The Splendid Spur - Part 12
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Part 12

I pull'd some more fronds of the bracken to cover them both. She thank'd me, and offer'd to relieve me in my watch: which I refus'd.

And indeed, by lying down I should have caught my death, very likely.

The big flakes drifted down between the pines: till, as the moon paled, the ground about me was carpeted all in white, with the foliage black as ink above it. Time after time, as I tramp'd to and fro, I paus'd to brush the fresh-forming heap from the sleepers'

coverlet, and shake it gently from the tresses of the girl's hair.

The old man's face was covered completely by the buff-coat: but his breathing was calm and regular as any child's.

Day dawn'd. Awaking Mistress Delia, I ask'd her to keep watch for a time, while I went off to explore. She crept out from her bed with a little shiver of disgust.

"Run about," I advis'd, "and keep the blood stirring."

She nodded: and looking back, as I strode down the hill, I saw her moving about quickly, swinging her arms, and only pausing to wave a hand to me for goodspeed.

'Twas an hour before I return'd: and plenty I had to tell. Only at the entrance to the dingle the words failed from off my tongue. The old gentleman lay as he had lain throughout the night. But the bracken had been toss'd aside, and the girl was kneeling over him.

I drew near, my step not arousing her. Sir Deakin's face was pale and calm: but on the snow that had gather'd by his head, lay a red streak of blood. 'Twas from his lungs, and he was quite dead.

CHAPTER VII.

I FIND A COMRADE.

But I must go back a little and tell you what befell in my expedition.

I had scarce trudged out of sight of my friends, down the hill, when it struck me that my footprints in the snow were in the last degree dangerous to them, and might lead Settle and his crew straight to the dingle. Here was a fix. I stood for some minutes nonpluss'd, when above the stillness of the wood (for the wind had dropp'd) a faint sound as of running water caught my ear, and help'd me to an idea.

The sound seem'd to come from my left. Turning aside I made across the hill toward it, and after two hundred paces or so came on a tiny brook, not two feet across, that gush'd down the slope with a quite considerable chatter and impatience. The bed of it was mainly earth, with here and there a large stone or root to catch the toe: so that, as I stepped into the water and began to thread my way down between the banks of snow, 'twas necessary to look carefully to my steps.

Here and there the brook fetch'd a leap down a sharper declivity, or shot over a hanging stone: but, save for the wetting I took in these places, my progress was easy enough. I must have waded in this manner for half a mile, keeping the least possible noise, when at an angle ahead I spied a clearing among the pines, and to the right of the stream, on the very verge, a hut of logs standing, with a wood rick behind it.

'Twas a low building, but somewhat long, and I guess'd it to be, in summer time, a habitation for the woodcutters. But what surpris'd me was to hear a dull, moaning noise, very regular and disquieting, that sounded from the interior of the hut. I listen'd, and hit on the explication. 'Twas the sound of snoring.

Drawing nearer with caution, I noticed, in that end of the hut which stood over the stream, a gap, or window hole. The sound issued through this like the whirring of a dozen looms. "He must be an astonishing fellow," thought I, "that can snore in this fashion.

I'll have a peep before I wake him." I waded down till I stood under the sill, put both hands upon it, and pulling myself up quiet as a mouse, stuck my face in at the window--and then very nearly sat back into the brook for fright.

For I had gazed straight down into the upturn'd faces of Captain Settle and his gang.

How long I stood there, with the water rushing past my ankles and my body turning from cold to hot, and back again, I cannot tell you.

But 'twas until, hearing no pause in the sleepers' chorus, I found courage for another peep: and that must have been some time.

There were but six rascals beside the Captain (so that Jacques must have died hard, thought I), and such a raffle of arms and legs and swollen up-turn'd faces as they made I defy you to picture. For they were pack'd close as herrings; and the hut was fill'd up with their horses, ready saddled, and rubbing shoulder to loin, so narrow was the room. It needed the open window to give them air: and even so, 'twas not over-fresh inside.

I had no mind to stay: but before leaving found myself in the way of playing these villains a pretty trick. To right and left of the window, above their heads, extended two rude shelves that now were heap'd with what I conjectured to be the spoils of the larder of the "Three Cups." Holding my breath and thrusting my head and shoulders into the room, I ran my hand along and was quickly possess'd of a boil'd ham, two capons, a loaf, the half of a cold pie, and a basket holding three dozen eggs. All these prizes I filched one by one, with infinite caution.

I was gently pulling the basket through the window hole, when I heard one of the crew yawn and stretch himself in his sleep. So, determining to risk no more, I quietly pack'd the basket, slung it on my right arm, and with the ham grasp'd by the knuckle in my left, made my way up the stream.

'Twas thus laden that I enter'd the dingle, and came on the sad sight therein. I set down the ham as a thing to be asham'd of, and bar'd my head. The girl lifted her face, and turning, all white and tragical, saw me.

"My father is dead, sir."

I stoop'd and pil'd a heap of fresh snow over the blood stains.

There was no intent in this but to hide the pity that chok'd me. She had still to hear about her brother, Anthony. Turning, as by a sudden thought, I took her hand. She look'd into my eyes, and her own filled with tears. 'Twas the human touch that loosen'd their flow, I think: and sinking down again beside her father, she wept her fill.

"Mistress Killigrew," I said, as soon as the first violence of her tears was abated, "I have still some news that is ill hearing. Your enemies are encamp'd in the woods, about a half mile below this"-- and with that I told my story.

"They have done their worst, sir."

"No."

She looked at me with a question on her lip.

Said I, "you must believe me yet a short while without questioning."

Considering for a moment, she nodded. "You have a right, sir, to be trusted, tho' I know not so much as your name. Then we must stay close in hiding?" she added very sensibly, tho' with the last word her voice trail'd off, and she began again to weep.

But in time, having cover'd the dead baronet's body with sprays of the wither'd bracken, I drew her to a little distance and prevail'd on her to nibble a crust of the loaf. Now, all this while, it must be remembered, I was in my shirt sleeves, and the weather bitter cold. Which at length her sorrow allow'd her to notice.

"Why, you are shivering, sore!" she said, and running, drew my buff-coat from her father's body, and held it out to me.

"Indeed," I answer'd, "I was thinking of another expedition to warm my blood." And promising to be back in half an hour, I follow'd down my former tracks toward the stream.

Within twenty minutes I was back, running and well-nigh shouting with joy.

"Come!" I cried to her, "come and see for yourself!"

What had happen'd was this:--Wading cautiously down the brook, I had cause suddenly to p.r.i.c.k up my ears and come to a halt. 'Twas the m.u.f.fled tramp of hoofs that I heard, and creeping a bit further, I caught a glimpse, beyond the hut, of a horse and rider disappearing down the woods. He was the last of the party, as I guess'd from the sound of voices and jingling of bits further down the slope.

Advancing on the hut with more boldness, I found it deserted. I scrambled up on the bank and round to the entrance. The snow before it was trampled and sullied by the footmarks of men and horses: and as I noted this, came Settle's voice calling up the slope----

"Jerry--Jerry Toy!"

A nearer voice hail'd in answer.

"Where's Reuben?"

"Coming, Captain--close behind!"

"Curse him for a loitering idiot! We've wasted time enough, as 'tis," called back the Captain. "How in thunder is a man to find the road out of this cursed wood?"

"Straight on, Cap'n--you can't miss it," shouted another voice, not two gunshots below.

A volcano of oaths pour'd up from Settle. I did not wait for the end of them: but ran back for Mistress Delia.

Together we descended to the hut. By this time the voices had faded away in distance. Yet to make sure that the rascals had really departed, we follow'd their tracks for some way, beside the stream; and suddenly came to a halt with cries of joyful surprise.

The brook had led us to a point where, over a stony fall veil'd with brown bracken, it plunged into a narrow ravine. Standing on the lip, where the water took a smoother glide before leaping, we saw the line of the ravine mark'd by a rift in the pines, and through this a slice of the country that lay below. 'Twas a level plain, well watered, and dotted here and there with houses. A range of wooded hills clos'd the view, and toward them a broad road wound gently, till the eye lost it at their base. All this was plain enough, in spite of the snow that cover'd the landscape. For the sun had burst out above, and the few flakes that still fell looked black against his brilliance and the dazzling country below.