THOROUGHBREDS
The guard was doubled that night and the small force was ready for
instant action. Sentinels patrolled the river bank and stood at the
gates; while in the blockhouses the cannon were trained through the
port-holes, and men kept vigilant watch.
At three o'clock the terrified bleating of the sheep aroused every one
but the children. A sentinel fired his musket and retreated to the
Fort, then a heavy gun rumbled ominously.
Once again the parade-ground filled with people. "What is it? What is
it?" they cried.
"Indians," Captain Franklin explained. "They went after the horses,
but didn't find them, so they stabbed the sheep and turned them loose.
The sentry saw some of them in the pasture, and fired, then ran to the
Fort. A tomahawk just missed him--it grazed his head and struck a
waggon wheel. The cannon must have frightened them away."
So it proved, for the next morning a trail of blood led from the
pasture toward the woods. The sheep lay dead on the plains around the
Fort, but search parties found nothing, though they scoured the woods
thoroughly for miles around.
Chandonnais appeared at the usual time for work, but refused to say
where he had been. When he was asked unpleasant questions, he always
pretended that he did not understand, and from this position neither
man nor woman could swerve him a hair's breadth.
Lieutenant Howard, with four men, went up the river to Lee's and
buried the two victims of the night before. "It wasn't good to look
at," he said to Ronald, when he returned.
"I know," answered the Ensign; "I found out that much last night. I
didn't dare strike a light, but I felt----" He turned his face away
and swallowed hard. "Don't tell the women," he concluded.
"I won't," said Howard, "and I've made the boys promise not to talk.
There's no use of making things worse than they are."
Major sat at Ronald's feet, listening intelligently, and thumping the
ground vigorously with his bushy tail. "Poor old boy," said his new
master, affectionately; "it was pretty bad, wasn't it? He's a nice
dog, isn't he, Howard?"
"Washing would help him."
"He's going to have his Spring bath the first warm day. How do you
suppose dogs know whom they belong to? Major knows he's mine, and
nobody could get him away from me."
Beatrice came out of Captain Franklin's and took a careful survey of
the Fort. It was a gloomy place at best, but the disorder of the night
made it worse.
"Good-morning," said the Lieutenant, as he passed her on his way home.
"Good-morning," returned the girl, including Ronald in the salutation.
Then she whistled to the dog, but he paid no attention to the call
other than to lean heavily against his master.
"He's mine," laughed Ronald, meeting her, "and you can't have him. How
do you like living in the Fort?"
"I don't like it," she answered disdainfully. "It's about as cheerful
as a tomb. I'm glad we're going home."
Ronald lifted his brows inquiringly. "Who's going home?"
"Why, all of us--Uncle John, Aunt Eleanor, the children, and--and
Cousin Rob."
"Oh, no, you're not! You're going to stay here."
"Who said so?"
"I say so," replied George, mischievously.
"Can't I go out of the Fort?"
"No."
"We'll see," said Beatrice, tossing her head.
She ran to the gate, but he was there before her and effectually
barred the way.
"Let me pass," she said icily.
"I'm sorry, Miss Manning, but you can't go without permission from
the Captain. You are under military orders, and no soldier or citizen
is to leave the Fort without a guard. After sunset no one but the
sentries can pass the gates."
"For how long?" demanded Beatrice.
"Till the Captain orders otherwise."
"And I'm to stay here, then, without a hat, or even a clean
handkerchief, until His Majesty sees fit to let me go to my own home
in broad daylight!"
The colour flamed in her cheeks, and her eyes snapped dangerously. The
Ensign was enjoying the situation hugely, and thought Beatrice was
the prettiest girl he had ever seen. In fact, he was on the point of
saying so, but, fortunately, thought better of it.
"You can go if I go with you," he suggested.
"Then I'll stay here," announced Beatrice, with unconcealed scorn. She
walked away from him with her head high, and went straight to Captain
Franklin.
"Gone to see if I lied to her," laughed Ronald to himself. "She's a
mettlesome damsel--devilish mettlesome."
"That is my order," said the Captain, in answer to her question, "and
it must be obeyed."
"Can't I go home at all?"
"Certainly, for a few minutes at a time. Ask Ensign Ronald to go with
you this afternoon."
The Captain turned away, and Beatrice gazed at his retreating figure
with fire in her eyes. "Fool!" she said aloud, stamping her foot; "I
won't ask him. I'll stay here till I die before I'll ask him!"
Captain Franklin's house immediately became offensive to her, and
she knew Robert was at Katherine's, teaching the children. The
parade-ground was odious, because Ronald was walking briskly around
it for exercise. Her uncle passed her with the coolest kind of a nod,
remembering what she had said about Robert the night before, and she
began to wish she had never left Fort Wayne.
Only the stables remained, and she went there to see the friend who
never failed her. Queen pranced in her stall and tapped with her
dainty hoofs impatiently.
"I can't take you out, Beauty," she said sadly, "because they won't
let us leave the Fort."
Queen put her nose into the girl's neck and was immediately slapped.
"You're not allowed to do that," said Beatrice, sternly, turning away.
Queen whinnied and Beatrice understood that the offender was very
sorry and very lonely, and would never do it again, so she went back.
"I'll take you around the Fort if you'll be good," she said. Her
saddle was hanging there, but she preferred to ride without it, so she
replaced the halter with a bridle and went out, mounted, hoping Ronald
was not there.
But he was still walking around the parade-ground, with Major in
his wake. Queen pricked up her ears but went on, obediently, at the
slow pace which was better than nothing. Ronald smiled to himself as
Beatrice crossed and turned so that if he kept on he would appear to
be following her.
Twice, three times the procession went round the square, with the
dog bringing up the rear, before a bright idea struck the Ensign.
By slow-degrees he slackened his pace, and as they passed Lieutenant
Howard's for the fifth time, Mrs. Mackenzie came out on the piazza.
"What's the matter, Bee?" she called; "can't you catch him?"
In half a minute Queen was in her stall, much surprised, and not a
little displeased at the sudden termination of her exercise. "You
wretch," whispered Beatrice, as she dismounted; "whatever possessed
you to follow him?"
The coast was clear when she left the stables, but she went to Mrs.
Howard's in a bad humour. She was not upon good terms with any one,
and would have have started back to Fort Wayne that afternoon if it
had been possible. She smiled grimly as she realised that, by her own
act, she had forever cut herself off from her friends there. "I'll
have to fight it out here," she said to herself; "I seem destined to
fight."
Mrs. Franklin went to Mrs. Howard's to invite Beatrice to dinner, and
was much disappointed when she refused. "Thank you," Beatrice said,
trying hard to be pleasant; "but I'll stay with Aunty and Cousin Kit
this time. I haven't a doubt you'll get tired of me, though, before
His High Mightiness lets me go home."
She could have bitten her tongue out for the unlucky speech, but, to
her relief, the Captain's wife misunderstood. "I saw you at the gate
this morning," she laughed, "arguing with George. It's no use--he
always has his own way."
"What a narrow escape!" she exclaimed, as Mrs. Franklin went out.
"Aunt Eleanor, this is one of my bad days."
"You mustn't say any day is bad, dear," replied Mrs. Mackenzie,
"because each one is what we make it. We begin afresh every morning
with the day in our own hands. I'm sorry this has happened; but I'm
very glad we had the Fort to come to, and I am sure you can find
something pleasant here if you only look for it."
Nine people crowded around Mrs. Howard's table at dinner time, but
Mackenzie and Robert barely spoke to Beatrice. The tribal instinct was
strong in the trader, and Robert was of his blood. Katherine perceived
that something was wrong and did her best to produce harmony, in which
she was ably seconded by her husband. The Lieutenant was in a very
pleasant frame of mind.
"Cousin Bee," said Ellen, "are you coming to visit the school this
afternoon?" Beatrice was talking with Katherine and did not seem to
hear.
"Tuzzin Bee," screamed Maria Indiana, "is oo tummin?"
"No, dear," answered Beatrice, quickly.
"Why not?" asked Mrs. Mackenzie, innocently; "it might amuse you, Bee."
"I doubt it," said the girl. "I'm going to help Kit."
"Cousin Rob put her out," explained Johnny, "because she told a lie."
Above everything else on earth, Beatrice hated to wash dishes, but she
plunged into the work with a will after dinner, as a penance, and in
spite of Mrs. Howard's protests.
"It's so good of you to help me," sighed Katherine, as the last dish
was put away; "for mother is tired out, and I have a headache. None of
us slept much last night, I fancy."
"I know I didn't, but I seldom sleep in the daytime. I wish you and
Aunt Eleanor would go and lie down. I can take care of myself."
"All right," answered Katherine, "if you don't mind."
Beatrice sat by the window a little while after the house became
quiet, then went over to Mrs. Franklin's, but there was no response to
her rap. "Everybody's asleep, I guess," she said to herself.
She went to the gate and looked out longingly into the bright Spring
sunshine. The sentinel passed her with his musket over his shoulder,
and went on around the Fort. She heard his measured steps die away in
the distance, and wondered, mechanically, how long it took him to make
the round.
It seemed a long time before she heard him coming. A pirogue was tied
to a sapling on the river bank and the oars lay near it. Across the
stream the lonely house was beckoning to her to come. She slipped
out of the gate and leaned up against the stockade outside. Then the
sentry passed again.
"Against orders, Miss," he said.
"What?" asked Beatrice.
"Standin' outside."
"Oh," she said, returning to the gate. "Can I stand here?"
"Yes'm, if you don't go no further. Orders is to stay inside."
"All right." She smiled brilliantly, then inquired, in a tone of
polite interest, "Are you all alone here?"
"Yes'm. My mate's at mess."
"Too bad. It's lonely for you, isn't it?"
"Yes'm, but I'm used to it."
He went on, and she watched him till he turned the first corner. A
backward glance assured her that the parade-ground was deserted, so
she edged out of the gate again, and, under cover of the stockade, ran
to the pirogue, snatched up the oars, and started across.
The blood beat hard in her pulses, but she was not afraid, and the
rare delight of disobeying military orders set her head awhirl. She
expected to see the esplanade fill with soldiers, shouting to her to
come back, but nothing happened. She reached the other bank safely,
tied the pirogue, and ran into the house. From the window of the
living-room she saw the sentry pass once more. His head was bowed and
he did not notice that a boat was gone.
Then Ronald came out of the Fort alone and took another boat. She
shrank back to the farthest corner of the room, and her heart stood
still until she saw him turn up-stream. "There," she said to herself,
"he's disobeying orders, too, for he's gone without a guard. If he can
do it, there's no reason why I shouldn't."
Unconsciously, Beatrice had sustained a high nervous strain for too
long a period. The quarrel with her aunt and uncle at Fort Wayne had
been an affair of no small moment at the time, and the preparation
for the journey and the long horseback ride had told upon her
strength. The excitement of her arrival, new scenes and new faces, and
the fright of the night before had taxed her still further, and her
trouble with Robert had hurt her more deeply than she knew. She had
reached the fine dividing line between a let-down and a break.
The indescribable loneliness of the house was depressing. The bare
walls seemed to whisper back and forth, and the table, still set for
supper, had a ghastly look about it. The rooms were not merely alone,
but untenanted. Cold ashes lay upon the hearths, the dust had settled
upon the chairs, and the sunlight outside only served to heighten the
gloom.
In the schoolroom the books were piled neatly upon the table, and the
slates were clean--ready for the next day's task. She experienced
an unwonted twinge of conscience as she entered, unrebuked, and
remembered how exasperating she had been.
At the Fort she had thought of many things she needed, but now her
errand seemed purposeless, and the pleasures of disobedience began to
pall. She went into her room, gathered up some of her toilet articles,
and stood there, listlessly, watching the sentinel as he passed again
without missing the boat.
"They're fine soldiers," she said to herself. "They know lots."
Then her heart gave a great leap, for there was a soft step at the
back door. Some one entered very quietly, and she became as cold and
immovable as if she had been made of stone. The catlike tread moved
slowly into the living-room, and she trembled like an aspen. She tried
to raise the window, thinking that she could scream if she could not
get out, but her hands shook so that it was useless. Meanwhile the
intruder came nearer, with the same stealthy steps. No one had crossed
the river and the sentinel was not in sight.
Some one opened the door of the schoolroom and closed it with the
least possible noise. Then the hushed steps came nearer still, but
the window would not move. Her door was open, but she knew the
flimsy lock would not hold, even if she could manage to shut it. An
instant--now--she tried to shut her eyes, but could not--horror upon
horror came upon her--then Ronald entered her room.
For a blind instant the earth whirled beneath her, then the
flood-gates opened and Beatrice wept. He did as any other man in his
place would have done and put a protecting arm around her, but, though
sorely tempted, manfully refrained from kissing her.
"I'm so sorry I frightened you," he said, with bitter self-reproach.
"Don't, Beatrice--Miss Manning,--please don't cry any more!"
As soon as she was conscious of her position, she drew away from him,
still sobbing. It was not only her fright, but the natural result of
the high tension at which she had lived for more than a week. He left
her and rummaged around until he found a bottle of brandy, then he
brought her a glass of water liberally strengthened with it.
"Here," he said, "drink this."
She obeyed, and in a few minutes began to recover her self-possession.
"How did you get here?" she asked.
"I went up the river a little way, landed on this side, and walked
down to the back door. You didn't suppose I'd let you come over here
alone, did you?"
"Did you see me when I came?"
"Certainly. I expected you to do just what you did, and I kept my eye
on you. I knew you were in the house, because I saw the boat outside,
but I didn't mean to frighten you. I just thought I'd look around
until we met."
"You--you--walked so softly," she said, with quivering lips.
"Did I? That's the first time I've ever been accused of that. It must
have been your imagination."
"Perhaps," she answered, with a long sigh.
"If you have everything you want, we'll go back now."
Scarcely conscious of what she did, she stooped to pick up the things
that had fallen to the floor. They seemed utterly useless for all
time, but she felt the necessity of action. As they turned to leave
the room, he took her cold hands in his and looked down into her wet
eyes.
"Promise me," he said, "that you will never again disobey a military
order."
She hesitated, and he repeated it.
"How do you know I'd keep a promise?" she asked, to gain time.
"Because you're a thoroughbred."
Something in his eyes subdued her. "I promise," she said, almost in a
whisper.
"All right. Now, we'll not say anything about this to any one--do you
understand?"
She was still trembling when he helped her into the pirogue, and
neither spoke while they were crossing. When they entered the gate,
Captain Franklin met them.
"Did she ask you to take her over?" he inquired of Ronald.
The Ensign's eyes met his squarely. "Yes, sir."
"Did you go together? I thought I saw you going alone."
"We went together. She was waiting for me outside."
"Very well. I will have no disobedience of my orders--remember that,
both of you."
"Don't faint," George whispered, warningly, as the Captain walked
away. "It's all right now, but that's the first time I ever lied--in
my official capacity."
Beatrice put a small, icy hand into his own. "Thank you," she said
quietly; "you're a thoroughbred, too."