I've Been Thinking Part 17

In a very straight-forward way, James told his mother the news which had just been brought to them, and ended his communication by saying: 'Thus you see, mother, at one blow, is swept away all that we, have earned by our labors for these six years past; but that is not the worst of it.'

'You are afraid, my son, that it will take more than you have earned; it will leave you in debt?'

'Yes, mother, it will leave us, I fear, one thousand dollars worse than nothing, and that is not all.'

'That is bad enough, James, but I hope you cannot accuse yourselves of any wrong proceedings--any--'

'Nothing wrong, mother, that we can see; but we shall lose--we shall lose our credit, and that, mother, is worse than death.'--And Jim could stand no more; manly as he was, he covered his face, and gave way to a pa.s.sionate burst of grief.

Mrs. Montjoy spoke not until the violence of it was past, and then, in a very calm and soothing way, gave such counsel as her judgment best dictated.

There is something in the tones of a mother's voice that goes at once to the heart of man. James felt the influence of her sweet words, lulling the violence of the storm within. Calmer views began to break upon him--a juster sense of the responsibility of his present situation. This was his hour of adversity, and he must act the man.

Ned, too, began to feel his heart grow lighter.

'Come, Jim, let us keep up a good heart; things may come round right at last, and if the worst happens, we can go to work again in the old garden.'

'Ah, my son, you will often think of your boyhood's days in that garden: you worked hard, but you were light-hearted and happy, although you sometimes complained of back-aches and blistered hands.'

'Mother, I tell you what,' said Ned, 'heart-aches are worse than back-aches; the one you can sleep off, the other I don't believe we can get rid of in that way.'

'Yes, brother, now that we look back upon them, those were the happiest days, I think, that you and I will ever see; but we did not think so then. Now we cannot go back; we must, therefore, as mother says, meet this trouble like men, and urge our way along the best we may. Mother, I thank you for your dear good words, they have revived my spirit'--and he stooped and kissed her. 'And now, Ned, we have a great deal to do; let us be about it.'

As soon as the brothers were alone, Jim showed that he was himself again, and in a very calm and business-like manner prepared for action.

'The first thing we must do, Ned, will be to see exactly how we stand. While you are attending to customers, I will make an abstract of our books. Then this evening, when the store is closed, we will take an account of our stock; we shall then know better our situation, and what course to pursue. We must put on a cheerful countenance, and keep straight along as usual, for to-day at any rate.'

'I don't know about the cheerful face, Jim, but I will do the best I can.'

CHAPTER XX.

Scarcely had Cross and his companion in guilt retired from their dark conclave to carry out their dreadful purpose, when a young man arose stealthily from off a rude mattress upon which he had been lying, listened a moment, then hastily threw on a coat which had served him for a pillow, and with light steps proceeded towards the door; his further progress was now arrested, for the key had been removed, and the lock was bolted. Somewhat alarmed at this hindrance, he cast his eye anxiously along the front windows, and proceeded to undo the fastenings on the inside, when a thought occurred to him, that if he escaped through that opening, it would be noticed on the return of the owner of the store, which, from what he had overheard, would be in a few moments. He therefore replaced the bolt, and hastily retreated to a building connected with the store and running back from it. Here, too, by some unaccountable purpose, he was again frustrated; the door was fastened and the key withdrawn; and, to his consternation, he heard footsteps and voices. Cross, and the gang of wretches he had awaked from their lair, which was in one of the out-houses connected with his establishment, were about to enter the store--he to give his instructions to them, to inspire them with the h.e.l.lish draught; and they to go hence on their errand of mischief. To remain where he was, and be discovered, his life would not be worth a mention; that he well knew. Above his head was a trap-door, opening into the loft which ran over the store. The covering was removed, he sprang upon a barrel, the nearest article to where he stood; making a desperate effort, his hands grasped the sides of the hole--he heard the key rattling in the lock, exerted himself with an energy the fear of death alone could have inspired, and drew at arms-length the whole weight of his body through the aperture. The door opened, and Cross entered with three of the creatures around whom he had wound the coils of iniquity, until they had become the slaves of his will.

'Now, boys, sit down here. d.i.c.k, there's the measure--draw away, and help yourselves.'

Nothing was said in reply; the running liquor alone sounded through the still room, and then the smack of the lips as each in turn gulped down the liquid fire.

'I wouldn't have called you, boys, to-night, but I have a job on hand that must be done now or never.'

'We're ready,' said two of the persons addressed, who were now seated on a bench near the counter.

'You are all ready, I hope,' said Cross, who stood up before them, and eyed the individual who was the youngest of the three, and had not united in the a.s.sent. 'No skulking now, Jo.'

'No, no, I'm ready for any thing--that is, I s'pose you don't want no b.l.o.o.d.y work?'

'You are always afraid of blood, Jo. I've never set you at any such work, have I?'

'No, not exactly--but we have come pretty near it sometimes, you know.'

'"Pretty near it"--never hurt any body.'

'Well, let's have the story,' said the eldest of the gang; 'if there is any thing to do to-night, it's time to be about it.'

'You are the fellow, d.i.c.k;'--and Cross laid his hand familiarly on the ruffian, and gave him one or two hearty slaps on the back, in manifestation of his warm approval, and as a stimulant to the performance of his reasonable request.

The demand of Mr. Cross upon their services was made in a low tone, and listened to by them with the deepest attention, each head drooping, and with eyes in a gazing att.i.tude fixed upon the floor.

His directions were given with great clearness; the horses they were to ride, the part of the premises they were to fire, which of them was to enter the house and seize the trunk, and who the individual that should bear it with, the utmost speed to the dark rendezvous, where he, Cross, would be in waiting to receive it.

'And if it goes well, you shall be made men--you hear that?'

'Yes.' But they had heard the same before, and were yet the drudges of his will. His power over them they knew--his frown they feared; and his command must be obeyed.

Every word that pa.s.sed came up with painful distinctness to the ears of the young man who lay above them, almost breathless in his dread lest some sound, even the beat of his heart against the planks, should be heard, and his presence discovered. He knew well the desperate character of the men, and that he must move with wary steps.

Every thing is at length arranged, and he hears them again fortifying their spirits by a deep draught. The door is opened, and one by one they steal out, but apparently with little zest for the work before them. Cross waited a moment on the threshold, until they disappeared amid the dark pines, and then, muttering curses on the men who were about to blacken their souls with a heinous crime for his sake, he stepped back into the store, poured out some gin from his bottle, took a long drink, threw himself into one of the chairs, and, leaning back against the counter, amused himself with swinging his heel against one of the rungs.

Bill Brown--for it was he who had been the providential listener to this vile scheme, had learned more in one short lesson than through his whole life before. Light, as though from heaven, flashed upon him; the dreadful character of his employer was revealed in all its blackness. Fear, likewise, had taken hold upon him; a groan, a movement, even too loud a breath, might place him in an instant on the verge of eternity.

And then, too, the dreadful fate which hung over that family. Bill had been a recreant to the path of duty; his mother's counsels he had set light by, and too often had he ridiculed the interest which she felt in those friends of her early days, and had done his best to persuade Hettie against making her home there: but now he would give half his life for the power of flying to them. How he longed to grapple with the hateful wretch, and then spread the alarm ere their mansion was wrapped in flames, and perhaps some of the family victims to their fury. But he knew that Cross was armed, and a powerful man.

The tramp of horses is heard; his heart sinks within him; furiously they pa.s.s the place, and far, far away, the sounds come back fainter and fainter upon the stillness of the night.

How long he thus remained he could not tell, for minutes are hours when the heart is in such an exciting suspense. At length he hears the snap of a watch-case. Cross rises from his seat, opens the door, fastens it from without, and is off. Bill waited not to hear his retiring footsteps; he springs to the floor, hastens to a window, of which he had not thought in his first attempt; it opened on one side of the building, and was seldom used. The sash creaked as he forced it through the mouldy cas.e.m.e.nt, and, quickly letting himself down, carefully closed the shutters, and then looking round as though the avenger of blood might be watching for him, crossed the road, and entered a thick covert of pines. He turned and looked at the long dark building where he had wasted so much of his past life-- 'If I once get beyond your reach, good-by to you for ever.'

Distracting were the thoughts which rioted within the mind of this youth. He was sure that the villains were full an hour in advance of him, and the work of destruction no doubt begun ere this. To pursue them, would be fruitless as preventing the catastrophe; to go in the opposite direction and seek his mother's home, would be to fill her soul with unavailable terrors. No house was near, but the one from which he had just escaped--no human being within some miles, to whom he should dare communicate what he knew. It was full nine miles to Mr. Rutherford's. His utmost haste would only enable him, in all probability, to witness the smouldering ruins of their mansion, and, oh, dreadful thought! the ashes of his own sister perhaps. He could think no further; the spirit of vengeance stirred strong within--he groped about for something that might serve him for a weapon, and laid hold of a strong chesnut club; brandishing it in his hand and testing its strength by a blow upon the ground-- 'If I can do nothing more, I will make one of them feel the weight of an avenging arm.'

He is resolved to urge on his way towards the scene of mischief. He remembers, too, that in the instructions which Cross had given, one of them on the fleetest horse, was to seize the trunk and hasten off. He might meet him alone, and possibly rescue the prize, if nothing more.

Never had the road seemed so interminable, and his utmost speed was to his burning spirit but a snail's pace. Still he presses on--a long hill is before him; when he reaches its summit he will be near the edge of the barrens. He heeds not the ascent--his whole frame is nerved with an energy he never has felt before--it is his first essay in the path of duty. As he reaches the top a faint streak of light seems to tinge the distant cloud--his heart beats with deep emotion--an instant more, and a flush of light suffuses the whole heavens. He could scream in the intensity of his feelings. He thinks he hears a sound--he pauses to listen--it is--it is--the fiendish plot is accomplished, and the villains are returning with the spoil. The tramp of one horse, however, can only be heard as yet; the rider doubtless bears the fatal treasure. The resolution of a whole life fires his breast and nerves him with a fixed determination to grapple with the wretch--the horseman is galloping up the hill--his jaded beast lags as he nears the top. Bill crouches behind some bushes near the travelled path--his eye is on the horseman--it has caught sight of the burden borne in front of him. With a single bound he grasps the rein at the horse's head, and levelling a desperate blow, brings rider and trunk to the ground. The horse, affrighted, tears down the road, and makes directly for his home. Bill stoops to secure the trunk, not knowing or caring whether his victim is dead or not, when his antagonist, who is only stunned by the blow, springs upon him! They know each other well, and have often tried each other's strength in sport; they are nearly matched--both young, and possessed of great muscular power. Bill is now nerved with the energy of right, and the other with the strength of despair, maddened, too, with a desire for revenge. The violence with which they grapple brings both to the earth--it is a death-struggle--each endeavoring to get his opponent under, and each by turns gaining the advantage, until at length Bill lies apparently at the mercy of his adversary, whose hand is fast clenched to his throat, while he exerts his utmost strength to strangle him. Bill feels that his hour has come, for the death-grip which binds his throat is palsying his strength. One arm, however, is free--he clutches in his despair for something that might serve him for a weapon--his club lay within his grasp--hope springs to his heart--he brings down the weapon with a desperate effort, and it fell on the head of his opponent. Bill felt the tight clench relax, and putting forth his last powers, renews the blow. It has done the work. With scarce strength enough to throw off the body of the now helpless man, he attempts to rise, but in his effort to do this, the blood gushed in a torrent from his lungs. He believes that he has killed the wretched being beside him, and that he himself is parting with life. His reason is bright as ever--he takes up the trunk, and creeping as he best can, leaves the road, hoping to reach a hut which he knows is near by, deliver his charge, and then die, if so it must be. But his strength is less than he supposes--he can drag his trembling body but a short distance. Gradually his powers depart--a strange and dreamy sleep comes over him, and soon all earthly sounds and sense of earthly care are gone; and there he lies, still clenching the object for which he struggled so desperately.

Scarcely had this scene transpired when the companions of the wretched being who lay stretched upon the highway came hurrying along; their horse started from the track. Casting their eyes at the object that had caused it, they both sprang to the earth, examined a moment to ascertain who and what it was, and then looking at each other, simultaneously uttered a horrid oath. But there was no time to loiter; the body must not be there to tell a tale.

'He's dead, d.i.c.k; so let's throw him across the horse and be off.'

'He's dead enough, Jo; but where is the trunk? we can't go without that. We had better not meet the old man, if that is gone.'

Uttering all kinds of imprecations on their own souls for having had anything to do with the business, and wishing old Cross all manner of evil, as they groped about in vain for the prolific cause of all this mischief, in utter desperation they caught hold of the body: a groan caused them to drop it instantly-- 'Ned, are you alive? Can you tell us where the trunk is?' There was no reply; but the body was warm, and of course life was in it. How to proceed they knew not; and their guilty consciences urged them to do something with speed. In their dilemma, they sent forth again on the still night-air curses too profane for human ears; the light, too, of that foul deed they had committed was growing brighter and brighter; far over the murky sky it spread, and its blood-red glare came down upon them, exposing to their strained eyes the first tokens of the avenger's rod.

At length, in their desperation, they determined to place the wounded and dying man astride the horse, between them. It was no easy matter to accomplish this, and more than one groan escaped the sufferer; but the strait they were in was urgent; they could not be deterred by trifles.

Not far from the dwelling of Mr. Cross, about half a mile in a direct line, a great change was visible in the size of the timber and the aspect of the woods: the fine tall trees, with no undergrowth, and scarcely a bush to obstruct the pa.s.sage through them in any direction, were suddenly exchanged for a thick and tangled ma.s.s of scrub pines, intermixed with alder and black birch. The road leading through it, or rather into it, showed clearly its unfrequented condition; the whole tract being left, after the first fine growth of timber had been taken off, to bring forth what it best could, none then living expecting to reap much benefit from it. The soil was sandy, with scarcely any stones to be seen, except occasionally a small boulder, which, as it lay disconnected with any of its species, impressed the mind with the idea that it was out of its place, and was there by accident.

One spot, however, on this lone region, presented a singular contrast to all the rest; a few rods from the only road which pa.s.sed into it, was an open, clear place, almost a perfect circle in its form, and about a hundred feet in diameter, upon which was neither shrub nor tree; the whole area being a flat granite rock, without seam or crack; it was not, indeed, a perfect level, but the protuberances upon its surface were scarcely noticeable, except as you walked across it.

To this spot had Cross directed his emissaries, after they should have accomplished his purpose. It was lonely and desolate, and well chosen for such a rendezvous.

What were his feelings, as he paced up and down that rock, lighted by the lurid glare reflected from the cloud above him, it would not be very profitable for us to know; nor shall I attempt to uncover the hideous secrets of such a heart. But there he walked and watched for two long hours--long indeed they seemed to him--and as he paused ever and anon to listen for approaching steps, would curse their tardiness, and then resume his lone, heavy tramp.

At length he heard the sound of voices, and the slow tread of a single horse. In his haste to antic.i.p.ate the accomplishment of his vile wish, he left the rock and hurried to the road; one of them had dismounted, and was about to pa.s.s from the road to the trysting-place, the other maintained his place upon the horse, holding the helpless body of his companion.

Their tale was soon told, for there was not much to say; mystery lay upon every thing concerning the wounded man, or the trunk which had been committed to him.

Cross listened awhile to their story, his rage gathering fire, until, bursting through all bounds, it broke forth like a volcano. He caught the one who was standing near him, by the throat, and drawing a pistol from his breast-- 'You lie, you villain! you know you lie! Tell me this moment where you have put that trunk, or I will blow your perjured soul from your body--tell me, quick.'

Overcome with fatigue from the great exertion of the night, and with a consciousness of the atrocity of their crime, the young man exclaimed, in broken accents, weeping as he spoke, 'You may blow my soul out, if you please, Mr. Cross; but as there is a G.o.d above, I cannot tell you where it is.'

Throwing the young man away from him with a force that brought him to the earth, he dashed the pistol down with maniac rage, tore his hair, foamed at the mouth, and fairly howled in the violence of his anger. For a while the witnesses looked on in apparent apathy, seeming to care but little how much he vented his spite upon himself. At length the one who still retained his seat upon the horse, very coolly asked, 'What shall we do with Ned? If he was dead we might bury him; but seeing there is life in him, it wouldn't be quite so well, may be; he may yet come to, so as to tell who hurt him, and may be some other things had better be seen to, for the night is wearing away, and--'

Cross, enraged as he was, felt that there was reason in this, and, moreover, that it was of the greatest consequence to him that the wounded man should be taken care of, and placed beyond the reach of meddlers.

'You are right. Take him down to the back part of the east swamp--you know who lives there. Tell Meg I sent him; that no one must know he is there; she must do what she can to bring life in him, and as soon as he can speak, to let me know.'

He stooped and picked up his pistol, unc.o.c.ked the trigger, replaced it in his bosom, and walked on his way, muttering curses, and pondering on the best manner to avert the danger of discovery which these untoward events threatened.

CHAPTER XXI.

The trial which had fallen upon the family of Mr. Rutherford was one so new and unexpected, that, with the exception of himself and wife, but little effect was made upon the members of it.

A vague report, indeed, ran through the house, of some trouble that had befallen its master, but what was the nature of it they could not well define. To Hettie alone had Mrs. Rutherford confided the secret; for she felt that her strong attachment, her faithful disposition, and her discreet behaviour, ent.i.tled her to confidence. She received the information with a heart bleeding in sympathy, but manifested so much good sense, had so many encouraging things to say, and put on such a calm, peaceful look, that Mrs. Rutherford felt that she had indeed a prop to lean upon in this faithful girl. All that day Hettie went about with an energy beyond what was usual, taking from Mrs. Rutherford all her cares and duties immediately domestic, and exerting every effort to put as bright a face upon the family as if nothing had happened. The servants in the kitchen had whisperings among themselves, but further than that, there was no sign that any change had taken place. They little knew the cause of bitter anguish that wrung the master's heart; every thing to them appeared as heretofore: their beautiful mansion, the pleasant grounds about it, the n.o.ble trees, and all the comforts that spread such a satisfying charm over the whole, to them looked as sure as ever; to him they were but shadows of the past--things that had been, but are not--by one fell stroke swept, all swept away.

After the distracting scenes of the morning, Mr. Rutherford prepared to make a journey of some miles, in order to attend to business connected with the peculiar situation of his affairs, and more especially to consult a legal friend, and get such advice as his case demanded.

Not expecting to return until the following day, he bade adieu to his dear family with a sad heart; and as he mounted his favorite horse, and rode away from his much-loved home--now his no more--he felt that he was under the chastening rod--the hand of G.o.d was upon him.

It is said that birds of prey can scent their victims from afar, and spy the hidden carca.s.s, however secret the spot where it may fall.

It must have been by some such instinctive power that our old acquaintance, Mr. Richard Tucker, was affected, on the day that witnessed the catastrophe of Mr. Rutherford's concerns. His place of residence was some miles off, and no tidings had he received of any such event; and yet his yellow gig was that day put in requisition, and northward he must go.

'I shall be home by night, may be.'

This was all that he deigned to say, as he left his home, and the old gig squeaked and rattled as his raw-bone mare started off at a round trot; perhaps she scented her master's game.

About a mile from the Rutherford estate there was a small collection of buildings; it bore the t.i.tle of village however, and comprised a church, a blacksmith's shop, and a tavern, as also a few small and plain tenements. The tavern, of course, was the rendezvous through the week, and the place where all the news and scandal could be enjoyed. It was soon known around that trouble had fallen on the great man of that region, and a larger number than usual was congregated there just after dinner. But, to their credit be it said, a feeling of deep regret was very manifest: not a tongue was loosened against the sufferer, nor was there one among them disposed to take any measures for his own security, although to most of them he was indebted for services of different kinds.

'George Rutherford,' said an aged, portly man, who seemed to be the oracle of the place, and who had taken the large arm-chair on the wide front piazza of the tavern, 'I have known from a boy; and if there ever was an honest man and a gentleman, he is one. Things have been going hard with him for some time, that we all know; he has had cunning chaps to deal with, and may be they have ruined him; but sooner than take the law of him, I will lose all he owes me, at any rate.'

'So would I;' and 'So would I,' resounded on all sides.

'But here comes d.i.c.k,' said the first speaker. 'I wonder what he is after?--hunting for a job, I guess.'

And the old yellow gig drove up, and Mr. Tucker, with all the elasticity of a young man, sprang from his seat, and alighted on the lower step.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen;' and Mr. Tucker bowed very stiffly, which perhaps he was obliged to do, for his coat was b.u.t.toned up close to the neck--a habit he maintained at all seasons.

'Good day, Mr. Tucker; you seem to be in a hurry, neighbor; the old mare is quite out of breath.'

'Oh no; not at all,' turning at the same time, and eyeing his beast; 'she always breathes so. You may put her under the shed, Jo,' addressing a good-natured looking black, who stood waiting orders at the head of the beast.

'Yes, ma.s.sa. Any oats, ma.s.sa?'

'No--well--I don't care--yes. You may give her a mess--two quarts, Jo. Wet them, you hear?'

Jo took the mare by the head, turned his face away from the company, opened his broad mouth, and went grinning along to the shed.

'My golly! two quarts--ha, ha, ha! a half bushel no fill her belly--ha, ha, ha!'

Mr. Richard has not altered much since we last saw him, either in appearance or disposition. Why he had come along that afternoon, no one knew; nor did he seem to be making preparation as though he had a job on hand. He heard the news of Mr. Rutherford's disaster with apparent indifference. I say apparent, for there is no doubt he felt much and deeply; he talked with one and another, making very few remarks, but asking a great many questions, and occasionally shrugging his shoulders, and knitting his dark eyebrows--it was a way he had. What effect his pantomime had upon those with whom he conversed was not very manifest, for they finally dropped off, one by one, leaving no orders behind them.

It is an old saying, 'If one won't, another will.' Mr. Richard, no doubt, had heard the saying, and must have had considerable faith in it; for there was not an individual, either high or low, that escaped his attentions.

The Irish are proverbially susceptible. Whether Mr. Richard knew this as a historical fact, I will not pretend to say, nor whether it led him to make a more direct and positive attack on poor Pat than he had done upon others that day; the result, however, was, that Jerry Malony, a rather good-natured fellow, to whom Mr. Rutherford was indebted for a summer's ditching, and whose pay was as sure as though already in his own hands, was suddenly seized with great terrors, in view of the certain loss of all his hard earnings, and with a distressing anxiety to become possessed, as a means of securing himself, of a pair of fine black horses, then in the possession of said Rutherford.

We will not enter into all the particulars; suffice it to say, that Mr. Tucker and Mr. Malony adjourned from the east corner of the piazza to a private room inside the building, and thence to a justice of the peace, and thence back again to the bar-room; and, finally, the two worthy gentlemen were wishing each other very good health, and confirming their wishes by potent draughts of genuine Monongahela. There were many little arrangements to be made, which occupied them until the shades of evening had settled very decidedly upon the land.

Old Caesar, the coachman--with whom we once became acquainted on the little journey Mr. Rutherford and his lady took through the barrens some years since--was still alive, and, to all appearance, active as ever. The old black coach-horses, too, had lost none of their strength or fire, for they were never overburdened, and being under the exclusive charge of Caesar, were daily tended with as much care as though they had been pet horses of a prince; their dark hides shone as brightly as Caesar's countenance did after a good supper, and all their appurtenances were kept in the most perfect order. To say that Caesar was fond of these creatures, whom he had tended and driven so long, would not express all his emotions towards them; they were, next to his master and mistress, and their children, the objects that engrossed his feelings--and Caesar had very strong feelings, too--his life he would have risked, or even sacrificed, to have preserved any of them from harm. He had no wife or children of his own, nothing to love except his master's family; and no wonder then, if for these beasts, who obeyed every expression of his will, and pawed, and neighed, and pranced, and did all but talk to him when they heard his step approaching, he had peculiar feelings. Moreover, Caesar was very proud of them: for they were acknowledged, far and near, to be a n.o.ble pair; and, to crown all, they were looked upon as his own. Mr. Rutherford never claimed any further right to them than the privilege of a drive occasionally.

Caesar knew very little about his master's troubles; he had, indeed, heard some whispering in the kitchen among the women; but he paid no further heed to it than to bestow a back-handed blessing on their tongues.

'Dey are always a-goin' jabbering about sumpin' or anoder. Ma.s.sa George know he own business well enough, neber fear.'

As Caesar's princ.i.p.al employment of late years was to attend to the horses, he had persuaded his master to fit up for him a room in the building where they were kept, so that, in case any accident should occur to them in the night, he could be on hand. A door opened from this room immediately into the stable; and as the whole premises were kept with the greatest care, there might be found much less eligible sleeping apartments in places that made greater pretensions. Caesar, however, did not sleep there entirely alone. Besides his pets, the horses, he had a dog of the real mastiff breed, that had been trained with much care, and was as completely under the will of Caesar as the other quadrupeds; he was a large, powerful creature, and unless under the complete control of a master, would have been dangerous; but at Caesar's word, he would be pa.s.sive as a lamb, and at his bidding would lay the stoutest man upon his back, and hold him there without doing further violence, unless there was an attempt at resistance.

Mr. Richard and his client Jerry had been sitting on the piazza of the tavern, watching for the return of Mr. Rutherford, who must pa.s.s that way to his house; hour after hour slipped by, and they looked in vain.

'It's striking nine, your honour; shall we wait any longer?'

'It is my opinion, my good fellow, that we might as well be on our way. As a matter of form, perhaps, it might be well enough just to make the demand; but as there is no probability, if it is all true that I hear, not the least probability that he can pay it, or will ever pay it, your only chance, my friend, is, as I say'--slapping his hand on Jerry's knee--'clap on to something tangible; and as you say the horses are valuable, they will be about as handy as anything I can think of. They have legs, you know; we can carry them off, or more probably, we can make them carry us off--ha, ha, ha!'

All this was said with his face turned towards Malony, and speaking close to his ear, while his auditor, being rather short and a little worse for liquor, sat very erect, and looked as consequential as any newly made Justice trying his first cause.

'And as we are to walk, I think we may as well be jogging.'