THE ROUND-UP
Owing to the severity of the storm all the mast-cutters of Big Lake
camp suspended work, and sought refuge within their log cabins. The
latter were poor affairs, inhabited as a rule by two or three men.
One, however, contained twelve cutters, and here, while the tempest
raged outside, they were cosy and contented. Some sat before the
bright open fire, smoking and talking. Others played cards, while a
few spent their time in mending their clothes.
They were a sturdy, rollicking band of men, tucked away in the depths
of the forest. In the summer they did a little farming along the St.
John River and its tributaries. But the inducement of good wages lured
them to the camps during the long winter months. They enjoyed the
life, too, tinged as it was with the spice of adventure, for they never
knew when the slashers would cause trouble. They were well supplied
with fire-arms and ammunition, which had been sent up river the
previous summer by Major Studholme. A scrap with the rebels would have
given them much satisfaction, for they were anxious to wipe out
numerous old scores with their base and elusive enemy. The probability
of an attack formed the main topic of conversation during the winter
evenings, and many were the battles fought and won. They also
discussed the mast-business, how many masts, spars, bowsprits and other
timber would be taken out during the winter and floated down the river
in the spring. They knew how many pieces had been stored in the
mast-pond at Portland Point the previous year, and the number of
vessels which had arrived to carry the sticks to England. They could
also tell the dimensions of the largest masts ever cut, ranging from
ninety to one hundred and twenty-five feet in length, and from thirty
to forty inches in diameter, and valued at five hundred dollars and
upwards apiece. There seemed to be no limit to the knowledge these men
possessed of the masting-business, and they vied with one another in
telling what they knew.
The arrival of the Loyalists furnished them with a new subject of
conversation. But it was the abduction of Colonel Sterling's daughter
which stirred them most intensely. Many of them had daughters of their
own, and they sympathised with the bereaved colonel. That the slashers
were responsible for the cowardly deed, they had not the slightest
doubt, and they often wondered what had become of the girl.
The short afternoon was wearing away, with the storm showing no sign of
abatement. The snow piled up around the cabin, and so blocked up the
little windows that the men sitting at the table were compelled to
light several dip-candles in order to see the cards. Only the two men
who attended the oxen in the near-by stable ventured outside, and their
report of the storm made their comrades glad that they could remain
indoors on such a day.
The fire had just been replenished, and the flames were roaring merrily
up the big chimney, when the door was thrown unceremoniously open, and
Dane Norwood staggered into the room, bearing in his arms the limp form
of Jean Sterling. Amazed beyond words, the men sprang to their feet,
and quickly relieved the courier of his burden just as he reeled and
sank in a helpless heap upon the rough floor.
"It's Dane Norwood!" one of the men gasped, bending over the prostrate
form. "What in the name of heaven has happened?"
Before any one could reply Jean was on her feet, and started to cross
the room. But she tottered through weakness, and was forced to place
her hands upon the table for support.
"I am Colonel Sterling's daughter," she explained to the staring
mast-cutters, "and Dane Norwood saved my life. Help him, quick."
At these words several men hurried forward, lifted Dane from the floor,
and laid him gently in one of the bunks arranged along the walls. They
then bathed his face with water, and in a short time they had the
satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes and look around. In another
minute Jean was kneeling by his side, with the men standing silently
near. Dane smiled as he saw the girl, and reached out his hand which
she at once clasped in hers.
"What a baby I am," he said. "I didn't expect to go under this way.
There must be something wrong with me."
"Don't say that," Jean remonstrated. "No other man could have done
what you did. It was wonderful."
"I was afraid the slashers might overtake us," Dane replied. "Have you
told the men about them?"
"Oh, no, I forgot all about them."
As briefly as possible she explained how the rebels were on their way,
and planning to attack the mast-cutters that very night. Dane also
related his experience at the little cabin on the shore of the
Washademoak, and how he had overtaken and outstripped the slashers. He
told, too, how Jean had started in the dead of night to give the
warning, but becoming bewildered by the storm had wandered from the
trail, and he had by chance found her and brought her into camp.
The mast-cutters were now thoroughly aroused. Word was at once sent to
the various cabins, and all were ordered to prepare to march against
the enemy. Muskets were brought forth and examined with the greatest
care, and swords were unearthed from most unlikely places.
Powder-horns were filled, and a supply of bullets doled out to each
man. Snow-shoes were attended to, and complete arrangements made for
an early departure.
In less than an hour's time fifty men were lined up, the final
instructions issued, and the order to march given. They laughed as
they breasted the wind which swept across the little clearing, and they
looked like a bunch of school boys as they plunged through the snow to
the shelter of the trees beyond.
As Jean stood and watched them through a tiny spot in the little window
which the banked-up snow had not covered, her heart thrilled with
pride. They were but humble men, she knew, yet glad and ready to
maintain their Sovereign's cause in the heart of the great northern
wilds. She thought of what Norman had said about King George, and a
smile flitted across her face. But what did his words amount to before
the stern reality of such staunch champions as these obscure
mast-cutters? Men might curse and rave, but how futile they were
against the spirit of loyalty implanted in the hearts of determined,
rugged men.
In the meantime, the cook, the one man of the mast-cutting gang who was
left behind because of his age, had prepared food and tea for the new
arrivals. Dane and Jean were hungry, and thoroughly enjoyed the rough,
though well-cooked meat and bread. "Old Dennis," as he was called,
waited upon the visitors with considerable pleasure. His eyes twinkled
with merriment as he noted the happiness of the young couple.
"This is the fust time a female woman has ever been in this shanty," he
told them. "I never expected to see the day when I'd be feedin' one
with me own hands, an' sich a handsome lass, at that. A storm ginrally
brings something I've noticed. It was allus raining or snowin', or
blowin' when a baby came to our house, an' I had to go to the
neighbours fer help."
"How many children have you?" Jean asked with a smile.
"How many, Miss? Why, I 'most fergit. Now, let me see; there's
Bennie, an' Susie, an' Tommy, an' the twins, an' Pete, an' Dennis, an'
the baby. Oh, I fergot Martha, Sam, an' another pair of twins."
"It is no wonder you find it hard to remember how many you have," Jean
replied. "It must take a great deal to feed and clothe such a large
family."
"Indeed it does, Miss, an' that's why I'm cookin' here. I'm not as
young as I used to be, so can't stand heavy work. But, then, I
wouldn't like to lose one of me little ones. It 'ud about break the
hearts of me an' me wife. When we heard about you bein' carried off in
the dead of night, we cried, that's what we did, an' went an' counted
all of our little lambs asleep in their beds."
"So you heard of me, did you?"
"I should say we did, Miss. Everybody knew about it. My, I'm glad to
see ye safe an' sound. I do hope them slashers'll git what's comin' to
'em. I'd like to be after 'em this very minute."
"And so would I," Dane agreed. "It doesn't seem right for me to be
lying here when I should be out with the mast-cutters."
"Don't ye worry about that, young man. You've done yer share all right
in givin' us the warnin'. An', besides, look what ye've done fer this
girl. I guess if it hadn't been fer you she'd be layin' out there in
the woods now. Don't ye worry. What ye both need is a good sleep, so
I'm goin' to ask you, Miss, to take my bunk over yon in the corner. I
guess ye'll find everythin' in good shape, fer my wife's a most
pertic'ler woman an' has trained me right."
Jean was only too glad to accept the offer. She was weary to the point
of exhaustion, and her head ached. As she laid herself down upon the
bunk, and Old Dennis tenderly covered her with two grey blankets, the
softest bed in which she had ever slept never felt so good. She knew
how weary Dane must be, for he had merely pressed her hand as she left
his side. She thought of that terrible journey through the forest, and
the fight Dane had made to reach the camp. At first he had helped her
along the trail, but when she could go no farther he had carried her
like a child in his strong arms. She understood something of what that
meant, and she had pleaded with him to leave her and save himself. But
he had laughed at her, saying that she was not nearly as heavy as his
pack and musket which he had thrown aside. But he could not deceive
her, for she knew by his hard breathing, and the way he at times
staggered from side to side how great was the strain upon his almost
giant strength. She thought of all this as she lay there. But the bed
was comfortable, the roar of the wind among the trees most lulling, and
ere long she was fast asleep.
And while the two tired ones slept Old Dennis kept faithful watch. He
sat before the fire smoking his black stub of a pipe, and listening
intently for the return of the mast-cutters. He had no doubt about the
defeat of the slashers, and a smile overspread his furrowed face as he
thought of the surprise in store for them.
During the night the storm beat itself out, the wind fell, and a great
peace rested upon the snow-enshrouded forest. As the dawn of a new day
stole gently over the land the mast-cutters returned, bringing with
them the rebel prisoners. The noise of their arrival awoke Dane, who
sprang from his bunk greatly refreshed after his sound sleep. Then
from the leader of the mast-cutters he learned the story of the
round-up of the slashers. They were taken in a narrow valley, and
after several had fallen, the rest surrendered.
"They were fools to try to shoot." the man said. "But if they had kept
it up any longer, we wouldn't have left one alive. It was mighty cold
waiting there in that valley hour after hour for the devils to arrive,
and my men were in no mood for any nonsense. But I guess this night's
work'll settle the rebels, all right."
"What are you going to do with them?" Dane asked.
"Put them to work, of course," the leader replied, as he sat down to
the breakfast Old Dennis had prepared, and helped himself to a piece of
meat.
"Do they know how to work?"
"If they don't they'll learn before I'm through with them."
"Where are they now?"
"Oh, scattered around among the cabins getting something to eat.
They're the most dejected gang I ever saw."
Jean heard all this, for she was wide awake, lying quietly in the bunk.
She preferred to remain there for a while, as she felt embarrassed with
so many men in the room. But when they had eaten their breakfast and
had gone outside, she got up and stood before Dane and Dennis.
"I'm mighty glad to see ye lookin' so well," the latter accosted.
"That sleep has brought back the colour into yer purty cheeks. Now,
when ye've had something to eat, ye'll be as chipper as a bird."
Breakfast at last over, Jean and Dane sat and talked for a while before
the bright fire.
"How soon can we leave this place?" the girl asked.
"When the mast-cutters, who are going with us, are ready," Dane
replied. "I have spoken to the leader about those Loyalists on the
A-jem-sek, and he is going to send a supply of food to them."
"Oh, I am so glad," and Jean's eyes showed her pleasure. "Those poor
people have been so much in my mind. I hope that Sam and Kitty were
able to help them. But now that the mast-cutters are to take supplies
there is no need to worry any more. I am anxious about your father.
We should go to him as soon as possible."
"Do you think that he wants to see me, Jean?"
"I am sure he does. I told you what he said about you, and I really
believe he is longing for you."
"He must have changed, then, since the last time I saw him."
"He certainly has. I never saw such a change in any one in such a
short time. I was afraid of him when I first met him, but when I got
to know him better, and found out about him, he seemed to me almost
like a father."
"It was you who worked the miracle, Jean. I owe it all to you. No one
could withstand your charms, not even my father."
The girl blushed, and dropped her eyes. She was happy, and the future
looked bright. With Dane once again with her, she had no more fear.
For some time they sat there, and were only aroused by a confused noise
outside. Rising, and going to the door, they beheld a strange sight.
The slashers were all lined up in front of the house, surrounded by
armed mast-cutters. Ben Bolster, the boss, was giving orders to the
rebels. He was telling them that they must go to work, and make up for
some of the trouble they had caused. Those who objected were to step
forward. At this the three ringleaders advanced, and flatly refused to
lift a hand.
"Very well, then, me hearties," Bolster said, "it's either work or the
tree-tops. Which do you choose?"
As no response came from the sullen men, Bolster motioned to several of
his men, who at once sprang toward a young birch tree standing nearby.
Up this they climbed like cats, and soon their combined weight bent the
tree to the ground. A rope was then produced, one end of which was
fastened to the top of the tree, and the other about the body of one of
the ringleaders, just below the arms. He struggled, fought and cursed,
but all in vain. When his hands had been tied behind his back, the
tree was released and he was hoisted on high, kicking and yelling in
the most violent manner. The same was about to be done to his two
sullen companions. But they had witnessed enough, so they begged to be
allowed to go to work.
"All right, then," Bolster agreed. "But you know what's in store if
you don't behave yourselves. The first time you'll go up like that
fool there with ropes around your waists, but the second time it'll be
around your necks. See? And let this be a warning to you all," he
said, turning to the cowed slashers.
In the meantime the unfortunate man hanging from the tree was becoming
tired, and the rope was pressing hard around his body. At length he
pleaded to be taken down. Bolster, however, let him remain there a
while longer, but when his cries for mercy became heart-rending, word
was given, and a man with an axe began to chop down the tree. This
increased the cries of the man above.
"Ye'll kill me!" he yelled. "Don't, don't cut the tree! Fer God's
sake, stop!"
The mast-cutters merely shouted with delight at his fears, and hurled
all manner of jibes.
"Got yer wings all ready to fly?" one asked. "Didn't expect ye'd need
them so soon, did ye?"
"Yer havin' great fun with the mast-cutters, ain't ye?" another
bantered. "Ye was goin' t' give them the surprise of their lives."
In a few minutes the tree was ready for its fall. It slowly swayed,
and then with a rush bore the yelling man downward. He landed, as had
been planned, in a great bank of snow, from which he was speedily
rescued, spluttering and puffing like a steam engine. But he had been
taught a lesson, the effect of which was not lost upon the other rebels.
Jean had watched this with intense excitement. At first she was sure
that the man hanging from the tree would be killed. But when she saw
him emerge from the snow unharmed, she breathed a sigh of relief, and
even smiled. She knew that in reality he had come off better than he
deserved, as did all of his companions.
"How long will the slashers be kept here?" she asked, turning to Dane
who was standing by her side.
"Until the rangers come to take them away," was the reply. "But come
into the house. You will get cold here."