IN WHICH NATHAN FEIGNS SLUMBER TO SAVE HIS LIFE
"Unhand me, you ruffians!" cried the prisoner, as he continued to
resist. "I protest against this brutal treatment. I protest against so
unjust a sentence. I am not a spy. I am a non-combatant, and entitled to
freedom. I was sent to this country on a legal and private matter by my
employers, the firm of Sharswood & Feeman--"
Just then one of the soldiers, losing patience, struck the man a blow
between the eyes that felled him to the floor. He was too stunned to
make any further resistance or appeal, and his captors flung him into
the room and slammed the door.
"Lad, that--that ain't the lawyer chap you spoke of?" inquired Barnabas,
as he observed Nathan's agitation.
"The very same!" Nathan cried, excitedly "Noah Waxpenny, of London, who
came to the Indian Queen that night!"
"The man who wanted information of your father and Major Langdon?"
Godfrey asked, incredulously.
"Yes, that's the one," exclaimed Nathan. "I'm sure he can clear up the
mystery. I must speak to him right away."
The lad was too excited to know what he was doing, and before his
friends could check him he made a rush for the door of the inner room.
But the officer in command of the fort--an ill-featured sergeant--gave
him a push that sent him reeling back.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "And you?" he added, turning to
Barnabas and Godfrey, and regarding them with angry suspicion.
Barnabas briefly explained, and the sergeant was somewhat mollified when
he learned that the strangers were fugitives from Wyoming.
"It's all right," he grumbled, "but you had no call to interfere with
my duty. Do you know that spy yonder?" The lad here spoke the name he
gives himself--Noah Waxpenny.
"Spy?" exclaimed Barnabas.
"Yes, man; I said spy. I've just given him a trial, and to-morrow
morning he hangs."
"What proof have you of his guilt?"
"Plenty," declared the sergeant. "Didn't he come riding by here a bit
ago on his way up the river? And didn't we find a paper on him with the
written name of Major Gerald Langdon, an officer in the British army?
There were two other names, but the first one was enough. It's plain as
daylight that the man was sent out to spy the frontier forts along here.
I've found him guilty, and I'm going to hang him."
"You'll repent it, if you do," said Barnabas, quickly. "You'd better
hold the man, an' report on his case. There ain't enough evidence to
hang him, an' what's more, you haven't got the authority."
"Man, I have got the authority," thundered Sergeant Murdock, who was a
hard-headed and obstinate Scotchman, very set in his ways, and with an
exaggerated idea of his powers. "I'm in charge of this fort, and what I
say is military law. The spy hangs at daybreak, and I'll report the case
afterward--"
"Sir, you surely won't hang this prisoner?" interrupted Nathan. "He is
not a spy, and I can prove it. Let me ask you one question. Was Richard
Stanbury's name on that paper?"
"Yes," growled the sergeant, in a tone of sudden suspicion.
"Well, Captain Richard Stanbury is my father," said Nathan, "and he is
an officer in Washington's army."
"Then you're the lad the spy was bound up the river to look for,
according to the yarn he tells," exclaimed the sergeant. "There's
something wrong here. I'm thinking I'll have to put you under
arrest--aye, and your companions, too."
"Nonsense!" muttered Barnabas. "This foolery has gone far enough. Don't
you know me any more, Murdock? Have you forgot Barnabas Otter, who was
a private in your own company right here at Fort Hunter, after
Braddock's defeat? Twenty years is a long time, but you ain't changed
much--"
"Man, I'm glad to see you," cried the sergeant, his grizzled face
breaking into a smile. "Aye, I recognize your features now. And can you
vouch for this lad?"
"With my life," declared Barnabas. "An' what's more, I kin vouch that
the man in there ain't a spy."
"You'll have to prove it to my satisfaction," said the sergeant,
stiffly.
"I can't prove anything," replied Barnabas, "because it's a good bit of
a mystery. But the plain facts of the matter, as far as we know, are
these: That man in yonder, Noah Waxpenny, was sent over here from
England on legal business--sent over to find Richard Stanbury an' also
this Major Langdon. Whether there's any connection betwixt the two is
not for me to say. But this much is certain; your prisoner ain't a spy.
An' you admit yourself that the fellow was comin' up the river to
search for Captain Stanbury's son here. He must have learned that the
Captain was dead or a prisoner, an' that the lad had gone to Wyoming--"
"And he expected to meet me among the returning fugitives," interrupted
Nathan. "I'm sure that's the way of it."
"What does he want with you?" demanded Sergeant Murdock.
"I can't tell you any more than Barnabas has told you," replied Nathan.
"It's a legal and private matter--I am certain of that much. But if you
will let me see Noah Waxpenny he may be able and willing to explain the
mystery. Please let me speak to him at once, won't you, sir?"
"No, I won't," snapped the sergeant. "I don't want another rumpus around
here. You haven't proved the man's innocence and the sentence of death
still stands. And then there was a third name on that paper--"
"Let me see it, Murdock," interrupted Barnabas.
"I've no objection," replied the sergeant, after a brief hesitation. He
and Barnabas withdrew privately to one corner of the room, and as the
latter examined the paper that was put into his hands he started visibly
and his eyes opened wide with astonishment. For some minutes he and the
sergeant conversed earnestly in whispered tones, and then they came
forward again.
"Lad," said Barnabas, "my old comrade has agreed to let us see the
prisoner in the morning. We must have patience till then."
"Aye, you can see him in the morning," corroborated Sergeant Murdock,
"but unless the interview clears up the mystery and proves the spy's
innocence he hangs before breakfast. I'm a man of my word and you can
count on what I say."
Darkness was now coming on rapidly, and while the sergeant went into an
adjoining room to fetch a candle Nathan found an opportunity of drawing
Barnabas aside.
"You saw the paper?" he whispered. "Did it contain any clue?"
"None at all, lad."
"And whose was the third name?"
"I'll tell you again," Barnabas answered, evasively. "Have patience till
morning, and I'm thinking all will turn out right. Meanwhile let the
matter drop and don't speak. Hush! here comes Murdock back."
That was a long evening for Nathan. It taxed his patience sorely to
think that he could not see the prisoner until morning--to know that the
man locked up in the little guard-room could reveal, among other
secrets, why Major Langdon had made such desperate efforts to get the
papers that were buried under Captain Stanbury's cabin at Wyoming.
Godfrey was almost equally curious, but Barnabas had forbidden both lads
to allude to the matter openly, and the circumstances were such that
private speech between the three was impossible.
The capture and examination of Mr. Noah Waxpenny had delayed supper, and
after the meal was over Sergeant Murdock unbent and became quite
friendly. He showed his guests around the interior of the fort,
pointing out the strong features of the stockade, and exhibiting with
pride the stores of lead and powder, casks of fresh and salt beef, and
barrels of flour.
"I've got only a dozen men here," he said, "and that's as big a garrison
as the fort has had for ten years past. But I'm expecting reinforcements
up from Harris's Ferry any time now, and the settlers are threatening to
come in on account of the rumor that Butler's force will be marching
down the river from Wyoming."
The rest of the evening was spent on the grassy knoll at one side of the
enclosure, where Nathan and Godfrey related their adventures at Wyoming
to an interested audience, and Barnabas and the sergeant discussed old
times between whiffs of their pipes. At intervals Noah Waxpenny could be
heard groaning dismally, or tramping up and down the narrow limits of
his cell.
At ten o'clock Sergeant Murdock went his round, posting one sentry
inside the stockade gate and another at the rear of the fort, where a
small window opened from the guard-room. A third was put on duty in the
middle room of the block-house, with instructions to watch the
prisoner's door.
From the left of this middle room opened the big room where the privates
slept, and on the right were the guard-room and the officers' quarters.
To the latter's apartment, which contained a number of straw pallets
spread on the floor, the sergeant led his guests. "All fixed, are you?"
he said. "Good night, then, comrades." He blew out the candle, turned
over, and was soon snoring loudly.
A little later the slow and regular breathing of Godfrey and Barnabas
told that they, too, were slumbering. Nathan envied them, for try as he
would he could not induce the least symptom of drowsiness. For a long
time he lay with wide-open eyes and active brain, thinking of the
promised interview in the morning and listening to the occasional
footsteps from the adjoining guard-room, where Noah Waxpenny seemed
also to be possessed by the demon of wakefulness.
When the lad finally did fall asleep from sheer weariness his rest was
disturbed by hideous dreams. From one of these he suddenly awoke,
relieved to find himself safe in the fort instead of battling with
blood-thirsty savages out on the river.
As he listened to the regular breathing of his companions he fancied he
heard a low groan from outside, and almost immediately a rustling noise
at the open door of the room fell on his ear. Closer and closer came the
soft and stealthy sound, and the next instant, to the lad's unspeakable
horror, the dark figure of a man kneeling on all fours rose at his very
side, and a hand was passed gently over his body.
Nathan's heart almost stopped beating, but by a tremendous effort he
choked back the cry that was on his lips. For, at that moment, his eyes
being partially accustomed to the gloom, he saw that the man held a
glittering knife between his teeth; and he realized that at the first
shout for help the blade would be plunged into his breast.
He was terribly frightened, but by exerting all his will power he
succeeded in doing what was best under the circumstances. He feigned
sleep, and lay perfectly motionless. Not a muscle quivered, though cold
sweat started on his face and hands. All he could think about was that
glittering knife. It did not occur to him to wonder who the man was, or
what he wanted.
The unknown intruder was deceived by the ruse. With both hands he
lightly and deliberately pressed every part of the lad's clothing from
his throat to his feet. Twice he went over him, and then a whispered
curse testified to his disappointment at not finding what he wanted.
Next, he took the knife from between his teeth with one hand, and as he
lifted it high to strike, he turned a little toward a window in the side
wall, dimly revealing a scarred and wrinkled face with but one eye.
Nathan uttered a shrill cry, and grabbed the descending wrist with both
hands. A desperate jerk lifted him upright, and he heard the knife
clatter to the floor. He held tight for a second or two, and then a blow
on the face broke his grip and hurled him back.
He sprang quickly to his feet, crying out in chorus with his companions,
who were now awake and stumbling blindly over the floor. He saw a dark
figure, followed by another, rush into the yard. Then the men at the
other end of the block-house woke up with noisy clamor, and amid all the
din, a musket-shot rang loud and clear.
"What's wrong?" demanded Sergeant Murdock. "Speak, somebody!"
"Simon Glass was here," cried Nathan. "He tried to kill me. He just ran
out! Don't let him get away!"
The name of the Tory ruffian was familiar to all, and the angry and
excited men swarmed from both sides into the middle-room. A private
appeared on the scene with a lighted lantern, and by the yellow glare
the door of the guard-room was discovered to be wide open.
"The spy has escaped," roared the sergeant. "This is Glass's doing! I
wish I'd hung the man last night!"
"Glass didn't come here for that," declared Barnabas. "Waxpenny must
have opened the door an' run fur it when he heard the row in yonder; an'
where's the sentry?"
Just then a clamor rose from several of the men who had hastened
outside. Led by Sergeant Murdock, the rest of the party ran into the
yard, and at one side of the door they found the prostrate body of the
sentry who had been posted in the middle-room. The man was breathing
faintly, and his swollen and purple face showed that he had been nearly
strangled to death by a pair of muscular hands.
With shouts of vengeance the crowd scattered in different directions,
but a cry from Barnabas brought them together again at the partly-open
gate of the stockade. Here lay the second sentry stone dead, with a long
knife buried in his ribs.
"If Simon Glass don't die for this may I never shoulder a musket again!"
roared the infuriated sergeant. "It was a sharp trick he played. He must
have come here a bit ago, persuaded the sentry to admit him, and then
stabbed the poor fellow to the heart. Next he enticed the other sentry
to the yard, and settled him, too. And after the lad here discovered him
in the room both he and the spy darted out the gate."
"But where's the third sentry?" cried Barnabas, "an' who fired that
shot--Hark! some one's calling now!"
Indeed, the shouting had been going on at intervals since the first
alarm, but owing to the noise and excitement the man had not been able
to make himself heard. The sounds came from the rear of the block-house,
and thither the whole party ran in haste, to find Private Mickley
prancing up and down on one of the lookout platforms.
"Where've you been?" he yelled, hoarsely. "Why didn't you come sooner?
I've been keeping watch on the ruffian, but now he's gone--escaped in
that big canoe."
"Escaped!" cried Barnabas. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Man, explain yourself," roared the sergeant. "Quick! find your tongue!"
"Ain't I telling you?" sputtered the angry soldier. "Give me a chance.
When I heard the first yell I run round to the front just as a little
man dashed out the door. He was making for the gate, but when he seen me
he changed his mind and cut for the rear. I fired at him and missed, and
just then out pops the spy. Before I could lift my empty gun he was past
me and out the gate. So I let him go, and went for the other. I got
round here in time to see him scramble over the stockade. I reckon he
didn't know the drop that was below him, for when I looked over the
platform he was lying stunned in the bushes down yonder. I kept watching
him and singing out for help, and all at once up he gets, staggers like
a drunken man to the canoe, and goes a-paddling down stream with all
his might. I'm thinking his one leg was broke."
"How long ago was this," thundered the sergeant.
"Not two minutes, sir."
"Then he ain't far off," cried Barnabas. "Have you another boat handy?"
"There's a little canoe in the creek above the bluff, with two paddles
in it," replied Sergeant Murdock.
That quickly Barnabas was off, calling to the lads to follow him. Nathan
and Godfrey were at his heels as he scaled the stockade at the upper end
and plunged down the sloping bank to the creek. They found the canoe at
once and jumped in, and a moment later the light craft had swung from
the creek's mouth to the river. The lads were paddling, and Barnabas
crouched amidships just in front of them.
"Murdock, we're goin' to get the assassin," he shouted.
"Good luck to you!" the sergeant called back. "I wish I was as sure of
overhauling the spy."
The canoe was quickly past the fort, gliding like a duck on the swift
current, and now the other craft was dimly sighted about a hundred yards
down stream.
"I knew he couldn't be far," muttered Barnabas. "Paddle hard, lads. He
can't do much with that heavy boat. This is going to be the last of
Simon Glass, or else the last of me."
"We have no weapons," exclaimed Nathan.
"Neither has he, lad, or he would a-fired at the sentry who tried to
stop him."
"I hope he won't take the shore when he sees we're after him," said
Godfrey.
"He's too badly hurt to do that," replied Barnabas. "No; we're goin' to
get him. I feel it in my bones. He'll pay with his life for venturin'
this far after them papers. When he lay in ambush that night he must
have heard us speak of stopping at the forts, an' I reckon he tramped
all this distance alone."
During part of the above conversation a bend of the river had concealed
the fugitive from view, and now, as the pursuers swung around, the two
canoes were seen to be less than forty yards apart. Glass was close to
shore, struggling desperately to drive his heavy and unwieldy craft,
while with scarcely any effort Nathan and Godfrey urged their lighter
boat forward.
The distance rapidly decreased to twenty yards--fifteen--ten. Now the
ruffian's scarred face could be seen by the moonlight that was breaking
through the clouds, as he looked back at quick intervals. And shortly
ahead of him was the line of noisy rapids, white with dashing foam and
spray, black with outcropping bowlders and ledges.
"We'll hardly ketch him this side the falls," muttered Barnabas. "It
ain't an easy passage. Watch sharp for the rocks, an' don't--"
Just then Simon Glass dropped his paddle and twisted himself around in
the stern. "I won't be taken alive!" he yelled, "and I'll kill one of
you first." With that he drew a big pistol, leveled it at Barnabas, and
fired.