p> + Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the forest. The scent of a big + item was in his nostrils, and it stimulated him like champagne. What was + temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of defeating the opposition + press? + </p> + <p> + A blind man might have followed the trail of the retreating army. They had + thrown away, as they passed through the woods, every article that impeded + their progress. Once he came on a man lying with his face in the dead + leaves. He turned him over. + </p> + <p> + “His troubles are past, poor devil,” said Yates, as he pushed on. + </p> + <p> + “Halt! Throw up your hands!” came a cry from in front of him. + </p> + <p> + Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his hands, being an adaptable + man. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the trouble?” he shouted. “I’m retreating, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Then retreat five steps farther. I’ll count the steps. One.” + </p> + <p> + Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that a man behind a tree was + covering him with a gun. The next step revealed a second captor, with a + huge upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. Both men had + blackened faces, and resembled thoroughly disreputable fiends of the + forest. Seated on the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozen dejected + prisoners. The man with the gun swore fearfully, but his comrade with the + hammer was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said the marksman, “you blank scoundrel, and take a seat with your + fellow-scoundrels. If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I’ll fill you + full of buckshot!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m not going to run, Sandy,” cried Yates, recognizing him. “Why + should I? I’ve always enjoyed your company, and Macdonald’s. How are you, + Mac? Is this a little private raid of your own? For which side are you + fighting? And I say, Sandy, what’s the weight of that old-fashioned bar of + iron you have in your hands? I’d like to decide a bet. Let me heft it, as + you said in the shop.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Sandy in a disappointed tone, lowering his + gun. “I thought we had raked in another of them. The old man and I want to + make it an even dozen.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t think you’ll capture any more. I saw nobody as I came + through the woods. What are you going to do with this crowd?” + </p> + <p> + “Brain ‘em,” said Macdonald laconically, speaking for the first time. Then + he added reluctantly: “If any of ‘em tries to escape.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoners were all evidently too tired and despondent to make any + attempt at regaining their liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald’s shoulder + at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head he seemed to indicate + that he would like to have some private conversation with the newspaper + man. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not your prisoner, am I?” asked Yates. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Macdonald. “You may go if you like, but not in the direction + the Fenians have gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I won’t need to go any farther, if you will give me permission to + interview your prisoners. I merely want to get some points about the + fight.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” said the blacksmith, “as long as you don’t try to help + them. If you do, I warn you there will be trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, out of hearing of the + others, leaving Macdonald and his sledge-hammer on guard. + </p> + <p> + When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested his arms on his gun, in + a pathfinder attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he began anxiously, “you haven’t got some powder and shot on you by + any chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Not an ounce. Haven’t you any ammunition?” + </p> + <p> + “No, and haven’t had all through the fight. You see, we left the shop in + such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man on + horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the old man he + grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left at the shop for + repairs, and off we started. I’m not sure that it would shoot if I had + ammunition, but I’d like to try. I’ve scared some of them Fee-neens nigh + to death with it, but I was always afraid one of them would pull a real + gun on me, and then I don’t know just what I’d ‘a’ done.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but + was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: “Next battle there is you won’t find + me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I’d sooner have the old man’s + sledge. It don’t miss fire.” His eye brightened as he thought of + Macdonald. “Say,” he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his + shoulder, “the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” said Yates, “but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear + nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, you see,” said Sandy apologetically, “it don’t come as natural + to me as chewing, but, then, somebody’s got to swear. The old man’s + converted, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, hasn’t he backslid yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he hasn’t. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, but + it didn’t; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little cussing,—not + that anyone can cuss like the boss,—he’ll pull through. I think + he’ll stick this time. You’d ought to have seen him wading into them d—d + Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing ‘Onward, Christian soldiers.’ + Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when things got hot, he + pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I tell you, it was a + sight. He bowled ‘em over like nine-pins. You ought to ‘a’ been there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Yates regretfully. “I missed it, all on account of that + accursed Stoliker. Well, there’s no use crying over spilled milk, but I’ll + tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I’ll let you + know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of + tobacco that you ever put your teeth into.” + </p> + <p> + Sandy’s eyes glittered. “Bless you!” was all he could say, as he bit off a + corner of the offered plug. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I + thought you were out.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t had a bite all day. That’s the trouble with leaving in a + hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get back + and interview those fellows. There’s no time to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the group, Macdonald said: + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, + and that you will vouch for him.” + </p> + <p> + Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, yet + fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and + wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognized one of + the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New York + <i>Blade</i>. This was even worse than he had anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Jimmy!” he said, “how did you get here?” + </p> + <p> + “I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose a—fool?” cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. + He boggled slightly as he came to the “adjective,” but got over it safely. + It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, and cursed + Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent of profanity. + Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, not knowing that he + was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, wondering how he had + attained such proficiency in malediction; for, like all true artists, he + was quite unconscious of his own merit in that direction. + </p> + <p> + “Tell this hammer wielder that I’m no anvil. Tell him that I’m a newspaper + man, and didn’t come here to fight. He says that if you guarantee that I’m + no Fenian he’ll let me go.” + </p> + <p> + Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked to do a + favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconvenience himself, but + he never forgot the fact that business was business. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy,” said Yates soothingly. + “How am I to know you are not a Fenian?” + </p> + <p> + “Bosh!” cried Hawkins angrily. “Conscientiously? A lot you think of + conscience when there is an item to be had.” + </p> + <p> + “We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy,” continued Yates + feelingly. “We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons that + you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of telling a + lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don’t you, Mr. Macdonald? You would not + advise me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the blacksmith earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me,” cried the + indignant <i>Blade</i> man. “You know very well I’m not a Fenian.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspect myself + of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s your game?” asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that he + himself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival’s dilemma. + </p> + <p> + “My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episode sent + over the wires to the <i>Argus</i>. You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. + When the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will save + you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do so without prejudice, + as the lawyers say, for I have always held that that will be the ultimate + end of all the <i>Blade</i> staff. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Yates; play fair. Don’t run in any conscientious guff on a + prisoner. You see, I have known you these many years.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and little have you profited by a noble example. It is your + knowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let you out + of your hole without due consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you willing to make a bargain? + </p> + <p> + “Always—when the balance of trade is on my side.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you give me a fair start, I’ll give you some exclusive + information that you can’t get otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wasn’t born yesterday, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven’t you + something more attractive to offer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the fight + written out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on a telegraph + wire. I’ll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, if you will get + me out of this hole, as you call it. I’ll give you permission to use the + information in any way you choose, if you will extricate me, and all I ask + is a fair start in the race for a telegraph office.” + </p> + <p> + Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Jimmy,” he finally said. “I’ll buy that + account from you, and give you more money than the <i>Blade</i> will. And + when I get back to New York I’ll place you on the staff of the <i>Argus</i> + at a higher salary than the <i>Blade</i> gives you—taking your own + word for the amount.” + </p> + <p> + “What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. But it won’t be sold by me. I’ll burn my copy before I will let + you have a glimpse of it. That don’t need to interfere with your making me + an offer of a better position when we get back to New York; but while my + paper depends on me, I won’t go back on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. I always + was weak where the interests of the <i>Argus</i> were concerned. You + haven’t any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, but I won’t lend it.” + </p> + <p> + Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mac,” he said, “tell me all you saw of this fight.” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark on + his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of + sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. One after + another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered together all the + materials for that excellent full-page account “by an eyewitness” that + afterward appeared in the columns of the <i>Argus</i>. He had a wonderful + memory, and simply jotted down figures with which he did not care to + burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and then at the facts they + were giving Yates, but the <i>Argus</i> man said nothing, merely setting + down in shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins sneered at, which + Yates considered was more than likely accurate and important. When he had + got all he wanted, he rose. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I send you help, Mac?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the smith; “I think I’ll take these fellows to the shop, and + hold them there till called for. You can’t vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr. + Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These + half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always seem + to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorant + co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you’ll enjoy life down at + Mac’s shop. It’s the best place I’ve struck since I’ve been in the + district. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you. + I’ll make careful inquiries into your opinions, and as soon as I am + convinced that you can be set free with safety to the community I’ll drop + in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so long.” + </p> + <p> + Yates’ one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write his + article as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fears about + the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying to get + through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. He quickly + made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, if the + Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride as rapidly as + he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reached the edge of the + woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. He found young + Bartlett at the barn. + </p> + <p> + “Any news of the horses yet?” was the first question he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said young Bartlett gloomily; “guess they’ve rode away with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraph office. + Where is the likeliest place to find one?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraph boy’s + nag; it’s in the stable now, having a feed.” + </p> + <p> + “What telegraph boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, didn’t you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and I + thought he had found you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven’t been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has some news + for me. I’m going to the house to write, so send him in as soon as he gets + back. Be sure you don’t let him get away before I see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll lock the stable,” said young Bartlett, “and then he won’t get the + horse, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that the girl + cried anxiously: + </p> + <p> + “Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Kitty; I’m after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have in + the house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil mark.” + </p> + <p> + “A copy book—such as the children use in school?” + </p> + <p> + “Just the thing.” + </p> + <p> + In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials he required + ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, and went to + work as if he were in his own den in the <i>Argus</i> building. + </p> + <p> + “This is a —— of a vacation,” he muttered to himself, as he + drove his pencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took + no note of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself and + sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?” he cried. “Well, it + doesn’t matter; I’ll take the horse without his permission.” + </p> + <p> + He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhat + surprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the good + things which that kitchen always afforded. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t let him go in to disturb you while you were writing,” said + Kitty, the boy’s mouth being too full to permit of a reply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that down and come in here; I want + to talk to you for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + The boy followed him into the front room. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for the rest of the day.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t have it,” said the boy promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t have it? I must have it. Why, I’ll take it. You don’t imagine you + can stop me, do you?” + </p> + <p> + The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms across his breast. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I’ll pay you well for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what am I here for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to eat, of course. They’ll feed you high while you wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Canadian telegraph office?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians couldn’t telegraph all you’ve + written in two weeks. I know ‘em,” said the boy with infinite scorn. + “Besides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, and you can’t get + a private message through till it gets over its fright.” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Yates, taken aback, “I hadn’t thought of that. Are you + sure, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what’s to be done? I must get through to Buffalo.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t. United States troops won’t let you. They’re stopping everybody—except + me,” he added, drawing himself up, as if he were the one individual who + stood in with the United States Government. + </p> + <p> + “Can you get this dispatch through?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet! That’s why I came back. I knew, as soon as I looked at you, that + you would write two or three columns of telegraph; and your paper said + ‘Spare no expense,’ you remember. So says I to myself: ‘I’ll help Mr. + Yates to spare no expense. I’ll get fifty dollars from that young man, + seeing I’m the only person who can get across in time.’” + </p> + <p> + “You were mighty sure of it, weren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and ready, I’m fed and ready, + and we’re losing valuable time waiting for that fifty dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you meet another newspaper man who wants to get his dispatch + through to another paper, what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet two other newspaper men, that + will be one hundred and fifty dollars; but if you want to make sure that I + won’t meet any more newspaper men, let us call it one hundred dollars, and + I’ll take the risk of the odd fifty for the ready cash; then if I meet a + dozen newspaper men, I’ll tell them I’m a telegraph boy on a vacation.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. I think you will be able to take care of yourself in a cold and + callous world. Now, look here, young man; I’ll trust you if you’ll trust + me. I’m not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay by results. If you + don’t get this dispatch through, you don’t get anything. I’ll give you an + order for a hundred dollars, and as soon as I get to Buffalo I’ll pay you + the cash. I’ll have to draw on the <i>Argus</i> when I get to Buffalo; if + my article has appeared, you get your cash; if it hasn’t, you’re out. + See?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see. It won’t do, Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Why won’t it do?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I say it won’t. This is a cash transaction. Money down, or you + don’t get the goods. I’ll get it through all right, but if I just miss, + I’m not going to lose the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I’ll take it to the Canadian telegraph office.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Mr. Yates. I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were some + good. You aint got no sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at your tent, + there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of men out of the woods. When + one of them sees my uniform, he sings out he’d give me twenty-five dollars + to take his stuff. I said I’d see him later, and I will. Good-by, Mr. + Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, there! You’re a young villain. You’ll end in state’s prison yet, + but here’s your money. Now, you ride like a house a-fire.” + </p> + <p> + After watching the departing boy until he was out of sight Yates, with a + feeling of relief, started back to the tent. He was worried about the + interview the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, now that it was + too late, whether, after all, he had not Hawkins’ manuscript in his + pocket. He wished he had searched him. That trouble, however, did not + prevent him from sleeping like the dead the moment he lay down in the + tent. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + The result of the struggle was similar in effect to an American railway + accident of the first class. One officer and five privates were killed on + the Canadian side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. The number + of the Fenians killed will probably never be known. Several were buried on + the field of battle, others were taken back by O’Neill’s brigade when they + retreated. + </p> + <p> + Although the engagement ended as Yates had predicted, yet he was wrong in + his estimate of the Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underrated by men + of experience in military matters. The boys fought well, even when they + saw their ensign fall dead before them. If the affair had been left + entirely in their hands, the result might have been different—as was + shown afterward, when the volunteers, unimpeded by regulars, quickly put + down a much more formidable rising in the Northwest. But in the present + case they were hampered by their dependence on the British troops, whose + commander moved them with all the ponderous slowness of real war, and + approached O’Neill as if he had been approaching Napoleon. He thus managed + to get in a day after the fair on every occasion, being too late for the + fight at Ridgeway, and too late to capture any considerable number of the + flying Fenians at Fort Erie. The campaign, on the Canadian side, was + magnificently planned and wretchedly carried out. The volunteers and + regulars were to meet at a point close to where the fight took place, but + the British commander delayed two hours in starting, which fact the + Canadian colonel did not learn until too late. These blunders culminated + in a ghastly mistake on the field. The Canadian colonel ordered his men to + charge across an open field, and attack the Fenian force in the woods—a + brilliant but foolish move. To the command the volunteers gallantly + responded, but against stupidity the gods are powerless. In the field they + were appalled to hear the order given to form square and receive cavalry. + Even the schoolboys knew the Fenians could have no cavalry. + </p> + <p> + Having formed their square, the Canadians found themselves the helpless + targets of the Fenians in the woods. If O’Neill’s forces had shot with + reasonable precision, they must have cut the volunteers to pieces. The + latter were victorious, if they had only known it; but, in this hopeless + square, panic seized them, and it was every man for himself; at the same + time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as they could. This farce + is known as the battle of Ridgeway, and would have been comical had it not + been that death hovered over it. The comedy, without the tragedy, was + enacted a day or two before at a bloodless skirmish which took place near + a hamlet called Waterloo, which affray is dignified in Canadian annals as + the second battle of that name. + </p> + <p> + When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, who had watched the contest + with all the helpless anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing the danger, but + having no influence upon the result, followed them, making a wide detour + to avoid the chance shots which were still flying. He expected to come up + with the volunteers on the road, but was not successful. Through various + miscalculations he did not succeed in finding them until toward evening. + At first they told him that young Howard was with the company, and unhurt, + but further inquiry soon disclosed the fact that he had not been seen + since the fight. He was not among those who were killed or wounded, and it + was nightfall before Renmark realized that opposite his name on the roll + would be placed the ominous word “missing.” Renmark remembered that the + boy had said he would visit his home if he got leave; but no leave had + been asked for. At last Renmark was convinced that young Howard was either + badly wounded or dead. The possibility of his desertion the professor did + not consider for a moment, although he admitted to himself that it was + hard to tell what panic of fear might come over a boy who, for the first + time in his life, found bullets flying about his ears. + </p> + <p> + With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and made his way to the fatal + field. He found nothing on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, he + came across several bodies lying where they fell; but they were all those + of strangers. Even in the darkness he would have had no difficulty in + recognizing the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He walked down to + the Howard homestead, hoping, yet fearing, to hear the boy’s voice—the + voice of a deserter. Everything was silent about the house, although a + light shone through an upper window, and also through one below. He paused + at the gate, not knowing what to do. It was evident the boy was not here, + yet how to find the father or brother, without alarming Margaret or her + mother, puzzled him. As he stood there the door opened, and he recognized + Mrs. Bartlett and Margaret standing in the light. He moved away from the + gate, and heard the older woman say: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now that she has fallen into a + nice sleep. I wouldn’t disturb her to-night, if I were you. It is nothing + but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It’s all over now, + thank God. Good-night, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman came through the gate, and then ran, with all the speed of + sixteen, toward her own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, listening to + the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, but Renmark thought he + had never seen anyone so lovely; and he was startled to find that he had a + most un-professor-like longing to take her in his arms and comfort her. + Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared it would be his fate to add + to her anxiety; and it was not until he saw she was about to close the + door that he found courage to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, and the + cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with an unknown + joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there, with wide eyes + and suspended breath, gazing into the darkness. Renmark stepped into the + light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue and anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said again, “I want to speak with you a moment. Where is + your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. There is + something wrong,” she continued, stepping down beside him. “I can see it + in your face. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is your father in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me what it is. It is better to + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t keep me in suspense like this,” cried the girl in a low but intense + voice. “You have said too much or too little. Has anything happened to + Henry?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> alarmed. Tell, me quickly.” And the girl in her excitement + laid her hands imploringly on his. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you know + that?” + </p> + <p> + “He never told me. I understand—I think so, but I hope not. He was + in the battle today. Is he—has he been—hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I’m afraid so,” said Renmark hurriedly, now that the truth + had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of the girl’s + unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. “He was with the + volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don’t know where he + is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he has been + left behind. I have been all over the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes?” + </p> + <p> + “But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me to where the volunteers were,” she sobbed. “I know what has + happened. Come quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not put something on your head?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Come at once.” Then, pausing, she said: “Shall we need a + lantern?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Renmark had some trouble in + keeping pace with her. She turned at the side road, and sped up the gentle + ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the place,” said Renmark. + </p> + <p> + “He could not have been hit in the field,” she cried breathlessly, “for + then he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing a + fence. If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did you search this + field?” + </p> + <p> + “Every bit of it. He is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the second + fence. Did you see the battle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they did not leave the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if he was struck, it could not have been far from the other side of + the second fence. He would be the last to retreat; and that is why the + others did not see him,” said the girl, with confident pride in her + brother’s courage. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the first fence; the road, and the second fence, the girl + walking ahead for a few paces. She stopped, and leaned for a moment + against a tree. “It must have been about here,” she said in a voice hardly + audible. “Have you searched on this side?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and woods.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not there; but down along the fence. He knew every inch of this + ground. If he were wounded here, he would at once try to reach our house. + Search down along the fence. I—I cannot go.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made by the + zigzag of the rails; and he knew, without looking back, that Margaret, + with feminine inconsistency, was following him. Suddenly she darted past + him, and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing out a cry that cut + Renmark like a knife. + </p> + <p> + The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his outstretched hand grasping + the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far, and reached + an insurmountable obstacle. + </p> + <p> + Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and rapidly ran his hand over + the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy passed + over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. + </p> + <p> + “He is alive!” he cried. “He will get well, Margaret.” A statement + somewhat premature to make on so hasty an examination. + </p> + <p> + He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the girl he loved. He was + amazed to see her eyes almost luminous in the darkness, blazing with + wrath. + </p> + <p> + “When did you know he was with the volunteers?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning—early,” said the professor, taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked me not to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man’s sense. You had + no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know, and your duty + to tell me. Through your negligence and stupidity my brother has lain here + all day—perhaps dying,” she added with a break in her angry voice. + </p> + <p> + “If you had known—I didn’t know anything was wrong until I saw the + volunteers. I have not lost a moment since.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have known he was missing, without going to the volunteers.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, from a girl whom he had + made the mistake of believing to be without a temper of her own, that he + knew not what to say. He was, however, to have one more example of + inconsistency. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you stand there doing nothing, now that I have found him?” she + demanded. + </p> + <p> + It was on his tongue to say: “I stand here because you stand there + unjustly quarreling with me,” but he did not say it. Renmark was not a + ready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said sternly, “throw down that fence.” + </p> + <p> + This curt command, delivered in his most schoolmastery manner, was + instantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to a young + woman, but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts of America. A + rail fence lends itself readily to demolition. Margaret tossed a rail to + the right, one to the left, and to the right again, until an open gap took + the place of that part of the fence. The professor examined the young + soldier in the meantime, and found his leg had been broken by a musket + ball. He raised him up tenderly in his arms, and was pleased to hear a + groan escape his lips. He walked through the open gap and along the road + toward the house, bearing the unconscious form of his pupil. Margaret + silently kept close to his side, her fingers every now and then + unconsciously caressing the damp, curly locks of her brother. + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to get a doctor?” Her assertion was half an inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that I should tell + you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot help disturbing someone.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it will be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur, I will + go for the doctor, and no one need know.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go for the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, and + will soon be back.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are prowlers and stragglers all along the roads. It is not safe + for you to go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen can + overtake Gypsy. Now, don’t say anything more. It is best that I should go. + I will run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will take the lamp to + the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry him + around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show you the + way.” + </p> + <p> + With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried his burden alone. She was + waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way round the house, to + where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn under an apple tree. The + light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the boy gently upon the + dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmark whose room he was + in. It was decorated with those pretty little knickknacks so dear to the + heart of a girl in a snuggery she can call her own. + </p> + <p> + “It is not likely you will be disturbed here,” she whispered, “until I + come back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don’t like + the thought of your going alone.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You do not know the way. I shall + be very much quicker. If Arthur should—should—wake, he will + know you, and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were a stranger.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was gone before he could say anything more, and Renmark sat down, + devoutly hoping no one would rap at the door of the room while he was + there. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> + <p> + Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse, when she opened the stable door, + and Gypsy replied with that affectionate, low guttural whinny which the + Scotch graphically term “nickering.” She patted the little animal; and if + Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at that hour of the + night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing its nose lovingly up + and down Margaret’s sleeve as she buckled the different straps. There was + evidently a good understanding between the two. + </p> + <p> + “No, Gyp,” she whispered, “I have nothing for you to-night—nothing + but hard work and quick work. Now, you mustn’t make a noise till we get + past the house.” + </p> + <p> + On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, which she always + carried, but never used. Gyp had never felt the indignity of the lash, and + was always willing to do what was required merely for a word. + </p> + <p> + Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and there was + therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although the passing + of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that if her father heard + the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come out to investigate. + Halfway between her own home and Bartlett’s house she sprang lightly into + the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, Gyp!” + </p> + <p> + No second word was required. Away they sped down the road toward the east, + the mild June air coming sweet and cool and fresh from the distant lake, + laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. The stillness was + intense, broken only by the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, America’s + one-phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and eerie note of a + distant loon. + </p> + <p> + The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shown anywhere. + The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter of the day; and + the population, scattered as it was, appeared to have retired into its + shell. A spell of silence and darkness was over the land, and the rapid + hoof beats of the horse sounded with startling distinctness on the harder + portions of the road, emphasized by intervals of complete stillness, when + the fetlocks sank in the sand and progress was more difficult for the + plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear that Margaret felt on her + night journey was when she entered the dark arch of an avenue of old + forest trees that bordered the road, like a great, gloomy cathedral aisle, + in the shadow of which anything might be hidden. Once the horse, with a + jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead: Margaret caught her + breath as she saw, or fancied she saw, several men stretched on the + roadside, asleep or dead. Once in the open again she breathed more freely, + and if it had not been for the jump of the horse, she would have accused + her imagination of playing her a trick. Just as she had completely + reassured herself a shadow moved from the fence to the middle of the road, + and a sharp voice cried: + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” + </p> + <p> + The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted its two + front hoofs together, and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so + quickly to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Margaret kept her + seat. She saw in front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready to fire + if she attempted to disobey his command. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, and where are you going?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please let me pass!” pleaded Margaret with a tremor of fear in her + voice. “I am going for a doctor—for my brother; he is badly wounded, + and will perhaps die if I am delayed.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” he cried, coming closer; “a woman, is it? and a young one, too, or + I’m a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I’ll have to investigate + this. The brother business won’t work with an old soldier. It’s your lover + you’re riding for at this time of the night, or I’m no judge of the sex. + Just slip down, my lady, and see if you don’t like me better than him; + remember that all cats are black in the dark. Get down, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. I + must get to the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no ‘must’ with a bayonet in front of you. If he has been wounded, + there’s plenty of better men killed to-day. Come down, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in the darkness, the man + saw her intention. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t escape, my pretty. If you try it, you’ll not be hurt, but I’ll + kill your horse. If you move, I’ll put a bullet through him.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill my horse?” breathed Margaret in horror, a fear coming over her that + she had not felt at the thought of danger to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, missy,” said the man, approaching nearer, and laying his hand on + Gypsy’s bridle. “But there will be no need of that. Besides, it would make + too much noise, and might bring us company, which would be inconvenient. + So come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here and be + your prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. This was a good joke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn’t born so recently as all that. A girl in the + hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, or + I’ll take you off. This is war time, and I’m not going to waste any more + pretty talk on you.” + </p> + <p> + The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at her, and something in + his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that he + apparently was not prepared for any sudden movement. Her right hand, + hanging down at her side, had grasped the short riding whip, and, with a + swiftness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she struck him one + stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought down the lash on + the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with her left over her + enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the horse sprang forward, + bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatter that woke the + echoes; then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped along the road + like the wind. It was the first time he had ever felt the cut of a whip, + and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further obstruction on + the road, turned her horse’s head toward the rail fence, and went over it + like a bird. In the field, where fast going in the dark had dangers, + Margaret tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse would not have it + so. He shook his head angrily whenever he thought of the indignity of that + blow, while Margaret leaned over and tried to explain and beg pardon for + her offense. The second fence was crossed with a clean-cut leap, and only + once in the next field did the horse stumble, but quickly recovered and + went on at the same breakneck gait. The next fence, gallantly vaulted + over, brought them to the side road, half a mile up which stood the + doctor’s house. Margaret saw the futility of attempting a reconciliation + until the goal was won. There, with difficulty, the horse was stopped, and + the girl struck the panes of the upper window, through which a light + shone, with her riding whip. The window was raised, and the situation + speedily explained to the physician. + </p> + <p> + “I will be with you in a moment,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her arms around the neck of + the trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, and sniffed + the air with offended dignity. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>was</i> a shame, Gyp,” she cried, almost tearfully, stroking the + glossy neck of her resentful friend; “it was, it was, and I know it; but + what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only protector I had, and you <i>did</i> + bowl him over beautifully; no other horse could have done it so well. It’s + wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike you.” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss of the head that the + wheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult more + than the pain; and from her—there was the sting of it. + </p> + <p> + “I know—I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; and I don’t blame you + for being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there was no + time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That’s why it came + down so hard. If I had said a word, he would have got out of the way, + coward that he was, and then would have shot you—<i>you</i>, Gypsy! + Think of it!” + </p> + <p> + If a man can be molded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, how can a + horse expect to be exempt from her influence. Gypsy showed signs of + melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. + </p> + <p> + “And it will never happen again, Gypsy—never, never. As soon as we + are safe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you + wouldn’t——” + </p> + <p> + Gypsy’s head rested on Margaret’s shoulder, and we must draw a veil over + the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle + with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar of friendship + the unoffending whip was doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, and + proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way—the + Concession, as it was called. + </p> + <p> + They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light in the + window. + </p> + <p> + The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from the + house, and walked together to the window with the stealthy steps of a pair + of housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closed window, and + thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. She tapped lightly on + the pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. + </p> + <p> + “We were getting very anxious about you,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Peggy!” said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his head slightly + from the pillow and dropping it back again. + </p> + <p> + Margaret stooped over and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was going to + die within sight of the house.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited until the + examination was over, and then went out to find her. + </p> + <p> + She sprang forward to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right,” he said. “There is nothing to fear. He has been + exhausted by loss of blood, but a few days’ quiet will set that right. + Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience at being + kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad! and—and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. + Renmark!” + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing—except make blunders,” replied the professor + with a bitterness that surprised and hurt her. + </p> + <p> + “How can you say that? You have done everything. We owe his life to you.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlier + part of the night had deeply pained him, and he hoped for some hint of + disclaimer from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did not realize + that the words were spoken in a state of intense excitement and fear, that + another woman would probably have expressed her condition of mind by + fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had left + absolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark + spoke: + </p> + <p> + “I must be getting back to the tent, if it still exists. I think I had an + appointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to this moment + I had forgotten it. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had done to + offend him. He stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much the + direction he took, but automatically going the nearest way to the tent. + Fatigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were as + lead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull ache where his heart was + supposed to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of himself. He + entered the tent, and was startled by the voice of Yates: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! hello! Is that you, Stoliker?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is Renmark. Are you asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Have you + provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven’t been near the + tent since early morning.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; only don’t expect a recommendation from me as cook. I’m not + yet hungry enough for raw potatoes. What time has it got to be?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I’m the latest edition of Rip + Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was + dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not wide enough awake to remember. I <i>think</i> I killed him, but + wouldn’t be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that very likely + he is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. What have you been + prowling after all night?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll ask <i>you</i> in the morning,” muttered Yates drowsily—after + which there was silence in the tent. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <p> + Yates had stubbornly refused to give up his search for rest and quiet in + spite of the discomfort of living in a leaky and battered tent. He + expressed regret that he had not originally camped in the middle of + Broadway, as being a quieter and less exciting spot than the place he had + chosen; but, having made the choice, he was going to see the last dog + hung, he said. Renmark had become less and less of a comrade. He was + silent, and almost as gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yates tried + to cheer him up by showing him how much worse another man’s position might + be, Renmark generally ended the talk by taking to the wood. + </p> + <p> + “Just reflect on my position,” Yates would say. “Here I am dead in love + with two lovely girls, both of whom are merely waiting for the word. To + one of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, to a man of my + temperament, inclines me somewhat to the other. Here I am anxious to + confide in you, and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talk about + the complication. You have no sympathy for me, Renny, when I need + sympathy; while I am bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won’t + have it. Now, what would you do if you were in my fix? If you would take + five minutes and show me clearly which of the two girls I really ought to + marry, it would help me ever so much, for then I would be sure to settle + on the other. It is the indecision that is slowly but surely sapping my + vitality.” + </p> + <p> + By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over his eyes, + and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in the silent halls + of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates generally + looked after his retreating figure without anger, but with mild wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst,” he would say with a + sigh. “It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down about one’s + ears in this way.” At their last talk of this kind Yates resolved not to + discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisis came. The + crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the latter + lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrilling romance. The camp was + strewn with these engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates had read many + of them, hoping to came across a case similar to his own, but up to the + time of Stoliker’s visit he had not succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Stoliker! how’s things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want to have + another tour across country with me?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow or next + day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side; though you + need never say I told you. Of course, if they give the warrant to me, I + shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may be done to you, still, + the country is in a state of excitement, and you will at least be put to + some inconvenience.” + </p> + <p> + “Stoliker,” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, “you are a white + man! You’re a good fellow, Stoliker, and I’m ever so much obliged. If you + ever come to New York, you call on me at the <i>Argus</i> office,—anybody + will show you where it is,—and I’ll give you the liveliest time you + ever had in your life. It won’t cost you a cent, either.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” said the constable. “Now, if I were you, I would light + out to-morrow at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Yates. + </p> + <p> + Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after a moment’s + thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It was dark before + he had finished, and Renmark returned. + </p> + <p> + “Stilly,” cried the reporter cheerily, “there’s a warrant out for my + arrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!” + </p> + <p> + “What! to jail?” cried his horrified friend, his conscience now troubling + him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an old comrade. + </p> + <p> + “Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, which is pretty much the + same thing. Still, thank goodness, I don’t need to stay there long. I’ll + be in New York before I’m many days older. I yearn to plunge into the + arena once more. The still, calm peacefulness of this whole vacation has + made me long for excitement again, and I’m glad the warrant has pushed me + into the turmoil.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Richard, I’m sorry you have to go under such conditions. I’m afraid + I have not been as companionable a comrade as you should have had.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re all right, Renny. The trouble with you is that you have drawn + a little circle around Toronto University, and said to yourself: ‘This is + the world.’ It isn’t, you know. There is something outside of all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours is around the <i>Argus</i> + office.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but there are special wires from that little circle to all the rest + of the world, and soon there will be an Atlantic cable.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; still, there is + something outside of New York, even.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet your life there is; and, now that you are in a more sympathetic + frame of mind, it is that I want to talk with you about. Those two girls + are outside my little circle, and I want to bring one of them within it. + Now, Renmark, which of those girls would you choose if you were me?” + </p> + <p> + The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was silent for a moment. At + last he said, speaking slowly: + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite appreciate my point of + view. As you may think I have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will try + for the first and final time to explain it. I hold that any man who + marries a good woman gets more than he deserves, no matter how worthy he + may be. I have a profound respect for all women, and I think that your + light chatter about choosing between two is an insult to both of them. I + think either of them is infinitely too good for you—or for me + either.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do, do you? Perhaps you think that you would make a much better + husband than I. If that is the case, allow me to say you are entirely + wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill her with your gloomy + fits. I wouldn’t go off in the woods and sulk, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are referring to me, I will further inform you that I had either + to go off in the woods or knock you down. I chose the less of two evils.” + </p> + <p> + “Think you could do it, I suppose? Renny, you’re conceited. You’re not the + first man who has made such a mistake, and found he was barking up the + wrong tree when it was too late for anything but bandages and arnica.” + </p> + <p> + “I have tried to show you how I feel regarding this matter. I might have + known I should not succeed. We will end the discussion, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, Renny, I’ll tell you what + you need. You need a good, sensible wife worse than any man I know. It is + not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. You will, before long, + grow a crust on you like a snail, or a lobster, or any other cold-blooded + animal that gets a shell on itself. Then nothing can be done for you. Now, + let me save you, Renny, before it is too late. Here is my proposition: You + choose one of those girls and marry her. I’ll take the other. I’m not as + unselfish as I may seem in this, for your choice will save me the worry of + making up my own mind. According to your talk, either of the girls is too + good for you, and for once I entirely agree with you. But let that pass. + Now, which one is it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! man, do you think I am going to bargain with you about my + future wife?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. It shows you are not yet + the prig you would have folks believe. There’s still hope for you, + professor. Now, I’ll go further with you. Although I cannot make up my + mind just what to do myself, I can tell instantly which is the girl for + you, and thus we solve both problems at one stroke. You need a wife who + will take you in hand. You need one who will not put up with your + tantrums, who will be cheerful, and who will make a man of you. Kitty + Bartlett is the girl. She will tyrannize over you, just as her mother does + over the old man. She will keep house to the queen’s taste, and delight in + getting you good things to eat. Why, everything is as plain as a + pikestaff. That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. You marry + Kitty, and I’ll marry Margaret. Come, let’s shake hands over it.” Yates + held up his right hand, ready to slap it down on the open palm of the + professor, but there was no response. Yates’ hand came down to his side + again, but he had not yet lost the enthusiasm of his proposal. The more he + thought of it the more fitting it seemed. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed girl that, if I am as + flippant as you say, she will be just the wife for me. There are depths in + my character, Renmark, that you have not suspected.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re deep.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman would develop the best that + is in me. Now, what do you say, Renny?” + </p> + <p> + “I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, dark as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” said Yates with a sigh, “there’s no doing anything with you or + for you. I’ve tried my best; that is one consolation. Don’t go away. I’ll + let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up.” + </p> + <p> + And Yates drew a silver half dollar from his pocket. “Heads for Margaret!” + he cried. Renmark clinched his fist, took a step forward, then checked + himself, remembering that this was his last night with the man who had at + least once been his friend. + </p> + <p> + Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in one hand, and slapped + the other over it. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the turning point in the lives of two innocent beings.” He raised + the covering hand, and peered at the coin in the gathering gloom. “Heads + it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard Yates. Congratulate me, + professor.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object lesson in self-control. + Yates set his hat more jauntily on his head, and slipped the epoch-making + coin into his trousers pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, old man,” he said. “I’ll see you later, and tell you all the + particulars.” + </p> + <p> + Without waiting for the answer, for which he probably knew there would + have been little use in delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprang + over it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood still for some + minutes, then, quietly gathering underbrush and sticks large and small, + lighted a fire, and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + Yates walked merrily down the road, whistling “Gayly the troubadour.” + Perhaps there is no moment in a man’s life when he feels the joy of being + alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to a girl of whose + favorable answer he is reasonably sure—unless it be the moment he + walks away an accepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, with + its soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air laden with the perfumes + of wood and field. The enchantment of the hour threw its spell over the + young man, and he resolved to live a better life, and be worthy of the + girl he had chosen, or, rather, that fate had chosen for him. He paused a + moment, leaning over the fence near the Howard homestead, for he had not + yet settled in his own mind the details of the meeting. He would not go + in, for in that case he knew he would have to talk, perhaps for hours, + with everyone but the person he wished to meet. If he announced himself + and asked to see Margaret alone, his doing so would embarrass her at the + very beginning. Yates was naturally too much of a diplomat to begin + awkwardly. As he stood there, wishing chance would bring her out of the + house, there appeared a light in the door-window of the room where he knew + the convalescent boy lay. Margaret’s shadow formed a silhouette on the + blind. Yates caught up a handful of sand, and flung it lightly against the + pane. Its soft patter evidently attracted the attention of the girl, for, + after a moment’s pause, the window opened carefully, while Margaret + stepped quickly out and closed it, quietly standing there. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” whispered Yates hardly above his breath. + </p> + <p> + The girl advanced toward the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Is that <i>you</i>?” she whispered in return, with an accent on the last + word that thrilled her listener. The accent told plainly as speech that + the word represented the one man on earth to her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Yates, springing over the fence and approaching her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Margaret, starting back, then checking herself, with a catch + in her voice. “You—you startled me—Mr. Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. Margaret, I wanted to see you + alone. You know why I have come.” He tried to grasp both her hands, but + she put them resolutely behind her, seemingly wishing to retreat, yet + standing her ground. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it is with me. I love you, + Margaret, loyally and truly. It seems as if I had loved you all my life. I + certainly have since the first day I saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling, how else <i>can</i> I talk to you? It cannot be a surprise to + you, Margaret. You must have known it long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not, indeed I did not—if you really mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mean it? I never meant anything as I mean this. It is everything to me, + and nothing else is anything. I have knocked about the world a good deal, + I admit, but I never was in love before—never knew what love was + until I met you. I tell you that——” + </p> + <p> + “Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything more. If it is really + true, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said or done + has made you believe that—that—Oh, I do not know what to say! + I never thought you could be in earnest about anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Margaret. Others have, but I did + not expect it of you. You are far and away better than I am. No one knows + that so well as I. I do not pretend to be worthy of you, but I will be a + devoted husband to you. Any man who gets the love of a good woman,” + continued Yates earnestly, plagiarizing Renmark, “gets more than he + deserves; but surely such love as mine is not given merely to be + scornfully trampled underfoot.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not treat your—you scornfully. I am only sorry if what you say + is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say <i>if</i> it is true? Don’t you know it is true?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am very sorry—very, <i>very</i> sorry, and I hope it is + through no fault of mine. But you will soon forget me. When you return to + New York——” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” said the young man bitterly, “I shall never forget you. Think + what you are doing before it is too late. Think how much this means to me. + If you finally refuse me, you will wreck my life. I am the sort of man + that a woman can make or mar. Do not, I beg of you, ruin the life of the + man who loves you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a missionary,” cried Margaret with sudden anger. “If your life + is to be wrecked, it will be through your own foolishness, and not from + any act of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I am to be held + responsible. I have no wish to influence your future one way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for good, Margaret?” asked Yates with tender reproach. + </p> + <p> + “No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends on anyone but himself is not + my ideal of a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to attain it.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You think it will be useless for me to try?” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I am concerned, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret, I want to ask you one more question. I have no right to, but I + beg you to answer me. Are you in love with anyone else?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Margaret hotly. “How dare you ask me such a question?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is not a crime—that is, being in love with someone else is + not. I’ll tell you why I dare ask. I swear, by all the gods, that I shall + win you—if not this year, then next; and if not next, then the year + after. I was a coward to talk as I did; but I love you more now than I did + even then. All I want to know is that you are not in love with another + man. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are very cruel in persisting as you do, when you have had + your answer. I say no. Never! never! never!—this year nor any other + year. Is not that enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for me. A woman’s ‘no’ may ultimately mean ‘yes.’” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, Mr. Yates,” replied Margaret, drawing herself up as one who + makes a final plunge. “You remember the question you asked me just now?—whether + I cared for anyone else? I said ‘no.’ That ‘no’ meant ‘yes.’” + </p> + <p> + He was standing between her and the window, so she could not escape by the + way she came. He saw she meditated flight, and made as though he would + intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran around the house, + and he heard a door open and shut. + </p> + <p> + He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to the fence, climbing + slowly over where he had leaped so lightly a few minutes before, and + walked down the road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he was a + coward for talking to her as he had done about his wrecked life, yet he + knew now that every word he had spoken was true. What did the future hold + out to him? Not even the incentive to live. He found himself walking + toward the tent, but, not wishing to meet Renmark in his present frame of + mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. He was tired and broken, + and resolved to stay in camp until they arrested him. Then perhaps she + might have some pity on him. Who was the other man she loved? or had she + merely said that to give finality to her refusal? In his present mood he + pictured the worst, and imagined her the wife of some neighboring farmer—perhaps + even of Stoliker. These country girls, he said to himself, never believed + a man was worth looking at unless he owned a farm. He would save his + money, and buy up the whole neighborhood; <i>then</i> she would realize + what she had missed. He climbed up on the fence beside the road, and sat + on the top rail, with his heels resting on a lower one, so that he might + enjoy his misery without the fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination + pictured himself as the owner in a few years’ time of a large section of + that part of the country, with mortgages on a good deal of the remainder, + including the farm owned by Margaret’s husband. He saw her now, a farmer’s + faded wife, coming to him and begging for further time in which to pay the + seven per cent. due. He knew he would act magnanimously on such an + occasion, and grandly give her husband all the time he required. Perhaps + then she would realize the mistake she had made. Or perhaps fame, rather + than riches, would be his line. His name would ring throughout the land. + He might become a great politician, and bankrupt Canada with a rigid + tariff law. The unfairness of making the whole innocent people suffer for + the inconsiderate act of one of them did not occur to him at the moment, + for he was humiliated and hurt. There is no bitterness like that which + assails the man who has been rejected by the girl he adores—while it + lasts. His eye wandered toward the black mass of the Howard house. It was + as dark as his thoughts. He turned his head slowly around, and, like a + bright star of hope, there glimmered up the road a flickering light from + the Bartletts’ parlor window. Although time had stopped as far as he was + concerned, he was convinced it could not be very late, or the Bartletts + would have gone to bed. It is always difficult to realize that the + greatest of catastrophes are generally over in a few minutes. It seemed an + age since he walked so hopefully away from the tent. As he looked at the + light the thought struck him that perhaps Kitty was alone in the parlor. + She at least would not have treated him so badly as the other girl; and—and + she was pretty, too, come to think of it. He always did like a blonde + better than a brunette. + </p> + <p> + A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used in some parts of the + country in such a manner as to impress the sitter with the fact of its + extreme discomfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is not wanted + in that immediate neighborhood. Yates recollected this, with a smile, as + he slid off and stumbled into the ditch by the side of the road. His mind + had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten about the ditch. As he + walked along the road toward the star that guided him he remembered he had + recklessly offered Miss Kitty to the callous professor. After all, no one + knew about the episode of a short time before except himself and Margaret, + and he felt convinced she was not a girl to boast of her conquests. + Anyhow, it didn’t matter. A man is surely master of himself. + </p> + <p> + As he neared the window he looked in. People are not particular about + lowering the blinds in the country. He was rather disappointed to see Mrs. + Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious woman she was. Still + it was consoling to note that none of the men-folks were present, and that + Kitty, with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, sat reading a book + he had lent to her. He rapped at the door, and it was opened by Mrs. + Bartlett, with some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “For the land’s sake! is that you, Mr. Yates?” + </p> + <p> + “It is.” + </p> + <p> + “Come right in. Why, what’s the matter with you? You look as if you had + lost your best friend. Ah, I see how it is,”—Yates started,—“you + have run out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry as a bear.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped around to see if I + could borrow a loaf of bread. We don’t bake till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bartlett laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I’ll get you a loaf in a + minute. Are you sure one is enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite enough, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman bustled out to the other room for the loaf, and Yates made + good use of her temporary absence. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty,” he whispered, “I want to see you alone for a few minutes. I’ll + wait for you at the gate. Can you slip out?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty blushed very red and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I’m off to-morrow before they + can serve it. But I couldn’t go without seeing you. You’ll come, sure?” + </p> + <p> + Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in alarm when he spoke of the + warrant. Before anything further could be said Mrs. Bartlett came in, and + Kitty was absorbed in her book. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you have something to eat now before you go back?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the professor is waiting for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him wait, if he didn’t have sense enough to come.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t. I offered him the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t take us a moment to set the table. It is not the least trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am not in the slightest + degree hungry now. I am merely taking some thought of the morrow. No; I + must be going, and thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the door, “if there’s anything + you want, come to me, and I will let you have it if it’s in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too good to me,” said the young man with genuine feeling, “and I + don’t deserve it; but I may remind you of your promise—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “See that you do,” she answered. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the post, where he forgot + it, much to the astonishment of the donor in the morning. He did not have + to wait long, for Kitty came around the house somewhat shrinkingly, as one + who was doing the most wicked thing that had been done since the world + began. Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one of her unresisting hands + in his. + </p> + <p> + “I must be off to-morrow,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” answered Kitty in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. But I intend to come back, + if you will let me. Kitty, you remember that talk we had in the kitchen, + when we—when there was an interruption, and when I had to go away + with our friend Stoliker?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty indicated that she remembered it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course you know what I wanted to say to you. Of course you know + what I want to say to you now.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, for Kitty had not the + slightest idea, and wanted to go into the house, for it was late, and her + mother would miss her. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that I love you. You must know + that I have loved you ever since the first day I saw you, when you laughed + at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make something of me, if that is + possible. I am a worthless fellow, not half good enough for a little pet + like you; but, Kitty, if you will only say ‘yes,’ I will try, and try + hard, to be a better man than I have ever been before.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty did not say “yes” but she placed her disengaged hand, warm and soft, + upon his, and Yates was not the man to have any hesitation about what to + do next. To practical people it may seem an astonishing thing that, the + object of the interview being happily accomplished, there should be any + need of prolonging it; yet the two lingered there, and he told her much of + his past life, and of how lonely and sordid it had been because he had no + one to care for him—at which her pretty eyes filled with tears. She + felt proud and happy to think she had won the first great love of a + talented man’s life, and hoped she would make him happy, and in a measure + atone for the emptiness of the life that had gone before. She prayed that + he might always be as fond of her as he was then, and resolved to be + worthy of him if she could. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, her wishes have been amply fulfilled, and few wives are as + happy or as proud of their husbands as Kitty Yates. The one woman who + might have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life merely kissed her + tenderly when Kitty told her of the great joy that had come to her, and + said she was sure she would be happy; and thus for the second time + Margaret told the thing that was not, but for once Margaret was wrong in + her fears. + </p> + <p> + Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving his loaf on the gatepost + behind him. Few realize that it is quite as pleasant to be loved as to + love. The verb “to love” has many conjugations. The earth he trod was like + no other ground he had ever walked upon. The magic of the June night was + never so enchanting before. He strode along with his head and his thoughts + in the clouds, and the Providence that cares for the intoxicated looked + after him, and saw that the accepted lover came to no harm. He leaped the + fence without even putting his hand to it, and then was brought to earth + again by the picture of a man sitting with his head in his hands beside a + dying fire. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> + <p> + Yates stood for a moment regarding the dejected attitude of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old man!” he cried, “you have the most ‘hark-from-the-tombs’ + appearance I ever saw. What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Renmark looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it’s I. Been expecting anybody else?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking of a variety of things.” + </p> + <p> + “You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my boy. She’s mine, and I’m + hers—which are two ways of stating the same delightful fact. I’m up + in a balloon, Renny. I’m engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, and most + delightful girl there is from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What d’ye think + of that? Say, Renmark, there’s nothing on earth like it. You ought to + reform and go in for being in love. It would make a man of you. Champagne + isn’t to be compared to it. Get up here and dance, and don’t sit there + like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you comprehend that I am to be married + to the darlingest girl that lives?” + </p> + <p> + “God help her!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I say. Every day of her life, bless her! But I don’t say it + quite in that tone, Renmark. What’s the matter with you? One would think + you were in love with the girl yourself, if such a thing were possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it not possible?” + </p> + <p> + “If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first time. Because you are a + fossil. You are too good, Renny; therefore dull and uninteresting. Now, + there is nothing a woman likes so much as to reclaim a man. It always + annoys a woman to know that the man she is interested in has a past with + which she has had nothing to do. If he is wicked and she can sort of make + him over, like an old dress, she revels in the process. She flatters + herself she makes a new man of him, and thinks she owns that new man by + right of manufacture. We owe it to the sex, Renny, to give ‘em a chance at + reforming us. I have known men who hated tobacco take to smoking merely to + give it up joyfully for the sake of the women they loved. Now, if a man is + perfect to begin with, what is a dear, ministering angel of a woman to do + with him? Manifestly nothing. The trouble with you, Renny, is that you are + too evidently ruled by a good and well-trained conscience, and naturally + all women you meet intuitively see this, and have no use for you. A little + wickedness would be the making of you.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, that if a man’s impulse is to do what his conscience + tells him is wrong, he should follow his impulse, and not his conscience?” + </p> + <p> + “You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. I believe that an + occasional blow-out is good for a man. But if you ever have an impulse of + that kind, I think you should give way to it for once, just to see how it + feels. A man who is too good gets conceited about himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates,” said the professor, rising. “I + will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. My + conscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a long + and happy life with the girl you have—I won’t say chosen, but tossed + up for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break every + bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, Renmark, you’re crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. A lunatic + is sometimes dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go away. You’re dreaming. You’re talking in your sleep. What! Fight? + Tonight? Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don’t wish to fight at all, + especially to-night. I’m a reformed man, I tell you. I have no desire to + bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s impossible to fight here in the dark. Don’t flatter yourself for a + moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limbered up, + while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into a + blaze. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “that’s better. Now, let me have a look at you. In the + name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to give my reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I refuse to fight. I’ll run, and I can beat you in a foot race any + day in the week. Why, you’re worse than her father. He at least let me + know why he fought me.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose father?” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty’s father, of course—my future father-in-law. And that’s + another ordeal ahead of me. I haven’t spoken to the old man yet, and I + need all my fighting grit for that.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t my language plain? It usually is.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to Miss + Bartlett. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can’t we + postpone our fracas until daylight? I don’t want to gather any more wood. + Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thus ruin + whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Say? I say I am an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar—to Miss Howard?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget. You + remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred to it a + moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time. Well, I + don’t care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know the beginning, + you will have to know the end, because I want to wring a sacred promise + from you. You are never to mention this episode of the toss-up, or of my + confession, to any living soul. The telling of it might do harm, and it + couldn’t possibly do any good. Will you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you should + understand how the land lies, so you won’t make any mistake. Not on <i>my</i> + account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty’s ears. Yes, I + proposed to Margaret—first. She wouldn’t look at me. Can you credit + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now that you mention it, I——” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I see you <i>can</i> credit it. Well, I couldn’t at first; but + Margaret knows her own mind, there’s no question about <i>that</i>. Say! + she’s in love with some other fellow. I found out that much.” + </p> + <p> + “You asked her, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I do that + for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when it comes + to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, and then + bolted.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have used great tact and delicacy.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Renmark; I’m not going to stand any of your sneering. I told + you this was a sore subject with me. I’m not telling you because I like + to, but because I have to. Don’t put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark. If + <i>I</i> talk fight, I won’t begin for no reason and then back out for no + reason. I’ll go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else. Isn’t that enough? It was more than enough for me—at + the time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sitting on + the fence and thinking about it.” + </p> + <p> + “So long as that?” + </p> + <p> + Yates rose from the fire indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “I take that back, too,” cried the professor hastily. “I didn’t mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me you’ve become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don’t you + think it’s about time we took to our bunks? It’s late.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendly + fence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendly stars. + He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with its impressive + stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stops in mid-ocean. + After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful stars he climbed the + fence and walked down the road, taking little heed of the direction. The + still night was a soothing companion. He came at last to a sleeping + village of wooden houses, and through the center of the town ran a single + line of rails, an iron link connecting the unknown hamlet with all + civilization. A red and a green light glimmered down the line, giving the + only indication that a train ever came that way. As he went a mile or two + farther the cool breath of the great lake made itself felt, and after + crossing a field he suddenly came upon the water, finding all further + progress in that direction barred. Huge sand dunes formed the shore, + covered with sighing pines. At the foot of the dunes stretched a broad + beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast with the darker water; and + at long intervals fell the light ripple of the languid summer waves, + running up the beach with a half-asleep whisper, that became softer and + softer until it was merged in the silence beyond. Far out on the dark + waters a point of light, like a floating star, showed where a steamer was + slowly making her way; and so still was the night that he felt rather than + heard her pulsating engines. It was the only sign of life visible from + that enchanted bay—the bay of the silver beach. + </p> + <p> + Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. The + point of light gradually worked its way to the west, following, doubtless + unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around the headland, + taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. But the world is + very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he thinks he is. + Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees, which cry he was + astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat up and listened. + Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat, and someone stepped + ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowy forms of three men. + Nothing was said, but they got silently into the boat, which might have + been Charon’s craft for all he could see of it. The rattle of the rowlocks + and the plash of oars followed, while a voice cautioned the rowers to make + less noise. It was evident that some belated fugitives were eluding the + authorities of both countries. Renmark thought, with a smile, that if + Yates were in his place he would at least give them a fright. A sharp + command to an imaginary company to load and fire would travel far on such + a night, and would give the rowers a few moments of great discomfort. + Renmark, however, did not shout, but treated the episode as part of the + mystical dream, and lay down on the sand again. He noticed that the water + in the east seemed to feel the approach of morning even before the sky. + Gradually the day dawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the + coming sun spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched + the glory of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty of + the bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back for the + village and the camp beyond. + </p> + <p> + The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to see Stoliker + on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistants were with him, + also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed by the sight of + Renmark, but he was there to do his duty. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he cried, “you’re up early. I have a warrant for the arrest of + your friend: I suppose you won’t tell me where he is?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t expect me to give any information that will get a friend into + trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s as may turn out before a jury,” said one of the assistants + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. “That is for + judge and jury to determine—not you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Renmark, “I will not inform about anybody, unless I am + compelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where I + have been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. If you + go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat’s keel on the sand, + and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore in the + night, and a man got on board. I don’t say who the man was, and I had + nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. That is + all the information I have to give.” + </p> + <p> + Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. “What did I tell you?” he + asked. “We were right on his track.” + </p> + <p> + “You said the railroad,” grumbled the man who had spoken before. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake and see + the traces. Then we can return the warrant.” + </p> + <p> + Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfast + without disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporter + and told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back to New + York without delay. + </p> + <p> + Yates yawned sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I’ve been dreaming it all out. I’ll get father-in-law to + tote me out to Fort Erie to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?” + </p> + <p> + “Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I’m going + down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the old folks, you + know. I’ll spend the rest of the day making up for that interview by + talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for me there, and, now that + he thinks I’m gone, he will likely make a visit to the tent. Stoliker is a + good fellow, but his strong point is duty, you know; and if he’s certain + I’m gone, he’ll give his country the worth of its money by searching. I + won’t be back for dinner, so you can put in your time reading my Dime + Novels. I make no reflections on your cooking, Renny, now that the + vacation is over; but I have my preferences, and they incline toward a + final meal with the Bartletts. If I were you, I’d have a nap. You look + tired out.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said the professor. + </p> + <p> + Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear of + the camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, when she + got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hear Stoliker and + his satellites search the premises, just as Yates had predicted they + would; and when he finally awoke, he found to his astonishment that it was + nearly dark. But he was all the better for his sleep, and he attended to + his personal appearance with more than ordinary care. + </p> + <p> + Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grim + stolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known by him + to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond his + comprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the first time + in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse for going + there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which he sat at one of + the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparent effect on him. He + even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and a man who can do that + can do anything. To bring up a daughter who would deliberately accept a + man from “the States,” and to have a wife who would aid and abet such an + action, giving comfort and support to the enemy, seemed to him traitorous + to all the traditions of 1812, or any other date in the history of the two + countries. At times wild ideas of getting blind full, and going home to + break every breakable thing in the house, rose in his mind; but prudence + whispered that he had to live all the rest of his life with his wife, and + he realized that this scheme of vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he + untied his patient team, after paying his bill, and drove silently home, + not having returned, even by a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him + that day. He was somewhat relieved to find no questions were asked, and + that his wife recognized the fact that he was passing through a crisis. + Nevertheless, there was a steely glitter in her eye under which he + uneasily quailed, for it told him a line had been reached which it would + not be well for him to cross. She forgave, but it must not go any further. + </p> + <p> + When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with some + trepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement. + </p> + <p> + “No one but Margaret,” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say?” asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion was of + no importance. + </p> + <p> + “She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make a + good husband.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s rather a nice girl, is Margaret,” remarked Yates, with the air of a + man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than his own, but + indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth for him. + </p> + <p> + “She is a lovely girl,” said Kitty enthusiastically. “I wonder, Dick, when + you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea! I haven’t a word to say against Margaret; but, compared with my + girl——” + </p> + <p> + And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frame of + mind. + </p> + <p> + As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had acted very + handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. But as he + approached the house his courage began to fail him, and he thought it + better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had sat the night + before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But as he sat + there it was destined that Yates should receive some information which + would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly out of the gate in the + gathering darkness. They strolled together up the road past him, absorbed + in themselves. When directly opposite the reporter, Renmark put his arm + around Margaret’s waist, and Yates nearly fell off the fence. He held his + breath until they were safely out of hearing, then slid down and crawled + along in the shadow until he came to the side road, up which he walked, + thoughtfully pausing every few moments to remark: “Well, I’ll be——” + But speech seemed to have failed him; he could get no further. + </p> + <p> + He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last time at + the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the somber + trees. He had no energy left to climb over. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m a chimpanzee,” he muttered to himself at last. “The highest + bidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn’t have + believed it of you. <i>You</i> a newspaper man? <i>You</i> a reporter from + ‘way back? <i>You</i> up to snuff? Yates, I’m ashamed to be seen in your + company! Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter in from a + country newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think that this thing + has been going on right under your well-developed nose, and you never saw + it—worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; that it was thrust + at you twenty times a day—nearly got your stupid head smashed on + account of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent little lamb that you + are, and never even suspected! Dick, you’re a three-sheet-poster fool in + colored ink. And to think that both of them know all about the first + proposal! <i>Both</i> of them! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a long way + from New York.” + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Midst of Alarms, by Robert Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS *** + +***** This file should be named 9263-h.htm or 9263-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/2/6/9263/ + + +Text file produced by Lee Dawei, William A. 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