CUPID'S ARROW
Before a rude shack, somewhat back from the water, a middle aged
colored woman was seated upon a block of wood. In her hands she held a
waffle-iron, the farther end of which was thrust into a small fire
between several stones. She was a bunty little body, clad in a plain
grey dress, with a cap, somewhat in the form of a white turban,
adorning her head. Her naturally good-natured face bore an anxious
expression, and a worried look appeared in her eyes as she turned them
occasionally to the people moving about farther down the hill.
Presently she drew the iron from the fire, unclamped it, and with
remarkable deftness turned out a nicely-browned waffle into a dish by
her side. She then greased both halves of the pan, filled them with
batter, reclamped the iron and thrust it again into the fire. This she
did several times until the dish was almost filled with
delicious-smelling waffles.
"Guess dey'll suit de Cun'l," she said to herself. "He's mighty fond
of waffles, he shur' is. An' Missie Jean is, too, fo' dat matter. I
wonder what's keepin' dem. Dey's generally on time fo' supper. But,
den, t'ings are so upset dese days dat only de Lo'd knows what's goin'
to happen next."
Then she began to sing in a subdued voice the Twenty-third psalm, the
only piece she knew.
"I hab no doubt about de Lo'd bein' my Shepa'd," she commented, "an' I
guess He'll not let me want. But He hasn't led me into green past'rs
dis time. I wonder if de Good Lo'd made dis place, anyway," and she
gazed ruefully around. "It looks to me as if de deb'l had a mighty big
hand in it, fo' sich a mixed up contraption of a hole I nebber set my
two eyes on befo'. An' to t'ink dat de Cun'l had to leab his nice home
in Ol' Connec., an' come to a jumpin'-off place like dis. I hope de
ever-lastin' fire will be seben times hot when it gits dem skunks dat
stirred up ructions 'ginst good King George, I sa'tinly do."
A slight noise startled her, and turning her head, she smiled as she
saw a girl standing near her side.
"Land sakes! Missie Jean, how yo' did scare me!" she exclaimed. "I
thought mebbe it was a bear or a tager comin' out ob de woods, fo' one
nebber knows what to 'spect next in dis place."
"I am sorry I frightened you, Mammy," the girl smilingly replied, "And
it was too bad that I interrupted you in your interesting talk about
'everlasting fire,' 'ructions,' and 'King George.' You seem to be in a
fighting mood."
"I is, Missie Jean, I is in a turrible fightin' mood. I'd like jes at
dis very minute to hab my two hands on dem rascals dat turned on good
King George, an' den druve us all out ob our homes. I'd show dem a
t'ing or two, I sa'tinly would."
"I don't doubt it," the girl replied, as she stooped and helped herself
to a waffle. "If you could fight as well as you can cook you would be
a wonder."
"I could cook on our stove in Ol' Connec., Missie Jean, but it's mighty
hard work on dat," and she looked contemptuously at the rude
fire-place. "To t'ink that we should ebber come to dis!"
"Why, I think it's great, Mammy."
"What' not better'n Ol' Connec.?"
"Oh, not at all. But this might be worse. I miss our dear old home in
Connecticut, and yet I have often longed for a life such as this. I am
sure you will like it, too, Mammy, when you get used to it."
"I kin nebber git used to it, chile. I'se been torn up by de roots
from de ol' home where I was born an' bred, an' I kin nebber take root
agin, 'specially in sich a rocky hole as dis."
"But we're not going to stay here, Mammy. We are going up the river,
and make a new home in a beautiful place among the trees."
"Ah, chile, dat's what makes me tremble. It's bad 'nuf here, de Lo'd
knows, but up dere! Why, dere's bears, an' tagers dat'll eat ye up in
a jiffy. An' dere's Injuns, too, dat'll skin ye alive, an' scalp ye,
an' roast ye fo' dinner. No, I kin nebber take root in a place like
dat."
"But we'll be pioneers, Mammy," the girl reminded. "Just think what an
honour it will be to take part in holding this land for King George.
People will be proud of what we are doing in years to come."
"I don't want to be no pioneers, Missie Jean, an' I'm not hankerin'
after no honour. It suits dis ol' woman better to hab her skin an'
scalp now, even if dey are black, den to hab folks ye don't know
nuffin' 'bout blubberin' over ye a hundred years from now. Dem's my
solemn sent'ments."
"But daddy thinks there is a great purpose in our coming here, Mammy.
He says he believes that the Lord is overruling our defeat, and that
the driving us out from our homes and scattering us abroad will be the
means of extending King George's sway, and raising up a great nation in
this land."
"Missie Jean," and Mammy raised a warning finger, "I doan want to
predjis you 'ginst yer daddy's jeg'ment, remember. But I can't see de
Lo'd's hand in dis racket. It doan seems nat'ral to me fo' de Lo'd to
let King George lose a good an' beau'ful country, an' den gib him sich
a jumpin'-off place as dis instead. An', chile, I doan believe dat de
Lo'd ever meant yo' to come here."
"Why, Mammy? Do I look any the worse for it?"
"Yo' couldn't look worse, Missie Jean, not if yo' tried ebber so hard."
"Come, come, Mammy, I am surprised at you," and the girl's eyes
sparkled with merriment. "What do you mean by saying I couldn't look
worse? I didn't know I was as hideous as all that."
"I didn't say yo' was hidjus, Missie Jean. I jes said yo' couldn't
look worse, an' ye can't. Yo' kin only look beau'ful. Why, chile, it
makes my ol' heart ache when I t'ink of sich a lubly creature as yo'
bein' buried alive 'way off in de woods."
"But I don't intend to be buried alive, Mammy. I hope to live a good
many years yet, and only buried when I am dead."
"Ah, chile, dere is more ways den one of bein' buried alive. I am
t'inkin' of de lonely life in de woods, wif no nice young men to look
at yer pretty face, lubly eyes, an' beau'ful hair. An' ye'll hab no
chance to wear fine clothes an' be admired."
"Mammy." There was a note in the girl's voice which caused the colored
woman to glance quickly up.
"What is it, chile?"
"I want to tell you something, Mammy. This is not the time to talk
about such things, nor to wail and lament about our lot. I have just
been down helping some of those women with their children. They are
almost heart-broken, and I did what I could to cheer them up. I have
made up my mind that no matter how badly I feel, no one is to know
anything about it. I am going to forget my own troubles in helping
others. And, Mammy, I want you to do the same. If you talk to others
as you have been talking to me, it will make them more depressed than
ever. They need smiles, words of cheer, and a helping hand. And you
can do that, remember. Never mind about me, or admiring young men.
There are more serious things to think about just now."
"Land sakes, chile!" the colored woman exclaimed, holding up both
hands. "I nebber heard yo' talk dat way befo'. But I guess yo're
right, an' I'se ready to do what I kin. But here comes de Cun'l! An',
oh, Missie Jean, de Major's wif him! Dere won't be 'nuf waffles to go
'round, an' de fire's 'most out. What in de world is I to do?"
"Never mind, Mammy," the girl comforted, "they have hardly time to
think about eating. Just give them what you have."
"But dese waffles are col', chile, an' I know how fond men are of
eatin'. Nuffin' kin make dem fergit dere stummicks."
Smiling at the colored woman's worries, Jean at once set to work to
renew the fire. There were a few hot coals, so by the time the men
arrived, she had the fire burning brightly, and Mammy was preparing to
cook an extra supply of waffles.
Colonel Sterling was a fine looking man. His white hair, flowing
beard, and commanding presence would have distinguished him in any
company. His face was genial, and his grey eyes shone with pleasure
and pride as they rested upon his daughter who now turned to meet him.
"Is supper ready, dear?" he enquired, "I am hungry, and I know the
Major is, too."
"There is the supper," and Jean pointed to the dish of waffles. "But
I'm afraid it's not much for two hungry men. The Major, I am sure,
will find it pretty poor fare."
"Not at all, Miss Jean," the officer smilingly assured her. "I recall
so well the choice waffles I had at your old home in Stamford the last
time I visited there. And I am confident, too, that your excellent
cook has lost none of her skill since then."
He looked toward Mammy as he spoke, causing the faithful servant almost
to drop the iron she was holding, so great was her confusion at such a
compliment from so great a person.
Major Gilfred Studholme was the right man in the right place at this
critical time in the history of Portland Point. He had served with
distinction on behalf of his King in numerous engagements, and his
heart went out in sympathy to the thousands of refugees so suddenly
thrust upon him for protection. This soldier had held his post secure
in the face of hostile savages and lawless marauders, and he was
equally faithful now in the discharge of his duties to the newcomers.
Leaving Mammy to recover from her embarrassment and to continue her
cooking, Jean went into the little shack, the only home she now knew,
and brought forth a small table. This she placed near the door,
covered it with a white cloth, and again went inside for dishes. Her
supply of the latter was most meagre, as the rest had not been
unpacked. Her eyes grew a little misty as she recalled what the Major
had said about the last time he had been with them in their old home in
Stamford. She had a clear remembrance of that day, of the
neatly-arranged table, with fresh flowers in the centre, and the light
of pleasure and contentment upon her dear mother's face. What changes
had taken place since then! Her mother had been laid to rest, the old
home was gone, and they were exiles in a strange cruel land.
Hastily wiping her eyes with a delicately-embroidered handkerchief, she
collected a few dishes, and had just reached the door when she suddenly
stopped. Standing before the Major she saw a young man, clad in the
most peculiar manner she had ever seen. But his face and bearing were
what chiefly attracted her, while a pleasurable sensation, such as she
had never before experienced, swept through her being.
"I am Dane Norwood," the young man was saying, "and I bring a message
from William Davidson, the King's purveyor. Here it is," and he handed
forth a letter he had taken from the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Are you in the King's service?" the Major asked as he took the missive.
"I am," was the reply. "I am a special courier, known as the 'King's
Arrow,' and I always go where I am sent. That is why I am here."
"Where are your manners, then?" the Major demanded with a twinkle in
his eyes.
"Manners! What manners?"
"When you approach a superior officer, of course."
"Oh, you mean the salute. I have heard of it, but never saw it given."
"What! you never saluted any one; not even the King's purveyor?"
"No. Where I live we are all equal when it comes to that. We never
bother about such things. The only salute I know is the kind I handed
out to those slashers a short time ago when they tried to take that
message from me."
"Where was that?" the Major questioned.
"Just over there along that road," and Dane motioned to the right.
"Where are they now?"
"I think two are busy nursing their faces, while the third is hiding
somewhere around the trading post. He was running that way the last
time I saw him."
"And you defeated the three of them single-handed?"
"Why, that was nothing. I would be a mighty poor courier if I couldn't
take care of myself, especially when slashers are around."
A bright smile illumined the Major's face as he held out his right hand.
"Young man, I am proud of you," he said, "and I shall mention you to
the General Officers in my next report. We need such men as you
to-day."
"I don't care for any honour," Dane replied. "I only want an answer to
that letter, so I can get away early in the morning. Davidson is
pretty anxious up river."
"Why, sure enough," the Major agreed. "I must not keep you longer than
is necessary."
Opening the envelope, which was marked with a big broad arrow, he drew
forth the paper within, unfolded it, and glanced rapidly over the
contents. As he did so, a serious expression overspread his face, and
he remained a minute or two lost in deep thought.
All this Jean had heard and seen from the door where she was standing
with the dishes in her hands. When, however, the Major began to read
the letter, she stepped outside, and placed the cups, saucers, and
plates upon the table. It was then that Dane first saw her, and his
eyes opened wide with surprise and admiration. Presently Jean turned,
and seeing the courier's ardent gaze, her eyes dropped, and a deep
flush of embarrassment suffused her face. This all happened in a few
seconds, but in that brief space of time that quaint little archer,
Cupid, had been busy, and two youthful hearts had been pierced by his
subtle arrows.
Never before had Dane beheld such a vision of loveliness and maidenly
charm. The girl fascinated him, and moved by a sudden impulse, he was
upon the point of going to her side, fearful lest she should vanish,
when the Major's voice restrained him.
"Come to the Fort early in the morning," he heard the officer say. "I
wish to have a talk with you there."
"I shall be on hand, and early at that," Dane replied.
With another fleeting glance toward the girl, he turned and moved
swiftly away toward the lake back in the hills.