The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current, January 21, 1900, Page 22, Image 22

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THE StTNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, JANUARY 21, 1900.
22
y z&r rTi a & XSk. a 'op' kj' 3t gJi
Synopsis of Previous Chapters.
Sir James StaasSeld, of New lillns, In com
pear -with, his grandson, young Philip, meets
in as lnahouse his son Philip and his eon's
paramour. Janet Mark. They quarrel; Sir
James ewes home, taking along- his grandson
That, night he is murdered by his dissolute
aon and Janet Mark. They take hls(body out
Bide and lay it upon an loe floe, In the effort to
fasten the crime upon other shoulders. But the
boy Philip has -witnessed the crime. He tells
Ma grandfather's chief tenant, Humphrey
Spurway, and Spurway succeeds In having the
real murderer brought to Justice. He Is sen
tenced to be hanged, his woman accomplice to
be transported. Mysteriously. Philip Stansfield
escapes the gallows, seeks out hla wife, finds
her In the company of Spurway, and tries to
murder her, but does not quite succeed. She
Is taken away to Abercairn for cure, leaving
her son, young: Philip. In carge of Spurway and
In the company of little Anna Mark, from whom
he learns that in sne ways -girls are worth
quite as much as boys. For example. In the
time of the cattle droving, when Master Spur
way bought his winter beasty in the mart,
Anna beats Philip in helping to cut them out.
Still they are excellent friends, even though
she beats him at her studies in the school to
which they go together. John Stansfield, Phil
ip's lawyer uncle, brings. In a new teacher.
Dominie Blngrose, a smart man, with wonder
ful eyes. Shortly after his coming the country
eitfe Is shocked and thrilled with a number of
bloody and mysterious murders, evidently for
the sake of robbery. Business calls Humphrey
Spunevay from home. In his absence a big
package case, purporting- to be full of fine
Spanltsh wool, is delUered to Will Bowman,
Humphrey's oJerk. He puts It in the weaving
shed. That night Philip, playing about it, sees
shining through the gauze of the packing caee
a pair of eyes.
(Copyright, 1S0S. under the name of "Little
Anna Mark." by S. R. Crockett.)
Will Bovrnmn Counts Three.
Copyright, 1839, by S. R. Crockett.)
CHAPTKR XV.
That I did not scream out, as Anna
.Mark had done "when she crouched be
hind the case, I have always put down to
a last "wisp of Dutch courage given me by
the Umphray's email ale. At any rate, 1
only dropped my glass and stared at the
nre hard, trying to think -what I should
do.
Clearly I must tell Will at once. and
yet If I moved away -with any haste the
thing inside would naturally suspect, and
spring out upon me. So I continued Idly
throwing wood on the fire for some time,
as It had been to while away the heavy
hanging hours, breaking pieces off dry
boughs and tossing them like one careful
of his aim.
Presently I heard a noise in the parjor,
and the voice of William Jiowman loud In
some argument.
"Coming. Will!" I cried aloud, starting
quickly from my seat, as if I had heard
him call me.
And, with my heart in my mouth, I went
to the door which led within the house,
my own dark shadow stalking lengthily
before me, uncertain and blurred in the
leaping flames of the burning wood.
I did not dare even to .glance In the di
rection of the mysterlouspacking-case. But
I 'shut and bolted the door behind me so
soon as I had passed through.
Will Bowman was going up the stairs
to bed. with his boots in his hand.
"Will," I whispered, "Will, we are all
dead men. What Anna said is true. There
is a murderer in that case."
Will paused on the second step.
"What do you mean? Have you gone
as mad as Anna?" he said, smiling.
But as soon as I had told him of the
eyes which had looked at me through the
coarse veiling, he came back down the
stairs and began to consider, scratching
this head and thinking hard without drop
ping even the boots out of his hand.
"The weavers are either away with their
master or over to the changehouses by this
time," he meditated. "There will not be
one sober man in New 3iilns by this hour
of the night. Philip, are you stanch? Can
you stand behind me in this? I will go
and outface him now, thief or murderer
or whatever it is!"
I answered that I would certainly do
ithat -which in me lay, though I knew not
what he meant to be at.
He was back in a moment with a couple
of small swords and a dagger.
"Come on," he said; "we will try cold
steel on our lurker. A pass or two will do
my master's Spanish wool no great harm,
while shooting blazing wads into it at
.that range would set the stuff on fire.
And that would be the end of me with
Umphray Spurway.!"
So, giving me one of the rapiers, Will
Bowman took a candle in one hand and
his own small sword in the other. We
went into the great, silent weaving shed,
where he set the candlestick down on a
loom. But, indeed, with all my throwing
of fuel on the dogs of the grate, the place
was like day, and even the dark corner
"where the packing-case stood was filled
with light.
As we went softly down the floor we
heard a Jight patter of feet behind us. and
lol there at the door was little Anna Mark
with a pistol In her hand.
"Ah," she was beginning, "did. I not
tell you? I thought "
But Will stopped her with a wave of
Ihls hand. We stood hefore the canvas
covered case. It loomed up bigger than
ever, looking blank and Inanimate enough
to have contained gravestones.
I heard Will suck in a, long breath as he
threw back his sword that was In his
hand to be ready for the thrust. Then
he spoke In a. loud voice.
"Now," he cried, "we know that there
is a man Inside this packing-case. We
are here fully armed, and are resolved
to try the truth of our suspicion. Who
ever you may be, I bid you in my mas
tor's name and the name .of the law to
surrender yourself. I will count three,
and thereafter thrust the case through
and through with my sword. I give you
fair warning."
Then he counted slowly, "One!"
There was no sign or sound from the
packing case, though we listened Intent
ly, and I own that I quaked to my very
shoe leather.
"Two!"
Still there was no answer, not a sigh 'or
a quiver, not the stirring of a rat in the
wainscot.
"For the last time I warn you, whoever
you are!" said WJI1 Bowman, very grave
and slow. "After I count three I will
thrust, and the Lord have mercy on your
soul!"
I knew where he had gotten that. He
had seen it in the Old Bailey trials, a
cal'.oction of which was in the house.
Having sr. spoken, he paused It might
have been five seconds or five hours, I
know not
"Threei" he counted, in a loud, sudden
shout.
His swerd arm darted out, the" clean
steel jerking forward like an arrow. The
thrust appeared to pass right to the back
of the case, easily and silently.
WI3 withdrew the steel with a great
gasp of relief.
"Jfhjere!" he crle4, fiercely, "will that
Ptiflures by G.A
set you at rest? Or are you glad that
your Cursed imagination should put us all
In this fret for nothing? You, Philip,
deserve a raw-hidnig, or, better, a good
cobbing with a barrel stave over a beam
when Umphray comes home. And, by
gad, you shall have it, too!"
He looked angrily about at us as we
stood a little way behind him.
"But see," he cried, "I will take It on
myself to make certain!"
And with a quick hand and In a sud
den, characteristic burst of anger he tore
away the rough sacking and yellow gauzy
stuff from the blowhole in front. A
square of wool, fine and white and clean
was revealea nothing else.
"Th-there!" he cried, actually stammer
ing in his anger, "get to bed, both of
you, for wretched little croaking beasties!
And let me fasten up this case again as
best I may."
He was bending down to pick up the
torn sheeting, when, In a clear, childish
treble, little Anna Mark uttered the
words, "Will what is that on the point
of your sword?"
William Bowman held his sword up, lo!
the fine point of the rapier was red for
a good three Inches. A drop or two had
also distilled upon the floor.
Instantly Will's face took on the fight
ing look of his North Hiding forefathers.
His under jaw shot forward, his forehead
seemed to flatten. His eye fell on the
case, and in the midst of the white square
Of TVOOl a red spot had appeared at the
place from which Will had withdrawn
his blade.
"Ah! I have you this time, cowardly
murderer," he cried, in a voice like a
harsh snail.
"Hold!! Hold, Will! Do not kill him!"
I shouted. But I was too late.
Will felt with his Tapler' point for the
row of small airholes which went about
the case above the middle and through
these he sent thrust after thrust, swift as
the succession of pulsing lightnings.
Then followed the most appalling cry
that it has ever been my lot to listen to.
No words came from the recesses of the
box. only scream on scream of direst
human agony. There were signs of ve
hement upheaval within. And after rock
ing violently to and fro with a mighty
crash the packing case fell face downward
upon the floor.
I ran to the door in terror and horror.
But William Bowman stood his ground
with little Anna Mark beside him. Her
face was white, but she passed him the
loaded pistol without a word.
Then with the pistol cocked in his
hand and leveled at the box, he called
to me over his shoulder to run to the
change house and warn all that were
there. Then I was to return, beating
the weavers cottages for recruits. So
I'ran my best, snatching the alarm horn
and blowing it as I went. So that in half
an hour I was back with a dozen men,
all more or less untouched by liquor.
Will Bowman stood where I had left
him, with a set look of grim determination
on his face. But little Anna was nowhere
to be seen. He had ordered her to bed as
soon as he began to realize -what might
appear when the box was opened. Per
haps also he Temembered her words, "I
thought I heard my father whisper!"
The men slowly turned the packing
case up from the blood-stained floor and
stood it face forward as it had been at
the first. Then with bars of Iron and
pickaxes they tore away the boards. Wool
was packed tightly at the sides and all
around, but as they lifted this away swift
ly and fearfully, the arm of a man holding
a pistol appeared, still twitching with the
last remains of vitality. Another pull and
the face was Tevealed. It was that of
Bernard RIngrose, the new dominie.
He appeared to be quite dead.
.Then I thought, as I went upstairs and
found Anna Mark, a little white-clad fig
ure listening on the stairs, that surely
now the end of evil had come, and that
the murderous hound who had so long
disturbed the peace of Scotland had at
last been taken in his own trap. I knew
not that this was only one broken thread
in the net of evil which was closing upon
us 11.
"Go to bed, little Anna!" I said, "all
Is well!"
They laid the dominie back again in
his beautifully-fitted case, among the
wool and stained scraps of netted fabric.
Will Bowman's first thrust had gone
through his shoulder a little beneath the
spring of the neck. Tet so fierce was
the desperado in his determination that
no murmur had escaped him even when
the sharp seel ran clear through hie flesh
till the point encountered the wooden
back of the case against which his shoul
ders were braced.
A knife with a sharply-curved blade was
In his right hand, doubtless intended first
to cut a way out of his wrappings and
(secondly) to slit every throat in the
Miln house, for that was the pattern
of previous attempts of the- same kind
made at other mansions and lonely places
throughout Scotland.
There were at that time in Scotland
many thousands of broken and outlaw
men. Indeed, the wisest head In the
realm (that of one Fletcher 'of Saltoun)
estimated the "beggars and gangrels"
alone that is, the open and declared
vagabondage, at nothing short of 200,000.
So. what with the recent changes of
government, the troubles with the High
land border, the incursions of the cater
ans, the encouragement of piracy and
worse upon the seas, men lived in a kind
of terror, and all who could provided, as
Umphray Spurway hoped he had done,
for their own safety.
The king's army, save a regiment or so
about the capital, was either scattered
athwart the face of the Jacobite districts
or had been carried overseas to help the
Dutch to fight the French.
So it came to pass that in the mest
settled and loyal of all the provinces of
Scotland the worst and wildest deeds be
gan to be wrought at first tinder the
cloud of night; but in a little while In
open daylight also.
And thus It happens that In every dis
trict of lowland Scotland there Is one un
varying story of the deeds of these des
peradoes who at various times called
themselves "The Night Rakers," "The
Bold Lads," "The Devil's Dragoons,"
and were famed over all the south as
"The Wild Riders."
In at least three cases their attempts
had been successful, and orievery occa
sion a large package had upon some pre
text; been, delivered the night before at
the doomed house. But this was the
first time they had tried so great and
defensed a place as Umphray Spurway's
milL
And right well had they chosen their
time. Umphray away with the most part
of his men. the rpst taking advantage o
his absence, all save a sober few, and
leaving their houses empty and the mill
itrc"f well nigh defenseless.
As soon as Will Bo-vman realized what
he had done, he set about making hLs
preparations. He dispatched by a back
door one pf the most trusty of the men,
"yy $
SHIPLEY
who had hurriedly rallied to him with or
ders to call In all the women and children
out of their houses. For believing that
the defenses of the mill would be tried
before morning, he would permit no man
to return to his house. Nor, Indeed, was
there any who, looking at the set face
of the dominie and the lip he-had bit
ten through in the vain attempt to keep
his. secret, desired to set a foot outside
the defenses of the Miln house that night.
As I have said, the figure of the mill
was four square, with a large courtyard
in the center. On the river side- little
watch was necessary, the Eskwater fret
ting fiercely against the sheer walls, both
darksome and deep, and effectually pre
venting any surprise. The easterly or up-
THEX HE COUKTED
stream end was defended In like manner
by a gorge across which straddled on its
trellis work of wood the "lade" which car
ried the water to the great wheel. There
weTe windows along this side at which a
sharpshooter or two could enfilade a reg
iment. But It was on the side averae
from the river and on the contiguous
northerly front that the burden of any
attack must fall.
For the buildings that ran around the
square courtyard were of wood set in a
foundation of stone, and If any evil de
signing person got to within lighting dis
tance of these, the whole -mill, upon which
Umphray Spurway had expended his life,
would mount up in a sheet of flame to the
skies. There were many also who hat
ed him, not only because of his success
and supposed riches, "but because he was
an Englishman,, using mostly his own
countrymen to weave for him and (as it
seemed to the Ignorant and even to those
who should have known better) taking
the bread out of the mouths of honest
Scots. For those who wove in their own
homes at small, narrow looms, which
could only produce a web one-third the
width of Umphray's cloth and at a far
greater expense of time, labor and ma
terial. I did not bide long upstairs, you may bo
sure. The heart flutter and tremulous ex
citement of the night would not let me go
to sleep. Indeed, I never so much as tried,
but sat on my bed listening to the hum
about the mill as this one ran this way
and the other that. I could distinguish
cleariy the sharp Incidence of Will Bow
man's shouted orders. Presently I heard
a light step without.
I peeped out at the door, and there, if
you please, with her bandolier over her
shoulder, her powder flask, pistol and
skean dhu (or Highland dirk) was little
Anna Mark, pretending to mount guard
on the side which looks to the south over
the mill lade and the birchen linn to tne
Kirkconnel water singing below In the
dusk.
At sight of her array I was greatly
stung, f, a boy, and the first discoverer
of treachery was behindhand in the de
fense of the place which gave me shelter
while a girl
Well, after all, it was little Anna Mark.
And that was a very different thing, I
told myself.
As soon as she saw me she called out,
"Oh, Philip, you ar,e there I thought you
had rone to bed!"
And continued her promenade In a mil
itary manner.
"I am going Into Umphray Spurway's
room," said I, "to get his new musket
that has the bayonet devised by the gen
eral who ran away at Kllllecrankle."
"I dare you to take it." she said, for
she did not want me to be better armed
than she.
"And pray, miss, what have you to do
with it?" I asked her.
She nodded her head in an aggravat
ing way she had, as one who would say,
"Never mind," yet refrains from saying J
it.
"I wager you a pound I will take It
and use It and never be faulted for it!"
I made answer. For I thought of my
mother and of my standing with Um
phray Spurway on ner account.
"Done!" she cried, with her thumb
caught rakishly In the strap of her ban
dolier like a frollck blade standing guard
in a place where he can be stared at by
the maids.
I ran toward Umphray Spuryray's room
to get the new musket, which I had al
ways coveted an occps'oi to try. But
when I got to the upper dco- I heard a
mocking laugh behind me. which quick
ened both my pace and my desire. The
door stood, open, and as soon as I got
within I -aw that the nest was empty
and the bird flown. Tfie musket was
. - .
gone, with all the other arms of the bet
ter sort which Umphray kept in his bed
chamber for safe and dry keep'ng.
I came out again, and there, with the
very musket dropped at the ready, the
bayonet fixed, and the priming in the
pan, stood 'Anna Mark, who stamped her
little footand called on me to stand in
the kingf'sx name in the most approved
fashion. ,
Whereat 1I bade her to be careful, for
thai such things were not to be trifled
with, save by those who understood
them. AtTVhich Mistress Malapert turned
up her nose, and, handing me the piece,
she cried: "Sir Wiseacre, see if Umphray-
himself could have charged it any
better!"
It was true. All was perfect when 1
examined it, and with very good intent
I could find no fault.
"There," she said. "You might have
had this at the first if you had asked
properly. I made it ready for you. So
do not forget that airs and graces neither
become nor advantage you, Master Philip
Stansfield."
To thla I had no time to answer, nor
Indeed any answer ready to hand. So l
betook me down the stairs, having se
cured Umphray's powder flask and 20
charges of ball.
I found Will Bowman a very Important
and a very proud youth, indeed. The
women and children he had put in the
low-vaulted chamber over the river, where
they would be safe both from the danger
of fire and from stray shots.
He had at his disposal only seven men
upon whom he could rely to see him
through the night, -and this, with Anna
and myself, was all hig force.
Five of the seven he had set at var'ous
loopholes along the side which looks
down the river. For there, he judged,
was our greatest danger.
He himself, with a man who had skill
in gunnery, was to have charge of the
little four-pounder carronade, which was
placed on the top of the main gatehouse
(f, -..?. f ,'ri
stffe:
vv..
SLOWLY, "ONE!"
tower. The battlements stood a little out
and were constructed to sweep the whole
long eastern side.
One man was placed on the roof of tho
mill to watch the water front, while Anna
Mark had installed herself, as I have told,
in the corridor which overlooks the little
inn of Kirkconnel.
Presently I stood on the tower with Will
and the man he had ohosen as his com
panion, one Stephen Sawklns, Umphray
Spui way's carpenter. He was a bronzed
man, with large silver rings in his ears
like those worn by Saul Mark, and a
Kentish man by birth.
"Ah, Master Bowman," he was saying
when I reached the top, "this is the first
time I have shotted a gun since I sailed
with my brother, Captain Sawklns, to the
South seas and the Isle of Plate. Turned
over a new leaf I have since the day we
took JHllo and got a pint bf molasses apiece
for our pains!"
"If you were in that business, you ought
have all been hanged .for bloody pirates,
every dog of you!" said William Bowman,
drawing the tarred sailcloth off the car
ronade and kneeling before it while Ste
phen Sawklns stood by with a lantern In
his hand. .
"Nay, Master Will," objected .the latter.
"We never robbed our fellow countrymen,
but only Spaniard and papistical settler.,
not one of them properly married or with
any respect for living religion like as Eng
lishmen have."
"Quit arguing and see you if this charge
bt all right," said Will. "We will fight
them with grape."
Stephen Sawklns laughed.
"Right, aye, right enow," he said. "This
will sting them whether horse or foot!"
He sighed as a thought came over him
"Pray God they come at all!" he added.
Nor was it long till we had tidings of Mr.
RIngnose's associates. Will had purposely
allowed no lights, save and except the
dark lantern which he had himself taken
to the top of the gate tower in order that
he might see- to cast loose and load the car
ronade. Now, whether the dominie was
to make some signal to hks mates wi.h a
lantern or no I cannot tell. Certain It
Is that one was found, with the tinder,
flint and steel, all ready to be lighted, at
his feet. And It may be that Will or Ste
phen Sawklns, turning the glim this way
and that at the charging of their piece,
unwittingly made the signal agreed upon
or something like it. So much was never
known.
At all events, It was not long before, In
the dim light, we could make out a row
of dark figures running from the" willow
copses and scrubby oakwoeds on the north
and east, toward tho Miln house.
We three crouched behind the battle
ments of the little tower and strained our
eyes into the darkness.
CHAPTER XVII.
Resurrection of Dominie RingjnoKe.
The enemy came In three divisions to the
number of, apparently, some 20 or 40, but
our fears and the night may very like
have doubled their numbers.
The largest part ran straight for our gate
tower. Another band made for the north
side and scrambled down into the ditch
with intent to reach the line of windows.
dttle did they suspect that behind each
second ope of, those crouched a stout weav
er accustomed to the use of arms with a
loaded jnuslf'et, at his shoulder. A third
and smaller number, not more than three
or fourKjdeccfnded Into the gully of Kirk
connel llrn In the direction of the "mil
lade." In fact, they attacked ail three
vulnerable parts of the MMn house.
At tril.gate Immediately beneath us, the
ma'n party paused In evident astonish
ment. v It was of mp&sy wood, strengthened
w'.ch plates and bosses of wrought Iron.
They had evidently expected to find it
open, and when it loomed up before them
solid and uncompromising, they stopped
aston!shcd and dismayed.
Then one bolder than the rest, a tall fig
ure etched In blackness against the gray
green turf,' went boldly up and tried both
halves, throwing his whole weight upon
them. They rested still silent and immov
able. Then this apparent leader went
back to consult. Had they mistaken the
signal? Was It a trap?
They were meditating when the voice of
Will'Bowman rang out:
"What do you here, under arms, at my
master's gate? If you do not Instantly
betake youroelves off whence you came, I
will blow you all to the devil!"
We could see their line reel at the unex
pected salute and make a movement back
ward. I know not what they would have
done If they had been left to themselves
perhaps retreated. But at that 'moment
from the deep gully of the linn there came
flrat one shot and on the heels of that
another. Then there was the cry of one
in pain, the hoarse cry of a man. It wa&
little Anna Mark at work, first of all the
defenders of the Miln house to smell
powder.
"Bravo!" cried Stephen Sawkins, "Shall
I let them have it, Master Will?"
"Hold!" said Will. "It is my duty to
save life If I can
"Aye, but our own, not the lives of cut
throats!" muttered the ex-buccancer.
"I will speak once more to them!"
"You will waste your words!" said Saw
kins. Will began in a loud voice.
"Your spy Is dead. We are fully pre
pared for you. You cannot take our fort
ress. With a movement of my hand I can
sweep you all to perdition. But I give you
a chance to save your lives for the sal
lows. Call off your men; leave us and our
houses unmolested and we will serve you
the came."
"Dog of the English," cried the voice,
"we will not leave one alive In all your
dirty kennel. We will burn you alive,
to teach you to bide at home and not
come here, taking the bread out of our
mouths!"
Then another voice, deeper and fiercer,
cried, "Forward!" And with a loud
shout a full score rushed at the door.
It stood the strain and then two of the as
sailants brought forehammers and room
was made for them to wield them.
"Clang!" went the first on the outer
plate of the grea't lock. And we could
hear the sound reverberate through the
weaving hall where lay the body of the
dead spy In his comfortable packing of
wool.
The door leaned on Its hinges and the
man swung his hammer for a second
blow.
"Once more I warn you and for the
last time!" cried Will, depressing the
muzzle of the carronade over the battle-
ment, while Stephen Sawklns cowered and
sighted behind for the heads of the
throng. "Go back, all you who value your
lives."
The only answer was the thunder of
both hammers on the door at once, and
the startling reverberation of the sound
from within as from a drum. Then from
along the north side came a straggling
volley. The weavers had fired upon the
foes who were escaladlng their defenses.
A black worm with a glowing tip ap
proached the touch of the faur-pounder.
"Stand away!" said Will, as Stephen
hovered behind, still anxious about his
aim.
There was a leap of flame from the
touchhole, a thundering crack which mo
mentarily deafened us, and then there en
sued an awful turmoil beneath, shrieking
and moaning, oaths of rage and cries of
despair. I looked over the battlement,
but being temporarily blinded by the
tongue of flame which burst from the gun,
I could make out nothing save a writh
ing confusion, a. whirl of limbs and white
faces, some gripping and biting their
neighbors in their agony, like crabs in a
basket, while the confused sound went
up to heaven in a many-voiced shriek of
despair.
From the tower top there went forth no
sound of triumph. Will Bowman and
Stephen Sawkins were too busy making
ready for the next line of assailants.
But none were prepared to adventure fur
ther just then. They had not even be
gun to carry off their wounded.
But from the other side weJieard the
triumphant cries of the assailants, as they
climbed up to the lower windows. The
muskets of the weavers spoke again and
again, as it seemed, without much ef
fect. "Run, Philip," cried Will. "Go to the
corner there, and from the corner loft you
can command the whole northern front.
We shall need you here."
"For. Indeed, I confess that thus far I
had been of no use in the fray, so stunned
was I between the suddenness of the re
port and terrible effect of the grapeshot
upon the assailants of the gateway.
On the way to the north corner I had
to pass through the great dim weaving
room, now dusked and terrible to me with
the thought of the dead .lying in his bier,
on which he had lain himself a living
man. Yet the ladder by which I must
mount was immediately at the back of
the packing-case, and to gain my post I
must needs pass it.
As I went hastily by I had not meant
to look at it. Indeed, I had been nerv
ing myself all the way to keep my eyes
straight in front of me. But a stealthy
noise somewhere in' the room, and a mo
mentary unleaplng of the flames of the
dying fire drew my regard, in spite of my
self, to the place where I had seen them
lay the dead man.
Thpn It was that I got the most horrid
surprise that ever in all my life stilled
and dismayed my soul within me.
The packing-case was empty!
And beyond it, in the direction of the
stirring noise which I had heard, my
eyes fell upon a sight to affright and
subvert my reason. He that had been
dead was standing by the great doors,
swaying, staggering on his feet, and en
deavoring to undo the great iron stan
chions, so that, when pushed against from
without, the leaves might open inward.
I cried aloud in fear. My hands trem
bled so that I dropped my musket on
the ground. In a moment the terrifying
apparition had turned toward me. I saw
the countenance of a dead man come to
life, streaked and blotched with blood,
the eyes fixed and Injected, staring like
knots in window glass, with an inward,
green light. Scraps cf wool stuck to his
dress here and there, with an effect in
comparably bizarre. Yet such was the
strength and fidelity of the man In evil
doing that at the first sight of- me he
swerved, and steadying himself, w th an
Inarticulate cry that was more than half
a moan, he raised the knife which was
in his right hand, and came toward me
with the stealthy tread of a wild beast.
His mouth was wide open to draw in air
enough to clear for the moment h's clog
ging lungs. His breath came in labored
and gurgling pants, nevertheless he had
the resolution to pursue me, in order that
he might finish the work for which he
had come, and open the great doors for
his friends.
I could scarcely leap behind the empty
case before he was upon me. I tried to
escape either way about it, but from his
swaying uncertainty of motion he was
ready there with his knile. So I had to
content myself with feinting first to the.
right, and then to the left. I was afraid
that he would see my musket lying at
the foot of the stairs, but eithervhls glazed
eyes did not perceive it, or, as is more
probable, he did not judge It wise for
the success of his project to fire a shot.
At any rate, he began slowly and delib
erately to move the empty packlng-cjsa
toward me to trap me in the corner.
It must have been the weirdest spec
tacle, and had I been able to watch it
like an uninterested spectator, the duel
between the terrified boy, dodging 'and
doubling like a cornered rat, and the dying
man grimly resolved to finish his dire
work, must have been worthy of the Ro
man arena. Gradually and method.ca.Iy
the dominie reduced the space in which
I turned and twisted, pivoting the box
alternately on one angle and on the other.
Then he. would lean over to see If he could
reach me with his knife. At last I wa3
so penned In that I could move neither
way, and aa I realized thla I lifted up my
voice In a great, piteous cry of "Anna"
Anna Mark!"
The terrible streaked face, the gouted
breast, and the fingers clutching about
the knife were very near to me now. I
could see the ruddy foam break in bubbles
between the gray of his lips. But at the
cry of "Anna Mark" he seemed to pause.
I pushed with all my weight against the
case. It toppled and fell over against
hb breast, causing him to etagger back
ward. t
Tht-n, ere he could recover and set It
up again on edge, a sharp report came
from the stairway, waking the echoes of
the great weaving-room. My pursuer ut
tered a sobbing cry, his knife jingled on
the floor from his twitching hand, and
he fell backward with all the weight of
the packing-case upon him.
Little Anna Mark stood on the steps near
the top with a smoking musket in her
hand.
Then she "threw it down and began to
weep.
"O I have killed a man," she cried.
"I am a wicked girl."
I ran to her and told her that the
man was as good as dead anyway, and
that if she had not shot him down as she
did, not only I but all in the mill would
have been ruthlessly slain.
Which was all very true, but did not
comfort her greatly.
"I will fight no more," she said. "1
never thought before about guns killing
people!"
Having refixed the single stanchions and
the bolts'the dominie had drawn, I picked
up my gun. and Anna and I ran up to the
corner of the north side, from which we
could see the whole exposed front of the
mill. The moon had risen late in her last
quarter, and now began to throw a pale
light across the woods of Moreham.
The attack had completely failed. We
could see a few figures hurrying away,
mostly In bunches of three or four, car
rying their dead, whilst a neighing of
horses and a clattering of hoofs told that
the robbers had made all ready for re
treat. Presently Will Bowman came pushing
in.
"A glorious victory," he said, "b.ut I
would have given a whole year's wages
to have had another lick at them with
the carronade full to the muzzle of slugs
and rusty nails!'
I told him of my adventure, and we
went down to look at the fastening's of
the great doors, one of which had been
forced up. The marks of Ringrose's
hands were wet and red upon it. Had
his friends returned In force the doors
would have opened at a touch.
We went down and looked at the man
who had been so hard to slay, so faith
ful unto death in the devil's service.
Three of Will's strokes had pierced
him. but only one fatally. Anna's single
bullet had xsunk. Itself into hl3 brain.
Will stood musing upon him.
"I tell you what, Philip Stansfield," he
said presently, "there lies a kind of man
with whom it was a toss-up whether he
became 'his grace of Marlborough or
this poor piece of carrion. ThIs dominie
was a man brave enough to win a score
of battles. But he took the wrong turn
ing. Well, Umphray Spurway will not
think the worse of him for his pluck."
"Nor for trying to kill me!" I cried,
for my charity did not reach quite so
far, nor the matter strike me go Im
personally. "No," he answered coolly. "He held
his tongue when I thrust him through
and through, though he was held fast
hand and foot in a dark box. And while
dying by Inches, he could yet rise to
finish his work before he died. I tell
you what, Philip, if you and I stick to
our Jobs as well as this Dominie Ring
rose why, we may sit down and take a
rest awhile when we are well out of it
all."
CHAPTER XVIII.
Anna Sends n Challenge.
William Bowman sent Anna Mark and
ma off to bed with many expressions of
commendation, saying that he would in
form Umphray Spurway of our courage
and resolution. And this presently he
did, though, heaven knows,, it was little
enough I had done. But Anna Mark be
ing as zealous of what others should
mink of me as zealous to beat me pri
vately at ail manner of plays, gave such
an account of my struggle with the
dominie that X haa all the credit for
having stopped him from, opening the
doors to his confederates.
And not to be outdone in generosity
by a girl, I told them that but for her
ciever shot from the stairs, I had been
a -very dead boy Indeed, and in ail prob
ability most of those as well to whom
I spoke.
In the early morning of the next day
arrived Umphray Spurway with his
whole caravan, and a wild man he was
when he found the wicked fact that had
so nearly been perpetrated upon his
folk and property.
Without pausing even for food, he
started to hunt" down the outlaws. But
they had dispersed over a great morass
called Crlchton moor, that lies to the
north, a few going this way and a few
that. The only clear trail led to a little
sheltered bay called Byness bay, and
here were many traces of horses and
the trampling of gravel down to the
shore plain to be seen. So it was
thought that the dead had been taken
out to be burled in the sea, each with
a stone tied to his feet, and that tho
others who were not of the country and
secretly allied with the desperadoes, had
escaped in a ship. A fisherman on the
shore told Umphray that as he was go
ing dowa to fish for lobsters a voice
from an anchored lugger hailed him and
bade him keep away if he did not want a
leaden bullet in his gizzard.
And on his replying that he was wish
ful to do no harm, but only to set his
partan cages in Byness bay, a black-a-vlsetl
man In a knitted cap set his head
over the bulwarks and bade him do no
harm somewhere else than in Byness bay
for a day or two.
"See you," he said, "if your wife is a
good sort, don't go crosswise to make
her a wlddy. For that's no kindness to
her unless she knows of a better man
than you! So. take my advice, go south
or go north but keep wide of this cove
till you see our topsails low over the
north water!"
"An ugly dell he was so I took my
traps on my back and awa' across to
the Black point. It's no chancy to ar-gle-bargle
wi' yon. kind o foreigneer
gentry."
And so strange It was that none heard
of any dead in all the countryside,
though some were never heard of
again young sparks, ,too, of no mean
degree, who were said by their families
to have departed overseas, but who
were shrewdly suspected to have had a
hand in the "Brenning oot o' the Eng
lishman," which was the name the ac
tion got, from the Intent, not the deed,
of the assailants.
And 'after this I was no more permitted
to spend all my holidays at, the house
of Umphray Spurway. And this was
chiefly owing to an Idea my poor mother
had that those who attacked the Miln
hohse Intended chiefly to kill me. and not
merely to plunder the mill, alleging in
proof thereof that. the spy. Bernard Ring
rose, had been a tool of my uncle John,
and if he were not, why had he risen as It
were from his very grave to attack me
with h!? knife.
And from this she could not be beaten,
though even Umphray Spurway laughed
at her. For curely It was not possible -that
a. man of law, and one so nearly related
to me, could wish me ill. And. moreover,
if he did, there were many ways of In
juring me without assaulting the chlefest
stronghold in the countryside.
(To be continued
His Challc Gave Ont.
Papa (at the breakfast table) Willie,
my boy, why are you looking so thought
ful? Are you not feeling well?
Willie (very seriously) Yes. papa; but
I had a strange dream this morning.
Papa Indeed! What was It?
Willie I dreamed, papa, that I died
and went to heaven, and when St. Peter
met me at the gate. Instead of showing
me the way to the golden streets, as I
expected, he took me out Into a large
field, and in the middle oTf the field there
was a ladder reaching away up Into tri
sky and out of sight. Then St. P. ter
told me that heaven was at the top lt.1
that In order to get there I must tak-
the big piece of chalk he gave me d
slowly climb the ladder, writing on ea. i
rung some sin I had committed.
Papa, (laying down his newspaper) And
did you finally reach heaven, my son'
Willie No. papa; for just as I wa3 try
ing to think of something to writ? o
tbe second rung I looked up into the sky
and saw you coming down-.
Papa And what was I coming dwn
for, pray? t
Willie That's just what I askpd yoi,
papa, and you told me you were gnlr
for more chalk. Life.
THE PALATIAL
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Jt