The MS. in a Red Box

by John A. Hamilton

I pulled slowly awhile to make sure of being beyond their reach before stopping to know what hurt had been taken by us. We could not see, for our lantern had burned out, or been smothered in the folds in which Bess had enwrapped it. Anna, who sat nearest me, affirmed she had suffered nothing worse than a few bruises; the doctor had a wound in the left shoulder, which was bleeding freely, he said; Martha had been struck on the head with a stone, but now felt better; Bess assured me she had no serious injury, which I could scarce believe, exposed as she had been. Well it was for the rest of us that she had risked herself so boldly. Twice, in spite of the ready pole, some of our pursuers had swum out from the bank to lay hold of our craft, and had gone under with cracked crowns. All would have been over with us if they had clutched the gunnel.

Something of this I was saying, when Bess cried, "Cease rowing a moment."

As she spoke, a hoarse sound of cheering came to our ears, and as it died away we caught a faint noise of dipping oars, which grew more distinct while we listened.

"Some of them are following in a boat," said Bess. "Hand me your pistols, and row on."

"Look to the priming," said I, as I passed the weapons and bent again to the oars. There could be no going fast, for the stream twisted about sharply at this part, and the darkness was thickened by alders and willows which leaned over the water, so that I had to feel my way slowly, lest I ran the boat aground. Happily, I knew every bend and shallow well, having been out on the stream duck-shooting scores of times, though never in such gloom as now. My hope was that our pursuers might be less familiar with its windings, in which case they might stick on a shoal, or foul a bush long enough to give me time to cross a "broad," which lay a little ahead.

Out on open water, a boat rowed by three or four men would be sure to overtake us, unless we had a long start of them; but if I could cross the "broad" before they came up with us, I had some hope of winning the race; for the remainder of the stream twisted about in a manner full of difficulty to those who did not thoroughly know its course. Just as the channel widened, and I was revolving in my mind by what dodge I might elude our pursuers, they broke out into loud curses, and I guessed what had happened to them. The stream forked a little way behind us, and one branch soon ran shallow over a bed of pebbles. If one pushed over this, one came to a bed of weeds which was quite impassable. Our pursuers, I imagined, had come to the shallow, and I hoped they would go forward. We could hear they were disputing and quarrelling. So I was assured of the long start I wanted, and pulled cheerily across the mere, rousing the waterfowl by thousands, to the astonishment of Anna, who had never heard such a thunderous flapping of wings and such a tumult of screaming, quacking, and cackling.

We gained the entrance to the further stream in safety, and I felt confident we should reach Belshaw before the other boat could come up with us. Not that we should be out of danger there, since it was more than likely some of the mob would go round by the embankment and the road, if they had an inkling of our destination, but they could not possibly arrive for an hour or so, which would give us time either to go elsewhere, or to take shelter and send a message to Belton, where there were many stout fellows who would come to the rescue, if they could be brought to believe that "t' young squire" still lived and stood in danger. So I said, encouraging my friends, and as I spoke the sky began to redden a little in the east. In half an hour we were in sight of Drury's place, and a few minutes more brought us to the landing. Nothing could we see or hear of the other boat, and everything was peaceful enough, except Drury's pigs, which were clamouring for their breakfast.

CHAPTER XX

When we looked to our hurts we were astonished at the slightness of them. My shoulder had been struck by a bullet on the rebound, which had penetrated but a little way and was easily removed; Anna had escaped with a few bruises; Martha's cut on the head was nasty, but not serious. We had a laugh over the doctor's wound, which could not be discovered, nor was there a spot of blood anywhere on his clothing. He must have been splashed with water, which he had imagined was his own blood. Bess had had very much the worst injuries, her hands and arms and face being bruised and cut badly, but the doctor shook his head chiefly at a bruise on her breast. How she had kept firm grip on pole and pistol after that sickening blow—nay, how she had held up at all, he declared he did not understand. She smiled and said he had not been used to doctoring gipsies. While Doctor Goel attended to us, I sent a lad to bring such of my old servants and neighbours as might be willing to help me against the mob, which I felt sure would appear shortly. Boswell would stir them on with all his craft, I knew. Happily, it had already been made known that it was not I who had been buried in the Belton churchyard, and my friends were ever talking of me, Dame Drury assured me. Her husband begged me to go away, and when he found I would not budge, he growled at the risk he ran of losing property, and perhaps of seeing his house in flames, in a quarrel which was none of his. Dame Drury took a more cheerful view of the matter, being sure that "t' young squire" would not see them come to harm in the end. She bustled about to get breakfast for us, and while we were eating it, she told me that "cousin John was all of a dither" in his great desire to see me, and begged the young lady would honour him by going with me to his chamber. He lay fully dressed, as his custom was, on his couch, trembling with eagerness, and, to my amazement, he half rose from his bed to greet Anna, to whom he spoke with a courtly grace peculiar to him above all the men I have ever known.