The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 15, 1903, Page 3

never P asking ad not good nly smile and v and say that of alP ng have you fierce to be tever be not you the ng until you eat chair of Indian ace before the window as at rest she drew d feet, 0 * she sald. old me what you would rou suppose Roman pro- m. I you are so impatient v the name inactive not you You must it. But still a bidden guest And it was asylum in his ht father' —besides the fact that as what you said to Mr. to do wit king wretch? What has rom me and said: “He tor and man of affairs. & to be craving yo But I said naught to ced—to this Mr. Pengar- d your father, or “How, then, will you explain this—that you swore to drive my father from Ap- eby Hundred as soon as ever you had raised a following among the rebels?” *’'Tis easily explained, this thrice ac- -d—oh, pardon me again, I pray you; not name him any name at all t I meant to say was that he lied. I threats to him; to tell the plamn was too flercely mad to bandy with him.” t made you mad, Monsieur John™" ‘Twas his threat to me—to taint me my father’s outlawry. Do you great- bleme me, Margery?” t a silence came and sat between I fell to loving the more be- put when she spoke I always re for speaking. ever man so tempted since the fall m? As I have writ it down for you in meas d ords, I was no more than at this time. And love has rs than its opposites of uncertain sense I was a country: and this fair hassock at my feet was me. I saw in briefer ck hands ever meas- iding word might do hought of Richard yself again. I said, “there has For their own purposes the world time than any ured how much a been no mistake nemies have passed the word that I e as the Baron de Kalb's pald spy. s no mistake; ’tis 2 lie cut out of I came here straight from New Berne, and back of that from Lon- and the Continent, and scarcely know iff and blue by sight. But I am « born, dear lady, and this King ’s Governor hanged my father. So, when God gives me strength to mount and ride”— “Now, who is flerce?” she cried. And like lightning: “Will you raise a nd of rebels and come and take your own again?” “You know T will not,”” I protested, so grave that she laughed again, though now there were tears, from what well- pring of emotion 1 knew not, in her . mercy me! Have you mever one of imagination, Monsieur too monstrous literal for y Then she sobered added this: “And yet I fear what my father fears.” did mnot teli that he might have feared it once with reason. or that now the hous g she petted should have life of me though mine enemy should sick him on. But I did say her father had no present cause to dread me. “He thinks he has. Aud surely thers is cause enough.” she added. I smiled, and, loving her the more for her fairness, must smile again. ay, you hive changed all that, dear lady. Truly, I did at first fly out at him and all concerned for what had made me ess THE SUNDAY CALL. a poor pensioner In my father’s house— or rather in the house that was my fath- er's. But thi was while the hurt was new. I have been a soldler .of-fortune too long to think overmuch of the loss of pleby Hundred. 'Twas my father's, certatnly, but ‘twas never mine.” “And yet—and yet it should bé yours, John Ire * She sald it bravely, with uplifted face and eloquent eyes that one who ran might read. ““Tis good and true of you to say so, little one; but there's two sides to that, as well. So -my father's acres come at last to you and Richard Jennifer, I shall be well content, I do assure you, Mar- gery.” She sprang up from her low seat and went to stand in the window-bay. After time she turned and faced me again, i the warm blood was in cheek and neck, and there was a sort light in her eyes to make them shine like stars. “Then you would have me marry Rich- ard Jennifer?’ she asked. *Twas but a little word that honor bade y, and yet it choked me and I could t say it “Dick would have y dear frie ' she queri is thi “Were you as well, as you would My look went past her through the lead-trimmed window panes to the great taks and hickories on the lawn; to these and to the white road winding in and out among them. While vet I sought for words in which to give her unreservedly to my dear lad, two horsemen trotted into One of them was a king's man: » other a civilian in sober, black. The at rode as English troopers do, with a firm seat, as if the man were master of his mount; but the small man in black seemed little to the manner born, and daylight shuttled in and out benéath him, keeping time to the jog trot of his beast. I thought it pa range that with all good will to wer her, these coming horsemen seemed to hold me silent. And, indeed, 1 did not cpeak until they came s0 near that I could make them out. “I am your frie Margery, mine; as good a friend as you let me be. And as between Richard Jennifer and another, 1 should be 2 sorry friend to Dick did I not"'— She heard the clink of horseshoes on the gravel and turned, ng to me for silence while The win- dow overhung the entrance on that side, and through the opened air casement I heard some babblement of voices, though not the words “I must go down,” she said. * 'Tis com- pany come, and my father is away.” She passed behind chair and, hear- ing bher hand upon latch, 1 bad th > down to welcome 1 mate, the fac- t while I was cursing my un- tongue and repenting that 1 had ready small word of warn- not given her some he spoke agal hard Jennifer or another.’ ou of any other, Monsieur hing save what you have told me; and from that I have been hoping re was no other.” “But if 1 say there may be?” My heart went sick at that. True, I had thought to give her nerously to b right was paramount; but come hither where I may see e stood before me like lell me, little comrade, farg: And when dden ch who is tt But now her mood was changed again, and from standing sweet and pensive she fell a-laughing. “What impudenc she cried. fa foi! You'should borrow Pere Matthieu's cas- sack and breviary: then mayhap I might ess to you. But not before.” But still 1 pressed her. “Tell me, Margery.” Shte tossed her head and would net ook at me. “Dick Jennifer is but a boy: sup- pose this other were a man full grown.” es?” And a soldier.” The sickness in my heart became a fire. O Margery! Don’t tell me it is this fiend who came just now!” H All in a flash the jesting mood was gone; but that which took its place was strange to me. Tears came; her bosom heaved. And them she would have passed me, but I caught her hands and held them fast. “Margery, one moment; for your own sweet sake, If not for Dick’s or mine, have naught to do with this devil’s emis- sary of a man. If you only knew—if L dared tell you"'— But for once, it seemed I had strétched my privilege beyond the limit. She whip- ped her hands from my hold and faced me coldly. “Sir Francis says you are a brave gen- tleman, Captain Ireton, and though he knows well what you would be about, he has not sent a file of men to put you in arrest. And in return you call him names behind his back. I shall not stay to lis- ten, sir.” With that she passed again behind my chair, and once agaln I heard her hand upon the latch. But I would say my say. “Forgive me” Margery, I pray you; *twas only what you said that made me mad. °Tis less than naught if you'll deny 1. I waited long and patiently, and thought she must have gone before her answer came. And this is what she said: “If I must tell you, then, 'tis now two weeks and more since Sir Francis Falcon- net asked me to marry him. I—I hope you do feel better, Captain Ireton.” And with these bitterest of all words to her leave-taking, she left me to endure as best I might the hell of torment they had lighted for me. CHAPTER VL SHOWING HOW RED WRATH MAY HEAL A WOUND. It was full two days after the coming of the Baronet and the fu stor-lawyer Pen- garvin before I saw my lady's face near- hand again, and sometimes I was glad for Richard Jennifer's sake, but oftener would curse and swear because I was bound hand and foot and could not balk my enemy. - I knew Sir Francis and the lawyer still lingered on at Appleby Hundred—indeed, v them daily from my window—and us would be telling me that they i upon the coming of some. courler from the scuth. But this I disbelleved. Some such like lie the Baronet might have toid, I thought; but when I saw him walk abroad with Margery on his arm. pacing back and forth beneath the oaks and bending low to catch her light- est word with grave and courtly defer- ence that none knew better how to feign, I knew wherefore he stayed—knew and raged afresh at my own impotence, and for the thought that Margery was wholly at the mercy of this devil. Yours is a colder century than was ours, my dears. Your art has tempered love and passion Into sentiment, and hate you have learned to call aversion or dis- like. But we of that simple-hearted elder time were more downright; and I have writ the word.I mean in.saying that my love was at the mercy of this fiend. 1 know not how it is or why, but there are men who have this gift—some winning way to turn a woman's head or touch her heart; ard I knew well this gift was his. "Twas not his face, for that was some- thing less than.handsome, to my fancy: nor yet his figure, though that was big and soldierly enough. It was rather in some ‘subtlety of manner, some power of simulation whereby in any womanly heart he seemed to stand at will for that which he was not. As I have said, 1 knew him well enough; kneéw him incapable of love apart from paseion, and that to him there was no sacredness In maiden chastity or wifely vows. So he but gained his end he cared no whit what followed after; ruin, broken hearts, lost souls, a man slain now and then to keep the scale from tipping—all were as one to him, or to the Francis Falconnet Wknew. And ‘touching marriage, with Margery or any other, I feared that love would have no word to say. Passion there might be and that fierce desire to have and wear which burns like any miser's fever in the blood; but never love as lov- ers measure it. Why, then, had he pro- posed to Margery? The answer did not tarry. Since he was now but a gentle- man voiunteer it was plain that he had squandered his estate and so might brook the marriage chain if it were linked up with my father's acres. So, brooding over this, I wore out two most dismal days—the first in many I had had to pass alone. But on the morn- ing of the third the sky was lightened, though then the light was but a flash and darkness followed quickly after. She came again and brought me a visitor; it was this same Father Matthieu with whom she had jestingly compared me, and lest I should take my punishment too lightly, stayed but t& make the good priest known to me. Now.I was born and bred an heretic, by any papist’s reckoning, but 1 have ever held it witless in that man who lets a creed obstruct a friendship. Moreover, this“sweet-faced cleric was the friendliest of men; friendly, and yet the willest Jesuit of them all, since he read me at a glarce and fell straightway to praising Margery. “A truly sweet young demoiselle,” he said, by wdy of fofeword, no ner was the door closed behind her, and while he preached a sermon on this text 1 grew to know ‘and love him. As I have said, I was like any prisoner in a dungecn for lack of news, and so by dégrees I fetched him round to telling me of what was going on bevond my window-sight of lawn and forest. Brave deeds were to the fore, it seemed. At Ramsour's Mill, a few miles nurth and west, some little handful of d:termined patriots had bested thrice their number of the King’s partisans, and that with- cut a leader bigger than a county colonél. Lord Rawdon, in ‘command of Lord Corpwallis' van, bad come as far as Waxhaw Creek, but, being unsupported, had ‘withdrawn to Hanglng Rock. Our Mr. Rutherford was on his way to the forks of Yadkin to engage the Tories gathering under Colonel Bryan. As vet, it seemed,. wé had no force of consequence to take the fleld against Cornwallis, though there were flying ru- mors of ‘an army marching from Virginia, with a new appolnted general at its head. As you may well suppose, this news awoke in me the lust of battle, and I must chafe the more for having it. And while my visitor talked on and I was listening with the outward ear, my brain was busy putting two and two together. How came it that the British outpost still remained at Queensborough, with my Lord Raw- don withdragn ‘and the patriot home guard wekl wn_upon Its rear? Some urgent reason for the stay there must be; and at that" I remembered what Darlus had told me of Its captain’s waiting for someé messenger from the south. 1 scored this matter with a question mark, putting it aside to think on more when 1 should be alone. And when the priest had told me all the news at large, we came again to speak of Margery. “I go and come through ail this border- land,” he said, when I had asked him how and why he came to Appleby Hundred, “but it was mam’selle’'s message brought me here. She Is my onme ewe lamb in all this region and I would journey far to see her.” I wondered pointedly at this, for in that day the west was fiercely Protestant and the mother church had scanty footing in the botderland. This put me keen, upon remembering what had gone before. I thought it strange, knowing how perilous the time and place must be for such as he. But not untit'he rose and, bidding me good day, left me to myself, did I so much as guess the thing his coming meant. When I had guessad it; when I put this to that —her telling me Sir Francis had proposed for her, and this her sending for the priest—the madness of Jy love for her was as naught compared to that anger which seized and racked me. I know not how the hours of this black day were made to come and go, grinding me to dust and ashes in their passage, yet leaving me alive and keen to suffer at the end. A thousand times that day I lived in torment through the scene in which the priest had doubtless come to play his part of joiner. The stage for It would be the great room fronting south; the room.my father used to call our castle hall. For guests I thought there would be space enough and some to spare, for, as you “know, our Mecklenburg was patriat to the core. But as to this, the bridegroom’s troopers might fill out the tale, and in my heated fancy I could see them grouped beneath the candlesconces with belts and baldrics fresh pipe-clayed, and shakos doffed, and sabretaches well in front. “A man full-grown—a soldler,” she had said; and trooper-guests were fitting In such case. From serving in a Catholic land I knew the customs of the mother church. So I could see ‘the priest in cassock, alb and stole as he would stand before some makeshift aitar lit with candles. And as he stands they come to kneel before him; my winsome Margery in all ber royal beauty, a child to love, and yet an em- press peerless in her woman'’s realm; and at her side, ‘with his knee touching hers, this man who was a devil! What wonder if I cursed and choked and cursed again when the maddening thought of what all this shoul¢ mean for my poor woupded Richard—and later on, for Margery” herself—possessed me? In which of these hot fever-gusts of rage the thought of interference came, I know not. But that ‘it came at length—a thought and plan full-grown at birth—I do know. Pl The pointing of the plan was desperate and simple. It was neither more nor less than this: J _knew the house and every turn and passage In it, and when the hour should strike I said I should go down and skulk among the guests, and at the cru- cial moment find or seize a weapon and fling- myself upon this bridegroom as he should kneel before the altar. With strength to bend him back and sirike one blow, I saw not why it might not win. And as for strength, I have learned this in war: that so the rage be hot enough ’twill nerve a dying man to hack and hew and stab as with the strength of ten. Although it was most terribly overlong in coming, the end of that black day dic .come at last, and with it Darfus to fetcn my supper and the candles. You may be sure I questioned him, and if you know the blacks you'll smile and say I had my labor for my pains—the which I had. His place was gt the quarters, and of what went on within the house he knew no more than 1. But this he told me—that company surely was expected and. that some air of mystery was abroad. WLen he was goné I ate a soldier’s por- tion, knowing of old how 1ll a thing it is to take an empty stomach {nto battle. For the same cause I drank,a second cup of wine—'twas old Madeira of my father’s laving-in—and would have drunk a third but that the bottle would not yield it. It was fully dark when I had finished, and thinking ever on my plan would strive afresh to weld its weakest link. 'his was the hazard .f ths weapon-get- ting. With fuli-blood health and strergth I might have gone bare-handed, but as it was I feared to take the chance. So with A candle 1 went a-prowling in the deep draviers of the old oaken clothes press and in the escritoire, which once had been my mother’s, and found no weapon bigger thay/ a hairpin. It was no great disappointment, for I had looked before with daylight in the room. Besides, the wine was mougting, and when the search was done the hazard seemed the less. So I could rush upon him unawares and put my knee against his back, I thought the lord of battlés would give me strength to break his n€ck across it. SN At that I capped the candles, and tak- Ing post in the deep bay of the wifidow 82t myself to watch for the lighting of the great room at the front. This had two windows on my side, and while 'l could not see them I knew. that 1 should see the sheen of light upon the lawn, Behind the close drawn curtain, though I could see it not, the virgin forest dark- ened all the land: and from afar within its secret depths I heard, or I thought I heard, the dismal howling of the tim- ber wolves. Below the house was silent as the grave and this seemed strange to me. For in the time of my youth a wedding was a joyous thing. - Yet I would rémember that these present times were perilous; and also that my bridegroom captained but a little band of troopers in 2 land but now become fiercely debatable. It must have been an hour or more be- fore the sound of distance muffied hoof- beats on the road broke in upon the chirping silence of the night. I looked and listened, straining my eye and-ear, hearing but little and seeing less until three shadowy horsemen issued from the curtain wall of black beneath my window. It was plain that others watched -as well as I, for at their coming a sheen of light burst from the opened door be- low, at which there were sword clank- ings as of armed men dismounting, and then a few low voiced words of welcome. Followed quickly the closing of the door and silence; and when my eyes grew once again accustomed to the gloom I saw be- low” the horses standing head to head and In the midst a man to hold them. ‘Sol” I thought; “but three in all, and one of them a servant. 'Twill be a scant- 1y guested wedding.” And then I raged within .againi to think of how my love should be thus dishonored In a corner when she should e the world to clap its' hands and praide her beauty. ‘At that, and while I looked, the lawn was banded farther on by two broad eams of light, and then I knew my time Was come. Feeling my way across the darkened chamber, 1 softly 'tried the door latch. It yielded at the touch, but not the door. I pulled, and braced myself and pulled again. 'Twas but a waste of strength. The door was fast with that contrivance wherewith my father used to bar me in what time I was a boy and would go raccooning with our. megro hunters. My enemy was no fool. He had been shrewd enough to lock me in against the chance of interruption. I wish you might conceive the helpless horror grappling with me there behind that fastened door; but this; Indeed, you may not, having felt it not. For one dazed moment I was sick as death with fear and frenzy and I know not what besides, and all the blackness of the night swam sudden red before my eyes. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the madness left me sool and sane, if the fit had been the travail pain of some new birth of soul. And after that, as I remember, I knew not rage nor haste nor weakness —knew no other thing save this: that I g.’xd set myself a task to do and I would o it. My window was in shape .ke half a cell of honeycomb, and close beside it on the outer wall there grew an ancient ivy vine which more than once had held my welght when I°was vounger and would evade my father's vigilance. 1 swung the casement noiselessly and clambered cut, with hand and foot in proper hold as if those youthful flittings of my boyhood days had been but yes- ternight. A breathless nute later I was down and afoot on solid ground: and then a thing chanced which I would had not. The man whom I had called a ser- vant turned and saw me. ““Halt! Who goes there?’ he cried. ‘A friend,” said I, between my wishings for a weapon. For this servant of my pre- figurings proved to be a trooper, booted, spurred and armed. "By God, I think you lfe,” he said; and after that he said no more, for he was down among the horses’ hoofs and T upon him, kneeling hard to scant his bréath for shoutings. It grieves me mow through all these vears to think that I did kneel too hard upon this man. He was no ememy of mine, and did but do—or seek to do—his duty. But he would fight or die, and I must fight or dle; and so it ended as such striyings will, with some grim crackling of ribs—and when I rose he rose not with me. With all the flerce excitement.of the struggle yet upon me I stayed to knot the bridle reins upon khis arm to maka it plain that he had fallen at his post. That done I took his sword as surer for my purpose than a pistol; and hugging the deepest shadow of ;the wail, approached the nearer window. It was open wide, for the night was sultry warm, and from within there came the clink of glasses and now a toast and now a trooper’s oath. I drew myself by inches to the case- ment, which was high, finding socme foot- hold in the wall; and when I looked with- in I saw no wedding guests, no priest, no altar; only this: a table in the midst with bottles on it, and round it five men lounging at their ease and crinking to the King. Of these five two, the Baronet and the lawyer, were known to’me, and I have made them known to you. A third I guessed for Gilbert Stair. The other two were Strangers. CHAPTER VIL IN WHICH MY LADY HATH NO PART. Seéing that I had taken a man’s life for this, the chance of looking in upon a drinking bout, you will not wonder that I went aghast and would have fled for very shame had not a sudden weakness seized me. But in the midst I heard a mention of my name and so had leave, 1 thought, to stay and listen. It was one of the late comers who gave me this leave; a man well on in years, griazled and weather beaten; a seasoned soldier by his look and garb. Though his frayed shoulder knot was only that of a captain of foot, ‘twas plain enough he ranked his comrade and the knight as well. “You say you've bagged this Captain Irétan? Who may he be? Surely not old Rogér’s son?"’ “The #ame,” said the Baronet, shortly, and would be filling his glass again. He could always drink more and feel it less than any sot I ever knew. “But how the devil came he here? The last I knew of him—'twas some half score yedrs agé, though, come to think—he was & leuténant in the Royal Scots. “Mine enemy nodded. “So he was. But afterward he cut the service and levanted tc the Céntinent.” “‘What brought him over seas, Sir Fran- cis?* ‘Twas not the grizaled jester who asked, but the younger officer, his com- rade. Falconnet smiled as ons who knows a thing and will not tell and turned to Gll- bert Stafr. “What was it, think you, Mr. Stair?” he said, passing the question on. At this they all looked to the master of Appleby Hundred, and I looked to. He was not the man I should have hit upon in any throng as the reavet of my father’'s estate; still less the man who might be Margery’s father. He had the face of all the Stairs of Ballantrae without its sim- ple Scottish ruggedness; a sort of weasel face it was, with pale, gray eyes that had a trick of shifty dodging, and deep-fur- rowed dbout the mouth and chin with lines that spoke of indecision. It was not of him that Margery got her firm, round chin, nor aught of anything she owed a father save only her paternity, you'd say. And when he spoke the thin falsetto volce matched the weak chin to a hair. “1? Damme, Sir Francis, I know not why he came—how should I know?” he quavered. ‘““Appleby Hundred is mine— mine, 1 tell you! His title was well hanged on a tree with his damned rebel father! A laugh uproarious from the three sol- diers greeted his petulant outburst; after which the Baronet enlightened the others. “As you know, Captain John, Appleby Hundred once belonged to the rebel Roger Ireton, and Mr. Stair here holds but a con- fiscator’s title. 'Tis likely the son heard of the war and thought he stood some chanee to come into his own again.” *Oh, aye; sure enough,” quoth the elder officer, tilting his bottle afresh. And then: “Of course he promptly "listed with the rebels when he came? Trust Roger Ireton’s son for that.” My Baronet wagged his head assentingly to this; then clinched the lie tn words. *“Of course; we have his commission. He is on De Kalb's staff, ‘detached for special duty.”” “A sp; roared the jester. you haven't hanged him?" Sir ‘Francis shrugged lke any French- man. “All in good time, my dear cap- tain. There wereereasons why I did not care to knot the rope myself. Besides, we had a little disagreement years agone across the water; "twas about a woman— oh, she was no mistress of his, I do as- sure you!"—this to quench my jester's laugh incredulous. “He was keen upon me for satisfaction in this old quarrel, and T gave it him, thinking he'd hang the easier for a little blooding first.” Here the factor-lawyer cut in anxiously. “But you will hang him, Sir Francis? You've promised that, you know.” I did not hate my enemy the more be- causé he turned a shoulder to this little bloodhound and quite ignored the inter- ruption. “86 we fought it out one morning In Mr. Statr’s woodfield, and he had what he came for. Not to give him a chance to escape, we brought him - here, and as soon as he is fit to ride I'll send him to the colonel. Tarleton will, give him a short shrift, I promise you, and then”—this to the mas- ter of Appleby Hundred—“then your title will be well quieted, Mr. Stair.” At this the weather beaten captain roar- ed agaln and smote the table till the bot- tles: reeled. Having thus disposed of me they let me be and came to the graver business of the moment, with a toast to lay the dust before it. It was Falconnet who gave the toast. “Here's to our bully redskins and their king—How do you call him, Captain Stu- art? Ocon—Ocona—" - “Oconostota is the Chelakes of it, thotgh on the border they krow him bet- ter as 'Old Hop." Fill up, gentlemen, fill up; 't§s a/dry business, this. Allow me, Mr. Stair; and you, Mr.—er—ah—Pengar- den. This same old heathen is the king's friend now, but, gentlemen all, I do as- sure you he's the very devil himself in a coppér-colored skin. "Twas he who am- bushed us in '60, and but for Attakulla- kulla—" “Oh, -Lord!” groaned Falconnet. “I say, captain, drown the names in the wine and we'll drink them so. ’Tis by far the easiest way to swallow them.” By this, the grizzled captain’s mention of the old Fort Loudon massacre 1 knew him for that same John Stuart of the Highlanders who, with Captain Damare, bad so stoutly defended the frontier fort agdinst the savages twenty years before; knew him and wondered I had not sooner placed him. When I was but a boy, as I could. well remember, he had been King's man to the Cherokees; a sort of go be- tween Ifi times of peace, and in the border wars a man the Indians feared. But now, as 1 was soon to learn, he was a man for to fear. 'Tis carried through at last,” he went on, ‘when the toast was drunk. An then he stopped and held up a warning fin- gef. ‘“Ihis business will not brook un- triendly ears. Are we safe to talk here, Mr. Stair?”’ It was Falconnet who answered. ;“Safe .ds. the clock. You passed my sentry in the road?” “He_ is the padlock of a chain that reaches round the house. Let's have your news, captain.” “As 1 was saying, the Indians are at outs:withus, "Twas all fair salling in the councll at Echota, the Chelakees being to a man fierce enough to dig the hatchet up. But 1. did have the devil's own teapot tempest with my Lord Charles. He says we have more friends than enemies in the border settlements, and these our red- sking" Wil tomahawk them all alike.” .1 made’a mental note of this and won- “And yet dered if my Lord Cornwallls had met with some new change of heart. He was not over-squeamish as I had known him. Then I heard the Baronet say: “But yet the thing is done?” “As good as done. The Indlans are to have powder and lead of us, after wh they make a sudden onfall on the over- mouritain settlements. And that fetches us to your part in it, Sir Frank; and yours, Mr, Stair. Your troop, will be the convoy for this powder; a you, Mr. Stair, are requisitioned to p: vide the commissa.y.” There was silence while a cat might wink, and then Gilbert Stair broke in upon it shrilly: “I cannot, Captain Stuart; that I can- not!” he protested, starting from his cha “*Twill ruin me outright! T place is stripped—you know it wel Francis—stripped bare and clean by t. militiamen; bare as I tell you! I—" put him down in brief. tair; we'll not constr ur will that you t at best—nay, that fo some years back you have been as rebel as the rest in this nesting place of traitors. As a friend—mind you, as a friend—I would advise you to fi ‘wherewithal to carry out my Lord's com- u take me, Mr. Stair?” marionette when jerked a thought weasel face was mol knew not what double des have been at before this, but it was sure. Iy something with the promise of a rope at the publ t So he and a bit of paper, recko: as I took it, while Falco for_more particu “You'll have them from headquarters direct,” said Stuart. “Oconostota will fur- b carriers, a Cherokee escort and guldes. The rendezvous will be here- abouts and your route will be the G Trace.” ““Then we are to hold on all and wait still longer?” “That's the word—wait for the Indians and your cargo.” Falconnet's oath was of impatience. “We've waited now a month and more like men with halters round their necks. The country is alive with rebeis.’ Whereupon Captain Stuart began to explain at large how the porthern route had been chosen for its very the better to throw the scent. I listened, word, but when s behind me I was upon the oft-recurrent underthought of how the gloom did also hide a silent fig- ure lying prone, dle reins knotted ro 5 The scnior pl some map or chart of his making, and h pricking out on it for Falconnet the agreed upon in council with the ¢ kees. At this cool outl plan, some proper se: of savage-arming me fended cabin on th ier seized and thrilled me. I knew, as every border- born among us knew, the dismal horrors of an Indian massacre; and this these men were planning was treacherous mur- der of an unwarmed people. All was to be done midnight secrecy. Supplied with ammu the Cherokess, led by this Captain Stuart or some other, were t to fall upon the over-mountain se ments. These lald waste, the Indians were to form a junction with the army of invasion, and so to add the torch and tomahawk and scalping knife to British swords and muskets. It was a piot to make the blood run cold in my veins, or in the veins of any man who knew the cruel temper of these savages, and when I thought upon the fate of my poer countrymen beyond the mountains I saw what lay before me. The settlers must be warned in time to fight or fly. But while I listened, with every faculty alert to reckon with the task of rescue, I take no shame in saying that the prob- lem balked me. Lacking the strength to mount and ride fn my own proper person, there was nothing for it but to find a messenger, and who would he be In a re- glon at the moment distraught with war's alarms, and needing every man for self-defense? At that I thought of Jennifer. True. he was wounded, too; but he would know how best to pass the word to those in peril. I made full sure he'd ind a way it I could reach him. and .when I had it simmered down to this the problem sim- plified itself. I must have speech with Dick before the night was out, though I should have to crawl on hands and knees the half-score miles to Jennifer house. Having decided, I was keen to be about it while the night should last—the friend- ly darkness, and some fine flush of ex- citement which again had come at need to take the place of healthful vigor. But when I would have quit the window to begone upon my errand a sober second thought delayed me. If my simple c terplot should fail, some knowledge of the powder convoy’'s route would be of prime importance. Lacking the time to warn the over-mountain men, the next best thing would be to set some band of patriot troopers upon the trail and 80 to overtake the convoy. Nay, on this second thought's rehearsing the last ex- pedient seemed the better of the two, since thus the plot would come to naught and we would be the gainers by the cap- ture of the powder. So now you know why I should stick and hang by toe and finger-tip and glare across the little space that gaped between my itching fingers and the bit of parch- ment passed from hand to hand around the table’s end. If I could make a shift to rob them of this map— It was a desperate chance, but in the frenzy of the moment I resolved to taxe it. Their placings round the table favor- ed me. Gilbert Stair and the lawyer sat fair across from me, but they were still intent upon their figurings. Of the trio at the table’s end the baronet and the captain had their backs to me. The young- er officer sat across, and he was staring broadly at my window, though with wine- fogged eyes that saw not far beyond the bottle neck, I thought. My one hope hinged upon the boldness of a dash. If I could spring within and sweep the two candlesticks from the table, there, was a chance that I might snatch the parchment in the darkness and con- fusion and escape as I had come. So'I began by inches to draw me up and feel for some better launching hold. But in the midst, for all my care and caution, 1 slipped and lost my grip upon the case- ment; lost that and got another on the wooden shutter opened back against the outer wall, and then went down. pulling the shutter from its rusted hinges in crashing clamor fit to rouse the dead. the eat eve (Continued Next Sunday.)