THE COMING OF THE ENEMY
A fever of queer emotions plagued Hugh's mind as he sought sleep that
night. He lay awake on his couch of skins for hours, striving to put
from himself the delightful conviction that had presented itself so
suddenly. Through all his efforts to convince himself that his
impressions were the result of self-conceit or a too willing egotism,
there persistently ran the tantalizing memory of her simple confession.
When at last he slept it was to dream that a gentle hand was caressing
his forehead and loving fingers were running through his hair. For a
while the hand was Grace Vernon's, then it was Tennys Huntingford's,
then Grace's, then the other's. Its touch brought a curve to his lips.
While he lay awake in these wondering hours and slept through the
changing dream, the cause of his mingled emotions lay in the next
apartment, peacefully asleep from the moment her head touched the
pillow, totally unconscious of the minutest change in her heart or in
their relationship, as contented as the night about her.
The next morning he was speculatively quiet and she was brightly
talkative as they ate breakfast. He was awake when she took her
refreshing plunge in the pool, and heard her conversing learnedly with
her attendants, as if they understood all that she said--which they did
not. It was then that he thought what a solitude life would be if she
were not a part, of it. There was nothing in her manner to indicate that
she remembered their conversation of the night before. In fact, it was
apparent that she was wholly unconscious of the impression it had made.
Two of her white-robed attendants stood in the doorway while they ate,
another industriously fanning them. The flowing white robes were
innovations of the past few days, and their wearers were pictures of
expressive resignation. Robes had been worn only by Mozzos prior to the
revolution of customs inaugurated by the white Izor, and there was
woeful tripping of brown feminine feet over treacherous folds.
"Those ghastly gowns remind me that this is the day for our flag
raising," said he. "I guess the banner is strong enough to stand the
winds that whistle around the tops of the gateposts, isn't it?"
Her thoughts reverted to the white signal that floated from the summit
of the big mount at whose base they had been cast up from the sea. Hugh,
having completed the meal, went to the end of the room, where, stretched
along the wall, hung a huge American flag. Days had been consumed by the
women in the manufacture of this piece of woven grass. He had created
red stripes from an indelible berry stain. A blue background for the
stars was ingeniously formed by cutting out spaces through which the
sky could gleam. A strong pole lay on the floor and all was in readiness
for the raising of the Stars and Stripes over the Island of Nedra. Their
hope was that it might eventually meet the eye of some passing
navigator.
"By the way, Hugh," she said, standing beside him, a trace of antagonism
in her voice, "who discovered this island, a Briton or an American?"
"Why I--an American, of course! Great Scott! I--I certainly did, didn't
I?" he exclaimed, aghast, gradually comprehending that she had a moral
claim, at least.
"That is the question," she said simply.
He walked over and sat down rather heavily on one of the stone blocks.
"I saw it from the sea," he stammered.
"And so did I."
For some moments he sat gazing at the flag, actual distress in his eyes.
She looked away and smiled faintly.
"I didn't think, Tennys; truly I did not. You have as much right to
claim the discovery as I. Why have you not spoken of this before?"
"You seemed so happy over the flag that I couldn't, Hugh," she said,
still looking away.
"Poor old flag! It's the first time you ever tried to wave dishonestly
or where there was a doubt of your supremacy." He came to her side.
"We'll have no flag raising."
"What!" she cried, strangely disappointed.
"Not until we have made a British flag to wave beside this one."
"I was jesting, Hugh, just to see what you would say. The flag shall go
up. You--you are the master, as you should be, Hugh."
"You have as much right as I," he protested.
"Then I'll be an American," she cried. "We'll raise our flag."
"But you are not an American."
"Granting that I was the first to see the island, was I not under
protection of an American? I have been under American protection ever
since. What has Great Britain to do with the situation? I demand the
protection of the Stars and Stripes. Will you deny me?" Her eyes were
sparkling eagerly. "Could the British have landed had it not been for
the American?"
"You really don't care?"
"This is our flag, Hugh," she said seriously. "It will make me unhappy
if you continue to take my jest as an earnest. We made it and I shall be
proud to have it wave over me."
A few hours later the Stars and Stripes floated high over a new island
of the sea, far from the land of its birth.
"How good and grand it looks," she cried as they saw it straighten to
the breeze. "After all, it may be waving over its own, Hugh. The United
States bought several thousands of islands in this section of the
world, I've heard," she added, with a touch of irony.
"It's the flag I love," he cried. "May God let me kiss once more the
soil she calls home. Dear America!"
From that day he never looked at the dancing, wriggling stripes without
a surge of emotion. Its every flaunt seemed to beckon brave worshippers
from far across the sea to the forlorn island on which it was
patiently waving.
An uneventful week passed. A Nedrite who had escaped from the Island of
Oolooz brought word to King Pootoo that the enemy was completing
preparation for a stupendous assault, but a close watch on the sea
failed to reveal signs of the approach. Ridgeway and his eager followers
were fully prepared for the assault. The prospect was now assuming the
appearance of a European war cloud--all talk and no fight. But as King
Pootoo insisted in vague earnestness that the informer was trustworthy,
precautionary measures were not relaxed at any time. Hugh was now the
possessor of a heavy sword made of the metallic-like wood. It had two
edges and resembled an old-fashioned broadsword.
"I feel like a Saumeri," he announced.
When he found that fairly sharp blades could be wrought from this
timber, he had knives and hatchets made for private use, his own trusty
pocket knife being glorified by promotion. He whetted the blade to the
keenest possible edge and used it as a razor. Tennys compelled him to
seek a secluded spot for his, weekly shave, decreeing that the morals of
the natives should not be ruined in their infancy by an opportunity to
acquire first-class, fully developed American profanity.
Many of their evenings, delightfully cool in contrast with the intense
heat of the day, were spent on the river. The largest canoe of the
village was fitted out with a broad, comfortable seat in the stern, upon
which it was possible to recline lazily while several strong-armed
natives paddled the craft through the shimmering, moonlit waters above
the rapids.
One evening, a month after the raising of the flag, they came from the
river, the night having been the most perfect they had seen, dark,
sombre, picturesque. The moon was hidden behind the banks of clouds,
which foretold the coming of rain, yet there was a soft, exquisite glow
on land and water, as if blue-black tints were being cast from aloft by
some mysterious, experimenting artist among the gods. It had been a
quiet, dreamy hour for both. As they walked slowly across the little
plain, followed by the oarsmen, they became cognizant of an
extraordinary commotion in the village. Pootoo and a dozen men came
running toward them excitedly.
"What's up, I wonder?" cried Hugh.
"It is the enemy. I know they have been sighted," she exclaimed
breathlessly.
And she was right. Just before sunset the guard at the top of the
gatepost had sighted the canoes of the invaders, far to the north.
According to the king, to whom the flying messenger had come, there were
myriads of canoes and they were headed for a part of the beach about
three leagues north of the village. It was the best place for landing
along the entire coast and was, besides, the point nearest the home of
the coming foe. It was evident that the enemy had miscalculated. They
came within eye range of the island before darkness set in. A half an
hour later and it would have been impossible to discern the boats in the
gloom. By merest chance their arrival was betrayed.
"Thank God, they can't surprise us," cried Hugh after he had learned
all. He was mad with excitement, burning with eagerness for the fray.
The possibility of defeat, did not enter his head, so sure was he that
he and his warriors could overthrow the invaders. His brain was filled
with the hope that he might some day tell the story of this battle to
the fellows at his club in Chicago. He could imagine himself sitting
with his heels on the window seat, relating to envious listeners the
details of the fight in the pass, the repulsing of the enemy, the chase
to the shore; the annihilation and--but no time was to be lost in
dreaming of the future when the imperative present demanded so much
of him.
At his side hurried the distressed, trembling young Englishwoman, her
heart almost paralyzed with fear. Two or three times she tried to speak
to him; once she timidly, though frantically, sought to grasp his hand
to stay him in his excited rush toward the temple. Up to this moment she
had been brave, even confident; now a weakness assailed her and every
vestige of courage was gone. But one thought filled her mind: the
possibility of disaster befalling Hugh Ridgeway.
They reached the temple and he dashed inside, going direct to his room,
where the sword and daggers hung. She sank weakly upon one of the big
blocks in the long corridor, leaning her head against the partition,
breathing heavily, hopelessly. He, unconscious of the pain she was
suffering, began to whistle joyously as he bustled about.
"Tennys," he called, "do you know what has become of my shield?"
"It is out here," she answered shrilly, her voice pitched high with the
tension imposed. He came forth, tossing his sword on the ground at her
feet, hastily taking the shield from a peg in the wall.
"Say, we won't see a live Ooloozer for a hundred years after the fight,"
he exploded exuberantly. "Is my army out there in front?"
"Hugh," she said piteously, following him about in the hall, "it isn't
necessary for you to accompany them."
"Oh, great Scott! I wouldn't miss it for a million. I'm the biggest pig
in the puddle," stopping to look at her in amazement.
"But it isn't your--our war, Hugh. Why do you risk so much? They may
kill you and then--then what will become of me?"
In an instant his hilarity subsided and deep solicitude came in its
stead, every particle of tenderness in his heart asserting itself in
response to the rueful appeal. There was a queer rushing of blood to his
head, a dizziness, a great thrumming against, the drums of his ears,
from all of which sprung, like lightning, the remembrance of his
suspicions concerning her feelings toward him.
"You are not worried, are you? Why, there's no danger, not the
slightest. We've got them whipped before the fight. I didn't think you'd
lose courage. You've been so brave and confident all the time." He took
her hands in his own and looked tenderly down into the wavering eyes
of blue.
"It is dreadful, Hugh. I never knew how dreadful until now. I cannot
bear to see you go out there to-night, perhaps never to come back. I
shall die if you go!"
"But I must go, Tennys," he said firmly. "I'd rather die than be a
coward. Your fears are utterly ridiculous."
His rather petulant speech caused her to withdraw her hands, her wide
eyes sending a glance of wounded pride up into his. That look of
reproach haunted him the whole night long. Even in the next moment he
sought to withdraw the unintentional sting from his words by the gentle
reminder that he would come back to her a victor and that she would be
proud of him. Still the hurt eyes looked into his.
"I--I did not mean to interfere, Hugh. You must pay no attention to me.
I was selfish and absurdly afraid," she said, a trace of coldness in her
voice, her manner entirely altered.
"Any woman might well be afraid at such a time," he said quickly.
"I am not afraid for myself. It is not the kind of cowardice you think
it is."
"You just now wondered what would become of you if I were killed," he
ventured.
"I know what will become of me if the worst should come. But I must not
keep you standing here. There is much for you to do and much for me to
do. You shall never again say that I am not brave. Go and fight, Hugh,
and when you bring home the wounded I shall have a place to care for
them all." All this was spoken rapidly and in high-pitched tones. He
moved slowly toward the door, not knowing what to say or how to act
at parting.
"I'll be back all right, Tennys," he said at last. "Would you care very
much if--if I never came back?"
"Oh, Hugh!" was her wail. "How can you ask? What would it mean to me to
be left here all alone? If you would have me brave, do not ask such
questions. Go, Hugh. Good-by!"
He grasped her hand, wrung it spasmodically, glanced once in her eyes
and was off toward the horde of warriors congregating in the field.
Lady Tennys steadied her swaying figure against the doorpost and looked
out upon the preparations for departure. The light in her eyes had died.