Twice Bought by Robert Michael Ballantyne (uplifting book club books TXT) 📖

but, after warming to the work, and especially after taking a long refreshing draught at a spring that bubbled like silver in the moonlight, these longings passed away. Hour after hour sped by, and still the sturdy youth held on at the same steady pace, for he knew well that to push beyond his natural strength in prolonged exertion would only deduct from the end of his journey whatever he might gain at the commencement.

Day broke at length. As it advanced the intense longing for food returned, and, to his great anxiety, it was accompanied by a slight feeling of faintness. He therefore glanced about for wild fruits as he went along, without diverging from his course, and was fortunate to fall in with several bushes which afforded him a slight meal of berries. In the strength of these he ran on till noon, when the faint feeling returned, and he was fain to rest for a little beside a brawling brook.

"Oh! Father, help me!" he murmured, as he stooped to drink. On rising, he continued to mutter to himself, "If only a tithe of my ordinary strength were left, or if I had one good meal and a short rest, I could be there in three hours; but--"

Whatever Fred's fears were, he did not express them. He arose and recommenced his swinging trot with something like the pertinacity of a bloodhound on the scent. Perhaps he was thinking of his previous conversation with Tom Brixton about being guided by God in _all_ circumstances, for the only remark that escaped him afterwards was, "It is my duty to act and leave results to Him."

Towards the afternoon of that day Paul Bevan was busy mending a small cart in front of his hut, when he observed a man to stagger out of the wood as if he had been drunk, and approach the place where his plank-bridge usually spanned the brook. It was drawn back, however, at the time, and lay on the fortress side, for Paul had been rendered somewhat cautious by the recent assault on his premises.

"Hallo, Betty!" he cried.

"Yes, father," replied a sweet musical voice, the owner of which issued from the doorway with her pretty arms covered with flour and her face flushed from the exertion of making bread.

"Are the guns loaded, lass?"

"Yes, father," replied Betty, turning her eyes in the direction towards which Paul gazed. "But I see only one man," she added.

"Ay, an' a drunk man too, who couldn't make much of a fight if he wanted to. But lass, the drunk man may have any number of men at his back, both drunk and sober, so it's well to be ready. Just fetch the revolvers an' have 'em handy while I go down to meet him."

"Father, it seems to me I should know that figure. Why, it's--no, surely it cannot be young Mister Westly!"

"No doubt of it, girl. Your eyes are better than mine, but I see him clearer as he comes on. Young Westly--drunk--ha! ha!--as a hatter! I'll go help him over."

Paul chuckled immensely--as sinners are wont to do when they catch those whom they are pleased to call "saints" tripping--but when he had pushed the plank over, and Fred, plunging across, fell at his feet in a state of insensibility, his mirth vanished and he stooped to examine him. His first act was to put his nose to the youth's mouth and sniff.

"No smell o' drink there," he muttered. Then he untied Fred's neckcloth and loosened his belt. Then, as nothing resulted from these acts, he set himself to lift the fallen man in his arms. Being a sturdy fellow he succeeded, though with considerable difficulty, and staggered with his burden towards the hut, where he was met by his anxious daughter.

"Why, lass, he's no more drunk than you are!" cried Paul, as he laid Fred on his own bed. "Fetch me the brandy--flask--no? Well, get him a cup of coffee, if ye prefer it."

"It will be better for him, father; besides, it is fortunately ready and hot."

While the active girl ran to the outer room or "hall" of the hut for the desired beverage, Paul slily forced a teaspoonful of diluted brandy into Fred's mouth. It had, at all events, the effect of restoring him to consciousness, for he opened his eyes and glanced from side to side with a bewildered air. Then he sat up suddenly, and said--

"Paul, the villains are on your track again. I've hastened ahead to tell you. I'd have been here sooner--but--but I'm--starving."

"Eat, then--eat before you speak, Mr Westly," said Betty, placing food before him.

"But the matter is urgent!" cried Fred.

"Hold on, Mr Fred," said Paul; "did you an' the enemy--whoever he may be, though I've a pretty fair guess--start to come here together?"

"Within the same hour, I should think."

"An' did you camp for the night?"

"No. At least I rested but one hour."

"Then swallow some grub an' make your mind easy. They won't be here for some hours yet, for you've come on at a rate that no party of men could beat, I see that clear enough--unless they was mounted."

"But a few of the chief men _were_ mounted, Paul."

"Pooh! that's nothing. Chief men won't come on without the or'nary men. It needs or'nary men, you know, to make chief 'uns. Ha! ha! Come, now, if you can't hold your tongue, try to speak and eat at the same time."

Thus encouraged, Fred set to work on some bread and cheese and coffee with all the _gusto_ of a starving man, and, at broken intervals, blurted out all he knew and thought about the movements of the robber band, as well as his own journey and his parting with Brixton.

"'Tis a pity, an' strange, too, that he was so obstinate," observed Paul.

"But he thought he was right" said Betty; and then she blushed with vexation at having been led by impulse even to appear to justify her lover. But Paul took no notice.

"It matters not," said he, "for it happens that you have found us almost on the wing, Westly. I knew full well that this fellow Buxley--"

"They call him Stalker, if you mean the robber chief" interrupted Fred.

"Pooh! Did you ever hear of a robber chief without half a dozen aliases?" rejoined Paul. "This Buxley, havin' found out my quarters, will never rest till he kills me; so as I've no fancy to leave my little Betty in an unprotected state yet a while, we have packed up our goods and chattels--they ain't much to speak of--and intend to leave the old place this very night. Your friend Stalker won't attack till night--I know the villain well--but your news inclines me to set off a little sooner than I intended. So, what you have got to do is to lie down an' rest while Betty and I get the horse an' cart ready. We've got a spare horse, which you're welcome to. We sent little Tolly Trevor off to Briant's Gulch to buy a pony for my little lass. He should have been back by this time if he succeeded in gettin' it."

"But where do you mean to go to?" asked Fred.

"To Simpson's Gully."

"Why, that's where Tom and I were bound for when we fell in with Stalker and his band! We shall probably meet Tom returning. But the road is horrible--indeed there is no road at all, and I don't think a cart could--"

"Oh! I know that" interrupted Paul, "and have no intention of smashing up my cart in the woods. We shall go round by the plains, lad. It is somewhat longer, no doubt, but once away, we shall be able to laugh at men on foot if they are so foolish as to follow us. Come now, Betty, stir your stumps and finish your packing. I'll go get the--"

A peculiar yell rent the air outside at that moment, cutting short the sentence, and almost petrifying the speaker, who sprang up and began frantically to bar the door and windows of the hut, at the same time growling, "They've come sooner than I expected. Who'd have thought it! Bar the small window at the back, Betty, an' then fetch all the weapons. I was so taken up wi' you, Fred, that I forgot to haul back the plank; that's how they've got over. Help wi' this table--so--they'll have some trouble to batter in the door wi' that agin it, an' I've a flankin' battery at the east corner to prevent them settin' the place on fire."

While the man spoke he acted with violent haste. Fred sprang up and assisted him, for the shock--coupled, no doubt, with the hot coffee and bread and cheese--had restored his energies, at least for the time, almost as effectually as if he had had a rest.

They were only just in time, for at that moment a man ran with a wild shout against the door. Finding it fast, he kept thundering against it with his heavy boots, and shouting Paul Bevan's name in unusually fierce tones.

"Are ye there?" he demanded at last and stopped to listen.

"If you'll make less noise mayhap ye'll find out" growled Paul.

"Och! Paul, dear, open av ye love me," entreated the visitor, in a voice there was no mistaking.

"I do believe it's my mate Flinders!" said Fred.

Paul said nothing, but proved himself to be of the same opinion by hastily unbarring and opening the door, when in burst the irrepressible Flinders, wet from head to foot, splashed all over with mud and blood, and panting like a race-horse.

"Is that--tay ye've got there--my dear?" he asked in gasps.

"No, it is coffee. Let me give you some."

"Thank 'ee kindly--fill it up--my dear. Here's wishin'--ye all luck!"

Paddy drained the cup to the dregs, wiped his mouth on the cuff of his coat, and thus delivered himself--

"Now, don't all spake at wance. Howld yer tongues an' listen. Av coorse, Muster Fred's towld ye when an' where an' how I jined the blackguards. Ye'll be able now to guess why I did it. Soon after I jined 'em I began to boast o' my shootin' in a way that would ha' shocked me nat'ral modesty av I hadn't done it for a raisin o' me own. Well, they boasted back, so I defied 'em to a trial, an' soon showed 'em what I could do. There wasn't wan could come near me wi' the rifle. So they made me hunter-in-chief to the band then an' there. I wint out at wance an' brought in a good supply o' game. Then, as my time was short, you see, I gave 'em the slip nixt day an' comed on here, neck an' crop, through fire an' water, like a turkey-buzzard wi' the cholera. An' so here I am, an' they'll soon find out I've given 'em the slip, an' they'll come after me, swearin', perhaps; an' if I was you, Paul Bevan, I wouldn't stop to say how d'ye do to them."

"No more I will, Paddy--an', by good luck, we're