Round Anvil Rock: A Romance

  XVII

  THE ONCOMING OF THE STORM

  On entering the great room of Cedar House they found the rest of thefamily in a most unusual state of excitement. The lamps and candles hadnot been lighted, as it was not yet quite dark, but the firelight wasbright, and they could plainly see the anxiety on every face.

  Miss Penelope was in her accustomed place, which she could no more getaway from than a planet could leave its orbit. But her attention waswandering, as it rarely did, and she was silently casting uneasy glancesat the judge and his nephew who sat on the other side of the room,talking to each other in a loud, excited tone. The widow Broadnax, also,was in her usual seat in the chimney-corner, yet looking now and then atthe two men; and the mere fact that she thus allowed her gaze to strayfor a moment from what her half-sister was doing, indicated the uncommondisturbance of her mind.

  Ruth and David hardly knew the judge as he looked and spoke now, for itwas he who was speaking as they came in. He had just motioned hisnephew to silence with a sternness which was not to be disobeyed. Hisvoice rang with a decision and severity, such as none of the householdhad ever heard from him, who was commonly so carelessly mild andabstracted.

  "No one shall, with my consent, or even my knowledge, go from my houseto Duff's Fort on any account whatever."

  "Pardon me, sir," began William, stiffly.

  He was keeping his self-control with the air of one who does it undergreat provocation, and who has scant respect for those who lose it; buthis face was flushed, and his eyes were angry. The strained coldness ofhis tone and manner were like oil to the flame of his uncle's wrath. Thejudge's hand went out in a gesture that had almost the force of a blow.

  "Stop!" he shouted. "I refuse even to discuss the matter. It is enoughfor me to tell you again that no one shall go from under my roof to theplace where robbers and cutthroats congregate. It's a disgrace that Ihaven't been able to break up their den. I have done my best, and I amstill doing it, but the reproach of this band's existence, here at myvery door, nevertheless rests on me more than on any one else. I am therepresentative of the law--the law, good God! with the country in themurderous clutches of that lawless gang! Keep away, I tell you! And Iwill ask Alston what he means by even seeming to give countenance tothose scoundrels by going nigh them. Business! What business can he orany other decent man have with the nest of rattlesnakes that we can'tdrag out from under that bluff?"

  "It is a very simple matter, sir, if you would permit me to explain,"William said more coldly and deliberately than ever. "Mr. Alston ismerely making a trade for a boatload of horses, and simply asked me, ashis attorney, to meet him at Duff's Fort to draw up the contract withMason and Sturtevant."

  The judge stared blankly for a moment, so overwhelmed by surprise thathe forgot his anger. "Mason and Sturtevant," he repeated. "Do you meanto tell me that a man of half Alston's intelligence doesn't know thatthose men never have a horse that they haven't stolen?"

  William Pressley said nothing more; he suspected that his uncle had beendrinking a little more heavily than common. Moreover, it scarcely seemedworth while to argue with blind prejudice, drunk or sober.

  "Then if you've got nothing more to say, it's with Alston that I willsettle this matter. But all the same, I forbid you to go near Duff'sFort. I have a right to forbid you, as a member of my household. I havea right to forbid any one belonging to my family to do anything thattouches my own honor, my good name. And this touches both to the quick."

  "Very well, sir. I shall tell Mr. Alston what you say. I must, ofcourse, give some reason for breaking a professional engagement," saidWilliam.

  "I shall tell him a few things myself," stormed the judge. "It's allvery well for him to put on his high-and-mighty tolerant air about thestate of things hereabouts, and to keep on saying, soothingly, thateverything will come right after a while, as it does in all newcountries; but neither he nor any honest man can afford to handle pitch.It sticks to the cleanest hands. See that you keep yours out of it.Nobody belonging to me shall be smirched--and just now, too, when we aregoing to cleanse the whole country of it at last, thank God! We haveonly been waiting for a chance to carry out the plan which was arrangedwhile General Jackson was here. Joe Daviess has now found theopportunity, and our campaign has already begun. He is determined to putit in motion before he leaves for Tippecanoe--"

  "Then he is really going?" broke in William, quickly, with a markedchange of tone and manner.

  The judge paid no attention to the question. He seldom noticed what hisnephew said, and his thoughts were now solely of the undertaking whichabsorbed him heart and soul. After thinking deeply in silence for a fewmoments, he spoke of the plan more fully, even freely, as he was in thehabit of speaking in the bosom of his own family. There was no one elsepresent; even the servants were gone out of the room. Moreover, he hadbeen drinking, as his nephew suspected, and the stimulant, together withthe excitement, carried him beyond all prudence. He did not even lowerhis tone.

  "Yes, we begin the good work this very night. We've got the chance wehave been waiting for--the chance to catch those cutthroats red-handed!We had news yesterday that three men were coming over the WildernessRoad, bringing a large sum of money to buy land. The negotiation hasbeen under way for weeks. We have learned that this fact, and the timewhen these men are expected to pass through here, are both as well knownat Duff's Fort as they are to us. We have also had news of the coming ofa large flatboat with a rich cargo, which is due to pass down the riverby Duff's Fort some time during to-morrow night. Those hungry demons aresaid to be ready and waiting for the travellers by land and water--andwe are ready and waiting for them! Just let them lift a hand to rob ormurder, and we will be on hand, too! The attorney-general has sent alarge posse of picked men down the river to come up overland on thefurther side of the fort. Another posse has gone round by the swamp toguard that quarter, and there is a boat in readiness on the other sideof the river, well armed and fully manned. Yes, we've got the scoundrelssafe enough this time! We've run them to earth at last. There is onlyone loophole, and the attorney-general himself is to guard that--thepath round Anvil Rock. That is the band's highway. The rock is theirrallying-point and we couldn't see at first how we were to watch itwithout putting the scoundrels on their guard. To send any number ofmen, even two or three, in that direction, would have been to give thealarm at once--as the moon is about full. After consultation, it wasdecided that the attorney-general alone should attend to this delicatepart of the plan. It was his own suggestion that he should go to AnvilRock immediately after dark to-morrow night, and wait there in theshadow--watching everything that passes--till his men join him, afterbeating the bushes and going over the country with a drag-net. It's adangerous task that he has taken on himself, notwithstanding that theposse guarding the swamp should be in hearing of his voice by the timehe reaches Anvil Rock. I told him so; but he said that it must be doneby some one man, since more than one would defeat our whole undertaking,and that it was the duty of no one but himself. However, he has orderedall his men--the different posses sent out in various directions--todraw in toward Anvil Rock, so that he will not be there long alone, andnot at any time beyond the hearing of his men, should he find itnecessary to call for help. Anyway, I couldn't dissuade him from goingalone. It was no more than General Jackson had done, he declared, when Iprotested; and he also thought that being alone made it unlikely that hewould be observed. The main object was for him to be near by when hismen should need him, and that purpose would be best served by hiswaiting in the shadow of Anvil Rock. I said what I could, and urged himto let me go with him, but he stuck to it that only one man must go."The judge spoke anxiously, wearily now, all anger forgotten. "And hewill be there. He never knew what fear was, in doing his duty; he wouldwalk straight into the devil's den and attack him single-handed, withoutthe quiver of a nerve."

  "Allow me to congratulate you, sir," William Pressley said distantly,with an air of polite concession to somewhat foolish enthusiasm. "Ithink yo
u have perhaps been rather more troubled over certain outbreaksof lawlessness than you need have been. They are to be expected, Isuppose, in all new countries, and they gradually disappear before theadvance of civilization, as Mr. Alston says. All that is in the naturalorder of human events. However, since you have been so much disturbed, Iam truly pleased that you are so soon to be relieved of all uneasinessfrom this source. May I ask, sir, if you can tell me the precise date ofthe attorney-general's departure--for the seat of war, I mean--forTippecanoe?"

  The judge shook his head, hardly hearing the inquiry. The agitationwhich had shaken him was leaving him greatly spent. The old look ofabstraction came back, quickly dulling his gaze, and, sinking down inhis chair, he very soon began to nod and doze.

  "With your permission, sir," William went on with a touch of sarcasm inhis cool, slow voice, "I should like to call upon Mr. Alston to-morrow.You have, I presume, no objection to my going to see him in his ownhouse. It is impossible to drop a matter of business without a word ofexplanation. And if you have no objection, I will mention to him thematters of which you have just been speaking. No one has a deeperinterest in the public welfare, and certainly no one could be moreeminently discreet. However, I shall, of course, speak in the strictestconfidence."

  The judge bent his head, but it was in nodding not in assent, for he hadnot heard a word that his nephew said. And William saw nothing but thenod with a sidewise glance of aversion at the signs of his uncle'sweakness.

  It was the boy who heard and saw everything, and remembered and weighedit, with a feeling of alarm that he knew no reason for, and could notexplain to himself. It was his instinct to dislike anything that WilliamPressley said or did, and to distrust everything in which Philip Alstonwas concerned. He looked round at Ruth to see if she shared hisfeeling, and saw that she was gazing at William Pressley with troubledeyes.

  They had scarcely exchanged a word since their quarrel, although she hadmade many timid advances toward a reconciliation. It was conscience andnot love which had moved her in all that she had done, but this fact wasnot yet clear to her own mind. She was beginning to see it, but shetried to shut her eyes to the truth, being a loyal soul, and firm in herhigh regard for the man whom she had promised to marry. There had beenno opportunity to tell him what she felt; and she was still moredistressed to see that he avoided seeing her alone. It was of this cloudbetween them that she was thinking now, and it was that which shadowedher face. She had not noted very keenly what was going forward abouther. She had shrunk from the judge's excitement and agitation, as shealways did from all violence; but the meaning of his words had notimpressed her deeply or even clearly. Her gentle nature and her tranquillife were too far from strife, cruelty, and crime for her to grasp thefull purport of the story. She had heard William Pressley speak oftelling Philip Alston, without giving the matter a thought. It was rightin her eyes that he should be told everything. The mention of his namecaused her to think that it would be well to tell him of her quarrelwith William and of her regret and self-reproach. He was wise and kind,and would know what was right and best to do. Perhaps he might even seesome way by which the engagement could be broken without wrong or hurtto William's feelings. A measure of peace came with the hope, and shewas presently gazing into the fire, dreaming more than thinking, andfeeling assured that the doctor would stop when he went by on the nextmorning.

  The boy saw how absorbed she was, and felt that there was no use inwaiting to speak to her, to tell her of the vague alarm which had seizedhim. And then what was there to tell her or any one? He would only belaughed at for fancying things, as he often had been before, andremembering this, he crept off to his own cabin and went to bed. But hecould not go to sleep for a long time, and when he awoke at dawn theformless dread was still dark in his mind, like some fearsome shapebehind an impenetrable curtain. And there it stayed all the day through,never quite coming out into the light, but growing steadily larger anddarker and more terrible as the long heavy hours wore on. When--atlast--the dusk began to creep down the river, he grew so restless in hisnameless misery that he wandered into the forest, and there met thedoctor riding along the path on the way to his lonely cabin.

  Paul's face brightened at the sight of the boy; he had always likedhim, and had been drawn to him before knowing of Ruth's existence. Stillthe thought of her was now foremost in his mind as he looked at David.We are all glad to see those who are near the one whom we love; we areeven eager to seek those whom we would otherwise avoid when they arenear our beloved from whom we are parted. This eagerness was in PaulColbert's face as he looked at the boy and asked with some hesitation ifhe was in haste.

  "If you are not," he said, "I should like to have a little talk withyou. Let's sit down on that fallen tree."

  Dismounting, he led his horse along the path, with the boy following insilence. They sat down side by side on the tree-trunk, the doctorholding his horse by the bridle. There were new lines in his face whichdid not belong to youth, and which had not been graven by his fiercestruggle with the Cold Plague. The boy noticed them and knew that theyhad not been there when he had last seen the doctor's face. Its look ofgloom also had come back. That had lifted at the moment of meeting, butit was too deep to go so suddenly, and it had now returned. He turned tothe boy uncertainly, for there had been no clear purpose in his speakingto the lad. He had spoken on an irresistible impulse to learn somethingof Ruth, blindly clutching at a possible bond between her and himself.It seemed years rather than days since he had heard from her. But in asingle glance his trained eyes saw that David was in trouble, and byasking a few adroit questions he brought out all that the boy knew. Thedoctor sat so still for an instant after hearing what had passed betweenthe judge and William Pressley, that David looked up in surprise to seewhat was the matter. Paul Colbert was very pale, and his eyes wereglancing round, searching the deepening shadows of the forest. He made agesture, warning the boy to speak lower, and his own voice was scarcelyabove a whisper.

  "What time to-day did Pressley leave Cedar House? Had he come back whenyou came away? Tell me again just what he said about telling PhilipAlston. Try to remember every word--a valuable life may hang upon it.Keep as cool as you can--and be careful, don't be alarmed, but be quick.Every word now--once more."

  The boy repeated everything as accurately as he could. While he wasspeaking, the doctor, rising to his feet, gathered up the bridle-reins,and hastily bending down, was tightening the girth. When the last itemof information had been gathered, he vaulted into the saddle.

  "There isn't any time for our talk. I must gallop home for a freshhorse. This one is too tired for the speed we need." He saw the surpriseand, the alarm in the boy's gaze, and leaning over, took his tremblinghand. "Don't be troubled. You are in no way to blame, whatever happens.You have done the very best thing possible in telling me this. It maynot be too late. I shall try. I am going at once to do all that I can towarn or to guard a great man's life. The delay in getting the freshhorse is the worst; but," hastily grasping his hand again, "if I am toolate, if I fail and never come back, tell Ruth that I did my best. Tellher that I have done my best ever since I have known. I have kept awayfrom Cedar House--have only seen her far off, feeding the birds. Butthat was all I could do. I couldn't help thinking of her, I couldn'thelp what I felt. You will remember--and tell her?"

  He looked down in the boy's frightened face with a strange smile, andthen touching his horse with the spur, he flashed out of sight among thetrees.