The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 12

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER XI

  THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

  We made a prosperous voyage up that fine river of the Hudson, theweather grateful, the hills singularly beautified with the colours ofthe autumn. At Albany we had our residence at an inn, where I was not soblind and my lord not so cunning but what I could see he had some designto hold me prisoner. The work he found for me to do was not so pressingthat we should transact it apart from necessary papers in the chamber ofan inn; nor was it of such importance that I should be set upon as manyas four or five scrolls of the same document. I submitted in appearance;but I took private measures on my own side, and had the news of the towncommunicated to me daily by the politeness of our host. In this way Ireceived at last a piece of intelligence for which, I may say, I hadbeen waiting. Captain Harris (I was told) with "Mr. Mountain, thetrader," had gone by up the river in a boat. I would have feared thelandlord's eye, so strong the sense of some complicity upon my master'spart oppressed me. But I made out to say I had some knowledge of thecaptain, although none of Mr. Mountain, and to inquire who else was ofthe party. My informant knew not; Mr. Mountain had come ashore upon someneedful purchases; had gone round the town buying, drinking, andprating; and it seemed the party went upon some likely venture, for hehad spoken much of great things he would do when he returned. No morewas known, for none of the rest had come ashore, and it seemed they werepressed for time to reach a certain spot before the snow should fall.

  And sure enough, the next day there fell a sprinkle even in Albany; butit passed as it came, and was but a reminder of what lay before us. Ithought of it lightly then, knowing so little as I did of that inclementprovince: the retrospect is different; and I wonder at times if some ofthe horror of these events which I must now rehearse flowed not from thefoul skies and savage winds to which we were exposed, and the agony ofcold that we must suffer.

  The boat having passed by, I thought at first we should have left thetown. But no such matter. My lord continued his stay in Albany, where hehad no ostensible affairs, and kept me by him, far from my dueemployment, and making a pretence of occupation. It is upon this passageI expect, and perhaps deserve, censure. I was not so dull but what I hadmy own thoughts. I could not see the Master entrust himself into thehands of Harris, and not suspect some underhand contrivance. Harris borea villainous reputation, and he had been tampered with in private by mylord; Mountain, the trader, proved, upon inquiry, to be another of thesame kidney; the errand they were all gone upon being the recovery ofill-gotten treasures, offered in itself a very strong incentive to foulplay; and the character of the country where they journeyed promisedimpunity to deeds of blood. Well: it is true I had all these thoughtsand fears, and guesses of the Master's fate. But you are to consider Iwas the same man that sought to dash him from the bulwarks of a ship inthe mid-sea; the same that, a little before, very impiously butsincerely offered God a bargain, seeking to hire God to be my bravo. Itis true again that I had a good deal melted towards our enemy. But thisI always thought of as a weakness of the flesh, and even culpable; mymind remaining steady and quite bent against him. True, yet again, thatit was one thing to assume on my own shoulders the guilt and danger of acriminal attempt, and another to stand by and see my lord imperil andbesmirch himself. But this was the very ground of my inaction. For(should I anyway stir in the business) I might fail indeed to save theMaster, but I could not miss to make a byword of my lord.

  Thus it was that I did nothing; and upon the same reasons, I am stillstrong to justify my course. My lord had carried with him severalintroductions to chief people of the town and neighbourhood; others hehad before encountered in New York: with this consequence, that he wentmuch abroad, and I am sorry to say was altogether too convivial in hishabits. I was often in bed, but never asleep, when he returned; andthere was scarce a night when he did not betray the influence of liquor.By day he would still lay upon me endless tasks, which he showedconsiderable ingenuity to fish up and renew, in the manner of Penelope'sweb. I never refused, as I say, for I was hired to do his bidding; but Itook no pains to keep my penetration under a bushel, and would sometimessmile in his face.

  "I think I must be the devil and you Michael Scott," I said to him oneday. "I have bridged Tweed and split the Eildons; and now you set me tothe rope of sand."

  He looked at me with shining eyes, and looked away again, his jawchewing, but without words.

  "Well, well, my lord," said I, "your will is my pleasure. I will do thisthing for the fourth time; but I would beg of you to invent another taskagainst to-morrow, for by my troth, I am weary of this one."

  "You do not know what you are saying," returned my lord, putting on hishat and turning his back to me. "It is a strange thing you should take apleasure to annoy me. A friend--but that is a different affair. It is astrange thing. I am a man that has had ill-fortune all my life through.I am still surrounded by contrivances. I am always treading in plots,"he burst out. "The whole world is banded against me."

  "I would not talk wicked nonsense if I were you," said I; "but I willtell you what I _would_ do--I would put my head in cold water, for youhad more last night than you could carry."

  "Do ye think that?" said he, with a manner of interest highly awakened."Would that be good for me? It's a thing I never tried."

  "I mind the days when you had no call to try, and I wish, my lord, thatthey were back again," said I. "But the plain truth is, if you continueto exceed, you will do yourself a mischief."

  "I don't appear to carry drink the way I used to," said my lord. "I getovertaken, Mackellar. But I will be more upon my guard."

  "That is what I would ask of you," I replied. "You are to bear in mindthat you are Mr. Alexander's father: give the bairn a chance to carryhis name with some responsibility."

  "Ay, ay," said he. "Ye're a very sensible man, Mackellar, and have beenlong in my employ. But I think, if you have nothing more to say to me Iwill be stepping. If you have nothing more to say?" he added, with thatburning, childish eagerness that was now so common with the man.

  "No, my lord, I have nothing more," said I, drily enough.

  "Then I think I will be stepping," says my lord, and stood and looked atme, fidgeting with his hat, which he had taken off again. "I suppose youwill have no errands? No? I am to meet Sir William Johnson, but I willbe more upon my guard." He was silent for a time, and then, smiling: "Doyou call to mind a place, Mackellar--it's a little below Eagles--wherethe burn runs very deep under a wood of rowans? I mind being there whenI was a lad--dear, it comes over me like an old song!--I was after thefishing, and I made a bonny cast. Eh, but I was happy. I wonder,Mackellar, why I am never happy now?"

  "My lord," said I, "if you would drink with more moderation you wouldhave the better chance. It is an old byword that the bottle is a falseconsoler."

  "No doubt," said he, "no doubt. Well, I think I will be going."

  "Good-morning, my lord," said I.

  "Good-morning, good-morning," said he, and so got himself at last fromthe apartment.

  I give that for a fair specimen of my lord in the morning and I musthave described my patron very ill if the reader does not perceive anotable falling off. To behold the man thus fallen: to know him acceptedamong his companions for a poor, muddled toper, welcome (if he werewelcome at all) for the bare consideration of his title; and to recallthe virtues he had once displayed against such odds of fortune; was notthis a thing at once to rage and to be humbled at?

  In his cups, he was more excessive. I will give but the one scene, closeupon the end, which is strongly marked upon my memory to this day, andat the time affected me almost with horror.

  I was in bed, lying there awake, when I heard him stumbling on the stairand singing. My lord had no gift of music, his brother had all thegraces of the family, so that when I say singing, you are to understanda manner of high, carolling utterance, which was truly neither speechnor song. Something not unlike is to be heard upon the lips of children,ere they learn shame; from those of a man grown elderly
it had a strangeeffect. He opened the door with noisy precaution; peered in, shading hiscandle; conceived me to slumber; entered, set his light upon the table,and took off his hat. I saw him very plain; a high, feverish exultationappeared to boil in his veins, and he stood and smiled and smirked uponthe candle. Presently he lifted up his arm, snapped his fingers, andfell to undress. As he did so, having once more forgot my presence, hetook back to his singing; and now I could hear the words, which werethese from the old song of the "Twa Corbies" endlessly repeated:

  "And over his banes when they are bare The wind sall blaw for evermair!"

  I have said there was no music in the man. His strains had no logicalsuccession except in so far as they inclined a little to the minor mode;but they exercised a rude potency upon the feelings, and followed thewords, and signified the feelings of the singer with barbaric fitness.He took it first in the time and manner of a rant; presently thisill-favoured gleefulness abated, he began to dwell upon the notes morefeelingly, and sank at last into a degree of maudlin pathos that was tome scarce bearable. By equal steps, the original briskness of his actsdeclined; and when he was stripped to his breeches, he sat on thebedside and fell to whimpering. I know nothing less respectable than thetears of drunkenness, and turned my back impatiently on this poor sight.

  But he had started himself (I am to suppose) on that slippery descent ofself-pity; on the which, to a man unstrung by old sorrows and recentpotations, there is no arrest except exhaustion. His tears continued toflow, and the man to sit there, three parts naked, in the cold air ofthe chamber. I twitted myself alternately with inhumanity andsentimental weakness, now half rising in my bed to interfere, nowreading myself lessons of indifference and courting slumber, until, upona sudden, the _quantum mutatus ab illo_ shot into my mind; and callingto remembrance his old wisdom, constancy, and patience, I was overbornewith a pity almost approaching the passionate, not for my master alone,but for the sons of man.

  At this I leaped from my place, went over to his side and laid a hand onhis bare shoulder, which was cold as stone. He uncovered his face andshowed it me all swollen and begrutten[10] like a child's; and at thesight my impatience partially revived.

  "Think shame to yourself," said I. "This is bairnly conduct. I mighthave been snivelling myself, if I had cared to swill my belly with wine.But I went to my bed sober like a man. Come: get into yours, and havedone with this pitiable exhibition."

  "O, Mackellar," said he, "my heart is wae!"

  "Wae?" cried I. "For a good cause, I think. What words were these yousang as you came in? Show pity to others, we then can talk of pity toyourself. You can be the one thing or the other, but I will be no partyto half-way houses. If you're a striker, strike, and if you're ableater, bleat!"

  "Ay!" cries he, with a burst, "that's it--strike! that's talking! Man,I've stood it all too long. But when they laid a hand upon the child,when the child's threatened"--his momentary vigour whimpering off--"mychild, my Alexander!"--and he was at his tears again.

  I took him by the shoulders and shook him. "Alexander!" said I. "Do youeven think of him? Not you! Look yourself in the face like a brave man,and you'll find you're but a self-deceiver. The wife, the friend, thechild, they're all equally forgot, and you sunk in a mere bog ofselfishness."

  "Mackellar," said he, with a wonderful return to his old manner andappearance, "you may say what you will of me, but one thing I neverwas--I was never selfish."

  "I will open your eyes in your despite," said I. "How long have we beenhere? and how often have you written to your family? I think this is thefirst time you were ever separate: have you written at all? Do they knowif you are dead or living?"

  I had caught him here too openly; it braced his better nature; there wasno more weeping, he thanked me very penitently, got to bed, and was soonfast asleep; and the first thing he did the next morning was to sitdown and begin a letter to my lady: a very tender letter it was too,though it was never finished. Indeed, all communication with New Yorkwas transacted by myself; and it will be judged I had a thankless taskof it. What to tell my lady, and in what words, and how far to be falseand how far cruel, was a thing that kept me often from my slumber.

  All this while, no doubt, my lord waited with growing impatiency fornews of his accomplices. Harris, it is to be thought, had promised ahigh degree of expedition; the time was already overpast when word wasto be looked for; and suspense was a very evil counsellor to a man of animpaired intelligence. My lord's mind throughout this interval dwelledalmost wholly in the Wilderness, following that party with whose deedshe had so much concern. He continually conjured up their camps andprogresses, the fashion of the country, the perpetration in a thousanddifferent manners of the same horrid fact, and that consequent spectacleof the Master's bones lying scattered in the wind. These private, guiltyconsiderations I would continually observe to peep forth in the man'stalk, like rabbits from a hill. And it is the less wonder if the sceneof his meditations began to draw him bodily.

  * * * * *

  It is well known what pretext he took. Sir William Johnson had adiplomatic errand in these parts; and my lord and I (from curiosity, aswas given out) went in his company. Sir William was well attended andliberally supplied. Hunters brought us venison, fish was taken for usdaily in the streams, and brandy ran like water. We proceeded by day andencamped by night in the military style; sentinels were set and changed;every man had his named duty; and Sir William was the spring of all.There was much in this that might at times have entertained me; but, forour misfortune, the weather was extremely harsh, the days were in thebeginning open, but the nights frosty from the first. A painful keenwind blew most of the time, so that we sat in the boat with bluefingers, and at night, as we scorched our faces at the fire, the clothesupon our back appeared to be of paper. A dreadful solitude surroundedour steps; the land was quite dispeopled, there was no smoke of fires;and save for a single boat of merchants on the second day, we met notravellers. The season was indeed late, but this desertion of thewaterways impressed Sir William himself; and I have heard him more thanonce express a sense of intimidation. "I have come too late, I fear;they must have dug up the hatchet," he said; and the future proved howjustly he had reasoned.

  I could never depict the blackness of my soul upon this journey. I havenone of those minds that are in love with the unusual: to see the wintercoming and to lie in the field so far from any house, oppressed me likea nightmare; it seemed, indeed, a kind of awful braving of God's power;and this thought, which I daresay only writes me down a coward, wasgreatly exaggerated by my private knowledge of the errand we were comeupon. I was besides encumbered by my duties to Sir William, whom it fellupon me to entertain; for my lord was quite sunk into a state borderingon _pervigilium_, watching the woods with a rapt eye, sleeping scarce atall, and speaking sometimes not twenty words in a whole day. That whichhe said was still coherent; but it turned almost invariably upon theparty for whom he kept his crazy look-out. He would tell Sir Williamoften, and always as if it were a new communication, that he had "abrother somewhere in the woods," and beg that the sentinels should bedirected "to inquire for him." "I am anxious for news of my brother," hewould say. And sometimes, when we were under way, he would fancy hespied a canoe far off upon the water or a camp on the shore, and exhibitpainful agitation. It was impossible but Sir William should be struckwith these singularities; and at last he led me aside, and hinted hisuneasiness. I touched my head and shook it; quite rejoiced to prepare alittle testimony against possible disclosures.

  "But in that case," cries Sir William, "is it wise to let him go atlarge?"

  "Those that know him best," said I, "are persuaded that he should behumoured."

  "Well, well," replied Sir William, "it is none of my affairs. But if Ihad understood, you would never have been here."

  Our advance into this savage country had thus uneventfully proceeded forabout a week, when we encamped for a night at a place where the riverran among considerable mounta
ins clothed in wood. The fires were lightedon a level space at the water's edge; and we supped and lay down tosleep in the customary fashion. It chanced the night fell murderouslycold; the stringency of the frost seized and bit me through mycoverings, so that pain kept me wakeful; and I was afoot again beforethe peep of day, crouching by the fires or trotting to and fro at thestream's edge, to combat the aching of my limbs. At last dawn began tobreak upon hoar woods and mountains, the sleepers rolled in their robes,and the boisterous river dashing among spears of ice. I stood lookingabout me, swaddled in my stiff coat of a bull's fur, and the breathsmoking from my scorched nostrils, when, upon a sudden, a singular,eager cry rang from the borders of the wood. The sentries answered it,the sleepers sprang to their feet; one pointed, the rest followed hisdirection with their eyes, and there, upon the edge of the forest, andbetwixt two trees, we beheld the figure of a man reaching forth hishands like one in ecstasy. The next moment he ran forward, fell on hisknees at the side of the camp, and burst in tears.

  This was John Mountain, the trader, escaped from the most horrid perils;and his first word, when he got speech, was to ask if we had seenSecundra Dass.

  "Seen what?" cries Sir William.

  "No," said I, "we have seen nothing of him. Why?"

  "Nothing?" says Mountain. "Then I was right after all." With that hestruck his palm upon his brow. "But what takes him back?" he cried."What takes the man back among dead bodies? There is some damned mysteryhere."

  This was a word which highly aroused our curiosity, but I shall be moreperspicacious if I narrate these incidents in their true order. Herefollows a narrative which I have compiled out of three sources, not veryconsistent in all points:

  _First_, a written statement by Mountain, in which everything criminalis cleverly smuggled out of view;

  _Second_, two conversations with Secundra Dass; and

  _Third_, many conversations with Mountain himself, in which he waspleased to be entirely plain; for the truth is he regarded me as anaccomplice.

  NARRATIVE OF THE TRADER, MOUNTAIN

  The crew that went up the river under the joint command of CaptainHarris and the Master numbered in all nine persons, of whom (if I exceptSecundra Dass) there was not one that had not merited the gallows. FromHarris downward the voyagers were notorious in that colony fordesperate, bloody-minded miscreants; some were reputed pirates, the mosthawkers of rum; all ranters and drinkers; all fit associates, embarkingtogether without remorse, upon this treacherous and murderous design. Icould not hear there was much discipline or any set captain in the gang;but Harris and four others, Mountain himself, two Scotsmen--Pinkertonand Hastie--and a man of the name of Hicks, a drunken shoemaker, puttheir heads together and agreed upon the course. In a material sense,they were well provided; and the Master in particular brought with him atent where he might enjoy some privacy and shelter.

  Even this small indulgence told against him in the minds of hiscompanions. But indeed he was in a position so entirely false (and evenridiculous) that all his habit of command and arts of pleasing were herethrown away. In the eyes of all, except Secundra Dass, he figured as acommon gull and designated victim; going unconsciously to death; yet hecould not but suppose himself the contriver and the leader of theexpedition; he could scarce help but so conduct himself; and at theleast hint of authority or condescension, his deceivers would belaughing in their sleeves. I was so used to see and to conceive him in ahigh, authoritative attitude, that when I had conceived his position onthis journey, I was pained and could have blushed. How soon he may haveentertained a first surmise, we cannot know; but it was long, and theparty had advanced into the Wilderness beyond the reach of any help, erehe was fully awakened to the truth.

  It fell thus. Harris and some others had drawn apart into the woods forconsultation, when they were startled by a rustling in the brush. Theywere all accustomed to the arts of Indian warfare, and Mountain had notonly lived and hunted, but fought and earned some reputation, with thesavages. He could move in the woods without noise, and follow a traillike a hound; and upon the emergence of this alert, he was deputed bythe rest to plunge into the thicket for intelligence. He was soonconvinced there was a man in his close neighbourhood, moving withprecaution but without art among the leaves and branches; and comingshortly to a place of advantage, he was able to observe Secundra Dasscrawling briskly off with many backward glances. At this he knew notwhether to laugh or cry; and his accomplices, when he had returned andreported, were in much the same dubiety. There was now no danger of anIndian onslaught; but on the other hand, since Secundra Dass was at thepains to spy upon them, it was highly probable he knew English, and ifhe knew English it was certain the whole of their design was in theMaster's knowledge. There was one singularity in the position. IfSecundra Dass knew and concealed his knowledge of English, Harris was aproficient in several of the tongues of India, and as his career in thatpart of the world had been a great deal worse than profligate, he hadnot thought proper to remark upon the circumstance. Each side had thus aspy-hole on the counsels of the other. The plotters, so soon as thisadvantage was explained, returned to camp; Harris, hearing theHindustani was once more closeted with his master, crept to the side ofthe tent; and the rest, sitting about the fire with their tobacco,awaited his report with impatience. When he came at last, his face wasvery black. He had overheard enough to confirm the worst of hissuspicions. Secundra Dass was a good English scholar; he had been somedays creeping and listening, the Master was now fully informed of theconspiracy, and the pair proposed on the morrow to fall out of line at acarrying place and plunge at a venture in the woods: preferring the fullrisk of famine, savage beasts, and savage men to their position in themidst of traitors.

  What, then, was to be done? Some were for killing the Master on thespot; but Harris assured them that would be a crime without profit,since the secret of the treasure must die along with him that buried it.Others were for desisting at once from the whole enterprise and makingfor New York; but the appetising name of treasure, and the thought ofthe long way they had already travelled, dissuaded the majority. Iimagine they were dull fellows for the most part. Harris, indeed, hadsome acquirements, Mountain was no fool, Hastie was an educated man; buteven these had manifestly failed in life, and the rest were the dregs ofcolonial rascality. The conclusion they reached, at least, was more theoffspring of greed and hope than reason. It was to temporise, to be waryand watch the Master, to be silent and supply no further aliment to hissuspicions, and to depend entirely (as well as I make out) on the chancethat their victim was as greedy, hopeful, and irrational as themselves,and might, after all, betray his life and treasure.

  Twice in the course of the next day Secundra and the Master must haveappeared to themselves to have escaped; and twice they werecircumvented. The Master, save that the second time he grew a littlepale, displayed no sign of disappointment, apologised for the stupiditywith which he had fallen aside, thanked his recapturers as for aservice, and rejoined the caravan with all his usual gallantry andcheerfulness of mien and bearing. But it is certain he had smelled arat; for from thenceforth he and Secundra spoke only in each other'sear, and Harris listened and shivered by the tent in vain. The samenight it was announced they were to leave the boats and proceed by foot,a circumstance which (as it put an end to the confusion of the portages)greatly lessened the chances of escape.

  And now there began between the two sides a silent contest, for life onthe one hand, for riches on the other. They were now near that quarterof the desert in which the Master himself must begin to play the part ofguide; and using this for a pretext of persecution, Harris and his mensat with him every night about the fire, and laboured to entrap him intosome admission. If he let slip his secret, he knew well it was thewarrant for his death; on the other hand, he durst not refuse theirquestions, and must appear to help them to the best of his capacity, orhe practically published his mistrust. And yet Mountain assures me theman's brow was never ruffled. He sat in the midst of these jackals, hislife dependi
ng by a thread, like some easy, witty householder at home byhis own fire; an answer he had for everything--as often as not, ajesting answer; avoided threats, evaded insults; talked, laughed, andlistened with an open countenance; and, in short, conducted himself insuch a manner as must have disarmed suspicion, and went near to staggerknowledge. Indeed, Mountain confessed to me they would soon havedisbelieved the captain's story, and supposed their designated victimstill quite innocent of their designs; but for the fact that hecontinued (however ingeniously) to give the slip to questions, and theyet stronger confirmation of his repeated efforts to escape. The lastof these, which brought things to a head, I am now to relate. And firstI should say that by this time the temper of Harris's companions wasutterly worn out; civility was scarce pretended; and, for one verysignificant circumstance, the Master and Secundra had been (on somepretext) deprived of weapons. On their side, however, the threatenedpair kept up the parade of friendship handsomely; Secundra was all bows,the Master all smiles; and on the last night of the truce he had evengone so far as to sing for the diversion of the company. It was observedthat he had also eaten with unusual heartiness, and drank deep,doubtless from design.

  At least, about three in the morning, he came out of the tent into theopen air, audibly mourning and complaining, with all the manner of asufferer from surfeit. For some while, Secundra publicly attended on hispatron, who at last became more easy, and fell asleep on the frostyground behind the tent, the Indian returning within. Some time after,the sentry was changed; had the Master pointed out to him, where he layin what is called a robe of buffalo: and thenceforth kept an eye uponhim (he declared) without remission. With the first of the dawn, adraught of wind came suddenly and blew open one side the corner of therobe; and with the same puff, the Master's hat whirled in the air andfell some yards away. The sentry thinking it remarkable the sleepershould not awaken, thereupon drew near; and the next moment, with agreat shout, informed the camp their prisoner was escaped. He had leftbehind his Indian, who (in the first vivacity of the surprise) came nearto pay the forfeit of his life, and was, in fact, inhumanly mishandled;but Secundra, in the midst of threats and cruelties, stuck to it withextraordinary loyalty, that he was quite ignorant of his master's plans,which might indeed be true, and of the manner of his escape, which wasdemonstrably false. Nothing was therefore left to the conspirators butto rely entirely on the skill of Mountain. The night had been frosty,the ground quite hard; and the sun was no sooner up than a strong thawset in. It was Mountain's boast that few men could have followed thattrail, and still fewer (even of the native Indians) found it. The Masterhad thus a long start before his pursuers had the scent, and he musthave travelled with surprising energy for a pedestrian so unused, sinceit was near noon before Mountain had a view of him. At this conjuncturethe trader was alone, all his companions following, at his own request,several hundred yards in the rear; he knew the Master was unarmed; hisheart was besides heated with the exercise and lust of hunting; andseeing the quarry so close, so defenceless, and seeming so fatigued, hevaingloriously determined to effect the capture with his single hand. Astep or two farther brought him to one margin of a little clearing; onthe other, with his arms folded and his back to a huge stone, the Mastersat. It is possible Mountain may have made a rustle, it is certain, atleast, the Master raised his head and gazed directly at that quarter ofthe thicket where his hunter lay; "I could not be sure he saw me,"Mountain said; "he just looked my way like a man with his mind made up,and all the courage ran out of me like rum out of a bottle." Andpresently, when the Master looked away again, and appeared to resumethose meditations in which he had sat immersed before the trader'scoming, Mountain slunk stealthily back and returned to seek the help ofhis companions.

  And now began the chapter of surprises, for the scout had scarceinformed the others of his discovery, and they were yet preparing theirweapons for a rush upon the fugitive, when the man himself appeared intheir midst, walking openly and quietly, with his hands behind his back.

  "Ah, men!" says he, on his beholding them. "Here is a fortunateencounter. Let us get back to camp."

  Mountain had not mentioned his own weakness or the Master'sdisconcerting gaze upon the thicket, so that (with all the rest) hisreturn appeared spontaneous. For all that, a hubbub arose; oaths flew,fists were shaken, and guns pointed.

  "Let us get back to camp," said the Master. "I have an explanation tomake, but it must be laid before you all. And in the meanwhile I wouldput up these weapons, one of which might very easily go off and blowaway your hopes of treasure. I would not kill," says he, smiling, "thegoose with the golden eggs."

  The charm of his superiority once more triumphed; and the party, in noparticular order, set off on their return. By the way, he found occasionto get a word or two apart with Mountain.

  "You are a clever fellow and a bold," says he, "but I am not so surethat you are doing yourself justice. I would have you to considerwhether you would not do better, ay, and safer, to serve me instead ofserving so commonplace a rascal as Mr. Harris. Consider of it," heconcluded, dealing the man a gentle tap upon the shoulder, "and don't bein haste. Dead or alive, you will find me an ill man to quarrel with."

  When they were come back to the camp, where Harris and Pinkerton stoodguard over Secundra, these two ran upon the Master like viragoes, andwere amazed out of measure when they were bidden by their comrades to"stand back and hear what the gentleman had to say." The Master had notflinched before their onslaught; nor, at this proof of the ground he hadgained, did he betray the least sufficiency.

  "Do not let us be in haste," says he. "Meat first and public speakingafter."

  With that they made a hasty meal: and as soon as it was done, theMaster, leaning on one elbow, began his speech. He spoke long,addressing himself to each except Harris, finding for each (with thesame exception) some particular flattery. He called them "bold, honestblades," declared he had never seen a more jovial company, work betterdone, or pains more merrily supported. "Well, then," says he, "some oneasks me, Why the devil I ran away? But that is scarce worth answer, forI think you all know pretty well. But you know only pretty well: that isa point I shall arrive at presently, and be you ready to remark it whenit comes. There is a traitor here: a double traitor: I will give you hisname before I am done; and let that suffice for now. But here comes someother gentleman and asks me, 'Why, in the devil, I came back?' Well,before I answer that question, I have one to put to you. It was this curhere, this Harris, that speaks Hindustani?" cries he, rising on one kneeand pointing fair at the man's face, with a gesture indescribablymenacing; and when he had been answered in the affirmative, "Ah!" sayshe, "then are all my suspicions verified, and I did rightly to comeback. Now, men, hear the truth for the first time." Thereupon helaunched forth in a long story, told with extraordinary skill, how hehad all along suspected Harris, how he had found the confirmation of hisfears, and how Harris must have misrepresented what passed betweenSecundra and himself. At this point he made a bold stroke with excellenteffect. "I suppose," says he, "you think you are going shares withHarris, I suppose you think you will see to that yourselves; you wouldnaturally not think so flat a rogue could cozen you. But have a care!These half-idiots have a sort of cunning, as the skunk has its stench;and it may be news to you that Harris has taken care of himself already.Yes, for him the treasure is all money in the bargain. You must find itor go starve. But he has been paid beforehand; my brother paid him todestroy me; look at him if you doubt--look at him, grinning and gulping,a detected thief!" Thence, having made this happy impression, heexplained how he had escaped, and thought better of it, and at lastconcluded to come back, lay the truth before the company, and take hischance with them once more: persuaded as he was, they would instantlydepose Harris and elect some other leader. "There is the whole truth,"said he: "and, with one exception, I put myself entirely in your hands.What is the exception? There he sits," he cried, pointing once more toHarris; "a man that has to die! Weapons and conditions are all one tome; put me face to f
ace with him, and if you give me nothing but astick, in five minutes I will show you a sop of broken carrion, fit fordogs to roll in."

  It was dark night when he made an end; they had listened in almostperfect silence; but the firelight scarce permitted any one to judge,from the look of his neighbours, with what result of persuasion orconviction. Indeed, the Master had set himself in the brightest place,and kept his face there, to be the centre of men's eyes: doubtless on aprofound calculation. Silence followed for a while, and presently thewhole party became involved in disputation: the Master lying on hisback, with his hands knit under his head and one knee flung across theother, like a person unconcerned in the result. And here, I daresay, hisbravado carried him too far and prejudiced his case. At least, after acast or two back and forward, opinion settled finally against him. It'spossible he hoped to repeat the business of the pirate ship, and behimself, perhaps, on hard enough conditions, elected leader; and thingswent so far that way that Mountain actually threw out the proposition.But the rock he split upon was Hastie. This fellow was not well liked,being sour and slow, with an ugly, glowering disposition, but he hadstudied some time for the Church at Edinburgh College, beforeill-conduct had destroyed his prospects, and he now remembered andapplied what he had learned. Indeed, he had not proceeded very far, whenthe Master rolled carelessly upon one side, which was done (inMountain's opinion) to conceal the beginnings of despair upon hiscountenance. Hastie dismissed the most of what they had heard as nothingto the matter: what they wanted was the treasure. All that was said ofHarris might be true, and they would have to see to that in time. Butwhat had that to do with the treasure? They had heard a vast of words;but the truth was just this, that Mr. Durie was damnably frightened andhad several times run off. Here he was--whether caught or come back wasall one to Hastie: the point was to make an end of the business. As forthe talk of deposing and electing captains, he hoped they were all freemen and could attend their own affairs. That was dust flung in theireyes, and so was the proposal to fight Harris. "He shall fight no one inthis camp, I can tell him that," said Hastie. "We had trouble enough toget his arms away from him, and we should look pretty fools to give themback again. But if it's excitement the gentleman is after, I can supplyhim with more than perhaps he cares about. For I have no intention tospend the remainder of my life in these mountains; already I have beentoo long; and I propose that he should immediately tell us where thattreasure is, or else immediately be shot. And there," says he, producinghis weapon, "there is the pistol that I mean to use."

  "Come, I call you a man," cries the Master, sitting up and looking atthe speaker with an air of admiration.

  "I didn't ask you to call me anything," returned Hastie; "which is it tobe?"

  "That's an idle question," said the Master. "Needs must when the devildrives. The truth is we are within easy walk of the place, and I willshow it you to-morrow."

  With that, as if all were quite settled, and settled exactly to hismind, he walked off to his tent, whither Secundra had preceded him.

  I cannot think of these last turns and wriggles of my old enemy, exceptwith admiration; scarce even pity is mingled with the sentiment, sostrongly the man supported, so boldly resisted his misfortunes. Even atthat hour, when he perceived himself quite lost, when he saw he had buteffected an exchange of enemies, and overthrown Harris to set Hastieup, no sign of weakness appeared in his behaviour, and he withdrew tohis tent, already determined (I must suppose) upon affronting theincredible hazard of his last expedient, with the same easy, assured,genteel expression and demeanour as he might have left a theatre withalto join a supper of the wits. But doubtless within, if we could seethere, his soul trembled.

  Early in the night word went about the camp that he was sick; and thefirst thing the next morning he called Hastie to his side, and inquiredmost anxiously if he had any skill in medicine. As a matter of fact,this was a vanity of that fallen divinity student's, to which he hadcunningly addressed himself. Hastie examined him; and being flattered,ignorant, and highly suspicious, knew not in the least whether the manwas sick or malingering. In this state he went forth again to hiscompanions; and (as the thing which would give himself most consequenceeither way) announced that the patient was in a fair way to die.

  "For all that," he added, with an oath, "and if he bursts by thewayside, he must bring us this morning to the treasure."

  But there were several in the camp (Mountain among the number) whom thisbrutality revolted. They would have seen the Master pistolled, orpistolled him themselves, without the smallest sentiment of pity; butthey seemed to have been touched by his gallant fight and unequivocaldefeat the night before; perhaps, too, they were even already beginningto oppose themselves to their new leader: at least, they now declaredthat (if the man was sick) he should have a day's rest in spite ofHastie's teeth.

  The next morning he was manifestly worse, and Hastie himself began todisplay something of humane concern, so easily does even the pretence ofdoctoring awaken sympathy. The third the Master called Mountain andHastie to the tent, announced himself to be dying, gave them fullparticulars as to the position of the cache, and begged them to set outincontinently on the quest, so that they might see if he deceived them,and (if they were at first unsuccessful) he should be able to correcttheir error.

  But here arose a difficulty on which he doubtless counted. None of thesemen would trust another, none would consent to stay behind. On the otherhand, although the Master seemed extremely low, spoke scarce above awhisper, and lay much of the time insensible, it was still possible itwas a fraudulent sickness; and if all went treasure-hunting, it mightprove they had gone upon a wild-goose chase, and return to find theirprisoner flown. They concluded, therefore, to hang idling round thecamp, alleging sympathy to their reason; and, certainly, so mingled areour dispositions, several were sincerely (if not very deeply) affectedby the natural peril of the man whom they callously designed to murder.In the afternoon, Hastie was called to the bedside to pray: the which(incredible as it must appear) he did with unction; about eight at nightthe wailing of Secundra announced that all was over; and before ten, theIndian, with a link stuck in the ground, was toiling at the grave.Sunrise of next day beheld the Master's burial, all hands attending withgreat decency of demeanour; and the body was laid in the earth, wrappedin a fur robe, with only the face uncovered; which last was of a waxywhiteness, and had the nostrils plugged according to some Oriental habitof Secundra's. No sooner was the grave filled than the lamentations ofthe Indian once more struck concern to every heart; and it appears thisgang of murderers, so far from resenting his outcries, although bothdistressful and (in such a country) perilous to their own safety,roughly but kindly endeavoured to console him.

  But if human nature is even in the worst of men occasionally kind, it isstill, and before all things, greedy; and they soon turned from themourner to their own concerns. The cache of the treasure being hard by,although yet unidentified, it was concluded not to break camp; and theday passed, on the part of the voyagers, in unavailing exploration ofthe woods, Secundra the while lying on his master's grave. That nightthey placed no sentinel, but lay altogether about the fire, in thecustomary woodman fashion, the heads outward, like the spokes of awheel. Morning found them in the same disposition; only Pinkerton, wholay on Mountain's right, between him and Hastie, had (in the hours ofdarkness) been secretly butchered, and there lay, still wrapped as tohis body in his mantle, but offering above that ungodly and horrificspectacle of the scalped head. The gang were that morning as pale as acompany of phantoms, for the pertinacity of Indian war (or, to speakmore correctly, Indian murder) was well known to all. But they laid thechief blame on their unsentinelled posture; and, fired with theneighbourhood of the treasure, determined to continue where they were.Pinkerton was buried hard by the Master; the survivors again passed theday in exploration, and returned in a mingled humour of anxiety andhope, being partly certain they were now close on the discovery of whatthey sought, and on the other hand (with the return of darkne
ss)infected with the fear of Indians. Mountain was the first sentry; hedeclares he neither slept nor yet sat down, but kept his watch with aperpetual and straining vigilance, and it was even with unconcern that(when he saw by the stars his time was up) he drew near the fire toawaken his successor. This man (it was Hicks the shoemaker) slept on thelee side of the circle, something farther off in consequence than thoseto windward, and in a place darkened by the blowing smoke. Mountainstooped and took him by the shoulder; his hand was at once smeared bysome adhesive wetness; and (the wind at the moment veering) thefirelight shone upon the sleeper, and showed him, like Pinkerton, deadand scalped.

  It was clear they had fallen in the hands of one of those matchlessIndian bravos, that will sometimes follow a party for days, and in spiteof indefatigable travel, and unsleeping watch, continue to keep up withtheir advance, and steal a scalp at every resting-place. Upon thisdiscovery, the treasure-seekers, already reduced to a poor half-dozen,fell into mere dismay, seized a few necessaries, and, deserting theremainder of their goods, fled outright into the forest. Their fire theyleft still burning, and their dead comrade unburied. All day they ceasednot to flee, eating by the way, from hand to mouth; and since theyfeared to sleep, continued to advance at random even in the hours ofdarkness. But the limit of man's endurance is soon reached; when theyrested at last it was to sleep profoundly; and when they woke, it was tofind that the enemy was still upon their heels, and death and mutilationhad once more lessened and deformed their company.

  By this they had become light-headed, they had quite missed their pathin the Wilderness, their stores were already running low. With thefurther horrors it is superfluous that I should swell this narrative,already too prolonged. Suffice it to say that when at length a nightpassed by innocuous, and they might breathe again in the hope that themurderer had at last desisted from pursuit, Mountain and Secundra werealone. The trader is firmly persuaded their unseen enemy was somewarrior of his own acquaintance, and that he himself was spared byfavour. The mercy extended to Secundra he explains on the ground thatthe East Indian was thought to be insane; partly from the fact that,through all the horrors of the flight, and while others were castingaway their very food and weapons, Secundra continued to stagger forwardwith a mattock on his shoulder, and partly because, in the last days,and with a great degree of heat and fluency, he perpetually spoke withhimself in his own language. But he was sane enough when it came toEnglish.

  "You think he will be gone quite away?" he asked, upon their blestawakening in safety.

  "I pray God so, I believe so, I dare to believe so," Mountain hadreplied almost with incoherence, as he described the scene to me.

  And indeed he was so much distempered that until he met us, the nextmorning, he could scarce be certain whether he had dreamed, or whetherit was a fact, that Secundra had thereupon turned directly about andreturned without a word upon their footprints, setting his face forthese wintry and hungry solitudes along a path whose every stage wasmile-stoned with a mutilated corpse.

  FOOTNOTE:

  [10] Tear-marked.

  CHAPTER XII

  THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS (_continued_)

  Mountain's story, as it was laid before Sir William Johnson and my lord,was shorn, of course, of all the earlier particulars, and the expeditiondescribed to have proceeded uneventfully, until the Master sickened. Butthe latter part was very forcibly related, the speaker visibly thrillingto his recollections; and our then situation, on the fringe of the samedesert, and the private interests of each, gave him an audience preparedto share in his emotions. For Mountain's intelligence not only changedthe world for my Lord Durrisdeer, but materially affected the designs ofSir William Johnson.

  These I find I must lay more at length before the reader. Word hadreached Albany of dubious import; it had been rumoured some hostilitywas to be put in act; and the Indian diplomatist had, thereupon, spedinto the Wilderness, even at the approach of winter, to nip thatmischief in the bud. Here, on the borders, he learned that he was cometoo late; and a difficult choice was thus presented to a man (upon thewhole) not any more bold than prudent. His standing with the paintedbraves may be compared to that of my Lord President Culloden among thechiefs of our own Highlanders at the 'Forty-five; that is as much as tosay, he was, to these men, reason's only speaking-trumpet, and counselsof peace and moderation, if they were to prevail at all, must prevailsingly through his influence. If, then, he should return, the provincemust lie open to all the abominable tragedies of Indian war--the housesblaze, the wayfarer be cut off, and the men of the woods collect theirusual disgusting spoil of human scalps. On the other side, to go fartherforth, to risk so small a party deeper in the desert, to carry words ofpeace among warlike savages already rejoicing to return to war: here wasan extremity from which it was easy to perceive his mind revolted.

  "I have come too late," he said more than once, and would fall into adeep consideration, his head bowed in his hands, his foot patting theground.

  At length he raised his face and looked upon us, that is to say, upon mylord, Mountain, and myself, sitting close round a small fire, which hadbeen made for privacy in one corner of the camp.

  "My lord, to be quite frank with you, I find myself in two minds," saidhe. "I think it very needful I should go on, but not at all proper Ishould any longer enjoy the pleasure of your company. We are here stillupon the water-side; and I think the risk to southward no great matter.Will not yourself and Mr. Mackellar take a single boat's crew and returnto Albany?"

  My lord, I should say, had listened to Mountain's narrative, regardinghim throughout with a painful intensity of gaze; and, since the taleconcluded, had sat as in a dream. There was something very daunting inhis look; something to my eyes not rightly human; the face lean, anddark, and aged, the mouth painful, the teeth disclosed in a perpetualrictus; the eyeball swimming clear of the lids upon a field ofblood-shot white. I could not behold him myself without a jarringirritation, such as, I believe, is too frequently the uppermost feelingon the sickness of those dear to us. Others, I could not but remark,were scarce able to support his neighbourhood--Sir William eviting to benear him, Mountain dodging his eye, and, when he met it, blenching andhalting in his story. At this appeal, however, my lord appeared torecover his command upon himself.

  "To Albany?" said he, with a good voice.

  "Not short of it, at least," replied Sir William. "There is no safetynearer hand."

  "I would be very sweir[11] to return," says my lord. "I am notafraid--of Indians," he added, with a jerk.

  "I wish that I could say so much," returned Sir William, smiling;"although, if any man durst say it, it should be myself. But you are tokeep in view my responsibility, and that as the voyage has now becomehighly dangerous, and your business--if you ever had any," sayshe,--"brought quite to a conclusion by the distressing familyintelligence you have received, I should be hardly justified if I evensuffered you to proceed, and run the risk of some obloquy if anythingregrettable should follow."

  My lord turned to Mountain. "What did he pretend he died of?" he asked.

  "I don't think I understand your honour," said the trader, pausing, likea man very much affected, in the dressing of some cruel frost-bites.

  For a moment my lord seemed at a full stop; and then, with someirritation, "I ask you what he died of. Surely that's a plain question,"said he.

  "O! I don't know," said Mountain. "Hastie even never knew. He seemed tosicken natural, and just pass away."

  "There it is, you see!" concluded my lord, turning to Sir William.

  "Your lordship is too deep for me," replied Sir William.

  "Why," says my lord, "this is a matter of succession; my son's title maybe called in doubt; and the man being supposed to be dead of nobody cantell what, a great deal of suspicion would be naturally roused."

  "But, God damn me, the man's buried!" cried Sir William.

  "I will never believe that," returned my lord, painfully trembling."I'll never believe it!" he cried again, and ju
mped to his feet. "Didhe _look_ dead?" he asked of Mountain.

  "Look dead?" repeated the trader. "He looked white. Why, what would hebe at? I tell you, I put the sods upon him."

  My lord caught Sir William by the coat with a hooked hand. "This man hasthe name of my brother," says he, "but it's well understood that he wasnever canny."

  "Canny?" says Sir William. "What is that?"

  "He's not of this world," whispered my lord, "neither him nor the blackdeil that serves him. I have struck my sword throughout his vitals," hecried; "I have felt the hilt dirl[12] on his breastbone, and the hotblood spirt in my very face, time and again, time and again!" herepeated, with a gesture indescribable. "But he was never dead for,that," said he, and sighed aloud. "Why should I think he was dead now?No, not till I see him rotting," says he.

  Sir William looked across at me with a long face. Mountain forgot hiswounds, staring and gaping.

  "My lord," said I, "I wish you would collect your spirits." But mythroat was so dry, and my own wits so scattered, I could add no more.

  "No," says my lord, "it's not to be supposed that he would understandme. Mackellar does, for he kens all, and has seen him buried before now.This is a very good servant to me, Sir William, this man Mackellar; heburied him with his own hands--he and my father--by the light of twosiller candlesticks. The other man is a familiar spirit; he brought himfrom Coromandel. I would have told ye this long syne, Sir William, onlyit was in the family." These last remarks he made with a kind ofmelancholy composure, and his time of aberration seemed to pass away."You can ask yourself what it all means," he proceeded. "My brotherfalls sick, and dies, and is buried, or so they say; and all seems veryplain. But why did the familiar go back? I think ye must see foryourself it's a point that wants some clearing."

  "I will be at your service, my lord, in half a minute," said SirWilliam, rising,--"Mr. Mackellar, two words from you"; and he led mewithout the camp, the frost crunching in our steps, the trees standingat our elbow, hoar with frost, even as on that night in the longshrubbery. "Of course, this is midsummer madness," said Sir William, assoon as we were gotten out of hearing.

  "Why, certainly," said I. "The man is mad. I think that manifest."

  "Shall I seize and bind him?" asked Sir William. "I will upon yourauthority. If these are all ravings, that should certainly be done."

  I looked down upon the ground, back at the camp, with its bright firesand the folk watching us, and about me on the woods and mountains; therewas just the one way that I could not look, and that was in SirWilliam's face.

  "Sir William," said I at last, "I think my lord not sane, and have longthought him so. But there are degrees in madness; and whether he shouldbe brought under restraint--Sir William, I am no fit judge," Iconcluded.

  "I Will be the judge," said he. "I ask for facts. Was there, in all thatjargon, any word of truth or sanity? Do you hesitate?" he asked. "Am Ito understand you have buried this gentleman before?"

  "Not buried," said I; and then, taking up courage at last, "SirWilliam," said I, "unless I were to tell you a long story, which muchconcerns a noble family (and myself not in the least), it would beimpossible to make this matter clear to you. Say the word, and I will doit, right or wrong. And, at any rate, I will say so much, that my lordis not so crazy as he seems. This is a strange matter, into the tail ofwhich you are unhappily drifted."

  "I desire none of your secrets," replied Sir William; "but I will beplain, at the risk of incivility, and confess that I take littlepleasure in my present company."

  "I would be the last to blame you," said I, "for that."

  "I have not asked either for your censure or your praise, sir," returnedSir William. "I desire simply to be quit of you; and to that effect, Iput a boat and complement of men at your disposal."

  "This is fairly offered," said I, after reflection. "But you must sufferme to say a word upon the other side. We have a natural curiosity tolearn the truth of this affair; I have some of it myself; my lord (it isvery plain) has but too much. The matter of the Indian's return isenigmatical."

  "I think so myself," Sir William interrupted, "and I propose (since I goin that direction) to probe it to the bottom. Whether or not the man hasgone like a dog to lie upon his master's grave, his life, at least, isin great danger, and I propose, if I can, to save it.--There is nothingagainst his character?"

  "Nothing, Sir William," I replied.

  "And the other?" he said. "I have heard my lord, of course; but, fromthe circumstances of his servant's loyalty, I must suppose he had somenoble qualities."

  "You must not ask me that!" I cried. "Hell may have noble flames. I haveknown him a score of years, and always hated, and always admired, andalways slavishly feared him."

  "I appear to intrude again upon your secrets," said Sir William,"believe me, inadvertently. Enough that I will see the grave, and (ifpossible) rescue the Indian. Upon these terms, can you persuade yourmaster to return to Albany?"

  "Sir William," said I, "I will tell you how it is. You do not see mylord to advantage; it will seem even strange to you that I should lovehim; but I do, and I am not alone. If he goes back to Albany, it must beby force, and it will be the death-warrant of his reason, and perhapshis life. That is my sincere belief; but I am in your hands, and readyto obey, if you will assume so much responsibility as to command."

  "I will have no shred of responsibility; it is my single endeavour toavoid the same," cried Sir William. "You insist upon following thisjourney up; and be it so! I wash my hands of the whole matter."

  With which word he turned upon his heel and gave the order to breakcamp; and my lord, who had been hovering near by, came instantly to myside.

  "Which is it to be?" said he.

  "You are to have your way," I answered. "You shall see the grave."

  * * * * *

  The situation of the Master's grave was, between guides, easilydescribed; it lay, indeed, beside a chief landmark of the Wilderness, acertain range of peaks, conspicuous by their design and altitude, andthe source of many brawling tributaries to that inland sea, LakeChamplain. It was therefore possible to strike for it direct, instead offollowing back the blood-stained trail of the fugitives, and to cover,in some sixteen hours of march, a distance which their perturbedwanderings had extended over more than sixty. Our boats we left under aguard upon the river; it was, indeed, probable we should return to findthem frozen fast; and the small equipment with which we set forth uponthe expedition, included not only an infinity of furs to protect us fromthe cold, but an arsenal of snow-shoes to render travel possible, whenthe inevitable snow should fall. Considerable alarm was manifested atour departure; the march was conducted with soldierly precaution, thecamp at night sedulously chosen and patrolled; and it was aconsideration of this sort that arrested us, the second day, within notmany hundred yards of our destination--the night being already imminent,the spot in which we stood well qualified to be a strong camp for aparty of our numbers; and Sir William, therefore, on a sudden thought,arresting our advance.

  Before us was the high range of mountains toward which we had been allday deviously drawing near. From the first light of the dawn, theirsilver peaks had been the goal of our advance across a tumbled lowlandforest, thrid with rough streams, and strewn with monstrous boulders;the peaks (as I say) silver, for already at the higher altitudes thesnow fell nightly; but the woods and the low ground only breathed uponwith frost. All day heaven had been charged with ugly vapours, in thewhich the sun swam and glimmered like a shilling-piece; all day the windblew on our left cheek barbarous cold, but very pure to breathe. Withthe end of the afternoon, however, the wind fell; the clouds, being nolonger reinforced, were scattered or drunk up; the sun set behind uswith some wintry splendour, and the white brow of the mountains sharedits dying glow.

  It was dark ere we had supper; we ate in silence, and the meal wasscarce despatched before my lord slunk from the fireside to the marginof the camp; whither I made haste to follow him. The
camp was on highground, overlooking a frozen lake, perhaps a mile in its longestmeasurement; all about us the forest lay in heights and hollows; aboverose the white mountains; and higher yet, the moon rode in a fair sky.There was no breath of air; nowhere a twig creaked; and the sounds ofour own camp were hushed and swallowed up in the surrounding stillness.Now that the sun and the wind were both gone down, it appeared almostwarm, like a night of July: a singular illusion of the sense, whenearth, air, and water were strained to bursting with the extremity offrost.

  My lord (or what I still continued to call by his loved name) stood withhis elbow in one hand, and his chin sunk in the other, gazing before himon the surface of the wood. My eyes followed his, and rested almostpleasantly upon the frosted contexture of the pines, rising in moonlithillocks, or sinking in the shadow of small glens. Hard by, I toldmyself, was the grave of our enemy, now gone where the wicked cease fromtroubling, the earth heaped for ever on his once so active limbs. Icould not but think of him as somehow fortunate to be thus done withman's anxiety and weariness, the daily expense of spirit, and that dailyriver of circumstance to be swum through, at any hazard, under thepenalty of shame or death. I could not but think how good was the end ofthat long travel; and with that, my mind swung at a tangent to my lord.For was not my lord dead also? a maimed soldier, looking vainly fordischarge, lingering derided in the line of battle? A kind man, Iremembered him; wise, with a decent pride, a son perhaps too dutiful, ahusband only too loving, one that could suffer and be silent, one whosehand I loved to press. Of a sudden, pity caught in my wind-pipe with asob; I could have wept aloud to remember and behold him; and standingthus by his elbow, under the broad moon, I prayed fervently either thathe should be released, or I strengthened to persist in my affection.

  "O God," said I, "this was the best man to me and to himself, and now Ishrink from him. He did no wrong, or not till he was broke with sorrows;these are but his honourable wounds that we begin to shrink from. Ocover them up, O take him away, before we hate him!"

  I was still so engaged in my own bosom, when a sound broke suddenly uponthe night. It was neither very loud nor very near; yet, bursting as itdid from so profound and so prolonged a silence, it startled the camplike an alarm of trumpets. Ere I had taken breath, Sir William wasbeside me, the main part of the voyagers clustered at his back, intentlygiving ear. Methought, as I glanced at them across my shoulder, therewas a whiteness, other than moonlight, on their cheeks; and the rays ofthe moon reflected with a sparkle on the eyes of some, and the shadowslying black under the brows of others (according as they raised or bowedthe head to listen) gave to the group a strange air of animation andanxiety. My lord was to the front, crouching a little forth, his handraised as for silence: a man turned to stone. And still the soundscontinued, breathlessly renewed with a precipitate rhythm.

  Suddenly Mountain spoke in a loud, broken whisper, as of a man relieved."I have it now," he said; and, as we all turned to hear him, "the Indianmust have known the cache," he added. "That is he--he is digging out thetreasure."

  "Why, to be sure!" exclaimed Sir William. "We were geese not to havesupposed so much."

  "The only thing is," Mountain resumed, "the sound is very close to ourold camp. And, again, I do not see how he is there before us, unless theman had wings!"

  "Greed and fear are wings," remarked Sir William. "But this rogue hasgiven us an alert, and I have a notion to return the compliment.--Whatsay you, gentlemen, shall we have a moonlight hunt?"

  It was so agreed; dispositions were made to surround Secundra at histask; some of Sir William's Indians hastened in advance; and a strongguard being left at our headquarters, we set forth along the unevenbottom of the forest; frost crackling, ice sometimes loudly splittingunder foot; and overhead the blackness of pine-woods and the brokenbrightness of the moon. Our way led down into a hollow of the land; andas we descended, the sounds diminished and had almost died away. Uponthe other slope it was more open, only dotted with a few pines, andseveral vast and scattered rocks that made inky shadows in themoonlight. Here the sounds began to reach us more distinctly; we couldnow perceive the ring of iron, and more exactly estimate the furiousdegree of haste with which the digger plied his instrument. As we nearedthe top of the ascent, a bird or two winged aloft and hovered darkly inthe moonlight; and the next moment we were gazing through a fringe oftrees upon a singular picture.

  A narrow plateau, overlooked by the white mountains, and encompassednearer hand by woods, lay bare to the strong radiance of the moon. Roughgoods, such as make the wealth of foresters, were sprinkled here andthere upon the ground in meaningless disarray. About the midst, a tentstood, silvered with frost: the door open, gaping on the black interior.At the one end of this small stage lay what seemed the tattered remnantsof a man. Without doubt we had arrived upon the scene of Harris'sencampment; there were the goods scattered in the panic of flight; itwas in yon tent the Master breathed his last; and the frozen carrionthat lay before us was the body of the drunken shoemaker. It was alwaysmoving to come upon the theatre of any tragic incident; to come upon itafter so many days, and to find it (in the seclusion of a desert) stillunchanged, must have impressed the mind of the most careless. And yet itwas not that which struck us into pillars of stone; but the sight (whichyet we had been half expecting) of Secundra ankle-deep in the grave ofhis late master. He had cast the main part of his raiment by, yet hisfrail arms and shoulders glistered in the moonlight with a copioussweat; his face was contracted with anxiety and expectation; his blowsresounded on the grave, as thick as sobs; and behind him, strangelydeformed and ink-black upon the frosty ground, the creature's shadowrepeated and parodied his swift gesticulations. Some night-birds arosefrom the boughs upon our coming, and then settled back; but Secundra,absorbed in his toil, heard or heeded not at all.

  I heard Mountain whisper to Sir William, "Good God! it's the grave! He'sdigging him up!" It was what we had all guessed, and yet to hear it putin language thrilled me. Sir William violently started.

  "You damned sacrilegious hound!" he cried. "What's this?"

  Secundra leaped in the air, a little breathless cry escaped him, thetool flew from his grasp, and he stood one instant staring at thespeaker. The next, swift as an arrow, he sped for the woods upon thefarther side; and the next again, throwing up his hands with a violentgesture of resolution, he had begun already to retrace his steps.

  "Well, then, you come, you help--" he was saying. But by now my lord hadstepped beside Sir William; the moon shone fair upon his face, and thewords were still upon Secundra's lips, when he beheld and recognised hismaster's enemy. "Him!" he screamed, clasping his hands, and shrinking onhimself.

  "Come, come!" said Sir William. "There is none here to do you harm, ifyou be innocent; and if you be guilty, your escape is quite cut off.Speak, what do you here among the graves of the dead and the remains ofthe unburied?"

  "You no murderer?" inquired Secundra. "You true man? You see me safe?"

  "I will see you safe, if you be innocent," returned Sir William. "I havesaid the thing, and I see not wherefore you should doubt it."

  "These all murderers," cried Secundra, "that is why! He kill--murderer,"pointing to Mountain; "these two hire-murderers," pointing to my lordand myself--"all gallows-murderers! Ah! I see you all swing in a rope.Now I go save the Sahib; he see you swing in a rope. The Sahib," hecontinued, pointing to the grave, "he not dead. He bury, he not dead."

  My lord uttered a little noise, moved nearer to the grave, and stood andstared in it.

  "Buried and not dead?" exclaimed Sir William. "What kind of rant isthis?"

  "See, Sahib," said Secundra. "The Sahib and I alone with murderers; tryall way to escape, no way good. Then try this way: good way in warmclimate, good way in India; here, in this dam cold place, who can tell?I tell you pretty good hurry: you help, you light a fire, help rub."

  "What is the creature talking of?" cried Sir William. "My head goesround."

  "I tell you I bury him alive," said Secundra. "I teac
h him swallow histongue. Now dig him up pretty good hurry, and he not much worse. Youlight a fire."

  Sir William turned to the nearest of his men. "Light a fire," said he."My lot seems to be cast with the insane."

  "You good man," returned Secundra. "Now I go dig the Sahib up."

  He returned as he spoke to the grave, and resumed his former toil. Mylord stood rooted, and I at my lord's side, fearing I knew not what.

  The frost was not yet very deep, and presently the Indian threw asidehis tool, and began to scoop the dirt by handfuls. Then he disengaged acorner of a buffalo robe; and then I saw hair catch among his fingers:yet a moment more, and the moon shone on something white. A whileSecundra crouched upon his knees, scraping with delicate fingers,breathing with puffed lips; and when he moved aside, I beheld the faceof the Master wholly disengaged. It was deadly white, the eyes closed,the ears and nostrils plugged, the cheeks fallen, the nose sharp as ifin death; but for all he had lain so many days under the sod, corruptionhad not approached him, and (what strangely affected all of us) his lipsand chin were mantled with a swarthy beard.

  "My God!" cried Mountain, "he was as smooth as a baby when we laid himthere!"

  "They say hair grows upon the dead," observed Sir William; but his voicewas thick and weak.

  Secundra paid no heed to our remarks, digging swift as a terrier in theloose earth. Every moment the form of the Master, swathed in his buffalorobe, grew more distinct in the bottom of that shallow trough; the moonshining strong, and the shadows of the standers-by, as they drew forwardand back, falling and flitting over his emergent countenance. The sightheld us with a horror not before experienced. I dared not look my lordin the face; but for as long as it lasted, I never observed him to drawbreath; and a little in the background one of the men (I know not whom)burst into a kind of sobbing.

  "Now," said Secundra, "you help me lift him out." Of the flight of timeI have no idea; it may have been three hours, and it may have been five,that the Indian laboured to reanimate his master's body. One thing onlyI know, that it was still night, and the moon was not yet set, althoughit had sunk low, and now barred the plateau with long shadows, whenSecundra uttered a small cry of satisfaction: and, leaning swiftlyforth, I thought I could myself perceive a change upon that icycountenance of the unburied. The next moment I beheld his eyelidsflutter; the next they rose entirely, and the week-old corpse looked mefor a moment in the face.

  So much display of life I can myself swear to. I have heard from othersthat he visibly strove to speak, that his teeth showed in his beard, andthat his brow was contorted as with an agony of pain and effort. Andthis may have been; I know not, I was otherwise engaged. For at thatfirst disclosure of the dead man's eyes my Lord Durrisdeer fell to theground, and when I raised him up he was a corpse.

  * * * * *

  Day came, and still Secundra could not be persuaded to desist from hisunavailing efforts. Sir William, leaving a small party under my command,proceeded on his embassy with the first light; and still the Indianrubbed the limbs and breathed in the mouth of the dead body. You wouldthink such labours might have vitalised a stone; but, except for thatone moment (which was my lord's death), the black spirit of the Masterheld aloof from its discarded clay; and by about the hour of noon, eventhe faithful servant was at length convinced. He took it with unshakenquietude.

  "Too cold," said he, "good way in India, no good here." And, asking forsome food, which he ravenously devoured as soon as it was set beforehim, he drew near to the fire and took his place at my elbow. In thesame spot, as soon as he had eaten, he stretched himself out, and fellinto a childlike slumber, from which I must arouse him, some hoursafterwards, to take his part as one of the mourners at the doublefuneral. It was the same throughout; he seemed to have outlived at once,and with the same effort, his grief for his master and his terror ofmyself and Mountain.

  One of the men left with me was skilled in stone-cutting; and before SirWilliam returned to pick us up, I had chiselled on a boulder thisinscription, with a copy of which I may fitly bring my narrative to aclose:

  J. D. HEIR TO A SCOTTISH TITLE, A MASTER OF THE ARTS AND GRACES, ADMIRED IN EUROPE, ASIA, AMERICA, IN WAR AND PEACE, IN THE TENTS OF SAVAGE HUNTERS AND THE CITADELS OF KINGS, AFTER SO MUCH ACQUIRED, ACCOMPLISHED, AND ENDURED, LIES HERE FORGOTTEN.

  ______

  H. D. HIS BROTHER, AFTER A LIFE OF UNMERITED DISTRESS, BRAVELY SUPPORTED, DIED ALMOST IN THE SAME HOUR, AND SLEEPS IN THE SAME GRAVE WITH HIS FRATERNAL ENEMY.

  ______

  THE PIETY OF HIS WIFE AND ONE OLD SERVANT RAISED THIS STONE TO BOTH.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [11] Unwilling.

  [12] Ring.

  END OF VOL. XII

  PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.

  * * * * *

  Transcriber's note:

  In Chapter VIII "tell the Sahib, with my kind love, that we are twosoliders here . . ." was changed to "tell the Sahib, with my kindlove, that we are two SOLDIERS here . . .