The King's Arrow Part 4

Opening the envelope, which was marked with a big broad arrow, he drew forth the paper within, unfolded it, and glanced rapidly over the contents. As he did so, a serious expression overspread his face, and he remained a minute or two lost in deep thought.

All this Jean had heard and seen from the door where she was standing with the dishes in her hands. When, however, the Major began to read the letter, she stepped outside, and placed the cups, saucers, and plates upon the table. It was then that Dane first saw her, and his eyes opened wide with surprise and admiration. Presently Jean turned, and seeing the courier's ardent gaze, her eyes dropped, and a deep flush of embarra.s.sment suffused her face. This all happened in a few seconds, but in that brief s.p.a.ce of time that quaint little archer, Cupid, had been busy, and two youthful hearts had been pierced by his subtle arrows.

Never before had Dane beheld such a vision of loveliness and maidenly charm. The girl fascinated him, and moved by a sudden impulse, he was upon the point of going to her side, fearful lest she should vanish, when the Major's voice restrained him.

"Come to the Fort early in the morning," he heard the officer say. "I wish to have a talk with you there."

"I shall be on hand, and early at that," Dane replied.

With another fleeting glance toward the girl, he turned and moved swiftly away toward the lake back in the hills.

CHAPTER IV

THE WARNING

Dane walked as in a dream along the trail to the lake. Something had come into his life during the last half hour which had wrought a subtle mystic change. He did not try to a.n.a.lyse it, as he had never experienced such a feeling before. He only knew that back there where the land slopes to the harbour he had beheld a vision which had thrilled his entire being. The face and form of the girl with the large questioning eyes were all that he saw as he hurried on his way.

Everything else was blotted from his mind, even the urgency of his important mission. The spirit of the wild was upon him, and an overmastering impulse was surging through his heart. He must see her again; he must look upon her face; he must hear her speak. His pa.s.sion was intense. It was a living fire, the ardour of a great first love.

The Indian noted the change which had come over his master, and wondered. He made no comment, however, as he squatted upon the ground, slowly turning a wooden spit on which a fat duck was roasting over a small fire. Dane sat down upon a log, with his eyes upon Pete, although in fact he was hardly aware what he was doing, for his thoughts were elsewhere.

When the duck was at last cooked, the Indian divided it, and gave half to Dane.

"Fine bird, dat," he remarked. "Me shoot him on wing. Taste good, eh?"

"Does it?" Dane asked, rousing for a minute from his reverie. He then relapsed into silence.

"What de matter?" Pete presently asked. "See sometin', eh?"

"Why, what makes you think there is anything the matter?" the young man queried.

"Dane so still. Dane no talk, no smile, no eat. Dane seek, mebbe.

Bad medicine, eh?"

Dane laughed and looked at his companion.

"I am all right, Pete," he a.s.sured. "But I've seen and heard great things to-day. I also knocked out two slashers, while the third ran away."

"A-ha-ha, good," the Indian grunted. "Dem all slashers in beeg canoe, eh?" and he motioned toward the harbour.

"No, no; they are King George's people. They were driven out of their own homes, and have come here. There are thousands of them, so I learned."

"All stay here?"

"Some will, but many will go up river, and settle on the land."

"Ugh! too many white men dere now. Chase Injun, kill moose, ketch feesh. Injun all starve."

"Don't you worry about that," Dane replied. "These are all King George's people, so they will treat the Indians right."

"Mebbe so," and Pete shook his head in a somewhat doubtful manner. "Me see bimeby."

At length Dane rose to his feet, and looked over toward the harbour.

The sun had disappeared beyond the far distant hills, and dusk was stealing up over the land. A stiff breeze was drifting in from the Bay, chilly and damp. Dane thought of the Loyalists in their wretched shacks, and of the ones who had no shelter at all. He longed to know how they were making out, and especially her who was so much in his mind.

"You stay here, Pete, and keep guard," he ordered. "I'm going to see how King George's people are making out."

"Come back soon, eh?" the Indian asked.

"I shall not be long, Pete. You get camp fixed up for the night, and keep the fire going."

"A-ha-ha. Me feex t'ings, a'right."

Leaving the Indian, Dane hurried away from the lake, descended into the valley, and climbed the hill on the opposite side. By the time he reached the height above the waterfront, the dusk had deepened into a weird darkness. Here he paused and looked down upon the strange scene below. Hundreds of camp-fires, large and small, emitted their fitful ruddy glow, while beyond, the lights of a score of anch.o.r.ed s.h.i.+ps were reflected in the wind-ruffled water. A murmur of many voices drifted up to the silent watcher on the brow of the hill, mingled with shrill cries of children, and the sound of beating hammers, as weary men worked late at their rude dwellings.

Down into this Babel of confusion Dane slowly made his way. He pa.s.sed the spot where he had met the Major, and he looked eagerly for the girl who had won his heart. But she was nowhere to be seen, although a small fire was burning near the shack, before which the colored woman was keeping watch, swaying her body, and humming her favourite psalm.

Farther down the hill the people had settled closer together, and as Dane moved through this strange medley of shacks, brush houses, tents, sails fastened to sticks driven into the ground, and other rude contrivances, he realised for the first time the sadly-pathetic condition of these outcast people. Although many of them were hidden from view, he could see numbers huddled about their fires, and children wrapped in blankets asleep upon the ground, while here and there tired mothers were nursing and soothing their fretful babes.

Little attention was paid to the young courier as he moved from place to place, except an occasional glance at his curious costume. In fact, most of these exiles were strangers to one another, as they had come on different s.h.i.+ps, and had only met for the first time on the day of their landing. The ones who had sailed on the same vessels, and had thus become acquainted, naturally kept together as much as possible.

But they were all comrades in distress, sufferers in a common cause, united by the golden bond of sympathy.

Down by the water men were sorting out and piling up their household effects, which had been carelessly dumped upon the sh.o.r.e. But others not so engaged were gathered in little groups around camp-fires, either discussing their present prospects, or relating their experiences on the vessels, and their hards.h.i.+ps during and after the war. To some of these tales Dane listened with wide-eyed wonder, and a burning indignation in his heart. What stories he would have to tell when he went back to his woodland home.

All that he heard, however, was not of a sad or gloomy nature. These st.u.r.dy men enjoyed humorous yarns, and as Dane listened to several, he joined in the laughter that ensued. One, especially, appealed to him.

It was told by a big strapping fellow, who hitherto had taken little part in the talk.

"Your yarns can't equal that of the shoemaker of Richmond, Virginia" he began. "When the rebels were pa.s.sing through the town he stood in the door of his house and cried out 'Hurrah for King George.' He followed the soldiers to a wood, where they had halted, and began again to hurrah for King George. When the commanding officer and his aides had mounted and were moving on, the shoemaker followed, still hurrahing for King George. The officer, therefore, ordered that he should be taken to the river and ducked. This was done, and he was plunged several times under the water. But whenever his head appeared above the surface he would shout for King George. He was then taken to his own house, where his wife and four daughters were crying and beseeching him to hold his tongue. The top of a barrel of tar was knocked off, and the man was plunged in headlong. He was then pulled out by the heels, and rolled in a ma.s.s of feathers, from a bed which had been taken from his own house, until he presented a strange, horrible sight. But through it all, whenever he could get his mouth open, he would hurrah for King George. He was then driven out of the town, and the officer warned him that he would be shot if he troubled them again. That is the story as it was told me, and I think it a mighty good one."

Dane longed to hear more tales of that wonderful land, and of the great fights which had taken place. But just then a strange sound startled him. It was the roll of a drum, followed almost immediately by the shrill notes of several fifes. He could not see the musicians, as they were some distance away to the left. But he knew what they were playing, for he was quite familiar with the tune and words of the old fireside song. A sudden silence fell upon the little band around the fire. Bronzed faces became grave, and more than one man's eyes grew misty with honest tears.

Barely had the notes of this tune died away when the men were roused to action by the stirring strains of the National Anthem. They sprang to their feet as one, and stood at attention. Somewhere a strong voice took up the words, and in an instant all over that hillside hundreds of men and women were singing as they had never sung before.

G.o.d save our gracious King, Long live our n.o.ble King, G.o.d save the King.

Though driven from their homes; exiles in a strange land; surrounded by unknown dangers, and with a most uncertain future, nothing could dampen their spirit of loyalty to their King across the sea.

To Dane this was all wonderful. He longed to see the musicians, and to watch them as they played. He walked over in the direction from which the music had come, and had almost reached what he supposed was the spot, when he suddenly stopped. There before him he beheld the real object of his visit. She was seated on the ground before a fire, with several children gathered about her. They were all listening with rapt attention to some story she was telling them. Dane was held spellbound at the pretty scene before him. He could look upon the girl to his heart's content without being seen, for he was sheltered by a cl.u.s.ter of rough, tangled trees. In all his life he had never beheld such a beautiful face. He longed to know her name, and to hear her speak. He recalled the glance she had given him with her expressive eyes ere they had dropped before his ardent gaze. But he knew that he was nothing to her, and no doubt she had never thought of him again. How could he leave without finding out who she was, and where she was going? But she was a complete stranger to him, and he had no right to approach any nearer. It would be much better to wors.h.i.+p at a distance and await a favourable opportunity.

Presently he was aroused by a slight noise near at hand. Glancing quickly around to his right, his keen eyes detected the form of a man slinking along among the bushes. Dane could not see his face, but from his att.i.tude it was quite evident that the girl near the fire was the object of his special attention. At length he stopped, and, crouching behind a small pile of brush kept his eyes fixed upon the unsuspecting girl.

Dane was now thoroughly aroused, and he was about to spring forward and demand an explanation for the man's suspicious actions, when the crouching figure rose suddenly to a standing position, and then stepped quickly forward. The reason was at once apparent, for glancing toward the fire, Dane saw that the girl had just left the children to their parents' care with the evident intention of returning home. In order to do so, it was necessary for her to cross an upper portion of the hillside, considered too rough and rocky for any one to pitch his abode. There was not the slightest semblance of a trail, but the girl had traversed the place several times that day, so was quite sure of her way. Nevertheless, she glanced somewhat anxiously around as she hurried onward, especially so where the bushes and scrubby trees stood the thickest.

Dane followed the man who was slinking along after the girl, and for a while he was able to keep him in view. Then he disappeared among the trees, and as Dane stepped quickly forward so as not to miss him altogether, a sudden cry of fear fell upon his ears. That it came from the girl he was well aware; telling plainly that she was in need of help. He leaped at once to her a.s.sistance, and in another minute he saw her struggling in the arms of her a.s.sailant, and trying to free herself from his grasp. The next instant Dane was by her side, while a blow from the clenched fist of his right hand sent the cowardly villain reeling back among the trees. Then like a tiger Dane was upon him, his fingers clutching his throat as he pinned him to the ground. The fallen man fought and struggled desperately to tear away that fearful vise-like grip, but all in vain. At length his striving ceased, and his body relaxed. Then Dane unloosened his hold, and looked at the girl.

"Shall I kill him?" he asked.