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In the Midst of Alarms

R >> Robert Barr >> In the Midst of Alarms




Stoliker told him.

The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him:

"You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver these
men up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but you
take a revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shoot
them."

The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. "I am not a policeman," he
said. "I am a soldier."

"Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. I
order you to take these men to Welland."

The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and a
murmur rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidently
sympathized with their comrade's objection to the duties of a
policeman. One of them made his way through the crowd, and cried:

"Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He's no Fenian."
Two or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and,
pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite with
his class. Among others young Howard pressed forward.

"It is nonsense," he cried, "talking about sending Professor Renmark to
jail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We'll all go
bail for the professor."

The officer wavered. "If you know him," he said, "that is a different
matter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of the
Fenians, recommending him to the consideration of all friends of the
Fenian cause. I can't let him go free."

"Are you the chief in command here?" asked Renmark.

"No, I am not."

"Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. He
is a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders.
If you insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be taken
before the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or fall
together. I am exactly as guilty or innocent as he is."

"We can't bother the colonel about every triviality."

"A man's liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense,
are you fighting for but liberty?"

"Thanks, Renmark, thanks," said Yates; "but I don't care to see the
colonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all this
bother. I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, if
I have to go to jail for them. I'm coming reluctantly to the belief
that jail's the most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow."

"But this is an outrage," cried the professor indignantly.

"Of course it is," replied Yates wearily; "but the woods are full of
them. There's always outrages going on, especially in so-called free
countries; therefore one more or less won't make much difference. Come,
officer, who's going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go by
myself? I'm a Fenian from 'way back, and came here especially to
overturn the throne and take it home with me. For Heaven's sake, know
your own mind one way or other, and let us end this conference."

The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker to
handcuff the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer at
Welland.

"But I want assistance," objected Stoliker. "The prisoner is a bigger
man than I am." The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this self-
evident fact.

"If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders."

No one volunteered to accompany the constable.

"Take this revolver with you," continued the officer, "and if he
attempts to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, so
I can't send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to."

"Howard knows the way," persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke up
with great indignation: "Yes, but Howard isn't constable, and Stoliker
is. I'm not going."

Renmark went up to his friend.

"Who's acting foolishly now, Yates?" he said. "Why don't you insist on
seeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would be
allowed off."

"Don't make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussy
individual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squad
of volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officers
always stick by each other; they're bound to. I want to go alone with
Stoliker. I have a score to settle with him."

"Now, don't do anything rash. You've done nothing so far; but if you
assault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter."

"Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a short
time since?"

"Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now."

"See here, Renny," whispered Yates; "you get back to the tent, and see
that everything's all right. I'll be with you in an hour or so. Don't
look so frightened. I won't hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight,
and I won't get there if the colonel sends an escort. I'm going to use
Stoliker as a shield when the bullets begin flying."

The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker very
reluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own left
wrist, while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, who
embarrassed him with kindly assistance. The two manacled men
disappeared down the road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in to
continue their morning's march.

Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. "I
say, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?"

"I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is an
old schoolfellow of mine."

"What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to rather
like the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known you
were in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would only
have been too glad to be of assistance to you."

"They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well."

"What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?"

"Yes," said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encountered
the eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was the
brother's favorite.

"Fall back, there!" cried the officer to Renmark.

"May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me take
part?"

"No," said the officer with some hauteur; "this is no place for
civilians." Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the whole
company, as far as martial experience went, were merely civilians
dressed in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates'
ominous prediction regarding them.

"I say, Mr. Renmark," cried young Howard, as the company moved off, "if
you see any of them, don't tell them I'm here--especially Margaret. It
might make them uneasy. I'll get leave when this is over, and drop in on
them."

The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidently
no premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left the
road, and struck across country in the direction of the tent.

Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road toward
Welland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative and
entertaining--indeed, Yates' conversation often went beyond
entertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed the
affairs of both countries, showed a way out of all political
difficulties, gave reasons for the practical use of common sense in
every emergency, passed opinions on the methods of agriculture adopted
in various parts of the country, told stories of the war, gave
instances of men in captivity murdering those who were in charge of
them, deduced from these anecdotes the foolishness of resisting lawful
authority lawfully exercised, and, in general, showed that he was a man
who respected power and the exercise thereof. Suddenly branching to
more practical matters, he exclaimed:

"Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?"

Stoliker had never counted them.

"Well, that's encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that it
requires an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely have
something to drink before long."

"I never drink while on duty," said Stoliker curtly.

"Oh, well, don't apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I'll be
only too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired the
useful practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anything
can be done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don't believe in
the word 'can't,' either with or without the mark of elision."

Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily.

"I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I'm tired of walking. I've
been on my feet ever since three this morning."

"I have no authority to hire a buggy."

"But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?"

"I make him move," said Stoliker shortly.

"Ah, I see. That's a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable."

They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried:

"Let's sit down and have a rest. I'm done out. The sun is hot, and the
road dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day's young, yet."

"I'll let you have fifteen minutes."

They sat down together. "I wish a team would come along," said Yates
with a sigh.

"No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhood
stolen, and the troops on the roads."

"That's so," assented Yates sleepily.

He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and his
eyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leaned
toward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates' left arm fell across
the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him.
The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he took
no risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, he
reflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon,
for he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner who
escaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the good
intentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too polite
and good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that the
prisoner was a much cleverer man than he.

"Here, sit up," he said gruffly. "I'm not paid to carry you, you know."

"What's that? What's that? What's that?" cried Yates rapidly, blinking
his eyes and straightening up. "Oh, it's only you, Stoliker. I thought
it was my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?"

"Either that or pretending--I don't know which, and I don't care."

"Oh! I must have been pretending," answered Yates drowsily; "I can't
have dropped asleep. How long have we been here?"

"About five minutes."

"All right." And Yates' head began to droop again.

This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitate
sleep so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each time
saved himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard.
Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly,
with a greater lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down the
bank, carrying the constable with him. The steel band of the handcuff
nipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain,
instinctively grasped the links between with his right hand, to save
his wrist. Like a cat, Yates was upon him, showing marvelous agility
for a man who had just tumbled in a heap. The next instant he held
aloft the revolver, crying triumphantly:

"How's that, umpire? Out, I expect."

The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist,
realizing the helplessness of a struggle.

"Now, Stoliker," said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, "what have you
to say before I fire?"

"Nothing," answered the constable, "except that you will be hanged at
Welland, instead of staying a few days in jail."

Yates laughed. "That's not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there's
some grit in you, if you _are_ a man-catcher. Still, you were not
in very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want this
pistol again, just watch where it alights." And Yates, taking the
weapon by the muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field.

Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into his
pocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as he
could to the spot where the revolver fell.

"Is that how you mark the place?" asked Yates; "or is it some spell
that will enable you to find the pistol?"

"Neither," answered the constable quietly. "It is the key of the
handcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland."

Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at the
little man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attempted
to search for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to one
that Stoliker would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key,
in which case the reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law.

"Stoliker, you're evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours.
That wasn't a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause you
some personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I'm
not going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I
have gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me."

"I shall not move," replied the constable firmly.

"Very well, stay there," said Yates, twisting his hand around so as to
grasp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked
up the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stoliker
set his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow.
Nothing was said by either until several hundred yards were thus
traversed. Then Yates stopped.

"Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, I
hope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with me
quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same in
the end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see the
fight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don't want to lose
any more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, and
having me explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we go
through the fields."

One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise man
always accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossed
the rail fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together--
Stoliker silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who is
certain of ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with all
its machinery working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, and
instructive by turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when the
unresponsiveness of the other rendered conversation difficult.

"Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent,
scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city's
din is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and the
drowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed 'bumble'! The green
fields, the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air,
untainted by city smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blue
unclouded sky--how can human spite and human passion exist in such a
paradise? Does it all not make you feel as if you were an innocent
child again, with motives pure and conscience white?"

If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. With
clouded brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. But,
although the constable made no reply, there was an answer that
electrified Yates, and put all thought of the beauty of the country out
of his mind. The dull report of a musket, far in front of them,
suddenly broke the silence, followed by several scattering shots, and
then the roar of a volley. This was sharply answered by the ring of
rifles to the right. With an oath, Yates broke into a run.

"They're at it!" he cried, "and all on account of your confounded
obstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire,
and the Canadians have not been long in replying."

The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates was
aroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicating
smell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleaming
eye.

"Come on, you loitering idiot!" he cried to the constable, who had
difficulty in keeping pace with him; "come on, or, by the gods! I'll
break your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron from
it."

The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion of
war, and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before the
insane glare of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his
fear to Yates.

"Come on, _you_!" he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twist
to the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractory
criminals. "I am as eager to see the fight as you are."

The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said:
"That's the ticket, I'm with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a
hurry if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intend
to use you as a shield from the bullets."

"That's all right," answered the little constable, panting. "Two sides
are firing. I'll shield you on one side, and you'll have to shield me
on the other."

Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding the
houses, they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the
trees, showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond.
Yates made the constable cross the fence and the road, and take to the
fields again, bringing him around behind Bartlett's house and barn. No
one was visible near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at the
back watching, with pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now and
then covering her ears with her hands as the sound of an extra loud
volley assailed them. Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for
help.

"If you do that again," cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, "I'll
choke you!"

But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned with
a frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when she
recognized the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand away
from the constable's throat.

"Where is your father or your brother?" demanded the constable.

"I don't know."

"Where is your mother?"

"She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill."

"Are you all alone?"

"Yes."

"Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance to
this prisoner, but to do as I tell you."

"And I command you, in the name of the President," cried Yates, "to
keep your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty," he
continued in a milder tone, "could you tell me where to get a file, so
that I may cut these wrist ornaments? Don't you get it. You are to do
nothing. Just indicate where the file is. The law mustn't have any hold
on you, as it seems to have on me."

"Why don't you make him unlock them?" asked Kitty.

"Because the villain threw away the key in the fields."

"He couldn't have done that."

The constable caught his breath.

"But he did. I saw him."

"And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of his
watch chain. He hasn't thrown that away."

She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her.

"Don't touch him. I'm playing a lone hand here." He jerked out the
chain, and the real key dangled from it.

"Well, Stoliker," he said, "I don't know which to admire most--your
cleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett's acuteness of
observation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?"

"Yes; but you mustn't hurt him."

"No fear. I think too much of him. Don't you come in. I'll be out in a
moment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet."

Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the square
oaken post which was part of the framework of the building, and which
formed one side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of the
hay mow.

"Now, Stoliker," he, said solemnly, "you realize, of course, that I
don't want to hurt you yet you also realize that I _must_ hurt you
if you attempt any tricks. I can't take any risks, please remember
that; and recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be in
the State of New York. So don't compel me to smash your head against
this post." He, with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist;
then, drawing Stoliker's right hand around the post, he snapped the
same clasp on the constable's hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man,
with his cheek against the oak, was in the comical position of lovingly
embracing the post.

"I'll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be more
comfortable--unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. Then
I must bid you good-by."

Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him.

"I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty," he said, "so that poor
Stoliker will get a rest."

They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased,
except a desultory shot here and there across the country.

"I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can," he
continued. "This country is getting too hot for me."

"You are much safer here," said the girl, with downcast eyes. "A man
has brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up and
down the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from this
side."

"You don't say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to do
with Stoliker? I can't keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets
loose I'm done for."

"Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I go
for her?"

"I don't think it would be any use. Stoliker's a stubborn animal. He
has suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We'll
bring him a chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him."

When the chair was placed at Stoliker's disposal, he sat down upon it,
still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of the
solemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyes
with the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates.

"How long am I to be kept here?" asked the constable.

"Oh, not long," answered Yates cheerily; "not a moment longer than is
necessary. I'll telegraph when I'm safe in New York State; so you won't
be here more than a day or two."

This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker.

"Look here," he said; "I guess I know as well as the next man when I'm
beaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff's
orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don't believe
you've done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn't have acted quite the way
you did. If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. As
it is, if you unlock those cuffs, I'll give you my word I'll do nothing
more unless I'm ordered to. Like as not they've forgotten all about you
by this time; and there's nothing on record, anyhow."

"Do you mean it? Will you act square?"

"Certainly I'll act square. I don't suppose you doubt that. I didn't
ask any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you."

"Enough said," cried Yates. "I'll risk it."

Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he was
released.

"I wonder," he said, now that Kitty was gone, "if there is anything to
eat in the house?"

"Shake!" cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. "Another great and
mutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see."




CHAPTER XVIII.


The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who did
not want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when
all was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before he
realized that things had reached a crisis.

When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. The
fortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn
before the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried to
sample the contents and had found nothing.

"Hang it all!" said Yates to himself, "I wonder what the five
assistants that the _Argus_ sent me have done with themselves? If
they are with the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are
captured by the Canadians, they won't be able to get an account of this
scrimmage through to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest item
of the year--it's international, by George! It may involve England and
the United States in a war, if both sides are not extra mild and
cautious. I can't run the chance of the paper being left in the lurch.
Let me think a minute. Is it my tip to follow the Canadians or the
Fenians? I wonder is which is running the faster? My men are evidently
with the Fenians, if they were on the ground at all. If I go after the
Irish Republic, I shall run the risk of duplicating things; but if I
follow the Canadians, they may put me under arrest. Then we have more
Fenian sympathizers among our readers than Canadians, so the account
from the invasion side of the fence will be the more popular. Yet a
Canadian version would be a good thing, if I were sure the rest of the
boys got in their work, and the chances are that the other papers won't
have any reporters among the Canucks. Heavens! What is a man to do?
I'll toss up for it. Heads, the Fenians."

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