Читать книгу The Fighting-Slogan - H. A. Cody - Страница 11
ОглавлениеA NIGH-GO
It was a clear night and countless stars twinkled overhead. Scarcely a breath of wind impeded Drum Rowan as he glided down the river on his sharp "Long-Reachers." He was a strong skater, as many a worthy opponent had learned to his sorrow. He seemed almost tireless, and now on the last lap of his journey from Fredericton he was apparently as fresh as when he had sped by the mouths of the Oromocto and the Washademoak. His body, powerful and lithe as a young panther, bent and swayed in rhythmical motion as he drove forward the biting steel blades. During the day he had met or overtaken many teams, and he had always gone past them like a whirlwind with head lowered and hands firmly clasped behind his back. When night shut down, he beheld a number of fires on the ice in coves along the shore, around which young people were circling and having a merry time. He halted at none of these, for a great inward urge was impelling him onward.
Drum had not remained long in Fredericton after delivering Mr. Tilley's message. The thought of that cave in the Valley of The Jaws filled his mind with a sense of deep responsibility. He longed to be back that he might watch the place and keep a sharp lookout for the Fenians. Down in his heart was a strong desire to capture the enemy himself. What a glorious thing it would be, and he believed that Nell would be proud of him. He wished to serve his country, and yet he well knew that it was the girl he loved who inspired him more than the spirit of patriotism. In a way, New Brunswick meant little to him. Canada was something vague, a name and nothing else. But Nell was a living, breathing personality, a combination of charms and contradictions. To him the ground on which she walked was almost sacred; her smile ravished him with joy; her frown filled him with despair.
It was this latter spirit which possessed him as he swept down the river. He could not forget that scene at The Three Elms when Nell had stood talking with the lawyer. He knew how impressed she must have been by the well-dressed young man, and no doubt she was thinking about him now. He had heard her express a desire for the city and a life different from that of the country. This was but a natural longing, he was well aware, and he did want her to be happy. But it brought to his heart a feeling of discouragement, akin to despair. What had he to offer such a girl? He was rough, and led a rough life, for running a wood-boat on the river in summer and trapping in winter were not the occupations of a man suited to a woman of Nell's disposition. The idea annoyed him, and the blood surged madly through his veins. He skated faster now, every ringing stroke telling of the agitated state of his heart and brain.
Ere long he came to a stretch of the river where the ice was weak, so it was necessary for him to keep close to the right bank. Unwary skaters had been entrapped there in the past, and careless drivers had lost their teams by venturing too far from the shore. Although daring by nature, Drum was most cautious when travelling upon the ice in winter. He knew that the river was a treacherous monster, subject to strange freaks, booming and roaring at times like an imprisoned spirit, and opening up a great yawning mouth here or there to drag down some helpless victim. Suddenly and unexpectedly such a crack would appear, several yards in width. A skater might pass over firm ice during the afternoon, and upon his return at night might have his way barred, and if not cautious, would find himself struggling for life in the icy water.
There were other places where the river was frozen only in extreme cold weather. This was due to smaller streams flowing into the larger one. Here the current was swift, and when the ice did form it was generally thin and deceptive. Such was the death-trap on Drum's left as he now moved very carefully forward. He had reached the lower end of the treacherous spot, and had struck out once more on his long swinging strides. A light far ahead had arrested his attention, and he knew its meaning. The young people of Maple Cove were enjoying themselves upon the ice directly in front of Squire Andrews' house. He surmised that Nell was there, for of all sports in which she indulged skating was her chief delight. Drum pictured her encircling that blazing pile, her companion, no doubt, being Seth Sloan, his most persistent rival for her affections.
Suddenly from the left came a wild cry for help. It rang out again and again, causing Drum to stop so quickly that the blades of his skates were in danger of being wrenched from their wooden tops as they ground sidewise along the ice and brought up with a sharp jerk. Keenly he peered through the darkness, and when another cry, fainter now, reached his ears, he leaped impetuously forward. Someone was over there in great danger, so he must do what he could to save him.
A few strong strokes brought him to a spot where he knew the ice was weak, so dropping upon his hands and knees he crept cautiously along. He called out for the distressed person to hold on as he was coming to his aid. In a few minutes he was able to detect an object in front of him which he soon learned was a small hand-sled. Beyond this came the voice, pleading for him to make haste. This he recognized as that of Andy Dooner, the old travelling shoemaker.
"Hold on, Andy," he shouted. "I'm almost there."
"Quick, quick," came the reply. "Oh!"
Drum knew that there was not a second to lose, so dropping full length upon the ice he worked himself forward until his right hand grasped the sled. This he pushed toward the unfortunate man, whose head and shoulders he could now discern.
"I can't go any closer, Andy," he said. "Hold fast to the sled and I shall try to pull you out. But don't get excited or you might pull me in."
Turning himself around as carefully as possible, Drum scored the blades of his skates into the thin ice and braced himself for a strong steady pull. Not a word was spoken, for both men realised the seriousness of the situation. Had the skates slipped, or had the bending ice given way, the two would have gone down to a watery grave. The perspiration stood out in beads upon Drum's forehead as he held firmly to the sled, pulling steadily all the time. Gradually it was drawn toward him, and soon he saw Andy's shoulders rising higher out of the water, then his body, and in another minute his entire length was sprawling upon the ice. Ordering the dripping man not to rise, Drum drew him as swiftly as possible over the smooth surface, well toward the shore. He then stopped and went to Andy's side.
"That was a close call," he remarked, looking down upon the prostrate form. "I thought you had more sense than to come here."
"It was a nigh-go, Drum, an' no mistake," Andy feebly replied. His body was shaking and his teeth chattering. "I was crossin' from Kingston an' thought I was furder down."
Seeing that he was suffering greatly from the cold, and that the water was freezing upon his clothes, Drum lifted him bodily and laid him upon the sled. He then stripped off his own outer coat and placed it around his shivering form.
"There, that will help a little," he declared as he picked up the sled-rope. "I must get you away from here at once."
"T-take me to S-squire A-ndrews', Drum. N-nell'll f-fix me up."
He paused, lifted his head, and looked around.
"W-where's me f-fiddle?" he cried. "Ah, t-there it is!"
He pointed to a black object dimly discernible on the left.
"G-get it, b-oy. I remember s-scootin' it thar w-when I w-went in."
Dropping the rope, Drum skated carefully back, picked up the box and returned to the sled.
"Here, take your precious fiddle," he laughingly said. "You were bound to save it, anyway."
Andy seized it eagerly and held it close.
"I-it's me b-best f-friend, me b-best f-friend," he murmured. "I c-couldn't lose me f-fiddle."
Drum knew that no more time was to be wasted, so again picking up the rope, he started forward at a rapid pace. Down the river he sped with the swirling sled at his heels, straight toward the fire still burning brightly in the cove. Ere long he was able to discern moving forms, and he felt certain that Nell was there. Nearer and nearer he approached, and finally glided into the flame-illumined circle. His presence, and the strange bundle on the sled, produced considerable interest, which was succeeded by much excitement when Andy Dooner's ice-clad form was exposed to view.
Drum hardly heard the questions that were being asked, as his eyes were searching the crowd for Nell. But she was nowhere to be seen, and he did not like to inquire for her. He was disappointed, and his thoughts flashed at once to the young lawyer he had seen at The Three Elms. Perhaps he had come for her, and they were off somewhere together. A light touch upon his arm caused him to glance quickly around. Standing by his side was Hettie Daggert, looking up into his face.
"She ain't here, Drum," she whispered. "She's out on the ice with Seth."
Drum started slightly at these words, astonished and annoyed that the girl had so truly read his thoughts. He made her no reply, however, but bidding several of the young men to help him, he started for the shore. He had barely reached the land, when Nell appeared, and with her Seth Sloan. Her cheeks were aglow with health and exercise, and her eyes bright with interest and concern as she looked down upon the man lying on the sled.
"What has happened, Andy?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"
"I was j-jist t-takin' a bath, N-Nellie, an' g-got beyond me d-depth."
"In the river?"
"Ay, ay, in the r-river. It's v-very s-stimulatin'."
"Why, you're freezing, Andy!" the girl exclaimed. "You must get up to the house at once. Your clothes are frozen stiff."
"It's me a-armour, N-Nellie, t-t-to protect me h-heart from the g-g-girls."
Nell laughed, and so did all who heard him. They knew that nothing could dampen the spirit of this tough little wiry man they had known from infancy. He was a vital part of every household for miles around. They were well acquainted with his thrilling experiences on river and land as he journeyed from place to place. This was not the first time he had been rescued from a hole in the ice, and it was common knowledge that he sometimes slept in a snow-bank when overtaken by a storm. But he always turned up with a smile on his wrinkled beardless face, and a joke upon his lips.
Having removed their skates, Drum and several young men lifted the shoemaker from the sled and bore him swiftly up to the house. They carried him to the door of the cellar-kitchen, and here Drum left them, for over that threshold he must not pass. Not even on such an occasion as this would he enter a building from which he had been repulsed and sternly ordered never to set foot there again. His proud Bluenose blood had been stirred, and not for worlds would he give Squire Andrews an opportunity to repeat the insult.
Slowly he made his way back to the river, and met Nell and Seth walking toward the house. They hardly noticed him, so interested were they in conversation. And Drum was in no mood for talking just then. He replaced his skates, and took several turns around the fire which was now dying down. Only a few of the skaters were there, most of them having gone home. Hettie Daggert was one of the few, and she was standing near several blazing embers trying to warm her thinly-clad body. Her eyes, filled with admiration, were fixed upon Drum, and an expression, almost of triumph, illumined her face. She watched him until he left and started off down river. She stood for a few minutes gazing thoughtfully upon the fire. At length she turned, looked up at the Andrews' house, and then glided away into the blackness of the night.
