Читать книгу The Fighting-Slogan - H. A. Cody - Страница 6

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The Valley of The Jaws lay shrouded in darkness as Drum Rowan stood on the summit of the hill above and looked back over the route he had just travelled. The spear-like points of innumerable pines, firs, and spruces were still faintly visible in the deepening gloom. A slight breath of wind winging up from the river caused them to tremble, which seemed to the watcher like an involuntary shudder. Perhaps it was a sigh drawn by that great lung of Nature. Anyway, it smote him in an ominous manner. The pain in his hand reminded him of the gripping jaws of the deadly steel trap. Was there a meaning in that accident? He thought of the rough cabin, and the cave with its store of ammunition. The entire valley, dark and silent, assumed a sinister aspect. There also came to his mind the weird stories told by Indians and old people of the neighbourhood. Was there something in such ideas, after all? He could not believe there was, and yet a peculiar sensation affected him such as he had never experienced before. It made him angry at himself, so with one more sweeping glance down over the valley, he left the ridge and plunged into the forest behind.

He walked rapidly, in keeping with the agitated state of his mind, until he reached an open space where wood-choppers had been at work. Here he stopped and looked around.

"Tom and Bill haven't done much of late, it seems to me," he remarked aloud. "Why, they haven't a cord of wood cut. We'll never get the boat loaded at this rate."

"I'm going to see what's the matter with them. Hettie may be able to do something for my hand. She'll have liniment, anyway."

Crossing to the opposite side of the little clearing, he entered upon a well-beaten wood-road. This he followed, and ere long came in sight of a small house nestling close to the edge of the forest. Smoke was pouring forth from the one chimney, and a feeble glimmer of light struggled through the only window on the northern side of the building. Nearby was a barn, in front of which was a sled loaded with cordwood.

It took Drum but a few minutes to reach the house, and in response to his rap, the door was slowly opened and a girl peered forth. Seeing the young man standing there, her eyes brightened, and a smile overspread her thin face. She pulled the door wide open, and stepped aside.

"Oh, it's you, Drum, is it?" she accosted.

"Yes, that's who it is, Hettie, and I hope supper is ready."

"It's a'most. I've jist got some more pancakes to fry. But, come in an' walk careful on that line."

She pointed to the floor, and Drum noticed a chalk mark extending from the door right up to the middle of the large open fire-place. The surprised expression upon his face caused the girl to laugh outright.

"Ye wonder what it's thar fer, I s'pose?"

"I certainly do, Hettie. Have you been learning to draw?"

"Should say not. Dad done it. Him an' Unc have fit, an' that line's thar to keep 'em apart."

"Het, what are ye yangin' 'bout?" an angry voice from near the fire asked. "Shet the door; us is freezin'."

Drum at once stepped inside, and the door was closed.

"Keep on the line," the girl reminded as he started to go forward. "Dad or Unc'll be mad; one or t'other, if ye don't."

Drum laughed as he obeyed and carefully watched his steps. He stopped when almost near the fire-place and looked at the two Daggert brothers, Bill seated on the left and Tom on the right. They were a queer looking pair, startling and ghoulish in appearance, with their long hair, unkempt beards, and black, bead-like eyes peering out from under great bushy eyebrows. Drum was never sure of the reception he would receive from these odd men. Sometimes they were effusive in their welcome, and again sullen and silent. But so accustomed was he to their varying moods that he treated them almost like children. He knew that they were always glad to see him, for with the exception of Andy Dooner, the shoemaker, known up and down the land as the "cat-whipper," he was the only visitor to their house. From him they heard some of the latest news of the parish for which they were always eager. This new freak of dividing the house by means of the chalk line was very amusing to Drum. He pretended to be most anxious lest he should make a mistake, so when he stopped, he looked first at Tom and then at Bill. As neither spoke, he turned to the girl who was following him.

"Bring me a chair, Hettie," he ordered. "I am going to stay right on this line and act as a judge between your father and uncle. You might also pull up that little table so I can eat my supper here."

When Hettie had complied with this request, she disappeared into an adjoining room, leaving Drum alone with the two brothers. His hand was hurting him, so pulling off his mitten, he examined the red mark caused by the jaws of the trap. The fingers were swollen, and these he rubbed with his right hand. The brothers watched him intently, but neither spoke. Their curiosity, however, was aroused, and this Drum knew.

"Have you any liniment?" he presently asked, turning to Tom. "I've hurt my hand."

"Lin'min? Yaas, got little," was the slow, drawling reply. "Het," he called, "where's that bot' lin'min?"

In another minute the girl reappeared. She wore a clean apron now, and her hastily-combed hair was adorned with a bright-red ribband. There was a slight flush in her white cheeks as she placed a bottle upon the table.

"My! you look fine, Hettie," Drum complimented. "Expecting your young man to-night?" he asked, as he pulled out the cork and bathed his injured hand.

"How did ye hurt it, Drum?" the girl inquired, while the flush on her cheeks deepened.

"Oh, caught it in a trap I was setting over there in the Jaws. I never did such a thing before."

A sudden expression of fear appeared in the girl's eyes, and her hands trembled, although she said nothing. She turned quickly away and began to stir some batter in a pan. Drum did not notice her peculiar manner, but continued rubbing his fingers.

"What's the matter with you men, anyway?" he asked looking straight at Tom.

"Us have fit," was the reply. "Us can't agree, so us part."

"What have you been fighting about?"

"Work. Bill won't do nuthin' but set in the house all the time."

"Tom's a liar," Bill retorted. "Tom won't work, so us fit."

The two men relapsed into silence and glared at each other across the room. Drum did not know what to say. He watched Hettie holding the griddle over the hot coals, and noticed how deftly she turned the pancakes by giving them a slight toss into the air.

"You do that well, Hettie," he remarked. "I suppose you get plenty of practice."

"Lots of it, Drum. Too much, I guess. But Dad an' Unc kin do their own cookin' after this if they don't behave theirselves. I'm sick of so much fightin'. They're jist like two babies."

"Het, you shet up," her father sternly ordered.

"I won't shet up, Dad. I've shet up too long a'ready, an' now I'm goin' to have my say."

The girl had risen from her stooping position and was standing in a defiant attitude with her back to the fire. She held the hot griddle in her right hand which she waved in a threatening manner.

"Be careful, Hettie, or you'll lose that pancake," Drum warned. "I'm as hungry as a bear, so don't quit before you give me something to eat."

"I'll give you yer supper, Drum," and a softer light came into the girl's eyes as she spoke. "But I don't care if Dad an' Unc gits any or not. It's a good starvin' they need."

Drum was not surprised at these words, for he was well aware of Hettie's temper and sharp tongue. He had heard her make similar threats before, but they had never amounted to anything. What did give him cause for wonder, though, was the little that her father said in reply, while Bill never opened his mouth. This was unusual, for when Hettie became excited there was generally a regular babel of words, until the three ceased for want of breath. Then when the blow-out ended they seemed to be perfectly satisfied, and forgot all about their squabble. But now it was different. Tom and Bill were not inclined to talk. They ate their supper in silence, keeping, however, a keen watch upon each other. When through they filled and lighted their black clay pipes, and appeared to pay no more heed to their visitor.

Drum enjoyed the pancakes, and Hettie reserved the largest and the well-browned ones for him. Although the molasses was black and not of the best quality, and the tea very strong, he ate with a hearty relish, and when he had finished he thanked the girl for the meal.

"If I'd a knowed ye was comin', Drum, I'd had some moose steak fer supper," she informed him. "But I didn't want to git it jist fer Dad an' Unc. They never thank me. All they do is scold."

The girl was seated now opposite the young man, with her elbows resting upon the table, and her hands supporting her chin. She was looking into Drum's face, and her inmost soul was expressed in her large dark eyes. Those eyes she had inherited from her mother, and they were the only marks of outward beauty that Hettie Daggert possessed.

Drum, however, was not thinking about the girl at all, although he was looking straight at her face. He was thinking how he might arouse Tom and Bill from their moody silence. He longed to tell them of the discovery he had made in the valley. That surely would excite them. But he was determined not to divulge the secret until he had reached the city and consulted with the one man upon whom he felt he could rely for sound practical advice. He wondered if he could scare these men into conversation. He would try, anyway. Rising to his feet, he turned to Tom.

"I must be going now before it gets too dark," he announced. "Some of those Fenians might be prowling around, and no one can tell what might happen. They are getting very lively across the Border, so I hear. Now, I don't like the appearance of that valley to-night, and wouldn't be a bit surprised if some of the Fenians come that way. It's always been a spooky place to me, but never so much as to-night. It was shivering and shuddering just like a frightened creature."

These words had the desired effect, for the two brothers at once left their chairs and came up close to the chalk line. Hettie also rose and stood leaning against the table, her body trembling violently and her face white with fear.

"Did ye say the Fenyuns are in the valley?" Tom asked in a voice that was little more than a hoarse whisper. "Did ye see 'em? Was 'em comin' this way?"

"Now, don't get frightened," Drum advised, amused at the excitement his words had caused. "I didn't say that the Fenians are there, remember. I only meant that it was a likely route for them to take when they attack us."

"Will 'em attack us?" Bill asked. "Will us have to fight 'em?"

"I cannot say, but it is just as well to be prepared. Have you any guns?"

"Yaas, us has three guns an' an ol' pistol," Tom replied. "But us have big fists, an' us hit hard." He waved his clenched hands in the air to give emphasis to his words.

"That's good, Tom. But you and Bill had better use your fists against the Fenians instead of against each other."

"Tom hit first," Bill declared, touching his right eye which was somewhat swollen.

"And then you two went at it. Who won?"

"Us both fit an' us both won," Tom replied.

"They fit until they couldn't fight any longer," Hettie explained. "I had to pull 'em apart. It was right out thar by the barn. They're both fools, that's what they are."

"So the chalk line was made there to keep them apart, eh? Look here, why don't you men quit such nonsense?" Drum suggested. "Rub out that line and be friends again. The sooner you unite and get ready to fight the Fenians, the better it will be."

"Us kin fight jist as well as us be," Tom replied. "If us be friends an' the Fenyuns don't come, us'll have to fight, anyway. Us couldn't live without fightin'. Us have fit ever since us was babies, an' it comes nat'ral."

"What a glorious time you must have, Tom."

"Yaas, it does liven things up a bit. Then when Het takes a hand thar's somethin' doin', a'right. Het's got claws like a cat when it comes to scratchin'."

"What a happy family, Tom. How proud you must be of yourselves."

Drum looked upon the three standing near him, and his heart stirred with anger at the two creatures in the forms of men. For the girl he had only sympathy, knowing full well the hardness of her lot.

"When do you expect to get busy cutting that cordwood?" he abruptly asked. "You haven't delivered any for three days. The boat will never be loaded at that rate."

"Us'll never get the wood cut," Tom sullenly replied. "Bill won't work."

"Tom won't work," Bill growled, glaring over at his brother. "Us'll never do nuthin'."

"But you agreed with us to cut the wood, and we are supplying you with provisions. You get what you want at the store, don't you?"

"'Deed we do," Hettie declared. "An' I tote everything we eat. I go twice a week, while Dad an' Unc jist set in the house. If they ain't fightin' with their fists, they're fightin' with their tongues. I'm sick of 'em both."

"Perhaps the Fenians will stir them up, Hettie. I guess it will need some shock like that to make any change. I'm going now, but let me tell you men this, that you will get nothing more at the store through us until you hurry up and deliver that wood as fast as you can. My father will agree with me in this, for he has lost all patience with you."

Drum turned and walked to the door. He did not try to follow the line now, for he was greatly annoyed. Much depended upon getting the boat loaded while the hauling was good, and now the two men upon whom they relied were falling down on the job. Hettie followed him, and when outside, she shut the door behind her, and laid her right hand lightly upon his arm.

"Don't go 'way mad, Drum," she pleaded.

"And who wouldn't be mad, Hettie, at such men?"

"I know it, Drum, I know it. But ye'll come ag'in, won't ye? It's awful lonesome here."

"Perhaps so."

"An', Drum——"

"Yes? What is it?"

"Keep away from The Jaws. Don't go thar, oh, don't!"

"Why?"

"'Cause 'tain't safe. Something might happen thar."

Drum laughed at these words, but the girl clutched his arm with a firmer grip, and looked up into his face.

"The cranes had their nests thar last summer, Drum, an' that means bad luck."

"That's all nonsense."

"'Tain't, Drum, I tell ye. The summer afore ma died the cranes was thar. They didn't come ag'in until the year Joe Slater shot himself when huntin'. An' they was thar last summer. Oh, I know it means bad luck, so stay away."

"What makes you think that anything will happen to me if I go there, Hettie?"

"I can't tell ye, Drum. But keep 'way from The Jaws."

Her hand dropped from his arm, she shivered, and with a partly-suppressed sob, she darted back into the house and closed the door.