Part 8

After an hour or two Bravo returned with the fact, as he alleged, that an Indian had been seen and fired at; and the sentry thought he saw several more, but they wouldn't wait for the people to come and shoot them. The people had gone to bed again, assured that no Indian would show himself _there_ again; and as to the southern post, it was only necessary to reflect that Corporal Bravo had command there, and turn over to unwinking repose; 'for gentlemen,' said Bravo, 'I have not thought proper to alarm the town with my views upon this matter; though it is perfectly plain that an odd Indian was sent to that post to attract attention that way, while the main body of the enemy is undoubtedly in our neighborhood, and _we_ shall receive the first attack. Every man will sleep with one eye open, and his hand on his musket.' As the Indians might be within hearing, the speech was received with silent applause; but there were quite a number of severe and very rapid gesticulatory engagements, showing what would probably be done in the course of the night. Boag and myself stood apart. We were out of favor. Our exploit as 'officer of the night' had something to do with it; and any one who likes the fag-ends of every thing will be glad to learn that we arrived safe at our quarters under the protection of the corporal, who had missed us from the camp. On retiring that night, that is, laying myself out on a board, I went down, step by step, into a very deep sleep; and although I was threatened with a 'lock-up' in the fort, and a court-martial trial, it was found impossible to make me understand that I was wanted 'on guard,' and another man was posted in my place. There was also an 'incident of travel' that had soured the 'complainants' exceedingly.

In marching down from the fort, a day or two previous, the corporal stopped at his house for a moment, and Boag and myself walked on, turned the next corner, and went direct to the camp. The corporal and guard, on resuming their march, missed us, and presuming that we had deserted, went half a mile out of their way to the house where they expected to find us. Some of my friends happened to be lounging on the balcony when the guard came up, and replied to their inquiry for us, that we were not there. Bravo insisted that we _were_, and he would find us, and made one step to that effect, when one of my friends, who has a very quiet and effective manner for such occasions, stepped before the door-way and remarked, in his ordinary tone, 'You can't come in, Sir.' The corporal stopped, with one foot up, lifted the pan of his musket, shook up the powder, looked up and down the street in a speculating way, and then stalked off with his men, having decided that the speculation was a bad one. They found us at the camp, target-shooting, but were too much chagrined to join us, and vented their spleen in a noisy discharge of Spanish and Minorcan, in which both seemed equally offensive.

My name was not on the sentry-list for to-night; but upon the grounds now mentioned it was determined that I should be posted; and accordingly at three o'clock I took my stand about a hundred yards from the camp-fire, and soon beat a short path in the sand, where I was to walk out the hours of the night. The night ought to have been very dark and cloudy, with high winds, and a thunder-storm. I should have liked it much better; but it was not. On the contrary, the light of the moon in that latitude is sufficient to make a common newspaper type quite readable, and I was in the full blaze of it. But directly before me was the deep shade of the forest; so near, that by lengthening my walk a little I could have stepped into it, as from a lighted room into midnight darkness; and this gave enough of the mystical for the most imaginative sentry. The 'voices of the night' had died away one by one, leaving only the solemn roar of the sea and the pine-tops, and the wash of the tide, as it swept up occasionally into the long grass of the marsh. Once in a while, perhaps at a great distance, there would be a sharp, snappish cry, which I would stop a moment to analyze, and occasionally a splash, which might be an alligator crawling in from a night ramble; but to all these noises I had been previously hardened. However it may seem to the very romantic, it is not, after all, a very pleasant thing to stand in a bright light, where an enemy can approach within pistol-shot of you, or perhaps give you his first notice by a stab direct. The matter-of-fact probability, the _expectancy_, in this case is not so pleasant; and to one who has never been in just such a position, it would be amusing, the first night or two, to observe the increased circulation of blood, and the lively and exhilarated condition of body; far beyond a salt-water bath, and with nothing of the chill of it; on the contrary, very warm. Then the quick turn at the end of the walk, not knowing what may have taken place since the last facing; the Lot's-wife look over the shoulder; and all the time an acuteness of hearing that at last embraces a whole roar of small noises, surging and dashing like so many breakers.

I had been out about an hour, and was in something of a glow in this respect, when from the swamp side there came a sudden crashing. I halted, brought my gun to a half-bearing, and looked; nothing to be seen, but directly again, crash!--_crash!_--CRASH!

'Halloo!' said I, forgetting the _militaire_ for a moment, and then resuming it with a blush, (I _know_ I must have blushed,) cried out very boldly, 'Who comes there?' No answer, and nothing to be seen. I took out a small opera-glass and swept over a range of half a mile. Nothing moving, but the shade of the forest was so deep that any thing short of a bonfire _might_ have been there, and I should never have seen it. All being still again, I resumed my walk, making it much shorter than before; and with very peremptory turns, half laughing to myself that any body should dare to approach a man with such a musket, and such a step, when again came the crash! _crash!_ CRASH! and much nearer than before. 'Fury!' said I to myself; and I gave out the challenge, calling the corporal of the guard at the same time, with a rapidity that would have astonished a Frenchman. But there was no answer, and the whole camp was asleep.

This was a little too much. 'Man or devil!' I shouted, 'if you make one more step forward, I'll blow you to atoms!' and upon the last word, as a kind of bravado, as it seemed, came two more heavy crashes. Although considerably heated, I was at the same time very cool, and aiming carefully at the noise, I blazed away; a double charge of powder, a large musket-ball, and fifteen buck-shot. There was a rustling, and something like a fall, and then all was still again. I blew out the barrel, and with one eye on the marsh, was ramming down cartridge for another shot, when Boag came down, shouting like a madman: 'Where are they?' said he, looking all ways at once. 'There!' said I, ramming away, 'there; don't you see them?' 'Whoop!' said he; 'now I have 'em;' and aiming miscellaneously, he sent his ball almost any where in that direction, and gave another whoop that might have been taken for 'the real Indian.' My second cartridge followed immediately, and another was ready, when Bravo and his men marched down in battle array. 'Halt!' with a voice of thunder; 'make ready, take aim, _fire_!' and a whole volley was poured into the marsh. Boag was in raptures, and didn't wait for orders; but now, in charging for the next round, we discovered for the first time that the enemy didn't return the fire. Boag suggested that they might have crept round to the left wing, and proposed that we should fire in that direction; but that was considered rather promiscuous for a military operation. We sent out scouts, however, who went very short distances each way, but far enough to discover that all Augustine was close by; the horsemen taking the road, and those on foot coming cross-lots, crying out to us to hold on, and not fire till they came up; and making in various ways a vast display of courage, properly proportioned to the distance. The horsemen came up first, and made a furious charge upon the marsh, and all the people received orders not to fire in that direction till the _cavalry_ returned. The day was now breaking, and the marsh was scoured for half a mile; but the enemy--had disappeared; not an Indian was to be seen; but wandering about, in a very distracted manner, was a young heifer, dangerously wounded, and close by lay her aged mother. She had received a musket-ball, and 'expired without a groan.'

Boag would have it that he saw Indians, and swore that he winged one of them, for he heard him _yell_, as did the guard, who knew all about Indian yells, and myself, who did not; but in a free country people will think as they like; and as they have dined, or been called out of bed to the consultation, will be the difference of opinion. Others in my position had been suddenly sick, and variously afflicted, to avoid duty. I had not; but this last _chef d'oeuvre did_ the thing effectually. From that day I was considered impracticable.

SEED OF CONTENTMENT.

FROM THE GERMAN.

SINCE Fate in her simple wisdom Has passed me unfavored by, I let the blind wheel of Fortune Roll on without a sigh.

Still blest with humble fruition, Disdained I the proffered store; Nor to the current of youthful days Did memory wander more.

Free from corrosive repining, From discontentedness free, I knew that to-day's enjoyment A source of to-morrow's would be.

W. F. P.

TO A FAYRE PERSONNE

UPON SHORT ACQUAINTANCE.

BY JOHN WATERS.

I.

I MAY not, would not, quite forget The hours I pass'd with thee-- 'T were death to say, 'I love;' and yet, Silence harder seemeth me.

II.

Ah no! I never could forget Those words of joy, from thee! They say thou lov'st another--yet How bright thy beam o'er me!

III.

They say thou art 'a sad coquette'-- Yet how to doubt a smile, In which Day-dawn and Eve are met For Fraud--if this be Guile!

IV.

And then thine Eye! of morn's grey hue Kindling with beams of wit-- If its deep glories prove untrue, Let all be false, like it!

V.

'Let all be false!'--How hath this thought Found life within my heart?-- Is this a change thy spell hath wrought, Thy spirit could impart?

VI.

I may, I can, I must forget Those golden hours with thee: Half-lovers were we ere we met, Such could we no more be!

VII.

Forever be forgot, the day, The form, the voice, the eye-- Since thou thyself art ta'en away, Take, take thy memory,

VIII.

Thy dewy fragrance from my heart; Thy Genius off my mind; Thine untold Grace, the thrill, the dart-- Leave not a dream behind!

IX.

Then shall my soul--like mountain lake The tempest hath plough'd o'er-- Its diamond shield reluctant take, And Heaven reflect once more!

THE QUOD CORRESPONDENCE.

Harry Harson.

CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.

LEAVING Michael Rust buried in death-like slumber, the result of intense mental anxiety that had denied his body that repose which it required, we must turn to one destined to take an active part in the succeeding events of this history; and who, on that same evening, was employed in a manner directly the reverse of that of Rust. That man was Harry Harson.

Seated at a table in his own room, with every feature puckered up into a very hard knot, the combined result of thought, perplexity, and anger, he was poring over a number of papers, occasionally pausing to scratch his head, or breaking out into an exclamation of displeasure, not unfrequently accompanied by a hard thump on the table, as something met his eye which excited his indignation in a peculiar degree.

It was past midnight; three good hours beyond the time, at which he usually retired to rest. All indications of bustle and stir in the streets had long since ceased, and not a sound was heard, except the occasional tread of a belated straggler, hurrying to his home; the sharp ticking of the clock, and the plethoric snoring of Spite, who made it a rule never to go to bed before his master; and who, being a methodical dog in habit, and an obstinate one in disposition, could not be induced to depart from old usages. As each successive hour was heralded by the voice of the clock just mentioned, Spite rose, looked at the time-piece, then at his master, as if to say, 'Halloo! old fellow, do you hear that?' gaped; sauntered round the table, and resumed his former position, each time lessening the distance between himself and the fire, as its embers gradually crumbled to ashes. Still, Harson continued his occupation; tossing over, examining, and studying the papers and letters, in utter disregard of hints and admonitions. Apparently, he became more troubled as he advanced in his investigation. His brow contracted; his breath came thick and fast; the color deepened in his cheek; his eye kindled, and more than once he threw the papers impatiently on the table, and rising up paced the room with rapid strides. This occurred at intervals, during the whole evening, until finally, he came to a letter which caused his anger to boil over. Starting to his feet, and clasping his hands, he exclaimed: 'Good God! shall such things be? and wilt Thou not protect the innocent, and punish the guilty?'

'But why ask?' added he, suddenly: 'I know, that even now, through channels which were least dreamed of, justice is working its way to the light. Confirm me, great GOD!' added he, fervently, 'in my purpose of seeing right done; and grant that I may never swerve from my course, until that purpose is accomplished!'

Had the culprit against whom he uttered this invocation and prayer heard the muttered threat which succeeded it, and witnessed the kindling face and stern, determined eye of the person who had uttered them, his heart, had he been a man of ordinary mould, might have sunk; but as the culprit in this case was no other than Michael Rust, who had no belief in an hereafter; who entertained suspicion against all men, and who never yielded his point under any circumstances; it is possible that it would have produced no other result than increased watchfulness, increased determination, and bitter hatred.

'I have read of such schemes as these,' muttered Harson; 'but I never expected to have anything to do with them myself--never. Can there be no doubt that these came from Rust,' said he, turning them over in his hand? And is there no doubt that he is at the bottom of all this villainy? The letters certainly bear a different name from his; but such things are common; and Ned says that he can produce proof of it. They can scarcely be forgeries, vamped up to obtain money from me; for many of them were written years ago; and bear post-office stamps, whose dates correspond with the dates within.'

He stood at the table, thus talking to himself, and turning over the letters, until his eye rested on one written in a delicate hand, and indorsed, 'Mary Colton to Henry Colton.' Harson opened it, mechanically, and ran his eye over it. It was very short, and breathed a heart broken by some grief which was only alluded to, but not mentioned. It ran thus:

'MY DEAR HENRY: With all others, hope has darkened into despair; but I will not give up yet; I cannot. It would kill me, if I did. Go on, my dearest Henry; make all efforts. I feel that you have done all that can be done, and that all means have been tried without success; but even yet, do not cease; and I will pray for you, and bless you, for your disinterested kindness; and GOD will reward you.

'Yours, affectionately, MARY COLTON.'

"_Disinterested kindness!_" muttered Harson; "_God will reward you!_' Yes, 'Henry Colton,' God _will_ reward you! Sooner or later, the reward always comes; and you'll get it. Yes, if I live, 'Henry Colton,' it shall be my especial business to see that you receive it!' 'But,' said he, looking at the clock, 'enough of this. It would almost make a young man gray to wade through the details of such villainy. An old man like me must spare himself. I've had enough for one dose; so I'll sleep on it, and take the rest in the morning. Ha! Spite,' said he, stooping down, and patting the dog; 'better be a good, honest dog, like thee, my old cur, than a man with such a heart as some have. The temper's a trifle, Spite; so don't be worried about your's, for your heart's right, my old dog! There's no double-dealing about you. I don't know whether God blesses an honest dog, or not; but I believe he does, in some way or other. Come pup, I'll not keep you up longer.'

Saying this, he gathered up the papers, and placed them in a small box, which he locked, put under his arm, and followed by Spite, left the room, for the story above. He paused, and listened at a door at the head of the stairs; then turning the knob so as to make no noise, he went in. It was a small room, having a thick rag-carpet on the floor, and a dressing-table covered with white muslin, standing between the windows, whose curtains were as white as snow. In one corner was a bed. On a chair, at the side of it, lay a child's clothes; and in the bed itself was a girl, of about five years of age, with her light hair streaming over the pillow like a web of gold. There was little trace in her face of the outcast whom he had taken from the streets but a few weeks before; for the thin cheek had filled up, and the flush of health had succeeded the paleness of suffering and illness. Her eyes were closed, and their long lashes drooped over her cheek; but she did not sleep soundly; for once or twice she muttered to herself, as Harson bent over her: 'Come, Charley; we've been looking for you a long time. Come!'

'She's dreaming of the boy,' thought he; 'but be of good heart, my poor child; we'll find him yet.'

He leaned down, until his gray hair mingled with her bright locks, pressed his lips to her forehead, and went quietly out into the entry, where his presence was greeted with no little satisfaction by Spite, who had been shut out, and was becoming somewhat testy at being kept in the dark.

It was not long before Harson, with a thick counterpane up to his very chin, was sleeping as soundly in his own bed as Spite was under it.

What dreams hovered around the old man's pillow, or whether he had any, we cannot tell; but certain it is, that when the morning sun broke through a small opening between the window-curtains, flinging a long, thin streak of gold across the carpet, Harson was still sound asleep; and it is quite uncertain how long he might have continued so, had not the same ray of sunshine, in its passage across the room, fallen directly across the centre of the right eye of Spite, who had been drifting about the apartment since day-break; and who now vented his disapprobation of the liberty taken, in an irritable yelp.

Harry sat up in bed. 'What ails thee, pup?' said he, rubbing his eyes.

Spite, however, was not in a communicative mood; but walked to the door, and seating himself, surveyed the knob with great attention. Harson rose; threw on a dressing-gown, and going to the door, let him out, shutting it after him.

He then went to a basin, as portly and capacious as himself, dashed nearly a pailful of water into it; bared head, neck, and shoulders, and plunged them in. Out he came, very red in the face, with water dripping from nose, and chin, and eye-brows. Then in again he went; and then followed such a rubbing, and puffing, and blowing, and spouting, that he seemed like a young whale at his gambols. This ceremony being repeated some half dozen times, and the same number of towels having dried him, he proceeded to dress himself.

It might have been observed, however, that during the whole time, his thoughts were wandering; for he walked to the window, with some article of apparel in his hand, and stood looking into the street, in a state of deep abstraction; and then, drawing a long breath, continued his dressing, as if it had struck him that he was neglecting it. Then again he seated himself on the side of his bed, and sat for some minutes, looking on the floor.

'It's terrible, terrible!' said he, 'but it's not too late to remedy it. Thank God for that!'

Putting on one thing after another, sometimes upside down, sometimes getting his feet in his sleeves; then thrusting an arm in the wrong side of his coat; tying and untying his huge white cravat half a dozen times, and enveloping the half of his face in its ample folds; doing every thing wrong, and rectifying his mistakes with the greatest gravity, and without the slightest appearance of impatience, Harson finally found himself fully established in coat and jacket, with no other mistake than the trifling one of having buttoned the lower button of the last article into the top button hole. Having duly surveyed himself in the glass, to see that all was right, without having detected his mistake, he went out.

He stopped at the door of the child's room. His footsteps had apparently been recognized, for it was ajar; and a pair of bright eyes were peeping out to welcome him.

'Annie, is that you? Ha! child, you're a sad sleepy-head. You'll lose your breakfast. This won't do--this won't do. Spite was up long ago.' He shook his finger at the child, who laughed in his face; and then, flinging the door open, showed herself fully dressed.

'Wrong, Harry; wrong, wrong again,' said she, springing out, and addressing him in the familiar manner that he always liked: 'I am dressed.'

The old man took her in his arms, kissed her cheek, and carried her down stairs; and did not put her down until they were in the room below.

'Come, Harry, there's breakfast; and there's your seat; and here's mine,' exclaimed she, leading him to the table. 'Martha has got here before us,' said she, shaking her head at a demure-looking woman of fifty, in a faded cap, with a rusty riband round it, who was already seated at the table, preparing the coffee. 'Here, Spite--come here.'

Spite was not a dog given to the company of children. He was by far too old, and sedate, and dignified for that; but there were occasions on which he could unbend, and these fits of relaxation generally came over him just at meal-times, when he permitted the child not only to pat him, but even to uncurl his tail. Doubtless the sight of the creature-comforts which garnished Harry's table had its effect in producing this change, although it is possible the knowledge that the child devoted fully half of her time to supplying his wants, (a thing which his master sometimes neglected,) may have had its weight. Obedient at any rate to the summons, Spite hopped from a chair on which he had been seated, and placed himself at her side, watching every mouthful she swallowed, and licking his lips with great unction.