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Title: The Fighting-Slogan
Date of first publication: 1926
Author: H. A. Cody (1872-1948)
Date first posted: September 4 2012
Date last updated: September 4 2012
Faded Page eBook #20120909

This eBook was produced by: David T. Jones, woodie4, Al Haines
& the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net




    By H. A. CODY

    THE FIGHTING-SLOGAN
    THE MASTER REVENGE
    THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDEN HORN
    THE KING'S ARROW
    JESS OF THE REBEL TRAIL
    GLEN OF THE HIGH NORTH
    THE TOUCH OF ABNER
    THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER
    UNDER SEALED ORDERS
    IF ANY MAN SIN
    THE CHIEF OF THE RANGES
    THE FOURTH WATCH
    THE LONG PATROL
    ROD OF THE LONE PATROL
    THE FRONTIERSMAN




    THE
    FIGHTING-SLOGAN

    BY

    H. A. CODY

    McCLELLAND & STEWART
    PUBLISHERS : : TORONTO




    COPYRIGHT, 1926,
    BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY



    THE FIGHTING-SLOGAN
            --A--
    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA




    To the Fathers of Confederation, and especially to

         SIR SAMUEL LEONARD TILLEY,

    one of the worthiest, this book is dedicated, as a grateful and humble
    tribute to their far-seeing vision, their outstanding loyalty and
    patriotism, and their masterly achievement in binding the provinces of
    Canada into an enduring unity of stability and good-will.




                   CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                           PAGE
         I In the Jaws                  11
        II The Dividing Line            19
       III The Man and the Vision       28
        IV An Icy Spill                 36
         V "Which Cut, Gentlemen?"      43
        VI A Nigh-Go                    50
       VII "Whipping the Cat"           57
      VIII The Fenians!                 65
        IX Halt!                        75
         X Nailing the Lie              82
        XI Hettie!                      92
       XII Land-Bound                   99
      XIII A Shot in the Night         106
       XIV The Warning                 113
        XV Disenchantment              121
       XVI A Startling Appeal          128
      XVII The Party                   135
     XVIII Horse-Sense                 143
       XIX On the Track of Things      150
        XX Suspicion Confirmed         157
       XXI Troublesome "Thinks"        165
      XXII Oxen, Eh?                   174
     XXIII What a Night!               182
      XXIV Treachery                   190
       XXV Sneak-Thieves               197
      XXVI A Prisoner                  204
     XXVII For Love's Sake             213
    XXVIII The Uplifted Hand           220
      XXIX The Party and After         229
       XXX Bearers of Relief           237
      XXXI Loving Care                 246
     XXXII At Rest                     255
    XXXIII Andy Comes Back             262
     XXXIV The Round-Up                269
      XXXV Victory                     276




THE FIGHTING-SLOGAN

"His Dominion shall be from sea even to sea." Zech. 9, 10.

       *       *       *       *       *

"All the old bitterness of the Family Compact days was imported into the
new order of affairs, and few at the present time can realise the venom
which was displayed in politics then and for over forty years after....
So isolated were the Maritime Provinces from Old Canada that a visit of
prominent citizens of the latter was as much an event as if a deputation
to-day came to Canada from South Africa on some important mission."

                       _"The Story of Confederation," by R. E. Gosnell._

       *       *       *       *       *

"One of the most dangerous and critical periods in the history of
Canada, was that which closely followed the termination of the Civil War
in 1865. It is strange that Canadian authors and historians do not seem
to have fully realised the gravity of the situation that then existed,
as the event has been passed over by them with the barest possible
mention. Thus the people of the present generation know very little of
the Fenian troubles of 1866 and 1870, and the great mass of the young
Canadian boys and girls who are being educated in our Public Schools and
Colleges are in total ignorance of the grave danger which cast dark
shadows over this fair and prosperous Dominion in those stirring days.
It was a period of great peril to this rising young Nation of the North,
which might possibly have ended in the severance of Canada from the
British dominion."

              _"Troublous Times in Canada," by Capt. John A. MacDonald._




THE FIGHTING-SLOGAN




CHAPTER 1

IN THE JAWS


The jaws of the steel trap leaped together, caught and held Drum Rowan's
left hand as if in a vise. With a startled groan he staggered back, and
then exerted the entire weight of his free hand and right foot upon the
springs, thus forcing the jaws to release their savage grip.

"It's lucky I had my mitt on," he muttered. "My! how my hand hurts." He
pulled off the mitten and looked at the red streak across the back of
his fingers. "I wonder what made that trap spring, anyway. Such a thing
never happened to me before. Hettie would say it's a sign of bad luck,
but I don't believe such nonsense."

His manner, however, somewhat belied his words, for he glanced a little
anxiously around, and then up at the high hills surrounding him. He was
standing in a wooded valley at a spot where two brooks meet. To the
right the land rises abruptly until it terminates in a long curved peak,
thickly wooded. There is a similar formation on the left of the valley,
and owing to this peculiarity the place was commonly known as "The
Jaws." Indian tradition told of titanic deeds enacted there in ages
past, when the mighty Glooscap, pursuing his enemies, had rent the earth
asunder and made a way for himself to the noble river beyond. Even in
later days many looked upon the place with a superstitious dread, and
related tales of weird sounds heard there at night. Once a man was
found dead in the valley in mid-winter, and this naturally increased the
fear surrounding the locality.

With these Drum Rowan was well acquainted, and although not
superstitious by nature, he was aware of a strange sensation creeping
over him as he recalled some of the stories. This soon vanished,
however, as he bent to his task of re-setting the trap. He was more
careful this time, keeping his hands clear of the pan when sprinkling it
lightly with a thin layer of snow. This accomplished, he picked up his
gun, which was standing against a tree, turned to the left and moved
swiftly forward.

The afternoon of the short winter day was drawing to a close, and shades
of evening were stealing slowly over the valley as Drum made his way up
the little brook toward a clearing beyond. The walking was not
difficult, as a recent rain, followed by a cold snap, had settled and
hardened the snow. Several times he stopped to examine tracks of wild
animals, especially those of a sliding otter, and then the expression
upon his face revealed his satisfaction.

"I'll show Tom and Bill Daggert a thing or two," he mused. "They are
always talking about the ill-luck of this valley, and telling
scare-yarns. I was foolish to have paid any heed to them, and should
have set traps here long ago. Why this is a natural run-way, and I
should get something big before long. I'll have the laugh on Tom and
Bill yet, see if I don't."

Pressing onward, he came in a few minutes to a rough narrow wood-road.
This surprised him, for he had no idea that anyone did any lumbering in
the valley where the trees were of little value. But here was a road
with old marks showing that a sled had passed over it. There were also
human footprints, evidently made some time before the last thaw. At this
spot the road touched the little brook and then swerved off to the
right, straight toward the steep bank beyond.

Drum's curiosity was now thoroughly aroused. What reason could there be
for a road in such a rough place? He must see where it led, and if
possible solve the mystery. Hastening along, it look him but a short
time to come close to a great ledge of rocks which rose abruptly from
the valley to an irregular height of from twenty to forty feet. A heavy
thicket of trees surrounded the base, through which the road wound. Drum
noted that a number of trees had been recently cut and their tops left
lying upon the ground. This at first led him to believe that someone had
been lumbering there, the Daggert brothers, perhaps, who needed those
trees for some special purpose. He changed his mind, however, when he
noticed that the trees had been dragged toward the ledge instead of away
from it. That was certainly remarkable, as there was no possible outlet
for the logs ahead.

A few rods beyond he came in sight of the flinty wall, and instead of
the road ending there it turned sharply to the right. Following this, he
ere long saw something which caused his eyes to open wide in amazement.
It was a cabin, cosily situated in an opening in the ledge. Rocks formed
part of the two sides upon which several small logs had been laid to
increase the height. The roof was made of poles, well covered with large
strips of birch bark to shed the rain. Stout portions of logs, about
eight feet long, placed on end, enclosed the front of the building. Here
was a door, made of sawn boards, fastened on the outside with a wooden
latch.

Drum examined this structure most carefully before venturing near. He
was more puzzled now than ever. He had never heard of anyone camping
here, and he knew the woods and the country for many miles around. It
was a wonder that the Daggert brothers had never mentioned it, as the
ledge was so near their house. But perhaps they knew nothing about it,
and if so it was strange for there was little that escaped their
ferret-like eyes. Drum smiled as he pictured their astonishment when he
told them of his discovery.

Seeing no one near the cabin, he slowly, and warily advanced until he
reached the building. Lifting the latch, he opened the door and peered
in. All was dark inside, with no sign of life. Drawing forth a piece of
candle from a pocket in his jacket, he lighted it, and then stepped
cautiously within. A small stove and a rough table surrounded by several
blocks of wood to serve as seats were all the articles the cabin
contained. There was no floor, merely the bare ground, while at one side
were some old fir and spruce boughs which evidently had been used for a
bed. He searched carefully, but could find no clue whatsoever as to the
occupants of the place.

Drum's curiosity was now fully aroused. There was something strange
about this cabin situated in such a concealed spot. What did it mean? he
asked himself. Stepping outside, he noticed that the road he had
followed did not end here, but continued along the foot of the rocky
ledge. Extinguishing the candle, he hurried forward, hoping to find some
solution to the mystery. Perhaps, after all, the road might wind around
to the brook farther down, and had been used by some nearby farmer. But
why would anyone in the parish need such a cabin as the one but a short
distance away? It was all very puzzling.

Rounding at length a sharp bend where an exceptionally large mass of
rugged rocks jutted forth, the road suddenly ended. Drum stopped and
peered in every direction, but for a minute or two he looked in vain for
any enlightenment to the problem. No one had been lumbering there, for
the trees which crowded almost up to the base of the ledge were
untouched. There was merely the narrow bare space close to the cliff
which the road followed.

Drum was about to return for another more thorough search of the cabin,
but before doing so he stepped to the extreme end of the road. As he
did so, his eyes caught sight of old footprints in the snow in a deep
crevice between two large overhanging rocks. Here was something needing
investigation, so leaving the road, he scrambled up over a heap of
stones from which the thaw had melted the snow. The footprints beyond
were plainly visible and led to the left around a sharp point of rock. A
few steps brought him in view of something which arrested his immediate
attention. It was the thick top of a green spruce tree lying close to
the base of the ledge. It was strange for this to be in such a position
as it could not have fallen so far from any tree on the opposite side of
the road. It must have been dragged there for some definite purpose.
Just what that was Drum could not tell until he had pulled it aside,
when an opening of several feet in extent was exposed, leading right
into the wall of rock. Drum gave a low whistle of surprise, certain now
that he had come upon something of real importance. That this hole led
into a cave he felt sure, so stooping, he peered within. But nothing
could he see, for all was in darkness. Again lighting his candle, he
crawled in through the opening on his hands and knees, keeping the
candle well in front of him. When inside, he stopped, squatted on the
ground and peered around. His gun he held in readiness, not knowing what
to expect next. The roof of the cave was only about five feet high and
seven wide, but how long he could not tell. A creepy feeling possessed
him as he crept cautiously forward. The air was oppressive and he longed
to turn back. But he did want to find out what lay beyond, and also the
size of this rocky tunnel. When he had advanced about five yards, he
noticed a number of objects lined along the right wall. By the light of
the candle, he soon noticed that they were powder kegs, and a large
number of them, at that. Stooping, he was enabled to see the letters "P"
upon some and "B" upon others.

"Powder and bullets!" he exclaimed. "Now, what in time are they doing
here? Who can have any use for so much ammunition? I wonder how many
kegs there are?"

He began to count, but had not proceeded far when a piece of torn paper
lying near one of the kegs attracted his attention. This he at once
picked up, held it close to the candle and began to read. As he did so,
he understood the meaning of that rough road, the cabin among the rocks,
and the ammunition concealed in the cave.

       *       *       *       *       *

"To the People of America," so ran the writing. "We come among you as
the foes of the British. We have taken up the sword to strike down the
oppressor's rod, to deliver Ireland from the tyrant, the robber. We have
registered our oaths upon the altar of our country in the full view of
heaven, and sent up our vows to the Throne of Him who inspired them.
Then, looking about us for an enemy, we find him here, here in your
midst where he is most accessible and convenient to our strength, etc.

"The spirit of our organization is running like an electric current in
the east, north, and west where hundreds of thousands warn England that
her tyranny over our native country must end."

       *       *       *       *       *

Drum's hands trembled with excitement, and his eyes blazed with anger.
The whole mystery was now solved. Strange that he had not thought of it
sooner. He knew of the anxiety throughout the country caused by the
threatened Fenian Raid from across the Border. It was household talk,
and everywhere soldiers were being drilled to repel the invaders. So the
storing of these kegs of powder and bullets was but a part of the
preparation in the general scheme of attack. Unexpectedly he had come
across this cave, and how was he to use the knowledge in his possession?
To whom should he take that piece of paper? He looked at it again, and
his eyes rested upon the words, in big letters, "On to Canada,"
followed by the doggerel lines,

     "We are a Fenian Brotherhood, skilled in the arts of war,
      And we're going to fight for Ireland, the land that we adore,
      Many battles we have fought, along with the boys in blue,
      And we'll go and capture Canada, for we've nothing else to do."

Here the paper was so torn that Drum could read no further. But this was
enough for his purpose. He knew that he had made an important discovery,
and the sooner he acted the better it would be.

Leaving the cave, he replaced the tree-top and then went back to the
road. Here he stood and looked around, hoping that some of the enemy who
threatened his country would suddenly make an appearance. And truly Drum
Rowan would have made a formidable opponent. Strong and supple as a wild
cat, inured to life in the open, and trained to great endurance, all who
reckoned with him would have been forced to contend with one hundred and
seventy pounds of hard spare flesh, bones and sinewy muscles. He was
greatly stirred now by the discovery he had just made. So the Fenians
were planning to capture Canada, were they? Perhaps even now they had
numerous caves all over the country where they had ammunition stored
ready for the time of invasion. Could he frustrate their plans? Would
this one hiding-place be the clue to others? To whom should he first
impart his information? There was one he longed to tell, for he knew how
interested she would be, and he pictured her sparkling eyes and animated
face as she listened to his story. But, no, he would not speak to her
now, as she could give him no advice as to the course he should pursue.
Some person in authority must be consulted, one who would be able to
take immediate action. And where could he find such a man? Ah, he knew
one in the city, and he would go to him at once.

Drum walked swiftly back over the road until he came to the cabin. He
looked upon it in a new light now. It was the stopping-place of the
plotters. But how had they managed to erect that abode and bring in so
much ammunition without any of the neighbours knowing anything about it?
They must have been working there for some time, and it was strange that
no word of their doings had been reported throughout the country. The
more Drum thought about this as he hurried onward the more puzzled he
became. Anyway, he had made a great discovery, the thought of which
thrilled his entire being.




CHAPTER 2

THE DIVIDING LINE


The Valley of The Jaws lay shrouded in darkness as Drum Rowan stood on
the summit of the hill above and looked back over the route he had just
travelled. The spear-like points of innumerable pines, firs, and spruces
were still faintly visible in the deepening gloom. A slight breath of
wind winging up from the river caused them to tremble, which seemed to
the watcher like an involuntary shudder. Perhaps it was a sigh drawn by
that great lung of Nature. Anyway, it smote him in an ominous manner.
The pain in his hand reminded him of the gripping jaws of the deadly
steel trap. Was there a meaning in that accident? He thought of the
rough cabin, and the cave with its store of ammunition. The entire
valley, dark and silent, assumed a sinister aspect. There also came to
his mind the weird stories told by Indians and old people of the
neighbourhood. Was there something in such ideas, after all? He could
not believe there was, and yet a peculiar sensation affected him such as
he had never experienced before. It made him angry at himself, so with
one more sweeping glance down over the valley, he left the ridge and
plunged into the forest behind.

He walked rapidly, in keeping with the agitated state of his mind, until
he reached an open space where wood-choppers had been at work. Here he
stopped and looked around.

"Tom and Bill haven't done much of late, it seems to me," he remarked
aloud. "Why, they haven't a cord of wood cut. We'll never get the boat
loaded at this rate."

"I'm going to see what's the matter with them. Hettie may be able to do
something for my hand. She'll have liniment, anyway."

Crossing to the opposite side of the little clearing, he entered upon a
well-beaten wood-road. This he followed, and ere long came in sight of a
small house nestling close to the edge of the forest. Smoke was pouring
forth from the one chimney, and a feeble glimmer of light struggled
through the only window on the northern side of the building. Nearby was
a barn, in front of which was a sled loaded with cordwood.

It took Drum but a few minutes to reach the house, and in response to
his rap, the door was slowly opened and a girl peered forth. Seeing the
young man standing there, her eyes brightened, and a smile overspread
her thin face. She pulled the door wide open, and stepped aside.

"Oh, it's you, Drum, is it?" she accosted.

"Yes, that's who it is, Hettie, and I hope supper is ready."

"It's a'most. I've jist got some more pancakes to fry. But, come in an'
walk careful on that line."

She pointed to the floor, and Drum noticed a chalk mark extending from
the door right up to the middle of the large open fire-place. The
surprised expression upon his face caused the girl to laugh outright.

"Ye wonder what it's thar fer, I s'pose?"

"I certainly do, Hettie. Have you been learning to draw?"

"Should say not. Dad done it. Him an' Unc have fit, an' that line's thar
to keep 'em apart."

"Het, what are ye yangin' 'bout?" an angry voice from near the fire
asked. "Shet the door; us is freezin'."

Drum at once stepped inside, and the door was closed.

"Keep on the line," the girl reminded as he started to go forward. "Dad
or Unc'll be mad; one or t'other, if ye don't."

Drum laughed as he obeyed and carefully watched his steps. He stopped
when almost near the fire-place and looked at the two Daggert brothers,
Bill seated on the left and Tom on the right. They were a queer looking
pair, startling and ghoulish in appearance, with their long hair,
unkempt beards, and black, bead-like eyes peering out from under great
bushy eyebrows. Drum was never sure of the reception he would receive
from these odd men. Sometimes they were effusive in their welcome, and
again sullen and silent. But so accustomed was he to their varying moods
that he treated them almost like children. He knew that they were always
glad to see him, for with the exception of Andy Dooner, the shoemaker,
known up and down the land as the "cat-whipper," he was the only visitor
to their house. From him they heard some of the latest news of the
parish for which they were always eager. This new freak of dividing the
house by means of the chalk line was very amusing to Drum. He pretended
to be most anxious lest he should make a mistake, so when he stopped, he
looked first at Tom and then at Bill. As neither spoke, he turned to the
girl who was following him.

"Bring me a chair, Hettie," he ordered. "I am going to stay right on
this line and act as a judge between your father and uncle. You might
also pull up that little table so I can eat my supper here."

When Hettie had complied with this request, she disappeared into an
adjoining room, leaving Drum alone with the two brothers. His hand was
hurting him, so pulling off his mitten, he examined the red mark caused
by the jaws of the trap. The fingers were swollen, and these he rubbed
with his right hand. The brothers watched him intently, but neither
spoke. Their curiosity, however, was aroused, and this Drum knew.

"Have you any liniment?" he presently asked, turning to Tom. "I've hurt
my hand."

"Lin'min? Yaas, got little," was the slow, drawling reply. "Het," he
called, "where's that bot' lin'min?"

In another minute the girl reappeared. She wore a clean apron now, and
her hastily-combed hair was adorned with a bright-red ribband. There was
a slight flush in her white cheeks as she placed a bottle upon the
table.

"My! you look fine, Hettie," Drum complimented. "Expecting your young
man to-night?" he asked, as he pulled out the cork and bathed his
injured hand.

"How did ye hurt it, Drum?" the girl inquired, while the flush on her
cheeks deepened.

"Oh, caught it in a trap I was setting over there in the Jaws. I never
did such a thing before."

A sudden expression of fear appeared in the girl's eyes, and her hands
trembled, although she said nothing. She turned quickly away and began
to stir some batter in a pan. Drum did not notice her peculiar manner,
but continued rubbing his fingers.

"What's the matter with you men, anyway?" he asked looking straight at
Tom.

"Us have fit," was the reply. "Us can't agree, so us part."

"What have you been fighting about?"

"Work. Bill won't do nuthin' but set in the house all the time."

"Tom's a liar," Bill retorted. "Tom won't work, so us fit."

The two men relapsed into silence and glared at each other across the
room. Drum did not know what to say. He watched Hettie holding the
griddle over the hot coals, and noticed how deftly she turned the
pancakes by giving them a slight toss into the air.

"You do that well, Hettie," he remarked. "I suppose you get plenty of
practice."

"Lots of it, Drum. Too much, I guess. But Dad an' Unc kin do their own
cookin' after this if they don't behave theirselves. I'm sick of so
much fightin'. They're jist like two babies."

"Het, you shet up," her father sternly ordered.

"I won't shet up, Dad. I've shet up too long a'ready, an' now I'm goin'
to have my say."

The girl had risen from her stooping position and was standing in a
defiant attitude with her back to the fire. She held the hot griddle in
her right hand which she waved in a threatening manner.

"Be careful, Hettie, or you'll lose that pancake," Drum warned. "I'm as
hungry as a bear, so don't quit before you give me something to eat."

"I'll give you yer supper, Drum," and a softer light came into the
girl's eyes as she spoke. "But I don't care if Dad an' Unc gits any or
not. It's a good starvin' they need."

Drum was not surprised at these words, for he was well aware of Hettie's
temper and sharp tongue. He had heard her make similar threats before,
but they had never amounted to anything. What did give him cause for
wonder, though, was the little that her father said in reply, while Bill
never opened his mouth. This was unusual, for when Hettie became excited
there was generally a regular babel of words, until the three ceased for
want of breath. Then when the blow-out ended they seemed to be perfectly
satisfied, and forgot all about their squabble. But now it was
different. Tom and Bill were not inclined to talk. They ate their supper
in silence, keeping, however, a keen watch upon each other. When through
they filled and lighted their black clay pipes, and appeared to pay no
more heed to their visitor.

Drum enjoyed the pancakes, and Hettie reserved the largest and the
well-browned ones for him. Although the molasses was black and not of
the best quality, and the tea very strong, he ate with a hearty relish,
and when he had finished he thanked the girl for the meal.

"If I'd a knowed ye was comin', Drum, I'd had some moose steak fer
supper," she informed him. "But I didn't want to git it jist fer Dad an'
Unc. They never thank me. All they do is scold."

The girl was seated now opposite the young man, with her elbows resting
upon the table, and her hands supporting her chin. She was looking into
Drum's face, and her inmost soul was expressed in her large dark eyes.
Those eyes she had inherited from her mother, and they were the only
marks of outward beauty that Hettie Daggert possessed.

Drum, however, was not thinking about the girl at all, although he was
looking straight at her face. He was thinking how he might arouse Tom
and Bill from their moody silence. He longed to tell them of the
discovery he had made in the valley. That surely would excite them. But
he was determined not to divulge the secret until he had reached the
city and consulted with the one man upon whom he felt he could rely for
sound practical advice. He wondered if he could scare these men into
conversation. He would try, anyway. Rising to his feet, he turned to
Tom.

"I must be going now before it gets too dark," he announced. "Some of
those Fenians might be prowling around, and no one can tell what might
happen. They are getting very lively across the Border, so I hear. Now,
I don't like the appearance of that valley to-night, and wouldn't be a
bit surprised if some of the Fenians come that way. It's always been a
spooky place to me, but never so much as to-night. It was shivering and
shuddering just like a frightened creature."

These words had the desired effect, for the two brothers at once left
their chairs and came up close to the chalk line. Hettie also rose and
stood leaning against the table, her body trembling violently and her
face white with fear.

"Did ye say the Fenyuns are in the valley?" Tom asked in a voice that
was little more than a hoarse whisper. "Did ye see 'em? Was 'em comin'
this way?"

"Now, don't get frightened," Drum advised, amused at the excitement his
words had caused. "I didn't say that the Fenians are there, remember. I
only meant that it was a likely route for them to take when they attack
us."

"Will 'em attack us?" Bill asked. "Will us have to fight 'em?"

"I cannot say, but it is just as well to be prepared. Have you any
guns?"

"Yaas, us has three guns an' an ol' pistol," Tom replied. "But us have
big fists, an' us hit hard." He waved his clenched hands in the air to
give emphasis to his words.

"That's good, Tom. But you and Bill had better use your fists against
the Fenians instead of against each other."

"Tom hit first," Bill declared, touching his right eye which was
somewhat swollen.

"And then you two went at it. Who won?"

"Us both fit an' us both won," Tom replied.

"They fit until they couldn't fight any longer," Hettie explained. "I
had to pull 'em apart. It was right out thar by the barn. They're both
fools, that's what they are."

"So the chalk line was made there to keep them apart, eh? Look here, why
don't you men quit such nonsense?" Drum suggested. "Rub out that line
and be friends again. The sooner you unite and get ready to fight the
Fenians, the better it will be."

"Us kin fight jist as well as us be," Tom replied. "If us be friends an'
the Fenyuns don't come, us'll have to fight, anyway. Us couldn't live
without fightin'. Us have fit ever since us was babies, an' it comes
nat'ral."

"What a glorious time you must have, Tom."

"Yaas, it does liven things up a bit. Then when Het takes a hand thar's
somethin' doin', a'right. Het's got claws like a cat when it comes to
scratchin'."

"What a happy family, Tom. How proud you must be of yourselves."

Drum looked upon the three standing near him, and his heart stirred with
anger at the two creatures in the forms of men. For the girl he had only
sympathy, knowing full well the hardness of her lot.

"When do you expect to get busy cutting that cordwood?" he abruptly
asked. "You haven't delivered any for three days. The boat will never be
loaded at that rate."

"Us'll never get the wood cut," Tom sullenly replied. "Bill won't work."

"Tom won't work," Bill growled, glaring over at his brother. "Us'll
never do nuthin'."

"But you agreed with us to cut the wood, and we are supplying you with
provisions. You get what you want at the store, don't you?"

"'Deed we do," Hettie declared. "An' I tote everything we eat. I go
twice a week, while Dad an' Unc jist set in the house. If they ain't
fightin' with their fists, they're fightin' with their tongues. I'm sick
of 'em both."

"Perhaps the Fenians will stir them up, Hettie. I guess it will need
some shock like that to make any change. I'm going now, but let me tell
you men this, that you will get nothing more at the store through us
until you hurry up and deliver that wood as fast as you can. My father
will agree with me in this, for he has lost all patience with you."

Drum turned and walked to the door. He did not try to follow the line
now, for he was greatly annoyed. Much depended upon getting the boat
loaded while the hauling was good, and now the two men upon whom they
relied were falling down on the job. Hettie followed him, and when
outside, she shut the door behind her, and laid her right hand lightly
upon his arm.

"Don't go 'way mad, Drum," she pleaded.

"And who wouldn't be mad, Hettie, at such men?"

"I know it, Drum, I know it. But ye'll come ag'in, won't ye? It's awful
lonesome here."

"Perhaps so."

"An', Drum----"

"Yes? What is it?"

"Keep away from The Jaws. Don't go thar, oh, don't!"

"Why?"

"'Cause 'tain't safe. Something might happen thar."

Drum laughed at these words, but the girl clutched his arm with a firmer
grip, and looked up into his face.

"The cranes had their nests thar last summer, Drum, an' that means bad
luck."

"That's all nonsense."

"'Tain't, Drum, I tell ye. The summer afore ma died the cranes was thar.
They didn't come ag'in until the year Joe Slater shot himself when
huntin'. An' they was thar last summer. Oh, I know it means bad luck, so
stay away."

"What makes you think that anything will happen to me if I go there,
Hettie?"

"I can't tell ye, Drum. But keep 'way from The Jaws."

Her hand dropped from his arm, she shivered, and with a
partly-suppressed sob, she darted back into the house and closed the
door.




CHAPTER 3

THE MAN AND THE VISION


The morning sun beamed in through the frost-covered window and rested
upon the head of a man bent over an open book lying upon the table. He
was reading aloud the words "His dominion shall be from one sea to
another." He repeated this line several times, with his attention
especially centred upon the word "dominion." Then he raised his head,
and the light upon his strong intellectual face was more than that
caused by the rays of the sun. It was the outward expression of a great
idea that was thrilling his soul by the words he had just read. His eyes
resting upon the frosted window kindled with animation. He was a lover
of the beautiful, but now in the scene before him he saw a meaning such
as he had never noticed before. He beheld there the work of a mystic
unseen artist, who with a touch lighter than the softest down had traced
upon each common window pane pictures of matchless beauty. Forms he saw,
fancies rich and rare, and visions such as old masters of renown had
often sought to capture, but had always sought in vain. These fairy
traceries, touched by the benignant sun, glowed and sparkled with an
entrancing glory. They held spellbound the lone watcher, for to him they
were symbols of wonderful things which he hoped would shortly come to
pass.

Samuel Leonard Tilley was a worthy leader in a great Cause, but so far
he had met with discouraging defeat. The land of his birth, stretching
three thousand miles from sea to sea, was divided. Canada was not at
unity with itself, for each province managed its own affairs, and cared
little or nothing about its nearest neighbour. Such a condition was not
conducive to the strength and prosperity of the entire body, nor of the
various parts, and of this Mr. Tilley was well aware. He, together with
a band of noble far-seeing men, desired to bring about a lasting union,
so that the land would be one from the Atlantic Ocean on the east to the
Pacific on the west, and from the Border line on the south to the
unknown and mysterious regions of the north. For such a country to have
one main government, with each province having its own rights and
privileges, but all under one flag, and all firmly united to the
Motherland across the sea, was the vision which inspired the minds and
souls of the leaders of this great movement. Thus the union of Canada,
or "Confederation" as it was generally termed, became the vital issue
during the early sixties. Only the eastern provinces were involved in
the struggle, for the vast sweeping prairies, and the Pacific slope
beyond the Rocky Mountains were but little known.

After many meetings had been held, and much eloquence poured forth by
numerous speakers, the Province of New Brunswick was chosen for the
testing out of the scheme. The election was held in 1865 when the hope
of union was crushed by an overwhelming majority. To many this seemed
the death of the movement. But Mr. Tilley, the dauntless leader, was of
a different mind. He reorganized his broken and scattered ranks, and
started forth upon a new campaign of the entire province. He did not
spare himself in the least degree, but gave addresses in cities, towns,
and villages in his efforts to instruct the people. But nearly
everywhere he met with strong opposition, and sometimes downright
hostility. Notwithstanding his abounding optimism, he was almost forced
to acknowledge that he could never win the battle for Confederation in
his native province.

Such was the state of his mind as he sat in his study looking upon the
frosted window. He had returned the previous evening from one of his
trying lecture tours in the country, and he was unusually tired. But he
had been greatly inspired by some words he had read that morning in the
seventy-second psalm. There had been discussion for several years as to
the name of the country should union come to pass. Various names had
been suggested, an outstanding one being the "Kingdom of Canada." This,
as well as the others, did not meet with general approval. Mr. Tilley
had given the matter very earnest consideration, so when he came across
the word "dominion" in the line he had just read, he knew that the
question was solved so far as he was concerned. The "Dominion of
Canada." It sounded well, and so appropriate--"His Dominion shall be
from one sea to the other." And the great land must be His dominion,
built upon true foundations, and filled with a God-fearing people.

And following this came the scene upon that frost-bespangled window.
There he beheld beauty and harmony, section upon section, separated by
delicate lines, and yet all wonderfully interwoven, with no discord to
mar the complete perfection of the whole. It suggested to him the vision
of what Canada should be, a land filled with people, all actively
engaged in various pursuits, and yet all working in such a spirit of
harmony and good-will that the dividing-lines would be as slight and as
evanescent as the frosty filaments upon the glass before him. Such was
Mr. Tilley's lofty ideal. But how could he bring it before the people of
the province? So antagonistic were they that their eyes were blinded to
their own good. Speeches such as had been given, seemed to have little
effect. Arguments were all in vain. Something else was needed to arouse
them, and to cause their eyes to be opened. What could be done? What
further argument could he offer that would induce them to rise as one,
rush forward and embrace the Cause that would lead to a glorious
victory? He must have some new slogan, and where could he find one?

He rose to his feet and paced up and down the room. He was a fighter of
no mean mettle, as his enemies had learned to their sorrow in his great
battle against the liquor traffic a few years before. He naturally
thought of that now, and the keen interest that had been aroused on all
sides. He had a banner then, and a mighty slogan, which had proved most
effective. But now he had apparently nothing to stem the tide of
opposition. His opponents had raised the cry of "ruin and treachery."
They had charged him with betraying and selling his country for eighty
cents, the price of a sheepskin, and this ran like wildfire up and down
the country. What could he do to counteract their lies and
misrepresentations?

He returned to the table, sat down and buried his face in his hands. He
had only a few minutes to spare in his quiet study ere leaving for his
busy office down town. Here he could think and plan as nowhere else.
But now he felt helpless. A knock upon the door aroused him. It was the
maid who announced a visitor.

"Who is it?" Mr. Tilley inquired.

"I don't know, sir. He's a young man, and says he must see you at once."

"Some office-seeker, I suppose. But I can do nothing now. Anyway, send
him in."

The next minute Drum Rowan entered, and walked at once across the room.
Always courteous, Mr. Tilley rose to his feet and held out his hand. It
was no formal grip that he gave, but a handshake that was an inspiration
in itself.

"You don't know me, sir," Drum began, smiling at the keen searching
expression in his leader's eyes. "I am Captain Rowan's son, Drum."

"Ah, now I remember," and Mr. Tilley's face brightened. "You have grown
greatly since I saw you last. Pull up that chair and tell me about your
father. He has been a good friend to me, and I wish I had more like
him. Interested as ever, I suppose, in ships? It's too bad he is forced
to stay on land when his heart is on the sea."

"Yes, my father does miss the water," Drum replied. "But he gets some
pleasure in summer watching the boats upon the river, and in winter
talking about his old sailing days. Just now, though, he is much taken
up with the coming election. He is a great Confederation man, you know."

"Indeed I know it, my boy, and I wish there were more men of his stamp
along the river. It is going to be a hard fight, and sometimes I am
almost in despair of ever winning. I have spoken in all the cities and
towns in the province and in many of the country places, but something
more is needed to arouse the people. I am at my wit's end."

"They are more aroused, sir, over the Fenian scare than they are about
Confederation," Drum declared. "Why, I know a number of people who can
talk of nothing else. They expect the Fenians to burst upon them at any
time. And I guess there is good reason for their fright. Read that," and
Drum laid the piece of torn paper he had drawn from a pocket of his
jacket upon the table.

Picking it up, Mr. Tilley began to read, and as he did so his eyes
opened wide in amazement. His hands trembled with excitement, and when
he had finished, he turned to his visitor.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded. "What have you done with the rest
of the paper?"

As briefly as possible Drum told of the discovery he had made in the
Valley of The Jaws, of the cabin, and the ammunition hidden in the cave
in the rocky ledge.

"It was there I found that piece of paper," he said in conclusion. "I
have brought it to you, thinking you might like to see it."

"You did perfectly right, young man. There is much talk, I know, about
a threatened invasion of Canada, but I believed such a thing was
ridiculous. Your discovery, however, and this scrap of paper, cause me
to consider the matter in a new light. I knew that the Fenians had many
of their Circles formed in this land, but I had no idea that they have
gone so far in their preparations. Their boldness astonishes me. How do
you suppose they managed to get so much ammunition there without the
people in your neighbourhood knowing something about it?"

"It's a lonely place, sir, and seldom anyone goes there," Drum
explained. "There is an old lumber-road down the valley to the river,
and they must have brought in the ammunition over it. If the people up
there knew about those supplies in the cave wouldn't they be scared. I
believe that Tom and Bill Daggert would clear out at once. They are
terribly afraid of the Fenians. I guess everybody will have to stop
quarrelling about Confederation and unite to defend their country."

At these closing words Mr. Tilley jerked back his chair, rose quickly to
his feet, and laid a firm right hand upon Drum's shoulder. He was
unusually excited.

"You have suggested an idea to me, young man, of the greatest
importance," he said. "I have been groping for some kind of a slogan to
arouse the people of this province. And now I have it. They must unite
to drive back the Fenians and save their country. And they will need the
assistance of the other provinces. This threatened attack may fizzle
out, as I sincerely hope it will. But it will be a warning to all that
in order to defend Canada in case of any future trouble, there must be
unity, and that will mean Confederation for which I have been striving.
Young man, you have done a great thing to-day. You have given me a
fighting-slogan."

His hand dropped from Drum's shoulder, and he paced rapidly up and down
the room. His animated face, and the glow in his eyes told of his
intense interest.

"Yes," he continued, more to himself than to his visitor, "this slogan
of the Fenian raid will do more good than all the many speeches that
have been given. It will open the eyes of all to the great necessity of
union. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia will need the aid of Upper and
Lower Canada as they will need ours. But without unity little can be
done. I shall put it to the test, anyway, in the coming election."

He returned to the table, and sat for a few minutes lost in deep
thought.

"Did you come down river this morning, Drum?" he at length questioned.

"Yes, on the ice. The skating is good."

"Have you told anyone about your discovery?"

"You are the first one, sir."

"That is well. We must keep the secret between us for a while until we
learn more about the plans of the enemy. There may be other places where
they have supplies of ammunition stored. I want you to watch that cave
you have discovered, and inform me at once if you learn anything more of
importance. I know I can trust you, for you have good Bluenose blood in
your veins. It is such blood as yours that will never allow the Fenians
to capture this country, and will at last bring about Confederation."

"My father is very proud of his Loyalist descent," Drum replied.

"And so am I, young man. My grandfather came here with the Spring fleet
in 1783, and received a grant of land and built a house and a store on
what is now King street. My Loyalist descent is one of the strongest
arguments I use in my efforts to counteract the lie of my opponents that
I am a traitor to my country and wish to sell it for the price of a
sheepskin. I love the land of my birth, and would die for it if
necessary. But we will show our opponents that the old Bluenose blood
can be relied upon. Let us now get on with our business. Did I
understand you to say that you skated down river this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the ice is good?"

"I never saw it better."

"Well, then, how would you like to skate to Fredericton? I have a
message which must be delivered there as soon as possible. Will you take
it?"

"Certainly. Let me have it, sir, and I shall start at once."

"It is not ready yet, but if you will call at my office down town at one
o'clock you can get it. I shall then give you all the instructions you
will need. The message has to do with the threatened Fenian Raid, and as
you are the one who suggested to me the new idea, I want you to be the
first to carry it to my faithful colleagues at the Capital."

"Thank you, sir," Drum replied as he rose to his feet. "I shall go like
the wind, travel all night, and reach Fredericton as soon as possible."

"Be careful, young man," Mr. Tilley warned. "There are dangerous places
along the river, and I do not want anything to happen to you and to my
message."

"You needn't worry, sir. I know the river well and all the treacherous
places in the ice. I wouldn't undertake the journey if I didn't."




CHAPTER 4

AN ICY SPILL


There was ice everywhere. It stretched up and down the river farther
than the eye could see. It shimmered and sparkled beneath the sun, a
veritable miniature of the "sea of glass" in the Apocalypse of Patmos
John. Even the trees along the shore reflected forth a glistening glory
from their bending ice-laden branches. It was a fairy world thus
presented to view, a striking contrast to the grim desolation of rain,
sleet, and wind of a few days before.

It was hard ice, for the day was cold, with a keen wind whipping in from
the west. The sharp steel caulks of two horses struck the glassy-like
surface with rhythmical resounding thuds. They were farm horses, noble
animals, sleek and well-kept, the nigh a jet black, and the off a dark
bay. Flakes of froth flew from their champing mouths as they lowered and
tossed their heads in their steady swinging onward movement. The big
sled they were drawing was heavily loaded, but it slipped along the ice
with scarcely any effort on their part.

Squire James Andrews was proud of these horses. He had raised them from
colts, and had broken them to harness. He knew all their quirks and
fancies, and seldom let anyone else handle the reins. Next to his family
they were nearest to his heart, although his wife once remarked that she
believed he thought more of his horses than he did of her and the
children.

But on this cold winter afternoon Squire Andrews' mind was not so much
upon his horses as formerly. He was thinking about some disturbing news
he had heard that day in the city. His daughter, seated by his side,
noticed that he was unusually restless, but not until they had left the
land and were well out upon the river did she make any comment.

"Are you cold, father?" she asked.

"Cold! Why, no. What makes you think I am, Nell?"

"From the way you have been pulling down your cap and pounding your
hands together."

"Oh, it's not the cold, Nell, that's bothering me, but something I heard
in the city this afternoon about the Fenians. They're coming, and no
mistake. Why, they're getting ready to attack us, and even now have
supplies of ammunition stored in this province."

"Where, father?"

"I do not know, but the news is all around the city. I couldn't find out
where the stores are kept, for that seems to be a secret. I don't know
what this country's coming to, Nell. It's bad enough having Tilley and
his gang ready to betray us with their union scheme, but now with the
Fenians about to land upon us, things look blacker than ever."

"But will not our soldiers be able to drive the Fenians back, father?
They have been drilling for some time, have they not?"

"Umph! little good will they be against those trained men from across
the Border who have had so much experience in the Civil War. It is
reported that the Fenians are the most dare-devil fighters that ever
handled gun or sword. They love fighting, and now that they are out of a
job in their own country, they want to come and capture Canada. They
tried to take Ireland, but Old England was up to their tricks and
stopped them. They then turned their eyes upon us as the next best
thing. Dear me! dear me! I never expected to see such times."

"Don't feel too badly, father," Nell replied. "I am sure that our
soldiers will be able to defeat them. The young men up our way are good
marksmen."

"Oh, they'll run like a flock of sheep when the Fenians get after them."

"Tom won't, anyway, and there are others just like him," Nell stoutly
defended.

"No, Tom's not a coward, Nell, and that's what's worrying me. They'll
take him, my only son, and most likely he'll get killed the first thing.
If they'd take the useless ones and leave the others home, I wouldn't
mind. Now, there's Drum Rowan, for instance. I met him on the street
to-day, and he was doing nothing as usual, just sauntering along, gazing
in at the shop windows. If they'd take good-for-nothings like him, and
leave hard-working boys like Tom at home there would be some sense."

Nell made no reply, but a flush of indignation came into her cheeks
which her father did not notice owing to the hood which partly covered
her face. She, too, had met Drum that day, and the memory of their
conversation as they walked along the street was still fresh in her
mind. She resented the words she had just heard, for no matter how idle
and careless Drum might be, his upright manliness always appealed to
her. She understood him better than did her father and others who
criticised him. Perhaps if people were in the habit of speaking more
kindly about him, it might have made a difference. But Nell Andrews had
a mind of her own, so the fact that Drum Rowan was considered somewhat
wild by the steady-going people of the neighbourhood tended to enhance
him all the more in her estimation.

"I hear there's going to be a political meeting up our way next week,"
Mr. Andrews remarked after a few minutes' silence. "Some able speakers
are coming to Glendale, and I hope they'll open the eyes of some of our
neighbours."

"Is Mr. Tilley coming?" Nell asked.

"Tilley! I should say not. He knows better than to come there with his
Confederation twaddle. He's been almost everywhere in the province
except at Glendale."

"I should like to hear him, father, for I believe he is a good man, and
has the welfare of his country at heart. He is a fighter, too, and that
is the kind of a man I like."

"Why, Nell!" her father exclaimed in surprise, "what's come over you,
anyway? I never heard you talk this way before. But, then, you're only a
woman, so you can't understand things as men do."

"Perhaps not," and the girl gave a slight sigh. "But I know that Mr.
Tilley is a man to be trusted, and that is more than can be said about
some of his opponents."

"Trusted!" Mr. Andrews spoke the word so sharply that the horses pricked
up their ears and quickened their pace. "Would you trust a man who is
trying to betray his country, and bring dire ruin upon us? What will
become of us all if his Confederation scheme is carried? We'll be
beggars, turned out of house and home."

Their attention was now diverted by the sound of a great jingle of
bells, and looking back, they saw four horses following them at a high
rate of speed, drawing a sleigh loaded with men. Intuitively Mr. Andrews
lifted his whip, for the sporting instinct was strong within him, and he
disliked the idea of being passed by the approaching team. He resisted
the temptation, however, and lowered his whip-hand.

"It's only a bunch of idiots out on a spree," he growled. "Listen to
their yelps."

Nell was already listening, and what she heard was pleasing to her ears.
Strong male voices were lifted up in the chorus of the popular song,

    "Thou art going far away,
    Far away from poor Janette."

The four steaming horses seemed to enter into the spirit of the singers,
and with outstretched necks were clipping along at a rapid pace. When
opposite the slow-moving farm team, the men ceased their song, and waved
their mittened hands.

"Want a lift?" one laughingly asked.

"We can't keep dinner waiting," another called out.

"Good-bye," several shouted, as the sleigh swept past.

"Why, they're a bunch of city lawyers," Mr. Andrews declared. "They're
out for a time, and it looks to me as if they've been drinking. That's
all the good Tilley's liquor bill did."

"But it shut up two hundred taverns in the city, didn't it, father?"
Nell asked. "That must have been some good."

"Umph! Oh, yes, they were closed for a short time, but it didn't stop
people from drinking. You have an example there in that bunch of
lawyers. They're off for The Three Elms, I suppose, to have a regular
blow-out. I wish we didn't have to stop there, for I don't want to meet
them. But the horses must be fed, so it can't be helped. But hello!
what's up now?"

Nell lifted her eyes at her father's exclamation and noticed that there
was trouble among the gay party ahead. The cause was soon apparent. The
driver had swung his horses somewhat sharply to the left to avoid
striking a log frozen into the ice. And as he did so, the sleigh began
to slue, and swept by the wind, it was circling sideways over the ice.
The driver made frantic efforts to straighten out his team, and the
horses struggled desperately to hold their load. But the momentum of the
sleigh was too great and they were nearly carried off their feet as they
staggered helplessly to the left. Then suddenly there came a sharp
impact against the embedded log. There was crash, and in another instant
the right side of the sleigh dropped, crumpling up beneath it the
splintered knees of the long, lean steel-shod runner. At the same time
the men shot forth from their seats, some like swimmers taking to
water, and others resembling bears rolling and tumbling over one another
in a confused heap.

When the crash came Nell gave a cry of fright, and impulsively clutched
her father's left arm. But when she saw the lawyers sprawling upon the
ice, a smile overspread her face. The men did look so funny as they
scrambled to their knees and tried to stand upright. But the ice was so
slippery and the wind so strong, that when they attempted to walk they
went down again with vigorous bumps. And there they sat, some glaring at
one another, and others berating the driver for his carelessness. The
latter, however, paid no heed to their abuse, for his attention was
taken up entirely with restraining his excited horses.

In the meantime Mr. Andrews had pulled up his team close by the
scattered men, and watched them for a minute or two in amused silence.
He was enjoying this unexpected outcome to the merry sleighing party.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked in apparent surprise. "Holding
Court, eh? It's a funny place, it seems to me. And all legal lights,
too! My, what a happy time you are having."

Instead of being annoyed at these bantering words, the lawyers laughed
heartily. They now saw the humor of the situation, and were ready to
make the best of their awkward and humiliating predicament.

"We have just concluded the evidence for the defence and have decided to
adjourn," one of the men replied. "Our appetites require something more
nourishing than legal disputations, so if you will convey us to the
hostel, commonly known as 'The Three Elms,' where our repast is awaiting
us, we shall be greatly obliged."

"Want a lift, eh?" Mr. Andrews queried. "Well, as you so kindly offered
one to me a little while ago, I can't refuse you the same courtesy.
You'll have to hang on to the sides, though, for there is no room on top
of this load."

The lawyers at once started for the sled, some crawling on their hands
and knees, and others walking precariously over the slippery ice.
Dignity was out of the question, and Mr. Andrews watched them with
twinkling eyes.

"Oh, if poor Janette could only see you now," he remarked. "A few
minutes ago you were all yelping about being so far away from her. But I
guess you're mighty glad she isn't anywhere in sight at this present
minute."

With considerable difficulty the lawyers reached the sled, where they
stood on the thick runners and held fast to anything upon which they
could get a firm grip with their hands. And there they clung, with the
wind whipping about their bodies and chilling them to the bones. They
shivered, and their teeth chattered as they begged Mr. Andrews to drive
faster.

"I thought you men had enough of fast driving," he replied. "These
horses are not accustomed to speeding. They only know a good steady
walk, and if more people would follow their example there wouldn't be so
much trouble in life. But they'll get us there, all right, so just
tighten up your belts, keep your teeth in your jaws, and stick to the
sled."




CHAPTER 5

"WHICH CUT, GENTLEMEN?"


The genial keeper of The Three Elms was in a quandary. It was hard
enough for the specially-prepared dinner to be so long delayed, but to
have Squire Andrews and his daughter arrive with the belated lawyers
placed him in an awkward predicament. He felt that the city men would
not care to have country people with them at dinner. The presence of
strangers might interfere with their hilarity and restrain their
conversation. On the other hand, the Andrews were so respectable, and
such firm friends of his, that he disliked the idea of seating them at a
separate table. In his perplexity he referred the matter to several of
the lawyers who were warming themselves before the big open fire-place.

"You needn't worry about that, Mr. Harris," Tom Rodgers replied. "Let
them have dinner with us. We need a woman to grace the table, and from
the glimpse I had of Miss Andrews she'll be most acceptable company.
Don't you think so, Dick?"

His question was directed to the youngest member of the party, who was
standing at one end of the fire-place. He flushed a little at being thus
addressed.

"Oh, Dick's too hungry to be interested in women just now," another
laughingly remarked. "Wait until he has had his dinner. It's turkey he
wants, and I guess the rest of us are of the same opinion. Hurry up and
serve us, Mr. Harris. We'll look after the rustics."

"Why not let the farmer do the carving?" Dick asked. "It would be great
fun. He will be sure to get excited when he sees so many hungry lawyers
waiting to be served."

"That's a fine idea," Andrew Stobart agreed. "We're out for fun, so we
might as well get all we can. It will make up somewhat for our mishap on
the ice. Squire Andrews had the laugh on us when we were dumped on the
ice. It will be our turn next."

The matter was thus settled, and in anticipation of a good dinner and
considerable amusement at the farmer's expense, the men filed into the
dining-room.

In the meantime Nell was alone in a room upstairs. She had laid aside
her hood and warm coat and was arranging her hair before a small mirror
over a bureau. It was luxuriant hair, dark-brown, and rippling like a
wind-touched pool in midsummer. Carefully she brushed back several filmy
tresses that had wilfully strayed over her glowing cheeks and unwrinkled
brow. A sense of dignity was revealed in her shapely well-poised head,
and her face exhibited more than an ordinary wealth of beauty and
intelligence. Her lustrous brown eyes bore a slight expression of worry
as she lowered them from the mirror to the dress she was wearing.
Although it was a homespun dress, it was most becoming, and fitted to
perfection her well-formed body. But she was thinking of the lawyers
downstairs, and of her appearance before them at dinner. She wished that
she had worn the dress she kept for special occasions instead of this
one which seemed so coarse and mean.

With another glance into the mirror, she ere long left the room and
reached the dining-room just as the last lawyer was entering. Her father
was already seated at the table, and he motioned her to a chair by his
side. He was sitting very erect, silent and grim. He watched the men as
they took their seats, and in his eyes was a peculiar expression, almost
of triumph.

Squire Andrews truly surmised the reason for his position at the head of
the table. Words of explanation were unnecessary, for the expectant
look upon the faces of the men before him was all that he needed. He
knew that they were waiting for the fun to begin, and he was determined
that it should not be at his expense, at any rate. He was too old and
shrewd a man to be caught in such a palpable trap. When at length the
last chair had been scraped into place, and silence reigned, he looked
calmly down over the table.

"Gentlemen," he began, "as you wish me to take the head of the table, I
shall, as is my custom in my own house, ask a blessing upon this food."

He bowed his head, and in a clear voice repeated his customary words:

"For these and all other blessings, O Lord, give us thankful hearts."

This ended, he lifted his head, seized the big carving-knife and fork,
and looked quizzically at the assembled men.

"Now, gentlemen, which will you have, a bushman's cut or a lumberman's
cut?"

A complete silence followed this unexpected announcement, for the
lawyers were taken by surprise. They looked at one another, each waiting
for some one else to reply.

"What is the difference between the cuts?" Tom Rodgers at last found
voice to ask. "Suppose we let you decide."

"No, it's your move, not mine. You lawyers have the credit of knowing
everything, so you'll have to settle it yourselves."

Squire Andrews then deliberately carved off a choice piece of the
turkey, and transferred it to the top of the pile of plates in front of
him. He next helped himself to the vegetables, and then paused before
beginning to eat.

"Have you made up your minds yet, gentlemen?" he asked. "You had better
hurry up, for this bird is getting cold."

In the meantime the lawyers had been discussing the difference between
the "cuts," and finally decided in favor of the one suggestive of a
larger helping.

"We'll take the lumberman's cut," Rodgers announced. "We don't know what
it's like, but we must have something, for we're almost starved."

There was a note of irritation in his voice, for he, as well as his
companions were becoming annoyed at the delay. The farmer was not
proving such an easy mark as they had fondly imagined.

"All right, gentlemen," the Squire replied, "let every man help himself.
That is the lumberman's cut."

He shoved the turkey over to Nell, who carved off a small slice for
herself, and then moved it toward a man seated at her left. She was
greatly embarrassed at what had just taken place, and wished that her
father had not been so stern and abrupt. She knew that a young man on
the opposite side of the table was looking intently at her, and this
added to her confusion. Her appetite almost left her, and she longed to
leave the room. In a few minutes, however, she regained her composure,
for the lawyers had entered into the spirit of the farmer's joke, and
were talking and laughing in the most animated manner. Their gaiety was
mostly due to the rough usage the turkey was undergoing as it passed
from man to man. Some were adept at carving, but several had evidently
never handled a carving-knife and fork before, so their sorry efforts
met with nothing but disaster. The bird would slip provokingly off the
platter, and at times it was more active than it had ever been when
alive. Many were the comments and jibes hurled at the exasperated and
unskilled carvers before the last man had served himself. The fowl was a
wreck, and only the skeleton remained as a mute witness to its unusual
dimensions.

Squire Andrews watched with interest all that was taking place. He
listened to the various remarks, and at times joined in the laughter.
But not until the legless, wingless and fleshless bird had once more
reached the head of the table and rested again in front of his plate did
he vouchsafe any comment.

"Alas! poor bird! The lawyers have stripped you, all right," he
remarked. "They haven't left a scrap of flesh upon your bones. And
you're not the only two-legged creature they've treated in the same
manner. It's natural with them, I guess."

"Come, come, Squire, you must not be too hard on us," Peter Dobson
laughingly protested. "We're not as bad as all that."

"I'm only judging, sir, by the way some of you fellows treated Andy
Dekker and Bill Parker up our way. Why, you stripped them cleaner than
you did that turkey."

"Don't blame the lawyers for that, Squire," Dobson replied. "I remember
that case very well. But it wasn't our fault that your neighbours
quarrelled."

"No, I suppose not. But it was mighty fine pickings you got, for all
that. And you want to do the same with our country. If that fool
Confederation scheme carries, it won't be long before our province will
be just like that bird. It will be so picked to pieces that no one will
recognize it. And you lawyers will get most of the pickings."

Impulsively Nell lifted her right hand and touched her father's arm.

"Don't talk that way," she pleaded in a low voice.

"Oh, it's all right, Nell," was the reply. "I'm only having a little
fun. These men don't mind what I say. They're too busy with the turkey."

"But we're not too busy to listen to what you have to say, Squire,"
Rodgers declared. "What have you against Confederation, anyway?"

"A great deal, sir. Yes, a great deal, for it will mean the ruination of
this province. We're prospering now down here by the sea, with our
ship-building, lumbering, and farming. Upper and Lower Canada have been
casting greedy eyes upon us for some time back. They want to take all
of our revenue, and give us eighty cents a head in return for every man,
woman, and child. Why, it means that they'll take a cow from us at every
jump, and only give us back a sheepskin."

"Oh, it won't be anything like that, Squire," Edward Benson, a rising
young lawyer, replied. "We shall be one big family, and so all the
provinces will share alike. We are too provincial now, and think only of
ourselves, but if Confederation carries there will be a greater
progress, as well as an additional strength and unity."

"Unity! H'm! It will be the unity of rogues picking this province to
pieces, just like you picked that turkey. Look at the poor thing now."

Squire Andrews rose to his feet and looked down upon the men before him.
The stern expression passed from his face and he was smiling upon them.

"I must be away now, gentlemen," he announced. "But before I go, I want
to thank you for this dinner and the enjoyable time you have given us.
I'm mighty glad to have taken a little part in your shindy. I hope you
will get safely home, and don't get another spill upon the ice. You are
all true sports and took your mishap like men. So, good-day, and the
best of luck to you all."

"Let us drink to the health of Squire Andrews and his daughter," Tom
Rodgers cried, rising to his feet and lifting his glass.

"To the Squire and his daughter!" all responded, as they, too, rose and
drained their glasses. This was followed by three rousing cheers and a
tiger.

Nell was trembling with excitement as she went upstairs for her coat and
hood. Her face was still flushed when she came down a few minutes later,
and stood near the fire-place awaiting her father who had gone for the
horses. She could hear the lawyers making merry in the dining-room, and
knew that they were now drinking more than was good for them.

And as she stood there, the young man who had been observing her so
intently across the table, came to her side.

"Excuse me, Miss Andrews," he began. "I am Richard Mason, and I wish to
apologise for the way we treated your father to-day. It was really my
fault that he was placed at the head of the table. I made the
suggestion."

"You need not worry about that, Mr. Mason," Nell brightly replied. "My
father is well able to take care of himself, as you have already seen."

"Indeed he is, and that was a great joke he played upon us. We deserved
it, too. I am sorry you have to leave so soon, Miss Andrews. But I
expect to be up your way next week, and then I hope to see you again."

Nell hardly heard these closing words, for happening to glance toward
the kitchen on the right, she saw Drum Rowan seated at a table, intently
watching her. She smiled at him, but he gave no sign of recognition, and
in another minute he was gone. Nell wondered why he had not come to
speak to her, and this was in her mind as she once again took her place
on the sled by her father's side. She thought, too, of the young lawyer
who had spoken to her, and she mentally compared his neat well-fitting
clothes and gentlemanly appearance with Drum's coarse suit and somewhat
rough manner. The snap of the whip and her father's voice aroused her.

"Say, Nell, that was the best fun I've had in a long time. A bushman's
cut or a lumberman's cut! Ho, ho! That stuck them, all right. They
didn't get ahead of an old hayseed after all, Ho, ho!"




CHAPTER 6

A NIGH-GO


It was a clear night and countless stars twinkled overhead. Scarcely a
breath of wind impeded Drum Rowan as he glided down the river on his
sharp "Long-Reachers." He was a strong skater, as many a worthy opponent
had learned to his sorrow. He seemed almost tireless, and now on the
last lap of his journey from Fredericton he was apparently as fresh as
when he had sped by the mouths of the Oromocto and the Washademoak. His
body, powerful and lithe as a young panther, bent and swayed in
rhythmical motion as he drove forward the biting steel blades. During
the day he had met or overtaken many teams, and he had always gone past
them like a whirlwind with head lowered and hands firmly clasped behind
his back. When night shut down, he beheld a number of fires on the ice
in coves along the shore, around which young people were circling and
having a merry time. He halted at none of these, for a great inward urge
was impelling him onward.

Drum had not remained long in Fredericton after delivering Mr. Tilley's
message. The thought of that cave in the Valley of The Jaws filled his
mind with a sense of deep responsibility. He longed to be back that he
might watch the place and keep a sharp lookout for the Fenians. Down in
his heart was a strong desire to capture the enemy himself. What a
glorious thing it would be, and he believed that Nell would be proud of
him. He wished to serve his country, and yet he well knew that it was
the girl he loved who inspired him more than the spirit of patriotism.
In a way, New Brunswick meant little to him. Canada was something vague,
a name and nothing else. But Nell was a living, breathing personality, a
combination of charms and contradictions. To him the ground on which she
walked was almost sacred; her smile ravished him with joy; her frown
filled him with despair.

It was this latter spirit which possessed him as he swept down the
river. He could not forget that scene at The Three Elms when Nell had
stood talking with the lawyer. He knew how impressed she must have been
by the well-dressed young man, and no doubt she was thinking about him
now. He had heard her express a desire for the city and a life different
from that of the country. This was but a natural longing, he was well
aware, and he did want her to be happy. But it brought to his heart a
feeling of discouragement, akin to despair. What had he to offer such a
girl? He was rough, and led a rough life, for running a wood-boat on the
river in summer and trapping in winter were not the occupations of a man
suited to a woman of Nell's disposition. The idea annoyed him, and the
blood surged madly through his veins. He skated faster now, every
ringing stroke telling of the agitated state of his heart and brain.

Ere long he came to a stretch of the river where the ice was weak, so it
was necessary for him to keep close to the right bank. Unwary skaters
had been entrapped there in the past, and careless drivers had lost
their teams by venturing too far from the shore. Although daring by
nature, Drum was most cautious when travelling upon the ice in winter.
He knew that the river was a treacherous monster, subject to strange
freaks, booming and roaring at times like an imprisoned spirit, and
opening up a great yawning mouth here or there to drag down some
helpless victim. Suddenly and unexpectedly such a crack would appear,
several yards in width. A skater might pass over firm ice during the
afternoon, and upon his return at night might have his way barred, and
if not cautious, would find himself struggling for life in the icy
water.

There were other places where the river was frozen only in extreme cold
weather. This was due to smaller streams flowing into the larger one.
Here the current was swift, and when the ice did form it was generally
thin and deceptive. Such was the death-trap on Drum's left as he now
moved very carefully forward. He had reached the lower end of the
treacherous spot, and had struck out once more on his long swinging
strides. A light far ahead had arrested his attention, and he knew its
meaning. The young people of Maple Cove were enjoying themselves upon
the ice directly in front of Squire Andrews' house. He surmised that
Nell was there, for of all sports in which she indulged skating was her
chief delight. Drum pictured her encircling that blazing pile, her
companion, no doubt, being Seth Sloan, his most persistent rival for her
affections.

Suddenly from the left came a wild cry for help. It rang out again and
again, causing Drum to stop so quickly that the blades of his skates
were in danger of being wrenched from their wooden tops as they ground
sidewise along the ice and brought up with a sharp jerk. Keenly he
peered through the darkness, and when another cry, fainter now, reached
his ears, he leaped impetuously forward. Someone was over there in great
danger, so he must do what he could to save him.

A few strong strokes brought him to a spot where he knew the ice was
weak, so dropping upon his hands and knees he crept cautiously along. He
called out for the distressed person to hold on as he was coming to his
aid. In a few minutes he was able to detect an object in front of him
which he soon learned was a small hand-sled. Beyond this came the voice,
pleading for him to make haste. This he recognized as that of Andy
Dooner, the old travelling shoemaker.

"Hold on, Andy," he shouted. "I'm almost there."

"Quick, quick," came the reply. "Oh!"

Drum knew that there was not a second to lose, so dropping full length
upon the ice he worked himself forward until his right hand grasped the
sled. This he pushed toward the unfortunate man, whose head and
shoulders he could now discern.

"I can't go any closer, Andy," he said. "Hold fast to the sled and I
shall try to pull you out. But don't get excited or you might pull me
in."

Turning himself around as carefully as possible, Drum scored the blades
of his skates into the thin ice and braced himself for a strong steady
pull. Not a word was spoken, for both men realised the seriousness of
the situation. Had the skates slipped, or had the bending ice given way,
the two would have gone down to a watery grave. The perspiration stood
out in beads upon Drum's forehead as he held firmly to the sled, pulling
steadily all the time. Gradually it was drawn toward him, and soon he
saw Andy's shoulders rising higher out of the water, then his body, and
in another minute his entire length was sprawling upon the ice. Ordering
the dripping man not to rise, Drum drew him as swiftly as possible over
the smooth surface, well toward the shore. He then stopped and went to
Andy's side.

"That was a close call," he remarked, looking down upon the prostrate
form. "I thought you had more sense than to come here."

"It was a nigh-go, Drum, an' no mistake," Andy feebly replied. His body
was shaking and his teeth chattering. "I was crossin' from Kingston an'
thought I was furder down."

Seeing that he was suffering greatly from the cold, and that the water
was freezing upon his clothes, Drum lifted him bodily and laid him upon
the sled. He then stripped off his own outer coat and placed it around
his shivering form.

"There, that will help a little," he declared as he picked up the
sled-rope. "I must get you away from here at once."

"T-take me to S-squire A-ndrews', Drum. N-nell'll f-fix me up."

He paused, lifted his head, and looked around.

"W-where's me f-fiddle?" he cried. "Ah, t-there it is!"

He pointed to a black object dimly discernible on the left.

"G-get it, b-oy. I remember s-scootin' it thar w-when I w-went in."

Dropping the rope, Drum skated carefully back, picked up the box and
returned to the sled.

"Here, take your precious fiddle," he laughingly said. "You were bound
to save it, anyway."

Andy seized it eagerly and held it close.

"I-it's me b-best f-friend, me b-best f-friend," he murmured. "I
c-couldn't lose me f-fiddle."

Drum knew that no more time was to be wasted, so again picking up the
rope, he started forward at a rapid pace. Down the river he sped with
the swirling sled at his heels, straight toward the fire still burning
brightly in the cove. Ere long he was able to discern moving forms, and
he felt certain that Nell was there. Nearer and nearer he approached,
and finally glided into the flame-illumined circle. His presence, and
the strange bundle on the sled, produced considerable interest, which
was succeeded by much excitement when Andy Dooner's ice-clad form was
exposed to view.

Drum hardly heard the questions that were being asked, as his eyes were
searching the crowd for Nell. But she was nowhere to be seen, and he
did not like to inquire for her. He was disappointed, and his thoughts
flashed at once to the young lawyer he had seen at The Three Elms.
Perhaps he had come for her, and they were off somewhere together. A
light touch upon his arm caused him to glance quickly around. Standing
by his side was Hettie Daggert, looking up into his face.

"She ain't here, Drum," she whispered. "She's out on the ice with Seth."

Drum started slightly at these words, astonished and annoyed that the
girl had so truly read his thoughts. He made her no reply, however, but
bidding several of the young men to help him, he started for the shore.
He had barely reached the land, when Nell appeared, and with her Seth
Sloan. Her cheeks were aglow with health and exercise, and her eyes
bright with interest and concern as she looked down upon the man lying
on the sled.

"What has happened, Andy?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"

"I was j-jist t-takin' a bath, N-Nellie, an' g-got beyond me d-depth."

"In the river?"

"Ay, ay, in the r-river. It's v-very s-stimulatin'."

"Why, you're freezing, Andy!" the girl exclaimed. "You must get up to
the house at once. Your clothes are frozen stiff."

"It's me a-armour, N-Nellie, t-t-to protect me h-heart from the
g-g-girls."

Nell laughed, and so did all who heard him. They knew that nothing could
dampen the spirit of this tough little wiry man they had known from
infancy. He was a vital part of every household for miles around. They
were well acquainted with his thrilling experiences on river and land as
he journeyed from place to place. This was not the first time he had
been rescued from a hole in the ice, and it was common knowledge that he
sometimes slept in a snow-bank when overtaken by a storm. But he always
turned up with a smile on his wrinkled beardless face, and a joke upon
his lips.

Having removed their skates, Drum and several young men lifted the
shoemaker from the sled and bore him swiftly up to the house. They
carried him to the door of the cellar-kitchen, and here Drum left them,
for over that threshold he must not pass. Not even on such an occasion
as this would he enter a building from which he had been repulsed and
sternly ordered never to set foot there again. His proud Bluenose blood
had been stirred, and not for worlds would he give Squire Andrews an
opportunity to repeat the insult.

Slowly he made his way back to the river, and met Nell and Seth walking
toward the house. They hardly noticed him, so interested were they in
conversation. And Drum was in no mood for talking just then. He replaced
his skates, and took several turns around the fire which was now dying
down. Only a few of the skaters were there, most of them having gone
home. Hettie Daggert was one of the few, and she was standing near
several blazing embers trying to warm her thinly-clad body. Her eyes,
filled with admiration, were fixed upon Drum, and an expression, almost
of triumph, illumined her face. She watched him until he left and
started off down river. She stood for a few minutes gazing thoughtfully
upon the fire. At length she turned, looked up at the Andrews' house,
and then glided away into the blackness of the night.




CHAPTER 7

"WHIPPING THE CAT"


The generous fire-place sent out its genial heat, making the
cellar-kitchen a comfortable and a cosy place. Two large pots suspended
from hooks on the swinging crane emitted a savoury odour, telling that
dinner was well on the way. From time to time Nell left her ironing at a
table in the middle of the room, lifted the covers and examined the
contents. Andy Dooner's eyes beamed with pleasure as he occasionally
looked at her from his bench at the right of the fire where he sat
"whipping the cat," as his craft was commonly termed. He noted the
briskness of her step, the neatness of her dress, and the gracefulness
of her every movement. He liked to have her there, for he could always
work better when she was near. His heart was as young as ever in the
presence of such a girl as Nell Andrews.

The entire household had been later than usual that morning in settling
down to active work. This was due to the shoemaker. He was the regular
vendor of news, and knew the gossip for miles around. Although
garrulous, he seldom got into trouble, for people everywhere were fond
of the wandering man. He could be trusted with a secret, too, and many a
love-story he carried in his wise old head. The girls could confide in
him, knowing that their confidence would not be betrayed. But when it
came to the daily affairs up and down and across the river, he was
always most voluble, and had a marvellous fund of information. He knew
how many mats were hooked, quilts quilted, yarn spun, and suits of
clothes made. He had the latest news about the new babies, their names,
and how much each weighed. All this, with much more besides, proved of
special interest to the women. And Andy had a way of leaving the
impression that he knew a great deal more than he cared to impart. He
regaled the men with news about cattle, horses, hay, and other matters
in which farmers were most interested. But when politics and religion
were mentioned he was most guarded about his words. These were vital
questions, and understanding the people as he did, he knew just what to
say so as not to give any offence.

So on the morning after his cold dip in the river, Andy had imparted to
the Andrews' household considerable local news as they sat late at the
breakfast table. But with the Squire and his son Tom at last off to the
woods, where they were cutting fire-wood, with the dishes all washed,
and Mrs. Andrews upstairs making the beds and tidying up the rooms, Nell
was left alone with the shoemaker. This was to her liking, for now the
conversation would be of far more interest to her than that about
prosaic farm affairs. She was sure that Andy would touch on matters dear
to every girl's heart, as he had always done in the past when they were
alone.

But this morning Andy was slow in beginning his teasing habit. He seemed
to be in a most thoughtful mood as he cut strips from a side of
sole-leather and placed them in a pail of water nearby to soften. When
this was done, he picked up a piece of well-tanned calf-skin and eyed it
critically. Nell glanced at him curiously, and wondered what was passing
through his mind. She made no comment, however, until he had sharpened
his knife and begun to cut the skin according to a pattern upon a wide
board laid across the leather apron upon his knees.

"Are you going to make my shoes first?" she asked, pausing in the act of
carrying an iron to the fire. "Be sure and make them good."

"I allus make 'em good, Nellie," was the quiet reply. "I am never
ashamed of my work. But I have jist been thinkin' that, perhaps, this'll
be the last pair I'll ever make fer you, an' mebbe ye'll be ashamed of
'em before they are worn out."

"Why, what makes you say that, Andy?" the girl asked in surprise. "Why
should I be ashamed of those shoes?"

"Ye shouldn't be, Nellie, an' that's what's worryin' me. But if ye go to
the city to live, ye won't want to wear shoes sich as old Andy Dooner
makes. Ye'll want new-fangled ones that look smart but won't wear."

"I am not going to the city to live," Nell laughingly declared.
"Whatever put such a foolish notion as that into your head?"

"No? Well, I'm mighty glad to hear that from yer own purty lips. But
what about that young lawyer feller ye met at The Three Elms? He's
almost daft over ye, so I hear."

So startled was Nell at these words, that she nearly dropped the iron
she was holding in her hand.

"What have you been hearing, Andy?" she asked.

"Oh, something that's set me thinkin'. Say, it was great the way yer
father outdone them lawyers."

"So you heard about that?"

"Sure. It's all over Kingston by now. Jed Harris told the joke, an'
every team that went to town the next day brought back the story. My!
I'd like to have been thar to see the surprised look on them fellers'
faces when yer father handed them that stumper about a bushman's cut or
a lumberman's cut. Ha, ha, that was sartinly a good one, an' no
mistake."

"But the lawyers took the joke in the right spirit," Nell defended.
"They were gentlemen and didn't get a bit angry at what father said
about Confederation."

"An' one of 'em was especially nice, eh? He had a talk with you, an'
after ye'd left he asked Jed no end of questions about ye. He'll be here
to see ye soon, I s'pose?"

The flush upon Nell's face was not caused by the fire alone. She forgot
all about the ironing as she came close to Andy who was bending over his
work. She was visibly annoyed.

"What right has Mr. Harris, or anyone else, to talk about me like that?"
she demanded. "Mr. Mason spoke to me like a gentleman, and apologised
for the way father had been treated. We were talking for only a minute
or two."

"So I heard, Nellie. An' all the time Drum Rowan was watchin' ye from
the kitchen. The women folks told Jed that Drum looked so mad they were
afraid he'd pounce upon that lawyer chap an' tear him to pieces."

"They did! Well, it's none of their business to whom I talk. And why
should Drum get mad? He can mind his own affairs, too. Anyway, Mr. Mason
is nothing to me. I never met him before, and it is hardly likely that I
shall ever see him again. I am only a country girl, while he is a city
lawyer."

Nell returned to her ironing, and Andy's eyes twinkled as he watched
her. He liked to see her in such a mood, for he understood her far
better than she realised.

"Ye needn't git offended, Nellie, at what I've jist told ye," he
remarked. "It's yer own fault, so don't blame others."

"My fault! In what way?" Nell asked, turning sharply upon the shoemaker.

"Fer bein' as ye are. Thar, now, don't git excited, but wait 'till I'm
through. I don't wonder at that young lawyer goin' about daft over ye.
He couldn't help it, fer that matter. It isn't every day he runs across
a girl like Nell Andrews."

"Andy!"

"Thar, now, didn't I tell ye to keep quiet 'till I'm through?"

"But you are talking nonsense."

"Call it what ye like, Nellie, it makes no difference to me. But if I
was in that young lawyer's place, I'd been up here to see ye the very
next day. My! how I wish I was as young as I used to be. But as I'm out
of the runnin', I was hopin' that Drum Rowan would have a chance. Now,
thar's a young man to my likin'. Jist think what he did fer me last
night. He risked his own life to pull me out of that hole in the ice.
D'ye think Seth Sloan or that young lawyer chap would have done sich a
thing?"

"Perhaps they would, Andy," Nell replied. "Seth is not a coward, and I
know nothing about Mr. Mason."

"No, Seth isn't a coward in broad daylight. He's a great hero then. Oh,
I know a good deal about Seth. But Drum's different. He ain't afraid of
nuthin'. Now, I could tell ye something about him to show ye what kind
of a feller he is, though I guess ye know, all right."

"But he is afraid to come here," Nell reminded. "He hasn't been inside
of this house for months."

"That's not Drum's fault, Nellie. You know as well as I do the reason
fer that. Yer father an' Cap'n Rowan are at swords' p'ints on religion
an' politics. They can't agree, an' never could. They're both fine men
to meet so long as ye jump the way they do. But if ye don't, look out.
Now, Drum isn't very strong on either religion or politics when it comes
to slidin' in set grooves. He's got a mind of his own, so when he didn't
altogether agree with yer father one night as they were settin' in this
very kitchen, he was ordered to clear out. Now, would any
self-respectin' young man come back after bein' treated that way?"

Nell made no reply but went on with her ironing. She was well aware that
her father disliked Drum simply because he was the son of his fierce
opponent in religion and politics. She did not consider this just, for
no matter how the two men might quarrel, it was not right that Drum
should be the victim of her father's resentment. She admired the way in
which the young man had taken the insult. Notwithstanding her apparent
indifference, her heart always quickened when she thought of Drum
Rowan. His free careless life in the open, his straight-forward
manliness, and his outstanding courage, appealed strongly to her
romantic nature. It was gratifying for her to know that he loved her, as
she was certain he did. But there was much pleasure in playing with his
affections. She enjoyed the envy of other girls in the neighbourhood,
who also admired Drum. And when they learned that the young lawyer from
the city was interested in her, they would be more envious than ever. It
was, therefore, natural that Andy's news about their names being linked
together should produce in her heart more than an ordinary thrill of
exaltation. Even though nothing came of it, the thought of what her girl
friends would say when they heard that a rising young city lawyer was
seeking her attention brought a glow of pleasure to her cheeks. Perhaps
he would write to her of an intended visit. She had thought of this more
than once, and several times during the morning she had glanced
furtively out of the little window facing the road.

This was mail day, and the courier might be along at any minute.
Hitherto Nell's interest in his arrival was in the bits of news he had
to give her, for Jerry Trueman, like the shoemaker, was a vendor of
harmless gossip. His mail-bag was generally light, for only a few people
received newspapers, and letters were scarce. When skating was good he
travelled by ice, with his bag slung over his shoulder. He usually
sounded his tin horn to advise people of his arrival, for he considered
himself a person of note and greatly magnified his office in the Queen's
service. The delivering of a letter was a matter of considerable
importance, and he was always agog with curiosity. So on this morning as
he glided into the shore at Maple Cove, unfastened his skates, and made
his way up to the house, his face beamed with a pleasurable
anticipation. Among his little packet of letters was one addressed in a
firm masculine hand to Miss Nell Andrews. Jerry had already heard of
the incident at The Three Elms, so he surmised that the letter was from
the young lawyer.

He was about half way up to the house, when the door of the
cellar-kitchen opened and Nell stepped out. She hurried toward him, and
in another minute was at his side.

"Have you anything for me, Jerry?" she blushingly asked.

"Why, bless yer sweet heart!" the courier exclaimed. "How ye did scare
me! I didn't see ye until ye was right here. What was it ye asked me?"

"You are only fooling, Jerry, for you saw me when I came out of the
house."

"Did I? Well, well! An' yer expectin' something, eh? There, now, ye
needn't colour up like that, fer I was young once meself."

"Hurry up and tell me, Jerry, for I'm freezing."

"Let's go into the house, then, fer I'm cold, too."

"No, no, give me the letter now, if you have one for me."

"Yaas, I have a letter fer ye, me dear, but ye must pay me fer it. A
kiss from yer own sweet lips is the price."

"You foolish man! Isn't it time you stopped such nonsense? You are too
old to be wanting kisses from girls."

"But never too old to kiss you, Nellie. I kissed ye when ye was a little
baby in yer mother's arms, an' a good many times since. Ye've never
refused me before. But mebbe I've no right to ask ye now, as ye want to
keep all yer kisses fer another. So I'll give ye the letter an' not
exact the price."

Jerry sighed as he fumbled in his bag and brought forth the little
packet. Nell was touched by the courier's appearance. For the first time
she noticed how old and shrunken he looked, and how thin and worn his
clothes. She knew what a hard struggle he had to make a living, and
with what indomitable courage he had met misfortune, first in the death
of his wife, and later in the loss of two of his children. As he handed
her the letter, she stepped forward and imprinted a kiss upon his
wrinkled cheek.

"There, will that do, Jerry?" she laughingly asked. "Come right in and
have something to warm you up. Andy's in the kitchen."

Nell tucked the letter into the bosom of her dress, turned and hastened
back to the house. Andy was at his work as she entered, and to all
appearance he had not left his bench. But his eyes twinkled, and he
chuckled to himself as the girl crossed the floor and sped to her own
room upstairs.




CHAPTER 8

THE FENIANS!


The Andrews sat late at the table that evening when supper was over.
Even Mrs. Andrews did not busy herself with clearing away the dishes,
and this was something quite out of the ordinary. But there was a
special reason which caused this active woman to depart for once from
her regular routine. She shared with others the anxiety at the
disturbing news which had reached them that day. It had come so
mysteriously that no one could tell exactly who had heard it first, for
all the neighbours seemed to be aware of it. What they had feared for
weeks had really come to pass, and the Fenians were at last in their
midst. It took but a few hours for fevered imagination to stir the
people to a high pitch of excitement. Already the enemy was in the
woods, lurking in secret places, waiting for night to carry out their
work of destruction and death. Old shot-guns, muskets, pistols, and even
rusty bayonets, weapons which had been handed down from the time of the
arrival of the Loyalists, were brought forth, and carefully examined.
Powder-horns of various shapes and sizes were filled, and bullet-moulds
were kept piping hot from the molten lead which was poured into them.
When these preparations had been attended to, all breathed easier, and
some of the men felt free to discuss the critical situation with their
neighbours.

Several of these had dropped into the Andrews' house on their way to the
political meeting which was to be held that night. Jerry Trueman had
carried the news that two prominent opponents to the Confederation
scheme were to speak. This pleased the Squire, and he agreed to act as
chairman.

"I hope the hall will be full," he remarked to his neighbours when they
referred to the meeting. "I am anxious for all in this parish to hear
the truth about this union farce. We killed it the last time, and we're
going to do it again. Tilley must be a fool to imagine that he can
succeed any better now. We'll show him a thing or two."

"But he has the Governor on his side now," Tom Logan, a big strapping
farmer, reminded. "He's changed right around, so I hear. I wonder why."

"Because he has no mind of his own; that's why. When he went to England
after the last election he was rapped on the knuckles in a pretty lively
manner. The authorities there gave him fits and scared him almost out of
his senses. So now he's back, and like a whipped cur, he is doing just
what he was told. Why, he is the laughing-stock all over the country.
People will pay no attention to what such a turn-coat as that says.
He'll be more of a hindrance to Tilley than a help."

"I guess people are thinkin' more about the Fenians than they are about
Confederation," Bill Slocum declared. "It's mighty disturbin' news we've
heard to-day. It looks to me as we'd all wake up some fine mornin' an'
find ourselves dead men, an' our wives an' little ones, too."

Nell, whose mind had been wandering during this conversation, heard
Bill's closing words and laughed outright. She was seated by Andy's
side, her elbows resting upon the table, with her hands supporting her
chin. The shoemaker chuckled, a sure sign that he was enjoying himself.
Bill, who was quick tempered, glared at the two.

"Ye may laugh at what I say," he retorted. "But it's no laughin' matter,
let me tell ye that. With the woods full of Fenians, an' no knowin' when
they may jump out at us, it's time fer weepin' instead of scoffin'."

"I wasn't laughing at the danger which threatens us," Nell explained,
"but at what you said about people waking up some fine morning and
finding themselves dead men. That would be a most wonderful thing."

A general laugh ensued, in which Bill joined when his somewhat slow mind
had grasped the meaning of his blunder.

"Ho, ho," he roared, "that's a good one. But fer gracious sake, don't
let Sary hear about this. She'll give me no peace if she does."

"It's all very well to laugh at a little thing like that," the Squire
remarked, as he stretched out his right hand to give special emphasis to
his words. "But we're in a critical situation just now, with the Fenians
on the one hand ready to attack us, and Tilley and his gang on the other
scheming to betray us and sell our province. No matter into whose hands
we fall, we're bound to be ruined."

"But won't our men fight, father?" Nell asked.

"Sure they'll fight," Bill declared. "An' Old England'll stand by us.
She'll send her soldiers over here jist as she did in the Trent Affair
five years ago. Why, twenty-five thousand of the finest men that ever
crossed the ocean landed here, an' I helped haul 'em from Saint John to
Fredericton that very winter, an' made good money, too."

"Bah! we can't depend upon England now," the Squire retorted. "She's
against us, that's what she is. It's well to remember what some English
leaders said about Canada when the Militia Bill was turned down."

"What was that?" Tom Logan asked.

"Why, don't ye know? It was all in the paper at the time, and I've never
forgotten the exact words that were said by prominent statesmen over
there. I've got it right handy."

The Squire rose to his feet, and going to a shelf brought down a
carefully-folded newspaper.

"Now, listen to this," he ordered, as he again took his seat, and held
the opened paper toward the light. "This is what Mr. Roebuck, a
politician of high standing said:

"'What I want Canadians to understand, and what I want our Government to
make them understand, is, that we don't care a farthing about the
adherence of Canada to England. I want them to understand that England
has no benefit from her connection with Canada. I want Canadians to
understand clearly that England would not be sorry to see them depart
from her to-morrow.'"

"Ah, that feller wasn't speakin' fer England," Bill Slocum declared. "I
don't believe he knows anything about what a great country Canada is."

"But he wasn't the only one, Bill," the Squire snapped. "Why, the
Secretary of State for War said that he would see Canada independent
without regret, and even Lord Palmerston showed his anger by saying:

"'I am glad that this discussion has taken place, as it has enabled the
Secretary of State for War to make a statement which must satisfy
Canadians that unless they choose to make exertions which are becoming
in them to make for their own defence, which it is their duty to make,
and which any people worthy of the name of men would make, unless they
mean to fall into a state of apathy and betray a want of spirit, which
would be disgraceful to the race to which they belong, that we have done
as much for them as we intend to do, and it rests with them to do the
remainder.'

"Now, isn't that sufficient proof that England is against us?" the
Squire remarked as he slowly folded up the paper. "Think what happened
to our Lieutenant Governor Gordon when he went Home. He was given a
great dressing-down for opposing Confederation, and when he came back he
was as meek as a lamb, and ready to use his utmost influence to ruin us.
No, we can't depend upon England any more. She's dead against us, so
we've got to fight our own battles now."

"If what ye say is true, Squire, than it's all the more necessary fer
the provinces to be united," Andy replied. "A house divided ag'inst
itself, as the Good Book says, can't stand. If we were one, then if
danger threatened us, Nova Scotia, as well as Upper an' Lower Canada
would send their soldiers to our aid, an' if they were in trouble we'd
send help to them. I'm only an old shoemaker, but when I make a pair of
boots all the parts must be firmly fastened together or the boots will
be no good. An' the same with our country."

"Oh, that's some more of the Tilley stuff, Andy. It's all nonsense. How
could we exchange soldiers with not a railroad in the country?"

"But Tilley says that Confederation will bring the railroad to pass,
Squire, an' it'll be the great bindin'-link. S'pose we had it finished
now, how easy it would be to move troops from one part of the country to
another. Why, the Fenians wouldn't dare to attack us."

Squire Andrews rose to his feet and stalked across the room. He was much
aroused, especially by Andy's words. He had never heard the old man
speak so boldly before on behalf of union, and he wondered if he was
expressing the views of people in general up and down the river. He was
very fond of the shoemaker, and to hear him speak in such a manner was
most disconcerting. He was quite aware that Andy kept his ear close to
the ground, and knew very well what was being talked about in various
households. Were the people changing their views? he asked himself. Was
Tilley making headway, after all? Was the Fenian Raid scare affecting
the province in favor of union? Squire Andrews, although stubborn and
determined, was clear-headed enough to realise that forces were afoot of
a most serious and determined nature, and, perhaps, steadily increasing
in strength.

When he returned to his seat at the table, the conversation was about
the Fenians. The neighbours were expressing their views and discussing
the probability of an early attack. Tom Logan was of the opinion that
they would march in a large body right from the Border and wipe out
every settlement along the way. But Henry Morden, the captain and owner
of a river wood-boat, refused to agree with such an idea.

"They won't be such fools as all that," he emphatically declared. "If
they come at all, they'll follow the roads and attack Saint John and
Fredericton first. With the cities captured, the rest will be easy. It's
the main places they want to get hold of. They won't bother with us
along the river until later."

"Don't be too sure of that," Bill Slocum replied. "I believe they're in
the province now, bands of 'em, hidin' in the woods, all ready to spring
up when the word is given. They won't come in a body marchin' along the
roads, no sir-ree. They're too cunnin' fer that. They've been dribblin'
in by night, in this place an' that, until the country is full of 'em."

"Why wouldn't we hear or see something of them, then?" Henry demanded,
glaring fiercely at his neighbour.

"'Cause we have no chance; that's why. Isn't it nearly all woods back of
us right through to the Border? Thousands of men could be hidin' there
an' we wouldn't know nuthin' about 'em."

"Who said that the Fenians are in this province?" the Squire sternly
asked. "No one has seen them, and no one has heard them. Where did that
report come from, anyway? Who is responsible for it? We don't know for
sure. For my own part, I don't believe a word of it. It's one of
Tilley's tricks to scare the country into union. No doubt he sent out
the cry that the Fenians are upon us, thinking it might help him in his
game."

"What makes ye think Tilley is back of it, Squire?" Andy inquired.

"Brains and common sense. The idea of a Fenian raid is the height of
folly. It is ridiculous to think that the United States would allow
thousands of lawless men to cross the Border and attack us. We are at
peace with our great neighbour, and she won't let a bunch of scalawags
bother us. No, it's just another example of Tilley's baseness to try to
force us into accepting Confederation. But it won't work. People will
see for themselves, and the villain will be confounded."

The Squire spoke with much heat, and several times he brought his
clenched fist down upon the table with a bang. He closed his speech with
an extra heavy thump, causing Mrs. Andrews to stretch out her hands in
dismay.

"Be careful, James," she warned. "You'll break all my good dishes if you
don't stop your thumping. You had better keep your blows for the
Fenians."

"For Tilley and his gang, you should say, Martha. But they'll get their
thumps, all right, and mighty good ones, at that."

Scarcely had he finished speaking when a noise sounded right beneath
their feet which caused the room to tremble and the dishes upon the
table to rattle. It sounded like the bursting of a bomb, and the
hurtling of the fragments against the walls of the cellar-kitchen. And
mingled with the din was heard a wild yell of terror.

"The Fenians! the Fenians!" Tom Logan yelled, springing to his feet.
"They're upon us! They'll kill us!"

"Hold your tongue," the Squire roared. "You'll scare the women to
death."

"He won't scare me, anyway," Nell declared. "I can fight as well as
anyone here. There's your gun, father," and she motioned to a corner of
the room. "I loaded it myself this afternoon. The rest of us can arm
ourselves with sticks from the wood-box."

The girl's coolness had the effect of restoring order. Andy, who had
leaped for his beloved violin, laid it upon the table and picked up a
stout birch stick.

"I'll brain the first Fenian that sticks his head upstairs," he cried.
"Come on an' git yer cudgels, every one of yez, an' we'll clear 'em out
in a jiffy."

Complete silence now reigned below, and in imagination they could see
the enemy surrounding the house and peering in at them through the
windows, about to attack. All were filled with a feeling of impending
calamity, and their faces were very pale. But their courage did not
fail, and they were ready to fight to the last. It was the silence of
uncertainty which sent cold chills through their bodies. But when the
Squire started for the stairs leading down to the kitchen, they followed
him without a word. Opening the door, he peered down, but all was in
darkness.

"Bring me a candle," he ordered. "The light is out downstairs."

This was startling news, for a candle had been left burning there when
they went up to supper. Holding on high the taper which was soon
brought, the Squire cautiously advanced, followed by his silent
body-guard. He reached the floor below, and looked keenly around. But as
no enemy sprang to meet him, he breathed more freely. Then he emitted an
exclamation of surprise and relief as he surveyed the kitchen. There was
ruin everywhere; dishes on the table were smashed, and the glass in the
windows broken. But he paid little attention to them, for lying on the
floor near the fire-place was the mute evidence of all the disturbance.
It was a pool of yeast, and nearby were several fragments of a big
earthenware jug. Nell realised what had happened as soon as her father,
and with a slight hysterical laugh, she dropped down upon a chair near
the table. With the severe mental strain relaxed, she was now weak and
trembling.

But with Mrs. Andrews it was different. Seeing what had happened, she
rushed forward in great concern.

"Oh, my yeast!" she cried, spreading out her hands in dismay. "What in
the world shall I do!"

"Don't worry, Martha," her husband advised. "Let us be thankful it's no
worse."

"But we'll have no bread for to-morrow, James! Think of that!"

"I'm not so much troubled about the bread as I am about those windows,
Martha. It was a very strange explosion and a bad one, too. Suppose it
had happened before we went up to supper. Why, we'd all been killed or
badly injured, at least. Look at those marks on the walls where the
pieces struck. What did you do to that jug, anyway? You must have tied
the cork down."

"No, I merely drove it in tight as I always did. It must have been too
near the fire and fermented too much. I never heard of such a thing
before."

"It's a warnin' to us," Bill Slocum fervently declared. "It's a sign
that somethin' dreadful is goin' to happen."

"H'm, it's a warning to me not to put the yeast jug so near the fire
again," Mrs. Andrews retorted, as she stooped to pick up several
fragments from the floor. "And I guess it's a sign, too, that I'm
getting absent-minded these days. To think that I've lost that jug which
I've had ever since I was married!"

"Then it's time we had a new one, mother," Nell laughingly replied. "I
like a change once in a while."

"But the yeast won't be as good in the new one, Nell. There's nothing
like a well-seasoned jug."

"Don't worry, mother. You couldn't help making good bread no matter what
you put the yeast in."

"Yer right, Nellie," Andy agreed. "Yer ma makes great bread, an' there's
no doubt about it. But that jug was a wonderful one, an' mebbe yer ma'll
never git another jist like it. An' what a yell it gave when it bust.
That shows it was almost human."

"It wasn't the jug that yelled," Bill declared.

"What was it, then?"

"A speerit warnin' us that something dreadful is goin' to happen. I
remember when Joe Slasher was killed by the fall of a tree. The night
before, he broke his lookin'-glass while shavin', an' he told his wife
that it was a sign of something dreadful. An' durin' the night they were
wakened by a strange noise like a wild cry of some critter in distress."

"Tut! tut! man, don't be so foolish," the Squire chided. "The breaking
of the glass had nothing to do with Joe's death. And the noise he heard
in the night was the squeal of one of his pigs. I met him going to the
woods the day he was killed, and he told me about it, and thought it was
a big joke. But, there, we've talked long enough about nothing. You all
go upstairs while I board up the windows. It's nearly time to start for
the meeting."

"Ho! ho! a pig spirit!" Andy roared. "Say, Bill, what's comin' over ye,
anyway? I thought ye had more sense."

"Ye may make all the fun ye like, Andy, but it's very queer," Bill
mournfully replied. "It's the first time I ever heard about the pig
squealin'. Mrs. Slasher didn't say nuthin' about it, an' she's the one
who ought to know. But it wasn't a pig that squealed when that jar
busted. It was the yell of an evil speerit, an' no one kin make me
believe anything else."




CHAPTER 9

HALT!


The river road wound its crooked way through meadows, swamps, and thick
groves of cedars, firs, and pines. In places the banks on the upper side
were steep and rugged. Here trees came almost to the ditch, and on dark
nights any traveller passing that way found himself in almost Stygian
blackness. Even the boldest felt a chill of apprehension as the trees
enshrouded him, and he always breathed more freely when he had gained
the open spaces ahead.

Strange stories were told of things that had happened in those dark
reaches, of mysterious sounds, and the sudden appearance of weird
spectral beings. This fear was greatly increased when the stiffened body
of an unknown man was found one morning on a knoll lying by the side of
the road. There were no marks to show that he had met with a violent
death. But that did not matter to those of a superstitious nature. He
was evidently a bad man, a murderer, perhaps, and in that lonely spot he
had met with his just punishment by an avenging spirit. Some even
declared that they had seen the dead man's ghost hovering over the
place. Although this had happened years ago, the story was never allowed
to be forgotten. Children heard it from their parents, and their hearts
always beat fast as they sped by the haunted knoll.

The dread of the Fenians made that river road a more fearsome place than
ever. No one could tell when they might leap out of the woods and strike
down all who passed that way. Imagination and lack of true knowledge
concerning the Fenians did much to invest them with more than ordinary
human qualities. They were gigantic men, so some believed, cruel and
bloodthirsty. They were wild Irishmen, others contended, who, balked in
their attempt to capture Ireland, wished to wreak their revenge upon
England, their implacable enemy, by slaughtering her subjects in
isolated places. Such ideas were but natural at a time when means of
information were primitive, and whatever news did circulate was
generally greatly distorted as it passed from man to man.

Seth Sloan's mind was filled with thoughts of the Fenians as he hurried
along this river road. Only the hope of seeing Nell Andrews and walking
with her to the meeting induced him to travel alone on the night
following the recent Fenian scare. He would otherwise have waited for
several of his neighbours and taken courage in their company. But he was
afraid lest Nell might leave early with her father and brother, so he
wished to be on time that he might have her all to himself. When he came
to the darkest parts of the road he ran like a deer, glancing fearfully
from side to side as if expecting a sudden attack. By the time he came
near the Andrews' house he was panting heavily, and in a state of
nervous excitement. Here his spirits revived, and he slowed down to a
steady walk. He did not wish Nell to have the least suspicion that he
was afraid of the Fenians, but desired her to consider him very brave,
ready to meet the enemy any time and anywhere.

As he approached the house, he saw a light shining from the
cellar-kitchen. Curious to know if Nell were there alone, he moved
cautiously up to the window on the side next to the door. He had just
stooped and was craning his neck to steal a furtive glance, when the
explosion took place within. Startled beyond measure, he shrank back,
and as he did so, a shower of flying missiles hurtled wildly through the
window. As the glass crashed, several pieces struck Seth in the face,
causing him to stagger back with a yell of pain and terror.

Certain was he now that the explosion was due to the Fenians, and that
they were in possession of the house. The next instant they would be
upon him, so his only hope of safety was in immediate flight. That he
might be of some assistance to the Andrews never once entered his
terror-stricken mind. He thought only of himself, so with a wild rush he
dashed across the field, leaped the snake-fence, and landed heavily upon
the road. His former running was slow compared to the speed he now
developed. In imagination he heard the Fenians pursuing him, and with
dilated eyes he often glanced fearfully back over his shoulder. It was
fully a mile to the store, and Seth broke the record that night. His
feet fairly spurned the ground as he dashed madly forward.

Within the store a dozen men were gathered, waiting for the time when
the meeting would begin in the hall a short distance up the road.
Several were seated on boxes around the stove, while others were perched
upon the counter. They were earnestly discussing the startling news that
had reached them that day. Each related the preparation he had made in
case of a sudden attack.

"I spent the hull afternoon runnin' bullets," Abe Hawker declared. "Sez
I to Becky, sez I, 'By jolly! we'll give them Fenyuns a dose if they
come snookin' around our place.' So I got down my old gun, give her a
good cleanin' an' loaded her for bear. Becky she hunted up a pistol, an'
we fixed her up, too. Becky has the pistol with her in the house now,
an' I brought the gun along, an' thar she stands ag'inst the wall ready
fer action."

"D'ye expect ye'll have to use it to-night, Abe?" Zeb Danders asked.

"Ye kin never tell, Zeb, when a gun'll come in handy these days."

"Do you think you can shoot as well as you used to do, Abe?" the
storekeeper inquired.

"Well, I can't altogether say fer sure, Tom. I haven't used the old gun
much lately 'cept fer shootin' a few birds an' a skunk now an' then.
But I guess me hand'll be purty steady when it comes to the pinch. Ye
all remember when I shot that big bear out in me back pasture five years
ago. I wasn't feelin' extry well that mornin', but when that critter riz
right on his hind legs, opened his mouth an' came frothin' at me, I jist
lifted that gun, took a steady aim an' let split. The way she kicked was
wicked, an' fer two minutes I didn't know nuthin'. But when I came to
and the smoke cleared away, thar was that bear layin' right on his back
an' kickin' fer all it was worth. An' near by was me old gun kickin',
too. It was the greatest sight I ever----"

Abe was abruptly interrupted by the door being flung violently open as
Seth Sloan dashed into the store. His wild appearance and the blood upon
his face startled the men around the stove.

"The Fenians! The Fenians!" he gaspingly yelled. "They're after me!"

"Whar are they?" Abe roared, leaping for his gun.

"U-u-up the r-r-road. T-they've blown up S-s-squire Andrews' h-house!
T-t-they'll be here in a m-m-minute."

So overcome was Seth that he sank down upon the box Abe had just
deserted. Not until he had drunk a brimming mug of Jamaica rum which the
storekeeper handed to him, was he able to give a more detailed account
of what he had experienced. No one doubted his word, for the blood upon
his face was evidence enough. A hurried and excited consultation at once
ensued. Most of the men were anxious to hurry home to protect their
families. But Abe was of a different mind.

"We better keep together," he counselled. "We can't do much if we
separate, but the bunch of us kin put up a stiff fight. An' by jolly! I
want to have a whack at them Fenians. They have no bizness here, an' the
sooner they find it out, the better it'll be fer all consarned. I'm
goin' up the road, an' the ones that ain't too scared kin come along."

He left the building, and his companions followed, some armed with
several new axes from the store, and others with pitchforks. Seth
remained behind with the storekeeper, huddled upon the box, his eyes
dilated with fear as he turned them at times toward the door.

Abe and his body-guard continued on their way, stopping at several
houses for recruits, who took along their guns which they had in
readiness. They thus presented quite a formidable band as they moved
warily up the road, peering keenly through the darkness, and pausing
every now and then to listen for sounds of the enemy. These men were no
cowards, and although armed with primitive weapons, they proved of what
stuff they were made in their march that night. To them it was all a
very serious matter, for they really believed that the Fenians were but
a short distance away, and that in a few minutes they would meet them in
deadly conflict. They were peaceful men, hard workers, and wringing a
precarious living from river and land. They were not accustomed to
fighting, but true Loyalist blood flowed in their veins, and on behalf
of their Sovereign and their Country they were willing to suffer great
hardships, and, if necessary, to die for the principles they held so
dear. And these were but a few of the thousands scattered all over the
province, ready at a minute's notice to uphold and maintain the prestige
of Old England in a stern and rugged portion of her far-flung Empire.

They had gone more than three-quarters of the way, and were not far from
the Andrews' house when the sound of voices ahead brought them to a
sudden halt. That the Fenians were coming they were sure, so springing
to the upper side of the road, they took up their positions behind a
number of large boulders which lined the bank. And here they waited,
silent as the night, while the voices and the tramping of feet grew
steadily more distinct. Each man grasped his axe or fork, while those
with guns kept them pointed toward the highway, cocked and primed. The
situation was now intense, for the critical moment was at hand. This was
made more so when Abe stepped suddenly from the bank and stood in the
middle of the road as silent as the trees around him. His companions
were puzzled and amazed at his action, and some believed that the
excitement had affected his brain. But they did not dare to speak for
the enemy was now almost upon them. They could only await the outcome,
whatever that might be.

"Halt! or we'll blow ye to pieces."

It was Abe's stentorian voice which gave the order. This was immediately
followed by several exclamations of consternation, mingled with a
woman's cry of fear. At once Abe's levelled gun was lowered, and he gave
expression to a deep growl of disgust. He turned to his companions.

"Them ain't no Fenians," he announced. "Them's folks comin' to the
meetin'."

"Is that you, Abe Hawker?" a voice called through the darkness.

"Yes, it's me, Squire," was the reply. "But what in time d'ye mean by
scarin' the hull neighbourhood like this?"

"And what do you mean by holding up respectable people on the road?" the
Squire demanded as he stepped into view. He gave a great start as he
beheld the dim forms of the men emerging from behind the rocks. "What's
the meaning of all this? Have you men gone crazy?"

"But whar are the Fenians?" Abe inquired. "Have ye seen 'em?"

"Fenians! We haven't seen any Fenians."

"But Seth said they blew up yer house, an' ye were all dead."

"He did! Seth said that! Oh, now I understand. He must have heard the
explosion when the yeast jug burst."

"But Seth saw the Fenians with his own eyes. He saw 'em in yer
cellar-kitchen, an' his face is all cut with the broken glass when the
winders bust out."

Nell and the men with her had now drawn near and heard Abe's
explanation. They were greatly relieved, for the peremptory order to
halt had been most startling. In another minute the humour of the
situation dawned upon them and they all laughed heartily.

"Where is Seth?" the Squire asked. "He's the cause of all this trouble.
And I want to know what business he had hanging around my house and
peeking in at the window. Where is he?"

"Oh, Seth's huggin' the stove in the store, Squire," Abe replied. "He's
scared 'most out of his boots. But, by jolly! he'll wish the Fenians had
him body an' britches when I get me hands on him. I'll larn him a lesson
or two. He'll think twice before he stirs up sich a racket as this
ag'n."

"Don't be too hard on Seth," Andy Dooner pleaded. "It was only natural
fer sich a feller to git scared. Why, we were all froze stiff when that
jug exploded, thinkin' that fer sure the Fenians were upon us."

"But what business had Seth prowling around my house and peeking in at
the window?" the Squire again sternly demanded.

"He had no bizness," Abe replied, shaking a big right fist in the air.
"We kin all laff at this now, Squire, but if it hadn't been fer the
thump of yer big boots upon the road some of us would be layin' here
dead men. Squattin' on the bank behind that rock, I heard yer
clod-hoppers, an' sez I to meself, sez I, 'That's the Squire on his way
to the meetin', fer nobody else on God's earth brings his feet down like
you do. So when I jumped down on the road an' ordered yez all to halt,
the men here thought I was crazy. But, by jolly! I was right. I knew I
couldn't make any mistake in the thump of them boots. But, thar, I guess
we'd better git along, fer it's time for the meetin' to begin."




CHAPTER 10

NAILING THE LIE


As the people of the neighbourhood gathered in the hall they heard the
startling news which Seth had set in circulation. There was much
excitement, and the able-bodied men formed themselves into a band to
march up the road to take part in the fight against the enemy. They were
about ready to start as Abe and his companions arrived. When the cause
of the trouble had been explained, all at the hall were greatly
relieved, and looked upon the matter as a joke. Seth, alone, was most
uncomfortable. For a while he considered himself quite a hero as people
clustered around him to hear his story of the explosion. He told them
about the broken windows, and showed the marks upon his face from the
flying pieces of glass as evidence of what had taken place. But when he
heard about the yeast jug, his feeling of heroism quickly subsided. The
laughter of the men and the women, and the jibes they levelled at him,
made him realize what a fool he had made of himself. This was most
galling to his pride. He did want Nell to consider him very brave, but
when he saw her talking with several of her girl friends, and noticed
how amused they were, he became angry. He longed to give expression to
his feelings, to hit someone, for instance, smaller and weaker than
himself, to prove that he was no coward. He was ready, in fact, for
almost anything of a desperate nature. But when Abe Hawker's big right
fist was shoved up suddenly under his nose, his dare-devil spirit sank
to zero.

"I've a good mind to flatten out yer face," Abe roared. "Look at all
the trouble an' worry ye've given us to-night."

"B-but I c-c-couldn't help it," Seth stammered as he shrank back from
the irate farmer.

"Ye could have helped it. What bizness had ye prowlin' around an'
peekin' in at decent folks' winders? By jolly! this night's racket came
very near bein' a tragedy. If it hadn't been fer the thump of the
Squire's boots on the road some of us 'ud be dead men now."

"Come, come, Abe, leave Seth alone," Andy interposed. "Don't ye see that
the poor feller is feelin' like an old boot, an' lookin' it, too? Guess
we'd better go inside, fer the Squire's callin' the meetin' to order."

Seth was glad to slink away, especially from Abe, whose tongue and fist
he feared in no small degree. He slouched into the hall, and stood near
the door with his back to the wall, for every seat was filled. He was in
no enviable frame of mind, and he longed to have revenge upon someone.
If he had only another drink or two he would feel more confident of
himself.

Drum was late in arriving at the hall. He had been visiting his traps
that day, and loitering around the Valley of The Jaws. He called in at
the store and heard the story of Seth's scare and the excitement that
had ensued. He laughed heartily as the storekeeper related the tale, and
wondered what Nell would think of Seth now.

He was considering this as he entered the hall and stood among several
just inside. The Squire was closing his opening speech, which had been
an appeal to all to oppose Tilley and his gang. But Drum hardly heard a
word that he said, for his eyes were at once riveted upon a man seated
by his side. It was the young lawyer he had seen talking with Nell at
The Three Elms! Then the Squire introduced him as the speaker of the
evening.

"We were expecting to have with us to-night the leader of the opposition
to the traitorous Confederation scheme," he announced. "But as he has
been unable to come, owing to many urgent duties elsewhere, he has sent
in his stead Mr. Richard Mason. In a letter, which I hold in my hand, he
says that Mr. Mason is well acquainted with all the facts of the case,
and a man in whom he has every confidence. I have, therefore, very much
pleasure in introducing to you Mr. Richard Mason as the speaker of the
evening."

Drum was very much alert now, and studied the lawyer with special care.
He noted his well-dressed appearance, his easiness of manner, and the
fluency of his speech. As he listened to his words, he realized that his
leader had made no mistake in the man he had chosen in his stead. His
arguments against Confederation seemed unanswerable as he marshalled and
presented his facts in a clear vibrant voice. He told of the harm that
would befall New Brunswick if Confederation should come to pass.

"We are a prosperous people here now," he said. "We have our fine
dock-yards and our lumbering operations. But if this union scheme
carries all our revenues will be swept away and handed over to the
custody and administration of strangers. We will be unable to regulate
our trade any longer. We will be forced to submit to the dictation of
those who live above the tide, who know little and care less for our
interests and our experiences. Our ship-yards are full of life, and our
flag floats on every sea. All this will be changed. The right of
self-taxation will end, and we shall be stripped by any and every mode
or system of taxation. Every horse, cow, pig, and even your hens and
chickens, cannot escape. Our post offices will be regulated by a distant
authority. Others will fix the salaries of our principal public
officers. We will have to pay, but will have no voice in the fixing of
the amount. And what guarantee will we have that our money will not be
squandered to reward the traitors who betray us? Our savings banks will
also be handed over, and with Confederation will come a higher rate of
interest, thus grinding the faces of the poor. Others will appoint our
judges and our senators, and we will only have the privilege of paying
their salaries. No, we must not allow this abominable and treacherous
scheme to be carried into effect. Tilley and the party he leads are
trying to betray us. We must defeat them, and show the world that we are
an independent and self-governing people. Now, or never, is the time
when we must prove the worth of our true Bluenose blood."

As the lawyer continued in this strain, a feeling of envy crept into
Drum's heart. He longed to be able to talk like that. How rough and
ignorant he seemed compared with the man from the city. He glanced
occasionally at Nell, and read only too truly the meaning of her
animated face turned so attentively toward the speaker. He knew that she
was admiring him and eagerly drinking in every word he uttered. It was
not a happy time for Drum. He longed to leap upon the platform and reply
to the lawyer's statement. But this he was well aware he could not do,
for he had neither the confidence nor the gift of speech. He knew the
facts, but was unable to present them. If only Mr. Tilley were present
how effectively he would answer the voluble lawyer. He recalled that
noble man's words and the earnest expression upon his face the morning
he had visited him in the city. It annoyed him to think that such a
person who had the welfare of his country at heart should be denounced
as a traitor. And yet this was being done and there was no one present
to lift up a word in his defense.

Drum thought of all this as he listened to the speech and watched Nell.
The girl had eyes and ears only for the man who was speaking. He called
himself a fool for thinking that she cared for him. What was there about
a rough rover such as he was to attract a girl like Nell Andrews? Dick
Mason was of her kind, and he would have much to offer her. This idea
stung him, causing him to lift his head with a jerk, and to straighten
suddenly up. He drew a deep breath, and a peculiar light dawned in his
dark-brown eyes. He hardly heard the speaker's closing remarks, and paid
little attention to the Squire's expression of thanks. He was away on
the wings of fancy, soaring in realm of strange and stirring deeds.

From this region of enchantment he was abruptly recalled by the
commotion around him. The people in the hall had risen to their feet and
were talking with one another in the most animated manner, while some
were already leaving the building. Drum looked for Nell, and saw her
talking with the lawyer. He noticed the happy expression upon her face
as she listened to what he was saying. Presently Mr. Mason left her to
speak to the Squire who was standing near the platform. Moved by a
sudden impulse, Drum started forward. He would have a word with Nell,
and request the pleasure of accompanying her home. In this manner he
would put her to the test. Most likely she would refuse him, but he
would have it from her own lips, and get the uncertainty over with as
soon as possible.

Before he could reach her side, owing to the crowd around him, Seth
approached Nell, and asked if he might walk home with her. The answer
she gave was so decisive that Drum stopped abruptly, and then stepped
quickly back.

"Not to-night, Seth," he heard her say. "Mr. Mason is going home with
me. He is not afraid of Fenians, you know."

Drum saw the laughter in Nell's eyes, and the proud tilt of her head as
she thus dismissed her dejected admirer. She then turned to speak to a
girl by her side, and paid no more attention to Seth. The latter glared
at her for a few seconds, and then pushing his way roughly through the
crowd, left the building. Drum also went out, and stood silently under a
big spruce tree a short distance away and watched the people as they
emerged from the hall. At last Nell and the lawyer appeared. They were
chatting pleasantly as they came down the steps, although Drum could
not hear what they were saying. Then side by side they walked slowly up
the road and in another minute were out of sight.

For a while Drum stood there as still as the great spreading tree
overshadowing him. Ere long all the people had left the building, the
lights were extinguished, and the door closed. Drum waited until the
crowd had dispersed. The men were talking about the speech, but from
occasional remarks which he overheard he knew that the women, especially
the younger ones, were more interested in Nell and the lawyer. In every
house for miles up and down the river the two would be the subject of
considerable discussion that night and for days to come. Women would
gossip freely whenever they met, and debate about the prospect of an
early wedding. And Drum was well aware that his own name would be
mentioned, too, for all knew of his attention to Nell Andrews. It
annoyed him, and made him long to spend the rest of the winter in the
woods where he would not see, and forget, if possible, the one girl in
all the world who meant so much to him.

At length he started down the road, walking slowly, as there was no need
for haste. He had very little interest in life, anyway, since Nell had
given herself to another. Coming to the store, he entered and found
there a number of men who were discussing the lawyer's speech. They were
in no hurry to go, for the room was comfortable and the talk
interesting. Drum sat down upon a box and listened. He knew that he was
the only one there in favor of Confederation, so he wisely kept silent.
He was the youngest one present, and any word of opposition from him
would have met with disapproval and, perhaps, scorn. Wisdom and
knowledge rested in older heads, so it was believed in the parish,
especially in questions of religion and politics.

Drum had been in the store for about a half hour, when, feeling somewhat
sleepy owing to the heat, and as the talk was becoming uninteresting to
him, he decided to go home. But just then Seth Sloan entered, laid some
money upon the counter, and demanded a drink.

"Give me something quick, Tom," he ordered. "I'm all in."

"Why, what's the matter now, Seth?" the storekeeper asked. "Not another
Fenian scare, I hope."

"Fenian scare be damned!" Seth growled as he gulped down the rum. "Say,
Tom, ye should have heard the speech to-night."

"Was it good?"

"Good! It was slush, an' so was the speaker. He's a sly cuss, a'right.
He came here to-night on purpose to see his sweetheart, Nell Andrews. I
follered 'em up the road after the meetin', an', by God! it was fun the
way they hugged each other. They did the same the first time they met at
The Three Elms, so I hear."

"That's a lie!"

Drum had leaped to his feet, and with blazing eyes and clenched fists
confronted Seth. The latter shrank back, and his face turned ghastly
pale.

"I d-didn't know you were h-here, Drum," he gasped. "Where did ye drop
from anyway?"

"That doesn't matter, Seth. You have no right to spread such a lie about
Nell and the lawyer."

"How d'ye know it's a lie?"

"Because I was at The Three Elms that day, and saw Nell and the lawyer
for the few minutes they were together. And, Seth, what you said about
them as they walked up the road is a lie, too. You've got to deny it
before you leave this store."

"What d'ye mean, Drum? D'ye take me fer a liar? Didn't I see 'em huggin'
each other? You shouldn't git hot over that. Why, ye should be glad to
hear sich news after the way Nell's treated you an' me."

"Well, I'm not, and what's more, Nell's not that kind of a girl. You
should surely know that yourself, if you have any sense left."

"An' so ye'll stand up fer her after she's left ye fer that cuss of a
lawyer!" Seth exclaimed in surprise. Such manliness was beyond his
comprehension.

"That has nothing to do with it, Seth. It's the question of Nell's
honour I'm thinking about now. You've lied about her, and you must deny
what you just said."

"Hell, if I will," Seth retorted. "I'll say what I like."

With a quick movement Drum reached out and caught Seth by the throat,
and forced him back over the counter. The latter struggled and clawed
furiously at the gripping fingers.

"Deny what you said," Drum demanded, "or I'll break every bone in your
body."

Knowing full well that his fierce antagonist meant every word he said,
the gasping man tried to speak. Only then did Drum relax his grasp and
step back a pace, but ready for further action.

"Say it quick," he ordered.

Seth's eyes shifted, however, and he turned in a mute appeal to the
silent men in the store. Seeing no sign of response from them, he
glanced toward the door. In a flash Drum was upon him again. With a yell
of rage and terror Seth tore himself free and leaped aside.

"Don't touch me!" he pleaded. "Fer God's sake! keep yer hands off me."

"Deny it, then," Drum sternly insisted. "Say that you lied about Nell."

At this critical moment when it seemed as if Drum intended to carry out
his former threat, Bill Slocum rose to his feet and intervened.

"Here, let's settle this rumpus," he began. "We don't want any bones
broken in this store to-night. Neither do we want any nasty yarns told
about decent girls in this parish. I've a daughter of me own, an' I
wouldn't like sich things said about her. So, Seth, if ye've been
lyin', own up. If ye don't, I'll make it my business to see Squire
Andrews the first thing in the mornin', an' may the Lord have mercy on
ye if he gits after ye. Yes, ye'd better own up here, an' git over with
it."

This met with the approval of the rest of the men. They expressed their
views in strong terms, causing Seth to realize the serious situation in
which he had placed himself. He was mad, and yet afraid. He knew that he
had gone too far, but saw no way out of the fix.

"Hurry up," Drum ordered. "I won't give you another chance."

"Won't you fellers believe me?" Seth asked. "D'ye think I'm lyin'?"

"You are," Drum replied, "and as you won't tell the truth, you can put
up with the consequences."

Again he stepped forward, caught Seth by the collar, and yanked him out
into the middle of the room.

"Tell the truth," he ordered, giving the unhappy wretch a severe shake.
"Speak up, and none of your lies."

Seth endeavoured to defend himself. He struggled, fought, and bit like a
wild-cat. But Drum held him fast, threw him to the floor, and held him
there until he had exhausted himself with his vain struggles.

"Let me up," he roared.

"Not until you deny what you said about Nell."

"I won't deny it."

"Very well, then," Drum calmly replied, releasing his hold and rising to
his feet. "Get up and defend yourself. I don't want to hit a man lying
down. Get up, I say."

Seth struggled slowly to his feet and tried to face his opponent. But
when he saw Drum's right arm drawn suddenly back and then shoot forward
like a sledge-hammer, he emitted a howl of terror, dodged the blow and
dashed to the opposite side of the room. Slowly Drum followed, and when
Seth saw that retreat was useless, he threw up his hands in despair.

"I'll confess! I'll confess!" he yelled. "Don't hit me! Fer God's sake,
don't!"

"And you lied about Nell?"

"Yes, yes, I lied."

As Drum's hand dropped and he stepped back, Bill Slocum sprang forward
and confronted Seth.

"Ye mean skunk," he roared. "Ye ought to be strung up by yer thumbs fer
sayin' sich things about Nell Andrews. But now that we've nailed yer
lie, git out of here, an' don't show yer measly carcass around here
ag'in. Git."

Seth did not stop to argue, but leaped for the door, and disappeared
into the night. Drum was in no mood for any talk with the men in the
store. He wanted to get away by himself. Picking up his skates and cap,
he, too, passed out of the building, leaving Bill and his companions
with a new and interesting topic of conversation.




CHAPTER 11

HETTIE!


As Drum stepped out of the store he looked up and down the road. He was
in a fighting mood, and if Seth had made his appearance just then it
would not have been well for him. The thought of the cowardly lie
angered Drum. He could hardly understand himself. Why had he stood up
for Nell when she had thrown him aside for the lawyer? That she could
ever care for him seemed hopeless now. And yet mingled with this feeling
was his deep and passionate love for the girl. That he had defended her
gave him some comfort. But perhaps she would never hear about it, so
taken up would she be with Dick Mason.

Drum thought of this as he walked slowly to the shore where he fastened
on his skates. So absorbed was he with his own troubles that he never
once cast his eyes backwards. Had he done so he might have seen a
shivering form standing near the store, and a pair of keen eyes watching
his every movement. The moon was now rising and flooding the river with
its silver gleam. It exposed the young man's erect figure as he
straightened up from his kneeling position and drew on his woollen
mitts. As he glided from the shore and moved up river, the form near the
store stretched out trembling hands of entreaty to the speeding skater,
although no words came from her firmly-compressed lips.

Before going home Drum wished to have another look at the Andrews'
house. If he could not see Nell it would be some comfort to gaze upon
the building which sheltered her. He knew that her room faced the
river, and he hoped to see a light shining from her window as he had
often seen it in the past. But on this night he was doomed to
disappointment, for the only gleam came from the parlour below. No doubt
the family were gathered there, entertaining the lawyer, and drinking in
his words of wisdom. How pleased the Squire would be to have such a man
to talk to. And perhaps Nell was seated near, listening to every word,
and watching the visitor with those wonderful eyes of hers. A sudden
desire came upon Drum to go ashore and peer in through the window. This
temptation was of but a brief duration, however. He thrust it from him
and started off at a rapid pace to give vent to his feelings. He cut a
wide circle, and again stopped to look over at the house on the side of
the hill which fascinated him so strongly.

And as he stood there a great longing swept suddenly upon him to prove
to Nell Andrews that he was worthy of her love, even though she might
bestow her heart and hand upon another. He would do something to make
her proud of him, but he had no idea what that might be. He would show
her, and everyone else in the parish, that Drum Rowan had good Bluenose
blood in his veins, and was not such a useless being as many supposed.

With this idea beating through his brain, he swung sharply around and
sped down river with long swinging strides. The moon, higher in the
heavens now, illuminated the great expanse of ice for a considerable
distance around. It showed him his home beyond, nestling in a cosy
valley on the hillside. A light gleamed from one of the front windows,
and the sternness of Drum's face softened as he thought of Margaret who
was no doubt awaiting his return. No matter what others might think, she
was proud of him, anyway, and did everything she could to inspire and
encourage him in all of his undertakings.

Reaching at last the shore, he unfastened his skates, and was walking
up the narrow path leading to the main highway, when Hettie Daggert
stood suddenly before him. Drum started at the sight of the girl, for
her unexpected appearance at such an hour of the night was unusual. She
assumed a weird aspect, almost uncanny, standing there beneath the wan
light of the moon. Her head and shoulders were partly covered with an
old shawl, the ends of which she clutched around her thinly-clad body.

"Why, Hettie, what are you doing here?" Drum asked.

"Jist waitin' fer ye, Drum," the girl replied, turning her face up to
his. "Ye was a long time comin'."

"Why were you waiting for me?"

"I've somethin' to tell ye, Drum; that's why I waited. I wanted to tell
ye to keep away from The Jaws. It ain't safe thar, as I told ye afore."

"What nonsense is this, Hettie? I was at The Jaws to-day, and nothing
happened to me. It was very quiet there, with no one anywhere in sight.
What do you mean by such talk?"

"But the cranes nested thar last summer, Drum, an' that's allus bad
luck. Keep away, oh, keep away! Don't go thar ag'in!"

So earnest was the girl, that Drum felt there must be some good reason
for her concern. Did she know about the cabin, and the cave with the
store of ammunition? he asked himself. Had she seen the Fenians prowling
around the place? It did seem likely, but why didn't she say so? He
turned sharply toward her.

"Do you know about that cabin and cave?" he asked.

"I know about the cranes, Drum," was the evasive answer.

"So you told me, Hettie. But I asked you about the cabin and the cave."

"Did ye, Drum? Is thar a cabin an' a cave in The Jaws? Stay away, then,
fer it ain't safe thar."

Drum was becoming impatient. He was sure now that the girl knew more
than she was inclined to reveal. What did she know, anyway? He must find
out, for much might depend upon her information.

"Look here, Hettie," he began, "I believe that the Fenians have stored
ammunition in that cave, so if you have seen any of them around there I
want you to tell me. It is a very serious matter, and I need your help."

"I am helpin' ye, Drum, by warnin' ye to keep away from The Jaws. No one
else'll do that. Nell won't, fer she don't care nuthin' fer ye now."

"How do you know that?"

"'Cause she's gone with that lawyer feller. I seen her walkin' up the
road with him, an' she was very happy."

"What! were you watching?"

"Yep, in the bushes by the side of the road when they went by. No, she
don't care nuthin' fer ye no more, Drum."

"Well, what of it, Hettie? Do you think I mind very much?"

"Ye seemed to, Drum. Didn't ye take Nell's part in the store t'night?"

"Were you there? I didn't see you."

"I was peekin' in at the door, an' heard an' saw everythin'."

"What business had you hanging around the store at night, Hettie? You
should be ashamed of yourself."

"I wanted to warn ye ag'in about The Jaws."

"Well, why didn't you do it when I left the store? Where were you then?"

"I was hidin', Drum, 'cause I was afraid. Ye looked awful mad. But I saw
ye go up river, an' I knew what ye went fer."

"You did! Who told you?"

"Nobody. I didn't have to be told."

"Did you follow me? Did you see me on the ice in front of Nell's
house?"

"No, I didn't have to. I knew without goin'."

Drum looked keenly into the girl's eyes, as if he would read there her
very soul. How white and thin appeared her face as the moonlight fell
upon it. How was Hettie able to understand him so truly? What spirit
possessed her to divine the secret of his heart? The thought annoyed
him, yet at the same time he felt a thrill of awe. How did this girl of
the lone backwoods know so much? Who had taught her about such things?
She was always a peculiar being to him, a mysterious waif of the wild,
but he never felt it so much as now.

"It's time we were home, Hettie," he abruptly told her. "I am cold, and
I know you are by the way you are shivering."

"I don't mind the cold, Drum," the girl replied. "Why, I sleep out all
night sometimes when Dad an' Unc' are fightin'. I'm used to it."

"But I'm not, Hettie, so I'm going home. It's getting late."

"Don't go jist fer a minute, Drum," she pleaded. "I want to tell ye
somethin'."

"Well, what is it? I thought you had told me everything."

"I want ye to be happy, Drum; but ye ain't."

"How do you know that?"

"By the way ye acted t'night. Ye think if ye had Nell, ye'd be happy.
But ye wouldn't. She ain't yer kind."

"That's my own business, Hettie," Drum somewhat hotly retorted.

"I s'pose 'tis, Drum," and the girl sighed. "I was jist tellin' ye;
that's all, 'cause I want ye to be happy. Nell couldn't live like you
do. An' you ain't got nuthin' to give her. She wants purty dresses,
ribbons, an' a big house to live in. The lawyer'll give her all them
things she's hankerin' after."

"I guess you're right, Hettie," Drum acknowledged. There was a tremor in
his voice which did not escape the girl's notice. Again she reached out
her right hand, but this time she clutched his arm.

"Don't take on hard, Drum. Ye shouldn't worry about Nell. She wouldn't
work fer ye, anyway. You want a girl that'll work her fingers to the
bone fer ye, that'll foller ye 'round in the woods, an' live in any kind
of a ol' shack. You won't be able to buy her fine clothes, an' she won't
want 'em. S'long's she's got you, she'll be happy, 'cause she'll love
ye so much she won't think about nuthin' else."

"Why do you talk such nonsense, Hettie?" Drum asked. "Do you for a
minute imagine that I'll live all my life in the woods? And if I ever
have a wife, would I want her to work her fingers to the bone for me and
follow me around like a dog?"

"But yer headed that way now, Drum. Ye don't do much 'cept trap some in
winter an' boat a little in summer. You couldn't 'spect to do much fer a
wife. She'd have to fer you, seems t'me."

Drum shifted uneasily at this charge which he knew was only too true. He
had often heard Hettie express her opinion about various matters, and it
had always amused him. But now it was different. Her words, although
gently spoken, sank deep into his soul. Out on the ice that very night,
in front of the Andrews' house, he had thought of the same thing. It was
strange that this girl should now put his thoughts into words. Once more
a feeling of awe swept over him. Hettie was beyond his comprehension.

"Thanks for what you have told me," he at last remarked. "I am going
home now to think over your words. I guess you are right. Good-night."

"Good-night, Drum, an' don't think about Nell, 'cause she don't love ye
no more. Think only of the girl that does."

"Who is that?"

"Ye'll have to find out fer yerself. Good-night. I'm off."

Hettie turned and sped swiftly along the road, leaving the young man
staring curiously after her.

"What a queer girl Hettie is," he mused, as he made his way slowly up
the hill. "I wonder what in the world she meant by those last words. No
girl loves me. Hettie must be crazy."

He stopped abruptly as an idea flashed into his mind. Then from his lips
came a low whistle of understanding.

"Hettie!"




CHAPTER 12

LAND-BOUND


"I wonder what can be keeping that boy so late? He should have been home
an hour ago."

Captain Rowan lowered the paper he had been reading and looked over at
his daughter who was doing some needle-work on the opposite side of the
table. He shuffled uneasily in his big chair, and with difficulty moved
his left foot from the small stool to the floor. He was a large man,
bearded, and with a wealth of iron-grey hair on his strong well-poised
head. His appearance was stern, and his eyes bright and keen. His look
and manner betokened one accustomed to command, and to whom obedience
was expected as a matter of course.

His daughter ceased her work and turned her soft blue eyes upon her
father's worried face. She then rose to her feet and went to his side.

"Does your foot hurt you much to-night?" she gently asked. "Let me bathe
it again. That new liniment seemed to lessen the pain."

"It's not my foot that's troubling me so much now, Margaret," the
captain explained. "It's Drummond's lateness. I want to hear about the
meeting before I go to bed, and what the speakers had to say. I suppose
the Squire presided as usual, and was very happy. But for this
confounded foot of mine I'd have been there to-night and had my say."

"No you wouldn't, father," his daughter replied, seating herself upon a
low stool by his side. "You would be on board your ship, somewhere at
sea."

"You're right, Margaret, you certainly are. I wouldn't be hanging around
on land but for this foot. The sea's the only place worth living, and
here I've been housed for ten months. A year ago I was with my ship, and
now--!"

He threw out his clenched fist, and his eyes glowed at the thought of
other days. He was once more on board the "Racing Queen," the long lean
clipper, loaded with deals, bound for overseas. In imagination he saw
her spreading canvas, and heard the wind shrieking through her shrouds.
Forgotten was the meeting as his mind strayed seaward. Margaret's eyes
twinkled. She knew how to divert her father's attention from political
matters and local affairs.

"That was a great run," the captain continued. "I outstripped all the
ships that sailed with me, and had my deals unloaded before they reached
port. Ah, you can't beat a Bluenose clipper and Bluenose men when it
comes to fast sailing and hard work."

"It was too bad, father, that you met with that accident. But, then, let
us hope your foot will soon be well again."

"It may take some time, Margaret, before I'm out of this. I'm homesick
for the sea. That's the life, out there, where a man can breathe the
wind strong and free, and racing other ships. Talk about sights! but to
me the finest of all is to watch a number of vessels racing in mid-ocean
on a clear morning. You can see their long, low black hulls cutting
through the foam, their towering masts, and yards covered with snowy
canvas bulging to the crisp morning breeze. And the 'Racing Queen' could
hold her own with any of them when I was in command. Why, every line of
her told of speed and power, with her tall raking spars and skysail
yards almost touching the clouds. And what a figurehead she carried! It
was designed and made by that young wood-carver, John Rogerson, who
works in the city with his uncle, Edward Charters. There was nothing
mean or cheap about his work, as the figure of that maiden on the bow of
the 'Racing Queen' plainly shows. He put life into it; that's what he
did. He wanted the eyes to see, the ears to hear, the mouth to speak,
and the limbs to express character and strength. He wanted the robes to
appear to stream like a wind-tossed flag, or to lie at rest in graceful
folds. Why, that figurehead was admired wherever the ship sailed, and I
was always proud to say that both the vessel and her figurehead were
made right in Saint John, her home port."

The captain's eyes were glowing as they gazed off into space. Margaret
understood this mood, and her heart beat in sympathy. She, too, loved
the sea, although she had never sailed upon it. But she was of a
sea-faring race, and the spirit was in her blood. How often she had
heard her mother tell of voyages she had made in her young wedded days
before family cares chained her to the land. She recalled some of those
stories now.

"Yes, dear, I well remember the first voyage your mother took with me,"
the captain continued, as if reading her thoughts. "It was in the old
'Dreadnaught,' and a hard time we had of it. Terrible gales hit us in
mid-ocean when I felt sure the ship would go to pieces. But your mother
was the coolest of us all, and cheered and encouraged us by her words
and actions. Ah! she was a wonderful woman, and you are much like her,
Margaret."

"I long to be like her, father," Margaret quietly replied. "But it is
very hard at times to be brave and good."

"I know it, I know it," the captain emphatically declared. "Since your
mother's death Drummond has got beyond all bounds, and he worries you a
great deal. I hope he will go to sea some day and have a ship of his
own. In the meantime, I am testing him out with that wood-boat on the
river. He did fairly well last summer, and seems to like the work, that
is, when he attends to it. He worries us both by his fitful ways."

Margaret made no reply, but gazed thoughtfully into the open fire before
her where several dry hardwood sticks were burning brightly. She could
not tell her father that he himself was really the one who worried her
by his fierce moods of impatience. In Drum she could confide her
troubles, and discuss household affairs of which her father knew but
little. Since her mother died, five years before, she had taken charge
of the house, and she and Drum had lived peaceably together. They always
looked forward to their father's home-coming, and did all in their power
to make his brief visits as pleasant as possible. And on these rare
occasions the captain had been most agreeable. But when he was forced to
give up the sea and remain on land, owing to an injured foot, his nature
changed in an alarming manner. He became fretful and irritable,
complained a great deal, and antagonized most of his neighbours by his
extreme political and religious views. His championing the cause of
Confederation was chiefly due to the strong and bitter opposition to
union which prevailed in the parish. He was also considered an
unbeliever by the orthodox church members, while some affirmed that he
was a downright infidel. But the captain was by no means an irreligious
man. Having seen so much of the world, he was annoyed at the petty
opinions held by his neighbours. "They want to fence in Jehovah to their
own narrow views," he often declared. "A shock now and then won't do
them any harm."

Shortly after his accident the captain purchased a wood-boat to ply on
the river, and commanded by an old riverman. He placed Drum on board,
trusting that the young man would thus acquire a liking for the water
which would lead him ere long to the open seas beyond, and eventually to
become master of a fast-sailing clipper. But so far the undertaking had
not proved very successful. The captain lost money, and at the close of
the boating-season he was unable to pay off the balance of the mortgage
on the craft. This gave him considerable worry, so after much thought he
decided to enter upon a venture which he believed would return him good
profits.

Although at sea the captain was very practical and keen-minded, and with
a thorough knowledge of sailors, on land he seemed to be bewildered in
business affairs. This was quite clearly shown in the deal he made with
the Daggert brothers, men in whom no reliance could be really placed. He
sought the advice of no one, and, in fact, he would have scorned any had
it been offered. The two brothers agreed to cut a boatload of hardwood
at so much per cord, and haul it to the boat where it was lying near the
shore. The fine beech, birch, and maple trees were on the captain's own
land about two and a half miles back from the river, and he had often
longed to make some use of them. The time had now arrived when they
would serve his purpose and help him out of his financial difficulties.
He believed that he could sell the cordwood in the city and clear enough
to lift the mortgage.

For a while the Daggert brothers worked well. They chopped several cords,
hauled them to the shore with their oxen, and loaded them on the boat.
The captain supplied them with provisions from the store to keep them
going until the day of settlement. In a couple of weeks, however, the
work lagged, and then the loads became fewer until they ceased
altogether. But there was no cessation of the supplies from the store
which Hettie carried day by day in her basket. It was not long before
the brothers were in debt to the captain. He sent them word, demanding
that they carry out their agreement, or they would get no more food.
They always offered excuses and promised to do better in the future.
This they did for a day or two when several more loads would be
delivered, and then ceased again. The captain fumed and fretted. He knew
that he was at the mercy of the rascals, but he refused to stop their
store-supplies for fear that they would abandon the work entirely. This
state of affairs was worrying him a great deal the night he was awaiting
Drum's home-coming.

"I don't know what we're going to do with the Daggerts," he abruptly
declared. "They haven't hauled a load to the shore this week."

"Suppose you send word to them again, father," Margaret suggested.

"Little use would that be. They paid no attention to my last message. I
warned them that if they didn't get to work I would have to hire others
to finish the job. But I don't want to do that as those villains owe me
too much at the store."

"Why not send Drum to stir them up, father? Hettie may not have
delivered your message."

"That wouldn't do any good, Margaret. They would pay no heed to
Drummond. I've a mind to send him out with an axe, and let him do the
chopping. He is well able to do it, and I could hire a team from the
shore to do the hauling. It would be better for the boy to be working at
something useful instead of wasting his time roaming the woods. Trapping
is all he seems to think about. Give me my account-book, dear, and mix
me my drink. I can't stay up much longer. In the morning I shall have a
plain talk with Drummond. He must get home earlier at night, or he will
find the door locked against him. Ugh! how my foot hurts. I believe it's
getting worse."

Margaret sat alone after her father had gone to bed. The fire-light fell
upon her fair thoughtful face as she gazed down at the burning embers.
She was tired, and glad of this respite from her father's querulous
talk. It was the same day after day, week in and week out. But to-night
she was thankful that he had not started upon his usual long tirade
about the opponents of Confederation, especially Squire Andrews, his
most determined enemy. She was fond of the company of young people, but
owing to her father's stern and hostile manner few came to the house.
Her brother was her chief comfort, and but for him she felt that she
could not endure the dull weariness and loneliness of her life.
Notwithstanding all this, she had bright dreams, and some of them were
connected with Drum. She was ambitious for his welfare, and pictured him
as captain of a fine ocean clipper. She would sail with him sometimes
and visit other lands. And mingled with her dreams was the hero she
would one day meet, who would bestow upon her the love her young heart
craved.

Thus she sat, weaving her web of golden fancy, until she was at length
aroused when Drum opened the door and entered the room.




CHAPTER 13

A SHOT IN THE NIGHT


The trees stood in irregular ranks on the hillside sloping to the valley
below. They were second-growth trees, unharmed as yet by fire or biting
axe. Maples, beeches and birches mingled with one another and proudly
lifted their branching tops high in the air. In summer their leafy
crests swayed and rolled like ocean billows when swept by the wind. They
shaded the ground beneath, and only streaks of sunlight gleamed through
their long silent reaches. But now they were bare of foliage, save some
bleached beech leaves which clung tenaciously to the branches. And thus
for years they had stood, kissed by the warm sun and gentle breezes of
summer and whipped by the wild winds of winter.

But a greater menace than storms was now threatening them. Against the
most furious tempests that had driven lashingly across the land they had
maintained their solid ranks. Only occasionally a comrade, weakened by
age or inward decay, would crash to the ground. This was now to become a
common occurrence, for the fatal axe was about to fall, and against the
might of that sharp gleaming steel they could oppose no resistance.

It was early morning as Drum Rowan stood and looked up to the top of a
tall stately maple. It leaned slightly uphill, and in that direction he
decided it should fall. His face was aglow, due to his brisk walk in the
frosty air. He had beaten the sun which was just then touching the tips
of the highest branches. A deep silence pervaded the forest. Not a
living creature could be seen, although rabbit and partridge tracks
were plentiful in the light flurry of snow that had sifted down two
nights before. His eyes shone with pleasure as he glanced around upon
the trees. No twinge of remorse smote his heart at the thought of their
destruction. To him they were so many cords of hardwood necessary for
his purpose. He enjoyed chopping when the spirit was upon him, and he
was in the proper mood this morning. Soon his axe was cutting deep into
the maple, and the ringing sounds were reverberating through the forest.

Drum's presence in the woods was due in a large measure to the idea
which had come into his mind the previous evening when standing on the
ice before the Andrews' house. It had been fanned by Hettie's words down
by the shore, and it had later burst into flame in his conversation with
his sister Margaret. She had told him how the Daggert brothers had
failed in their agreement, and how much depended upon the boat being
loaded, in time to reach the city as soon as the ice ran out of the
river. All this Drum knew, although he viewed it now in a new light. He
determined there and then to undertake the heavy task himself and hire a
neighbor to haul the wood to the shore. He believed that when his
muscles became sufficiently hardened he could cut a cord a day. Other
men had done it, and sometimes more, so why could not he? His enthusiasm
delighted his sister, and for some time they discussed the whole affair.

"This may stir up those lazy Daggert rascals," Drum remarked. "When they
see me chopping, they may start in again. But I intend to keep on no
matter what they do, and cut all I can."

"I am glad to hear you say that," Margaret replied. "I shall put you up
a good dinner every day, and have a hot supper ready when you come home
at night. How pleased father will be when he hears of this. I shall tell
him the first thing in the morning."

"I must get off before he awakes," Drum declared. "He will want to hear
about the meeting to-night, and there is very little I can tell that
will interest him. It was all one-sided."

Besides helping on with the work, Drum had something else in mind. By
chopping on the hillside he would be near the Valley of The Jaws, and he
could thus keep a watch over the place. He said nothing to his sister
about this, for he did not wish to alarm her. It would be time enough
when something happened and after he had communicated with Mr. Tilley.
He regretted now that he had mentioned anything to Hettie about the
shanty and the cave.

The spot that Drum chose for his work was separated from that of the
Daggert brothers by a young growth of soft wood, consisting mostly of
fir and spruce trees. He was glad of this, as he wished to be by
himself, away from his neighbours in case they should resume their
chopping. He believed that they would resent his intrusion into the
woods, but this did not worry him in the least. It was his father's
property, so he felt at liberty to do as he wished without consulting
others.

All through the morning Drum swung the axe. He felled several trees,
trimmed their tops, and cut them into cordwood lengths. Some were hard
to split, so he was forced to use wooden wedges. When the last fallen
tree had been finished he was hungry and ready for dinner. From a little
brook down in the valley he brought some water in a tin pail which he
boiled over a small fire he lighted. When the tea was steeped, he sat
down upon a stick nearby and opened up the dinner Margaret had prepared.
He was tired after his morning's exertions, so the rest was refreshing
and the food tasted exceptionally good. He was in a happier frame of
mind than he had been for days. He was doing something worth while, and
his thoughts naturally drifted off to Nell. He could think of her more
calmly now than before. He was master of himself, and he would prove to
her and to the world that he was worth something and not a mere drifter
through life. This was a new sensation and it gave him considerable
satisfaction. Several chicadees chirped as they hopped along a pile of
fallen branches. A whiskey-jack fluttered down and peered curiously at
the man. To it Drum tossed some crumbs of bread and watched as the
hungry bird warily and steadily approached the tempting morsel. He
laughed aloud when the little creature at last seized a piece in its
beak and flew off to the refuge of a branch not far away.

"Come again, little chap," he invited. "You are safe with me."

The sound of his own voice seemed strange, and he glanced quickly
around. Just why he did so he could not tell, but he had the feeling
that someone was near. And as he looked, he saw the form of a man moving
among the trees high up on the hillside. In another second he had
disappeared, and although Drum strained his eyes for a second glimpse he
did not see him again. Who could it be? he asked himself. Was someone
watching him? He thought of Tom and Bill Daggert. Perhaps one of them
was spying upon him. He smiled a little at this idea as he rose to his
feet and continued his work. He did want to arouse the lazy scamps'
curiosity, and at the same time stir them to action. His mind turned to
the dividing-line upon the floor of their house. Would they agree to be
friends, wipe it out and begin work again? He hoped so, at any rate,
although he had his serious doubts.

Drum was cutting deep into a big white birch, and the chips were flying
to right and left, when he suddenly dropped the axe-head upon the
ground. He looked over in the direction where he had caught sight of the
man gliding among the trees, and a new light shone in his eyes.

"Perhaps it's one of the Fenians!" he exclaimed. "I forgot all about
them."

His heart beat fast at the thought, and he stood very still for a few
minutes wondering what to do. Even now the enemy might be down in The
Jaws, and perhaps the man he had seen was one of them. He longed to
leave his work to make an investigation. But this he soon decided would
be foolish in broad daylight. Only under cover of night would it be wise
to visit the place. The Fenians must have no suspicion that he was
watching them.

All through the afternoon he continued his chopping, and only ceased
when twilight began to steal gently over the land. He had worked with
almost feverish intensity, in keeping with the thoughts that were
beating through his brain. He felt that the critical time was now at
hand when immediate action would be necessary. Much depended upon him,
so he must be most cautious and alert. Mr. Tilley had entrusted him with
a great responsibility, and he must not fail his leader.

When the twilight of the short winter day had deepened into night, Drum
started for The Jaws, gliding noiselessly through the forest down to the
valley below. Often he stopped to listen for some warning sound, but
hearing nothing but the murmur of the wind in the tree-tops, he
continued on his way, and at last came near the old road leading to the
log-cabin. He did not step out upon this, but kept among the shelter of
the trees as he moved in the direction of the cabin. He was doubly
cautious now, fearful lest the least sound should betray his presence.
It was darker in the valley and he almost collided with the shack ere he
was aware of its nearness. He stood perfectly still, but no sound could
he hear. Satisfied that no one was within the building, he crept around
to the door. This he pushed open and peered in. But all was in darkness
and the room cold. From here he went to the cave in the hillside, but
nothing rewarded his efforts there. Certain was he now that he had been
mistaken. There were no Fenians in the place, and all his trouble had
been for nothing. He would go home, for he was feeling unusually tired
after his day's toil.

As he stood for a few minutes before the cave a peculiar feeling of
uneasiness swept suddenly upon him. He could not account for this, and
he glanced apprehensively around. The same sensation had come to him the
night his hand had been caught in the trap. He listened attentively and
at length his straining ears caught the faint sound of some movement on
his left. Then a twig snapped and Drum knew that he had not been
mistaken. His hands gripped hard upon his axe-handle, and his entire
body grew suddenly tense like a tightened cord. He was accustomed to
various forest sounds, but this was different from that of bird or
beast. All at once there flashed into his mind Hettie's words of warning
for him to keep away from The Jaws. He had treated them lightly then,
but they meant a great deal to him now. Did the girl know something she
was afraid to tell him? he asked himself. Was she aware of the presence
of the Fenians in the valley? It did seem likely, and that approaching
thing, evidently a human being, but a short distance away, was what she
feared.

Although startled at first, the idea of retreat never once entered
Drum's mind. It was not his nature to run away when danger thickened
around him. He had not done so yet and he was not going to do so now.
Instead of fear, anger possessed his soul, and he was ready and willing
to fight a whole band of Fenians single-handed. What right had they to
come into that valley, spy upon the land, and make preparations for the
capturing of the country? He believed that some of them were near, a few
yards away, creeping stealthily toward him. How they could see him he
did not know, neither did he much care. If it was fight they wanted he
would give them their hearts' desires, and at once.

Moving swiftly along the road in the direction from which the sounds had
come, he was about to plunge into the forest when a flash of light
streaked the darkness, followed instantly by the thundering report of a
gun. Instinctively Drum jerked aside at the flash and then a bullet
whistled past his head. This cowardly attack aroused in Drum the rage of
a wild beast. Not pausing to consider that there might be other guns
awaiting him, he leaped furiously forward, his body tearing a passage
through the underbrush. Expecting to find the unseen enemy ready for
battle, he was surprised to meet no one upon whom he could lay hands.
Instead, however, he heard the sound of somebody running away, crashing
through the bushes in his precipitate flight. Drum stopped to listen as
the sound grew fainter and at last ceased altogether. Realising that
pursuit would be useless, he walked slowly back to the road, and stood
there for a few minutes ere making his way out of the valley to the high
hill above.




CHAPTER 14

THE WARNING


Drum said nothing to his sister about his experience at The Jaws. But
Margaret knew that something was troubling him by his unusually quiet
manner all through the evening. She also noted that he cleaned his gun
that night with special care, and took it with him when he went to work
the next morning.

"I hope to get a moose or a deer, so shall take along my gun," he
informed her as he rose from the breakfast table. "Their tracks are
quite plentiful, and we are in need of fresh meat. I must visit my
traps, too, as I have left them too long."

"How did you make out with your chopping yesterday?" Margaret asked.

"Very well for a beginning. But I expect to do better when I get more
hardened. I feel somewhat sore this morning."

"Did you see anything of the Daggert brothers?"

"No, they never came near. But I imagine they know what I am doing, for
they have eyes and ears like hawks."

"And they are hawks," Margaret emphatically declared. "I never had any
use for those men, and I am sorry that father got mixed up with them.
They will ruin him if he is not careful. Poor Hettie must have a hard
time living with such creatures."

"Have you seen her lately?" Drum inquired, as he picked up his gun and
dinner-pail.

"She went by here yesterday on her way to the store. She had her basket
as usual, and it seemed to be well filled when she came back."

"Tell father to stop the supply, Margaret. What's the use of letting
those lazy rascals get any more provisions? It will only mean a heavier
loss."

"I'm afraid it would do no good, Drum, as father is so determined. He
yet thinks that Tom and Bill will cut and haul the wood."

"He'll be doomed to a bitter disappointment, then, for those men will
never fulfil their agreement, especially as they are in father's debt.
But there is nothing we can do about it now. We can only hope that his
eyes will be opened. Good-bye, Margaret, and be sure to have the
frying-pan ready when I get home."

Drum worked hard all the morning, and piled up the wood he chopped. No
one came near him, and although he glanced occasionally around, he saw
nothing of the Daggert brothers. He ate his dinner, and then picking up
his gun he sauntered off in the direction of The Jaws. He walked
cautiously when he came to the place and in sight of the cabin. He saw
no sign of life, however, and although he examined the spot from whence
the shot had come the night before, he could only see some moccasin
tracks upon the light snow. These he followed down the valley for about
a mile to a well-beaten lumber-road used by some neighbours in hauling
logs to the river. Further pursuit was now out of the question, so in no
enviable frame of mind he returned to his work. He had lost valuable
time and had accomplished nothing. The enemy had eluded him again.

As he thought of the Fenians and their store of supplies in The Jaws,
his hands gripped harder upon the handle of his axe as he drove the
blade into the birch he was cutting. Then as the tree toppled and fell
to the ground with a resounding crash, a feeling of exultation swept
over him. What had happened to that tree would overtake the men who were
planning to capture Canada. And he was going to do his part to help. He
thought of what his father had often told him about the treatment of
the Loyalists, and also of the War of 1812. From a child his mother had
related to him stories of the hardships the Loyalists had endured when
they landed in 1783, and his heart had always thrilled with pride and
patriotic fervor. He, too, would be loyal and defend his country to the
last. He had often thought of this while lying in bed, and he longed for
an opportunity to prove his devotion and courage. And now the time had
arrived, and the people who had driven out his forefathers, and later
had tried to capture Canada were once more in arms against his native
land.

And thus he thought as he worked that afternoon. He was not cutting
cordwood alone, but with every swing of the axe he was hurling back an
unseen enemy. He pictured himself leading a band of men against the foe
and following them as they fled in wild flight through the forest and
over the fields. It was all very real, and his bronzed face flushed and
his heart beat fast with the thrill of conquest. He made a record that
afternoon, and he was surprised when he had piled up the wood to find
how much he had cut. He was tired when he left for home, and eager for
the supper he knew would be awaiting his arrival.

It was dusk when he reached the place where the Daggert brothers had
done their chopping, and he had just crossed the clearing when he met
Tom who suddenly emerged from the woods. He was carrying an axe over his
shoulder, and his manner seemed somewhat threatening.

"Hello, Tom," Drum accosted. "You're late starting to work. Had a change
of heart, eh?"

"Naw, us don't work no more here," was the growling reply. "Us'll have
to git out."

"Why, what's the matter now?"

Tom lifted the axe from his shoulder and brought it down upon the ground
with a thud. His long hair, unkempt beard, and quaint rough clothes
would have sent a chill of fear through the heart of a stranger. But
Drum thought nothing of such an appearance, so accustomed was he to the
sight of this more than half wild creature. Neither did he pay any heed
to the angry gleam in the small shifting eyes. He did notice, however,
that the man was unusually agitated, and that his jaws were working in a
strange manner.

"What's wrong, anyway, Tom?" he asked. "You look worried. Are you sick?"

"Us ain't sick," was the savage reply. "Us mad. Us got t'git out."

"So you told me, Tom. But why?"

"Us got no more work. You take work from us. You d---- skunk! cuttin'
our wood."

At these words Drum straightened himself suddenly up, and the
half-humorous expression in his eyes vanished. That this man was not to
be fooled with, he was well aware. Neither must he humour him in his
wrath. He could fight with his brother as much as he liked, but Drum was
determined that he, at any rate, would put up with none of his nonsense.
He took a quick step forward.

"Stop your snarling at me, Tom," he ordered. "I'm cutting the cordwood
because you and Bill won't do it. How else could we get our boat
loaded?"

"Us'll cut it bimeby when us stop fightin'."

"And when will that be? You and Bill will only quit fighting when you
are dead, it seems to me. We want the cordwood cut now while the hauling
is good."

"Oh, plenty time yit. Spring's long way off. Us cut an' haul fast."

"You haven't done that so far, Tom, and I don't believe you will do any
better in the future. I intend to cut what I can myself, and then if you
and Bill will get busy so much the better."

"Us'll not cut another stick if you chop any more. Us'll do all or
nuthin'."

"Then you'll get no more supplies at the store, Tom. You've been getting
too much already. I should think you would want to pay what you owe us.
You can starve if you won't work. I'm going home now, for it's no use
talking to you any more."

Scarcely had Drum ceased speaking, when Tom, livid with rage, lifted his
axe and aimed a savage blow at his head. With a lightning movement he
dodged the stroke and the blade of the axe crashed to the ground. As it
did so, Drum sprang upon his assailant, tore the axe from his grasp, and
seized him by the throat. Tom struggled wildly to free himself from that
vise-like grip. But the clutching fingers pressed harder into the coarse
hairy neck. When the gasping man's eyes were fairly bulging from their
sockets, Drum loosened his hold and pushed him from him.

"You coward!" he cried. "It's your age that saves you from my fists.
What have I done to you that you should wish to kill me? Get out of
this, and don't let me catch you around here again. There's your axe;
take it and use it to a better purpose after this."

Dazed and trembling, Tom picked up his axe and shuffled slowly away
across the clearing. At the edge of the forest he turned and fiercely
shook his fist at the young man. The next minute he had disappeared
among the trees, leaving Drum with the certainty that he had made a
bitter enemy of the man that evening, whom it would be necessary to
watch most carefully.

"I knew the spite was there," he mused as he wended his way homeward.
"Those Daggert devils have had it in for us ever since father bought
that land next to their place which they were anxious to get, but didn't
have the money. They have pretended to be our friends, but murder was in
their hearts. It came out to-night, all right, when Tom showed his
venom. Perhaps it is just as well, for it will teach me to be on my
guard. They would like to kill me, but I guess they won't find it as
easy as they imagine."

The next morning he continued his chopping, but the spirit that had
animated him the day before had departed. He worked more like a machine,
and at times he stopped and looked far off toward the east in the
direction of the Andrews' house. He thought of the chopping and quilting
party which was to be held that afternoon for the benefit of Widow
Saunders, and he was well aware what that would mean. The young people
would gather during the afternoon, and while the women quilted the men
would chop the big pile of wood in the dooryard. Then after supper there
would be dancing. Nell would be there, Drum felt sure, for she always
had attended this annual event. Last year he himself had been present
and had walked home with her through the clear frosty night. He knew
what a pleasant time it would be, for Widow Saunders was a bright body
who enjoyed the presence of young people. Margaret had told Drum all
about the arrangements, and she had been surprised when he had informed
her that he would not attend the party.

"I must look after my traps to-morrow," he had explained. "There is a
storm coming, and most likely it will be a big one, as the weather has
been fine for so long. I shall not be home at night for the party."

About the middle of the morning as he was leaning on his axe gazing off
into space, he heard a step behind him. Looking quickly around, he saw
Hettie but a short distance away. He smiled, and told her how she had
startled him. The girl, however, made no immediate reply, but
approaching, perched herself upon the stump of a tree. She looked very
grave, and her eyes were big and bright. Drum noticed that her face
seemed thinner and more drawn than usual.

"What's the matter, Hettie?" he asked, "Anybody dead at your house?"

"No, Drum. Why d'ye ask that?"

"Because you look so mournful. I thought perhaps your father and uncle
had been fighting and one of them had been killed."

"No sich luck, Drum." The girl sighed as she drew the skirts of her
dress close around her feet. "They fit last night, an' Dad scratched
Unc; that's all. It's nuthin' new."

"What a great time you must have at your house, Hettie. So much fighting
must make things lively. Is the chalk mark there yet?"

"Yep, it's thar, a'right. I'm goin' to wipe it out when I git time. But,
Drum--"

"What is it?" the young man asked, as the girl hesitated.

"Are ye goin' to the party t'night?"

"No, I haven't time, as I must visit my traps. There's a storm coming,
so I must not wait any longer."

Hettie sprang quickly to her feet, and came close to where he was
standing.

"Don't go to yer traps t'day, Drum. Go to the party."

"Why should I go there?"

"'Cause ye want to."

"How do you know that?"

"'Cause Nell'll be thar."

"Well, what of it? She's nothing to me."

"Why was ye gazin' 'way off thar, then, Drum?"

"Oh, I was just thinking; that was all."

"Thinkin' 'bout her, eh? Ye can't fool me, Drum. Ye'd ruther go to that
party an' meet Nell than anything else in the world. Now, wouldn't ye?"

"But I'm not going, Hettie, so that's the end of it. I must attend to
business first."

"It's goin' to be a bad storm, I guess," and the girl looked up at the
sky as she spoke. "See them clouds? I know what they mean. They're mad
when they look like that, an' then I'm allus afraid. Listen to the wind
in the tree-tops. It's gittin' worser all the time. Don't ye hear it
howl? Ye mus'n't go to yer traps, Drum, with sich a storm comin'."

"But I shall be safe in my cabin before night," Drum replied. "Anyway, I
don't mind a storm; I like it."

"Ye won't like this one, though, Drum. It'll be worser than any ye ever
saw in yer hull life."

"How do you know that?"

"I jist know; that's all, so ye better go t' the party."

"Look here, Hettie, what's the meaning of your strange words?" Drum
demanded. "You seem to think that something bad will happen to me. If
you know anything, tell me. Don't beat around the bush so much."

"But the storm's goin' to be bad, an', then, them cranes--"

"Oh, that's all silly nonsense," Drum interrupted. "You speak about the
cranes every time we meet. I don't want to hear any more about them. I'm
not superstitious."

Hettie reached suddenly out and caught the young man by the arm.

"I've warned ye, Drum, not to go to yer traps t'day," she cried. "I
can't tell ye what I mean. I ain't sup'stishus. But don't go, don't!"

Her voice sank to a low wail, and a peculiar feeling of awe smote Drum's
heart. Then he laughed, and that laugh aroused in Hettie a spasm of
fury. Her eyes blazed, and she stamped furiously upon the ground.

"Go, then," she shrieked. "Have yer own way, but remember I warned ye.
Go to yer traps, an' be damned!"

She then turned and sped swiftly away, leaving Drum gazing curiously
after her retreating form.




CHAPTER 15

DISENCHANTMENT


It was only natural that Nell Andrews' heart should thrill with pride as
she walked with the lawyer up the road after the meeting in the hall.
She knew how envious the other girls in the parish would be at the
attention paid her by this brilliant young man from the city. This was a
novel experience to her and an outstanding event in her young life. She
had never lacked admirers since early school days, but they had all been
neighbours, boys she had known from childhood. They were just ordinary,
commonplace lads, who had never inspired her with the glamour of romance
such as she had read about in story-books. But this stranger came from
the world of which she had so often dreamed. With him she associated all
those charms of city life of which she was ignorant. What a wonderful
experience to be the wife of a leading lawyer, to move in the best
social circles, and to meet well-dressed and highly-refined people. What
an honour to have such a man as her husband, and how she would be the
envy of all the girls of her acquaintance. Such was the realm of fancy
in which she had been soaring ever since the day she had met Richard
Mason at The Three Elms.

But as Nell walked up the road by the lawyer's side, this sense of
elation gradually subsided. She did not feel altogether at ease with
this young man. He was not of her world, and he was almost entirely
ignorant of country ways. His whole life had been spent in the city, and
so engrossed was he with his legal studies that he had little or no
interest in sports or social amusements. He had never skated, knew
nothing about coasting, and had not even been to an apple-peeling party.
When Nell mentioned these, he plainly told her that he had more
important things to occupy his mind, and that people were spending too
much time upon such frivolous affairs. He then launched forth upon the
great purpose of life, and quoted passages from eminent writers in
support of his claim. Nell was almost in despair and she felt so wofully
ignorant in the presence of such a man. This soon changed to the spirit
of annoyance at his bland and self-satisfied manner.

"You do not seem to be much interested in the ordinary affairs of daily
life," she at length remarked.

"Only as they affect my profession," was the reply. "Everything must
centre around and contribute to that. Ship-building, for instance, does
not interest me at all, even though it is one of our chief industries.
But I study all I can about it so as to be ready if I have to conduct a
ship-building case in court. It is necessary to know all the details of
the craft."

"And you do the same with everything else, Mr. Mason?"

"Certainly. My professional career is at stake, and if I should make a
fatal blunder about some common thing it would be most disastrous to me
and my clients. I was brought up in the city, but I endeavor to make a
special study of the way of the backwoods, or as I should say, the
country, for I number farmers and lumbermen among my clients."

"But you take no interest in the ways of the country, Mr. Mason."

"None at all except as they assist me in my profession. They are like so
many sticks and stones to a bridge-builder, important only as they serve
his purpose."

"And is that why you are here to-night?" Nell bluntly asked. "Do you
consider us and our ways as so many sticks and stones to serve your
purpose?"

"To a certain extent I do. You see, we must down Tilley and his gang,
and defeat this union scheme. But we cannot do it without the aid of the
country people. We must have their support, so that is why I am here
to-night."

Nell winced at these words, and her cheeks burned with indignation. The
first prop was thus rudely torn from her dream-castle.

"Was that the reason why you spoke to me at The Three Elms?" she
inquired.

"I wished to apologise for our rudeness to your father, Miss Andrews. I
was anxious to become acquainted with the daughter of such a man. It was
very clever the way he defeated us that day, and I had never heard the
expressions 'bushman's cut' and 'lumberman's cut' until then. They may
prove of great value to me some day."

"So you thought you could learn something more of country ways from me,
did you?" Nell sarcastically queried.

"I was hoping so."

"Have your hopes been fulfilled?"

"Partly so."

"And the letter you wrote, telling me how you hoped to meet me again was
all in your wonderful bridge-building scheme?"

"Ah, did I write you a letter? I had forgotten all about it. But I must
have done so if you received one from me. Yes, that is complete evidence
for the plaintiff. How stupid of me to forget. But it does not matter
now. I find that you are a clever young woman, a type, in fact, all by
yourself. I know very little about country women, as my dealings are
mostly with men."

A sudden desire swept upon Nell to knock this conceited specimen of
humanity down over the steep bank on their right. She knew that it would
be an easy thing to do, for she was strong, well-developed, and
accustomed to hard work. What fun it would be to hear him shouting for
help among the thick tangled bushes below. It would be just what he
deserved, too. Imagine being the wife of such a man as that! The mere
idea caused her to shudder. Then Drum Rowan came suddenly into her mind.
What a contrast between him and this conceited fellow by her side. Drum
was a living breathing personality, full of abounding health and
strength, and interested in the things which appealed to her. Never
before had she thought of him in such a light. But now he seemed almost
a hero in her eyes.

She was about two-thirds of the way home when this change of heart and
mind came upon her. It would not do to dump her companion over the bank.
But she did want to do something to stir him up, and to find out whether
he was really made of flesh and blood. Although they were not walking
fast, she noticed that the young man was breathing quite hard and was
labouring over the road which did not bother her in the least. He was
much encumbered with an overcoat, and his shoes were light and the soles
smooth.

Presently an idea flashed into Nell's mind, and gradually she increased
her pace. This proved most effective, for the lawyer had a hard time to
keep up with her. He tried to continue the conversation, but he could
only gasp out a word now and then as he struggled onward. He was panting
heavily, and sometimes he slipped on a piece of ice. But Nell seemed to
be unconscious of his frantic efforts, and only slowed down when she
reached her own home. She stopped before opening the door and looked at
her companion.

"Have you enjoyed your walk, Mr. Mason?" she asked.

But the young man made no reply, as he was gasping and breathing
heavily. He could not see the amused expression in the girl's eyes as
she stood watching him.

"You have learned a lot about country ways to-night," she bantered. "You
should find this experience very useful in your work. But suppose we go
into the house. Mother is quite a doctor, and has some peppermint which
she will give you. She always keeps it on hand, and it is fine for
babies."

The young man followed her slowly into the house. He was half-dazed, and
very glad was he to lie upon the sofa in the parlour while Mrs. Andrews
brought him a glass of her best home-made wine. She was much worried
over his weak condition, and attributed it to the exertion of speaking
in the hall.

"You are tired out, poor man," she sympathised. "And you have been
walking too fast. Why, you are all out of breath. Nell, you should have
known better," she rebuked, turning to her daughter.

"Oh, I wanted Mr. Mason to learn something about country ways, mother,"
the girl replied. "That's why he is here, so he has had his first lesson
to-night--and from me. He'll be all right in a minute."

It took more than a minute, however, to restore the exhausted man. He
remained for a while upon the sofa, and with closed eyes thought over
Nell's curious words and actions. Shrewd and clever in his chosen
profession, it never once entered his mind that this country girl was
making fun of him. This was partly due to his ignorance of the ways of
women, and also to his own vanity. He really imagined that she was
taking him at his word and was anxious to teach him about things he did
not already know. In a half hour's time he was much refreshed, able to
sit up and talk with the Squire. The latter was delighted to have the
lawyer visit his house, and together they discussed the momentous
question of Confederation. Andy Dooner listened intently to all that was
being said, but took no part in the conversation. In fact, the visitor
never seemed to notice his presence.

Nell was far from happy. She sat by Andy's side, but her mind was not
upon the subject under discussion. Although outwardly calm, she was
doing considerable thinking. Mentally she was comparing the slight,
well-dressed lawyer with the strong, rugged and upstanding Drum Rowan.
What a difference there was between the two. The contrast in personal
appearance was great; one big and manly, the other slight and almost
effeminate. Drum, she knew, loved her for her own sake alone, while this
man thought of her as he would think of a stick or a stone, something to
serve his purpose. Nell's vanity was wounded, for this was the first
time she had ever been treated in such a slighting manner. The careless,
wandering and impulsive Drum had never done that. But this man from the
city was devoid of all sentiment, and nothing but a human icicle.

These thoughts beat through her brain as she sat there, listening
apparently to the conversation. But she heard only what interested her,
for she cared very little about political matters. She was quite
satisfied to leave such deep, dry affairs of state to her elders. But
when the lawyer spoke about himself she was all alert. And this he did
more than once, for then Richard Mason was very much in his element.
What he thought, said and did always formed the chief burden of his
remarks.

"Sentiment should have nothing to do with this Confederation fight," she
heard him say. "Tilley is making too much use of it in connection with
his bogey-scare of the Fenian raid. Why, it's all nonsense, and yet
Tilley and his gang are working it for all they are worth. Sentiment
plays too much a part in life, anyway. Facts and hard cold logic are the
only things that count, and it is by means of these that we are going to
win. For myself, I have no use for childish sentiment. It is the head
and not the heart that matters."

Nell was certain now that she had not been wrong in her judgment of this
man. She wanted to get away from the sound of his voice, and she
wondered why she had been so greatly fascinated by it at the meeting.
But she did not know him so well then, and that made the difference.
Very glad was she when at last sleigh-bells sounded outside, and the
visitor rose to his feet.

"My driver has come for me as I ordered," he explained.

"Why not stay here all night," the Squire suggested. "You can get an
early start in the morning."

"No, I have important duties awaiting me in the city, and they must not
be neglected. The horses have had a long rest, so will be in good form
for the drive. But I trust to you, Squire, to carry on the fight in this
parish. I have fired the opening gun, so to speak, and you must line up
our supporters and continue the work to a successful finish."

He reached out his hand to Nell.

"I hope we shall meet again," he said. "I have spent a very pleasant and
profitable evening, and shall always remember it with pleasure."

Instead of taking his hand, Nell made him a profound and graceful bow.

"You forget yourself, sir," she reminded. "Hand-shaking is mere
sentiment, and the pleasant memory of this evening will be all
nonsense."

"Nell! Nell! I am surprised at you," her father sternly chided.

"I am only taking Mr. Mason at his word, father. He has no use for
sentiment in life, so he told us. Why, then, does he pretend that he
does? It is nothing but hypocrisy, and that's a thing I despise."

She turned and fled from the room, her eyes blazing and her cheeks
scarlet. Andy slowly shuffled after her, his face beaming with
amusement, and his heart beating with satisfaction.




CHAPTER 16

A STARTLING APPEAL


Andy smiled quite often the next morning as he worked at his bench.
Sometimes the smile ended in a chuckle as he drove the pegs into the
sole of a boot he was finishing. Nell, washing the breakfast dishes,
glanced occasionally at the old man, and an expression of amusement
shone in her eyes. She had been unusually silent this morning, thinking
over all that had taken place the evening before. She knew that the
shoemaker had something to say, and that the chuckles were but the
prelude to his words. She was forced to wait, however, for some time,
and her patience at length became exhausted. When she had wiped the last
cup, and had put the dishes away upon the pantry shelf, she went over
and sat down by Andy's side.

"What's the matter with you this morning?" she abruptly asked.

"Why, what d'ye mean, Nellie? Ain't I all right? Do I look sick?"

"What are you smiling and chuckling so much about? You seem to be very
happy."

"An' why shouldn't I be happy when I have jist finished sich a piece of
work as that?" He lifted the boot from his lap and held it up for her
inspection. "Look at that, now. Won't ye be proud when ye slip yer
little foot into it. It's none of yer fact'ry stuff, all cardboard an'
glue. It's the finest calf-skin, well-sewed, an' the soles stout enough
to stand the roughest wear. Ye'll need 'em more'n ever, I guess, if I'm
any jedge of human natur'."

"In what way, Andy? Why shall I need such boots more than ever?"

"To keep that lawyer feller on the jump. Ha, ha! how I'd liked to have
seen him last night tryin' to keep up with ye, Nellie. My! he must be
sore this mornin'. I bet ye a dollar his dainty feet are all blisters.
Did ye see what he was wearin'?"

"No, I never noticed. I was too busy thinking about other things."

"So I thought. But trust an old cat-whipper to look first of all at a
man's feet. Now, a tailor'll size up a man by his clothes, an' a woman,
mebbe, by the colour of his eyes an' the curl of his hair, but a
shoemaker'll jedge him by his feet an' what he's got on 'em."

"Is that the way you judged Mr. Mason?" Nell laughingly asked. "Were you
not impressed with his speech at the hall last night? I thought it was
wonderful."

"It was a wonderful lot of gab, Nellie, an' no mistake. But that speech
was prepared fer him, an' he sang it off jist like a good little school
boy at an entertainment. He was only sayin' what he was told. He hasn't
enough understandin' to do anything else."

"I am surprised at you, Andy, for saying such things," Nell
remonstrated. "What reason have you for your harsh judgment?"

"By what the feller said to yer father last night settin' up there in
the parlour. Didn't ye hear 'im?"

"I only heard a little, especially what he said about sentiment. I'm not
interested in politics, so didn't pay much attention."

"It was jist as well, Nellie, fer ye missed nuthin'. Why, that chap
couldn't talk any sense when he got off the song he larnt by heart. His
understandin's poor; that's the trouble. I knew it as soon as I caught
sight of his feet, an' the things he had on 'em."

"What were they, Andy?"

"I can't tell ye, Nellie, fer I never saw their like before. They may
have a name in the shoe-stores, but I never heard it. They were nice
dainty little things, with soles about as thin as cookies ye git in a
city hotel. An' them things he was wearin' were so low ye could see his
ankles hangin' out over the tops of 'em. That's a fact, Nellie, an' I'm
not lyin'. I ginerally find that when a man has weak understandin' at
the lower end of 'im, he has it, too, at the upper. When I look at a
man's feet I kin tell nigh to a grasshopper what his head is like."

"I hope you don't judge me that way, Andy," Nell smilingly replied,
glancing down at her own feet.

"I'm only speakin' about men, Nellie. But yer feet are all right, an' I
want ye to try on these new shoes jist now. Shoes, like clothes, look
good or bad accordin' to the ones who wear 'em. My shoes have never
looked out of place on you yit, an' I've been makin' 'em fer ye ever
since ye was a little gal in frocks."

In a few minutes Nell was standing up with the new shoes on her feet,
while Andy's eyes glowed with admiration and satisfaction.

"They fit like a glove!" he exclaimed. "My! won't ye give that lawyer
feller a race when he comes to see ye ag'in."

"I don't want to see him again," the girl firmly declared. Her cheeks
were flushed, and her head was held proudly erect.

"Well said, Nellie!" Andy cried, rising to his feet. "Them's the best
words I've heard ye say in a long time. Jist let me git me fiddle, an'
we'll have a little spree here before ye ma comes back. We allus have
done it in the past when I finished yer shoes, an' now it'll be a double
celebration. I'm mighty glad ye've come to yer senses at last. Git ready
now, an' step yer purtiest."

Nothing loth, Nell pushed back a couple of chairs, and holding out her
skirts with both hands stepped heel and toe to Andy's lively air. She
was a good dancer, and her every movement was full of subtle charm. The
old man's eyes kindled with admiration as he watched her, and when she
at last ended with a graceful bow toward him, he was delighted.

"Good fer you, Nellie!" he complimented. "Ye never done that better.
It's them shoes, I guess, that makes ye step like that. An' what a purty
colour ye've got in yer cheeks. I wish Drum could see ye now."

Before Nell could reply, the door was suddenly opened and Mrs. Andrews
entered. Her face and manner told of some unusual excitement, but she
stopped short at the scene before her.

"Well, well!" she exclaimed. "What in the world are you two doing? Is
this the way you carry on when I leave the house? I expected to find you
both at work."

"When the cat's away the mice'll play, Mrs. Andrews," Andy reminded.
"We're jist celebratin' some finished work. Look at them shoes, now,"
and he pointed to Nell's feet. "Ain't they worth a little spree? You did
the same yerself when ye were young, an' I well remember that no one
could beat Kitty Witrow when she once got livened up to a good old jig.
Ain't that so, now?"

"You've certainly licked the Blarney Stone well," Mrs. Andrews retorted,
although it was evident that she was pleased at Andy's compliment. "I
may have been a good dancer when my feet were as light as my head. But
times have changed, and instead of hopping about to the jig of a fiddle,
I have to dance attendance upon every baby in the place."

"Used yer peppermint to-day, I s'pose? Ye should have used it last night
upon that city baby. It would have brought him to quicker than yer wine.
It allus does the trick."

"But he didn't have the colic, Andy. He needed something more
stimulating after his hard exertions. But, dear me! here I've been
talking and have forgotten all about that paper. Where did I put it,
anyway? Ah! here it is. Just read that, and learn for yourselves what's
going on right in our very midst. It's awful!"

Nell took the piece of paper from her mother's hand, and glanced at it
for a few seconds. Then noticing Andy's interest, she read aloud:

       *       *       *       *       *

     "To the People of New Brunswick.

     "We are among you as the foes of the British rule. We have
     taken up sword and gun to strike down the oppressor's rod, and
     to give you freedom. Too long have you been under the yoke of a
     cruel tyrant. England does not care for you, but uses you
     merely as a pawn in her unjust ambitions. The mighty Atlantic
     ocean separates you from her. People who live three thousand
     miles apart can have little or nothing in common. We are your
     next-door neighbours, with only an invisible boundary line
     dividing us. We are a great Republic, composed of free-thinking
     people, with Liberty as our motto. We threw off the tyrant's
     yoke and the bonds that were holding us in servitude. We are
     free, and we seek your freedom. People of New Brunswick, your
     ways are our ways, your speech is our speech, and we are all of
     one blood. Your interests are our interests, and we appeal to
     you to unite with us in driving the British rule from your
     land. Already we are concentrating our forces, and making ready
     on land and sea. From the Great Lakes to the Bay of Fundy
     twenty thousand men are ready to strike the blow of liberty and
     free Canada and the Provinces by the sea. Now is the time to be
     up and doing. The hour strikes; our plans are all laid, and
     sooner than the enemy expect the blow will fall. Join with us,
     people of New Brunswick, in the great and final downfall of
     England's rule in your midst. If you do all will be well with
     you, but if not vengeance will overtake you swift and complete.
     In the name of the great Fenian Brotherhood, the promoter of
     true Liberty, we appeal to you. The spirit of our organization
     is running like an electric current in the east, north and
     west, and thousands upon thousands warn England that her
     tyranny on this side of the Atlantic must cease."

       *       *       *       *       *

Nell's hands were trembling as she finished reading, and her face was
pale.

"Where did you get this, mother?" she asked.

"Down the road. Why, copies of that thing have been left at several
houses. Tommy Watkins picked this one up right at their gate. Just think
of that!"

"There must be Fenian spies among us," Nell declared. "And they ask us
to join them against England. They want to capture our country. But they
will never do it, will they, Andy? Our men will rise in arms and drive
them back. Hasn't the United States enough land without trying to take
ours?"

"It isn't the United States that's doin' this," Andy replied. "That
thing," and he pointed to the paper, "was drawn up by a number of
scalywags who hate England. I've been readin' in the paper about 'em.
They're a lot of Irish agitators who've been tryin' fer a long time to
free Ireland. They sent over a ship loaded with guns an' ammunition. But
Old Johnny Bull was up to their tricks, an' nabbed the ship before she
had time to land her supplies. Then when they couldn't git Ireland, they
turned their attention to Canada. They think that we'll side with 'em,
but they'll soon find out their mistake."

"But why are they allowed to do such a thing?" Nell asked. "We are at
peace with the United States, are we not?"

"Sure we are, an' Uncle Sammy's keepin' an eye over them scamps, you may
depend. He may not be on kissin' terms with Johnny Bull, owin' to the
Revolutionary War, but he's got enough sense not to git mixed up in a
nasty scrape because of them rattle-brained agitators. But fer all that,
when twenty thousand men kick up trouble, Sammy may have his hands
more'n full before he gits 'em under control. In the meantime, a lot of
'em may git into this province an' do considerable mischief. It'll be
jist as well to be ready if they do come."

"But they are here now," Mrs. Andrews declared. "Doesn't that paper say
so?"

"Quite true," Andy agreed. "They must have their spies among us, an'
it's our bizness to find out who they are. But, there, I must git to
work. Nellie, I guess ye'll have to postpone yer dancin' 'till the apple
peelin' party t'morrer night. If them shoes don't make ye step livelier
than ye ever did before, it won't be Andy Dooner's fault, not by a
jugful."




CHAPTER 17

THE PARTY


The apple peeling party at Caleb Britain's was an event of considerable
importance in the settlement. All looked forward to it with much
interest, especially the young people. The time of holding it depended
upon Andy Dooner's arrival, for without the music provided by the
shoemaker the affair could not be successfully carried out. Andy knew
this, and it always pleased him to know that his presence was necessary
on such a festive occasion. He enjoyed parties, and was particularly
fond of mingling with young men and women, chaffing them, and listening
to their merry talk.

The work was well under way when he and Nell arrived, and both received
a hearty welcome. It was an animated scene which met their eyes as they
entered and laid aside their wraps. The large kitchen was occupied by
the elders, while the dining-room and parlour were filled with young
people. The latter claimed Nell, and those in the kitchen detained Andy
for their own special benefit. The big fire-place sent out its genial
heat, mingling its brightness with that of the candles on the table. The
women peeled and cored the large rosy apples, while the men strung them
on shoemakers' twine. They were then hung to dry over the blackened
girders above. At times the women jokingly chided the men for their
slowness and clumsiness. Mrs. Zeb Martin was the most talkative and
entertaining one of them all. She was always listened to with respect,
not only on account of her age, but because she was reputed to be worth
considerable money left her by a distant relative. She was of good
stock, too, and although most of the people in the parish boasted of
their Loyalist descent, Mrs. Martin was considered somewhat superior
owing to the fact that one of her ancestors had been an English lord.

"Abe Hawker!" she exclaimed, laying down her apple and knife in her lap,
"you've got that twine all in a tangle. You're awful clumsy."

"Guess I am," Abe ruefully agreed. "By jolly! I never saw the like of
this stuff."

"You are better with the axe or plough, Abe. Here's Andy; let him have
it. He's used to handling twine."

"So I am, Mrs. Martin," Andy smilingly replied. "But I'm not much good
at unravellin' other peoples' tangles. It's as much as I kin do to keep
me own twine straight."

"Well, then, take a fresh piece and show Abe how to do it. He's as
awkward as a bear."

"I only use waxed twine, Mrs. Martin, with a good pig's bristle on the
end of it. Ye can't do much without wax, to my way of thinkin'. I need
it on me twine an' me fiddle strings to git the best results. Even bees
need it, an' ye know what wise little workers they are. My! my! what a
busy lot yez all are, an' so happy. Jist listen to them young folks,
too. What a time they're havin'. Ye'd never imagine the Fenyuns were
threatenin' us, would ye, now?"

"Have you heard anything lately, Andy?" Mrs. Martin anxiously inquired.
"We really shouldn't be here if there's any danger."

"But what about them pieces of paper scattered up an' down the road,
advisin' all to jine the Fenyuns an' overturn the British rule?"

"We were jist talkin' about that afore ye came in," Abe explained. "Sez
I to Becky, sez I, 'We shouldn't go to the party t'night, fer one kin
never tell when them Fenyuns may come.' But Becky wouldn't hear of sich
a thing. 'We've never missed, Abe,' sez she, 'so we're goin', Fenyuns
or no Fenyuns.' So here we are, an' we're goin' to stay. We got one
scare the night that goose, Seth Sloan, jumped into the store, an' by
jolly! I'm not goin' to be fooled ag'in in sich a hurry."

Having thus relieved his feelings, Abe bent to the task of straightening
out his tangled thread. The talk became general, and all had something
to say about the papers scattered from house to house. Many were the
surmises, but no satisfactory solution was found to the problem, as no
suspicious character had been seen along the road.

Andy listened to what was being said, and at times joined in the
conversation. But he was not as talkative as usual. He did not bubble
over with humorous jests and remarks as in the past. He turned his eyes
occasionally toward the merrymakers in the adjoining rooms. His mind
seemed to be more with them than with their elders. He longed to join
them, and very glad, indeed, was he when he heard his name called to
provide music for the dance.

"Dear me! are those giddy young things through with their work already!"
Mrs. Martin exclaimed. "They think more of dancing than anything else."

"Remember yer own young days, me dear," Andy reminded. "You could shake
a foot with the best of 'em, an' mebbe ye could do so now. I'd like to
see you an' Zeb out upon the floor once ag'in."

"Go along, you blatherskite. Zeb's all broken up with rheumatism, and my
joints are too stiff for any such nonsense. That's what hard work in
season and out does."

"But there's nuthin' like dancin' to keep ye limber, Mrs. Martin. Old
folks have a habit of droppin' it jist when they need it most. We'd all
live longer an' have fewer aches an' pains if we'd let up fer a while
an' jine in a little shindy with the youngsters. But, there, they're
callin' me, so I must git along."

Nell was not enjoying the evening so much as on former occasions.
Although she was as bright and pleasant as ever, and smiled when her
companions bantered her about the lawyer, she was not happy. Every time
the door opened and some one entered, she looked quickly up, hoping that
it might be Drum. But as the evening wore on and he did not appear, she
was puzzled. Never before had he been known to stay away from such an
affair as this. She could not help thinking about him, and her heart was
strangely stirred this night. She was mentally comparing Drum with the
lawyer, and she saw the great difference between the two. She had heard
of the incident at the store, how Drum had defended her honour and
forced Seth to take back his lies. The thought of his nobleness thrilled
her soul, and she longed to thank him. But she had not seen him since
that night at the hall, and she had no idea what had become of him.

Nell was becoming weary of the talk and confusion around her when Andy
entered the parlour. She saw him looking keenly around the room as if
searching for some one. Seeing Nell, he crossed over to where she was
sitting. He was holding his violin in his hands, and as he sat down by
her side he gently thrummed the strings with the fingers of his right
hand.

"Are ye goin' to open the dance, Nellie?" he asked in a low voice.

"I don't feel like dancing," the girl replied. "I may after a while,
though."

"Ah, I understand, an' don't blame ye. Mebbe he'll be here later. I
can't make out what's keepin' him. He never missed before."

Nell shot a swift glance at Andy and the colour rose to her cheeks. She
knew that the old man had read her mind, and it pleased her to know that
she had his honest sympathy. She could talk to him better than to anyone
else.

"What do you suppose is keeping Drum away to-night?" she at length
questioned.

"I'm not sartin', Nellie, but I have me strong suspicion. When a man
gits as old as me, he knows a thing or two which he didn't fathom when
young. This fiddle of mine is a delicate instrument an' needs proper
handlin'. It ain't every one who kin understand it. An' so with the
human heart. It has ways which are sometimes past findin' out. Now, Drum
has a great heart, as tender, sensitive and responsive as this fiddle
when touched jist right."

"Hush! hush! Andy," Nell whispered, her face now crimson. "Every one in
the room will hear you."

"No one kin hear me here, Nellie. Don't ye see we're by ourselves? The
rest are gittin' ready fer the dance, an' they're callin' to me fer the
music. But what I said is right, remember. Drum won't bother ye so long
as he thinks that lawyer chap is the favoured one. He's too much of a
man fer that. No one kin fool with a heart sich as he's got. I know the
breed from which he sprung--good old Bluenose blood from generation to
generation, as the Great Book says."

Andy played his best this night, for he was keyed up more than was his
wont. His eyes shone with animation as he watched the various couples
whirling before him. But when Nell came upon the floor he kept his eyes
fixed upon her face. He could easily tell that she was not enjoying
herself, and when she was through she came and sat down by his side.

"I am tired, Andy," she whispered, "and am going to sit here by you for
the rest of the evening. You want company, don't you?"

"I'm allus glad to have you with me, Nellie," the old man replied as he
rosined his violin strings. "Ye want to go home, an' I do, too. But I'll
have to play a while longer. Hello! what's the racket now?"

Nell looked quickly up and saw that Seth had entered the room. He was
standing just inside the parlour door, gazing upon the company. He had
not removed his hat, which was slouched to the left side of his head.
The expression in his eyes seemed to challenge all in the room as he
looked from one to another until they rested upon Nell.

"Who said I am a coward?" he demanded.

No one spoke, for all had been talking and joking about him ever since
the night of the meeting in the hall. They had called him all sorts of
names, but no one felt inclined now to mention them to his face. An
intense silence pervaded the room as Seth looked triumphantly around.

"Ye've been callin' me a coward," he declared. "But ye don't dare to say
it when I'm here. Ye believe what Drum Rowan says about me. He's a d----
liar, that's what he is."

At these words Nell rose quickly to her feet and confronted Seth. Her
eyes were ablaze with anger, and her hands were clenched.

"I called you a coward, Seth Sloan," she said. "And you are a coward,
and the meanest one, at that. You lied about me and Mr. Mason, and Drum
Rowan made you deny what you said. And now you call him a liar when he
is not here to defend himself. You should be ashamed to be seen among
respectable people."

Seth was taken completely back by this unexpected turn of affairs. Never
for a moment had he imagined that a woman would say such things to him,
and Nell of all women. But to see her standing so proudly and defiantly
before him aroused the beast within him. He had taken just enough liquor
to make him reckless and to buoy him up with artificial courage.

"So yer takin' Drum's part, are ye?" he sneered. "I thought ye'd thrown
him overboard fer that thing of a lawyer from the city. But I'm not
goin' to fight with a woman. Where are the men?"

"Here's one of 'em," Abe Hawker roared, laying his heavy right hand upon
Seth's shoulder. "I've had it in fer you, young man, ever since that
night ye gave us sich a scare about the Fenyuns. Now, what's the
meanin' of all this racket?"

"People have been callin' me a coward," Seth explained, trying to free
himself from that tightening grip.

"Well, an' what of it? You are a coward, as Nell said, an' if ye had any
sense left, ye wouldn't come here to do so much blattin'."

"It's none of your bizness, Abe Hawker," Seth angrily retorted. "Let go
my arm or I'll punch yer face."

"Naw ye won't, ye young rooster. You jist flop down an' stay where I put
ye."

Suiting the action to the word, Abe gave Seth a vigorous shove which
sent him sprawling over a nearby chair.

"Now, look here," Abe continued when Seth had wriggled himself into an
upright position, "I'm in earnest, an' what I say I mean. If ye don't
behave yerself fer the rest of the evenin' I'll tie ye into sich a
tangle that yer own mother wouldn't know ye. By jolly! I kin hardly keep
me hands off ye now."

As Abe glared down upon his victim, Andy struck up a lively tune, and in
a few minutes the dancing was again well under way. No one seemed to pay
any attention to Seth, who glowered upon them all, with Abe standing by
like a watchful bulldog. When that dance was ended, rolls, biscuits and
cakes were brought in by Mrs. Britain and several other women. But Nell
did not feel like eating. Her head was aching and she wanted to go home.
The excitement through which she had passed had unnerved her, and she
could not bear the sight of Seth as he sat staring at her from the other
side of the room. She whispered a word to Andy, and rose to her feet.
The shoemaker looked at her keenly for a few seconds, and then silently
followed her as she left the room. Together they left the house, after
they had bidden Mr. and Mrs. Britain good-night. The air was cold, and
Nell drew her thick scarf about her throat. Andy walked by her side, his
violin under his arm.

"You should not have come with me," Nell at length remarked. "How will
they get along at the party without you?"

"I'm not worryin' about that, Nellie," Andy replied. "I've got something
more important on me mind. But, hello! who's that?"

"It's only Hettie Daggert," Nell explained, somewhat absentmindedly.
"That girl seems to be everywhere. I am surprised, though, that she is
so far away from home at this time of night."

"But wasn't she hustlin', Nellie! She went by us like a fox with a dog
at its tail. I wonder--"

"What are you wondering about, Andy?" Nell queried.

"What's that yer askin' me, Nellie? What am I wonderin' at? Well, fer
one thing, I was wonderin' how long the soles of that gal's boots'll
last at the rate she's clippin' over these rough roads."

"Are you on the lookout for business, Andy?"

"I allus am, Nellie. But I don't have to hunt fer it. I've more'n I kin
do these days. Tom an' Bill Daggert are expectin' me at their place, so
I guess I'll 'tend to them next. They need lookin' after, them fellers
do. It's a caution the way they wear out boots an' moccasins."




CHAPTER 18

HORSE-SENSE


The next morning Andy worked with almost feverish haste. Nell was
surprised at this, and also at his unusual silence. Sometimes when she
spoke to him he did not hear. She believed that he must be thinking
about the party, and was offended at her, perhaps, for her boldness in
confronting Seth. He had never mentioned that incident, and she wondered
why.

"What is the matter with you this morning, Andy?" she at last asked,
turning toward him from the table where she was rolling dough.

"Nuthin', Nellie," Andy replied, pausing in his work to look at her.
"What makes ye think there is?"

"Because you are so quiet and absent-minded. I have spoken to you
several times this morning, but you never heard a word I said."

"Is that so! Well, that's queer. Me mind must have been wool-gatherin'."

"Thinking about last night, Andy?"

"Mebbe so, Nellie."

"And you are not angry at what I did and said?"

"Angry! I should say not. I was proud of ye, an' I was jist goin' to
jump to yer side when Abe Hawker loomed up. I wish Drum could have seen
ye then. I liked the way ye stood up fer him. It did me old heart good."

"I wonder where Drum was last night, Andy?"

"An' so do I. It's not nat'ral fer him to miss a party. I never knew him
to do so before. But I believe there must be some good reason, an' I
have an inklin' as to what it is."

"You have?"

"Wouldn't be surprised. I was young once meself, an' understand a few
things. If I'd had the feelin' that my company wasn't agreeable to the
one gal I thought most of in all the world, ye couldn't have got me
within a mile of her. So I guess that's the way with Drum. I like that
good old Bluenose spirit which lifts a man above the common herd. Ye
don't find him snifflin' an' whinin' around after a gal when he knows
she doesn't care fer him. Not a bit of it. He's too proud fer that, Drum
is."

Andy continued his work and did not notice the blush that appeared upon
Nell's cheeks. Rapidly and skilfully he drove the pegs into the sole of
the boot upon his lap, the hammer keeping time with his thoughts. When
it was finished, he held it up for inspection.

"There, Nellie, that'll stand yer dad some hard thumpin'. I hope he'll
use the toe of it upon Seth Sloan if he comes snookin' around here. I'd
like to give him a good bootin' meself, an' if I wasn't so old an' stiff
I'd a done it last night."

"I don't want to think about him, Andy," Nell declared. "It makes me
shiver when I remember how he glared at me. He's changed so much of
late. Perhaps his scare that night when he thought the Fenians were
after him has affected his brain. He never acted so rudely before."

"H'm, he's not afraid of the Fenyuns now, Nellie. Why, he never mentions
'em."

"I had not noticed that. But why is he not afraid of them?"

"I can't tell fer sure, but I have me suspicions."

"Do you mind telling me what they are?"

"Ye'll promise not to breathe a word?"

"Certainly."

"Well, then, bend down an' I'll whisper in yer ears. There, that's
better. Now, listen. I believe that Seth is bein' used by the Fenyuns."

"Andy!" Nell's face turned suddenly pale. "I am astonished to hear you
say such a thing."

"Mebbe ye are, me dear, but I guess ye'd be more surprised if I told ye
all I know."

"How did you find out?"

"Don't ask me, Nellie, fer I can't very well explain. We say that we
have five senses, hearin', seein', smellin', tastin', an' feelin'. But I
have another which I call 'horse-sense,' an' a mighty useful thing it is
at times. It can't be explained; ye can't reason about it; but when ye
have it in yer make-up it helps ye to grasp things which the other
senses don't."

"So it was your horse-sense which made you suspicious of Seth, was it?"

"Indeed it was, Nellie, an' that's the funny thing about it."

"But suppose your horse-sense is all wrong? It seems to me that Seth is
the last one you should suspect of helping the Fenians when he is so
frightened of them."

"Ah, that's jist where one's horse-sense comes in handy. Ye see, it's
this way; them Fenyun spies heard about Seth's scare, an' knowin' what a
miserable thing he is, they said to 'emselves, 'That's the feller we
want to help us out. We'll git him to do our dirty work, an' no one'll
suspect him 'cause he's so scart of us.' Then one of 'em met him, talked
to him kind an' nice, held out the bait, an' he bit good an' quick.
That's what me horse-sense told me."

"But what proof have you, Andy?" Nell was still doubtful of his
horse-judgment.

"What proof? I have enough, Nellie. Fer instance, did ye notice what
Seth was wearin' on his feet last night?"

"No, I did not. I never looked at his feet. His face was bad enough."

"Ah, that's jist like a woman. But I looked at his feet, the place where
I kin ginerally jedge a man, as I told ye t'other day. An' what d'ye
think he was wearin'? Why, a pair of new fact'ry boots! Jist think of
that!"

"Well, and why shouldn't he, Andy? That's his own business."

"Ah, Nellie, ye've got to go deeper than that. Now, where did Seth git
the money to buy them boots? An' what took him to town in sich a hurry?
Did ye notice, too, the new suit of clothes he was wearin' in the place
of his old homespun duds? I did if you didn't. Now, where did he git the
money to buy sich an expensive outfit?"

"Earned it, I suppose."

"Earned it, yes. But how? Seth hasn't been doin' any work since he laid
up his old boat last fall. He didn't have much money then, so I hear,
an' he couldn't git a cent's worth of credit at any store. But he kin go
to town an' buy a fine suit of clothes an' fact'ry boots. Where did he
git the money fer them?"

"On credit, perhaps."

"Not on yer life, Nellie. A feller sich as Seth has got to pay spot-cash
when he goes to the city. They know him too well down there."

"Well, where do you think he got the money, then?"

"From the Fenyuns; that's where he got it. They've paid him well, mark
my word, fer somethin' he's been doin' fer 'em. That's where his money
came from."

Into Nell's eyes came a startled look, and her cheeks turned pale. She
paused in her work of cutting the dough with the cutter, and turned
around.

"Andy!" she exclaimed, "that's a terrible thing for you to say!"

"Mebbe so, Nellie, but it'll be more terrible fer Seth when he's caught.
I wouldn't like to be in his boots then. I hope to goodness he'll be
wearin' them fact'ry things when the soldiers git their hands on him.
I'd be ashamed to see him marched off with the boots I made fer him on
his feet."

"Do you feel sure enough about what you say to tell on him, Andy? You
should be very careful."

"Oh, I'm not worryin' about that. By the time I'm ready to tell, I'll
know all that'll be necessary."

Nell felt in no mood for further talk just then. She went on with her
work, cutting out the cakes and placing them in the big pan. But she was
doing much thinking, and a weight was pressing upon her heart. She had
known Seth from childhood, and they had gone to school together, and
although she had lost all respect for him of late, she felt grieved at
his villainy. If what Andy said were true, Seth would be either shot as
a traitor or put in prison. Perhaps he did not fully realise what he was
doing. Should he not be warned before it was too late?

With this idea in her mind she turned toward Andy, and found him
watching her intently. In his eyes she noted an expression such as she
had never seen there before. He was looking at her, and yet he seemed
not to see her, but beholding something afar off. In his right hand he
was holding the boot he had just finished, and he was sitting tense and
upright.

"What is the matter, Andy?" she asked.

"Nuthin', Nellie, nuthin'," was the startled reply. "I was jist seein'
somethin'; that's all. An' I was wonderin'."

"You are doing a great deal of wondering this morning, it seems to me,
Andy."

"I am, I surely am. An' it's necessary, I guess. Now, I was jist
wonderin' whether ye'd better do it or not."

"Do what?"

"Warn Seth, fer that's what ye was thinkin' about."

"Andy! How in the world did you know that?"

"Me sixth sense told me. I know it's but nat'ral ye should take an
interest in Seth, as ye two were brought up together. Yer heart's so big
that ye'd hate to see him git into a nasty scrape, bad as he is. But
ye'd better not, Nellie, as it might spile everything."

Nell now stared at Andy in amazement. She had always admired this
wandering man, but never before had she suspected him of reading other
minds so truly.

"But shouldn't Seth be warned?" she at length found voice to ask. "There
might still be time to save him from disgrace and, perhaps, death. A
word in time might mean much."

"I'm afraid it would spile everything, Nellie. There may be other
traitors in our midst, so we want to catch the hull outfit. If ye warn
Seth, he'll pass on the word to his companions in this diviltry, an'
then we kin do nuthin'. It might be hard on Seth, but it'll be a darn
sight harder on the entire country if this plot isn't stopped, an' the
guilty ones punished. Jist let it rest at that, Nellie, fer a while, an'
don't worry yer purty head too much."

Nell, however, could not help worrying, and all through the rest of the
morning she tried to think of some way whereby Seth might be warned and
saved from trouble. She went on quietly with her work and little was
said in the kitchen. Andy gave the finishing touches to the last pair of
boots he was making, and then rolled up his leather apron. He also
collected his tools and placed them in his waterproof bag. When this had
been done, he picked up his violin and drew the bow across the strings
with a sudden swish. The music was wild and at times almost uncanny.
Nell had never heard him play in such a manner before. He seemed to be
giving expression to a deep passion of soul, and his eyes glowed with a
bright light. So overcome was he with his emotion, that he rose to his
feet and stood in the middle of the room apparently unconscious of what
was going on around him.

And as he stood there, Mrs. Andrews came downstairs, and a few minutes
later the Squire entered the kitchen. They, too, were impressed by
Andy's playing, and his transformed appearance, and stood watching him
with awed curiosity.

At length the music ceased, and the player looked around in surprise.
Then a smile overspread his face as he noticed his interested audience.

"By crickets!" he exclaimed, "I'm glad I'm here."

"Why, Andy, where did you imagine you were?" the Squire asked.

"Chasin' the Fenyuns. Why, I was right after 'em, an' they was hustlin'
fer all they were worth. My! I'm sorry it wasn't true."

"I'd see the doctor, Andy, if I were you," Mrs. Andrews suggested. "You
can't be altogether well if that's the way you feel."

"Ah, it's the power of music, madam. When I'm really worked up, an' git
sawin' on that fiddle, everything that's in me heart comes out with a
rush. It's the only way I kin git relief. It's queer, but I was allus
like that, an' guess I allus will be."

"H'm, it's a good thing it doesn't attack you often, Andy," the Squire
replied. "I wouldn't want you around here if it did. Now, while you've
been sawing on that thing I've been sawing at the wood-pile. That's the
way farmers have to express their feelings, and it makes one mighty
hungry, too. Is dinner ready, ma?"

"Land sakes, no!" his wife exclaimed. "Hurry up, Nell, and set the
table."




CHAPTER 19

ON THE TRACK OF THINGS


Andy did not get away until after supper, although he planned to go
earlier. Squire Andrews induced him to stay the afternoon to mend some
harness, and this took longer than he had expected.

"I'll have to do some lively hustlin' to git to the Daggerts to-night,"
he declared as he bade the Andrews good-bye. "In a way, I'd like to stay
here 'till mornin', but, then, I'd lose the best part of the day
travellin'. I'm quite a night owl, anyway, an' me eyes are used to the
darkness."

He sped on his way down the road, drawing his sled loaded with his kit
and his few other belongings. This was his life, always moving from
place to place, repairing things, and carrying a cheery greeting
wherever he went. He stopped at the store and had a friendly drink with
the storekeeper, and heard some of the gossip of the parish. He knew
that the Daggerts would be anxious for the latest bits of news, so it
was necessary for him to be well prepared. He purchased a little candy,
too, for Hettie.

"That poor gal doesn't git many sweets, let me tell ye that," he
explained as he stowed the package away into a pocket of his jacket.

"Who's that you're talking about?" the storekeeper asked.

"Oh, Hettie Daggert. I thought I told ye. I'm on me way there now to do
some cobblin'. They're a queer pair, Tom an' Bill, but I git good fun
out of 'em."

"Well, you're about the only one, then, who does, Andy. It's more than
I do with the big bill they're owing me."

"Why, I thought Captain Rowan was payin' fer their grub."

"He is now. But they got supplies from me before that, and they have
never settled. Hettie carries the grub, and she left here just before
you came in. She looked pale and peeked to-night, so I thought."

"Guess a little candy will brighten her up," Andy replied, as he bade
the storekeeper good-night and continued his journey.

About half a mile farther on, the road wound its way through a grove of
thick fir and spruce trees. It was very dark at this spot, and
travellers were always glad when through the weird place, for tales were
told of strange noises which had been heard here at night. Andy had
almost reached the farther end of the grove, when the sound of human
voices directly ahead arrested his attention. He stopped short, and
presently saw a figure step quickly across the road. Cautiously now Andy
advanced, and for a while nothing more could be seen. He was nearly out
of the grove, when through the gloom he saw Seth Sloan and Hettie
Daggert but a few rods away. They did not see him, so quietly had he
approached, and so intent were they in conversing with each other. What
they were saying he could not hear, although he had his suspicion. He
did not know what to do. His first impulse was to step to the side of
the road until they were through. But upon second thought he decided to
go on and surprise them. He was just upon the point of doing so when
Seth and Hettie parted, the former climbing the hillside to a field
above, while the latter hurried down the road. Andy was really glad of
this, for he did not wish them to have any idea of his presence. His
mind, however, was now more active than ever as he moved forward. He
longed to keep Hettie in view, but so swift-footed was she that in a few
minutes she was out of sight.

Coming at length to the road leading to Tom Sanson's house, the toe of
Andy's right foot touched a piece of paper. He stooped, felt around with
his hand and soon had the paper in his fingers. With a chuckle of
satisfaction, he thrust it into a pocket, hurried along, and did not
stop again until he reached Captain Rowan's house. The door was at once
opened in response to his knock, and Margaret stood before him. Her face
brightened with pleasure when she saw the old shoemaker, and she at once
invited him inside.

"Father will be so pleased to see you," she told him. "He is very
restless to-night. Bring in your sled, and leave it in the kitchen."

The captain gave Andy a hearty welcome, and held his hand in a firm grip
as he looked up appealingly into his face.

"It's good of you to come to see me, Andy," he said. "Few and rare are
the people who visit me these days. When I was well and returned from
the sea, all my friends came, and we always had a great time. But now
they have deserted me. I wonder what is the reason."

"Don't let that worry ye, captain," Andy replied, as he sat down by his
side. "All the folks are purty busy these days with their work, an'
gittin' ready fer the Fenyuns when they come. My! how nice an' cosy yez
are here. I wish t'goodness I had sich a place where I could spend me
old days instead of allus movin' from pillar to post."

"But think what others would miss," Margaret reminded. "How should we
get along if we did not have you to visit us from time to time? And,
besides, would you be content to remain in one place? You would be like
father here. He longs to be at sea again."

"Mebbe yer right, me dear," Andy agreed, looking admiringly at the
bright face before him. "I would miss the sight of you, a'right, an'
several other gals I could mention. I've had a fine time at Squire
Andrews' house. Nell's a great gal, an' no mistake."

"She is a dear, Andy, and I am longing to see her again. I wish she
lived nearer."

"I don't," the captain emphatically declared. "Squire Andrews is too
near as it is. Little did I ever imagine that I'd be stranded on shore
to have to put up with such a man."

"Oh, you'll soon be away from here when yer foot gits better," Andy
soothed.

"Do you think so?" The captain leaned eagerly forward, and peered
intently into the shoemaker's face. "Do you think I'll ever be able to
go to sea again?"

"Sure ye will. Why, what's to hinder ye? You're a young man yit, an'
that foot'll soon be well. There was Jed Brown, ye remember him, a much
older man than you, who was so badly smashed up that no one thought he'd
ever be good fer anything ag'in. But he came around a'right, an' went to
sea fer years. An' there are others I could mention. You'll be as smart
as ever, captain, if ye keep up heart. What's an injured foot to a man
like you?"

"It's good to hear you say that, Andy." The captain sighed as he leaned
back in his chair. "It's the first word of encouragement I've had since
I've been laid up. Perhaps I do look too much on the dark side."

"Then ye musn't do it, captain. You're too good a man to be mopin' an'
complainin'. If I'd had the experience that you've had, why I'd jist lay
back an' think of all the great times I've had. Yer mind must be so
crammed full of wonderful things that ye shouldn't have no time at all
to mourn or whine. Now, whenever I git in the dumps, I jist recall some
of the good times I've had an' the funny things I've heard. They're the
best things I know of to drive away the blue-divils."

"But you've never been penned up like I have, Andy," the captain
replied. "It's well enough to talk about being bright when there's
nothing the matter with you. But when you're laid up such as I am, it's
quite a different thing. You've never had that experience."

"No, mebbe I haven't, captain. Neither have I sailed on a great ocean
clipper sich as the 'Racin' Queen.' I've lived only a quiet humdrum
life, an' have tried to make the most of it. I ain't got much to look
back upon. But if I had what you've got, why, man, I'd be happy fer the
rest of me life, even though I had to live in a pig-pen."

The captain's eyes brightened and a smile overspread his face. Memories
stirred within him, and in Andy he had a good listener.

"Bring us some toddy, Margaret," he ordered. "Yes, I've led a great
life, and no mistake. How I long to be out again on the ocean, and to
feel the wind blowing fresh and free. There is no life like that."

Thus he talked, and hardly noticed when his daughter placed two
well-filled glasses upon the table. Andy kept his eyes fixed upon the
captain's face most of the time, and to all outward appearance he was
paying rapt attention to what was being said. But occasionally he looked
at Margaret who was seated on a low stool near the fire. He saw the
flames illuminating her fair cheeks and brow and playing upon her dark
wavy hair. His old heart always stirred at the sight of a beautiful
woman, and it did so now. He thought of the lonely life she led with
such a cranky father, and yet she was always patient and loving. If he
were only young again! He gave a deep sigh as he mused upon this, and
the captain's words fell upon his unheeding ears. Margaret looked
quickly up.

"You are getting tired, Andy," she remarked. "And you must be, too,
father, after your talk. You can continue this in the morning."

"But I'm not goin' to stay here all night," Andy announced. "I must git
on me way to the Daggerts. They'll be in bed, no doubt, but Hettie'll
let me in."

"Stay here to-night," Margaret pleaded. "You can get away early in the
morning. It is so nice to have you, and we need you more than the
Daggerts do. It is getting late, anyway."

Andy was really nothing loth to remain. He was very comfortable, and
looked forward to a pleasant chat with his fair hostess later on. With
considerable grumbling and complaining the captain at last bade them
good-night and shuffled off to his room. It was then that Andy's heart
was made happy as Margaret sat down again upon the stool in front of the
fire. They talked quietly of many things, and in the wandering shoemaker
the girl found a true sympathiser. She told about her father's worries
over the Daggert brothers, and how Drum was trying to make up for their
failure. They did not discuss the problems of the day, and the question
of Confederation was not once mentioned. Andy let Margaret do most of
the talking, for he knew what a relief it must be for her to express her
heart and mind to a sympathetic listener. When at last the fire was low,
and the clock warned them of the lateness of the hour, Andy rose to his
feet.

"This has been a great evenin' to me," he remarked. "I'm glad I stayed
fer it's much nicer here than at the Daggerts. It was good of you to
tell me about yer troubles. Ye must keep up courage, lassie, an'
everything'll come out a'right. Ye was never intended to be hidden away
all yer life. Some day he'll come, me dear, the man after yer own heart,
an' then ye'll be happy. There, now, don't git confused, fer ye needn't
mind what an old man sich as me says."

No sooner had Andy entered the little bedroom assigned to him, than he
drew from his pocket the paper he had found by the side of the road and
held it close to the light of the candle. He read it carefully, and as
he folded it up, there was a far-away look in his eyes.

"Jist as I suspected," he mused. "The Fenyuns are purty busy, an' I'm
sorry fer the ones they're usin' as their tools in their dirty work. But
I must git deeper'n this, an' keep me eyes an' ears wide open. So they
think they'll capture Canada, do they? Well, we'll see about that. Guess
there'll be something doin' before long, from all appearances. I'm on
the track of things, anyway, but how it'll all end, the Lord only
knows."




CHAPTER 20

SUSPICION CONFIRMED


The Daggert brothers were glad to see Andy, and they welcomed him in
their gruff manner. They knew that the old shoemaker would have the
latest news of the parish, and his presence was a pleasant diversion in
their rough life. Except for an occasional visit from Drum Rowan, they
were left severely to themselves, as their neighbours had no use for
such people. They were most always spoken of in terms of contempt, and
generally referred to as "Slinking Tom" and "Shifty Bill." But Andy made
himself at home wherever he went, and it was not long before he was
joking with the brothers about the line upon the floor.

"So that's the way yer livin', eh?" he queried. "Can't agree on nuthin',
so ye must put that chalk mark there to divide the house. Why don't ye
fight it out an' be done with it?"

"Us have fit," Tom explained, "so that's why us put the line thar."

"Ho, ho, nice brothers you fellers are," Andy roared. "I'd like to give
yez both a good hidin'. An' I'd do it, too, this very minute but fer the
fear of hurtin' sich babies."

Tom and Bill grinned at this banter, while Hettie chuckled.

"Give it to 'em, Andy," she cried. "They'll take anything from you, so
lay it on hard. I'm sick an' tired yangin' to 'em."

"I should think ye would be, me dear," and Andy turned his eyes upon
the girl. "Why, I'd leave 'em if I was you, an' go off with some nice
lookin' feller. Now, if I was only as young as I used to be, I'd carry
ye right away with me from these two bears. It's a wonder to me that
some young chap hasn't toted ye off before this. Yer lookin' younger an'
purtier every day, Hettie. An' ye've got a nice colour in yer cheeks,
too. There, now, don't git all red at what I say, fer she shouldn't mind
an old friend's gass."

While thus talking, Andy was busy unpacking his outfit, and arranging
the tools in order upon the low bench Hettie had brought for his use.
The brothers watched his every movement, and when he had at last settled
down to work their eyes shone with expectancy. It was news they wanted,
and their visitor was longer than usual in satisfying them.

"My, my! what a wreck!" Andy exclaimed, as he examined a coarse heavy
boot. "An' I made that jist a year ago! D'ye expect me to mend that
thing, Tom?"

"Guess ye kin do it, a'right," was the reply. "Ye kin mend 'most
anything, 'cept yer tongue. That's sharp as ever. What's new, Andy?"

"Ho, ho, I knew ye was waitin' fer news. I was sartin ye wanted me to
blab out everything the minute I got inside the door. But I haven't much
to tell ye this time. There's nuthin' new about politics, an' ye ain't
interested in church matters. If ye was I could tell ye what the
parson's sermon was about the last time I was at church, an' how many
babies were christened. Like to hear?"

"Naw, us don't care 'bout sermons an' babies," Bill growled from the
other side of the room. "Us want news."

"But I want to hear about the babies," Hettie declared. "Whose was 'em?
An' what was their names? Did 'em cry when the parson took 'em in his
arms? How was 'em dressed? I never saw a chris'n in me life."

Andy stooped, thrust several pieces of sole-leather into a tub of water,
and then turned his attention to the boot upon his lap.

"Was ye ever at church, Hettie?" he asked.

"Not since mum died," the girl replied. "She took me sometimes."

"An' yer dad never took ye?"

"Him take me!" The tone of her voice expressed scorn, surprise and
amusement. "Dad at church! Lord!"

"Shet up, Hettie," her father sternly ordered.

"Will if I want to, dad. You can't make me. Try it, now."

"Come, come," Andy interposed. "It's no use fightin' over sich a little
thing as that. Ye want to hear about them babies, don't ye, Hettie?"

"'Deed I do, Andy. But don't git me riled ag'in, or I might do something
despert. Tell me 'bout the babies."

"Well, let me see. S'pose I tell ye their names first. I can't remember
all, but one was called David Obadiah Moses, an' another, Sarah
Mehetibel Jane. Good old names, most of 'em straight from the Scripters.
But I do pity them youngsters with havin' to carry sich loads 'round
with 'em fer the rest of their lives."

"How was 'em dressed, Andy?"

"Dressed! Why, like all babies, of course."

"But not all alike."

"No, no, surely not. Now, how was 'em dressed? Let me see. Well, they
was all rigged up in white, with pink ribbons here an' there, an----"

"Ugh! us don't want to hear 'bout babies," Tom interrupted. "Talk
sense."

"Bless my heart!" Andy exclaimed. "Isn't talkin' about babies sense
enough? What d'ye want me to talk about, then?"

"Us want news. Babies ain't news."

"They ain't! Why, ye old alligator, the arrival of a little baby in the
parish is the best news I know of. All the women git so excited, an'
run right off to see it. I wish t'goodness, Tom, that you had a baby or
two in this house. If ye had, you an' Bill would have something to keep
ye busy, an' make ye quit yer silly actions."

Andy went on with his work, but out of the corner of his eye he saw more
than the brothers imagined. He knew very well what they wished him to
talk about, and he was anxious to find out how long he could put them
off. He wanted one of them to suggest the subject which he felt was
uppermost in their minds. He had ripped the soles off the boots, and had
the lap-stone and hammer all ready to beat out the softened
sole-leather, when Tom rose from his chair and came close to his side.

"Tell us 'bout the Fenyuns," he ordered. "Us don't want to hear no more
'bout babies."

"So that's what ye want to know about, eh?" Andy exclaimed in apparent
surprise. "Gittin' scared, Tom? Afraid they'll pounce upon ye?"

"Yaas, mebbe," Tom droned as he sidled back to his seat. "Yaas, mebbe."

"An' yer right, Tom. The Fenyuns are gittin' very close, right on top of
us, a'most. Why, it's terrible the things that have happened up river.
Ye've heard, I s'pose?"

"Naw, us heard nuthin'. What is't?"

"An' ye haven't heard nuthin'? My! that's queer, an' it's all over the
country about them spies an' the fearful things they're doin'."

"What?" The question came as one from both men. Hettie leaned over the
table, her staring eyes fixed intently upon the cobbler's face.

"There, now, don't git excited," Andy continued. "People who mind their
own bizness, sich as we do, have no reason to fear. It's only the ones
who git mixed up with them Fenyuns that have cause to shiver an' shake.
I wouldn't be in sich folks' shoes fer all the money in the world. Why,
me life wouldn't be worth as much as a muskeeter in mid-winter."

"H-how? how? W-what d'ye mean?" Tom gasped, thoroughly aroused for once.
"Us don't understand yer words."

"Strange that yez ain't heard nuthin'," Andy mused. "Yez must have been
asleep. But I guess some people ain't been sleepin' much since they
heard about it."

"Us heard nuthin'," Bill declared. "Fer God's sake! tell us quick."

The eager Daggerts did not detect the slight gleam of triumph in the
shoemaker's eyes as he looked down at his work, neither did they hear
the silent prayer for forgiveness for his deception and the lie he was
about to utter.

"I'll tell yez," he slowly promised, "pervidin' yez don't git too
nervous an' excited. Livin' as yez do here, away from everybody else, it
might upset yez to learn that sich bloodthirsty critters are hoverin'
around. Mebbe it's jist as well fer yez not to know."

"Tell us, Andy," Hettie pleaded. "I kin stand it, even if Dad an' Unc
can't. It don't matter much 'bout 'em, anyway. They've got no feelin's."

"An' yer sure it won't make ye lay awake at night, Hettie, starin' at
the winder expectin' to see some awful face lookin' in at ye, an'
listenin' to every sound, thinkin' it might be the Fenyuns creepin' upon
ye? Are ye sure it won't, now?"

"No-no, n-no; t-tell us." The girl's face was white, and she glanced
somewhat fearfully around. "W-what happened up r-river?"

"I don't know all, so can't tell ye everything. But it seems there'd
been spies hangin' around fer a while. They paid one poor half-daft
critter up there to scatter papers along the road an' at the gates. It
was all done so quietly that no one suspected that the enemy was workin'
in sich a sneakin' way. Then one day that poor deluded feller was found
dead, an' all believed he'd been killed, though fer a time they couldn't
understand why."

"Who killed 'im?" Hettie asked in a voice that was tense with anxiety.

"I'm comin' to that if ye'll jist give me time. Now, let me see, where
did I leave off? Oh, I remember now. It was where the Fenyuns killed
that poor chap so's he couldn't tell on 'em when the so'gers came."

"How did the so'gers find out?" Tom asked.

"Can't say. But they found out, a'right, an' fer fear that feller'd give
'em away, the Fenyuns killed 'im, that's what they did. Then, when the
so'gers had caught one of the spies, he confessed to the hull affair,
an' told how they'd been working' fer months to git ready fer the raid."

"Did 'im!" Bill had leaped to his feet, and was standing wild-eyed
before Andy. Tom, too, had left his seat, and was glancing fearfully
around.

"Keep calm, boys," Andy soothed in a soft voice. "There's nuthin' to
fear. The Fenyuns won't touch people who mind their own bizness, an'
don't git mixed up in this nasty affair. Yes, that spy 'fessed up,
a'right, an' gave the so'gers the names of a number of traitors they had
workin' fer 'em."

"Did 'im!" Tom's eyes were now glaring wildly, and he was greatly
agitated. Andy pretended not to notice his excitement.

"He sartinly did, Tom, an' he told a hull lot about the plans they had
made."

"What was 'em?"

"Oh, I don't know all, but one was to hire folks at different places
along the river to scatter their papers an' do other dirty work fer 'em.
Then, if they found out they were discovered, the spies were to kill the
very ones who had worked fer 'em, like they did that poor feller up
river, so's they couldn't be brought up as witnesses."

"Does ye know any names?" Bill hoarsely asked.

"I can't remember any, but the so'gers have 'em all down on paper, so
they'll git the traitors, pervidin' the Fenyuns don't git 'em first."

"Will 'em, d'ye think?" Tom whispered.

"Who?"

"The Fenyuns. Will 'em kill first."

"I wouldn't be surprised. That spy said the Fenyuns were everywhere,
watchin' the ones workin' fer 'em. They're prowlin' around the houses,
an' hidin' along the roads to be sure that their orders are bein'
carried out. At a minute's notice, he said, sudden death might come to a
hull lot of people up an' down the river, an' the neighbours 'ud never
know who done the deed. My! I wouldn't like to be in them poor deluded
fellers' boots jist now. They kin never tell when a knife or a bullet'll
find its way into their hearts. Terrible thing it is to git mixed up
with sich critters as them Fenyuns."

Andy went on with his work, while Tom staggered back and sank down
heavily into his chair. Bill did likewise, while Hettie stared straight
before her with eyes wide with fear. The thud of the hammer upon the
leather on the lap-stone was the only sound heard. Andy pounded longer
than was necessary, and, in fact, he hardly knew what he was doing. He
was more disturbed than he had been for years. He knew now that his
suspicions were correct, and he turned over in his mind what course he
should next pursue. That the Daggerts were in league with the Fenians he
was certain. He did feel sorry for the lie he had told, but he soothed
his conscience somewhat by thinking of the necessity which compelled him
to do so and the results it had accomplished. It was for the welfare of
the whole country, so he reasoned, and, perhaps, it would not be charged
against him on the Great Day of Reckoning.

"What did 'em do with the spy?"

Andy started and looked over at Tom who had asked the question.

"Do with him? Nuthin' much yit. They're holdin' him so's he kin give
evidence ag'inst the traitors. Then they'll shoot him jist as they would
a dog, along with the poor fellers he got into trouble."

"Will 'em?"

"Sure they will. Them so'gers are not goin' to allow this land to be
overrun by a hull pack of traitors, not a bit of it. They'll make sich
an example of the first ones they git their hands on that no one'll ever
dare to cut up sich diviltry ag'in. I can't imagine people callin'
'emselves British subjects, an' loyal to the Queen, God bless her! an'
yit willin' to betray their country fer a few dollars. Hangin' is too
good fer sich critters."

No one ventured to reply to these words, and for a while silence
reigned. Tom and Bill were in no mood for further conversation. They
glared at each other across the room, and Andy, furtively watching,
wondered what was passing through their minds. He was quite willing to
let his words burn into their hearts, and await the issue, whatever that
might be. In order to relieve her feelings, Hettie began to prepare
dinner. She was an active little body, and several times Andy
complimented her. This always brought a flush to her cheeks and the
light of pleasure into her eyes. Words of praise were almost unknown in
that house of almost incessant wrangling and fighting. Happier would
have been her lot among the beasts of the fields than with her father
and uncle, two brutes in the likeness of human beings.




CHAPTER 21

TROUBLESOME "THINKS"


It was quite evident that Tom and Bill Daggert were greatly disturbed at
Andy's tale. They ate very little dinner, and when they were through
they slouched back into their chairs, lighted their pipes and smoked for
some time in complete silence. Andy and Hettie talked about various
matters of interest which had happened in the parish, but the brothers
seemed to pay no attention to the conversation. For over an hour they
sat there, when a sound resembling the hoot of an owl fell upon their
ears. Shortly afterwards Tom rose slowly to his feet, picked up his cap
and left the building. He had been gone but a short time when Bill also
departed. No sooner had the door closed than Hettie hurried to the
window on the right side of the house and stood watching for a few
minutes. She then opened the door and looked out. At length she came
back to where Andy was working and sat down by his side. There was a
troubled expression in her eyes which did not escape the shoemaker's
notice.

"Ye seem to be bothered about something, me dear," he remarked. "Yer
eyes look scared like, as if ye'd seen a ghost."

"I've seen more'n a ghost," the girl replied, glancing somewhat
apprehensively around. "I ain't afraid of some kind of ghosts. I kin go
by the graveyard near the church without shiverin' once, an' no creeps
go up an' down me back."

"Have ye any creeps now, Hettie?"

"Lots of 'em. But it ain't the graveyard kind that makes me have 'em
now."

"What is it, then?"

"Did ye hear the owl hoot, Andy?" she whispered.

"Ay, ay. But what of that? Surely ye not afraid of an owl. It's not sich
a fearsome bird, is it?"

"Mebbe not. But that one is. Did ye notice that it only hooted once?"

"I do remember now, since ye mention it. But why was that?"

Hettie rose to her feet and looked again out of the window.

"Thar's a big storm comin', Andy," she said, as she once more took her
seat by his side. "It's goin' to be a whopper this time."

"How can ye tell?"

"Oh, I know, a'right, by the way the wind blows an' the clouds scud.
Thar's been a big ring 'round the moon fer two nights, an' that's a sure
sign."

"But you don't mind a storm, girl. It's nice to be in the house when
it's wild outside. I like to hear the wind blow, an' see the snow flyin'
through the air, an' the trees bendin' an' shakin' their heads. Don't
you?"

"I used to, Andy, when I was a leetle girl, an' mum was livin'. A storm
never scared me then like it does now."

"Why is that?"

Andy looked up from his work and noted the worried expression in
Hettie's eyes.

"'Cause somethin' bad allus happens now when it storms hard. It gives me
a sinkin' feelin' here," and she placed her right hand over her heart as
she spoke. "It's worse now than ever afore since I heard ye tell that
story 'bout the spies killin' that man who worked fer 'em."

"Why should that worry ye? You have nuthin' to fear."

"I'm not so sure of that, Andy. I could tell ye a lot if I had a mind
to."

"Won't ye tell me? Nobody else'll hear."

"I can't. Everything's got ears these days, an' I don't like t'think
sometimes fer fear my thinks'll be known. It's awful to have black
turrible thinks, isn't it?"

"It sartinly is, me dear. But put 'em away from ye mind, an' don't
bother about 'em. I wouldn't if I was you."

"How kin I, livin' all the time with sich men as Dad an' Unc? They make
me have bad thinks when I know what they say an' do. They yang at me all
the time when they ain't fightin' atween theirselves. I cook fer 'em,
keep house, wash their duds, an' run all their errants, an' yit I can't
do nuthin' right. They're allus jawin' an' squabblin' 'bout somethin'."

"Yer a good cook, Hettie, an' no mistake," Andy complimented. "That
moose steak we had fer dinner was as tender as a chicken, an' browned
jist right. Where did ye run across sich a piece of meat as that?"

"A man gave it to us a few days ago."

"Nice of him, wasn't it? One of the neighbours out huntin', eh? Had
more'n he wanted, I s'pose?"

Andy looked up at the girl and noticed the flush of embarrassment that
had overspread her face. He wondered what it meant. What was the cause
of her sudden confusion? He made no comment, however, but bent again to
his work. He did not wish to say anything that might arouse her
suspicion.

"I'd like to tell ye who it was, Andy, but I don't dare to," Hettie
explained after a short silence.

"Oh, ye needn't mind, fer I'm a purty good guesser. I know what a hunter
Drum Rowan is, an' it's jist like him to leave a nice piece of moose
meat here. He's a fine lad, a'right."

"It wasn't Drum, Andy," the girl hastened to correct. "Him hasn't been
huntin' this week. No, it wasn't him. Him's been choppin'."

"Is that so! Well, that's interestin'. So it wasn't him, then, who gave
ye that meat?"

"No, it was another, a man ye don't know, who was passin' an' left it
here."

Again Hettie went to the window and looked carefully out. As Andy
watched her, his mind was very active. He was certain that the girl knew
far more than she dared to impart, no matter how willing she might be.
It must be fear alone that was restraining her.

"It's goin' t'storm afore night," she declared. "The wind's comin' up,
an' it's shakin't the trees hard. It makes me shiver."

"But yer a'right here, Hettie. Ye don't have to go out, so ye needn't
worry, no matter how it storms."

"I must go out, Andy, an' I'm goin' purty soon."

"After yer dad an' uncle?"

"Mebbe so."

"What are they doin', anyway?"

"O, jist choppin' over yon, mebbe."

"Helpin' Drum?"

"Mos' likely."

Hettie drew on an old jacket, pulled a thick cap over her tousled hair,
and reached for her mittens.

"Ye don't mind stayin' here alone, do ye?" she asked. "I might be gone
quite a while."

"I do mind, but I'll have to put up with it," Andy replied. "I like
company, but when I have to do without it I kin. I'll have me own
thoughts, anyway, as I keep workin' here."

"I'll be back in time to git supper. Dad an' Unc 'll be sure to turn up
then. Keep an eye over everythin' in the house, an' if Dad an' Unc come
back afore I do an' begin to fight, don't git scared."

"Oh, I won't stand any fightin' when I'm around, Hettie. I'll pitch 'em
both out in the snow if they kick up any rumpus. I'll keep things
straight, so don't ye worry."

"I hope ye will, Andy," and the girl's eyes twinkled a little. "But Dad
an' Unc are very strong an' used to fightin'. They could settle you in
no time if they had a mind to."

"Guess there won't be any trouble, gal, so git on yer way, an' come back
as soon as ye kin. If ye do, I'll play some fer ye on me fiddle. I'm
jist dyin' to see ye do the light-step, fer ye was mighty nimble on yer
feet the last time I was here."

"I can't dance no more now, Andy. When me heart is heavy, me feet are,
too. Ye want a light heart to dance well."

"Tut, tut, child, that's all nonsense. Me old fiddle'll make yer heart
an' feet as light as ever. Git away, now, an' leave me alone."

During the remainder of the short winter afternoon Andy worked steadily
at his task. But his mind was really on other things. He was thinking
seriously over what he had heard that day, and he was much puzzled. He
was far from satisfied, and longed to know more. That the Daggerts were
in league with the enemy he had no doubt. But he did not know anything
about their plans. It was quite evident that Tom and Bill were not
chopping cordwood. Something else had taken them away. He thought of the
hoot which sounded like that of an owl. Perhaps it was not a bird at
all, but a signal understood by the plotters. Even now they might be
planning some mischief with the Fenians. And what about that moose meat,
and Hettie's confusion when he had questioned her? Had it been supplied
by a Fenian spy, who was a regular visitor at the house?

These thoughts surged through his brain as he sewed and pegged away at
the boot upon which he was working. He longed to throw everything aside
and leave the place. But where could he go? What steps could he take to
solve the mystery? The only thing he could do was to remain where he was
and await developments. When the brothers returned he might find out
something of importance.

Several times during the afternoon Andy rose from his seat, placed
several sticks upon the fire and looked out of the window. Then when
darkness stole over the land, and it was difficult for him to see at his
work, he picked up his violin and began to play. This had always soothed
and comforted him in the past, and it did so now. The wind shook the
building, and the flames roared up the big chimney. But Andy paid little
heed to what was going on around him. The stirring music animated his
soul, and as he stood by the window, tapping the floor with his right
foot, he was a youth again, and his heart was aglow with bright hopes
and fancies.

He was in the midst of a more stirring measure than ever, when the door
opened and Hettie entered. She stood for a few minutes watching the
player, and listening entranced to the music. Then she crept softly to
his side and touched his arm. Startled, Andy lowered the violin and
gazed around in a dazed manner. He then smiled when he saw the girl.

"My! how ye startled me," he exclaimed. "I was wanderin' in sich a
beautiful place, an' havin' a glorious time. Wonnerful, isn't it, what
me old fiddle'll do?"

"Yer playin' gives me the creeps t'night, Andy," Hettie replied. "Yer
music sends cold chills an' shivers up an' down me spine. It makes me
turrible scared."

"It shouldn't do that, me dear. Mebbe yer not well. Chills an' shivers
are signs that a bad cold's comin'. Got any medicine in the house? Ye
should take a dose, if ye have."

"It ain' that, Andy, wot's upsettin' me. An' it ain't really the music.
It's somethin' else."

"An' what is it?"

"Drum's gone off to his traps!"

"Well, what of that? Surely he's old enough to know his own bizness."

"But it's not safe fer him to go."

"It isn't? Why not?

"'Cause it's goin' t'storm turrible."

"H'm, I guess Drum kin look after himself, a'right. The biggest an' wust
storm that ever came this way wouldn't bother him much."

"But this one will, Andy," the girl insisted. "It'll be the worsest one
that ever came. Oh, I know it will, an' Drum might be caught out thar
an' die."

The old man looked keenly at Hettie, and noticed the anxious expression
in her eyes, and the paleness of her cheeks.

"Ye seem to be very much interested in Drum, me dear. Afraid somethin'll
happen to him, eh?"

"I don't want him to die, Andy."

"Well, why don't ye warn him, then? It's no use talkin' to me. I can't
stop him from goin'."

"But I have told him, an' he laffed at me."

"So ye saw him to-day, did ye?"

"Yep; left him jist a while ago."

"Oh, he'll be a'right, Hettie. Don't ye worry about him. He's used to
the woods and the storms. An', besides, he's got a good cabin back in
the hills where he'll be as snug as a bug in a rug."

"I know him has a cabin thar, but mebbe him'll never git to it."

"Think he'll git lost in the storm?"

"Mebbe so, or worser."

"What d'ye mean, Hettie?"

"I can't tell ye, Andy, but I'm 'fraid all t'time. Somethin' right
here," and she placed her hand to her heart, "says that Drum'll die out
thar in the hills. I've had no end of signs of late an' they've allus
come true."

"Nonsense, child, there's nuthin' in sich signs. S'pose ye hustle an'
git supper, fer I'm mighty hungry. Ye've got the blues, an' there's
nuthin' like a good meal to drive away them divils when they attack ye.
Light the candles while I fix up the fire. Yer dad an' uncle'll be
comin' home soon, starved as two bears, jist out of their dens."

Hettie reluctantly obeyed. But her movements were listless, and as Andy
watched her he knew that it was more than the storm that was worrying
her. Why was she so concerned about Drum? It was only natural that she
should have a fondness for him, but why should love suggest the foolish
notion that he would die out in the hills?

He was in the act of lifting a stick to place upon the fire, when he let
it fall to the floor with a bang. An idea had stabbed his mind which
brought a sudden paleness to his face. Was Drum in danger from Tom and
Bill Daggert? Was that the cause of Hettie's anxiety? Was she pretending
that it was the storm she feared? He knew how the Daggert brothers must
resent Drum's chopping, and in the spirit of revenge they might go to
almost any limit. And knowing of this, Hettie had warned Drum. The whole
thing now seemed clear as daylight, and he was surprised that he had not
thought of it before. He turned toward Hettie who was placing several
dishes upon the table.

"Are ye afraid that Drum'll be killed by someone?" he abruptly asked.
"Is that what's givin' ye the chills an' shivers?"

"W-what makes ye ax that, Andy? The girl almost dropped a cup in her
confusion.

"None of yer foolin', gal. It's not the storm that makes ye afraid, but
human bein's. Isn't that so, now?"

"Don't ax me, don't," she pleaded. "I can't tell ye nuthin'."

She sank upon the bench near the table, and burying her face in her
hands, wept bitterly. Andy was at a loss what to say or do. He stood
watching her for a few minutes in silence. Then he stepped close to her
side and laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Never mind, me dear," he said. "Ye needn't tell me if ye don't want to.
But there's somethin' mighty curious goin' on around this place, an' you
know what it is. I feel sorry fer ye, an' I believe ye'd tell me if ye
dared. But, come, git up an' dry yer eyes, fer I hear somebody at the
door."




CHAPTER 22

OXEN, EH?


The door slowly opened, and Bill Daggert entered. He looked cautiously
around the room, and then shuffled toward the fire. Here he silently
stood for a few minutes warming his hands. Andy who was standing with
his back to the genial blaze, watched him out of the corner of his eye.
He noticed that he was exceptionally excited, and he saw him glance
several times around at the door as if expecting someone to enter.

"What are ye gawkin' at, Bill?" Andy asked. "Ye look 'most scared out of
yer senses. Have ye seen a ghost?"

"Naw, us haven't seen nuthin'," was the surly reply. "Us lookin' t'see
if the door shet. Cold here."

"Git warm, then. This fire'll start the blood in yer veins. Or d'ye want
somethin' else to put new life into yer carcass?"

"Us would. Het," he called, "bring us rum. Quick. Us freezin'."

"Ye can't have rum till sup's ready," the girl emphatically declared.
"Ye'll drink it all up, an' thar'll be none left fer Dad. Where's him,
anyway?"

"Us don't know. Us not seen 'im." He shivered, and again looked around.

"Is it goin' to storm?" Andy asked.

"Stormin' now. Wind bad."

Bill pulled off his cap and threw it into a corner of the room. He then
shuffled over to his chair and slumped down. He seemed to be well nigh
exhausted. Andy watched him curiously. What was the cause of this man's
excitement? he asked himself. Something of a most unusual nature must
have taken place outside, and he was anxious to know what it was. Had it
anything to do with the Fenians?

As he stood there and thought, Tom entered. He, too, looked fatigued as
he shambled slowly up to the fire. He kept his eyes fixed intently upon
Bill, and paid no heed to the shoemaker.

"Yer late," Andy accosted. "Been choppin'?"

"Naw, us not choppin'," was the growling reply.

"Bad night, eh?"

"Bad! Hell!"

"Somewhat colder'n that place, judgin' by the way ye hug the fire. Mebbe
ye won't find it as cold as this when ye git there. Guess ye'll long fer
a few whiffs of a nor'easter then."

"Oh, Dad an' Unc are gittin' ready now," Hettie declared. "They're
practisin' all the time, so they won't feel lonesome an' homesick thar."

"Shet up, Het," her father ordered. "Ye talk too much. Hur' up an' git
sup. Us starvin'."

"I am hurryin', Dad, an' sup's 'most ready, sich as 'tis. Thar's nuthin'
much in the house to git sup with, anyway."

"Git to store, then, an' tote grub. Yer gittin' lazy."

"An' who'll pay fer the grub, I'd like t'know? Cap Rowan's shet down on
us."

"Him has! When him shet down?"

"This week. We git no more without money, so Gid Brown said."

"Gid say that?"

"Didn't I jist tell ye he did?"

Tom stared at his daughter for a few seconds as if he considered her the
cause of the calamity that had suddenly fallen upon them. He then sank
down upon the bench near the table.

"Bring on what y've got, Het," he ordered. "Come, Andy, have a snack."

The shoemaker took his seat at one end of the table, while Bill hitched
his chair up opposite to his brother. Hettie served them with scraps of
meat left over from dinner, and coarse wheat bread. The tea she poured
into big thick cups, and each man helped himself to the milk and brown
sugar. Tom and Bill glared at each other across the table like two
savage dogs. They gulped down their food, and when they were through,
Tom ordered Hettie to fetch the rum. She obeyed, and having placed a
black jug upon the table, she filled a mug for Andy.

"I don't want Dad an' Unc to swig all," she explained. "They lose their
heads when they take too much."

Although Andy was fond of an occasional drink, he let the liquor remain
untouched before him. He did not wish to befuddle his brain, but to keep
it as clear as possible. Tom and Bill, on the other hand, drained their
mugs and filled them again. They were ready for a third helping, when
Hettie removed the jug and carried it away, notwithstanding their
protests.

"Ye can't have no more t'night," she informed them. "Ye've made fools of
yerselves a'ready, but when ye've swigged too much rum yer both ravin'
injuts. No, ye can't have no more."

The liquor had the effect of loosening the brothers' tongues, and they
commenced a wordy battle across the table. Andy hoped that they might
drop something which would give him a clue as to what they had been
doing that afternoon. But they were cunning enough to steer clear of
anything that might betray them in the least degree. They dwelt almost
entirely upon Captain Rowan, and what an ungrateful and miserable man he
was. Each blamed the other for his laziness in connection with the
cordwood, and so furious did they at last become that they rose to
their feet and rushed at each other. Then ensued a rough-and-tumble
fight in which savage blows were exchanged, clothes torn, and faces
scratched. Andy was anxious to separate them, but Hettie caught him by
the arm.

"Leave 'em alone," she cried. "They'll git tired after a while. They're
used to it, an' they'll feel better when they're through."

For some time the brothers pulled, mauled, and belaboured each other,
growling all the time like angry dogs. Andy had never beheld such a
scene of depraved brutality, and his heart sickened. He had heard of the
quarrels of these creatures, but had always smiled at the stories. Now,
however, a deep loathing possessed his soul, and he longed to leave the
house at once and never to enter it again. As he was thinking about
this, the fight suddenly ceased, and the combatants drew apart, still
glaring at each other. This was Andy's opportunity.

"Come, come," he began, "ye've had enough of that, so git back to yer
seats. Ye should be ashamed of yerselves fer fightin' that way. An' you
brothers, too!"

"Us havin' good time," Tom muttered. "Us sooner fight'n eat."

"So would dogs. But you call yerselves men, though ye act more like
fools."

"That's right, Andy," Hettie encouraged. "Give it to 'em good an' hard.
They won't listen to me."

"They need a big stick, Hettie, an' I've a good mind to git one an' lay
it on their hides. How would ye like that, ye rascals? Come on, now, an'
I'll beat yez both."

Andy was smiling, and the brothers grinned as they looked at him, so
small did he appear in their eyes.

"Us don't want to fight you," Tom replied. "Us only fight men."

"An' don't ye call me a man, ye old frog? What d'ye think I am?"

"Jis' Andy, the cat-whipper."

"H'm, is that so. Well, mebbe ye'd find I kin whip more'n a cat."

Although Andy spoke in a bantering tone, and pretended that he was much
amused, he was really quite angry. But he knew that it was just as well
that the brothers did not take him at his word. It would be better, he
realised, for them to consider him merely a harmless old shoemaker of
whom they need not be suspicious. This was the only thing that gave him
any comfort. They did not suspect him, and thus he might be able to
accomplish much more to further his designs. If they had the least idea
concerning what was in his mind, his plans would be entirely frustrated.

The brothers slouched back into their chairs, and Andy sat down in front
of the fire. Hettie busied herself with clearing away and washing the
dishes. The flames roared merrily up the chimney, for the draught was
strong this night. The wind increased in force, shook the house and
rattled the loose windows. It was becoming very rough outside, and Andy
could hear the snow beating against the small panes of glass. He was
glad to be under cover, and if only he had genial companions he would
have been perfectly happy. But the dread of some unseen trouble
disturbed him, which made the room more like a prison than a
dwelling-place. Several times he tried to shake off the feeling, but in
vain. He thought of his violin, but he was in no mood for playing just
then. He gazed into the leaping flames, and busied his mind with
thoughts of the two creatures close at hand. What were they planning? he
wondered, and what was the meaning of their strange actions that
afternoon? There was no more chance to talk with Hettie about the
matter, and just then he was not much interested in anything else.

After a while Andy moved his kit up nearer the fire, and thus by the
light of the candle upon the table and the glow from the flames he was
able to continue his work. He felt better when busy, and he needed to do
something to relieve his feelings. He picked up the partly-finished boot
and began to fasten on the thick heavy sole. He worked rapidly, keeping
both hands busy with the wooden pegs and the hammer. But he did not
forget to keep his eyes alert to his companions' movements. Tom and Bill
remained in sulky silence, pulling at their old clay pipes. But Hettie
was restless. When she had finished with the dishes, she moved first
from one window to another peering out into the darkness. Twice she went
to the door, and each time a cold draught swept in which brought a
growling rebuke from her father.

"Keep that door shet," he ordered. "Watcher want to be peerin' out so
much fer?"

The girl made no reply, but came back to the fire and stood watching
Andy. When the latter had finished the boot, and had given it a touch of
blacking, he laid it upon the floor to dry.

"There, guess that'll do fer to-night," he remarked. "I'm goin' to make
a pair fer you next, Hettie. The ones I made last year are about gone.
Ye must have done a heap of trampin' in 'em."

"'Deed I have, Andy. Dad an' Unc keep me totin' all t'time. But they'll
have to do it theirselves after this, an' pay fer what they git, too.
They've fooled Cap Rowan too long, a'ready."

"Quit yer yangin', Het," her father growled. "Us sick an' tired hearin'
yer tongue waggin'."

He rose slowly to his feet, picked up his hat, and moved toward the
door. When he had left the house, Bill showed signs of restlessness. He
shifted uneasily in his chair, and several times looked at the window
opposite.

"Are you goin', too?" Andy asked. "This is a bad night to be prowlin'
around outside."

"Guess us'll have to see t'the stock," Bill replied. "Must feed oxen."

"Won't Tom attend to 'em?"

"Tom too lazy."

He left his chair and shuffled over to the door. Ere lifting the latch,
he turned around and stared for a few seconds at Hettie and the
shoemaker. He uttered no word, but Andy felt a sudden chill and a
nameless dread at the sight of that silent man standing there in the
gloom. Why did he look back at them like that? he asked himself. And why
had the brothers left the house on such a wild night? He questioned
Hettie when Bill had gone, but she merely shook her head and vouchsafed
no explanation.

"Surely it doesn't need both of 'em to look after the oxen," he
declared. "An' I don't see how they'd agree, anyway."

"Oh, them agree when they want to, jis' like cats an' dogs. But they
won't feed the oxen. They'll fergit all 'bout 'em. I've had to look
after 'em all winter. I'm goin' to see to 'em now."

Andy looked at the girl in astonishment. So she was going, too! What did
it all mean? There was no use asking any more questions, so he might as
well hold his tongue. He watched the girl as she put on her hat, coat
and mittens.

"Ye'll keep house till I come back, won't ye?" she queried.

"I'm not so sure about that, Hettie. I don't like to be alone, so ye
needn't be s'prised if ye don't find me here when ye come back."

"Do stay, Andy," she pleaded. "Don't go 'way."

"Why d'ye want me to stay?"

"'Cause ye'll have to look after the fire while I see to the oxen."

"Oxen, eh? Surely it'll not take so long to poke some hay to the
critters. I could do it in five minutes, Hettie."

"Mebbe ye could," was the low reply. "But stay here, anyway, Andy, till
I come back. Oh, don't go 'way. Good-bye."




CHAPTER 23

WHAT A NIGHT!


Andy Dooner was no coward, and he had often boasted that he was not
gifted with the sense of fear. But as the door closed behind Hettie and
he was left alone, a subtle uncanny feeling stole over him. The gloomy
room seemed like a place of dread, and he glanced apprehensively around
at the dark corners. The wind roaring outside rattled the loose windows,
and as his eyes sought their small panes he almost imagined he saw
malignant faces peering in upon him. He knew that it was only the
whirling snow he beheld, and he called himself a fool for being afraid.
He tried to shake off the feeling by throwing several sticks upon the
fire and then pacing up and down the room. But this gave him no relief.
He longed to leave the house, but when he opened the door and looked
out, he gave up the idea. The wind smote him like a giant, and the
swirling snow dashed against his face, causing him to draw hurriedly
back.

"Lord, what a night!" he exclaimed. "An' to think of them folks bein'
out! What in time kin they be doin', anyway?"

He returned to the fire and stood with his back to the leaping flames.
The perspiration was standing out in beads upon his forehead, and at
every extra heavy gust of wind he started.

"This is awful!" he groaned. "Why did I ever come to this place? If I
live to see mornin' I'll git away from here even if the snow is up to me
neck. Guess a few tunes on me old fiddle will put new life into me. It's
never failed me yit, so I hope it won't now."

He picked up the violin and drew the bow across the strings. But his
hand trembled so much that he could hardly play at all.

"Confound it!" he growled. "I believe I'm gittin' the palsy. I wonder
what makes me hand shake so much? This'll never do. Andy Dooner, don't
be a coward in yer old age. Show yer spunk, or ye'll never be able to
hold up yer head among decent folks ag'in. Come on, now, an' no more
foolin'."

He played a few lively airs, and after a while felt his courage
returning. The room did not seem so lonely and uncanny, and the howling
of the wind was not so depressing. He even smiled a little at his former
fear, and thought of the story he would have to tell as he travelled
about the parish. He would embellish it, too, and draw it out to a
fascinating length.

He was thinking of this, when a deafening report sounded on his right,
followed instantly by a crashing of glass. The violin was hurled from
his grasp as a bullet touched it in its onward sweep before burying
itself into the opposite wall. Andy stared for a few seconds at the
broken window. He was so dazed that he did not heed the wind rushing in
through the opening. Nothing could he see, and no further sound did he
hear. Slowly his senses returned. He glanced down at the violin a few
feet away, and then over at the wall where the bullet had struck. What
was the meaning of that shot? Did some one wish to shoot him? It seemed
so, and the thought caused his knees to shake and a great fear to leap
into his soul. His life was in danger, and it was not safe for him to
remain in that room. Anywhere, even out in the pitiless storm, was
better than there. Other attempts might be made upon his life by some
unseen enemy. No doubt he was even watching him now out of the blackness
of the night. Perhaps he was a Fenian! That idea aroused all the energy
within him. Forgetting his beloved violin, he seized his cap and
mittens, leaped for the door and rushed out into the storm. The wind
whipped about his body, and the snow pelted his face. But he felt safer
here, for he was sure that no one would attempt to follow him, and no
bullet could find him.

After he had gone several rods he began to realise that he could not
keep up such a headlong pace. Already he was quite weary, for the snow
impeded his progress, and the wind nearly blew him over. He could see
nothing, and to continue meant certain death. He had to find shelter
somewhere, but he was determined not to return to the house. At first he
thought of the barn. He would be safer there with the oxen, and he could
find shelter in the hay. But that was too far away, and he did want to
keep a watch, if possible, upon the house. Then he thought of the rough
lean-to over the well. That was just the place, and but a short distance
from the window through which the bullet has sped. There he could stay
for awhile, obtain a little rest, and think over his future course of
action.

With considerable difficulty he groped his way back over the course he
had come, and after much stumbling and battling reached the shelter of
the well-house. It was a poor affair, but huddled behind the north side
he obtained some protection from the wild nor'easter. He was panting
heavily, and he was glad to sink down upon the snow to rest. Never had
he known such a dark night, but from where he crouched he could see the
light from the house struggling feebly through the grimy windows. It
fascinated him, and its fitful gleam had something almost sinister in
its appearance. It was only a single candle, mingled with the
fire-light, that shone out into the darkness, but it had drawn some one
to the house intent upon murder. Was that person lurking around even
now? What right had any one to shoot at a harmless old man? The thought
angered him, causing him to scramble to his feet. The blood quickened in
his veins, giving warmth to his chilled body. All his former fear
vanished, and he was in a fighting-mood. And yet he was cautious. He
must find out who that villain was, and the purpose of his cowardly
attack. He would wait and watch for the fellow to return. He would
surely come back again, and when he did, Andy was determined to face him
and demand an explanation.

For some time he waited, and as the minutes crept slowly by he became
very impatient. He was becoming cold again, and the wind whistling
through the cracks of the lean-to made his position most uncomfortable.
He wondered how much longer he could remain there. That he could not
stay all night was certain. To reach the house of a neighbor on such a
night was out of the question. The barn was his only hope, so if nothing
happened soon he would go there and take shelter with the oxen. The hay
in the loft would give him some warmth, at any rate.

Andy did not know how long he had been waiting and watching, but it
seemed to him like hours. His feet were cold, and he stamped them and
slapped his arms about his body to gain some warmth. But this was only
temporary. He would go to the barn and obtain some rest. No doubt the
fellow who had fired the shot had gone away and did not intend to
return.

He was about to leave his shelter and plunge out again into the storm,
when glancing toward the house, he saw a dim figure suddenly emerge from
the blackness and step cautiously up to the broken window. Andy was now
all alert, and forgot entirely about his coldness. He shrank as far back
as the lean-to would permit, lest he should be seen. But there was no
need for this, as the man at the window never looked in his direction.
He was peering into the room, as if to make sure that no one was inside.
He then moved away, walked rapidly around to the door and entered the
building.

Swiftly Andy slipped from his hiding-place and hurried toward the house.
No sense of fear stirred his heart as he approached the window and
looked into the room. Although the fire was low, the candle was still
burning, and by its light he could see the man within kneeling on the
floor where Tom Daggert always sat. At once Andy saw that it was Bill,
who was forcing up a plank in the floor. He then lifted out a
well-filled bag, tied around the neck with a stout cord. Laying this
upon the table, Bill crossed to the other side of the room, moved back
his own chair, and took a similar bag from beneath a plank in the floor.

All this took but a few minutes, and Andy was held spellbound by Bill's
speedy movements. That the bags contained money he had no doubt. But
where had it come from? How did the brothers happen to have so much in
the house? and what was Bill going to do with it? The next minute,
however, his mind cleared, and so startling was the revelation that he
staggered back from the window and stood knee-deep in the snow while the
wind whipped and curled around his defenceless body. He understood now
the meaning of so much that had been puzzling him but a short time
before. Slowly he made his way back to the lean-to, and huddled there in
a corner, he thought over what had so suddenly come into his mind. At
times he imagined it was but a dream from which he would soon awaken.
But the wind, the bitter cold, and the light from the house told him
that it was all too terribly real. He had seen Bill Daggert stealing his
brother's bag of money, and most likely he was going to clear out with
it. And that money was the price of base treachery, he felt certain. The
Fenians had paid the brothers for some work, whatever that might be. And
it was the money which caused Tom and Bill to place the chalk-mark of
separation upon the floor. It was all clear now. The villains were
suspicious of each other, and each guarded his ill-gotten gains, and
kept his chair over the very spot where the money was hidden. So far it
was all quite plain. But why had Bill fired that shot? Did he mean to
commit murder? Perhaps he only wished to drive Andy out of the house by
giving him a severe fright. That did seem reasonable, and the idea
brought some comfort to his mind. Yes, that was evidently the
explanation, he decided. It was not his life Bill was after, but his
brother's money.

All this passed through his mind with lightning rapidity as he huddled
back in his poor place of refuge, as far away from the wind as possible.
He did not know what to do. He longed to stop Bill from getting away
with his booty. But he knew that he was no match for the man with the
strength of an ox, and the insane rage of a tiger when interfered with
while grasping its prey. Andy's one desire now was to get back to the
shore, to the captain's house, if possible. In the meantime, the barn
must suffice, so he would go there and wait until morning. By then
Hettie might be back.

As he was thinking of this, a wild yell startled him, causing his face
to turn deadly pale and his body to tremble. It came directly from the
house, and was followed instantly by another, and then another. He had
never heard such blood-curdling sounds before, and in a few seconds
there issued forth a wild medley of screeches, yells and snarls, mingled
with fierce oaths. Andy could endure the strain no longer, so rushing
from his shelter, he again reached the window and peered into the room.
And what he saw there made his heart sink within him, for he beheld the
Daggert brothers in a terrible conflict. Bill had been caught by Tom in
the act of making off with his money, and they had leaped at each other
like two enraged beasts of the jungle. Backwards and forwards they
surged, clutching at each other's throats, dealing terrific blows,
tearing clothes, and all the time snarling in the most furious manner.
The table and chairs were overturned and broken in the wild contest.
Fortunately the candle was resting upon the shelf above the fire-place
where Hettie had deposited it before leaving the house. But alas! for
Andy's beloved fiddle. He had left it lying upon the floor in his
fright, and now it was being crushed to bits beneath the feet of the
contestants. He groaned aloud as he heard the cracking of the wood, and
saw the ruin of his faithful companion of many years. It made him so
angry that he longed to be strong enough to leap into the fight and beat
the brutes into insensibility. It was what they really deserved. His
hands clenched hard and he ground his teeth in his rage. But he soon
realised the futility of his anger, for what could he do against those
tough and hardened fighters? He would be as nothing to them, and most
likely they would turn upon him and rend him in twain. Their rage might
carry them to almost any degree of excess.

And as he watched, he noticed that knives were drawn, and that Tom and
Bill were slashing at each other in the wildest fury. It was a terrible
onslaught, but of short duration, for suddenly with a sickening scream,
followed by a groan, Bill dropped his knife, reeled and fell sprawling
to the floor. Tom also staggered a bit, but recovering himself, he began
to slash the prostrate body at his feet. This was more than Andy could
stand. With a whoop, he smashed in what remained of the window, leaped
into the room, and rushed at the infuriated man. He caught his arm which
was uplifted for another blow.

"Tom! Tom! fer God's sake, stop!" he cried. "Are ye mad?"

Slowly the arm was lowered, and the knife fell from the now limp hand
and clattered upon the floor. Wild-eyed, Tom looked first at Andy, and
then down at his brother. His slow mind now seemed to comprehend the
enormity of his crime, and the thought filled his heart with a nameless
terror. He bent and touched his brother's body, but when Bill showed no
sign of life, he straightened up and looked wildly at the shoemaker.

"Is 'im dead?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. "Has us killed 'im?"

"It looks like it," Andy replied. "This is a mighty bad fix ye've got
into, Tom. I see yer finish, a'right. Ye better give me a hand to carry
him over near the fire so I kin examine him."

To this request Tom paid no heed. With a weird groan he rushed across
the room, tore open the door, and dashed out into the night.




CHAPTER 24

TREACHERY


It is wonderful what a woman will do for the man she loves. And Hettie
Daggert was no exception. She was well aware that Drum Rowan did not
love her, for he thought only of Nell Andrews. To some natures this
would have aroused a bitter hatred and a burning jealousy. With Hettie,
however, it was different. Even though she knew that Drum could never
love her, yet her love for him was the one sustaining thing of her life.
She had nothing else upon which to bestow her affection. Since her
mother's death she had led a lonely existence. No one cared for her, and
until her love for Drum became a consuming fire she had little to live
for. Several times she had tried to banish the thought of him from her
heart and mind. But always there was such a sense of desolation and
hopeless despair, that she had been glad to return to the warmth and
glow which the memory of him produced. She adored the ground upon which
he walked, and in fancy she wove bright dreams which she well knew could
never be fulfilled.

The afternoon when he had laughed at her warning, she once more
determined never to think of him again. But as the storm swept around
the house that night, and she pictured Drum alone in the midst of
dangers, her heart relented. She had told him to go to his "traps an' be
damned." Those words gave her great uneasiness. Perhaps they would
really come true, and how could she ever forgive herself? All her love
flamed into a white passion as she brooded over this. She had warned him
of danger, and he had refused to take her seriously. To most minds that
would have been sufficient. But love knows no beaten path, and listens
to no reasoning. The man she loved was in danger. That was the one idea
which was ever before her. It was not the storm she feared, for Drum was
accustomed to that, and could look well after himself. But what could he
do against other dangers, subtle and unseen, which surrounded him, of
which he knew nothing? But she knew, and it was her duty to protect him.

While her father and uncle remained in the house that evening, she was
content to wait. But when they at length left, she knew that she must
delay no longer. When those men would venture forth in such a storm she
was certain that something more than ordinary was on foot. Her only
thought was of Drum, and she never once considered what it would mean to
reach his side to warn him once more. She had faced storms such as this
before, and familiarity had rendered her reckless of their strength and
fury.

With considerable difficulty she made her way across the wind-swept open
space, and reached the forest beyond. Here she was protected from the
fierceness of the tempest, and paused for a few minutes to rest. She
knew well the trail leading to the valley below, so needed no light to
guide her. She could tell by the trampled snow that her father and uncle
had gone that way, and as she moved swiftly forward, she was keenly
alert. Several times she placed her right hand to her bosom, and the
feel of something there stimulated her courage and brought a glow to her
cheeks. With that sharp-pointed knife hidden within the folds of her
dress, she considered herself prepared for any emergency with desperate
men.

It did not take her long to reach the valley, and then her pace
slackened and she moved more cautiously. Not a thing could she see, but
her eyes searched the blackness beyond. The wind howled and raged
overhead, and the trees swayed and groaned like souls in some great
agony. The snow sifted down through the branches, and she could feel its
cold gentle touch upon her face. The roaring of the tempest stimulated
her now like martial music. It was in keeping with the tumult in her
heart and mind. She did not try to analyse her feelings, neither did she
give a thought to the thrill that possessed her being. She had no
definite plan of action. She only knew that somewhere in that great
wilderness was the man she loved, surrounded by dangers, and that she
must find him and save him from harm. It was not reason which guided
her, but another sense akin to instinct. It had assisted her in the
past, so she trusted to it now without the slightest doubt or
hesitation.

Her steps led her to the rude shanty in the side of the rocky cliff
which Drum had viewed with such surprise the night he first beheld it.
Hettie was well aware of its presence, for she had often visited the
shack, as well as the place where the ammunition was stored. She had
always approached these spots with the greatest of caution, following
the instructions she had received from her father and uncle. She was
doubly cautious now, but for an altogether different reason. It was not
the Fenian cause of which she was thinking, but the welfare of one man
who meant everything to her. It was for his sake alone that she stepped
softly and warily through the deep snow until she stopped dead in her
tracks as the weak glimmer of a light met her straining eyes.

And as Hettie stood there, she heard the faint sound of voices. It came
from the shack, so advancing, she drew near the door where she again
stopped. The voices were louder now, and several men were talking at the
same time, interrupting one another with coarse oaths. She longed to see
inside, but she did not dare to go too close to the door where the light
was coming through a wide crack. And, besides, if any one should come
unexpectedly out and find her there, she knew quite well what the
result would be. It was necessary, therefore, to be most careful when
near such men.

At the back of the shanty was a small opening, once used as a window,
but now boarded up. Hettie remembered this, and several times when alone
in the building she had seen the daylight filtering in through the
cracks. It took her but a minute to scramble over several boulders and
reach the rear of the shanty. Here she found that the window was above
her head, but by standing on a fallen tree which was lying near, she was
enabled to bring her face close to a crack between two boards and peer
into the room. It was not a good view she thus obtained, but she managed
to see the men gathered there, and the first one she noticed was her
father. Her uncle was nowhere to be seen, and she wondered what had
become of him. The other men were doing most of the talking, and their
words were coarse and rough. Several black bottles were standing upon
the deal table, around which the men were clustered, and drinking more
than was good for them. The place was lighted by several candles, and
there was a good fire in the small stove. She knew all the men but one,
and he was doing much talking. He seemed to be quite excited, and she
could hear distinctly every word he uttered. At first she could not
understand what he was talking about. His rapid words were mingled with
oaths and fiery denunciations. He was saying something about the
"government," "soldiers," "sneak" and "shooting." This puzzled Hettie
until he turned suddenly to her father and roared,

"And ye think it was that cur who told on us? Are ye sure?"

"Us sure," Tom replied. "Us seen 'im hangin' 'round here. Him tol',
a'right."

"Where is he now?"

"Him been choppin' over yon. Gone t' traps now."

"He has! Which way?"

"Up valley. Him got camp thar."

"Will he stay there to-night?"

"Guess so."

"Good! We'll keep him from bringing the soldiers here. Look, I want you
to lead us to his camp to-night. You know the way, don't ye?"

Tom, however, shook his head, and rose slowly to his feet.

"Naw, us don't know whar camp is," he muttered. "Too bad storm, anyway.
Us go home now."

"But we've got to get that sneak, or it's all up with us."

"Git 'im in mornin', then. Him'll come down valley to trap over by
leetle brook." He jerked his thumb to the left as he spoke.

"Will he? Are ye sure?"

"Us sure. Yep, him come, mebbe. Us go now."

Hettie was quivering with excitement, and her hands pressed hard against
the rough logs. She understood now what the men intended to do. That it
was of Drum they were speaking she had not the slightest doubt. And her
father had told them! The blood surged madly through her veins, and her
anger increased to a white passion. They would never get Drum. She would
go to him, and warn him of the danger. But how was she to get to his
camp on such a night, and through the deep snow? That thought rushed
into her mind as she looked helplessly around. His camp was over two
miles off, and part of the way was across a bleak wind-swept region, and
with no track to guide her, she would surely get lost. What could she do
to help the man she loved?

Again she pressed her face close to the crack and looked into the room.
Her father was gone, but Seth was there still, talking with the leader
of the gang. They were speaking in lower tones, and she could not make
out what they were saying. Presently the leader sprang to his feet and
flourished a pistol in his right hand.

"Let the soldiers come!" he cried. "Let them do their damnest. We've
got enough stuff hidden away in that cave to blow every mother-son of
them to h----. We can shoot, too, and never miss. Look."

He raised the weapon and fired point-blank at the boards against which
Hettie was pressing her face. Before she had time to start aside, the
bullet tore through the wood and grazed her right cheek in its flight.
With a cry of terror and pain she staggered back and dropped upon the
snow beneath. Instantly she realized what she had done, for a commotion
at once was heard within the cabin. There was a sound of hurrying feet
and a clamor of voices. Wild with fear, Hettie scrambled to her feet,
climbed up over a pile of rocks, leaped down the opposite side and
plunged headlong among the trees beyond. Several times she tripped and
fell, but she paid no heed to the scratches upon her face and the
bruises upon her body. Her only thought was to get away from the men who
were now searching around at the rear of the building. She knew that
they could not very well follow her in the dark, and that for the
present she was safe. Huddled under the shelter of a small thick fir
tree, she waited and regained her breath. Although she could not see the
men, she could hear them, and from the words which drifted to her ears
she knew that they believed it was Drum who had been hit by the bullet
while watching them through the crack between the boards. Presently the
voices sounded nearer. Recognising Seth's, she crouched fearfully
against the tree.

"I hope the bullet broke his skull," she heard him say. "Maybe we'll
find his carcass in the mornin'."

"Lucky shot, that," another replied. "How the cur yelped. Ha, ha, he got
the surprise of his life that time, all right. Let's get under shelter,
Seth, for it's hell out here."

Hettie remained crouched by the tree for some time after the men had
gone. Her cheek pained where the bullet had grazed it, and she felt the
blood trickling down. She was becoming cold, too, and her body was
trembling. She felt unusually weak, and knew that she could not go far
through the storm and the deep snow. Her heart was very heavy as she
thought of Drum's danger, and how she could do nothing to warn him. But
she could not stay there; that was certain. She had to find shelter
somewhere. How cold it was! Her entire body felt numb. Slowly she
crawled out from under the branches and staggered to her feet. Where was
she to go? What was she to do? There was warmth in that building but a
short distance away where she could find comfort. But she preferred to
die rather than to go to those men for help. She might do something yet
to assist Drum, and for his sake, at least, she must run no risk. She
surmised what would happen to her should she venture among those men in
the cabin. Although a creature of the wild, Hettie Daggert was willing
to die rather than go where a woman's honour was considered as a thing
of naught.

Suddenly she thought of the cave where the ammunition was stored. It
would afford her some shelter, and there underground she might obtain
some warmth for her numb body. Slowly and with difficulty she forced her
way through the snow, reached the rude structure, tore away several of
the logs across the doorway, and entered.




CHAPTER 25

SNEAK-THIEVES


Drum Rowan thought of Hettie's angry words as he made his way down to
the valley that afternoon at the beginning of the great storm. He smiled
at her fears on his behalf, and also recalled her warning that night by
the riverside when she had waited for him. He considered her, as also
did most of the neighbours, a weak-minded creature, and an object of
pity. But he knew that she kept herself above reproach, and all that
could be said about her was that she was exceptionally odd and old for
her years. She had been that way from a child, so no one expected
anything else from Hettie Daggert.

Ere long Drum forgot all about her, for his mind had turned to Nell
Andrews. It was more natural and pleasant to think of her, and as he
thought of her his heart quickened and his bronzed cheeks glowed with
animation. A vision of her rose before him as he sped on his way. Her
beauty of face and form, her beaming eyes, the curve of her lips when
parted in a smile, the dimples on her cheeks, and the stray wisp of hair
that had the habit of drifting so temptingly over her forehead, all
returned to him again. And Nell meant more to him now than ever before.
Distance, and the uncertainty that she cared for him increased the
fervor of his passion. She had preferred the company of the lawyer that
night of the meeting in the hall, and would she have any more use for
such a careless roving mortal as himself? Was the prize upon which he
had set his heart to slip from his grasp? Would Nell marry the lawyer
and go to the city to live? What could he do to make her care for him?
Some young men so deeply in love would have heaped extra attention upon
the object of their heart's affection. They would have visited her home
and forced themselves upon her, and with pleadings would have besieged
the fair citadel of their desire. But with Drum it was different. His
nature was to keep as far away as possible, and unless she wished his
presence not to come anywhere near her. He thought, too, of the
wood-chopping affair which was being held that afternoon, and of the
happy time that would be spent in the house that evening. He knew that
Nell would be there, and a picture of her came vividly to his mind. He
did not dare to go home when the party was almost next door, so the
safest place for him was in the wilderness, away from the temptation. He
could think of Nell, anyway, while in his cabin, and that would be some
comfort.

After he had travelled some distance up the valley, he stopped near a
low-set spruce tree where hung a pair of snow-shoes and a small
hand-sled from a lower branch. These he would need, especially the
snow-shoes, judging by the fine snow which was sifting down upon him.
The trees were already swaying and creaking beneath the wind, and the
short winter day was drawing to a close. He did not expect to visit all
of his traps that afternoon. He would merely examine the ones on the way
to his camp and finish the work on the morrow. If it stormed too hard he
would remain under shelter, and enjoy the rest in his comfortable abode.
He had some work to do there, anyway, looking after the pelts, and most
likely there would be more animals to skin. He had always enjoyed such
solitude, and never felt lonely in the woods. There was no one to
trouble him, and alone with his thoughts he was quite happy.

Drum's line of traps ran in the form of a circle, the smaller segment
being nearer the river from the head of the Valley of The Jaws to his
cabin. Along brooks, on the shores of lakes, in rocky crevices and in
other favourable places he had his snares, dead-falls and steel traps
set for the furry creatures of the wild. He was a skilful trapper and
knew how to match the cunning of the furtive-footed animals that roamed
the region. He expected considerable success on this trip as he had not
made his round for several days, and he hoped to have his sled well
loaded by the time he reached his cabin. In this, however, he was
disappointed, as well as greatly surprised, for he found trap after trap
empty and sprung. That the animals had not escaped through their own
strength he was certain, and he soon came to the conclusion that someone
had been there ahead of him and had robbed him of his game. The
light film of snow prevented him from examining any tell-tale tracks,
and in fact, he needed none. He had sufficient evidence at nearly every
trap he visited.

Drum forgot everything else now in the face of this new problem which
confronted him. His one object was to find the culprit and measure out
to him the punishment he deserved. By the time he had reached the last
dead-fall, and found it sprung, darkness had enshrouded the land, and
the snow was falling fast. The storm was raging in its fury overhead,
and the trees were writhing beneath the onslaught. But he paid little
attention to the ravings of the elements. Another storm was raging in
his heart and mind. He was intensely angry, for the code of honour of
the woods had been violated by some sneak-thief. Perhaps there were
several of them, and he was determined to find out who they were.

It was but natural that the Daggert brothers should enter his mind. Who
else knew where his line of traps was situated? Was this an act of
revenge on their part? It seemed so to him now, and it appeared as if
they were intent upon annoying him in every way that was possible. He
straightened himself up and looked thoughtfully in the direction from
whence he had come. Tom and Bill hated him, and he realised only too
well what the ill-will of such men might mean. They would not face him
openly, but would use some underhand scheme to carry out their designs.
His eyes glowed with the light of anger, and his hands clenched hard
together. Did Hettie know of this? he wondered. Then he remembered her
warning which had seemed so foolish to him before. He recalled her
agitation and her advice to keep away from The Jaws. She had also
pleaded with him not to visit his traps that day. Did she know of some
mischief her father and uncle were planning of which she was afraid to
tell? The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that
Hettie had good reason for her warning. And was this robbing of the
traps but a step to something else of a more serious nature? Even now
the villains might be lurking somewhere near, and under cover of the
night and the storm were waiting to do him some bodily harm, shoot him,
perhaps. An uncanny feeling stole over him, causing him to examine his
gun and his supply of ammunition.

"Let them come," he challenged, looking defiantly around, "and the
sooner the better. I would rather they set upon me at once than endure
this uncertainty. I must get on into camp and think it over."

He strode rapidly forward, his gun in readiness and his senses keenly
alert. He moved almost noiselessly, and the sharpest ears could not have
detected his presence. Although most wary, he would have relished a good
fight just then, for he was in the right mood, especially with the
Daggert brothers. But he did not fancy the idea of being stricken down
without an opportunity of defending himself. If they were prowling
around waiting for him, his desire was to come upon them first, if
possible. If he could do so, he did not doubt the outcome for he was the
quickest and surest shot in the whole neighbourhood.

Nothing, however, interfered with his onward surge. In fact, he was
safer there in the darkness and the storm than anywhere else. One
enshrouded him with its sable mantle, while the other drowned any
inadvertent sound he made by its continuous roar. Ere long he reached
the cabin, pushed open the always-unlocked door, and entered. Lighting a
candle which he drew from a pocket of his jacket, Drum set it upon a
small table at one side of the room. The place was cold, so he at once
stooped to touch a match to the fuel he had left prepared in the stove
the last time he was there. It had always been his practice to have
everything in readiness for the fire when he visited his cabin. It was
pleasant to come from the trail and in a minute to feel the stove giving
out its genial heat. It saved him from groping around for bark and wood
when his hands were numb. But as he now stooped, he gave a start as he
noticed that his carefully-prepared fuel was all burned, and that not a
stick of his supply of dry wood was left near the stove. Such a thing
had never happened before. He glanced around the room, and then seizing
the candle in his hand, he took a few steps forward and examined the
walls. A cry of anger escaped him when he found them stripped of the
furry pelts he had left there to dry. Of the valuable skins of fox,
lynx, otter, mink, martin and raccoon, not one remained. All had been
taken. Drum's hand trembled as he held the candle close to the walls and
stared upon the bare space. He stood there for several minutes with a
burning rage in his heart. He thought of his traps which had been
robbed, and he was sure that the same ones who had raped them had also
carried off the pelts from his cabin. And the Daggert brothers were the
guilty sneak-thieves. Of this he had no doubt, and there and then he
determined to go and charge them with their villainy. He was not afraid
of them for when it came to the test of strength and agility he was more
than a match for those two awkward brutes.

Slowly he returned to the table, left the candle there and searched the
room for some fuel. Only a wooden box had been left, and this he broke
to pieces and crammed it into the stove. When the fire was burning well,
he took his axe and went outside. A dry pole he had left near the door
he dug out from under its snowy mantle and carried it into the building.
From this he cut a number of sticks, several of which he added to the
fire.

When he had finished this his mind was somewhat composed, and he was
able to think more calmly and clearly. He felt hungry, for he had tasted
nothing since noon. Going to the box where he kept his small supply of
provisions, he was again surprised to find that only a little remained
of the meat, flour, butter and molasses he had stored there. This
discovery increased his anger making him all the more anxious to meet
the Daggerts.

"I'm glad they left something anyway," he growled. "It's a wonder they
didn't take every scrap of grub and burn down the cabin as well. Just
wait till I get my hands on them."

He set to work and prepared a simple supper with the small piece of meat
and flour that remained. It did not take him long, for he was well
accustomed to cooking. After he had eaten, he felt in a better frame of
mind, and sat at the table for some time lost in thought. The storm
raged overhead, and he could hear the trees creaking and moaning in
their distress. The room was now comfortable, and a drowsy feeling
slowly stole over him. He looked over at the bunk close to the wall on
his right.

"I might as well go to bed," he remarked aloud. "There is nothing for me
to do now, and I feel sleepy. I expected to be busy with the pelts
to-night, but Tom and Bill have saved me the trouble."

He rose to his feet, picked up the axe and cut the rest of the pole
lying on the floor into stove lengths. He had just finished, when a
sound outside arrested his attention. He seized his axe with a firmer
grip and listened intently. Again it came, a peculiar scraping noise
upon the door, followed by a groan of despair and then a dull thud.
Springing for his gun, he threw open the door and looked cautiously out.
But nothing could he see in the blackness beyond. Returning to the
table, he picked up the candle, and protecting it as much as possible
from the draught, he again peered forth. At once he saw something
huddled upon the snow a few feet from the door, which he recognised as
the form of a man. Laying aside the gun, and replacing the candle upon
the table, he stepped outside, lifted the man in his arms, carried him
into the building and laid him upon the floor near the stove. He closed
the door, and then stooped to examine the man's face.




CHAPTER 26

A PRISONER


The face upon which Drum looked was covered with a thick rough beard.
The man's eyes were closed, and he showed no sign of life. He was well
clothed, and to Drum's surprise a leather belt, containing quaint little
pockets, surrounded his waist. At first he did not suspect what it was,
being more interested in the stranger's appearance. Going to the table,
he poured out some of the tea, which was still warm, and forced a little
between the man's set teeth. It was the only thing he had, so he hoped
it would prove effective. And in this he was not disappointed. The
beverage and the warmth of the room caused the man to stir. Presently he
opened his eyes and looked around in a dazed manner. He then sat up and
attempted to struggle to his feet.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "And what am I doing here?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," Drum cautiously replied. "And what you are
doing here is more than I can tell. You should be able to answer that
question yourself. But just lie still for a while and rest. Let me put
something under your head."

Going to his bunk, Drum returned with a pillow which he dropped upon the
floor near the man's head.

"There, that will be more comfortable," he said. "Are you hungry?"

"Guess I am; almost starved. But before you get me any grub, take a look
for my gun. I must have dropped it at the door."

Drum at once obeyed, and going outside, groped around, and after a few
minutes found the weapon. He brought it into the room, wiped off the
snow and stood it near the stove to dry.

"Let me have it," the stranger ordered, reaching out his right hand.

"Oh, never mind about it now," Drum replied. "You won't need it here."

"But the soldiers may come at any minute, and I must be ready."

Drum wheeled quickly around from the stove and faced the man. "What
soldiers? Where are they?"

"Over yonder on the other side of the valley. They're camped now, I
guess, but they won't stay there long."

"But what soldiers are they?" Drum insisted. "And why are you afraid of
them?"

"The Queen's soldiers, of course. I'm not afraid of them, but I don't
want to meet them, that's all. But there they are now! Don't you hear
them, just outside?"

He had lifted his head and shoulders from the floor, and was staring
hard at the door.

Drum was sure now that the man's mind was wandering. He went to the door
and looked out, but nothing could he see.

"There are no soldiers anywhere near," he declared. "It's only the wind
you hear."

"Ah, maybe you're right," and the man sighed as he dropped back again
upon the pillow.

It did not take Drum long to prepare some food, and while the stranger
ate, he watched him closely. His mind was very active, and he was
thinking about what he had just heard. Was the man mentally deranged? he
asked himself. Had his experience in the storm affected his brain? It
did seem so, and what he needed was a good sleep. In the morning he
could question him.

When the visitor had finished his meal, Drum suggested that he could
rest better in the bunk against the wall.

"A night's rest will put you on your feet again," he told him. "Get up
and I will give you a hand. Take off your coat and that belt so you will
be more comfortable."

Listlessly the man obeyed, and made only a slight protest as Drum
unfastened the belt from his waist.

"Better leave that on; I might need it," he muttered.

"No you won't. It will be here in the morning, so don't worry."

"A'right," was the sleepy reply. "Call me early, for I must get on my
way before--before the soldiers come."

In a few minutes he was asleep, and Drum could hear his heavy breathing
from where he sat near the stove. He picked up the gun and examined it
most carefully. It was the strangest he had ever seen, and it confirmed
his suspicion concerning its owner. It was a breech-loading repeating
carbine, and he had heard about the wonderful things it could do, and
that it had been used by the federal cavalry during the American Civil
War. The owner of such a weapon must have crossed the Border from the
United States, and what would bring him into The Valley of The Jaws in
the dead of winter unless he were a Fenian spy? He was sure now that the
man had seen some soldiers that afternoon, and, accordingly, was greatly
alarmed. Drum was surprised at this, for he had no idea that soldiers
were anywhere in the vicinity. Were they searching for the cave with the
ammunition? he wondered. Did they suspect the presence of Fenians in the
country, and were out scouring the woods in the hope of capturing them?
It seemed likely that such was the case. But why had not Mr. Tilley
awaited news from him? Perhaps he had acquainted the military
authorities with the secret of the cave and they had at last taken
action. He thought of the letter he had carried to Fredericton. That, no
doubt, had contained special information, and the presence of the
soldiers here was the outcome of it.

A feeling of resentment welled up in Drum's heart as he thought of the
soldiers. What right had they there? Had not Mr. Tilley given him the
commission to watch the movements of the Fenians, and to report to him
when anything of importance took place? Why, then, had others been sent
into the region which he considered his rightful sphere of action? He
had discovered the ammunition, and it was only fair that he should be
allowed to watch and report any information he might obtain. But now
that the soldiers had arrived, they would take all the credit to
themselves, for most likely they had heard about the cave in the side of
the hill.

As Drum thought of all this, he glanced over at the sleeping man, and
then at the weapon he was still holding in his hands. He was certain
that he had a Fenian spy in his possession, as well as his new and
wonderful gun. What a valuable prisoner the man might prove to be, and
from him, perhaps, might be learned many secrets of the enemy. He would
take him to the city in the morning and hand him over to Mr. Tilley who
would be sure to know what to do with him. What a fine thing that would
be. He was certain that Nell would be proud of him, and would consider
him some good after all.

Thus all through the long winter night Drum remained on guard. He could
not afford to go to sleep lest the man in the bunk should awake and
obtain possession of his gun. He kept the fire going, and several times
he was compelled to go outside, search around in the dark and dig out
some dead sticks from beneath the snow and drag them into the cabin. The
storm continued until the break of day, when it began to abate, and ere
long ceased altogether. The wind sank to rest, and an intense silence
reigned throughout the forest. Drum stood for a few minutes at the door
and looked out upon the beautiful scene before him. Every fir and spruce
tree stood robed in a soft mantle of white. Not a sign of life was to be
seen. All nature was hushed after its wild tumult of the night.

Drum was about to close the door, when the faint report of a gun away to
the right startled him. It was followed immediately by another, and he
surmised that the soldiers were astir and preparing for their onward
march. This thought aroused him to swift action. He must get his
prisoner out of the valley before they arrived to claim the prize as
their own.

Quickly preparing breakfast from the few scraps of food that remained,
he ate a little himself and left the rest for the stranger. He then went
to a corner of the room where stood a pair of snow-shoes.

"It's lucky I left these here," he commented in an undertone. "I was
tempted to take them with me on my last trip. It's a good job Tom and
Bill overlooked these when they took nearly everything else."

He paused and glanced toward the bunk. A new idea had come suddenly into
his mind. Had he been accusing the wrong ones? Perhaps the Daggerts had
nothing at all to do with the theft. What if that man over there had
done the deed? There might be several spies in the valley, anxious to
get possession of such valuable furs. He would find out, anyway, and as
soon as possible.

Going over to the bunk, he touched the sleeper's shoulder.

"Get up," he ordered. "It's late, and we must be on our way."

The man opened his eyes, and looked around in a dazed manner. He then
sat quickly up and stared at Drum.

"Where am I?" he asked. "What has happened to me?"

"You're right here in my cabin, which you reached last night, more dead
than alive. You've had a good rest, so get up, and as soon as you have
eaten a bite, we shall move on."

"Where to?"

"Oh, you'll find out later. I want you now to do just as I tell you.
Hurry, and don't make any trouble."

Drum's voice was stern, and this the man noted. He crawled out of the
bunk and crossed over to the stove. Here he made a swift movement for
his gun. But Drum was quicker still. He seized the weapon in his hands,
and held it in readiness.

"None of that," he ordered. "I know who you are, and why you are here in
the valley, so don't try any nonsense. I'm in no mood to be fooled with
this morning. I didn't sleep a wink last night."

The stranger sank down upon a nearby bench and stared hard at the young
man standing so defiantly before him. His eyes glowed with a dangerous
light, and only with a great effort could he control himself.

"You utter strange words," he at last found voice to say. "I cannot
understand your pugnacious attitude. What is the meaning of it all,
anyway?"

"I think you understand, all right," Drum quietly replied. "Your
presence here, your dread of the soldiers, and this gun of yours are all
the evidence I need to tell me that you are a Fenian spy."

"What! How dare you make such a charge?" the man shouted. "Why, I am a
loyal British subject, and for years I was a soldier in the good Queen's
army."

"Where did you get this gun, then?" Drum inquired.

"Get that? Why, my dear fellow, it's no trouble to run across such a
weapon. I picked it up in a city store."

"In Saint John?"

"Yes, I got it there only last week."

"Well, I guess you didn't, for I know the stores where they keep guns
better than I know anything else. I almost live in them when in the
city."

"That may be so, but I got this one from a second-hand shop."

"Now, look here, it won't do any good to keep on with your lies. You're
a Fenian spy, and this gun, as well as your fear of the soldiers proves
it. And I believe that you are the one who stole my pelts. You have been
here before, and so knew where to come when caught in the storm. You ate
up most of my grub, too, and burned all the wood. You can't deny it. I
want my furs, and you've got to tell me where they are."

Drum was standing erect as he uttered these words, and the stranger
realised that this sturdy young man had to be handled with much
discretion. To oppose him would only make matters worse, he was well
aware. Soon a cunning expression appeared in his eyes. He was an adept
in the art of deception, and a man in a desperate situation does not
worry over any conscientious scruples. His manner suddenly changed.

"Say, young man, you're more clever than I thought," he began. "You've
cornered me, all right, this time, so I might as well make a clean
breast of it. I did steal your pelts, though I'm not a Fenian spy. You
see, I was hunting in this region for moose, and getting nothing, I felt
mighty sore. So coming across your traps, I followed them up, lifted the
game and also the skins in this cabin. That's the long and the short of
it."

"And where are the pelts now?" Drum eagerly asked. "Did you sell them?"

"Oh, they're in a shack I ran across at the foot of the valley. I spent
a night there, and intended to get away yesterday morning. I wish to
goodness I had."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wanted to have another try for a moose, but when I ran across the
soldiers I was nearly scared out of my wits."

"Why? Surely you're not afraid of soldiers."

"Not as a rule. But I had stolen your pelts, and a guilty conscience
makes a man a coward."

"And a liar," Drum emphatically added.

The mention of the soldiers aroused him. It was necessary to get away at
once before they arrived. At the same time, he wished to test this man
concerning the pelts. He would make him go to the cabin on the way to
the city. There was one thing more he wished to know, upon which much
depended.

"Are you alone?" he asked. "Have you left any companions in the cabin
you just mentioned?"

"Not a soul. I came all by myself, intending to have a good time with
none to bother me."

"But you got more than you expected, eh?"

"Should say I did. Why, I never got into such a h---- of a fix before.
When I get out of this hole, I'll never come back here again, let me
tell you that."

Drum asked no further questions, but ordered the man to get ready at
once, and put on the snow-shoes. This did not take long, and in a few
minutes they left the cabin, the stranger going before with Drum
following, holding the gun in readiness. His own he had left behind,
preferring to carry the one he had taken from the prisoner. The snow was
deep and light, so the snow-shoes were almost buried at each step. Drum
was quite surprised at the pace his companion set, especially as he was
forced to break the trail. But he swung along so rapidly and eagerly and
without the slightest hesitation, that Drum knew he was well acquainted
with the locality. This only tended to increase his suspicion that the
man was a Fenian spy and knew every foot of the valley. A casual hunter
would have difficulty in finding his way, especially with no marks to
guide him.

The distance to be travelled was about two miles, and it took them
nearly an hour to reach the little brook where Drum had his most
southerly trap, and the one in which his hand had been caught while
setting it. Here the hurrying man slackened his pace, and then swerving
to the left, made toward the cabin. Drum was all alert now, and as they
came in sight of the building, he ordered his prisoner to stop.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked. "You told me that there is no
one with you, and yet I see smoke coming from the cabin. Were you
lying?"

With an ugly growl the man looked quickly around.

"Well, and what of it?" he demanded. "What can you do now?"

"I can put a bullet right through your head, and the head of every one
that shows out of that door," was the determined reply.

"What! would you murder us? Would you dare to do such a thing?"

"It would not be murder. It's never called that in time of war."

"But this is not war."

"I don't know what you call it, then. But it makes no difference. You go
on at your own risk. I mean what I say."

But the man did not move. He stood there like a statue, staring wildly
at the young man standing so calmly but a few feet away with the gun
ready for immediate action. He was in a bad fix, and knew it. His lips
moved as if he would speak, although no word came forth.

And as the two faced each other in silence, a great roar startled them,
causing the earth to shake beneath their feet. At once shrieks of terror
and agony fell upon their straining ears, and then all was still.




CHAPTER 27

FOR LOVE'S SAKE


Hettie found the cave very dark and her heart beat faster than ever as
she groped her way forward. She was no coward, but a feeling of fear
came upon her in that silent place. Every movement she made sounded so
loud that several times she started and shrank back. She guided herself
by touching the kegs on the right. She had often looked upon them in
daytime, and they had always filled her mind with curiosity, mingled
with awe. She knew something of the power of that ammunition, as she had
once seen her father and uncle blow a rock to pieces by means of
gunpowder. She was young then, and the noise of the explosion had
terrified her, and caused her to run screaming to the house where her
mother had comforted and soothed her fears. But the impression remained,
and when she knew that so much powder was stored in the cave on the
hillside, she had mused upon its deadly effect if exploded. And she
thought of it this night as she groped her way onward. She wanted to get
as far away from it as possible, to the farthest end where she felt she
would be safer. She was afraid lest the spies should search the place,
and if they discovered her, what explanation could she give for her
presence there? Her mind was wrought up to a high pitch of excitement
this night, and her vivid imagination carried her beyond all bounds of
reason. She even pressed her right hand to her heart lest its beating
should betray her so loud did it sound. The Fenians would be sure to
hear it if they came.

It was not so much about herself that Hettie cared, but Drum. She must
save him, and as she crouched there upon the ground she racked her brain
for some plan whereby she might warn him of his great danger. He would
be sure to come down the valley in the morning to visit his trap by the
little stream, and there the waiting spies would shoot him before he
could do anything to defend himself. What could she do? It was out of
the question to go to his cabin in such a storm. And if she did go,
would he heed her warning? She thought of his scornful laugh that
afternoon when she had pleaded with him not to visit his traps. Would he
not treat her in the same way if she spoke to him again? She felt sure
that he would. But she could not allow him to die at the hands of the
Fenians. He meant much to her, even though she was nothing to him.

Her mind turned to the men in the shack nearby, and her heart swelled
with anger. What business had they to come into the country and make so
much trouble? She hated them with a bitter hatred, for were they not
planning to kill the man she loved? And they had also induced her father
and uncle to help them. Oh, she knew what they had done, and the money
they had given. Her anger flamed to a white heat. Surely she could do
something to stop them and save Drum. They were miserable wretches,
while he was strong and noble. They did not deserve to live. And Seth
Sloan was in league with them! She pictured him again as she had seen
him that night through the crack between the boards. She wanted to
punish him, too. But how could a weak lone girl do anything?

Suddenly an inspiration flashed upon her which caused her whole body to
tremble. She sprang to her feet, dazed for an instant by the astounding
idea. Could she do it? That was the only thought which troubled her. No
sense of right and wrong affected her. Whatever would save Drum from
those men was her only care.

Stealthily now she made her way out to where the ammunition was lying.
She felt around until her hands rested upon a keg which she believed was
powder. Almost lovingly she fondled it, for it was to be the means of
carrying out her design and saving the man she loved. The keg was not
large, so by turning it on its side, she slowly rolled it back to the
part of the cave she had just left. Here she placed it on end, and
groping around with her hands she found a stone which would serve her
purpose. Ripping off a piece of her skirt, for Hettie was most cautious
in her temporary madness, she wrapped this about the stone, and began to
pound upon the head of the keg. At times she paused to listen, fearful
lest the muffled sound should be heard outside. Once she ceased and went
to the mouth of the cave and peered out. Seeing no one, she felt more
satisfied, so returned and continued her work. At length the repeated
blows had their effect, the head of the keg gave way, and when Hettie
had lifted out the pieces of broken boards, she ran her fingers through
the soft yielding powder. Then she laughed, and the sound of her own
voice startled her, so weird did it seem. She shrank back close against
the wall and looked anxiously toward the opening of the cave. But as
nothing happened, she went again to the keg and moved it along the
ground until she had it near its former position. This accomplished, she
once more retreated to the rear of the cave to await the dawn of a new
day.

Hettie had no intention of going to sleep, but as she crouched upon the
ground her eyes became heavy. The excitement of the day had left her
very weary, and although she fought against the drowsy feeling, she ere
long succumbed to its effect. When she awoke and opened her eyes a great
fear leaped into her heart lest she was too late to save Drum. The light
of day drifted into the cave, exposing a number of the kegs against the
wall. Hurrying forward, she looked cautiously out, but no one was to be
seen, and the snow lay white and soft on all sides, untrodden by man or
beast. The plan she had thought out during the night was as strong in
her mind as ever, although she was calmer now and more self-possessed.
The sleep had refreshed her, thus giving her a renewed confidence in
herself and her undertaking.

Stepping forth, Hettie moved slowly toward the cabin beyond the jutting
rock. As she approached she saw smoke issuing from the pipe stuck up
through the roof. She surmised that the men were at breakfast, for by
the position of the sun she knew that it was yet early. When but a short
distance away, she turned and made another track right back to the cave.
When she again came close to the cabin she looked around, and the marks
in the snow brought a glow of satisfaction to her eyes. In such action
Hettie exhibited something of the instinctive shrewdness of the wild
creatures of the woods. When close to the door she paused and glanced
along the trail leading to the little brook. She saw that the snow had
been broken there, and this brought an anxious feeling into her heart.
Perhaps Drum had already arrived and the terrible deed had been
committed. She gained some comfort, however, from the thought that she
had heard no report of a gun that morning. But some one might be waiting
by the brook even now for Drum's arrival. Hesitating no longer, she gave
a slight tap, pushed open the door and entered. Four men were seated at
the table, who stared with wonder upon their early visitor. They had
just finished breakfast, and were indulging in a smoke. As Hettie
crossed the room, the men noticed her agitated manner. Seth was nowhere
to be seen, and the girl wondered what had become of him.

"Have yez caught him?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

The men made no reply, but continued to stare at the girl, thinking that
she must be crazy.

"Didn't yez hear what I said?" she cried. "Are yez deaf?"

This brought the men to their senses, and they laughed aloud.

"We're not deaf," one of them explained. "But we're not accustomed to
such an early visitor, especially a lady. Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Hettie, Tom Daggert's gal, an' I want to know if yez have caught
Drum Rowan yit?"

"Oh, that makes a great difference," the man remarked. "So you're Tom's
girl, eh? We know him well. He's a special friend of ours, and we are
all delighted to meet his daughter. But why do you ask if we've caught
Drum Rowan?"

"'Cause if yez haven't, yez kin git him whenever yer ready, fer he's
hidin' right near."

At these words the men sprang to their feet.

"He is! Where?"

"In the cave over yon," and Hettie jerked her thumb to the right as she
spoke.

"How do you know that?"

"If yez don't b'lieve me, go an' see fer yerselves," Hettie retorted,
angry at being thus questioned.

"We believe ye, girl, but it seems queer that he should be hiding in the
cave."

"Was it queer that him was peerin' in at yez last night through the
cracks in that winder? Didn't him yell when the bullet went through the
board?"

"That's so. But who told ye about that?"

"Wasn't Dad here? Didn't him know what took place?"

"And he told ye about it?"

"I couldn't find out any other way, could I?"

"No, certainly not. But how do you know it was the man we want?"

"Who else knows 'bout this place an' what ye've got in the cave 'cept
yerselves, an' us, an' Drum Rowan? Would any other livin' critter be
prowlin' 'round in sich a storm? Guess not."

"What makes ye think he is hiding in the cave?"

"I saw him peekin' out as I came to tell yez that him was hidin'
somewheres near, an' watchin' yez. He's been here afore yez was up, fer
his tracks is in the snow. Yez kin see plain where him come an' went
back."

Hettie never hesitated an instant, and looked straight into the eyes of
the man standing before her. Lying was easy to her just now when Drum's
life was at stake.

"And you say you saw him at the mouth of the cave?" another of the men
asked.

"That's what I said. He was thar when I came in, but he dodged back,
thinkin', mebbe, that I didn't see him. But if yez don't hustle, yez may
lose him, fer Drum Rowan's no fool, an' if him takes to t'woods, the
divil himself couldn't ketch him."

"You're right, girl. We'll go, anyway, and prove the truth of your
words. But, say, is he armed? Has he a gun?"

"Guess not. Him left his gun up on the hill where him was choppin' when
him went off to visit his traps."

"Why did he do that?"

"Oh, him's in love with Nell Andrews, an' when a man's in love, him
fergits easy."

At this the men laughed heartily, and looked quizzically at Hettie.

"So he's in love with another girl, eh?" one of them queried. "That
makes you jealous, I suppose, and out of revenge, you're telling on him
now? Is that it?"

"Drum don't love me. Him loves another gal, an' I can't stand it. That's
why I'm here."

"Come on, then," the man shouted. "It's all clear now, and we
understand. Let's help the girl to have revenge upon her fickle lover,
and at the same time get the man we want. We're in luck this morning,
and there's good fun ahead."

"Yez better fetch a candle 'long," Hettie reminded. "The cave's dark in
spots."

"That's right, too," one of the men remarked. "Here, you take it," he
ordered, thrusting a candle and several matches into the girl's hand.
"You know the way, and if the fellow has a gun, he won't shoot if you're
in front."

The word "coward" was about to leap from Hettie's lips, but she
restrained herself, and turning, left the building. She walked fast, in
keeping with the excited state of her mind. At the door of the cave she
paused, struck a match, lighted the candle and entered. The men,
stooping low, followed. Slowly Hettie advanced, holding the light before
her. When part way in she stopped.

"Thar he is," she whispered. "Over in that corner. Yez kin git him
easy."

In their eagerness the men pressed ahead of her, and this was Hettie's
opportunity. She turned, and with a swift movement hurled the lighted
candle right into the open keg of powder near the men, and with a wild
cry sprang back toward the mouth of the cave. The inevitable at once
ensued, and the explosion rent the earth and rocks asunder with a mighty
thunder-like roar. Hettie's work was done, but of this she knew nothing,
for the force of the explosion had hurled her like a rocket from the
mouth of the cave out into the snow. And there she lay, a huddled and
inert form, right upon the old lumber road, half buried beneath a shower
of earth and stones.




CHAPTER 28

THE UPLIFTED HAND


For a few seconds Drum and his prisoner stood as motionless as the trees
around them. Then with a startled cry the latter leaped forward and
hurried toward the cabin. Drum followed, with his gun ready for action.
He could not understand the meaning of that noise, although the stranger
evidently did. The door of the shack was open, but no one was to be
seen. Only pausing to glance into the deserted building, the Fenian
dashed by the door and made his way to the cave beyond. As they rounded
the jutting rock, Drum at once knew what had happened. The snow
everywhere was covered with dirt, while broken rocks were lying on all
sides. What once had been the cave was nothing but a torn raw scar. Both
stopped in sheer amazement, and then a terrible oath came from the
prisoner's lips.

And as Drum looked, his eyes presently rested upon something lying in
the blackened snow not far away. He advanced, and his heart almost
ceased its beating as he beheld the huddled form of Hettie Daggert.
Tearing away the stones which partly covered her body, and brushing off
some of the dust from her face, he looked keenly down hoping that she
might still be alive. But as she gave no sign of life, he was about to
lift her from her tangled position when something caused him to
straighten up a little and glance around. And what he saw caused him to
throw himself swiftly aside as the Fenian hurled himself forward like a
bolt from a catapult. The man's rage was terrible, and he was holding in
his hand a gleaming sheath knife. Scrambling to his feet, just in the
nick of time, Drum met his infuriated antagonist, receiving as he did so
a blow from the knife in the fleshy part of his left arm. The pain, as
well as the cowardly attack, stirred him to intense anger. With a mighty
sweep of his right hand he hurled the weapon from his assailant's grasp,
and then grappled with him with all the strength at his command. Drum
was no weakling, otherwise he would have gone down in an instant before
the raging demon he was now encountering. Never before had he engaged in
such a struggle, and he at once realised that only by the utmost care
and sheer brute force could he expect to win. To and fro they reeled
through the snow, and at times Drum felt that his body would be crushed
by his opponent's fearful grip. He saw, too, that he was striving to
seize him by the throat, and this he was determined to avert if
possible. He hoped to wear the man out, for even now he was breathing
heavily.

And thus silently and terribly they writhed, wrenching furiously at each
other, their size and weight being about equally matched. At length Drum
felt that he could not hold out much longer against the Fenian's almost
superhuman and enduring strength. When every minute he expected him to
lessen his powerful grip, he found him still continuing with apparently
as much energy as ever. He could tell that his opponent was skilled in
the art of wrestling, whereas he had only his strength and hardened
muscles upon which to depend. It was well that he had been chopping for
the past few days, for thus he was better enabled to bear the strain
that was being exerted upon his body. But notwithstanding all this, he
knew that he was weakening. His brain began to reel, and his firm grasp
relaxed a little. This the Fenian realised, and like lightning his hand
shot to Drum's throat. It closed with a vise-like grip, and as the young
man staggered back, feeling that all was over, a sickening sensation
swept upon him. But at this critical instant his eyes rested upon
something which aroused in him a new energy. It was Hettie's hand
suddenly uplifted as if in mute appeal to him. That sight, and the
thought of her lying there and the wretches who had come to this place,
stirred the brute beast within him. He ripped away the hand from his
throat, tore his right arm free, and surging back drove his clenched
fist with all the strength he could muster right into his opponent's
face. At once the grip about his body relaxed, and the Fenian with a
groan sank down upon the snow, motionless, save for a slight quivering
of his body. Drum, however, took nothing for granted. He leaped upon
him, determined that the villain should not have another chance to do
any more harm. He pulled off the belt from around his waist, turned the
man over on his face and tied his hands securely behind his back. He
then straightened up and stood watching the prostrate and dazed Fenian.
He was weak, and his arm was bleeding freely. So faint did he become
that he was forced to rub some snow on his face, which brought immediate
relief.

Drum now tried to collect his senses. Why had the prisoner made his
violent attack? he asked himself. But as he looked over at the ruins of
the cave, the meaning became somewhat clear.

"He must have been raging mad when he saw that wreck," he muttered. "I
wonder how in time the explosion happened, anyway. Did Hettie have
something to do with it?"

He brushed the perspiration from his eyes, and glanced over to where the
girl was lying. He staggered to the place and bent low.

"I was sure I saw her lift her hand," he mused. "But I must have been
mistaken, for I believe she's dead. It won't do to let her remain here,
though. I must get her to the cabin and try to do something for her
there, providing she is living."

He tried to lift the girl, but was forced to desist. So weak was he
after his terrible struggle, that he had hardly strength to stand, let
alone carry a heavy burden. He looked anxiously around, but no sign of
help could he see.

"This will never do," he growled. "I must do it. If only that thing
lying over there would come to, I'd make him carry her."

He glanced over to where he had left the Fenian and saw him wrenching at
his bonds. Drum forgot all about his weakness as he stepped over to his
side.

"Here, none of that," he roared. "Try any more of your nonsense and I'll
knock your brains out. You tried to fix me, but found out your mistake."

So formidable and determined did Drum look, that the baffled man shrank
back. His eyes glared like a wild beast's, and his lips moved, although
he uttered no sound.

"Get up," Drum commanded. "You have more strength than I have, so I want
you to carry that girl over to the cabin."

As the man made no reply, Drum looked around, and seeing the gun lying
where he had dropped it, he picked it up and wiped off the snow.

"I feel better now," he said turning to the prisoner, "so can do the job
myself. It wouldn't be safe to untie your hands, so I shall leave you
just as you are. What did you attack me for, anyway?"

"Look at that," the man replied, turning his eyes toward the place where
the cave had been.

"But I didn't do that."

"I know you didn't. But I was crazy, I guess, when I saw the wreck of
all my plans and the destruction of all that ammunition."

"So you are a Fenian, then?"

"Hell, yes! I was the leader of the gang. But what has happened is more
than I can understand. My companions are all dead, by the look of
things."

"They certainly are from all appearance," Drum agreed. "But as you have
now confessed who you are, you're going to remain my prisoner until the
soldiers come."

Drum was really in a quandary. He could not leave this man, and he did
not dare to unfasten his hands lest in some manner he should escape. The
soldiers might be some time reaching the place, and Hettie needed
immediate attention, if she still lived. He could not carry the girl
himself, even though he felt able, and guard the Fenian as well. What
was he to do? His arm pained where the knife had struck, and the sleeve
of his jacket was wet with blood. He was beginning to feel chilly after
being so greatly overheated in the fierce struggle. Something had to be
done, anyway, and that at once. He looked over in the direction of the
cabin, and wondered if he could carry Hettie there and then return for
the prisoner. Would it be safe? The man might tear his hands free and
make good his escape.

And as he looked, Seth Sloan suddenly appeared around the jutting rock.
He stopped abruptly at the strange sight before him, and his face turned
pale with fear and consternation. He seemed to grasp the meaning of the
disaster, and was on the point of beating a hasty retreat, when Drum
brought the gun quickly to his shoulder.

"Come here," he ordered. "Don't you dare to run away."

"W-what's the matter?" Seth asked in a frightened voice.

"Everything. But, hurry up and give me a hand. There is no time for
explanation just now."

Seth moved slowly forward, his eyes fixed upon the man lying in the
snow. He then looked over at the ruined cave, and his body trembled.

"Explosion, eh?" he queried.

"Seems so, doesn't it? But, get busy, Seth. Hettie Daggert is right
there, and you must carry her into the cabin."

"Hettie!"

"That's what I said."

"Good Lord! What is she doing here?"

"Never mind now, but do as I say. Get over there and pick her up while I
keep watch over this cur."

At first Seth was loth to obey, but when Drum threatened to clout him
over the head with the butt of the gun, he did as he was told. He was,
in fact, too much frightened to think of getting angry. Drum watched him
as he lifted the unconscious girl in his arms and carried her away from
the fatal place. He then ordered the prisoner to rise and follow. Soon
they were at the cabin, and there Drum examined Hettie as well as he
possibly could.

"She is alive and breathing a little," he announced, as he rose from his
kneeling position by her side. "But we can do nothing for her here. She
must be taken home at once, and you will have to carry her, Seth."

"What! all the way? I kin never do it through this snow."

"You can do it, all right, especially when I'm walking behind with
that," and Drum motioned to the gun leaning against the table.

"Ye wouldn't shoot me, would ye?" Seth gaspingly asked.

"You better not tempt me too much. This is a critical situation. With
this Fenian as prisoner, and Hettie in such a serious condition, it's
hard to tell what I might do. So it's safer to obey my orders. Wrap one
of those blankets around the girl and let us get on our way."

Drum picked up the gun and straightened himself to his full height. His
grim aspect sent a chill through Seth's body, and even the moody
prisoner was awed. His torn clothes, his scratched and bleeding face,
his hair, tangled and matted over his forehead, combined with his
blood-shot eyes, gave him a startling and savage appearance. Seth knew
from experience that Drum was not to be fooled with, and that the safest
plan was to obey without any argument. Picking up a blanket, he wrapped
it about Hettie, and lifting her in his arms he bore her out of the
building. Drum motioned to the Fenian to follow, and in another minute
they were making their way, single file, along the road leading to the
upland. The deep snow made walking difficult, and often Seth was forced
to stop to rest. The Fenian was sullen and slouched along in a
spiritless manner like a whipped cur. Several times Drum had to speak
sharply and order him to move faster. Once the man growled out some
unintelligible words as he quickened his pace. He knew full well that he
was in an awkward predicament, and twice Drum stopped him in the act of
wrenching violently at the leather belt binding his hands.

"That won't do any good," he warned. "You'll not escape, even though you
do get your hands free. You are too valuable a prize to lose. You have
brought this trouble upon yourself, so you'll have to put up with the
consequences."

"And what'll they be?" the man asked.

"That remains to be seen. The soldiers will know what to do with you, if
that will be any satisfaction to you."

"And you intend to hand me over?"

"I certainly do. I was hoping to take you to the city myself, but that
is out of the question now."

The man suddenly stopped and looked around.

"Say," he whispered, "if you let me go, I'll make you a rich man."

Noticing Drum's stare of amazement, he eagerly continued:

"I am in command of money without stint, so if you'll help me to escape
I'll give you more than you ever dreamed of having."

"What! Bribe me?" Drum exclaimed.

"Oh, no, it wouldn't be that. It would just be helping a poor devil in a
hard fix. Not much on your part, you see."

"H'm, you might not think it much, but I do," Drum retorted. "I'm not
that kind, so get along and don't suggest such a thing again."

"But think how much there'll be in it," the man persisted. "A fortune.
You'll never have such a chance again."

"All the gold in the world wouldn't bribe me. I'm too loyal to my
country to do such a thing as that. You can't work that game around
here."

"But we have. Tom and Bill Daggert have been working for us, and so has
Seth Sloan."

Drum started at this confession, and stepped quickly forward.

"Are you telling me the truth?" he demanded.

"Before God I am," the prisoner replied, shrinking back from the aroused
form confronting him. "We paid them good money to help us."

For a few seconds Drum stood like a statue, his hands gripping hard upon
the gun. He then ordered the man to go on and overtake Seth, who was
waiting for them some distance ahead.

Drum said nothing more about the startling news he had just heard. He
wanted to think it all over that he might decide what was the best thing
to do. He was brooding over this when they reached the Daggert house and
entered. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than he forgot
everything else in the sight that met his eyes. A fire was burning in
the fire-place, and at one side stood Andy Dooner, bending over a form
upon the floor. He saw the broken table, smashed chairs, and other signs
of confusion, and realised at once that something out of the ordinary
had taken place. As they entered, Andy straightened himself up and
looked around. Seeing Drum, his face brightened. Then noticing the
burden in Seth's arms, and catching a glimpse of Hettie's blackened
face, he uttered a cry of dismay. His nerves were almost shattered by
the terrible experience through which he had passed, so this new
calamity brought him to the verge of the breaking-point.

"Is it Hettie?" he asked in a weak gasping voice.

"It is," Drum replied. "But what have you there?"

"Bill Daggert. He was killed by his brother. Oh, Lord! what's goin' to
happen next?"

Seth laid the girl upon the floor, stepped forward, and seeing Bill's
haggard face, and the wide staring eyes, he shrank back as if from a
blow. Then with a wild cry of terror, he rushed toward the door, and
dashed out of the building before Drum could lift a hand to prevent his
escape.




CHAPTER 29

THE PARTY AND AFTER


The party at Widow Brown's was a pleasant affair. During the afternoon
the young men chopped, split, and piled the wood, while the young women
quilted and hooked mats in the house. Mrs. Brown was a jolly lively
person, fond of company, especially that of young people. Her face
beamed with pleasure and animation as she moved about among the workers,
telling or listening to bits of gossip, and bantering the girls about
their admirers outside.

"If we only had Andy Dooner here, the Lord Himself couldn't make me any
happier than I am now," she exclaimed after an outburst of merriment had
subsided at a quaint remark she had just uttered.

"Has Andy deserted you?" one of the girls asked.

"I'm afraid he has, Ellen. The old rascal! Just wait till I get my
tongue on him."

"Where is he, anyway, Mrs. Brown?"

"Out with 'The Twins,' so Margaret told me. He stayed at her house last
night, and seemed to be worried about something, so she said. I wish to
goodness that dear girl was here with us now, but she doesn't dare to
leave her pa. He's more cranky than ever, so I believe. With Drum away,
Margaret has a lonely time of it. She needs brightenin' up a bit."

"Where is Drum?" Sarah Belmont inquired. "He never missed a party at
your house before, did he?"

"Not to my knowledge. But he's cuttin' cordwood on the back lot. The
Twins failed in the undertakin', so Drum's taken it in hand and is
doin' it all himself. I'm glad he's settled down to real work at last. I
was always fond of that boy, for there's a lot of good in him, even
though he is somewhat harum-scarum at times, livin' so much in the woods
with his traps and gun."

Nell Andrews' head bent somewhat lower over the quilt at which she was
working as she listened to Mrs. Brown. She knew that her cheeks were
flushed, and that the eyes of several of the girls were turned in her
direction. She was greatly disappointed that Drum was not at the party,
for she had looked forward to seeing him. After her experience with the
lawyer she wanted to meet Drum more than ever. She chided herself over
and over again for her foolishness in dreaming so much about the city
and the life she would lead there. All her fond illusions had been
suddenly shattered, and she was not sorry now. Drum meant a great deal
to her. He was the very embodiment of life and buoyant manhood, and his
careless and roving nature appealed to the spirit of romance within her
soul. That he had so nobly defended her honour against the insinuations
of Seth Sloan had affected her deeply, and she longed to thank him. But
he had kept away from her ever since that night of the meeting in the
hall, and she surmised the reason. It was just like him, she knew, not
to come to her unless certain that she needed him. He would not force
himself upon her, nor plead for her favour. There was too much pride in
him for that.

When the storm swept over the land, the men were compelled to cease
their chopping. With supper ended, the young people spent the evening
with games and dancing. They missed Andy and his inspiring music, so had
to content themselves with a young man who rasped out several tunes on
an old violin. The party broke up earlier than usual owing to the storm,
and some even then had difficulty in reaching their homes.

Nell had not enjoyed the evening, and before the rest dispersed she
slipped away to the house on the hill where Margaret was awaiting her
coming. She had planned to spend the night here, and had looked forward
to the quiet time they would have together. The captain had long since
been in bed, and the room looked exceptionally cheery and homelike as
Nell entered. The blazing hardwood sticks in the fire-place were
pleasant to behold, and above all, Margaret's sincere and hearty
welcome.

The two talked late that night, and many were the secrets they imparted
to each other of their hopes and fears. Each knew the value of the
other, and their souls were in harmony to the deep and noble things of
life. The storm raged outside, and the wind sweeping around the house
rattled the windows. Only when an extra heavy gust caused the building
to tremble and creak did an anxious expression appear in Margaret's
eyes.

"I do hope Drum is in his cabin to-night," she remarked. "This is the
worst storm we have had for some time. I am sorry he went to his traps
to-day. But when he makes up his mind there is no stopping him. He has
been working hard of late, and I am so thankful."

"Mrs. Brown said that he has been chopping on the back lot," Nell
replied. "It's too bad the Daggerts didn't do it as they agreed."

"In a way it is, Nell. But it has given Drum an interest in something
besides trapping and hunting, and that is important. I am hoping that he
will settle down to steady work after this. It will be a great relief to
us if he does."

Nell made no reply, but looked thoughtfully into the fire. She had not
told Margaret the great secret of her heart, for it was too sacred a
thing to reveal to another, even to her most intimate friend. It was
partly this, and also the sense of shame at the way in which she had
rejected Drum for the lawyer which sealed her lips. She felt mean for
the manner in which she had behaved, and she wished to do something to
make up for her past mistake. Margaret, however, was not blind to her
brother's love for Nell, even though he had said nothing to her about
it. She did hope that the love would prove mutual, for with Nell as
Drum's wife it would mean much to him as well as to herself. She did
suspect that something had happened which caused Drum to remain away
from the party that night. He had never done so before, but had always
looked eagerly forward to the affair. She believed that Nell knew, and
she was somewhat disappointed when she remained silent on the subject.

When they awoke the next morning the storm had ceased, and they looked
out upon a world of dazzling whiteness, for the sun was hanging just
above the far-off eastern hills. The captain was pleased to see Nell of
whom he was very fond, although he had no use for her father. He was
brighter than usual, and complained less about his foot. His talk was
chiefly of Drum, and what good work he was doing in the woods.

"We shall get the boat loaded, after all," he declared, as he limped to
the table for breakfast and sat down. "Tom and Bill Daggert needn't look
to me for any more help. I've shut down on them at the store, and it's a
pity that I didn't do it sooner."

"And Hettie won't have to make so many trips to the store," Nell added.
"Poor girl! what a life she must lead with such men as her father and
uncle."

"She's the only one I'm sorry for, Nellie. She takes after her mother,
who was a remarkable woman in many ways. But what chance did she have
with such a brute as Tom Daggert for a husband. I can't understand why
she ever married him. He and Bill drove her to her grave. They killed
her, that's what they did, with their devilish ways. My! how I'd like to
have those two men on board ship with me out on the ocean. That's the
only place to keep such curs. They'd have to do as they were told there,
and if they tried any of their nonsense it wouldn't be well for them.
But what can one do on land! It's no place to live, anyway, when you
can't make people mind."

"Come, come, daddy," Margaret smilingly chided. "You might be in a far
worse place, remember. What would you do out on the ocean now, lame as
you are?"

"I could do more than you imagine, dear. I'm just as strong and capable
as ever but for this foot. And if I were once more on my old ship I'd
like to see the man who'd try to oppose my authority. That's the place
to have Tom and Bill Daggert for a few months, and I'd show them a thing
or two."

The captain's eyes glowed with the fire of determination as a vision of
other days swept upon him. He even forgot to eat as he sat there gazing
through the partly-frosted window on his right.

"You are forgetting your breakfast, daddy," his daughter reminded. "Your
coffee and porridge are getting cold."

"It doesn't matter, dear, as I'm not very hungry. How can a man have an
appetite shut up in a house all the time? Now, it was different when I
was on board ship. I could always eat a good square meal, for I had
plenty of exercise, and the fresh open air in which to breathe. But
here! Why, I don't eat as much as a mouse."

Notwithstanding his words, the captain managed to eat a fairly good
breakfast. When he was through and back again in his big chair, with his
pipe drawing to his satisfaction, he was in a more pleasant frame of
mind, and quite contented with his lot on shore. Margaret's eyes
twinkled with amusement as she glanced occasionally in his direction as
she and Nell cleared the table. She was always glad to see her father in
such a mood, and this he generally was in the morning. If he would only
remain so during the day what a comfort he would be, and how her burden
of caring for him would be lightened.

When the dishes had been washed, beds made, and the house tidied up,
Margaret and Nell sat down near the fire and began the piecing together
of little squares of cloth of various colours for a quilt-cover. The
captain watched their fair faces, and his thoughts went back to the days
when they were but children and played so much together. And always on
his visits home he had been so fond of going with them on tramps through
the woods, picking berries, and fishing sometimes in the brook. He and
Squire Andrews were not enemies then, but friends, and what pleasant
times they had together. But the men of the neighbourhood did not come
to see him now, and a longing stole into his heart to have several of
the older ones around him again. He wondered if the squire was very
bitter toward him. He felt inclined to ask Nell a few guarded questions
about her father, and was just clearing his throat for speech when a
knock sounded upon the door. At once it was opened, and without any more
formality Widow Brown entered. She stamped the snow from her feet, and
brushed off a liberal supply that clung to the bottom of her skirts. Her
face was beaming as usual, and in her hand she carried a plate covered
with a white cloth.

"I've brought ye some of the left-overs," she explained, as she set the
plate down upon the table. "It's a nice frosted cake which I thought the
cap'n would enjoy, an' you, too, me dear," she added, turning to
Margaret. "It's too bad you weren't with us last night, for we had a
great time. My! my! I'm all het up, and nearly fagged out from climbin'
that hill. It seems to be gettin' steeper every year."

She sat down in a big chair Margaret had drawn up for her, and then
looked at the captain.

"And how are you this mornin', Cap'n Rowan?" she inquired.

"Very well, thank you, Mrs. Brown. Only my foot is no better."

"That is hard on a man like you, always used to be movin' around and
givin' orders. I well remember when you was as spry as any of us. Dear
me! no one knows what's ahead of us. Who ever thought that there'd be
such a storm last night to spoil that party. But, then, I s'pose it was
the Lord's doin's, so we shouldn't complain. And what are you girls
makin'?" she suddenly asked. "A quilt, eh? For you, Nellie? Ah, there's
nuthin' like gettin' ready in time for house-keepin'."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Brown," Nell laughingly replied. "I'm not going to start
house-keeping for a long time."

"Is that so? Well, I thought mebbe there might be something in what I
heard about that lawyer feller comin' to see ye. Glad to hear from your
own lips, though, that it isn't the case."

"Why, wouldn't you like for me to marry a lawyer and live in the city?"

"You live in the city! Nellie Andrews, your place is right here in the
country where you were born and riz. What would you do in the city?
You'd be like a fish out of water, jammed up between all of them houses.
I go there only once a year, and not that often if I can help it. And
I'm always glad to get back home again where I can breathe the fresh air
as the Lord made it, and which is not mixed with the smell of things He
didn't make. Yes, the country's the place for them who were brought up
in it."

When Mrs. Brown was present no one had much chance to say anything. All
knew the goodness of her heart, so they made due allowance for all she
said. She was always ready night or day to help her neighbours,
especially in sickness. Women preferred her to the doctor, and she was,
accordingly, kept busy going from house to house wherever she was
needed.

"I never studied medicine or nursin'," she had often said, "but as I was
the seventh daughter, the Lord gave me special gifts. I guess the good
old-fashioned medicines do their work just as well as all these
new-fangled notions with names that old King Solomon himself couldn't
understand, with all his wisdom. I try to use common sense whether it is
feedin' a baby or nursin' somebody sick with ammonia."

But after all, her cheery presence and buoyant nature had a wonderful
influence in a sick-room, for her every word and movement radiated
health and hopefulness.

"You'll be all right in a jiffy," she would say to the most despondent
patient. "You're just a little run down, so a rest will do ye a world of
good. Don't think too much about yourself, but count your blessin's and
see how good the Lord has been to you."

She stayed for over a half hour at the Rowans, and then glancing at the
clock on the shelf, she rose quickly to her feet.

"Just look what time it is!" she exclaimed. "Here I've been talkin' as
if I had nuthin' at all to do at home, clearin' up after last night's
racket. Not that I mind it, but it's got to be done, for it's wonderful
how young people can upset a house with their shindies."

She had scarcely finished speaking when the door was suddenly thrust
open, and Seth Sloan staggered into the room. The wild expression in his
eyes, his excited manner, and his vain efforts to speak produced a
startling effect, causing Nell and Margaret to rise quickly to their
feet in fear and astonishment.




CHAPTER 30

BEARERS OF RELIEF


Seth groped his way to the chair, slumped down, and made no attempt to
speak. He was greatly exhausted and breathing heavily.

"What is the matter?" Margaret asked, placing her right hand upon his
shoulder. "Are the Fenians upon us?"

"Y-yes, I g-guess so," was the feeble reply. "T-that is, they were. Oh,
it's a-awful! G-get me somethin' to d-drink. Q-quick."

Going to the kitchen, Margaret prepared a cup of tea, and returning with
this, she handed it to the exhausted man.

"Drink this, Seth," she said. "It will make you feel better."

"Got anything stronger?" he asked, as he lifted his head. "Give me some
r-um. That's the only t-thing 'll put l-life into me."

"Rum! ye've had too much rum already, it seems to me," Mrs. Brown
declared. "I believe that's what's wrong with ye."

Margaret again left the room and came back in a few minutes with a glass
full of Old Jamaica. Seth clutched it eagerly and drained it to the last
drop.

"My! that's great," he sighed, as with a trembling hand he placed the
glass upon the table. "It goes to the right spot. Nuthin' like it."

"Now, what's the meaning of all this?" the captain demanded. "Have you
seen a ghost, or have the Fenians been chasing you? Out with it."

"Bill Daggert's dead, an' Hettie's dyin'," Seth gasped.

"What! are ye crazy?" Mrs. Brown cried, stepping to his side.

"I'm not crazy. I know what I seen. Didn't I see Bill layin' in his
house with Andy standin' over him? An' didn't I carry Hettie all the way
from the Valley, with Drum follerin' me with his gun? Don't I know what
I'm talkin' 'bout? I ain't crazy, though I've gone through enough to
make me ravin' mad."

"Bill dead, an' Hettie dyin'!" Mrs. Brown shrieked, clutching Seth
fiercely by the arm. "Are ye tellin' the truth?"

"True as God's in heaven," Seth avowed, wriggling his arm from the
gripping fingers. "Didn't I see 'em? Don't ye think I ought to know?"

"Come, come," the captain remonstrated. "Stop this wrangling, and let
the young man tell his story. Explain now, sir, what you mean."

"There's nuthin' more to explain, cap'n. I only know that I was crusin'
along the Valley of The Jaws this mornin', an' comin' to an old lumber
road, I was walkin' by that steep cliff of rocks, when I was struck dumb
by an awful sight. There stood Drum Rowan, with a gun in his hands,
standin' over a man layin' in the snow with his hands tied behind his
back. They'd had a terrible fight, by the look of things, an' Drum's arm
was wet with blood. An' jist a short distance away was Hettie, layin' in
the snow, her face all black with dust an' powder, with stones an' rocks
piled around her. It must have been an awful explosion."

"Explosion!" The captain lifted himself from his chair and staggered to
his feet, while the women stared at Seth in wide-eyed astonishment.

"Yep, the hull hill was blown to smither-reens. Guess the Fenians had
powder stored there, an' it must have exploded."

At this astounding statement the captain sank back in his chair, too
much amazed for further utterance. The women could hardly believe their
senses, and for a minute a death-like stillness reigned in the room.
Nell's mind was working rapidly. She thought not only of Hettie but of
Drum, as well. She was the first to break the silence.

"Is that all you know, Seth?" she asked.

"Yep, that's all."

"And you say you carried Hettie home?"

"I did, an' an awful load she was."

"Who is the man with his hands tied?"

"A Fenian, I guess. The rest must have been killed by the explosion."

"And what happened to Bill Daggert? How was he killed?"

"I don't know nuthin' 'bout that racket."

"And Hettie was alive when you left?"

"I think she was. But I didn't wait to see after I reached the house.
Lord, it was awful!"

"I must go to her," Nell impulsively declared. "Will you go with me,
Mrs. Brown? You understand about nursing, and Hettie may need us both."

"Sure I'll go, Nellie. You're quite right. Women'll be needed there, fer
men ain't much good in sich cases. Let me run home to git some bandages
an' me snow-shoes. You kin borrow Margaret's an' her moccasins. Be ready
when I come back. My lands! one never knows what's goin' to happen
next."

She bustled out of the house, and when she was gone Margaret turned to
Nell.

"How I wish I could go with you," she said. "I am so anxious about
Hettie and Drum."

"We can do all that will be necessary, I feel quite sure," Nell replied.
"You can't leave home very well, and you will be able to have everything
ready for Hettie when we bring her back with us. But you will come,
Seth, won't you?" she asked, turning to the young man.

"Yep, I'll go, Nell. But I don't feel very well. Guess I'm all in."

By the time Mrs. Brown returned Nell was ready for the journey. She had
Margaret's moccasins and snow-shoes on her feet, and a small basket in
her hand, filled with food.

"This is Margaret's doings," she explained to the widow's look of
surprise. "She thinks we might be hungry before we get back."

"An' right she is, too, me dear. There's no tellin' how long we might be
kept out there. An', besides, there'll be other mouths to feed, fer not
likely there's much left to eat in the Daggert house. I do pity poor
Andy, fer he must have come through tryin' times. I wonder what in the
world happened to Bill. But, come on, an' we'll soon find out."

"Oh, if I could only walk!" the captain remarked. "I wouldn't let two
women go alone on such a mission. You should have a man along to help
you."

"Don't ye worry one bit, cap'n," Mrs. Brown replied. "Nobody'll harm us,
an' we'll have Seth along to pull us out of the snow banks."

Seth, however, did not relish the idea of going back to the hills. He
was trembling as he left the house and his face was very pale. When the
door had closed behind him, he stopped, glanced quickly around, and then
made a sudden dash for the main highway. The women stared in amazement,
and almost held their breath at his speed. But he never once looked
back, and when he had disappeared from view, Mrs. Brown gave expression
to her feelings.

"The coward!" she cried. "To think of him runnin' away like that an'
leavin' us alone! Why, I believe he's scared 'most out of his senses at
what he saw out there. Jist wait till I git me tongue on him. Won't I
give him a piece of me mind fer sich actions."

"We can get along without him," Nell replied. "He would be only in our
way, and we shall show him what we can do without his help."

It was a hard journey, for the snow was light and their snow-shoes sank
deep at every step. But bravely, though slowly, they plodded on. Up a
steep hill they moved, down the other side, over a long valley, up
another hill, and through stretches of forest, until they came to the
clearing in which the Daggert house was situated. They saw it in the
distance, and none too soon, for they were almost tired out.

"Let's stop here a minute, Nellie," Mrs. Brown panted. "I'm almost
fagged, an' I guess you are, too. I ain't as young as I used to be. Once
I could come this hull way on the run without any trouble. But, hello!
who's them? Why, I believe they're soldiers."

Nell was already looking, and she had no need to be told who the men
were. She saw them emerge from the woods on the left near the Daggert
house, and she counted twelve in all. They were moving cautiously, yet
swiftly, and when they had reached the house they surrounded it, while
one went to the door and in another minute had entered the building. He
was gone but a short time when he came out and beckoned to his
companions. When they had all gone inside, Nell breathed a sigh of
relief, why, she did not know.

"What d'ye s'pose the soldiers are doin' here?" Mrs. Brown asked. "Mebbe
they've got wind of the Fenians."

"Most likely," Nell agreed. She hardly knew what she said, for there had
suddenly come into her mind what Andy had told her about Seth. Was he
really in league with the Fenians, and was that the cause of his terror?
Why had he been in the Valley that morning, especially after such a
storm, unless he had been assisting the enemy? Did he know of the
nearness of the soldiers, and was that the reason why he had run away?
It did seem so, and the thought made her angry. She turned to her
companion.

"Let us go on," she said. "I want to find out about this affair. I
believe Seth knows more than he told us."

"Why, what d'ye mean?"

"I believe that Seth has been helping the Fenians, and now that the
soldiers are here, he is frightened almost to death."

"Nell Andrews! what are ye sayin'?" the widow demanded. "Seth Sloan
helpin' the Fenians! I can't believe it."

"Maybe not. But Andy has had his suspicions for some time, and I feel
certain now that he was right. Anyway, we shall find out before long."

They made their way as fast as possible through the snow, and when they
came near the house Nell's heart was beating fast. She did not want to
meet the soldiers, and yet the thought of Hettie lying there, dying,
perhaps, and Drum wounded, how badly she did not know, nerved her to
dare almost anything. Added to this was the sting of Seth's treachery,
which was enough to arouse the most timid.

Reaching the door first, she entered, and the sight which met her eyes
caused her to shrink back. The room seemed filled with men, and most of
them soldiers. When her eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, she
beheld Drum near the fire-place with Andy by his side. He was answering
questions hurled at him by one of the soldiers who had the appearance of
an officer. As the women entered, the men, though surprised, made way
for them, and as Nell went forward she caught sight of a bundle lying
upon the floor at the left of the fire.

"There is the prisoner I captured," she heard Drum say. "He tried to
kill me, and very nearly did it, too. You had better look well after
him. He should be able to explain about all this better than I can."

He then saw Nell, and an expression of astonishment came into his eyes.

"How did you get here?" he asked, unheeding now the officer.

"Walked, of course," Nell replied. "Is that Hettie over there?"

"It is, and she needs attention at once. Andy has done what he could,
but I had to watch that," and he motioned to the prisoner standing
defiantly near. "We must get her right away from here."

Nell stepped quickly forward, and when she had drawn back the blanket
which partly covered Hettie's face, she uttered a cry of dismay. In an
instant Mrs. Brown was by her side.

"Oh, the poor dear!" the widow exclaimed. "I wouldn't know it was Hettie
Daggert. What kin we do fer her?"

"We must get her out to the shore. It won't do to let her remain here."

"I shall carry her, Nell, and we shall go at once," Drum replied. "The
soldiers can attend to Bill and the prisoner."

"Is Bill dead?" Nell questioned, while a tremor of fear shook her body.

"I believe so. Andy can tell how it happened. But there is no time for
that now."

"Just a minute," the officer commanded, turning to Drum. "I don't wish
to detain the ladies any longer than I can help. Neither do I wish to
keep this injured girl here. But this is a serious affair, and I must
take you and this old man with me to the city as witnesses, I shall send
two of my men to carry the girl to the shore."

"But Drum is wounded," Nell remonstrated, rising to her feet. "Look at
the blood upon his hands. Seth said he was stabbed by the Fenian."

"Seth who?" the officer inquired.

"Seth Sloan. He brought us the news, and then ran away."

"He did! How did he know about this affair?"

"He said he was down in the Valley and carried Hettie here."

"Is this the truth?" he asked Drum.

"It is. I forced Seth to carry the girl while I guarded him and the
prisoner."

"Does Seth know anything about what happened?"

"Ask him," and Drum motioned to the Fenian.

"Out with it," the officer demanded, swinging swiftly around upon the
prisoner. "Did Seth Sloan have anything to do with this trouble?"

"He was one of us," came the surly confession.

"That will do for the present. We shall look after that man later. Now
we must attend to this injured girl."

He then ordered two of his men to prepare a stretcher, which when they
had completed, they laid Hettie tenderly upon it, and were about to bear
her out of the building when Nell requested them to wait a minute.

"Will you please send a doctor up from the city to do what he can for
Hettie?" she asked the officer.

"I hardly know how I can do that, Miss. It's a long way, and the
travelling is heavy."

"But you will need her as an important witness. If she recovers she
should be able to give you some valuable information."

"You are quite right. I shall see what can be done."

"And you will get a doctor to attend to Drum's arm?"

"Yes, he will be well looked after, so don't worry."

The officer noted the flush that overspread Nell's cheeks as she made
this request, and he surmised its meaning.

"And take good care of Andy," she further reminded.

"God bless ye, Nellie!" the shoemaker replied, speaking for the first
time since her arrival. "I knew ye wouldn't fergit yer old friend. Oh,
this has been a sad time fer me. I've been in hell since I saw ye last.
I shall never git the sight of them two brothers fightin' out of me
mind till me dyin' day. It was awful! awful! But good-bye, me dear, an'
I'll see ye ag'in when this trouble's all over."

Nell noticed how frail and white the old man looked as he stood before
her. He seemed to have aged greatly in a few days, and had lost all of
his old-time cheerfulness of spirit. She looked, too, at Drum and held
out her hand.

"Take care of yourself, Drum," she simply said. "Come home as soon as
you can. Good-bye."

She followed Mrs. Brown and the stretcher-bearers out of the house, and
did not once look back. Drum kept his eyes fixed upon her until she had
disappeared from view. Although tired, almost to the point of
exhaustion, and suffering from the wound in his arm, a new feeling of
joy thrilled his heart. Nell's words, and the look she had given him
acted like a tonic to his drooping spirits, and inspired him with a new
confidence and hope.




CHAPTER 31

LOVING CARE


News of the tragedy back in the hills soon spread up and down the river
and the excitement became intense. The story passed from mouth to mouth,
gaining in magnitude according to the fervid imagination of the
narrator. Drum's heroism in capturing the Fenian leader was mentioned
with almost bated breath. But the cause of the explosion remained a
profound mystery. No one could solve the problem of Hettie's connection
with the affair, nor how she had escaped while the men had been blown to
pieces.

And added to this was the murder of Bill Daggert by his brother. It was
terrible and startling, and the thought of Andy Dooner alone in the
house with the dead man made the boldest shudder with fear. All longed
for more news, and waited impatiently for some word from the city which
was so slow in coming.

Many visited the Valley of The Jaws and looked fearfully upon the havoc
that had been wrought by the explosion. The soldiers had been there
before them and had interred the bodies, or portions of the bodies, of
the men who had been killed. The visitors peered into the shack which
the Fenians had inhabited, and there they found the pelts which had been
stolen from Drum's cabin. They took care of these, not knowing to whom
they belonged until later. They also found papers of an inflammatory
nature, such as had been circulated throughout the parish.

The Daggert house was deserted, and all who entered it saw the mute
evidence of the terrible struggle that had taken place. Many were the
surmises as to the cause of the trouble, although no one could give any
satisfactory explanation. Of the bags of gold they knew nothing, as the
soldiers had carried them off to the city.

Everywhere the feeling of anger and insecurity ran high. No longer did
any one doubt the Fenian menace. It had been right near and they had
treated it all too lightly. Perhaps there were many of the enemy still
in the country, with more concealed supplies of ammunition, awaiting a
favorable opportunity to begin their work of destruction and death. This
idea spread like wildfire, and all began to realise more than ever the
great necessity of the entire country being united for defence against
the threatened invasion. Those in favor of Confederation made the most
of it, and in emphatic words declared that all the provinces should come
together as one to prevent their utter ruin at the hands of the enemy.
The opponents to union had really nothing to say, and even Squire
Andrews remained silent. His old arguments seemed almost ridiculous now
in the face of the stern reality. It was hard for such a man to change
his views and to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong. But he was
noble enough to admit it, and also to speak a word of praise for Drum
Rowan.

"I guess there must be something in that boy, after all," he said to his
wife one evening. "He is of good Bluenose stock, and you can't beat that
when it comes to a pinch."

While all this excitement was stirring up the entire parish, Nell was
watching by Hettie's side. Mrs. Brown had insisted that the injured girl
should be taken to her house, as there was plenty of room, and she
considered herself the very one most capable of looking after her.

"I ain't got chick nor child," she declared, "so why shouldn't I look
after the poor dear? The Lord will provide some way fer me to live while
I am 'tendin' to her."

Nell decided to help the widow all she could, and spent most of her time
there. Much to her surprise, her father and mother made no objection
when she suggested the idea to them.

"Do as you like, Nell," her mother had told her. "Mrs. Brown will need
some one with her, and I really don't know who can go but you. I can
manage to get along for awhile."

The neighbors did everything in their power to assist, and sent such an
abundance of supplies that Mrs. Brown gasped in amazement as the goods
came pouring in.

"I never saw anything like it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew the
neighbors were kind, but I didn't fer a minute imagine they'd do all
this. Why, there's enough stuff piled up in the store-house to last me
fer years. It surely must be the Lord's doin's."

The widow was not much given to outward emotion, but she was forced to
wipe her eyes with the corner of her apron, and turn away her face.

"It is because you are doing such a good work in looking after Hettie,"
Nell explained. "The people's hearts are deeply stirred over the sad
affair, and they feel that they cannot do enough for the poor
unfortunate girl."

Hettie was a pitiable object when the soldiers carried her into the
house. At once the women had set to work to do all they could for her.
How badly she was injured they could not tell, but she was alive, and
that was something. They washed off the dirt from her face, and as much
as possible of the grime of the burnt powder, and then laid her tenderly
in Mrs. Brown's spare-bed. And there the girl lay motionless while the
widow endeavoured to force some brandy between her firm-set teeth.

"If only the dear would take a little it might revive her," she said.
"Look how her hair and eyebrows are scorched. My! it's a wonder to me
how she managed to escape when the men were killed. Oh, I hope the
doctor will come soon."

The doctor, however, did not arrive until toward evening of the next
day. He looked grave as he examined the girl, while the women watched
him with anxious eyes.

"Is she hurt bad?" the widow at length inquired, impatient at his
silence.

"I cannot tell, Mrs. Brown," was the quiet reply. "No bones are broken
so far as I can tell. But there are serious bruises upon her body which
must have been caused by the falling stones. She may recover for a time,
at least, but she is such a frail creature that there is not much
vitality in her body upon which to work. I shall, however, leave some
medicine and come again as soon as I can. You women can do all that is
necessary just now."

"Did you learn what caused the explosion, doctor?" Nell asked.

"I know nothing about it, Miss Andrews. The first I heard about the
trouble was when Mr. Tilley sent for me and asked me to come up here.
But the news of the double tragedy soon spread, and when I left there
was much excitement everywhere. The discovery of the Fenian plot will
greatly strengthen Mr. Tilley's cause on behalf of union. That young
Rowan did a great piece of work in capturing that Fenian leader. He is
Captain Rowan's son, so I believe."

"Indeed he is, and was riz right next door, too," Mrs. Brown proudly
replied. "People got the habit of sayin' that he was no good. But I knew
better an' stuck up fer Drum. He was always good to me, an' I'm glad
he's showed folks what's in him."

This little piece of news was pleasant to Nell, and although she did not
mention Drum to the widow, she thought of him a great deal, and longed
for the time to come when she should see him again. As she sat alone by
Hettie's side while Mrs. Brown was busy with the house work, she let
her mind wander and pictured in imagination the capture of the enemy
leader. What a great fight the two must have had, and in the struggle
Drum had received the knife thrust in his arm. But he had won, and it
was that which caused her heart to thrill with pride and thankfulness.
And he had said nothing about it in the Daggert house, so the soldiers
did not know of his wound until she mentioned it. That was just like
him.

On the third day Hettie began to move a little, and to turn her head
from side to side on the pillow. At times she moaned, as if in pain, and
at last began to murmur something which could not be understood. She
swallowed a little of the nourishing broth Mrs. Brown made for her, and
to all appearance she was gaining in strength.

"If she would only open her eyes," the widow once remarked, as she stood
watching her. "I am hopin' now that she will pull through, after all. If
she does, what a story she'll have to tell."

Nell was on watch that night, and although there was little that she
could do for the patient except administer some medicine and broth at
stated intervals, she did not feel inclined to leave her. She busied
herself with needle-work, and although her eyes became heavy at times
and her head drooped, she always aroused herself to watchfulness.

It was toward morning, and the faint light of a new day was making
itself dimly felt against the frosted window pane when Hettie opened her
eyes and looked absently around the room. They rested at length upon
Nell's face, but showed no sign of recognition.

"Hettie," Nell softly spoke as she bent over the bed, "don't you know
me?"

But the patient continued to stare first at her and then at a picture on
the wall opposite the bed. Presently into her eyes came an expression of
fear, and she lifted her head from the pillow.

"The cranes! the cranes!" she cried. "Don't ye see 'em, Drum? Keep 'way
from The Jaws; it ain't safe thar."

She then remained silent for a while, and with closed eyes, breathed as
if asleep. Nell watched her intently, hoping that a change for the
better had come. When again Hettie opened her eyes, it was another
vision she beheld.

"The powder! the powder!" she shrieked. "It's thar, ready to go off.
I'll blow 'em all up. I'll, I'll--oh--!"

Mrs. Brown rushed into the room, and stood looking at the excited girl.
She saw the look of fear upon her face, and stooped to comfort her.

"There, there, dear," she soothed. "Yer a'right here with us."

She placed her right hand upon the patient's forehead, and that touch
brought immediate calmness. A faint smile appeared upon Hettie's face.

"That you, mum?" she asked. "I knowed ye come. I've been waitin' fer ye
a long time. But the cranes! the cranes! Don't ye see 'em?"

She was like that all through the morning, repeating almost the same
words. Nell tried to read a meaning in what she said, but try as she
might, she could make no sense out of the rambling sentences. She
wondered what the fear of the cranes had to do with Drum. She asked Mrs.
Brown, but the widow could throw no light upon the problem.

"It's jist her wanderin' mind, I guess, Nellie. But I kin understand
somewhat her words about Drum. She was fond of him, so, mebbe, what's
she's kept to herself is comin' out now. That's often the way with
people who are delirious. I've noticed it before in others."

This was a new idea to Nell, so she remained silent. It had never
entered her mind that Hettie was fond of Drum. But as she thought it
over she wondered if the girl's love had anything to do with the
terrible tragedy in the Valley. Had Drum been in danger, and had Hettie
risked her own life to save his? A new feeling akin to romance, stirred
her heart, and upon this she allowed her imagination to play. And what
had the cranes to do with it?

She was thinking of this the next night as she sat by the side of the
bed. She had slept that afternoon, so was greatly refreshed. Hettie was
quiet, lying motionless with her eyes closed. The needle-work had
dropped upon Nell's lap, and she was gazing straight before her. She was
aroused by a slight touch upon her arm, and glancing quickly around she
saw Hettie looking up into her face. There was a new expression in the
girl's eyes now, and she seemed quite rational.

"You frightened me, Hettie," Nell told her. "I didn't know you were
awake."

"Didn't ye, Nell? I was watchin' ye, an' teched yer arm. Was ye
dreamin'?"

"I believe I was."

"'Bout him?"

"Who?"

"Drum. But, tell me, Nell, is he safe?"

"Yes. He's in the city now."

"Oh, I'm glad the Fenyuns didn't kill 'im. I must have stopped 'em,
a'right, when I threw the candle into the powder."

"Did you do that, Hettie?" Nell asked, shrinking back a little in
horror.

"I did. Thar was nuthin' else to do. The Fenyuns was goin' to kill Drum
when he came down the Valley to his trap, so I got 'em into the cave an'
blew 'em up. Was 'em all killed? I hope 'em was."

"Yes, they all were, Hettie. And you were nearly killed, too."

"Was I? An' is that why I'm here? Where am I, anyway?"

"At Widow Brown's house. The soldiers carried you here."

"The so'gers! Did 'em come?"

A look of fear leaped into Hettie's eyes, and she made an effort to rise
from the bed. But Nell pressed her gently back.

"Don't get excited, dear. The soldiers will not harm you."

"But did 'em git Dad an' Unc? They was turrible 'fraid of the so'gers."

"Don't worry about that now, Hettie. You must not talk any more, as you
are very weak. I am going to get you something to eat."

Nell evaded answering Hettie's question about the soldiers. She did not
wish to tell her of the tragedy that had been enacted at her home. It
would only excite her, and might seriously affect her. She returned
shortly, and when the invalid had taken some of the warm chicken soup,
she wished to continue the conversation. But Nell would not let her.

"You must go to sleep and get a good rest," she told her. "I shall go
away unless you mind what I say."

"But I can't sleep, Nell. I have a bad pain here," and Hettie placed her
hand to her chest. "It's jist like a big weight crushin' me an' stoppin'
me breath. I wonder what it kin be."

This was alarming news to Nell, and at first she was inclined to awaken
Mrs. Brown. Upon second thought, however, she decided to apply hot
cloths. When she had done this, the patient obtained considerable
relief, and after a while dropped off to sleep.

Nell had something new to think about now. So Hettie had risked her own
life to save Drum's! She looked fondly upon the girl lying on the bed.
Then a sadness stole into her heart. Hettie had done that for the one
she loved, and she was only the poor and ignorant daughter of Tom
Daggert. She had been true to the last, while she, Nell Andrews, well
brought up and knowing better, had cast Drum aside for the brief foolish
attention of another man. How she hated herself for her ignoble action.
She bowed her flushed face in her hands, and was not ashamed of the
tears that rolled down her cheeks. Could she ever atone for what she had
done? And how could she tell Drum of her heart-felt regret?




CHAPTER 32

AT REST


Many were the inquiries made about the injured girl, and often neighbors
came to the door, while passing, for the latest information. All were
much relieved when they heard that Hettie had regained consciousness and
was able to talk a little. The interest in the tragedy had in no way
abated, and all anxiously awaited for some word from the city. The
"Morning News," which had a weekly edition for the people in the
country, never seemed so long in coming. The mail carrier was slower
than usual in making his way up the river. But when at last his horn
sounded all work was dropped, and eager eyes scanned the pages of the
newspaper he brought, while others stood impatiently by waiting for the
slightest scrap of news.

Nell happened to be nearest the door when Jerry Trueman arrived at Mrs.
Brown's house.

"Nuthin' but a paper t'day, me dear," he announced. "How's the sick
gal?"

"A little better, I believe," Nell replied, as she unfolded the paper,
and ran her eyes over the contents. "Oh!"

Her exclamation caused Jerry to smile, although she did not notice it.
She was reading rapidly the account of the double tragedy, and the great
credit given to Drum Rowan for his good work in capturing the Fenian
leader. There was no explanation concerning the explosion of the powder,
as that was shrouded in mystery, so the paper stated. Mention was made
of the injured girl, but what part she had taken in the disaster was not
known. The murder of Bill Daggert by his brother was enlarged upon, and
Andy Dooner's story was recorded in full. Nell shuddered as she read the
account, and her face was pale when she at length laid the paper aside.

"Wasn't it awful!" she exclaimed. "Just think of poor Andy being there
when those two men were fighting!"

"It was turrible, Nellie, an' no mistake," Jerry agreed, as he stood by
the stove warming himself. "But they haven't caught Tom Daggert yit. No
one knows what's become of him."

"He will be caught, though, won't he, Jerry?"

"Mebbe he will, an' mebbe he won't. Tom's as cunnin' as a fox, an' it's
no tellin' where he is by this time. He may be hidin' with the Fenyuns,
fer all we know."

"Oh, do you think so? Surely there are no more of them in this
province."

"That's what we don't know, me dear. An' that's what's stirrin' up the
authorities in the city. The discovery of that plot out in the Valley
has made 'em all mighty uneasy. But, there, I must be gittin' on me way.
The Royal Mail can't be delayed, an' others are anxious to hear the
news. The travellin's heavy, an' I ain't gittin' any younger. Oh, well,
I s'pose it's only what we must expect."

He rose slowly from the chair upon which he had been sitting, and was
stooping to lift the mail-bag from the floor, as Mrs. Brown bustled into
the room.

"Yer not goin' yit, Jerry," she cried. "Ye must have a cup of tea an'
something to eat before ye leave this house. Ye look about fagged out,
poor man! Jist set down ag'in, an' I'll fix ye up a bite in a jiffy. The
water's bilin', so it won't take long."

Jerry was only too willing to remain a while longer, notwithstanding his
anxiety about the Royal Mail. As the widow busied herself at the stove,
he related to her bits of news he had picked up on his way along the
river. Nell, also, gave her a digest of the article she had just read in
the paper.

"I'm glad that Drum's got some praise at last," Mrs. Brown declared.
"How pleased the cap'n an' Margaret'll be when they see that. I'm jist
dyin' to run over an' congratulate 'em both."

Nell was thinking of the same thing, and she had her mind made up to go
over that very afternoon. But shortly after dinner her mother arrived,
and although Nell was surprised, she was glad to see her.

"I wanted to see how you folks are making out," she explained, as she
laid aside her wraps. "I can't stay long, as your pa will be back
shortly. We have all been so much interested in poor Hettie. How is she
getting along?"

"Very well, indeed," Mrs. Brown replied. "She sleeps a great deal now,
an' when she's awake she doesn't talk much, but jist lays there gazin'
over at the winder or the wall. There's something on her mind that's
troublin' her, I feel sartin."

"How is the pain in her chest?" Mrs. Andrews inquired. "I heard that she
is troubled there, and it made me anxious."

"That doesn't seem to bother her now one bit. Anyway, she never
complains about it. I really believe she'll pull through, an' I know the
doctor'll be surprised when he sees her. But I'm afraid she'll git all
upset when she hears about the murder. Wasn't it awful, Mrs. Andrews?"

"Indeed it was, and just think of Andy being there when Tom Daggert
killed his brother! You've heard about it, I suppose?"

"Yes, it's all there in the paper which Jerry left this mornin'."

An hour later Squire Andrews called for his wife, and Nell noticed how
unusually cheerful he appeared. She wondered what had caused the change,
but she did not find out until she went over later to see Margaret. Both
father and daughter were sitting, as was their custom, before the open
fire as Nell entered. They gave her a hearty greeting, but there was an
expression in Margaret's eyes and a peculiar eagerness in her voice
which made Nell wonder. Not until she had told them about Hettie's
condition, and the visit her mother had paid her that afternoon, did she
learn what had taken place in the house on the hill.

"And while your mother was with you, your father was here with us,"
Margaret announced. Then seeing the look of surprise upon her visitor's
face, she smiled.

"Yes," she continued, "he walked right in and congratulated us both for
what Drum did out in the Valley. We had not seen the account in the
paper, so were greatly surprised."

"We were, dear, indeed we were," the captain agreed. "The Squire shook
hands with me just like he used to do years ago. He told me how proud he
was of my boy, and asked my forgiveness for the way he had misjudged
Drummond."

"Father did that!" Nell exclaimed. She could hardly believe that she had
heard aright, knowing him as well as she did.

"Yes, Nellie, it's true. I never expected such a thing from Squire
Andrews."

The captain's eyes were misty, and Nell was forced to turn away her face
to hide her own emotion. But in her heart there was a great happiness.

"And your father and I had a fine chat," the captain continued. "We see
eye to eye now about this Confederation scheme. He realises as I do that
the provinces must be united in order to be strong. We both believe that
this Fenian scare will be the great fighting-slogan for Tilley. We
talked it all over, and although he was here nearly an hour it seemed
like only a few minutes. And I never thought of my foot at all, and
didn't have the least twinge of my old pain."

Margaret laughed at her father's enthusiasm, and told him that he was
renewing his youth, and would be out again in a few days.

"I certainly shall, dear, if such pleasant surprises continue," he
replied. "I feel better to-day than I have for a long time."

Nell remained for a while with the Rowans, and when she left she walked
along the road in a most thoughtful mood. Her heart was light, and she
felt like singing a hymn of praise. So much had happened in a short time
that she was quite bewildered. What she had considered almost impossible
had come to pass, and her father and the captain were friends once more.
It seemed too good to be true, and she longed to see Drum to tell him
the wonderful news. She thought much of him, and wondered when he would
be home again. The longer he was away from her the more she missed him,
and the greater a hero did he appear to her. She wished, too, in some
way to make up for her past neglect and foolishness.

She was thus thinking as she reached the house. No sooner had she
entered than she heard Mrs. Brown calling to her. Surprised at the
excited note in the widow's voice, she hurried upstairs, and paused at
the door of the little room where Hettie was lying. At once she noticed
a change in the girl's condition, for she was breathing with difficulty,
and her right hand was pressed upon her breast.

"It came upon her all of a sudden," the widow whispered. "I heard her
moanin', an' when I came into the room she looked jist like she does
now. Oh, I wish the doctor would come!"

"Can't we do something to relieve her?" Nell asked.

"There's nuthin' that I know of. I've put hot cloths on her chest, but
they don't seem to do any good. She's sufferin, I know, by the look on
her face, poor dear."

Nell forgot everything else now in her attention to the invalid. When
she was not applying hot applications, she held her hands, and
sometimes spoke words of comfort and cheer. Hettie made no complaint,
but often she turned her eyes full upon Nell's face. She said nothing,
however, until that evening when Mrs. Brown was downstairs and the two
were alone. Nell felt the girl's hand press hers more firmly, and
noticed that her lips were moving.

"What is it dear?" she asked.

"Yer good to me, Nell," Hettie whispered. "Yer jist like me own mother."

"And why shouldn't I be good to you, Hettie? I want you to get better."

"I never will, Nell. But thar's somethin' I want to tell ye afore I go.
Ye must be good to Drum. He loves ye better'n anyone else in the world."

"Hush, hush, dear, don't talk that way," Nell pleaded, while tears came
into her eyes. "I can't bear it. You must get better."

"But I must talk, Nell," the girl insisted in a firmer voice. "I must
tell ye what's on me mind. Take care of Drum. He never loved me, but he
loves you. Didn't I see him the night ye walked home with that lawyer
feller? He skated up the river, an' stood watchin' yer house fer a long
time."

"He did!"

"Yep, he done that, a'right. An' when he was choppin' out in the woods,
I offen saw him standin' lookin' off to yer place. Oh, I knew he was
thinkin' 'bout you an' not me."

Here Hettie paused and remained silent for a few minutes. But for her
laboured breathing no sound was heard in the room. At length she aroused
a little, and a sad smile overspread her face.

"I was thinkin' of mum, Nell," she explained. "I know she's waitin' fer
me. She was a good woman, an' I'm sure she's in Heaven. D'ye think I'll
go thar, too, Nell?"

"I am sure you will, Hettie, for you are a good girl."

"But I'm not, Nell. I'm bad through an' through, an' I've done sich
awful things. Jist think of the lies I've told, an' how I helped them
Fenyuns to scatter their dirty papers 'long the road."

"But the Lord will forgive you, Hettie."

"D'ye think he will, Nell? Will Him fergive a bad girl like me?"

"I am sure He will, for He has promised to forgive all who ask Him."

"An' does that mean me, Hettie Daggert, the wild, bad girl?"

"Yes, yes, you, too."

Nell was sobbing now, and she could hardly control herself, so deeply
was she affected.

"Don't take on so, Nell. I don't want to make ye feel bad. But will ye
ax the Good Lord to fergive Hettie Daggert fer the bad she's done? I
don't know what to say meself, fer I only know some words of a lettle
prayer me mum learned me."

"And what is that?"

"'Now I lay me down to sleep.' I used to say it."

"I know it, Hettie, so suppose we say it together."

"A'right, Nell. You go ahead, an' 'll try to foller."

In a choking voice, Nell began:

"'Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to
take.'"

Hettie lay very still after this. Only her lips moved, and she murmured
softly, "'I pray the Lord me soul to take.'"

Then her eyes opened wide, and a radiant smile overspread her pinched
face. Suddenly she lifted her hands, looked upwards, and with the glad
cry of "Mum, I'm comin'," her arms dropped, and Hettie Daggert was at
rest.




CHAPTER 33

ANDY COMES BACK


The neighbours were much affected by Hettie's death. They did everything
in their power and made all arrangements for the funeral. They called at
the house, and more assistance was offered than Mrs. Brown could accept.

"I never saw anything like it," she confided to Nell the next day during
a lull in the coming of visitors. "Everyone feels so sorry and worked up
over the poor girl's death. An' no wonder, considerin' the way she
died."

"What can have happened to her father," Nell replied. "We have had no
word of him at all. Do you suppose he will grieve about Hettie when he
hears of her death?"

"H'm, not that thing," the widow sniffed. "He's too much of a brute to
have any feelin's. Most likely he's so anxious jist now about savin' his
own measely carcass that he can't think of nuthin' else."

"Isn't it a pity that the Daggerts had anything to do with the Fenians,
and thus bring so much trouble upon an innocent girl?"

"It sartinly is, Nellie. But that's always the way with the wicked, so
I've noticed. If they themselves were the only ones to suffer, it would
not be so bad. But they ginerally bring the house down on top of them
that had nuthin' really to do with their rascality. Now, that poor
little lamb layin' there was as pure an' harmless as a baby."

"She was much like a child, Mrs. Brown, and it's a surprise to me how
she remained so good through all her trials and the bad example that was
set her."

Another caller at the door interrupted the conversation, but as the two
sat at supper that night, they again referred to the subject.

"Mebbe it's jist as well that Hettie's gone," the widow began. "If she
had pulled through this trouble, she'd been always weak. Now she's at
rest. Life, after all, isn't sich a great luxury that we should want to
cling to it so much."

"But we do cling to it, for all that," Nell reminded. "I have had a good
time so far, any way. Only lately have I come to see its more serious
side."

"I know it, Nellie, I know it. You were always happy an' free from care.
An' yer bound to be happy still. It's yer nature to be bright an'
cheery. Drum'll come back ag'in, so don't fret."

"How do you know I am fretting?" Nell asked in surprise. "What makes you
think that Drum means anything to me?"

"Haven't I got eyes in me head, me dear? What did the Lord put 'em there
fer if not to see? I know that Drum Rowan loves you, an' that you love
him, so there. Ye can't deny it. An' if ye do, yer blushes give ye dead
away."

Nell did not feel annoyed at these words, spoken in such a homely and
friendly manner. In fact, she was glad that some one understood the deep
longing of her heart, and that she could talk with Mrs. Brown about Drum
and not feel embarrassed. Andy Dooner was the only other person in whom
she could safely confide, but he was now far away, and she did want to
speak to some one.

"Drum'll make good, Nellie," the widow continued. "I'm glad ye didn't
take up with that lawyer feller from the city. You wouldn't be happy
with him."

"And so you knew about my foolishness, Mrs. Brown?"

"Sure I knew. An' so did every one else in the parish. But I told 'em
not to set too much stock of the silly ways of a girl who lost her head
fer a time. I knew ye too well, me dear, to believe that yer nonsense
would last long. That young snipper-snapper from the city would make no
suitable husband fer a girl like you."

"You were quite right," Nell agreed, as she rose from the table, and
began to clear away the dishes. "I have little respect for a man who has
no real life in him. I wish you could have seen him the night we walked
home together. He was about done out when we reached the house. I
suppose it was wrong for me to do what I did, but I could not resist the
temptation. It was really funny to see him puffing and struggling to
keep up with me."

"I heard about it, though, Nellie, an' I wish I'd been there. But here's
another caller. Go to the door, will ye?"

Before Nell could comply with this request, the door was pushed open and
Andy Dooner entered. Without a word, he walked slowly into the room, and
sank down upon the nearest chair.

"Why, what's the matter, Andy?" Nell asked, bending over him. "Are you
sick?"

"No, not sick, but jist played out," was the feeble response. "I ain't
as young as I used to be."

Quickly Mrs. Brown poured out a cup of tea and handed it to the fatigued
visitor.

"Drink this, ye poor man," she ordered. "An' eat one of these biscuits.
Ye'll feel better in a short time. Have ye jist come from the city?"

"I have, Mrs. Brown. I got a lift part of the way, an' walked the rest.
I thought I'd never git here. So the poor gal's gone, has she?"

"She went yesterday, Andy. The funeral'll be to-morrow."

"So I heered, an' that's why I wanted to be here on time. My! my! many
turrible things have happened since the last time I was here. I never
expected to be mixed up with sich doin's at my time of life. But, then,
one never knows what's ahead on him."

He drank two cups of tea, and when he had finished the third biscuit, he
looked and felt much refreshed.

"Guess I'll stretch out on yer sofy fer a while, Mrs. Brown," he said.
"It'll rest me up a bit."

"Yes, do, Andy, an' make yerself comfortable. Nell, you take off the
poor man's boots, while I go an' git a soft pillow. That old one's too
hard."

"My! it's great to have women wait on me," Andy murmured, when he was at
last resting to his satisfaction. "I've been through sich deep waters of
late that this is 'most like Heaven."

"Tell us about it all," Nell requested, sitting down by his side. "We
are anxious to hear everything."

"'Specially 'bout Drum, eh? Well, he's a'right, an' lookin' fitter than
ever. I'm sartinly proud of what he done, an' so is Mr. Tilley. Why, he
invited Drum an' me up to his house, an' axed us no end of questions."

"He did!" Mrs. Brown exclaimed. "Bless his heart! He's a real man, fer
sure, an' understands jist what to do. He was from the country himself
an' is jist like one of us. He doesn't put on no high-falutin' airs."

"Yer right, Mrs. Brown, yer sartinly are. He was as nice to us as if
we'd been dooks or princes. He was nat'rel an' easy-like, an' how his
eyes did shine when Drum told how he captured that Fenyun leader, an'
the awful fight they had in the snow. 'I'd like to have seen it,' sez
he. 'But I feel sorry fer the poor gal that got hurt,' an' when he said
that I saw that his eyes were misty. He'll feel bad when he hears she's
dead."

"Is there any word about her father?" Nell asked.

"Not a whimper, Nellie. Oh, that was a turrible night, an' I thought I'd
never live to see mornin'. With the storm ragin' outside, an' them two
brutes fightin' like mad, it was enough to make any man go clean daft.
An' I guess I was fer a time until Drum arrived with Hettie, an' that
brought me to me senses a little. I couldn't do nuthin' but stand by the
side of Bill an' watch him, listenin' all the time fer Tom to come back.
But he didn't come, an' I'm sartin now that he won't."

"But the soldiers will get him, will they not, Andy?"

"Mebbe they will an' mebbe they won't. Tom is a cunnin' critter, fer all
he's sich a divil. But if they do git him, they'll make short work of
him, that's sure."

"Did ye tell Mr. Tilley all about yer experience?" Mrs. Brown asked.

"I sartinly did, an' he was turrible int'rested. An' when I told him
about the gold that them skunks had got from the Fenyuns, he jumped
right to his feet in astonishment. I never saw him so much worked up
afore. He made me tell the story all over ag'in."

"Did they have the gold hidden in their house?" Nell asked in surprise.

"Yes, right near the fire-place, in the floor, a hole on each side. It
was the gold that made all the trouble."

"Well, I never heard of sich a thing in all me born life!" Mrs. Brown
exclaimed. "An' to think that you, poor man, should have been in that
awful racket."

"It was bad, Mrs. Brown, an' no mistake. Mr. Tilley shook me by the
hand, an' there was only one thing lackin' to make that little meetin'
of ours perfect."

"What was that?" Nell inquired.

"Jist a drop of somethin', me dear, a glass of good Old Jamacy, fer
instance. That would have put new life into me. That's all I have
ag'inst Mr. Tilley. He's dead set ag'inst liquor."

"Indeed he is," Mrs. Brown declared. "An' I wish there were more like
him. He's the leader of the Temp'rance Movement that's goin' t' wipe
out all the vile stuff that turns men's heads an' that's ruinin' the
country. I do admire Mr. Tilley fer the stand he's taken. He doesn't
tech liquor himself, an' what's more, he won't allow it in his own
house, so I hear."

"So I found out, Mrs. Brown. But I kin fergive him fer all that, 'cause
of the way he treated Drum an' me. An' he told us that what we'd done
was goin' to carry Confederation fer sure. 'The hull province'll be so
worked up over this,' sez he, 'that the people can't do nuthin' else but
vote fer union. This Fenyun scare'll be our fightin'-slogan, an' we'll
snow our opponents under,' sez he, an' he brought his fist down upon the
table with a bang. My! there was fire in his eyes when he said an' done
that. I wish ye could have seen him jist then."

"Do you really think that the discovery of that Fenian plot will make
any difference in the coming election?" Nell asked.

"Mr. Tilley is sartin that it will, Nellie, an' he ought to know if any
one does. He told us that word was even then comin' in from all parts of
the country favorin' union. The city has been mighty worked up ever
since we took down the news of the tragedy. The so'gers are drillin'
like mad, an' the streets are full of 'em marchin' to an' fro. More
young men are jinin' up every day, an' they are keen fer a fight."

"Dear me! I hope it won't lead to war with the United States," Mrs.
Brown exclaimed. "That would be turrible."

"No, this won't lead to no war, Mrs. Brown. The United States won't let
them Fenyuns git beyond the Border, mark my word."

"If that is so, what is the sense of the soldiers getting ready to
fight?" Nell questioned.

"Jist as a matter of precaution, me dear. Ye kin never tell how fer them
Fenyuns may git afore the United States Government steps in. Some of
'em may slip across the Border an' try to do harm. But don't ye worry.
Uncle Sam'll keep his hand an' eye upon them restless critters an' stop
'em good an' quick. I'd like to be there to see the fun when them
scalywags are gittin' rounded up an' marched home like a bunch of
runaway youngsters. But Drum'll tell us all about it when he comes
home."

"What! has Drum joined up, too?" Nell asked in surprise.

"Sure. Didn't I tell ye about it? No? Well, that's queer. Nuthin' could
keep him back when he saw the so'gers marchin' along the streets, an'
heard 'em singin' 'Fer away from poor Janette.' It was more'n he could
stand, so he jined up that very day. An' a fine lookin' so'ger he makes,
too, fer I seen him in his uniform jist afore I left the city."

Further conversation on this subject was prevented by the arrival of
several neighbours to spend the evening, and to "keep the women
company," so they said. Andy had no more chance to talk to Nell about
Drum, but he managed to slip a letter into her hand while Mrs. Brown was
in the parlour showing the visitors the dead girl.

"It's from Drum," he explained. "He axed me to give it to ye on the sly,
but it's been a mighty hard job to do it here with some one allus
around. Hide it away quick, fer they're comin' back."

Nell did as she was bidden, and with a flushed face thrust the letter
into a fold of her dress just over her heart.

"Jist the place fer it," Andy mused to himself as he watched her. "My! I
like to see her when she looks like that. It's no wonder Drum's daft
over her. I would be, too, if I was young ag'in. It would take more'n
the smartest lawyer from the city to git ahead of me, by jingo, if it
wouldn't!"




CHAPTER 34

THE ROUND-UP


Winter at last gave way slowly to spring. The cold days and the rough
storms were forgotten in the renewal of life which appeared on all
sides. But the months of uncertainty and fear could not be dismissed
from the people's minds, and now with the warmer weather the menace of
the threatened invasion increased. The enemy was concentrating along the
Border, and the attack might take place at any time. All throughout the
province were greatly stirred, especially those living nearest to the
danger-line. In the city there was much activity of preparation, and a
thousand men marched to the frontier. News of the movement of the
soldiers soon spread along the river, and Jerry, the mail-courier, was
the object of considerable interest as he made his rounds. He stopped
for dinner one day at the Andrews', and regaled the family with bits of
information he had picked up in the city.

"I saw the so'gers go," he told them, "an' a fine lookin' lot of men
they were, too. There were three battalions of the New Brunswick
Regiment of Artillery, an' seven companies of the Saint John Volunteer
Battalion. Others have gone, too, from Carleton an' Charlotte Counties,
so I heard. I saw 'em marchin' along the street, an' the band was
playin',

    'Thou art goin' fer away
    Fer away from poor Janette.'"

"As I watched 'em swingin' along, I thought that mebbe a good many of
'em would never come back ag'in to their poor Janettes. Them Fenyuns
are reg'ler divils, so I understand, an' used to fightin'. They were in
the Civil War, an' have had lots of experience. They're jist spilin' fer
a fight, an' have a new kind of gun that kin shoot quicker'n ye kin
wink. Did ye hear about the one that Drum Rowan took from that Fenyun
leader?"

"We did," the squire replied. "And I have been much interested in it."

"Well, it's that kind the Fenyuns have, so I hear. I wonder what our men
kin do with their old muzzle-loaders ag'inst sich weapons. I'm afraid
they won't have much of a chance fer their lives."

"But are there not British war vessels near, Jerry? I heard there were,
and that they were even at the mouth of the St. Croix. The sailors will
help in the fight, will they not?"

"Oh, yes, the war vessels are there, a'right, an' the sailors'll take a
hand, never fear. But them boats can't go fer inland, an' the Fenyuns
are cunnin' enough to keep out of their way. They'll cross the Border
furder up."

Nell listened to every word and longed to ask Jerry if he had seen Drum.
But she hesitated, afraid that she might betray the deep feelings of her
heart. She knew, however, that Drum had gone to the Border, and when the
fight began he would be sure to be in the thick of it. She had the
letter from him which Andy had delivered, and she had read it over
several times. It did not contain many words, and, in fact, it was
mostly about Hettie. But Nell read between the lines, and built a fairy
realm all her own. She had not seen Margaret for some time, but she knew
that the captain was improving. This was due not only to his pride over
Drum's work in capturing the Fenian leader, but to the kindness of the
neighbours. They had united, cut the cordwood, hauled it to the shore,
and then loaded it on the boat. This touched the captain's heart more
than anything else, and when he learned that Squire Andrews was the
chief mover in the undertaking, his eyes filled with tears.

"I never imagined they would do such a thing," he remarked to his
daughter one evening as they sat alone together. "Here, I have been
denouncing them for months, and now look how they have repaid me good
for evil. And to think that it was the squire, of all men, who put them
up to it."

Nell knew what was going on, and her heart rejoiced at the change that
had come over her father. He was on good terms with the captain, but
would he be friendly to Drum should he return? She thought of all this
as she made her way that afternoon down to the graveyard near the
church. Since spring it had been her custom to go each week to Hettie's
grave, and when the flowers were in bloom she planned to keep the little
mound well covered with as many early blossoms as she could find.
Something seemed to draw her to that secluded spot among the trees, and
she would stand for some time looking thoughtfully down upon the grave.
It was the last resting-place of the brave girl who had given her life
to save the man she loved. But for her deed, Drum might have been killed
by the Fenians. And suppose Drum had died! Her heart beat fast at the
thought, and her steps quickened. How could she then ever forgive
herself for her indifference to his love? She knew his reason for
staying away from the parties. He did not wish to be near her if she did
not care for him. And, perhaps, that was the reason why he had gone to
his traps that night of the storm instead of being at Mrs. Brown's. And
it was her own fault that he had remained away.

Nell was in sight of the graveyard when she saw a number of men coming
across the field up from the shore. She recognised them as neighbours,
among whom was Abe Hawker. They were talking excitedly to one another,
and when Abe saw Nell, he called to her to wait.

"What is the matter?" she asked, as the men drew near.

"We've found him," Abe pantingly replied. "He's layin' down thar among
the bushes."

"Who is it?" Nell inquired, much startled.

"Tom Daggert, of course. We found his body as we were sackin' off some
logs. He must have been layin' thar fer some time. Drownded, I guess,
the night of the storm an' the murder."

Nell's face was very white, and she was trembling with excitement.

"Yep, Tom must have tried to cross the river that night an' wandered
into an air-hole," Abe continued. "Anyway, thar he is, jist where the
river threw him out."

"Oh, isn't it terrible!" Nell exclaimed.

"Served the brute right fer helpin' the Fenyuns an' then killin' his
brother," Abe growled. "By jolly! I wish the skunk had lived a while
longer so's we could have got our hands upon him."

Nell was in no mood for further conversation. The thought of Tom
Daggert's body lying down on the shore sickened her. She turned and
walked slowly back home. She had now no inclination to visit the
graveyard. A new and uncanny feeling possessed her soul. How strange it
was that Tom's body should be lying so close to Hettie's grave. Perhaps
something more than the vagary of the tide had caused it to be cast up
there. Anyway, it brought to her mind the idea of the certain
retribution which must surely fall upon the wicked. She had often heard
the parson speak about this in his sermons, but never until lately had
she thought much about it. It was different now, however. And where was
Seth Sloan? She had heard about his contemptible assistance of the
Fenians, and she wondered what had become of him. No one knew, and he
had disappeared as mysteriously as if the earth had opened and swallowed
him up.

The discovery of Tom Daggert's body caused intense excitement in the
parish, and a large crowd attended the funeral. Nell did not go, but she
heard all about it from her father. The parson refused to allow him to
be buried in consecrated ground, and would not read the regular Burial
Service, but had substituted several prayers, full of warning to
unrepentent sinners.

"The parson did right," the squire declared. "How could he say 'In sure
and certain hope' about such a man as Tom Daggert who murdered his
brother and betrayed his country to the Fenians? I wish you could have
heard the sermon the parson gave. It sent cold chills through me."

This excitement soon subsided, however, at the crisis which was now
reached in connection with the Fenian raid. All sorts of rumors spread
throughout the parish, most of them more and more magnified the farther
they travelled. But that the enemy was on the march to the Border was
certain, for the Morning News told of the advance, as well as the
positions the various battalions had taken to meet the invasion. Days
passed in terrible tension for the waiting ones. The latest word told of
a strong force of Fenians that had gathered at Eastport and Calais ready
for the blow. It was the spear-point, so it was believed, that would
enter the province and force its way to the very heart of the country.
Would the local soldiers be able to drive them back, or would they be
mowed down like grass before the new guns in the hands of the enemy?

Nell thought a great deal about Drum during this time of anxiety. How
she longed to know how he was faring. Although she was concerned about
her country's welfare, she felt that little would really matter to her
should the man she loved be killed. This disturbing thought was with her
day and night. Often she looked down the road, and every person
appearing caused her to start with apprehension lest he should be the
bearer of ill tidings. In every house all the available weapons were
ready in case of sudden need. Men talked and planned what they would do
should the enemy break through and march inland. Little work was carried
on, and the store was daily filled with men, alert and in readiness for
any emergency.

At last the news arrived. How it came no one could really tell. It
passed from house to house, until all knew and breathed deep and fervent
sighs of relief. The enemy had gathered at the Border towns under the
direction of General Dorian Killian. Here they drilled and awaited the
arrival of a vessel they had chartered at New York loaded with arms and
ammunition. And while the filibusters gathered there, strong forces of
volunteers were posted along the New Brunswick frontier on the opposite
side of the river, prepared for action. It was a time of great tension,
and while all waited not knowing what to expect, three British war
vessels steamed quietly into the St. Croix River, ready for action.
These vessels greatly relieved the severe strain, but the presence of a
couple of American gunboats not far away looked ominous to the soldiers
lining the shore. They could not understand the meaning of what was
taking place, and they wondered why the British vessels allowed the gun
boats to approach so close. The reason, however, became apparent when
the vessel bearing the arms and ammunition from New York hove in sight.
At once the two gun boats swung into action, promptly took charge of the
visitor and seized her cargo.

The Fenians were stricken with consternation at this unexpected act on
the part of the United States' Government. Having no munitions of
warfare, they were helpless. And to add to their humility, General
Meade, with a battalion of soldiers, arrived at Eastport with orders to
see that a breach of the Neutrality Act was not committed. This
promptness brought a sudden termination to the Fenian menace along the
New Brunswick boundary line, and the great suspense was relieved.

Such was the news that drifted up the river and brought rejoicing into
every home. That very night the men celebrated the event by building a
huge bon-fire close to the river in front of the store, around which
they fired off guns, clanged cow-bells, and beat tin pans and kettles to
their hearts' content. Several indulged too freely in the rum that was
passed around, and several fights took place among the most pugnacious.
But little attention was paid to the scrappers. The rejoicing was too
intense, and the relief from the dread of invasion too great to be
marred by a few men who made fools of themselves.




CHAPTER 35

VICTORY


It was a bright day and all nature was putting on her dress of living
green. The trees were awaking to newness of life, and the verdant grass
was showing on hillside and valley. Nell stood at the kitchen window and
looked out upon the pleasant scene. Her eyes were turned down the road
as if expecting some one from that direction. Weeks had passed since the
settling of the Fenian trouble, and she wondered if the troops had yet
returned to the city. She had received no further word from Drum,
although several days before Margaret had told her that he was still at
the Border. Would he come right home? she asked herself, and would he be
anxious to see her? Perhaps the new excitement as a soldier had given
him a change of heart, and he had put her from his mind altogether. She
found life very tiresome and humdrum these beautiful days, with the
social pleasures of the winter over, and with the great out-of-doors
appealing to her so strongly. There was so much work to be done in the
house that she had little time for anything else. Life on a farm was
hard, anyway, but in the spring of the year the routine was more wearing
than ever. She was naturally of a buoyant disposition and took her tasks
in good part as all in the day's work. But this morning an unusual
depression weighed upon her. There seemed nothing in store for her but
the continuous round of cooking, ironing, washing and scrubbing to which
she had been accustomed for years. What had she to look forward to,
anyway? She knew that she had only herself to blame for treating so
lightly the love of the one man in the whole world who could bring a
new spirit and a sweet joy into the deadly monotony of her existence.
She felt that she could not endure it much longer.

And as she stood there, she caught sight of a man coming slowly along
the road. Her heart beat fast at first, as she thought it might be Drum.
But in another minute she recognised the traveller as Andy Dooner. As he
drew nearer, she saw that he was carrying something under his arm. She
had the door wide open by the time he reached the house, and gave him a
hearty welcome.

"Come right in," she invited. "You look tired out."

"An' I feel jist as I look," Andy replied, as he followed her into the
room and sat down upon a chair. "Jist lay that on the table will ye, me
dear? It's me fiddle, an' a beauty it is, too."

"A new one?" Nell asked, as she took the box in her hands and laid it
carefully upon the table. "How you must miss your old one."

"I sartinly do, Nellie. But this'll last me the rest of me life, an'
it'll allus remind me of the good man who gave it to me. Ye can't guess
who it was?"

Andy chuckled as he watched the interested light in the girl's eyes, as
she vainly turned over in her mind who the donor might be.

"Ah, I knew ye'd never guess, fer ye'd never think of Mr. Tilley. Yes,
that's who it was, an' sez he to me, sez he, 'Mr. Dooner, I know all
about ye, an' how yer fiddle was broke the night ye was with them
Daggert rascals. I've sent fer ye, an' I want ye to accept this fiddle
from me as a slight token of my 'preciation.' Them's the exact livin'
words, Nellie. 'A slight token of 'preciation.' Jist imagine sich a
great man sayin' that to an old cat-whipper like me!"

"I think it was very nice and generous of him," Nell replied. "But did
he really send for you?"

"He sartinly did, an' I went all the way to the city on purpose havin'
no idea what he wanted me fer. I've jist got back, so here I be all
fagged out an' hungry as a bear. I came up on the mornin' boat an'
walked from the wharf."

"Why, indeed, you must be hungry, you poor man. I shall give you
something to eat at once. It was stupid of me not to think of it before.
I should have known that men are always hungry. I know from experience."

"Yer right, Nellie. The Lord made us that way, I guess. An' there'll be
some one else comin' along some fine day with an appetite as big as
mine, if I'm not much mistaken. Ye want to git ready fer him."

Andy's eyes twinkled as he saw the sudden flush that mantled Nell's
cheeks at these words. He noticed, too, her trim figure and the graceful
poise of her head, with her wealth of dark hair so neatly combed. Her
step was quick and light as she prepared his meal.

"I wish t'goodness I wasn't so old an' wrinkled," he mused aloud. "But
I'd like to be in that young man's shoes who's comin' one of these fine
days. My! wouldn't life be worth livin' to have sich a lass waitin' on
me all the time. I wouldn't git tired then, and as fer bein' hungry, I'd
never think about it, fer the sight of yer sweet face would be feast
enough, an'--"

"There, there, you old blarney, I'll not give you a bite to eat if you
talk any more such nonsense," Nell declared, her face now scarlet. "Do
you think I have time to listen to such foolishness? I want to hear some
news. Tell me about the election. Is Mr. Tilley going to win?"

"Sure he's goin' to win. The hull province is with him now an' he'll
carry everything before him. I axed him about it, an' ye should have
seen his face light up. 'Mr. Dooner,' sez he, 'we're sartin' of victory.
It's a righteous cause, an' the Lord is with us. Nuthin' kin keep this
great land from bein' united. An' I've found a name fer it,' sez he,
reachin' out his hand an' pickin' up a book from off the table. 'Listen
to this,' sez he, 'it's right here in the words of Holy Writ, where it
sez that the Lord's dominion shall be from sea to sea. That means us,
Mr. Dooner,' sez he, 'and that's the name fer our country, the Dominion
of Canada.' An' then he told me a hull lot more, how the provinces would
be united, all under one flag, an' all loyal to the good Queen, God
bless her!"

"Did he say anything about the Fenian raid?" Nell asked. "Was he pleased
at the way it was ended?"

"I was jist comin' to that, Nellie, when ye axed the question. He
sartinly did speak about it. An' I wish, me dear, ye could have seen the
wonderful light in his eyes when he referred to the roundin' up of them
rascals at Eastport. 'Jist think of them English battle ships layin'
there at the mouth of the St. Croix, waitin' an' watchin',' sez he. 'An'
not fer off were the United States gunboats. They were the signs of two
great powers,' sez he, 'an' they were not there to fight each other, not
on yer life. They were there to keep peace. Then when that rebel vessel
hove in sight, loaded with arms an' ammunition, them gun boats took it
in charge. Uncle Sam wasn't goin' to allow a bunch of scalywags to start
a war with Old England,' sez he. 'He nipped the plot in the bud, an'
sent the scamps home, that's what he done. I'm mighty proud of the
United States,' sez Mr. Tilley, 'fer the prompt way she acted, an' I
pray the Lord that sich a spirit of good will an' common sense will
allus keep England an' the United States at peace with each other. We're
of one blood an' one speech,' sez he, 'an' I trust that these two great
countries will allus lay side by side in peace like two infants in one
cradle.' That's the gist of what he said, an' I felt prouder of him than
ever fer his noble words. An' 'Amen,' sez I when he was through. 'Mr.
Tilley, yer a good man, an' the Lord has riz ye up fer this time of need
to be our leader.' 'Thank ye, Mr. Dooner,' sez he, an' there were tears
in his eyes as he reached out an' gripped me by the hand. I tell ye,
Nellie, that was the greatest moment of me hull life, an' I'll remember
it to me dyin' day."

Andy paused and looked up at Nell, who was watching him with much
interest, and listening intently to every word he uttered.

"Nellie, me dear, I wish ye could have heard the nice things Mr. Tilley
said about Drum Rowan. 'He's a fine young man,' sez he, an' I agreed
with him. 'I want to see him ag'in,' sez he. 'I'll bring him to ye, Mr.
Tilley,' sez I, 'jist as soon as he comes back from the Border.' An' I
did, Nellie. I waited fer him, an' when I seen him marchin' along with
the rest of the so'gers, I follered right down to the Barracks. When
they were disbanded, I rushed up to Drum. My! but he was glad to see me,
an' nearly shook me hand off. But what d'ye think he axed me fust of
all?"

"About his father and sister, I suppose," Nell replied.

"Ho, ho! yer wrong there. He axed about you, me dear."

"He did!"

"Yes, that's the Gospel truth. The fust question he put to me as we
walked along the street was about you. 'How is Nell?' sez he, an' when I
told him that Nellie Andrews was pinin' fer the sight of him, he stopped
me right there in the street an' stared me straight in the eyes. 'Are ye
makin' fun of me, Andy?' sez he. Then when I told him that I wasn't he
seemed sorter dazed like, an' a wonderful look came into his eyes."

"Surely you didn't tell him that about me, Andy!" Nell exclaimed,
abashed.

"I did, me dear, an' it was the truth, too. I knew ye was pinin' fer the
sight of that boy, an' told him that he'd better hustle home to the
finest gal on earth that was waitin' fer him. There, now, don't git all
flustered an' worked up, Nellie. We've talked about Drum before, so I
know purty much what's in yer heart. It's only nat'rel, an' I was like
that once meself. Yes, Drum was mighty sot up when I told him ye'd
pitched that lawyer feller fer good, an' the coast was all clear an' the
sailin' fine. An' I don't blame him fer his joy. I wish--But here comes
yer ma."

The days that followed Andy's visit were hopeful ones to Nell. It was a
joy beyond words for her to know that Drum's first question to the old
shoemaker was about her. And yet mingled with this feeling was a sense
of uneasiness. How could she meet Drum without embarrassment after the
way she had treated him? What should she say? Would it be necessary to
explain? But, perhaps, he would not question her about the lawyer. She
was much more interested in such thoughts and the dreams which came to
her than she was about the elections which were then taking place
throughout the province. Hardly anything else was talked about in her
own home during this momentous time. Neighbours dropped in during the
evenings, bringing the latest scraps of news, and discussed for hours
the prospect of union winning the day. Favourable reports had already
been heard from several counties, and all had gone strong for Tilley and
his Confederation scheme. The opposition was being swamped on every
side, and when at last it became known beyond all doubt that
Confederation had carried, it was decided to celebrate the victory in a
right proper manner. This was to be in the nature of a huge bon-fire in
front of the store, close to the river where there was an abundance of
drift-wood. It was to exceed in greatness the affair held over the
Fenian defeat. It was to be the most wonderful ever known in the Parish,
in keeping with the importance of the occasion.

Nell listened somewhat indifferently to all that was said concerning the
celebration. She knew that it would be a noisy affair, and that much
liquor would be drunk, followed, no doubt, as in the past, by
considerable fighting. But she was naturally curious to see the
bon-fire from a safe distance, to hear the firing of guns, the sound of
horns, the cheers, and the singing of the National Anthem.

When supper was over, on the evening of the great event, Nell walked
slowly down the road toward the graveyard. She had not been there for
several days, and a longing was upon her now to visit again the spot
where Hettie was lying. From here she would see the bon-fire, providing
it was not too late in being lighted. She did not wish to go any closer
to the store, as mostly men would be gathered there.

It was a beautiful evening, calm and mild. The river was like a mirror,
and the trees along the shore were reflected in the clear depths. Nell's
heart was stirred at the peace surrounding her, and as she stood by
Hettie's grave she mused upon the quietness of the place with only the
birds chirping in the trees around her. She laid upon the mound a few
flowers she had gathered along the way, and then stood very still, with
her hands clasped before her, thinking of the girl lying there, and the
events that had led to her death. What a contrast between the peace of
this evening and the wild night when Hettie had risked all to save the
man she loved. A slight tremor shook her body as she thought of the
girl's desperate action in blowing up the powder. Nell wondered if she
herself would have had so much courage. Would her own love have endured
such a terrible test as that?

A step startled her from her reverie, and glancing quickly around, what
was her surprise to see Drum Rowan coming swiftly toward her. Her face
turned suddenly pale, followed instantly by a rush of rich blood to her
cheeks, so great was her emotion. But Drum did not hesitate. He came
right up to the opposite side of the grave and looked straight into her
eyes.

"Is it true what Andy told me?" he abruptly asked.

"What do you mean, Drum?" Nell faltered.

"That you were waiting for me, and longing to see me again?"

"Yes, it was true."

Nell's voice was very low, but it was all that Drum needed. Impetuously
he stretched out his arms, and there across that lowly grave their hands
were clasped. For a few seconds neither spoke, but as Nell slowly lifted
her face, Drum noticed that her eyes were gemmed with tears. Stepping
swiftly around to her side, he freed his right hand and placed his arm
tenderly about her.

"You must not cry, Nell," he told her. "I cannot bear to see tears in
your eyes."

"I cannot help it, Drum. Your coming was such a surprise, and--and I am
so happy."

Drum's only reply was to draw her close to him, and as he lifted her
face to his, their lips sealed the pledge of their hearts' deep love.

"I didn't expect to meet you here," Nell at length whispered.

"Neither did I expect to meet you," Drum replied. "I only reached home
this afternoon, and was on my way to you to learn my fate, when I turned
aside to look upon Hettie's grave. She gave her life for me, and I
wanted to see the place where she is lying."

"And how strange that our great happiness should begin right here, Drum,
and that we clasped hands across this little mound. I didn't realise at
first what we were doing."

"Neither did I, Nell. But how appropriate it was, for it was only by her
death, or in other words, across her grave, that we are standing here
this evening, and so happy in each other's love."

"Poor Hettie!" Nell sighed. "We can never forget her. What a shock it
was when Seth burst into the house that morning and told us about it."

"It's too bad that Seth didn't go up with the Fenians when the powder
exploded. The villain! I wish I could get my hands on him."

"Where is he, anyway? We haven't heard a word about him."

"Oh, he crossed the Border as soon as he could get there, and is
somewhere in the States now, I suppose. It's not likely he'll ever
return to this province."

"Let us forget all about him, then," Nell suggested. "We want to think
only of pleasant things this evening. Suppose we gather some more
flowers to lay on Hettie's grave."

Side by side they moved about picking the fresh bright blossoms, and
when they had enough they returned and laid them reverently upon the
little mound until it was completely covered.

"We must look well after her grave," Nell remarked, as she gave the
finishing touch to the task of love. "It is all we can do for her now
who did so much for us."

The shades of evening stole quietly over the land as they then sat by
the side of the lane leading from the church to the main road. No one
came that way, and only the birds witnessed the young lovers as they
talked to their hearts' content. They had so many things to tell each
other, and such plans for the future that the minutes slipped unheeded
by. They did not notice how dark it was until the report of a gun
startled them. They sprang to their feet and looked over toward the
store where a great bon-fire was lifting itself high in the air. Shot
after shot went up, horns sounded, and the cheering of men could be
distinctly heard. Silently the two watched and listened. Then Drum
pressed Nell's hand more firmly in his.

"Isn't it wonderful that this celebration should take place on the very
evening of our great happiness," he said. "They are doing it in honour
of the union victory. But it seems to me to be meant for us, in honour
of the happiness of our united hearts."

"That is a beautiful idea," Nell replied. "There seems to be rejoicing
everywhere to-night, so let us imagine it is all in honour of us, and
that the people are celebrating on account of our happiness. Suppose we
go and tell Margaret the great news. She should be the first one to hear
of it."

"And won't Andy be delighted, Nell. We must have the good old fellow's
blessing, for he has meant much to us both. And what music he will bring
from that wonderful new violin of his in our honour."

They laughed like two happy children as they walked slowly up the narrow
lane. But it was to more than the ordinary country highway they were
moving. It was toward the great and unknown highway of life they had set
their faces. But a joy known only to lovers was theirs, so with hearts
united they were glad and willing to go forward to that mystic future
shining so brightly before their love-lit eyes.


                               THE END


    +--------------------------------------------------------------+
    | Transcriber's Note:--                                        |
    |                                                              |
    | Punctuation errors have been corrected.                      |
    |                                                              |
    | The following suspected printer's errors have been addressed.|
    |                                                              |
    | no where changed to nowhere.                                 |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 43. woman changed to women.                             |
    | (interested in women)                                        |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 95. t-night changed to t'night.                         |
    | (the store t'night)                                          |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 109. them changed to him.                               |
    | (spying upon him)                                            |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 117. thing changed to think.                            |
    | (I should think)                                             |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 180. touch changed to touched.                          |
    | (a bullet touched it)                                        |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 196. diffculty changed to difficulty.                   |
    | (and with difficulty)                                        |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 232. shore changed to store.                            |
    | (trips to the store)                                         |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 235. prefered changed to preferred.                     |
    | (preferred her to the doctor)                                |
    |                                                              |
    | Page 260. here changed to her.                               |
    | (turned her eyes)                                            |
    |                                                              |
    +--------------------------------------------------------------+


[The end of _The Fighting-Slogan_ by H. A. Cody]