The Fatal Cord Part 28

"It may be a joke to try my courage," observed Marston. "In any view of the case," he continued, after a pause, "I am determined to make the venture."

"And I shall accompany you," said John. "The place designated, I suppose, is the Spout on Saint Leonard's Creek?"

"Of course it is," was the answer. "There is no other place in this neighbourhood called the Spout."

"But my going with you," said John, reflectively, "may be the very cause of danger to you, since I have received no card of invitation. By the way, what is that piece of paper on the floor behind you near the door.

Bless my life!" he continued, picking up the paper; "it is addressed to me, and contains, word for word, a card like the one addressed to you."

"You will go now, I suppose, unhesitatingly," said Captain Marston.

"Certainly," was the reply. "But I had better awaken one of the servants, and leave a message for the family."

"There is no use in doing that," said Henry. "I left no message at home. We shall be back, in all probability, by the time they are up.

Have you not a pair of pistols? I remember that we each bought, in Baltimore, a pair precisely alike, during my last visit home. We should go well armed, and in that condition, I think, as we are both good shots, and not at all nervous, that we shall be very nearly, if not quite, a match for the other six."

"My pistols," answered young Coe, "are here on the table, and ready for use. I loaded them immediately on my return from a drum-fishing excursion last night, on account of an adventure which befell me on my way home. This card may have something to do with that adventure."

"Ah! What is that adventure to which you refer!" asked Captain Marston, with much expression of interest.

While young Coe was relating to his friend the incidents of the night, he was also engaged in dressing. During the process of dressing, while young Coe's eyes were turned for a moment or two away from Marston, the latter took up the pistols which had been lying upon the table, and placed them in his pockets, and immediately afterwards put upon the table in their place another pair of pistols which were precisely similar in appearance to the former, and which he had withdrawn from another pair of pockets in his dress.

"What befell you last night," remarked the captain, when John had concluded his narrative, "can have nothing to do with the present affair, because they could not have recognised you under the circ.u.mstances; and, besides, I should not have received a card as well as you, since I had nothing to do with that adventure."

"True," replied John. "Yet I may have been recognised; who knows but that one or more persons of this neighbourhood who knows me are engaged in this smuggling business, and were there disguised? Moreover, the card sent to you also may be intended to put me off my guard."

"If you feel any uneasiness about the matter," said Captain Marston, "you had better, perhaps, not go. I shall go, however, at all risks."

"Oh!" exclaimed John, in an easy tone; "my thinking the affair a plot will not prevent me from trying to discover its meaning. If it be a trap to catch me, that trap is well set; for what is more apt to draw one on to adventure than mystery, especially when that mystery is awaited on by apparent peril? I am determined to solve the riddle, let it be attended by what danger it may be."

"Come, then," said the captain, "are you ready? If so, let us go at once. Time is pressing."

The two men then left the house, and proceeded to the stable, where John soon saddled two horses for the ride. Mounting, they rode slowly, for fear of disturbing the sleep of the household, down a land bordered with old cherry-trees, which led from the dwelling at Millmont to the public road at the distance of a few hundred yards; but on gaining this road their horses were urged to a fast gallop.

The daylight was now shining broad and bright, although there was nearly half an hour to sunrise. The sky was softly blue, and clear of clouds, save a few light and fleecy ones, which sailed slowly along, seemingly far away in the depths of ether. "A dewy freshness filled the air,"

which was cool and bracing, and made sweet by the fragrant breath of gra.s.ses and leaves, and of the humble wild flowers which grew on either side of the road.

The stimulating character of the atmosphere, and the elastic motion of their steeds, stirred the blood of the young men to a more, rapid circulation, and aroused them to a full enjoyment of the adventure in which they were engaged.

"What a strange and inexpressible pleasure there is in danger!" said John. "There seems to me to be no enjoyment in life, unless there be obstacles to overcome, and perils to meet."

"I agree with you," said Captain Marston. "But it requires caution as well as courage to win for us in the battle of life. Has it occurred to you that we have not the pa.s.sword to admit us to the rendezvous?"

"No," replied John. "But what is the use of it? We have received cards of invitation, and we know the place and hour of meeting."

"So we do," said Marston; "yet a want of knowledge of this pa.s.sword may give us inconvenience as well as trouble."

"Probably," suggested Coe, "the letters 'A F E' are the pa.s.sword."

"But," objected Captain Marston, "perhaps they are only the initials of it; and in that case, the question arises, what do they stand for? It is well to be armed against all contingencies."

"True," consented John. "But I am sure I have no idea what they can mean. Let me think for a minute or two."

"Don't you remember," asked Marston, "the English story, which we read together when we were schoolboys, about a mysterious secret society?

Can you recollect the initials of their pa.s.sword?"

"Yes," was the ready reply; "they are 'O F A--A F O,' which, being interpreted, mean 'One for All, All for One.' Let me see! 'A F E.'

All for each. I wonder if that is not the pa.s.sword in this case?"

"Very probable," a.s.sented Marston. "If necessary, let us try it, at all events."

This proposition was agreed to. As the distance between Millmont and the Spout, over a road which traversed, in rapidly succeeding alternations, fields and forests, hills and plains, was fully nine miles, the two young men were obliged to put their horses to a tolerably high speed to reach the place of their destination in time. But little more conversation pa.s.sed between them, therefore, until they arrived at the head of the ravine, down which their road led to the sh.o.r.e of Saint Leonard's Creek.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER FOUR.

AT THE SPOUT.

*Ossario*. Stand, ho! Who are you?

*Antonio*. We are true men, sir.

*Ossario*. True men, give the word--and pa.s.s.

_Old Play_.

*Walter*. Only a pleasant jest, I do a.s.sure you.

_The borry Joke_.

When the two men descended the ravine leading to the sh.o.r.e, the sun was half an hour above the horizon. Before they left the mouth of the ravine, they dismounted, at the suggestion of Captain Marston, and fastened their horses to the drooping branches of a tree which grew by the side of the road. The animals were, in this situation, out of sight of the place of rendezvous. The companions having thus made their horses secure, advanced to the sh.o.r.e.

The novelist, and even the poet, could find no lovelier locality, ready created for the scenes of fancied grief and pleasures, than that contained within lines embracing Saint Leonard's Creek and its immediate adjuncts. Not only is the stream itself--especially in the fair expanse near its junction with the river, which is now supposed to lie glowing and dimpling in the morning sunshines with varying lights and shadows, before the reader's mental eyes--remarkably beautiful; but all around it--every bill and dale, every field and grove, every jutting promontory and retiring cove--partakes of the same character of pre-eminent loveliness.

On the southern side of the expanse mentioned is a broad beach of white sand. From the side of a cliff which towers above this beach flows a fountain of water, very pure, clear, and cold, and equally abundant at all seasons of the year. This fountain is known throughout a large district of surrounding country as the Spout, and is some fifty yards from the spot where the road, leading down the ravine before-mentioned, enters upon the sands.

Just as Captain Marston and John Coe stepped upon the sh.o.r.e, and were turning to the left hand to seek the fountain, a short and stout man, about forty years of age, with long, curling locks of reddish-brown hair, and a face very darkly tanned by sun and breeze, and, probably, by battle, too--to judge by the marks upon his countenance--presented himself before them.

"Stand!" exclaimed this individual, planting himself directly in front of the two young men, and presenting a c.o.c.ked pistol in each hand.

"We'll see about that," said John Coe, sternly, drawing a pistol also.

But Captain Marston placed a hand upon the arm of the angry young man.

"Don't be so fast, John," he said. "Don't you see the twinkle in the fellow's eyes? I am disposed to believe that this is but a jest after all. What do you want?" he continued, addressing the sailor.

"No one can go beyond this spot," answered the stranger, "without giving the pa.s.sword."

"A F E?" said Captain Marston, interrogatively.

"There seems to be something in that," remarked the sailor; "but it will not answer."