THE PRODIGAL MAKES GOOD
“DICK INSISTED,” explained Corporal Bracknell, as with Joy and her
foster-sister and the boy Jim he fled down the river. “I could see he
wanted the post of danger--and I could not refuse. Sibou is with him,
and I think they will hold the pursuit.”
For a moment Joy did not speak. She was thinking of the consideration
Dick Bracknell had shown to her during the last two days, and
understood quite well that now he was endeavouring to atone for the
wrong he had once done her. Pity surged in her heart as she thought
of him weak and ill, holding back a horde of savage men, pity and
gratitude, but no warmer emotion, for Dick Bracknell had killed all
possibility of that in that moment at Alcombe, when, on her marriage
morning she had made that startling discovery of his perfidy.
“Do you think that--that Dick will get away also?” she asked at last.
“I hope so,” the corporal answered evasively. “I made him promise not
to stay too long. But he is a sick man and in the mood for anything. I
believed he rejoiced at the prospect of a fight against odds. It is not
surprising and---- Listen! There they go again. They were both together
that time.”
From time to time as they raced hot-foot down the trail the reports of
rifles reached them, and they knew that the fight was still proceeding,
and that the two defenders were holding their own. Once when the
interval between the shots was especially long, Corporal Bracknell’s
face grew very thoughtful, and so absorbed and intent was he that Joy
addressed a question to him twice before he heard her.
“Corporal Bracknell, do you think that Dick can recover from his
sickness?”
“I am afraid not,” replied the corporal slowly, then gave an
ejaculation as the distant report of a rifle broke the silence behind
them. “Good! They’re still keeping it up.”
“Why do you think that?” she asked.
“Because I have seen other men like it. I have never known one to
recover.”
“Do ... do you think Dick knows?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “I am sure of it!”
“It is very pitiful,” she said. “He is not all bad----”
“He is very far from being that,” interrupted the corporal.
“He might have made good, even yet, if he were not so sick.”
“Perhaps he is making good,” replied the corporal gently.
“Yes,” she answered simply. “I think he is trying. In spite of the past
I shall be in his debt. Ah! What is that?”
There had been a sudden increase of clamour behind them. Distant yells
were sounding, and the two rifles were firing in rapid succession. For
perhaps a minute and a half this went on, then came silence, followed
by a single shot, and that again by a silence which remained unbroken.
Corporal Bracknell stopped irresolutely.
“What do you think?” Joy whispered.
“I think it is the end one way or the other,” was the reply. “The last
yell sounded as if the Indians were charging. In that case, unless the
rush was stopped----”
“Dick and your man are dead?”
“Something of that kind. I think I must go back, and try and learn what
has happened. There is nothing else for it. I simply can’t desert them
without knowing what has befallen. You keep right on until you reach
the main river--I will not be longer than necessary.”
“We shall wait at the fork,” she answered quickly.
“But----”
“We shall wait,” she repeated resolutely, and taking a rifle from one
of the sleds, she handed it to him.
“You may need it,” she said quietly. “And we have one left yet.”
He did not speak, but nodding his thanks, turned in the tracks, and
proceeded up river once more. He went swiftly but cautiously; and after
travelling half an hour, caught sight of a lumpy shadow coming down the
river. Hastily he took refuge against the bank, and waited with his
rifle ready. The shadow drew nearer, and then he perceived that it was
made up of two men, one riding on the back of the other. At the same
time he caught the sound of a protesting voice--
“It’s not worth while, old horse. Put me down and quit. They say----”
A moment later Roger Bracknell was running towards them.
“Dick! Dick!” he cried gladly.
“Where ... where ... are the girls ... Joy?” asked his cousin in a
voice that sounded harsh.
“They are all right. They are well in front!”
“Good!” There was a note of relief in Dick Bracknell’s voice, as he
spoke, then he gave a little laugh. “Behold the victors! Roger, my son,
it was topping. We stood a charge and ... and cleared the board. It was
gorgeous.”
He laughed weakly, and his cousin looked at him anxiously.
“But you are hurt, Dick, old man?”
“Plugged ... with an arrow ... in the ribs. Sibou’s all right, though.
And I tried to make him ... leave me ... on the field of glory. B--but
he’s a mutinous beggar.”
Weak though he was, there was a reckless gaiety in his manner, which
almost moved the corporal to tears.
“Dick, don’t you think you had better not talk? It’s bound to try you,
as you are. When we get to the sleds I will look to your wound, and----”
“Not a bit of use, Roger, my boy! I know it, you know it! This finishes
me. It was a matter of weeks, before; now it’s a matter of hours....
All the same ... I’d like to ... to see Joy, b-before----”
“You shall, if it’s to be done,” said his cousin as the other’s voice
broke. “I’ll take turns with Sibou. Between us we’ll do it, somehow.
And I might as well take part of my share now. Sibou must be fagged.”
They stopped and the transfer was effected, then as they resumed their
way, the wounded man leaned over his cousin’s shoulder, and whispered--
“Roger you’re a good sort!”
The corporal made no response, and Dick Bracknell continued, “You know
that Joy was up here looking for you?”
“The boy, Jim, told me so. Though why she should----”
“She ... she came to tell you that ... Geoff was dead ... that you are
the heir of Harrow Fell----”
“No! No!” broke out his cousin in sharp protest.
“Yes! Yes! It is so. I’ve been out of it since--oh, for years! And
in any case ... I shall be out of it ... altogether very soon. But
it wasn’t for that only ... Joy came. She came up here to stop you
from killing me ... knowing the relation between us, she was afraid
that if that happened, people would say that you ... that you.... You
understand?”
“Yes, I think I understand.”
“Such a possibility was rather rot, of course, but Joy didn’t know
that, and she knew that you were after me. So--she’s pure gold, Joy is.”
“Yes,” agreed the corporal simply.
“You’ll marry her, of course, and go to ... to the Fell?”
Roger Bracknell hesitated. The conversation was inexpressibly painful
to him, and to this question he did not know what answer to make. His
cousin did not seem to notice the hesitation, and he did not wait for
an answer, but continued in a broken way, “There have been Bracknells
at the Fell these five hundred years.... And Geoff’s gone, and I’m
going, but you’ll ... keep up the line. When you’ve a boy, Roger, call
him ... call him Dick. I’d like to think there’ll be one of my name
who’ll be as clean and straight as I’ve been crooked. Lord! What a mess
a man can make of life! And what a difference it would have made ... if
only I’d gone straight at the fences. But would it?... Joy would never
have married me ... she never loved me, but you have her heart! Oh, it
is so ... I’m not blind, and, Roger, old man, I’m glad it will be you.”
After that he was silent for a long time, to Roger’s unutterable
relief, and he spoke only jestingly on the occasions when Sibou and
the corporal took him over from the other, and at last, after a weary
march, they reached the point where the stream joined the main river,
and as they did so a figure broke from the bank and ran towards them.
It was Joy.
“You are all here?” she cried. “Safe?”
“Safe! Yes,” laughed Dick weakly. “But a little damaged.”
“What is it?” she asked, turning towards the corporal.
“Dick is wounded,” he answered gravely. “I am afraid it is serious. And
as I think we have little to fear from the Indians now, it will perhaps
be best if we cross the main river and camp. We can put him upon one of
the sleds----”
“Yes! Yes!” she cried, and a moment later she had turned to the wounded
man, and was talking to him in a low voice.
Roger moved away. He did not know what she was saying and he had no
wish to know, but half an hour later as his cousin lay by a fire which
had been lit, he saw that his eyes were shining with a quiet happiness.
“Better, Dick?” he inquired.
“In soul, yes!” was the answer.
“I’m glad of that,” replied the corporal simply.
“It’s like a cleansing to have a good woman’s approval. You can’t know,
Roger, old boy. You haven’t been deep in the mire--but there it is.”
He allowed his cousin and Joy to examine his wound, and they found the
arrow broken off in his side. The corporal looked at the girl and shook
his head. There was little to be done, except draw out the arrow, and
bandage the wound as well as they could, and when that was done the
injured man was visibly weaker.
Corporal Bracknell busied himself with the preparation of a meal,
leaving Joy and his cousin together, and not till after the meal when
Dick was dozing had he any opportunity of further speech with Joy. Then
walking in the shadow of the trees he talked with her.
“Dick has told me why you came,” he said, going straight to his point.
“I am very grateful.”
“I was afraid that there might be trouble between you,” she answered
frankly.
“We had already met twice, before you came,” he explained quietly. “On
the first occasion Dick spared my life; and on the second, though the
meeting began stormily enough, we parted complete friends.”
“I am glad of that, more glad than I can tell.”
“Not more than I am. But there are things I want to ask you, very
badly. I know how you came to go to Dick’s cabin, but I do not know who
those men were who kept both Dick and you there in a state of siege.
Have you any idea?”
As he asked the question Joy Gargrave’s face grew very thoughtful.
“It was Dick’s man who fastened the door on us. That was part of a plan
for kidnapping me, which Dick had arranged, and at first I thought that
he----”
“It was not Joe. We found him shot,” interrupted the corporal.
“I do not think it was he now. At first Dick was inclined to that idea,
and then he thought it might be my boy, Jim; but I pointed out that
the latter would scarcely attack Babette, and she was attacked whilst
walking outside the hut, you know.”
He looked at her and saw that her eyes were full of trouble. She was
keeping something back, and after a moment he pressed her for the truth.
“You have suspicions, Miss Gargrave. Tell me exactly what you think.”
“I scarcely like to,” was the reply. “What I have is no more than a
suspicion, and it is almost too horrible for words.”
“Tell me,” he urged again.
“I will,” she broke out impulsively, “and God forgive me if I do him
wrong! I think my cousin Adrian was responsible--Mr. Rayner, you know,
whom you met at North Star.”
“I thought so.”
“You thought so?” she cried. “Then you know he was up here?”
“I did not know, but I guessed. I was on his trail when I met your boy
Jim.”
“And he was on yours, I am sure,” said Joy quickly. “He followed you
when you left Dick’s cabin. I think he meant to kill you. He knew that
you suspected him of that attack on Dick at North Star----”
“I suspected him of worse things than that.”
“Yes, I know. Dick told me. Oh, how terrible it is!”
She hid her face in her hands for a moment, and then as she lifted it,
he asked, “Have you any idea why he should do a thing like that, or why
he should make an attempt upon you?”
“Yes,” she replied in a shaking voice. “Babette, who is very frank,
says he wants my money. He would have married me, knowing all the time
that I was married to Dick. He even threatened me when I would not
accept him, and events have compelled me to the belief that Babette is
right, and that he will allow nothing to stand in his way, not even my
life.”
Roger Bracknell nodded his head thoughtfully.
“I think you are right,” he answered slowly. “We must be very careful.
If there is real warrant for our suspicions, then Adrian Rayner will be
a very desperate man----”
“I am sure of that,” she interjected impulsively. “I felt it, when he
left North Star on our arrival. Did I tell you that he was there when
we came back? No! Well, he was, and I ordered him away, and as soon as
I could I came to look for you----”
“It was good of you to be so anxious for my welfare,” he broke in
quickly.
They had turned and were walking back to the fire, and in the light
it shed he saw her face grow suddenly crimson. She looked towards the
recumbent figure of Dick Bracknell, lying towards the fire, then back
again to himself.
“That was but natural,” she said quietly. “You were working for me, and
when I knew that a danger unknown to you threatened you, I felt that I
must make you aware of it. You understand?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “And if we can only meet Adrian Rayner we
shall be able to prove or disprove all that we suspect. You and Babette
and myself know him and Sibou knows the man who was responsible for
your father’s death. If Adrian Rayner and he should prove to be the
same, then the matter will be beyond dispute.”
“Yes,” she agreed slowly. “Yes. But it will be very terrible.”
They approached the fire, just as Dick Bracknell moved and opened his
eyes. He looked at Joy, and she, reading the unspoken request in his
eyes, went and seated herself by his side.