22. CHAPTER XXII.
THE HERO OF THE THOUSAND ISLES.
Having moored his boat, he proceeded towards the centre of
the island, and approached a gnarled and knotted tree, which was
partially decayed about the base, and had many holes capable of
serving as receptacles of small packages.
“This is my post-office,” said Johnson, thrusting his arm deep
into one of the openings, and drawing out a small box, “and
here I shall find information as to the whereabouts of those I seek.
My domains are so extensive, and it so often becomes necessary
for my followers, as you call them, to change their residence during
my absence, that something of this kind becomes necessary to
enable me to find them.”
He took from the box a paper, which apparently contained a
very brief memorandum, and he immediately exclaimed,
“Is it possible? Why, they are close at hand. I wonder
they have not already seen us. They have been in danger too.”
Vrail asked him if he were not imprudent in exposing his private
resorts to strangers who might betray him, to which he
replied:
“No, I do not fear you, or if I should, these things are easily
changed; besides, my letters tell no secrets to strangers. See
what you can make of this?”
Vrail took it and gazed at it a few moments with a puzzled air,
but could make nothing of it. There was not a single line of
writing, but simply a few rude hieroglyphics, representing a deer
pursued by hunters, and a tree of unusual shape; the first symbol
of course denoting the danger which Johnson had understood it
to imply, and the last intimating the present place of refuge of
his friends.
“We must cross over to Rainbow Island,” said the outlaw,
pointing to a locality where the forest foliage, presenting even
more than the usual diversified hues of autumn, looked as if
a rainbow had become tangled in the tree-tops, and had broken
up into a million glittering fragments.
The voyagers returned to their boat, and in a very few minutes
its prow touched the desired coast, at a point where a profusion
of bushes, growing close to the edge of the water, admitted of a
perfect place of concealment for the vessel without drawing it
upon shore. Leaping ashore the commodore hastily secured his
skiff, and rapidly led the way into the interior, followed by his
companions.
Rainbow Island was of considerable dimensions, being nearly
half a mile in length, and having a width varying from eighty to
a hundred rods, and it was more densely studded with woods than
any of the surrounding members of the group. This circumstance,
together with one which will presently appear, had made
it a frequent and favorite resort of the outlaw, to whom it
afforded both shelter and the means of subsistence, game being
abundant within its borders.
As they advanced, a rugged hill of considerable height rose
before them, at the base of which, on their right, gaped a deep
ravine, black with the shadows of the interwoven boughs which
hung above it, almost impervious to the light of day.
They clambered over this hill, and descending a more gradual
slope towards the opposite side of the island, soon found themselves
at a distance of about thirty rods from the shore, and in the
midst of trees, shrubbery, and underbrush, more dense and
tangled, if possible, than those which they had left on the other
side of the eminence. From their present position the ravine,
which crossed the island and divided the hill into two sections,
was more accessible, and seemed a shade less forbidding in its
gloominess, and yet it was sufficiently repulsive to cause Vrail
and Jones to pause upon its edge, and hesitate about following
their leader into its Avernus-like shades.
“Come on!” exclaimed the outlaw. “What do you fear?”
Ashamed of his irresolution, Tom began to descend, followed
by Barak, who clung with desperation to the marginal bushes,
and made a dismal groaning over his task. To the gratification
of his followers, however, Johnson paused upon a ledge about a
third of the way down the declivity, and announced the close
proximity of one of his homes. A vocal signal, somewhat resembling
the call of a squirrel, drew almost instantly forth, seemingly
out of the very side of the hill, but in fact from a cavern, the
mouth of which was concealed by bushes, an agile boy of about
fourteen years, who with every demonstration of delight and surprise,
rushed into the arms of the outlaw. Following the lad
more timidly, for her eyes had caught sight of the strangers, was
a young woman of decidedly handsome and graceful exterior,
whose relationship to the hardy warrior a glance was sufficient to
determine.
She was dressed with a neatness which seemed incompatible
with the place of her abode; but where will not the ingenuity of
the gentler sex find means for the gratification of refined tastes?
Johnson hastened to meet her, and having kissed her tenderly, he
introduced her to his companions as his daughter.
“These are the followers of whom I spoke,” he said, smiling.
“Do you think Canada has much to fear from them?”
There was a responsive flashing in the eye of the lad, which
seemed to intimate that the time might come when his name
would not be altogether insignificant in the ranks of England's foes.
The maiden fastened an inquiring look upon her father, anxious
to hear some tidings of the war, and uncertain whether to look
upon him as a fugitive or as a conqueror—yet afraid to ask in
the presence of people of whom she knew nothing.
Equally solicitous in turn to know the particulars of the peril
which had threatened his children, and which might, for all he
knew, still impend over them and him, Johnson led the way into
his cave with a view to a mutual explanation. The bushes which
served as a concealment to the entrance were partly of natural
growth, and partly transplanted, and were so thickly set as to
make the passage difficult to one unaccustomed to the path. The
mouth of the cave was small, requiring to be entered in a stooping
posture, but its interior was of a size more than sufficient for
all the purposes of its occupants.
Expecting to find a squalid den, vying with the lowest cabins
of savage life, the visitors were surprised, on entering, to discover
something decidedly like a furnished room, wearing a general air
of neatness and comfort. Its active and industrious proprietor
had supplied himself, from time to time, in the obscure American
towns, where he was unknown, with all the necessary articles of
furniture for more than one subterranean abode, and such of his
chattels as were easily portable, were removed at times from one
of his country seats to another, as convenience invited, or danger
drove to the exchange.
His grotto, as his daughter fancifully called it, on Rainbow
Island, was his favorite resort, and on this he had bestowed the
greatest degree of attention and care. Its uneven flooring was
covered with a coarse carpet; a table and chairs stood in the
centre of the apartment, and near the entrance a fire burned in a
small stove, the pipe of which found the outer air through an
artificial opening above the doorway. Two bedsteads, apparently
well furnished, occupied opposite corners of the cavern, and near
the smallest of them a little mirror was fastened against the wall,
surrounded with other toilet appendages.
The obscurity of the apartment was relieved only by the light
of a single candle, and by the few rays which found entrance at
the doorway, yet the eyes of the visitors became sufficiently
accustomed, after a while, to this state of semi-darkness, to admit
of a partially distinct view of all the objects in the subterranean
chamber.
There were, indeed, remote corners which presented no definite
outline, and which, fading away in the distance, became painfully
suggestive of unexplored recesses, reaching back far into the
bowels of the earth, and tenanted, perhaps, by some wild animal,
whose glaring eyes might at any moment announce its presence
and its approach.
