Part 67 (2/2)

”Is that John Drogue, the Brent-Meester?” he shouted.

”None other,” said I. ”What brings you to Summer House in such fair weather, Harry Hare?”

”I wish to land and parley,” he replied. ”You may blindfold me if you like.”

”When I put out your lights,” said I, ”it will be a quicker job than that. What do you wish to do--count our garrison?”

Captain Nellis got up from his seat and replied that he knew how many people occupied Summer House, and that, desiring to prevent the useless effusion of blood, he demanded our surrender under promise of kind treatment.

I laughed at him. ”No,” said I, ”my hair suits my head and I like it there rather than swinging all red and wet at the girdle of your blue-eyed Indians.”

As I spoke I saw Newberry and Beacraft bring the b.u.t.ts of their rifles to their shoulders, and I shrank aside as their pieces cracked out sharply across the water.

Splinters flew from the painted column on the corner of the house; the green-coats all fell flat in their skiff and lay snug there, hidden by their packs.

Presently, as I watched, I saw an oar poked out.

Very cautiously somebody was sculling the skiff down stream and across in the direction of the reeds.

As the craft turned to enter the marsh, I had a fleeting view of the sculler--only his head and arm--and saw it was Eli Beacraft.

I was perfectly cool when I fired on him. He let go his oar and fell flat on the bottom of the boat. The echo of my shot died away in wavering cadences among the sh.o.r.eward woods; an intense stillness possessed the place.

Then, of a sudden, Beacraft fell to kicking his legs and screeching, and so flopped about in the bottom of the boat, like a stranded fish all over blood.

The boat nosed in between the marsh-gra.s.ses and tall sedge, and I could not see it clearly any more.

But the green-coats in it were no sooner hid than they began firing at Summer House, and the storm of lead ripped and splintered the gallery and eaves, tore off s.h.i.+ngles, shattered chimney bricks, and rang out loud on the iron hinges of door and shutter.

I fired a few shots into their rifle-smoke, then lay watching and waiting, and listening ever for the loud explosion of my Indian's piece, which would mean that the painted Tories and the Mohawks were stealing upon us from the mainland.

Every twenty minutes or so the men in the batteau-skiff let off a rifle shot at Summer House, and the powder-cloud rising among the dead weeds, pinxters, and b.u.t.ton-ball bushes, discovered the location of their craft.

Sometimes, as I say, I took a shot at the smoke; but time was the essence of my contract, and G.o.d knows it contented me to stand siege whilst Penelope and Nick, with waggon and cattle, were plodding westward toward Mayfield.

About four o'clock in the afternoon I was hungry and went to get me a piece in the pantry.

Then I took Yellow Leaf's place whilst he descended to appease his hunger.

We ate our bread and meat together on the roof, our rifles lying c.o.c.ked across our knees.

”Brother,” said I, munching away, ”if, indeed, you be, as they say, a tree-eater, and live on bark and buds when there is no game to kill, then I think your stomach suffers nothing by such diet, for I want no better comrade in a pinch, and shall always be ready to bear witness to your bravery and fidelity.”

He continued to eat in silence, sc.r.a.ping away at his hot soupaan with a pewter spoon. After he had licked both spoon and pannikin as clean as a cat licks a saucer, he pulled a piece of jerked deer meat in two and gravely chewed the morsel, his small, brilliant eyes ever roving from the water to the mainland.

Presently, without looking at me, he said quietly:

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