In the Midst of Alarms by Robert Barr

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"I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates," said the professor, rising.
"I will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. My
conscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a long
and happy life with the girl you have--I won't say chosen, but tossed
up for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break
every bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates."

"Oh, I say, Renmark, you're crazy."

"Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. A
lunatic is sometimes dangerous."

"Oh, go away. You're dreaming. You're talking in your sleep. What!
Fight? Tonight? Nonsense!"

"Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?"

"No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don't wish to fight at
all, especially to-night. I'm a reformed man, I tell you. I have no
desire to bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow."

"Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself."

"It's impossible to fight here in the dark. Don't flatter yourself for
a moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limbered
up, while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous."

Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into a
blaze.

"There," he said, "that's better. Now, let me have a look at you. In
the name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?"

"I refuse to give my reason."

"Then I refuse to fight. I'll run, and I can beat you in a foot race
any day in the week. Why, you're worse than her father. He at least let
me know why he fought me."

"Whose father?"

"Kitty's father, of course--my future father-in-law. And that's another
ordeal ahead of me. I haven't spoken to the old man yet, and I need all
my fighting grit for that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't my language plain? It usually is."

"To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to Miss
Bartlett. Am I right?"

"Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can't we
postpone our fracas until daylight? I don't want to gather any more
wood. Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thus
ruin whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?"

"Say? I say I am an idiot."

"Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you."

"Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar--to Miss Howard?"

"Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget.
You remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred to
it a moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time.
Well, I don't care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know the
beginning, you will have to know the end, because I want to wring a
sacred promise from you. You are never to mention this episode of the
toss-up, or of my confession, to any living soul. The telling of it
might do harm, and it couldn't possibly do any good. Will you promise?"

"Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to."

"I don't exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you should
understand how the land lies, so you won't make any mistake. Not on
_my_ account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty's
ears. Yes, I proposed to Margaret--first. She wouldn't look at me. Can
you credit that?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I----"

"Exactly. I see you _can_ credit it. Well, I couldn't at first;
but Margaret knows her own mind, there's no question about _that_.
Say! she's in love with some other fellow. I found out that much."

"You asked her, I presume."

"Well, it's my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I do
that for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when it
comes to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, and
then bolted."

"You must have used great tact and delicacy."

"See here, Renmark; I'm not going to stand any of your sneering. I told
you this was a sore subject with me. I'm not telling you because I like
to, but because I have to. Don't put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark.
If _I_ talk fight, I won't begin for no reason and then back out
for no reason. I'll go on."

"I'll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?"

"Nothing else. Isn't that enough? It was more than enough for me--at
the time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sitting
on the fence and thinking about it."

"So long as that?"

Yates rose from the fire indignantly.

"I take that back, too," cried the professor hastily. "I didn't mean
it."

"It strikes me you've become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don't you
think it's about time we took to our bunks? It's late."

Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendly
fence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendly
stars. He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with its
impressive stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stops
in mid-ocean. After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful stars
he climbed the fence and walked down the road, taking little heed of
the direction. The still night was a soothing companion. He came at
last to a sleeping village of wooden houses, and through the center of
the town ran a single line of rails, an iron link connecting the
unknown hamlet with all civilization. A red and a green light glimmered
down the line, giving the only indication that a train ever came that
way. As he went a mile or two farther the cool breath of the great lake
made itself felt, and after crossing a field he suddenly came upon the
water, finding all further progress in that direction barred. Huge sand
dunes formed the shore, covered with sighing pines. At the foot of the
dunes stretched a broad beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast
with the darker water; and at long intervals fell the light ripple of
the languid summer waves, running up the beach with a half-asleep
whisper, that became softer and softer until it was merged in the
silence beyond. Far out on the dark waters a point of light, like a
floating star, showed where a steamer was slowly making her way; and so
still was the night that he felt rather than heard her pulsating
engines. It was the only sign of life visible from that enchanted bay--
the bay of the silver beach.

Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. The
point of light gradually worked its way to the west, following,
doubtless unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around the
headland, taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. But
the world is very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he
thinks he is. Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees,
which cry he was astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat up
and listened. Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat,
and someone stepped ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowy
forms of three men. Nothing was said, but they got silently into the
boat, which might have been Charon's craft for all he could see of it.
The rattle of the rowlocks and the plash of oars followed, while a
voice cautioned the rowers to make less noise. It was evident that some
belated fugitives were eluding the authorities of both countries.
Renmark thought, with a smile, that if Yates were in his place he would
at least give them a fright. A sharp command to an imaginary company to
load and fire would travel far on such a night, and would give the
rowers a few moments of great discomfort. Renmark, however, did not
shout, but treated the episode as part of the mystical dream, and lay
down on the sand again. He noticed that the water in the east seemed to
feel the approach of morning even before the sky. Gradually the day
dawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the coming sun
spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched the
glory of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty of
the bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back for
the village and the camp beyond.

The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to see
Stoliker on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistants
were with him, also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed by
the sight of Renmark, but he was there to do his duty.

"Hello!" he cried, "you're up early. I have a warrant for the arrest of
your friend: I suppose you won't tell me where he is?"

"You can't expect me to give any information that will get a friend
into trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing."

"That's as may turn out before a jury," said one of the assistants
gravely.

"Yes," assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. "That is
for judge and jury to determine--not you."

"Well," said Renmark, "I will not inform about anybody, unless I am
compelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where I
have been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. If
you go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat's keel on the
sand, and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore in
the night, and a man got on board. I don't say who the man was, and I
had nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator.
That is all the information I have to give."

Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. "What did I tell you?"
he asked. "We were right on his track."

"You said the railroad," grumbled the man who had spoken before.

"Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake and
see the traces. Then we can return the warrant."

Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfast
without disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporter
and told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back to
New York without delay.

Yates yawned sleepily.

"Yes," he said, "I've been dreaming it all out. I'll get father-in-law
to tote me out to Fort Erie to-night."

"Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?"

"Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I'm
going down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the old
folks, you know. I'll spend the rest of the day making up for that
interview by talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for me
there, and, now that he thinks I'm gone, he will likely make a visit to
the tent. Stoliker is a good fellow, but his strong point is duty, you
know; and if he's certain I'm gone, he'll give his country the worth of
its money by searching. I won't be back for dinner, so you can put in
your time reading my Dime Novels. I make no reflections on your
cooking, Renny, now that the vacation is over; but I have my
preferences, and they incline toward a final meal with the Bartletts.
If I were you, I'd have a nap. You look tired out."

"I am," said the professor.

Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear of
the camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, when
she got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hear
Stoliker and his satellites search the premises, just as Yates had
predicted they would; and when he finally awoke, he found to his
astonishment that it was nearly dark. But he was all the better for his
sleep, and he attended to his personal appearance with more than
ordinary care.

Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grim
stolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known by
him to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond his
comprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the first
time in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse
for going there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which he
sat at one of the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparent
effect on him. He even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and a
man who can do that can do anything. To bring up a daughter who would
deliberately accept a man from "the States," and to have a wife who
would aid and abet such an action, giving comfort and support to the
enemy, seemed to him traitorous to all the traditions of 1812, or any
other date in the history of the two countries. At times wild ideas of
getting blind full, and going home to break every breakable thing in
the house, rose in his mind; but prudence whispered that he had to
live all the rest of his life with his wife, and he realized that this
scheme of vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he untied his patient
team, after paying his bill, and drove silently home, not having
returned, even by a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him that
day. He was somewhat relieved to find no questions were asked, and that
his wife recognized the fact that he was passing through a crisis.
Nevertheless, there was a steely glitter in her eye under which he
uneasily quailed, for it told him a line had been reached which it
would not be well for him to cross. She forgave, but it must not go any
further.

When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with some
trepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement.

"No one but Margaret," said Kitty.

"And what did she say?" asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion was
of no importance.

"She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make a
good husband."

"She's rather a nice girl, is Margaret," remarked Yates, with the air
of a man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than his
own, but indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth for
him.

"She is a lovely girl," said Kitty enthusiastically. "I wonder, Dick,
when you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me."

"The idea! I haven't a word to say against Margaret; but, compared with
my girl----"

And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frame
of mind.

As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had acted
very handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. But
as he approached the house his courage began to fail him, and he
thought it better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had sat
the night before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking.
But as he sat there it was destined that Yates should receive some
information which would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly out
of the gate in the gathering darkness. They strolled together up the
road past him, absorbed in themselves. When directly opposite the
reporter, Renmark put his arm around Margaret's waist, and Yates nearly
fell off the fence. He held his breath until they were safely out of
hearing, then slid down and crawled along in the shadow until he came
to the side road, up which he walked, thoughtfully pausing every few
moments to remark: "Well, I'll be----" But speech seemed to have failed
him; he could get no further.

He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last time
at the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the somber
trees. He had no energy left to climb over.

"Well, I'm a chimpanzee," he muttered to himself at last. "The highest
bidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn't have
believed it of you. _You_ a newspaper man? _You_ a reporter
from 'way back? _You_ up to snuff? Yates, I'm ashamed to be seen
in your company! Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter in
from a country newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think that
this thing has been going on right under your well-developed nose, and
you never saw it--worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; that
it was thrust at you twenty times a day--nearly got your stupid head
smashed on account of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent little
lamb that you are, and never even suspected! Dick, you're a three-
sheet-poster fool in colored ink. And to think that both of them know
all about the first proposal! _Both_ of them! Well, thank Heaven,
Toronto is a long way from New York."

THE END.

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