THE VERGE OF MORNING
O to mount again where erst I haunted;
Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,
And the low green meadows
Bright with sward;
And when even dies, the million-tinted,
And the night has come, and planets glinted,
Lo! the valley hollow,
Lamp-bestarr’d.
—R.L.S.
“I hope you like my things, Captain Claiborne!”
Armitage stood a little in advance, his hand on Oscar’s arm to check the
rush of the little man.
Claiborne sheathed the sword, placed it on the table and folded his arms.
“Yes; they are very interesting.”
“And those ribbons and that cloak,—I assure you they are of excellent
quality. Oscar, put a blanket on this gentleman’s horse. Then make some
coffee and wait.”
As Oscar closed the door, Armitage crossed to the table, flung down his
gauntlets and hat and turned to Claiborne.
“I didn’t expect this of you; I really didn’t expect it. Now that you
have found me, what in the devil do you want?”
“I don’t know—I’ll be _damned_ if I know!” and Claiborne grinned, so
that the grotesque lines of his soiled countenance roused Armitage’s
slumbering wrath.
“You’d better find out damned quick! This is my busy night and if you
can’t explain yourself I’m going to tie you hand and foot and drop you
down the well till I finish my work. Speak up! What are you doing on my
grounds, in my house, at this hour of the night, prying into my affairs
and rummaging in my trunks?”
“I didn’t _come_ here, Armitage; I was brought—with a potato sack over
my head. There’s the sack on the floor, and any of its dirt that isn’t on
my face must be permanently settled in my lungs.”
“What are you doing up here in the mountains—why are you not at your
station? The potato-sack story is pretty flimsy. Do better than that and
hurry up!”
“Armitage”—as he spoke, Claiborne walked to the table and rested his
finger-tips on it—“Armitage, you and I have made some mistakes during
our short acquaintance. I will tell you frankly that I have blown hot and
cold about you as I never did before with another man in my life. On the
ship coming over and when I met you in Washington I thought well of you.
Then your damned cigarette case shook my confidence in you there at the
Army and Navy Club that night; and now—”
“Damn my cigarette case!” bellowed Armitage, clapping his hand to his
pocket to make sure of it.
“That’s what I say! But it was a disagreeable situation,—you must admit
that.”
“It was, indeed!”
“It requires some nerve for a man to tell a circumstantial story like
that to a tableful of gentlemen, about one of the gentlemen!”
“No doubt of it whatever, Mr. Claiborne.”
Armitage unbuttoned his coat, and jerked back the lapels impatiently.
“And I knew as much about Monsieur Chauvenet as I did about you, or as I
do about you!”
“What you know of him, Mr. Claiborne, is of no consequence. And what you
don’t know about me would fill a large volume. How did you get here, and
what do you propose doing, now that you are here? I am in a hurry and
have no time to waste. If I can’t get anything satisfactory out of you
within two minutes I’m going to chuck you back into the sack.”
“I came up here in the hills to look for you—you—you—! Do you
understand?” began Claiborne angrily. “And as I was riding along the road
about two miles from here I ran into three men on horseback. When I
stopped to parley with them and find out what they were doing, they crept
up on me and grabbed my horse and put that sack over my head. They had
mistaken me for you; and they brought me here, into your house, and
pulled the sack off and were decidedly disagreeable at finding they had
made a mistake. One of them had gone in to ransack your effects and when
they pulled off the bag and disclosed the wrong hare, he dropped his loot
on the floor; and then I told them to go to the devil, and I hope they’ve
done it! When you came in I was picking up your traps, and I submit that
the sword is handsome enough to challenge anybody’s eye. And there’s all
there is of the story, and I don’t care a damn whether you believe it or
not.”
Their eyes were fixed upon each other in a gaze of anger and resentment.
Suddenly, Armitage’s tense figure relaxed; the fierce light in his eyes
gave way to a gleam of humor and he laughed long and loud.
“Your face—your face, Claiborne; it’s funny. It’s too funny for any use.
When your teeth show it’s something ghastly. For God’s sake go in there
and wash your face!”
He made a light in his own room and plied Claiborne with towels, while he
continued to break forth occasionally in fresh bursts of laughter. When
they went into the hall both men were grave.
“Claiborne—”
Armitage put out his hand and Claiborne took it in a vigorous clasp.
“You don’t know who I am or what I am; and I haven’t got time to tell
you now. It’s a long story; and I have much to do, but I swear to you,
Claiborne, that my hands are clean; that the game I am playing is no
affair of my own, but a big thing that I have pledged myself to carry
through. I want you to ride down there in the valley and keep Marhof
quiet for a few hours; tell him I know more of what’s going on in
Vienna than he does, and that if he will only sit in a rocking-chair
and tell you fairy stories till morning, we can all be happy. Is it a
bargain—or—must I still hang your head down the well till I get
through?”
“Marhof may go to the devil! He’s a lot more mysterious than even you,
Armitage. These fellows that brought me up here to kill me in the belief
that I was you can not be friends of Marhof’s cause.”
“They are not; I assure you they are not! They are blackguards of the
blackest dye.”
“I believe you, Armitage.”
“Thank you. Now your horse is at the door—run along like a good fellow.”
Armitage dived into his room, caught up a cartridge belt and reappeared
buckling it on.
“Oscar!” he yelled, “bring in that coffee—with cups for two.”
He kicked off his boots and drew on light shoes and leggings.
“Light marching orders for the rough places. Confound that buckle.”
He rose and stamped his feet to settle the shoes.
“Your horse is at the door; that rascal Oscar will take off the blanket
for you. There’s a bottle of fair whisky in the cupboard, if you’d like a
nip before starting. Bless me! I forgot the coffee! There on the table,
Oscar, and never mind the chairs,” he added as Oscar came in with a tin
pot and the cups on a piece of plank.
“I’m taking the rifle, Oscar; and be sure those revolvers are loaded with
the real goods.”
There was a great color in Armitage’s face as he strode about preparing
to leave. His eyes danced with excitement, and between the sentences that
he jerked out half to himself he whistled a few bars from a comic opera
that was making a record run on Broadway. His steps rang out vigorously
from the bare pine floor.
“Watch the windows, Oscar; you may forgive a general anything but a
surprise—isn’t that so, Claiborne?—and those fellows must be pretty mad
by this time. Excuse the coffee service, Claiborne. We always pour the
sugar from the paper bag—original package, you understand. And see if
you can’t find Captain Claiborne a hat, Oscar—”
With a tin-cup of steaming coffee in his hand he sat on the table
dangling his legs, his hat on the back of his head, the cartridge belt
strapped about his waist over a brown corduroy hunting-coat. He was in a
high mood, and chaffed Oscar as to the probability of their breakfasting
another morning. “If we die, Oscar, it shall be in a good cause!”
[Illustration: “Excuse the coffee service, Claiborne.”]
He threw aside his cup with a clatter, jumped down and caught the sword
from the table, examined it critically, then sheathed it with a click.
Claiborne had watched Armitage with a growing impatience; he resented the
idea of being thus ignored; then he put his hand roughly on Armitage’s
shoulder.
Armitage, intent with his own affairs, had not looked at Claiborne for
several minutes, but he glanced at him now as though just recalling a
duty.
“Lord, man! I didn’t mean to throw you into the road! There’s a clean bed
in there that you’re welcome to—go in and get some sleep.”
“I’m not going into the valley,” roared Claiborne, “and I’m not going to
bed; I’m going with you, damn you!”
“But bless your soul, man, you can’t go with me; you are as ignorant as a
babe of my affairs, and I’m terribly busy and have no time to talk to
you. Oscar, that coffee scalded me. Claiborne, if only I had time, you
know, but under existing circumstances—”
“I repeat that I’m going with you. I don’t know why I’m in this row, and
I don’t know what it’s all about, but I believe what you say about it;
and I want you to understand that I can’t be put in a bag like a prize
potato without taking a whack at the man who put me there.”
“But if you should get hurt, Claiborne, it would spoil my plans. I never
could face your family again,” said Armitage earnestly. “Take your horse
and go.”
“I’m going back to the valley when you do.”
“Humph! Drink your coffee! Oscar, bring out the rest of the artillery and
give Captain Claiborne his choice.”
He picked up his sword again, flung the blade from the scabbard with a
swish, and cut the air with it, humming a few bars of a German
drinking-song. Then he broke out with:
“I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant or more valiant-young,
More daring or more bold, is now alive
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;—
“Lord, Claiborne, you don’t know what’s ahead of us! It’s the greatest
thing that ever happened. I never expected anything like this—not on my
cheerfulest days. Dearest Jules is out looking for a telegraph office to
pull off the Austrian end of the rumpus. Well, little good it will do
him! And we’ll catch him and Durand and that Servian devil and lock them
up here till Marhof decides what to do with him. We’re off!”
“All ready, sir;” said Oscar briskly.
“It’s half-past two. They didn’t get off their message at Lamar, because
the office is closed and the operator gone, and they will keep out of the
valley and away from the big inn, because they are rather worried by this
time and not anxious to get too near Marhof. They’ve probably decided to
go to the next station below Lamar to do their telegraphing. Meanwhile
they haven’t got me!”
“They had me and didn’t want me,” said Claiborne, mounting his own horse.
“They’ll have a good many things they don’t want in the next twenty-four
hours. If I hadn’t enjoyed this business so much myself we might have had
some secret service men posted all along the coast to keep a lookout
for them. But it’s been a great old lark. And now to catch them!”
Outside the preserve they paused for an instant.
“They’re not going to venture far from their base, which is that inn and
post-office, where they have been rummaging my mail. I haven’t studied
the hills for nothing, and I know short cuts about here that are not on
maps. They haven’t followed the railroad north, because the valley
broadens too much and there are too many people. There’s a trail up here
that goes over the ridge and down through a wind gap to a settlement
about five miles south of Lamar. If I’m guessing right, we can cut around
and get ahead of them and drive them back here to my land.”
“To the Port of Missing Men! It was made for the business,” said
Claiborne.
“Oscar, patrol the road here, and keep an eye on the bungalow, and if you
hear us forcing them down, charge from this side. I’ll fire twice when I
get near the Port to warn you; and if you strike them first, give the
same signal. Do be careful, Sergeant, how you shoot. We want prisoners,
you understand, not corpses.”
Armitage found a faint trail, and with Claiborne struck off into the
forest near the main gate of his own grounds. In less than an hour they
rode out upon a low-wooded ridge and drew up their panting, sweating
horses—two shadowy videttes against the lustral dome of stars. A keen
wind whistled across the ridge and the horses pawed the unstable ground
restlessly. The men jumped down to tighten their saddle-girths, and they
turned up their coat collars before mounting again.
“Come! We’re on the verge of morning,” said Armitage, “and there’s no
time to lose.”