A Story of the Revolution.
BY JAMES BARNES.
CHAPTER III.
ON TUMBLE RIDGE.
Although Uncle Nathan was eager to arm his own people and seek a meeting with the "miscreants," who, he declared, were endeavoring to ruin him, Mr. Wyeth's cool counsels and Uncle Daniel's restraining voice prevailed, and nothing had been done.
But Nathaniel Frothingham refused to go to bed, and paced the floor all night. At daybreak he and his brother, with Cloud, the overseer, and Mr. Wyeth, made their way up on the ridge. At first nothing appeared amiss, but when they had gone a short way into the shaft they came upon a scene of havoc.
The Hewes' Mine and the Frothinghams' had been joined into one big excavation that was filled with the débris of the timbers and great masses of ore.
It was true! For some months the Frothinghams had been working upon the other's property. They had been separated only by a thin wall of rock, and it was this intervening partition that had been blown up in the night.
The Hewes' shaft was deserted; but Uncle Nathan, when he reached the air, climbed to a high point where he could look into the eastern valley.
He shook his fist out over the silent woods and meadows. "I'll be even with you, you cowardly rascals!" he exclaimed. "You'll account to me for every bit of it, Mason Hewes, I'll warrant ye." He dashed his hat and his wig upon the ground, and stamped upon them in his wrath.
Suddenly from behind a clump of bushes came three men, walking quickly forward. They were Mr. Mason Hewes, his cousin the tall man carrying the rifle, and a stranger.
They came quite close before a word was said. In the mean time Daniel Frothingham and Mr. Wyeth had placed themselves on Uncle Nathan's either hand, while Cloud had thrown back his coat, showing a big horse-pistol thrust into his belt.
"I beg pardon," said Mr. Hewes, stepping ahead of the others. "But some one called my name a moment since; have any of you gentlemen aught to say to me?" He bowed politely, but his face was pale, and it was evident that he was restraining himself only by a great effort.
Uncle Nathan put his hand to his bald head. The absence of his wig appeared to disconcert him, and it was his brother who answered first.
"Yes," said Uncle Daniel. "Here is one who has something plain to say. You are a villain, sir. I am Daniel Frothingham, much at your service."
Again Mr. Hewes bowed. "You are an old man," he said. "But guard your words, I pray of you."
"I need guard no words when talking to a traitor," half shouted Uncle Daniel.
"A traitor to what or whom, may I inquire?" said Mr. Hewes, lifting his eyebrows.
"To your King," was the rejoinder. "I have heard of your rebellious speech."
"We may have no King here shortly," replied Mr. Hewes; "and in saying so I am but far-sighted. Still I warn you, guard your words!"
Nathaniel had by this time recovered his wig and his composure, although he looked redder than ever.
"This is my quarrel, brother," he said, turning first to Daniel and then to his hated neighbor. "Look here, you sneering rebel, I am not too old, and my words shall not be guarded at your orders," he added.
"Hold," said Mr. Hewes; "no need of further talk; do you mean to force a meeting with me?"
"Whenever and wherever you may choose," responded Uncle Nathan.
"This is my cousin and my young friend, Lemuel Roberts; they will wait upon you," said Mr. Hewes, waving his hand towards his companions.
Stilted recognitions followed, and some whispering.
"To-morrow morning, then, at the spring in yonder hollow," announced one of the suddenly appointed seconds. Bows were exchanged, and the two parties walked away and descended the opposite slopes of the hill.
Cloud, the overseer, was evidently delighted with the unexpected turn of affairs. But the rest of the party walked on in silence.
When they reached the house, Nathaniel Frothingham called to Cato, who came into the hall. "Cato," he said, "get out those ebony-handled pistols, and bring them on the lawn."
What fun the twins had that afternoon, and how their uncle rose in their estimation, for at the first shot the stem of a wine-glass placed against a tree-trunk had been shattered, and Uncle Nathan had turned, saying, "I have not forgotten how—eh, Daniel?"
One thing the twins could not understand was why every one should be so glum over a little pistol practice, or why their aunt Clarissa should sit upstairs with her finger-tips in her ears, and her eyes red from weeping.
Something unusual was in the wind, it was easy to see that, but what it was the boys could not determine.
After supper they had made their way to the foundry. From the door of the smelting furnace a huge red beam shot out into the evening twilight, throwing into strong relief the figures of the workmen, who with their puddling-irons were turning the molten streams into the rough sand moulds.
The twins stood there talking softly to one another.
"I say, George," said William, "isn't it time we went back to the house, think ye?"
"Oh, I don't know," replied the other. "Let's go around to the pond first. We'll see if there's anything in the traps."
They darted out of the glare of the furnaces and climbed the fence into the road. The pond lay still and quiet in the shadowy gray light, and the twins carefully picked their way across the dam and entered a clump of alders on the other side.
They had not gone more than a dozen steps when a strange apparition appeared to rise out of the very mud at their feet. A tall bent figure with long hair hanging down over its broad shoulders, a pair of deep-set, restless eyes, and a large good-humored mouth, parted in a grin.
"How!" said the apparition, in a deep chest tone.
The boys had recovered from their sudden start. "How, Adam!" they returned.
Adam Bent Knee was one of the few surviving members of the once powerful tribe of Indians that had years before harassed the settlers of New Jersey, and had moved northward and westward before the advancing tide of civilization, leaving a few of its descendants to earn a precarious existence by fishing and trading in small ways with the whites.
The boys had long known the old Indian, and had often greeted him as he passed through the woods tending his traps, or bringing strings of fish down to the settlement to be exchanged for tobacco or a few ounces of sugar. He seldom spoke to the older people, but he always had seemed glad to meet the twins.
As they looked at him after he had arisen from the log on which he had been seated, they saw he held in his hands the ends of two long night-lines whose floats bobbed up and down some distance out on the surface of the pond.
"Any luck this evening, Adam?" inquired George, cheerfully.
"Luck no good now," replied the old man; "luck no good anywhere. Tell old man," said he, suddenly bending forward, "luck no good for him. Tell him look out," the old Indian went on. "Fire, all, everywhere. War! Three red moons! War! Men kill!" He swept his hand about his head, as if indulging in some occult warning.
The boys looked at one another, and, taking hands, passed on. The Indian, without a further word, seated himself again on the log.
A few steps further up the bank the twins glanced at a rough trap near the roots of a huge sumach-bush, and seeing that luck here was also against them, they skirted the bend and quickly crossed the old bridge back to the house. They stole up to bed through the kitchen entrance. A light was burning in their uncle's office. The three gentlemen were in there, and Uncle Nathan was putting his name to a big paper, which the others witnessed with their signatures. It was his will.
Early the next morning the Frothingham twins made their way to the summit of Tumble Ridge on a tour of inspection of their own.
They looked down into the yawning mouth of the pit, but did not descend and could not see the mischief that the big blast had played with the mine that their uncle had reckoned his best bit of property.
The Frothinghams' shaft was not in use, but George thought he heard the rumble of the Hewes' ore cars descending their side of the hill.
So the boys walked over to the fence, climbed to the top and looked down the further slope, then, balancing themselves, they walked along the rail.
Suddenly they stopped. There, only a short distance from them, leaning against the trunk of a stunted oak, was the hated Carter Hewes. He was looking at them fixedly. "Where's your black nurse?" he said, grinning.
"I suppose you mean our body-servant, sir," said George, keeping his balance with an effort on the rickety top rail.
The larger boy laughed. "You ought not to be out alone," he said.
"We are able to take care of ourselves, and you, too, I'll warrant," said William, who also maintained his post of vantage with some difficulty.
"I dare you to come over on our property," said Carter, moving toward them, menacingly.
Whether the top rail slipped, or whether the challenge was too much for the young Frothingham blood is not to be told, but in an instant both boys were down upon the ground. Carter had removed his coat.
"I'll fight you both," he said.
William plucked George by the sleeve. "Me first," he whispered, removing his hat and turning up his sleeves.
George stepped to one side, and in an instant the two boys were at it without another word.
Some blows were exchanged, and then the combatants clinched and rolled upon the ground, first one on top, and then the other, scratching and striking with all their might.
George danced about them, scarcely refraining from taking a hand himself, and shouting encouragingly.
"You have him, William! You have him!" he cried, waving his brother's hat as well as his own, about his head. "Don't let him hold you down!"
But size and superior strength told at last, and the fighters for an instant separated and rose to their feet. Then it was seen that William had much the worst of the affair. One of his eyes was blackened, and he could scarcely close his small fists, but he faced his opponent bravely, and said, "Come on, come on, sir!" He was panting furiously, and snuffling to keep back the angry sobs. Carter, too, was breathing hard, sharp breaths. His lips were tightly pressed over his teeth, and the corner of his mouth was bleeding slightly. There was another rush, and William went down and lay there, for a blow had caught him squarely on the point of the chin.
George threw down the hats and tore off his coat.
"You said you'd fight us both," he shouted to the older boy, and drove at him, with both arms threshing like a small wind-mill. Carter could not resist the impetus of this fresh onslaught. Tired with his first struggle, inside a minute he cried, "Enough, enough. Two to one is too much for me. I've had enough, I say!"
He had tripped over a branch and had fallen on the ground. George stood over him, and William, recovering, was shouting encouragement in turn.
But further fighting was interrupted just here by a strange appearance. There was something that sounded like a laugh, and, looking up, the three boys saw, standing close to them, the bent form of the old Indian.
"Ugh!" he said. "Heap fight. Great chiefs." Then he came closer. "No more fight," he said. "Good friends now. Great chiefs."
He held in his fingers a short red clay pipe, from which the smoke was curling.
"I've had enough," repeated Carter, glancing up at George.
The old Indian made a funny gesture with his open hand. "No more fight," he said, at the same time turning round and striking the ground sharply with his moccasined feet.
Something was so amusing in the old man's expression that George half smiled, and Carter, getting up, brushed the dirt from his knees and elbows.
THE PIPE OF PEACE.
"Let's smoke the 'Pipe of Peace,'" he said.
The old Indian seemed to understand him, for soon he sat upon the ground, and motioned the boys to join him.
The four seated themselves in a circle.
Old Adam gravely drew three puffs and made a guttural exclamation, at the same time passing the short clay pipe to George, who took a whiff. It made him cough, and the tears came into his eyes as he passed it on to Carter, who, still breathless, put it to his lips, and inhaled a little of the smoke. He immediately fell to coughing also, but handed the pipe to William, whose left eye was fast closing. William drew a long inhalation, and almost exploded, the smoke coming from his nose, and the tears running down his grimy face.
Contrary to what is supposed to be the usual custom of the Indian, Adam Bent Knee laughed aloud. "Great chiefs," he said.
Quickly, however, he recovered his composure, and passed the pipe again.
If honors were equally divided in the former contest, the pipe had all the glory of the second encounter, for the boys refused to touch it.
Still dizzy from the effects of the strong tobacco, they stood up and put on their coats.
"Let's go over to the spring and wash our faces," said Carter. "There's no use fighting any more."
No one would have thought that hostilities could be so soon forgotten; but boys forgive easily if they have no mean action cherished against one another.
Old Adam left them, striding off through the trees with a parting injunction to "no more fight."
When the late combatants reached the spring they threw themselves flat in the green soft grass, and washed their heated faces, and there was cemented a friendship between the younger branches of the rival families that was destined to bear most unlooked-for results.
As they lay there talking together they heard the sound of voices, and George arose. "Why, look here!" he said. "Here's our two uncles and your father, Carter; and Dr. Grubb, from the cross-ways, with a big box under his arm. What are they about?"
Looking through the bushes the three lads saw a strange sight.
Uncle Nathan was standing with his arms folded quite alone, and a short distance away was Mr. Hewes, who was stripping the leaves from a twig he held in his hand. Beneath a tree a discussion was being held in low tones between four other gentlemen, and the doctor off to one side was mopping his forehead with a great handkerchief.
The trio of new friends walked boldly out into the open. But they were not prepared for the consternation that their appearance created.
The doctor stopped polishing his brow, and adjusted his old brown wig. Mr. Hewes dropped both his hands, and the group under the tree looked like school-boys caught robbing an orchard.
Nathaniel Frothingham cleared his throat nervously. "What are you doing here, and what have you been at?"
"We've been fighting," said William, promptly. "But we are good friends now, and we've smoked the pipe of peace; have we not, Carter?"
No one spoke, and again an awkward silence followed. At last the Doctor spoke. "A capital idea," he said. "Have you it with you?—ah, eh?—the pipe, I mean."
"No," said Carter. "It belonged to Adam Bent Knee, and it made us all most dreadful sick."
At this Mr. Wyeth laughed, and Mr. Hewes's pale face broadened into a smile.
"Now, I think me that a snuff-box might make an excellent substitute," said the Doctor, walking up to Mr. Hewes and extending a big horn-case.
Mr. Hewes took a pinch, and then with reluctance Uncle Nathan followed suit. Then pinches of the powdered tobacco were exchanged all round.
The Doctor broke out into a roaring sneeze. "Well, gentlemen, methinks the conference is over," he said, and started off with the case under his arm.
Mr. Hewes picked up another box much like it and went away into the woods. The gentlemen lifted their hats to one another, and the party broke up.
"Good-by, Carter," called back the twins. Carter waved his hand. "Good-morrow," he said. "We'll meet again."
After the young Frothinghams had gone to bed that night Aunt Clarissa came up to their room. She kissed them both over and over again.
This display of affection was most disconcerting, and to the twins quite inexplicable, but what she said astonished them also.
"You must have Carter Hewes come to Stanham and see you," said Aunt Clarissa.
After she had left them William rose up on his pillow and shook his brother's shoulder, whispering:
"Uncle Daniel is going to take one of us back with him to London. I overheard him say it. We won't go unless he takes us both. What say you?"
"Agreed," said George, sleepily. "What a strange day it has been, to be sure! They haven't said a word to us for fighting Carter Hewes; and wasn't it funny how we met them all up there? How polite they were to one another, eh?"