Part 96 (1/2)
”'Stand fast, Penelope!' he pipes up, 'I will defend your life and honour!' And further he would not budge, but turns mulish, yet too feeble to lift the gun he clung to with a grip I could not loosen lest I break his bones.
”We got him, with his gun a-dragging, into the house, but could force him no farther, for he resisted and reproached me, demanding that I stand and face the enemy.
”At that, through the window of the library wing I see a body of green-coats,--some three hundred or better,--marching down the Schenectady road. And some score of these, and as many Indians, were leaving the Major's house, which they had fired; and now all began to run toward us, firing off their muskets at our house as they came on.
”I was grazed, as you see, sir, and the blow dashed out my senses for a moment. But when I came alive I found I had fallen beside the wainscot of the east wall, where is a secret spring panel made for Mr. Fonda's best books. My fall jarred it open; and into this closet I crawled; and the next moment the library was filled with the trample of yelling men.
”I heard Mistress Grant give a kind of choking cry, and, through the crack of the wainscot door, I saw a green-coat put one hand over her mouth and hold her, cursing her for a rebel s.l.u.t and telling her to hush her d.a.m.ned head or he'd do the proper business for her.
”An Indian I knew, called Quider, and having only one arm, took hold of Mr. Fonda and led him from the library and out to the lawn, where I could see them both through the west window. The Indian acted kind to the old gentleman, gave him his hat and his book and cane, and conducted him south across the lawn. I could see it all plainly through the wainscot crack.
”Then, of a sudden, the one-armed Indian swung his hatchet and clove that helpless and bewildered old man clean down to his neck cloth. And there, before all a.s.sembled, he took the old man's few white hairs for a scalp!
”Then a green-coat called out to ask why he had slain such an old and feeble man, who had often befriended him; and the one-armed Indian, Quider, replied that if he hadn't killed Douw Fonda somebody else might have done so, and so he, Quider, thought he'd do it and get the scalp-bounty for himself.
”And all this time the Indians and green-coats were running like wild wolves all over the house, stealing, destroying, yelling, flinging out books from the library shelves, ripping off curtains and bed-covers, flinging linen from chests, throwing crockery about, and keeping up a continual screeching.
”Sir, I do not know why they did not set fire to the house. I do not know how my hiding place remained unnoticed.
”From where I kneeled on the closet floor, and my face all over blood, I could see Mistress Grant across the room, sitting on a sofa, whither the cursing green-coat had flung her. She was deathly white but calm, and did not seem afraid; and she answered the filthy beasts coolly enough when they addressed her.
”Then a big chair, which they had ripped up to look for money, was pushed against my closet, and the back of it closed the wainscot crack, so that I could no longer see Mistress Grant.
”And that is all I know, sir. For the firing began again outside; they all ran out, and when I dared creep forth Mistress Grant was gone....
And I lay still for a time, and then found a jug o' rum. When I could stand up I followed the destructives at a distance. And, an hour since, I saw the last stragglers crossing the river rifts some three miles above us.... And that is all, I think, sir.”
And that was all.... The end of all things.... Or so it seemed to me.
For now I cared no longer for life. The world had become horrible; the bright suns.h.i.+ne seemed a monstrous sacrilege where it blazed down, unveiling every detail of this ghastly Golgotha--this valley in ashes now made sacred by my dear love's martyrdom. Slowly I looked around me, still stupefied, helpless, not knowing where to seek my dead, which way to turn.
And now my dulled gaze became fixed upon the glittering river, where something was moving.... And presently I realize it was a batteau, poled slowly sh.o.r.eward by two tall riflemen in their fringes.
”Holloa! you captain-mon out yonder!” bawled one o' them, his great voice coming to me through his hollowed hand.
Leading my horse I walked toward them as in a fiery nightmare, and the sun but a vast and dancing blaze in my burning eyes. One of the riflemen leaped ash.o.r.e:
”Is anny wan alive in this place?” he began loudly; then: ”Jasus! It's Captain Drogue. F'r the love o' G.o.d, asth.o.r.e! Are they all dead entirely in Caughnawaga, savin' yourself, sorr, an' the Dominie's wife an'
childer, an' the yellow-haired la.s.s o' Douw Fonda----”
I caught him by the rifle-cape. My clutch shook him; and I was shaking, too, so I could not p.r.o.nounce clearly:
”Where is Penelope Grant?” I stammered. ”Where did you see her, Tim Murphy?”
”Who's that?” he demanded, striving to loosen my grip. ”Ah, the poor lad, he's crazy! Lave me loose, avie! Is it the yellow-haired la.s.s ye ask for?”
”Yes--where is she?”
”G.o.d be good to you, Jack Drogue, she's on the hill yonder with Mrs.