CHAPTER XXII
ON THE REBEL TRAIL
"A stick struck me, mother. But it's nothing serious; merely a scratch."
Such was John's brief explanation as he entered the dining-room. Mrs. Hampton asked no questions, but seeing how pale Jess looked, she felt certain that something out of the ordinary had happened. It did not take her long to dress the wound, after which the young couple sat down to their supper.
"You will take Mrs. Grimsby home, will you not, John?" Mrs. Hampton asked.
"Certainly," was the reply. "You don't mind waiting a while, do you?" he asked, turning toward the visitor. "I have some chores to do, and then we will all go for a spin. You will come along too, mother, won't you?"
"Not this evening, John. I have some work to do. You and Jess go."
"I don't want you to go to any trouble for me," Mrs. Grimsby remarked. "But I feel that I must get on my way as soon as possible. Gabe may be home at any minute, and he will be very angry if I am not there when he comes."
"Don't you worry about Gabe," John assured her. "I shall settle with him if he makes a fuss when I am there,"
"Oh, but he will wait until you get away, and then he'll begin. He's a terrible man when he's angry, and he is angry most of the time when he's home. Be careful about marrying, Miss," and she turned to Jess. "If you make a mistake and get the wrong man, you might as well put an end to your life at once. It will be better than slow torture through the years. I don't blame that poor girl who drowned herself rather than marry the man she didn't love. You have heard about it, I suppose. And they haven't found her body yet."
Jess tried not to show any sign of agitation at these words, but her hands trembled slightly. John noted this, so, pushing back his chair, he rose from the table.
"You must not judge all men by your husband, Mrs. Grimsby. Gabe is in a class by himself, and I am sorry for you. Just make yourself as comfortable as you can here, and I shall hurry up with my work and get you home as soon as possible."
In about an hour John was ready, and Mrs. Hampton stood at the gate watching the car as it sped down the road. She was really glad to be alone, for the events of the afternoon had been of a disturbing nature. She thought of Hettie and her trials. How astonished the poor woman would have been had she known the truth about Jess! She went back again in memory to that night at the hospital almost twenty years ago. Hettie was a buxom girl then, full of life and animation, not much like the thin dragged-out creature of to-day. Twenty years! And the two babies, innocent pawns in the unscrupulous bargain, had again drifted together as ardent lovers. What would they think if they knew the truth? In what light would they consider the woman who had taken part in the transaction? Her mind was in a tumult. She felt that it would be fatal to tell them. And yet she did want to claim the girl as her very own, that she might know a real mother's love.
Going back into the house, she took from a drawer the roll of bills Mrs. Grimsby had given her. She held it in her hand for a few minutes. It was a part of the money she had paid for silence, and now it had come back. Hettie's honesty and nobleness of soul touched her deeply. With the crying needs of a large family how many a woman would have kept and used the money? What a temptation! Mechanically she counted the bills—seventy-five dollars. Gabe Grimsby must have been very drunk when he overlooked such a sum. How great would be his anger when he found that the money was not in the house upon his return from the city.
Replacing the roll in the drawer, Mrs. Hampton attended to some household duties. Then she went out upon the verandah to await the young people's return. She was glad to lean back in the chair and rest, for she was tired. The sun had gone down beyond the distant hills, and the long twilight was slowly waning. It was a beautiful evening, and the gentle breeze of the afternoon had sunk to rest with the sun. The smooth surface of the river caught and reflected the glory of departing day, while the trees along the shore stood clearly silhouetted against the silent river. There was peace upon water and land, broken only by the sweet song of a vesper sparrow, and the tingling of a bell from a distant pasture.
But to the woman sitting alone upon the verandah there was no peace. Her heart and mind were in a tumult of conflicting emotion. She was thinking of the girl who had come so unexpectedly into her life and home. The silence and restraint of long years had at last reached their climax. A mother's passionate love possessed her soul, and an intense affection for the child of her womb swept like an overmastering current through her very being. The girl was hers, she must keep her, and she was determined that no power on earth should take her from her.
She was suddenly aroused from her reverie by the sound of an auto upon the road. It drew up and stopped right in front of the gate. A man at once alighted and walked rapidly toward the house. Mrs. Hampton rose and met him just as he stepped upon the verandah. The visitor was a middle-aged man, of overbearing manner. He had not the courtesy to remove his hat in the presence of the woman, nor to take the big cigar he was smoking from his mouth. In an instant the thought flashed into Mrs. Hampton's mind that this was the man who had come to take away her daughter. She had been dreading his appearance, and now he was before her.
"I am Henry Randall," the man announced, "and I am looking for my daughter. Is she here?"
"Your daughter!" Mrs. Hampton replied. "Why are you searching for her here? Did she not drown herself?"
A heartless laugh broke from the man's lips, as he took the cigar from his mouth, and flicked off the ashes. He looked piercingly at the woman as if expecting to see her quail. But Mrs. Hampton's eyes never flinched for an instant. She was angry at the man's manner of approach, and when a quiet woman is aroused there is need for caution.
"Why don't you answer my question?" the man asked. "I want to know if my daughter is here? She didn't drown herself, though she deserves to be drowned for the way she has acted."
"No, your daughter is not here," Mrs. Hampton quietly replied.
"Not here!" Randall plainly showed his surprise. "Why, I was told that she came to your house."
"Then you were wrongly informed. Your daughter has never been inside my house."
"And you have not seen her?"
"No, I have never met her. You will have to search elsewhere."
"That is strange, madame, very strange. Didn't your son bring a girl here who was injured at the stone quarry?"
"That is quite true, sir. My daughter received a slight injury at the quarry, and it was she my son brought home."
The man frowned and bit savagely at his cigar.
"Confound it all!" he growled. "What am I to do?"
"Why not go to the quarry," Mrs. Hampton suggested. "You may learn something there."
"That is the only thing I can do, I suppose," and the man sighed. "But, by the way, where is your son now? And your daughter, too, for that matter?"
"They went down the road but a short time ago. Didn't you meet them?
They were in a car."
"We met several cars, but I didn't see anything of your son. I know him quite well, for let me tell you, madame, he and my daughter are very fond of each other. I believe that he is the cause of all this trouble."
"I am surprised to hear you say such a thing, sir. Are you sure that my son lured your daughter away from home?"
"I am certain of it, and what is more, I intend to push this matter to the extreme limit of the law. I must see your son. When do you expect him back?"
"Sometime this evening. But when John and Betty go off in the car it is hard to tell when they will return. You will have time to go to the quarry. Most likely they will be home when you get back."
Mrs. Hampton tried to conceal her agitation as she waited to learn how the man would treat her suggestion. It was her only hope, and she watched him closely. She felt like a drowning person grasping at a straw. If she could get this man away, and if John and Jess would soon return, something yet might be accomplished.
"Well, I suppose I might as well go on to the quarry," Randall growled as he pulled out his watch. "I expected that my journey would end here, and by this time I would have that foolish girl safe under my care. I do not know what is coming over young people these days."
In another minute he was gone, and when the car had disappeared in a whirl of dust, Mrs. Hampton sank down upon the top step of the verandah and buried her face in her hands. She was trembling violently, and felt very weak. The ordeal through which she had just passed had unnerved her. What was she to do? she asked herself. How was she to save her child? She lifted her head and listened intently, hoping to hear the purr of John's car. But no sound greeted her attentive ears, listen as she might.
Presently she aroused herself and rose quickly to her feet. An idea had come into her mind which stirred her to activity. Going at once into the house, she set busily to work both upstairs and down, and in less than a half hour she had several rolls of blankets and quilts lying on the hall floor, and two baskets filled with dishes and provisions. She was standing wondering what else she needed, when she heard John's quick step upon the verandah.
"Mother," he began, catching sight of her. Then he paused in amazement when he saw the bundles and baskets lying upon the floor. "What in the world are you going to do with these?" he asked. "Is anything the matter?"
In as few words as possible Mrs. Hampton explained the situation, and the urgency of speedy flight. "We must go to the lake, John, and hide Jess there. You don't want Mr. Randall to take her away, do you?"
"Indeed I don't," was the emphatic reply. "Oh, mother, it is good of you to do all this, and help us to keep Jess. We can go at once before Randall comes back."
Picking up the two bundles, he hurried out of the house, and was back again in a few minutes for the baskets.
"You lock up, mother," he said. "I will turn the car. We can explain everything to Jess on the way."
As they sped down the road, Mrs. Hampton explained the reason for their hurried flight. The girl was greatly pleased, and delighted at the idea of hiding in the wilderness.
"It is so good of you to help me in my trouble," she replied. "My father is a determined man, if he once gets his hands on me I shall be helpless. But suppose he finds out where I am?"
"It is hardly likely. But if he does you can leave everything to me."
For some distance they followed the main highway, and at length turned off upon a road leading back into the hills. This was little used, so John had to exercise the greatest care in handling the car. It was hard enough in day-time, but at night it was extremely difficult. He had to drive very slowly, and at times branches of trees scraped the sides of the car.
"This was once called 'The Rebel Trail,'" he explained to Jess after they had climbed a steeper hill than any they had yet encountered.
"What a funny name!" the girl replied. "How did it get such a name as that?"
"It was used very often by the Loyalists in the early days as they travelled overland to the river from a settlement beyond the hills. The Loyalists, you know, were called rebels by the people in the country from which they fled. When those who had settled back in the hills visited the ones along the river, they were often jokingly greeted by the words 'Oh, you rebels!' and in that way the path through the woods got its name. Of course, that was long ago, and few people know about it now. An old man once told me about it, and it always stuck in my mind."
"I guess the name is very suitable," and Jess sighed. "Another rebel is travelling over it now, for I am sure that is what my parents and others think I am."
"A rebel in a worthy cause, dear," Mrs. Hampton comforted. "It matters very little what people call you when you feel that you have done right."
"And wouldn't you do the same if you were in my place?" Jess asked.
"Wouldn't you rebel against marrying a man you despised and hated?"
"I certainly should. I would do almost anything rather than marry the man I disliked."
Further conversation was interrupted by the sudden stopping of the car.
John opened the door and stepped out.
"We are here at last," he explained. "This is where we take the boat.
I shall leave the car here."
It took them but a few minutes to carry their luggage to the lake and place it on board a small flat-bottomed boat lying upon the shore. With the women seated astern, John took the oars, and soon they were out upon the water.
"This is a wonderful adventure," Jess remarked after they had gone a short distance. "How still and mysterious everything is! I was never in such a place before."
"I hope you will not get homesick here," Mrs. Hampton replied, at the same time taking the girl's right hand in hers.
"Not with you near me, Mrs. Hampton. What lovely times we shall have!"
"I hope so, dear," and the elder woman sighed. "But here we are at the island. You see, it is not far across."
The house on Island Lake was built mostly of logs, and was a cosy abode. It was comfortably furnished, and a rough fireplace was situated at one end of the living room. Jess was overjoyed as she looked around after the lamp had been lighted.
"What a delightful place!" she exclaimed. "I never expected to find such a house as this so far in the wilderness."
"My dear husband and I used to spend very happy days here," Mrs. Hampton told her. "I used to keep house while he worked at the mine. We made very little money, but we were happy, and after all, that is worth more than gold. When he died, I did not have the heart to disturb anything, but left the house just as it was. John has looked after it, and if he had his way he would spend most of his time here."
"And so should I," the girl enthusiastically replied. "I know I shall be happy here. Oh, I am so glad we have come."
John was happy, too, and as he looked upon the bright, animated face before him, he longed to live there in the woods the rest of his life, if only he might have the one who was so dear to him always by his side.
CHAPTER XXIII
STRAIGHT TALK
"I'm sartinly proud of ye, Eben. I didn't think it was in ye."
This was Captain Tobin's comment as he listened for the second time to his son's story of the night on the river, and the rescue from the falls. Supper had been over for some time, but the family lingered at the table, and for once the dishes remained unwashed. Eben was at last a hero in his own home, and his eyes sparkled as he noted how proud the members of his family were of his achievements. This was an unusual experience for him, and his heart glowed with pride. He did not mind telling them what he had done, and how the two men had helped him to hoist the sail.
"Who were they?" his mother asked.
"Oh, just two chaps who happened along in a motor-boat. Guess they were mighty glad to find shelter from the storm."
Eben glanced at his father as he spoke, wondering if he suspected anything. But the captain gave no sign, so the boy was quite relieved.
"And did the people on the wharf cheer when the tug brought you back from the falls?" Flo eagerly asked.
"I guess so, though I can't remember much about it now. It all seems like a dream."
At that instant a loud rap sounded outside. Flo sprang at once to her feet, and when she had opened the door, a man stepped across the threshold.
"Does Captain Tobin live here?" he asked.
"Yes, and he's right in there," Flo replied, motioning to the dining-room which opened off the little hall.
The captain turned to view the visitor, and then attempted to rise. He sank back, however, with a groan, for he had given his foot a slight twist.
"So you are Captain Tobin, eh?" the stranger accosted.
"Yes, all that's left of him," was the reply.
"And you are the owner of the woodboat, the 'Eb and Flo'?"
The visitor's abrupt manner irritated the captain. He knew the man to be Henry Randall, for he had seen him on several occasions. He never liked the man from what he had heard of him, and his repugnance was now steadily increasing.
"You ask me if I own the 'Eb an' Flo,' eh?"
"That's what I said."
"Well, first of all, Mister, I want to know what bizness is it of yours if I do? D'ye want to buy her?"
"I should say not," was the impatient retort. "My name is Henry Randall, and I want to know if my daughter was on board your boat the night she was supposed to have drowned herself off Benton's wharf?"
"No, I didn't see yer daughter," the captain replied. "I never sot eyes on her."
Randall's eyes opened wide in amazement at this unexpected answer. The word "liar" was on his lips, but with an effort he checked himself.
"I am surprised to hear you say that you never saw my daughter," and he looked sternly at the captain. "I have almost certain proof that she boarded your boat off Benton's wharf, and was concealed in the cabin while men were dragging the river for her body. Can you deny that?"
Exclamations from both Flo and her mother caused Randall to turn quickly around. Mrs. Tobin had risen to her feet, and her eyes were blazing with indignation. She was about to speak when her husband lifted his hand.
"Keep calm, Martha. Keep calm," he advised. "Let me handle this gent." Then he turned to Randall, "So ye say yer daughter ran away from home, eh?"
"She did, and that's why I'm here."
"What did she run away fer?"
"Because she was wilful, and wanted her own way; that's why."
"H'm," the captain grunted, "so that's how ye look at it?"
"And why shouldn't I? But what has all this to do with the finding of my daughter? I didn't come here to be catechised in this way."
"Well, I didn't tell ye to come, Mister. If ye don't like yer reception, ye kin leave whenever ye want to. No one'll interfere with yer goin', an' the door's right thar."
Henry Randall was unused to such plain speech, and it angered him. So accustomed had he been to having his own way and lording it over others that this was an unusual experience and hard for him to endure. His face darkened and he looked sternly at the captain.
"I am not in the habit of allowing people to speak to me in such a manner," he declared. "I can make you pay dearly for your impudence. Do you know who I am?"
"Sartinly I know, an' that's why I'm talkin' jist as I am. I don't very often git roused up, but when I do it takes more'n you to stop me. An' I am roused at the way ye've treated that gal ye call yer daughter. Ye've been buyin' an sellin' so long that yer heart is nuthin' more'n a bank account. An' ye weren't satisfied with tradin' in lumber, but ye even want to sell yer only daughter. Thar, now, don't git riled. Jist keep cool fer a few minutes 'til I'm through. If yer tired standin', ye kin set down. Flo, give this feller a chair."
"I don't want a chair," Randall angrily retorted. "I want to get through with my business here. I ask you once more if my daughter sought refuge on board your boat the night she was supposed to have drowned herself off Benton's wharf?"
"Didn't I tell ye that I never sot eyes on her?"
"You lie, Captain Tobin. I have definite proof that a girl was aboard your boat when you reached the stone quarry, and that she was later injured on the head by a stone, and brought by a young man, John Hampton by name, to his home. Can you deny that?"
The excitement of Mrs. Tobin and Flo was now intense. They stared in speechless amazement, first at Randall and then at the captain.
"Why don't ye go an' git her, then, if she's with John Hampton?" the captain asked. "What are ye doin' here if yer so sartin about the matter?"
"I'm here because there's nobody home there. I visited Mrs. Hampton on my way up the road, and she told me that my daughter had never been at her house. She said a girl had been injured at the quarry, but it was her own daughter. She suggested that I go to the quarry and make inquiries, which I did. I learned enough there to satisfy me that Mrs. Hampton lied to me, and that the girl who came up the river with you and who was afterwards hurt is my daughter. And then when I come back, I find the Hampton house closed, and no one at home. That's the situation, and it's enough to drive a man crazy."
"It sartinly is most puzzlin'," the captain agreed. "Strange, Martha, isn't it?" and he turned to his wife. "But, then, perhaps they've all gone fer a car ride. It's a fine night fer a spin."
"But Mrs. Hampton told me that her son would most likely be home when I came back from the quarry," Randall explained. "It seems to me that I am being deceived and checked on all sides. I wonder what is the reason?"
"The reason, sir, is very clear," Mrs. Tobin replied. "The sympathy of all is with your daughter because of the way you have treated her. I admire her for what she did."
"Madame, madame, I am astonished at you," Randall declared.
"You needn't be astonished at all, sir. I have listened to this conversation, and see things in a new light. I could not understand my husband's actions a few days ago, but now it is nearly all explained. Sam'l," and she turned to her husband, "did you have this man's daughter on board the 'Eb and Flo' the day you sailed by here without stopping?"
"No, Martha, I did not," was the emphatic reply.
Mrs. Tobin looked at the captain for a few seconds in silence. Then she detected a peculiar expression in his eyes, and at once surmised its meaning.
"But, Sam'l, did you have a girl on board?"
"Yes, Martha, I did."
"Then you have been lying."
"No, I haven't. This man asked me if I had his daughter on board, an' I told him I didn't. That gal might have been his daughter once, but she isn't now. Any man who would treat a gal the way this man treated that beautiful creature who tumbled into the cabin of the 'Eb and Flo' has no right to call her his daughter, so thar."
"What fool-talk is this?" Randall impatiently asked. "I know now that it was my daughter you had on board your boat. What you think about my actions doesn't worry me in the least. Your quibbling is childish and unbecoming to a man of your age. You will change your tune, though, let me tell you that, when you are called upon to face the charge of being involved in my daughter's wild escapade."
"Go ahead, Mister, go ahead. Whenever ye want me, jist sing out."
"Oh, I shall sing out, all right. You needn't think I'm bluffing.
When I undertake a thing I carry it through."
"An' I s'pose ye'll carry through the persecution of that gal ye call yer daughter?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ye'll force her to marry that Lord's son, the feller with the wobbly knees an' brainless head?"
"Yes, I am determined that she shall marry Lord Donaster's son. My mind is made up to that, and nothing can change it."
"But ye haven't got yer daughter yit."
"Oh, that's merely a matter of time. She may escape me for a while, but I shall get her sooner or later."
"But s'pose somebody else gits her first?"
"You mean young Hampton?" Randall somewhat anxiously asked.
"I sartinly do. He's hot on her trail, an' it looks to me as if they're mighty fond of each other. Mebbe they're off now to be hitched up. Ye kin never tell what notions young people'll take."
"Then I'll tear them apart," Randall angrily declared. "My daughter shall never remain the wife of an ignorant country clown. But I don't believe she would go that far. No doubt she is hiding somewhere. Have you any idea where that might be?"
"I don't believe she's on board the 'Eb an' Flo' this time. Ye'll have to hunt elsewhere."
"And I shall. I've lost too much time already, and I should be in the city by now. I have an important business engagement there. Confound it all!"
Without another word he turned and strode out of the house, slamming the front door after him. There was silence in the room for a brief space, broken at last by the captain's chuckle of amusement.
"Ho, ho," he laughed, "that feller got a dose to-night, didn't he?
What d'ye say, Martha? Got a big hand-out fer me now?"
"No, Sam'l," was the quiet reply. "I really can't scold you this time. You did what was right in saving that poor girl from such a brutal father. But why didn't you tell me about it?"
The captain shuffled uneasily, although his eyes twinkled.
"I was really afraid to, Martha," he confessed. "But I was wrong. I'll never do sich a thing agin. The next gal who flops herself aboard the 'Eb an' Flo,' I'll bring straight home fer you to look after."
"For pity's sake, Sam'l, I hope you'll never get into such a scrape again. And you are not out of this one yet, from all appearance. Mr. Randall is a hard man to deal with, and I feel sure that he intends to go to law about this affair."
"He kin go to law, or to, or to——" The captain longed to say just where, but he checked himself in time. "If Randall wants a fight, jist let him come along. If he gits me into court I'll tell him a few things I didn't mention to-night."
"But it may take our place, Sam'l," Mrs. Tobin reminded. "Mr. Randall is a rich man and money will do almost anything these days."
"I don't care a hang, Martha, how much money he's got. I've got right on my side, an' I guess that's never forsaken a man yit, not under the Union Jack, at any rate. To save a gal from a brute of a father is worth a great deal to my way of thinkin'. Hey, Eben, don't ye agree with me? You had a hand in this."
The captain turned as he spoke, but his son was not in the room.
"Where in time is that boy?" the captain asked in surprise. "He was here a few minutes ago."
"He followed Mr. Randall out," Flo explained, "and he hasn't come back yet."
"I s'pose he wants to see that the skunk got away without stealin' any chickens. It's jist as well to be on guard when a feller like that's around. Jist hand me my pipe, will ye, Flo? I want a smoke to settle me nerves. They've been upset a bit to-night."
CHAPTER XXIV
EBEN ATTENDS TO GRIMSBY
During the conversation Eben bad been a silent listener. But his mind was very busy, and he was doing some serious thinking. Randall appealed to him. He knew that he was a prominent business man, and he liked the brusque way he talked. When, however, he learned that the Hamptons had carried off Jess, his heart filled with anger and jealousy. He truly surmised where they had gone, for he knew how fond John was of the cabin in the wilderness, and it would be the most likely place where he would take the girl for safe keeping. He thought of his encounter with the two down on the shore, and his eyes glowed with a fierce light. He was no match for John in an open fight, he was well aware, so he must use other means.
As he listened to Randall, and watched his every movement, the idea flashed into his mind that this was the man to deal with John Hampton. He longed to see the two together, and, unobserved, watch the encounter. What fun it would be, and how great the satisfaction to witness the defeat of his rival! That they would fight if they met, he had not the slightest doubt, for to his mode of thinking that was the only way to settle such a dispute.
When Randall at length left the house, Eben slipped quietly and quickly out after him. He was by the side of the car just as the owner was taking his seat and giving orders to the chauffeur. Randall saw the dim figure loom up by his side, and demanded who he was and what he wanted.
"It's only me," Eben explained.
"And who's me?" was the curt query.
"Eben, the captain's son."
"Well, what do you want?"
"I want a drive down the road. Will ye take me?"
"No, I can't. I'm in a hurry. Get away from the car. I don't want to be bothered with anyone."
He spoke to the chauffeur, and at once the engine began to hum. But Eben was not to be thus defeated. He jumped upon the running board, and thrust his head into the car, almost into Randall's face.
"Ye'll take me if I tell ye where yer daughter is, won't ye?" he roared.
"Do you know?" Randall shouted.
"Y'bet I do."
"All right, then, get in," and Randall pushed open the door.
In a twinkling Eben was by his side, the door was slammed to, and the car was purring on its way.
"Well, where is my daughter?" Randall asked.
"I believe she's on Island Lake. D'ye know where that is?"
"No, I don't. Where in the devil is it?"
"Back in the hills. The Hamptons have a cabin there on an island.
Their coal mine is on the shore on the other side."
"Oh, I know. I've fished in that lake, though I haven't been there for several years. What makes you think my daughter's there, boy?"
"Guess it's about the only place John 'ud take her. He's mighty fond of that cabin, an' would live there all the time if he could. Most likely Mrs. Hampton's gone along, too."
Randall made no reply, but sat lost in thought. Eben enjoyed the drive. It was no nice to roll smoothly along in the big, luxurious car. He nestled back in the easy seat, and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the moment. Some day he would have a car of his own just like this, with a chauffeur to look after it.
"You must be happy, Mister," he at length remarked.
"Happy!" Randall roused from his reverie with a start, and straightened himself up with a jerk. "What makes you think I'm happy?"
"'Cause you've plenty of money, an' own a car like this."
Randall laughed outright, although there was no mirth in his laughter.
"And so you think money makes a man happy, eh?'"
"It should. Why, ye kin buy what ye like."
"Look here, boy," and Randall's voice became more gentle than Eben had ever heard it. "Money won't buy happiness. It will provide one with many things, I acknowledge. But it won't buy the great things of life, and that is where it fails a man in his time of need. Do you think I am happy?"
"No, I guess yer not, sir, from what I've seen of ye."
"You're right, boy, you're right. I'm not happy, and I have money.
But, there, why am I talking this way to you?"
"Mebbe, I know," Eben replied. "Yer thinkin' of yer daughter, an' what she's done. Isn't that it?"
"It is. How can a man be happy when his only daughter has run away from home?"
"An' why did she run away, sir?"
"Why? Why?" Randall paused, and stared straight before him.
There was no more time to continue the conversation, for they were now almost at Grimsby's house whither Eben was bound. He asked the driver to pull up and let him out. The car soon stopped in front of the place, and Eben opened the door and stepped out.
"Thank ye, sir, fer the drive," he said.
"Oh, that's all right," Randall replied. "And you feel quite sure that my daughter is on Island Lake?"
"I wouldn't be a bit surprised. Where else would John take her?"
"It is reasonable and worth looking into, anyway. And say, there's a boat out there, isn't there?"
"Yes, John has a good one."
"But suppose it's on the island if I should want it?"
"Oh, jist holler, an' if he doesn't know who ye are, he'll row over fer you. But most likely John will come back in the mornin', so he'll have to bring the boat over. Ye see, he'll have to go home to look after the stock. If ye happen to be around the lake when he's home, most likely ye'll be able to git the boat."
"A good idea," Randall replied. He then spoke to the chauffeur, and in another instant the car was away.
Eben stood for a few minutes staring through the darkness down the road.
"I wonder if he'll go to Island Lake?" he mused. "If he does, Gabe needn't go, an' so he won't want me. I'd rather be hidin' around in the bushes to see the fun. I'd like to see John an' Randall in a stand-up fight, I surely would. But mebbe it'd be better fer John to go back to the island an' not find his sweetheart. Say, it 'ud be great to watch him ramp an' tear around."
A cry of pain and fright from the house nearby startled him. Wheeling sharply around, he saw that the front door was open and the form of a woman was falling down the rickety steps. Surprised beyond measure, Eben hurried forward until he reached the prostrate woman. She was moaning and sobbing bitterly, and making no effort to rise.
"What's the matter?" Eben asked, bending over her. "Are ye hurt?"
"Yes, yes," the woman wailed. "He hit me, and kicked me out of the house."
"Who did?" Eben straightened himself up, while his hands clenched hard.
"Who hit ye?"
"Gabe, of course. But don't go in; he might kill you. He's in a terrible rage."
With a bound Eben was through the door and into the house. The room was a sight to behold. Chairs and tables were upset, broken dishes were lying on the floor, and several frightened, half-dressed children were huddled in one corner. In the middle of the room stood the master of the house, his moon-like face red with anger. He retreated a few steps as Eben appeared.
"Did you do that?" the latter demanded, shaking his right fist menacingly before Grimsby.
"Yes I did," was the surly reply. "And it's none of your d—— business what I do in my own house. Get out of this."
Eben's only reply was to seize Gabe by his coat collar, and yank him suddenly forward. Then he shook him as a dog would shake a rat, while Grimsby filled the house with his howls of distress. He was a veritable coward at heart, and in Eben's hands he was as helpless as a child.
"Ye'll kill me, ye'll kill me!" he wailed. "Fer God's sake, let up."
"I want to kill ye," his captor roared. "Yer not worth livin'. Take that, an' that, an' that."
Eben had lost complete control of himself now. The fury of his passion was let loose, and he shook and thumped his victim unmercifully. Grimsby's fear increased to terror, and he made frantic efforts to free himself. He even fought and bit, but all in vain. Eben held him firm, and at last pinning him with his body upon the floor he began to deal blow after blow upon the victim's face and head.
There is hardly the shadow of a doubt but that Eben would have killed Gabe there and then, so intense was his rage. But at this critical moment Mrs. Grimsby caught him by the arm and attempted to pull him away from her husband.
"Don't kill him, don't kill him," she pleaded. "Be careful what you are doing."
This appeal brought Eben somewhat to his senses, and his hands relaxed.
He hesitated for a few seconds, and then rose slowly to his feet.
"He ought to be killed," he growled. "He's a brute."
"I know, I know," the woman agreed. "But you mustn't do it. It would be murder, and you would be hung."
A grim smile overspread Eben's face, as he stepped back, and folded his arms.
"Well, then, s'pose you kill him," he suggested. "He tried to kill you, so it's better fer you to do it first."
"No, no," the woman protested. "There must be no killing here. Get up, Gabe," she ordered, touching her husband with her foot. "You must be thoroughly ashamed of yourself by this time. Maybe this will knock some sense into your head."
Very reluctantly the defeated man drew himself up to his knees, and then staggered to his feet. His face was swollen where Eben's fists had fallen, and his eyes were wild with fear. He edged away from his antagonist, and kept as close as possible to his wife.
"Don't let him touch me again," he begged. "He's not a human being, but the devil in the form of a man. I never saw anything like him."
"Don't be such a coward," his wife chided. "If you behave yourself he won't hurt you."
"Indeed I won't," Eben agreed. "But look here, Gabe Grimsby, if ye ever lay hands on yer wife agin, an' I hear of it, I'll come an' tear ye to pieces. D'ye call yerself a man to hit a woman, an' her yer wife?"
"But she provoked me," Gabe defended.
"What did she do?"
"She stole my money; that's what she did."
"You're a liar," his wife charged. "It wasn't your money, anyway. I merely took it back to where it belongs."
"Ye did?" Gabe snarled. "So that's where ye were, eh? Why didn't ye tell me that before?"
"I didn't have to, Gabe Grimsby. If you'd acted like a man when you came home, I might have told you. But, no, when you got here and found that I was away, instead of staying with the children you went off to the store. Then when you did come home and found that supper was not ready because I just got back, you began to act like a demon. If it hadn't been for Eben here, I don't know what would have happened to me."
"An' he hit ye fer that?" Eben asked in surprise.
"Yes, for that, and because of the money."
"What money?"
"Hush-money; that's what it was. He dragged it out of Mrs. Hampton, that's what he did, the villain. She paid him to keep silent."
The light of understanding dawned in Eben's eyes, and he even smiled.
"It had to do with the girl, eh?" he queried. "Mrs. Hampton paid Gabe to say nuthin' about her, I s'pose. She wants to keep her hidden from her dad. I came here in his car, and I tell ye he's mighty mad."
"Has he found her?" Grimsby asked, forgetting in his interest his battered face.
"Naw, he hasn't found her. But he will, though, if you don't git a hustle on. He knows where she is."
"He does! Where?"
"Oh, it's no use tellin' you. What can you do? You'll be in bed to-morrow nursin' yer face."
"No, I won't. Just tell me where that girl is, an' I'll send word to the city this very night."
"Why should I tell ye, Gabe? Ye don't deserve to be told after what ye did to yer wife."
"I swear I'll never do such a thing again, Eben. I lost my head, an' didn't realise what I was doing.
"H'm, I guess ye nearly lost yer head when I got hold of ye. If it hadn't been fer yer wife here I'd had yer head off by this time. But come along outside, an' we'll talk this matter over. Them kids ought to be in bed," and he motioned to the weary children over in the corner. "Good-bye, Mrs. Grimsby; jist send me word if Gabe hits ye agin. I'll fix him fer sure next time. Come along, Gabe, I want to have a talk with ye."
CHAPTER XXV
THE FOREST FIRE
John Hampton was somewhat late in leaving the island the next morning. There had been many things to do, and he found the life so pleasant that he preferred to stay all day. But it was necessary for him to get back home to look after the stock, and attend to many other duties around the place.
"Do you think you can manage all right, John?" Mrs. Hampton anxiously asked as she and Jess accompanied him to the boat. "I feel that I should go home too."
"Oh, I shall have no trouble, mother," John assured, her. "But I don't like to leave you two here alone. I shall be back, though, as early as I can this evening."
"We shall have a great time together, shan't we?" and Jess turned to Mrs. Hampton as she spoke. "I am looking forward so much to this day in such a beautiful spot as this."
"So you won't miss me at all, I suppose?" John queried as he looked lovingly upon the girl's bright, animated face.
"Indeed we shall," Jess smilingly told him. "But you would not want us to mope around all day, simply because you are not with us, would you? We shall look forward to your return this evening."
"And don't forget the milk," Mrs. Hampton reminded. "We forgot to bring any last night. It was stupid of me. And don't tell anyone where we are. Keep clear of Mrs. Tobin, if you possibly can."
"That's easier said than done," John laughed, as he pushed off the boat and sprang lightly on board. "However, I shall do the best I can."
In a few minutes he was skimming over the water, while he kept his eyes fixed upon the girl standing upon the shore, waving her hand to him until he had landed and disappeared from view. How happy he was that morning, and his heart was very light as he boarded his car and started for the river. He felt sure now of the girl's love, and he begrudged every minute he was away from her. He would hurry through his work and get back to the island as speedily as possible.
He had just reached the gate of his home when he heard someone calling. Looking around, he saw Mrs. Tobin running toward him and waving her arms for him to stop. He smothered an exclamation of annoyance, as he pulled up his car.
"Have you seen anything of Eben?" the woman asked. "He left home last night, and hasn't been back since."
"No, I haven't seen anything of him," John replied. "But don't worry,
Eben is well able to look after himself."
"I suppose he is, but we are all anxious about him. I thought maybe you'd seen him. You just came up the road, didn't you? Down to the city, I suppose?"
"No," John curtly replied, as he started the car and drove on, leaving
Mrs. Tobin standing gazing after him.
"She didn't get anything out of me this time," John muttered. "She'll be more curious now than ever to know where mother and Jess are."
For a couple of hours John worked hard around the place. He then went into the house for a lunch, which he ate in the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were back in the hills, to the little cabin in the woods. He pictured to himself the whole scene, and he longed to be there.
At times during the morning he had paused at his work and looked toward the lake. Although he could not see the girl of his heart's desire, it gave him some comfort to turn in her direction and gaze upon the hills which surrounded her. He did this again when he came out of the house after his hasty meal. But no sooner had he looked, than he uttered an exclamation of dismay. The woods in the distance were on fire! Great clouds of smoke were rolling across the land, and at times blotting the hills entirely from view. The fire was off to the right, and perhaps a mile or more away. But he well knew that between it and Island Lake was a large stretch of blueberry plains. When the fire reached this, it would travel rapidly, devouring everything in its way. Then it would sweep through a thicket of fir and spruce trees on the shore of the lake, and the flames would be sure to leap to the island, which here was but a short distance across. And Jess and his mother were there! They could not escape, for they had no boat. And if they did, where could they go for safety? The fire would reach them no matter where they went, for from all appearance it was making a wide sweep in its onward rush.
"Confound Sam Lemon for starting that fire!" he growled. "I feel sure he did it, for he told me the other day that he was going to burn that fallow of his. I warned him to be careful, but he only laughed. I wish I had hold of him now, the scamp!"
John, however, knew that such lamentations would be of no use. Something must be done and at once if the women on the island were to be rescued. Just what he could do he was not sure. Anyway, if he were with them something might be done. He could not leave them there without an effort to save them. He was greatly excited now, so hurrying to his car, he sprang on board and started down the road. He drove faster than usual, and in a short time reached the Rebel Trail, by which he had come that very morning. Under ordinary circumstances he would have driven slowly and carefully over the rough way, for there were gullies formed by the rain, and rocks around which it was necessary to steer most cautiously. But John was so anxious and excited that he threw caution to the wind and sent forward the car at a break-neck speed. For a time all went well until he reached a small bridge, formed of poles, which had become very rotten. The inevitable happened, for no sooner had the car touched the bridge than the right wheel crashed through, and in an instant the car was tightly jammed, the sudden impact hurling John against the wind-shield, which broke beneath his weight.
Recovering himself as quickly as possible, he examined the car, and found the wheel so firmly wedged among a mass of rotten sticks, earth, and rocks that it could not be removed without assistance. And, anyway, he did not have time, for every minute was precious with the fire sweeping steadily onward. The only thing now left was to walk the rest of the way. By the road this would mean over two miles, but across country, through the woods, and along the edge of the blueberry plains it was about one mile shorter. He knew this route well, as he had travelled it often before he bought the car. He did not relish the idea of the walk on such a hot day, especially as he would be forced to hurry as fast as possible if he would win out against the fire.
Leaving the road, he plunged into a growth of young fir trees, made his way through these, and at length reached a valley where the trees were larger, and the underbrush was not so thick. This would lead him to the level beyond where he could obtain a view of the fire, and learn the real nature of the danger. The heat here was intense, for not a breath of wind fanned his hot forehead. But steadily and rapidly he sped forward, and to his great relief reached, at length, the edge of the woods. Here he stopped and viewed the situation. Below him on his right was a stretch of country, covered with blueberry bushes, small fir, pine and spruce trees. It was a desolate region, and the hot sun had parched the shallow soil which covered the rocks beneath. In places these rocks protruded above the ground, and presented either flat surfaces or large cairn-like heaps.
The instant John emerged from the forest he looked anxiously away to the right, and the sight he beheld filled him with fear and awe. The forest was a seething mass of flames, and great volumes of smoke were rolling up into the air. The roar of the fire, and the crashing of trees could be heard for some distance, growing louder each minute. The monster was speedily approaching, laying waste all before it. In another half hour or so it would be through the heavy timber and out upon the plains where everything would be quickly blasted beneath its fiery breath. Even now the wind, caused by the fire, was sending forth flaming branches, and wherever these fell they began to burn most fiercely.
John realized that the sooner he was out of this place the better, for at any minute he might become encircled by a roaring furnace. He was most thankful that the fire had not reached the lake, so he would be in time to assist the ones on the island in case of need. The only danger would be from flying embers, but if there, he might be able to stamp out any flame before it had time to do much damage.
As he hurried along the edge of the plains the roar of the fire became almost deafening, while the incessant crashing of trees added to the horror. Never before had he experienced such a forest fire, although he had heard old men tell with almost bated breath of the wild fires they had witnessed, and of the destruction which had ensued.
He had gone about half way to the lake, when, happening to glance to his right, be saw something slowly moving among the bushes some distance away. As he looked, he noticed that it was a man, who seemed to be limping painfully among the bushes. At times he stopped, glanced back, and then staggered forward. Who could it be? he wondered, and what was he doing over there? That the man needed assistance was certain, for at the rate he was travelling he would surely be overtaken by the fire ere he could reach the lake. John was greatly puzzled. What should he do? He must reach the island in time to save the women, and yet it was not right to leave the apparently helpless man on the plains to die.
As he stood there uncertain what to do, the creeping figure among the bushes suddenly stumbled, and with a wild cry of despair fell headlong upon the ground. No longer did John hesitate. He sprang forward, plunged through the bushes, leaped over jagged rocks, and in a few minutes was by the side of the prostrate man.
"Hello! What's wrong?" he asked. "Can I do anything for you?"
Hearing the sound of a human voice, the fallen man moved, lifted his head, and looked around. As be did so, John gave a great start and uttered an exclamation of astonishment. It was Henry Randall!
CHAPTER XXVI
IN THE RING OF DEATH
At first Randall did not recognise the young man who had so suddenly appeared before him. He stared as if he beheld a vision, and his lips moved, although he uttered no sound. His face was drawn and haggard, his eyes wild and blood-shot. He was a far different man from the bustling and imperious lumber merchant of the morning.
"What's wrong?" John asked. "Can I help you?"
"What's wrong?" the man repeated. "Everything's wrong. My daughter's gone to the devil, my foot's sprained, and the fire is almost upon me."
"Well, let me help you, then," John replied. "Come, get up, and lean on me. We must get to the lake at once."
Randall made a feeble effort to obey, but sank back upon the ground with a cry.
"I can't walk a step," he groaned. "Leave me here and save yourself.
There's no time to lose. O Lord, this is awful!"
"No, I won't leave you here," John declared. "Try to bear the pain for a while. It will be better than to be burned alive. Hurry up. We must get to the lake to save your daughter. She's on the island, and the fire will be there in a short time."
"How do you know my daughter's on the island?" Randall asked. Then the expression upon his face suddenly changed, and a new energy possessed him. He struggled to his knees and faced the young man. "Are you John Hampton?" he demanded. "Are you the man who lured my daughter away from home?"
"I am John Hampton," was the quiet reply. "But I didn't lure your daughter away from home. She left of her own free will."
"You lie," Randall shouted. "You cursed villain, I'll make you pay for your deviltry. You brought all this trouble upon me, and I'll, I'll——"
"There, now, don't get so excited, sir," John warned. "You need all your strength, so if you don't make an effort to save yourself, you won't have a chance to do anything to me."
"Get out of my sight," Randall shouted. "I won't be saved by a thing like you. I'd rather die first."
To try to reason with this angry and half distracted man John realised would be useless. And besides, there was not time. The roar of the fire was becoming louder, and the flames were about to burst through the forest.
Already to their left and right vast columns of smoke were pouring above the tree tops, and fiery tongues were licking among the bushes along the borders of the plains. The situation was desperate. He looked, and his eyes rested upon a pile of large boulders several yards away. These were heaped upon a great flat portion of rock, whose surface was devoid of the least vestige of vegetation. To get the injured man there was his only hope. But when he offered the suggestion, Randall refused it with scorn.
"That place is worse than this," he declared. "Here it will be over in a few minutes, but there I shall slowly roast to death."
"No, you won't," John replied, at the same time laying his hand upon
Randall's shoulder. "Come, trust me."
"Leave me alone," was the angry retort. "I'd sooner trust a snake than you. Get out of my sight."
John now knew that he had to take stern measures and act at once, for there was not a minute to lose. Stooping, he caught the helpless man in a firm grip, lifted him from the ground, and staggered through the bushes. Randall was an unwieldy weight, and he struggled and cursed like a madman. At times John thought he would be forced to drop his burden and give up the attempt. But the menacing danger nerved him to almost super-human effort, and at last he stumbled with his load upon the rocky surface. Dragging Randall to the centre of the stone, he left him sprawling there, and sprang at once to the nearest clump of bushes. Drawing forth a match from his vest pocket, he struck it and touched it to a dry bit of fine grass. A small flame immediately shot up, which soon spread, and raced out among the bushes. The same was done in several other places, and in a few minutes the two men were in the centre of a ring of fire, which enlarged and increased in fury as the flames seized upon the dry material on all sides. The heat now was intense, and the smoke was blinding and suffocating.
During the whole of this performance Randall was yelling frantically to Hampton, asking what he meant by bringing the fire nearer. John, however, made no reply until his work was done. Then he staggered to the excited man's side, and without a word lifted him again in his arms, carried him to the pile of boulders, and laid him down between two big rocks nearest to the lake. Taking off his own coat, he spread it over Randall's head, and part of his body, commanding him at the same time to keep still, and stop struggling. This warning was given none too soon for the next instant a terrific roar rent the air, as the fire burst from the forest and flung itself upon the plains. Nothing could John now see, for the smoke was thicker than ever. The heat, too, was becoming more intense, and for relief he dropped upon his knees and covered his head with a portion of the coat which he had placed over Randall. This was only a brief respite, however, for burning brands were now falling everywhere, and one lighted almost on top of them. Then others followed in quick succession, so he was forced to stand on guard above the injured man. Desperately he fought the shower of flaming death, hurling aside each ember ere it could alight upon Randall's body. The heat now was almost unbearable. His hands and face were scorched, and his hair singed. How much longer could he fight the demon? he wondered. Would its hot breath lessen, or would it increase and devour him? The roar of the fire was appalling. On all sides it was raging and so dense was the smoke, and so overcome was he with his strenuous exertions, that he felt his strength rapidly weakening. Again and again, he nerved himself to the contest, and flung aside the falling embers with the desperation of despair. At last, after an almost superhuman effort, he flung out his hand to ward off another burning missive, when all power deserted him, and with a cry he fell forward full upon a large bolder.
He was aroused by a drop of moisture upon his cheek. Then another, and still another, and he knew that the blessed rain had come to his relief. Oh, how good it was to lie there, and feel the refreshing shower upon his hot face and hands. He knew, too, that the rain would quench the fire for a time, at least, and make it possible for him to escape. He must reach the island to find out about his mother and Jess, and how they had fared. The rain by now had developed into a regular downpour, and the raging fire had been quenched as if by magic. The dense volumes of smoke no longer rolled over the land, and as John looked out upon the blackened plains a scene of desolation met his eyes. The forest on every side was in ruins, even to the lake, a glimpse of which he could see through the stark flame-swept trees. But how far beyond had the fire extended? That was the question which filled him with anxiety. Had it reached the island, which here was but a few yards from the mainland, or had it been checked by the lake and the rain? This he must find out, and at once.
With difficulty he rose to his feet, for he was bruised and sore, and stepped over to where Randall was lying. Pulling away the coat, he laid his hand upon the man's shoulder, shook him, and told him to get up, as the danger was over. A peculiar muttering sound was the only response, and as John dragged back the prostrate body from between the boulders and looked upon the man's face, he was astonished to see the strange vacant expression in his eyes. Then his lips began to move, and he stared fearfully around.
"Don't let it get me!" he cried. "For God's sake, keep it away! Look, look, it's coming!"
"Come, come, sir, you're all right," Hampton soothed, certain now that the man's mind was somewhat unbalanced by the fearful ordeal through which he had recently passed. "It is raining hard now; don't you feel it? The fire is all out, so you have nothing more to fear."
But Randall clutched him frantically by the arm, and pointed across the plains. "See, see; there it is!" he cried. "It's coming this way! It will burn me alive! Ob, save me! Save me!"
John now realised the helplessness of the situation. It was necessary for him to hurry to the island, and yet he could not leave this demented man alone on the plains. The more he talked and reasoned, the more violent Randall became, begging most piteously to be saved. It seemed strange to John that this helpless being lying there could ever have been the Harry Randall of whom he had beard so much, and who but a short time before had cursed him so bitterly. Of what avail now were his power, wealth and wrath?
As John stood and wondered what to do, feeling keenly his own impotence, a shout to the right startled him, causing him to turn quickly in that direction. And as he did so, he saw several men hurrying toward him. As they drew nearer, be recognised them as neighbours, men he had known all his life.
"For heaven's sake!" the first man exclaimed, as he reached the spot. He ceased, and his eyes grew big with astonishment as he glanced down upon Randall. "Is that him?" he asked.
"You know him, then?" John queried.
"Hen. Randall, ain't it?"
"Yes, all that's left of him. But how did you know he was here, Jim?"
"Oh, a feller came for us in a car. Said his boss was out here somewhere, and he was afraid the fire had overtaken him. Guess Randall must have got lost. But we couldn't do anything when we did come. If it hadn't been for that rain the fire would have done terrible damage."
"It's done a great deal already," and John motioned to Randall, who had ceased his pleadings, and was lying still upon the ground. "He's had a hard time of it. His ankle's sprained or broken, I don't know which, and he's crazy."
The four men of the relief party looked curiously upon Randall, who presented a wretched appearance with his blackened face and rain-soaked clothes.
"D'ye think he'll get over this?" Jim Shaw asked, turning to John.
"Not if he stays here," was the emphatic reply. "You men must take him out of this at once. I've got to go to the island. Mother's there."
"Your mother's on the island!" Jim fairly shouted the words. "Why, no one could live on the island before that fire. Good Lord, man! She must be burned alive!"
For a few seconds the five men stood and stared at one another. The horror of the situation silenced their tongues. John was the first to speak.
"You look after Randall," he ordered. "I must get to the island and find out the worst. Perhaps the rain checked the fire in time."
He then turned and hurried across the blackened waste. He tried to keep calm, but his heart beat fast, and a great dread possessed him. What if his mother and Jess were both dead! The thought was appalling. It drove him forward like a hound. He leaped over sticks and stones in his headlong speed, dashed through the burned trees, and sprang out upon the shore of the lake. Here he stopped, and as his eyes rested upon the island a cry of despair burst from his lips. The fire had reached the place and swept it from end to end! But what of his mother and Jess! Were they alive? or were their charred bodies now lying exposed to the pelting rain? He called again and again at the top of his voice, but received no reply. The silence was ominous, for from where he was standing anyone, even in the middle of the small island, should be able to hear.
The one thing now for him to do was to cross that narrow strip of water and find out just what had happened. The only way to get there was to swim, for his boat which he had left that morning at the upper end of the lake could not have escaped the devouring flames. He could see that the fire had passed over the very place, close to the water's edge.
Tearing off his shoes and vest, in another minute he was into the lake, and headed for the island. He was a good swimmer and under ordinary circumstances the swim would have been mere child's play. But he was weak after his fearful exertions, and his clothes impeded his progress. But still he struggled forward, and at length, wearied almost to the point of exhaustion, his feet touched bottom, and he staggered heavily out of the water, and fell upon the shore. Again he called, but received no reply.
After a few minutes' rest, he regained his feet and groped his way along the shore until he reached the spot where he had landed the women the night before. Fearfully he turned his eyes up the path leading to the house, and as he looked, his heart sank within him. Nothing remained of the building but a few black sticks, from which small wreaths of smoke were issuing. He walked slowly up the path like one in a dream, and stopped before the ruins. But no charred bodies did he find.
And as he looked, a new hope seized him. The women must have fled to the water for protection. Perhaps, even now, they were somewhere on the shore, most likely at the farther end of the island.
Encouraged by this thought, he hurried back to the landing, and made his way down along the shore. He kept a sharp outlook, but no sign of life met his view. As he advanced, nothing rewarded his efforts, and despair once more seized him. The women could not have escaped from the island without assistance, he was certain. And it was hardly likely that any rescuer would be on hand in the time of need. Perhaps they had rushed into the water, and driven by the fury of the flames had gone beyond their depth. All this came into his mind as he turned the lower end of the island and viewed the shore to his right. He stopped and cast his eyes toward the mainland, but everywhere was the same scene of black desolation. It was wonderful how fast and far the fire had travelled before being checked by the rain.
Continuing his walk, he moved slowly along the shore until he came abreast the spot where the cabin had stood, and on the opposite side of the island from the landing. There was no need for him to go any farther. The women were nowhere in the vicinity, he was sure. They must have been drowned!
But perhaps they had been overtaken by the fire in their rush to the water, and their charred bodies even now might be lying among the trees. It was a fearful thought, which paled his burnt cheeks, and caused him to tremble violently. Should he search for them? he asked himself.
"I can't do it!" he groaned. "Oh, God! this is terrible!"
He buried his face in his hands, and sank down upon the ground, his soul writhing with the agony of an overwhelming despair.