Читать книгу The Fighting-Slogan - H. A. Cody - Страница 9
ОглавлениеAN ICY SPILL
There was ice everywhere. It stretched up and down the river farther than the eye could see. It shimmered and sparkled beneath the sun, a veritable miniature of the "sea of glass" in the Apocalypse of Patmos John. Even the trees along the shore reflected forth a glistening glory from their bending ice-laden branches. It was a fairy world thus presented to view, a striking contrast to the grim desolation of rain, sleet, and wind of a few days before.
It was hard ice, for the day was cold, with a keen wind whipping in from the west. The sharp steel caulks of two horses struck the glassy-like surface with rhythmical resounding thuds. They were farm horses, noble animals, sleek and well-kept, the nigh a jet black, and the off a dark bay. Flakes of froth flew from their champing mouths as they lowered and tossed their heads in their steady swinging onward movement. The big sled they were drawing was heavily loaded, but it slipped along the ice with scarcely any effort on their part.
Squire James Andrews was proud of these horses. He had raised them from colts, and had broken them to harness. He knew all their quirks and fancies, and seldom let anyone else handle the reins. Next to his family they were nearest to his heart, although his wife once remarked that she believed he thought more of his horses than he did of her and the children.
But on this cold winter afternoon Squire Andrews' mind was not so much upon his horses as formerly. He was thinking about some disturbing news he had heard that day in the city. His daughter, seated by his side, noticed that he was unusually restless, but not until they had left the land and were well out upon the river did she make any comment.
"Are you cold, father?" she asked.
"Cold! Why, no. What makes you think I am, Nell?"
"From the way you have been pulling down your cap and pounding your hands together."
"Oh, it's not the cold, Nell, that's bothering me, but something I heard in the city this afternoon about the Fenians. They're coming, and no mistake. Why, they're getting ready to attack us, and even now have supplies of ammunition stored in this province."
"Where, father?"
"I do not know, but the news is all around the city. I couldn't find out where the stores are kept, for that seems to be a secret. I don't know what this country's coming to, Nell. It's bad enough having Tilley and his gang ready to betray us with their union scheme, but now with the Fenians about to land upon us, things look blacker than ever."
"But will not our soldiers be able to drive the Fenians back, father? They have been drilling for some time, have they not?"
"Umph! little good will they be against those trained men from across the Border who have had so much experience in the Civil War. It is reported that the Fenians are the most dare-devil fighters that ever handled gun or sword. They love fighting, and now that they are out of a job in their own country, they want to come and capture Canada. They tried to take Ireland, but Old England was up to their tricks and stopped them. They then turned their eyes upon us as the next best thing. Dear me! dear me! I never expected to see such times."
"Don't feel too badly, father," Nell replied. "I am sure that our soldiers will be able to defeat them. The young men up our way are good marksmen."
"Oh, they'll run like a flock of sheep when the Fenians get after them."
"Tom won't, anyway, and there are others just like him," Nell stoutly defended.
"No, Tom's not a coward, Nell, and that's what's worrying me. They'll take him, my only son, and most likely he'll get killed the first thing. If they'd take the useless ones and leave the others home, I wouldn't mind. Now, there's Drum Rowan, for instance. I met him on the street to-day, and he was doing nothing as usual, just sauntering along, gazing in at the shop windows. If they'd take good-for-nothings like him, and leave hard-working boys like Tom at home there would be some sense."
Nell made no reply, but a flush of indignation came into her cheeks which her father did not notice owing to the hood which partly covered her face. She, too, had met Drum that day, and the memory of their conversation as they walked along the street was still fresh in her mind. She resented the words she had just heard, for no matter how idle and careless Drum might be, his upright manliness always appealed to her. She understood him better than did her father and others who criticised him. Perhaps if people were in the habit of speaking more kindly about him, it might have made a difference. But Nell Andrews had a mind of her own, so the fact that Drum Rowan was considered somewhat wild by the steady-going people of the neighbourhood tended to enhance him all the more in her estimation.
"I hear there's going to be a political meeting up our way next week," Mr. Andrews remarked after a few minutes' silence. "Some able speakers are coming to Glendale, and I hope they'll open the eyes of some of our neighbours."
"Is Mr. Tilley coming?" Nell asked.
"Tilley! I should say not. He knows better than to come there with his Confederation twaddle. He's been almost everywhere in the province except at Glendale."
"I should like to hear him, father, for I believe he is a good man, and has the welfare of his country at heart. He is a fighter, too, and that is the kind of a man I like."
"Why, Nell!" her father exclaimed in surprise, "what's come over you, anyway? I never heard you talk this way before. But, then, you're only a woman, so you can't understand things as men do."
"Perhaps not," and the girl gave a slight sigh. "But I know that Mr. Tilley is a man to be trusted, and that is more than can be said about some of his opponents."
"Trusted!" Mr. Andrews spoke the word so sharply that the horses pricked up their ears and quickened their pace. "Would you trust a man who is trying to betray his country, and bring dire ruin upon us? What will become of us all if his Confederation scheme is carried? We'll be beggars, turned out of house and home."
Their attention was now diverted by the sound of a great jingle of bells, and looking back, they saw four horses following them at a high rate of speed, drawing a sleigh loaded with men. Intuitively Mr. Andrews lifted his whip, for the sporting instinct was strong within him, and he disliked the idea of being passed by the approaching team. He resisted the temptation, however, and lowered his whip-hand.
"It's only a bunch of idiots out on a spree," he growled. "Listen to their yelps."
Nell was already listening, and what she heard was pleasing to her ears. Strong male voices were lifted up in the chorus of the popular song,
"Thou art going far away,
Far away from poor Janette."
The four steaming horses seemed to enter into the spirit of the singers, and with outstretched necks were clipping along at a rapid pace. When opposite the slow-moving farm team, the men ceased their song, and waved their mittened hands.
"Want a lift?" one laughingly asked.
"We can't keep dinner waiting," another called out.
"Good-bye," several shouted, as the sleigh swept past.
"Why, they're a bunch of city lawyers," Mr. Andrews declared. "They're out for a time, and it looks to me as if they've been drinking. That's all the good Tilley's liquor bill did."
"But it shut up two hundred taverns in the city, didn't it, father?" Nell asked. "That must have been some good."
"Umph! Oh, yes, they were closed for a short time, but it didn't stop people from drinking. You have an example there in that bunch of lawyers. They're off for The Three Elms, I suppose, to have a regular blow-out. I wish we didn't have to stop there, for I don't want to meet them. But the horses must be fed, so it can't be helped. But hello! what's up now?"
Nell lifted her eyes at her father's exclamation and noticed that there was trouble among the gay party ahead. The cause was soon apparent. The driver had swung his horses somewhat sharply to the left to avoid striking a log frozen into the ice. And as he did so, the sleigh began to slue, and swept by the wind, it was circling sideways over the ice. The driver made frantic efforts to straighten out his team, and the horses struggled desperately to hold their load. But the momentum of the sleigh was too great and they were nearly carried off their feet as they staggered helplessly to the left. Then suddenly there came a sharp impact against the embedded log. There was crash, and in another instant the right side of the sleigh dropped, crumpling up beneath it the splintered knees of the long, lean steel-shod runner. At the same time the men shot forth from their seats, some like swimmers taking to water, and others resembling bears rolling and tumbling over one another in a confused heap.
When the crash came Nell gave a cry of fright, and impulsively clutched her father's left arm. But when she saw the lawyers sprawling upon the ice, a smile overspread her face. The men did look so funny as they scrambled to their knees and tried to stand upright. But the ice was so slippery and the wind so strong, that when they attempted to walk they went down again with vigorous bumps. And there they sat, some glaring at one another, and others berating the driver for his carelessness. The latter, however, paid no heed to their abuse, for his attention was taken up entirely with restraining his excited horses.
In the meantime Mr. Andrews had pulled up his team close by the scattered men, and watched them for a minute or two in amused silence. He was enjoying this unexpected outcome to the merry sleighing party.
"What are you trying to do?" he asked in apparent surprise. "Holding Court, eh? It's a funny place, it seems to me. And all legal lights, too! My, what a happy time you are having."
Instead of being annoyed at these bantering words, the lawyers laughed heartily. They now saw the humor of the situation, and were ready to make the best of their awkward and humiliating predicament.
"We have just concluded the evidence for the defence and have decided to adjourn," one of the men replied. "Our appetites require something more nourishing than legal disputations, so if you will convey us to the hostel, commonly known as 'The Three Elms,' where our repast is awaiting us, we shall be greatly obliged."
"Want a lift, eh?" Mr. Andrews queried. "Well, as you so kindly offered one to me a little while ago, I can't refuse you the same courtesy. You'll have to hang on to the sides, though, for there is no room on top of this load."
The lawyers at once started for the sled, some crawling on their hands and knees, and others walking precariously over the slippery ice. Dignity was out of the question, and Mr. Andrews watched them with twinkling eyes.
"Oh, if poor Janette could only see you now," he remarked. "A few minutes ago you were all yelping about being so far away from her. But I guess you're mighty glad she isn't anywhere in sight at this present minute."
With considerable difficulty the lawyers reached the sled, where they stood on the thick runners and held fast to anything upon which they could get a firm grip with their hands. And there they clung, with the wind whipping about their bodies and chilling them to the bones. They shivered, and their teeth chattered as they begged Mr. Andrews to drive faster.
"I thought you men had enough of fast driving," he replied. "These horses are not accustomed to speeding. They only know a good steady walk, and if more people would follow their example there wouldn't be so much trouble in life. But they'll get us there, all right, so just tighten up your belts, keep your teeth in your jaws, and stick to the sled."
