THE LONELY SUMACH.
Mr. Alexander Muller remained some days in Boontown, and for the
greater part of the time he was quite busy with the affairs which
brought him there. But there came a day in which he had nothing to do,
and it struck him it would be a good idea to take a holiday, and have a
long stroll in the woods. He was a good deal of a naturalist, and was
very fond of woodland rambles.
When he left Mr. Markle’s office, on the day of the Touron affair, he
had taken Old Bruden back to the tavern, where he supposed Phil would
call for it. But Phil’s mind had been much occupied, and he had not
thought of the gun. Mr. Muller determined, therefore, that he would
walk down some evening to Hyson Hall, and carry Old Bruden home.
But when he decided to give himself a holiday, he thought there could
be no objection to his taking Old Bruden with him, especially as he
intended afterwards to give himself the trouble to walk all the way to
Hyson Hall to return it.
The thought came into his mind that it would be well perhaps to leave
the gun in the condition it then was, as it might be used in the
approaching trial of young Touron. But Mr. Muller had his own ideas
about that trial, and he did not believe the gun would ever be needed.
Besides that, he did not know of any other gun he could borrow, and he
felt very much like having one with him, in case he should see anything
he wished to shoot. He therefore bought a small quantity of powder and
shot, and a box of caps; with these, and a luncheon in his pocket, and
Old Bruden on his shoulder, he started for the Green Swamp. He had no
ramrod for his gun, but he cut one from the first dogwood tree he met
with.
He had never been in the Green Swamp, but he had heard a good deal
about it, and he wished to explore it as far as possible. He wandered
about the whole of the morning, finding a great many things to interest
him in the way of mosses, ferns, and other specimens of woodland growth.
He found, also, that it would have been just as well if he had not
brought Old Bruden with him, for he saw nothing at all at which he
cared to take a shot. There were no birds of any value, and although a
rabbit occasionally jumped from its cover and went skipping away into
the bushes, this was not the season to shoot rabbits.
Besides being entirely useless, Old Bruden was a real inconvenience to
him, for it was necessary, in order to push his way into the heart of
the woods, for him to cross wide expanses of swamp-lands, from which
the place derived its name. He frequently had to make his way from one
tussock of weeds and grass to another, and as the distance between
these tussocks was sometimes four or five feet, and the intervening
ground very wet and soft, he found that in making his long steps and
jumps a heavy gun was very much in his way. But he had it with him, and
there was nothing to do but to carry it along as well as he could.
After a time, he reached a stream of water, some eight or ten feet
wide, which seemed to bar his way entirely. Had it been an ordinary
stream, he might have waded across, but in a swampy place like this he
did not know but he might sink up to his waist if he stepped into this
apparently shallow piece of water; and to stick fast in the middle of
this lonely wood did not at all suit his fancy. He sat down on a little
piece of dry ground and ate his lunch, and then he determined to find,
if possible, some place where he could cross this brook.
The ground beyond seemed somewhat higher and drier, as if it were
drained by this running stream. The bank on his side, too, afforded
better walking than the swamp-land he had recently crossed.
He therefore pushed his way up the stream, hoping that he would come to
a place where the banks would be near enough together and firm enough
for him to jump across; but, though he walked a long distance, the
stream did not seem to narrow.
At last he reached a place where the bushes grew quite thickly on
either side, although he found little difficulty in pushing his way
along.
Soon, to his great delight, he came to the trunk of a large tree that
had fallen diagonally across the stream. It was not a very easy thing
to walk on this log, but Mr. Muller stepped boldly on it, and using the
gun as a balancing-pole, he got over without a slip. On the other side
he found, as he had expected, good walking, with very little underbrush
among the trees. Guiding himself by means of a pocket-compass toward
what he supposed must be the centre of the wood, he trudged gayly
onward.
Before long, he came to a space which was covered by low evergreens,
and, above these, he could see at a distance a little knoll or hill. On
the top of this knoll, the near side of which seemed rocky and almost
bare of trees, there grew a tall bush, or little tree, on which he
could here and there see a red leaf glowing in the sunshine. A short
distance behind this bush the forest seemed to rise again, thick and
shady.
“It is early for leaves to turn red,” said Mr. Muller to himself. “That
must be a sumach-bush,” and he walked toward it.
Just as he reached the bottom of the little hill, he heard a stir in
the tufted grass.
“What is that?” he thought, and instantly stopped and cocked his gun.
Old Bruden would have been freshly loaded if the dogwood ramrod had
grown with a screw at the end, so that Mr. Muller could have drawn out
the old loads. But he had sifted some powder into the nipples of the
gun, and had put on fresh percussion-caps, and was content to fire out
the old loads.
Something now quickly glided from the tuft, slipped rapidly over the
ground in front of him, and disappeared in another thicket.
It was a large blacksnake, but it passed before him so suddenly and
swiftly that Mr. Muller was not ready to fire at it. But he would be
sure to take a shot at it if it appeared again. He would be very glad
to kill a large snake like that. He would take the skin home and stuff
it. It would be quite a curiosity.
Mr. Muller stepped forward a few paces and stood ready, his eyes fixed
upon the thicket. In half a minute the blacksnake appeared again, and
rushed directly up the hill with that rapid motion peculiar to these
reptiles.
Mr. Muller took good aim at him, and when he thought he had him well
covered with the muzzle of his gun, he pulled the forward trigger. The
cap snapped loudly, but there was no report.
Instead of that, a man’s voice shouted,--
“What are you about?”
Utterly astonished, Mr. Muller looked beyond the point where the snake
had been, and found that he was aiming his gun almost directly at a man
who was lying on the ground in the shade of the tall sumach.
The snake had been on a little rise in the ground when he pulled the
trigger, and if the gun had gone off, a great part of the charge would
probably have struck the man, who was lying on the ground not many
yards beyond.
The man, who had been reading, sprang to his feet, leaving his book
wide open on the grass. He looked startled and angry, as well he
might. But before he could say or do anything, Mr. Muller hastened
forward to explain.
“I was not aiming at you, sir. I was going to fire at a large snake
that just passed near me.”
“But you ought to be more careful,” replied the other. “If your gun had
gone off you certainly would have hit me.”
“I am generally very careful,” said Mr. Muller; “but who in the world
could have imagined that a man would be lying on the ground in this
lonely spot?”
“That is true, perhaps,” said the other; “and, on my part, I never
could have imagined that anybody would come to this lonely spot to
shoot snakes. And may I ask, sir, what you are doing with my gun?”
“Your gun!” exclaimed Mr. Muller, and for a moment he seemed stupefied,
and then his face began to shine as if it had been lighted up from
inside. “Are you Mr. Godfrey Berkeley?” he cried.
“Yes, I am,” said the other, shortly.
Mr. Muller laughed aloud.
“Why, I have been wanting to find you for ever so long! And who could
have supposed I would stumble on you here?”
Mr. Berkeley now seemed quite annoyed and angry.
“You had no right to look for me, sir, whoever you may be! If I choose
to seek quiet and privacy, no one is authorized to intrude upon me.”
“I am sure, sir, I was not trying to intrude upon you this time,
although I admit I have been inquiring for you in various places. I
came here for sport and recreation, and I suppose these woods are as
free to me as to any one else.”
“Yes, they are,” said Mr. Berkeley, “but I did not think that any one
but myself would penetrate to this secluded spot. How did you get over
the stream down there? The bottom is very soft.”
“I found a fallen tree lying across it,” said Mr. Muller.
“You must have been very anxious to shoot snakes,” remarked the other.
“That fallen tree is surrounded by a thicket that I did not suppose any
one would care to penetrate.”
“I wished to explore the forest,” said Mr. Muller, “and so pushed on
toward its centre. And the way I happen to have your gun with me is
this: I found it, a few nights ago, in the bed where I was sleeping,
and where the Touron boy hid it, after he attempted to shoot your
nephew, Philip Berkeley.”
[Illustration: “You had no right to look for me, sir, whoever you may
be!”]
“What in the name of common sense are you talking about?” cried Mr.
Berkeley. “Shoot my nephew! Are you crazy?”
“No, I am not crazy,” said Mr. Muller, very quietly, “and you need not
alarm yourself. No one has been injured. If you will sit down here in
the shade I will tell you the whole story. It is a long one, and I am
rather tired.”
The two then seated themselves in the shade of the sumach, and the man
with the black straw hat told Mr. Godfrey Berkeley the story of the
troubles at Hyson Hall as he had had it from Chap Webster; he also
related the startling events which had since occurred.
These accounts greatly excited Mr. Berkeley. He frequently interrupted
Mr. Muller with exclamations of astonishment, and when all was told, he
sprang to his feet and exclaimed,--
“I must leave here instantly!”
“You need to be in no particular hurry,” said Mr. Muller. “Everything
is all settled now.”
“Nevertheless, I must return immediately,” said Mr. Berkeley, “and if
you will wait a few minutes I will walk back with you.”
So saying, Mr. Berkeley picked up his book and hurried to a group of
large trees, which stood some distance back from the lonely sumach.
Mr. Muller followed him, and was much surprised to see him approach a
neat little log hut, which was quite concealed from the open ground by
a clump of bushes.
Mr. Berkeley entered, and the other looked in at the door. There was a
low bed on one side of the cabin. On a small table and a shelf were a
number of books, in leather bindings, and a valise stood in the corner.
Outside, by the door, were a few cooking utensils.
“Do you live here, sir?” asked Mr. Muller.
“Yes,” said Mr. Godfrey, who was busily putting a few things into his
valise, “I have lived in this cabin for several weeks, and I expected
to spend the rest of the summer here. I suppose you want to know why I
have been leading this hermit life?”
“Of course I have no right to inquire,” said Mr. Muller, “but I am
burning with curiosity.”
“I am so glad you found me,” said Mr. Berkeley, “although you did it
accidentally, that I feel quite willing to tell you all about my coming
here. I will do so as we walk through the woods.”
“I am also extremely glad I found you,” remarked Mr. Muller, who had
said nothing yet about his own reasons for wishing to see Mr. Berkeley,
preferring to wait until the mind of the other should not be so
occupied and excited by the affairs of which he had just heard. “And
what is more,” he continued, “I am greatly rejoiced that this gun did
not go off.”
“And I more than you,” said Mr. Berkeley. “I knew Old Bruden could
not be depended on for sure fire, but I never expected to derive any
advantage from that fact. And now,” added he, taking up his valise, and
preparing to padlock the door of his hut, “I think we are ready to go.”
“Do you intend to leave all those books here?” asked Mr. Muller, in
surprise.
“Yes,” said Mr. Berkeley, “I brought them here by degrees, and I
can’t carry them all away at once. Besides, I may want to come back
here again. I think they will be quite safe, for I am certain that no
one but you and myself has yet discovered that fallen tree among the
bushes.”
As the two walked away--the one carrying the gun and the other the
valise--Mr. Berkeley told his little story.
“I came out here,” he said, “to study law.”
“To study law!” exclaimed Mr. Muller.
“Yes,” said the other. “You need not be surprised, and you need not
laugh. The idea is not original with me, and the thing has been done
before. A young friend of mine read law for four months in that very
hut, which he built. He approached it, however, by a difficult path
through the woods, not knowing of our convenient bridge. He came for
the same reason that I came,--to study undisturbed. His provisions were
brought to him on certain days by his brother, who left them under a
tree more than a mile from here, where my friend went to get them. His
brother never knew where the hut was situated. I go over to the little
village of Bridgeville for my provisions. It is a long walk, but I
don’t have to go often.”
“But I cannot understand why _you_ should come here,” said Mr. Muller,
to whom the idea of a man owning a fine house and choosing to live in a
little hut like that seemed utterly absurd.
“When I was a young man,” said Mr. Berkeley, “I studied law, but soon
tired of it. Lately, since I have determined to settle down to a quiet
life, I have tried farming; but I do not think I succeed very well as a
farmer. I lose more money than I make.”
Here Mr. Muller gently rubbed his hands together, as if the remark
pleased him.
“I recently determined to take up law again,” said Mr. Berkeley, “and
began to read at home; but there were so many things there to disturb
me, and continually to distract my mind, that I found it impossible
to study. I therefore decided to follow my young friend’s example,
and betake myself to the woods. I found his house in good order, and
soon made it quite habitable. Of course, I allowed no one to know
where I had gone, as, otherwise, I would have been bothered almost
as much as if I had stayed at home. I would like you to understand,”
continued Mr. Berkeley, “that I have good reasons for wishing to study
law,--especially a particular branch of it. There are large tracts
of land in the West, which were acquired by grants and purchases by
my grandfather, to which I know I have a legal right. It is to make
myself able to investigate the title to these lands, and to prosecute
my claims to them, that I wish to become master of the laws concerning
such matters. I am not a rich man, and I have every desire to better my
fortunes.”
“A very laudable desire, truly,” said Mr. Muller; “and I hope to be
able to---- But no matter about that now. Don’t let me interrupt you,
sir.”
“Of course I had no idea,” continued Mr. Berkeley, “that when I went
away there would be any money troubles at Hyson Hall. Mr. Touron, who
is a relative by marriage, has repeatedly assured me that I need give
myself no concern about the payments on the mortgage that he holds, if
at any time it should be inconvenient for me to make them. He never
before even asked for his interest, and I intended in the fall, when I
generally go to New York, to have a settlement with him, but I did not
imagine he would make any trouble when I was absent.”
“Perhaps that is the very reason he tried to foreclose,” said Mr.
Muller. “He probably thought you would never turn up again, and the
chance was too good to lose.”
“That may be very true,” said Mr. Berkeley. “But tell me more about
this young Touron. He is the son of the old man’s first wife, but I had
almost forgotten his existence.”
Mr. Muller then proceeded to tell all he had heard about Emile, and
related how, in addition to his more serious offences, he had gone to
Hyson Hall and cut up all sorts of didos, such as hanging a lot of
bells on the roof, threatening the housekeeper, and he knew not what
else besides.
Mr. Berkeley stopped short in his walk.
“Hung bells on the roof?” he said. “Are you sure of that?”
“Oh, yes!” said Mr. Muller; “these things are quite the town talk. He
found the house deserted one day, except by the women, and it seems he
did pretty much as he pleased.”
This statement seemed to affect Mr. Berkeley more than anything he
had yet heard, and for some time he walked on without saying a word.
When they reached the outskirts of the town, Mr. Berkeley asked his
companion if he still intended to go to Hyson Hall.
“Yes,” said Mr. Muller, “I proposed to take this gun there, and I also
have something which I wish to say to you, and it may take some time to
talk about it.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Berkeley, “I shall be very glad if you will go
on to the house now. You must stay all night, and I will talk with you
to-morrow. I wish to stop to see Mr. Welford, but would like to have a
note reach my nephew before my arrival.”
Mr. Muller consented to this arrangement, and Mr. Berkeley, writing
a short note in pencil on a piece of paper which he tore from a
blank-book, directed it to Phil, and gave it to his companion. The two
then separated, Mr. Berkeley promising to be at Hyson Hall in time for
supper.
“I hope that young Webster won’t be there,” thought Mr. Muller,
as he trudged away,--“that is, if he has not forgotten the sunken
treasure-ship and the three brothers.”
But Chap was there, and he had not forgotten.
[Illustration]