The King's Arrow Part 41

"Don't ye worry about that, young man. You've done yer share all right in givin' us the warnin'. An', besides, look what ye've done fer this girl. I guess if it hadn't been fer you she'd be layin' out there in the woods now. Don't ye worry. What ye both need is a good sleep, so I'm goin' to ask you, Miss, to take my bunk over yon in the corner. I guess ye'll find everythin' in good shape, fer my wife's a most pertic'ler woman an' has trained me right."

Jean was only too glad to accept the offer. She was weary to the point of exhaustion, and her head ached. As she laid herself down upon the bunk, and Old Dennis tenderly covered her with two grey blankets, the softest bed in which she had ever slept never felt so good. She knew how weary Dane must be, for he had merely pressed her hand as she left his side. She thought of that terrible journey through the forest, and the fight Dane had made to reach the camp. At first he had helped her along the trail, but when she could go no farther he had carried her like a child in his strong arms. She understood something of what that meant, and she had pleaded with him to leave her and save himself. But he had laughed at her, saying that she was not nearly as heavy as his pack and musket which he had thrown aside. But he could not deceive her, for she knew by his hard breathing, and the way he at times staggered from side to side how great was the strain upon his almost giant strength. She thought of all this as she lay there. But the bed was comfortable, the roar of the wind among the trees most lulling, and ere long she was fast asleep.

And while the two tired ones slept Old Dennis kept faithful watch. He sat before the fire smoking his black stub of a pipe, and listening intently for the return of the mast-cutters. He had no doubt about the defeat of the slashers, and a smile overspread his furrowed face as he thought of the surprise in store for them.

During the night the storm beat itself out, the wind fell, and a great peace rested upon the snow-enshrouded forest. As the dawn of a new day stole gently over the land the mast-cutters returned, bringing with them the rebel prisoners. The noise of their arrival awoke Dane, who sprang from his bunk greatly refreshed after his sound sleep. Then from the leader of the mast-cutters he learned the story of the round-up of the slashers. They were taken in a narrow valley, and after several had fallen, the rest surrendered.

"They were fools to try to shoot." the man said. "But if they had kept it up any longer, we wouldn't have left one alive. It was mighty cold waiting there in that valley hour after hour for the devils to arrive, and my men were in no mood for any nonsense. But I guess this night's work'll settle the rebels, all right."

"What are you going to do with them?" Dane asked.

"Put them to work, of course," the leader replied, as he sat down to the breakfast Old Dennis had prepared, and helped himself to a piece of meat.

"Do they know how to work?"

"If they don't they'll learn before I'm through with them."

"Where are they now?"

"Oh, scattered around among the cabins getting something to eat.

They're the most dejected gang I ever saw."

Jean heard all this, for she was wide awake, lying quietly in the bunk.

She preferred to remain there for a while, as she felt embarra.s.sed with so many men in the room. But when they had eaten their breakfast and had gone outside, she got up and stood before Dane and Dennis.

"I'm mighty glad to see ye lookin' so well," the latter accosted.

"That sleep has brought back the colour into yer purty cheeks. Now, when ye've had something to eat, ye'll be as chipper as a bird."

Breakfast at last over, Jean and Dane sat and talked for a while before the bright fire.

"How soon can we leave this place?" the girl asked.

"When the mast-cutters, who are going with us, are ready," Dane replied. "I have spoken to the leader about those Loyalists on the A-jem-sek, and he is going to send a supply of food to them."

"Oh, I am so glad," and Jean's eyes showed her pleasure. "Those poor people have been so much in my mind. I hope that Sam and Kitty were able to help them. But now that the mast-cutters are to take supplies there is no need to worry any more. I am anxious about your father.

We should go to him as soon as possible."

"Do you think that he wants to see me, Jean?"

"I am sure he does. I told you what he said about you, and I really believe he is longing for you."

"He must have changed, then, since the last time I saw him."

"He certainly has. I never saw such a change in any one in such a short time. I was afraid of him when I first met him, but when I got to know him better, and found out about him, he seemed to me almost like a father."

"It was you who worked the miracle, Jean. I owe it all to you. No one could withstand your charms, not even my father."

The girl blushed, and dropped her eyes. She was happy, and the future looked bright. With Dane once again with her, she had no more fear.

For some time they sat there, and were only aroused by a confused noise outside. Rising, and going to the door, they beheld a strange sight.

The slashers were all lined up in front of the house, surrounded by armed mast-cutters. Ben Bolster, the boss, was giving orders to the rebels. He was telling them that they must go to work, and make up for some of the trouble they had caused. Those who objected were to step forward. At this the three ringleaders advanced, and flatly refused to lift a hand.

"Very well, then, me hearties," Bolster said, "it's either work or the tree-tops. Which do you choose?"

As no response came from the sullen men, Bolster motioned to several of his men, who at once sprang toward a young birch tree standing nearby.

Up this they climbed like cats, and soon their combined weight bent the tree to the ground. A rope was then produced, one end of which was fastened to the top of the tree, and the other about the body of one of the ringleaders, just below the arms. He struggled, fought and cursed, but all in vain. When his hands had been tied behind his back, the tree was released and he was hoisted on high, kicking and yelling in the most violent manner. The same was about to be done to his two sullen companions. But they had witnessed enough, so they begged to be allowed to go to work.

"All right, then," Bolster agreed. "But you know what's in store if you don't behave yourselves. The first time you'll go up like that fool there with ropes around your waists, but the second time it'll be around your necks. See? And let this be a warning to you all," he said, turning to the cowed slashers.

In the meantime the unfortunate man hanging from the tree was becoming tired, and the rope was pressing hard around his body. At length he pleaded to be taken down. Bolster, however, let him remain there a while longer, but when his cries for mercy became heart-rending, word was given, and a man with an axe began to chop down the tree. This increased the cries of the man above.

"Ye'll kill me!" he yelled. "Don't, don't cut the tree! Fer G.o.d's sake, stop!"

The mast-cutters merely shouted with delight at his fears, and hurled all manner of jibes.

"Got yer wings all ready to fly?" one asked. "Didn't expect ye'd need them so soon, did ye?"

"Yer havin' great fun with the mast-cutters, ain't ye?" another bantered. "Ye was goin' t' give them the surprise of their lives."

In a few minutes the tree was ready for its fall. It slowly swayed, and then with a rush bore the yelling man downward. He landed, as had been planned, in a great bank of snow, from which he was speedily rescued, spluttering and puffing like a steam engine. But he had been taught a lesson, the effect of which was not lost upon the other rebels.

Jean had watched this with intense excitement. At first she was sure that the man hanging from the tree would be killed. But when she saw him emerge from the snow unharmed, she breathed a sigh of relief, and even smiled. She knew that in reality he had come off better than he deserved, as did all of his companions.

"How long will the slashers be kept here?" she asked, turning to Dane who was standing by her side.

"Until the rangers come to take them away," was the reply. "But come into the house. You will get cold here."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

PEACE AT EVENING TIME

In his lonely house in the wilderness Thomas Norman was undergoing great agony of mind and body. The presence of the first band of slashers had been hard for him to endure, and when they were joined later by the rebels from the Washademoak, his distress was intense.

But he knew that he had brought this trouble upon himself. He had sown the seeds of dissension which had sprung up into wild and ungovernable thistles. How he despised the slashers as they crowded about him, drinking his rum, eating his food, and polluting the air with their reeking bodies and coa.r.s.e language. This excitement increased the distress in his side until he felt that he would go crazy with the pain. Of this the rebels thought nothing. They were beyond human sympathy, so the condition of their chief affected them as little as if he had been a dog.

The critical moment arrived when the rebels had broken down the door leading into the adjoining room and the girl they were seeking was not there. For a few minutes Norman's life hung in the balance. The angry men charged him with hiding the girl and keeping her from them. It was only with the greatest difficulty that he was able to subdue their wrath. He told them that he was as much surprised as they were, and he had no idea what had become of the girl. Although the men threatened and cursed, they did not lay hands upon their chief, but contented themselves by informing him that when they came back he must have the girl there.

With a great sigh of relief Norman sank down upon his pillow as the slashers left the house for their march against the mast-cutters. It was storming hard, and this suited their purpose. They believed that the King's men would be all housed and sound asleep, with the idea of an attack on such a stormy night far from their thoughts. They would also be ahead of the rangers, and their deed would be accomplished before Davidson's men could arrive.

When the slashers were gone, Norman's mind returned to the missing girl. He was greatly concerned, feeling certain that she had fled to the forest for protection from the rebels. He expected her to return when the men had left, but as the hours moved slowly by and she did not appear, he feared the worst. He imagined that she had become bewildered by the storm, had lost her way, and perished. He groaned aloud as he thought of this, for he was very fond of the girl. He reproached himself over and over again for his past blindness and mistakes. He knew that he had brought his punishment upon his own head, and that he deserved it.

As he lay there alone, with the storm beating against the cabin, he thought of his patient, n.o.ble wife, and innocent outcast son. Them he had lost, and when the gentle and beautiful Jean Sterling had come to brighten his life, she, too, had been taken from him, and he was once more left alone. He had plenty of time now to think of all this, and he wondered if the One he had forsaken for so long was thus hounding him that He might bring him back to His feet. The story of the Prodigal Son came into his mind, and he knew that the Master's parable was being re-enacted in his own life there in the midst of the northern forest.

"I am the prodigal son," he murmured. "I have wandered far from my Father, and have been feeding upon the husks. But I will arise and go to my Father, and will say unto Him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son.'"

Slowly he repeated these words, but they brought little comfort and hope to his weary, agitated heart and mind. In his distress he sought refuge in prayer, and uttered the simple words he learned as a child.

But even they could not bring the rest he sought, nor the peace of former years. So far had he wandered, and so long had he neglected the golden means of grace, that the sweet communion of his soul with the great soul of the Father could not be restored as if by magic in a few minutes. This he now knew, so with a moan of despair he turned his haggard face to the wall.