Part 7

A familiar sound woke me--that of the reveille. The sun was shining, the sky clear, the wind had gone down. A crow sat calling in a tree above my head. I lay in a strip of timber, thin and narrow, on the lake shore. Through the bushes I could see the masts of the brig slanting out of water some rods away. Beyond the timber was a field of corn, climbing a side-hill that sloped off to a level, grassy plain. Beyond the hill-top, reveille was still sounding. A military camp was near me, and although I made no move, my mind was up and busy as the drumsticks over the hill. I sat as quiet as a cat at a mouse-hole, looking down at my uniform, not, indeed, the most healthful sort of dress for that country. All at once I caught sight of a scarecrow in the corn. I laughed at the odd grotesquery of the thing--an old frock-coat and trousers of olive-green, faded and torn and fat with straw. A stake driven through its collar into the earth, and crowned with an ancient, tall hat of beaver, gave it a backbone. An idea came to me. I would rob the scarecrow and hide my uniform. I ran out and hauled it over, and pulled the stuffing out of it. The coat and trousers were made for a stouter man. I drew on the latter, fattening my figure with straw to fill them. That done, I quickly donned the coat. Each sleeve-end fell to my fingertips, and its girth would have circled a flour-barrel and buttoned with room to spare. But with my stuffing of straw it came around me as snug at the belt as the coat of a bear. I took alarm as I closed the buttons. For half a minute I had heard a drum-tap coming nearer. It was the measured _tap! tap! tap-tap-tap_! so familiar to me. Now I could hear the tread of feet coming with it back of the hill. How soon they would heave in sight I was unable to reckon, but I dared not run for cover. So I thrust my scabbard deep in the soft earth, pulled down the big beaver hat over my face, muffled my neck with straw, stuck the stake in front of me to steady myself, and stood stiff as any scarecrow in Canada. Before I was done a column, scarlet-coated, came out in the level beyond the hillside. Through a hole in the beaver I could see them clearly. They came on, rank after rank. They deployed, forming an open square, scarlet-sided, on the green turf, the gap toward me. Then came three, walking stiffly in black coats, a squad leading them. The thing I had taken for a white visor was a blindfold. Their heads were bare. I could see, now, they were in shackles, their arms behind them. They were coming to their death--some of my unlucky comrades. God pity them! A spy might as well make his peace with Heaven, if he were caught those days, and be done with hope. Suspicion was enough to convict on either side of the water that year. As my feet sank deeper in the soft earth I felt as if I were going down to my grave. The soldiers led them into the gap, standing them close together, backs to me, The squad drew off. The prisoners stood erect, their faces turning up a little, as if they were looking into the clear, blue sky. I could see them waver as they stood waiting. The sharpshooters advanced, halting as they raised their rifles. To my horror, I saw the prisoners were directly between me and them. Great God! was I also of that little company about to die? But I dared not move a step. I stood still, watching, trembling. An officer in a shining helmet was speaking to the riflemen. His helmet seemed to jump and quiver as he moved away. Those doomed figures began to reel and sway as they waited. The shiny barrels lifted a little, their muzzles pointing at them and at me. The corn seemed to duck and tremble as it waited the volley. A great black ball shot across the sky in a long curve, and began to fall. Then came the word, a flash of fire, a cloud of smoke, a roar of rifles that made me jump in my tracks. I heard bullets cuffing the corn, I felt the dirt fly up and scatter over me, but was unhurt, a rigid, motionless man of straw. I saw my countrymen reel, their legs go limp as rags, their bodies fall silently forward. The soldiers stood a moment, then a squad went after the dead with litters. Forming in fours, they marched away as they had come, their steps measured by that regular _rap! rap! rap-rap-rap_! of the drum. The last rank went out of sight. I moved a little and pulled the stake, and quickly stuck it again, for there were voices near. I stood waiting as stiff as a poker. Some men were running along the beach, two others were coming through the corn. They passed within a few feet of me on each side. I heard them talking with much animation. They spoke of the wreck. When they were well by me I faced about, watching them. They went away in the timber, down to a rocky point, where I knew the wreck was visible.

They were no sooner out of sight than I pulled the stake and sabre, and shoved the latter under my big coat. Then I lifted the beaver and looked about me. There was not a soul in sight. From that level plain the field ran far to a thick wood mounting over the hill. I moved cautiously that way, for I was in the path of people who would be coming to see the wreck. I got near the edge of the distant wood, and hearing a noise, halted, and stuck my stake, and drew my hands back in the sleeves, and stood like a scarecrow, peering through my hat. Near me, in the woods, I could hear a cracking of sticks and a low voice. Shortly two Irishmen stuck their heads out of a bush. My heart gave a leap in me, for I saw they were members of my troop.

"Hello, there!" I called in a loud voice, It startled them. They turned their heads to see where the voice came from, and stood motionless. I pulled my stake and made for them on the run. I should have known better, for the sight of me would have tried the legs of the best trooper that ever sat in a saddle. As they told me afterward, it was enough to make a lion yelp.

"Holy Mother!" said one, as they broke through the bush, running for their lives. I knew not their names, but I called them as loudly as I dared. They went on, never slacking pace. It was a bad go, for I was burning for news of D'ri and the rest of them. Now I could hear some heavy animal bounding in the brush as if their running had startled him. I went back to the corn for another stand. Suddenly a horse came up near me, cropping the brush. I saw he was one off the boat, for he had bridle and saddle, a rein hanging in two strings, and was badly cut. My friend! the sight of a horse did warm me to the toes. He got a taste of the tender corn presently, and came toward me as he ate. In a moment I jumped to the saddle, and he went away leaping like a wild deer. He could not have been more frightened if I had dropped on him out of the sky. I never saw such energy in flesh and blood before. He took a mighty fright as my hand went to his withers, but the other had a grip on the pommel, and I made the stirrups. I leaned for the strings of the rein, but his neck was long, and I could not reach them. Before I knew it we were tearing over the hill at a merry pace, I can tell you. I was never so put to it for the right thing to do, but I clung on. The big hat shook down upon my collar. In all my life I never saw a hat so big. Through the break in it I could see a farm-house. In a jiffy the horse had cleared a fence, and was running, with the feet of terror, in a dusty road. I grew angry at myself as we tore along--I knew not why. It was a rage of discomfort, I fancy, for somehow, I never felt so bound and cluttered, so up in the air and out of place in my body. The sabre was working loose and hammering my knee; the big hat was rubbing my nose, the straw chafing my chin. I had something under my arm that would sway and whack the side of the horse every leap he made. I bore upon it hard, as if it were the jewel of my soul. I wondered why, and what it might be. In a moment the big hole of my hat came into conjunction with my right eye. On my word, it was the stake! How it came there I have never known, but, for some reason, I held to it. I looked neither to right nor left, but sat erect, one hand on the hilt of my sabre, the other in the mane of my horse, knowing full well I was the most hideous-looking creature in the world. If I had come to the gate of heaven I believe St. Peter would have dropped his keys. The straw worked up, and a great wad of it hung under my chin like a bushy beard. I would have given anything for a sight of myself, and laughed to think of it, although facing a deadly peril, as I knew. But I was young and had no fear in me those days. Would that a man could have his youth to his death-bed! It was a leap in the dark, but I was ready to take my chances.

Evidently I was nearing a village. Groups of men were in the shady thoroughfare; children thronged the dooryards. There was every sign of a holiday. As we neared them I caught my sabre under my knee, and drew my hands into the long sleeves and waved them wildly, whooping like an Indian. They ran back to the fences with a start of fear. As I passed them they cheered loudly, waving their hats and roaring with laughter. An old horse, standing before an inn, broke his halter and crashed over a fence. A scared dog ran for his life in front of me, yelping as he leaped over a stone wall. Geese and turkeys flew in the air as I neared them. The people had seemed to take me for some village youth on a masquerade. We flashed into the open country before the sound of cheering had died away. On we went over a long strip of hard soil, between fields, and off in the shade of a thick forest. My horse began to tire. I tried to calm him by gentle words, but I could give him no confidence in me. He kept on, laboring hard and breathing heavily, as if I were a ton's weight. We came to another clearing and fields of corn. A little out of the woods, and near the road, was a log house white-washed from earth to eaves. By the gate my horse went down. I tumbled heavily in the road, and turning, caught him by the bits. The big hat had shot off my head; the straw had fallen away. A woman came running out of the open door. She had bare feet, a plump and cheery face.

"Tonnerre!" said she. "Qu'est ce que cela?"

"My countrywoman," said I, in French, feeling in my under-trousers for a bit of silver, and tossing it to her, "I am hungry."

"And I have no food to sell," said she, tossing it back. "You should know I am of France and not of England. Come, you shall have enough, and for no price but the eating. You have a tired horse. Take him to the stable, and I will make you a meal."

I led my horse to the stable, scraped him of lather and dirt, gave him a swallow of water, and took the same myself, for I had a mighty thirst in me. When I came in, she had eggs and potatoes and bacon over the fire, and was filling the tea-kettle.

"On my soul," said she, frankly, "you are the oddest-looking man I ever saw. Tell me, why do you carry the long club?"

I looked down. There it was under my arm. It surprised me more than anything I ever found myself doing.

"Madame, it is because I am a fool," I said as I flung it out of the door.

"It is strange," said she. "Your clothes--they are not your own; they are as if they were hung up to dry. And you have a sabre and spurs."

"Of that the less said the better," I answered, pulling out the sabre. "Unless--unless, madame, you would like me to die young."

"Mon Dieu!" she whispered. "A Yankee soldier?"

"With good French blood in him," I added, "who was never so hungry in all his life."

I went out of the door as I spoke, and shoved my sabre under the house.

"I have a daughter on the other side of the lake," said she, "married to a Yankee, and her husband is fighting the British with the rest of you."

"God help him!" said I.

"Amen!" said she, bringing my food to the table. "The great Napoleon he will teach them a lesson."

She was a widow, as she told me, living there alone with two young daughters who were off at a picnic in the near town. We were talking quietly when a familiar voice brought me standing.

"Judas Priest!" it said. D'ri stood in the doorway, hatless and one boot missing--a sorry figure of a man.

"Hidin' over 'n th' woods yender," he went on as I took his hand. "See thet air brown hoss go by. Knew 'im soon es I sot eyes on 'im--use' t' ride 'im myself. Hed an idee 't wus you 'n the saddle--sot s' kind o' easy. But them air joemightyful do's! Jerushy Jane! would n't be fit t' skin a skunk in them do's, would it?"

"Got 'em off a scarecrow," I said.

"'Nough t' mek a painter ketch 'is breath, they wus."

The good woman bade him have a chair at the table, and brought more food.

"Neck 's broke with hunger, 't is sartin," said he, as he began to eat. "Hev t' light out o' here purty middlin' soon. 'T ain' no safe place t' be. 'T won' never dew fer us t' be ketched."

We ate hurriedly, and when we had finished, the good woman gave us each an outfit of apparel left by her dead husband. It was rather snug for D'ri, and gave him an odd look. She went out of doors while we were dressing. Suddenly she came back to the door.

"Go into the cellar," she whispered. "They are coming!"

XII

I found the door, and D'ri flung our "duds" into the darkness that lay beyond it. Then he made down the ladder, and I after him. It was pitch-dark in the cellar--a deep, dank place with a rank odor of rotting potatoes. We groped our way to a corner, and stood listening. We heard the tramp of horses in the dooryard and the clinic of spurs on the stone step.

"Ah, my good woman," said a man with a marked English accent, "have you seen any Yankees? Woods are full of them around here. No? Well, by Jove! you're a good-looking woman. Will you give me a kiss?" He crossed the floor above us, and she was backing away.

"Come, come, don't be so shy, my pretty woman," said he, and then we could hear her struggling up and down the floor. I was climbing the ladder, in the midst of it, my face burning with anger, and D'ri was at my heels. As the door opened, I saw she had fallen. The trooper was bending to kiss her. I had him by the collar and had hauled him down before he discovered us. In a twinkling D'ri had stripped him of sword and pistol. But it was one of the most hopeless situations in all my life. Many muzzles were pointing at us through the door and window. Another hostile move from either would have ended our history then and there. I let go and stood back. The man got to his feet--a handsome soldier in the full uniform of a British captain.

"Ah, there's a fine pair!" he said coolly, whipping a leg of his trousers with his glove. "I 'll teach you better manners, my young fellow. Some o' those shipwrecked Yankees," he added, turning to his men. "If they move without an order, pin 'em up to the wall."

He picked up his hat leisurely, stepping in front of D'ri.

"Now, my obliging friend," said he, holding out his hand, "I'll trouble you for my sword and pistol."

D'ri glanced over at me, an ugly look in his eye. He would have fought to his death then and there if I had given him the word. He was game to the core when once his blood was up, the same old D'ri.

"Don't fight," I said.

He had cocked the pistol, and stood braced, the sword in his right hand. I noticed a little quiver in the great sinews of his wrist. I expected to see that point of steel shoot, with a quick stab, into the scarlet blouse before me.

"Shoot 'n' be damned!" said D'ri. "'Fore I die ye'll hev a hole er tew 'n thet air karkiss o' yourn. Sha'n't give up no weepon till ye've gin me yer word ye 'll let thet air woman alone."

I expected a volley then. A very serious look came over the face of the captain. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. I could see that he had been drinking.

"Ah, I see! You have an interest in her. Well, my man, I want no share in your treasures. I accept the condition."

Evil as was the flavor of this poor concession, D'ri made the best of it.

"She's an honest woman for all I know," said he, handing over the weapons. "Ain't a-goin' t' see no ledy mishused--nut ef I can help it."

We gave ourselves up hand and foot to the enemy; there was no way out of it. I have read in the story-books how men of great nerve and skill have slaughtered five to one, escaping with no great loss of blood. Well, of a brave man I like to believe good things. My own eyes have seen what has made me slow to doubt a story of prowess that has even the merit of possibility. But when there are only two of you, and one without arms, and you are in a corner, and there are ten pistols pointing at you a few feet away, and as many sabres ready to be drawn, I say no power less remarkable than that of God or a novelist can bring you out of your difficulty. You have your choice of two evils--surrender or be cut to pieces. We had neither of us any longing to be slashed with steel and bored with bullets, and to no end but a good epitaph.

They searched the cellar and found our clothes, and wrapped them in a bundle. Then they tied our hands behind us and took us along the road on which I had lately ridden. A crowd came jeering to the highway as we passed the little village. It was my great fear that somebody would recognize either one or both of us.

Four of our men were sitting in a guardhouse at the British camp. After noon mess a teamster drove up with a big wagon. Guards came and shackled us in pairs, D'ri being wrist to wrist with me. They put a chain and ball on D'ri's leg also. I wondered why, for no other was treated with like respect. Then they bundled us all into the wagon, now surrounded by impatient cavalry. They put a blindfold over the eyes of each prisoner, and went away at a lively pace. We rode a long time, as it seemed to me, and by and by I knew we had come to a city, for I could hear the passing of many wagons and the murmur of a crowd. Some were shouting, "Shoot the d--d Yankees!" and now and then a missile struck among us. There is nothing so heartless and unthinking as a crowd, the world over. I could tell presently, by the creak of the evener and the stroke of the hoofs, that we were climbing a long hill. We stopped shortly; then they began helping us out. They led us forward a few paces, the chain rattling on a stone pavement. When we heard the bang of an iron door behind us, they unlocked the heavy fetter. This done, they led us along a gravel walk and over a sounding stretch of boards,--a bridge, I have always thought,--through another heavy door and down a winding flight of stone steps. They led us on through dark passages, over stone paving, and halted us, after a long walk, letting our eyes free. We were in black darkness. There were two guards before and two behind us bearing candles. They unshackled us, and opened a lattice door of heavy iron, bidding us enter. I knew then that we were going into a dungeon, deep under the walls of a British fort somewhere on the frontier. A thought stung me as D'ri and I entered this black hole and sat upon a heap of straw. Was this to be the end of our fighting and of us?

"You can have a candle a day," said a guard as he blew out the one he carried, laying it, with a tinder-box, on a shelf in the wall of rock beside me. Then they filed out, and the narrow door shut with a loud bang. We peered through at the fading flicker of the candles. They threw wavering, ghostly shadows on every wall of the dark passage, and suddenly went out of sight. We both stood listening a moment.

"Curse the luck!" I whispered presently.

"Jest as helpless es if we was hung up by the heels," said D'ri, groping his way to the straw pile. "Ain' no use gittin' wrathy."

"What 'll we do?" I whispered.

"Dunno," said he; "an' when ye dunno whut t' dew, don' dew nuthin'. Jest stan' still; thet's whut I b'lieve in."

He lighted the candle, and went about, pouring its glow upon every wall and into every crack and corner of our cell--a small chamber set firm in masonry, with a ceiling so far above our heads we could see it but dimly, the candle lifted arm's-length.

"Judas Priest!" said D'ri, as he stopped the light with thumb and finger. "I 'm goin' t' set here 'n th' straw luk an ol' hen 'n' ile up m' thinker 'n' set 'er goin'. One o' them kind hes t' keep 'is mouth shet er he can't never dew ho thinkin'. Bymby, like es not, I 'll hev suthin' t1 say et 'll 'mount t' suthin'."

We lay back on the straw in silence. I did a lot of thinking that brought me little hope. Thoughts of Louison and Louise soon led me out of prison. After a little time I went philandering in the groves of the baroness with the two incomparable young ladies. I would willingly have stood for another bullet if I could have had another month of their company. The next thought of my troubles came with the opening of the iron door. I had been sound asleep. A guard came in with water and a pot of stewed beef and potatoes.

"Thet air's all right," said D'ri, dipping into it with a spoon.

We ate with a fine relish, the guard, a sullen, silent man with a rough voice that came out of a bristling mustache, standing by the door.

"Luk a-here," said D'ri to the guard as we finished eating, "I want t' ast you a question. Ef you hed a purty comf'table hum on t'other side, 'n' few thousan' dollars 'n the bank, 'n' bosses 'n' everything fixed fer a good time, 'n' all uv a sudden ye found yerself 'n sech a gol-dum dungeon es this here, what 'u'd you dew?"

The guard was fixing the wick of his candle, and made no answer.

"Want ye t' think it all over," said D'ri. "See ef ye can't think o' suthin' soothin' t' say. God knows we need it."

The guard went away without answering.

"Got him thinkin'," said D'ri, as he lighted the candle. "He can help us some, mebbe. Would n't wonder ef he was good et cipherin'."

"If he offered to take the two thousand, I don't see how we'd give it to him," said I. "He would n't take our promise for it."

"Thet ain' a-goin' t' bother us any," said D'ri. "Hed thet all figgered out long ago."

He gave me the candle and lay down, holding his ear close to the stone floor and listening. Three times he shifted his ear from one point to another. Then he beckoned to me.

"Jest hol' yer ear there 'n' listen," he whispered.

I gave him the candle, and with my ear to the floor I could hear the flow of water below us. The sound went away in the distance and then out of hearing. "After a while it came again.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"Cipherin' a leetle over thet air," said he, as he made a long scratch on the floor with his flint. Then he rubbed his chin, looking down at it. "Hain' jest eggzac'ly med up my mind yit," he added.

We blew out the light and lay back, whispering. Then presently we heard the coming of footsteps. Two men came to the door with a candle, one being the guard we knew.

"Come, young fellow," said the latter, as he unlocked the door and beckoned to me; "they want you upstairs."

We both got to our feet.

"Not you," he growled, waving D'ri back. "Not ready fer you yet."

He laid hold of my elbow and snapped a shackle on my wrist. Then they led me out, closing the door with a bang that echoed in the far reaches of the dark alley, and tied a thick cloth over my eyes.

"Good luck!" D'ri cried out as they took me away.

"For both," I answered as cheerfully as I could.