Chapter 7

"Very well, then; I have warned you. If he bolts, head him for a tree. That's the only way to stop him."

James shortened the bridle-rein to the required length, took a firm grip on Pirate's mane, and vaulted into the saddle. Pirate stood perfectly still. He shook his head. James talked to him and patted his sleek neck, and touched him gently with his heel. Then things livened up a bit. Pirate waltzed, reared, plunged, and started to do the _pas seul_ on the flower-beds. Then he immediately changed his mind. He decided to re-enter the stables.

"Don't let him get his head down!" yelled William, nimbly jumping over a bed of poppies and taking his position beside his mistress.

"The gates, William! The gates!" cried the girl, excitedly. "Only one is open. He will not be able to get through."

William scampered down the driveway and swung back the iron barrier. None too soon! Like a black shadow, Pirate flashed by, his rider's new derby rolling in the dust.

The girl stood in the doorway, her hands pressed against her heart. She was as white as the clouds that sailed overhead.

X

PIRATE

On the opposite side of the road there was a stone wall about five feet in height; beyond this was a broad, rolling field, and farther on, a barb-wire fence and a boggy stream which oozed its way down toward the Potomac. Far away across the valley the wooded hills were drying and withering and thinning, with splashes of yellow and red. A flock of birds speckled the fleecy October clouds, and a mild breeze sent the grasses shivering.

Toward the wall Pirate directed his course. Warburton threw back his full weight. The effort had little or no effect on Pirate's mouth. His rider remembered about the tree, but the nearest was many yards away. Over the wall they went, and down the field. Pirate tried to get his head down, but he received a check. Score one for the man. Warburton, his legs stiffened in the stirrups, his hands well down, his breath coming in gasps, wondered where they would finally land. He began to use his knees, and Pirate felt the pressure. He didn't like it at all. Oddly enough, Warburton's leg did not bother him as he expected it would, and this gave him confidence. On, on; the dull pounding of Pirate's feet, the flying sod, the wind in his face: and when he saw the barb-wire fence, fear entered into him. An inch too low, a stumble, and serious injuries might result. He must break Pirate's gait.

He began to saw cow-boy fashion. Pirate grew very indignant: he was being hurt. His speed slackened none, however; he was determined to make that fence if it was the last thing he ever did. He'd like to see any man stop him. He took the deadly fence as with the wings of a bird. But he found that the man was still on his back. He couldn't understand it. He grew worried. And then he struck the red-brown muck bordering the stream. The muck flew, but at every bound Pirate sank deeper, and the knees of his rider were beginning to tell. Warburton, full of rage, yet not unreasonable rage, quickly saw his chance. Once more he threw back his weight; this time to the left. Pirate's head came stubbornly around; his gait was broken, he was floundering in the stream. Now Warburton used his heels savagely. He shortened the reins and whacked Mr. Pirate soundly across the ears. Pirate plunged and reared and, after devious evolutions, reached solid ground. This time his head was high in the air, and, try as he would, he could not lower his neck a solitary inch.

Warburton knew that the animal could not make the barb-wire fence again, so he waltzed him along till he found a break in the wire. Over this Pirate bounded, snorting. But he had met a master. Whether he reared or plunged, waltzed or ran, he could not make those ruthless knees relent in their pressure. He began to understand what all beasts understand, sooner or later--the inevitable mastery of man. There was blood in his nostrils. A hand touched his neck caressingly. He shook his head; he refused to conciliate. A voice, kindly but rather breathless, addressed him. Again Pirate shook his head; but he did not run, he cantered. Warburton gave a sigh of relief. Over the field they went. A pull to the left, and Pirate wheeled; a pull to the right, and again Pirate answered, and cantered in a circle. But he still shook his head discontentedly, and the froth that spattered Warburton's legs was flecked with blood. The stirrup-strap began to press sharply and hurtfully against Warburton's injured leg. He tugged, and Pirate fell into a trot. He was mastered.

After this Warburton did as he pleased; Pirate had learned his lesson. His master put him through a dozen manoeuvers, and he was vastly satisfied with the victory. In the heat of the battle Warburton had forgotten all about where and what he was; and it was only when he discerned far away a sunbonnet with fluttering strings peering over the stone wall, and a boy in leggings standing on top of the wall, that he recollected. A wave of exhilaration swept through his veins. He had conquered the horse before the eyes of the one woman.

He guided Pirate close to the wall, and stopped him, looked down into the girl's wonder-lit eyes and smiled cheerfully. And what is more, she smiled faintly in acknowledgment. He had gained, in the guise of a groom, what he might never have gained in any other condition of life, the girl's respect and admiration. Though a thorough woman of the world, high-bred, wellborn, she forgot for the moment to control her features; and as I have remarked elsewhere, Warburton was a shrewd observer.

"Bully, Mr. Osborne!" shouted William, leaping down. "It was simply great!"

"There are some bars farther down," said the girl, quietly. "William, run and open them."

Warburton flushed slightly. He could not tell how she had accomplished it, whether it was the tone or the gesture, but she had calmly reestablished the barrier between mistress and servant.

"I think I'll put him to the wall again," said the hero, seized by a rebel spirit.

He wheeled Pirate about and sent him back at a run. Pirate balked. Round he went again, down the field and back. This time he cleared the wall with a good foot to spare. The victory was complete.

When it was all over, and Pirate was impatiently munching an extra supply of oats, the girl bade Mr. James to report early the following morning.

"I hope I shall please you, Madam."

"Address me as Miss Annesley from now on," she said; and nodding shortly, she entered the house.

To Warburton, half the pleasure of the victory was gone; for not a word of praise had she given him. Yet, she had answered his smile. Well, he had made a lackey out of himself; he had no right to expect anything but forty dollars a month and orders.

He broke his word with me. He did not return to the house that night for dinner. In fact, he deliberately sent for his things, explaining that he was called North and wouldn't have time to see them before he left. It took all my persuasive oratory to smooth the troubled waters, and then there were areas upon which my oil had no effect whatever.

"He is perfectly heartless!" cried Nancy. "He couldn't go to the embassy, but he could steal away and play poker all night with a lot of idling Army officers. And now he is going off to Canada without even seeing us to say good-by. Charlie, there is something back of all this."

"I'll bet it's a woman," said Jack, throwing a scrutinizing glance at me. But I was something of a diplomat myself, and he didn't catch me napping. "Here's a telegram for him, too."

"I think I'll take the liberty of opening it," said I. I knew its contents. It was the reply Warburton had depended on. I read it aloud. It is good to have friends of this sort. No question was asked. It was a bald order: "Come up at once and shoot caribou. Take first train."

"Bob's a jackass," was Jack's commentary. I had heard something like it before, that day. "He'll turn up all right;"--and Jack lit a cigar and picked up his paper.

"And Betty Annesley is going to call to-morrow night," said Nancy, her voice overflowing with reproach. Her eyes even sparkled with tears. "I did so want them to meet."

I called myself a villain. But I had given my promise; and I was in love myself.

"I don't see what we can do. When Bob makes up his mind to do anything, he generally does it." Jack, believing he had demolished the subject, opened his _Morning Post_ and fell to studying the latest phases of the Venezuelan muddle.

Nancy began to cry softly; she loved the scalawag as only sisters know how to love. And I became possessed with two desires; to console her and to punch Mr. Robert's head.

"It has always been this way with him," Nancy went on, dabbing her eyes with her two-by-four handkerchief. "We never dreamed that he was going into the Army till he came home one night and announced that he had successfully passed his examinations for West Point. He goes and gets shot, and we never know anything about it till we read the papers. Next, he resigns and goes abroad without a word or coming to see us. I don't know what to make of Bobby; I really don't."

I took her hand in mine and kissed it, and told her the rascal would turn up in due time, that they hadn't heard the last of him for that winter.

"He's only thoughtless and single-purposed," interposed Jack.

"Single-purposed!" I echoed.

"Why, yes. He gets one thing at a time in his brain, and thinks of nothing else till that idea is worn out. I know him."

I recalled my useless persuasion of the morning. "I believe you are right."

"Of course I'm right," replied Jack, turning a page of his paper. "Do _you_ know where he has gone?"

"I think the telegram explains everything,"--evasively.

"Humph! Don't you worry about him, Nan. I'll wager he's up to some of his old-time deviltry."

These and other little observations Jack let fall made it plain to me that he was a natural student of men and their impulses, and that his insight and judgment, unerring and anticipatory, had put him where he is to-day, at the head of a department.

I left the house about ten o'clock, went downtown and found the prodigal at a cheap hotel on Pennsylvania. He was looking over some boots and leggings and ready-made riding breeches.

"Aha, Chuck, so here you are!"

"Look here, Bob, this will never do at all," I began.

"I thought we had threshed all that out thoroughly this morning."

"I left Nancy crying over your blamed callousness."

"Nancy? Hang it, I don't want Nancy to waste any tears over me; I'm not worth it."

"Precious little you care! If it wasn't for the fact that you have told me the true state of things, I should have exposed you to-night. Why didn't you turn up to dinner as you promised? You might at least have gone through the pretense of saying good-by to them."

"My dear boy, I'll admit that my conduct is nefarious. But look; Nancy knows Miss Annesley, and they will be calling on each other. The truth is, I dare not let the girls see me without a beard. And I'm too far gone into the thing to back out now."

"I honestly hope that some one recognizes you and gives you away," I declared indignantly.

"Thanks. You're in love with Nancy, aren't you? To be sure. Well, wouldn't you do anything to keep around where she is, to serve her, to hear her voice, to touch her hand occasionally, to ride with her; in fact, always to be within the magic circle of her presence? Well, I love this girl; I know it now, it is positive, doubtless. Her presence is as necessary to me as the air I breathe. Had I met her in the conventional way, she would have looked upon me as one of the pillars of convention, and mildly ignored me. As I am, she does not know what I am, or who I am; I am a mystery, I represent a secret, and she desires to find out what this secret is. Besides all this, something impels me to act this part, something aside from love. It is inexplicable; fate, maybe." He paused, went to the window, and looked down into the street. It was after-theater time and carriages were rolling to and fro.

"Bob, I apologize. You know a great deal more about feminine nature than I had given you credit for. But how can you win her this way?"

He raised his shoulders. "Time and chance."

"Well, whate'er betide, I can't help wishing you luck."

We shook hands silently, and then I left him.

"Father," said Betty Annesley at the dinnertable that same night, "I have engaged a new groom. He rode Pirate to-day and thoroughly mastered him."

"Pirate? You don't say! Well, I'm glad of that. Pirate will make a capital saddle-horse if he is ridden often enough. The groom will be a safe companion for you on your rides. Are you too tired to do some drawing for me to-night?"

"The fortification plans?"

"Yes." His eyes wandered from her face to the night outside. How gray and sad the world was! "You will always love your father, dearie?"

"Love him? Always!"

"Whatever betide, for weal or woe?"

"Whatever betide."

How easy it was for her to say these words!

"And yet, some day, you must leave me, to take up your abode in some other man's heart. My only wish is that it may beat for you as truly as mine does."

She did not reply, but stepped to the window and pressed her brow to the chilled pane. A yellow and purple line marked the path of the vanished sun; the million stars sparkled above; far away she could see the lights of the city. Of what was she thinking, dreaming? Was she dreaming of heroes such as we poets and novelists invent and hang upon the puppet-beam? Ah, the pity of these dreams the young girl has! She dreams of heroes and of god-like men, and of the one that is to come. But, ah! he never comes, he never comes; and the dream fades and dies, and the world becomes real. A man may find his ideal, but a woman, never. To youth, the fields of love; to man, the battle-ground; to old age, a chair in the sunshine and the wreck of dreams!

"The government ought to pay you well if those plans are successful." She moved away from the window.

"Yes, the government ought to pay me well. I should like to make you rich, dearie, and happy."

"Why, daddy, am I not both? I have more money than I know what to do with, and I am happy in having the kindest father." She came around the table and caressed him, cheek to cheek. "Money isn't everything. It just makes me happy to do anything for you."

His arm grew tense around her waist.

"Do you know what was running through my mind at the embassy last night? I was thinking how deeply I love this great wide country of mine. As I looked at the ambassador and his aides, I was saying to myself, 'You dare not!' It may have been silly, but I couldn't help it, We are the greatest people in the world. When I compared foreign soldiers with our own, how my heart and pride swelled! No formalities, no race prejudice, no false pride. I was never introduced to a foreign officer that I did not fear him, with his weak eyes, his affected mannerisms, his studied rudeness, not to me, but to the country I represented. How I made some of them dance! Not for vanity's sake; rather the inborn patriotism of my race. I had only to think of my father, his honorable scars, his contempt for little things, his courage, his steadfastness, his love for his country, which has so honored him with its trust. Oh! I am a patriot; and I shall never, never marry a man whose love for his country does not equal my own." She caught up her father's mutilated hand and kissed it. "And even now this father of mine is planning and planning to safeguard his country."

"But you must not say anything to a soul, my child; it must be a secret till all is ready. I met Karloff to-day at the club. He has promised to dine with us to-morrow night."

"Make him postpone it. I have promised to dine with Nancy Warburton."

"You had better dine with us and spend the evening with your friend. Do you not think him a handsome fellow?"

"He is charming." She touched the bowl of poppies with her fingers and smiled.

"He is very wealthy, too."

Betty offered no comment.

"What did they do to that infernal rascal who attempted to run away with you and Mrs. Chadwick?"

"They arrested him and locked him up."

"I hope they will keep him there. And what reason did he give the police for attempting to run away with you?"

"He said that he had made a wager with some serving-maids to drive them from the embassy. He claims to have got the wrong number and the wrong carriage."

"A very likely story!"

"Yes, a very likely story!"--and Betty, still smiling, passed on into the music-room, where she took her violin from its case and played some rollicking measures from Offenbach.

At the same time her father rose and went out on the lawn, where he walked up and down, with a long, quick, nervous stride. From time to time a wailing note from the violin floated out to him, and he would stop and raise his haggard face toward heaven. His face was no longer masked in smiles; it was grief-stricken, self-abhorring. At length he softly crossed the lawn and stood before the music-room window. Ah, no fretting care sat on yonder exquisite face, nor pain, nor trouble; youth, only youth and some pleasant thought which the music had aroused. How like her mother! How like her mother!

Suddenly he smote himself on the brow with a clenched hand. "Wretch! God-forsaken wretch, how have you kept your trust? And how yonder child has stabbed you! How innocently she has stabbed you! My country! ... My honor! ... My courage and steadfastness! Mockery!"

XI

THE FIRST RIDE

The next morning Warburton was shown into a neat six-by-eight, just off the carriage-room. There was a cot, running water and a wash-stand, and a boot-blacking apparatus. For the rest, there were a few portraits of fast horses, fighters, and toe-dancers (the adjective qualifying all three!) which the senator's sporting groom had collected and tacked to the walls. For appearance's sake, Mr. James had purchased a cheap trunk. Everything inside was new, too. His silver military brushes, his silver shaving set, and so forth and so forth, were in charge of a safe-deposit storage company, alongside some one's family jewels. The only incriminating things he retained were his signet-ring and his Swiss timepiece.

"Have you had your breakfast, sir?" asked William, the stable-boy.

"Yes, my lad. Now, as Miss Annesley has forgotten it, perhaps you will tell me of just what my duties here will consist."

"You harness, ride and drive, sir, and take care of the metals. I clean the leathers and carriages, exercise the horses and keep their hides shiny. If anything is purchased, sir, we shall have to depend upon your judgment. Are you given to cussing, sir?"

"Cussing?" repeated Warburton.

"Yes, sir. Miss Annesley won't stand for it around the stables. The man before you, sir, could cuss most beautifully; and I think that's why he was fired. At least, it was one reason."

Warburton smoothed his twitching mouth. "Don't you worry, William; it's against my religion to use profane language."

William winked, there was an answering wink, and the two became friends from that moment on.

"I'll bet you didn't say a thing to Pirate yesterday, when he bolted over the wall with you."

"Well, I believe I _did_ address a few remarks to Pirate which would not sound well on dress-parade; but so long as it wasn't within hearing distance, William, I suppose it doesn't matter."

"No, sir; I suppose not."

"Now, what kind of a master is the colonel?" asked Warburton, strapping on his English leggings.

"Well, it's hard to say just now. You see, I've been with the family ever since I was six. The colonel used to be the best fellow _I_ ever knew. Always looking out for your comfort, never an undeserved harsh word, and always a smile when you pleased him. But he's changed in the last two years."

"How?"

"He doesn't take any interest in the things he used to. He goes about as if he had something on his mind; kind of absent-minded, you know; and forgets to-morrow what he says to-day. He always puts on a good face, though, when Miss Betty is around."

"Ah. What night do I have off?"--of a mind that a question like this would sound eminently professional in William's ears.

"Sunday, possibly; it all depends on Miss Annesley, sir. In Virginia nearly every night was ours. Here it's different." William hurriedly pulled on his rubber boots and gloves, grabbed up the carriage sponges, and vanished.

Warburton sat on the edge of his cot and laughed silently. All this was very amusing. Had any man, since the beginning of time, found himself in a like position? He doubted it. And he was to be butler besides! It would be something to remember in his old age. Yet, once or twice the pins of his conscience pricked him. He _wasn't_ treating Nancy just right. He didn't want her to cry over his gracelessness; he didn't want her to think that he was heartless. But what could he do? He stood too deeply committed.

He was puzzled about one thing, however, and, twist it as he would, he could not solve it with any degree of satisfaction. Why, after what had happened, had she hired him? If she could pass over that episode at the carriage-door and forget it, _he_ couldn't. He knew that each time he saw her the memory of that embrace and brotherly salute would rise before his eyes and rob him of some of his assurance--an attribute which was rather well developed in Mr. Robert, though he was loath to admit it. If his actions were a mystery to her, hers were none the less so to him. He made up his mind to move guardedly in whatever he did, to practise control over his mobile features so as to avert any shock or thoughtless sign of interest. He knew that sooner or later the day would come when he would be found out; but this made him not the less eager to court that day.

He shaved himself, and was wiping his face on the towel when Celeste appeared in the doorway. She eyed him, her head inclined roguishly to one side, the exact attitude of a bird that has suddenly met a curious and disturbing specimen of insect life.

"M'sieu Zhames, Mees Annesley rides thees morning. You will pre_pairre_ yourself according,"--and she rattled on in her absurd native tongue (every other native tongue _is_ absurd to us, you know!)--

"He is charming and handsome, With his uniform and saber; And his fine black eyes Look love as he rides by!"

while the chef in the kitchen glared furiously at his omelette souffle, and vowed terrible things to M'sieu Zhames if he looked at Celeste more than twice a day.

"Good morning," said M'sieu Zhames, hanging up his towel. His face glowed as the result of the vigorous rubbing it had received.

_"Bon jour!"_--admiringly.

"Don't give me any of your _bong joors,_ Miss,"--stolidly. "There's only one language for me, and that's English."

"_Merci!_ You Anglaises are _so_ conceit'! How you like _me_ to teach you French, eh, M'sieu Zhames?"

"Not for me,"--shaking his head. She was very pretty, and under ordinary circumstances . . . He did not finish the thought, but I will for him. Under ordinary circumstances, M'sieu Zhames would have kissed her.

"No teach you French? _Non?_ Extra_orrd_inaire!" She tripped away, laughing, while the chef tugged at his royal and M'sieu Zhames whistled.