The Black Box 7
Drawing my sword I crept up to the bushes and took a cautious peep
beyond them. But there was no one visible, and, indeed, I had not
thought there would be. Still, I was greatly puzzled, for it seemed
certain that the fellow could neither have run on nor through the wood
without my hearing him. Where, then, was he?
Asking myself that question, I fell to searching carefully with hand and
sword among the bushes. But they proved innocent of harbourage; no one
was there. In doing this I came beneath a thick-leaved oak tree, and
chancing to glance up, was startled by the vision of a pair of shoeless,
grey-hosed feet, which dangled from a lofty branch; no more of their
owner was visible to me, the rest of him being hidden by the foliage.
So astonished was I by this sight, that at first I could do naught save
stare in blank amazement. Then an idea came to me. Walking off as
though I had not noticed anything, I covered twenty yards or more, then
turned suddenly and faced the tree. Barely had I done this ere a pistol
shot rang out, and, as the bullet whistled past my head, I saw the evil,
crinkled mask of Tubal Ammon peering at me from the oak leaves.
*CHAPTER III*
*Up a Tree*
Too utterly amazed either for speech or action, I stood stock-still and
watched the pistol smoke curl slowly up above the tree; while Tubal
Ammon, shooting forth his ugly head until it hung out like a
green-framed gargoyle, surveyed me with a hideous leer. Thus for a
moment there was a tense silence as we stared at one another.
"Well met!" said I at last.
"And badly aimed," quoth he, grinning as though the thing were but a
jest.
"Quite well enough for me," I answered, folding my arms and frowning on
him. "Another inch or so and----"
"Aye, that is true," he broke in quickly. "Yet doth an inch make all
the difference betwixt a good shot and a bad one. But, verily, the
leaves were in my way, nor, to tell the truth, was I very steady on this
branch."
"Make no excuses," I replied: "you did your best to kill me; that is
quite sufficient."
"Nay, ’twas a chancy accident," said he, bringing his monkey head a
little farther out. "Look you, when you walked away just now I took a
thoughtless aim--’twas habit--nothing more. Then when you swung round
suddenly I started on this perch of mine and fired by accident."
"That is a lie!" I thundered.
"Nay, friend, ’tis gospel truth. If I had wished to kill you should I
not have done it while you lurked beneath this tree?"
"No; for you could not see me then, by reason of the leaves."
"Ah, there you err most grievously. I saw you well. You made a lovely
mark. I could have shot you easily."
"Enough!" I answered sharply. "We shall gain naught by arguing the
matter. Listen, friend Tubal Ammon, this is our second meeting. Three
nights ago you would have killed me on the road----"
"Nay, wrong again," he put in eagerly. "’Twas but an empty threat; and
greatly did I suffer for it. Yea, verily, I still can feel the kick you
gave me. Yet do I not complain," he added with a snivel. "’Twas well
deserved."
"It was, indeed," said I; "and a pistol bullet had been more so. But
let that pass. Say, what brought you lurking round our house just now?"
"My conscience!"
"Ho! ho!" I mocked. "The conscience of one Tubal Ammon, eh? A groat
for it!"
"Nay, ’tis above all price," he whined, shutting his eyes and drawing
down the corners of his ugly mouth. "A fortune would not buy it."
"Quite so," said I. "You cannot buy a shadow. Again, what brought you
spying on us from the tree?"
"A guilty conscience," he replied; "for did I not reward great goodness
with a base ingratitude? Yea, verily. Ever since I treated you thus
shamefully black thoughts have been my portion. I could not rest. I
felt that I must look upon the house of him whose kindness had been thus
wickedly requited. Perchance, thought I, I may behold him also.
Therefore I got me into your orchard while it was still dark, and
waited. Soon after daylight came I heard the opening of a casement, and
looking from my hiding-place behind a bush beheld an old man standing at
a window. As fine a gentleman as I have ever seen. Say, friend, was
that your father?"
"Yes. Go on," I answered sharply.
"Ah me! Now just to think of it!" quoth Tubal Ammon, drawing in his
breath softly. "The very man whose name I heard so oft from him who was
so good to me aboard that ship. Well, friend, I watched your father
till he left the window, and presently I heard your voice. Then,
creeping up beside the wall, I climbed that tree and gazed into the
room. I could just see you both; and twice you heard me and looked
forth."
"And didst hear what we talked about?" I asked.
"Nay, I caught nothing save a hum of voices," he answered readily.
"And what of the black cat?"
He started at those words; then, with a little shudder, answered:
"Ah, an evil beast as ever was. I found it just above me in the tree,
and cast a noose about its neck, meaning to strangle it for fear it
should betray me, but it shot off and took my cord along with it. Soon
afterwards the faithless branch broke, and--well, you know the rest.
Thus ends my true confession, friend--what say you?"
"Why, this," I answered sternly; "the conscience part of it is little to
my liking; for ’tis my firm belief you came to spy, and afterwards to
rob. If it be not so--if my judgment is at fault, come down and prove
your words."
"How so? What mean you, friend?" he asked.
"Come down, and let me take you to my father," I replied.
"Nay, nay!" cracked Tubal Ammon, shaking his head until the leaves
around it fairly danced. "I dare not."
"And why not?"
"Because methinks that you would hold me prisoner and deliver me to
justice."
"Nay, have no fear of that. You are not worth the trouble. Come, then,
and tell my father what you have told me. No harm will come of it. You
shall go free. You have my word for that."
"I will consider it," said Tubal Ammon, and with that disappeared behind
the leaves.
As I stood listening a gentle click came from the tree.
"What are you doing there?" I shouted.
"Wrestling with my thoughts," came back the high-pitched answer.
"Or reloading--which?" I asked. "If ’tis the latter, save yourself the
trouble, for, look you, I am safe from bullets."
With that I slipped behind a tree-trunk, and for wellnigh a minute there
was silence. Then out popped Ammon’s shaven head again.
"’Twould seem your faith in me is small," he sang.
"Truly it is not very great," I answered. "Why have you reloaded?"
"Because necessity is best served by readiness, good friend."
"You are not coming down, then?"
"Nay, I have considered it most carefully. I am not coming down."
"What, then?"
"Well, friend, it doth appear to me that we are quits. You have no
pistol, and therefore cannot come against me; nor can you even leave
that tree with safety. By the same token I am swordless, and therefore
’twould be a matter of exceeding risk for me to descend; for if I fired
and missed, what then? Thus, you are there, and I am here."
"Yes, and you would kill me if you could for all your priceless
conscience."
"Nay, put it not thus harshly, friend. Say, rather, that I must be free
at all cost."
"Which goes to prove a guilty conscience."
"No, a ready wit. But let us not waste words. _Verbum sat sapienti_.
Truly my Latin needs a little furbishing; still, ’twill serve. Look
you, friend, I offer thee a clean, straight bargain. Go thy way and let
me go mine."
"The time has gone for bargaining," I answered sternly. "I will stay
here till help arrives. ’Twill not be long, I fancy."
On hearing that his thin lips parted in a grin which showed two rows of
firm-set teeth and made his face a picture of maliciousness.
"Ah, say you so?" he hissed. "Then I am ready. _In omnia paratus_. And
yet again, _eventus stultorum magister_."
With that he disappeared from view, the branches shook, and in a flash I
knew that he was bent on swift pursuit and murder. But scarcely had he
moved when a cry rang out behind me, and turning round, I saw my father
speeding round the wood-end, twenty yards off, with a pistol in his hand.
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