PEVERIL IN THE HANDS OF HIS ENEMIES
Having been driven from Red Jacket by the Cornishmen under Mark
Trefethen, the Bohemian, Rothsky, and his fellow car-pushers of the
White Pine Mine who had assaulted Peveril on his first day of work,
had taken to the woods like wild beasts. Although restrained of their
evil intentions for the time being, they were more bitter than ever
against the innocent cause of their trouble, and swore, with strange,
foreign oaths, to kill him if the chance should ever offer.
In the meantime they must find some way of gaining a livelihood, and
this finally came to them at a queer, semi-abandoned mine across which
they stumbled in the course of their wanderings. Its proprietor was an
old man who seemed half crazed; and the mine that he was working in a
small way, with a pitifully inadequate force, was absolutely barren of
copper; but, as he paid their wages promptly, the car-pushers were
willing to do his bidding without asking questions.
One of the scarcest things about this mine was timber with which to
support the roof of the only drift that was being opened. The
proprietor tried to force his men to continue their work, and open the
drift far beyond a point of safety without the protection of this most
necessary adjunct, and when they refused he became furiously angry.
Their job seemed to have come to an end, and all hands were about to
leave, when, by an opportune gale, a supply of the desired material
was cast up on the adjacent coast.
Every able-bodied man was immediately set to work collecting this, and
in towing raft after raft of the Heaven-sent logs to a land-locked
basin that lay but a short distance from the mine. In this way, even
before the arrival of Peveril and his wreckers, a large amount of the
needed timber had been secured.
Although the miners were well aware that their employer carried on
some other business besides the development of his barren property,
they neither knew nor cared to know what it was. They discovered that
it was in some way connected with the coming and going of certain
vessels, but beyond this they were kept in ignorance.
When one of these vessels reported a party at Laughing Fish also
engaged in a search for wrecked logs, the exertions of the
white-haired mine-owner were so redoubled that before Peveril found
time to work the coast to the northward of his camp, it had been
stripped of every log. Having obtained possession of his coveted
timber, the old man was now making every effort to have it transported
to the mouth of his shaft, believing that, if he could once get it
underground, his right to the logs would remain unquestioned. He had,
however, only partially succeeded in effecting this removal, when, to
his chagrin, Peveril appeared on the scene of activity.
After the defeat of the young man's attempt to capture the raft, his
two Bohemians were easily induced to join the enemy by promises of
better pay than they were getting. As for Joe Pintaud, he was indeed
taken prisoner, but was purposely so loosely guarded that he found no
difficulty in escaping to the schooner of his friends, which came into
port that afternoon, and on which he was carried off to Canada.
Thus was the White Pine wrecking expedition completely broken up, and
only its leader was left to carry out, if he could, its objects. Even
he had been set adrift in an oarless skiff, with the hope that he
would be so long delayed in reporting to his employers as to allow
time for the captured logs to be put underground before another demand
for them could be made.
This disposition of the captive was only known to the old man, who
had, unobserved, removed the oars from Peveril's skiff; and so it was
generally supposed that he would return directly to his camp at
Laughing Fish.
Rothsky, the Bohemian, who was one of those working near the log raft,
had instantly recognized Peveril, and at sight of him his hatred
blazed up with redoubled fury. To be sure, his broken jaw had healed,
but so awry as to disfigure his face and render it more hideous than
ever. Now to find the man who had done him this injury again
interfering with his plans filled him with rage.
Although he had no opportunity for venting it at the moment, he easily
learned from Peveril's late followers the location of their camp, and,
believing that the young man would be found there, he planned an
attack upon it for that very night. He had no difficulty in inducing
the two other car-pushers who had been driven from the White Pine to
join him, and as soon as they quit work that evening they set forth on
foot.
They had not settled on any plan of action, and, though Rothsky was
determined to kill the man he hated, his associates imagined that the
young fellow was only to be punished in such a way as would cause him
a considerable degree of suffering and at the same time afford them
great amusement. They did not anticipate any interference with their
plans, even should they be discovered, for the fishermen of the cove
were their fellow-countrymen, bound to them by the ties of a common
hatred against all native-born Americans.
Now it so happened that the only daughter of the erratic old
mine-owner had set forth that afternoon, accompanied only by her
ever-present body-guard, a great, lean stag-hound, on a long gallop
over the wild uplands surrounding her home. For that desolate little
mining village was the only home Mary Darrell had known since the
death of her mother, five years before, or when she was but twelve
years of age.
Until then she had lived in New England, and had only seen her father
upon the rare occasions of his visits from the mysterious West in
which his life was spent. To others he was a man of morose silence,
suspicious of his fellows, secretive and unapproachable, but to his
only child, the one light of his darkened life, and the sole hope of
his old age, he was ever the loving father, tender and indulgent.
Bringing her to the only home he had to offer, he had made all
possible provision for her comfort and happiness. The most recent
books were sent to her, and the latest music found its way into the
wilderness for her amusement. Himself a well-educated man, Ralph
Darrell devoted his abundant leisure to her instruction, and to the
study of her tastes. Only two of the girl's expressed wishes were left
ungratified, and both of these he had promised to grant when she
should be eighteen years of age.
One of them was that they might return to the home of her childhood.
To this her father's unvarying answer was that business and a regard
for her future welfare compelled him to remain where they were until
the expiration of a certain time. When it should be elapsed, he
promised that she should lead him to any part of the world she chose.
Cheered by this promise, she planned many an imaginary journey to
foreign lands, and many a long hour did Mary and her father beguile in
arranging the details of these delightful wanderings.
Her other wish was for a companion of her own age; but this was so
decidedly denied that she knew it would be useless to express it again
after the first time.
"It would mean ruin, absolute ruin and beggary for us both," said Mr.
Darrell, "if I were to allow a single stranger, young or old, of even
ordinary intelligence, to visit this place. From the time you are
eighteen years of age you shall have plenty of friends of your own
choosing; but until that date, dear, you must be content with only the
society of your old dad."
So Mary Darrell studied, sang, read, rode, and thought the fanciful
thoughts of girlhood alone, but always with impatient longings for the
coming of the magic hour that should set her free. And yet she was not
wholly alone, for her father would at any time neglect everything else
to give her pleasure, while she also had both "Sandy," her stag-hound,
and "Fuzz," her pony, for devoted companions.
She was allowed to ride when and where she pleased, with only these
attendants, on two conditions. One was that she should never visit,
nor even go near, a human residence; and the other that, when on such
excursions, she should, for greater safety, dress as a boy. When she
was thus costumed her father was very apt to call her by her middle
name, which was Heaton; and so it was generally supposed by the few
miners who caught glimpses of her that the old man had two children--a
girl, and a boy who was not only younger than she, but devoted to
horseback riding.
Only one duty devolved upon the girl thus strangely reared, and that
was the keeping watch for certain vessels that came in from the great
lake and sailed away again at regular intervals.
So Mary Darrell was out riding on the evening that witnessed the
capture of Richard Peveril by his bitterest enemies, and as twilight
deepened into dusk she was urging her way homeward with all speed.
In the meantime the three rascal car-pushers, who had come so
unexpectedly upon him whom they sought, and had so easily effected his
capture, led Peveril directly away from the trail he had been
following to a place in the woods known only to Rothsky. Close to
where they finally halted and began preparations for the punishment of
the prisoner, who was also expected to afford them infinite amusement
by his sufferings, yawned a great black hole. It was of unknown depth,
and was nearly concealed by a tangle of vines and bushes. Rothsky had
stumbled upon it by accident only a few days before, and now conceived
that it would be a good place in which to dispose of a body, in case
they should happen to have one on their hands.
Trusting to the wildness of their surroundings and the absence of
human beings from that region to shield them from observation, they
ventured to build a fire, by the light of which they proposed to carry
out their devilish plans.
Besides binding Peveril's arms, they had, on reaching this place,
taken the further precaution of tying his ankles, so that he now lay
on the ground utterly helpless, a prey to bitter thoughts, but nerving
himself to bear bravely whatever torture might await him.
All at once the deep baying of a hound and a crash of galloping
hoofs, coming directly towards the fire-light, sounded through the
wood.
With a fierce imprecation Rothsky gave a hasty order, at which all
three men sprang to where Peveril was lying in deepest shadow.
Hurriedly picking him up, they carried him a short distance, gave a
mighty swing, and flung him from them. There was a crash of parted
bushes and rending vines, a stifled cry, and all was still.
A minute later, when a boyish figure on horseback swept past the fire,
the three men seated by it only aroused a fleeting curiosity in Mary
Darrell's mind as to what they could be doing in such a place at such
a time.