"You think there will be danger, then?" Jean asked, as she sat down in the big chair.

"There is always danger more or less with those men around. When I was well I could keep them within bounds. But now I am helpless. And, besides, you are here, and that makes a difference."

"I must keep out of sight, then."

"It might be just as well. I am afraid that Dave has told the men about you, so they will be anxious to see my--my daughter."

Jean asked no further questions, but her face was very pale and her heart beat fast. She felt more helpless than she had been when with her Indian captors upon the river. What could she do to defend herself? She thought of the guns in the other room, and wondered if they were loaded. She might use them, but what could one woman do against a band of lawless men? Anyway, she was determined to do almost anything to defend herself, if necessary.

Slowly the evening wore away, and anxiously Jean listened to every sound. The man on the cot slept, and at times muttered words which the girl could not understand. She felt inexpressibly lonely, and she often glanced toward the small window as if expecting to see faces peering in upon her. She did not dare to sleep lest the slashers should come and catch her off guard. How she longed for Sam and Kitty.

What a comfort they would be.

At length she rose to her feet, crossed the room, opened the door and looked out. It was not a dark night, but the moon, now almost at the full, was invisible. A keen wind was driving over the land and it sounded among the trees the same as it did before the storm she enjoyed so much in the lodge by the lake. How weird appeared the great trees, and she imagined she could see menacing forms watching her from their sombre depths. She knew where lay the trail by which the slashers would come, and she kept her eyes fixed in that direction. At the back of the house another trail began, which led to the St. John River, so Sam had told her, and pa.s.sed the very place where the mast-cutters were at work. This to the lonely girl seemed the trail of hope, while the other was the trail of doom.

She was about to close the door, for the wind was piercing, when casting a final glance toward the forest, she caught sight of dim forms moving swiftly and silently toward the house. That they were the dreaded slashers she had not the slightest doubt. Quickly she shut the door, and hastened over to the cot. Norman opened his eyes and looked at her in a dazed manner.

"They are coming!" she cried. "I have seen them!"

"Where are they?" the man asked, rising to a sitting position.

"Just out there," and she motioned to the right.

"Hurry up, then, and go into the other room. Bolt the door, and put out the light."

Jean needed no further bidding. In another minute she had the door securely fastened, and the candle blown out. She then took up her position in a dark corner, where with fast-beating heart she waited to hear what might take place in the adjoining room.

CHAPTER XXVII

THROUGH THE NIGHT AND THE STORM

In a few minutes the slashers arrived. Jean could hear them quite distinctly, and her heart sank within her as she listened to their laughter and rough talk. They were in a merry mood, she could plainly tell, and although she could not understand all they said, she was well aware that they were asking for her and the rum. From this she knew that Dave had told them of her presence in the house, and she wondered whether they would try to force their way into her room. She glanced in the direction of the muskets, and although she could not see them, the thought that they were there gave her some comfort.

Standing where she was it was impossible to hear plainly, so stepping to the door, she put her ear down close to a crack through which the light was streaming. She listened intently to all that was taking place, although at first it was difficult to make out any sense from the babel of voices. Occasionally she could hear Norman's voice urging the men to be quiet or to leave the house. That the visitors had found the rum was quite evident, for she could hear them dipping the mug into the liquor, followed by expressions of satisfaction.

"Dat's good rum, chief," she heard one say. "Where you get it, eh?"

"Where it all comes from, of course," Norman sternly replied. "You must not drink too much of it."

"Oh, it'll take more'n dat to knock me out."

"Don't be too sure of that. The mast-cutters are no babies, and you'll need to be in good condition when you meet them."

"I don't care for no d.a.m.n mast-cutters. Rum's my best friend when I fight dem."

"Hear, hear!" another shouted. "Good fer you, Jerry! We're with you on that. Rum puts h.e.l.l into us, an' makes us fight like the devil."

"But the mast-cutters can fight, too," Norman reminded. "They are well armed, remember."

"'Spose they are, what of it? They won't have time to use their guns.

They'll all be asleep when we arrive."

"But what about the rangers?"

"They'll never touch us. We'll have the job done, an' the camp wiped out before they get there. We're no fools."

"They rounded up Flazeet and his men last fall, though. How did they hear about that attack?"

"How did they hear? Flazeet talked too much; that was the trouble.

But we're different. We'll not get caught."

"But Davidson has his men everywhere. Perhaps he has already warned the mast-cutters, so they may be waiting for you."

"Well, let them wait. We'll have that bunch with us from the Washademoak, an' you know what devils they are to fight."

"When do you expect to meet them?"

"To-morrow sometime. Then at night we'll drop in to see our friends, the mast-cutters, an' settle up an old score once an' fer all."

What was said further Jean could not distinguish, for several men just then lifted up their voices in a rough song, showing that the rum was already taking effect. But what she had heard caused her great uneasiness. She understood now the object of these men. They were to march against the mast-cutters, sweep down upon them in the dead of night, and murder them all. She shuddered as she thought of this.

Something must be done to warn the mast-cutters of their danger. They were the King's men, and it would not do to allow them to be slain without a chance of defending themselves. Why should she not go and give the warning? This idea at first seemed foolish. How could she find the way? Would she dare to traverse the forest alone? But the more she thought of it, the more she felt that she was the one who should undertake the task. If she did not do something she could never forgive herself. And what would her father say if he knew that she had hesitated in the path of duty? It was a hard battle she fought as she crouched there in the dark corner. She pictured to herself the gloomy forest, the uncertainty of the way, and the struggle necessary before she could reach the mast-cutters. Cautiously she crept to the little window and peered out. How dismal and forbidding seemed the forest.

She could see the tree-tops waving and the snow swirling before the wind. The prospect of going forth alone on such a night was far from cheerful.

She was about to leave the window when a bearded face was suddenly pressed against the gla.s.s. With a gasp of fear she staggered back, and fled to the darkness of her corner. And there she crouched, waiting with wide-staring eyes for what would happen next.

The voices in the adjoining room were becoming louder and more boisterous. What she presently heard caused her to straighten suddenly up, and a chill to sweep through her body. The men were calling for her, and demanding the chief to bring her to them.

"We want the girl," she heard one man say.

"You won't get her," Norman replied. "She is my daughter, and you must not touch her."

"Your daughter, be d.a.m.ned! You ain't got no daughter. You can't git that off on us. She's in the other room, an' we want her quick."

What Norman said in reply Jean could not understand, for the noise the men were making. But she did hear some one trying the door, and cursing because he could not get it open. She knew now that the critical moment had arrived. There was no time to lose. She must leave the place and nee to the shelter of the forest. That was her only hope.

By the dim light of the dying fire she donned the coat, cap and mitts that Kitty had made for her. Then seizing her snow-shoes, she cautiously opened the back door. As she did so she could hear the other door creaking beneath the weight of several bodies pressing against it from the opposite side. That it would soon give way she felt certain, so she must make her escape while there was time.

Stepping out into the night, she looked fearfully around. Seeing no one, she sped along the trail, and in another minute was within the sheltering arms of the great forest. Here she paused and looked back.

Nothing could she see but the house standing black and drear in the midst of the little clearing.

It took her but a few minutes to arrange her snowshoes on her feet, and she had just straightened herself up from her stooping position when a crash and a medley of shouts fell upon her ears. She knew the meaning of these sounds, and her heart beat wildly. The door had been burst open, and the men were in the room searching for her. Presently she saw several come out of the house and look around. Waiting to see no more, she sped along the trail which stretched out before her. Never had she travelled with such speed, her great fear urging her forward.

Would the slashers follow her? she asked herself. At times she stopped and listened with the strained attention of a hunted animal. But nothing could she hear, so encouraged she pressed onward.

At first she did not find the walking difficult, owing partly to her excitement and the freedom she felt in being away from the house of dread. She had no trouble in following the trail, for sufficient light sifted down through the trees to show the beaten track. She wondered who had travelled that way as she had not heard Norman refer to any one coming from the great river. She had no idea as to the time of night, although she hoped that it might be late for then she could look forward more hopefully to the dawn. That the trail would lead her to the mast-cutters she had not the slightest doubt, so this gave her considerable comfort.

She had been travelling about an hour when the snow began to fall.

Among the trees it did not at first impede her progress, but she could tell by the roaring overhead that a heavy storm was abroad. When crossing a wild meadow or a small inland lake she experienced some of the force of the wind, and the snow almost blinded her. She was always glad when the trail led once more into the shelter of the woods.