CHAPTER XV
I was awakened shortly after daylight by a hubbub and stirring in thestreet outside, and I lay in bed, listening, half asleep. About sixo'clock the Weasel opened my chamber door, saying that Pittsburg wasfilling with refugees from the frontier, and that a battalion ofmilitia under Cresap had just left to scout on the Monongahela.
I asked him whether messengers had brought me answers to my lettersfrom Lord Dunmore and Miss Warren, and he replied in the negative andshut the door.
About seven I arose and dressed, standing by the window and lookingout over the square. The streets of Fort Pitt were lively enough atthis early hour; apparently since daybreak hundreds of refugees, men,women, and toddling infants, fleeing from the red scourge on the outerfrontiers, had been coming into Pittsburg town. Many were almostnaked, proving their dire peril and hasty night retreat, some drove afew sheep or calves, some carried geese or chickens in their arms,others, more fortunate, guided oxen yoked to wagons, on which werepiled bedding, kettles, dishes, and what poor household furniture theydared linger to gather before leaving their homes to the Cayugas andtheir fields to the timber wolf.
At dawn, when the vanguard of this wretched procession had firstappeared, straggling through Pittsburg streets, the town-watch tookcharge of the dazed fugitives and found shelter for them in thefortress; but, as the town awoke and rubbed its eyes to find thestreets swarming with exhausted strangers dragging their numbed limbsor sitting on steps and porches, the people threw open their doors andtook the outcasts to their firesides. But the houses of the Samaritanswere filled to overflow ere the cloaked watchman had called his lasthour:
"Four o'clock! A sweet June morning and sad tidings from thefrontier!"
And, as the fugitive creatures still came creeping in past thefortress, the double guard was called out and squads told off toconduct the unfortunates to the barracks, court-house, "Governor'sHall," market-sheds, and finally into the churches. And it was pitifulto see them making their way painfully into the square, where many satdown on the turf, and some fell down in the street, and others slept,leaning upright against fences and trees, clasping some poor householdrelic to their breasts.
Bareheaded children lay slumbering on stone steps; young women, withinfants at suck, sat dumb and vacant-eyed on the ground, too weak toreply to those who offered aid. Haggard men, dragging their rifles,turned sunken, perplexed eyes, slowly answering in monosyllables, asthough stunned by the swift ruin which had overwhelmed them.
And the story repeated was always the same: burning and butcheryeverywhere; the frontier a charred, blood-soaked desert; homes, crops,cattle, the very soil itself had gone roaring up in smoke, and allbehind was blackness--hopeless, unutterable devastation.
The living fled, the dead lay where they had fallen--and the dead weremany. Scarcely a family but had lost a child or a father; few of theaged escaped; neighbours had fallen under hatchet and knife; friendshad disappeared.
To and fro the good people of Pitt hastened on their errands of pity;others, having done their part, gathered in groups discussing openlythe riot of the previous evening and the scenes in "Governor's Hall."
It was, truly enough, not the first time that Pittsburg streets hadbeen filled with fugitives from the far frontiers; but last night'sriot was the first which had ever disturbed the little town, althoughthere had been a disturbance when, early in the week, a runner fromCresap came in to announce the fate of Logan's children and the risingof the Cayugas.
But this new outbreak was very different: people and soldiers had cometo blows; blood had flowed, although nobody exactly understood forwhat reason it had been shed. Patched pates and plastered cheeks wereplentiful about the streets; there were rumours, too, of tragedies,but these rumours proved baseless when the morning wore away. As forthe death of Greathouse, nobody suspected it, because nobody, exceptDunmore and his followers, was aware that Greathouse had fled to FortPitt. It is probable that even Wraxall and Murdy and Tice supposedthat Greathouse had escaped from us, and that he was somewhere inclose cover, waiting an opportunity to rejoin them.
There appeared to be no effort on the part of the town-watch or of thesoldiers to arrest any citizen whose body or apparel bore marks of theconflict. Citizens and soldiers eyed each other askance, butapparently without rancour or malice, like generous adversaries whoappreciate a fight for its own sake, and respect each other for stoutblows given and returned.
Certainly neither could complain of the scarcity of knocks. Scores ofnoddles had been laid open by citizens' cudgels or by the brassbuckles on the soldiers' belts; scores of pates bore brave bumps andpretty protuberances, coyly hiding under patches that exhaled thearoma of vinegar. Many a respectable wig knew its rightful owner nolonger; many a pair of spectacles had been gathered into Shemuel'sbasket; many, many hats had vanished into memory, probably, however,to reappear, peddled by this same Shemuel, when safe opportunityoffered and peace once more smiled her commercial smile.
That morning I had reckoned with my host of the "Virginia Arms." As heappeared somewhat uneasy about the reckoning of Jack Mount and theWeasel, I settled that, too, my means permitting me.
However, I observed to Rolfe that the friends of liberty ought totrust each other implicitly, and he answered that they did, especiallywhen cash payments were made.
"Is that the Boston creed?" I asked, scornfully.
"I guess it is," said he, with a shrewd wink.
I began to detest the fellow, and was curt with him as he left myroom; but, when Cade Renard strolled in a few moments later, I wasastonished to learn that this same James Rolfe had aided Mount tothrow the tea-chests into the sea, and had beggared himself incontributing to every secret patriotic society in Boston.
That was my first lesson in ethics. I began to understand why it wasthat generous people turned niggards when it came to paying tuppencetax on tea; how a man might exact what was his due and yet be nomiser; and how he might beggar himself nor stain his name as aspendthrift.
"He'll lend me what he has," said the Weasel, sitting down to lace hishunting-shirt; "but he would be unpleasant if I attempted to escapefrom here without a reckoning. I am glad you paid; we have no money.We were speaking of tapping our fat Tory magistrate again--"
"Taking the road?" I exclaimed.
"No, taking the judge's purse. He is so fat, positively he disgustsus."
I looked at the little man in horror. He returned my gaze mildly, andtied the leather laces under his chin.
"If," said I, stiffly, "you or Mount require money, I beg you willborrow it from me, as long as we travel together. Also," I continued,angrily, "you may as well know that I do not care to figure with youand Jack Mount in any book or ballad or pamphlet decorated with apicture of a gallows!"
"Do you suppose we like that picture either?" asked the Weasel, inastonishment. "Why, Mr. Cardigan, that picture is perfectly repulsiveto us."
"Then why do you take the King's highway?" I asked, blankly.
"You are hurting my feelings," said the Weasel. "Why do you use suchterms? Besides, we discriminate; we only offer ourselves some slightrecompense for the disgust which overpowers us when we meet with fatTory magistrates on a moonlit highway."
I stared at him, indignant at the levity with which he used me; butafter a moment I was obliged to believe that he intended no levity,for never had I seen such guileless innocence in any features. Clearlythe man's past sorrows had been too much for his mind. He was simple.
There was little profit in continuing the subject; if Renard and Mountchose to justify their reputations I could not prevent them. As far asI was concerned they had proved kindly and loyal, and, now that I wasso soon to part with them, I desired to do so in gratitude andfriendship.
It was already past eight o'clock by the Weasel's large silver watch,and still no reply came to me from either Dunmore or Silver Heels.Renard and I looked out of the window, watching the soldiersconducting the homeless frontier families to the barracks. We spoke oflast night's riot,
computing the casualties suffered by the soldiersand wondering what proclamation Dunmore would issue, or if he wouldhave the courage to issue any, considering how the people had showntheir detestation of him.
"If you were not a deputy of Sir William Johnson, Dunmore would havejailed you for what you said," observed the Weasel. "You have cast thelast grain into the scales and they have tipped him out, repudiatedand dishonoured. _Hic jacet Dunmoreus, in articulo mortis._ But WalterButler lives, friend Michael. Beware, sir! _Latet anguis inherba!_--there lies the snake perdu!"
"Who are you, Weasel?" I asked, curiously. "Truly, you are smoother inLatin than am I; but I confess myself disguised in this hunting-shirt,whereas you wear it to the manner born. Yet, I swear you are noforest-runner withal."
"I was born a gentleman," said the Weasel, simply. "I read theclassics for my pleasure--but I am forgetting, Mr. Cardigan, I amforgetting so many, many things. It is sixteen years now since I metwith my trouble--sixteen years to forget in--and that with a mindwhich is not quite clear, sir, not quite clear. However, I haveremembered enough Latin to entertain you, and that is something, afterall, if it is not an answer to your question."
He spoke gently, but there was a sting in the tail of his speech whichI certainly deserved for my impertinent prying into his past, and Ivery promptly asked his pardon for my thoughtlessness.
"I am certain it was nothing more than that," he said, cheerfully;"pray you, my dear sir, believe me that I took no offence. Sometimesmy tongue is sharp; my infirmity is my poor apology. I do not wonderat your amusement to hear a shabby forest-runner stammer Latin. But Ishall forget my Latin, too; I shall forget all save what I pray toforget."
With his forefinger he quietly obliterated a tear in each eye.
"You know I had a wife?" he asked.
"And baby," I added, mechanically.
"Exactly, sir; a wife and baby girl--the sweetest little maid--"
And, following his mania, to which I lent myself out of pity, herepeated the fragments of the tale I had come to know so well, addingnothing new, nor casting any light on anything he said.
Mount came in noisily while the Weasel was speaking, but, though thebig fellow was impatient and burning to exhibit the new clothes whichhe wore, he sat down quietly until Renard had finished the familiartale. Heaven alone knows how many times Mount had heard it, but hissympathy never failed, and now he looked so tenderly and lovingly atthe Weasel that I almost loved him for it, swaggering, tippling,graceless purse-taker that he was.
However, after maintaining for a full minute that sober silence whichdecency as well as his loyal affection for the Weasel required, heventured to call our attention to his new buckskins, fitted, cut, andstitched in twenty-four hours by four tailor-women, whom he describedas modest and yet no bigots, as they had appreciated the kiss apiecewhich he had joyously bestowed upon them.
"No saucy maid durst call me pottle-pot now!" he said, triumphantly,smoothing his soft, new garments with his fingers, and regarding hisdeeply fringed legs with naive delight. "Which brings to mind that Ihave drunk no morning draught this day," he added, clacking his tongueand winking at the Weasel.
"Mr. Cardigan is in some trouble," observed the Weasel, hesitating.
"Oh, then we won't drink while a friend is in trouble," said Mount,sitting down on the bed.
"It is only that I have no letter from Dunmore or from Miss Warren," Imuttered, looking out into the street to spy if a messenger werecoming our way.
We sat there in silence, gnawing our knuckles, and it did not pleaseme to wait Lord Dunmore's pleasure like a servant.
That Silver Heels had not yet written also displeased me, for I wasnot then habituated to the ways of a maid.
"Do you think the runner I hired to carry my letter to Sir Williamwill be scalped?" I asked, turning to look at Mount.
"He _has_ been scalped," said Mount, quietly.
Thunderstruck, I sprang to my feet, and finally found tongue to askhow he had heard such news.
"Why, lad," he said, modestly, "I followed your runner last night whenhe left you abed here, and he had not gone ten paces from this inn erea man left the shadow of the trees yonder to dog us both. It was whatI feared; but, Lord!--I caught the fellow by the market yonder, andtrounced him till he could neither stand nor sit. I was a fool; Ishould have followed your runner and brought him back. I did follow,but he had struck a fast pace, and besides they delayed me at thefortress gate with questions about my business. When I cleared thesentries I started to run; but my journey was short enough, Godknows!"
He paused, looking down at the fur cap he was slowly twirling on histhumb.
"Your messenger lay dead by the wood's edge," he added, abruptly.
"I had not dreamed the savages were so near," said I, horrified.
"_Some_ savages are," he observed.
"Was he scalped?" I asked.
"In Mohawk style, lad."
"Impossible!" I cried.
"Not at all. I say he was scalped in Mohawk fashion, leaving the rawstrip over the forehead, but I did not say that Mohawks scalped him."
"What do you mean?" I asked, huskily.
"I mean that Walter Butler's men did this, and that your letter is nowin Dunmore's hands."
Rage blinded me. Doubtless I made some noise and talked wildly ofseeking Dunmore, and I know I found myself struggling with Mount toleave the room. But I was an infant in his grasp, and presently I satdown again, perforce, while Mount and Renard reasoned with me somewhatsternly.
"The sooner you leave Pitt the safer for you," said Mount. "The towntalks of little but your accusation of Dunmore last night. You maythink yourself safe because you are Sir William Johnson's deputy, butI know that Dunmore and Butler will treat you as they did yourmessenger if you give them half a chance. What's to prove that theCayugas be not your murderers? Tush, lad! This is no time for boyishfury. Get your kinswoman, Miss Warren, out of this town. Get her outto-night. Are you waiting for Dunmore's escort and horses? You willsee neither, save perhaps in pursuit of you. Why, lad, the Governor iscrazed with the disgrace you have brought upon him! Trust me, he willstop at nothing where he can strike unseen."
"You mean he will not answer my letter or accord me escort?" I asked,astonished.
"If he furnished you escort, it would be an escort of murderers whowould take care you never saw Johnstown," said the Weasel.
"Can't you feel that you are in a trap?" asked Mount. "Gad! it shouldpinch you ere this!"
"And you leave it to us to open it for you," added the Weasel, sagely."We are none too safe here ourselves. Mayhap some of those samepamphlets and ballads and books may be sold hereabouts to ourdiscredit."
"I also think that Cade and I have outstayed our welcome," said Mount,with a grin. "If we meet your friend Butler, run we must."
At that moment Rolfe came up from below, bearing in his hand a letterfor me, and saying that it had been brought hither by a servant inLady Shelton's livery.
I took the letter; the seal had already been broken, and I glared atRolfe and pointed to it.
"Ay," he observed, shaking his head; "the slavering servant fetched itso. It may be accident; it may be design, Mr. Cardigan. You best know,sir, who may be your foes in Pittsburg town, and what they might gainby a knowledge of your letters."
"The inn, here, is closely spied," observed Mount, coolly. "Doubtlessmy lady Shelton's lackeys can be bribed as well as the King'sministers."
"The sooner we leave the happier we shall be," said the Weasel,cheerfully. "Jimmy Rolfe, that stout post-chaise, well provisioned,and four strong horses might help us to-night--eh, friend?"
"I cannot pay for that," I said, blankly, looking up from my letter.
"The chaise is yours," said Rolfe, resentfully. "Pay when you can,sir; I trade not with friends in need." And he went out,disrespectfully slamming the door.
"A rare man," said Mount, "but touchy, lad, touchy. Give the devil hisdue and Jim Rolfe would wear shillings on his coat-tails."
> "He is a loyal friend," I said, reddening. "I have much to learn ofmen."
"And men have much to learn of you, lad!" said Mount, heartily. "Come,sir, read your nosegay, and may it bring you happiness! Weasel, turnthy back and make pretence to catch flies."
I went over to the window, and, leaning against the bars, opened theviolated letter and read it carefully:
"DEAR COZZEN MICHAEL,--I am not permitted to accompany you today to Johnstown it being a racing day and I pledged to attend with Lady Shelton and divers respectable ladies and gentlemen.
"And oh Micky why did you say such things to Lord Dunmore last night? I have been ill of it all night and in a fever for fear they may harm you, though Lady Shelton assures me your person is safe, being a deputy of Sir William, and further says that you are an unmannerly and bold rebel and desires not your presence in her house, and desires me to inform you. Oh Micky what have you done? I do not desire any longer to wed Lord Dunmore and be a Countess, but I had not thought to have you speak so to Lord Dunmore. He came here last evening in a white fury and showed me the letter you had written to him. He says that you are not the messenger he expected, though you may be a deputy, and he vows he will not be so vilely used, and he will not give me up but will publish the banns to-day in Pitt, come what may. Which has frightened me so I write to you that I do not wish to be a countess any more and would be glad to go to Aunt Molly and Sir William.
"I will rise from bed at eleven o'clock to-night and go out into the orchard with Black Betty. Pray you cozzen, greet me with a post-chaise and take me away from these dreadful, dreadful people.
"Your cozzen, "FELICITY.
"Postscriptum
"To witt, I will not wed you though we be affianced, and I will wed no man upon your recommendation. With your own affairs I pray you be dilligently active and concern yourself not with mine hereafter."
When I had again read the letter I examined the wax. The paper hadbeen carelessly folded and more carelessly sealed; and I called toMount and the Weasel, pointing out that, though the letter wasunsealed, the wax itself had not been broken.
"I do not think," said I, "that this letter has deliberately beentampered with. This is only carelessness."
"It was certainly sealed and folded in haste," remarked the Weasel,poking at the wax with his forefinger.
Mount also pretended to believe that negligence or haste accounted forthe open letter, and, satisfied, we sat down to discuss the measuresto be taken for a fortnight flight.
I had a mind to follow Silver Heels to the races, trusting that Imight find a moment to warn her most solemnly not to fail us. Mountthought the idea most wise, offering to bear me company, and theWeasel agreed to remain and assist Rolfe to equip and furnish ourpost-chaise with the necessaries for a long journey.
It was understood between us that Silver Heels and Black Betty were toride in the chaise, and I with them; that Mount and the Weasel wouldsit the horses as postilions, and that Shemuel should ride atop. Itwas further decided that, as the northern and western frontier wereimpassable in view of the border war, we should take the post-road tothe Virginia border, make for Williamsburg, and from there turn northacross Maryland and the Jerseys, reaching Johnstown through New Yorkand Albany.
I gave the Weasel money to purchase powder and ball, which we alllacked, and to buy for me a silver watch and a rifle or firelock toreplace the loss of my own. Also, I charged him to purchase pistolsfor me and for Shemuel, with flint and ball for the same, and tosharpen our knives and hatchets against need.
"You waste breath," observed Mount, yawning. "The Weasel neverneglects to file his claws for battle."
"Very well," said I, wincing; "it seems that of us all I alone knownothing of my own affairs."
"You will learn," said the Weasel, kindly, and I was obliged toswallow their well-meant patronage and follow Mount to the street.
"If I had my way," said I, resentfully, "I would take Miss Warren fromthe races and set out by noon."
"If I had my way," observed Mount, "I should not try to escapeto-night at all."
"Why not?" I asked, in surprise.
"Because of that unsealed letter."
"But we agreed it was accident!"
"Ay, _we_ agree, but mayhap there are others yet to disagree."
"Nonsense!" I said.
"Doubtless," said Mount, with the faintest trace of irony, enough toflavour his mild smile with that mockery which hurts the pride of veryyoung men.
Offended, I strode on beside him, and neither he nor I offered tospeak again until Mount suddenly stopped in the middle of the King'sRoad and looked back.
"What's amiss?" I asked, forgetting my sulks.
"Oh, we are followed again," said Mount, wearily.
I stared about but could see nobody who appeared to be observing us.There were numbers of people on the King's Road, trudging through thedust as were we, and doubtless also bound for the races on RoanokePlain. I saw no vehicles or horsemen: the quality in their chairs andcoaches would go by the fashionable Boundary; the fox-hunting horsemenmet at the "Buckeye Tavern," a resort for British officers andgentlemen; unpretentious folk must foot it by the shortest route,which was to pass the fortress by the King's Road.
"Are you sure we are followed?" I asked.
"Not quite," said Mount, simply. "I shall know anon. Trust me in this,lad, and take pains to do instantly what I do. Perhaps my life may payfor this day's pleasure."
"I will take care to imitate you," said I, anxiously. "You know howdeeply in your debt I stand confessed."
"Good lad," he said, gravely; "I do not doubt you, friend Michael. Asfor any debt, your courtesy has long cancelled it."
The quaint compliment had a pretty savour, coming from one whose worldwas not my own.
We were now passing that angle of the fortified works through whichthe King's Road passes between two block-housen. The sentries,standing in the shadow of the stockade, watched us without visibleinterest, turning their idle heads to scan the next comer, and stareimpudently if it were some petticoat.
So, unquestioned, we passed out into the country, where a few heavilystockaded farms flanked the road, always built on heights, and alwaysfree from trees or any cover that might shelter an attacking enemy.Beyond these farms the road became a turnpike, and we stopped at thetoll-gate to pay tuppence to the keeper's wife, who sat nursing ababy, one hand on a rifle, which she never let go until the eveningbrought her husband to keep his perilous vigil there all night.
"No," she said, listlessly, "no Indians have troubled us. Yet, Godknows I sleep not while my man is out here in the night, though theysend a patrol from the fortress every hour."
Mount earnestly advised her to give up the toll-gate until the borderhad quieted; but she only stared, saying, "How, then, are we to live?"And we passed on in silence, side by side.
Beyond the toll-gate a broad road curved out from the turnpike,running south, and Mount pointed it out as the road we were to travelthat night.
"It crosses the Virginia border by that blue hill yonder," he said,then suddenly jerked his head over his shoulder.
"I think I am right; I think I know the jade," he said, calmly.
"Is it a woman who follows us?" I asked, amazed.
"Ay, a bit of a lass, maybe eighteen or thereabouts."
"You know her?"
"And she me," said Mount, grimly. "Harkee, friend Michael, if you mustneeds know the truth, her father is--Gad! I can scarce say it to you,but--well--her father is what they call a thief-taker."
"What has that to do with us?" I asked.
Mount spoke with an effort: "Because I have stopped some fewpurse-proud magistrates upon the highway, they say evil things o' me.That lass behind us means to follow me and tell her lout of a fatherwhere I may be found."
I was horrified, and he saw it and stopp
ed short in his tracks.
"You are right," he said, simply; "a gentleman cannot be found in suchcompany. Go on alone, lad; it is right, and I shall bear no malice."
"Jack!" I said, hotly; "do you believe I would cry quits now?Damnation! Come on, sir! I would as soon take the King's highwaymyself!"
His firm mouth relaxed and quivered a little; he hesitated, thenwalked forward beside me with a touch of that old swagger, mutteringsomething about gentle blood and what's bred in the bone.
"It's all very well," he said; "it's all very well for some of ourpeople to say that we men are created equal. There's no truth in it. Abroodhound never cast whippets, let them say what they will!"
We were now in sight of the flag-covered pavilion on Roanoke Plain,and on either side of us the road was lined with those drinking-boothsand peddler-stands and cheap-jack tents which had pitched camps herefor the day rather than pay the tax required to sell their wareswithin the racing-grounds.
Around them the townspeople clustered, some munching gingerbread andpies, some watching the gilded wheel of fortune spin their penniesinto another man's pockets, some paying for a peep into a dark shedwhere doubtless wonders were to be seen for a penny. Ragged childrensold colours and cards for the races; peddlers assailed our ears atevery step; fortune-tellers followed us, predicting unexpectedblessings, which turned to curses when we passed along unheeding;acrobats, tumblers, jugglers, strong men, and merry-andrews hailed usas their proper prey. And, in sooth, had it not been for the sickeningknowledge of Mount's peril, I should have found keen pleasure inspending all I had, to see everybody and everything at this show; forI do dearly love strange sights, and in Johnstown I have always viewedthem all, with Silver Heels and Esk and Peter, when the season ofracing brought these gay folk to our town.
But now I had no stomach for pleasure, nor had Mount, for he scarcelyglanced at the booths as we passed, though there was ale there, andsweet Virginia wines, which drew the very honey-bees themselves.
Suddenly Mount said, "This will not do; I have been hunted longenough!"
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"Hunt in my turn," he said, grimly.
"Hunt--what?"
"The lass who hunts me. Follow, lad. On your life, do as I do. Now,then! Gay! Gay! Ruffle it, lad! Cut a swagger, cock your cap, and woeto the maid who is beguiled by us!"
The change in him was amazing; his airs, his patronage, his chaff, hislightening wit!--it was the old Mount again, quaffing a great cup ofale, pledging every pretty face that passed, hammering his pewter toemphasize his words, talking with all who would answer him; gloriousin his self-esteem, amusing in his folly, a dandy, a ruffler, acareless, wine-bibbing, wench-bussing coureur-de-bois, and king ofthem all without an effort.
Peddler and gypsy were no match for him; his banter silenced the mostgarrulous, his teasing pleased the wenches, his gay gallantries mademany a girl look back at him, and many a smile was returned to himwith delicate surplus of interest.
"Which is the maid?" I asked, under my breath.
"Yonder, stopping to stare at gingerbread as though she had neverbeheld such a sweet before. Now she turns; mark! It is she with thepink print and chip hat on her hair, tied with rose ribbons under thechin."
"I see her," said I.
She was a healthy, red-cheeked, blue-eyed girl, with lips a trifleover-full and bosom to match withal. She appeared uneasy anduncertain, watching Mount when he raised a laugh, and laughing herselfas excuse, though her mirth appeared to me uneasy, now that Iunderstood her purpose.
She had been edging nearer, and now stood close to us, at the entranceto an arbour wherein were set benches in little corners, hidden fromprying eyes by strips of painted cloth.
"Will no maid pity me!" exclaimed Mount. "I am far, far too young todrink my wine alone in yonder arbour!"
"I have not been invited," cried a saucy wench, laughing at us overthe shoulder of her companion, who backed away, half laughing, halffrightened.
"God helps those who help themselves," said Mount, turning to find herwho had followed him close to his elbow.
He smiled in her face and made her a very slow and very low bow,drawing a furrow through the dust with the fluffy tail on hiscoon-skin cap.
"If I knew your name," he said, "I might die contented. Otherwise Ishall content myself with a life of ignorance."
She seemed startled and abashed, fingering her gown and looking at hershoe-buckles, while Mount bent beside her to whisper and smile andswagger until he entreated her to taste a glass of currant wine withus in the arbour.
I do not know to this day why she consented. Perhaps she thought toconfirm her suspicions and entrap some admission from Mount; perhaps,in the light of later events, her purpose was very different. However,we three sat in the arbour behind our screens of painted cloth, andMount did set such a pace for us that ere I was aware there remainednot a drop of currant in the decanter, no more cakes on the plate, andhe had his arm around the silly maid.
Intensely embarrassed and ill at ease with this pot-house gallantry,which was ever offensive to my tastes, I regarded them sideways insilence, impatient for Mount to end it all.
The end had already begun; Mount rose lightly to his feet and drew thegirl with him, turning her quietly by the shoulders and lookingstraight into her eyes.
"Why do you follow me?" he asked, coolly.
The colour left her face; her eyes flew wide open with fright.
"I shall not hurt you, little fool," he said; "I had rather yourfather, the thief-taker, took me, than harm you. Yes, I am that sameJack Mount. You are poor; they will pay you for compassing my arrest.Come, shall we seek your father, Billy Bishop, the taker of thieves?"
He drew her towards the gate, but she fell a-whimpering and caught hisarm, hiding her face in his buckskin sleeve.
Disgusted, I waited a moment, then turned my back and walked out intothe sunshine, where I paced to and fro, until at last Mount joined me,wearing a scowl.
As we turned away together I glanced into the arbour and saw our lassof the ribbons still sitting at the table with her head buried in herarms and her pink shell-hat on the grass.
As for Mount, he said nothing except that, though he no longer fearedthe girl, he meant, hereafter, to trust to his heels in similarsituations.
"It might be less irksome," said I, curling my lip.
"Ay; yet she has a pretty face, and a plump neck, too."
"The daughter of a thief-taker!" I added, contemptuously.
"Pooh!" said he. "She has thirty sound teeth and ten fingers; theQueen of Spain has no more."