CHAPTER XXIV.
ART-MAGIC.
Throwing off his sleep with a deep breath so soon as Geoffrey touchedhis shoulder, Von Donck stared up at the moon, and then upon theequally pale face of the watchman, who knelt over him and exclaimed:"Hear the sounds along yonder valley?"
In a moment the Dutchman was on his feet, alert and listening.
"So," he snorted, when the steady tap-tap of the fairy hammers reachedhis ears. "We are first here by only a little. How is that shoulder,young fighter? Too stiff to draw a bow, or cross a sword?"
"What mean you?" asked Geoffrey.
"Frenchmen are upon us. The knaves to ride o' night when honest folksleep! They have forgot that the blessed echo carries far beyond them.Now 'tis for me to contrive some snare for your executioners."
Geoffrey quaked at the ugly emphasis which the big man gave to hiswords. A new feeling of security had come to him with the sealing ofhis partnership with the stout Hollander; and it appeared as though hisdream of safety was to be dissipated before it had taken a concreteform.
"What else think you?" went on Pieter, with his snorting laugh. "ShallRoussilac allow a spy to reach New England, there to make known hisweakness, without striking a blow for his capture? See you thatstraight limb on yonder pine? I tell you that slim body of yours wouldhave swung there ere sunrise, had you not by good luck fallen in withPieter von Donck."
"They shall never hang me," said Geoffrey defiantly.
"Spoken like a Dutchman," said the sailor. "But now to work. I haveas little mind as you to die out of season, for my shrift shall be asshort as yours if yonder little men pull me down. Scatter the fire,and remove all traces of our camping-place, while I pull at my pipe andthink. The soldiers have a hard climb before them yet."
Von Donck screwed the pieces of his wooden pipe together, filled thebowl, and taking a brand from the fire, removed to the edge of thecataract. There he sat, puffing great clouds, his eyes settled uponthe ravine, his face stony in thought, while Geoffrey swept the fireinto the cataract and obliterated all traces of the recent strugglewith the wild cat.
"Bring me my panther hide," called Von Donck, rising with leisurelymovements. "We shall win a bloodless victory, and enjoy a laugh toboot. Yonder lies the man to fight for us."
He pointed with the stem of his pipe into the middle of the moon.
Refusing to divulge more of his plan, Von Donck threw the pelt acrosshis shoulder and strode into the bush. Geoffrey followed, and the twomen struggled on for upwards of a mile, until the ground went awaysharply and the cataract thundered far below through a neck of rockscarcely more than four feet in width. Here Von Donck halted andsteadied his body upon the brink.
"If I fail to make this jump, reclaim my body from yonder depths, andsay that I fell like a soldier," he jested.
Crossing the chasm, they descended, letting themselves from rock torock, and running whenever a sheep walk became visible. As theyentered the ravine the noise over the hills became more definite.
"How is it they have tracked me?" asked Geoffrey as they ran.
"I have no breath for idle talk," gasped his comrade. "They bring withthem an Indian, one of the cursed Algonquins, who shall tell when evena bird has hopped across a stone."
The climb began, up the face of the hills to the region of the moon.The crystal wall was nowhere precipitous. When the summit had beenattained, Von Donck flung himself between the mighty lips of thegranite face and gasped heavily. Some minutes elapsed before speechreturned to him.
"I would as soon carry a man upon my back as this weight of flesh," hegrowled. "By San Nicolas, I did never so sweat in my life."
"This is open rock, without tree or shelter," said Geoffreywonderingly. "We could have made a better stand in the bush."
"Hasten yonder," ordered Von Donck. "Bring me as much dry wood as youcan bear, and ask no question, or I shall heave you down the face ofthis cliff, which it has well-nigh killed me to climb."
When Geoffrey returned with a few dry pine sticks, Von Donck wascollecting some moist moss from the underpart of the rocks. The moonstood above the granite nose of the colossal face, and by her light theDutchman drew an imaginary line from the twin projections, which becameinvested by distance with an exact similitude of the human mouth, to ahole in the rock some twelve yards away. Here he built a fire, placingabove the grass and dry sticks a pile of white moss. Then he sat downand well-nigh choked with laughter.
"Prepare to strike a spark," he whispered. "But let no smoke arise ifyou would escape hanging. The troop shall carry away with them a taleto make these crystal mountains feared for ever."
"What plan is this?" said Geoffrey irritably. "We stand upon the mostexposed spot of these mountains, and do you propose to light a fire sothat all who are concerned may know where we may be found?"
"Control that voice and temper," whispered Von Donck. "Every soundcarries over yon ravine. Come, sit near me, and watch as pretty apiece of art-magic as brain of man ever devised. Show not yourselfabove the great face, or we are undone, and drop no spark into thatfire if you love your life."
Geoffrey crawled along the side of the face and lay flat beside theDutchman's knee. The latter proceeded:
"The Indians have great fear of these mountains. I promise you yonderFrenchmen are driving their guide at the point of the sword, andfeeling none too secure themselves at entering the devil's country. Aman who fights a good sword shall sweat when a bird screams o' night.So soon as they show themselves the old man of the mountains shall liftup his voice, and you shall find, boy, that his tongue is mightier thanour swords."
When Von Donck had spoken a breath of wind swept the exposed ridge. Asit passed a faint groan arose from the rock, and passed, leaving themstaring at each other fearfully.
"It was but the wind," Geoffrey muttered.
"San Nicolas!" stammered the Dutchman. "This comes of playing with thepowers of darkness. 'Twas the groan of a lost spirit."
"Stay!" whispered Geoffrey. "I thought that the sound proceeded fromyonder stone."
His comrade regarded the round mass which had been indicated withstarting eyes, but when he saw nothing supernatural, crawled near andexamined it nervously, asking:
"Think you some spirit is imprisoned within?"
"See this hole?" exclaimed Geoffrey, pointing to a small aperturevisible at the base. "'Tis what they call a blow-stone, if I mistakenot. Here the wind enters and so makes the noise that we heard."
"Soft," said Von Donck, vastly relieved. "Soft, or you spoil my plan."
Setting his lips to the hole, Geoffrey sent his breath into the womb ofthe rock. A subdued murmur beat upon the air and settled the matterbeyond dispute. Von Donck rocked himself to and fro, chafing his legswith his podgy hands, scarlet with excitement.
"A hundred thousand devils, but they shall run," he chuckled. "I hadpurposed to use my own voice, but this is better far."
The sound of other voices came in a murmur across the ravine.
"To the fire," whispered the Dutchman. "Nurse the flame, and let itnot burst forth until I give the word."
He scrambled up the side of the rock and looked over the giant's nose.The opposite cliffs were bathed in moonlight, and the watcher saw twomen standing above the cataract.
"Now, boy," he muttered deeply. "Let the fire burn, and when theflames dart up choke them with the moss."
Geoffrey complied with the mysterious command; but as he pressed themoss down and a cloud of smoke ascended, a mighty bellowing shook theair, and he started round to behold Von Donck lying flat along therock, his grotesque face and bulging cheeks pressed against theblow-stone, his body heaving like a gigantic bellows as he pumped hisbreath into the hole.
"More fire," came a choking whisper. "A strong flame, then smoke asbefore."
The flames darted up and whipped the moonbeams, the smoke followed, andagain the bellowing shocked the night. Then Von Donck scrambled up,and his triumphant voice came
down:
"They run! They run!"
The trackers were fleeing wildly from the crystal hills. Had they notseen fire and smoke belched up from the mouth of that terrible face ofgranite, and heard the giant's awful roars of anger? Headlong theywent, mad with terror, leaving their ponies in the bush.
"Here is a brave victory," snorted Von Donck; and he gave vent to hisdelight by turning a caracole upon the forehead of the giant.
"Now for New Netherlands and Hudson's River!" he chanted, drawing at animaginary cable as he danced along the great stone face. "'Tis scarcea hundred miles down to the sea. We have but to keep clear of Indians,and all shall be well. Yonder are ponies for us to ride, and, I doubtnot, bags of provisions hanging to the saddles. We may laugh atpursuit, boy. The French shall not dare to return. Take now my handsand let me see you make a holiday caper. Higher! San Nicolas, the boyshall make a dancing-master. Ha, Pieter von Donck! Pieter von Donck!'Tis as cunning an old rogue as ever wore shoe-leather!"