Part 5 (1/2)

Now in those days I rejoiced in the strength of my legs, and I was determined not to be thus balked. So I doubled after him into a maze of tobacco and melon beds.

But it seemed he knew how to run. I caught a glimpse of his hairy legs round the corner of a shed, and then lost him in a patch of cane. Then I came out on a sort of causeway floored with boards which covered a marshy sluice, and there I made great strides on him. He was clear against the sky now, and I could see that he was clad only in s.h.i.+rt and cotton breeches, while at his waist flapped an ugly sheath-knife.

Rounding the hut corner I ran full into a man.

”Hold you,” cried the stranger, and laid hands on my arm; but I shook him off violently, and continued the race. The collision had cracked my temper, and I had a mind to give Muckle John a lesson in civility. For Muckle John it was beyond doubt; not two men in the broad earth had that ungainly bend of neck.

The next I knew we were out on the river bank on a sh.o.r.e of hard clay which the tides had created. Here I saw him more clearly, and I began to doubt. I might be chasing some river-side ruffian, who would give me a knife in my belly for my pains.

The doubt slackened my pace, and he gained on me. Then I saw his intention. There was a flat-bottomed wherry tied up by the bank, and for this he made. He flung off the rope, seized a long pole, and began to push away.

The last rays of the westering sun fell on his face, and my hesitation vanished. For those pent-house brows and deep-set, wild-cat eyes were fixed for ever in my memory.

I cried to him as I ran, but he never looked my road. Somehow it was borne in on me that at all costs I must have speech with him. The wherry was a yard or two from the sh.o.r.e when I jumped for its stern.

I lighted firm on the wood, and for a moment looked Muckle John in the face. I saw a countenance lean like a starved wolf, with great weals as of old wounds on cheek and brow. But only for a, second, for as I balanced myself to step forward he rammed the b.u.t.t of the pole in my chest, so that I staggered and fell plump in the river.

The water was only up to my middle, but before I could clamber back he had s.h.i.+pped his oars, and was well into the centre of the stream.

I stood staring like a zany, while black anger filled my heart. I plucked my pistol forth, and for a second was on the verge of murder, for I could have shot him like a rabbit. But G.o.d mercifully restrained my foolish pa.s.sion, and presently the boat and the rower vanished in the evening haze.

”This is a bonny beginning!” thought I, as I waded through the mud to the sh.o.r.e. I was wearing my best clothes in honour of my arrival, and they were all fouled and plas.h.i.+ng.

Then on the bank above me I saw the fellow who had run into me and hindered my catching Muckle John on dry land. He was shaking with laughter.

I was silly and hot-headed in those days, and my wetting had not disposed me to be laughed at. In this fellow I saw a confederate of Gib's, and if I had lost one I had the other. So I marched up to him and very roundly d.a.m.ned his insolence.

He was a stern, lantern-jawed man of forty or so, dressed very roughly in leather breeches and a frieze coat. Long grey woollen stockings were rolled above his knees, and slung on his back was an ancient musket.

”Easy, my lad,” he said. ”It's a free country, and there's no statute against mirth.”

”I'll have you before the sheriff,” I cried. ”You tripped me up when I was on the track of the biggest rogue in America.”

”So!” said he, mocking me. ”You'll be a good judge of rogues. Was it a runaway redemptioner, maybe? You'd be looking for the twenty hogsheads reward.”

This was more than I could stand. I was carrying a pistol in my hand, and I stuck it to his ear. ”March, my friend,” I said. ”You'll walk before me to a Justice of the Peace, and explain your doings this night.”

I had never threatened a man with a deadly weapon before, and I was to learn a most unforgettable lesson. A hand shot out, caught my wrist, and forced it upwards in a grip of steel. And when I would have used my right fist in his face another hand seized that, and my arms were padlocked.

Cool, ironical eyes looked into mine.

”You're very free with your little gun, my lad. Let me give you a word in season. Never hold a pistol to a man unless you mean to shoot. If your eyes waver you had better had a porridge stick.”

He pressed my wrist back till my fingers relaxed, and he caught my pistol in his teeth. With a quick movement of the head he dropped it inside his s.h.i.+rt.

”There's some would have killed you for that trick, young sir,” he said. ”It's trying to the temper to have gunpowder so near a man's brain. But you're young, and, by your speech, a new-comer. So instead I'll offer you a drink.”

He dropped my wrists, and motioned me to follow him. Very crestfallen and ashamed, I walked in his wake to a little shanty almost on the wateredge. The place was some kind of inn, for a negro brought us two tankards of apple-jack, and tobacco pipes, and lit a foul-smelling lantern, which he set between us.

”First,” says the man, ”let me tell you that I never before clapped eyes on the long piece of rascality you were seeking. He looked like one that had cheated the gallows.”

”He was a man I knew in Scotland,” I said grumpily.