Читать книгу The King's Arrow: A Tale of the United Empire Loyalists - H. A. Cody - Страница 10

Before a rude shack, somewhat back from the water, a middle aged colored woman was seated upon a block of wood. In her hands she held a waffle-iron, the farther end of which was thrust into a small fire between several stones. She was a bunty little body, clad in a plain grey dress, with a cap, somewhat in the form of a white turban, adorning her head. Her naturally good-natured face bore an anxious expression, and a worried look appeared in her eyes as she turned them occasionally to the people moving about farther down the hill.

Presently she drew the iron from the fire, unclamped it, and with remarkable deftness turned out a nicely-browned waffle into a dish by her side. She then greased both halves of the pan, filled them with batter, reclamped the iron and thrust it again into the fire. This she did several times until the dish was almost filled with delicious-smelling waffles.

"Guess dey'll suit de Cun'l," she said to herself. "He's mighty fond of waffles, he shur' is. An' Missie Jean is, too, fo' dat matter. I wonder what's keepin' dem. Dey's generally on time fo' supper. But, den, t'ings are so upset dese days dat only de Lo'd knows what's goin' to happen next."

Then she began to sing in a subdued voice the Twenty-third psalm, the only piece she knew.

"I hab no doubt about de Lo'd bein' my Shepa'd," she commented, "an' I guess He'll not let me want. But He hasn't led me into green past'rs dis time. I wonder if de Good Lo'd made dis place, anyway," and she gazed ruefully around. "It looks to me as if de deb'l had a mighty big hand in it, fo' sich a mixed up contraption of a hole I nebber set my two eyes on befo'. An' to t'ink dat de Cun'l had to leab his nice home in Ol' Connec., an' come to a jumpin'-off place like dis. I hope de ever-lastin' fire will be seben times hot when it gits dem skunks dat stirred up ructions 'ginst good King George, I sa'tinly do."

A slight noise startled her, and turning her head, she smiled as she saw a girl standing near her side.

"Land sakes! Missie Jean, how yo' did scare me!" she exclaimed. "I thought mebbe it was a bear or a tager comin' out ob de woods, fo' one nebber knows what to 'spect next in dis place."

"I am sorry I frightened you, Mammy," the girl smilingly replied, "And it was too bad that I interrupted you in your interesting talk about 'everlasting fire,' 'ructions,' and 'King George.' You seem to be in a fighting mood."

"I is, Missie Jean, I is in a turrible fightin' mood. I'd like jes at dis very minute to hab my two hands on dem rascals dat turned on good King George, an' den druve us all out ob our homes. I'd show dem a t'ing or two, I sa'tinly would."

"I don't doubt it," the girl replied, as she stooped and helped herself to a waffle. "If you could fight as well as you can cook you would be a wonder."

"I could cook on our stove in Ol' Connec., Missie Jean, but it's mighty hard work on dat," and she looked contemptuously at the rude fire-place. "To t'ink that we should ebber come to dis!"

"Why, I think it's great, Mammy."

"What' not better'n Ol' Connec.?"

"Oh, not at all. But this might be worse. I miss our dear old home in Connecticut, and yet I have often longed for a life such as this. I am sure you will like it, too, Mammy, when you get used to it."

"I kin nebber git used to it, chile. I'se been torn up by de roots from de ol' home where I was born an' bred, an' I kin nebber take root agin, 'specially in sich a rocky hole as dis."

"But we're not going to stay here, Mammy. We are going up the river, and make a new home in a beautiful place among the trees."

"Ah, chile, dat's what makes me tremble. It's bad 'nuf here, de Lo'd knows, but up dere! Why, dere's bears, an' tagers dat'll eat ye up in a jiffy. An' dere's Injuns, too, dat'll skin ye alive, an' scalp ye, an' roast ye fo' dinner. No, I kin nebber take root in a place like dat."

"But we'll be pioneers, Mammy," the girl reminded. "Just think what an honour it will be to take part in holding this land for King George. People will be proud of what we are doing in years to come."

"I don't want to be no pioneers, Missie Jean, an' I'm not hankerin' after no honour. It suits dis ol' woman better to hab her skin an' scalp now, even if dey are black, den to hab folks ye don't know nuffin' 'bout blubberin' over ye a hundred years from now. Dem's my solemn sent'ments."

"But daddy thinks there is a great purpose in our coming here, Mammy. He says he believes that the Lord is overruling our defeat, and that the driving us out from our homes and scattering us abroad will be the means of extending King George's sway, and raising up a great nation in this land."

"Missie Jean," and Mammy raised a warning finger, "I doan want to predjis you 'ginst yer daddy's jeg'ment, remember. But I can't see de Lo'd's hand in dis racket. It doan seems nat'ral to me fo' de Lo'd to let King George lose a good an' beau'ful country, an' den gib him sich a jumpin'-off place as dis instead. An', chile, I doan believe dat de Lo'd ever meant yo' to come here."

"Why, Mammy? Do I look any the worse for it?"

"Yo' couldn't look worse, Missie Jean, not if yo' tried ebber so hard."

"Come, come, Mammy, I am surprised at you," and the girl's eyes sparkled with merriment. "What do you mean by saying I couldn't look worse? I didn't know I was as hideous as all that."

"I didn't say yo' was hidjus, Missie Jean. I jes said yo' couldn't look worse, an' ye can't. Yo' kin only look beau'ful. Why, chile, it makes my ol' heart ache when I t'ink of sich a lubly creature as yo' bein' buried alive 'way off in de woods."

"But I don't intend to be buried alive, Mammy. I hope to live a good many years yet, and only buried when I am dead."

"Ah, chile, dere is more ways den one of bein' buried alive. I am t'inkin' of de lonely life in de woods, wif no nice young men to look at yer pretty face, lubly eyes, an' beau'ful hair. An' ye'll hab no chance to wear fine clothes an' be admired."

"Mammy." There was a note in the girl's voice which caused the colored woman to glance quickly up.

"What is it, chile?"

"I want to tell you something, Mammy. This is not the time to talk about such things, nor to wail and lament about our lot. I have just been down helping some of those women with their children. They are almost heart-broken, and I did what I could to cheer them up. I have made up my mind that no matter how badly I feel, no one is to know anything about it. I am going to forget my own troubles in helping others. And, Mammy, I want you to do the same. If you talk to others as you have been talking to me, it will make them more depressed than ever. They need smiles, words of cheer, and a helping hand. And you can do that, remember. Never mind about me, or admiring young men. There are more serious things to think about just now."

"Land sakes, chile!" the colored woman exclaimed, holding up both hands. "I nebber heard yo' talk dat way befo'. But I guess yo're right, an' I'se ready to do what I kin. But here comes de Cun'l! An', oh, Missie Jean, de Major's wif him! Dere won't be 'nuf waffles to go 'round, an' de fire's 'most out. What in de world is I to do?"

"Never mind, Mammy," the girl comforted, "they have hardly time to think about eating. Just give them what you have."

"But dese waffles are col', chile, an' I know how fond men are of eatin'. Nuffin' kin make dem fergit dere stummicks."

Smiling at the colored woman's worries, Jean at once set to work to renew the fire. There were a few hot coals, so by the time the men arrived, she had the fire burning brightly, and Mammy was preparing to cook an extra supply of waffles.

Colonel Sterling was a fine looking man. His white hair, flowing beard, and commanding presence would have distinguished him in any company. His face was genial, and his grey eyes shone with pleasure and pride as they rested upon his daughter who now turned to meet him.

"Is supper ready, dear?" he enquired, "I am hungry, and I know the

Major is, too."

"There is the supper," and Jean pointed to the dish of waffles. "But I'm afraid it's not much for two hungry men. The Major, I am sure, will find it pretty poor fare."

"Not at all, Miss Jean," the officer smilingly assured her. "I recall so well the choice waffles I had at your old home in Stamford the last time I visited there. And I am confident, too, that your excellent cook has lost none of her skill since then."

He looked toward Mammy as he spoke, causing the faithful servant almost to drop the iron she was holding, so great was her confusion at such a compliment from so great a person.

Major Gilfred Studholme was the right man in the right place at this critical time in the history of Portland Point. He had served with distinction on behalf of his King in numerous engagements, and his heart went out in sympathy to the thousands of refugees so suddenly thrust upon him for protection. This soldier had held his post secure in the face of hostile savages and lawless marauders, and he was equally faithful now in the discharge of his duties to the newcomers.

Leaving Mammy to recover from her embarrassment and to continue her cooking, Jean went into the little shack, the only home she now knew, and brought forth a small table. This she placed near the door, covered it with a white cloth, and again went inside for dishes. Her supply of the latter was most meagre, as the rest had not been unpacked. Her eyes grew a little misty as she recalled what the Major had said about the last time he had been with them in their old home in Stamford. She had a clear remembrance of that day, of the neatly-arranged table, with fresh flowers in the centre, and the light of pleasure and contentment upon her dear mother's face. What changes had taken place since then! Her mother had been laid to rest, the old home was gone, and they were exiles in a strange cruel land.

Hastily wiping her eyes with a delicately-embroidered handkerchief, she collected a few dishes, and had just reached the door when she suddenly stopped. Standing before the Major she saw a young man, clad in the most peculiar manner she had ever seen. But his face and bearing were what chiefly attracted her, while a pleasurable sensation, such as she had never before experienced, swept through her being.

"I am Dane Norwood," the young man was saying, "and I bring a message from William Davidson, the King's purveyor. Here it is," and he handed forth a letter he had taken from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Are you in the King's service?" the Major asked as he took the missive.

"I am," was the reply. "I am a special courier, known as the 'King's

Arrow,' and I always go where I am sent. That is why I am here."

"Where are your manners, then?" the Major demanded with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Manners! What manners?"

"When you approach a superior officer, of course."

"Oh, you mean the salute. I have heard of it, but never saw it given."

"What! you never saluted any one; not even the King's purveyor?"

"No. Where I live we are all equal when it comes to that. We never bother about such things. The only salute I know is the kind I handed out to those slashers a short time ago when they tried to take that message from me."

"Where was that?" the Major questioned.

"Just over there along that road," and Dane motioned to the right.

"Where are they now?"

"I think two are busy nursing their faces, while the third is hiding somewhere around the trading post. He was running that way the last time I saw him."

"And you defeated the three of them single-handed?"

"Why, that was nothing. I would be a mighty poor courier if I couldn't take care of myself, especially when slashers are around."

A bright smile illumined the Major's face as he held out his right hand.

"Young man, I am proud of you," he said, "and I shall mention you to the General Officers in my next report. We need such men as you to-day."

"I don't care for any honour," Dane replied. "I only want an answer to that letter, so I can get away early in the morning. Davidson is pretty anxious up river."

"Why, sure enough," the Major agreed. "I must not keep you longer than is necessary."

Opening the envelope, which was marked with a big broad arrow, he drew forth the paper within, unfolded it, and glanced rapidly over the contents. As he did so, a serious expression overspread his face, and he remained a minute or two lost in deep thought.

All this Jean had heard and seen from the door where she was standing with the dishes in her hands. When, however, the Major began to read the letter, she stepped outside, and placed the cups, saucers, and plates upon the table. It was then that Dane first saw her, and his eyes opened wide with surprise and admiration. Presently Jean turned, and seeing the courier's ardent gaze, her eyes dropped, and a deep flush of embarrassment suffused her face. This all happened in a few seconds, but in that brief space of time that quaint little archer, Cupid, had been busy, and two youthful hearts had been pierced by his subtle arrows.

Never before had Dane beheld such a vision of loveliness and maidenly charm. The girl fascinated him, and moved by a sudden impulse, he was upon the point of going to her side, fearful lest she should vanish, when the Major's voice restrained him.

"Come to the Fort early in the morning," he heard the officer say. "I wish to have a talk with you there."

"I shall be on hand, and early at that," Dane replied.

With another fleeting glance toward the girl, he turned and moved swiftly away toward the lake back in the hills.