In the Midst of Alarms by Robert Barr

R >> Robert Barr >> In the Midst of Alarms

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

"Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?" cried
the foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance.

"It's all right, commodore," said Yates jauntily, "and the top of the
morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the
camp, and we are going to get something to eat."

"I must have a more satisfactory answer than that."

"Well, here you have it, then," answered Yates, pulling out his folded
pass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully.
"You find that all right, I expect?"

"Right enough to cause your immediate arrest."

"But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is in
his own handwriting."

"I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does not
run quite as far as the queen's writ in this country yet. I arrest you
in the name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, and
shoot them down if they make any resistance." So saying, the rider
slipped from his horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs
joined by a short, stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing,
grasped Renmark's wrist.

"I'm a Canadian," said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. "You
mustn't put handcuffs on me."

"You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; if
you are what you say, you will not resist arrest."

"I will go with you, but you mustn't handcuff me."

"Oh, mustn't I?" And, with a quick movement indicative of long practice
with resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of the
clasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr.

Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in his
eyes. He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the
cocked revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constable
held his struggling manacled hand with grim determination.

"Hold on!" cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking the
representative of the law. "Don't shoot," he shouted to the man on
horseback; "it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right.
You are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed and
on foot. There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you
are more of a rebel at the present moment than O'Neill. He owes no
allegiance, and you do. Have you no respect for the forms of law and
order? You are an anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You
_would_ sing 'God save the Queen!' in the wrong place a while ago,
so now be satisfied that you have got her, or, rather, that she has got
you. Now, constable, do you want to hitch the other end of that
arrangement on my wrist? or have you another pair for my own special
use?

"I'll take your wrist, if you please."

"All right; here you are." Yates drew back his coat sleeve, and
presented his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it.
The constable mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him,
watching him all the while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners,
handcuffed together, took the middle of the road, with a horseman on
each side of them, the constable bringing up the rear; thus they
marched on, the professor gloomy from the indignity put upon them, and
the newspaper man as joyous as the now thoroughly awakened birds. The
scouts concluded to go no farther toward the enemy, but to return to
the Canadian forces with their prisoners. They marched down the road,
all silent except Yates, who enlivened the morning air with the singing
of "John Brown."

"Keep quiet," said the constable curtly.

"All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of a
friend. We want to go and get something to eat."

"You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers of
the volunteers."

"And where, may I ask, are they?"

"You may ask, but I will not answer."

"Now, Renmark," said Yates to his companion, "the tough part of this
episode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett's house, and feast
merely on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett is
always glad to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty."

As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kitty
on the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing
earnestly at the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the group
she disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came out
Mrs. Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old man
himself.

They all came down to the gate and waited.

"Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!" cried Yates cheerily. "You see, the professor
has got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share his
fate, like the good dog Tray."

"What's all this about?" cried Mrs. Bartlett.

The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarly
to them. "They're Fenian prisoners," he said.

"Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Bartlett--the old man, as usual, keeping his
mouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking--"they're
not Fenians. They've been camping on our farm for a week or more."

"That may be," said the constable firmly, "but I have the best of
evidence against them; and, if I'm not very much mistaken, they'll hang
for it."

Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry of
anguish at this remark, and disappeared again.

"We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs.
Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of the
Canadians."

"What! hanging?"

"No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged,--I hope I am
not so pernickety as all that,--but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will sympathize
with me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at this
moment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had in
your house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this hard-
hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything."

Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible state
of indignation.

"Stoliker," she exclaimed, "I'm ashamed of you! You may hang a man if
you like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in with
me," she said to the prisoners.

"Madam," said Stoliker severely, "you must not interfere with the
course of the law."

"The course of stuff and nonsense!" cried the angry woman. "Do you
think I am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven't I chased you out of
this very orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes,
and boxed your ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enough
to fill your pockets with the best apples on the place, after giving
you what you deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I'll box your ears
now if you say anything more. Get down off your horse, and have
something to eat yourself. I dare say you need it."

"This is what I call a rescue," whispered Yates to his linked
companion.

What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer with
justice is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her own
way? Stoliker looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of the
house, but the old man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as to
say: "You see how it is yourself. I am helpless."

Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to the
house.

"All I ask of you now," said Yates, "is that you will give Renmark and
me seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, even
for an instant."

Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at the
same time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs.
Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse.
Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject,
if this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second
concession, and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying he
thought he recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in
upon them.

"Come, Sam," she said, "no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse and
come in. How's your mother?"

"She's pretty well, thank you," said Sam sheepishly, coming down on his
feet again.

Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on the
prisoners, but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she
looked with the utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact that
the poor young man had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well.

"Take off these handcuffs, Sam," said Mrs. Bartlett, "until they have
breakfast, at least."

Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them into
his pocket.

"Ah, now!" said Yates, looking at his red wrist, "we can breathe
easier; and I, for one, can eat more."

The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist,
but had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make the
early meal as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival.
Stoliker began to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty were
unpopular. Old Hiram could always be depended upon to add somberness
and taciturnity to a wedding feast; the professor, never the liveliest
of companions, sat silent, with clouded brow, and vexed even the
cheerful Mrs. Bartlett by having evidently no appetite. When the
hurried meal was over, Yates, noticing that Miss Kitty had left the
room, sprang up and walked toward the kitchen door. Stoliker was on his
feet in an instant, and made as though to follow him.

"Sit down," said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time.
"He is not going to escape. Don't be afraid. He has done nothing, and
has no fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupid
officials arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians,
but you take excellent care to keep out of their way, and give your
attention to molesting perfectly inoffensive people."

"Good for you, professor!" cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. "That's
the truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?"

"Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o'clock this
morning,--or at least an advance guard did,--and after talking of
shooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead.
Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should not
be troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinks
is deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped the
handcuffs on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to our
heads."

"It isn't my place to ask questions," retorted Stoliker doggedly. "You
can tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go,
I'll say nothing against it."

Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking the
precaution to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly
round as the door closed. Before she could speak the young man caught
her by the plump shoulders--a thing which he certainly had no right to
do.

"Miss Kitty Bartlett," he said, "you've been crying."

"I haven't; and if I had, it is nothing to you."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Don't deny it. For whom were you
crying? The professor?"

"No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough to
think so."

"_Me_ conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whom
were you crying? I must know."

"Please let me go, Mr. Yates," said Kitty, with an effort at dignity.

"Dick is my name, Kit."

"Well, mine is not Kit.

"You're quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty,
which is much prettier than the abbreviation."

"I did not 'mention it.' Please let me go. Nobody has the right to call
me anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, _you_ haven't, anyhow."

"Well, Kitty, don't you think it is about time to give somebody the
right? Why won't you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whether
I should have accused you of crying? Look up--Miss Bartlett."

"Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute."

"Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We'll risk mother. Besides, I'm
not in the least afraid of her, and I don't believe you are. I think
she is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind;
otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye."

"I hate that man," said Kitty inconsequently.

"I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed.
Kitty, why don't you look up at me? Are you afraid?"

"What should I be afraid of?" asked Kitty, giving him one swift glance
from her pretty blue eyes. "Not of you, I hope."

"Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know why
I came out here?"

"For something more to eat, very likely," said the girl mischievously.

"Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind.
Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drew
me into the kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my own
lips. _That_ was the reason!"

He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew what
was about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thought
he had taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters of
this kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but she
did not strike him across the face, as she had done before, when he
merely attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was because
she had been taken so completely by surprise.

"I shall call my mother," she threatened.

"Oh, no, you won't. Besides, she wouldn't come." Then this frivolous
young man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, "Here's to
the girl that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother," ending with
the wish that she should live and die an old maid and never get
another. Kitty should not have smiled, but she did; she should have
rebuked his levity, but she didn't.

"It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and dying
an old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for the
prevention of such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval
of it."

Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herself
away from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the dining
room, and expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. Miss
Kitty stood with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a spring
flower, which she had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on the
window-ledge. She smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed so
interested in botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether she
was paying attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan might
have been can only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they should
be interrupted at this critical moment by the one person on earth who
could make Yates' tongue falter.

The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood on
the threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her dark
hair down over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairly
took Yates' breath away. She did not notice him.

"O Kitty," she cried, "those wretches have stolen all our horses! Is
your father here?"

"What wretches?" asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled by
the sudden advent of her friend.

"The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields,
and your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you."

"Have they taken your own horse, too?"

"No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come near
the house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you." And Margaret's hand, with
the unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, which
Yates thought too becoming ever to be put in order again.

Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty's evident embarrassment,
that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two.

"I must tell your father about it," she said hurriedly, and before
Yates could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she was
taken aback to see so many sitting round the table.

There was a moment's silence between the two in the kitchen, but the
spell was broken.

"I--I don't suppose there will be any trouble about getting back the
horses," said Yates hesitatingly. "If you lose them, the Government
will have to pay."

"I presume so," answered Kitty coldly; then: "Excuse me, Mr. Yates; I
mustn't stay here any longer." So saying, she followed Margaret into
the other room.

Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties of
preference had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that he
had had a narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committed
himself. Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticed
her friend's evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered
whether this would help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finally
made up his mind to favor her with his serious attentions. Still, he
reflected that, after all, they were both country girls, and would no
doubt be only too eager to accept a chance to live in New York. Thus
his mind gradually resumed its normal state of self-confidence; and he
argued that, whatever Margaret's suspicions were, they could not but
make him more precious in her eyes. He knew of instances where the very
danger of losing a man had turned a woman's wavering mind entirely in
the man's favor. When he had reached this point, the door from the
dining room opened, and Stoliker appeared.

"We are waiting for you," said the constable.

"All right. I am ready."

As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talking
earnestly.

"I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours," cried Mrs. Bartlett.
"I would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men."

"Come along," said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs from
his pocket.

"If you three men," continued Mrs. Bartlett, "cannot take those two to
camp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I'll go
along with you myself and protect you, and see that they don't escape.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have any
manhood about you--which I doubt."

"I must do my duty."

The professor rose from his chair. "Mr. Stoliker," he said with
determination, "my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will
make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear
investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a
handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you."

A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight,
caused the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and
said in a contrite voice:

"Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon."

Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried:

"Don't beg my pardon, but--smash him."

Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited
girl hid her blushing face on her friend's shoulder, while Kitty
lovingly stroked her dark, tangled hair.

Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual
quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the
tension of the situation.

"Come, come, Stoliker, don't be an idiot. I do not object in the least
to the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff
me. It hasn't struck your luminous mind that you have not the first
tittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the
greatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is no
crime. The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn't be in your shoes for a
good many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you
have exceeded it in the case of the professor. I hope you have no
property; for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay sweetly for
putting the handcuffs on him without a warrant, or even without one jot
of evidence. What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?" continued
Yates, suddenly appealing to the old man. "I think it is a thousand
dollars."

Hiram said gloomily that he didn't know. Stoliker was hit on a tender
spot, for he owned a farm.

"Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all.
Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted."

The good woman smiled and shook hands with him.

"Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have
another."

Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his
horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the
dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event
of the stealing of the horses.

CHAPTER XVII.

When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of the
Canadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more military
than the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by a
picket before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not to
shoot until he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, they
came in full view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked very
spick and span in uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear
light of the fair June morning. The guns, topped by a bristle of
bayonets which glittered as the rising sun shone on them, were stacked
with neat precision here and there. The men were preparing their
breakfast, and a temporary halt had been called for that purpose. The
volunteers were scattered by the side of the road and in the fields.
Renmark recognized the colors of the regiment from his own city, and
noticed that there was with it a company that was strange to him.
Although led to them a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride in the
regiment and their trim appearance--a pride that was both national and
civic. He instinctively held himself more erect as he approached.

"Renmark," said Yates, looking at him with a smile, "you are making a
thoroughly British mistake."

"What do you mean? I haven't spoken."

"No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. You
think this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempt
tramps we saw in the woods this morning."

"I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over--which I very much
doubt."

"That's just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, who
know all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will be
the worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part of
the country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comrades
fall, with the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If they
don't turn and run, then I'm a Dutchman. I've seen raw recruits before.
They should have a company of older men here who have seen service to
steady them. The fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs,
in the damp woods, as we stepped over them. They are veterans. What
will be but a mere skirmish to them will seem to these boys the most
awful tragedy that ever happened. Why, many of them look as if they
might be university lads."

"They are," said Renmark, with a pang of anguish.

"Well, I can't see what your stupid government means by sending them
here alone. They should have at least one company of regulars with
them."

"Probably the regulars are on the way."

"Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, or
the fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with their
meal, the Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is to
be a fight, it will be before a very few hours--before one hour passes,
you are going to see a miniature Bull Run."

Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiring
for news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all
the telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those in
command of the companies did not even know that the enemy had left that
locality. They were now on their way to a point where they were to meet
Colonel Peacocke's force of regulars--a point which they were destined
never to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up his
prisoners, together with the incriminating paper that Yates had handed
to him. The officer's decision was short and sharp, as military
decisions are generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to
take both the prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. There
was no time now for an inquiry into the case,--that could come
afterward,--and, so long as the men were safe in jail, everything would
be all right. To this the constable mildly interposed two objections.
In the first place, he said, he was with the volunteers not in his
capacity as constable, but in the position of guide and man who knew
the country. In the second place, there was no jail at Port Colborne.

"Where is the nearest jail?"

"The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town," replied the
constable.

"Very well; take them there."

"But I am here as guide," repeated Stoliker.

The officer hesitated for a moment. "You haven't handcuffs with you,
I presume?"

"Yes, I have," said Stoliker, producing the implements.

"Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the company
over to Welland with them. How far is it across country?"

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17