A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER.--BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.--JIM MOUNTAIN'S FIGHT
WITH THE DEVIL.
The boys awoke somewhat disappointed the next morning, for the heavy
rain was falling, and the wind blew hard from the south-east, so that no
one in his senses would think of facing such discomfort for the sake of
sport.
"Don't look blue, George," said La Salle; "we've enough to do to prepare
for the open water, which this gale will probably lead up to the outer
edge of the bar, at least. There's the float to be painted and fitted,
and the floating decoys to be put in order; and while I use the white
paint, you and Regnie must rope and repair the decoys."
Accordingly the four sought the barn, whither Ben and Creamer had
preceded them on a similar errand. La Salle's boat was a flat-bottomed
"sculling-float," twelve feet long by three feet beam, and ten inches
deep, with a hole through the stern-board, through which, with a short,
crooked oar, a man could silently propel himself within shot of a flock
of fowl. Davies's boat aimed at the same end in another way, being a
large side-wheel paddle-boat, propelled by cranks, for two persons. Both
boats were painted white, so as to be indistinguishable from the
floating ice at a little distance. Besides these two, there were a
double boat with centre paddle-wheel, and a side-wheel worked by the
feet on the velocipede principle, belonging on the island.
The forenoon was spent as proposed, and as the bad weather still held, a
target was set up for practice with the rifle, and many excellent shots
were made from the great door of the barn. At last, however, the
impatience of the party overcame all fears of exposure, and, donning
their water-proof clothing, all went down to the East Bar to watch its
effect on the ice.
The huge floe had given way at last, and broken into many floating
islets of varied size, had become a scene of life and animation, in
striking contrast to its late icy desolation. In every direction geese,
singly and in flocks, fed along the edges of the still immovable inner
ice-fields; swam placidly among the narrow leads, or in huge bodies
blackened the open pools or the projecting points of ice. Among them,
too, wheeled many flocks of clamorous brent, while, from time to time,
the desolate cry of the Moniac duck, or the shrill, monotonous, strident
flight of the "Whistler" warned the sportsmen that new visitants were
about to greet their vision.
"You will have to change your location, Risk," said Lund, who had
accompanied them; "for you must shoot on the water-line, now the ice has
opened."
"Davies and I go home to-morrow," answered he. "I regret to leave with
such a prospect before us, but business presses; and besides, there are
new dangers now which I care not to face."
"Ay, ay! you're right, Mr. Risk," said Lund; "and although I am glad to
have you around me, I shall be glad this year when I see the last of you
safely across the Western Bar."
"There, there, Lund," said Risk; "they're young, smart, have good boats,
and, what is more, know well how to use them; and if I were less clumsy
and old, I would no more fear any danger here than I would at home.
Don't frighten the young lads with your nonsense, but let us get home to
supper, and, as it is our last night together, have a cosy evening in
the kitchen, and a good story from Ben and Charley here."
The proposition was acceded to, and after supper, Ben, with little
urging, commenced a legend of the North Shore, even now related by the
farmers around the winter's hearth with full faith in its veracity. He
termed it by its local name
"JIM MOUNTAIN'S FIGHT WITH THE DEVIL."
"Fifty years ago Jim Mountain, of Goose Creek, was as stout and jovial a
young farmer of twenty-five, as there was in his section. No ship-launch
frame-raising, logging-bee, or dance, was considered complete without
him, and while his strength was almost equal to that of any two of his
companions, his merry laugh was so infectious that even envy couldn't
resist joining in, when public opinion pronounced him 'the best man in
the county.'
"He soon married the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, and then, for the
first time, it appeared that his love of 'divershin' and whiskey, had
grown by what it fed on, and poor Mary dreaded the approach of
market-day, as he seldom returned from the shire town altogether sober,
and often not until late into the next day.
"It was in vain that his blooming Mary entreated, coaxed, cried, and
threatened; he never lost his temper; often, indeed, promised amendment,
but did in the end about the same as usual. At last the merchant with
whom he traded, a man of some little medical knowledge, finished their
business interview with the following bit of advice:--
"'Jim, it's none of my business, but you are ruining your health and
breaking your wife's heart. You are not one of the kind that show how
much they do drink; but no man in your district can match you, and when
you do get sick, I shan't expect to see you alive.'
"'An' do ye think so, then, Mr. B.?'
"'I am almost sure of it, for Long Tom Cunningham, the big ship
carpenter that you've heard your father tell of, was just such a man,
and the first touch of "the horrors" carried him off.'
"'Well, sir, I'm much obliged for your good will, any how, and after my
cousin Johnny McGrath has his bit of a spree, I'll try and leave it off
for a while, any way.'
"Johnny McGrath's 'spree,' a fulling-frolic, came off one Saturday
night, about a fortnight after this; and while the web of strong, coarse
homespun cloth, which was to furnish Mac and his boys with their year's
stock of outer clothing, was being duly lifted, rubbed, banged on a
bench, and twisted by the strong hands of about thirty men and women,
Jim led the roaring choruses, and manipulated his end of the cloth with
a vigor which at once delighted and alarmed the fair weaver thereof.
"In the dancing and whiskey-drinking which followed, Jim was in his
element; and it was nearly midnight before the party broke up, and he
was left alone with the rest of his relative's household.
"'Well, Johnny,' said he, 'you've done the decent thing this time, and
I'm glad my last spree has been at your place, for I'm going to quit
grog for a while. Give me a coal for my pipe, Jane, for it's late, and
I've a good five miles' of beach atween me an' home.'
"'Is the man mad?' said Jane, good-naturedly. 'Surely, John, you'll not
let him out of the house to-night.'
"'No, no, Jim,' said McGrath, getting between him and the door; 'out of
this you don't stir to-night; so sit down, have another drop, and tak' a
quiet night's rest.'
"'Come, John, don't anger or hinder me, for I feel strangely to-night,
and I must go home.'
"'Faith, that's all the more reason I have to keep you here. Come, sit
down, you obstinate fellow, and don't be waking the wife up just before
daybreak, only to let in a man that must be out walking all night.
Confound it, would you hit me, Jim? Sure, now, you're not angered--are
you?'
"'No, I'm not angry; but I'll not be treated like a child, nor lectered,
neither. Let me go, I tell you, or there'll be ill blood between us.
Home I'll go, I tell you!' shouted the excited man. 'Home I'm going,
_although the devil tried to stop me_;' and flinging his cousin aside as
if he were a child, he rushed out of the house, and took a narrow path
which led down to the moonlit sea-beach.
"About an hour after, a despairing cry at the door awakened McGrath and
his wearied household, and, opening it, they found a bruised, bloody,
and literally naked man, lying senseless on the threshold. With some
difficulty they recognized the features of Mountain, and it was broad
daylight before he came to himself. His story was short, but strange.
"'I took the path down to the beach, thinking to wade the narrow run at
Eel Pond, and so save a mile or two of road. It was light as day, and I
went along well enough, though I felt sad-like, an' as if somethin' were
about to happen me.
"'It's an unchancy place there, near the pond, where the great san'-hill
blew over the birch grove an' killed the trees; and last night, as I
went through them, the tall, white, broken trunks seemed almost alive.
Why, man, I'd have sworn that some of them had a dozen faces grinnin'
and laughin', and I felt all the while as if I was a fool; for, whenever
I stopped an' looked close, there was nought but knots, an' bark, an'
gnarly limbs. Still, although I'd been through them a thousan' times, I
felt afraid, for it seemed to me as if there was somebody near me _that
I couldn't see_.
"'Well, at last I got through the dead grove, an' came to the san'-plain
wher' the ribs of the old ship are stannin', an' I got to thinkin' what
she might hev' bin, fer none o' us know how many years she lay in the
san' before the great gale swept the san' off of her white bones. I
looked at her close as I passed, an' although I saw nauthin' but her
ribs, she made me think o' a 'natomy; an' I looked all around, but saw
no one, an' went down into the water, hevin' first ta'en off my shoes.
"'The cool water did feel nice; an' as I stepped ashore, I whistled up
"The Devil's Dream," an' struck out across the beach, when, looking
back, I saw, between me an' the stream, a man who made at me with
terrible ferceness. I can tell you nauthin' about him, 'cept that his
clothes were black an' strange, his face dark an' savage, an' his eyes
almost like fire. I had no doubt that he meant me harm, an' as he cam'
up, I struck out wi' all my strenth. Ye mind when I hit big Jack Ready,
an' thought I should have to flee the country. Well, I hit _him_ twicet
as hard, an' he never stopped, but came in an' clinched. My God! I'm
breathless now wi' the squeezin' I got there. I'm afraid of no man
standin' within twenty mile, at ayther Ingin hug, collar an' ilbow, or
side-hold, but I was like a child in its grip.
"'Still I fought on, though the san' flew into the air; an' through it,
like a fog, I saw the old wrack an' the dead grove, an' the fiery eyes
that glared into mine, an' I felt the grasp of a han' that seemed to
burn into my hip; an' then I knew I couldn't fight fair wi' _that_. I
drew my knife an' opened it, an' three times I thrust it to the hilt
into the side o' the black man, or devil, an' he only glared at me
fercer, an' took a stronger hold on my hip. Just at this moment I felt
the cool water at my feet, an' wi' one tremendous effort, I whirled
myself into the stream to fight it out there. A moment I lay on my back
in the shallow stream, an' then I rose to my feet. I was alone wi'
nauthin' o' what had happened, save the open knife in my han', the
trampled beach, an' my torn an' ruined clawthin'.
"'Then I remembered that old McGregor used to say that nauthin' bad
could pass runnin' water, an' I thought I'd get back to ye if I could. I
remember somethin' of tearin' through the lonely beach an' blasted
woods, of seein' more faces in the trees, an' hearin' quick footsteps on
my track, but I remember nauthin' more. Look at my hip, will you, wi'
the cannle there? It hurts me awfully.'
"The candle fell from Jane's shaking hands, but was caught by her
husband before it was extinguished.
"'As God lives, ye have spoken the truth, for there is the mark o' the
devil's grip;' and greatly to the terror of all, there appeared on the
hip of the exhausted man the black imprint of a thumb and four fingers.
"My informant told me that, fifty years later, after Mountain had raised
a large family of children, and passed a life subsequently innocent of
his youthful excesses, the same indelible marks were left to tell of the
terrible conflict of that memorable night; and none of his neighbors
ever doubted the literal truth of his strange story, save one.
"That man was B., who never undeceived Mountain, or tried to do so; but
in detailing the story to my father, closed the recital thus: 'I have
always thought that he had an attack of delirium tremens, and that he
fancied the assault of the goblin; for I forgot to tell you that next
morning they followed his track, finding his shoes and fragments of his
attire on the opposite side of the run, which was torn up, with the
marks of a terrible struggle and many feet. Probably he tore off his own
clothes in the fancied fight, drew his knife, struck at "an air-born
fantasy," and was finally partially restored by falling into the water,
after which he completed his exhaustion by running back to the house.'
"'Have you seen the marks?' asked my father.
"'Yes; I saw them at the time,' slowly answered Mr. B.
"'Were they as described?'
"'Very like the grip of a hand; one dark impression on the back of the
left hip, and four smaller ones in a row on the front,' said B.
"'And how do you account for those?' asked my father.
"Mr. B. hesitated, and then answered candidly, 'I don't know what to
think of that myself. I have sometimes thought that a fall among the
many roots and fallen trunks of trees, which then strewed that desolate
place, may have caused such injuries; but why did they remain apparent
long after discolorations of such a nature should have disappeared?
Perhaps imagination may have had its effect, and made the impressions
indelible. But if there _is_ any truth in old-world stories, few places
fitter for such horrors can be found than was that drear waste of sand,
destitute of all signs of man's proximity, bounded on one side by a
blackened forest, on the other by the sailless sea, and containing only
the whitened ribs of a long-forgotten wreck. None of the folk around
here, sir, join in my doubts as to the reality of Mountain's fight with
the devil.'"
* * * * *
As Ben closed, a sound of sleigh-bells came up the road, and Lund opened
the door, at which appeared a light sleigh driven by one of Risk's sons.
"You and uncle are wanted in town at once. L. has sent you this letter,
and says--" And he whispered a few words in his father's ear.
"I came out to-night, for the ice is getting very bad, and a horse was
lost crossing the North River at Duckendorff's to-day. It is freezing
to-night, but the moon shows at times through the clouds, and we can get
home before one o'clock."
An hour later, Risk and the elder Davies bade a regretful farewell to
their young companions. "I am sorry," said the former, "that as yet we
have had no story from you, La Salle; but I hope to see you at my house
in C., and hear it there when your trip is over. Take care of yourself,
and make Lund out a false prophet. Good night, captain, you old
croaker;" and the sleigh disappeared in the shadows of the
forest-covered lane which led to the beach.
"Well, boys," said La Salle, "the best of our evenings are over, and we
must look to boat and gun for our best sport."
"We must have your story, though," said Ben.
"O, of course; but not to-night, for we have much to do to-morrow, to
get our boats down for the open-water shooting."
With this no one disagreed; and half an hour later, all were fast
asleep.