 | XIV.
THE HUNTERS. Neighbor Jackwood |  |
14. XIV.
THE HUNTERS.
Trembling and breathless, Charlotte, following her companions,
reached the shelter just as the descending rain began to rush and
rattle among the trees.
“Stand here,” cried Phœbe, “and look out when it lightens!
How wild and dark the woods are! I 'm about three quarters
scart!”
Mr. Rukely: “Here are plenty of sap-buckets to sit down upon,
if you like. Be careful — the roof slants.”
Phœbe: “I give my head an awful tunk, in there! Then I
walked backwards and set down in that big iron kittle. I guess
my dress will look pretty! Did n't you hear me yell?”
Charlotte: “I 'm afraid of scorpions.”
Bertha: “Who ever heard of such a thing?”
Phœbe: “O-o-o! did you see that flash? There come the
hunters! It 's Hector and Robert, just as I told you. They 've
got a lot of squirrels!”
“O, Bertha!” whispered Charlotte, “tell me what to do! I
cannot meet them! Why did I come in here?”
“Shall I conceal you?”
“O, can you?”
“Get back into the corner. I will sit before you.”
“No, I will not be so weak! It must come, — I will meet it
now!”
The shantee was dark; and Hector and Robert, entering, did
not readily recognize the inmates.
Robert, pulling somebody's bonnet from her face: “This is
Phœbe Jackwood. I knew your scream when we were over
out.”
“You shan't kiss me, Rob Greenwich! If you do —”
“I was n't going to. But I see you 'll be disappointed, now, if
I don't!”
“Hector! Hector! help!”
Hector: “Fight your own battles. Who is here? Bertha and
Charlotte! This is an unlooked-for good fortune.”
Mr. Rukely: “You have met with eminent success gunning, I
see. You should be proud of those trophies.”
Hector threw down his game. “O, to be sure! How glorious
are the faculties of man! What divine recreations enchant us!
Proud? — I am as proud as poor Tray was, when whipped for
keeping bad company.”
Robert: “I am the bad company, I suppose. I led poor Tray
into wickedness. But, once in, he beat me at my own game. He
is two squirrels my superior in cruelty.”
Hector: “I did not think that I should ever again take delight
in shooting these pretty fan-tails. I had learned to love them in
my rambles. They run up the great trunks; they jump from
branch to branch; they chatter; they curve their fine tails; they
sit and nibble nuts on the high limbs. Is there nothing to win
us in all that? Up goes the deadly gun, and this wonderful slender
casket, which holds the divine secret of existence, instinct, happiness,
falls broken at your feet. There it is; look at it! It is
in form the same as ever, but all the ingenuity of murderous man
cannot restore the plundered jewel.”
Robert: “O, brave and eloquent harangue!”
Hector turned over his game: “Two, four, six, — I killed
them all! It is a trifle, perhaps; but such a trifle teaches me
that I am no more proof against temptation, than powder is proof
against fire; that I am made of the very same stuff with thieves,
robbers, and all sorts of ill-doers; and that only circumstance and
provocation have been wanting to develop me into as complete a
villain as the world knows.”
“And what of all this?”
“What of all this? Charity, sir, charity! Give me your
able to do of late. Is there another chief of sinners present? I
will embrace him!”
“I declare, Hector Dunbury!” exclaimed Phœbe, “one would
think you was crazy!”
“You may think so; but Bertha does not, and Charlotte does
not! Excuse me, Robert. I should have introduced you to our
friend.”
And, with affected formality, Hector went through with the
neglected ceremony. Robert bowed with easy politeness. Pale
and cold, but outwardly composed, Charlotte acknowledged the
salutation.
“This is a romantic spot to make an acquaintance,” said he;
“but we might have met under stranger circumstances; so let us
not stand upon etiquette, but be friends at once. Shall I occupy
this bucket by your side?”
Holding her heart with all her might, Charlotte bowed again;
and Robert sat down.
“Do not be alarmed,” said he, in a significant tone. “Hector
insinuates that I am quite a formidable sinner; but we all know
him.”
“No, you don't!” cried Hector. “And you never will, Robert
Greenwich, until we some day quarrel royally, and thenceforward
stand to each other for precisely what we are.”
“Quarrel! you and I? O, Damon and Pythias!” said Robert,
“what do you mean?”
Hector turned to Mr. Rukely. “Explain, if you can, my relation
to that good-natured Beelzebub.”
Robert, gayly: “This is his peculiar style of joking. He is
marvellously funny, if you but understand him. `Beelzebub' is
good!”
“I have no sympathy whatever with his politics, religion, or
morals; our spirits are entirely antagonistic; still he holds me,
or I him, by a power I cannot comprehend.”
Robert laughed immoderately.
“The truth is this: I was with him in days of temptation; I
watched over him with a shepherd's care, and brought him every
tie between us.”
And he turned aside to Charlotte.
“What is he whispering to you?” demanded Hector.
Robert laid his fingers upon Charlotte's arm. “Keep my secret,
and I will keep yours!”
Charlotte, with an effort: “You see, my lips are sealed.”
Hector regarded her with a questioning look, and turned his
head slowly away.
Robert laughed again. “That 's another of his jokes, — in his
best style! What a glance that was; as much as to say, `I have
warned you; look out for him.'”
Phœbe, impatiently: “Come, do say something sensible! I
am sure I can't see any fun in such talk. It don't rain now;
le's go out.”
Mr. Rukely: “The storm has passed around to the north.”
Robert smiled significantly, bending slightly towards Charlotte.
“It has been the way of storms, this season, I am told. They
have a northerly tendency; they are attracted by the higher latitudes.
Don't you think the Green Mountains delightful, Miss
Woods?”
Charlotte's features contracted; she bit her lip, shrinking involuntarily
from her tormentor. His keen eye watched her face, while
his tongue repeated the question.
“I might think so, if it were not for the snakes!” she answered,
in a low tone.
Robert, with an unconscious air: “But our Vermont snakes
are quite harmless, if you treat them well.”
Bertha: “Harmless as log-chains, Phœbe! Come, the sky is
brightening; shall we go? Hector and Robert are expected to
be of our party, and take tea with us.”
Hector: “We have our squirrels and guns to carry.”
Mr. Rukely: “You can send them home in Phœbe's wagon.”
Robert: “That will be capital! Shall I have the pleasure of
your company, Miss Woods?”
Phœbe, elated: “It all happens just right! Le' me carry a
gun!”
Hector: “You 'll be shooting some one. If you have any
regard for human life, Robert, keep your rifle in your hand.”
Robert, carelessly: “I 'll risk her. Here, my young Amazon,
my aspiring Diana! carry your weapon thus. Shoot whom you
please, but do not point the muzzle at me. Hector and Miss Wing
will lead the way.”
Hector consented reluctantly, and went forward with Bertha.
Then followed Mr. Rukely and Phœbe. Robert walked behind,
keeping close to Charlotte's side.
“How little did I expect this happiness! My life! what good
fortune has brought us again together?”
Charlotte trembled; but there was something besides fear in
the restless down-glance of her eye, and the quivering curve of
her lip.
“You were wrong to deceive me as you did,” said Robert. “It
was like a death-blow, when I lost you. For I had been disinterested
and true; I was your best friend; I did not merit such
ingratitude.”
Charlotte turned upon her companion a look of acutest pain.
She opened her lips to speak.
“Not that I blamed you; I did not, in the least,” he hastened
to say. “You had learned, by bitter experience, to distrust all
men. Only I thought you should have known me better. I could
not give you up so; I have spent the summer in search of you;
I have a length and breadth of enduring love, deep in my nature,
which nothing can tire or exhaust. It has centred in you, it
holds you, it will not let you go!”
Hard and fast breathed Charlotte. She pressed her hand upon
her heart. At length, with forced calmness, she spoke.
“It is useless to remind me that I am in your power. I know
it. But I do not care much now, — I am ready to meet any
shame or disaster. I once thought you noble and generous —”
“But you fled from me!”
“And I would have fled again and again; but when I saw you
last night, a dead despair fell on me. Something has held me. I
seem to have been brought here to-day only to meet you!”
“Your better angel overrules your will!”
“Call it what you please,” replied Charlotte, in bitter anguish.
“I am in your power. I expect no mercy at your hands!”
“Be calm; listen to reason. When I swore to be your friend
and protector, I took an oath that I shall keep. All I ask is,
that you will consent to see me again, hear my explanation, and
try to know me better. I dare not talk now. Hector is suspicious.
Promise me that, and you are safe.”
Charlotte was about to reply, when the sharp report of a rifle
rang through the woods, and some person was seen to fall forward
upon the ground.
“It is Mr. Rukely!” cried Robert. “Phœbe has shot him!”
Phœbe stood petrified with consternation. Bertha screamed
faintly, and ran to lift her lover up. Hector and Robert reached
the spot simultaneously. But Mr. Rukely was too quick for
them all.
“That was awfully careless, Phœbe!” he exclaimed, looking
very pale and severe.
“I — hoo — hoo — was only seeing if there was a cap on!”
stammered Phœbe.
“I heard the lock click,” said Mr. Rukely, “and looked to see
what the child was doing, when, providentially, I tripped my foot.
If I had not stumbled just as I did, I should certainly have been
shot through the head. It was a wonderful preservation.”
“How could you, Phœbe!” said Bertha.
“You have wasted a charge of powder for me!” exclaimed
Robert.
Mr. Rukely, magnanimously: “I forgive her!”
Phœbe, weeping: “I only just pulled up that thing a little,
— I thought there was n't any cap on, — and my finger slipped
off —”
Mr. Rukely: “Well, well, there 's no harm done. Be more
careful in future.”
Hector flung a sharp reprimand at Robert, for trusting Phœbe
with the gun.
“Very good!” laughed the latter. “How many of you heard
the bullet?”
Bertha had heard the whistle; so had Hector. On reflection.
Rukely and Phœbe.
“Now, the joke of the thing is,” said Robert, “there was no
bullet in the gun! So much for imagination!”
This avowal failed to give general satisfaction, although he was
ready to swear to it, and went so far as to explain how it happened
that, on the coming up of the shower, he had rammed down
a hard wad, in place of a ball. Phœbe's conscience was comforted
a good deal, and she declared that she was sure, if there had been
a bullet in the gun, she would not have meddled with the lock!
So the party proceeded, Charlotte walking the remainder of the
way with Mr. Rukely, while Robert chatted with Phœbe.
Arrived at the house, a lively excitement prevailed, and there
arose a clamor of indignation against Robert, on the discovery
that Mr. Rukely's hat had two holes in it: one where a bullet
had gone in, and another where it had gone out.
“I told you so!” cried Bertha.
Mr. Rukely, with a grim smile: “I though there was no bullet
in the gun, Mr. Greenwich!”
Phœbe looked blank. But Robert threw himself upon a chair,
and laughed with open throat, declaring that this last was the
best joke of all.
“He has no more heart or conscience than a stone,” said Hector.
“How were you pleased with his conversation,” — to Charlotte,
aside, — “as you came through the woods together?”
Charlotte changed color: “Why do you ask?”
Hector, regarding her darkly: “Man is a deceiver; woman's
heart is soft; and flattery is the snare of souls. Trust not one
of us!”
| XIV.
THE HUNTERS. Neighbor Jackwood | |