CHAPTER XIV
A MIGHTY RESOLUTION
THE sun had dropped behind Fort Hill, and long shadows darkenedthe soft sand of the street, when Miles at last ventured into thesettlement. All the hot day he had lain hidden by the pool and watchedthe shreds of cloud skim across the deep sky and harked to theshrilling of the locusts, while he tried not to think, yet all the timewas conscious of the awful thing that had happened, in which he had hada hand.
Disjointedly, from time to time, he had planned how he would act apart, would feign to be quite ignorant of the duel, and be amazedwhen he learned of it; but when the test came, when he found himselfactually in the street of the town, his head whirled, and he felt thathis guilt could be read in his very face.
From a dooryard some one called his name, whereat Miles's heart fairlyceased to beat; but it was only his friend, Jack Cooke, who camerunning to hang over his father's gate and speak to him: "Ah, Miles,where ha' you been? Have you heard talk of what happened?" There wasno time for Miles to stammer out a vague answer, before Jack ran on:"Ned Lister and Ned Dotey, they fought a duel, real cut and thrust, upbehind the hill, and the Captain came upon them, and they've had thembefore the Governor and the Elder, and there's been such a to-do."
"Had them? Then neither was killed?" Miles cried, with a momentaryfeeling that nothing could matter, if both men still lived.
"Nay, but Dotey has a great gash across the palm of his hand, and NedLister was slashed in the thigh so he scarce could walk. I saw 'em whenthey were fetched down into the village, and they have locked Dotey upat Master Allerton's house, and Lister at Master Hopkins's."
"Wh--what are they going to do to them?" faltered Miles.
"Something terrible, to be sure," Jack answered happily; "the Captainand all are main angry. And Goodman Billington was for flogging Francismightily out of hand, but the Elder said stay till to-morrow, when theywould question all further."
"What has Francis done?"
"Why, he was with them; he kept watch while they fought. That is, oneof the lads lay in the grass and whistled them; the Captain had theleast glimpse of him; but they found Francis prowling on the hill, soit must ha' been he. He says 'twasn't, but Francis is a deal of a liar,we all know."
Miles drew a long breath, and, turning from the gateway, went scuffingthrough the sand down the street. It was Francis, not he, whom theysuspected, he repeated, but the next moment he told himself that itmade no difference; since he was the culprit, he must come forwardand take the blame. But when he saw Master Hopkins sitting by thehouse-door, his heart choked up into his throat, and his step faltered.After all, he would not speak to Master Hopkins yet; his share in theduel would be discovered soon enough.
With a feeling that he wished to propitiate every one, he trudged roundthe house to fetch an armful of wood, and there, by the pile, Gileswas at work with an axe. "Well, Miles?" he said, pausing in his task,and then, as Miles came to his side, whispered him: "Look you, fatherthinks you were fishing with me all this day, that Ned sent you backto the house to be quit of you, and that you came home with me, butstopped at the spring. I told him naught; he just thought so and--I lethim think so."
"Oh, Giles, you are right good," gulped Miles. "For I--"
"Hush now! I don't want to know aught." And Giles went back to hischopping.
No one would find him out, then; he was safe from the mighty beating heexpected. Francis--well, since he was innocent, of course he would sayso, and they would believe him and not punish him. Anyway, he had nothought of confessing, Miles assured himself hastily, as, on enteringthe living room, he met Master Hopkins's stern gaze.
The master of the house was in a gloomy temper that evening; a newsense of the gravity of that day's happenings came over Miles, ashe looked on his harsh face. Mistress Hopkins, too, was silencedcompletely, and the young folk did not venture to speak while theirelders did not address them, nor had they any wish to talk, with thetwo empty places at table confronting them. No word was uttered tillthe meal was nearly eaten, when Mistress Hopkins, after a swift glanceat her husband, cut a thick end from the loaf of bread, and, setting iton a trencher, turned to Miles. "Fill a jug of water, and carry thatand the bread to Edward Lister," she said sharply.
"Edward Lister may go fasting to-night," Master Hopkins spoke, in agrim voice.
Miles, who had slipped from his stool, stood shifting from one foot tothe other, while he waited to see which he should obey.
"Do as I bid you, Miles," Mistress Hopkins repeated steadily, thoughone hand, which she rested on the edge of the table, clenched innervous wise. "The man is hurt, and whatever he has done he shall notgo hungry and thirsty. Either Miles shall take him food and drink,Stephen, or I shall do so myself." She rose, and, filling a jug fromthe water-pail, gave it to the dubious Miles. "Take it to him, there inthe closet," she bade; so Miles, without waiting for Master Hopkins toprevent, stepped hastily into the little room and shut the door behindhim.
The closet was very narrow, very hot, and very dusky, for the eveninglight came but sparsely through the little window. Just beneath thewindow, where whatever slight breeze entered the room could be felt,the old mattress was outspread, and on it Ned Lister lay. He had beenresting his head upon his folded doublet, but at Miles's coming he drewhimself up on his elbow; his face was white in the dimness, and helooked limp and sick and cowed.
"Here's bread and water, Ned," Miles began, as he crossed to him."And--and I'm mighty sorry."
"I'm not," Ned answered, in a dogged tone. "I wish only that I'd killedhim. Give me a drink." He took the jug from Miles and gulped down thewater with audible swallowings; then, when he could drink no more, setit beside him. "They'd 'a' made little more tumult if I had killedhim," he went on. "But I care not what they do to me."
"What--what do you think they will do to us, Ned?" Miles quavered;the young man's prisoned and unfriended state and desperate tone haddislodged him from his last stronghold of security.
"They spoke of flogging us," Ned answered hopelessly.
"A public flogging?"
"Yes."
It was only a birching Miles had looked for. A public flogging! Thehorror and fright were actual and overwhelming, for it never enteredhis head that in punishment a distinction would be made between the twoprincipals in the duel and their wretched little second. "Flog us!" herepeated dazedly. "Or--or perhaps they will hang us?"
"I care not if they do," Ned retorted, and, taking up the jug, drainedout the last of the water. "Fetch me another draught, Miley, that's agood lad," he begged. "My throat is all afire."
It was darker now in the living room, so none could note the expressionof his face, and Miles was glad for that. When he filled the jug atthe pail he slopped the water clumsily, so Mistress Hopkins chidedhim. He could not seem to think or even see, for, as he stumbled backinto the closet, he bumped his forehead against the door. "Oh, Ned,"he whispered, as he bent over the injured man again, "they--they haveaccused Francis in my place, but I--"
"Why, that's well," Ned spoke, as he set down the jug. "I'm glad for't;you'll not be punished along o' me. I'll tell no word of you, Miley,you may be sure, and if Dotey will but hold his blabbing tongue--"
"But--but they'll flog him; I ought to tell--"
"Let him be flogged, the imp!" Ned growled. "But you, Miley--"
There was no chance to finish, for Master Hopkins, appearing in thedoorway, sternly ordered Miles to come forth, and, when he had quittedthe closet, bolted the door.
By now it was too dark for a reading lesson, and, even if it had beenlight, the whole routine of the day seemed overturned. Miles wanderedout into the house-yard, but he had no will to seek the other boys;they might talk to him of Francis. Somehow, too, he did not wish to seeDolly or Mistress Brewster, who had told him how his mother looked forhim to be a good lad. He went and sat down alone on the woodpile, wherehe harked to the distant frogs that were piping, and watched the starscome out over the sea.
So he was still sitting when
at last Constance stole out to him, and,putting her hand on his shoulder, whispered him he mustn't go away andgrieve so about poor Ned. He shook her off surlily; he was tired andsleepy, and didn't want to talk, he said, and so rose and slouched awayto his bedroom. There it was stiflingly hot, so when he lay down hepushed aside the coverlet, and even then he thrashed restlessly.
Presently Giles came in and lay down in the other bed that Dotey andLister had shared; he did not offer to talk, but, settling himselfat once to sleep, was soon breathing regularly. Miles counted eachindrawing of his breath, and tried, breathing with him, to cheathimself into sleeping; and tried too, with the bed beneath himscorching hot, to hold himself quiet in one position. His face was wetwith perspiration, and his head ached. Somewhere in the room a mosquitosang piercingly, so he must strike about him with his hands, and stillthe creature sang and the air was breathless, and he could not sleep.
Then he ceased the effort to gain unconsciousness, and deliberately sethimself to face it all, and reason it out. He had done a wicked thing,and he should be punished for it. Francis was accused, but Francis wasinnocent and must be declared so. It did not matter though his comradesbade him keep silent; it was one thing for Giles not to bear tales ofMiles, and another for Miles not to bear tales of himself; and for NedLister's way of thinking, it was not the way which Captain Standishwould have counselled. What would the Captain think of him, when heknew him for a rascal who deserved whipping, Miles wondered miserably.Yet it was the Captain who had told him hard things must be done, notshirked aside; and by that ruling Miles realized that the only way forhim was to let them know it was he himself, not Francis, who had bornea part in the duel.
Specious objections came, and he crushed them down; and there came,more stubborn, the promptings of fear. A public flogging, Ned hadhinted; and Miles recalled a dull day in the market town, whither hisfather had taken him, a jeering crowd of motley folk, a cart with afellow laughing on the driver's seat, and tied by the wrists to thecart's tail, stripped to the waist, a man who kept his head bent downand never winced, for all the great blows the constable was layingacross his shoulders. Even now Miles turned sick at the remembranceof the red gashes the whip had made. But Francis had not earned suchpunishment, and he had earned it.
Miles rose from his restless bed, and stood by the window to catcha breath of air. The moon was up now, and a pale, hot glow lay onthe fields to northward, but not a whiff of a breeze was astir. Theharbor, as he saw it from the window, lay glassy smooth beneath themoon. He put his weary head down on his arms, and for a moment did notthink, only wished it were last night, when the duel was yet unfought.
Then he lay down in bed, and turned and tossed, and went his round ofcourage and fears again. He was not conscious that there had been aperiod of sleep; he had no sense of restfulness just ending, only ofbitter dreams, but he found the room alight and a faint, early-morningfreshness in the air, so he knew some time had passed and it was day.
He did not remember in detail the thoughts of the night, but theconclusion was the same, and still clearer for him to see in the glareof morning. Rising quickly, he dressed himself so hurriedly that he wasdone before sleepy Giles had pulled on his shirt; then went out intothe living room. Mistress Hopkins was lighting her fire with flint andsteel, and Constance was stirring up porridge for the breakfast; but hegave them no heed, for outside the door he caught a glimpse of MasterHopkins.
"Why, Miles, are you ill?" Constance asked, as she looked up at him.
Miles shook his head, and stepped out upon the doorstone. At the benchalongside the door Master Hopkins, in his shirt-sleeves, was washinghis face in a basin of water; he did not look up, but Miles, withoutwaiting for his notice, plunged into the confession while his courageheld. "Master Hopkins, I want to tell you--"
"What is it, Miles?" Hopkins asked curtly, as he began wiping his faceon the big, coarse towel.
"It was not Francis, sir, it was I. The duel, you understand--" Miles'svoice was faint and quavering,--"it was not Francis."
"What do you mean?" said Stephen Hopkins then, and lowered the towelfrom his face; the water-drops clung to his forehead, and his hair wasall on end, but the very grotesqueness of his look made it the moreformidable to Miles.
"It was not Francis," he repeated shakily, while his trembling fingerspicked at a splinter in the door-frame. "I took the rapier out o' yourbedchamber; I was in the grass and whistled to them." He stopped there,with his eyes on the toes of his shoes; he did not want to look atMaster Hopkins's face, and he held his body tense against the graspwhich he expected would hale him into confinement along with Ned Lister.
But instead there was a sickening silence that seemed to last forminutes; then Master Hopkins said slowly: "I marvel why that you,the son of a godly man, should have a hand in all the evil doings ofthe settlement. You must go tell this unto the Governor, so soon asbreakfast is ended. And I shall myself speak more of it to you."
Mechanically Miles stood aside to let Master Hopkins pass into thehouse, and then he still stood a time, gazing at the gray doorstonebeneath his feet. Presently he stepped down on the turf and slouchedround to the corner of the house, where Trug was tied at night; thoughevery one thought him evil, and they were going to flog him, Trug wouldstill lick his hands lovingly. He untied the dog, and, holding to oneend of his strap, went back through the yard; Constance, from thedoorway, called to him to come in to breakfast, but, shaking his head,he walked on.
Outside the yard the street was quite empty, for the colonists were allat their morning meal. Miles trudged slowly through the sand up thehillside, and then turned down the path to the spring, which he judgedat that hour would be deserted. Sure enough, the only moving thingsbeneath the high bluff were the leaping waters of the living well,and the sunbeams that sifted through the branches of the encroachingalders, and sprinkled the trodden turf.
Casting himself down on the margin, Miles took a long drink of thewater, that might have been brackish and hot for any good taste he hadof it, then sat up and leaned against Trug, with one arm about thedog's neck. He had thought, so soon as he was thus by himself, he wouldcry, but he felt all choked inside; his wickedness was too deep evenfor tears.
Suddenly two hands were clapped over his face. "Guess who 'tis," pipeda treble voice, and, uncovering his eyes, Miles thrust up one hand anddragged Dolly down beside him,--a very brave Dolly, in a clean apron,with her scarlet poppet hugged under one arm. "I ran to the spring forMistress Brewster," she explained, "but I cast away my jug when I sawyou. Why are you here, Miles?"
"Oh, Dolly," Miles burst out, "I have been uncommon wicked and helpedfight a duel, and they are going to flog me through the streets, andmaybe they'll hang me, and I would my mother were here." He masteredthe inclination to screw his knuckles into his eyes, and, as he satscowling at the hill across the brook, and blinking bravely, to keepa good showing before the little girl, a mighty new idea popped intohis head and made him happy again. "But I shan't let them flog me," hesaid, grandly as Ned Lister himself. "You tell it to no one, Dolly, butI have it in mind to run away."
"Whither, Miles?" the damsel asked, with interest, but no greatamazement.
"I shall go into the woods and live with the Indians," Miles saidslowly, forming his plan as he spoke. "They're good, pleasant folk;and I'll build me a house of branches, and eat raspberries, and maybekill birds with a sling, and I'll have Trug at night." It occurred tohim that Trug would not be the liveliest of company. "Why, Dolly, sayyou come too," he cried. "We'll keep the house together, as I thoughtthey'd let us when father died."
Dolly's face dimpled at the prospect, then grew sober. "But if we livein the woods, Miles, we cannot go to meeting of a Sunday, and thatwould never do. Let's build our house just over the brook--"
"Pshaw!" said Miles, contemptuously, "I might as well go back and letthem whip me now. I'm going away into the forest. Will you come?" Herose and walked manfully toward the stepping-stones, but Dolly stillsat hugging her poppet in her arms. "I
f you've no wish to--" Milessaid, feeling brave and important, no longer a poor, trembling, littleculprit. Then he turned his back on her, and gave his attention toleading Trug safely from stone to stone across the brook.
But, as he gained the opposite bank, he heard a cry behind him: "Wait,oh, wait, Miles!" Dolly, with the poppet in her arms, came slippingand scrambling across the stepping-stones and caught his hand. "LoveBrewster says he does not like girls and went away to play with HarrySamson," she panted. "And you are the only brother I have, Miles, and Ilove you, and methinks I'd liefer go with you and be an Indian."