CHAPTER VIII.
A Midnight Visitor.
REUBE and Will did not go shad fishing the next night, after all. Afierce sou’wester blew up toward evening, and drifting for shad was outof the question. Every boat was made secure with extra care, and allnight the fury of an unusually high tide put the Tantramar and Westcockdikes to the test. They stood the trial nobly, for well had theirbuilders done their work.
The Dares’ wide-winged cottage, set in a hollow of the hill, was littlejarred by the gusts that volleyed down upon it. Having seen the _Dido_well secured behind the little wharf, Reube felt altogether at ease.
“Are you quite sure,” asked Mrs. Dare that evening, “that Gandy won’tmake another attack on the shad boat or the net?”
“O yes, mother,” answered Reube; “I’m no longer anxious on that score.Mart feels madder than ever, I’ve no doubt, and I think he’d have triedto drown Will last night if I had left him half a chance. But he is justmortally afraid of the penitentiary, and, now he knows we can prove acase against him, I imagine he’ll bottle his wrath for a while.”
“Well, dear, I hope you are right,” said his mother. “But I must say Ithink Mart Gandy is more dangerous than you give him credit for being. Iwant you to be very careful how you go about alone at night. I know thatblood, and how it craves for vengeance. Be watchful, Reube, and don’tmake the mistake of undervaluing your enemy.”
“No, mother, I won’t,” answered Reube. “I know that wise head of yoursis generally in the right. If you think I ought to keep my weather eyeopen, why, open I will keep it, I promise you. And now it’s my turn!What were you doing out so late alone, when it was almost dark, withthose poor eyes that can’t see much even in broad daylight?”
“I know it was imprudent, Reube, and I did have some trouble gettinghome,” confessed Mrs. Dare. “But, dear, I couldn’t help it. I heardquite late in the afternoon that Jim Paul was on a spree again, afterkeeping steady for a whole year. He has been drinking hard for aweek—drunk all the time—and his wife sick in bed, and nothing to eatin the house. I went right down with a basket, and I was glad I went.The children were crying with hunger. And such a house! And Mrs. Paullying on the floor, white as a ghost, where she had just fallen! She hadgot out of bed and tried to make some porridge for the children—therewas nothing in the house but a little corn meal. Her husband was out,and she was trembling with fear lest he should return in a drunkenfrenzy and beat them all. Poor woman! And Jim Paul is a good husband andfather when he is sober. You see, Reube, it took me a long while, blindas I’m getting, to find the children and straighten things up.”
“Well, mother, this autumn, if all goes well,” said Reube, cheerfully,“we’ll get the poor eyes fixed as good as new. And then you may stay outlate sometimes without me scolding you.”
That night, when Reube and his mother were sleeping soundly, they wereroused by a crash which the roaring of the wind could not drown. Itseemed to shake the whole house. Reube sprang out of bed. As he draggedon his trousers his mother came to the door with a lamp in her hand.
“What is it, mother?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Some one has broken in the outer door,” replied Mrs. Dare, calmly. “Heis in the back kitchen now, but the inner door is bolted.”
Reube took the lamp from her hand and started down stairs.
“O, my boy, what are you doing? You have no weapon. O, if only we had—”
But Reube interrupted these words, which now had an all-unwonted tremorin them.
“Nothing else to be done, mother,” he said, quietly. “Don’t be scared!He won’t bother me, whoever he is!” And as his mother looked at him shefelt strangely reassured. Or, perhaps it was something in his voicewhich satisfied her. She snatched up her big Paisley shawl, flung itover her nightgown, and followed Reube at a discreet distance.
Reube opened a door leading from the hall to the inner kitchen. At thesame moment the door between the two kitchens was battered in with aloud crash, and there entered a terrifying apparition. It was Jim Paul,drunk, and with a wild glitter in his bloodshot eyes. His face and huge,burly form were stained with the blood of various fights, and he carriedin his hand the ax with which he had broken down the doors.
Jim Paul’s appearance was well calculated to daunt an older heart thanReube’s, but Reube’s heart was of a dauntless fiber. A cold, steadylight seemed to shine from his pale eyes as they met the fierce andfeverish gaze of the intruder, who promptly stopped and glanced asideuneasily. Reube’s mouth and broad brow, usually so boyish, looked asgrim as iron as he stepped up coolly to the drunken giant and asked himwhat he meant by breaking into the house.
Paul hesitated, beginning to quail before the stronger will thatconfronted him.
“Give me that ax!” said Reube, quietly.
Paul handed over the weapon with most prompt and deferential obedience,and began to stammer an inarticulate apology. Reube kept eyeing himwithout another word, and Paul grew anxious and worried under the gaze.At last he plunged his great hand deep down into his trousers pocket anddrew forth a lot of silver and copper coins. These he pressed Reube toaccept, presently breaking into maudlin protestations of esteem.
Reube turned away abruptly, having made up his mind what to do with histroublesome guest. He set the lamp on a shelf, and then took the moneywhich Paul still held out.
“I’ll take care of it till you’re sober enough to put it to its properuse,” said he.
The big fellow was by this time on the verge of tears, and ejaculating ahost of promises. He wouldn’t touch another drop, and he’d mend both thedoors so they’d be just as good as new; and he’d never forget Reube’sgoodness in not having him taken up for a burglar, and he’d go righthome to his poor family.
“No you don’t, Jim!” interrupted Reube at this point. “You’ll stay righthere where I put you for the rest of this night. And you’ll go home toyour family in the morning if you’re sober enough, but not otherwise.”
At this Paul began to protest. But paying no more heed to his words thanif he had been a naughty child, Reube led him to a small room openingoff the kitchen. The window of this room was a tiny affair through whicha man of Paul’s bulk could not manage to squeeze. Reube got a couple ofheavy buffalo robes, spread them on the floor, and told Paul to lie downon them. Then, bidding him sleep soundly and feel better in the morning,Reube locked him in and went to bed. But he took the precaution to carrythe ax up stairs with him. His mother said simply:
“You managed the poor fellow beautifully, my dear boy. I was glad youwere not forced to be rough with him.”
Reube smiled inwardly at his mother’s magnificent faith in his powers,but all he said was:
“Good night, mother dear. He’s all right where he is now, and I’ll havea talk with him in the morning.”
In the morning Paul had fairly sobered up. He was genuinely ashamed ofhimself. After making him eat some breakfast Reube gave him back hismoney and sent him home. As he was leaving the house he turned to saysomething, but seeing Mrs. Dare within earshot he hesitated. Reubefollowed him to the gate. There he stopped and said:
“I know I was just crazy drunk las’ night, but I kinder reck’lect whathappened. When we wuz all drinkin’ down to Simes’s, an’ I’d licked threeor four of the fellers, Mart Gandy says, says he, ‘There’s a ladhereabouts as yer cain’t lick, Jim Paul, an’ him only a kid, too!’ Incourse I fires up, and says I, ‘Show him to me, an’ I’ll show yous all!’Some more words passed, till I was that riled I was blind, an’ then MartGandy says, says he, ‘Yer cain’t lick Reube Dare!’ Off I started toonce’t, an’ you know’s well’s I do that I’d never ’a’ lifted a fingeragin this house ef I hadn’t bin jest blind crazy! But I’ll remember whatI might ’a’ done ef you hadn’t jest bin able to make me mind; an’ ’foreGod, I’ll try to keep straight. But you mark my words. Look out fer thatther Gandy! He’s up ter mischief, an’ he ain’t the one to stick atan
ything.”
“Thank you, Jim,” answered Reube, holding out his hand. “We’ll say nomore about last night, but I’ll remember your warning, and I want you toremember the promise you’ve just made me!”