The Cryptogram Part 22

As I turned from the loophole, Captain Rudstone met me face to face.

"He wants you," he said. "Come at once."

"Who?" I asked mechanically.

"Griffith Hawke, of course. Surely you knew he had been shot. He is dying, I believe."

I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. The captain looked at me keenly for an instant, and then strode off. I followed at his heels, reeling like a drunken man, and with my thoughts in such a whirl as I cannot describe.

Griffith Hawke dying! It was difficult to grasp the meaning of the words. At first I felt bitter grief and remorse for the untimely end of the man who had been my greatest benefactor; I remembered his many kindnesses, and how basely I had requited them.

Captain Rudstone led the way to the little room at the base of the watch-tower. We pushed through the crowd outside and when I was over the threshold I saw a pitiable sight by the glow of a lantern. Griffith Hawke lay partly on a blanket, with Andrew Menzies supporting his head and shoulders. His face was ghastly pale, and there was blood on his lips and chest. The doctor, kneeling beside him, was preparing to give him a dose of spirits. Half a dozen sorrowing men stood about.

"His minutes are numbered," Captain Rudstone whispered in my ear. "He is shot through the lungs. They brought him here because it was the nearest place of shelter."

The factor looked up and saw me. He made a feeble gesture, and as I knelt by him the tears came to my eyes and a lump rose in my throat. I would have given anything to save his life; my sorrow was true and sincere.

"They tell me the fort is safe--that the Indians have retreated to the woods," he whispered faintly.

"Yes, they have been beaten off," I replied, "and with heavy loss."

"Thank G.o.d!" he murmured. "They will hardly make another attack. All will go well now. Menzies, have you sent for Miss Hatherton?" he added.

"Yes, she will soon be here."

The dying man lifted his head a little, looking at me with a smile. The doctor poured some strong liquor between his lips, and it instantly brought a brightness to his eyes and a tinge of color to his cheeks.

"That will keep me up for a time," he whispered. "I have something to say to Mr. Carew, and I wish it to be as private as possible. You and the doctor must remain, Menzies, but the rest--"

A spasm of pain stopped him, and while he writhed with it all the men who were in the room, save we three kneeling by him, stepped quietly outside. He grew more comfortable in a moment, glanced wistfully at the door, and put a cold hand in one of mine.

"Denzil, my boy, it is only a question of a few minutes," he said, in a low voice. "I am dying at my post, and without regret. It is better so.

I nearly made a mistake, but I saw it in time. I know your secret--I suspected it days ago. You love Miss Hatherton--"

"It is true," I interrupted hoa.r.s.ely. "Forgive me, my old friend, and believe that I would not for the world have wronged you in thought or deed. I would have left the fort long ago, had you given consent--"

"Hus.h.!.+ there is nothing to forgive," he murmured. "Mine was the mistake--mine the blame. It is only natural that you should have loved each other. I was too old to mate with one so young and fair. I had made up my mind to release her from her promise--to give her to you, Denzil."

He stopped again, and I saw a sudden change in his face. The doctor answered my questioning look with a grave nod, and just then the door was thrown open and Flora entered. She gave me a glance of startled surprise, and knelt on the opposite side. Shaking the snow from her furred cloak, she bent over the dying man; her eyes filled with tears of grief and pity, and her lips trembled.

"Griffith, tell me it is not true!" she cried; "Live for my sake!"

He looked from the girl to me.

"G.o.d bless you both!" he said weakly. "Do not grieve for me, Flora. I loved you, but it was more the love of a father for a daughter. Now I leave you a legacy of happiness--a husband who will cherish and protect you. Promise before I go that you will be Denzil's wife. I shall die the happier if I know that my mistake--is--atoned--"

The effort was too much for him. He gasped for breath, and his face turned the color of ashes, blood oozed to his lips. I was speechless with emotion, and Flora was weeping too bitterly for words; but I saw her lips move, and she suddenly stretched out her hand. I clasped it for a brief moment, and as I released it and looked at Griffith Hawke, he shuddered from head to foot and lay still, with closed eyes.

"He is dead," said Menzies.

"Yes, it is over," a.s.sented the doctor.

A silence fell on us all, broken only by Flora's sobbing. Overhead, the sentries spoke in low tones while they watched at their posts, and outside the wind howled a mournful requiem.

Through the remaining hours of that night the storm raged, heaping the snow in higher drifts, and keeping half a dozen men busily employed in clearing the entrances to the various outbuildings. That the Indians had taken shelter in the forest, and were not likely to attempt another a.s.sault, did little to lighten the general gloom and grief that pervaded the fort, for there was not a man but felt he had lost a friend in Griffith Hawke. As for myself, I had a heavy weight of responsibility upon me, and that prevented my mind from dwelling too much on other things. I gave a thought now and again to my new-born happiness, but the thrill of joy was as quickly stifled by bitter shame--by a vision of the dead man who had returned good for my meditated evil. Flora was in the care of Mrs. Menzies. Captain Rudstone had taken her back to the house, and I had no intention of seeking an interview with her until she should have partly recovered from the shock of the factor's death.

It was indeed a black and dreadful night--a night of horrors and anxiety, of gloom and mourning. For the outlook was by no means so bright as we had let Griffith Hawke believe. What the result would be if the savages rushed us a third time none of us dared contemplate. It was too much to expect that they would abandon the siege, with men of the Northwest Company among them to egg them on; and if they knew our weakness, as was likely, another desperate attack was certain to come sooner or later. Out of a total number of forty-six at the beginning of the trouble, no more than half were now fit for service, the rest were dead or disabled.

These were stern facts that weighed heavy on my mind and held me sleepless and occupied while the night wore on. I saw well to it that the sentries were alert and at their posts, that muskets and howitzers were loaded and ammunition within easy reach, that the stockade was secure at every point. I fought off drowsiness and fatigue with cups of hot coffee, with pipes of strong tobacco.

Two hours before dawn the weather thawed a little and the snow turned to a drizzling rainfall. In the gray flush of early morning when I made my last round, it was bitterly cold again; a crust was on the snow, and the leaden skies promised an early resumption of the storm. To north and east the drifts reached halfway to the top of the stockade.

Bluish curls of smoke, rising here and there out of the surrounding forest, told that the Indians were still in the vicinity. The frozen crust was an incentive to them to make a final attack, and I expected it during the day. I ate a hasty breakfast, and then Menzies summoned me to the factor's house, where he had called a meeting to consider the situation.

CHAPTER XXV.

A RAY OF HOPE.

In all five of us a.s.sembled--five low-spirited, grave-faced men: the others were Menzies and Captain Rudstone, Dr. Knapp and an old and experienced voyageur named Carteret, whose judgment was to be relied upon. A discussion of a few minutes found us unanimously agreed that it would be impossible to repulse the Indians should they make another attack in force; nor did we doubt that such a crisis would come sooner or later.

"There is no chance of the siege being lifted," said Captain Rudstone.

"One or more disguised Northwest men are directing operations, and they must know----"

"I'll swear Cuthbert Mackenzie is the leader," I broke in. "He won't neglect such an opportunity as offers now."

"Right you are!" exclaimed Carteret, with a shrug of the shoulders.

"It's temptation thrown in the way of the redskins. Talk about easy! A firm crust on the snow, and the drifts nearly up to the top of the stockade I Why, they could pour a hundred braves into the fort before we could shoot down ten of them!"

"And they will do just that," declared Captain Rudstone. "They know that we have lost heavily, and can't offer much resistance to a rush. I'll venture to predict that the attack is made late this afternoon, when the twilight begins to gather."

"It will mean the loss of the fort," said I. "We can't shut our eyes to that fact. We have a few hours of grace left; let us make the most of them."

"But what are we to do?" said Dr. Knapp.

"Ay, what?" Menzies echoed dismally. "There's no chance of help, you'll admit, and even if a messenger had got through in time, Fort York couldn't have spared us any men. As it is, they probably have no idea of what is happening here. Do you suggest that we lower our flag and surrender?"

"Never that!" said I.

"Then what other choice have we but to be slaughtered to a man?"

continued the hard-headed old Scotchman. "Perhaps you will kindly explain, Mr. Carew, how we are to make the most of these few hours of grace."

Menzies spoke sneeringly, and with an aggravating touch of irony; but I kept my temper, hoping that he would shortly alter his opinion of my advice. In truth, I had been turning a matter over in my mind while the discussion was going on, and I fancied I saw a way for some of us at least, to save both life and honor.