STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE TREE-CAVE.

A long, rapturous kiss, and a kiss that came nigh betraying them.

Fortunately, it had ended before anyone was near enough to bear witness to it, or blight its sweetness by rude interruption.

The lovers were about taking leave of each other, their arms were once more free, and they were arranging the time and place for another interview, when the quick ear of the young man, attuned to take notice of suspicious sounds, was caught by one that appeared to be of this character.

It was a rustling among the canes that bordered the creek, with now and then their culms crackling together as if something--man or animal--was making way through them.

The sounds proceeded from a point at some distance; but, as the lovers stood listening, they could tell that, whatever made them, was drawing nearer.

And soon they saw that they were not made by an animal, nor yet by a man, but by several men, who, under the clear light of the moon, could be seen approaching the spot.

And it could be seen, too, that they were not coming on openly and boldly, like men bent on an honest errand, but skulking along the edge of the creek, here and there crouching under the cane, whose thin growth only partially concealed them. The noise they made was inadvertent.

They were not making more than they could help, and, if there was any talk between them, it must have been in whispers, as no words were heard by the two standing under the tree.

For them it was too late to retreat un.o.bserved.

They might have done so at first; but not now. The skulkers were too near, and any attempt to get away from the spot would expose the lovers under the full light of the moon.

Their only chance to remain undiscovered was to keep within the shadow of the tree.

Not long before, this, too, appeared doubtful; as they now saw that the dark forms advancing along the edge of the stream must pa.s.s close to where they stood--so close as to see them in spite of the obscurity.

Who the cautious travellers were, or what their designs, neither had the slightest idea. But it mattered not what. Enough for the lovers to know that they were in danger of being surprised, and under circ.u.mstances to cause them chagrin.

What was to be done? The skulkers were coming on. They would soon be under the tree!

The returned gold-seeker had taken the young girl on his arm--partly with the idea of protecting her should any rudeness he attempted, and partly to inspire her with courage.

He was thinking whether it would not be the best for them to step boldly out and show themselves in the open light. It would less expose them to ridicule, though the lateness of the hour--it was now after midnight-- would still render them liable to that. A young lady and gentleman-- they had markedly this appearance--indulging in a moonlight stroll at nigh one o'clock of the morning, were not likely to escape scandal if seen.

What was to be done?

At this moment a happy thought came up to answer the question. It flashed simultaneously through the minds of both. Both remembered the cavity in the tree; and without a word to one another--both acting under the same impulse--they glided inside, and stood in shadow dark as the dungeon itself!

They had scarce time to compose themselves ere the party of intruders came up, and stopped right under the tree. To their chagrin they saw this. They had hoped that such early travellers might be bent upon some distant journey, and that once past the spot they would be themselves free to continue their affectionate leave-taking.

They soon perceived that this was not to be. The new comers had halted close up to the trunk, directly in front of the cavity, and although enveloped in deep shadow their figures were distinguishable from the deeper shadow that surrounded the two spectators. Either of these could have touched them by stretching forth a hand!

Neither had thoughts of doing this. On the contrary, they stood motionless as marble, both silently striving to keep back their breath.

Six figures there were--six men--several of them carrying implements, at first taken for guns, but which, on more prolonged scrutiny, proved to be spades and shovels. From the way they were manipulating these tools it was evident they intended making use of them, and on the spot!

The occupants of the tree-cave where puzzled by these preparations. For what were they going to dig?

The blood of both ran cold at the thought of its being a _grave_. And both had it. What else could they have thought? Six men, armed with excavating implements, at that unearthly time of the night!

And a secret grave, too, for the body of some one whom they had murdered! Else why their stealthy movements, and their talking in low tones, scarce louder than a whisper?

Who could they be? And what their purpose?

These were the questions that came before the minds of Pierre Robideau and Lena Rook, only in thought; they dared not interrogate one another even in whispers. They stood silent, watching the development of events.

"Where can the darned thing be?" asked one of the men, stooping down, and apparently searching for something along the gra.s.s. "Who of ye remembers the spot?"

"A little farther out, I think," answered a voice that caused Lena Rook to start, and take hold of Pierre's hand. "About here. Yes, here it is. I can feel the lumps upon the turf."

The speaker appeared to be groping the ground with his feet.

"Alf Brandon!" whispered the girl, with her lips close to her companion's ear.

The others gathered around the spot indicated by Brandon.

Two who carried spades commenced digging, while a like number of shovel-men followed, throwing out the loose earth.

"Wonder how deep the old skunk has buried him?" asked one.

"Not very deep, I reck'n. Jerry Rook's too lazy to a dug far down.

We'll soon come to it."

These were the voices of Bill Buck and Slaughter, the hotel-keeper, recognised by Lena Rook, though not by her companion.

"Do you think there's a coffin?" inquired one who had not yet spoken.

It was Spence.

"No," answered another new speaker, recognised as Lawyer Randall, "I should say not. The old squatter wasn't likely to take that trouble for such a creature as Choc, and, as the fellow had no other friends, I think you'll find him in his deerskin shirt--that is, if Jerry harn't taken the pains to strip him."

"The shirt wasn't worth it," remarked a sixth speaker, who was the store-keeper, Grubbs.

"The six who hanged you, Pierre!" whispered the girl to him by her side.

"The very same!"

Pierre made no reply. He was too much occupied in endeavouring to interpret the strange talk, and comprehend the singular scene pa.s.sing before him.

"It's getting hard down here," said one of the spadesmen. "Seems to me I've touched bottom."

"Old Jerry must have tramped him tight down," remarked another, adding a slight laugh.

"Don't speak so loud, boys!" commanded Brandon. "Look at the house, 'tisn't twenty yards off, and there's a weasel in it that seldom sleeps.

If we're heard, you know what'll follow. Keep silent, it may save each of you a hundred dollars a-year."

At this appeal the diggers turned their eyes towards the house; but only to give a cursory glance, and back to the ground again.