GUNWAD TAKES DECISIVE ACTION.
Though expecting to meet an exciting scene, Norman was not prepared for
the startling tableau which greeted his gaze as he bounded into the
house. Two men, companions of Gunwad, stood like guards at the door,
while the deer reeve had advanced to the opposite side of the room,
and was shaking his fist in Mr. MacDonald’s face. The latter, who had
allowed all the intense passion of his nature to assert itself, had
retreated to the corner, and was in the act of bringing his stout staff
down on the head of his tormentor.
With an exclamation of warning, Norman sprang between the two, catching
his grandfather’s uplifted arm in an attempt to turn the intended blow
from the deer reeve. He succeeded in his purpose at the cost of a
stinging stroke on his own shoulder, caused by a sudden turning of the
cane.
“Don’t strike him, grandfather!” he cried. “Be calm; don’t you see it
is his desire to make you do him harm, and then――”
“Stand aside, lad! nae sic a dog insults me in my ain hoose! Let me get
but ae whack at him, lad!”
“No――no, grandfather! you must not so much as touch him. Goodman
Gunwad, please leave this house at once. Grandfather is an old man and
so broken down as not to be himself. When he has recovered from the
excitement your visit has given him we will talk with you. But now,
please spare him.”
Norman’s appearance had been so sudden and unexpected that the two
men in the doorway had not yet comprehended the situation, while it
was not until he had finished speaking that the deer reeve recovered
sufficiently to say a word. Then he exclaimed, in his blustering way:
“So――so, my Scotch bantam! so ye pick up th’ quarrel? Jest lay a hand
on me ef ye wanter. I kem hyur peaceful to ask th’ ol’ furriner when
he was goin’ to git out’n my house, and he flew at me like a cat. Be
keerful how ye use me,” retreating a step, as Norman started forward,
showing by his manner that he had no fear for the other. “Here,
Holster, Lawton, don’t let the hot-headed Scotchmen kill me. They air
two to one.”
“I am not going to lay a hand on you, Goodman Gunwad, if you will go
your way peacefully,” said Norman, as the deer reeve’s companions
advanced into the centre of the room.
“It’s ernough thet ye hev threatened me, an’ I can prove it. I order
you, Holster and Lawton, to take th’ ripscallion off. The sooner these
furriners air driven out o’ Tyngstown th’ better ’twill be fer all
honest people.”
“You shall not lay a hand on grandfather,” cried Norman, as the man
called Holster again moved forward. “If grandfather has offered to do
one of you harm it was because you drove him to it. I――”
“Bah!” exclaimed Gunwad, “I ain’t foolin’ round hyur fer nothin’. Pull
’em both――”
Though no one had heard the approach of a newcomer, a shadow at that
moment fell across the pathway of the irate deer reeve, and he stopped
in the midst of his excited speech as the stalwart figure of the
Woodranger confronted him.
“So you are stirring a bit o’ an amazement, Gunwad?” demanded the
forester, sternly. “Sich conduct on your part seems ill-timed to me,
who is not an adept in the wanton ways o’ men. What would you have with
this old man and the lad?”
“I want ’em to git out’n my house! I jes’ come civil like, armed with
proper authority, and this youngster has sassed me and th’ ol’ man has
tried to club me. I can prove it by my friends here.”
“No matter about that. Did my ears hear aright, or was it the whispering
o’ a pine, which said that this is your abode?”
“I said plain ernough thet this is _my_ house! I own this lot, seein’ I
come into fair possession by law. I bought it of one of the grantees of
Tyng Township, of which this is a part. There was no trouble till those
’demned furriners kem hyur.”
“Easy, Gunwad, easy! When you talk o’ furriners you hit us all on the
head. It is only the poor red man who can say that, and not many o’
them, seeing the way we’ve kicked ’em from our path, as we would dead
leaves. It is them as have reason to complain.”
“Ye know well ernough what I mean, Woodranger. It’s these miserable
Scotch intruders.”
“Who got here afore you did, Gunwad. It may be, without wishing to be
other than neutral in a flame which should never have been kindled,
that I have――”
“How long has it been sence ye hev sided with these dogs?” broke in the
deer reeve. “So ye hev been a snake in――”
“Be keerful, Gunwad!” warned the forester, this last statement being
more than he could listen to in silence. “Be keerful and not awaken
an old man’s ire. A snake in the grass, never! I seek no quarrel with
man, and I find none in the free domain o’ natur’. It is only where the
contentions o’ civilisation come that men get at cross purposes. I ’low
that wild creeturs fight, but that should be a lesson to man and not
an example. Don’t you so much as lay a finger on the old man, Gunwad,
or I shall forget my prudence.”
Woodranger showed that he was making a mighty effort to keep his
feelings under control, while he appeared unusually excited. Gunwad
feared him, and yet with his two companions behind him, and, what
he considered of greater benefit, the law, he tried to think he had
nothing to fear. Happily for him, the man named Lawton came to his
assistance at that moment.
“You forget the notice I have to read, Gunwad. Perhaps that will bring
them to their senses.”
“Yes, read the document, Lawton,” said Gunwad, with a look of relief.
“Mebbe that will bring ’em to their senses.”
By this time Lawton had produced from his pocket a formidable-looking
paper, which he quickly unfolded and began to read:
“‘At a meeting of the Proprietors of Tyng Township, so called,
regularly warned and assembled at the house of Mr. Isaac
Farwell, Innholder, in Dunstable, the 21st of August, 1740:
“‘Voted that those persons whose lands in said township and
part of the original Proprietary are trespassed upon, or
are possessed by any person claiming them under grant from
New Hampshire, shall within three months from this meeting
prosecute such persons, who are and be deprived for the future
of any benefit or assistance from the Proprietary in the
defence or recovery of any such lands.
“‘Also voted that Messrs. Ephraim Hildreth, William Lawton, and
Joseph Blanchard be a Committee fully empowered and directed
at the charge of this Proprietary (by taking a legal owner) to
assist in suing and defending in any action commenced or to be
commenced of trespass or ejectment for or against any person
or persons in trial of the title or trespass, as aforesaid, on
any land belonging to the Proprietary or grantee. Thereof said
Committee, or any one of them, are directed also at the cost of
the Proprietary that if Proprietor, as aforesaid, be arrested
and carried into the Province of New Hampshire[2] by any writ
or process for improving on their lands there to redeem them
from such arrests or arrest, and to take a power of attorney to
appear in their names to prosecute and defend in any matter,
jointly or severally according to the whole tenor of this vote.
“‘[Signed]
“‘EPHRAIM HILDRETH,
“‘WILLIAM LAWTON,
“‘JOSEPH BLANCHARD.’”
[2] Tyng Township was claimed to belong to Massachusetts.
“What d’ye think o’ thet?” demanded Gunwad, triumphantly, as the other
finished reading. “I reckon thet settles matters at one clip. I’ve got
the province o’ Massachusetts and good King George the Second behind
me.”
“It is not for me, who is better varsed in the open ways o’ the free
woods to dissemble, Gunwad, and I must confess that the course taken
by the new town is most ill considered. I’m afeerd they will see
disappointment soon, and have reason to regret such thoughtless――”
“Air ye a fool or crazy, Woodranger? We’ll hev every furriner out o’
Tyngstown inside a year. Thet new law jes’ fixes every one o’ ’em, and
I ain’t goin’ to let my chance slip. I shall hev to ax ye to step one
side.”
“Not to allow you to harm a hair on the head o’ this old, innocent man,
who never wronged――”
“So ye stan’ in fer him? Holster and Lawton, take keer o’ him an’ I’ll
throw th’ ol’ ripscallion out!”
It was a critical moment. Norman felt that a fight was coming. Robert
MacDonald showed it by the wild light in his eye and the look of stern
determination upon his countenance, as he drew his tall figure up until
he fairly towered, like a blazing column, above Gunwad. Fearing the
worst, Norman gently pushed Rilma to a safer distance, while he moved
nearer his grandfather.
The bronzed features of the Woodranger suddenly lost their look of
wonted calm. With his habitual swift but silent movement he glided
to the side of the deer reeve, the fingers of his left hand closed
on Gunwad’s long nose, and before that worthy could realise what was
taking place he was led to the door. Then, fairly lifted from his feet,
he was sent several yards away, where he fell in a heap on the ground.
Before his companions could interfere, if they had any intention of
doing so, the forester turned toward them, pointing without a word in
the direction of the door.
“I have no quarrel with you, Woodranger,” said Lawton, beginning to
retreat. “Come, Holster, let’s get out of this.”
Without further words the two joined Gunwad, who, as he regained his
feet, shook his fist at the house, saying:
“Ye shall pay dearly fer this, Woodranger. Ye’re a traitor, and every
man in Tyngstown shall know it. Ez fer ye, ye ol’ Scotch dunderhead, ye
shall be driven out o’ Tyngstown with a withewood at yer heels.”
The Woodranger was trembling from head to foot, but he offered no
reply, saying to himself rather than to any one else:
“Man’s consait is beyond comprehension. Ill fares it with him who loses
command o’ himself. I much fear me I’ve committed an indiscretion. The
babbling creetur’ did arouse me more than I knew. Well, alack! I’m not
overmuch pleased with myself. Man never knows his weakness till he lets
his temper overrule his jedgment. I very much fear I’ve committed an
indiscretion.”
“Are the dolts a’ awa’, Norman, ma laddie?” asked Mr. MacDonald, still
trembling from the effect of his recent excitement.
“Yes, grandfather, and let us hope they will not come back.”
“They will, ma laddie, mark an auld man’s words. Sir,” addressing the
Woodranger, “I like the wey ye handled th’ auld skellum, only I wad hae
liked tae hae had my ain fingers in the place o’ yours.”
“I very much fear me I have committed an indiscretion, and that my
fingers pinched a bit harder than I knew. But he vexed me exceedingly.
I hope you will not suffer for my indiscretion.”
“We wish to thank you, Woodranger,” said Norman, “for helping us get
rid of the men. Do you think Gunwad can really drive us away?”
“I’ll warrant he will not without some stern opposition. This trouble
between the two factions of settlers is an amazement no man can read,
though I am of the opinion the end is nearer than most calculate. My
advice, and such offering cannot be counted high on account o’ its
commonness, is not to let the varmint give you a worry.”
“Oh, kind sir,” cried Rilma, “is it such a dreadful thing to be a
refugee? You are an honest man and you will tell me truly.”
“Nay, my bonnie lass, let not your heart run away with your jedgment,
as my temper did with mine. You are too young and too gentle to let
such matters trouble your pretty head. But I will say this much, and
I have no wish to dissemble, that it is seldom a term of dishonour.
He who wears it lightest wears it best. For that matter we’re all
refugees, my bonnie lass, and can only make the best o’ it.”
“What! maun ye gang awa’ sae soon, maister, an’ withoot givin’ us
yer name?” asked the old Highlander. “If I mistake not you’re ca’d
Woodranger, but I fain wad ca’ ye by a dearie name.”
“No name is so dear to man as that he bears amid the scenes he loves
best. That race, which is seldom at fault in such things, deemed it
suited to me. I have no desire to exchange it for another. Nay, ol’
man, it has stood by me many a year and it must remain until the eend.
Ol’ Danger would lose his faith in me, and my foot would lose its
lightness, should I change it now,” and shaking his head, he moved
swiftly and silently away.
“I dinna read, I dinna read him!” muttered Mr. MacDonald, shaking his
own head, as he watched the forester out of sight.
“He is brave and kind-hearted,” said Norman, warmly. “I cannot help
liking him.”
Then their conversation naturally turned upon the deer reeve and his
companion, even Norman being obliged to acknowledge that their visit
meant them trouble if not serious harm. To give up their home was a
sacrifice which seemed too great to be met. At any rate, they resolved
to wait and see what Gunwad’s next movement would be toward evicting
them.
Day after day, however, passed without any change in the situation, as
far as they knew. Gunwad had not reappeared, but what his silence boded
them was more than they could foresee. Perhaps he had some deeper laid
scheme, which was requiring further time to perfect. It might be he had
given up his intentions, though they could not believe that.
The real cause of the prolonged delay was not from any willingness on
the part of Gunwad, but rather a natural necessity arising from the
slow methods of law. Among the early settlers of New England there were
few who understood the principles or the workings of legal force, and
thus the jurisdiction of courts was limited. The few judges who had
been invested with power to sit upon suits were generally men without
any legal education to prepare them for their perplexing duties. Thus
there was no system or harmony in their rulings, and the inhabitants
were commonly compelled to apply to the General Assembly, which assumed
and exercised jurisdiction in imitation of the English Parliament, as a
Court of Errors and Chancery. So the deer reeve was obliged to prepare
a petition and send it to Boston, that it might in its order be placed
before the proper officials.
While he was fretting and fuming over the slow process of law, his
intended victims were gradually forgetting his threat, and Norman,
who was still working for Mr. Stark, became greatly interested in the
proposed canoe match. Though of frequent occurrence on the frontier, a
boat race never failed to arouse a keen and wide-spread interest, being
second only to a trial with arms. This trial, planned by the youth of
Harrytown, was of greater novelty than usual, and sure to awaken more
than ordinary rivalry. In fact, owing to the opposing spirits existing
among these colonists, old as well as young could talk of little else.
Norman McNiel, Robert Rogers, and William Stark were unanimously
selected to represent the Scotch-Irish settlers, while Johnny Goffe,
William Tyng, and James Hazard made up the English crew. It is needless
to say that both sides began at once to practise earnestly.
During one of these careful trainings on the part of Norman and his
companions, they were delighted to see the Woodranger paddling swiftly
and silently down the stream.
“Let’s watch him, and perhaps we can learn something from him.
Woodranger, you know, is considered the best paddler in these parts.”
To the general spectator there is something fascinating in the way a
boat glides through the silvery water under the propulsion of an expert
oarsman. And if this is true of the clumsy boat, the fascination is
doubled and trebled at the sight of the birchen craft of the Indian,
which seems to skim the current without touching,――to fly without
wings! As Billy Stark had said, the Woodranger was not equalled in
the use of the paddle. His canoe was of Indian make, about eighteen
feet long, and built from the winter bark of the white birch, which is
tougher than that of the summer. His smooth, wide-bladed paddle was of
the clearest poplar, “as light as a feather and as strong as ironwood.”
In his skilful handling it touched the water without making a sound,
each stroke sending his frail bark yards on its course.
The forester had seen the young canoeists, and it wasn’t long before he
sped alongside of them.
“A fine evening for your practice, lads, which I hope my coming will
not check. In my humble opinion you will need all the benefit you can
get from such trials.”
“We are right glad you have come, Woodranger,” said Billy Stark, who
seemed inclined to do the talking, “and we want you to give us a
lesson.”
“Nay, nay, lads, that I cannot do! I have no desire to dissemble in
this amazement, and I am free to confess that I am neutral in the
quarrel hanging over this affair. It would be ill-advised for me to
lend counsel or assistance even to my friends.”
“Do you think the Cohas boys are going to beat us?” asked Billy,
showing disappointment at the forester’s reply.
“It is not my knack to be able to tell you, seeing there are true lads
at Goffe’s. I can tell you that nothing is ever lost in being prepared
to do your best. It isn’t so much what you can do individually, as what
you are able to do all together. I see Rob has the bow paddle, Billy
the middle, and Norman the stern. In my humble opinion, that shows good
jedgment. Your craft is a good one, its brown colour showing that it is
made of winter bark, and your paddles appear to be clean ash. I prefer
poplar, which is lighter and less inclined to spring, but that is only
an old man’s whim. It all lies with you; good evening,” and, without
further words, the Woodranger sped away as silently as he had come.
“Funny he couldn’t give us just a hint!” said Billy.
“It seems to me he did give us two hints, which may be the winning of
the victory for us. Let us be prepared to do our best, and to work
together. Let that be our key-note. Now, boys, together!”