The Raid From Beausejour; And How The Carter Boys Lifted The Mortgage by Charles G. D. Roberts

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"Yes," exclaimed Ted, "I get hold of the idea now. And when the warping
dikes have got their work in, what then?"

"Why, we'll dike the whole cove in. A short bit of dike from that corner
straight across to the point will do it. We'll be able to get at it in a
couple of months; and then, if you and I can't put the job through before
the ground gets frozen, why, I'll hire help, that's all!"

"But it's a pretty big contract you're giving us, isn't it?" queried Ted,
doubtfully. "Those warping dikes you're talking of look to me like an
all summer's job. What'll they be like, anyway?"

"O, they'll be very slight. We can run them, with the help of old Jerry
to haul for us, in less than no time, working evenings and wet days.
We'll just lay lines of brush a foot high, and pile heavy stones along
the top to keep it in place. Then we can raise them a little higher as
the place fills up!"

"O!" murmured Ted, greatly relieved. "I thought we'd have to _dig_
them all, like the other dikes."

After this the boys' talk was of nothing but deposits and warping
dikes and scouring. Their evenings and rainy days, usually spent in
their mother's company and in study, were now devoted to the labor of
hauling stones and brush down to the shore of the cove. To Mrs. Carter
they explained the scheme, but without reference to its connection
with Mr. Israel Hand. She grasped its possibilities at once, being
clear-headed except where her prejudices were involved.

"How many acres do you expect to reclaim?" she inquired, after praising
Will's sagacity warmly.

"Well," said Will, "of course we won't have it surveyed till the work's
done and we are sure of the property; but I have an idea it will go a
good ten acres, or maybe twelve."

"And good diked land, or _ma'sh_ as these people call it, is worth
about two hundred dollars an acre, isn't it?" went on Mrs. Carter.

"_This_ will be, in two or three years, anyway," answered Will,
"for it will be _deep_ marsh, alluvial to the bottom and permanently
fertile."

"And what do you suppose it ought to be worth next year, as soon as
it's diked in?" asked Ted.

"O," said Will, carelessly, "maybe a hundred and fifty, or ten better,
perhaps!"

"Dear boys," said Mrs. Carter, "if all goes well you'll both be able
to get through college, perhaps. I must keep on steadily with Ted's Latin
this fall and winter. Dear me, I'm so sorry I let them laugh me out of my
desire to study Greek when I was a girl. I could be so useful to you both
now if I'd learnt it!"

"Don't you worry about that, muz," said Ted, jumping up to kiss her.
"If you plug me up in my Latin, we'll find some way to manage about
the Greek time enough!"

When haying was over there was a slack time on the farm for a few weeks,
and these few weeks sufficed the boys, working with eager energy, to get
all the warping dikes laid down. To avoid the nuisance of neighbors'
questionings, the idea occurred to Ted of sticking up stakes at intervals
along the rows of brush and stone. When these stakes were connected
at the tops by binders, they looked like the framework of a long and
elaborate series of fish weirs. Gaspereaux were fairly abundant in the
creek at certain seasons, so there was nothing unreasonable in the
supposition. But the dwellers in Frosty Hollow laughed hugely.

"Them Carter boys thinks they knows everything," was the universal
comment, "but they don't know the first thing about how to run a fish
weir. Why, them there weirs 'll shet every gaspereaux aout o' the cove,
'n 'tain't much of a place fur gaspereaux, anyways!"

When such remarks were tendered to the boys they would merely reply,
"You just wait till you see how our way works. If it doesn't work
the way we expect, then maybe it'll be time enough to try your way!"
The experiment interested the village for a few weeks, and at length
died out of notice.

It was utterly eclipsed, indeed, by a topic of profounder interest.
The village learned that Mr. Hand was foreclosing his mortgage, and
that the Carters were to be sold out the ensuing spring. Some of the
people were sympathetic, but others, resenting Mrs. Carter's proud
exclusiveness, took a malicious delight in the near prospect of her
humiliation.

Roused at last to a sense of the reality of the danger, Mrs. Carter,
who was quite too busy at her buttermaking and other indoor farmwork
to spare time for her threatened visit to Barchester, wrote urgently
to the Hon. Mr. Germain. The boys posted her letter, from which they
knew nothing could come, and then went to comfort themselves with a
sight of the way the silt was piling up inside their warping dikes.

The growth of the deposit had exceeded their most sanguine expectations.
Early in August they decided that it was time to begin the permanent
dike, the "running dike," as it was called in local parlance. That same
day came a letter from Mr. Germain. When the boys came in to tea they
found their mother in tears of indignation and despair.

"_There's_ what he says!" exclaimed she, pointing to the open letter,
which she had laid on Will's plate. "I do think things have come
to a strange pass in these days. I _certainly_ never dreamed that
Charles Germain could change like the rest!"

"Never mind, mother dear," said Will, soothingly. "We're not in our
last ditch yet. Trust me!"

And taking up the letter he read aloud for Ted's benefit:

"_My dear Mrs. Carter_: Believe me, it gives me great grief to learn
of the difficulties you are in, and to feel myself so powerless to
render you assistance. I feel bound to tell you that Mr. Hand, if I
understand your letter, is entirely within his rights. You would
have not a shadow of a case against him in the courts. There is but
one way of escape from the penalty, and that is by payment of your
indebtedness to him. In this, alas! I cannot help you at all adequately,
as I have lately suffered such losses that I am just now financially
embarrassed. Even had you good security to offer I could not lend you
the sum you need, as my own borrowing powers (this strictly between
ourselves) are just now taxed to their utmost. I think I can, however,
offer one of your boys a position in my office on a small salary; and
for the other I could, perhaps, within the next few months, obtain a
situation in the Exchange Bank of this town. This, perhaps, would
relieve your most pressing anxieties, and it would be a great pleasure
to me to serve you.

"Yours, with sincerest regards and sympathy,
CHARLES GERMAIN."

"That's a jolly nice letter!" exclaimed Ted.

"Yes, mother," said Will, handing it back to her, "I don't see anything
the matter with that."

Mrs. Carter drew herself up proudly. "Don't you see," said she, "that he
_puts me off!_ I asked him to extricate me from this difficulty, to
defend for me _my rights!_ In reply he offers me, as if I were a beggar,
employment for my sons. Practically, he takes the part of old Hand.
O, I've no patience with such men! I'm serious!"

"Well, mother, you must allow," said Will, "that if Mr. Germain says so,
it's no use thinking of going to law against old Hand, is it? As for
Mr. Germain's kind offer to find places for Ted and me, why, if the worst
comes to the worst, that wouldn't be _too_ bad. We could live pretty
comfortably in Barchester with our little salaries and your clever
housekeeping. But maybe we won't have to leave here after all! _That's_
what Ted and I have been up to all summer. We anticipated that Mr. Germain
would disappoint you; but we wouldn't say so. Our plan is to _sell the
new marsh_, when we get it diked in, and with the proceeds pay off Hand's
mortgage with all the arrears of interest. There ought to be something
left over, too!"

"But I was proposing--I wanted to deed that piece of marsh to you boys!"
objected Mrs. Carter, in a voice of mingled gratification and doubt.

"O, muz!" answered Will, putting his arm around her, "what do we want
of it? The whole farm is ours, in that it's yours. That's all we want
the new marsh for--just to clear off the mortgage. And we're going
to do it, too! We begin work on the running dike to-morrow."

"You are two dear, good boys!" exclaimed their mother, tenderly. "If only
your poor father could have lived! How proud he would have been of both
of you!" And her eyes filled with tears. Next day Will and Ted armed
themselves with diking spades, and set to work determinedly. They had
the old horse, Jerry, on the spot, harnessed to a light cart, ready
to haul material as wanted. They began at the lower end of the cove,
building upward from the corner of the old dike. Their purpose in this
was to keep the scouring in check. By this method of procedure they
would have the final outlet (usually so difficult to close) located
at the shallowest part of the cove. There would thus, as soon as the
dike extended a little distance, be some water left behind after every
flood tide, and there would be so much less to make violent escape
with the ebb. If there should be left, finally, more imprisoned water
than the sun could well evaporate that autumn, Will explained to Ted
that it would be a simple matter to drain it off and close up the
outlet between tides.

At the end of the first day's work Mrs. Carter came down to note
progress, and was shown several feet of sound, shapely dike, with
planks and large stones laid on the exposed end as a protection against
the tide. A little calculation showed that it would be quite feasible,
with perhaps a week or so of hired help toward the last, to finish
the dike before hard weather should set in.

Everybody now at the yellow cottage on the hill was cheerful in the
hope of speedy success. To their ears the clamor of the ebbing and
flowing tides was a jubilant music. Their loved "crick" was becoming
their friend-in-need. Its unctuous red flats acquired a new beauty
in their eyes, and the mighty, sweeping tides they came to regard
as the embodiment of their good genius.

With the rapidly growing dike all went swimmingly for a time. But the
neighbors were now completely undeceived. Though nettled at their former
dullness, they could not but applaud the ingenuity of the scheme;
and they rather approved the reticence which the boys had observed
in the matter.

Among the villagers, however, there was one who did not like the
turn affairs were taking. Mr. Hand perceived that he might yet be
defeated in his effort to gain possession of the Carters' farm.
He was an astute old man, if he _didn't_ at first understand the
warping dikes.

His first step was to threaten Will with proceedings to stop the work.
He owned the marsh on the opposite side of the creek, and he claimed
that the building of the new dike would so alter the channel that his
property would be endangered. Will presently proved to him, beyond
cavil, that the slight deflection of the currents would only throw
the scouring force of the stream against a point of rocky upland,
some hundreds of yards below his marsh, where it could not possibly
do any harm. Then Mr. Hand professed himself entirely satisfied,
and departed to devise other weapons.

By the middle of September the dike extended more than halfway across
the mouth of the cove, and the work was daily growing easier. The
facing of the water front, of course, was being left to do afterwards,
when the weather should be unfit for digging.

One morning, after a very high tide, the boys came down to find a
good ten feet or more of their work washed away. They were terribly
cast down.

"How on earth did it happen?" groaned Ted. "Do you suppose we didn't
protect the end properly?"

"I don't see any other explanation," said Will, gloomily.

"But if the stones were _swept_ off by the tide," exclaimed Ted, with
sudden significance, "wouldn't they be lying to one side or the other?
These look as if they had been pulled off!"

"By the great horn spoon, you've hit it, young one!" cried Will,
excited beyond his wont. "Good for you! The tide never did it! Some
one has been helping the tide!"

"Will Hen Baizley!" declared Ted. "I shouldn't wonder a bit!" said
Will. "Well, Ted, there's nothing to do but go to work and build it
up again. And to-night, why, we'll 'lay for him,' that's all!"

Doggedly and wrathfully the boys toiled all day. At tea they told
their mother what had occurred. Mrs. Carter was furious. But when
Will declared their intention of watching that night for the depredator,
her anger vanished in fear. At first she forbid positively all thought
of such a thing. Will declared that he _must_ do it--it simply had to
be done. Thereupon she said she would forbid Ted going. At this Ted
burst forth indignantly.

"What, mother, would you have me leave Will all alone out there?"
An idea which was, of course, to Mrs. Carter intolerable. She forgot
to be imperative; she became appealing.

"But, muz," said Will, reassuringly, "there is no danger at all. You
can trust me, can't you? Ted and I will each take a good, big club,
and if, as we think, it is Will Hen Baizley, we'll give him a pounding
that will keep him civil for a while."

"But what if he should have some ruffians with him?" urged the mother.

"Well, just to be safe, _I'll_ take my gun, so as to be able to give
them a scare, you know. But Ted is so impetuous and bloodthirsty
that he'd better not take anything but a club!"

"O, dear me! I suppose you _will_ go!" said Mrs. Carter. "But at least
you must wrap up warm and take something in your pockets to eat!"

Just about dark the boys betook themselves to the lower corner of the
new dike. Under the shelter of the old dike they fixed themselves
a hiding place of brush and grass. From this point they could see
distinctly the figure of anyone approaching across the marsh. When
they were comfortably established Ted inquired:

"Say, old fellow, have you got your gun loaded?"

"No!" whispered Will.

"Why not?" asked Ted, anxiously.

"You don't suppose I want to shoot anybody, do you?" said Will. "I've
got both barrels loaded with powder and wadding, so I can scare them
out of their wits. And I've some bird shot in my pocket, to pepper
their legs with if I should have to!"

"O!" said Ted.

The boys talked for perhaps an hour, in a cautious undertone, not
audible ten feet off by reason of the rushing and hissing and clamoring
of the incoming tide. Then they were silent for a while. At length Ted
murmured:

"O, I say, but I'm getting sleepy. Can't you let me go to sleep for
a bit? Wake me in an hour, and I'll let you snooze."

"S't!" whispered Will, laying his hand on his brother's arm. "I heard
something splash in that pool yonder!"

The boys noiselessly raised their eyes to a level with the top of the
dike. At first they could see nothing. Then they detected a shadowy
figure making for the place where they had last been at work.

CHAPTER IV.

A RESCUE AND A BATTLE.

"He's alone!" whispered Ted. "Shall we jump on him?"

"Hold on; wait till he gets to work," said Will. "Then, if we catch
him in the act, he can't make any excuse, but just take his medicine
like a man!"

"It's Baizley, eh?" murmured Ted.

At this moment they heard the stones and planks being pulled off the
end of the dike. Then came the sound of a spade thrust into the clay
with violence.

"Now," exclaimed Will, "let's onto him! let me get hold of him first,
and then you take a hand in."

Grasping their clubs, and leaving the gun lying by their nest, the
boys slipped over the dike and dashed upon the marauder. So occupied
was the latter with his nefarious task that he heard nothing till
the boys were within ten feet of him. Then he started up, and raised
his spade threateningly.

"Drop that, Baizley, or I'll blow a hole in you!" cried Will, springing
at his neck.

At this instant the silent figure flung itself adroitly off the dike,
dropping the spade and eluding Will's grasp. It started swiftly across
the muddy flat, the two boys close on its heels.

For a few yards the boys just held their own. Then Ted, being the
swifter, forged ahead. In a few seconds more he overtook the fugitive,
sprang upon his neck, and bore him headlong to the ground. The next
moment, before either could recover, Will had come up, and his iron
grip was on the stranger's throat.

"No nonsense, now," said Will, in a voice that carried conviction,
at the same time tapping the fellow's cranium lightly with his club.
"If you don't want the life half pounded out of you, keep still!"

The fellow lay quiet, only gasping:

"Don't choke me!"

Will relaxed his grip, and then exclaimed to Ted, in astonishment:

"Why, it ain't Baizley!"

"Course, it ain't!" growled the fallen one, sullenly, appearing
indignant at the imputation.

"Sit up, and let's look at the fellow that goes round nights cutting
people's dikes!" commanded Will.

The fellow turned over on his face.

"Sit up!" repeated Will, in a cold voice, which sounded as if he was
in earnest.

"Why," exclaimed Ted. "If it isn't Jim Hutchings!"

"Old Hand's man, eh? I begin to smell a mouse," said Will, sarcastically.

"It's as plain as a pikestaff!" almost shouted Ted. "It's old Hand
that ought to get the licking we were going to give you. But we'll
have to pound you a little for his sake and your own too!"

"No, Hutchings," said Will, after a moment's thought. "You deserve
a licking, but we'll let you off. Only take warning. I'll blame old
Hand this time, and you can let him know he's likely to hear from us
about this, and about last night's work. But as for you, if we catch
you fooling round this dike again, you'll be sorry as long as you live.
We're on the watch for you and the likes of you. And over yonder I've
got my gun, in case there were more than one of you in the scrape."

"We've loaded her up, both barrels," said Ted, maliciously, "with
big charges of bird shot, so she'll scatter well and everybody get
his share!"

By this time Jim Hutchings was on his feet.

"Now clear out!" was Will's peremptory direction.

Hutchings started back toward the dike to get his spade.

"No, you don't," laughed Ted. "That's confiscated!'"

"Never mind the spade!" said Will, firmly, as Hutchings hesitated.
"We'll keep it and try and find some use for it!"

The fellow would have liked to contest the point, but he remembered
the feeling of Will's grip. With an oath he turned on his heel and
made for the uplands. Then the boys went back to the dike, possessed
themselves of the spade, and repaired the slight damage that had
been done.

"Shall we stay any longer?" asked Ted, again getting sleepy.

"No, I fancy we won't be bothered this way any more!" answered Will.
"At all events, Jim Hutchings won't come back!" And he chuckled to
himself.

Will proved right. The dike was no more molested. By the middle of October
it was within two or three yards of completion. At the gap the ground
was high, so that at ordinary tides there was small outflow and inflow.
Two or three days more of satisfactory work, and the new marsh would be
an accomplished fact Will and Ted were in a fever of anxiety, day and
night, lest something should happen at the last to mar their plans.
Above all, they had a vague dread of some sinister move on the part
of Mr. Hand.

Just at this time it happened that old Jerry lost a shoe. Ted was away
in the woods looking for a stray cow, so Will had to take the horse
down into the village to the blacksmith.

On his return, about the middle of the forenoon, he passed a field in
which Will Hen Baizley was at work digging a ditch. Along the foot of
the field ran a clear trout brook, into which it was evidently the
intention to drain a little swamp which lay further up the slope. Near
where Baizley was digging, the brook widened out into a sandy-bottomed,
sunny pool, in which the minnows were always darting and flickering.

Not far off stood the house of Mr. Israel Hand, where he guarded
the one being he was supposed to love, his little four-year-old orphan
grandson. Whether or not he cared for anyone else, it would be hard
to say; but there was no questioning the fact that he absolutely
worshiped Toddles, as the baby was called. The little one was a
blue-eyed, chubby, handsome lad, with long yellow curls and an unlimited
capacity for mischief.

As Will passed along the road he saw Toddles playing in the field where
Baizley was digging. Presently he was tickled to observe that the child
had discovered Baizley's tin dinner pail, hidden in a clump of raspberry
bushes. The mischievous little rascal promptly emptied the contents out
upon the sward, and then, with his chubby hands full of cheese and
pumpkin pie, scampered over to the edge of the pool.

"Pitty pishies! give pishies 'eir dinner! Pishies! Pishies!" cried
the gleeful little voice; and splash into the pool went the cheese
and pumpkin pie, frightening the "pishies" nearly out of their wits.

Will exploded with laughter; and at the same moment Baizley, looking
up from his work, discovered the fate that had befallen his dinner.

Now Will Hen Baizley was in an unusually bad temper. Digging ditches
was not a labor he was accustomed to, and it made his back ache. In his
best of humors he was a coarse and heartless bully. On this occasion
he was filled with rage against the baby depredator. Toddles had annoyed
him on several previous occasions, and just now Will's laughter was the
one thing best calculated to sting his annoyance into fury. With a roar
that frightened Toddles into instant silence, he rushed forward and
grabbed the child, giving him a violent cuff on the side of the head.

It happened that Mr. Hand was looking out of the window of his house
on the hillside and saw all that happened. With a hoarse cry of rage
and terror he rushed out to the rescue. But the house was three or four
hundred yards away, and his old knees trembled beneath him as he thought
of what the little one might suffer before he could get there.

The poor little fellow was dazed by the blow, and could not get his
breath to scream. The next moment Baizley had seized him by the legs
and soused him in the pool. When he came out again he found his voice,
and a long shriek of pain and terror went through Mr. Hand's heart
like a knife.

All this had happened so quickly that Will was unable to hinder it.
He was choking with indignant pity, and found himself on the fence
and half way across the field before he could yell:

"Drop that, you brute!"

Baizley was too much occupied to hear or heed. He was just about to
duck the little one a second time when Will arrived.

With one hand Will seized the child by the petticoats, and with the
other dealt the ruffian a blow in the mouth that staggered him and
made him release his victim. Will had just time to drop the little
fellow to one side and put up his guard when Baizley was upon him
with a curse.

The blow was a mighty one, and so sudden that Will parried it with
difficulty, at the same time almost staggering upon Toddles, who lay
on his face wailing piteously. Afraid lest the child should get injured
in the conflict, Will dodged aside and ran off a few paces. Ascribing
this movement to fear, Baizley followed him up impetuously, with oaths
and taunts.

On a bit of level, dry turf Will faced his big antagonist. Baizley was
heavy of build, strong of arm, and not without some knowledge of the
pugilistic art. He was also a little taller than Will. To the casual
glance the latter appeared no match for him. Fair-skinned, slender,
and with something of a studious stoop to his shoulders, Will's
appearance gave small indication of the strength that lurked in his
well-corded sinews. Under his pale skin he concealed almost as much
sheer lifting power as Baizley's big frame could muster; and the
steel-like elasticity of his compact muscles gave his blows swiftness
and precision.

Keen of eye, and with a cool, provoking, indulgent smile hovering faintly
about his mouth at times, he successfully parried several terrific lunges.
He spoke not a word, husbanding his wind prudently, while Baizley, on the
other hand, kept interjecting bursts of fragmentary profanity. About this
time Mr. Hand arrived upon the scene, panting heavily, and seating himself
on the ground, gathered the sobbing Toddles into his arms.

Will's first intention was to act on the defensive till he should weary
his opponent; but his opponent's sledge-hammer fists were not easily
warded off. He got one heavy blow on the chest that made him gasp for
breath; then he tried dodging, and giving ground nimbly and unexpectedly.
At length he saw an opening, and quicker than thought he struck heavily
with his left fist on Baizley's eye. At the same instant in came a
terrific blow which made his head ring and the stars chase themselves
before his eyes.

For a moment the two combatants lurched apart. Will was the first to
recover himself. A white rage surged up within him, and he felt his
veins prickle, his sinews tighten. A new access of nervous energy
seemed to flow into him, and he imagined his strength had been suddenly
doubled. The ruffian's hands struck out both together wildly.

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