The Black Box 27

The Black Box 27

’Twas Fletcher of Saltoun, and the steed he rode was such as made one

break the tenth commandment Indeed, I never saw a finer horse.

 

The crowd fell back on either side to let him pass, and he was making

straight towards the standard, when Old Dare of Taunton stepped out

suddenly and seized the bridle.

 

"How now!" said he. "How came you by that horse?"

 

[Illustration: "HOW NOW! HOW CAME YOU BY THAT HORSE?"]

 

"I took it from its stable at the ’George’," replied the other.

 

"Then know that it is mine, and take it back," rejoined Old Dare with

heat.

 

"Nay, friend," said Fletcher calmly, "you err most grievously; for are

not all things common to the Cause? Let go her head, I pray you."

 

"Nay, but I will not," rejoined the old man stoutly. "No legs save mine

have stridden her, nor shall they."

 

"Ah! there you surely err again," laughed Fletcher, "for are not mine

astride her at this very moment?"

 

That angered Dare beyond endurance; putting forth all his strength he

strove to turn the horse, while Fletcher, using rein and bridle, urged

it forward. At this Old Dare went clean beside himself with rage; let

go a string of oaths and curses terrible to hear; and, when the other

mocked him, drew a riding-switch from out his boot and struck him full

across the face. ’Twas a cruel, maddening blow, and, in an instant,

Fletcher snatched a pistol from his saddle-bow and shot the old man

dead.

 

A moment’s gasping silence was followed by a ravening roar of voices,

and verily the people would have torn young Fletcher limb from limb (for

Dare was much beloved by Western folk) had not the Duke of Monmouth

ridden up and saved his life by ordering him aboard the frigate as a

prisoner. I did not wait to see the end of it, but, taking advantage of

the turmoil, broke out from the crowd and made all speed for home.

There I fell to making final preparations for the morrow, and midnight

struck before I was abed. Soon after three I was astir again, and ere

four was riding on my way to Exeter. The past few days had brought me

many strange and perilous adventures; but these were as nothing when

compared with those which lay before me in the unknown future. Should

you doubt that statement, you have but to follow me to prove its truth.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XVIII*

 

*A Timely Warning*

 

 

As I rode along amid the old familiar scenes that bright June morning,

with the gladsome singing of the birds for company, my thoughts were

strange indeed. It seemed as though I had set foot upon the threshold

of another life, and that the past--so near and yet so far--had been for

ever buried in the grave which held my father. Those days--those happy

days--were now as nothing but a darkened memory.

 

Less than a week before I had been riding on this selfsame road, as

blithe and free from care as yonder soaring lark, and now----!

 

Pulling up, I turned a wistful gaze upon the sunlit sea. The ancient,

wave-worn Cobb--strong and immovable in spite of kings and

factions--stretched forth its long, curved, weather-beaten arm into the

glittering water, as though it would fain gather in to safety those who

dared the perils of the deep. Beyond it, straining at their anchors,

lay the three ill-fated ships which henceforth would be part of one

appalling tale of blood and failure.

 

A bright blue ensign fluttered gaily from the frigate, whose deck young

Fletcher of Saltoun--a few hours back the hope of Monmouth’s side--now

trod a sorry prisoner, doomed to exile; his talents, hopes, and zeal all

scattered to the wind by one mad act of rage.

 

This brought into my mind Old Dare of Taunton, lying dead there in the

town--slain, to no purpose, in a brawl which boys might well have jeered

at. Then, as other thoughts of death more ugly and disquieting arose, I

moved on slowly--a prey to gloomy memories.

 

But, after all, I communed with myself, what mattered it? The past was

gone; the future, rich in unknown adventures--wherein I had a certain

mission--lay like a winding lane before me; while for the rest of

it--that is, the present--I was well armed, had a good horse beneath me,

lacked not money, and was sound in mind and body. What more was needed?

Nothing! Let danger dog my heels at every step--I cared not anything,

so long as in the end I might meet Ferguson and Ammon face to face and

sword to sword.

 

Stooping, I patted Kitty’s neck, and she, who knew my every mood and

touch, broke out into a joyous canter, and away we flew along the

springing turf which fringed the road. ’Twas all so like old times to

be thus rushing through the cool, refreshing air, that for the moment

everything seemed banished from my mind.

 

We had gone thus a mile or so, and I was vaguely thinking that, in spite

of all, ’twas fine to be alive, when suddenly the sound of other

horse-feet at a gallop reached me from behind. Someone was following us

in furious haste, and by his speed he rode upon no common errand.

 

Remembering what peril I had already gone through, and how little loved

I was by certain folk in Lyme, I pulled my mare in, and drawing up

behind a thorn bush, sat there listening, the while I peeped forth

cautiously in the direction of the thundering hoofs.

 

Soon round a distant bending of the road a steel-clad horseman shot to

view, a very Jehu of a fellow, riding furiously.

 

Who could it be that thus betimes wore out good horse-flesh, and what

might be the nature of his breakneck business? A Monmouth man, perhaps!

I knew not--but, as things stood, it seemed to me to be prepared for

anything was everything. Therefore I drew a pistol from my saddle, and,

having cocked it, sat there ready to be friend or foe.

 

On, with loose reins and head bent low, the horseman rushed towards us,

and judging by his speed would certainly have passed me by unnoticed;

but just as he came close, Kitty must needs prick up her ears and give a

loud, shrill neigh. At that the rider pulled his lathered steed up with

a suddenness that wellnigh shot him from the saddle, and there,

red-faced, open-mouthed and panting, sat John Coram, staring at me like

a man bedaft.

 

"Th--h--ank H--ea--ven!" he gasped.

 

"Yes, truly, for you might have broke your neck by pulling up thus

sharply," I replied, and could not keep from smiling.

 

"Nay--friend--’tis naught--to--jest upon," quoth he severely.

"Faith!--but--I--I fairly boil within."

 

"Then pause and rest awhile," said I.

 

"I must," quoth he.

 

Unbuckling his head-piece he hung it on his arm, and verily his breath

roared from him like a blacksmith’s forge. Thus bared, and with the

sunlight shining on his great bald pate, he looked so fat and

peaceful--so unwarlike--that I was sorely put to it to save myself from

laughing.

 

"Friend," said he at last, "I count the whinnying of that mare of thine

a mercy; but for it I might well have passed thee by."

 

"True," I agreed; "but, say, what brings you after me in such a headlong

fashion?"

 

John Coram fastened on his head-piece with all the care of some old dame

a-tying on her cap, looked up and down the lane, then drawing closer,

said:

 

"Because thou art in peril, friend."

 

"Ah! and from whom?" I asked, stroking my mare’s neck carelessly, for

indeed I had got used to peril.

 

Again John Coram glanced about him, this time taking in the trees as

well, as though they might hold danger; then he drew still closer, and,

in a low voice, answered:

 

"Israel Stark!"

 

At that I started somewhat, for, as you are aware, he named no ordinary

open foe, but rather one who lurked in secret places privily to murder.

Therefore I paused a moment, looking hard into the steel-framed face

before me ere I murmured:

 

"Ah! so Tubal Ammon is abroad, eh?"

 

"Yea, and that somewhere on this very road," replied John Coram in a

fearful whisper.

 

’Twas now my turn to glance around and scan the trees, especially a

thick-leaved oak just opposite.

 

"How know you this?" I asked at last.