When the soldiers were safely away Hunky Ben returned to the cave and
brought Leather down.
Charlie Brooke's love for his old school-fellow and playmate seemed to
become a new passion, now that the wreck of life and limb presented by
Shank had awakened within him the sensation of profound pity. And
Shank's admiration for and devotion to Charlie increased tenfold now
that the terrible barrier of self had been so greatly eliminated from
his own nature, and a new spirit put within him.
By slow degrees, and bit by bit, each came to know and understand the
other under the influence of new lights and feelings. But their
thoughts about themselves, and their joy at meeting in such peculiar
circumstances, had to be repressed to some extent in the presence of
their common friend Ralph Ritson--_alias_ Buck Tom--for Charlie knew him
only as an old school-fellow, though to Leather he had been a friend and
chum ever since they had landed in the New World.
The scout, during the first interval of leisure on the previous day, had
extracted the ball without much difficulty from Buck's chest, through
which it had passed, and was found lying close under the skin at his
back. The relief thus afforded, and rest obtained under the influence
of some medicine administered by Captain Wilmot, had brightened the poor
fellow up to some extent; and Leather, seeing him look so much better on
his return, began to entertain some hopes of his recovery.
Buck himself had no such hope; but, being a man of strong will, he
refused to let it be seen in his demeanour that he thought his case to
be hopeless. Yet he did not act from bravado, or the slightest tincture
of that spirit which resolves to "die game." The approach of death had
indeed torn away the veil and permitted him to see himself in his true
colours, but he did not at that time see Jesus to be the Saviour of even
"the chief of sinners." Therefore his hopelessness took the form of
silent submission to the inevitable.
Of course Charlie Brooke spoke to him more than once of the love of God
in Christ, and of the dying thief who had looked to Jesus on the cross
and was saved, but Buck only shook his head. One afternoon in
particular Charlie tried hard to remove the poor man's perplexities.
"It's all very well, Brooke," said Buck Tom, "and very kind of you to
interest yourself in me, but the love of God and the salvation of Christ
are not for me. You don't know what a sinner I have been, a rebel all
my life--all my life, mark you. I would count it mean to come whining
for pardon now that the game is up. I _deserve_ hell--or whatever sort
o' punishment is due--an' I'm willing to take it."
"Ralph Ritson," said Brooke impressively, "you are a far greater sinner
than you think or admit."
"Perhaps I am," returned the outlaw sadly, and with a slight expression
of surprise. "Perhaps I am," he repeated. "Indeed I admit that you are
right, but--but your saying so is a somewhat strange way to comfort a
dying man. Is it not?"
"I am _not_ trying to comfort you. I am trying, by God's grace, to
convince you. You tell me that you have been a rebel all your days?"
"Yes; I admit it."
"There are still, it may be, a few days yet to run, and you are
determined, it seems, to spend these in rebellion too--up to the very
end!"
"Nay, I do not say that. Have I not said that I _submit_ to whatever
punishment is due? Surely that is not rebellion. I can do nothing
_now_ to make up for a mis-spent life, so I am willing to accept the
consequences. Is not that submission to God--at least as far as lies in
my power?"
"No; it is _not_ submission. Bear with me when I say it is rebellion,
still deeper rebellion than ever. God says to you, `You have destroyed
yourself but in _me_ is your help.' He says, `Though your sins be as
scarlet they shall be white as snow.' He says, `Believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ and you shall be saved,' and assures you that `whoever
will' may come to Him, and that no one who comes shall be cast out--yet
in the face of all that you tell me that the love of God and the
salvation of Christ are not for you! Ralph, my friend, you think that
if you had a chance of living your life over again you would do better
and so deserve salvation. That is exactly what God tells us we cannot
do, and then He tells us that He Himself, in Jesus Christ, has provided
salvation from sin _for_ us, offers it as a free unmerited gift; and
immediately we dive to the deepest depth of sin by deliberately refusing
this deliverance from sin unless we can somehow manage to deserve it."
"I cannot see it," said the wounded man thoughtfully.
"Only God Himself, by His Holy Spirit, can enable you to see it," said
his companion; and then, in a low earnest voice, with eyes closed and
his hand on his friend's arm, he prayed that the outlaw might be "born
again."
Charlie Brooke was not one of those who make long prayers, either "for a
pretence" or otherwise. Buck Tom smiled slightly when his friend
stopped at the end of this one sentence.
"Your prayer is not long-winded, anyhow!" he said.
"True, Ralph, but it is comprehensive. It requires a good deal of
expounding and explaining to make man understand what we say or think.
The Almighty needs none of that. Indeed He does not need even the
asking but He _bids_ us ask, and that is enough for me. I have seen
enough of life to understand the value of unquestioning obedience
whether one comprehends the reason of an order or not."
"Ay," returned Buck quickly, "when he who gives the order has a right to
command."
"That is so much a matter of course," rejoined Charlie, "that I would
not think of referring to it while conversing with an intelligent man.
By the way--which name would you like to be called, by Ralph or Buck?"
"It matters little to me," returned the outlaw languidly, "and it won't
matter to anybody long. I should prefer `Ralph,' for it is not
associated with so much evil as the other, but you know our
circumstances are peculiar just now, so, all things considered, I had
better remain Buck Tom to the end of the chapter. I'll answer to
whichever name comes first when the roll is called in the next world."
The conversation was interrupted at this point by the entrance of Hunky
Ben bearing a deer on his lusty shoulders. He was followed by Dick
Darvall.
"There," said the former, throwing the carcass on the floor, "I told ye
I wouldn't be long o' bringin' in somethin' for the pot."
"Ay, an' the way he shot it too," said the seaman, laying aside his
rifle, "would have made even a monkey stare with astonishment. Has
Leather come back, by the way? I see'd him goin' full sail through the
woods when I went out this mornin'."
"He has not yet returned," said Charlie. "When I relieved him and sat
down to watch by our friend here, he said he felt so much better and
stronger that he would take his gun and see if he couldn't find
something for the pot. I advised him not to trust his feelings too
much, and not to go far, but--ah, here he comes to answer for himself."
As he spoke a step was heard outside, and next moment Shank entered,
carrying a brace of rabbits which he flung down, and then threw himself
on a couch in a state of considerable exhaustion.
"There," said he, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "They've
cost me more trouble than they're worth, for I'm quite done up. I had
no idea I had become so weak in the legs. Ralph, my dear fellow," he
added, forgetting himself for the moment as he rose and went to his
friend's side, "I have more sympathy with you, now that I have found out
the extent of my own weakness. Do you feel better!"
"Yes, old boy--much--much better."
"That's all right. I'm convinced that--hallo! why, who shot the deer!"
"Hunky Ben has beat you," said Charlie.
"Beat Leather!" exclaimed Darvall, "why, he beats all creation. I never
see'd anything like it since I went to sea."
"Since you came ashore, you should say. But come, Dick," said Charlie,
"let's hear about this wonderful shooting. I'm sure it will amuse
Buck--unless he's too wearied to listen."
"Let him talk," said the invalid. "I like to hear him."
Thus exhorted and encouraged the seaman recounted his day's experience.
"Well, you must know, messmates," said he, "that I set sail alone this
mornin', havin' in my pocket the small compass I always carry about me--
also my bearin's before startin', so as I shouldn't go lost in the
woods--though that wouldn't be likely in such an narrow inlet as this
Traitor's Trap, to say nothin' o' the landmarks alow and aloft of all
sorts. I carried a Winchester with me, because, not bein' what you may
call a crack shot, I thought it would give me a better chance to have a
lot o' resarve shots in the locker, d'ye see? I carried also a
six-shooter, as it might come handy, you know, if I fell in wi' a
Redskin or a bear, an' got to close quarters. Also my cutlass, for I've
bin used to that aboard ship when I was in the navy.
"Well, away I went--makin' sail down the valley to begin with, an' then
a long tack into the mountains right in the wind's eye, that bein' the
way to get on the blind side o' game. I hadn't gone far when up starts
a bird o' some sort--"
"What like was it?" asked the scout.
"No more notion than the man in the moon," returned the sailor. "What
wi' the flutter an' scurry an' leaves, branches an' feathers--an' the
start--I see'd nothin' clear, an' I was so anxious to git somethin' for
the pot, that six shots went arter it out o' the Winchester, before I
was quite sure I'd begun to fire--for you must know I've larned to fire
uncommon fast since I come to these parts. Hows'ever, I hit nothin'--"
"Not quite so bad as that, Dick," interrupted the scout gravely.
"Well, that's true, but you better tell that part of it yourself, Hunky,
as you know more about it than me."
"It wasn't of much consequence," said the scout betraying the slightest
possible twinkle in his grey eyes, "but Dick has a knack o' lettin'
drive without much regard to what's in front of him. I happened to be
more in front of him than that bird when he began to fire, an' the first
shot hit my right leggin', but by good luck only grazed the bark. Of
course I dropped behind a rock when the storm began and lay quiet there,
and when a lull came I halloo'd."
"Yes, he did halloo," said Dick, resuming the narrative, "an' that
halloo was more like the yell of a bull of Bashan than the cry of a
mortal man. It made my heart jump into my throat an' stick there, for I
thought I must have killed a whole Redskin tribe at one shot--"
"Six shots, Dick. Tell the exact truth an' don't contradic' yourself,"
said Hunky.
"No, it wasn't," retorted the seaman stoutly. "It was arter the _first_
shot that you gave the yell. Hows'ever, I allow that the echoes kep' it
goin' till the six shots was off--an' I can tell you, messmates, that
the hallooin' an' flutterin' an' scurryin' an echoin' an' thought of
Redskins in my brain all mixed up wi' the blatterin' shots, caused such
a rumpus that I experienced considerable relief when the smoke cleared
away an' I see'd Hunky Ben in front o' me laughin' fit to bu'st his
sides."
"Well, to make a long yarn short, I joined Hunky and allowed him to
lead, seein' that he understands the navigation hereaway better than me.
"`Come along,' says he, `an' I'll let you have a chance at a deer.'
"`All right,' says I, an' away we went up one hill an' down another--for
all the world as if we was walkin' over a heavy Atlantic swell--till we
come to a sort o' pass among the rocks.
"`I'm goin' to leave you here to watch,' says he, `an' I'll go round by
the futt o' the gully an' drive the deer up. They'll pass quite close,
so you've only to--'
"Hunky stopped short as he was speakin' and flopped down as if he'd bin
shot-haulin' me along wi' him.
"`Keep quiet,' says he, in a low voice. `We're in luck, an' don't need
to drive. There's a deer comin' up at this very minute--a young one.
You'll take it. I won't fire unless you miss.'
"You may be sure I kep' quiet, messmates, arter that. I took just one
peep, an' there, sure enough, I saw a brown beast comin' up the pass.
So we kep' close as mice. There was a lot o' small bushes not ten yards
in front of us, which ended in a cut--a sort o' crack--in the hill-side,
a hundred yards or more from the place where we was crouchin'.
"`Now,' whispers Hunky to--"
"I never whisper!" remarked the scout.
"Well, well; he said, in a low v'ice to me, says he, `d'ye see that
openin' in the bushes?' `I do,' says I. `Well then,' says he, `it's
about ten yards off; be ready to commence firin' when it comes to that
openin'.' `I will,' says I. An', sure enough, when the brown critter
came for'id at a walk an' stopped sudden wi' a look o' surprise as if it
hadn't expected to see me, bang went my Winchester four times, like
winkin', an' up went the deer four times in the air, but niver a bit the
worse was he. Snap I went a fifth time; but there was no shot, an' I
gave a yell, for I knew the cartridges was done. By that time the
critter had reached the crack in the hill I told ye of, an' up in the
air he went to clear it, like an Indy-rubber ball. I felt a'most like
to fling my rifle at it in my rage, when bang! went a shot at my ear
that all but deaf'ned me, an' I wish I may niver fire another shot or
furl another t'gallant-s'l if that deer didn't crumple up in the air an'
drop down stone dead--as dead as it now lays there on the floor."
By the time Dick Darvall had ended his narrative--which was much more
extensive than our report of it--steaks of the deer were sputtering in a
frying-pan, and other preparations were being made for a hearty meal, to
which all the healthy men did ample justice. Shank Leather did what he
could, and even Buck Tom made a feeble attempt to join.
That night a strict watch was kept outside the cave--each taking it by
turns, for it was just possible, though not probable, that the outlaws
might return to their old haunt. No one appeared, however, and for the
succeeding eight weeks the party remained there undisturbed, Shank
Leather slowly but surely regaining strength; his friend, Buck Tom, as
slowly and surely losing it; while Charlie, Dick, and Hunky Ben ranged
the neighbouring forest in order to procure food. Leather usually
remained in the cave to cook for and nurse his friend. It was pleasant
work to Shank, for love and pity were at the foundation of the service.
Buck Tom perceived this and fully appreciated it. Perchance he obtained
some valuable light on spiritual subjects from Shank's changed tone and
manner, which the logic of his friend Brooke had failed to convey. Who
can tell?