UNDERGROUND MYSTERIES OF THE SWAMP.
Now that the reader may feel himself upon sure ground as to the facts
of this true story, I may state that Roland likewise learnt from Nancy
that the gang had a rendezvous in a piece of dense wood known as
Brook's Bush, close to the mouth of the Don River. It is also a fact
that when the den at Markham was broken up finally, some of the
surviving desperadoes took up their permanent abode at Brook's Bush,
where they kept an illicit still. Down to fifteen years after the date
of my story the community was every now and again startled by tidings
of robbery, outrage or murder at the Don; and the last notable act of
the gang was the murder of the editor of the _Colonist_, one Hogan, a
member of the legislature. His taking off was done by a woman who
struck him upon the head with a stone which she carried in a stocking.
[Footnote: Scores of persons living in Toronto now remember this
outrage; but anybody can verify the fact by turning to the files of
the newspapers of those days.--THE AUTHOR.] The body was then thrown
into the Don where it was picked up a short time afterwards.
As for the people of Markham, they lived in constant terror of the
miscreants lodged in the bush so near their doors; and they
established an efficient staff of special constables for the
protection of life and property.
Markham township had been settled about forty-five years before,
principally by a number of Dutch families which moved thither from
Pennsylvania; but to the rather picturesque little village of the
same name, nestling among the pines that fringed the River Rouge,
came straggling immigrants or persons grown tired of the solitude and
the privations of backwoods life. But to distant portions of the
province this thriving village came to be known rather through the
terrible reputation of the adjacent swamp than through the thrift,
comfort and progress of the people. So much then for the 'dry' but
essential facts of this narrative.
On the following morning the chief and Murfrey went away again; and
in obedience to the command of the hag our hero, accompanied by The
Lifter, who had instructions to shoot him if he attempted to escape,
proceeded to a portion of the bush not far distant to cut firewood.
Although he had 'roughed it' for many a season in the woods, Roland
was clumsy enough at the regular work of woodcutting. But taking off
his coat he began bravely, and The Lifter swung his axe with a will a
short way distant. After they had cut what would make about a horse
load, they carried the billets upon their shoulders and threw them
into a hole about thirty paces distant from that by which they
descended to the subterranean abode. The pieces struck with a dull
sound a considerable distance down; and The Lifter informed Roland
that 'down there' was the wood-shed.
'But I suppose you are curious to hear sometheen about this
underground place? All strangers are.'
'I am certainly much interested in it. I cannot conceive how your
gang could have hollowed so large a place as this seems to me. Why,
it has been an enormous task, requiring I should say a hundred men
for many months to perform.
'Our "gang" did not make this hollow. But if you'll excuse me, I do
not like the way you have of styleen our party. "Gang" isn't a nice
word.'
'Who did the excavation then?'
'God,' replied The Lifter, with an assumption of solemnity that
really was comic.
'Pray cease this blasphemy. I do not wish to hear any more of it. I
am over-sick of this hypocrisy now.'
'But God it was all the same who did this; and I shall tell you how.
You know that River Rouge did not always enter Silent Lake at the
place where it runs in now. It entered down there; see where that old
beech tree stands.'
'But this makes the matter no clearer.'
'Well, you know, the ground here is very shaky, and the swamp
beneath the shores of the trees is softer than porridge. A long time
ago, during a heavy spring freshet, the river became dammed about a
quarter of a mile from the lake, and the whole body of water was
turned in another direction. But instead of flowing over the land, it
sank into the great mass of soft bog below, and forced its way
underground, till it reached the lake--there by that old beech.'
'The clay into which the roots of the trees had fastened themselves
was quite solid, and was held fast in the thick tangle of roots. So
for many years you could hear the river floween beneath the ground
with a subdued gurgleen sound. Hunters avoided the wood, for some
careless persons had come here and fallen through the holes into the
rusheen tide. Their bodies were afterwards found floateen in Silent
Lake. One day my grandfather and two of his men came to see the
treacherous underground river; and they moved cautiously down the
stream till they came where it sank into a hole in the ground, that
looked like a huge sluice-way.
'My grandfather looked at the strange sight for a time, and then at
the great bridge of trees and boulders that lay across the original
course of the river. They wondered why he gazed at all so earnestly;
and why his eyes grew so bright. Then he slapped the capteen, who was
yet a boy, upon the back, and said:
'"Just the very place we want. Here we will have a quiet castle of
our own, where no limb of the law can find us."'
'"But you surely would not think of liveen in this dismal swamp?"
they all said at once.
'"My intensheen is notheen else," he replied. "Let us go away for
the present." Then they all left the wood, the young men wondereen
what my grandfather had in his head. A few days after this, my
grandfather and all his friends came with picks, and axes, and
crowbars into the swamp. No one knew yet what plan he had formed.
Leadeen them to the bridge that I have described, he said:
'"I want that bridge cut away."
'"Why?" they all asked.
'"Can you tell," he replied, "what will happen when this bridge is
cut away?" Then they fell athinkeen and my father said:
'"The stream will go by the old bed, and will run no longer under
the ground." "Ah, father," the capteen shouted, "you are the wise one
after all. We will have a first-rate castle under the forest in the
stream's tunnel!"
'"Exactly, my son."' It was all quite clear to our hero now. For a
full quarter of a mile did this tunnel, covered over with shallow
turf, or a treacherous stretch of moss, extend.
'Well,' continued The Lifter, 'they waited till the tunnel became
dry, and then they made a house and sleeping places underneath. The
whole length of the tunnel was tested, and wherever they intended the
roof should be strong, they propped it up; and those strong places
they used as bridges.'
'Ah; it is plain now what the chief meant about all the unfortunate
men who dropped through the swamp, and were never heard of more.'
'So he has been telleen about these. Yes; they came tumbleen down
through the holes as they crossed, and they fell so sudden that they
had no time to cry; and before they could know where they had got, we
come along and killed 'em. In the night they were dragged out and put
in the lake. I remember how tired myself and Silent Poll were with
the heavy draggen. Then it was so hard to get stones that were heavy
enough to keep the body under; and that you could tie easily.' While
the toil of carrying the wood went on, The Lifter continued to
describe many deeds of horror committed in the dark pit. In the
afternoon, Nancy joined the two, and they examined the mouth of the
passage-way. But the casual eye would not have looked twice at the
spot, for young trees were so planted at the edge of the lake, that
their boughs thoroughly screened the opening. She informed our hero
that the other end was filled in, and trees were growing where once
the flood rushed down with the speed of a mill-race. The greater part
of the autumn was spent in cutting and carrying firewood, and the
chopping continued till the hag one day announced that there was
'plenty in now till next summer.'
'Be on the look out now for the treachery of the old woman and
Silent Poll,' Nancy said when the chopping was ended. You can be of
little more use now, and I am satisfied that you are marked for
vengeance. I suppose you carry your pistols?'
'Invariably.'
'And your knife?'
'Likewise.'
'It is well.'
When not fishing or doing laborious work, it was customary with The
Lifter, as well as with our hero, to sit among the women and assist
them in such offices as the peeling of turnips or potatoes; and
holding the yarn skein whilst one of the women rolled the thread into
a ball; or in scouring the knives and forks. One afternoon while all
the men save The Lifter were absent, the group was seated round a
small open fire. Hanging from the crane was a pot of fruit which the
hag was boiling.
'Here Poll, ball your yarn,' the old woman said. 'You will hold the
skein for her,' pointing to Roland. 'You may read a chapter from
_Dick Turpin_,' turning to The Lifter. 'We will not want you,
Nancy. Take a turn up stream and try to get a few fish for supper.
There, make haste now; don't stand there, you lazy jade.' Nancy, for
some reason or another, had fastened her eyes upon our hero, and
there was a pleading, frightened look in them.
Roland vaguely understood that she was warning him, but against what
particular form of danger he could not define. Resolved to reassure
her, he nodded his head in a meaning way, and said:
'Off you go, Nancy, and get the fish. We'll _take care_ of ourselves
till you come back.' He laid emphasis upon the 'take care,' and
somewhat at ease, Nancy departed.
As I have said, the old woman was standing at the pot, and silent
Poll had so arranged the seats that while Roland held the skein upon
his hands his back was towards her mother. The Lifter sat side-wise,
and began to read _Dick Turpin_. For many minutes the reading
and the stirring went on; when suddenly Roland noticed that the dull
scraping of the 'slice' against the bottom of the pot had ceased.
Turning his head he met the eyes of the old woman; and observed that
they were aflame with a wild sort of light.
'When I hears a chapter from that ere book it makes my blood get
warm, and I thinks I am a young woman again. Attend to your holding,
young man. You see the thread is slipping off your hands.' Roland did
as he was bidden, but he could not help thinking of the marvellous
effect that the story of Turpin's dare-devil deeds had upon her. 'A
fit mother for highwaymen,' he muttered, meditating. At that moment
The Lifter, who happened to raise his eye from the page, cried out:
'Look out, Roland!' Quick as thought our hero sprang to his feet,
but in doing so received a terrible blow on the shoulder. Instantly
he saw that The Lifter's warning had saved his life; and that the
blow which he had received upon the shoulder was aimed at his head.
The hag stood before him with a short iron bar, used as a fire poker,
in her hand; and her eyes blazed with a hate that was devilish to
look upon. She approached him again with the bar uplifted, believing
that he was stunned and disabled; but thrusting his hand into his
pocket he drew his pistol and cocked it.
'Advance a step, you infamous old murderess, and your brains strew
the ground.' She was foiled and let drop her weapon. But for the hell
of rage that stormed within her she must have some outlet.
'Ah,' she screamed,' so you have turned traitor to your own;' and
launching the bar at The Lifter's head, she knocked him insensible to
the ground. The unfortunate wretch lay where he fell, without making
a move, and Roland perceived that the blood welled from a wound in
his head.
'So you warned him, did you?' she screamed again, and stooping she
picked up the bar and raised it above his head. Roland well understood
the murder in the old miscreant's eyes, and leaping forward seized the
weapon, wrenched it from her grasp, and flung it far into the bush.
'Touch him not, or your miserable life will be the forfeit.' She
made no reply, but simply scowled with the hatred of a fiend upon
him. Turning then she resumed her work of stirring the fruit in the
pot. At this moment Nancy, whose face was white with anxiety, made
her appearance.
'Fetch some water from the spring,' Roland said, 'I wish to attend
to his wound,' pointing to the prostrate Lifter.
'How has this happened?' Nancy enquired, in an anxious voice; though
she was thoroughly familiar with such scenes of violence.
'This old monster here was aiming a death-blow at my head, and he
warned me. This is her revenge; and she would have finished her work
upon him had I not interfered. Don't go for an instant, Nancy, till I
complete what I have to say, once for all: If this old woman,' and he
poked her hard upon the shoulder with the muzzle of his pistol, 'ever
makes an attempt upon my life again, I will shoot her like a mad dog,
even though every robber of the cave were standing by. I shall be
justified in doing this by every law. Killing is a game at which two
can play; and kill I will the next person, be that person man or
woman, who makes another attempt upon my life. Caution no one will
ever find me to give again. Now, murderous old she-wolf, you
understand me?' and as he concluded he gave her such a thrust with
his weapon that she fell across the fire. With a scream Silent Poll
arose and pulled the old woman off the burning sticks; but not before
the crone's gown and apron had taken fire.
'Water! water!' screamed Silent Poll, for once boisterous.
'I shall get her none,' Roland replied. 'It is fitting that she
should go to hell in a blaze.' Nancy seized some slops that stood in
a vessel near by, and throwing them upon the old woman, quenched the
flames. The murderous hag was white with terror; and Roland saw that
for all her cruelty she was a great coward. Her hands were badly
scorched, nor did her face escape a singeing.
'Take me down to my bed, Poll; this villain, I am afraid, has been
the death of me.' Taking her grandmother's arm, this precious wench
led her tenderly to the cavern's mouth and down the ladder.
'You have conquered the old woman,' Nancy said; 'and it is well She
is now in dread of you, and will not be likely again, unless her
chance is sure, to attempt your life.'
'Violence, I shall meet with violence,' Roland replied. 'Of that be
sure. But now let us look after this poor wretch.' The Lifter had
lain where he fell without moving a muscle; but upon taking his wrist
our hero found that his pulse beat.
'He is not dead, Nancy; dash water in his face.' The girl did so,
and presently The Lifter opened his eyes.
'Oh, I thought I was dreameen. I warned you; if I didn't she would
have crushed your head. I knew she was contemplateen seme harm. Where
is she now?' Roland related all that had happened; and The Lifter
seemed to be more his friend than ever. After Roland and Nancy had
bound up his wounds he crept into the tunnel and went into his bed.
Silent Poll returned with a scowling face when the old woman, whom
she had 'dosed' with brandy, went asleep, and resumed her yarn
balling Roland lay upon the ground and read. When Poll had finished
her thread she descended the cavern, and Roland and Nancy were left
to themselves.
'Suppose we go now and explore the tunnel, Nancy; I am anxious to
see the extent of this retreat of murder and crime.'
'We can descend by a hole close to the tallest of those three pines
yonder,' she said as she seized a small coil of rope and led the way.
Having fastened the rope around the trunk of the pine, she said:
'We descend by this. I go first; and I shall tell you to come when I
am down.' In a second she disappeared; and presently he heard her
telling him to come. The sensation, as he descended into the pitch
dark cavern, was not an agreeable one; but when his feet touched
bottom Nancy took him by the hand.
'We go this way; presently your eyes will be of some use.' She had
spoken the truth. After our hero was a few minutes under ground the
walls, roof, and floor of the tunnel became fairly visible. As for
the floor it was hard and level, the flood having carried all the
turf and earth away, leaving the rock bare. Here and there a mass of
turf and clay had fallen from above, almost impeding the progress of
the explorers; and Roland was well aware that the peril of walking
through the place was not small.
When the river sank into the soft swamp, it did not take a straight
course for the lake, but wound now to the right and again to the
left, according to the solidity of the ground. In addition to these
sinuosities there were several pockets or alcoves along the tunnel,
as if the stream had here found passage for a short way, and was then
obliged to recede. The walls were oozy, and little rivulets trickled
through, and went rippling over the floor of the passage.
'A short distance from the dwelling,' Nancy explained, 'a dam has
been put before this stream, and it runs through a channel which they
cut for it into Silent Lake.'
The two explorers now reached a point well lighted, and turning up
his eyes Roland observed a number of holes in the roofing.
'Ah; this is a treacherous spot,'
'Yes; and from here nearly to the end of the passage the roof is
much like that. It was all along here that the men who came into the
bush fell through; and as they fell the old woman, Poll, and The
Lifter despatched them with clubs. Did you never wonder why we are
risky enough to light fires by night and assemble by day on the open
ground?'
'I have thought that the risk was great, indeed; but I had no way of
accounting for it.'
'Well, it is impossible for anybody to approach without having to
cross this tunnel at its dangerous part. Why, the very day before you
came amongst us, some young man, after woodcock in the swamp, strayed
down this way, saw water glimmering beyond him and walked towards it.
He fell through, sir, at this very place. His leg was broken by the
fall, and he moaned very loudly. Charge of the tunnel and everything
that it may catch has from the first been held by the old woman; and
either she or Poll passes through it every day. The poor sportsman
was found by the old woman; and when she appeared he was astonished,
and besought her assistance. But her reply was made with that very
same iron poker with which she attempted your life to-day. Silent
Poll and The Lifter afterwards dragged the body to the pond. How my
heart ached as I heard the dog of the poor young fellow whine as it
went about the wood seeking for its master. The captain sent The
Lifter out to fetch the animal in, but the poor brute seemed to know
that harm was intended, and it went back further into the bush. All
the night it cried there; but at sunrise Murfrey crept out with a
long-barrelled gun and shot it.'
They had now reached the extremity of the tunnel, and Nancy
suggested that they should hasten back.
'Above all other things we must prevent them from surmising that
there is any friendship or understanding between us,' Nancy said,
'and the only way in which this can be done is by your pretending to
hold me in the same sort of cold contempt as you bestow upon Silent
Poll. You must impress them with the belief that you look upon me as
an abandoned woman and a murderess. My part shall be to show sympathy
with the old woman in to-day's offence, and to denounce you. I shall
speak of you to Murfrey, as well as to the woman, as a desperado. In
doing this I shall serve the double end of blinding their eyes, and
of making them fear your arm.' To this plan Roland cordially agreed,
and the two returned to the robber's lair.