'Thank you,' said Hilary. 'I should feel a good deal safer in the
box-room. And then, who's going to attack us?'
'Well, you never know,' replied Clarence; 'but, if they did come, it's
something to feel we should be able to defend ourselves.'
'Yes, Hilary,' Cecily remarked, 'an army would certainly be a great
convenience then.'
'That would depend on what it did,' said her sister. 'It wouldn't be
much of a convenience if it ran away.'
'I don't think Jack and Guy would ever do that,' observed Hazel.
'I suppose that means that you think I should?' inquired Clarence, who
was quick at discovering personal allusions.
'I wasn't thinking about you at all,' said Hazel, with supreme
indifference; 'we don't know you well enough to say whether you're brave
or not--we do know our brothers.'
'There wouldn't be much sense in my being the General if I wasn't the
bravest, would there?' he demanded.
'Well, as to that, you see,' retorted Hilary, 'we don't see much sense
in any of it.'
'Girls can't be expected to see sense in anything,' he said sulkily.
'At all events, no one can be expected to see bravery till there's some
danger,' said Hazel; 'and there isn't the least!'
'That's all you know about it; but I've something more important to do
than stay here squabbling. I'm off to see what the army's up to.' And he
marched off with great pomp.
When he had disappeared, Hilary remarked frankly, 'Isn't he a pig?'
'I don't think it's nice to call our visitors "pigs," Hilary!'
remonstrated Cecily, 'and he's not really more greedy than most boys.'
'Don't lecture, Cis. I didn't mean he was that kind of pig--I said he
was a pig. And he is!' said Hilary, not over lucidly. 'I wonder what
Jack and Guy can see in him. I thought that when they wrote asking him
to be invited, that he'd be sure to be such a jolly boy!'
'He may be a jolly boy--at school,' was all that even the tolerant
Cecily could find to urge in his favour.
'I believe,' said Hazel, 'that they're not nearly so mad about him as
they were--didn't you notice about the tennis just now?'
'He bullies them--that's what it is,' explained Hilary; 'only with
talking, I mean, of course, but he talks such a lot, and he will have
his own way, and, if they say anything, he reminds them he's a visitor,
and ought to be humoured. I wish it was any use getting Uncle Lambert to
speak to him--but he's so stupid!'
'Is he, though?' said a lazy voice from behind the cedar.
'Oh, Uncle Lambkin!' cried Hilary, 'I didn't know you were there!'
'Don't apologise,' was the answer. 'I know it must be a trial to have an
uncle on the verge of imbecility--but bear with me. I am at least
harmless.'
'Of course we know you're really rather clever,' said Hazel, 'but you
_are_ stupid about some things--you never interfere, whatever people
do!'
'Don't I, really?' said their uncle, as he disposed himself on his back,
and tilted his hat over his nose; 'you do surprise me! What a mistake
for a man to make, who has come down for perfect quiet! Whom shall I
begin to interfere with?'
'Well, you might snub that horrid Tinling boy, instead of encouraging
him, as you always do!'
'Encourage him! He's got a fine flow of martial enthusiasm, and a good
supply of military terms, and I listen when he gives me long accounts of
thrilling engagements, when he came out uncommonly strong--and the
enemy, so far as I can gather, never came out at all. I'm passive,
because I can't help myself; and then he amuses me in his way--that's
all.'
'Do you believe he's brave, uncle?'
'I only know that I saw him kill two wasps with his teaspoon,' was the
reply. 'They don't award the Victoria Cross for it--but it's a thing I
couldn't have done myself.'
'I should hope not!' exclaimed Hilary; 'but everybody knows you're a
coward,' she added (she did not intend this remark to be taken
seriously), 'and you're awfully lazy. Still, there are some things you
might do!'
'If that means fielding long-leg till tea-time, I respectfully disagree.
Irreverent girls, have you never been taught that a digesting uncle is a
very solemn and sacred thing?'
'Now you are going to be idiotic again! But as to cricket--why, you must
know that we never get a game now! And next summer I shall be too old to
play!'
'I _never_ mean to be too old for cricket,' said Hilary, with
conviction; 'but we've had none for weeks, uncle, positive weeks!'
'Quite right, too!' observed Uncle Lambert, sleepily. 'Not a game for
girls--only spoil your hands--do you think I want a set of nieces with
paws like so many glovers' signs?'
'That's utter nonsense,' said Hazel, calmly, 'because we always play in
gloves. Mother makes us. At least, when we did play. Now the boys will
only play soldiers, and, if they do happen to be inclined for a set at
tennis, Clarence comes up and orders them off as pickets or outposts, or
something!'
'But he's not Bismarck or Boulanger, is he? I always understood this was
a free country.'
'You know what Guy and Jack are--they can't bear their visitor to think
he isn't welcome.'
'Well, they seem to have made him feel very much at home--but it isn't
my business; if they choose to declare the house in a state of siege,
and turn the garden into a seat of war, I can't help it--I'd rather they
wouldn't, but it's your mother's affair, not mine!'
And he closed the discussion by lighting a cigarette, and relapsing into
a contented silence.
Uncle Lambert was short and stout, with a round red face, a heavy auburn
moustache, and little green eyes which never seemed to notice anything.
His nieces were fond of him, though they often wished he would pay them
the occasional compliment of talking sensibly; but he never did, and he
spent all his time at The Gables in elaborately doing nothing at all.
Clarence Tinling had gone off in a decided huff--so much so indeed that
he left his devoted army to carry out their rather misty manoeuvres
without any help from him. He was beginning to find a falling-off in
their docility of late, which was no doubt owing to their sisters; it
was excessively annoying to him that those girls should be so difficult
to convince of the protective value of a fortress, and especially that
they should decline to take his own superior nerve and courage for
granted. And the worst of it was, nothing but some imminent danger was
ever likely to convince them, such were their prejudice and
narrow-mindedness.
Later that afternoon the family assembled for tea in the cool, shady
dining-room; Mrs. Jolliffe, with a gentle anxiety on her usually placid
face, sat at the head (Colonel Jolliffe was away shooting in the North
just then). 'Where are all the boys?' she said, looking round the table.
'Why don't they come in?'
'It's no use asking us, mother,' said Hilary, 'we see so very little of
them ever.'
'Very likely they are washing their hands,' said her mother.
'So _like_ them!' murmured Uncle Lambert in confidence to his tea-cake.
'But here's the noble General, at all events. Well, Field Marshal, what
have you done with the Standing Army?'
Tinling addressed himself to his hostess. 'Oh, Mrs. Jolliffe, I'm so
sorry I was late, but I had just to run round to the stables for a
minute. Oh, the other two? They're on duty--they're guarding the camp.
In fact, I can't stay here very long myself.'
'But the poor dear boys must have their tea!' cried Mrs. Jolliffe.
'Well, you know,' said their veteran officer, as he helped himself to
the marmalade, 'I don't think a little roughing it is at all a bad
thing for them--teaches them that a soldier's life is not all jam.'
'No,' said Hazel, 'the General seems to get most of that.'
All Clarence said was: 'I'll trouble one of you girls for the tea-cake.'
'I don't think it's fair that the poor army should "rough," as you call
it, while you stuff, Clarence,' said Hazel, indignantly. 'Mustn't they
come in to tea, mother? It is such nonsense!'
'Yes, dear, run and call them in,' said Mrs. Jolliffe. 'I can't let my
boys go without their meals, Clarence, it's so bad for them.'
'It's not discipline,' said the chief; 'still, if they must come, you
had better take them this permit from me.' And he scribbled a line on a
scrap of paper, which he handed to Hazel, who received it with the
utmost disdain.
Hazel crossed the lawn and over a little rustic bridge to the kitchen
garden and hothouses, beyond which was the paddock, where the fortress
had been erected. It was a very imposing construction, built, with some
help from the village carpenter, of portions of some disused fencing.
The stockade had loopholes in it, and above the top she could see a
fluttering flag and the point of a tent. Jack was perched up on a kind
of look-out, and Guy was pacing solemnly before the covered entrance
with a musket of very mild aspect over his shoulder.
'Who goes there?' he called out, some time after recognising her.
Hazel vouchsafed no direct reply to this challenge. 'You're to come in
to tea _directly_,' she announced in her most peremptory tone.
'Advance, and give the countersign,' said the sentinel.
'Don't be a donkey!' returned Hazel, tossing back her long brown hair
impatiently.
Guy levelled his firearm. It is exasperating when a sister can't enter
into the spirit of the thing better than that. Who ever heard of a
sentry being told, on challenging, 'not to be a donkey'? 'My orders are
to fire on all suspicious persons,' he informed her.
Hazel stopped both her ears. 'No, Guy, please--it makes me jump so.'
'There's no cap on,' said he.
'Then there's a ramrod, or a pea, or something horrid,' she objected;
'do turn it the other way.'
'Hazel's all right, Guy,' said Jack, in rebuke of this excessive zeal;
'we can let her pass.'
'As if I wanted to pass!' exclaimed Hazel. 'I only came to bring you
back to tea; and if you're afraid to go without leave, there's a
permission from Clarence for you.'
'Oh! come in and have a look now you're here,' said the garrison more
hospitably. 'You can't think how jolly the inside is.'
'Well, if I must,' she said; though, as a matter of fact, she was
exceedingly curious to see the interior of the stronghold.
'It's like the ones in "Masterman Ready" and "Treasure Island," you
see,' explained Jack, proudly. 'And it's pierced for musketry, too; we
could open a withering fire on besiegers before they could come near
us.'
'They would have to be rather stupid to want to besiege this, wouldn't
they?' said Hazel.
'I don't see that--besiegers must besiege something. And it is snug,
isn't it, now?'
Hazel was secretly much impressed. In the centre of the enclosure was
the commander's tent, with a lantern fixed at the pole for night
watches; and rugs and carpets were strewn about; at one of the angles of
the palisading was the look-out--an elaborate erection of old wine-cases
and egg-boxes--on the top of which was fixed a seven-and-sixpenny
telescope that commanded the surrounding country for quite a hundred
yards.
She was not the person, however, to go into raptures; she merely smiled
a rather teasing little smile, and said, 'Mar-vellous!' but somehow,
whatever sarcasm underlay this was accepted by both boys as a tribute.
'You can see now,' said Guy, in a reasonable tone, 'that there wouldn't
have been room here for all you girls--now, would there?'
'Girls are always in the way--everywhere,' said Hazel, with a
reproachful inflection which was quite lost upon her brothers.
'I knew you'd be sensible about it,' said Jack; 'you can't think what
fun we have in here--especially at night, when the lantern's lit. Hallo!
there's some one calling.'
A shrill whistle sounded from the kitchen garden, and, a moment after, a
stone came flying over the stockade, and was stopped by the canvas of
the tent.
'That's cool cheek!' said Jack; 'get up and reconnoitre, Guy--quick!'
Guy mounted the scaffold, and brought the telescope to bear upon the
immediate neighbourhood with admirable coolness and science--but no
particular result.
'We shall have to scour the bush and see if we can find any traces of
the enemy,' said he with infinite relish.
'Was that the stone?' said Hazel, pointing to one that lay at the foot
of the fence; 'because there seems to be some paper wrapped round it.'
'So there is!' said Jack, proceeding to unfold it. Presently he
exclaimed, 'I _say_!'
'What is it now?' asked Hazel.
'Nothing for you--it's private!' said Jack, mysteriously. 'Here, Guy,
come down and look at this.'
Guy read it and whistled. 'We must report this to the General at once,'
he said gravely.
Both boys were very solemn, and yet had a certain novel air of satisfied
importance.
'Shall we tell her?' asked Guy.
'She must know it some time,' returned Jack; 'we'll break it by
degrees.--We've just had notice that we're going to be attacked by Red
Indians, Hazel; don't be alarmed.'
'I'll try not to be,' she said, conquering a very strong inclination to
laugh. She saw that they took it quite seriously; and, though she had at
once suspected that some one in the village was playing them a trick,
she did not choose to enlighten them. Hazel had a malicious desire to
see what the General would do. 'I don't believe he will like the idea at
all,' she said to herself. 'What fun it will be!'
Hazel's expectations seemed about to be fulfilled; for already she could
hear steps on the plank of the little bridge, and in another minute the
General himself entered the fortress.
'I say, you fellows,' he began, 'this is too bad--no one on guard, and a
girl inside! Why, she might be a spy for anything you could tell!'
'Thank you, Clarence!' said Hazel; for this insinuation was rather
trying to a person of her dignity.
'I say, General,' began Jack, 'never mind about rowing us now; we've
some queer news to report. This has just fallen into our hands.'
Hazel watched Tinling closely as he read the paper. It was grimy, and
printed in lead pencil, and contained these words:--'BE ON THE LUKOUT.
RED INGIANS ON THE WORPATH. I HERD THEM SAYING THEY MENT TO ATACK YURE
FORT AT NITEFAL. FROM A FREND.'
She was soon compelled to own that she had done him a great injustice.
He was certainly as far as possible from betraying the slightest fear;
on the contrary, his eye seemed actually to brighten with satisfaction.
He behaved exactly as all heroes in books of adventure do on such
occasions--he went through it twice carefully, and then inquired at what
time the warning had arrived.
'About five minutes ago. Round a stone,' answered Guy, with true
military conciseness.
'This will be a bad business,' observed the General, his face
brightening with the joy of battle. 'We have no time to spare--we must
give these demons a lesson they will not forget!' (this was out of the
books). 'Look to your arms, my men, and see that we are provisioned for
a siege (you might get the cook to give us some of that shortbread, and
the rest of the cake we had at tea, Private Jack). We cannot tell to
what straits we may be reduced.'
'Then,' inquired Hazel, demurely, 'you mean to stay here and fight
them?'
'To the last gasp!' said the General.
Hazel liked him better then than she had done since his first arrival.
'He really is a plucky boy after all,' she thought. 'I wonder if it will
last?'
ACT THE SECOND
WHERE IS THE ARMY?
The General's self-possession and resource were indeed remarkable.
'We ought to have a cannon,' he said; 'there's a big roll of matting
somewhere in the house. If we got that, and widened a loophole, and
shoved it through, it would look just like the muzzle of a cannon in the
dark.'
'Would that frighten a Red Indian much?' asked Hazel.
'Not if he knew what it was, perhaps; but who's going to tell him? Jack,
just run up to the house, like a good fellow, and see if you can find
it, will you? You can go with him, Guy.'
'You seem rather to like the idea of being attacked,' said Hazel, when
she and Clarence were alone together. He was gratified to notice the new
friendliness in her voice.
'Well, you see,' he explained loftily, 'I don't suppose I'm pluckier
than most people, but it just happens that I'm not afraid of Red
Indians, that's all; when I saw all those at Buffalo Bill's I wasn't
even excited: it's constitutional, I fancy.' He always modelled his talk
a good deal upon books, and a crisis like this naturally brought out his
largest language.
'I'd better see you safe back to the house, I think,' he added; 'I don't
expect them for an hour yet, but you can never depend on savages--they
might be lurking about the grounds already, for what we know.'
And, although Hazel had her own private ideas about the reality of the
danger, she was struck by his coolness and courage, for which, whether
justified or not by the occasion, she was quite fair-minded enough to
give him due credit.
Meanwhile, the other two boys, bursting with excitement, had rushed up
to the verandah, under which their mother and uncle were sitting.
'Mother! Uncle Lambert! What do you think? Our camp is going to be
attacked this very night by Indians!'
'Yes, dears,' said Mrs. Jolliffe, serenely; 'but have you had your teas
yet?'
Trifles such as these harrow the martial soul more than conflicts.
'But, mother, did you hear what we said? The fort is to be stormed by
Red Indians!'
'Very well, dears, so long as you don't make too much noise,' was the
sole comment of this most provokingly placid lady. What she ought to
have done was, of course, to throw down her work, raise her eyes to the
clouds, clasp her hands, and observe, in an agitated tone, 'Heaven
protect us! We are lost!' But few mothers are capable of really rising
to emergencies of this kind.
Hilary and Cecily had been playing tennis, and, overhearing the alarming
news, came up to the steps of the verandah. 'Did you say Red Indians
were coming here?'
Uncle Lambert shook his head lugubriously. 'I always warned your
father,' he remarked; 'but he _would_ come to live in Berkshire.'
'Why?' inquired Cecily. 'Is Berkshire a bad place for Red Indians,
uncle?'
'I should say it was one of the worst places in all Europe!' he said
solemnly.
Both Hilary and Cecily had heard and read a good deal about Red Indians
lately, and had also, with their brothers, visited the American
Exhibition, so that it did not strike either of them as unlikely just
then that there should be a few scattered about in England, just as
gipsies are.
'But what are you going to do about it?' they asked their brother.
'Lick 'em, of course!' said Guy. 'Now you see that an army is some use,
after all.'
'Don't be taken alive, there's good boys,' advised their frivolous
uncle, who seemed still unable to realise the extreme gravity of the
occasion. 'Sell your lives as dearly as possible.'
'What is the use of telling them that, uncle?' exclaimed Cecily. 'They
wouldn't get the money; and do you think any of _us_ would touch it? How
can you talk in that horrid way? Jack and Guy, don't go to that camp.
Let the Indians have it, if they want to; you can soon build another.'
'You don't understand,' said Jack, impatiently. 'We can't have a lot of
Red Indians in our camp--it wouldn't be safe for you.'
'Oh, I shall go and speak to Clarence,' she cried. 'I'm sure he won't
want to fight them.' And she ran down to the end of the lawn, where he
could be seen returning with Hazel.
'I want to speak to you quite alone,' she said. 'No, Hazel, it's a
secret,' and she drew him aside.
'Clarence,' she said, and her blue eyes were dark with fear, 'tell
me--are the Indians really coming?'
'You can judge for yourself,' he said, and gave her the paper. 'We've
just had this thrown over the stockade. It seems to have been written by
somebody who is in their secrets.'
'How badly Red Indians do spell!' said Cecily, shuddering as she read.
'It may be a white man's writing,' he said; 'perhaps a prisoner, or a
confederate who repents.'
'But, Clarence, dear,' entreated Cecily (ten minutes ago she would not
have added the epithet), 'you won't stay out and sit up for them, will
you?'
'Do you think we're a set of cowards?' he demanded grandly.
'Not you, Clarence; but--but Jack and Guy are not very big boys, are
they? I mean, they're a little too young to fight full-sized Indians.'
'There will be all sorts of sized Indians, I expect,' said Clarence. 'Of
course, I don't say they'll come. They may think discretion's the better
part of valour when they find we're prepared; but I must say I
anticipate an attack myself.'
'I wish you would do without Jack and Guy. Couldn't you?' suggested
Cecily.
His eyes gleamed. 'Cecily,' he said, 'tell me the worst--the army are
getting in a funk?'
'No,' she cried; and then she resolved to sacrifice their reputation for
their safety. 'At least, they haven't said anything; but I'm sure they'd
feel more comfortable in the drawing-room. Can't you order them to stay
and guard us? You're General.'
'And I am to face the foe alone?' he cried. 'Well, I am older than them'
(I must decline to be responsible for the grammar of the characters of
this story). 'I have lived my life--I shall be the less missed.... Let
it be as you say.'
All this was strictly according to the books, and he enjoyed himself
immensely.
'Thank you, dear, dear Clarence. I'd no idea you were so noble and
brave. Try not to let those Indians hit you.'
'I cannot answer for the future,' he said; 'but since you wish it I will
do my best.'
After all there was some good in girls. Here was one who said exactly
the right things, without needing any prompting whatever.
Cecily hunted up Jack and Guy, who were poking about in the house.
'You're not to guard the stockade,' she announced, with ill-concealed
triumph.
'Oh, aren't we, though?' said Guy; 'who says so? Not mother!'
'No--Clarence; he said I was to tell you to go on duty in the
drawing-room.'
'What bosh!' said Guy. 'As if any Indians would come there! I don't care
what Clarence says, I shall go in the stockade!'
'So shall I! 'said Jack. 'Now let's get that piece of matting, and go
down sharp--the evening star's out already.'
Poor Cecily was in despair; what was to be done when they were so
obstinate as this?
'I know where there's some beautiful matting,' she said.
'Where? Tell us, quick!'
'Come with me, and I'll show you.' She led the way along a corridor to
the wing where the billiard-room was. 'Wait till I see if it's there
still,' she said, and went into the billiard-room and looked around.
'Yes, it _is_ there,' she told them as she came out.
'I don't see it, Cecily; where?' they cried from within.
Cecily shut the door softly, and turned the key (which she had managed
to abstract on entering) in the outer lock.
'It's on the floor,' she cried through the keyhole; 'I didn't tell a
story--and don't be angry, boys, dear, it's all for your good!'
Then, without waiting to hear their indignant outcry, she scudded along
the corridor and down the staircase, with the sounds of muffled shouts
and kicks growing fainter behind her.
'I don't mind so much now,' she thought; 'they'll be awfully angry when
they come out--but the Indians will have gone by that time!'
Clarence had already retreated to his stronghold when she entered the
drawing-room.
Everything seemed as usual; Uncle Lambert, in evening dress, was playing
desultory snatches from _Ruddigore_. Mrs. Jolliffe came down presently,
and he took her in to dinner with one of his tiresome jokes. No one
seemed at all anxious about poor Tinling, fighting all alone down in the
paddock.
She curled herself up on a settee by one of the open windows, and
listened, trying to catch the sound of Indian yells. 'Hazel,' she said
anxiously, 'do you think the Indians will hurt Tinling?'
Hazel gave a little laugh. 'I don't think the army's in any very great
danger, Cis,' she replied.
'Hazel doesn't believe there are any Indians at all,' explained Hilary.
'Well,' said Cecily, softly, 'I've kept the army out of danger, whether
there are or not!'
But she felt relieved by her sisters' evident tranquillity, and
by-and-by, when Mrs. Jolliffe came in from the dining-room and settled
down with her embroidery as if there were not the least chance of a
savage coming whooping in the open window, Cecily almost forgot her
fears.
They came back in full force, however, as, a little later on, she heard
a quick, light step on the gravel outside, and started with a little
scream of terror. 'Don't tell them where the army are!' she cried; and
then she saw that her alarm was needless, for it was the gallant General
who stepped into the room. Hazel looked up from the album which she was
making for a children's hospital, Hilary threw away her book, Mrs.
Jolliffe had ceased to embroider, but that was because she was
peacefully dozing.
'Victory!' said Clarence, waving his sword.
'Then they did come?' cried Cecily, triumphantly.
'Rather!' he replied. 'I couldn't tell how many there were, but they
were overcome with panic at the first discharge. I fancy _these_ Indians
had never heard firearms before.'
'How funny that we shouldn't have heard any now!' remarked Hazel,
resting her chin on her palms, while her grey eyes had a rather mocking
sparkle in them.
'Not funny at all,' he said, 'considering the wind was the other way. I
let them come on, and then poured a volley into the thickest part of
their ranks--that made them waver, and then I made a sortie, and you
should have just seen them scuttle!'
'I wish I had,' said Hazel, as she pasted another Christmas card into
her album. 'And weren't you wounded at all?'
'A mere scratch,' he said lightly (which is what book-heroes always
say).
'It looks as if you had been amongst the gooseberry-bushes,' said
Hilary, examining his arm as he pulled up his sleeve.
'Does it? Well, I only know it's lucky for me there were no poisoned
arrows.'
'Oughtn't you to have it burnt, though, Clarence, just in case?'
suggested Cecily, in all good faith; 'there's sure to be a red-hot poker
in the kitchen.'
But Clarence was very decidedly of opinion that such a precaution was
not necessary.
'And you're quite sure the Indians are all gone?' she asked.
'There isn't one of 'em within miles,' he said confidently, 'I'll answer
for that.'
'Then come upstairs with me, and we'll let the army out. They'll be in
such a temper!'
They found the two boys, who had tired of kicking and shouting by that
time, sitting gloomily on the long seats in the dark.
'Guy, dear--Jack,' said Cecily, timidly, 'you can come out now. Clarence
has beaten the Indians.'
'Without us?' groaned Guy. 'Cecily, I'll never speak to you again!
Tinling, I--we--you don't think we funked, do you? She locked us up
here!'
All the General's native magnanimity came out now.
'We won't say any more about it,' he said. 'It was rather a close shave,
with only one man to do it all. But, there, I managed somehow, and
perhaps it was just as well you weren't there. The first rush was no
joke, I can tell you.'
Jack punched his own head with both hands.
'Oh, it's too bad!' he said--he was almost in tears. 'They'll all think
we deserted you! Did you kill many of them, Tinling?'
'I didn't see any corpses,' he replied; 'but I shouldn't be surprised if
some of them died when they got home.'
'They may come again to-morrow night,' said Jack, more cheerfully.
'Not much fear of that--they've had their lesson. They were seized with
utter panic.'
'Which way did they go?' asked Guy, evidently bent on pursuing them.
'Oh, in all directions. But you wouldn't catch them up now; they ran too
fast for me even!'
'Then I shall go to bed,' said the entire army, in great depression. 'It
is a shame we couldn't be there. Good-night, General.' And, pointedly
ignoring poor Cecily, they marched off to their quarters. She looked
wistfully after them.
'They'll never forgive me--I know they won't!' she said to Tinling.
'Don't you mind,' he said, 'you acted very wisely. And, after all, these
raw young troops can never be depended on under fire, you know--I mean,
under arrows.'
Cecily drew herself up a little haughtily.
'I locked them in because I didn't want them to get hurt,' she said,
'not because I thought they'd be afraid.'
Uncle Lambert did not hear about the result of the engagement until the
following day, but then, to make up for any delay, he heard a good deal
about it. Even Clarence was not quite prepared for the enthusiasm he
showed.
'Splendid, my boy, splendid!' he kept repeating, while he hit him rather
hard on the back; 'you're a hero. A grateful country ought to give you
the Bath for it. I shall take care this affair is generally known.'
And the poor army looked on with hot cheeks and envious eyes. But for
Cecily, they might have been heroes, too!
Even Hazel seemed to have understood that a really brilliant victory had
been achieved; she brought Tinling a magnificent flag of pink glazed
calico, on which she had painted in crimson letters: 'Indians' Terror.'
'I did not think of making the motto "Seven at one blow,"' she said,
with a mischievous dimple.
'I like the other best,' said the General, unsuspectingly.
Jack and Guy went down to the camp as usual, but for some time they were
in very low spirits, in spite of their commander's well-meant efforts to
raise them.
'You'll do better next time,' he said kindly.
'But we've told you over and over again how it was!' they would exclaim.
'Yes, I know, I know. It's all right. I'm not complaining: I never
expected you to be as cool as I was, your first time.' But even this did
not seem to console the army to any large extent; they hunched their
shoulders and kicked pebbles about with great apparent interest.
The fact was, they could not help seeing that they had lost their
prestige. It was true that their mother and elder sister at least (in
spite of the flag) did not seem to treat the past danger with all the
seriousness it deserved. It even struck Jack and Guy sometimes that
they were under the delusion that the whole thing had been only a new
development of the game. But as the General said: 'Even if that were so,
it was kinder not to undeceive them. He certainly was contented to leave
them in their error; he knew well enough what he had had to go
through--he did not like even now to think of his despair when he found
he would have to face the danger all alone.'
He was always making the army writhe by little unintentional reminders
of this kind, and they had cruel misgivings that Uncle Lambert, though
he was always quite kind and encouraging, did not in his heart believe
that their unfortunate absence in the hour of peril was quite an
accident on their part.
How they longed for an opportunity of wiping out their disgrace, and how
their hearts sank when Tinling, from the depths of his experience,
declared it very improbable that the attack would ever again be renewed.
In the school-stories, the good boy who refuses to fight when he is
kicked, and is sent to Coventry as a coward, always gets a speedy chance
to clear his character. Someone (generally the very boy who kicked him)
falls into a mill-stream, or a convenient horse runs away, or else a mad
but considerate bull comes into the playground--and the good boy is
always at hand to dive, or hang on to the bridle and be dragged several
yards in the dust, or slowly retreat backwards, throwing down first his
hat and then his coat to amuse and detain the infuriated bull.
But out of stories, unfortunately, as even Jack and Guy dimly perceived,
things are not always arranged so satisfactorily. They might have to
wait for weeks, perhaps months or years, before Uncle Lambert fell into
the fish-pond--and, even if he did, he could probably swim better than
they could. Then they were neither of them sure that they could
successfully stop a runaway horse, or a maniac bull, without a little
more practice than they had had as yet.
However, Fortune was kind, and took pity on them in a most unexpected
manner. For one morning, soon after breakfast, when Hazel was practising
in the music-room, and Hilary and Cecily feeding their rabbits, Jack
came up in a highly-excited state of mind to the verandah where his
officer was seated doing nothing in particular. 'General,' he said, with
a very creditable salute, 'do come down to the camp at once.'
'Oh, bother!' said the veteran warrior, who had, by the way, shown
rather a tendency to rest on his laurels of late.
'No, but it isn't humbug, really,' protested Jack; 'it's something
you'll like awfully.'
The General marched down in a very stately manner; it would have been
undignified to run, eager as he was to get down to the stockade,
thinking it not unlikely that Lintoft, the carpenter, really had found
time to make a cannon for them after all, or, at the very least, that
there would be some change in the internal arrangements of the
stronghold which it would be his duty as superior officer to criticise,
if not condemn.
Now it must be explained here that, during the last two or three days,
the outside wall of the fort had been placarded with various bills, all
glorying in the recent repulse of the enemy by a single-handed defender,
and containing most insulting reflections on the courage of Red Indians
as a race; while, in case they might not have enough knowledge of
English to understand these taunts, they were accompanied by sketches
which were certainly scathing enough to infuriate the least susceptible
savage.
To do Clarence justice, they were not due to any elation on his part,
but had all been executed by the army in the wild hope that they might
thus stir up the foe to a fresh demonstration, when they themselves
might recover their lost spurs.
These placards, as Clarence found on reaching the stockade, had been
scrawled over with a kind of red and yellow paint so as to be quite
illegible.
'Ochre,' said Guy; 'but that's not the best of it, for we found this
pinned with an arrow to one of the posts.' And he produced a thin strip
of white bark, on which were writing and drawings in crimson. 'They must
have done it with their own blood,' commented Jack, with great gusto;
'but read it--do read it.'
Clarence did not need a second invitation to read the document, which
was as follows:--
'WAH NA SA PASH BOO (YELLOW VULTURE),
_Chief of Black Bogallala Tribe, to the Great White Chief,
Tin Lin_, DEFIANCE.
'The wigwam of Yellow Vulture wants but one ornament--the scalp of
the white chief. Yellow Vulture has seen the taunts calling the red
warriors "women with the hearts of deer." He will show the Paleface
that the anger of the dusky ones is a big heap-lot terrible. When
the sun has set behind the hills, and the stars light their
watch-fires, then will Yellow Vulture and his braves be at hand.
The scalp of the Paleface shall adorn the tepee of the Red Man.
'WAH-WAH!' |
|
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기