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diff --git a/old/69613-h/69613-h.htm b/old/69613-h/69613-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e4187aa..0000000 --- a/old/69613-h/69613-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13444 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Storm by Henry James Halliwell Sutcliffe</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/> - <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; } - .it { font-style:italic; } - .bold { font-weight:bold; } - p { text-indent:0; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em; - text-align: justify; } - div.lgc { } - div.lgl { } - div.lgc p { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgl p { text-indent: -17px; margin-left:17px; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp { } - - div.lgp p { - text-align:left; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; - } - - .poetry-container { - display:block; text-align:left; margin-left:2em; - } - - .stanza-inner { - display:inline-block; - } - - .stanza-outer { - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - .stanza-inner .line0 { - display:inline-block; - } - .stanza-outer .line0 { - display:block; - } - - h1 { - text-align:center; - font-weight:normal; - page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.2em; margin:2em auto 1em auto - } - - h3 { - text-align:center; - font-weight:normal; - font-size:1.0em; - margin:1em auto 0.5em auto; - page-break-after:avoid; - } - - hr.pbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em } - .figcenter { - text-align:center; - margin:1em auto; - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - .nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - p.line { text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; } - table { page-break-inside: avoid; } - table.center { margin:0.5em auto; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.flushleft { margin:0.5em 0em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.left { margin:0.5em 1.2em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - .tab1c1 { } - .tab1c2 { } - .tab1c1-col2 { border-right: 0px solid black; } - .tdStyle0 { - padding: 2px 5px; text-align:center; vertical-align:top; - } - .tdStyle1 { - padding: 2px 5px; text-align:right; vertical-align:top; - } - .tdStyle2 { - padding: 2px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top;padding-left:29px; text-indent:-24px; - } - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - .poetry-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } - .pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} - .literal-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } - div.lgc { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } - hr.tbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid white; - width:30%; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35%; - margin-top: 1.0em; margin-bottom: 1.0em; } - p { margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em; } - .index1 .line0, .index2 .line0 { - text-align: left; - text-indent:-2em; - margin:0 auto 0 2em; - } - </style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Storm, by Halliwell Sutcliffe</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Storm</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Halliwell Sutcliffe</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69613]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines, John Routh & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORM ***</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style='margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:3em;'> <!-- rend=';sb:3;sa:3;' --> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:3em;'>STORM</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>BY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>AUTHOR OF</p> -<p class='line0'>“SHAMELESS WAYNE,” “RICROFT OF WITHENS,”</p> -<p class='line0'>“WRACK OF DOOM,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='margin-top:7em;margin-bottom:1em;'> </p> -<p class='line0'>FOURTH EDITION</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>London</p> -<p class='line0'>John Long, Ltd.</p> -<p class='line0'>12, 13 & 14 Norris Street, Haymarket</p> -<p class='line0'>[<span class='it'>All rights reserved</span>]</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style='margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:3em;'> <!-- rend=';sb:3;sa:3;' --> -<p class='line0'>Made and</p> -<p class='line0'>Printed in</p> -<p class='line0'>Great Britain</p> -<p class='line0'>Copyright, 1925, by</p> -<p class='line0'>John Long, Limited</p> -<p class='line0'>All Rights Reserved</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 29em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'><span style='font-size:x-large'>CONTENTS</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>I.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap01'>THE THREE GAUNT MEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>II.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap02'>CAUSLEEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>III.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap03'>THE END OF A JOURNEY</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>IV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap04'>THE MORROW</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>V.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap05'>HEMLOCK</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>VI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap06'>THE EWE-GATHERING</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>VII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap07'>THE BATTLE OF THE FLEECE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>VIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap08'>THE GABBLE-RATCHET</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>IX.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap09'>THE NIGHT WATCH</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>X.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap10'>THE WEAVER OF BASKETS</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap11'>VENOM</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap12'>THE SHEEP-SLAYER</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap13'>WILL O’ WISP</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XIV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap14'>NITA</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap15'>THE HINDERED VENTURE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XVI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap16'>A ROPE-END AND A TREE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XVII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap17'>FLAME</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XVIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap18'>THE RESTLESS DAWN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XIX.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap19'>GARSYKES</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XX.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap20'>SPITE’S VICTORY</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap21'>THE POOL</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap22'>THE END OF STORM</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap23'>THE QUIET WEDDING</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXIV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap24'>A GAOL DELIVERY</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap25'>THE PLAGUE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>XXVI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap26'>“LOGIE’S DOUBLY SAFE”</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:2em;font-size:2.5em;'>Storm</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak' id='chap01'>CHAPTER I</h1></div> - -<h3>THE THREE GAUNT MEN</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, Master of Logie, came swinging -up the last of the stiff miles that climbed from -Norbrigg market-town to the high uplands. -October’s mists had lain heavy on the lowlands, but -here on the tops he strode into sunlight and clean, -nipping air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grim and lean, toughened by many sorts of weather, -Hardcastle paused to get breath again, and looked out -across the lonely acres that stretched to the four -quarters of a blue and amber sky. Ahead of him, -bordering the roadway, he saw the straggling clumps -of houses known as Weathersett. A brave, storm-battered -village, keeping watch above the mines that -once fed its people, it wore a comrade’s look to Hardcastle. -So did the barren pastures, roaming out and -over between their grey stone fences to the gateways -that gaped across the hill-tops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His thoughts were busy with all that lay hidden in -these broken lands—unfenced mines, their waters -brimming deep—caves, wandered through in boyhood, -that had set their spell of mystery and dread on all his -after life. It was a haunted land, as all folk knew, -and in its old mine-workings lurked trolls and ancient -goblins.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His glance roamed down to another village—not -reared high like Weathersett, but skulking in a lowland -hollow on the far side of the benty waste. He forgot -trolls and all their phantom kindred. They were -unsubstantial, but the people who lived there in -Garsykes village were flesh and blood and a standing -menace to the country-side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A strange look stole across Hardcastle’s face. -Contempt, antagonism, the shadow of some restless -fear, followed each other as he stood watching Garsykes; -for distrust of its folk had been in his mother’s -milk, and in the tales passed down for generations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had many by-names, like all tribes greatly -feared. Men of the Wilderness, some called them; -others the Broken People, or the Lost Company. -Names of that sort were no more than wind in the -reeds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stark truth remained that Garsykes village was -the abiding-place of every rogue about the fells. Sheep -stealers had foregathered there since time out of mind—men -who had done murder on the high fells—lesser -rogues who had snatched purses at village fairs, and -come breathless from pursuit. Such pursuit ended -always on the verge of Garsykes, for none but vagabonds -dared enter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle remembered his father’s downright -struggle against the tribute these Lost Folk levied on the -country-side. They were a small village then, but had -grown big on what they fed on, till nowadays even -strapping farmers paid toll for a safe home-coming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle swung down the road till a turning of the -way showed him suddenly the whole, wide front of the -highlands that stepped out to his own Logie country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pengables caught the mellow sunlight, and his rocks -were softened till they showed like some misty castle -seen in dreams. The brackens were on fire, and slender -rowans crimsoned up to the wise, stalwart pines that -fringed the moor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was a man’s land, wide, free-striding, its -shoulders pushing up to freedom and the sky. It had -fathered and mothered his orphaned life. He knew -its every dell and furrow, and from the heart of it -a crisp, sweet breeze ran out in greeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went down the lone track—past Drumly Ghyll, -where Riding Nevison had leaped his horse from -cliff to cliff in half-forgotten days—and came to the -bend that showed Langerton below him, a hamlet -clustered round its water-mill. He could almost hear -the mill-wheel droning—a goblin that toiled underground, -to his awed boyish fancy—a goblin still, -though manhood had killed many pleasant, eerie fears -of that sort.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, not knowing why, halted in his stride, -and stood looking out across the waste. If the hills -were brown and steadfast washed by rain and sun, -below him lurked the mines, the bogs that sucked a man -down, dragging at him till limb by limb the chill ooze -chained him. And there were the Wilderness Men, -whose enmity was a dread thing to earn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A stab of fear took him unawares as if one of the -Stealthy People had crept on him from behind. He -shook it off, telling himself that the dread was part of -his heritage of Logie. A grown man must learn to -shake off nursery tales.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The swart, russet face of the land, crowned by -Pengables, stood friend to him as he went down the -twisting road; and it was in his heart to clear these -lusty acres of the scum that hindered them. It was in -his heart still when he came past Mathison’s pinfold, -where in summer they gathered flocks for sheep -washing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Out of the pinfold came three gaunt men, and straddled -across the road, barring it to him. They were unwashen, -shifty folk to look at, and they asked tribute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I owe none,” said Hardcastle, with rough contempt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re Wilderness Folk,” said Long Murgatroyd, -the tallest of the three.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again fear played about the Master of Logie, from -long habit—played for an instant, and was gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How much would content you?” he asked, as if -willing to drive a sober bargain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As much as you’ve got,” snarled Murgatroyd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was beginning to see red, dancing lights -between the gaunt men and himself, was ceasing to -count the odds. “You shall have it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three leered at each other. “What did I tell -you?” asked one of them. “Nobody dare touch the -Master of Logie, we said. Oh, we’d best go wide of the -Master, we snivelled. But he’s frog-livered too, like -the rest of his dalesmen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle backed quietly to the open gateway of -the pinfold, and stood in front of it. He had room to -swing his arms, and the three must come at him one at -a time or not at all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, take all I’ve got of muscle,” he said. “It’s -waiting for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Lost Folk were happier when they fought in -numbers against few; but now the biggest of the three -saw, too, the red, dancing lights and made at Hardcastle. -The bleak, well-matched fight went this way -and that. Neither spared nor hoped to be spared. -The world was narrowed to the limit of blows that -thudded out into the breeze. Then Hardcastle swept -his left arm round, as it might have been a hammer, and -his man went down, and lay still, and cursed no more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master of Logie had given tribute, enough and -to spare. His face was wealed and broken, his body -hammered out of shape. The men left were wondering -how to take him—for the pinfold wall would not let -both make at him together—when Hardcastle settled -all doubts for them. Fury was on him now. He -sprang forward before they guessed his purpose, -gripped them with either hand and brought their heads -together with a dizzy crash. He stood a moment -looking at them as they lay beside Long Murgatroyd, -and wondered at his strength. Then he went down -the road, with a song at his heart. Whatever stoop to -pride the dalesmen made each market day when they -paid tribute, the pride of Logie went secure.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle halted by and by, for a backward glance -at the Wilderness, and still the glow of victory was with -him. Battle was up in earnest now between Logie and -the Broken Folk. There could be no withdrawal, -whichever way it ended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A terrible land for thieves, Master,” said a quiet -voice at his elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle turned sharply, to find his own shepherd, -Brant, beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Stephen, you’re wide of the home pastures—and -you’ve a gun for company, instead of a stick and a -grizzled collie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Short, thick-set and sturdy, Brant had the eyes of -those who journey on far hill-tops, living alone with -sheep and dogs and weather.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve heard of Storm’s doings lately?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“News filters through, but I’ve little use for gossip—especially -of friends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, you were always partial to Storm, and I fair -loved the dog myself. Best of his kind, he was—knew -how to round ewes up the pastures like a marvel—till -he fell from grace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We all do, Stephen, time and time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re partial to him, as I said. But a dog that -takes to worrying sheep, and feeding on ’em, is a -cannibal—eats his own flesh-and-blood, as you might -say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You trained him to be jealous, Brant?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shepherds do. A dog that’s any man’s dog means -as much as a bunch of windle-straws.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet I could always whistle him from your side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” growled the shepherd— “and see what -comes of it. A sheep-stealer, he, and me with a gun -in my hands. That’s what is coming to Storm, for I’ve -news of him this way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then likely he’s back in the Logie country by this -time. Either way, bad luck to your shooting, -Stephen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There seems bad luck to your riding, Master,” -said the shepherd dryly, “or you’d not be footing it -from Norbrigg. It’s not natural, like, to see you -without feet in stirrups.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The mare went lame, and I had to leave her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was there no nag to be borrowed, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was, but I sit astride my own horse, or none.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant looked over the wastes, then at the Master’s -face. Old days and new were nagging at him with -their memories.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like yourself, and always a little bit liker as the -years pass. What of Garsykes yonder?” he broke off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” asked Hardcastle, blunt and hard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s no way well. A festering sore I call’m, and -our farmers tame as lice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tamer. They haven’t a bite at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A silence came to Brant. He had dared to speak of -the Lost Folk, here in the broken lands, and suddenly -he remembered boyhood’s days. When he was spoiling -for mischief, he was told he’d be tossed to the Wilderness -Folk, and never come out again. In later years -he had heard his elders speak of paying tribute to the -Lost People—<span class='it'>lest worse befell</span>. And now the old -stealthy menace seemed to creep about him as his -glance sought the broken lands again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The devil take us, Master,” grumbled Brant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s likely he will, all in good time—but why just -now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant scratched his wiry beard and pondered. Hill -silences had taught him to be wary of speech when -deep-hidden feelings sought outlet. “Because we’re -content to let this shame go on,” he said at last. “It’s -hard to unravel, this fear of the Lost Folk. I’m small -myself, but most of our men—yeomen, and hinds, and -what not—could make a meal of any two such lean -swine as they breed Garsykes way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet they don’t, Brant. They just unfasten their -pockets and give tribute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ll be asking tribute of you one day soon,” -said the shepherd, after another restless silence. “And -what then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>They’ve asked it</span>, Stephen. Hadn’t you seen my -face was a trifle out of shape?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’d seen; but it was not my place to ask what -private diversion you’d been finding Norbrigg way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle laughed outright at Brant’s gravity, that -hid a dry humour of its own. “I gave more than I took, -Stephen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then a bonny mess t’others must be in. Who -were they, Master?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Long Murgatroyd and two I didn’t know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fire kindled suddenly in the shepherd’s eyes. “It -<span class='it'>had</span> to come, and I’m glad its come. Garsykes gets -past itself these days!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How many will stand for Logie, now the feud’s up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Me for one, and another here and there. I wouldn’t -count on many—but it’s the staunch few that matter—and, -Master, fear will reach you by and by. Never -heed it though it will be cold as east wind before the -snows come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fear?” said Hardcastle, body and heart aglow with -memory of blows taken and given for Logie’s honour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, just fear. I’ve heard my fore-elders talk of -what happens to a man that thwarts the Lost Folk. -And now I’ll give you good-day. It’s time I put a -dollop of lead into Storm. It would rankle when my -time came to go, if I’d left a sheep-killer rife about the -fells.”</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>For a mile or so after leaving Brant the glow of -victory stayed with Hardcastle; and after that he -thought that his feet began to tire. Soon he knew it -was his heart that was tiring, and his spirit. Already -fear was weaving unclean spells about him. What -had his nurse told of the Lost Folk when they put their -token on a man? What had ancient farmers told -him? He was no longer his own master but thrall to -terrors bred in the womb of generations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fancy began to play strange tricks. Hardened to life -and weather he might be; but he was no match for the -unseen hordes of fear that came about him. The sweat -broke out on Hardcastle, fighting longer odds than -three men against one. It was only shame of his fear -that got some sort of manhood into him, and a rough -courage that was friendless and utterly alone. He -learned then what Brant had meant when he spoke of -dread, cold as east wind with snow behind it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” growled Hardcastle, “but Brant has his -dog with him for comfort, and I’ve none.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He forgot that Brant’s dog had taken lately to -unlawful ways, till at a corner of the road he came face -to face with Storm himself—an outlaw, every inch and -line of him, standing at bay. His hide was matted and -uncouth, for pursuit had given him little time to tend -himself. His teeth were bared, and every man his foe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood there for a moment, not knowing that -the whole Dale’s safety might rest on what came of this -chance meeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm,” said Hardcastle, “I’ve no fear of your -teeth, my lad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The culprit only growled, till Hardcastle came to him -and patted his tousled head. Then he yielded a little -to old liking for this man who seemed honest, with no -snare in wait for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Best come home with me to Logie. Brant has a -gun in his hand out yonder, and he’s seeking you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm glanced about him with restless eyes that -looked for peril, and then sought Hardcastle’s face -again. If he had not learned the trick of human -speech, he knew its meaning. He was asked to get -into shelter of a decent homestead, after weeks of -vagabond roaming. His limbs were full of aches, -caught in the marshes when he lay hidden from foes -too many for him. He was wearied-out, and there -were good meals to be had at Logie, as he had learned -in the prosperous times when Brant used to take him -to the Master’s kitchen. But he was afraid of houses -these days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come,” said Hardcastle, with sharp command.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheep-slayer answered his bidding, and together -they went down and up to the autumn land till they -reached Logie Brigg. Its arch stretched wide and -slender over the peat-brown waters of Wharfe River—the -bridge that Clifford of Skipton had crossed long -ago on his way to Flodden Field.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master of Logie could never cross the bridge but -he halted for remembrance of what it meant to him—that -old dream of Clifford, hale at sixty, going into -unknown hardship across the Border. The Hardcastle -of that day, with his men, had joined the march, and -won renown; and to this last descendant of the race -there was staunch, abiding glamour in the recollection. -Hard, embittered, working grimly forward day -by day, two beacon-lights showed through the gloom—love -of Wharfe River, and memory of Clifford jangling -over-bridge with singing Dalesmen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had no joy of these to-day, strive as he might to -capture the song of Logie Brigg. Courage had taken -the horsemen and the footmen over, in the brave days -gone. Now he was here—a Hardcastle last of them all—eating -into mind and heart—fear of the Lost Folk he -despised. He had given too much to the battle at -Mathison’s pinfold and the back-rush of it left him -weak and spent. The Lost Folk would strike soon or -late—strike from behind—and it would be a dreary -waiting time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm,” he said, “there’s not a penny to choose -between us. We’re both of us outlawed, and we fear -every creak of a tree-branch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheep-stealer would not have it so. He had the -dog’s instinct for what went homeward over Logie -Brigg, unheard by Hardcastle—tramp of the feet of -Flodden Men, returning to the house of Logie now -it was in peril. He turned to see them pass; a -great company. Then he drew closer still to Hardcastle, -and licked his hands, and tried to lick his -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re a dreamer, lad,” said Hardcastle. “How -can all be well—with <span class='it'>that</span> behind us? There’s Brant -with a gun for you—and for me the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm only came the closer. On the high fells he -had learned the tracks of innocence and duty. In the -lowlands he had garnered stealthy knowledge of many -ways of hide-and-seek. Through clean days and -muddy he had kept one gift safe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They fell silent on the Brigg, these two. Wharfe -River lapped against the sturdy arches she had tried, -time and again, to batter down at flood-time. They -heard rooks calling from peaceful sycamores, the cry -of a plover not gone south as yet, the song of a farm-lad -up the fields.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All this might be with him to the end of his days, -thought Hardcastle. But it was likelier that all would -go, before the Wilderness had done with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d best be jogging,” he said, turning up hill, -Storm close as a thistle-burr beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was aware of the magic of this steep, -winding roadway, faring up to his own gate between -the woods of Logie. Wise, silent beeches reddened -to their fall of leaf. A chestnut flung its crimson -challenge to the death-in-winter soon to come. The -sycamores were sending little clouds of leaves as -playthings for the breeze. Over all, and through all, -was the quick reek of autumn and the smell of wood-fires -lazing up from Logie’s hearths.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was aware of it all, as of something that -had stirred him once, in his wooing days, when a lass -had painted all the country-side for him. That was -far off, a memory bitten-down and ended. He was -here with Storm, with thoughts of what the Lost Folk -could do to him and his. The battle up-fell had put -its marks on him. He was hungry and needing wine -at his elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For all that, when they passed through Logie’s gate -and his old retriever growled at Storm—when the two -of them were for each other’s throats, mad with sudden -jealousy—Hardcastle took them by their collars, and -shook them till they whimpered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s going to be war outside,” he said; “but, -by God, I’ll have peace among my own.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap02'>CHAPTER II</h1></div> - -<h3>CAUSLEEN</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>A red sun was going down behind the rim of -the far-off hills as Pedlar Donald came to -the road-top overlooking Logie Woods, and -beyond them the leagues of moorland roving up into -the quiet and misty dusk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shifted the heavy pack from his shoulders, and -laid it down awhile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tired, father?” asked the girl beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald Cameron answered nothing for awhile. He -came from Highland glens and moors; and all the -way south his yearning for the homeland had dragged -at his feet as if they were shod with stone. He had -bartered and sold in “foreign” lands, right down -through the Scottish lowlands, and over the border -into Northumberland and Durham. Now he could -not be done with looking out and over these blue-purple -hills—fold on fold of them, glamoured like his -misty Highlands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl had fallen silent, too. This land was -setting its spell on her, as on Donald—the first friendly -face they had found in exile. She had ached and -sorrowed for the land left behind. And now it was -with her—strength of the striding hills—the sun -going down in fire of hope for the next morrow’s -rising—the wide, free liberty of this land of Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve travelled the rough ways down from -Inverness,” said Donald, putting his arm about the -girl, “and it’s been hard for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, but for you.” Her voice was soft and -healing. “My feet are young to the roads.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was it worth while to say no to the price they -offered us in Inverness? We could have had ease -for the asking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The soft voice grew full of quick and eager fire. -“We could have bought ease—and we’re better as -we are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald laughed quietly as he shouldered his pack -and trudged down the hill. The lass was bone of -his bone, and had no regrets. Sharing honest exile, -they had learnt the strange alchemy of the Pedlar’s -Road that turns much bitterness to gold. A laugh -by the wayside here, a vigil there with stricken folk—no -taxes asked of their poverty, and none to deny -them wind and weather—it was a big life, after all, -open to the sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Only when they came to Logie Brigg, and Donald -felt his knees grow weak again, so that he had to -rest awhile, he doubted the wisdom of their days -together. He was old and tiring fast. What of his -girl if he died by the way? There was honour of -the Road, and she would not lack many friends among -the pedlars and the cheery tinkers and the men who -poached fat hares by night. True—but there were -perils for a maid who went alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Child,” he said, as they rested on the bridge and -heard Wharfe River croon and swirl below them, “it’s -a vagabond’s life, after all—and, Causleen, I’m weary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your mother seems very near to us,” said Donald, -his head lifted as if he heard the pipes calling him up -some far hill. “There was the night she was dying, -and you a week-old baby in her arms—how clear it -all returns—and she saw that I hated you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hated?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because you robbed me of a wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm the sheep-stealer had seen ghosts of armed -men pass to and fro across the Brigg, no longer since -than yesterday. These two were seeing the broken -years behind them, the slow growing into a comradeship -as strong as the hills that guarded Logie Brigg.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She put you into my arms,” went on the pedlar -by and by, “and bade me christen you Causleen. -I fear I was rough with you, lass.” The old, whimsical -humour showed in his tired eyes. “Your mother -chided me gently—taught me how to hold you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Again she bade me name you Causleen, because -you’d be the Evening Star to me. She was near -to death, and knew—what I came to know—that you’d -be the light of my westering years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A grief too deep for tears came to the girl. Some -weakness in the pedlar’s brave old voice—his looking -backward, though all his sturdy gospel was to front -the hills of each day—as they came—his hard endeavour -to get the pack jauntily over his shoulders -once again—all pointed the one way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They crossed the bridge in silence, each knowing -that they journeyed to a new life. It might be -worse or better than the old. They did not know; -but, either way, it was a stage nearer to the end -of this life’s climb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they went up the road, a light blinked out at -them from Logie house across the last glow of twilight -that lingered on the hills above.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’ll be a bed for the night up there,” said -Donald,—“a bed for you with the maids.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the hay-mow for you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s worse lying. You needn’t fret, bairn. -Smell of the hay is no bad company.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We were not born to it, father,” she said, her -slim, young body shaken with passion—not for -herself, but for him, fuller of courage than strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but we were, for we’ve come to it, Causleen. -Life’s made that way. The road we trudge, with -its ups and downs—it’s the long, grey road we were -meant to tread.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald was himself again, and the girl’s mood yielded -to this indomitable, half-laughing courage that would -not be dismayed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does the grey road end somewhere?” she asked, -linking her arm in his to help him up the steep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I trust not. When my time comes to go, there’ll -surely be other hills beyond the Brink—winding -roads, and further rises, and gloaming skies. I’d -be lonely without them, child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to the grey house on the hill, through -a rain of beech-leaves slanting down the breeze. The -pedlar’s glance, quick for big things and little, caught -a glint of the after-light on a small, polished thing -that lay on top of the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Wilderness Folk told no lies as we passed -through,” said Donald. “I had speech with two or -three, and their talk was all of this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” asked Causleen, peering down at -the thing lying in the old man’s palm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just a token—and I’m wondering what sort of -man lives here at Logie. He’ll need to be dour and -staunch, with no fear about him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were kind enough to us, those folk,” she -said, shivering a little at the memory; “but they -were evil. While we were selling from the pack, -and till we got away into the hills, there was poison -round us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was. It’s a pity, girl, we haven’t let life -dull the Highland vision. We ought to be toughened -by this time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again she glanced at the little thing in his palm. -“Does it go hard with the man they hate?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It goes so hard that I’d not change places with -him for a wealth of money. Weather is weather; -fight in the open is fight; but what they’re putting -on the Master of Logie would chill me to the bone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A dog barked suddenly, then came at them with -a low, running growl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be quit of your nonsense, laddie,” said Donald. -“I’ve been through worse fights than you can give.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dog smelt them round and about to learn -more of these tattered strangers, then put his nose -into the pedlar’s hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His sort were always friendly to us,” laughed -the girl—“but what of his master?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s here to answer for himself,” said Hardcastle -of Logie, turning at his own door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They saw a big, loose-built man, with a gun under -his arm, and a brace of partridge in his left hand—a -man, Donald judged, accustomed to live alone, -resenting all intrusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come to heel, Roy,” snapped Hardcastle. “I’ve -no use for a dog that makes easy love to strangers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s pride took fire, and her glance met his -with sharp hostility. “Dogs have clearer sight than -their masters sometimes—and gentler breeding.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s getting old, and forgets that gentleness and -breed are under the harrow these days. You’ve -blundered into a hard country, and I tell you so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned from him with tired disdain. “Come -away, father,” she said. “They are surly here in -Yorkshire. He will not buy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you to sell?” asked the Master of -Logie, aloof and cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Favours for the maids,” said the pedlar, his -voice soft with persuasion. He was thinking of -Causleen’s safe lodging for the night, as he opened -his pack and praised its wares. She was too tired, -poor wean, to journey further, though he was so -used to weariness that a further tramp through the -night was of small account. “Favours for the maids—a -blue mob-cap that sits bonnie enough on a young -girl’s hair, with her eyes bo-peeping under it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No maids live at Logie. There’s a grey, old -woman indoors—a good cook, and quiet about the -house—but she’s past favours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re wrong,” persisted Donald. “If a woman -neared her end at ninety, she’d cry for the pedlar -to dress her up for bridegroom death.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not Rebecca,” said Hardcastle. “I chose her -with great care—a nether-millstone of a woman, -without a frill or a furbelow about her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know much of women?” asked Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Enough to last me a lifetime.” Something cold -and savage showed in his face for a moment, then was -gone. “My housekeeper is like the walls of Logie—staunch -and weathered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She never loses temper?” The girl was measuring -swords with this self-secure, blunt man who disdained -all pedlars. “You never find her crying her heart -out when you come home before she looks for -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She loses temper,” said Hardcastle, with lazy -unconcern. “Not every day, or every week, but -when the time comes for outlet. I’m made that -way myself. We treat it like the ding of storm about -a house that’s outlived many such.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And she never weeps?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She forgot the way of it long since. Life’s salt -enough for most of us as it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s leave him with this wonder-woman, who -never cries,” said the girl, with the same quiet -mockery. “She wants nothing from us and the -Master of Logie will not buy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle stood watching them with grim humour. -“He would, if you’d anything to sell he needed. -Pedlars have to carry all things in their packs for -the women. They seldom have the man of the house -to reckon with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seldom,” Donald agreed; “but I’ve something -to barter for a night’s lodging.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A wheedling tongue? That never carried far -with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something I found on your gate. Gossip blows -down all winds to us tramping folk, and they say -the Wilderness People grow busy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master was silent. For a moment Causleen, -as she watched him, saw beyond the mask of his hard, -impassive face—saw down into his heart, where fear -was dwelling—grey, chilly fear, at war with his manhood -and his lusty strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ve left their token on me? Show it,” he -said, with rough command.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For the price of a night’s lodging.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you can have it, man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not so hasty. It must be good lodging for my -girl, however it goes with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master glowered down at them from under -sullen brows. “I’ve power to take it without price -of any sort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have—but not power to use your strength -against an aged man. Your face tells me that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, your price is granted—a good lodging -for the night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For both?” asked Causleen. “Father cares -little what bed he finds—but I care for him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beggars seem to be choosers these days,” snapped -Hardcastle, raw with trouble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does seem so,” said Donald gently. “The -beggars out there are riding on your gate already.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He opened his palm, and the moonlight glinted on -a flint arrow-head, smooth and polished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Do as he would, something near panic took the -Master. The men of Logie-side had paid tribute -diligently—till yesterday, when at last it was asked -of a Hardcastle and met with blunt refusal. The -fight at the pinfold had marked him. He was lame -and bruised, but that was the pleasant fruit of -victory in single combat against three.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thing he looked on now was a token hedged -about with dread of the forefathers. Once, in the -twilight days of the Logie country, a man of the caves -had killed his enemy with it, or had slain a wild-fowl -for daily food. Since then it had grown to be what it -was to Hardcastle—a thing of stark terror, known to all -since the Lost Folk first bit their way into an honest -country. He would have been less than flesh-and-blood -if he had not weakened to this harsh trial time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They find such in the caves behind their houses, -they tell me,” said Donald.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and lay them on the gates of honest men.” -Hardcastle had come to grips with fear, as he had -closed yesterday with the three men at the pinfold; -but dread was a harder foe to meet. As he advanced -it withdrew its phantom regiment, only to loose -another on him from behind—quick, cold shapes -that leaped on him and clung. This was the price -asked of him for keeping Logie’s honour safe. He -had given no tribute to the Lost Folk—would give -none in the future—and already the creeping stealth -of their revenge was with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a bleak thing to have at your door for ever, -this hate of the Wilderness Men?” said Donald, -watching him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, whatever he was feeling, shut a trapdoor -on it. His face was grim again, inscrutable. -“A bleak thing, pedlar—but then I was reared on -winter gales.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald was aware, by some hidden gift that came -to him at times, of much that was to come about -the house of Logie. “This gale from the Wilderness -is like to blow for a longish while.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ll have to weather it for a longish while, -and so much for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something stirred in Causleen’s heart against her -will. Hardcastle had given them a churlish welcome. -He did not want them at his door, asked only to -be rid of them; but resentment was dulled, because -she had seen the sudden weakness of his fear, his -hard recovery. She, too, had known the broken -roads, the dread that walked by night. She, too, -had made, day in and day out, her own hard recovery. -They had this in common, she and the Master of -Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A clank of pattens sounded from the stable-yard, -breaking a silence heavy with the sense of doom, -and old Rebecca came into their midst, a lean, tall -figure of a woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jacob, the farm-boy, said there was a pedlar -here,” she croaked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is,” said Donald, and in a twinkling unfastened -his pack and laid its wares out in the moonlight -that rode high and clear above the russet beeches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca could not be done with handling them—took -up an apron here, a piece of lace-work there, -all as if her youth returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m too old for such-like trash, pedlar, though -God knows I like the feel of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Too old? I shouldn’t have guessed it,” purred -Donald. “You’ve no mirror in the house, maybe, -to cure you of that fancy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put a mob-cap into her hands—a cunning thing -of lavender, simple enough till a woman’s eye -appraised all the little by-ways of its blandishment. -Against her will, the years fell away from Rebecca. -She hid her grey, scanty locks beneath the cap—donned -a lavender apron to match it—and was away -in dreamland, a lass of twenty waiting for her man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a good dream while it lasted; but she wearied -of it, and searched restlessly among the strewn litter -of the pack till she chanced on odds and ends of baby-wear—a -pair of shoes, the two of them small as the -hollow of a man’s hand, and the little intricate clothes, -with daft blue ribands, threaded in and out about -them. All they meant crept round her, and tears -unshed too long found outlet. Donald heard the -great broken heart of life find voice. He was himself -a broken man, and knew. Rebecca came out of that -weakness with a temper raw as a file. “Pedlars are -seldom fools,” she snapped, “but you’re the primest -that ever stepped into Logie-side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have I done?” asked Donald.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve bared sorrow to the bone, when I thought -I’d done with grief!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, looking on, felt once again that the end -of an old life, the beginning of a new, had come to -them—to tired Donald, and herself. The moonlight, -racing between dappled clouds, shone free above -the beeches on Rebecca—on Hardcastle, grim and -silent. From under Logie Bridge, far below them, -Wharfe River sang her slumber-song as she swept -between her high, grey arches. Roy, the old retriever -that had snarled at them, was fidgetting about the -Master, and whined as if he scented peril. All was -stealthy trouble, though owls were hooting tranquilly -across the woods, and rooks cawed fitfully through -the soft storm of leaves that was baring their spring -nests to sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the best cure,” said the pedlar gently—“the -best for any sort of wound. Let fresh air into -it, though the knife grits down to the bone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca stood there, tall and lean. In her eyes was a -smouldering fire that Causleen and the pedlar understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe you’re no fool after all. I’ve let fresh air -into a grief that was festering inward, and praise -the dear God for that. They say you met three of -the Lost Folk yesterday,” she went on, turning to -Hardcastle after a restless silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Three at the pinfold—yes. They took tribute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not of the sort they asked?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not of the sort they asked,” snarled Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now again Causleen knew that she had come -into a haunted country and to a haunted house. They -were sorrowing for their dead, slain foully, Rebecca -and the Master—were tending some feud-fire kindled -generations since—and the girl was wrapt away to -the Highlands, where pipes were playing gallantly -about the hills and moaning in the glens of slaughter. -They played now about this house of Logie, but -with a difference. Up yonder the strife was ended -long since—the forlorn hopes that had tilted against -merchantry, and bribes, and guile. They could only -grieve for what could never come again. But here -was a fight in the making. Hardcastle was resolute -for some quarrel close at hand; and she had learned -enough of the Lost Folk, as they went through their -evil country, to know what the strife must mean in -the coming days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you have the tale, pedlar?” said Rebecca. -“I’ve need to excuse tears shed in sight of any -stranger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, tell it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had a man of my own once—a straight lad to -his height, and good at the wooing. We’d had a -lover’s tiff, and me too proud to do aught but send -word by roundabouts that he might come and be -sorry for his lout’s ways.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca fought with her grief again, and conquered -it. The rooks cawed fitfully from overhead. A bat -fluttered up and down the moonlit courtyard, and -Wharfe River sang old ballads of the peaceful days -under her time-worn bridge. But there was no -peace, here at Logie—only the rasp of Rebecca’s -voice as she went on with her tale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Instead of my man, there came news to the gate. -Two of the Lost Folk had met him by the way, -and asked tribute. He said he was Hardcastle’s -man, and wouldn’t budge. And they killed him -for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A good sort of death,” said Hardcastle, and -Causleen saw grey fear creep round him while he -spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The russet gloaming, the quietness of wood and -pastures, the silent front of Logie, grey with travail -of the years—all made for the realities that live -beneath the turmoil of each day’s duties. Rebecca -seldom showed any of her heart. She bared it now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You chose to loosen your pack, pedlar,” she said, -in harsh, even tones, “and you loosed the bygone -years as well. Every night and all I go to the gate, -and keep tryst with my man that never came. I’d -have kissed him free and full—would have worn -my hands to the knuckle for him through our wedded -days—but he couldn’t come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman in Causleen answered the break in -Rebecca’s voice. “How long ago was this?” she -asked, with soft, Highland pity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve forgotten. Forty years, maybe, but I’ve -lost count.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca still wore the mob-cap and the apron, -and the moonlight softened the harsh lines of face -and body. It was only when she spoke again, after -long silence, that she seemed old indeed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Lost Folk killed him, and every night I get -to the gate and say my prayers. For every kiss he -might have had, I pray a blight on them. For every -child that might have run about my knees I ask that -two of their heathen brats may die in trouble. They -robbed me; and before I die, God send word to the -Wilderness Men that curses stick and sting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From what I’ve seen of the Wilderness Folk,” -said Donald, “they’ll be dour enemies, stubborn and -crafty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s no news,” snapped Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stubborn and dour they’ll be—and I wish I’d a -younger pair of arms to help you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A hard, keen light showed in Rebecca’s eyes. Her -thin body quivered with sudden passion. “There -will come a token on the gate, Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle held out his palm, as Donald had done -awhile since, and Rebecca gloated on the sight of the -little, brown thing that meant the end of peace for -all at Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Through the years I’ve wanted this. What will -you do with it, Master?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle turned, with a hard laugh, and set the -arrow-head on the drip-stone over his door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It stays here—a charm against all alms-giving -on Logie roads.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap03'>CHAPTER III</h1></div> - -<h3>THE END OF A JOURNEY</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>When Hardcastle had opened the door to -Causleen and her father, and had thrown his -gun and brace of partridge down on the -long-settle in the hall, his hardness left him. These -two were guests, whatever chance had driven them -to the bleak roads where pedlars chaffered for a -livelihood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He brought them into a great, cosy room, aglow -with its fire of pine-logs and fragrant with the -smouldering peats that burned below. Causleen -glanced about, with a woman’s quickness to see all—the -candles in their sconces, bringing mellow lights -to birth on bees’-waxed panels—the orderly array of -muskets, swords and pistols on the walls—and, -over these, a pike with the red-rust on it of blood -shed long ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald saw the pike only. “That was rieved -from Scotland once,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. It went north to Flodden, and returned to -its own homestead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fire kindled in the pedlar’s syes. “Scots’ blood -on it?” he challenged, the years slipping from him -like a garment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Scots’ blood—but it’s been drying for the length -of ten generations. Flodden was a fair fight, as -my folk passed the tale down—a fight between the -North-born folk. The Southrons came by land and -sea; but it was the Logie Men that ran in at the -edge of dusk, and settled that good battle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Jaimie the King was slain that day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, he died well. There’s none in Logie Dale -but knows that he died well. We have the tale from -our fathers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pedlar rose, though every bone in his body -was aching for rest long-denied. “Come, Causleen,” -he said. “We’ve no traffic with folk who slew the -king at Flodden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was nothing whimsical to Hardcastle in this -passion that had survived the centuries. One of his -own tenants—a hale farmer-man of seventy—climbed -to the moor-top every morning of his life, to learn -if the Scots came marching south, though raids of -that sort were no more by this time than food for -winter gossip by the hearth. Quarrels lived to a -great age here in Yorkshire, as on the far side of -the Border; for their roots bit deep into strong, -ancient soils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is amiss with you, pedlar?” he asked, -looking down on these wayfarers who had come to -his gate—by chance, it seemed. In their faces he -read tenacity, strength to endure, something valiant -and at war with exile. “It was a fair and a bonnie -fight, I tell you, and I’d have been proud to have -been on either side that day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That may be,” said Donald restively; “but it’s -no house for us to lodge in. Your welcome was cold -at best—we’ll have none of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gathered dignity into his aching body, and -had neared the door when a clatter of wooden pattens -sounded down the passage, and Rebecca swept into -the room like a gale from the north.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come talk to Geordie Wiseman, Master,” she broke -in, without leave asked or granted. “He’s in the -kitchen, roaring for strong ale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No great news, that. Geordie was born with that -sort of roar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but I’d have you come. He says the Lost -People have left an arrow on his gate, same as they’ve -done on yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again Causleen saw little, grey wrinkles creep about -Hardcastle’s battered face, saw him recover with -stubborn strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll come,” he said, after a moment’s silence, -“if only to tell him it’s nothing to make a cry about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he reached the kitchen, a tough, thick-set -farmer was standing by the hearth, his hair drabbled -with the sweat of abject dread, his knees shaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ve put the token on us, Wiseman,” said -the Master. “It had to come, and better soon than -late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What need had it to come? Three of the Wilderness -Men asked tribute. Well, we’ve payed it for -many a year, and the roads have been easy for us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A Hardcastle never payed it—and a Hardcastle -never will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can do what you like with your own skin; -but I tell you, plain man to man, you’d no right -to bring all your tenants into this. Better have -given those three all you had in your pockets than -us be murdered in our beds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As well have given them my soul.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your soul?” sneered Wiseman, chill with fear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just that. If I’d bartered it to the Lost Folk, -there’d have been the end of pride for me. And the -end of pride is hell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then it’s hell either way, it seems; for you’ve -brought it close to one and all of those who farm -under you. You didn’t stop to think of that when -they asked tribute?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t think at all, Wiseman. I just saw the -three lousy rogues, straddling the road in front of -me, and I hit them, true and hard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had your frolic—and soon they’ll be having -theirs. You’ve no wife to think of, Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Hardcastle, recalling sharply the might-have-been -that had ended long since.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve a wife and children myself, like many another -they’ll have lain the token on. If your time at the -pinfold came again, you’d remember it meant war -about Logie-side?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would,” said Hardcastle, as if a clean, lusty -wind blew through him, driving out all dread—“and -hit the three men true and hard again. Now, -listen to me. I’ve brought you all into this trouble, -and I’ll see you through it. Take my word as bond -for that. You’re needing ale, Rebecca tells me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A flood of it, just to get my balance straight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can have it by and by. Ale is food for men, -but poison to this cry-baby fit that’s taken you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Geordie Wiseman shifted from foot to foot, and -glowered at the Master. “We’re not all made of -boulder-stone and whipcord. It would come easy -to you to face the devil and his witch-hounds—but -I’m a usual man, like most of my neighbours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ve put the token on us, Geordie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, yammer at it. To be sure they have, and -you fancy it a merry-making.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen to me. There’ll be merry-making by -and by; but we’ve to mow a long swathe before then. -I’m sick and weary of the Wilderness Folk—sick of -the toll they’re levying on white-blooded men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My blood’s red enough, Hardcastle of Logie. If -you doubt it—why, here’s my coat off, and off goes -yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the spirit,” laughed Hardcastle. “You’re -readier for what I have to tell you than you were -awhile since.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” mocked Rebecca from the doorway—“readier -than he was just now, when he rived the -door of my kitchen wide, and stepped in with a face -made of tallow. ‘We’ll all be murdered in our beds,’ -says he. ‘Not me for one,’ says I. ‘I’ll be murdered -standing, if at all—giving as good as I get while it -lasts.’ That’s what I said to Geordie—and now he’s -prancing up and down like a turkey-cock, with his -coat half-off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wiseman’s wrath against the Master found a new -channel. “As for you, Rebecca, it’s plain you know -less than a child what the token means, left on a -man’s gate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know as much as my mother taught me, when -I was knee-high. There’s little I need to learn about -the Lost Folk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you’re blithe, are you, because the Master -fought with three, and left them to stir up their blessed -hornets’ nest?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blithe, if you put it that way—though it’s a queer -kind of joy. It’s time these wastrels were hunted -out, like rats about a stable. They breed like rats, too, -and soon they’ll be eating us out of house and home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In league with the Master, as you always were.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Geordie. He’s man enough to hunt the -Lost Folk from their burrows.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now a queer thing happened. The Master -and Geordie crossed themselves by stealth, not knowing -why. The Lost Folk had been a running sore -about the country-side in far-off Catholic times, and -no man can deny his ancestors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Popish mummery,” snapped Rebecca, and -crossed herself as she spoke without knowing it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There came a sudden, lusty knocking at the door, -and Brant the shepherd followed his knock, bringing -the strong, sweet tang of the uplands with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Naught to be scared of, Geordie,” said Rebecca. -“You fancied three hundred Wilderness Men were -tramping in—or was it a thousand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant glanced at Wiseman with kindly tolerance. -“You wear a scared look on your face, Geordie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Haven’t you heard what’s gathering round us -all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hear little up yonder, thanks be, save crying of -the ewes, and stillness, and the wind. They’re better -gossips than your village-folk down hereabouts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca had an old fondness for the shepherd, and -the ale that Wiseman had clamoured for in vain was -brought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s cold up yonder on the heights,” she said, -filling a wide mug for him. “Dark and lonesome, -too, after sundown, with ghosty Brown Men of the -Heather and what not flitting by you. But <span class='it'>you</span> were -never one to come with your knees a-wobble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meaning me?” said Geordie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meaning you, or any other man that thinks he’s -fitted with his proper cap.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s it all about, Master?” asked Brant. “Is -Geordie just in his cups, with his tale of what’s gathering -round us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Half in and half out. He’s himself most days of -the week,” said Hardcastle dryly. “There’s trouble -brewing, though, as he says. An arrow-head was left -on my gate last night, and on Geordie’s. It will come -to yours when they’ve time to get up to your cottage -on Gaunt Fell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let it come,” said Brant, his face hard and bright -on the sudden. “I’ve wanted that for many a year.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would,” Rebecca nodded. “I’ve heard you -speak time and again in this same kitchen of their -sheep-stealing tricks. Theft of a sheep to you is -almost like what murder is to other folk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wry humour came to Hardcastle. “What luck -had you with Storm yesterday, after I left you up at -Weathersett? Did you find the four-legged thief?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not I,” growled Brant. “He’s just a slip of -devildom, ravening up and down the pastures. There -are times when I fancy he’s more than a sheep-dog -that’s tasted flesh instead of guarding it—times when -he seems to be Old Nick himself. Foxes at lambing-time? -They’re honest, set side by side with Storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For all that, I’m finding a soft spot in my heart -for the rogue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant took a long draught of ale, wiped the froth -from his mouth, and set down his pewter mug. “Are -you, Master? Then harden it. A sheep-slayer goes -cursed from the minute he gets from his lair at dawn -till daylight ends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet you can’t take Storm. He’s hunted from the -four quarters of the sky, day in, day out, and wins -through. That’s the sort of dog I like—and the sort -of man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Passion, with Brant, had the stillness of deep pools. -His voice lost little of its quietness; but a hard note -sounded in it. “It’s hard to tell what ewes mean to -a shepherd. They’re like children, you might say. -Happen it comes from mothering ’em from the day -they first stand up on their four wambly legs—newborn -and bleating at their dams. Happen it comes -of tending ’em later on—blizzards and drifts and what -all—comes of sleeping and waking for ’em. I couldn’t -tell all that goes to the hate of a sheep-killer. But -I know what every shepherd feels for every outlaw -dog.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just so,” said Hardcastle. “It’s for that reason -I’m all for Storm—the lad with never a friend in the -country-side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s easy for you to lose a sheep here and there. -What does it count if a few odd ewes are ravaged? -Just a few pounds missing from your plenty. For me, -it stands for murdered bairns—bairns I’ve reared and -guarded better than their scant-wit mothers could.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are good sheep-tenders in the Dale, but -none quite like you. You do it all, Brant—the -damned, lonely fight against Logie weather, and foot-rot, -and marauders of all kinds—do it for love of silly -sheep that to me are so much fleece and mutton.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re my life to me,” said the shepherd, “and -I’m still wondering why you side with Storm. Best of -his kind, he was once—knew how to round them up the -pastures like a marvel. Then he fell from grace, as you -might say, and he’s a hunted dog from this to -Weathersett.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and you and all of mine will know soon what -that sort of hunting means. I’ve a fellow-feeling for -old Storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle turned his head sharply. He was still -standing just inside the kitchen door, and behind him -was the long passage that led into the hall. At the far -end of the passage was a place under the stairway, half -room, half cupboard, where logs and peats had been -stored in earlier times. It held a fugitive now—a -fugitive who was beating against the worm-eaten door -in search of freedom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s queer noises in the house,” stuttered -Geordie Wiseman. “I told you what would come of -saying no to the Lost Folk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shepherd had taken a second draught of ale. -That, and the cosy warmth, ripened the dry humour -that was never far to seek. “Queer noises in your -head, more like. If I’d slaked thirst as you’ve done -Geordie—all day long, and every day—I would be -hearing smith-hammers—but they’d be ringing in my -own headpiece.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Down the passage came a running whine, that only -Hardcastle and Wiseman heard. The Master stood -silent, but Geordie began to bubble like a child lost in -the dark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And now Barguest’s come. D’ye hear him whining? -I warned you what would come of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, be quit of your moonshine,” growled Brant. -“Such as you breed fears like maggots. What we’re -up against is enough for sober folk, without your -doldrum fancies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was well for Logie and all its tenantry that Storm, -as he came down the passage, heard Brant’s voice, -and checked his joy in liberty. Hardcastle felt a -rough pressure at his knee, and, looking down, saw the -sheep-thief’s grizzled snout pushed out an inch or two -into the lamplight. His hand went down, to cover -even that from the shepherd’s keen, revengeful eyes. -Storm’s nose was hot and dry, his body quivering; -for he always pictured Brant these days as carrying a -gun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle backed into the doorway, keeping the -dog behind him. “Whatever comes, Brant, the Logie -Men will fight the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have to, thanks be,” said the shepherd -fervently. “You’ve made that sure and safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has,” whined Geordie Wiseman, “without -asking leave of Logie Men. Let him be murdered, -says I, if he fancies that sort of pastime—but what have -I done?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Naught that I can rightly call to mind,” said the -shepherd pensively. “There’s a tale that you were -caught working once, between one barley-brew and -the next—but you must have been younger then.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was glad of Rebecca’s cackle of laughter, -of Brant’s absorption in his jest. He nodded a good-night, -closed the kitchen door, and dragged Storm by -his collar down the passage. The cupboard under the -stair showed open to the lamplight. The door, with its -broken lock, creaked fitfully as the draught swung it to -and fro.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You fool, to leave safe quarters,” said the Master -savagely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm feared his wrath, but not as he feared Brant’s. -He was with a friend, and knew it. Quietly, without -fuss or protest, he got into his lair, turned three times -according to ancient ritual of his breed, and settled into -wary sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm,” said the Master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two brown, faithful eyes opened, asking what was -needed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s no holiday to shelter a broken dog. I’m quit -of you if you stir or whine till Brant has gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm understood. Bred in close intercourse with -men, he had their speech. The brown eyes met -Hardcastle’s, loyal in answer, and the Master closed -the door on him, knowing there was no need of the -broken lock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first time, since going to answer for his own -part in the coming warfare, he remembered Pedlar -Donald and his girl. The candles were burnt half -down as he went into the big room, but the fire glowed -warm and ruddy on the pike that once had gone to -Flodden. There was an odd silence in the room, and -Causleen knelt by the long-settle, where Donald -stretched like a man dead and out of mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” he asked sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen rose and faced him. Proud, even in bitter -grief. “We are not welcome here,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I gave you shelter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, grudgingly. We do not care for that—but -now we have no choice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle crossed to the long-settle and stood -looking down on Donald; and Causleen’s eyes softened -a little as she met his glance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The end of the journey?” he asked, with rough -sympathy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fear it. His heart beats, but it is fluttering out. -Just after you went his strength left him, and he -stumbled to the settle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two owls were hunting mice in Logie Wood. Their -cries sounded loud and ghostly through the silence. A -restless breeze was plucking at the windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, let the tears come,” said Hardcastle impatiently, -“You’ve need of ease.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap04'>CHAPTER IV</h1></div> - -<h3>THE MORROW</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had got to bed somewhere near -midnight. There had been a farm-lad riding -for the doctor, the galloping return of both, -the verdict that Donald, with care, might live for a -week or two. Old Rebecca had scolded life and -destiny, but had managed with great deftness to make -the pedlar warm and easy on the long-settle, with -blankets under and over him. She had insisted, too, -on sharing the watch with Causleen, after telling the -Master there was nothing for a feckless mule to do by -way of help.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ordered early breakfast. Best take a wink -or two o’ sleep while you’ve got the chance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now Hardcastle was seeking sleep, and finding -little. When he dozed, it was to go in dreams through -things suffered at the Lost Folks’ hands long since, -told and re-told till superstition had given them a -bigger terror than their due. When he woke, it was to -remember that he and his stood alone against them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He counted his household in the waking hours. -Indoors was Rebecca, and Roy, the old retriever—and -out across his acres tenants who numbered a score, -all told. Some of these had five sons, some three or -less, and not all of them up-grown. And among them -were a few of Geordie Wiseman’s kidney, whiners and -pay-for-safety folk at any price.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then his mind roamed out to the crumpled, limestone -wastes that stretched from Drumly Ghyll to -grey Weathersett—the land where the Lost Folk had -their dwelling, in a village bare to every wind of devilry -that blew. They were stealthy, pitiless, spawn of the -creeping things that hunt by night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He would doze again, and nightmares led him into -the caves he had explored in boyhood, because forbidden -by the father who knew their peril. Once he -had all but been caught there by a Wilderness Man, -and had returned with a glow of adventure in his -heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he woke to restless tossing from one side to -another, adventure loomed close ahead; but it had -no glow about it. He recalled Geordie Wiseman’s -complaint that he brought trouble to many a hearth -beside his own. It was true, and doubt took hold of -him. What right had he to bring others into an affair -so stark and hard to face?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He got up at last, weary of the phantoms that creep -about a sleepless bed. Below-stairs he could hear -Rebecca scolding and coaxing a lazy fire to burn; and -when he came down a half-hour later, he heard still -the murmur of coaxing and scolding, though she was -at war with rashers crinkling on the fire. It was a -heartening note—this chiding tongue of Rebecca’s, -the grey, hard woman who kept his house spotless-clean, -and cooked and laboured for him as if she loved the -work. She was rough and loyal, reared in the older -days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he passed the room where Donald lay, he heard -the pedlar chattering quietly, and went through the -half-open door. Causleen’s dark head was pillowed -on the horse-blanket covering Donald. The sleep of -dire exhaustion had found her as she knelt by the settle, -and even Hardcastle, roughened long since against any -lure of women, was moved to grudging pity. She was -so slender, so helpless, and her loosened hair lay round -her like a cloud of burnished night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he glanced again at Donald. The pedlar’s -eyes were open, and he talked of glens—talked of -Glencoe, and Bannockburn and far Culloden, of misty -sorrows that for ever drenched the hills he loved. -Again Hardcastle was stirred—not by pity now, but by -shame. If this ancient man, his body crumpling into -death, could live so bravely with the long-done battles, -counting these heartsease and gain, what had the -younger sort to do with fear?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald did not see him standing there, for his eyes -were intent on wider scenes than this cramped room -afforded him. To Hardcastle, as he listened, a wider -country opened, too. The pedlar’s body had forsaken -him so utterly that heart and mind were free to roam -at large. The very throb of Scottish battle-strength -seemed gathered into this room at Logie—the skirl of -pipes, the sobbing of women as their dead were brought -home on their shields—the harsh challenge of men -facing treachery in many hidden glens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seemed to Hardcastle that the pedlar was sharing -five centuries of battle. So he was, maybe, for a man’s -dead come close when he nears the borderland, to -welcome him across the little gap between them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald lingered awhile with the feud fights of the -clans, with the big battles and the small; but ever he -returned to the tale of how Jaimie the King went down -in splendour when the last, swirling fight at Flodden -closed about him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the pedlar’s restless glance fell on the pike -nailed above the mantel, and stayed there awhile, and -roamed to the big man looking down at him. For the -first time he saw Hardcastle, and came sharply from -the glens of mist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Small wonder I dreamed of Flodden and the king. -There’s a pike yonder with Scots’ blood on it. What -could there be but haunted sleep in such a room?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He strove to rise, but all of him from waist to feet -refused his bidding. It was terrible, piteous, to see the -struggle of a proud man anxious to be gone from a -house at enmity with his so long ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thank you for the lodging,” he murmured, -courteous to the last; “but we must go. Causleen, -child, where are you? The mists are gathering over -Ben Crummart, and winds are sobbing in the glens. We -must be going.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through the sleep of exhaustion Causleen heard the -call. She was on her feet in a moment, laying -the pedlar’s head back and soothing him to quiet. -The quickness of it, the eagerness that gave all and at -once to this wayworn vagabond, brought a rough -wonder to Hardcastle. But then she was a woman, -and no doubt there was trickery of some kind under -this show of great affection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He longed to go, but could not. If Donald were -to die now and here, he must not leave one slim girl to -face the trouble, full of guile though she might be. He -watched her put a hand on the old man’s heart, and -wrap the blankets round him; and still he could not go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she turned and saw him there, shame and -pride took fire together. She glanced at the hair -which ran loosened to her knees, and hated him for the -surprise. She glanced, too, as Donald had done, at -the pike above the mantel; her voice was cold and hard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall not trouble you for long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great anger flamed in Hardcastle. “Am I such a -churl as that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were a churl last night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How should I know he was an ailing man? -There’d have been no doubt of your welcome then.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In our country all benighted guests are welcome; -but you’re a harsher folk in Yorkshire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glanced again at Donald. “Shall I send Rebecca -to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no need.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master turned without a word. She chose to be -at war with him, and he was content enough; better -that than the pity she had roused. When a man began -to pity any woman, he had one foot already in the -marshes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had reached the door, and was closing it behind -him, when she recalled him. “You, too, were ill last -night. Have you recovered?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m in rude health, now as then.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fear is a sickness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glowered down at her, and Causleen -learned in that moment what the strength of his blow -would have meant if she had carried a man’s shape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It may be. I never had much traffic with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Until yesterday. We brought the token, and I -watched grey fear come to the Master of Logie as he -touched it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her rancour was less for herself than for the slight -put on Donald, sick and old, who in his prime had -known the glow of candlelight on a well-ordered table, -the ruby in the wine of life. And now her father lay -there, a pensioner on the bounty of this dour host—lay -dying, with the Flodden pike sneering at him overhead, -and all the room packed with ghosts of men who had -boasted through the generations of what they had done -aforetime to the Scots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your Highland men have never known fear?” -asked Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She faced him, slender and straight, her dark hair -like a glory about her tattered pedlar’s clothes. “Only -its name,” she said, with the same quiet mockery—“and -that they had from the Southrons.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then God help them for no more than beasts of -the field. What courage could they learn, unless they -came to grips with fear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen remembered many journeys, with fortune -at its worst and only the pedlar’s voice to rouse her -from the depths. “Fear is a good whetstone, child,” -he would say. “It breaks poor metal, but sharpens -steel.” And now Hardcastle was giving her the same -rough gospel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When did you learn so much?” she asked, half-defiant -still.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Last night—no longer since than that—while I -thought of all the uproar I’d brought to Logie-side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glanced once more at Donald, then turned and -went down the passage. Rebecca was bustling into -the sunlit breakfast-room with a tray that held many -tempting odours for a hungry man. She fussed -pleasantly about the Master’s needs, as of old, but with -a new solicitude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm-cocks were crying round Logie all the -night,” she said, breaking the silence at last—“or else -I dreamed they were.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You dreamed it, likely. This weather’s not for -breaking yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe not—but the Lost Folks’ weather is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It had to break,” said Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the silence fell between them—the silence -that was more ultimate than speech. None knew -better than these two the staunchness that would be -asked for by and by, when the Wilderness loosed its -spite against them, and only a few were left to stand -against the pestilence that would sweep over Logie-side—the -pestilence of dread.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Donald is sinking fast, by the look of him,” said the -Master presently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll not quit the house till he dies. Not a doubt -o’ that; but he may sink very gradual. I’ve seen such -cases.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was as well I didn’t turn him away last night. -He’d not have got far, poor devil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As well maybe,” grumbled Rebecca, “though I’ve -no stomach for tending him and the dark-eyed hussie -for weeks on end. We’ve lived to ourselves till now, -and I never relished foreigners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re under my roof.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, they’ll be looked after, Master. And, to be -sure, it’s as ill to slight the pedlar-sort as it is to kill a -spider. Lucky they are, both o’ the tribes, if you -treat ’em kindly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lucky?” said Hardcastle, getting up from table. -“Donald found the token for me, if that spells luck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does. We’ll be rid of the Wilderness scum at -last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At last—and may it be a long last,” snapped the -Master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had forgotten Storm the sheep-slayer—as he was -forgetting many things in this new day of strife—until -he passed the cupboard where he had housed the -culprit over-night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm was not there. He had watched for this -moment, after the house-doors were opened, and had -gone away to the hills by stealth. Hardcastle laughed -soberly. One guest the less under his roof was one load -taken from his shoulders; and the pack promised to -be heavy by and by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His own dog, Roy, was waiting for him in the hall—a -big retriever, his coat sleek and gold-red as October -on the brackens. His nut-brown eyes danced as he -saw the gun under Hardcastle’s arm, and clouded when -the Master checked him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As far as the gate, lad. There’s only you to guard -Logie, and the Wilderness Folk are out at last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sharp regret came to Hardcastle as he shut the gate -on Roy, a sense almost of foreboding. It did not seem -good to be separate at such a time, from a friend of ten -years’ standing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Guard,” he said. “The Lost Folk are out, I tell -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Roy whimpered as he reared across the closed gate -and licked Hardcastle’s face. He was getting near to -old age, as dogs count life; but the lure of a gun renewed -his youth at all times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle turned as he went down Logie-lane. -The dog had his forepaws on the gate still, and he -barked a friendly, dolorous farewell. “Guard, lad,” -said the Master, “the Lost Folk are out, I tell -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His errand lay over Logie Brigg, and up into the -wooded roadway that climbed steeply to Langerton. -Beyond Langerton were the Wilderness Folk, who -were out against him to a man—lurking close at -hand, maybe, in twos or threes. Hardcastle paid -no heed. He had gone through the sweat of fear last -night, and to-day sunrise was with him after that long -battle. Dread, rooted generations deep, had been -fought and thrown in the space of a night, he fancied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the bend of the road where it strode, over Crooning -Water, a quiet, slender woman sat on the copestone -of the bridge. She had a pile of picked willow-stems -at her right hand, and was busy with a half-made -basket lying in her lap. In all the Dale there was no -more sequestered nook than this, none richer with the -peace and mellowed glory of October. Crooning -Water, escaped not long since from the prison-house -of Drumly Ghyll—its rocks steep and dark and terrible—raced -down with a bubbling song of liberty, and -halted to play round the whirlpool delved by waters -that had gone before and were one by now with the -distant seas. A place of sanctuary, like an old kirk -ready with its welcome for young, honest love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman on the bridge glanced up at Hardcastle’s -approach, and into her eyes there leaped God knows -what of devilry, appeal, regret. And he, for his part, -stood looking at her with a wonder that for a moment -was a boy’s wonder, till he shut the gates on what -had been.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still basket-weaving, Nita?” he asked gravely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And still weaving spells about the men of Logie-side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was provocative, inscrutable, as of old, this girl-woman -whose grey eyes and flower-like face were all in -keeping with the russet autumn peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“About all but one,” said Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that one’s here with me. He’s here with me -where we met first. Do you remember?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle remembered, in savage earnest. She -had not changed in these five years, so far as slender -beauty went, and the nameless charm that drew men -to her—drew all men except one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was a dreamer then—and younger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s good to dream at times. I weave a good deal -of dream-stuff into my baskets as I make them—and -wonder what happens when a simple lass up-dale sets -her arm under the handle. Queer thoughts will come -to her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They will,” said the Master, rough and stubborn—“but -the thoughts will be good for your trade. <span class='it'>Never -put all your eggs into one basket, for fear the withies -break.</span> So they’ll buy two, when next you come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll never forgive?” said Nita Langrish, her -voice soft as Crooning Water’s where it lapped the -archway of the bridge below them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve done better, Nita—I’ve forgotten.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced up to learn if it was true. He -stood there unyielding, utterly remote; and a great -longing came to Nita to chain and hold this man who -had put her out of his life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You wanted me for your wife once. Is it too late, -Hardcastle of Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked down at her in frank astonishment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are last year’s nests too late?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was a fool. Perhaps five years have taught me -to be wise. And you’re harsh these days. Is it love -of me that’s hardening you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, God be thanked. It’s love of hardness for its -own sake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She let him go the length of the bridge and a little -beyond, then called him back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re hardy, to come so near the Wilderness Folk, -after what we’ve left on your gate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In spite of his boast not long ago, Hardcastle -remembered how he had once cared for this bonnie -slip of devildom, the sleepless nights he had gone -through in that far-off time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Put what you will on my gate,” he said, “except -those slim hands of yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was it not enough to meet three of our men,” she -asked, with dangerous quiet, “and send them bleeding -home?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was good while it lasted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet you want me, too, for enemy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re of the Wilderness these days, Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was I, a moment since? You would laugh if I -told you what I was weaving into my baskets, before -you came and spoiled it all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle’s face was grim as the nether-millstone. -“I’m past your sort of guile, Nita. No woman takes -me twice in the same net.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But was it guile? Suppose, as I threaded the withies -in and out, I was thinking of Logie—and its Master?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And of twenty other men, no doubt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had struck home at last. She got to her feet, -shaken by a storm of passion. “Fancies are no crime. -I’d have lost every man in the dale for sake of Hardcastle -of Logie—aye, and have burned their houses at -a word from him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle felt a touch of her old, bewildering power, -but recovered sharply. “You had me at call once, -and tore that dream to tatters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were too much at call. I’m of the sort that -wearies unless a man’s escaping me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re frank,” said Hardcastle, shrugging his -wide shoulders. “It seems a long way off, Nita—the -time when you would come and make a day hell or -heaven for me. You chose your road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now she had lost him; she recalled with bitter clearness -the way of her playing with him long since, -because he was so big and yet so downright drowned in -love. All the might-have-been turned to venom, -though she had caged her temper and was smiling in -quiet mockery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said—“as you chose your road yesterday. -The Wilderness Men you taunted me with just -now—I keep them at bay by promising favours to one -and another, and by giving none. When danger gets -too close, I set them at each other’s throats—for your -sake, until now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For my sake?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Men know so little.” Her glance met his in search -of weakness or relenting, and found none. “So now -I shall set them all at <span class='it'>your</span> throat, Hardcastle of Logie, -and they’ll bring blithe hearts to the game. You know -what follows the token left on a gate? There comes -a shaft out of nowhere, aimed at Logie. Then a spell -of quiet, and after that another shaft. You’ve heard -the way of the Lost Folk?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have,” said the Master, his head lifted sharply. -“And now the Lost Folk are to learn the way of Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita warmed to the change in this man who had been -easy going once, a slave to her whims. And with the -warmth came a new bitterness that she had lost one -who could show this spirit, walking alone as he did so -near the Wilderness that soon would be eating into his -courage like a cancer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve a gun under your arm,” she said. “That’s -for fear, I take it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. It’s for a chance shot at partridge on the -way to Michael Draycott’s. He fancies he’s a day or -two from death, and wants his will made out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Men do fancy that, if they’ve the toothache or -their little finger smarts. And of course you’re a -magistrate these days.” The grey eyes enticed and -mocked him. “I had forgotten. I was back, somehow, -in the times when we roamed Logie Woods -together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re gone,” said the Master—“dead and -mouldered out of sight by now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you a man at all, or just an oak-tree going on -two feet about Logie-side?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A man?” echoed Hardcastle, with a quiet laugh. -“That’s in the proving.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that he went up the road, and turned in at the -gate that opened on Michael Draycott’s pastures. -Nita thought he would glance back once at least, -drawn by old allegiance. She would have forgiven -him much for the glance; but he went up the slope -and out of sight, cocking the hammers of his gun. He -was thinking already of partridge, not of the random -days behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She seated herself again on the parapet and took up -her basket-work; and none could have guessed, seeing -her tranquil beauty, what thoughts she was weaving -now into the plaited withies. Crooning Water lapped -and gurgled. A curlew was plaining across the fells, -and from some wayside tree a starling was mimicking -his note. No other sound broke the fragrant peace -till the scrunch of feet sounded down the highway and -a stocky, undersized man swung round the bend. He -stopped on seeing Nita and touched his cap with rough -deference. Bonnie, a temptress who flouted and -smiled on them by turns, Nita had a strange hold on the -regard of the Wilderness Men, though few of their -women were of like mind. The men held her in honour, -too; and this was due, maybe, to the knowledge that -more than once she had set them an example of cold-blooded -savagery that none could equal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I met him of Logie up Draycott’s pasture,” said -the man, a still look in his beady eyes. “Walked as -if he owned all from this to hell hereafter. ‘Got a gun -with you. You’re wise,’ says I; ‘but why do you go -sporting without a dog?’ and Hardcastle laughs. -‘The dog’s guarding Logie from such as you.’ ‘Then -you’re wise again,’ says I, ‘for Logie will ask for a lot -of guarding by and by.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is he a fool altogether?” asked Nita, glancing up -from her basket.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t say that—not by a long way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It looks like it. He’s chosen to rouse the Wilderness -round him, like a hive of bees. There can only -be one end to that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s true enough; but the ending mayn’t be this -year or next. Fight sinks the fool in Hardcastle. -That’s what our three Broken Men said when they came -from the pinfold yesterday, and all the women laughing -at them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Afraid of him already, are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not myself. A darkish night, and me with -just enough light to see where to crack his skull—and -Hardcastle riding the lonely roads he’s fond -of——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All in good time.” Nita’s voice was clear as a -throstle’s, her fingers busy with the willows. “Before -an end comes to him that way, Jake, we’ll strike -elsewhere.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you choose. You’re wiser than the rest of us -put together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll maim before we kill. Hardcastle is a fool -altogether, I tell you so. He cares for his own, when -wise folk care for themselves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s few enough he cares for these days, I -should have said.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So he cares deeper for the few. There’s one close -friend the Master has—and this is what you’ll do, -Jake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she told her mind to him; and he gaped in -admiring wonder for a while, till she bade him get about -his business of the day. And after that, in the hollow’s -tranquil silence, she threaded her withies in and out as -she sat on the bridge—the bridge where Hardcastle -had seen her first.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap05'>CHAPTER V</h1></div> - -<h3>HEMLOCK</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle found no partridge in the long -pasture that led to Draycott’s farm; but a -hare got up under his feet as he neared the gate. -Most shots came easily to Hardcastle, but from boyhood’s -days a hare had roused always the same surprise, -with its lopping stride that seemed slow and -bulky, disguising a strong wind’s speed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He missed now with the first barrel—at simple -range—and puss got into a scrub of hazels that climbed -the hillside. When she ran through it, brown against -the grey rocks above, she was out of range to all but -the most sanguine fancy. Hardcastle gave her the left -barrel at a venture, and his heart warmed as he saw her -sprawl every way at once and lie still against the rocks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he went to pick her up and found her shot -cleanly through the head, he took it for a good omen. -Long hazards seemed to be his luck, and he needed many -kinds of luck these days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Michael Draycott was sitting up in the great -four-poster bed when Hardcastle went in. The man’s -apple-red face was paler than its wont, but his eyes -were keen and shrewd as ever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll know more than you before so very long,” -was Draycott’s greeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know more already, Michael—the ways of -sheep, and land tending, and things I learned from -you as a lad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and I could still teach you summat about -horses and dogs, though you’ll differ as to that. But -I wasn’t thinking of such matters. Before long I’ll -take a journey no man knows t’other side of—and in -a twinkling I’ll be wiser than all Logie-side. I’m not -afraid, you’ll know—I’m just in a fret to be gone, and -know what lies beyond, and be master of you all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll not be master yet, for you’re not within -sight of dying, Michael.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were always very free with your opinions. -Why shouldn’t I die, with all my bones a-tremble, -and a wambling back and front of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because your father lived to ninety, and you’re -a lad of sixty-five. He’d think shame of you to creep -over the Border at your time of day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s sense in that,” Michael agreed, with a hard, -wheezy laugh. “Come to think of it, there’s a good -deal of sense. I never thought of it in that way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve left a hare in your porch, against the time -you’re needing a sturdy meal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’ll have to hang for a week or more before it’s -ripe, but thank you all the same,” said Michael, -wistfully. “I own that the thought of it gets me back -to this side o’ things again. You jug a hare, if it’s -to be treated right, and run a pint of staunch port -wine into the stour of it, and thank the God who made -you for the dish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you needn’t make your will just yet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, but I must, though I’m feeling stronger every -minute since you came. It’s this way, Master. I -never wedded, as you know—thanks be for the escapement. -All the kin I have is a nephew that’s gone oversea, -and a niece that’s pretending to be a lady in London -town. If I knew which I hated most, I’d will all I -have to t’ other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then leave it over, Michael, till you’ve got your -strength back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe I might. But I’ve one thing to say to -you, Hardcastle of Logie. They put a token on my -gate last night, because I was tenant to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That carries to us all,” said the Master, hard and -wary on the sudden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you thought what it means?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I’m cold when I think of it—for myself, -but more for you of Logie-side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now listen. I built this snug fortune o’ mine -from naught at all, as you might say, and thrived on -sheep and cattle, thinking of little else. But I wouldn’t -have built it unless I’d payed tribute to the Lost -Folk, same as my father did before me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My own father never had that failing,” said -Hardcastle, stating a fact and proud of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Wilderness was not so strong then. Staunch -as he was, he’d have sung to another tune these days. -They out-number us, I tell you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d have sung to the same tune—but with a -lustier voice because the odds were bigger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The apple-red was glowing again in Draycott’s -cheeks. His fancied ailments were forgotten. “So -you take no shame to spread fire and murder through -the country-side?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I take pride for holding my own ground.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, stubborn, like all you Hardcastles; but lord -help me to guess where pride comes in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you pay in tribute now? Twice what it -was in my father’s time—and so on till you’d have -been beggared, you tax-paying folk. That’s where -pride comes in, Michael. I’m glad to have set war -between this and the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael Draycott was prone to coddle his fancied -illnesses, but under the foible lay a heart quick to -answer real trouble when it came. He got out of bed -with a speed astonishing in a sick man no longer young, -and stood there in his nightshirt, fronting Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’ll not be many with you among the lazy men -of Logie—but there’ll be me for one. While I get my -breeches on, will you pass word to the kitchen that -I’m roaring for a meal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first time since they set a token on his gate, -the Master laughed, from his heart upward. Michael -had salted the coming days with humour, and it went -with him as he halted at the kitchen door, and saw -inside a red-haired lass who was baking an apple-pie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The master is crying out for breakfast, Susan.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned a scared face to him. “He was dying -awhile since,” she stammered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was; but now he’s alive again, like the rest -of us. You’ll get used to these recoveries when -you’ve been longer in the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that he was gone; and humour stayed with -him as he went down the pasture and out into the -highroad. Nita was finishing her basket when he -reached the bridge that girdled Crooning Water, and -she glanced at him with innocent, grey eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are going home to Logie?” she asked. -“You’ll have news of a friend there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again old bitterness soured laughter and all else -in Hardcastle. “The Wilderness teaches most trades, -Nita. You’re for telling the future nowadays—silver -in your parlour, and promise of a dark lady coming?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m for telling the present. The friend is no -lady, dark or fair—and he’s waiting for you at the -gate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle forgot her, forgot even the sharp, slender -plough she had driven across his life, breaking it up. -He came to Logie Brigg, and feet of the marching men -sounded in his ears as he strode up the hill to Logie. -In their day fight was easy—march, and camp, and -straightforward ding of blows when battle came—but -this modern warfare thrust on him was a stealthy -matter, hard to wage. The old days were better.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now Hardcastle heard not only the tread of -feet, but song of the battle-men as they went to whatever -chanced. They did not pick their road, as he -was asking to choose it now, did not fall to dreaming -of warfare that had been. The ruts and the hardships -had been different then; but the call to conquer -them was the same.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle did not know himself in this mood. -His fore-elders were intent about him—brave, brawny -folk who compassed Logie, a regiment of fighting men. -And so in great heart he climbed the hill, and came -to his gate, and found a message scrawled in chalk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Hemlock grows in the Wilderness.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was all, till he tried to open the gate, and felt -a weight against it. He put an impatient shoulder -to the topmost bar, and there inside lay Roy, a dead -thing with no joy of welcome. Froth of the death-throes -flecked his jaws and his gold-brown hide. He -had watched for the Master faithfully, and for reward -lay here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A silence came to Hardcastle, and a great sickness—sickness -of heart, that is the worst to bear. He could -not believe for awhile that this comrade had gone -before his time. He had reared him as a puppy—a ball -of golden fluff that played strange antics—had nursed -him through distemper and trained him to the gun. -As if he stood at the graveside of a familiar friend, -long thoughts went racing down the years. He recalled -the very smell of the heather when grouse swept -cluttering up the moor, the crisp, frosty silence as -they waited for the wild-duck to come over. They -had roused all Logie-land together, good weather and -foul, and had tramped home with happy weariness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The trouble went deep. Roy had slept outside his -bedroom door, had been the first to welcome him -when he got up for the day’s business, the last to wag -his tail in token of good-night. And Roy had gone. -His body was here—but what of the eager spirit, the -loyalty that never faltered, the eyes that spoke because -the tongue was dumb? Many had failed Hardcastle -in his time, but never Roy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No longer since than yesterday, Roy had been with -him up the pastures, and now he was away to some -far land. What land? With the question came a -swift, wayward hope that he had found moors out -yonder, and birds rising to the gun, and wind among -the brackens—a faith that they would rejoin each -other later on, when his time came to die.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nothing could ease grief of this sort but remembrance -of the second token on his gate. Hemlock -grew in the Wilderness, and they had poisoned the -thing he loved best in the world—the friend that -Nita, weaving her basket where the Brigg crossed -Crooning Water, had told him would be waiting. -And now little, crimson lines began to dance before -his eyes, and widened swiftly till he saw nothing but -a sheet of fiery red, and behind it the styes where the -Lost Folk housed themselves. It was battle-sunrise, -drinking up the fears of generations; and many never -had known it, from Flodden’s day to this.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, spent with watching by the long-settle -where her father lay in deep sleep at last, had come -out for a breath of this clean, upland air. She would -go to the gate, and a little beyond, maybe—but not -far away from the sick man who might need her at -any moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She got no further than the gate. Her sympathy -was quick for dogs; and, seeing Roy there in all his -dead, silent disarray, she knelt beside him and hid a -sudden rush of tears in the coat that had been warm -yesterday, when he growled at her coming and afterwards -gave friendship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was so brave and bonnie—and he’s gone,” -she said, glancing up between wet lashes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Roy needs no praise,” growled Hardcastle, -roughened by his loss. “If you’d known him as I -did, you’d let your tongue be still.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her pride took fire. From the first he had been -surly and resentful of her coming. Yet her feet -dragged, as she left him with his dead. She halted -and glanced back; and there was Hardcastle, his -shoulders bowed with sorrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you cared for him,” she said, her voice low -with pity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cared? He was all left to care for, except Logie.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap06'>CHAPTER VI</h1></div> - -<h3>THE EWE-GATHERING</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>They were gathering their sheep from the fells -under Pengables, to bring them down into the -warmer lands below. To a stranger it would -have seemed odd that so many shepherds, and master-farmers -with their hinds, should have chosen the same -day. The farmers, indeed, might have done the work -at haphazard, choosing a time here and there as occasion -served; but their shepherds lived nearer the fell-tops -where true weather-lore was taught by countless little -signs and tokens. And the shepherds had decreed -that within eight-and-forty hours the wind hounds of -the north would be driving snow before them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Logie country, if it guessed what was to come, -made merry with the time left it. Quiet wisps of cloud -lay bosomed on a sky of blue. The belt of woodland -under Pengables—larches, pines and rowans, their -feet set deep in the heather—glowed in the hot sun glare -with rich array of russet and amber, and wide-flung -crimson—the riot of it all subdued by the still majesty -of the pines, who kept their burnished livery secure -against all onset of the seasons.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the land was filled with uproar—dogs barking -their throats hoarse, sheep crying witless and forlorn, -men cursing ewes and dogs and neighbour-folk in rich -upland speech. When each shepherd had only his own -ewes to look after, and his own dog to work them, they -went silently about the business, save for a whistle or -a quiet call. But now the dogs were mad with rivalry. -The sudden busy-ness of these quiet fells was to them -what market day in Shepperton meant to the shepherds -when they went there once in a while and were amazed -by the town’s confusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Shepherd Brant, a great leader of dogs and ewes, -began at last to get order out of havoc, and all was going -well when Michael Draycott—he that was lying on his -death-bed a fortnight since, till Hardcastle persuaded -him to get out of it—came driving a flock of three-score -down the lane the bracken-sledges took. They came -plump into a company that Brant was shepherding -along the track to Logie, and a bleak-witted cry went -up to heaven from two hundred sheep that turned all -ways at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant took command in earnest now. “Durn you, -Michael, will you leave shepherding to shepherds. -What’s the use of you, quavering with a stick and -walking as if your toes were on hot bricks? A figure -of fun, I call you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll leave it to you gladly, Brant,” chuckled -Michael, the sweat dripping from his cheery face. “For -my part I’ve had enough and to spare of the game.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then get a hand into the collar of that fool-dog of -yours, and see how mine has learned to work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael obeyed. Brant and he were old enough in -friendship to make small account of plain speech -between them, and the farmer watched the other’s -dog at work with growing approbation—watched him -as he drove some of the ewes in front, thrust others -aside, getting his own and those that did not matter -into two companies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A gift, I call it—a fair marvel,” he muttered, -talking to the dog he held by the collar. “See ’em at -it—Brant and his snod-haired collie. We’re a rough -couple, lad, when it comes to rounding sheep up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flocks were separate at last, and Brant’s dog -padded up and down with restless question what was -asked of him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Home to Logie,” said the shepherd, “I’ll follow -soon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael grew wide-eyed with wonderment as he saw -the ewes go down the slope, the collie shepherding a -straggler now and then with quiet persuasion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He can do almost aught but talk, Brant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And does it better for that lack,” said the shepherd, -filling his pipe. “Dogs have the pull of us there. -They work instead of talking. Lordie, it’s been a warm -job, this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks to you shepherds. What fool’s tale did -you come telling, about north wind and snow?” put -in Geordie Wiseman, sauntering to join them from a -neighbouring farm lane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bide a day or two, and you’ll learn. For myself, -I’m glad of a breathing-time, while Scamp yonder takes -’em home to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t a pup of his fathering, Brant?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have, as it happens, but I’d never trust him to -your lowland training,” growled Brant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shepherd fell into great moodiness, till Michael -rallied him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s gone amiss?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm’s gone amiss,” snapped Brant. “Scamp -does well enough—a good second of the twins I reared—but -Storm was known from this to Carlisle for what he -was—the best dog in the north for sheep. And now -he’s tasted flesh, and no cure for him but the barrels -of a gun.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A rare dog,” assented Wiseman, “but too clever, -as you might say. He went past himself. You’ve not -chanced on him yet, I take it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not I. I begin to fancy he’s savaging another -man’s flocks by now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm, if they had known it, was watching them from -above, where he lay coiled in a clump of bracken under -Pengables. For a week and a day, since Hardcastle -first gave him house-room, he had roamed at large, -raiding and sleeping and skulking by turns; and, as he -came warily across the moor this morning, the uproar -from the fells below roused ancient memories. With -slow craftiness, his body crouched to take advantage -of such cover as rocks and heather gave him, he -had wormed his way to the foot of Pengables, -and now looked on, an outlaw, at the work speeding -forward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had shared that work in other years, had heard -men praise him, had seen his fellow-dogs give jealous -homage to his fame. And now he lay here, with the -blood of a late-slain ewe scarce dried on his rough -muzzle. None praised him to-day. He had lost -repute, and every hand was turned against him—even -Brant’s, his old master; and across Storm’s hard, -relentless eyes there stole a mist of grief. That weakness -passed. The wolf-lust in him blazed afresh, -kindled in the old-time of his ancestors. He remembered -last night’s slaughter—the mad joy of killing, -just for slaughter’s sake. He thought of the night to -come. Then he turned three times in his bracken lair, -and his head dropped on his forepaws. For he was full -fed and sleepy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Over the same moor that Storm had crossed, Hardcastle -of Logie came from business he had at Nether -Helstone. They liked to have him with them at the -ewe-gathering, and he was later than he had meant; -but for all that he halted when he reached the grim rockpile -of Pengables, set four-square like a fortress on the -hill-top. He, too, was looking down on a remembered -scene, as Storm had done, and with a sense of utter -loneliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He watched the wild gathering-scene below—the -sheep scampering every way at once, the dogs half-crazied, -the men who seemed, most of them, little surer -of their wits. Then he saw order come from the bedevilment, -till at last the whole of the wide fells below -him took moving shape. There was no longer a waste -of close-cropped pastures. It was hidden by long, -swaying flocks that glided to their lowland shelter-fields.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the grey sheep moved through the day’s heat, -the sweat of their fleeces rose to a sunlight that turned -it into rainbow mist; and Hardcastle stood looking -down on old, familiar country changed to fairyland. -The spell of it was on him. He had not known what -glamour lay about this simple Gathering Day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook himself free of dreams, and glanced across -the valley. Garsykes, the village of the Lost Folk, was -sending wood-smoke up into the quiet sky as if it were -a haunt of peace. Yet it had put a token on his gate, -had killed old Roy already, and would burn Logie next, -no doubt. It seemed destined that he should lose the -few things left him nowadays to care for.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here on the heights he learned suddenly what Roy’s -loss meant to him. First grief, when he found the dead -body at his gate, had been tempered by the shock that -stuns. Through the days that followed he had shut -down the windows of his heart, lest he looked too closely -through them. There were other dogs in plenty to be -had. He must buy one to-morrow—or perhaps the -morrow after. So he told himself; but now, as again -he looked across at Garsykes, he hungered just for Roy. -If all was in the losing, because he had battered three -men of the Wilderness, he could have faced it better -if Roy had been beside him. He had no fear now. -But he had loneliness, that can bite like east wind into -the marrow of a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheep-nibbled grass sloped sharply down on this -side of Pengables, and when he reached the hill-foot—half -running and half sliding, as fell-racers do—he was -checked by a sudden growl from the brackens on his -right. Storm’s sleep these days was light as the -triggers of pursuing guns. He was on his feet already, -his teeth bared behind the tell-tale ruddy lips. Then, -as he saw who the intruder was, he just stood and looked -at him, his air ludicrously changed. The brown eyes -grew full of deprecation, appeal, assurances that he was -a mishandled and misjudged fugitive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle laughed quietly. “I believe no word of -it, but you’re safe from me. I give you my word for -that. There’s Brant down there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm followed his pointing finger, then glanced at -his face again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s Brant down there—and more fool you to -make an uproar when a friend comes by.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now about these two there came sharp intuition, -such as thrives in times of peril. Storm had always -liked the smell of this man who had saved him twice—once, -when he gave him shelter at Logie, and now when -he might have betrayed him to Shepherd Brant below. -He thrust his rough head into the Master’s hand—the -head smeared by blood, and packed within by the -Wilderness knew what of guile and wolf-lust—and of -loyalty to his chosen man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So then Hardcastle knew that in sober truth he had -bought another dog—but not with money. He bade -Storm keep close, and left him in his lair, and went -swinging down the fells. Loneliness had gone, though -in the peaceful days he would have sneered at any man -who told him he could take cheer of heart from an -outlaw such as Storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last swaying companies of sheep went out of -sight behind the shoulder of the track as he strode -down. From time to time a man’s voice sounded, or -a collie’s eager yelp, muffled by distance into softer -melody. For the rest there was the intimate and -friendly silence of a land ripe with autumn’s big content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That lasted till he neared the road where Shepherd -Brant was gossiping with Michael Draycott and filling -another pipe before he took the home-track to Logie. -Then the jar of men’s voices raised in quarrel killed all -peace, and Hardcastle, glancing down, saw five of the -Wilderness Folk confronting the two of Logie. He -made light of the quarter-mile between himself and -trouble, and Brant turned at sound of his coming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve missed you,” he grumbled; “but better -late than never.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, ask these lean swine from Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The five were tongue-tied and loutish, till one of -them—Jake Bramber, who had talked with Nita on -the bridge and afterwards gone to Logie to feed old Roy -with meat and hemlock—strutted his squat impudence -up to Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a dog called Storm,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is,” Hardcastle agreed, with bitter quiet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s taken many sheep of ours. So I just asked -Brant if he’d missed any ewes of his own this morning -when he counted the tally. He owned to a score.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, you needn’t be so high and mighty about it. -They’re in our pinfold yonder—tribute, as you might -say, for what Storm’s done to ours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a pinfold over Logie way, and three sheep -of yours tried to stop me there. Did I break all their -bones, or only half? I’ve often wondered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now the five men stared at Hardcastle, marvelling -at his hardihood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s one of you killed a dog of mine,” said the -Master, his eyes holding Jake’s, “and he’ll pay toll for -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seems as if times were changed,” growled the little -man, strutting it still. “D’ye know what it means -when the Lost Folk put an arrow on a gate?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We know,” said Hardcastle—“and, Brant, go -down to their pinfold and bring back our ewes.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap07'>CHAPTER VII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE BATTLE OF THE FLEECE</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael Draycott rubbed his hands together -as he saw the five shrink back. They -were not used to such frank and instant -challenge. Hardcastle had reminded them, moreover, -of what he had done to certain men of theirs; -and they looked on with sullen wonder as Brant -brought up the twenty ewes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Jake Bramber who first spoke. “Leave us -those ewes, and maybe we’ll call it quits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quits?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s been a long peace between you Logie -Folk and ours. You wouldn’t break it for a matter -of a few sheep?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s talking sense, Master,” quavered Geordie -Wiseman. “Let him have ’em, and save us all from -being murdered every night of our lives.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A laugh went up; but Hardcastle was in no mood -for merriment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are two roads, Geordie,” he said sharply—“to -Logie or the Wilderness. You’ve got to choose. -If a tenant of mine gives any sort of tribute—aye, if -it’s a penny to a brat of theirs—he crosses over to -Garsykes. And may hell deal softly with him there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The five men drew further back from Hardcastle. -More than his rugged strength, more than memory -of the battered three who had returned they feared -this man’s strength of spirit, revealed suddenly—feared -the ring of his voice, the upright head and -brawny shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A hard man, you,” said Jake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, a hard man, I, and God be thanked for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But an arrow-head left on a gate? It can weaken -the hardest—by degrees. A blow in the dark say, -or a boulder in the road when you and yours drive -home o’ nights—and your women-folk not safe at -any time——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no women-folk,” said Hardcastle—“except -old Rebecca. And she’s a match for any two of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still Jake laboured to get the better of him. He -knew that, if he could persuade the Master of Logie -to buy peace at the small price of twenty ewes, the -Wilderness was free to go its way again, robbing the -weak, never needing to tackle stronger folk than ale-silly -drovers and the like.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s the house of Logie. They say no woman -could ever be to Hardcastle what Logie is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall come to burn it, on near night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks for the warning,” said Hardcastle, and -told Brant to get busy with the ewes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wiseman paused for a backward glance, and the -Master gripped his arm. “I’ll not hinder you either -way—but, Geordie, you’ve to choose once for all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Geordie, as his way was, went with those who -had prevailed in the last battle. And Brant went -driving the stolen ewes before him, more thankful -for them than for all the hundreds that had gone -before in safety. And Michael Draycott laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could scarce tell you why,” he said, answering -a question in the Master’s glance. “Perhaps I was -thinking of me on my death-bed, and the bonnier -times you kicked me up to share.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm, the sheep-slayer, watched it all from his -lair at the foot of Pengables. He saw the last of the -ewes go in a rainbow-steam round the wide curve -of the track, and with them Brant his enemy, and -Hardcastle his friend—his friend from this till death -ended loyalty for one unwanted dog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The land grew quiet again, basking in the tranquil -heat, until a whistle broke the silence. Storm knew -the shepherd’s call, the whistle of hale farm-lads -when they climbed the pastures; but this had another -note. It was shrill and sinister.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He waited. Broken dogs, like broken men, learn -a patience that is not contentment—a patience wide-eyed -to observe all details and quick to interpret them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nothing happened for awhile, till the whistle was -repeated. And then Storm saw the doors of Garsykes -open wide, and men pour out from them and run into -the wide, green road the Logie Men had taken. He -saw Jake point first at their empty pinfold, then down -the track—heard the deep, evil roar that died as -they went grimly in pursuit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm understood it all, and a great song came -into his blood. He was not concerned with his own -needs now, but with Hardcastle’s. As he went between -the brackens and kept pace with the running -folk below, he could see the men of Logie moving -slowly, hidden as yet from the enemy, but with only -a few hundred yards to spare. And they did not -know their peril.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The song in Storm’s blood had the gale’s speed -now. Like all great-hearted sinners, he was sick of -skulking. Reason had nothing to do with the long, -howling wail he gave—a wail like the cry of all the -lost who had ever lived and died in Garsykes—but -instinct told him he was serving Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle himself glanced backward, to learn the -meaning of it; and round the bend he saw a company -of the Lost Folk, their shuffling run stopped for a -moment by the eerie cry that still whined and sobbed -from the bracken-lands above. He took advantage -of their superstition—they fancied Guytrash was -calling them to death—and glanced ahead again, -down the track the sheep were taking over a grey, -narrow bridge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get the ewes over, Brant,” he said quietly, as if -he called him to supper up at Logie. “Get them over, -man, and be quick. We two must hold the bridge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sixty years of weather on the heights had only -toughened Brant’s lean body and he warmed to this -queer happening. He got the sheep across, and left -them in Geordie Wiseman’s charge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your knees are all a-twitter, Geordie,” he growled, -“but there’s use enough in you, maybe, to keep a -few ewes from straying into what’s to come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How will it end, shepherd?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As it will end. What can I tell you more than -that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Wilderness Men were still halting, for Storm’s -long-drawn howl had taken a deeper note. They -looked for some ghostly death to overtake them, till -Jake rallied their oozing pluck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s naught. We live too near those durned -old miners up at Weathersett, with their talk of -trolls and weir-dogs——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but it’s Guytrash calling us, all the same,” -broke in a lad of the company. “I heard him once, -and my father hanged himself that night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The more fool he,” laughed Jake. “He’d have -been hanged any way, soon or late; but no man -should run to meet a halter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, fronting them at the bridge, knew that -the odds must overmaster himself and Brant, once -these folk came at them in dead earnest. They were -thirty paces away as yet, irresolute for a moment -that seemed endless, and Hardcastle’s thoughts ran -swiftly, like those of a drowning man. This end was -better, after all, than the long-drawn-out stealthy -warfare he had been prepared to meet. And Logie’s -honour would be safe. Yet he felt an odd, wistful -regret for Brant the shepherd. The pity of it that -Brant was old, with a heart reared on upland solitude. -The fights he was trained to share were clean battles -between a man and such weather as the skies chose -to ding about his ears. But they were here together -and must face it out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant’s thoughts were busy, too, in this long moment -of inaction. The deep, running cry, that sounded -ceaselessly through the brackens up above, was a -cry known to him. It had roused him many a night -as he slept in his hut, up yonder on the roof of the -high fells, had got him out of doors with a gun in his -hand to follow a useless hunt in the dark for a sheep-slayer -who yapped and growled across the wastes. -He knew Storm’s voice now, as one knows the voice -of his dearest enemy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ewes behind him knew it, and pressed together -in a sweat of fright. Storm the sheep-slayer was -among them once again—Storm, who had made -nightmares of their slumber for time out of mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle’s voice sounded, rough and sturdy, -as he answered Jake’s gibe that no man should run -to meet a halter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No man runs to meet my fists, I notice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still the Wilderness Men held back. Attack in -daylight was a trade they had not learned, and they -were clumsy at it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle’s blood was red in him, as when he had -stood above old Roy, slain foully by these people. -The struggle could not last, he knew. Soon they -would gather bastard courage from force of numbers, -and there would be an end to him and Shepherd -Brant. But joy was with him. There was a sharp -memory of Logie, the house dearer to him than all else -except his lands. Parting was hard, till he remembered -that they would carry him there a true Hardcastle. -Dead or alive, he asked for Logie’s honour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up above this battle that could only have one end, -Storm was pressing through the brackens. He had -warned the Master, and afterwards had watched the -score of grey-fleeced ewes. And the old wolf-call had -reached him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm went on his own business now. He went -at speed, but craftily, and never left cover till he -crossed the brook that, further down, ran under the -bridge where Hardcastle fronted the Lost Folk. -Then he turned downhill. He was in the open now, -and the sheep that fool Geordie guarded turned face -about as the slayer’s hunting-note came down the -lean, steep pasture-lands. They knew that Storm -loved to chase them from behind before at last he -leaped and fastened his teeth in wool and flesh. So -they turned about, with bleating courage to resist, -till the cry of the slayer came near and eager.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Geordie Wiseman pranced up and down, shouting -that the ewes were all gone daft. Hardcastle and -Brant turned to see the frenzied mob of sheep charge -them from behind; and just in time they left the -bridge. The sheep came skeltering over in resistless -panic, drove through the Wilderness Folk and scattered -them like chaff to one side and the other of the road. -Fear of man was lost in the wilder dread of what -pursued.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After them came Storm, at a tearing gallop that -checked as he neared the Garsykes Men. The sheep -were in front of him, a sure quarry later on; and -here were enemies who had harried him up and down -the country-side for many a day. He bit right and -left with savage yelps. He paused to maul one here -and there of those who had been stamped into the -breeze-blown dust of the roadway. Then he passed, -as a roaring gale might do, and followed the grey -ewes—out and up, till he was hidden by a bluff of -rock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Garsykes Men were broken. They forgot -Hardcastle at the bridge, forgot all but superstition, -and the look of Storm as he went by, with his fangs -bared and his muzzle dripping red with blood of theirs. -Terror-stricken as the sheep whose cries still came -fitfully down-wind, they made for home, some limping -as they went.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle passed a hand across his eyes. A -moment since he had been ready for the struggle that -was to end all strife for him on this side of things; -and now he was a free man again. It was unbelievable -how sweet life was, with all its harsh ups-and-downs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant came to his side, and together they stood -looking down on the mean village in the hollow just -below them. It was packed with women, and one -of them—a plump, brazen hussy—sent a great laugh up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good grief, our men come home,” she cried—“<span class='it'>our -men</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The laughter spread, till the broken warriors rallied -and made for their own women-folk with ready fists.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s about time we went,” said Shepherd Brant. -“If the men and the women both come out against -us after their fratching’s done—why, God help us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They took a last look at this village that had -conquered Logie-side for generations, and were turning -homewards when a voice hailed them, and they saw -the plump hussy breasting the rise of the pastures -up from Garsykes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re Hardcastle of Logie?” she panted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ve come to tell you two things. First, -that you’ve a queer pluck of your own, to come so -near us after we’ve put the token on Logie’s gate. -A bit of a fool, I should call you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like most of us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood fronting them, her red arms folded across -her ample breasts. “Aye, laugh while you can; for it’s -no easy road you’ve chosen—’specially by night. Lord, -what our men will put on you for this day’s work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She left them as quickly as she had come, and -Brant’s face was sombre as Hardcastle and he crossed -the bridge that would have seen their death if Storm -had not run wild awhile since.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve lost twenty ewes. There’s no denying that,” -he grumbled. “And Storm—that old, ancient devil—is -with them up the pastures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He saved you and me, Brant—saved us for Logie -and the days to come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were always partial to him, as I’ve told you -time and again. I’d rather have died than be saved -by a ravisher of ewes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe—but I’d rather live, to put fear of Logie -on these Garsyke swine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a mile they went, Hardcastle and his shepherd, -in sharp disagreement. Then Brant turned, with a -dry chuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s sense in that. After the few hundred -years they’ve been putting fear on Logie, it’s time -we had our turn. But I cannot thole the thought o’ -Storm, and never will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they rounded the bend where Widow Dyke’s -cottage stood snug and lonely, its garden-patch ablaze -with red butterflies that feasted on the tall-standing -Michaelmas daisies, Nita Langrish met them in the -road. A little, toddling chap had hold of her hand, -and she was singing a song to him.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Now grow you big, and grow you tall,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Lad o’ the Wilderness.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>You’ll give the Logie Folk a call</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>When nights are dark and drear and all,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Lad o’ the Wilderness.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>She ceased her singing, and stood fronting Hardcastle. -Supple and eager, a thing radiant as the sunlit -day, she brought harsh memories back. He had -been in slavery once to this beguilement, before he -learned what lay behind it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whose brat have you with you?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Widow Mathison’s.” Nita’s voice was clear and bell-like -as of old, pleasant to hear. “You felled his uncle -at the pinfold, and Murgatroyd has not recovered yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s welcome news.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced at him with such hope of old -dominion that Brant went forward, disgruntled -and at war with life. If the Master liked to be -fooled a second time, that was no concern of a -shepherd who had kept his eyes on the hills, instead -of letting them rove women’s way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you forgotten Logie Woods?” asked Nita, -tears in her grey, pleading eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Except in nightmare. Yes, I’ve forgotten those -days, Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bitter to the end?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and beyond.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She fell to crying; and, when that did not serve, -she glanced at him through long, wet lashes. “If I -cared for too many men—it was vanity, and no more. -There was never a man but you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wrath came to Hardcastle—sudden, heedless -tempest, like a north wind from far, broken hills. -“I’ll not say to any woman what’s on my tongue for -you. I gave you—all Logie and myself—gave you -my heart to be held, or played with. Tales came of -other men, and I laughed at them—till I found them -true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was vanity. No man but you ever took my -lips—though many wanted to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was weaving gossamer about him, this once -again. Charm of the slender body, supple as the -willows she wove into her baskets—lilt of her voice—the -pleading in her eyes—were meshing him into -her net.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He broke through. The new days had hardened -him. Up yonder was threatened Logie; and here -was Nita of the Wilderness, wanting him not for -himself, but because he was the one man in the country-side -she could not play with.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were singing a song to Widow Mathison’s -brat,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The feud with Logie’s up again. It came out -of the olden days, before I knew.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Teach him a newer song. There’ll be no Garsykes -when the lad grows up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wrath had left him. Gruff and cold, sinewy with -field-sports and hard riding, he would never again -be the lover she had known. He was in the thick of -peril, and seemed to have no fear. He was within -reach of her hands and lips, and would not take them. -And now fury came to her in turn, though it ran deep -and out of sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are three things Hardcastle of Logie cared -for,” she said, counting them on slender fingers—“his -house, his dog Roy, his pride. And Roy has -gone the way of hemlock. So two are left him now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was you sent one of yours to Roy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And next I shall send one to fire your house,” -laughed Nita gently, counting the tally on her second -finger. “Then there’ll be stillness for a long while, -till your pride takes fright and dies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He grew only a little harder. She had killed his -heart long since, and now had sent hemlock up to -Roy. And she was glancing at him with softened -eyes, was reaching out slim hands he would not take.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have the Lost Folk at call—could turn the storm -from Logie, if—if you cared.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was no bondsman now to Garsykes Men—still -less to thraldom of any woman who thought to -glamour him from that side of the country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re asking tribute, Nita,” he said. “Logie -gives none to the Wilderness.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap08'>CHAPTER VIII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE GABBLE-RATCHET</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen was restless about the house of Logie. -Her father dozed and roused himself by turns. -Always in his waking moments he glanced -at the pike that had gone to Flodden Field and back, -and was eager to leave the roof that sheltered him. -She watched the same pitiful struggle to rise and get -his helpless limbs to ground, the same falling into -stupor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Near sunset of the day that followed the ewe-gathering, -she drifted into Rebecca’s kitchen, pride -and weariness waging a private feud within her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is always the same tale, Rebecca,” she said. -“My father is not well enough to go just yet, and we -overstay our leave.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who told you that?” asked the other dryly, as she -gimped the edge of an apple-pasty before she set it -in the oven. “Not me for one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nobody told me—in so many words.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca glanced up. The harsh face that was worth -a couple of watch-dogs to the house—as Hardcastle’s -jest had it—was softened now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re a stiff folk here, the Master and me. It’s -old habit to snap at foreigners—but once in a while -the snap doesn’t mean so much. You’re very welcome -to stay on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you’ll let us pay,” said Causleen, fire smouldering -in her eyes. “We’re not beggar-folk, but pedlars—giving -for what we get.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All in a fine tantrum, are you? As if Logie -couldn’t give a lodging to a couple of far-spent wanderers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We haven’t money, but I could help you—to -wash up in the kitchen, and clean the upstairs rooms—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You could,” broke in Rebecca, “if I’d let you. -You seem not to know that it’s joy and pride to me to -serve the Master. He’s worth the while.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So we must go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you must stay, seeing how it is with Donald. -You’ve enough to do, and so have I; and that should -keep us two from worriting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why is the Master so hard?” asked Causleen, -watching Rebecca stand away from the hiss of the -opened oven-door before she put the pasty in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He met a fool-lass once, and thought her all made -up of what never could be in this world. Women -aren’t shaped out of rainbow-dreams, as the Master -fancied. So he took a fall—and a long, steep fall it -was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tired as she was, Causleen’s interest was roused. -Woman-like, she saw Hardcastle’s gruffness softened -a little now that romance was its excuse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was she bonnie, Rebecca?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, like a bird you’d like to ’tice from its twig. -The devil uses that sort sometimes. And now there’ll -be no heir to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll never marry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not he, unless the time of miracles came back. -I’ve no patience with life, I tell you. Here’s a man -as likely-set-up as one here and there—might pick as -he chose—and he lets himself go bachelor all his days -because a lass fooled him once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He never thinks of the men before him? Seven -hundred years the Hardcastles have been settled here, -he told us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, he thinks of them, I fancy. They nag at -him, and small wonder. It’s a shame and a crying -pity that he should let the race die out, for sake of -such as Nita Langrish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What was she like?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like nothing honest—a face that put even women -in mind of flowers and such trash—and great, grey eyes—and -a heart as dry as Ghyll Beck after a droughty -summer. But she did one good turn to Logie. I’ll -own to that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca had not paused in her work. Like a mill-wheel, -she could chatter without hindrance to the -day’s labour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They go far back, the Hardcastles,” she went on, -spreading dough on the baking-board and rolling it -with quiet, unhurried hands. “Yeomen, they, and -content with yeoman’s pride. Then they bought a -croft here, a farmhouse there, till they got to be big -in the land.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen began to understand many things about -Hardcastle, now she held the key. His grim hostility -to women was explained. So, too, was the rugged, -inborn dignity that could meet all men frankly, yet -hold them at a little distance. In days gone by, she -had known Highland lairds who had shown just this -will-proud front to clansmen of the misty homeland.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And then?” she added, like a child impatient for -the end of a nursery-tale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There come breaks in a line as long as Hardcastle’s—a -spendthrift, a drunkard, one silly in his wits—there -must be breaks. The Lord Almighty favours -none, and long-settled folk must take their chances -with the rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca was of the homeland, too, to Donald’s -girl. The Lord Almighty favoured none, as all men -knew who had lived with mountains and the storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She did a good turn to Logie, this Nita Langrish?” -asked Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She did. The Master was all for guns and fishing, -and letting a farm go here and there while he played at -life. If the likes of her had married him, she’d have -pushed him down to dear-knows-what of mortgages -and ruin. But they quarrelled, thanks be, and the -Master went hard as a flint. I watched him close -and proper, I promise you, those first months after they -parted. It bit deep, and might have taken him into -any sort of devilment; but instead it stiffened him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Soured and roughened him,” flashed Causleen, remembering -how Donald and she had come to Logie first.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe. I own that I’d like to hear him laugh -about the house again—just once in the week, say—but -then you can’t have everything in this world. -Instead of squandering farms, he’s buying them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca, rolling the dough out as she talked, remembered -suddenly the pasty already in the oven, and -darted to its rescue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, now,” she scolded, “it would have been -burned in another minute. That comes of your -gossip, when you know I like a quiet kitchen. Take -those white cheeks of yours out of doors, girl. You’ve -been cluttered up too long between four walls. Take -’em out, and leave me to my baking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen was learning the difference between the -bark and bite of those at Logie, and Rebecca’s glance -was kindly. “There is father,” she said, glancing wistfully -through the open door at the sunlit warmth outside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And me to see to him till you come back. I’m -not old enough yet to make a song about tending my -kitchen and one ailing man. Take jobs by turns, and -one’s a rest from t’ other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Causleen, with a sob of sheer relief, stepped out -into the afternoon. She died by inches in such -imprisonment as she had known at Logie, but her feet -seemed shod with fairy-boskins now that she was free -to roam a land that reminded her at every turn of -her lost Highlands. Through the russet sun-glow she -went, up into the moors that knew no walls except the -sky’s. The heather was not as tall as in her own -country, where she had waded knee deep through it; -but the scent and the friendliness were the same. -When a cock-grouse got up and whirred over rise and -hollow of the untamed lands, she knew his challenge -of <span class='it'>go-back, go-back</span>, for a note as cheery as Rebecca’s -when she had bidden her find an hour of freedom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She left the moor at last, tempted by the lure of -Logie Woods below, with their burnished colours -glowing in the heat-haze; and once more, as she -stepped into their cool shelter, the sense of home was -with her. Underfoot the pale gold of fallen larch-leaves -shimmered softly in the silver light that filtered -through—a thick carpet, soft to tread. Ripe, nutty -odours were abroad, and peace was sounding her -elfin-trumpets through every brake and hollow. The -wise big-hearted autumn was here, as in far Inverness—a -northern autumn, that had fought for this tranquillity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, in sheer content, followed the winding -track, till it led her to a little, brawling stream, brown -with moor-peat and ferned in every crevice of its banks -with greenery for the water-pixies and their kind. -She forgot every footsore step she had taken on the -Pedlar’s Road. Here was the twin-hollow to one in -the homeland, where she had grown from child to -woman, dreaming of Highland feuds, and Highland -loves, and the glamour that would come one day when -a man’s eyes were steady and honest with her own, -asking all she had to give.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood there, so quiet that a squirrel ran about -her feet before he saw her and raced up a neighbouring -fir-bole, pausing to wash fear away from his face before -he glimpsed down on this intruder. As on Logie -Brigg, no longer than two weeks ago, Causleen was -aware now of the voice that spoke without any sort -of speech—the little voice within that never lied. Not -in the Highlands, but here in Logie-land, the man of -her dreams would come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So by and by she went down the rough bank of the -stream, singing a Gaelic song that was in tune with the -water’s voice, and came at last to the brink of Wharfe -River, where it flowed in dappled, sunlit quiet—a -great-bosomed stream, wide between its banks. And -now she lost remembrance of the Highlands. They -had rivers there in plenty, but none like this water -that said so little and so much as it swirled by—lonely, -majestic, unafraid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She, who had learned in babyhood the language -of many waters, big and little, could make nothing of -Wharfe’s speech. Soft as its murmur was, there were -undernotes that baffled her—eerie cries below the -flood, and now and then a roaming whine, as if a fox -pursued its prey by night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A breeze was stealing now across the warm shelter -of the woods—a moaning breeze, gentle and very cold. -The rock-doves, crooning overhead, grew silent. -Chatter of beast and bird ceased in Logie Woods. -They knew what was coming to them from the north -and something of their trepidation began to settle on -Causleen. Such dreams as she had been weaving -a moment since seemed empty, foolish, and their -warmth had gone with the woodland glow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wharfe River, as she followed it, lost its breadth of -flow; its tranquil temper. The under-cries grew -louder as it swept through the narrows under grey-brown -scuds of foam; and ever as the waters hurried -down, the rocks on either bank set closer teeth on them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, glancing across this place of tumbled strife, -saw a man’s figure come down the wood on the far -bank; and a smile of self-derision played about her -lips. How bravely she had dreamed of a lover—and -what a wakening, to find Hardcastle of Logie—Hardcastle -the churl, who grudged Donald and herself -each hour they spent under his roof. But at least he -was on the other bank, and there was no bridge for -him to cross. She was glad of that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she saw him gather himself together, and run -a little way, and leap; and he was on her side now of -Wharfe River, laughing up at her astonished face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It saves the long way round by Logie Brigg,” he -said—“but it’s no short cut for fools to take.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came close to the bank and glanced down, -curious to learn how one leap could bridge a river; and -under her she saw the whole tumult of the upper stream -caged into a yard’s span, with Wharfe going silent, fast -and deep between its prison walls. She saw, too, that -Hardcastle had jumped from the low to the higher -bank, and that the rock he leaped from was wet with -spray.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You took a mad risk,” she said, shivering as she -watched the strong, remorseless flood go by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I said it was no short cut for fools. But Wharfe -couldn’t drown me if she tried. There’s too long -caring goes between us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Wharfe River.</span> The name sings to me since I -heard it first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Wharfe sings—many songs. I’ve known her -for thirty years, and never stale of listening. Soft as -a girl one day, and the next a beldame, riving all her -banks to pieces. A woman, all of her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why—a woman?” asked Causleen, with quiet -mockery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She changes her mind so lightly—croons to you, -like the gentlest stream that ever lapped quiet banks—and -you’re half believing it when the storm-waters -come, roaring to pluck you down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was it only Wharfe taught you what you know of -women?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Malice prompted the gibe, but Causleen was bewildered -by the answering fury. She had driven a needle-point -into some deep-hidden nerve, and for a moment -she fancied Hardcastle would strike her. He was -alive with rage. She seemed to stand shelterless under -a mountain tempest that was soon to break about her. -She did not care. Better to flout him in the open -here than be a tongue-tied and unwelcome guest -at Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she had watched him gather himself for the -slippery leap across the Strith, she watched him now. -He got temper into hand, as if it were a mettled horse -he rode. He conquered the pain of an old wound -she had pricked to life. The face he turned to her at -last was grey and quiet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not only Wharfe,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The breeze came sobbing, cold and comfortless, -through the woods of Logie, and the red leaves blew -about them in their fall. Again old griefs came to -Hardcastle, and again he laughed, as of old, to drive -them off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wharfe’s a woman, as I said. She drowned the -heir of all these lands once—a stripling, and his greyhound -checked him at the leap. And then his mother -reared the Priory below; and Wharfe slips by the ruins -to this day, gentle as a dove—penitent, you’d think, -for what she did up here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s interest was stirred, in spite of herself, -by the boldness of his fancy, the sure, straightforward -hold he had on the lore of other days. At their first -coming, when Donald resented the pike hung on the -wall at Logie, the Master spoke of Flodden as if he -had shared the battle lately. Now he talked of what -happened in the elder years, before the shock of Flodden -came, as if they, too, were recent. To-day seemed one -with all the yesterdays to this man who loved his -country-side and knew its inner secrets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The breeze blew shriller now. Raw and wet, it -fluted through the glory of the woods, plucking a red -leaf here and there in passing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brant was right,” said Hardcastle, “though I -fancied his weather-wisdom had gone astray this once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he spoke, and while Causleen was thinking bitterly -that the prophet of ill-weather was always on the safe -side of life, a great crying sounded overhead—a harsh, -tortured crying, as of human things in anguish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” she asked sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rebecca would say it was The Gabble-Ratchet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first crying overhead had passed into silence, -but now another came, louder and more anguished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brant was right,” Hardcastle repeated—“and it’s -time we both got up to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She found herself going with him up the steep rise -of the woods—found herself yielding a hand to his -when he reached down to help her across some slippery -rock-face—and had no time to wonder that she let -her pride be quiet. There was something in the wet, -rising breeze, something in the Gabble-Ratchet uproar -overhead not long since, that made for awe and need -of a man’s hand, whether he was rich or poor in courtesy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went past Ghyll House, where a dog barked at -them from behind a stable-door, and up into the -pastures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant was right, no doubt, as Hardcastle had said. -On one side of them, Pengables thrust his big rock -shoulders up into the red sundown and the warmth; -on the other a grey mist came running, like the ewes -that Storm had chased into the Wilderness a few days -since.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now again there sounded the crying from above, -shrill and terrible, and Causleen looked up to see what -seemed a ship go overhead with the speed of a hurricane -behind. It was a long, slender ship, its slenderer prow -driving into the sunlit warmth ahead, and it was -chased by the breeze that was a wind by now, hurrying -the grey mists in front of it. Then Causleen came out -of the eeriness that Logie Woods had laid on her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the wild-geese flighting south,” she said, -shaking herself free of omens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is,” said Hardcastle; “and so many of them -come that we’ve time to get to Logie and no more. -Lord Harry only knows what sort of storm is skelping -down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They two knew what sort of storm it was, when -they reached the long pasture that raked up into the -Logie highroad. The wind came, and the snow, and -biting hail—came ravening on the track of the wild-geese -fleeing south—and soon there were no landmarks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a foresters’ hut, he remembered, at -his left hand, where the field ran into the pinewoods. -They could find shelter there, if anything could -find it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had known the pasture from childhood, -but it was lost to him as if he trod foreign country. -In the blackest night he could have found his way -across it, but not through this scudding snow that -swirled till it dizzied brain and sight—through the -wind that bit and the hail that stung.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was not making now for Logie. There was a -foresters’ hut at the far end of the pasture where it -met the pinewoods. Once he could find it they could -shelter till the snow had ended; for tempests as -quick to come as this, out of a warm October’s quiet, -seldom lasted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He could not find the hut—could find nothing but -snow that was balling already under his feet—snow -that would not let the sky come through. It was -as if he tried to make way through a thicket, not of -brambles, but of cotton-wool. Then a cry reached -him. Whether it came from front or rear, he could -not tell, but it was Causleen’s voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are you, child?” he snapped, impatient -at his own failure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A little sob ran in between one wind-gust and the -next. It hurt him strangely. “Lost. I was tired—I -could not keep pace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was lost indeed, though no more than ten -paces from him. For the wind got up with a screech, -and there seemed no space between the snowflakes. -And over the din of it all there sounded, far overhead, -the crying of belated wild-geese, hurrying south.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even in that moment of harsh peril, Hardcastle -laughed quietly. It was odd that he, of all men, -should be asked to go seeking about for a woman -lost in the snow. These five years past he had been -striving to lose all women, except Rebecca.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Voice answering voice, they strove to find each -other. Sometimes they came near, and again they -called through the sundering distance. And then at -last Hardcastle touched the rough pedlar’s cloak she -wore, and reached down, and got her hand into his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No more straying,” he said roughly, “till we -get out of this damned weather.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hand lay close in his. He did not know that -his own gripped it till she winced. He knew only -that he must get her free of this pasture that would put -the snow-sleep on them if they stayed much longer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s hand seemed in some strange way to -guide him. He moved quickly, like one who knew -his way at last, and presently his knees came hard -against a fence of stone. He had not guessed till -now that bruised knees could be a joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep your hand in mine,” he said, “while I feel -my way by the wall.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a weary enterprise, this feeling the way. -The wind was a gale now, and Hardcastle’s hand -followed the wall as a blind man’s might, with slow -caution.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Together they trudged through the thickening -snow till Hardcastle’s numbed fingers touched something -that was not stone. He had found the rough -trunk of the oak-tree that stood this side of the -foresters’ hut.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait,” he said, and clambered up the wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In this whiteness that was worse than midnight, -he could not see where to plant his feet. And, as -is the way of dry-built walls, the stones went under -him with a roar like the wind’s note overhead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are hurt?” came Causleen’s voice—tattered -to bits by the wind as she tried to repeat the frightened -question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One foot was bruised by a coping-stone of the wall. -He could attend to that later on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” he said. “I’ve made a gap for you to come -through. That is all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He reached out both hands to draw her up the -half-fallen wall; and, as she climbed the opening, -the gale drove her full into Hardcastle’s arms. He -held her fast, and so they came, he carrying her, along -one side of the hut, and round the corner of it, and -into shelter of its lee-wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Snow lay thick on either hand. Overhead the wind -was yelping. But there was a clear space in front -of them, and the relief from battering of the tempest -was instant, as if they had stepped from winter into -June.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now you will free me,” said Causleen, with quiet -laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had forgotten that he still held her in -his arms. He was thinking how nearly they had -tasted death while they tramped up and down a -pasture known to him from boyhood. If he had -not found the wall in time to guide himself by it, -there would have been rejoicing out at Garsykes; -but the Lost Folk had not done with him as yet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door stood half-open. Sometimes the foresters -locked it, but oftener not; and Hardcastle took it -for a good omen that it was ajar to-day. There -would be no need to set a shoulder to it and break -it inward. There was a ready welcome for them -here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So he thought, till he pushed the door wide-open, -and was challenged roughly. As he had battled to -win free of tempest, it seemed he would have to fight -for this shelter of the hut. He put Donald’s girl -still further behind him and took a pace or two indoors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Down, you brute,” he said. “Down, I tell you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle, to his amazement, heard the -savage growling cease, and felt a rough snout pushed -into his hand; and presently he came from the dimness -of the hut into the grey gloom of the space that -had snow overhead, and snow to left and right. He -held Storm by the collar, because he knew his ways -were sharp with strangers nowadays.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve the sheep-stealer safe. What shall we do -with him?” he asked with grim banter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm strained at his collar—to be at Causleen’s -throat, he fancied, until the girl ran forward, and -took the great, rough muzzle into her hands, and -kissed him with frank abandonment. The dog -licked her face, and after that licked Hardcastle’s. -And the wind roared overhead; and here, on the lee side -of the hut, was sanctuary for these three.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To kiss a dog with his reputation up and down -Logie-side,” said Hardcastle, and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen had not known that he could laugh in this -easy, heart-free way. Till now he had seemed austere -as destiny—relentless as the driven snow they sheltered -from.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not for the first time—is it, Storm?” she -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, when they got indoors, knew his way -about the hut—knew where to find the candles, the -fuel, the demijohn of rum, hidden snugly under the -slab that fronted the rough fireplace built of stone. -A great blaze of wood and fir-cones was roaring up -the chimney soon, and Causleen thanked him for -it. Their journey up the pasture had been short in -time, but long in suffering, and she was sick with -cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She almost cried to him to come back when she saw -him open the door and go out, and was glad when -he returned. It would have been lonely here without -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had only gone to fill a kettle from the -snowdrift, and soon this was purring on the fire. -She loathed the smell of the brew he offered her by -and by—rum piping-hot in one of the foresters’ mugs—and -turned her head away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not like it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe not; but physic’s better than your death -of cold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She loathed the taste of it, too, though presently -she was glad of obedience to compulsion. This -physic, nauseous enough, had a strange gift of bringing -warmth and well-being. She no longer shivered. -The strain of that rough journey through the tempest -was eased and mellowed, and already half-forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three of them took their fill of ease. The gale -out of doors grew harsher. It raved and screeched, -falling back on itself once every while in whining, -baffled spite. And they knew that, outside their -four walls, the snow was driving thick from Pengables -out to Logie, burying sheep and men, making a jest -of landmarks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle and the girl had fought the gale, and -won. By no other road could they have found the -joy in listening to its fury while they hugged the -fireglow. But neither guessed what Storm was -making of the respite. Like them, the sheep-stealer -had battled through the tempest, and found refuge -here; but for him it was only one of many nights, -with danger lying in wait at every turn. Here he -was safe and warm, and in his sleep he gave little, -snoring cries of joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When did you two grow friendly?” asked Hardcastle, -stirring the dog lazily with one foot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was the night we came to Logie. They called -you into the kitchen, and while you were away the -illness came on father. I could do nothing for him -except watch beside him while he slept.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I heard a dog’s feet patter down the passage, -and afterwards a lonely sobbing. And I found Storm -in the cupboard under the stair, crying his big heart -out. I was lonely, too, and he knew it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know much of dogs,” said the Master, with -grudging praise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like to know more—and less of my own -kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re young, to be so hard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A faint smile crossed her face. “And you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m old as the hills. A man needs to be -hard, or what’s the use of him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he turned to pile fresh logs on the fire, a lull -came in the tempest, and Storm lifted his head sharply -from his lazy, stretched-out paws. Some sound had -stolen from the snow outside that only he could -hear. He got up, whining and growling by turns -as he laid his nose to a crack in the door. Then he -yapped, and after that he howled; and Hardcastle, -who had thought of opening the door to learn who -came, thought better of it. He knew what the wolf-cry -meant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shame on you, lad,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fire went out of Storm. His tail drooped. -He cringed about this new master of his choice; -and, when no blow came, he settled himself by the -hearth again and slept. But now he had muddled -dreams for company.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap09'>CHAPTER IX</h1></div> - -<h3>THE NIGHT WATCH</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>As the hours passed, the tempest gained in speed. -Stout-built as it was, the foresters’ hut shook -with the gale’s mishandling, and the din out of -doors was as full of cries as if every warlock and hellhound -had been loosed from Langstrothdale to Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen and Hardcastle sat on the rough benches -built on each side of the hut. They faced each other -across the fireglow, and between them Storm slept on, -making the most of luxury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would be fierce, but could not last at this time of -the year,” said Causleen, with grave, accusing anger. -“You promised that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And could not keep the promise. I’m only the last -fool who thought himself a prophet where Logie weather -was concerned.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If the snow has stopped—go see if the snow has -stopped—I should not care for the wind, however hard -it blew. We could get up to Logie somehow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes were bright—too bright, to Hardcastle’s -thinking—and she seemed to have some stubborn feud -with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can we, through the drifts? Be glad we’re -sheltered here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you a man at all? I bade you go and see if -we could get to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To humour her, he went out and looked about him. -There was a clear space still in front of the sheltered -doorway, and little stir of wind. The hut lay in a little -harbour of its own, secure; but a little space away the -gale ravened through the snow as Storm at his reddest -had never harried the grey ewes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The snow thickens,” he said, coming in again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then there is nothing we can do to get to Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Quarrel showed in her eyes again. “A beggar-maid’s -honour is of no account. It would not be, to -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her with puzzled question. To him, -this was an adventure thrust on him by the tricky -weather, and he would be glad to see the end of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your honour?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are so dull, you men of Logie. It’s not you I -doubt. I trust you—dear God, as I’d trust an oak-tree, -or a stone. But they will say——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She faltered, ashamed of her thought, dismayed by -their imprisonment, bitterly resentful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>They say</span>,” snapped Hardcastle, “is the biggest -fool in the Dale. He’ll not hurt us much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will not understand. Why did you bring -me here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why? Would you rather be lying in the -pasture?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was angered afresh by the knowledge that she -owed her life to him, by the tolerant wonder in his -face, as if he had a child’s absurdities to answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I would rather be lying there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She faced him with frank enmity, and was silent for -awhile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have your Logie Women no nice sense of honour?” -she went on. “Are they not taught that the least -breath on it is worse than death?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are,” said the Master, stung into defence of -his own—“and with it they’re taught common-sense. -Logie thinks none the worse of two folk because a -blizzard keeps them safe indoors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you had been a Hielandman, and I’d said to him -half of what I’ve said to you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d have been fighting the drifts outside by now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The challenge was direct—out-facing if he did not -take it up—and Hardcastle glanced at Storm, asleep -still between them. The dog would be a sure guardian -for her, if he failed. It was likely he would fail; but -there was just a chance that he could win through to -some other shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He searched in the chest at the far side of the hut, -where the woodmen kept their axes and sundry tools, -and found a shovel. Then without a word he went out, -closing the door behind him, and paused a moment to -frame a plan before he left the narrow belt of shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The trees, instead of giving protection to the ground -below, were gathering even deeper drifts than the naked -pastures. In such a storm as this, their branches—full -leaved almost as in summer—trapped the snow and -held it till some fiercer wind-blast sent it scattering -down. There was no chance on that side; but there -was hope if he could work round to the wall that made -one side of the hut. Once he reached that, its whole -length would give him the same narrow strip of freedom -from wind and snow that the hut was giving him now. -Afterwards he might travel, on the lee side of this and -other walls, until he reached some barn or other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether the plan failed or carried, he told himself -grimly, Causleen’s good-repute would go white as the -swirling storm. She would be found with a grizzled -sheep-stealer for guardian, not with him; and maybe -her restless pride would be content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Out of his disdain for women—out of the slur she had -put on all but Highland men—endurance came to him. -Between himself and the wall he sought, a great bulk -of snow lay at the corner of the hut, and he drove at it -with his shovel. For the honour of Logie Men he must -get through it, and give the pedlar’s chit her answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The drift could not be more than a few yards thick, -he knew, and he worked hopefully in a lull of the wind. -Suddenly, from the white mass in front, came faint -voices raised in protest, and he remembered what Storm -had heard not long since. There were over-blown -sheep in the drift here—part, maybe, of the flock that -Storm had hunted yesterday—and work had a double -zest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gale had given him respite in mockery. It -swooped on him afresh with a whistling screech, -so that he could scarcely stand to ply his shovel. -Drenched from within by sweat, the snow fell icy on -him from the branches overhead—fell on the track he -was carving, foot by foot, towards the drifted ewes, -and half undid his labour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still he toiled, though passionate desire for sleep had -joined the company of his enemies. There seemed no -heaven but one, here or hereafter—a bed in this snow -he strove to master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, after she had watched him go, felt the -same loneliness, the same longing to call him back, as -when—years ago, it seemed—he had gone to get a -kettleful of snow. She was filled with a great unrest, -a wonder that she had chosen to drive him out. What -had he done, except give her a roof there at Logie, and -here in this warm hut?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm was uneasy, too. He got up and flicked a -flea or two away from a hide that had known fouler -quarters than the hut, and whined about the door. -Then he glanced back at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went to the door and opened it. As Hardcastle -had done, she halted, watching the snow, listening to -the gale that ceased for a moment and let a man’s -voice through—a harsh, fighting voice. While she -stood, reluctant to plunge into the white hurricane, -Storm showed the way to her. Already snow had -drifted over the lane Hardcastle had carved; and they -found him at the corner of the hut, battling forward for -the last yard that would take him to the lee-wall’s shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the wind lulled, and Causleen was aghast to -hear the deep, stubborn curses of this man she had sent -out to battle. In simple earnest he was fighting the -snow-sleep; but in fancy it was Garsykes and its devilry -he fought. As he made forward, inch by inch, he -cursed Nita Langrish, rained blows again on the three -gaunt men who had met him at the pinfold; and Causleen -could not remember afterwards how she and Storm -got him safely back at last to the hut’s shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They got him back, and for a while he lay in a dazed -sleep, past this world’s ken. Then little by little he -forced himself—by sheer will to fight on, it seemed—into -wakefulness. He glanced at Causleen—at the fire -she had replenished—at grey, old Storm, nosing his knee -in quiet distress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How nightmare plays the devil with a man,” he -laughed. “I fancied I was shovelling snow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dozed again, and Causleen watched beside him. -She had taunted him; but it seemed there was one man -at least in Logie-side. And he might have died while -going her errand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night wore on. Storm was asleep, too, but she -sat wakeful, and listened to the dying tempest. The -window of the hut was not blurred by snowflakes now. -The wind no longer roared in glee; it wailed and sobbed, -like a child left out in the dark. Strange noises -sounded out of doors—soft, thick splashings that she -knew by and by for melting snow shed by the forest -trees—and across the window-space a keen, sharp -radiance stole.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dawn must be here, she thought. Yet anger against -him, her fear of gossip, showed unworthy. She was -here with the realities of the big, open lands, and she -smiled, recalling Hardcastle’s rough “<span class='it'>They say</span> is the -biggest fool in the Dale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to the window again, glad of the moonlight -that meant the end of tempest; and, as she sat -there, her whole body suddenly grew tense and her eyes -wide with terror. She could not cry to Hardcastle for -help. Tongue and limbs seemed chained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Framed by the moonlight, a white, big face looked -in at her—a face packed with evil—and then was gone. -Hardcastle heard nothing, nor did Storm; but Causleen -listened to the slushing scrunch of feet going over -melted snow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That sound ceased, and the door was opened warily -till it stood open to the moonlight and the fireglow. -And still Causleen could not stir, or cry a warning; and -Storm snored on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Hardcastle who woke. With a bound he was -up. Murgatroyd, dazed for a moment by the unexpected -greeting, turned just in time, and ran, and -clashed the door behind him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle followed, Storm silent as he raced behind -the Master. The two of them went forward, over slush -of the melting snow, under the scudding Hunter’s -Moon; but Long Murgatroyd was part of the snowy -wilderness by now, lost beyond the night’s finding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came back unwillingly, and to Causleen it -seemed that Hardcastle had never shown his true self -till now. Smeared with sweat and weariness, limping -on the foot bruised by the coping-stone, his eyes were -bright as a lad’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can get to Logie now,” he said—“and it’s time -we went, after losing Long Murgatroyd. He may be -dodging out to Garsykes, to bring the Wilderness on us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Full moonlight shone on the fast melting snow as they -went out. A warm breeze stole against their faces. -Winter’s journey to the Dale had been hurried, alike -in coming and going, as if she feared her welcome.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the corner of the hut, where the drift had been, -there was no more than a slender bank of snow, with -rivulets playing down its sides. A shovel lay in front -of it, and for the first time Hardcastle recalled, with a -sudden rush of memory, how he had struggled here in a -wind that bit to the bone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm’s nose was buried already in the slush. He -scented the oily reek that spoke of hunting-days, past -and to come; and when he drew his head back and -glanced up at the Master, there was wistfulness in his -brown eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gone away,” laughed Hardcastle. “You’d best -come up to Logie, out of Brant’s reach.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap10'>CHAPTER X</h1></div> - -<h3>THE WEAVER OF BASKETS</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Before the storm broke that drove Causleen -and Hardcastle into shelter of the foresters’ -hut, Long Murgatroyd had been poaching up -the moor. He knew all about the uses of a wire -looped at both ends and set across the tracks the -grouse took to their drinking-places; and he laughed -as he gathered his spoils together and turned for home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re Hardcastle’s birds,” he chuckled, “and -they’ll taste sweeter in the pot for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had got half down the moor when the first of -the tempest struck him, and he ran for the lower -country as fast as his great legs would take him. -He reached the first pasture only to be blinded by -the swirl of snow, so that he had to creep forward, -feeling his way. His hands touched stone at last, -and he worked his way round to the lee side of a -bield-wall, built two-sided to shelter ewes from the -north wind and the bitter east. In the angle of this -he dozed and shivered through the storm; and -afterwards, when the moon shone out on thawing -snow, he picked and slushed his way downhill to -Garsykes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His way lay past the foresters’ hut, and as he -went by he halted, astonished to see its window -shining crimson out across the snow. Peering in, -he saw Causleen there beside the hearth, and no -one else. Drenched to the skin, hungry and shivering, -Long Murgatroyd laughed—as he had laughed when -he snared Hardcastle’s birds on the moor. There -was shelter here, and a log-fire, and a lass to share -the warmth with him—a bonny lass, and a prime -favourite up at Logie these last days, if all folk said -was true.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He opened the door, to find Hardcastle rise in -menace, to see Storm bristling at him in rage that -seemed gigantic. He banged the door home and -fled. By instinct of the hunted he knew they would -catch him in this hindering broth of snow and water. -So he doubled back into the wood. The snow made -silence under his feet. The black firs hid him from the -moon. He was lost utterly to Hardcastle and Storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd watched the moon pale in the dawning -sky, and the sun leap ruddy to the top of old Pengables -Hill, before he came in sight of Garsykes. It was a -tedious way for one spent with fright and hunger, -and he lumbered down into the hollow, and looked -about him at the closed doors of the village—especially -at the inn-sign, “The Poacher’s Rest,” that swayed -cracked and dirty in the breeze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went in at last, and a flaunting, big-breasted -woman answered his call.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, ye, Long Murgatroyd!” she said, her arms -akimbo. “What d’ye want?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A dollop of rum, and summat to eat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Widow Mathison pointed to a row of figures on -the door. “Nay, you’ll ruin me. I’m for ever chalking -up your slate till I’m tired of you and your debts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd drew out a brace of grouse from some -hidden pockets and slapped them on the table. -“Keep ’em awhile, widow, till they’re like to drop -to bits. You relish ’em that way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hardcastle’s birds? Ay, they’ll be toothsome.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She busied herself now, with entire goodwill, about -the fire; and Murgatroyd looked up by and by from -a steaming dish of eggs and bacon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d wipe out your chalks against me, widow, -if I told you what I saw in Logie Woods. But, there, -I’m not for telling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did ye see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, another noggin o’ rum wouldn’t draw it -from me. There was Hardcastle of Logie in the woodmen’s -hut.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was there?” asked the widow, filling his glass afresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd took a wide gulp at the measure, and -drained it. He was cold and weary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not if you filled it afresh—and thank you, widow, -for it does drive the wet out o’ one’s bones.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hardcastle was in the hut,” said the woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, he was, in front of a cosy fire, and the pedlar’s -lass with him, sitting on his knee. I saw ’em through -the window as I went by.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Widow Mathison gave a screech of glee. “For a -woman-hater, he frames fairish well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fairish well,” agreed Murgatroyd, with a maudlin -leer. “There she was, and there he was. You -wouldn’t say aught could alter that—would you, -now? I opened the door, and I listened—and dang -me if they weren’t cooing like a pair o’ cushats. And -she a pedlar’s brat. And him with his mucky pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door swung open, and a squat fellow entered, -sallow-faced and touzled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s water in plenty hereabouts,” said the -widow, after a shrewd glance at him; “but it seems -to run to waste. One man could lead Jake Bramber -to it, but twenty couldn’t make him wash.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wasn’t thinking of water specially,” growled -Jake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You wouldn’t be. It’s the itch i’ your throat -that bothers you at this time o’ day. And there’s -your tally, side by side with Murgatroyd’s. I’m tired -of chalking up your owings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s easy mended, widow. Stop chalking ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bridled at his effrontery, but drew him a -measure. Then, “Tell him, Murgatroyd,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd told him what he had seen in the -foresters’ hut, and with repetition the tale gathered -volume, till all the Garsykes swine had garbage to -wallow in for many a day to come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita Langrish will laugh herself to bits when she -hears this,” said Jake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not so sure,” broke in the widow. “Nita -may fool you men of Garsykes—<span class='it'>if</span> you’re men, which -I begin to doubt—but Hardcastle escaped her. So -she wants him. I’ve known her since she toddled, -and that was always her way. Near died o’ crying -for the moon, when she was three years old. It’s -always the thing she hasn’t Nita longs for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s true,” snarled Jake. “Awhile since she -was making her baskets on the Brigg. ‘Jake,’ says -she, ‘you’ve a way with dogs.’ ‘I have,’ says I. -‘It’s a birth-gift. They like as they love me, same as -if I was one o’ them.’ And then she told me to put -hemlock into a ball o’ meat and take it up to Logie. -Hardcastle’s dog would be waiting for him at the -gate, said Nita. So I went, and friendlied Roy. And -I was a sick man, I tell you, coming home. To -poison a dog—it doesn’t bide thinking of—but Nita -made me do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd rose suddenly to his big, shammocky -height. He was shaken by a storm of passion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s the devil and all among us, with her basket-making -and her eyes on all four sides at once to fool -us. I’ve done with Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said the widow. “You’ve never done with -such as Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now feet began to patter up and down the -cobbled street. Garsykes Folk were late to wake, -for their work lay mainly with night-time tasks of -poaching and robbery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman beckoned Long Murgatroyd out of -doors. He followed her with unsteady, shambling -feet, and soon they had a company of unwashed folk -about them, listening to the widow’s ribald laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s news from Logie,” she said. “Tell ’em, -Murgatroyd, as you told it Jake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd propped himself against the wall, -and looked about him with a clown’s solemnity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s about Hardcastle o’ Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn him,” snarled a thin, wolfish man. “He -goes abroad as if we’d put no token on him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you worry, my lad,” said Murgatroyd. -“We’ll know where to find him nowadays. He’ll -not wander far from pedlar’s brat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So then he told them what he believed by now -that he had seen in the foresters’ hut; and such a -storm of applause greeted him that he left the friendly -shelter of the wall behind him, and talked at large -as he strutted to and fro across the street. No tale -such as this had come to Garsykes for many a year, -and for the moment they half-liked the Master of -Logie, because he was a backslider like themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the tale was done, and the folk began to -get about their ways, Nita Langrish came among -them. Used as they were to her young beauty, -going among them from day to day, they never ceased to -marvel that such as she had grown out of Garsykes mire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fresh from her morning bath in a pool she knew -of up the fells, gowned in soft grey that clung about -her slender body, she stood like a creature from some -other world among the tattered women of the village.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is there news from Logie?” she asked, in her -pleasant voice. “They told me Hardcastle would -be up the moor yesterday, so I persuaded one of ours -to take an errand for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s not what you might call news from -Logie,” laughed Widow Mathison, “but Murgatroyd -here has word of Hardcastle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd faced her, and old hunger, old -dismay found sudden vent. “He’s out of your -reach, Nita,” he snarled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He always was,” said Nita gently, “after I sent -him out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Same as you’ve sent all of us, one by one?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When you tried to come too close.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood there, soft as this morning that followed -a night of grim tempest—a radiant thing, knowing -herself mistress of them all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well. Hardcastle’s tied to another apron-string. -She’s a bonnie lass, too, as I glimpsed her in the -woodmen’s hut. They made a picture, sitting by the -fire as if they’d set up housekeeping together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A wild-rose flush leaped to Nita’s cheeks. “Who -was it?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pedlar’s lass. He’s chosen dark and trusty -this time, as the saying is. None of your yellow-haired -women again for him, says Hardcastle—and -I don’t wonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita took up the challenge. “You saw them in -the hut?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye. I opened the door to creep in for shelter, -and Hardcastle was there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you ran for your life? To be sure, you’d -not forget what he did to you at the pinfold. None -of your masters of Logie again for you, if you can -help it—and I don’t wonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her mimicry, the quickness of her answer, raised -such a storm of laughter against Murgatroyd that -he gave up the contest; but presently he followed, -as she went by the field-track that led to Logie Brigg, -and overtook her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita, my lass,” he said, “you’ve got to stay -and listen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, like it or no, you have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In his face she saw the baffled hunger that she -had brought to many men. His voice was rough -and harsh, but there was pleading in it—a headstrong -pleading that it was her life’s delight to thwart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s this way. I’m sick and tired o’ my days. -Naught matters, save you—you and your devilments.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve baskets to weave. All up and down the -Dale they’re asking for Nita’s baskets. There’s no -time to care for men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put out a savage hand, to draw her to him. -She did not seem to spring aside, yet suddenly she -stood far away, putting her smiling spells on him -afresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita,” he said, sombre and hungry-eyed, “I’m -not of the fanciful sort; but summat or somebody -is whispering at my ear. One of us two is going to -die of your devilry—and I don’t care a tinker’s damn -which it is, so long as it comes soon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Across Nita’s young vigour, her joy in torturing -men for pastime, a little, cold wind began to play. -Long Murgatroyd was sobered. He was in dead -earnest, and his big, uncouth face was lit as with -some fire of prophecy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then her mood passed. “It will be you to die -of it, I think,” she said, and laughed at him as she -took her way to Logie.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca was busy in her kitchen up at Logie on -the afternoon of the great snowstorm. She was -thinking how wise she had been to send Causleen -“just to get a bit of colour into her cheeks” when -the sky began to darken, till she could scarcely have -seen to ply her rolling-pin but for the ruddy hearth-glow. -Now and then she turned on the great, brindled -cat curled up inside the fender</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re a grand ’un for bringing bad weather,” -she said, “and that’s why I named you Jonah. You -never sit close to the fire but it means a storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cat stretched himself, and licked his handsome -fur, and dozed again. It was odd to him that human -folk had so little knowledge of weather.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just Jonah, you—and an idle vagabones at that -I’ve a mind to sweep you out of my kitchen with -the thick end of a besom.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah heard the threat without disturbance. He -knew the way of Rebecca’s weather, too.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went on with her pastry-making. The Master -had a big body to be filled, and a sweet tooth for -pastry after he’d had his fill of strong meats. Men -were all alike. Feed ’em and fill ’em, and they’d -be lambs about a house. And Rebecca never guessed -why her hand was light at the work—and the pastry -light, by that token. She had never a man to care -for, except Hardcastle of Logie, and it was a joy -to wear herself to the bone for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind got up and snarled, as it snarled by the -Strith when Hardcastle and Causleen listened to the -vanguard of the storm piping low through Logie -Wood. And then there came the crying of the wild-geese, -winging high above the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca dropped her rolling-pin, and went out into -the wind-gusts and the greying light. She was at -prayer, of her own sort.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Gabble-Rachet always brought me luck,” -she said. “It’s that I live for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Flight after flight went overhead, with ceaseless uproar. -Rebecca was no longer the practical, deft-handed -housekeeper at Logie. She was as Causleen -and old Donald had seen her, when the pedlar showed -baby-wear among the litter of his pack, and she went -wild.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thought of the lad who was to have married -her in the far-off time, of his death because he would -pay no toll to Garsykes. The man who killed him -had died while the Gabble-Ratchet screeched overhead. -Years afterwards his son broke his neck to -the self-same music. Luck was in for her, and out -for Garsykes, at such times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had crossed the stable-yard and gone into the -field beyond, to get clearer sight of the wild-geese; -and when the last of them had hurried by, she looked -about her. There were signs in plenty of the storm -to come. Just as the brindled cat had sought the -fender, sheep were hurrying to cover of the wall. -Rooks, feeding tranquilly an hour since in upland -oat-stubble, sped homeward. In the high thorn-edge, -storm-cocks, that love a tilt at harsh weather, -cried lustily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca looked far down the field, and saw a speck -move up it. The speck took man’s shape by and -by. A scud of snow was following him up the hill, -and by his shammocky stride she was sure he hailed -from Garsykes. This puzzled her. An attack in -force on Logie she could have understood, but it -was not like the Wilderness Folk for one of them to -come alone into a hostile country.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The snow-scud overtook and hid him for awhile. -Then again she saw him plodding up, and she could -distinguish now a bulky sack that swayed about his -shoulders. With a grim face, and a grimmer heart, -Rebecca waited. Jonah the cat, hugging the fire -indoors, had claws to show in time of need. So -had she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gale was up in earnest, and snow thickened -fast about the man who hurried up the field. Soon -he began to blunder this way and that through the -blinding maze, and a sharp, bitter cry rang up-wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn Nita Langrish. She sent me into this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca laughed with eerie gentleness. The man -came from Garsykes, as she had guessed, and Nita -had sent him on an errand. Already he was hidden -by the on-driving wall of snow, and so much for him. -The wild-geese had flighted to-day, and Logie’s luck -was in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So intent the woman was on nursing vengeance -that the storm was on her, too, before she found a -thought for her own safety. Though scarcely twenty -yards from the gate that led into the stable-yard, -it took long to find it; and afterwards, close to her -own kitchen, wind and snow played blind-man’s-buff -with her before she found the door, and opened it, -and had to use all her lean, hard strength to close -it against the in-leaping storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah still slept tranquilly inside the fender, dreaming -of rats to be hunted in the stables when good -weather came again. Rebecca’s glance rested on -him, lying plump and sleek there, and wrath descended -on her. She snatched a besom up, and gave him the -thick end of it with zest, as she had promised not -long since in idle banter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I give to vagabones,” she said, and -thwacked him again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah sprang to the top of the big chair beside the -hearth, and spat at her. His fur was stiff, like an -angry dog’s, and he swept down a wild-cat’s paw -at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Getting to be your own man again?” said -Rebecca. “Well, it’s time you did, now the rats -creep up from Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that she took up her rolling-pin and went -on with the pastry-making as quietly as if nothing -had disturbed the work; but her thoughts were with -the man she had watched creeping up the field. A -glance at the window showed panes crusting ever -thicker as the snow drove at them, and a hard smile -played about her lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brindled cat eyed her with wrath that cooled -by slow degrees. He washed himself all over, as -if to clear away the besom’s touch, and stood on -the chair-top in sullen dignity. Then suddenly he -jumped to the floor and up to Rebecca’s shoulder at -a bound. They could never quarrel for long, these two.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At your cantrips again,” said Rebecca calmly, -“as if you were kitten-high—and resting all your -great, idle weight on a woman that won’t put up with -such-like nonsense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cat stayed where he was, and presently Rebecca -began to talk to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a Garsykes Man out yonder, Jonah. It -must be cold lying. He’ll never taste kitchen-warmth -again, or the crisp of an apple-pasty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah purred against her withered cheek, and -watched the rolling-pin go up and down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can see him now as he came up the pasture. -The snow overtook him, and he wambled like a -drunken man, and dropped. There’ll be his burial-mound -above him—a biggish mound by this time. -So there’s another of the foul brood gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From within-doors—loud as the wind was screaming -at the windows—Rebecca heard a fretful cry steal -down the passage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the pedlar,” she grumbled. “Good sakes. -I’d forgotten he was all on his lonesome—his legs -forsaking him, and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald was striving pitifully to rise when she -reached the long-settle. “Where’s Causleen?” he -pleaded. “I feel an old, old man, buried out of -sight, when she’s not near.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca wondered, too, where Causleen was. The -Master was out in the storm, but he knew every -barn and bield-wall of his country, and would find -shelter somehow. Causleen was a stranger. It might -be that she had met the same white death that the -Garsykes Man had found. And she had sent her -out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’ll be here by and by,” she said, pity stirring -at her gnarled old heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald’s glance wandered to the pike that had -gone to Flodden Field and back, and again he tried -to rise. “There was so much I had to tell her. -You’re kind, and bid us stay at Logie—but there’s -rust of Jaimie the King’s blood up there. I cannot -eat or sleep within the house. Causleen knows I -cannot—and she will not come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now I’m tucking the blankets round you,” said -Rebecca, her hands deft and gentle, “and I’m telling -you to get to sleep, or give me a reason t’ other way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald yielded to the warmth and rest; and in -his dozing his heart leaped into his lips, and he told -in few, poignant words what the years behind had -meant to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The long, grey roads—the footsore roads—selling -Pedlar’s Balsam to other folk—it’s a weary life. -There’s no time for the pedlar to balsam his own -feet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so they watched beside him through the night, -Rebecca and the brindled cat. From time to time -the woman crossed to the window, to see if there were -any sign of the storm’s abating. There was none, -and her fears for Causleen increased. Yet she could -do nothing, and fell asleep at last in the chair drawn -up beside the settle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day was up when she awoke. A glance at -Donald showed him lying in childlike slumber, with -Jonah curled up on the blankets; and Rebecca went -out into the sunlight, scanning the lower slopes in -search of the Master or Causleen. They did not -come, though the thaw had opened out wide tracks -of green between the drifts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In her long time at Logie, Rebecca had never known -a tempest so quick to come and go. A wind swift -and bitter from the east had driven her indoors last -night. Now a warm, playful breeze played against -her face. The gold and crimson glory of the autumn -woods reared itself above great scuds of snow that -melted almost as they fell. And everywhere there -was the cry of waters, big and little; for every dingle -of the pastures was a running beck, and all the glens -were rivers, bank-top high with snow-broth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca heard the rooks come clamouring to their -sycamores and ancient nests—heard a throstle pipe -a stave or two, as if he scented spring after this wild -October night—and knew then that the storm would -not return for many days. Rooks and the thrushes -were old in weather-lore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still the Master did not come, nor Causleen, and -Rebecca wondered if the Gabble-Ratchet had brought -luck to Logie, after all. The pedlar’s girl meant -little to her, but if Hardcastle was dead—if never -again she would sew buttons on for him, or cook -his meals, or bear with his gusty temper—it was -near her time to be done with this world and its -foolishness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca glanced downhill again, and when still -no sign of life showed between the brimming waters, -her thoughts turned to the man from Garsykes who -had been overtaken by the storm last night. She -crossed the stable-yard and went down the field -on the far side of it till she reached a pile of melting -snow. Out of the mound showed a man’s two hands, -limp and glistening-wet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No spark of pity or horror touched Rebecca. With -fierce, exultant patience she watched the snow-shroud -crumble, till now his arms showed to the sunlight, -then his lean neck with the mouldy kerchief tied -about it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sun and south wind between them were busy with -the melting, and presently the man’s face showed. -It had been a coarse face, lined with slyness; but -snow and death had washed it, and it carried a strange -look of peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sack he had carried lay beside him. She -opened it, and knew at last the object of his journey. -It was filled with pine-logs, twigs and resin. These -and the tinder-box in his pocket were enough to set -Logie flaming from end to end of its grey gables.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dead man could tell her nothing now; but -he had told all yesterday when, baffled by the storm, -he cursed Nita Langrish for bringing him into this. -Rebecca pieced the tale together with shrewd vision. -There was none from this to Langstrothdale who -garnered news like Nita the basket-weaver. Men -passed her as she sat on the bridge-wall, her fingers -slender almost as the withies she plaited. They -stayed for gossip with a maid known through the -Dale to be a maddener of men, and she ’ticed their -news from them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita had learned, no doubt, that the Master was -from home, and had sent up this poor, dead fool -to fire the house. Rebecca stirred the body with her -foot, in grudging pity. Then the peace in his face—the -still unalterable peace—brought wrath and -brimstone round her once again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve found too soft an end,” she grumbled—“too -soft by half, my lad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was still standing there, the feud raw at her -heart, when Causleen and the Master came up together -from their vigil in the foresters’ hut.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re safe, then, the pair of you,” she said. -“I was fearing for the pedlar’s girl. She’s not used -to our rough country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen was ashamed of her own shame, as she -heard Hardcastle tell how he had met her just in time—heard -Rebecca’s blunt thankfulness that they had -found a hut to spend the night in, safe from the worst -blizzard ever known on Logie-side. Why had her -pride taken fire because Hardcastle had saved her -life? Why had she stooped to think of gossip and -dishonour, when these two saw the past night as -a fight against weather—a fight won by Logie?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Causleen saw the muddled heap that yesterday -had been a man—saw the wet face and hands, -the pitiful, threadbare clothes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One from Garsykes that’s dead,” said Rebecca -tranquilly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor pedlar. What does he carry in that big -pack of his?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Enough to burn Logie down from roof to cellar. -But he’s dead. And the Master’s quick. It’s Logie’s -turn this time.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap11'>CHAPTER XI</h1></div> - -<h3>VENOM</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita Langrish, later in the day of Hardcastle’s -home-coming with the pedlar’s girl, took her -way up to Logie between the melting drifts. -Straight and slim she went, and an old tinker who met -her on the road stood and gaped at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Begosh, I wish I was younger,” he chuckled. “I’d -go a-courting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita laughed at him, as if her heart were light as his, -and turned once—in vanity—to be sure that he was -watching her go down the hill. Then she thought of -Hardcastle, of what she had heard just now in Garsykes; -and an evil mood got into her blood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came to Logie Brigg and looked down at Wharfe -River, swirling in high flood between the slender arches. -Half-frozen packs of snow were riding here and there -above the peat-brown waves. Under her feet the -fierce waters roared and sang their Viking call of kill and -spare not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was all in tune with her heart, as she climbed the -steep rise to Logie. The trees were so thick about the -house that she could not see yet whether its walls gaped -wide and blackened. The man she had sent to fire it -had not returned with news. He had perished in the -storm likely—after he’d done his work, she hoped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she topped the rise, and came to Logie’s -gate, blue wood-smoke was curling up from peaceful -chimneys, and Rebecca stood there talking with Brant -the shepherd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a friend of yours in the Long Pasture -yonder.” Rebecca’s voice was grimly bantering. -“The snow has cleaned his face for him, but I’d have -known he came from Garsykes all the same. It -couldn’t take the rabbity smell o’ the man away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again a little wind of dread stirred at Nita’s heart, -as it had chilled her when Long Murgatroyd had spoken -of death for one or other of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What friend of mine should be in any Logie field?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, deny your own. It’s like you, Nita. Won’t -you go and have a look at the man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why should I go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s not much to look at, I own—but he died -running an errand of yours. He sent a queer sort of -cry up when the snow took him—cursed Nita Langrish -for sending him to Logie—so that you must have heard -it out to Garsykes, I’d have fancied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita faced her ancient adversary with cool devilry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry he died before he fired Logie. He was -always a fool, and clumsy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You dare own to it?” snapped Rebecca.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl was uncanny in her self-assurance, her eager -beauty. “Yes,” she said. “What has Nita the basket-weaver -to fear, when all the men go daft about her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca reached a lean hand out across the gate—swift -as Jonah the cat might have flicked a paw—but -Nita was too quick for her. She drew back from -all life’s onsets, with soft, elusive speed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the men but one,” laughed Nita, from the -middle of the roadway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, all but the Master. You’ll never fool him -twice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pedlar’s brat is doing that for me. Have they -come home, the pair of them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have, thanks be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Thanks be?</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca answered the girl’s scorn with tart assurance. -“Why, yes. I sent that bairn of the pedlar’s -out to get a breath o’ fresh air—the dear knows she -needed it—and it would have lain on my conscience if -she’d foundered in the snow. The Master happened -on her, luckily.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Garsykes has learned as much. From all we hear, -they made themselves snug enough for the night—blessed -the snow for coming, I fancy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The devil knotted thy whipcord of a tongue, Nita, -but its lash doesn’t hurt us Logie Folk. We keep clean -houses hereabout—and cleanish minds. What else was -to be done, save shelter from such an audacious storm?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, they sheltered to some purpose. Murgatroyd -saw them sitting by the hearth—she on his knee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve known Murgatroyd all his life,” broke in -Rebecca, “and all his life he never spoke a true word -unless he fell into it by accident. Get ye back to -Garsykes, and feed your pigs on such-like trash.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Shepherd Brant had been tugging at his beard, -wroth kindling slowly till its fire was bright and steady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s another man o’ Logie doesn’t heed your -snares, Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re old, shepherd. I’d mistake you for a grey -rock if I didn’t see you move from time to time. Have -you shot Storm the sheep-slayer yet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not yet. When I do, it’s a sign that Garsykes -ends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then once again some little breeze of fear played -about Nita, but she would not heed it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A gypsy woman came to our village, Brant, not so -long since. She had the Sight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, aye,” growled the shepherd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She told us of Hardcastle and his fight against -Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gleaned that sort o’ news from any man or child -about the country-side. I’m acquainted with all the -tricks of Romany—especially sheep-stealing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She said an ancient shepherd was seeking a dog -named Storm, to kill him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That the shepherd would do his best to ruin Logie, -by killing Logie’s luck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She lied, like all the Romaneys.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I tell you what she told me, shepherd,” said Nita, -her grey eyes quiet and candid. “And I told the -gypsy woman that Garsykes would see to Logie’s ruin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to go down the road again and halted -with fearless insolence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When I’m selling my baskets up dale and down—how -they’ll laugh at the tale of how they shared the -hut together—Hardcastle and she.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that she went her way, singing the little eerie -ballad she had sung to Widow Mathison’s boy when -Hardcastle met her in the road not long ago.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Now grow you big, and grow you tall,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Lad o’ the Wilderness,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>You’ll give the Logie Folk a call,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>When nights are dark and drear and all,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Lad o’ the Wilderness.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca watched her go, and all her strength to -endure grew tough and sinewy. They were few and -lonely, here at Logie, now the feud was up; and Nita -Langrish was a dismaying power about the land, with -her beauty that put men in leading strings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s meant for Logie’s funeral song,” she muttered, -as they watched the retreating figure. “Well, -shepherd, we’re neither killed nor buried yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita, half down the steep bend of the road that led -to Logie Brigg, saw Causleen come through the wicket-gate -and out into the highway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Looking for the Master?” she asked gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen knew little of the basket-weaver, except -that she was an old love of Hardcastle’s, and read no -guile in the question, in the innocent, soft eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. He has ridden for the doctor. My father -is—is worse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s as well, maybe.” Nita’s jealousy noted the -quiver in the other’s voice, but did not spare her sorrow. -“He may never need hear about the woodmen’s hut.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen stood very still for a moment, looking at -Nita Langrish. The blow was so sudden, the pain of it -so like a knife-thrust driven home, that she was dizzy and -bewildered. Then the quick, Highland fire leaped to her -face, showing a wild beauty that angered Nita all afresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He knows and understands,” she said—“<span class='it'>as you -could not</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All that was said and left unsaid in those few words -stung Nita like a lash. This peddling castaway could -hold her own, and more than her own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe not. But I can set the whole Dale rocking -with the tale Long Murgatroyd brought home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that she laughed in Causleen’s face and went -her way. Half down the road, where it wound sheer -and stark to Logie Brigg, she met Hardcastle, urging a -hard-driven horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your light o’ love is waiting for you,” she said, -curtseying in sheer mockery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One in a lifetime is enough for me, Nita,” he -answered grimly, and rode on. He and his horse had -travelled many a hilly mile in pursuit of a hard-worked -doctor, and had not found him; and he was sorry, -because Causleen was tired enough already, after last -night’s storm, without this added trouble of the father -who was near to death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came in sight of the wicket-gate, and slipped -from saddle, and let his horse find its own way to stable. -Causleen was at the gate, her back turned to the roadway, -and Hardcastle was afraid, somehow, to listen to -the girl’s wild sobbing. It startled and unmanned him. -He longed to get away, yet could not leave her in this -plight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve done my best to find the doctor,” he said, -putting a kindly hand on her shoulder, “but he’s away -up Amerdale. Is Donald worse?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She drew away, as if his touch scorched her. “He -is better—just for awhile—and I ran out to see if you -had brought the doctor. And a woman came instead—so -pretty, and with so foul a tongue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle remembered Nita’s mocking curtsey—recalled -Long Murgatroyd’s intrusion into the foresters’ -hut last night—and the riddle of it all grew plain. -Nita’s tongue had been busy with the pedlar’s girl and -he knew what it could do even to rough men. Something -stirred at his heart—the heart frozen long since, -so that it had forgotten how to suffer, joy or grief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nobody cares what Nita says. She says, and goes -on saying—and folk laugh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Folk often laugh, when they should cry -instead. It is not your fault that we had to shelter -from the storm—yet how I loathe you for it, Hardcastle -of Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was on fire with pride, with contempt of Nita -Langrish and her power to wound. And, dimly as yet, -Hardcastle understood her passion. “What else was -there to do but shelter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing; but that does not help us. It was not -your fault that we came to your gate, father and I, and -became your pensioners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My guests,” said Hardcastle, with gruff kindliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Threadbare guests, forced on you. And what can I -do, with father as he is?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stay on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen remembered Nita’s words, her laughter as -she went down the road; and the poison festered, as if -a snake had bitten her. How could she stay on, with -all the country-side passing Nita’s gossip to and fro? -How could she leave, while her father lay between life -and death, babbling of far Inverness and pipes that -skirled about the moorland glens?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thank and loathe you,” she said, and left him -there—muddled, not for the first time in his life, by the -ways of a maid with a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle watched her till she was hidden by a -shower of red, fast-falling leaves. He was impatient of -some feeling that the girl had roused, some stirring at -the heart he had hardened against intrusion. The -Wilderness had put a slight on her, as it had striven to -slight Logie. She was going in fear of the open, as he -went sometimes where there was nothing doing and he -had leisure to remember how strong and merciless was -the hornets’ nest he had roused at Garsykes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then suddenly he understood the bond between -them. She was proud and weary. So was he.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap12'>CHAPTER XII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE SHEEP-SLAYER</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>For a week the days went at Logie as if Garsykes -had no feud with it. That was the way of the -Wilderness Folk, and the nameless dreads that -came at such waiting times began to patter up and -down the house. Storm, after staying for a night and -a day, had heard the wolf-call once again, and was gone. -The Master rode much abroad, and would tire two -horses out between dawn and gloaming. That was his -way of stifling suspense. Rebecca’s was to quarrel -with the brindled cat who was her shadow and -familiar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald was neither better nor worse, though both by -turns; and Causleen, whenever she met Hardcastle, -baffled him by her chill aloofness. It seemed to him -that she would rather have died in the snow than owe -her life to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Near the end of the week, Brant the shepherd came -at nightfall, and knocked at the kitchen door, and came -stamping in, a gun under his arm and quiet good -humour in his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Draw me a mug of ale, Rebecca,” he said, “for -I’ve earned it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, all men fancy that, at any hour o’ day or night. -What have you done, Stephen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve shot Storm at last. A son of Belial, I call him, -and he skulked to the last—got away into the brackens, -but his hind legs were trailing. I’d like to have found -his carcase.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Something hidden in Rebecca leaped into fury: -Storm was dear to her, as to Hardcastle, whatever his -backslidings. Jonah and he had been comrades in old -days, the cat sitting on his back and playing pranks -with him. She had fed him by stealth, when the -Master brought him home to the cupboard under the -stair, had rated him for the life he was leading these -days—finishing with a “there, you can’t help it, like, -and get sleep and victuals while you can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no ale for you to-night, Stephen,” she said, -gaunt and truculent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And why, if I might ask?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because you come boasting you’ve shot the dog -that saved you all at Garsykes. There were few of -Logie’s Men, and many of theirs; and he scattered -them for you, to some purpose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, woman, he kills sheep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And saves men, it seems. The Master mightn’t be -here—or you either—if it hadn’t been for Storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The shepherd was nonplussed for a moment. -“That’s true enough,” he muttered, plucking at his -thin, wiry beard. “They were in a mind to kill us that -day, with their women egging them on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet you come here, snug as a toad in its hole, and -tell me you’ve killed Storm. A queer way of showing -thankfulness for what life there’s left in your old -bones.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t understand. You never could, not -being a shepherd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Without a heart in his body.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With a heart for ravished ewes. There’s a law -among us, fixed as old Pengables. A dog turned wolf -is hunted till he’s shot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there’s a law in my kitchen, too. No ale for -the man that murdered Storm. I was talking to Jonah -here about the uses of a besom when you stepped in—but -I’m minded to thwack you instead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m fairish dry, Rebecca,” said the shepherd, with -sudden wistfulness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope as much. The drier you get, the better I’ll -like it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood at bay, regarding each other with dour -enmity, till Rebecca thought of Hardcastle, riding home -from Norbrigg market and late to come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Garsykes sort lie quiet,” she said, “and it’s -getting hard to bear. I wish the Master would listen -to sense, and not go taking his journeys as if naught -had happened at the pinfold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s made that way. An earthquake wouldn’t -alter him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Obstinate, like his father before him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A rare plucked ’un, like his father. After all, if -he’s got to be killed, he’s wise to seek it in the open. -When my time comes, says I, give me God’s sky to -turn my toes to, and curlews singing me to sleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now that’s all nonsense, Brant. You live too -lonely on the heights yonder, and your fancies breed -like maggots. When my time comes, give me a cosy -hearth and the taste of a treacle-posset in my throat. -That’s how I’d say my last good-bye to Logie. And -here we stand chattering, while the Master lies murdered, -like Storm, somewhere ’twixt here and Norbrigg.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, now, you’re running to meet trouble before it -comes. And as for Storm, he wasn’t murdered, I’d -have you know. Justice was what he got, and if I’d my -way, they’d tar such-like and hang ’em in chains at the -cross-roads, same as human footpads.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, hold your whisht, Stephen. Cannot you see -that I’m sick with wondering why the Master’s late?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So will the pedlar’s girl be, if all they say be true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When all they say is true, all the geese in the world -will be dead—not one of ’em left to cackle. I was out -in that blizzard, and ran fairish quick for shelter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So did I, and was near over-blown at that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so did Master and Donald’s girl. They were -prisoned for the night; but it’s only Garsykes way they -think worse of them for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant fidgetted about the kitchen, warming himself -at the fire one moment, then going to the door as if he -listened for some cry of trouble out of doors. “I’m -not easy in mind myself,” he said at last. “Maybe -I’ll step out Norbrigg way and see what’s happening -to him. This gun of mine may come in useful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s the man I thought you,” snapped Rebecca. -“Bide till you’ve had a pull at the ale, then get your -best foot forward.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle himself, an hour before, had ridden up -from Norbrigg through the dusk that showed no more -than a glimpse of the track ahead. It was only when -he came through Weathersett village, perched high on -top of the rise, that he rode into keen frosty moonlight. -His glance roved over the broken lands, the grey roads -that wound across them. The waiting time at Logie, -for what Garsykes spite could do to him, seemed far-off. -He was not between house-walls now, but in the -open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tang of the frosty wind, smell of the uplands, got -into his blood. He plucked his horse to a canter, then -checked him as they went by the pinfold where he had -answered three men’s call for tribute. Again he looked -out across the moonlit wastes, and down at the hollow -where Garsykes village lurked. If the Lost Folk -needed him, he was here, and glad of any onset after the -quiet of these last days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No onset came. The moonlight showed him only a -grey-blue land of sleeping pastures, a glint of white -where snow-drifts, still unmelted, hugged the walls. -He felt thwarted of his due, somehow, and it seemed -hard to get safe home again and wait for whatever -devilry Garsykes had in mind. Then his mind yielded -to the night’s persuasion as his horse trotted forward -soberly between the heather and the pines.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moist, wayward spurts of wind rustled the fallen -leaves. The undergrowth was stealthy with the feet -of things that fled, of bigger things that hunted. A -night-jar cried harshly in the thickest of the wood. -From the slopes beyond came the rough call of a buck -to his mate, telling her to get behind him while he met -some peril threatening both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The streams had their own eerie music, too. Fed -by swift-melting snow, they sobbed and crooned and -wailed as they raced to Wharfe River far below. And -the wind would not be still.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle rode through the haunted land with a -song at his heart, such as nothing brought to him these -days except night-time on the Logie roads. They said -he would never marry, and he knew they said it. They -lied, as usual, for he had wived these grim and tender -lands handed down to him by generations whose voices -lived about the house of Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dusk of the forest kept him company till he rode -into the open, and saw the free, spacious road wind up -to Logie under the scudding moonlight. It was good -to be alive, with such a heritage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then suddenly his horse blundered. Before he had -time to try to break his fall, he was thrown across the -road and into the dark hollow bordering the wood. -One half of him lay soft and wet; the other jarred on -something lean and bony—something that rapped out -stifled curses, and turned under him with writhing -fury, and strove to get a grip about his throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They fought together in the hollow, he and his -unseen adversary, till their hands grew slippery with -mud and it was hard to get any sort of hold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From Garsykes, you?” gasped Hardcastle, feeling -for the grip that should settle all. “Swine love the -ditches.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No answer came. His enemy was striving, too, for -the strangle-hold that constantly eluded him. The -stealthy fight went on. The whole world was narrowed -to this dark corner by the roadway, and the slime sucked -and gurgled under the weight of their striving bodies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle found his chance, and took it. He -got one arm under the man’s thighs, the other round -his shoulders, lifted him with savage strength, and -pitched him clear into the roadway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he clambered after him, the moonlight, clear -and blue, showed him a lank figure getting up from the -wet, grey road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So it’s you, Long Murgatroyd,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, it’s me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be damned to you, why did you hide in a muddy -ditch if you wanted another fight?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd, white-faced and spent, glanced at the -rope swinging gently across the road, and the Master -saw it for the first time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve come as low as that?” The Master was -shaken by passionate loathing. “As low as that, -Murgatroyd?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, your blamed luck won’t last for ever. Any -but you would have been pitched on his head when his -horse got into the rope—and I’d have finished you, -need being. So now your going to finish me instead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle’s riding-whip was lifted to cut the man -across the face; but Murgatroyd was laughing at him -in the moonlight—a wan laugh enough, yet full of -dogged will to endure whatever came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita sent you on the errand?” he asked sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She did, in a way. We know what her tongue is—me -and you, we know it. She said you were my master -any day if it came to a fight. So I stepped up to kill -you.” Again he laughed. “I should have told her -naught of the rope, you understand. There’d have -been you ligging dead in the road, and happen she’d -have given me a kiss or two for my pains. That’s how -it was. And I’m here, and want to be rid o’ my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle could make nothing of it. Wrath died -in him. The man was rough as a savage, simple -beyond belief. He had come up to kill, and, failing, -expected no mercy from his enemy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, damn you all ways, Murgatroyd,” he said, and -went to where his horse stood trembling, and felt its -knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd looked on, with dazed wonder. -“Broken are they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sound as a bell,” growled Hardcastle, as he swung -into the saddle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd watched him out of sight. The -Master of Logie was a fool, no doubt, to leave him ripe -for further mischief; but in some queer way he -found a liking for him. He dealt fair with all -about the country-side; and fairness appealed to -this chastened mood of his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If only Nita would let him alone, he’d rather see -Hardcastle live than die. <span class='it'>If only Nita would let him -alone.</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The words got into his muddled wits as he looked -from the forest to the misty fells where Garsykes slept -in the flooding moonlight. Some uncouth purpose -stirred him. He went and unfastened the rope he had -tied from tree to tree across the road. The knots were -tight and his fingers clumsy; but at last he coiled it into -a neat bundle, climbed the wall on his right, and lopped -like a hare down the grey-blue pastures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he neared the little brig that crossed Crooning -Water, a clear, sweet voice drifted up the breeze, singing -a song.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>There came a man to my house,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Love me well, said he;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>There came a man to my house,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Nay, said I, I’m free.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd halted, swayed between longing and -loathing. Then murder got into his heart again, as he -turned the bend of the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita Langrish was sitting on the bridge-wall, threading -her willows in and out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Making baskets by moonlight?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Finishing one for a lass up Dale that’s courting. -So it’s only right to weave moonshine in between the -withers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re courting, Nita, you and me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It takes two for that,” she said, and went on with -her work as if she were alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great madness came on Murgatroyd. She sat -there in the moonlight so mocking and aloof, yet so -enticing, that the helpless rage of years found tongue. -He cursed the day she came into Garsykes first, cursed -every meeting with her since, till his hoarse voice -seemed like a flail about her. For a moment Nita was -afraid—of him, and of the stark truth he spoke. Then -she gathered her old dominion round her, her old self-will -and vanity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve been at the drinking again,” she said, with -gentle insolence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have—drinking the dregs, like many another -that’s come your way. You draw your skirts away -fro’ Widow Mathison at the inn, same as if she was dirt. -But she’s got what you’ve not—a heart in her feckless -body.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita had finished her basket and stood, slim and -straight, looking into the man’s face with grey, childlike -eyes as she waited for what he had to say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has a lad of her own—dotes on him, and naught -too much to do, mending and fending for him. <span class='it'>You</span> -dote on yourself, Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s voice had grown quiet, and Nita thought -his madness ended, till he took the rope from under his -arm and began to uncoil it with a leisurely sort of haste.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To be sure,” she said, “Garsykes will be smoked out -soon, like a hornet’s nest. Time was when it bred men, -not windle-straws. And you’re for trying how the -noose will feel about your neck—when Logie gets -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Murgatroyd, “I’m for fitting it about -yours, Nita, and hanging you to a branch of yond big -sycamore.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She saw now the steady light of madness in his eyes, -the purpose sure and downright. Fear unsteadied her -again, but she remembered bygone years of blandishment. -She came to him, and laid a hand on his sleeve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could you hurt me? I’m such a little thing, and -you’re so big. You couldn’t hurt me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but I could.” The man’s voice was low and -harsh as he put her away from him and fingered the -rope with restless fingers. “I could hurt you to some -purpose. Sometimes I fancy there’s naught I want any -more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put both hands on his shoulders now. Her lips -were close to his, and her breath was warm and soft.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Naught else?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old, daft longing stole about him. Little, baffling -webs were spun across his sullen will to make an -end of Nita and her devilries. He reached out his arms -to gather her to him—but she had stepped back and -stood smiling at him in the moonlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow, maybe, or the next day after,” she -said—“when you’ve forgotten about ropes and -sycamores.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He watched her go. He was too heartsick even to -curse her, or to follow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s always to-morrow with her,” he muttered, -shivering in the breeze that whimpered down from -Drumly Ghyll.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he leaned over the bridge, listening to the -stream as it swirled in the deep pool below. The water -called him. Every sob and gurgle enticed him to a -death found easily. The plunge would be cold, into -broth of melted snow, but after that—well, they said -it was a quiet way of going out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet he could not take the plunge. For ever Nita’s -voice was in his ear, with its promise of “to-morrow, -maybe.” She drew him from the waters. It was a -lying promise, but she drew him. Reluctantly he -turned his face towards Garsykes, and down the fell -Nita’s song came with the breeze.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>There came a man to my house,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Love me well, said he;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>There came a man to my house,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Nay, said I, I’m free.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd recalled the Master’s farewell to him -awhile since. Hardcastle’s words had a way of sticking, -he’d noticed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn you all ways, Nita Langrish,” he said, -and laughed heavily, and took the field-track up to -Garsykes.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle rode slowly home to Logie, after his -encounter in the wayside ditch. For a week he had -been restless, wondering what Garsykes meant to do -with him. Now they had shot their bolt, and he survived. -Never in his life had he known this keen, hard -joy that was growing with the feud. Once they had -tried to take him at the pinfold—and once a man had -come to fire his house and been over-blown by snow. -Now they had stretched a rope across the road to hinder -him, and he was up in saddle again. Whatever the -future had in store, he had given no tribute to Garsykes, -and would give none.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At a bend of the road he met Shepherd Brant, who -greeted him with taciturn relief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s better to be quick than dead, Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, Stephen,” said Hardcastle, answering dryness -with dryness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rebecca was in such a rare taking about you—thinking -you were murdered on the Norbrigg road—that -I set off in search. Has it been raining in those -parts?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Raining? No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I only wondered, seeing you dripping-wet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was one from Garsykes in a ditch, and I had -to get him out of it—by the scruff of his neck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” said Brant, lighting his pipe. “And which -of ’em was he like to look at, if I might ask?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was very like Long Murgatroyd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you maimed him for life, and so put him out -o’ harm’s way?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The last I saw of him, he was standing like a dazed -fool in the roadway—too soft for a man to hit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was like you, Master,” growled Brant, and -touched his cap with chill respect as he turned for home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle only laughed as he rode forward. He -knew Brant as he knew himself. If Stephen had seen -Long Murgatroyd in the roadway, grey-faced and -quavering, the shepherd would have understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came by High Ghyll Wood, with the merry -breeze in their faces, and the Master’s horse was thinking -only of oats in the near-by stable when he halted in -his stride and shied at nothing, so far as Hardcastle -could tell. His head was turned toward the wood, and -a shiver ran down his sturdy flanks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle drew rein, and listened. There -might be another ambush waiting for him before he -got to Logie. A horse had quicker hearing than a man. -And now he heard a far-off crying in the wood—the -yelping cry of a beast in pain—and thought a fox had -got into one of the foresters’ many traps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he listened, he knew it was no fox in trouble, but -a dog; and he had a soft heart for all that breed. -Riding forward till he came to the gate near ahead, he -tethered his horse to the trunk of a gnarled thorn-bush, -and plunged into the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The yelping cries were mingled now with fierce, -tortured howls that guided him, step by step, to a clump -of brackens where something lay and writhed, beating -down the shelter it had sought in need. The moon -shone clear through the leafless branches of the silver-birches -overhead—shone on a dog’s bloodshot eyes and -hairy face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Storm, what ails you?” asked Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a moment the sheep-slayer knew him and strove -to wriggle to his hand; then his wounds were rawed -again by the wind. He yelped and growled by turns -when Hardcastle approached and felt down his body -to find what limbs were broken; and suddenly a madness -seized him. He bit at the hands that touched his -wounds. All of him that was unmaimed was quick for -attack. Hardcastle, to him, was Shepherd Brant, who -had pursued him with a hate that would not let him -rest—Brant, who had put gunshot into him at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had found the second ambush, after all, -and one hard to meet. He strove with Storm, his -hands bitten to the bone. This sheep-killer had come -in time of need, when he scattered the Garsykes Men -awhile since. There was a big debt owing by the -house of Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Storm’s strength was spent. He let the Master -shoulder him, a dead-weight of weariness, and carry -him to the horse tethered to the thorn-tree. The horse -neighed and fidgetted as Hardcastle lifted Storm to -the saddle, and held him there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get up to Logie,” he said. “There are all jobs in -a day, even for a thoroughbred.”</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, wandering restlessly about Logie House, -heard Shepherd Brant come into the kitchen with news -that he had shot Storm at last. She heard, too, -Rebecca’s talk of danger to the Master on his way from -Norbrigg; and her restlessness increased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm had found no more than his due, perhaps; -but she had made a comrade of the shaggy culprit, and -it seemed a cruel death for any dog. So little friendship -came her way. She would miss his stealthy coming to -the cupboard under the stair, her own stealthy journeys -to the larder in search of a bone for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, struggle with the feeling as she might, she -began to share Rebecca’s fears for Hardcastle. Suppose, -in sober fact, he was lying somewhere on the -Norbrigg road? Suppose his big, hale body would -never ride the hill-crests again, or taste the savour of -keen moorland weather? She felt the pity of it, and -with pity came remembrance of the tempest they had -shared. But for him, she would have died in the snow. -That would have mattered little, for herself; to her -father it would have meant an end of the last consolation -left him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pedlar was calling her now. His eyes were -bright and eager when she knelt beside him and took his -cold hands into hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m seeing all the Highlands, child—not just Ben -Crummock here, or Ben Ore there—but the good, wild -sweep o’ them all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice was clear again, vibrant and youthful as -when he went a-Maying.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s as if I was standing on a high mountain—seeing -it all spread out below me—hearing the pipes -sob up from Glencoe, and over Culloden Muir, and out -from the Western Isles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never heed their sobbing,” she pleaded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will, for it heartens me. Where I stand now—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A tremor shook him, a dry, harsh coughing; but he -was so nearly rid of his body that his high spirit stormed -and conquered it afresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where I stand now the after-music sounds. The -pipers come, leading our Highland dead—there’s still -a plaining and a sorrow, but the strathspey sounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through blinding tears Causleen saw this courageous -father, stalwart to the end, his vision clear as a boy’s, -his faith indomitable. She was losing him, and soon. -Whenever one of her race neared the threshold of -beyond, the pipers summoned them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They sorrowed here. They’ll come by and by into -all they fought for in the narrow glens, and up the braes—cannot -you see them, girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pedlar strove to rise, because his vision was so -urgent, and fell back, and moaned awhile in helplessness. -Then he glanced at Causleen with quiet humour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Standing on a high hill, was I?” he muttered. -“It was a good dream while it lasted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then his eyes clouded, and he slept; and Causleen, -roaming the winding passages again, encountered -Rebecca.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll only come the one way home to Logie,” -muttered the woman. “He’ll only come the one way -now—stretched on a gate, with four men carrying him. -It was so they brought my man home, forty odd years -since, after <span class='it'>he</span> had said nay to the Garsykes sort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, awed by the loneliness of corridors and -stairs that seemed peopled with ghosts, followed -Rebecca as she went to the door, and opened it, and -stood listening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All’s quiet as yet,” said Rebecca, turning by and -by; “but it’ll not be quiet for long. It’s a queer sort -o’ shuffling noise they make—four men carrying a gate -and something heavy stretched on it. Forty years -since I heard it last! It seems like yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl yielded to the other’s hard, quiet certainty -that Hardcastle was dead—yielded to the wind’s -sobbing in among the half-stripped branches of the -sycamores outside. Again pity touched her—a deeper -pity now. If the Master’s welcome at their first -coming had been chilly, he had bettered it with every -day that followed. She and her father had been -nothing but a burden to him from the start, yet he had -made them guests of honour in his own gruff fashion. -There was the night, too, at the woodmen’s hut. She -had railed at him for saving her; but now she understood. -And it was too late.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca’s lean body grew intent on the sudden. She -stepped out into the moonlight, and presently Causleen -heard, too, the pit-a-pat of hoofs sound up the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re bringing him on horseback, instead of a -gate,” said Rebecca, in the same hard, quiet tone; -“but it’s a dead man rides, and that I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen could think no less. The slow clink of -hoofs suggested no living master, riding home to his -own roof-tree and its cheer. Somewhere—in her heart -or mind, she knew not which—there was a sense of -bitter loss. Already, without guessing it, she had -grown to lean on Hardcastle in these days of grief and -home-sickness for the Highlands. And he was gone, -all but the husk of him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hoof-beats sounded nearer now, and Rebecca’s -stillness broke like thunder-weather. Forty years was -cancelled. It was her own man coming, so she fancied. -In a flash she went through the anguish of that far-off -time—the dead lips making no answer to her kisses, -the limp arms that would never again shield her from -life’s tumults.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dashed the tears away with a rough, skinny -hand, and saw Causleen there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not your fault, or the pedlar’s,” she snapped, -old days and new mingling, with no gap between them—“but -how dare he unfasten his pack and show me -baby-wear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, young but tried by many footsore journeys, -had learned insight into such moods as this. She -understood the other’s wild clinging to past grief, as to -a better thing than present joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He did not know,” she pleaded softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To be sure. He didn’t know. But he might as -well have put a skewer through my heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Rebecca forgot the girl. Standing straight to -her lean height, she reached out her arms, and stood -there calling to the man killed long since by the Lost -Folk. She bade him come quickly, for she had wakened -from a dream that he was dead—bade him step up and -tarry no more—pretended he was here beside her, and -closed her arms about the emptiness, crooning a girl’s -love-welcome.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The slow pit-a-pat of hoofs had rounded the corner -now, and Rebecca woke as from a trance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get indoors, lass,” she said. “Dead men are no -good sight for young eyes to see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen answered nothing. She waited, sick with -fear. Step by step the horse brought its burden -nearer. There was no pride in her heart now, no -memory of Hardcastle’s curt welcome—was it a few -weeks ago, or years? She did not know—knew only -that she would miss something that had come into her -life to stay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pity of it—oh, the pity,” she cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d rather he died that fashion,” snapped Rebecca, -peering out into the moonlight, “than in a bed he’d -bought by giving tribute Garsykes way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would not go to meet trouble, and Causleen dared -not. So Hardcastle came leading his horse to the door, -and was astonished to find two women there who gazed -at him as if he came from under some tomb in the -churchyard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it your ghost, Master?” quavered Rebecca.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, it’s my body—and damned tired at that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, before she could check the impulse, ran -forward and touched his sleeve. Long watching -beside her father had weakened her endurance. So -had the suspense that brooded over Logie since the -feud was up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, thank God,” she said with a sudden rush of tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced at her in frank wonder. It was -long since anyone had given him such a welcome home; -yet only yesterday she had shunned him as if he had the -plague. There was the scent of violets in her hair as -it brushed his shoulder—a warm, wet fragrance, born -of the night-time breeze—that unsteadied him. He -had thought himself past that sort of blandishment, -since Nita and he shared courting-days; but his heart -found a quicker beat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She withdrew sharply, ashamed of her weakness and -blaming him for it. “Rebecca was so sure that you -were killed on the way home,” she said. “I could not -comfort her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca herself was in a fine, gusty rage. She had -gone through much in the last hour, and the relief from -foreboding asked for outlet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will say this, Master, though I let my tongue be -still most times. Outrageous folk, men are. They’ll -go pleasuring to market, in spite o’ Garsykes being out -against ’em. They’ll let their women moil and toil for -’em, and wait their coming—and, like as you might say -for frolic, they’ll come an hour late to supper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle could understand her wrath no better -than Causleen’s tears. It seemed to him simply that -the two of them were daft. But then most women -were.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was kept,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, you were kept—and the best supper ever -cooked is spoiling to a cinder. And you never stopped -to think I should be picturing you dead on the roadway -all this time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The moon was racing through a scud of cloud, and -Rebecca peered through the silver dusk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you got on your saddle?” she asked -sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm, poor brute. He fell asleep on the journey, -worn out with it all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca’s gusty mood pointed south-west now, -instead of shrill nor’-east. “Then I’m glad you’re -late. Shepherd Brant was in my kitchen just now, -boasting he’d put lead into Storm at last and that he’d -die of it among the brackens.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He came near it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe; but a miss is as good as a mile. I sent -Brant stamping out, with a flea in his big, hairy ear—and, -as for Storm, poor lamb, we’ll mend his legs for -him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master had lifted Storm already from saddle. -The dog bit feebly at him, and writhed in pain; but his -growling ceased when he found himself in the old -quarters that had grown to be home and respite to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca ran in search of linen and a cunning ointment -she bought from the gypsies who came peddling -to her door, and then Causleen, wise with dogs, held the -rough head while Hardcastle felt down the maimed -hindquarters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s nothing broken,” he said, glancing up, -“but Brant fired at close range, damn him. Storm’s -flesh has gaps in it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheep-slayer had gone through evil days—hunger -while they hunted him, and after it the straddling out -in search of cover after Brant had left him with two legs -to go on instead of four. So he let them do what they -would with him, though Rebecca’s ointment galled his -wounds as she plied them with no gentle fingers. This -was ease after hardship—three folk attentive on him, -and a snug lodging for the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cunning ointment, its bite sharp at first, began to -soothe, and Storm dozed happily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor lamb, he’s bettering now,” said Rebecca, -wiping her fingers on a scrap of linen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle laughed quietly. “There are lambs that -were never born because he slew the ewes. But he’s -ours, Rebecca.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood together in the silence. Peril brooded -like thunder-weather over the house of Logie. The -wind, chattering and plucking at the casements, spoke of -stealth, of nameless treacheries closing round about its -walls. The pedlar was crying in his sleep for another -glimpse of Ben Crummock before he died.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Do as they would, gloom spun its webs about them—little, -clinging webs that hindered courage—till Jonah, -the brindled cat, stalked down the passage. Storm’s -protest when they tended the wounds had roused Jonah -from his sleep, and he came to learn what ailed an -ancient comrade. His thick, handsome coat was all -a-bristle, his eyes green and combative.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah paid no heed to Rebecca, but stepped into the -cupboard and glanced at the sheep-slayer, and mewed -restlessly. Storm lifted his head drowsily and growled -a welcome, and the brindled cat curled himself into the -dog’s shaggy neck and looked out on all intruders with -defiance. Then they licked each other once or twice -and fell into a deep slumber of content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen to him,” said Rebecca, with a cackle of glee. -“Listen to vagabones Jonah. He’s purring as loud as -an eight-day clock, Lord bless him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their eerie hour of dread was broken. Causleen -glanced at the Master, and for the first time since they -shared Logie’s roof they laughed together. Then she -grew wide-eyed and grave again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But your hands are raw!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm did not know me just at first. They’ll heal,” -said Hardcastle.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap13'>CHAPTER XIII</h1></div> - -<h3>WILL O’ WISP</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Near dusk of the quiet November day a man came -into Widow Mathison’s inn at Garsykes and -called for a quart of home-brewed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can you pay?” asked the widow, with her buxom, -loose-lipped smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For answer the man took a handful of silver from his -pocket and laid it on the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right enough, and no offence meant. Time -was when I chalked the tally up on my door—but I -tired o’ that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would—from all I hear of Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, they’re free enough with their money when -they have any. It’s just that they seldom have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The widow, after bustling to serve him, went on with -her interrupted dusting of the china dogs on the mantel, -till curiosity got the better of her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you travelled far, like?” she asked over her -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not so very,” chuckled the stranger, “though I -came near to going a very far way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t say, now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but I do say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And where might it be you nearly went?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, as you ask me—hell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stranger chuckled afresh as he buried his head -in his pewter-pot. And Long Murgatroyd came -striding in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dry, Murgatroyd?” asked the widow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like a kiln.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never knew a man so punctual, as you might say, -to a thirst. Tend it, you do, as a woman tends her -babby.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd was in one of his better moods, and -gave as much as he took in the way of banter before -settling himself in the corner by the ingle-nook. Then -he glanced at the stranger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where do you come from?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless me, the landlady was putting that same -question to me a minute since.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” snapped the widow, “and all the answer I -got for my trouble was that he’d nearly journeyed -further than he relished—journeyed to——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t be squeamish. Hell was what I said—if -there <span class='it'>is</span> such a place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd turned on him with a sudden snarl. -“There is. I don’t need to travel, for I’m in it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door was pushed open again, and two more -Garsykes Men came in, bringing the smell of a soft, -wet breeze across the stale sawdust of the tavern -floor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They in turn glanced curiously at the stranger, but -he forestalled them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to be first with a question this time. Is -it true that such as me is safe in Garsykes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That all depends,” said Murgatroyd, recovering his -good humour. “Have you done aught again the -law?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A tidy bit in my time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such as?” growled one of the late comers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, the last thing I did, as I said, was to come -nearer Kingdom Come than ever I’d been in my life. A -running post-boy was due, not a hundred miles from -where we’re sitting, and I wanted what he’d got.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was no more than reasonable, as you might -say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d got more than I bargained for—a pistol and a -spirit of his own. I closed with him just in time—and -here’s the mark of the bullet where it grazed my -neck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They saw the red weal he turned to them, then -glanced at the silver he had thrown on the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was that all you got for your trouble?” asked -Murgatroyd. “You’re not safe here, my lad, if you -show the silver and keep the guineas hid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stranger got up, and clapped his empty pockets, -and bade the men search him; but his rueful smile made -it clear that he was hiding no ill-gotten gains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was searching for the guineas when a man galloped -over the hill—a big man—and spat a pistol at me -as I ran. That bullet, too, touched me—on the leg -this time. So I took cover, and headed straight for -Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three men laughed, and so did Widow Mathison.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You did right,” said the widow. “By what you say, -it was our masterful Man o’ Logie rode at you; but even -he durst not come seeking you in Garsykes. We’re -seeking him instead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Carried a pistol, did he?” grumbled Murgatroyd. -“Well, there’s one boast gone from Logie. The -Master said he’d face us all with no more than his two -fists and a stick to help him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stranger called for bread-and-cheese and another -pot of ale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why are you seeking him?” he asked lazily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because he’s too big for his boots, and always was. -So now he’s got all Garsykes against him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then he’s wise to carry a pistol, I should say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He swore he wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but I’d have found a quick change o’ mind -myself—if Garsykes pressed me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd eyed him with sombre doubt. “What’s -you’re name when you’re at home, my lad? You -seem to know a lot about Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t a home. That’s why I’m known as Will -o’ Wisp.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Master of Logie touched you with a bullet—and -you sit grinning there as if he’d given you ale and -crumpets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never cry over spilled luck. That’s what the -road teaches a free-striding man. Besides, there was -comfort met me on a little, grey brig o’ stone.” The -man’s eyes twinkled with random, inborn gaiety. “I -never saw such a lass in my life—slim and like a posy, -and she was weaving a basket.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd stirred restlessly, but his neighbour -kicked him by stealth and whispered in his ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That would be Nita,” said the widow—“Nita, the -basket-maker, as we call her. Poor bairn, she was left -an orphan——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That doesn’t trouble her now,” broke in Will o’ -Wisp, with his heedless laugh. “She smiled so kindly -as I went by that I asked the way to Garsykes. And -it ended with my sitting on the brig beside her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does,” said Murgatroyd, heavily. “It always -ends like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again his shin was kicked, and Widow Mathison took -up the tale they were spinning round the stranger like a -web.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s of the better sort, you see, and our Garsykes -Men are rough. No wonder that she smiled at the likes of -you. I’d have done as much myself when I was younger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The widow’s right. Nita’s too trim a lass for such -as us. That’s why she looks over our heads when we -think o’ courting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t court properly, then,” said Will o’ Wisp, -with a wink of infinite zest and roguery. “There’s -three ways of courting a pretty wench, and only three.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, aye?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The first is, be sure of winning. So’s the second. -And the third——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the third?” prompted Widow Mathison.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be sure of winning,” Will o’ Wisp chuckled, and -buried his face in the pewter-pot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was so pleased with the hum of laughter that -answered his idle pleasantry—pleased to be safe among -Lost Folk again after hunger and thirst among the -righteous—and his tongue wagged freely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They plied him with strong ale that night, and -Murgatroyd, when he left him sleeping on the long-settle, -went laughing out of the tavern door. He -would watch another go through what he had suffered—would -watch, and gloat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd glanced up the grey fells, as he swayed -unsteadily for a moment when the breeze found the ale -in him. Then he strode up to his cottage under -Scummer Rigg.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will o’ Wisp courts Will o’ Wisp,” he muttered, -with a big, joyous hiccough. “The devilment there’ll -be in Garsykes.”</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>About five of that November evening, Hardcastle -had come to his house of Logie and heard a woman’s -voice as he stepped into the hall after stabling his horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, Storm, be quiet,” she chided. “You’ve had -two weeks of nursing, and you’re nearly well. I’ll not -have you snap at me. But then all sick folk are that -way,” she went on, coaxing and scolding in the same -breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was changing the sheep-slayer’s bandages, and -glanced up at Hardcastle with a smile of welcome.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s strong enough to need a male nurse now. -Will you do the rest?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm tried his fretful temper on the Master, but not -for long. He did not whimper even as the ointment -stung and galled before it soothed; for he knew that -the days of his pamperdom were nearly over—and that -Hardcastle knew it, too.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had licked himself for a while, then settled -into sleep, Causleen and Hardcastle stood in the -draughty hall, glancing at each other with the new -understanding that had come by stealth to them -during these last days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Donald—how is he?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little nearer the end.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had driven pity out of his life, had -bruised it with his heel at every turn. He was impatient -to find it stirring faintly now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish Logie was a safer lodging for you. You’ve -trouble enough of your own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The note in his voice, the haunted look that showed -in his eyes for a moment and was gone, told her of some -encounter on the road to-night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it Long Murgatroyd again, with a rope across the -highway?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you know of that?” he snapped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you hid the news well enough, but gossip -brought it. What happened to-night as you rode from -Norbrigg?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing that mattered—for me. But for you and -Donald——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It matters for all of us, or none,” she broke in, her -glance questioning and steady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” he said roughly. “The end for Logie is sure, -so far as I can see. But I’d hoped the house would last -Donald’s time. He’s earned a peaceful end.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen seemed ever to be finding some unexpected -waywardness in Hardcastle. He waged the feud so -quietly, with such contempt for his own safety, that -she had thought him deaf to what was no news on Logie-side. -He, too, was aware that his house was doomed, -it seemed; yet he found time to think of Donald.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What happened to-night?” she asked again. -“I’d rather have the tale from you than wait for -gossip.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So then he told her of his ride up-fell from Norbrigg, -and how he found a post-boy holding his own with -hardship against a footpad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sent a bullet after him—and, the last I saw of the -rogue, he was limping hard for Garsykes. It’s only -one more count in their tally against me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You could buy your house—at a price,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What price?” He was rough and hard on the -instant—rough as Storm, sleeping his sickness off in the -cupboard near at hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You could give them tribute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And sell Logie’s honour? I couldn’t. Seven -hundred years would rive open the graves down yonder, -where dead Hardcastles lie. They’d rise and flout me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s eyes glowed bright and clear. “It would -be so easy,” she said, tempting him, “to pay a little to -them every now and then—and your house safe—and -no ropes stretched across night-roads.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glowered down at her. “And no peace -by day or night. Logie would know. Her timbers -would creak and groan. She’d loose her ancient -ghosts on me—and God knows every house has ghosts -enough of that sort. You’re mad to talk of giving -tribute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had probed to the core of him, as she had meant; -and a great need came to her, out of the weary years -behind, to speak of the tribute asked of Donald and -herself—which had been denied in face of odds as great -as he was facing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two pedlars came to your door,” she said, with a -flash of the old grievance. “You counted us as such, -and no more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And shall never be forgiven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m tired and out of heart, and you have been kind—kinder -than you need have been. And we still -intrude.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was all; but his denial had a new ring of truth -about it, though she could find no reason for the change.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had lands of our own once,” she went on by and -by—“lands and a house like yours. But they went.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a tearless grief, too deep for Hardcastle -to fathom, in those three words, “But they went.” -Logie was going, unless a miracle arrived; but he would -die with the house, when the last onset of the Garsykes -Men prevailed. He had no such parting to face as -Causleen had gone through—exile from a homestead -whose every stone and draughty corridor was loved like -a second self. Logie and he, when their time came, -would face the Trump o’ Doom together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me more,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While she halted, fearing that grief would get the -better of her, Rebecca came down the passage with a -martial tread. The brindled cat was on her shoulder, -his fur raised in warlike challenge, too.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Logie lands breed slack-come-by men these days, -Master. Such a twitter as there’s been in my kitchen. -You’d have fancied women were talking, though they -wore breeks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who were they, Rebecca?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Phineas Rowbotham first, squealing that he was a -man of peace. Bloodshed was a sin, said he, and why -shouldn’t we pay our way with the Garsykes Folk—living, -and letting live. I was dusting his jacket with -a rolling-pin when another steps in with the same tale, -and another. So I swept them out, and barred the -door. Jonah spat at ’em from my shoulder, same as -he’s sitting now. Jonah knows men’s flesh and blood -from chicken-meat. Spat and growled at ’em, he did, -as a man cat should.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen felt a sudden sense of home. Hardcastle -had not the Highland speech, nor Rebecca; but they -three were one in the spirit to endure. And Storm -and the brindled cat were with them.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap14'>CHAPTER XIV</h1></div> - -<h3>NITA</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Garsykes was stirred to grim and crafty mirth -during the next weeks. November had brought -its little spell of summer between fall of the -leaves and winter’s onset. Primroses bloomed here -and there in favoured nooks. The sun was constant, -from dawn till nightfall, in a blue and happy sky, -and birds began to think of courtship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So did Will o’ Wisp. In all his careless, vagabond -life he had found none like Nita; and she smiled at -him whenever they met by stream or coppice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our men are rough and savage,” she would say. -“They frighten me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Will o’ Wisp would yield to the slender helplessness -of this girl who showed him open favour. -And all Garsykes laughed, to watch the stranger -going the way of many men before him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has him in her lap,” growled Long Murgatroyd, -sitting in the inn one afternoon among his cronies, -“and the Lord knows which o’ them I’d like to throttle -first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Choose Nita,” they answered, in snarling chorus.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Happen I will,” said Murgatroyd, and fell back -into the sullen brooding that shadowed his every -thought these days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp cared nothing at all for what they -said of him in Garsykes. He cared only to be with -Nita Langrish, to grow wilder each day for her elusive -beauty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one of these windless, moist afternoons, near -dusk, he came from the benty lands and found her -at the bridge that spanned Crooning Water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a fine hare you’re dangling in your hand,” -she said, with a welcoming smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was thinking to leave it at your door as I went -by.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d best come with you, then, as soon as I’ve -finished my basket. Hares left at Garsykes doors -don’t stay there long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They wouldn’t,” agreed Will o’ Wisp, with a -random laugh. “I should have thought of that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d best keep it, after all. What do I know -of the way to skin it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should have thought of that, too. I’ll bring it -dressed for cooking—and don’t blame me if it looks -like a plump, naked cat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She seemed to invite him to sit on the parapet -beside her; but when he tried to put an arm about her, -it grasped only empty space. Nita was on the far -side of the bridge, as if by magic, threading her withies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They used to cut the willows for me,” she said by -and by, her voice soft as the breeze that fluted down -the stream. “And now I have to cut them myself. -See how rough my hands are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were held out to him—slim, shapely hands—and -he was mad to take them. But Nita was already -standing in the roadway, and laughed as she dangled -the finished basket to and fro.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is for little Tabitha, up dale. Seventy odd -and a spinster, she. The last I made was for a bride. -I wonder what drollery will come to them both, when -they take their baskets over-arm?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp’s crisp good-humour failed him. The -girl stood there, all of her but the grey eyes young as -June about these winter highlands; but the eyes were -old, unfathomable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What drollery should come?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would not understand. I cannot help it, -but I’ve a trick of weaving spells into my baskets. -Whoever I make one for, I get a picture of her in my -mind, and ply the willows in and out with a sort of -prayer, you might say, that my basket will teach her -just the daft contrary-wise of what she thought she -was. And it comes true, Will o’ Wisp.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then suddenly the grey eyes were young again, -and smiling into his. “Was I seeing far? It comes -of foregathering with gypsies. One of them talked -to me just now of Logie and its Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man who tried to stop me with a bullet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you bear no malice, Will o’ Wisp?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should do,” he chuckled, “but, thanks be, I -harbour none o’ that. I’ve seen too much of it in -my time—eating into men like a plague.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d have had the post-boy’s money in your -pocket, but for Hardcastle. And what cause had -he to interfere?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His bullet only flicked me. Next time I’ll flick -him, maybe, and settle that little account between -us. But, as for malice, I wouldn’t sour myself with -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re not like the Garsykes sort. They’d gnaw -at what Hardcastle did to you, as a dog gnaws at a -bone, never letting it rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“More fools they. I’m a rogue by nature and choice—a -light-hearted one—and fancied they’d be all like -that in Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You fancied wrong, Will o’ Wisp. Honour among -thieves—Robin Hood and his merry men—you looked -to find all that in Garsykes? You’re young.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you’re young,” he broke in heedlessly. “You -were talking of spells you wove into your baskets, -Nita—as if baskets mattered. You’ve woven them -round a man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Or half a man?” she mocked. “One who lets -Hardcastle pistol him and daren’t answer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp grew taut as a bow-string on the sudden. -“<span class='it'>Dare not</span> never shadowed me since I was breeked. -I’ve little to boast about except that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went together up the road, and turned into -the track that led between lean, benty lands to -Garsykes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Hardcastle had done a wrong to me?” she -asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gripped her shoulder till she winced. “I’d -kill him,” he said simply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A man, are you, after all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was born one, as it happened.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it’s not so bad as to ask murder,” said Nita, -her voice gentle as a dove’s. “Hardcastle slighted -me—no more than that—took the heart out of my -body and threw it away for frolic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he?” said Will o’ Wisp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not murder,” she pleaded, her hand like velvet -on his arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s as maybe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So then she cried, and he fell to comforting her; -and afterwards she set the width of the roadway -between them as they went through Garsykes village.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Prying eyes looked out on them from Widow Mathison’s -inn, and Long Murgatroyd fetched a great laugh -as he stood looking out of the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s another o’ Nita’s goes by. To-morrow -he’ll be where most of us have been in our time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd spoke truth. On the next day Will o’ -Wisp was busy in the swampy hollow where Nita’s -willows grew. The Garsykes Men, when they got -late abroad, did not pause for banter as they passed. -They let the newcomer hang himself in Nita’s silken -toils, and so much for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So it went for many days, till Will o’ Wisp began to -lose his content with life as he found it. There were -times when he came into the inn and sat silent on the -settle, till at last the widow rallied him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re getting heavy as Murgatroyd. What’s -amiss with your easy-go-lucky handling of things as -they come?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How should I know? Draw me a quart of ale, -and maybe that will cure me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe it will—and likely it willun’t. But -Nita’s good for my trade, and always was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I said naught about Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No. But you were thinking of her. Will o’ -Wisp, my lad, I’ve a liking for you, and I’m old enough -to be your mother. Quit Nita Langrish, before she -binds her spell too fast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rough sympathy was too much for him. He -had gone through evil days—through beguilement -that promised all, and gave nothing but the slant -flight of a snipe as it raced down-wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The spell’s over me, fast and hard,” he said, and -laughed—but not with the old relish.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day Nita came home by way of the Long -Spinney that raked down from Logie to the grey hill-fastness -where her village lurked. Her step was -buoyant. She had sold her baskets, and had another -man in thrall at Garsykes. All was well with her, -till a gunshot cracked from the spinney, and Hardcastle -came presently down the lane between the -thick-set firs and sycamores, dangling a hare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At sight of him—big and careless, as if the world -were his—Nita lost all content. There was one who -had escaped her snare, and she coveted him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man they call Will o’ Wisp brought me just -such a hare—and it was one of yours, I fancy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he? I’m taking mine to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For the pedlar’s brat to share?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, as yet, knew nothing of his heart; -but Nita read it in his stubborn quietness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did you say to her, that day you met her -on the road?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Something that brought burning to her cheeks. -Do you think, because you’re Hardcastle of Logie, -you can share a hut for the night with a lass and hear -no more about it—snowstorm or no?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are times,” he said slowly, “when I wonder -why one or another of the Garsykes Men doesn’t cut -out that tongue of yours and nail it where the gamekeeper——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nails vermin?” said Nita gently. “I witch -them, Hardcastle of Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle longed to pass by, and could not. Surely -what they said of her was false. She was so fresh -and innocent, like a morning in mid-April.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I witch them, Dick, and care for none—since -you went out of my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again she was witching him, too. All that was -rough and a man in him had asked always for a frail -thing like Nita to guard—something that would need -his strength and lean on it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were good days, and I lost them,” she went on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was as if a net of cobwebs hindered him. She -was close, and woe-begone, and pleading. Then he -remembered how it had gone long since—his stormy, -honest wooing—and the end of that good dream. -He recalled the barren years, his loathing of all women -for Nita’s sake—Nita’s, who had played him false.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re of Garsykes,” he said, “and the new days -are in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might have been of Logie once. I was a fool. -Have you no pity, Dick?” She put a hand on his -sleeve. “You’re built out of limestone rock—hard -and unforgiving.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just hard, Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And buying acres here and there, to add to Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I bought a farm yesterday—Nicholas Wade’s, who -died in his bed at ninety. Yes, I’m buying acres.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t you save them, Dick? I’m of the -Wilderness—and there are only six of yours that do -not cringe to Garsykes. You’re almost alone against -us now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe—but the six are staunch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita would have welcomed rage—his hands at her -throat, for what she had done to him in days gone -by—but she fretted at this cold hardihood that was -so resolute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you no pity?” she asked again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I keep such for Logie these times.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then suddenly he found her hands in his, and the old -beguilement was about him. She had tempted him -before, when the feud was new and heady in his veins, -and he had hope of saving Logie. Now he had no -hope, except to face the last assault of Garsykes when -it came, and die with the house whose every rafter-beam -he loved. Six of his men had proved leal. -The rest were chaff blowing down the winds of chance—folk -cringing for daily bread to Garsykes, and paying -toll as if they cared not for the shame of licking dirty -boots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All was in the losing. And here was Nita, her arms -soft about him. What did it matter, if he took and -claimed her, and earned restful days for Logie?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fight was over almost before he knew it had -begun. Pride played its own part. He would not -yield, though twenty Garsykes came against him. -But, deep under pride, lay some inner depth whose -waters had not been stirred till now. Nita and her -spells grew shadowy and weak. He was a free man -again, and some new, undreamed-of world seemed to -open out before him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita stood at arm’s length now, wondering at the -man’s stubbornness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So we’re both fools, it seems,” she said. “I lost -Logie once for vanity—and now you’re losing it for -pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A twig snapped in the wood behind them, and Hardcastle -turned sharply. He saw only a shaking of the -pine-branches; but Nita had seen more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Afraid that one from Garsykes would club you -from behind?” she mocked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not afraid—but sure it would be from behind, -if at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How you loathe us, Dick—and how we loathe you in -turn. Listen. I’m as you see me—not ugly, they -say—and there’s a mad-dog fury there in Garsykes. -They want to burn your house to-morrow, and I will -not let them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why?” snapped Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope to be mistress there. Would I let them -burn a house I shared?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll never share it,” he said bluntly, stung by -her careless trust in her own beauty and its power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita stood regarding him for a moment, then laughed—a -little, eerie laugh that had an edge of steel. “I’ll -not let them burn the house for another reason now. -It would be too easy a way out for its pride-sick -master. You’re glancing at the wood again? It was -no Garsykes face that peeped between the branches.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whose was it, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, whose? You’ll learn soon enough—and, -after all, it’s only one more trouble to your load.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A silence followed, heavy and brooding as thunder-weather -brewing up. Nita, used to swaying men by -her lightest smile, had done all to bring Hardcastle -into captivity again. She had failed, and the Master -drew back a pace or two, appalled by what he saw in -the girl’s face and dove-like eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall teach them the way of better sport with -Logie than burning it. You’d only die once in the -flames. For weeks, maybe—or months—the Wilderness -will let you go your ways. A mischance here and -there, to let you know we’re not asleep—the waiting -for a blow that will surely come at last—do you think -pride will carry any man through that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Hardcastle, and went up the pastures, -swinging the hare he carried.</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita turned at last, when he was out of sight, and -went down the track to Garsykes. Heart she had -none to be wounded, but vanity was touched to the -quick. Hardcastle would never be moved by her -spells from this to the Crack o’ Doom, and with the -knowledge came a passionate gust of hate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was in this mood that she encountered Will o’ -Wisp, lumbering to the inn on heavy feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re not your own merry self,” she said. “What -ails you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita Langrish ails me. I get no rest for wanting -of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why do all the men go daft for the little basket-weaver? -I never ask it, Will o’ Wisp.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe,” he growled, “but the lord Harry knows -you maze us. I could throttle you where we stand, -Nita—just for love of doing it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You couldn’t. I’d put a hand on your arm—like -this—and I’d ask you to be gentle with little Nita. -And, see, you could not hurt me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man stood there, smiling foolishly, and lost -to all but the girl’s low, pleading voice. And she -began to play on his infirmities, as skilled fingers -might touch a fiddle’s strings, till she brought him -to her purpose. It was true that she had checked -the Wilderness Men in their second plot to fire Logie. -It had been true, till her meeting with Logie’s Master, -that she had crooned happily to herself as she wove -her baskets, and planned the long do-little time which -should break Hardcastle’s spirit and his pride before -they broke his body. But now she could not wait.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Vanity, restless and impatient, cried for solace -to its wounds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why do I fret you so, Will o’ Wisp?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s past my wits to say. Happen you know -yourself, and happen you don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s Hardcastle of Logie, and not one in -Garsykes dares bring him down—for my sake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For your sake?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. You’re half-men, all of you, or we’d be rid -of him. I met him up the pastures awhile since, -and he—he was not kind. If I’d had you with me, -Will o’ Wisp—but you were drinking strong ale, -likely, instead of being at my side.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was lad-mooning up and down the fields, sick -of my fancy for you. And naught ever comes of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lad-moon no more, Will. Be up and doing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How?” he asked bluntly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re not his match in strength—but little folk -are given nimble wits. He took a pistol to you once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He did,” muttered Will, urged now by a rancour -Nita had fostered diligently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And it’s turn and turn about in this life. Borrow -Murgatroyd’s fowling-piece to-morrow——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And creep up to Logie with it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no need. All gossip comes to little Nita, -and I can tell you the way home Hardcastle will be -taking, near dusk. It lies yonder, where the track -dips down from Pengables—and, when you’ve fired, -Will o’ Wisp, you’ve no more to do than slip home to -Garsykes for your welcome.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What sort of welcome?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d find me, for one. What I’d give the man -who rid Logie-side of Hardcastle—but, then, you’re -only half-man, maybe, like the rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that, Will o’ Wisp was in the toils again; -and as they went down to Garsykes, the basket-weaver -nestled close against him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, meanwhile, had taken his own grim way -to Logie—over the bridge of many memories and up -the winding steep of the road. His gate, when he -reached it, held memories, too, and he fingered the -arrow-head left there as a token before the autumn -trees were stripped. He kept it in his pocket nowadays, -for luck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A stable-lad, sweeping the lane, touched his forelock -as Hardcastle came by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s been Farmer Draycott to see you, Master, -but he couldn’t wait till you came back. You -promised to go to Broken Firs to-morrow about -repairs, and he stepped up to remind you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d not forgotten,” said Hardcastle carelessly—“though -it’s a long message for you to carry, William.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lad grinned sheepishly. “It did twist the few -wits I’ve got; but I just kept on saying it over and -over—not letting go in a manner o’ speaking, like as -if I stuck to a rope.—And, Master——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d not go if I was you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced at him with gruff kindliness; -for all Logie humoured this lad of the strong hands and -the lame wits.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You wouldn’t go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not if Guytrash yelped behind and druv me forrard. -I’d choose Trash, I would, instead o’ Broken Firs. -Why d’ye go, Master?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I said I’d go—so fret no more, William, -and take this hare up to the kitchen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He missed the wistful, dog-like glance that followed -him up the lane. He was thinking of Nita Langrish—of -Causleen, who was a guest thrust on him against -his will. Donald the pedlar wearied him, too, though -he hated himself for the thought that pensioners -lingered in their dying. Surely there was enough to -face these days, without useless burdens to carry on -one’s back! What did he owe Donald and his girl? -Why were they here, when Logie asked for all his -strength, and no weaklings in the house?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet, when he came under his own roof, he was -aware of loneliness. Donald, as he glanced into the -room, was sleeping tranquilly. Rebecca, far down -the passage, seemed to be at war with Jonah, the -brindled cat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A vagabones I call you, lapping cream all day -and doing naught,” came the shrill voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again Hardcastle wearied of it all. Peril, of the -stealthy kind that he was fighting, had made his body -lean and nagged at his spirit till it was raw with wounds. -Something was absent—something he had come to -look for on returning—and he grew restless and -impatient.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca came down the passage by and by, Jonah -perched on her shoulder after the last of their soon-over -quarrels. With swift and savage intuition she -knew what ailed the Master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pedlar does well enough. Are you worrying -about him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Hardcastle, tall and sombre.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As for his girl, she came in awhile since like a -child o’ Belial. After she’d seen to Donald, she was -frost and venom. She wouldn’t speak—I could have -thoyled it better that road—but flounced about in her -quiet, proud way, till I could have bitten her. Then -she went out o’ doors—at this time o’ night, and with -all Garsykes stirring for aught we know—and she’s -not come back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle turned to the rack, reached for a fowling-piece -and looked to the priming. Then, without a -word to Rebecca, he went into the soft November -night and stood listening for the cry of one in trouble. -None came. A sickle moon lay cradled in the tree-tops, -shining on a land of misty quiet; and in that -moment Hardcastle learned something of the heart -he had thought walled-up for ever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He called, and silence answered. Crying louder and -louder still, he went up and down the pastures, through -the home-spinney and out into Chantry Meadow where -the cowslips grew in spring. He began to weave -pictures of Garsykes Men surrounding her from every -corner of these empty wastes, and quickened pace, -and went circling hither and thither like a man distraught. -Gusty anger found him, passionate question -why she had left Logie’s shelter—fear reached him, of -a kind unknown till now—and again his cry rang -out—his heart’s cry of <span class='it'>Causleen</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A bunch of sheep, huddled under the wall, got up -and ran bleak-witted past him. That was the only -answer. And now his own littleness appalled Hardcastle. -Measured by the striding loneliness of Logie-land, -he seemed small and of no account. He must -get back, and saddle a horse, and rouse the country-side. -If they found Causleen safe—if they found -her safe—his mind stayed there awhile, glad to believe -it till he was half-way back to Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then his mind raced forward. If they found her -dead, or worse, he’d gather his roving company into -a band that would burn Garsykes from one end to -the other of its styes. Hardcastle, the magistrate who -once had scrupled to carry a gun against the Lost -Folk, was growing fast these days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came to his own door, wrath and fear between -them making havoc of him. And there stood Causleen, -looking quietly out across the trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Surely you heard me call?” snapped Hardcastle, -with quick relief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I heard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then why the devil, child, didn’t you answer? -I’ve been sick with fear for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that true?” she asked. “There’s no other -could make you sick with fear of that sort?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was no easy man to live with these days. -His temper was brittle as a file, and here was the pedlar’s -girl, cross-questioning him after the turmoil he had -gone through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was a fool,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And why?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To get my heart into my mouth because——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because, Hardcastle of Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rebecca told me you’d gone out alone, as if there -were no Wilderness Men skulking round the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you cared to go in search?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was a fool,” said Hardcastle again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced at him once, in the light of the young, -keen moon—and laughed at him with quiet derision—and -went indoors, to find Rebecca waiting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Back, are you? Well, it’s time. The Master’s -been daft about you—and Jonah sits atop o’ your -shoulder now, instead o’ mine—so I’m getting jealous -all ways. What made you go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The owls were hooting in Logie Wood. They -seemed to call me,” said Causleen, aloof and cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pack o’ nonsense. Why couldn’t you let the -hullets get on with their decent hunting? It was the -dratted voles and rats they were crying for. And now -you’ll want supper, on top of my hard day’s work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I could not eat, Rebecca. So you’re spared -that trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca, noting the girl’s sudden pallor, was grimmer -than before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Spared more from your pack o’ nonsense, am I? -I’ll see to that. It’s a good, square meal you need, -my lass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen faced her with a dignity so aloof that it -daunted even tough Rebecca. “I eat as little as -may be of your Master’s food.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that she was gone up the windy stairway, -like a Highland storm across her own far moors; and -presently Hardcastle came in, dour and stubborn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“William brought you the hare?” he asked, finding -Rebecca still in the hall, chewing the cud of her defeat -at Causleen’s hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and more. He prayed me draw you back -from going to Broken Firs to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What of that? William’s wits were never strong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But his far-sight is. Suppose he’s right, Master—and -suppose you knew he was right—would you -still go up to Michael Draycott’s?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What else should I do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A lean, hard smile wrinkled the woman’s lips. -“Aye,” she said. “Aye. That’s Logie, through and -through.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap15'>CHAPTER XV</h1></div> - -<h3>THE HINDERED VENTURE</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael Draycott was waiting for him -at the gate when Hardcastle came over the -moor to Broken Firs the next afternoon, and -he nodded a cheery greeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re on the very stroke of the time you promised, -Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have to be, Michael. You’re so often near dying -that a minute beyond might be too late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, I willun’t have that old joke thrown at me,” -chuckled the farmer. “Maybe I have my fancies, -like one here and there; but I do get up from my -death-bed wonderful regular.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And then you want to dip into my pockets for -repairs. It would pay me to keep you ill in bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not in the long run, when roofs began to gape and -gates dropped all to bits. There’d be a tidier penny -to pay then than now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have it your own way, Michael, but remember -I’m a poor man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ancient ritual went its way, as they moved -from one corner to another of the trim farmstead—Hardcastle -with shrewd reluctance, Michael with deep -resolve to get all he wanted, and a little more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The little more was broached as Hardcastle was -leaving, after a wide-spread meal in the farmstead’s -parlour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Talking of mistals——” said Michael.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We didn’t happen to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, but we were thinking o’ them. That one -yonder would be all the better if it was doubled in size. -The farm’s prospering so, I’ve scarcely room for my -beasts to turn about in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Michael, you’re bound to die soon, in one of -those bad turns of yours. You’d better be thinking -of your latter end, instead of farm-buildings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s weather-red face grew plump with laughter. -“I’m not on such nodding-terms with death as -I used to be, Master. There’s summat in this durned -feud with Garsykes that makes me want to live to a -hundred and three.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Six of us feel like that,” said Hardcastle, glancing -down to where Garsykes caught the last of the crimson -sun-glow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and six o’ that sort can be fifty or two-score -when need asks. I couldn’t have thought it—the -way old bones grow young in these good times.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All they had shared of peril lay silent between them, -but confessed, as they watched the last glow redden -and die out across the Garsykes hollow, leaving it to -a grey, disastrous sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll go agateards with you, Master,” said Draycott -by and by—“lest young blood gets the better of you, -and you run single-handed into yond foul stye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no likelihood, Michael. I’m ready for -them if they come to Logie, and it stands at that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, but you’re young. And youth can’t bide to -wait sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael went with him as far as the turn of the track, -where the heather ran down to the pastures; and then -he bade him a hale good-night and God-speed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve a sick heifer needing me, Master—and, forgive -me, I was thinking of the feud instead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle swung down the track. The sun had -westered now about these higher slopes, and dusk overtook -him as he reached the top of the sheep-track that -wound to Logie. Across the frost-haze of the valley, -lights twinkled out from Garsykes one by one, and he -laughed grimly as he stood and watched them. Tired -wayfarers might mistake them for stars of hope, -might blunder out of the hill-top wastes into such -welcome as waited for them there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A harsh joy in feud came to him. The end of Logie -was sure as anything could be in this world, but he -would hold his good house to the last. There would be -no surrender, and with a quick flash of humour he -pictured Rebecca playing a besom heftily amid the -flaming havoc of her kitchen. And Storm, maybe, -after much red sheep-slaying, would kill a man or two -of the Wilderness, and so die an honest dog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old days of peace and money-getting were -remote as a dream remembered on waking to full life. -Out there, behind the twinkling lamp-gleams, were -men and women plotting now, no doubt, some crafty -lighter blow before they came in force against the -house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Death had seemed, in those old days, an end to life, -a sorrowful laying away of folk under green turf that -stopped their ears for ever to the wheeling cries of -moor-birds—closed their nostrils to savour of wind -and sun and rain across the striding lands—ended all -things and all joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, as he stood looking over the wandering valley -mists, he seemed, for one bewildering moment, to see -with clearer vision. For Logie’s honour he had grappled -with the three gaunt men who met him at the -pinfold—was it weeks or years ago?—and since then -death had shadowed him. Aye, but was death more -than a stride from one life to another? What if, -for men who had loved the homeland, there were wider -moors beyond, and sweeter winds and lustier joy in -strength?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thought stayed with him. New horizons -widened over widening hill-spaces. What if death -were no wormy end of life, but a beginning of new days?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No breeze ruffled these upland wastes. Little -frets of night-time life stirred among the gnarled -heather and the bents. The land’s soul was in a mood -as deep and still as Hardcastle’s, and a fine communion -held between the Master who was a lover to his acres, -the acres that loved him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He roused himself at last, with another laugh at -Garsykes and himself, and was turning to swing down -the sheep-track when a cry broke sharp as a pistol-shot -across the moor. It sounded close at hand. -Then a second cry came—far-off, it seemed—and -another. Hardcastle peered through the dark that -had scarcely served to show him a yard of the track -ahead. He could see nothing, but the cries rose to a -shriek of terror, and he ran forward, this way and that, -forgetting that the moor was thick with ambush. -Twice he sucked a foot out from the bog, and once he -blundered against a rock that cut deep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still the cries sounded, weaker now. The darkness -baffled hearing, as well as sight, after a fashion of -its own. Someone was dying, near at hand, and -Hardcastle could not find him. The failing cries -maddened his will to save—the will that would have -gone through six-foot drifts to save sheep over-blown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the grey haze lifted. A brave, young moon -shone over Logie-land—over the misty hollow, and -across to Garsykes—and, not twenty paces off, Hardcastle -saw a little lad, half of him buried in green slime. -In his haste to get to him, the Master was all but lost -himself; for his heavier weight crashed through the -ooze that was less firm even than true bogland. He -sank to his knees before touching firm ground on the -sloping brink of the marsh, then reached forward and -gripped the lad’s upstretched arms; and never afterwards, -in trying to recall what followed, could he -remember anything but a struggle that seemed endless. -Each tug, to drag the boy towards him, unsteadied -his own foothold; and, when he had him in his arms, -the fight to regain dry land again brought every muscle -thick-standing and near to breaking-point.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to firm ground at last, and the boy clung -about him with piteous cries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want my mammy—oh, I want my mammy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I can’t be that—and, be damned to you, -you’re a wet sort of lad to father. Where d’ye hail -from, laddie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced across the narrow valley, and -back again to the boy. Tired as he was, exasperated -by the simple answer, the humour of it all appealed -to him. Apart from peril of other marshes he might -blunder into, how could he let this waif go lonely with -his fright across the mile that would seem endless -leagues to him—the mile that stretched between this -and Garsykes?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was nothing for it but to go—a fool, knowing -the way of the Lost Folk and their mercies—into the -midst of what they had in store for him. Rebel as -he would against suicide of this sort, he could not -thrust aside a lad who shivered as he clung to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they two went across the moonlit wilderness, -picking their way between the bogs and the broken -grounds. It was not easy going. The light was -enough to show them a safe way till clouds came over -the moon’s face now and then, and they were alone -with darkness and the unfenced mines that lurked -for heedless feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle’s temper grew rusty as a file. He was -taking all these pains for one of Garsykes brats, and -the brat was wet and clinging. He wearied of the lad’s -piteous crying for his mother, and cursed himself -for inhumanity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They plodded on, till they came half down the slope -on his side of the stream. And now a great hubbub -sounded from Garsykes, up above them, and lanterns -were bobbing to and fro. A woman’s voice rose shrill -into the stillness of the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got to find my lad, or I’ll know why!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Turning us out o’ doors on a wild-goose chase,” -came the answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle knew the voice for Long Murgatroyd’s, -and his surly protest was taken up by one and another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The lad will be at High Stellings, where you sent -him an hour since. They’d never let him run a risk -of dark o’er-taking him—open mines and what-all—so -they’re keeping him till morn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye. They’re keeping him. So let’s all get back -to thy inn, widow, and chalk up more riches for thee -on thy door.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’ll be neither ale nor chalks till we’ve found -Ned. I tell you he’s lost on the moor. I know it in -my bones. And, whisht ye, what was that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Far-off she had heard the lad’s cry for his mammy, -though they were deaf to its meaning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A peewit, widow—or a curlew, maybe. One -of ours must be poaching up the fells, and started a -wild-bird up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But soon the oft-repeated cry, as it came nearer, -was plain to all, and their lanterns went bobbing up -and down, each man thinking he knew where to find -the sound, and each baffled constantly by the utter -darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle made for the nearest light, and found -himself face to face with Long Murgatroyd, who gaped -at him as at a ghost and turned his lantern from the -Master to Ned’s dripping figure. Then he gave a -rough, unsteady chuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here’s the big and little of it come to Garsykes, -neighbours. You’ve got your lad, widow, and we’ve -got summat, too, we wanted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rest came crowding about Murgatroyd. The -shivering waif had leaped at a bound into his mother’s -arms, and Hardcastle found himself alone, confronting -half the men of Garsykes. With peril came a sharp, -useless sort of vision for all that made up this wild -happening. The half-circle of lanterns—the scowling -faces, part in light and part in shadow—the dumb, -do-nothing darkness of the waste lands—they were part -of a scene he looked on at, as if it were no concern of -his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That for a moment. Then he gathered his strength, -as a man might pull a bow-string tight. Most of these -folk were deep in liquor, and all were scathing with -rancour that had grown by what it fed on since the day -he paid no tribute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d best end Logie now,” said Long Murgatroyd—“Logie -and its mucky pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A wolfish growl answered him, though still some -dread of Hardcastle held them. He had gone like -“a ghost-guarded man” through these last weeks of -all that Garsykes could bring to his undoing. They -were many—but they lived in a country haunted by -trolls and mine-goblins, and superstition was in their -slackened fibres.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A breeze got up, quick and merry, from the top of -swart Pengables Hill. The clouds overhead were riven -apart, and the eager moon leaped through. It maddened -the Garsykes Men afresh to see Hardcastle -standing there straight to his height and waiting -silently for what might follow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Widow Mathison, still clutching her boy as if she -feared to let him go again, ran suddenly in front of -Hardcastle and loosened her tongue on the rabble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s your shame, you hulking wastrels? Do -as you like to Hardcastle when you can catch him -fair—but not when he’s on this sort of errand. Ned’s -all I have, and can’t you see by the drip of him that -he’s been saved fro’ drowning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do we care?” muttered Long Murgatroyd. -“Ned’s no bairn of ours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That makes him the likelier lad,” said the widow, -tartly. “And now you can all pack home, for I -willun’t have you touch the man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Appealed to singly, there were men here who would -have been pricked by shame; but they were a mob out -of hand, beast-like and robbed of what wits they -ever had.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who’s the widow to come hectoring it over us?” -snarled one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quit talking,” shouted another. “Let drive at -Hardcastle instead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master stepped quietly in front of Widow -Mathison, and they swayed and jostled, eager to attack, -but held for a moment by brutish fear of his unconcern. -In that moment the moon was snapped up by a -scudding cloud, and Hardcastle took his luck as it -came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His one hope of defence was to attack. Without a -pause he ran forward, lifting the stout stick he carried, -and smashed the lanterns one by one. Then, in the -dark of his own making, he rained blows at random into -the midst of the screaming throng.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Luck could not hold for long, he knew. Already the -cloud was passing, and with clearer light would come -the end for him. But meanwhile it was good to be -alive, drawing healthy music from Garsykes skulls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the moon raced free again, it shone on a few -fallen men, on others who yelped like wolves and came -at him headlong. He glanced about him, ran nimbly -to a corner where two field-walls protected him from -rear attack, and waited for them. A man had to die -once and some day. What better end could Logie -ask of him?</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp, lurking beside the track that Hardcastle -would take from Broken Firs, wearied of his -job. It had been well enough, with Nita beside him, -to do her bidding; but the silence and the night-time -sobered him. What grudge had he, after all, against -the Master of Logie? The man had taken a random shot -at him, long ago, when he tried to rob the post-boy. -That was all in the day’s work of chance and mischance. -But what of this lying in wait, cold-blooded, for a shot -that could not miss its mark?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will was a rogue by nature—and from choice -because life offered more frolic along unlicensed roads. -Yet decency, of his own sort, travelled all roads with -him, like a faithful comrade, and the longer Hardcastle -tarried in his coming, the chillier grew this -enterprise of waiting to shoot a man as if he were a -sitting rabbit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What had he heard in the Garsykes tavern? That -Nita played with men as cats play with mice—that the -way of her with them all was one and the same—and -the end a long sliding down the slope to hell. They -did not mince matters in their talk, the Garsykes Folk, -and Will o’ Wisp thought of these things now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still Hardcastle did not come down the moor. -Nita had pretended to know the way he would take -to-night, the hour of his return. She was wrong, it -seemed, and the rogue felt a stealthy gladness. The -breeze sobbed and fluted through the naked spinney -where he crouched. His gun lay chilly in half-frozen -hands. Were they right when they spoke of the -little basket-weaver as of a thing accursed?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was too far on the Logie-side of the moor to hear -the cries that had drawn Hardcastle from his home-track -past the spinney; and at length he gave up the -errand that had brought him here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita has hanged enough men in her garter,” he -muttered, stretching his cramped limbs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he went down and across the pastures, leaping -a wall nimbly here and there, till he came near -Garsykes and its tumult. He saw lanterns flitting -like his namesake Will o’ Wisps about the pastures, -heard Widow Mathison swing her tongue like a flail, -and noisy voices answer to the lash.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was all a mystery to him as he pressed forward, -halting only when the clouds raced over from Pengables, -hiding one step from the next. Through the -stormy murk, as he listened, came a thunder-din of -oaths, a pig-like screeching from men not used to bear -pain silently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The moon ran free again, and in the sharp, cold -light he saw Hardcastle standing in the angle of two -limestone walls, with half Garsykes yammering to -be at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp had no liking for the village he had -blundered into weeks ago. There were degrees of -rascaldom, and his own feet went merrily on the margin -of such deeps as Garsykes knew. Something in Hardcastle’s -dour silence as he faced the rabble with uplifted -cudgel—some liking, inborn in him, for a man -meeting heavy odds, brought music into Will’s heart. -Moreover, he was in mood to take sides with any man -that Nita hated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s this, you Garsykes louts?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They turned on him, ready to tear him to pieces -instead of Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here’s Nita’s last favourite, Lord help him,” -laughed Long Murgatroyd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He carries a fowling-piece, as it happens—and it’s -loaded—and you’re a timid folk in Garsykes, unless -all the luck’s in front of you. No, Murgatroyd, I -wouldn’t stir a foot, if I was you. You’d find it a -queer thing to be dead, with a charge of shot inside you -instead of ale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp was himself. Free of Nita, free of cold-blooded -murder up the moor, it tickled his fancy to -be master of these folk—master too, of what would -happen soon to Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took his stand on a moonlit hillock, letting the -polished barrel of his gun glint from one to another of -the mob.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m judge among you,” he said, with his heedless -laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you, now?” growled Murgatroyd. “A likely -man, you, to be judge of any folk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know ’em all so well, knowing myself,” chuckled -Will. “There’s my loaded gun, too—and that helps -a man to be a judge. What’s all this moil about, -widow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Widow Mathison told him, instead, her mind about -all Garsykes Men, born or unborn—with gusto, now -that Hardcastle was safe. That made Will little the -wiser till the lad broke from his mother’s grasp and -then ran back again, afraid of what he had suffered -on the fells.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fell into cold water, I did,” he whimpered, “and -couldn’t get myself out. And a big man came and -tugged at me, and brought me to my mammy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp understood now; and wrath kindled -in his lazy mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d kill Hardcastle for that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” said Long Murgatroyd. “What do we care -for the widow’s brat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Will o’ Wisp let his gun roam quietly from one to -another of the company. And then he spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In all my days I never happened on as foul a stye -as Garsykes. Hardcastle o’ Logie saved one of yours—and -there’s something you never learned, it seems.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, aye?” sneered Murgatroyd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s fairation. Be dummocked, there’s fairation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still facing them, he made his way to Hardcastle -and nodded cheerily. “I’m going Logie way myself,” -he said, “so we might as well step up together. Three’s -company sometimes, and I’m taking the gun as a -parting gift from Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle fell into step beside him, swinging his -cudgel. A pluckier mob would have rushed the pair -of them, knowing that Will’s fowling-piece could speak -only once before they were trodden down. But each -man thought of his own skin, and stood cursing -stupidly, and watched them dip over and down the -hill-crest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master and Will o’ Wisp went in silence through -the blue-grey, misty night, till Hardcastle turned -suddenly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no return to Garsykes for you, after this. -I’m in your debt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay. I’d meant to go. I’m not their sort of -rogue, and never was.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s supper and a bed at Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless you, I want no thanks. If there was danger -to-night I’d come and gladly. But they’ll let you -alone for awhile. I know ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nothing Hardcastle could say persuaded the vagabond -to change his mind, when they came to the hill -that swept with a break-neck fall to Logie Brigg.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m getting as far as I can from Nita Langrish,” -laughed Will. “She’d be weaving her spells about me -to-morrow if I stayed as near as this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that he borrowed a fill of ’baccy for his pipe, -bade Hardcastle a rollicking farewell, and went his -ways into the everywhere that lay within the night-time -forest and beyond.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle chuckled quietly. After all, few strangers -had come into Garsykes, and fared out the better -in this world’s gear. Will o’ Wisp could boast of a -good fowling-piece that was his by right of conquest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the Master turned for home; and the steep of -the road brought anguish to the knee that had blundered -against a rock while he was rescuing the widow’s lad. -There had been no time to think of it till now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For very pain he was forced to rest on Logie Brigg, -and at these times life lies in wait for every man. -Pride to keep Garsykes at bay was well enough. So -was joy in the lusty strength that had cracked a crown -or two to-night. Now these were gone. He halted -on the bridge, as the pedlar and Causleen had done, -before the trees were bare—weary, heartsick and body-sick, -no flame alight on any beacon-hill ahead. It was -as if he was a child again, seeking the mother who had -slept these twenty years where the churchyard listened -to the lap of waters round its graves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under him swirled Wharfe River, playmate and -comrade and lover through the peaceful days; and -now her voice stole kindly to his ear, talking of brave -days to come. When all seemed in the losing, the -river told him, it was time for the hale-souled sort to -gather courage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He limped up the hill to Logie with gaining hope, and -found it easier for a lame man to climb than it had -been to make the sharp descent that jarred every step. -For all that, he was spent and tired when he came to -his own gate—till he saw Causleen waiting for him there. -The moon showed him a face pale and eager, framed -by dark hair that was loose about it like a glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were in danger somewhere, and I could not -help you.” The Highland voice was low and troubled. -“There was a crying up the waste lands—your feet -blundered into marshes——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How should you know?” he broke in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The vision came,” she went on, with great simplicity. -“I did not ask for it. It came.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle’s heart beat faster, for no reason that -he knew of. Since Causleen’s first coming there had -been recurring enmity between them broken by little -rifts that let the sunlight through. He had not known -till lately how he had begun to need and seek her -comradeship. To-night he gained a deeper knowledge. -Her welcome at the gate was the one thing he had -craved, all the long way from Garsykes, and it was his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re glad I’m home again?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She grew still and cold. “Glad? Yes. You -have been kind to us—two pedlars tramping to your -gate. The vision came, and I spent myself in sending -help to you across the waste—help of the spirit—and, -of course you’ll laugh at fancies—I spent myself, not -for your sake, but because you’d shown us kindness—of -your own rough sort. I wished to pay a debt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Logie’s Master had known mixed weather on the -uplands, but never such a March-tide change from sun -to bitter, east-wind spite. The pedlar’s girl was -remote from him as the top of old Pengables Hill, -with its head among the driving sleet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it Nita,” he asked clumsily, “and her chatter -of the night we spent down yonder?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Nita.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s big, simple heart found room at last. -Through these last weeks he had been groping forward -to the light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Best marry me,” he said. “I’ve wanted it, -Causleen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She answered nothing for awhile. Then sleet came -stinging at his face again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not care for pity. Oh, you are clumsy in your -kindness! Gossip has touched us, and you stoop to -offer marriage to the beggar-maid. You are -generous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want it,” he repeated doggedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve shame enough to bear as it is. Would I add -to it? To sit each day at table, and look across at -you, and know that I owed it all to pity—would that -be happiness?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned to go, then glanced at his knee as if she -had not seen till now that it was bleeding through the -torn cloth of his riding-breeches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You crashed against a rock,” she said softly. -“The vision showed me that, too. Can I wash and -bind it for you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is of no account.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean that Rebecca the paragon would have -more skill? She is so wonderful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle could only wonder at her moods. She had -seemed to care that he had taken a hurt, and now -she was jealous of Rebecca. And again she had -turned and was looking at him with wide, questioning -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You asked if it was Nita. It was—but not her -gossip. Why do you lie to me, Hardcastle of Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that she was gone in earnest, and Hardcastle -limped slowly up the dappled moon-dusk of the road. -Near home as he was, a late-found instinct prompted -him to hold his cudgel in readiness for whatever the -swaying shadows of the firs might hide. His left hand -swung idly at his side, till suddenly a wet snout pushed -against it and a friendly smell stole up in greeting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Back again, are you, Storm?” said the Master, -with gruff banter. “Red from the feast, as usual?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the dog’s grey muzzle was innocent of stains. -For three days he had ravened, then had slept off the -after-sickness, had lapped greedily at every stream he -passed. No guile showed in the brown, humid eyes. -He knew nothing of repentance, or need of it. It was -just that his wander-lust was over, and somewhere -deep in his being was the knowledge that danger -threatened Logie. He was home again, and at his -post.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was time you came,” said Hardcastle. “Dogs -I know, and horses I know—but women are beyond -me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm had the better of him; for a half-hour later -Causleen found him in the cupboard under the stair, -and brought him food, and made much of him before -she bent above his tousled head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Storm,” she said, and cried her heart out.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap16'>CHAPTER XVI</h1></div> - -<h3>A ROPE-END AND A TREE</h3> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle fretted during the next days, -because the hurt to his knee yielded slowly -even to Rebecca’s skill with peat and simples -and the right way of handling bandages. The fear -was on him constantly that Garsykes would hear of -his infirmity and rush to the attack before his strength -returned to face it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was the pedlar, trusting to the shelter he had -promised him—and Rebecca, old in service—and -Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was Causleen. She was aloof and chill whenever -they met about the house. He could make nothing -of her whims. Was it his fault that he had been -asked to save her life, and was powerless to rescue her -from the whip of Nita’s tongue, except by marriage? -And marriage she disdained. He tried to reason it -all out, not understanding that reason was the last -thing concerned with what had happened to Causleen -and himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Always the worst of his fretting returned to her. If -those louts from Garsykes came and he had only one -knee to serve him, what would chance? His mind -ran out to the unthinkable—for Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, it’s not a bit of good,” said Rebecca on one -of these afternoons, as she was bandaging his knee -afresh, “not a bit of good to go about like a man that -thinks the roof will fall because he’s got a pain in his -knee. Men are all alike, Lord help ’em—’specially -when they’re mending nicely, and ought to be giving -a thanks-be, instead of glowering like a thunderstorm. -It nags a bit, what I’m rubbing into the raw o’ your -wound? Well, there’s healing goes with nags sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t know,” grumbled the Master. “I fall -lame just when Logie needs me. There’s you and -Donald——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and there’s Donald’s lass. That’s where your -shoe pinches. Times were different when I was young.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tied the bandage, sewed its edges up and bit -the thread off with her strong, ancient teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Different?” asked Hardcastle, impatient of her -ministry and all things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye. We never doubted Logie’s roof was safe. -My lad doesn’t doubt it to this day. You’re young, -Master, and I’m of the elder days, and I tell you what -I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca had no more to do with bandages and healing. -She was wrapt into another world—grey and -gaunt, a prophetess.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“War comes to Logie-side. The youngsters fight, -and the old see far. D’ye think I go every night and -morning to tryst my lad at the gate and get nothing for -it? He died for Logie once—and it was forty years -ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah the brindled cat, crept into the room and -leaped to Rebecca’s shoulder. He was no hearthside -lover now, but wild and bridling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even Jonah seems to know there’s trouble coming,” -went on Rebecca. “Well, let it come, and we’ll -outface it as we’ve always done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There were fewer men in Garyskes then,” said the -Master gloomily—“and more who were staunch for -Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca glanced at him, and even her free speech -was checked. She read his heart, as he could not. -The odds against him had not brought this black mood, -but fear for Causleen had. Awhile since she had been -jealous of the girl, resentful of the gaining fear that her -own reign at Logie might be ended soon. Now she -feared lest Causleen’s playing with the Master should -ruin all. It was no time “for furbelows and cantrips,” -and how could a man fight his best with half -of him wondering if his lass cared?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve been fretting to give that knee o’ yours a -taste of the fresh air,” she said grudgingly. “Have -your way, then, for it’s mending fast. And, of course, -you’ll go a mile if I tell you the half is enough and to -spare.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle went more than the mile. He was -unused to the prison of four walls for days on end, and -the wine of the crisp November afternoon got into his -blood with every step he took. In all the years -behind he had seldom seen Logie-land in its full breadth -and splendour as he saw it now. The striding acres, -wind-blown and lonely—the last sunset glow on old -Pengables—the sombre forest getting to its sleep—all -were like ancient friends who brought a new, swift -welcome. They might be in the losing, but they were -his as yet, and wonderfully dear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One moorland track lured him on to another, till he -reached the beech-wood that stepped down to Scawgill -Water. Life had done this and that for him, but had -not killed the boy’s romance that would linger always -in this silent place of mystery, with its grave, round-boled -trees, its red-russet drift of leaves that crinkled -to the tread. Squirrels had their tree-top nests here, -and badgers lived in the “earths” beside the stream. -A great dreamer, in spite of his hardness, the Master -still peopled the glen with all that country legend had -to tell of water-nixies, trolls and goblins. It was so -hushed a place, so instinct with underfret of the primeval -life, that no man could linger here and fail to know its -witchcraft.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A stifled cry sounded near at hand, and then a -groaning, low and long-drawn-out. Hardcastle, -startled out of his dreams, glanced sharply round. -Long since a wandering tinker had come to a foul -end here, and his ghost, they said, was restless time -and time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pigeons ceased their crooning in the tree-tops. -A cold and slender wind, prying to the bone, chilled -Hardcastle. Far down Logie Dale a farm-dog yapped -and barked, and a roaming fox took up the challenge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced about him, and up a clearing -of the wood saw a body swinging from a tree. All the -boy in him took fright; but the man bade him go and -see what this ghost of a suicide dead fifty years ago -was made of.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gloaming filtered through leafless branches and -showed him a gaunt, six-foot body turning and twisting -on a rope. The body still groaned, but with lessening -vigour; and there was something pitiful in the feet -that trod helplessly on air, seeking firm ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle got out a knife and ripped the cord -across. The body tottered and swayed for an instant, -and afterwards it needed all his strength to check it -in its fall and lower it into the withered brackens, -Then he loosed the frowsy shirt and watched the dull -purple steal from the man’s face, giving way to a pallor -as of death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The slow return of life was terrible to be alone with, -and Hardcastle welcomed the plea for water that came -by and by. The stream lay below them, and he had -no vessel of any kind; so he shouldered the half-lifeless -body, carried it to the bank and ladled water in -his palms as best he could.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s better,” gurgled the man, when at last his -choking throat contrived to swallow a few drops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The farm-dog and the yapping fox had roused every -house about the fells by now. From Pengables to -Crake Beacon, dogs gave tongue, loud across the still -night-air. And close at hand, in answer, came a -scampering of wild things through the undergrowth. -Field voles twittered, and overhead the flitter-mice -cried thinly as they vanned to and fro.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the midst of this stealthy terror of the woodland -folk, the man propped against the stream’s bank began -to drink greedily and to good purpose, till Hardcastle -denied him more. Then they two looked at each -other, in the light of a moon that shone wanly through -the naked tree-tops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s you, Hardcastle o’ Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Long Murgatroyd—and the devil of a time -you’ve given me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good news.” The man’s slow-witted hatred, -nursed in health, leaped out in this hour of weakness -and release from death; “but it’s naught to what’s -waiting for you up at Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A madness came on Hardcastle. The sweat of -trouble he had given this lout, dangling between earth -and sky awhile since, asked for a word or two in -another key. His hands were itching for the throat -that he had saved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were minded to spare the hangman trouble -later on,” he said at last, “and so am I. But I’ll -leave you to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd began to laugh, and could not check -himself for awhile. Then he put a hand to his throat, -and laughed again, as a dotard might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I came near to hanging myself in Nita’s garter, -as that terrible pranksome fellow, Will o’ Wisp, would -say. And so did you, Hardcastle. What could I -do but laugh? We might have been swinging together—me -on one tree, and Logie’s high-almighty on its -neighbour. We’d have made a bonnie picture—with -Nita coming to look on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The farm-dogs yelped and barked across the wastes. -Fear gained on the little people of the wood. The -breeze sobbed and whimpered, and would not be still. -And Hardcastle feared greatly, too—lest he could keep -his hands no longer from Long Murgatroyd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you fit to be left, if I take your rope home with -me?” he snapped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd was recovering fast. “You needn’t -take it. She maddened me so with her come-and-kiss, -and her stand you off, and all the sick damnation of -it, that I fancied a rope’s end more than Nita. That’s -gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gone, has it?” asked Hardcastle, with a sick -kind of wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye. I’ll get my arms about her, soon or late. -I promised her no less. So you run home to Logie, -if there’s any Logie standing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s stood against the Garsykes swine for years -out of mind. I’m not for hurrying, Murgatroyd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Deep, sullen hatred showed in the man’s face, -mottled with returning life. To Hardcastle it was as -if he looked down into the pit of hell, seeing a lost man -who would not be saved at any cost of trouble from -helping hands above.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita wanted me to go with them to-night,” said -Murgatroyd; “but I told her I’d rather hang myself -in a wood than do her bidding.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man fell into cackling laughter again, then -shivered as memory of the rope returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d have been a bonnie couple, swinging side -by side; but ’twas not to be, it seems.”</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle left him there, and swung up the fields -to Logie. His pace quickened with every stride, for -Murgatroyd’s tale of peril to the house had found its -mark. If it were true that an attack was planned, -he might already be too late; and he thought ceaselessly -of his home—and of Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he topped the rise that looked down on Logie, -he glanced eagerly up-dale. Prepared to see flames -leaping high into the dusk, he saw only a steady -lamplight glow that shone from the window over the -porch—Causleen’s window—and instead of men’s -frenzied shouts he heard only a farm-lad’s song as he -went about the business of the mistals.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The relief was so quick, so urgent, that a sudden -“God be thanked” escaped him. Murgatroyd had -lied. He should have known as much, and saved -himself the sick suspense of his journey up the fell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For why should God specially be thanked?” -asked a quiet voice at his elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant the shepherd, a silent man in all his ways, -had come noiselessly to the Master’s side, and was -tugging at his wispy beard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Confound you, Stephen, you startled me. They -said the Garsykes Men had come to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, they haven’t, to all appearance; but they -come to my sheepfold as if there was no law in the land. -I stepped down to talk about it with you, Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The ewes must take their chance, as we all do -these days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, they mean little to you, and always did. Time -was when you sheltered Storm, though he was a red-jawed -outlaw dog. Well, I got Storm at last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle found the grim humour that gave salt -and savour to these harsh days. “You got Storm, -poor beast,” he said, thinking of the cupboard under -the stair at Logie—thinking, too, of Causleen and her -way with the backslider.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll trouble me no more—but durned if these -Garsykes Men aren’t worse than a kennel-full of such -as Storm. They grow outrageous—fair outrageous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master was glad of the chance given him to -speak his mind. “There are six of us leal to the old -house, Stephen. The rest are paying tribute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn ’em, yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get away before Logie goes. I brought you into -this, thinking we’d win through. There’s no need for -you to stay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Brant—“except that we’re twin and -marrow in our love o’ Logie. Where you bide, I -bide.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced over to the light that shone from -Causleen’s window. All was in the losing, and his -wits were keen to save her from the last, foul uproar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could we get the pedlar and his girl to your hut -on the moor? It’s cold up yonder at this time o’ -year, but there are worse things than cold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We could. The bracken-sledge would bump old -Donald a bit by the way, but we’d pad him well with -hay-trusses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll have the sledge out to-morrow, with the old -grey horse to draw it. He’s only eating his head off -in the stable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not so fast, Master,” put in Brant dryly. -“That hut o’ mine is well enough for a rough -shepherd, but I’ll fettle it up before a maid can pretend -to be suited with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s no time to ask whether the maid’s pleased or -not,” snapped the other. “You know what may -happen any moment if she stays.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant was silent as they crossed the last pasture-field. -He knew many things—not least of them the -reason that made Hardcastle gloomy and prone to -caution nowadays. It would be better for them all -if Causleen were out of Garsykes’ reach, and the Master’s -mind relieved of the sapping dread lest hurt should -come to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be ready,” he said, opening the back-gate of -Logie for Hardcastle to pass through. “Then, -after we’re free of what you might call encumbrances, -we’ll set about putting the fear of hell into the Lost -Folk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle regained his old self at a bound, for no -reason that he guessed. “What’s in that feud-sick -mind of yours, Brant?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To gather my stolen ewes from Garsykes. Six -of us are staunch, and six have dogs to round ’em up -and back to Logie. We’ve fowling-pieces, too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But cannot use them, Brant. You should know -that I’m a magistrate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Humour answered veiled humour. “To be sure -we can’t—save for killing vermin. That’s allowed by -law.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great burden had slipped from the Master’s -shoulders. He was free somehow, to carry a careless -heart and fight Logie to the last edge of what might -come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow, after we’ve got the pedlar safe up-moor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The sooner the better. Who told you they were -coming against Logie to-night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Long Murgatroyd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d be a liar if he stood on the brink o’ Kingdom -Come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s where he did stand—dangled, I should -say—when I found him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, aye?” asked Brant, with slow curiosity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are things men don’t think of twice, if they -can help it. Come indoors, and tell Rebecca that -winds are dry and thirsty on the heights.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are,” said the shepherd, with conviction, -“and from this to Hawes Water there’s no ale as ripe -as Logie’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They parted in the stable-yard, and Hardcastle, -coming to the grey, moonlit front of the house, glanced -at the room over the porch. The light still shone from -it, and Causleen, kneeling on the window-seat, looked -down at him. The lamp-glow behind her ran out to -meet the silver-gold, soft moonlight. And both were -tender with her beauty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’ve waited for you,” she said, her voice soft -as one of her own Highland burns in summer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great joy blazed up in Hardcastle, as if boyhood -found its spring again. “You’ve waited?” he asked -sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. Rebecca is beyond herself with grief. She -sees you lying dead somewhere on the fells, and sits -and croons, saying she ought never to have let you out -of her sight—with your wounded knee, and all the mad -wolves hunting you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let them hunt,” said Hardcastle, his dreams -shattered suddenly by her chill laugh of contempt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will comfort Rebecca, while you go to father. He -has been asking for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that mockery, too?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None of it is mockery. And Rebecca need not -have feared. There’s a mad wolf glaring up at me—bigger -than any of the Garsykes breed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle conquered his gusty rage. She was a -woman, and his guest. If the new dreams had to go—well, -the old ones had gone, and soon Logie would be -ended, too. Nothing mattered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Donald asks for me?” he questioned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I said it—and we of the Highlands do not lie, as -you of Logie do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master limped into his own house, forgetting -the fret of the knee that had broken Rebecca’s bandages -by now. A yelp of welcome sounded the moment -he set foot indoors, and Storm left his hiding-place -and pressed close against him, clamoring for -attention.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle held up a warning hand. “Kennel, -lad. There’s Brant in the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm’s tail fell limp. His whole body seemed to -shrink and lessen as he crept back to the cupboard. -He had learned that Brant was a word of evil meaning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor devil,” muttered Hardcastle, “there’s not -much left for him in life, though he saved three of us. -Brant or another will get him soon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went into the room where Donald lay on the -settle, his body tethered by weakness, but his eyes -bright and eager.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wanted you,” said the pedlar. “Sit ye down in -the chair here, and I’ll let some of my long thoughts -out. They burden me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His glance roved from Hardcastle to the pike that -hung above the mantel, and back again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll not grudge you that any longer,” he went on. -“They tell me of your stand against the Lost Folk, -and I care for a man who can make music out of odds. -I would that, here in Yorkshire, you had the pipes to -hearten you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His mind wandered to the glens of home, to unforgotten -pibrochs and his long fight with poverty—wandered -to the gorsy braes that he had roamed with -Causleen’s mother. Then he spoke again, smiling -gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When one is chained as I am, there is nothing to -be done, except grow wise. If a man can fight one -sort of honest battle, he can fight all. I wanted you -to know that—that your guests have not turned -vagabonds for choice, or for lack of struggle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, wrenched out of old ruts by war and -heartache, found a fine simplicity. He understood -all that Donald left unsaid, the grace and manliness -of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My guests are very welcome,” he said, diffident and -gruff. “They should know as much by this time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have fought, Causleen and I. There were no -pipes with us, no press of foemen waiting for attack. -There was only poverty—a dumb enemy, cold and -crafty, that lay in wait.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again Donald’s glance wandered to the Flodden -pike.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be gentle with an old man who sees before and -after, and must ease his mind. There are cairns in -my country, reared to Hielandmen who died with the -broadsword in their hands. There’s not one to speak -of those who fought poverty, the hardest foe of all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then his restless mind went wandering down the -centuries. He told of Macbeth and Duncan—of -Glencoe and its narrow shambles—of Prestonpans and -Derby Town and red Culloden Moor—as of staunch, -forthright matters he had shared. And, whether he -lived or died in far-off tumults, there was constantly -the joy of well-worth-while, the thud of blows, the -heartening wonder of the pipes, playing men up the -further hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was only when he came to the tale of his journey -from the Highlands that the song went out of his voice, -the light from his eyes. Hardcastle grew ashamed of -his own wealth and ease, as he listened to the slow -recountal of trinkets sold here, to earn a bed for the -night—of fortunes told in an alien country to win the -price of a wayside meal. The tale was so simply told -that he, too, felt footsore and heartsore as he listened. -Donald roused himself at last from his journeys down -the years. The quiet, beguiling smile crept once more -across the grey creases of his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I wearied you with my chatter—as I tire -you because I’m so long in dying?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall get you strong again——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” broke in Donald. “Something tells me -the end is even nearer than you think—a tame -end to a life that has dreamed so much of ancient -battles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle humoured his mood, garrulous but -constantly returning to the one clouded purpose. -For pride’s sake he needed to explain how Causleen -and he came to be travelling the roads, and presently -his mind grew clear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had ever been Stuart men in the old days—losing, -and hoping, and fighting—till little was left -me when my time came to be laird in the dreadful days -of honour and peace. That little went, and Causleen -had to make her choice. There was a rich wooer came. -A great name he had, and nothing against him but the -one thing that damned all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go on, Donald.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will not understand. How should you? -The Stuarts were discrowned and out of mind long -since, you’d say; but in the Highlands they can never -be discrowned. And the wooer who came was of a -clan that had sold the old allegiance for gold—just -for guinea-pieces to jangle in a purse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fire of youth kindled in Donald’s voice. Consuming -wrath was in his eyes. And Hardcastle understood -better than the pedlar guessed; for Logie -moorlands knew the way of staunchness to their own -allegiance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I left the choice to Causleen, though I’d rather have -seen the child in her shroud than linked to him. ‘He -can save the house for us with his gold,’ I said, to prove -her. And, ‘He cannot,’ said she, ‘for there’s Stuart -blood on it. A hundred years is not enough to cleanse -it.’ So we took the roads together, she and I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes closed for awhile. One purpose was -achieved; but another clamoured for fulfilment, and -he had little time to spare. He was alert again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She took the roads as bravely as she took her -choice—but soon she will be travelling alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was question in the pedlar’s glance—a pleading -that was command almost. And out of doors a breeze -plucked and rattled at the windows, as if to deepen -fear of what the lone highways had in store for Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle watched the lamplight flicker in the -draught, looked on the old, familiar furnishings with -new vision—the bell-mouthed blunder-busses of his -father’s time, the pewter polished to dim lustre by -what was known to Rebecca as “elbow grease”—the -pike that had given every son of Logie pause when he -was minded to be less than the men who marched to -Flodden long ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew what Donald hoped for, and with wry -humour he recalled the way of Causleen since he saved -her from the snow—her avoidance of him, or mockery -such as she had showered on him from her window -when he came by to-night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would have me guard her? Nothing but -marriage could give me that right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have watched you, and the laid-by folk see much. -It seemed that you cared, and hope grew apace. That -is why I tell you what her proper station is. My girl -would not shame Logie’s pride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was something wistful in the pedlar’s eagerness, -his dignity. He longed for Causleen’s safety, -but would not cringe for it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will have none of me, Donald—so how can -I ease your mind? I’ll ask no woman twice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great joy shone in the pedlar’s face. He had had -no inkling, till now, that Hardcastle had forestalled -his keen desire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Second thoughts are sometimes best—especially -a maid’s. She thought you offered marriage out of -pity, maybe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I could not persuade her from it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will,” said Donald softly, and drew a long -breath of thankfulness, and dozed awhile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he roused himself, his hold on this world -seemed gone. He looked out before him as if no -house-walls and no leagues of foreign country hid the -wild glens of Inverness. He was home again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had two dreams,” he said, his voice clear and -lusty. “One was to know Causleen safe, and that comes -true. The other was a sick man’s fancy. I dreamed”—he -tried to lift himself, and failed—“dreamed -that I died a warrior, instead of Pedlar Donald.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that his eyes closed, and Rebecca, coming -to see how it went with him, stood beside the settle, -her grim face softened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sleeps like a babby, poor soul—and it would be as -well if he died in it, instead of living to be bumped on a -bracken-sledge to-morrow. Brant sits snug by my -hearth, and tells me you’re for turning the old man -out o’ doors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Garsykes Men are coming. He’s safer up -the moor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His brat is safer, you mean. Why don’t you want -to tuck me, too, on the sledge, if Logie is no place for -women? D’ye think that, because I’ve a face like -a hatchet, to scare men with, I’ve a heart after the -same pattern? Ask the lad that keeps tryst with -me at the gate, every night and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lowered the lamp, took another look at Donald -as if he were an ailing first-born of her own, and together -they went out into the draughty hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm yapped and whimpered from his cupboard, -and Hardcastle went in to quiet him, thinking only of -the dog’s peril, not of Logie’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s Brant near by,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm would not be satisfied. He bared his teeth -and growled till Hardcastle cuffed him. Then the -sheep-slayer shivered and lay down—but not for fear -of Brant—and whined, as the rising breeze about the -house sobbed from the lost Garsykes lands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Hardcastle had fastened him in, with a biscuit -or two for company, he went with Rebecca to the -kitchen. They found Brant sitting by the hearth, a -stoup of ale beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Getting mellow, Stephen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mellowish, as you might say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s naught else to do these days, while the -waiting-time is on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He talks of sleeping here to-night,” said Rebecca, -harking back to her grievance, “says he wants to be -ready for the sledge-journey you’ve planned. If -you want to kill poor Donald outright—well, bump -him to his death on the bracken-track.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, a little afraid of his henchwoman in -times of ease, was the master now. “War has come. -Will you put that into your mind once for all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not likely to forget it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re coming one day to fire Logie. D’ye -think we want to be crippled by thought of Donald, -lying helpless? If he had his choice, would he be -burned in his bed—or risk death on the bracken road, -with God’s winds about him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God’s winds blow snell and cruel these days -Indoors or out, there’s little to choose, and men like -Brant come trapesing in to beg a night’s lodging. He’s -killed Storm, he tells us, and should be content with -that, without adding murder of poor Donald to his -Judgment tally.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Killing of Storm won’t worrit me, when my time -comes,” chuckled Brant. “There’ll be a few score -ewes to back me up—ewes that might have gone into -his jaws if it hadn’t been for a lucky shot o’ mine. -As for Donald, I’m with the Master. He’s a better -chance on the uplands than tied to his bed at Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, talk at me, now you’re two to one. Beat an -old woman down. But when you’ve killed a lone -pedlar—one that’s shared Logie’s salt—don’t run -to my apron for comfort. I’ll give you none.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shouldn’t look for it,” said the Master dryly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca, taut as a bow-string, was at war with herself -and every living thing about her, because peril -did not come. The lad who had trysted her at the -gate these forty years, had told her yesterday of havoc -brewing up. And instead there was a wet breeze -sobbing round the house, and Brant with the ale-froth -about his stubbly beard and Hardcastle, dour and tall -and thinking of Causleen. She knew that he was -thinking of her, and heard children, of his getting, -shout in play. Forlorn, alone and jealous, she sought -for a grievance, and found it speedily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your knee’s dripping, Master, and so much for -my bandages. A careless man at all times, you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went to the cupboard near the hearth, and got -out a store of lint, and herbs that staunched the -bleeding. The Master was hers for a little while, -before Causleen stole him from her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It hurts, as I rub it in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like the devil, Rebecca. But have your way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A bark sounded down the gusty corridor, and Brant -cocked a hairy ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Storm wasn’t dead, I’d have sworn I heard him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His ghost barked,” said Rebecca. “No wonder -he’s haunting you from this to the end of all. Are -you sure you killed him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, I’m sure of that. And, as for his ghost, it -needn’t trouble me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca finished her task, and gave the bandage a -rough, ill-tempered pat. “There! If fire and slaughter’s -coming, it’s as well to have two legs to stand on instead -of one. Men are feckless, left to themselves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now a silence crept about the house, and into -the hearts of these three. They longed for the wind -to rattle at the casements; but it, too, had fallen -dumb. Logie was a house aware—its every stone and -rafter-beam—of a peril sinister and urgent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brindled cat, catching the stealthy unrest of -the house, had gone to Storm for comfort, only to -find his ancient ally prisoned for the night. He -wandered back to the kitchen now, and sprang to the -table. His eyes were big, his fur stiff and ruffled, as -if he waited for rats to come to Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca glanced at him. “You, Jonah? Drat -you for another male that’s stepped into my kitchen, -looking warlike—and finding no sort of battle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She swept him from the table, with a sudden gust -of spite, and the cat, gathering himself up, showed -teeth and claws and spat at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Rebecca laughed and cried, and gathered the -great cat into her arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t mean it, Jonah—but my heart’s just -breaking with the trouble of it all.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap17'>CHAPTER XVII</h1></div> - -<h3>FLAME</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>That night they waited in Garsykes village -till the moon dipped over Scummer Rigg -and grey-black gloom shrouded heath and -pasture-land. Then every man who had strength to -carry a burden reached out for his well-filled sack.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd came up the hill with his shammocky -stride just as they were shouldering the sacks. -He stood awhile in the lamp-glow streaming from the -tavern windows, and they drew away from him as if -he had the plague. There was something unearthly -in his white, drawn face, in the laugh that broke his -silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So I’m in time, after all? It’s better pastime, -this, than hanging yourself in Nita’s garter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man still felt raw of a hempen cord about his -neck—the cord that Hardcastle had loosed not long -ago. Yet he laughed again, as he glanced from one -to another. Once he had lain in wait for Hardcastle, -and twice the Master had given him his life. The -memory bit and rankled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Logie flares red as hell to-night,” he said. “Let’s -make a start!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went out into a dark that could be felt, soon -as the inn’s friendly gleam was left behind. It reared -itself against them like a wall, so that they feared -almost to break themselves against it. Then, as their -eyes grew used to it a little, they picked their way -across lean fields, over marshes yielding to the tread, -through woods of pine and larch whose rustling -blackness put slack fear into their limbs. But they -dreaded more the open highway that gave them a -ready way to Logie. Deep in the bones and fibre -of the Lost Folk lurked distrust of roads where honest -men might be encountered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was when they came to Logie Brigg that superstition -gathered thick about them. They huddled -together, a lack-luster mob, on their side of the crossing. -It was a saying centuries old in Garsykes that -luck never came of hindering a Hardcastle. They -might rob or take tribute of Logie’s tenants, but -must not touch its master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bleating ewes, are you?” snarled Murgatroyd. -“There’s all us—and up yonder only Hardcastle and -two women, and an aged man who may be quick or -stiff by now. And you bleat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A rough voice answered him through the murk of -the windy night, over the song of Wharfe River as -she raced below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was you brought the trouble to Garsykes, -when you were fool enough to wait for Hardcastle -at the pinfold. There’s been naught but ill-luck -since.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The jostling mob, glad of a scapegoat for its panic, -turned on Murgatroyd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, be you first to cross the bridge—if you dare, -mad Murgatroyd!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His madness came on him in earnest. The broken -years of his slavery to Nita, came to a head. Better -any happening up at Logie than Nita’s laughter if -they left the house standing and came back with the -tale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He forced his way through the press. Shammocky -no longer, but grim and straight and broad he led his -Legion of the Lost between the grey, narrow walls of -Logie Brigg. And all men followed him, afraid of the -gaunt figure striding through the gloom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to the gate of Logie, where Donald had -found their token in the autumn days. Above them -the house lay dark and hushed. Starlings cheeped -and scolded in the ivied wall, but no other challenge -answered their intrusion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd gave a low chuckle—bleak and terrible -as when he had jested after looking over the brink of -death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re not expected, though I blabbed to Hardcastle. -He fancied, seemingly, that a liar never can -speak truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, with savage zest, he planned the night-surprise, -giving them no time for a second panic. He -would lead one half to the main door, while the rest -stole through the stable-yard and attacked the kitchen-entry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sharp and ready does it, and any man would be -a fool to fall soft now. He’d have Long Murgatroyd -to reckon with.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Overwhelming weight of numbers was with them. -So was the slumber of a house that did not look for -them to-night. But Murgatroyd’s gruff threat was -the steadying note.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Those chosen for the rear attack crept pad-footed -round the yard, and piled their sacks against the -kitchen door with frantic haste till the woodwork -was hidden by a bulging load of fuel. They littered -the stone porch with what bags were left, and fired -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The blaze was so fierce and instant that they leaped -back into the cool dark of the night, and waited for -those in Logie to be burned in their beds, or to come -through the flames for what waited them. And the -first that those within-doors heard of trouble was -Storm’s frenzied barking as he hurled himself against -his cupboard-door, to break it through for Logie’s sake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master lay for a moment between sleep and -waking. One window of his room opened on the -stable-yard, and below he heard the restless tread of -feet, the crackling of flame. Grey, pungent smoke -was drifting in already across his bed, and he sprang -up with an odd sense of readiness—and of relief. -What they had waited for was here at last, to be met -and grappled with.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant, too, had heard the uproar, and they met at -the stairway head and ran down together to the -kitchen. Hardcastle was in shirt and breeches, -donned hastily, and the shepherd made a queer figure, -his beard splayed above the top of a woollen nightshirt -that reached to his unlaced boots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They glanced at each other in the light of the -smouldering kitchen-fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve a fowling-piece, Master?” murmured -Brant. “Better have chosen a likelier gun. From -what I’d heard, I fancied they were coming—this -night or the next.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He broke off to listen to the roar of flame outside, -to watch the door blister and gape open in wide rents.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I borrowed a blunderbuss before I got up to bed,” -he went on, in the same low voice, “and loaded it. -It would make you laugh to know what I crammed -into its muzzle—pebbles and rusty nails, and all -kinds of winsome odds and ends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door they were watching gaped wider, and -great joy came to them, born of the house they loved. -Without were fire and all the scum of Garsykes. -Within were two leal men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The odds are with us, Stephen,” said Hardcastle, -breaking a silence that seemed long. “When the door’s -down, they’ll be in the glare, and we in darkness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re getting quick at the uptake,” grunted -Brant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A light step sounded close behind them, and Causleen -stood there, her hair rippling in a dusky cloud -about her night-gear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, go back, child,” said the Master. “There’s -trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve faced many kinds. Shall I tell you why I -stay, Hardcastle of Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was daunted by her courage, by the smouldering -anger in her face. Causleen did not seem to hear -Brant, or gaping door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I stay to see if you’re better at the fighting than -the wooing. A laggard in one is a laggard at both, -they say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was no time for warfare of the tongue, and Hardcastle -turned sharply to carry her out of harm’s way. -He turned again, for the thick, nail-studded door had -crashed inward with a swirl of flame and dancing -faggot-embers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nothing chanced for awhile save fire that drove -him back, and stench of tar and resin. Storm’s -barking rang like a wolf-cry through the house, till -suddenly it ceased, and Rebecca stood among them, -the dog bristling by her side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here’s a queer upset in my kitchen,” she said, -glancing from the blazing doorway to the men’s faces. -“I wakened late, I own, but I’d sense to go and loose -Storm first. He might have been burned alive, poor -lamb.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Brant and the sheep-slayer eyed each other with -slow wonder, as folk who had not looked for the meeting -and did not relish it. Then, with peril waiting -close at hand for both, the shepherd’s full-fed wrath -blazed out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shot you, Storm. I shot you, d’ye hear, for -killing ewes of mine. And you’re alive!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm left Rebecca and showed bared teeth to -Brant. He was no outlaw here at Logie, but ripe -and ready for what was coming to the house he -guarded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So much for you, Brant,” said Rebecca, with a -cackle of wild laughter. “A word from the Master, -and he’ll have his jaws in your lean throat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flames of the blazing door were lessening now, -for kitchen and porch alike were floored with stone -and offered no fresh fuel; and the moment came that -Hardcastle had looked for. The Garsykes Men, -when no uproar sounded from within—though the -besieged should be between two fires by now—grew -restless and afraid of some ambush waiting in the -dark of the stable-yard. A common impulse swayed -them to dash over the live embers into the house before -the first shock of surprise was over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they came into the ruddy murk of the porch, -Hardcastle aimed point-blank at them. A wild-beast -howl followed from men not used to bearing pain. -Then the porch was empty, save for the foremost of -the Garsykes Folk, whose legs were full of shot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Outside there was a rough stampede of men who -fought each other in their panic to get out of gun-reach. -And Brant the shepherd suddenly went mad -with the blood-lust. Robbed of his chance to fire a -shot, he pushed Hardcastle aside, trod over the fallen -body and ran out with a grim oath in his heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night was black, impenetrable. Sight aided -him nothing, but hearing did. On the high uplands -Brant had learned to see with his ears when need -pressed. The fleeing mob, not far down the road as -yet, was making noise enough to rouse dead men on -their gibbets, and Brant’s blunderbuss bellowed like -a stag gone mad at rutting-time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A livid shriek of anguish followed, and those in -Logie’s kitchen waited for Brant to return in triumph.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hark to them,” said Rebecca, rubbing her hands -together. “They came to Logie, as my lad told me -at the gate—and they go as he fore-warned me. By -the marrow, how they squeal!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen thought of her father. He had been asleep -when she glanced in on her way to the kitchen; but -the uproar must have roused him, and it was terrible -to picture him lying there, alone and helpless, waiting -for he knew not what.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master’s thoughts were with his shepherd, who -did not return. “Brant’s long in coming,” he muttered -restlessly, and had taken a step toward the porch -when he halted, checked by the strangest tumult that -had come to Logie on this night of crashing din.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He heard a bellow of mingled rage and fear, and knew -the voice for Long Murgatroyd’s. He heard, too, -the muffled oaths of other men. He sprang to Causleen’s -side and put her behind him; and now the sharp -stench of fire wisped and eddied down the passage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go back,” he muttered, hearing her steps close -following his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would not, and they ran down the long corridor -together till they reached the open door of the room -where Donald lay. And on the threshold they stood -as in a nightmare, aghast at what they saw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd and a press of Garsykes Men were -in the room, their faces lit by a fire they had piled in -the middle of it. The lamp-glow, stealing through the -room where Donald slept, had shown them an easier -way of entry than burning down the main door. They -had crashed through the window, tossed down their -sacks pell-mell and lit them. If they had seen the -sleeping man, they took him for dead or helpless and -had not heeded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So much was plain to Causleen and Hardcastle, -looking on with the nightmare grip about them still. -But the pedlar slept no longer. He was awake -and on his feet. His face caught the fireglow as -wrinkled parchment might—little lines of crimson -criss-crossing its ancient pallor—but the body they -had thought chained was alert and strong, willowy -with youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald had gone to sleep content. His girl would -be safe in Hardcastle’s hands, and he was free to let -dreams take him down the roads of old romance, -when those of his race plied claymores and heard the -battle-din. He woke to see an ill-kempt company -lighting a fire at the far end of the room; and suddenly -life raced into his palsied limbs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peril to Logie was mingled in his thoughts with -far-off combats up the glens at home. He stood there, -supple and thin and dominant, gathering the dreams -come true at last. And the Garsykes mob gaped at -this dead man who faced them without any weapon -but his consuming joy in battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd was twitching from one foot to -the other. The men behind him were bound as by a -spell. So was Hardcastle, who was aware of deeper -things than he had known till now. The Garsykes -Folk saw only Donald. That was plain, and the pedlar -must have his will of this last moment, till there was -need to intervene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Donald glanced about, as if in search of something -that had shared his tedious days in this same room. -And still Murgatroyd and those behind were held in -thrall. The fire they had kindled blazed and smoked -by turns in the sleepy draught, till Murgatroyd kicked -it into flame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wood’s wet,” he muttered, “and be damned -to the fools that gathered it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, wet with blood,” shrilled Donald.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that, strength came to him. His glance, -roving again about the walls, found the thing he -sought. With speed incredible he leaped to get the -pike into his hands—the pike that had gone to Flodden -and returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He swung it gently to and fro for one swift moment, -as if he doubted which of its three blades to ply. Then, -with a Gaelic battle-shout, he leaped forward, through -and over the fire’s reek, whirling the axe-edge high -above his old, grey head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd got his skull away from the blow; -but the axe clove his shoulder till it gritted on the -bone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m done, lads,” he growled, swaying to his fall. -“Get about this madman risen from the dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No voice answered him. The Garsykes Men had -gone the way they came taking still dread for company. -Alone with one who whirled his axe to strike -again, Murgatroyd gathered what strength was left -him, and ran screaming out into the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great light shone in Donald’s face. There was -strength in his body still, and a pibroch in his soul; -and, when Causleen ran to him across the dwindling -fire, he turned happily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was so they fought in the old days gone. I’m -glad you saw me make an end that way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He toyed with the pike lovingly. He praised -Logie for keeping its edges grouted and sharp through -the centuries for this night’s work of his. Then his -strength fell away, a borrowed joy. The pike dropped -from his grasp, clattering into the embers that Hardcastle -was stamping out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your hands, child,” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She guided him to the long-settle that had been his -bed for many weary days, and her tears rained on the -blankets she gathered round the motionless body. -Donald opened his eyes once—glad, tender eyes, at -peace with this world and the next—and he found voice, -as he had got strength awhile since to lift the pike.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Causleen, little Evening Star, you’ve lit the roads -for me. And now—dear God, there’s sunrise on the -hills.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pedlar lay quiet awhile. All that was of this -world clamoured round him. He was saying good-bye -to the broken roads he loved. There would be no -to-morrows, with curlews wailing over summer hills -and dusk cradling in purple hollows of the moor—no -journeys on blistered feet through the tang of winter -gales. He ached for the northland he must leave, -and his spirit shrank from the last Crossing because -the world was full of lovesome things. Surely he -would see once again the shimmer of buttercups -glowing like grace of old allegiance across the ripening -meadows, would hear the storm-cock pipe defiance -to the gale. Just once again he must smell, too, the -reek of clover-hay as it came home on creaking wagons -between the briar-rose banks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It grows dark,” he murmured suddenly. “And -now the light shines through—and, child, there’s your -mother beckoning from the braes. She’s just as young -and bonnie—as bonnie——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was so the warrior died, and Hardcastle stood with -bowed head till Causleen’s first storm of grief was -ended. A strange gentleness came to him, a softening -of the ice-cold years, as he covered Donald’s face and -drew the girl away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood facing each other in the dim lamplight. -A chill breeze blew through the broken casement, -tossing to and fro the reek of the stamped-out fire. -On the floor the pike lay in a little pool of crimson, -darkening fast. Yet nothing prevailed against the -austere and tranquil presence that filled this room of -death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Causleen,” he said, by and by, “you need not be -lonely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was feeling like a child lost in mid-winter moors. -No words could have reached her heart as his simple, -“you need not be lonely,” did. He was changed, -as she was, by this alchemy of death, into finer metal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, longing to believe in him, she took a step away. -“It is not the time or place to—to doubt you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the place to tell me why you doubt.” His -glance went to the death-bed. “Could I be false, -with your father lying there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You could not—no—and yet it seems so mean a -thing to talk of here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It divides us, and <span class='it'>he</span> did not want that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am ashamed either way,” she said, her brave -eyes meeting his—“of you, or of myself for doubting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Little by little he drew the tale from her. She had -come to the wood between Logie and the slope to -Wharfe River, weeks ago, and seen him with Nita’s -arms stretched out to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle understood now all that had baffled -him these late days. He recalled each detail of that -half-forgotten scene—Nita’s alluring eagerness, the -sharp crack of a twig, his glance backward to learn if -one of the Lost Folk was stealing on him from behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You saw us there,” he said, “and she was an -old love of mine. What else could you have -thought?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His quietness seemed to rebuke her. All these weeks -she had been the silent accuser, he the shameless culprit. -Was he a liar through and through, under his mask -of gruff honesty?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shared the woodmen’s hut for a night,” he -went on, “and afterwards there was trouble. I asked -to clear that for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From pity.” It was her turn now to glance at -the silent figure on the settle. “We never cared for -charity, he and I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not offer charity,” he said, direct and forthright. -“While I was persuading you to that, Nita -wove her devilry into it all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What devilry?” she asked, her eyes grave and -questioning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glanced from the shattered casement to Donald’s -death-bed, and his face hardened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She offered me escape from what has come to -Logie—and I would not take it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s heart was free at last, as she watched -this man whom she had flouted. He showed greater -than his height in the dim lamp-glow that made -flickering lights and shadows through the room. His -voice though hushed in deference to what lay yonder, -was vibrant in its simple candour. He loved her—loved -her for herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A gusty weariness came about her, a need to lean -on the man who had caused her sleepless nights and -tears as salt as the nether brine-pits.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was afraid—till now,” she whispered, and put -her hands into his as if she gave a kingdom.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap18'>CHAPTER XVIII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE RESTLESS DAWN</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>As they stood there, a stifled bark sounded from -the doorway. Storm, his grizzled hide quivering -with eagerness, came sidling in. Fire and gunshot -and the night’s swift happenings had opened the -windows through which dogs and horses see things -hidden from most men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew that death was in the room, and cringed -his way to Donald’s side. He crouched for a while, -his head on the still body, and whimpered like a child; -for the pedlar and he had shared many an hour of -friendship when life was wrong with both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the sheep-slayer rose and shook himself. There -was no cringeing now, no sorrow. Self-reliant, strong -of body and of courage, he came to Hardcastle, who -knew less than he what was soon to happen on Logie-side. -He looked at the Master with brown, candid -eyes—a lingering glance of sheer affection—and put -two hairy paws on his shoulders while he licked his -face. And afterwards he said good-bye to Causleen, -and turned once at the broken casement before passing -out into the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor devil,” muttered Hardcastle. “I’d whistle -him back, if Brant was not about the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brant would not shoot him, after all we’ve shared -with Storm?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In cold blood. Logie might go, and all of us, if -Stephen’s ewes were safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a hard country,” said Causleen, clinging to -his sleeve with sharpening dread.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now Rebecca came running to the door, and -stood like one turned to stone when she saw these two -together. The kingdom of her days at Logie was -ended. That was plain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” asked the Master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Naught that matters now; but, for my part, I’d -have chosen a likelier time for sweethearting. My -kitchen asking a week o’ days to redd it up again—fire -and brimstone on this side o’ the house—and you -two fancying you’re cushat-doves high up in a mating -tree. I’ve no patience.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” asked Hardcastle again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Naught that would trouble you if I told it. You’re -past caring how an old woman fares, though she’s -skin and bone for your sake—wearing her life out, cooking -and scrubbing. And, ‘What is it?’ asks the -Master. It’s this, if you must know. Brant’s not -come back, and I’m tired of guarding my kitchen with -a rolling-pin against yond lean swine from Garsykes. -If Brant’s gone, some o’ them are lurking in the stable-yard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle put Causleen from him gently. The new -peril was harsh enough, but he was quick these days -to face unexpected happenings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stay here, child,” he said sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stayed for one snatched moment to stoop above -her father and give his soul a God-speed. Then she -followed Hardcastle, and he felt a hand steal into his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, get back, child,” he said. “There’s trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So my place is with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would not be denied; and when they came into -the kitchen, Brant the shepherd was crossing the -doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Spared us the need to go in search of you, have you, -Stephen?” snapped Rebecca. “You look moiled, -and fuzzy in your wits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you’d look,” grumbled Brant, “if you had -forgotten there were two ends to a blunderbuss—one -that spat at the Garsykes sort, and t’ other that -knocked me heels over head with the back-kick. I -struck against a rock in falling, and lay silly for a -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it would be no new feeling to you, Brant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I had a tongue like thine, Rebecca, I’d do two -things—tie a double knot in it, then cut it at the root.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hark to him, Jonah,” shrilled the old woman, -gaunt and fiery. “Comes bringing his saucy ways -to Logie’s kitchen, where you and me live.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brindled cat knew his mistress, her every look -and change of voice. His fur had been scorched, -moreover, at some time of the wild onset, and he was -in evil temper. He stalked up and down about -Brant’s knees, growling as a dog might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Going Storm’s way, are you?” said the shepherd. -“You’ll be for the wild lands soon, and a dollop of -lead to teach you poacher’s shrift.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen looked on, wide-eyed and troubled. In -her Highland glens they had sung of far-off battles. -She had been suckled in the faith that warriors returned -from victory with glad faces and shouts of triumph. -Yet here at Logie, safe through heavy odds, Rebecca -and the shepherd were snarling at each other, as if all -was lost. It was her first taste of battle and its aftermath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“While I was getting up from my dazement, Master,” -said Brant by and by, “I heard another screech -and running of the Garsykes Men, and made shift to -follow with the butt-end of the blunderbuss. But -they outran me, like. So I stepped in here, to ask -what had happened.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All the world, Stephen—and what’s beyond it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now Causleen heard the note of victory at last—heard -it in his voice. All that was Hardcastle -was hers, and she was his. She thought of the father -lying yonder. He would be content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, going to the porch to hear if there were -any lurking Wilderness Folk about the courtyard, -lifted a foot instinctively as he crossed the threshold. -He remembered the body that had fallen in answer -to his charge of shot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, he <span class='it'>was</span> there,” said Rebecca dryly; “but I -took leave to shift him into the stable-yard. We’ll -hoist him over the Long Pasture wall to-morrow—and -the Garsykes sort will steal up to take him off. -They’re like rats in that way, too—attentive to their -burials.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dawn crept grey and misty over Logie. And as -they stood in Rebecca’s kitchen—a silent company, -waiting for they knew not what—the old house grew -restless. It knew itself secure for a little while. -There was safety as yet, the rout of the Lost Folk. -Yet one of their dead lay just outside the porch, -pleading for reprisals.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Logie was no senseless block of stone and mortar. -It had sheltered Hardcastles through seven hundred -years of weather. Its heart and spirit had grown -with the growing generations that romped and married -and died within the kingdom of its stubborn loyalty. -It had watched lusty fathers lick their sons into manhood’s -shape—listened to the muffled tread of bearers -as they carried one and another of the race to burial—heard -women groaning in the child-birth, lest there -should be none to reign in Logie-side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And to-night Logie did not know what would -chance. It had felt the pain of its flaming door, had -been aware of the oaths of prowling men who threatened -walls and rafter-beams. Every nerve and sinew had -been racked by battle, and the end was not yet. The -stir of unguessed dreads to come roamed its corridors, -and sorrow piped through every casement. For -Logie had found life strong and sweet of savour, and -was loath to die.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap19'>CHAPTER XIX</h1></div> - -<h3>GARSYKES</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita made sport of the Garsykes Men when they -returned from Logie in the spitting rain of -dawn. Slim, and fresh as if she came out -of the new day’s heart, she waited for them in the -village. And first there came a slack-set company of -twenty, glancing behind them constantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Logie fired?” asked Nita softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, we blazed the door through,” came an answering -growl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The twenty men went their way, and presently -another company lumbered over the hill and down. -Most of them went lame, pitted by what Shepherd -Brant had crammed into his blunderbuss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have they done to you, there at Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita knew now that all had miscarried, and they -snarled in answer to her spite. For a moment they -had in mind to rive her limb from limb; and, knowing -the danger, she faced them with outstretched hands -and a pleading smile that might have been a child’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why should you hurt your little basket-weaver?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because we’re plugged with lead and rusty nails,” -grunted a shammocky rogue whose right arm hung -limp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” said another. “It was you that sent us up -to Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were round her now like wolves. Foiled and -wounded, they longed to spring on this new prey, -yet could not. Nita had queened it over Garsykes so -long that old experience did not fail her now. She -wove little, wanton spells about them—then pleaded -again with frail, helpless hands—till the old witchcraft -stirred about them. The grumbling oaths grew -muffled, and Nita, seeing them half-cowed already, -laughed with stinging mockery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sent you up to Logie, thinking you were men. -Thirty of you went against Hardcastle and could not -take him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The snarling uproar rose afresh, but she held the -lash now and wielded it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were to bring him—alive, if might be—to -little Nita, so she could teach him many ways of -humbling pride. And all you bring is—your tattered -selves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Widow Mathison had joined them—plump and -touzled, just as she had left her bed at sound of the -uproar, except for a cloak thrown over her nightwear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All Garsykes couldn’t lay hands on one man up -yonder?” she asked, rocking to and fro with laughter. -“If Hardcastle was minded that way, I’d risk a second -wedding. The more I see of our sort, the deeper I -fall into love with Logie’s Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hardcastle’s got a bonnier wench up there,” said -the shammocky rogue, striving to rally his wilting -fellows—“bonnier than Nita, if it comes to that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The chance shaft found its mark. The girl stood -silent for a moment, gathering years behind and years -to come into her hands. When she spoke at last, -they drew away as from some instant menace in their -midst; and each poor fool began to scratch at his -wounds afresh and to long for ale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They couldn’t bring Hardcastle to Garsykes—thirty -of our strong men could not. But little Nita -can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her voice was bitter quiet. She did not seem to -see the frowsy press of men about her. Aloof, hard -as mid-winter on the barren uplands, she saw Hardcastle -taken in toils of her devising—and not Hardcastle -alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What will you do?” asked the rogue with the -splintered arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, what will I do? Let him wait, first of all, -till he’s sick with fear for another. Then I’ll put -fire of hell into him before ever he comes to our village -in the hills—and afterwards——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man’s full-throated curses broke across the dawn’s -stillness, and Long Murgatroyd came lurching up, -his arms thrown about two comrades who steadied -him on either side. They had clapped rough bandages -about the wound that Donald’s pike had given, and -he had thought his end was come till now, in the grey -dawn, he saw Nita.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A rare warrior, you,” she said, her bitterness -let loose afresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The will to live returned to Murgatroyd. Hardihood -came back though his wound dripped and -snarled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye,” he said—“and I’ll wive you, soon or late.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His face was so white and livid in the dawn-light, -that Nita drew back with a sense of sharp foreboding. -Twice she had felt this same dread of Murgatroyd, -but it was keener now. Then she rallied her -courage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When Garsykes is ended, you’ll wive me, maybe. -Can you wait as long?” she mocked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can bide,” he said, and limped bravely on till he -was out of sight. Then his head drooped. “Get -me home, mates,” he muttered. “I’m sick and -wambly. Get me home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita stayed on, alone with the grey mists that eddied -over from Pengables. She thought of Logie, secure -after long warfare against odds—of Hardcastle, who -was another’s now—and no winter’s spite, packed -with hurricane and sleet, had ever blown so cold, so -merciless, as the storm in her own heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An old man of the village passed, and glanced at -the silent figure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At your dreams, little Nita?” he asked, with -grandfatherly indulgence of a favourite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At my dreams, Tanty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s well to be young while you can,” said he, -and went by on rheumy knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still Nita halted. She had spun as many webs in -her time as she had woven baskets, but none as strong -as these she was binding into a net for Hardcastle. -Like a figure of doom she stood, the wet mists hurrying -by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For two weeks and a day thereafter there was peace -round Logie. No attack came on the house, no -ambush waited in the roads when dusk crept down. -Farm-servants carried Donald to the kirkyard under -the hill, and none molested the mourners in going -or returning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then came afterwards the quiet, half-awed return -to usual life that follows death in any house. Rebecca -and the brindled cat got to their friendship’s bickerings. -The Master rode abroad on business of his -lands, or brought game home for the larder. And, -as if the skies were in league with peace, the long -warmth-in-winter held.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen began to fret—not for the father who had -ended bravely and in happiness—but for Hardcastle. -He grew lean and gaunt, ate as if he must, with no -relish for what lay on his plate, and left the wine -scarce tasted. Try as she might, she could get no -answer to the riddle of his moodiness, until, one -morning near November’s end, he strode restlessly -about the breakfast chamber, and came to a sharp -halt before her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Causleen,” he said. “I want you to go up to Shepherd -Brant’s. It’s a rough lodging—but it’s safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now she understood; and, for very gladness, -she made pretence of doubt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tired of me already?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t jest, child.” He was hard, peremptory. -“You must go to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And if I will not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall set you on pony-back and take you there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is amiss with you?” she asked—knowing, -but longing for the spoken word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fear,” said Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fear?” she echoed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again he paced up and down, and again came to -her side. “I’ve a lifetime’s knowledge of Garsykes, -and I tell you we’re in the thick of danger. Whenever -their silence comes——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It means another firing of the house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Or worse, now that you’re here at Logie. Will -you not understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If they took me from you? If you fought till you -could do no more, and they took me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should run mad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was fierce, possessive, as he drew her to him, -and she was content. The lean years of her trudging -days—weather, and blistered feet, and scorn of men -for the peddling-sort—were forgotten. Deeper than -his love of Logie—deeper than his love of life for its -own good, stalwart sake—lay fear for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll go up to Brant’s?” he said by and by, half -between entreaty and command.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can I—now that you care? My place is -with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she cried happily against his sleeve, and he -could make no further headway with persuasion. The -next day it was the same. Whenever, out of his -stifling dread for her, he tried to get her out of Logie -and up into the trackless hills, she glanced away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re rough quarters, I know,” he would -begin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That does not trouble me,” she would answer -gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And, of course, there’ll be only an old shepherd-man -up there, and you’d want another woman with -you. Rebecca can go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what would you do here without her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fend for myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we can persuade Rebecca to it, I will go,” she -said, her glance inscrutable and grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, as time dragged slowly by, Hardcastle -learned much of the ways of women, and more and -more he was reminded of the slant, drooping flight of -plover when their nests are threatened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca’s mind had been his own—to get the girl -into safety—till Causleen’s heart to endure had captured -her grim liking. If the Master must find a wife—and -it was time there was an heir to Logie—he -might go further and fare worse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot thoyle it, Jonah,” she would grumble to -the brindled cat, “but I’ve got to. Me and you -watching the Master’s goings out and his comings in—slaves, -as you might say, to his will—and a slip of a -lass making all as if it had never been. But she’s -hill-born, with a spirit of her own. That’s so much -to be thankful for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the second week was nearing its end, Hardcastle -grew so weary of the peace brooding like thunder-weather -over Logie, so sick with dread for Causleen, -that he strode into Logie like a hurricane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca was in the hall, as it chanced, plying her -broom as if it were a flail she wielded against the -Garsykes Men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Master?” she asked, standing in a -dust-storm of her own making.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s this, Rebecca. You take her to Brant’s hut -to-morrow of your own will, or by mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Afraid they’ll burn the roof over your head? -They’ve tried it twice—and we’ll teach ’em that the -third time pays for all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you a fool altogether, woman? There’s -Causleen in the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, it’s her place. She’d be a poor sort o’ wife for -Logie, if she left you at the pinch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle was in no mood for argument. He told -her—simply and with command—that she must take -Causleen to Brant’s hut to-morrow. And Rebecca -grew submissive on the sudden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s as well she should be away,” she admitted, -“if only for your peace of mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day, however, when Hardcastle came down -to breakfast, he was met by Causleen with news that -Rebecca could not stir from her bed and sent word -to the Master that she was “twisted with rheumatics.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has chosen the worst time she could,” snapped -Hardcastle. “If the woman must have luxuries of -that sort let her have them when you’re safely up at -Brant’s, the two of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen fingered the spray of crimson-berried -hawthorn she had gathered for the breakfast-table -in place of flowers. She put it into the jar, turned it -this way and that till she was satisfied, then glanced -up at Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can only be hurt through me nowadays. -You care as much as that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. They can rob me of more than Logie now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Garsykes knows. Gossip would tell them where -you had hidden me—and what could two women and -Brant do against them when they came—to rob you -of me, and me of you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great cavern opened in the man’s heart. All that -was in her eyes, in the simple, candid words, broke -into deeps that had not been stirred till now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was sending you out of my reach?” he said, -aghast at his own folly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came to him of her own accord, and crept close -into his arms. “I could not bear it. I—I have -only you—and we must be together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle laughed by and by, soberly. “You’ll -have to take charge of my wits,” he said. “They -were never strong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Late that afternoon, Rebecca’s ailment left her as -if by magic; and Hardcastle, returning from a journey -up the far moors, encountered her at the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tied to your bed no longer?” he asked dryly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can shift rheumatics as well as one here and -there, when the Master’s got rid of his own ailment. -But every talk of going to Shepherd Brant’s will make -me bedridden, and so I warn you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They fell silent presently, yielding to the twilight -quiet of the place. Here the flint arrow-head had -waited on the gate-top for Hardcastle’s return when -October russeted the woods. Here Rebecca had -communed with her dead lover through forty years of -constancy to feud. They seemed to listen to the rustle -of unsubstantial feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pedlar’s girl should be proud to be among us -now,” said Rebecca, her voice low and crooning. -“All the years Logie has bided—and vengeance in her -hand at last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master could not rid himself of dread for Causleen. -Fast as he beat down one attack, another fear -came shadowy at him from behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Garsykes swarms with its scum, and we are few,” -he growled. “Who made you a prophet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A step sounded up the road, and Hardcastle, turning -with quick instinct to defend himself, saw Michael -Draycott, his wide, cheery face less full of colour -than its wont.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You, Michael? You look peaky, man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s this way. I found my best heifer dead -this morning—a fine little roan she was—and a -scrawled token by her side. <span class='it'>Hemlock grows in the -Wilderness.</span> That was the message.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A mucky folk,” said Rebecca tranquilly. “They -were bred mucky. They couldn’t help it, maybe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As they’d put that on me, I knew naught else -would happen to the homestead for a bit; so I stepped -up to spend the night at Logie, by your leave.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve heard of something planned?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not I; but they’ve let you alone so long that it -stands to reason there’s mischief brewing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca was her bustling self again. “You’re no -sort of laggard, Michael. For a man so death-shy -you do very well—and there’s a game-pie in the oven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They kept watch together that night, the Master -and Draycott, with a jug of October ale between them. -They sipped it sparingly, for it was potent, and they -kept wide ears for any sound outside the four stout -walls that sheltered them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, about the middle of the watch, woke from -an evil dream, and shuddered as she lay in the darkness. -A rat scampered across the ceiling. In the -silence its feet sounded like the tramp of hurrying men, -and she lifted herself in panic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She conquered that. Fear, they had taught her -in babyhood, was a shameful thing to harbour. But -with the conquering came blinding loneliness, a reaching -out for the dead father whose voice she would not -hear again. They were kind at Logie, but it was a -house of dread. If only her father were laying below-stairs -there, his eyes kindling with welcome though -his body was outworn. If only he were living. But he -lay in the wet earth down yonder, dust to dust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man’s tread came down the passage, and halted -at her door. She did not know what peril was at -hand, but roused herself to meet it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is it?” she asked sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who should it be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The relief was instant. No voice she had heard till -now had been so strong, so welcome.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All’s well with Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Hardcastle. “All’s well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard his step go down the corridor, lessening -into silence, and a new world came to dawn, after the -nightmare that had been. Outside Logie’s walls -were skulking folk; but within their six-foot bulk was -a man after her own heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Twice that night she heard him come to her door -again, and halt and repeat his quiet “All’s well,” and -her heart warmed to his gruff strength, as she fell into -a dreamless sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dawn was filtering through the shutters when she -woke, and her first thought was that Hardcastle -would be hungry after his long watch. Dressing hastily -she went down, stirred by a simple thrill of joy in -the hope that Rebecca would not be astir as yet. -Her own hands should prepare the Master’s breakfast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Smiling gravely at her eagerness, she stepped into -the kitchen, and was chilled, somehow, by what she -saw. The fire was dead and grey. Michael Draycott -sat wakeful, the candle by his side guttering in the -thin, peevish draught, and pointed to Hardcastle, -who lay back in his hooded chair, so fast asleep that it -seemed he would never wake again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak soft, and don’t ye rouse him,” whispered -Michael. “He kept up till the first streak o’ dawn -came.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you lying to me, Michael? Is—is he dead? -I would rather hear the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll never get less from me. He’s as live as -three men put together—or will be, when he wakens -from this strong sleep of his.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced about, half between relief and dread. -“I came to give him breakfast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give him sleep instead. It’s worth more than all -the eggs and bacon ever reared in Logie Dale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He unbarred the door and beckoned her out into the -nipping air that was like balm after the indoors warmth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad I stepped up last night,” he said, “though -naught’s happened to Logie, after all. You’re a sensible -sort of lass, I fancy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was so downright that Causleen could only laugh—a -wan little laugh plucked out from hardship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A sensible lass, and not as hard as Rebecca. Well, -then, I’ve a warning for you. The Master, as I told -you, held his head up to the very minute dawn stepped -in. That meant no Garsykes sort would come. Daylight -and they were never friends.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Michael?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then he fell back in his chair, and sleep came on -him like a wolf. He’s doing too much these days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that news to me? The grey cobwebs run -across his face. Sometimes he falters in his stride -as he comes up Logie-lane, for very weariness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, and he’ll break, one day soon, if he’s not looked -after. He never rests by day—riding, or shooting, -or what not—and he seldom sleeps o’ nights, by the -look of him. No man born o’ woman can carry it -for long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen remembered the weeks gone by. Her -pride had resented Hardcastle’s aloofness, his fits of -moodiness. Now she understood, and lifted a child’s -penitent face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What would you have me do?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s big, shy heart found room to speak. -“I’d have you marry him as soon as maybe. Rebecca -tells me you’re both minded that way.—And, there, -I’ve frightened you. An old man had no right to say -as much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said. “Tell me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s you that’s three parts of his trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I can go, Michael.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’d only follow, and bring you back. He’s got -to that pass, he’d rather Logie went than you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood together in the stable-yard. Starlings -were making a sleepy din among the ivy, and over old -Pengables the red of dawn pushed through the mists. -The day seemed full of grey foreboding, but Causleen -did not ask what was to come. Michael’s blunt -simplicity made it sure that he was speaking truth. -“<span class='it'>He’d rather Logie went than you</span>”—the words were -like a throstle’s song in spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I will stay,” she said, and smiled on him, -and went indoors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca had come down, prepared to light the fire -and scold her way through household tasks, but even -she stood mute at sight of the Master. In all her days -she had not seen a living man so dead to sound or -motion. There was only the gentle breathing to tell -her he was more than the husk of what had been.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She started as Causleen entered, then rasped at the -girl to cover her own disquiet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, don’t you faint away, or any o’ those -maidish cantrips. There’s a time and season for ’em, -and it isn’t now. Fancied he was dead, I reckon? -Well, he’s quick. All the Hardcastles are made that -way. Gluttons for sleep they always were and will be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brindled cat had learned Rebecca’s mood at -a glance and leaped to the top of a cupboard, where -he sat with vain hope that he was safe. Rebecca, in -sore and restless trouble, searched for outlet, and -her roving glance fell on Jonah. With a twist of the -long hearth-brush in her hands, she brought him -down, and aimed a wild blow at him in his flight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s for washing yourself like a dandy, same -as if naught was amiss at Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she lit the fire with vicious haste; and, when -she looked up again, Causleen saw the slow, thin -tears of age trickling down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m worrited, lass, and don’t ye heed. They -can come blazing Logie down every night and all, -and welcome. It’s when Garsykes willun’t come, -and keeps us at full stretch, I get to my nagging.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The morning went by on leaden feet. Michael -Draycott had gone to the work waiting for him at -Broken Firs. The Master slept on, spent and in -some far land that seemed neighbour to the grave. -The wind stole whining from the moors and through -the forest trees. There seemed little hope for -Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen could bear it no longer. All trouble was -easier to face in the frank open than prisoned by walls -that harboured dread. So, when Rebecca had gone -to the dairy for a moment, she stole to Hardcastle’s -side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dick, do you hear me?” she whispered, longing -to hear him answer, yet hoping he would sleep on, -to find his strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No answer came, except the <span class='it'>clack-clack</span> of Rebecca’s -pattens on the dairy floor. So then she bent and -kissed him, and went out—across the mistal-yard, -and up the home pastures, and out into the moors -that lay near to Garsykes. She needed the winds -of God about her—needed, too, in some half-confessed -fashion, to be sentry while the Master slept.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Logie, Rebecca went on with her cooking and -her scouring as if no inner voice was whispering of -havoc, soft-footed, stealthy. All she had longed for—all -she had prayed, through the lonely years that had -gone since they killed her man—was gathering to -a head. In her bones she knew it, as she knew -“the rheumatics” that was twisting them out of all -earthly shape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It had never been Rebecca’s habit to think that -ten thousand such lean swine as the Garsykes Men -could have their will of Logie; but a dark cloud of -doubt lay between her and the further vision. There -was thunder-weather brewing, and it must break -before ever Logie came to safety and its own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The teasing doubt stayed with her, till Jonah came -in, a full-grown rat in his mouth, and layed it down -before her—in propitiation, as it were.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, bless you, lad,” she cackled. “If I did -dust you with a besom, it was for your good. Thwack -the male sort, say I—thwack ’em true and often—and -they thrive the better for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jonah played with the half-dead rat for a while, -then came purring and bridling against the woman’s -skirt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, aye, you’ve done well, lad. There never was -such a rat for bigness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The more she praised him the thicker grew Jonah’s -fur, till Rebecca began to laugh shrilly at his antics. -She was in a mood to read omens into little matters, -and her spirits had risen with a bound. The Garsykes -Men were rats, and Jonah had just brought in the -first fruits of some coming slaughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rat began to stir fitfully, and Jonah, with a -sudden, growling spring, was clawing him to bits -when a shadow darkened the kitchen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca glanced up to see a little figure standing -in the porch, and her whole body stiffened, as a dog’s -might. Danger had passed by Logie through the -night; but every instinct told her it was on the -threshold now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want no baskets, Nita—leastways, none of your -weaving.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not be always scolding little Nita,” pleaded -the girl. “She has no baskets to sell this morning—but -she has news to give.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want no news, neither. Cannot you see I’m -throng with my cooking?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My news is for the Master. Go tell him, Rebecca.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had been stirring in his sleep before -she came, and her voice seemed to probe him like a -knife. He got to his feet, as if attacked. Dishevelled -by the night’s vigil, gaunt with all that Garsykes -had put on him since he said them nay, he stood -glowering at this flower-fresh visitor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What news?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are all so rough here. I meant it kindly—meant -to warn you—but now I will not. Go find -the pedlar’s brat if you can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stepped forward, drew her indoors and held -her there. “Where is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I fared very well at your hands, that I -should tell you? Yet I was forgiving. I could not -bear to think of her—where she is—and you to go -mad when you heard it later.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s lying, the lile toad,” said Rebecca, with -grim brevity. “She never had heart to think like that, -save for one—herself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Nita threw the mask off, and smiled at them. -“I was lying when I said that I forgave. I came -because I longed to torture Hardcastle of Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you shake the life out of me, how can I tell -you—even if I would?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He let her go free, and presently she glanced at -him, her grey eyes wide with malice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our Garsykes Men are not good at the fighting, -so they hatched another plan. If they could take -what Hardcastle holds dearest, and keep her till he -paid tribute at long last——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She halted, watching the sweat break out on the -man’s haggard face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is she?” he repeated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not in Garsykes. You might rouse even your -chicken-livered Logie Men to ride through us. She’s -in the caves behind our village.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A gulf seemed to open at Hardcastle’s feet. If -this were true—he would not have it true—and -through his dazed sickness sounded Nita’s voice, gentle -as a dove’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are long caves and deep. You knew them -as a boy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, by God,” he said, towering above her with -still and awful menace, “and now I’m going to know -them as a man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She halted for one last thrust. “It may be too -late for paying tribute. They may be out of hand, -now I’m not there to whip them into order.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she was gone, swift as an east-wind that -had struck to the bone and stayed for no reprisal. -The Master halted for a moment, gathering his -strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll not go?” said Rebecca, her lean arm -clutching him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where she goes, I go, woman. Have you no -wits to guide you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca, fear as she might for him, was glad to -see him take the Logie way—straight to the open, -though he went alone. It was only when he had -stepped into the crimson flare of dawn, flooding the -porch, that again she drew him back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your two hands, and your head up to the stars, -won’t carry far these days. You’d be the better -for a gun in your hands, and a candle or two in your -pockets. Caves are darksome places.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had wit left enough to get a fowling-piece and -see to the priming, while she thrust candles and a -tinder-box into his pocket.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Rebecca listened to his running stride across -the cobble-stones to the wind that rose in shrill and -bitter menace. There was only Jonah of the men-folk -left. He knew it, and sprang to her shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, drive your claws in,” she snapped. “We’re -all that’s left of Logie, you and me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her glance wandered forlornly round the kitchen -till it encountered the dead rat by the hearth. Then -her unalterable strength in hardship found its token.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s luck coming, Jonah,” she said, and got -about her household tasks again.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap20'>CHAPTER XX</h1></div> - -<h3>SPITE’S VICTORY</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, when she left Hardcastle asleep in -the hooded chair at Logie, wandered nearer -and nearer to the Garsykes country, till she -halted at last on Trolls Hill and stood looking over -the barren lands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind, boisterous now, had scattered the mists, -and in the keen, chilly sunlight Garsykes village -showed clear across the hollow. She could hear voices -in its street, and wondered if they were planning some -new devilment. A woman’s raucous laugh sounded. -Was that in answer to the plotting?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her courage ebbed low, after the night’s useless -vigil. There were so many of them. What chance -had Logie in the last result? Surely Hardcastle had -done enough, and might give up the unequal battle. -He had only to pay tribute, like the rest, to buy his -safety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She trampled down the thought. If she had half-loved -him, that road of freedom might have brought -content. As it was, she could not bear that he should -be less than the Master, whatever came. And yet the -odds against him were pitiful, disastrous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still her glance was drawn to Garsykes, as if the very -evil of the place had cast a spell on her; and she -started when Nita Langrish stepped lightly up the -track that led from Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not afraid to be so near our thieves and cut-throats?” -said Nita.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Logie does not fear such. They came, and had -their answer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Riding a tall horse, are you? Logie does not fear, -says Hardcastle’s wanton, as if she was an honest -wife there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hot blood flamed in Causleen’s face, and pallor -followed. If a knife had been ready to her hand, -there would have been murder done, here where the -wind roared and fluted over Trolls Hill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go,” she said, “back to the styes that bred you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will go, little beggar on horseback. If you knew -what errand I have been on—but, then, you do not -know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita stood poised on slender feet, like a wild deer of -the hills, but tarried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m skilled in divination,” she went on, her voice -reminding Causleen, in some haphazard way, of -Jonah, the brindled cat when he was playing with a -mouse. “Shall the basket-weaver tell you what is -coming?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In spite of herself, Causleen felt weak and a child -in the other’s hands. The magic that had kept -Garsykes Men in thrall was drawing her into its webs. -She followed Nita’s finger as it pointed to the road -below, where the track from Logie split in two—one -grey lane going flat to Garsykes, the other winding -steep and rocky to a cavern gaping open-mouthed -across the green face of the pastures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you see where the tracks divide?” purred -Nita. “A man will come to the two-ways by and by, -and take the upper road. And you will follow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen remembered Hardcastle asleep at Logie; -and he was the one man in the world she would ever -follow willingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not true,” she said, with chill disdain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The basket-weaver made no answer. But still -she did not go, and her silence began to mesh Causleen -again with unseen nets. Yonder was Garsykes, foul -and a menace centuries old. And close at hand was -Nita. She felt utterly alone, as if friendless leagues -divided her from Logie and her man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Strive as she would, panic—headlong, unreasoning -panic—was stealing on her, though the sun shone and -the free winds went bristling by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita kept silence. She, of all living Garsykes Folk, -had learned most of the black magic handed down the -generations. It had been her joy to weave it into the -baskets she sold, into the ill-starred deeds her men -did by night and day—and Causleen was given into -her hands. She would half slay her now with dread, -then let her go to what they had planned for the -pedlar’s girl and Hardcastle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All that was brave and Highland-born in Causleen -fought the terror stealing on her. What sort of wife -would she be to Hardcastle, if she yielded now to this -stealthy dread that came like formless mist about her?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There came a whimpering through the heather. -She did not hear, till a wet nose was pressed into her -hand; and afterwards a tongue red with sheep-slaying -reached up and licked her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, as on a night gone by when Storm lay in the -cupboard under Logie’s stair, she threw her arms about -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm, you’ve come,” she said, hugging his tousled -body, thick with bracken-splinters that he carried from -his past night’s lair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita drew away. Dogs always distrusted her, and -fear of the whole race—a dread half superstitious—had -grown into her life. Yet even now she could not keep -back the bitter gibe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is a friend of the Master’s, too. Dear grief, -Logie keeps odd company nowadays.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm, homeless and tired of the wander-lust, had -been sending long thoughts out to Logie as he sat on a -spur of the moors and saw Causleen swing into sight -across the Garsykes track. He had bounded down—slipping -and turning a somersault or two on the way—and, -now that he was in touch again with Logie, he -was content. He growled at Nita by habit, and bared -his teeth, then turned again to Causleen and yielded -like a puppy to her daft endearments. She smelt of -home to Storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen was reliant and herself again. The coming -of this four-footed Ishmael had broken the basket-weaver’s -spells. Garsykes mattered no longer. Out -there Hardcastle was sleeping himself into new -vigour; and here was Storm, to guide her safe to the -return.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Logie always had staunch friends,” she said, her -glance meeting Nita’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita made no answer, but glanced behind her; -and presently her slight body quivered with eagerness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I lie, little wanton? A man comes up the -Garsykes road. He’s a small figure yet—but, see, he -grows bigger—and now he nears the two-ways that -I told you of.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen was meshed again by webs. She could do -no more than follow the pointing finger, and watch the -man till she knew his limber stride, his way of carrying -broad shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has come to the two-roads now,” said Nita -softly—“and now he takes the higher track. Did I -lie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, in the clear light, seemed so near that -Causleen cried aloud to him, entreating his return. The -wind drove her voice back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sent him there—in search of you,” said Nita. -“He thinks we have you in our caves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For one still moment Causleen paused. She knew -the agony speeding Hardcastle to the black mouth -that grinned across the pasture-lands. She knew -what leaped from her in answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You sent him there?” she echoed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—food for our Garsykes wolves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen, with sudden, blinding passion, called to -the sheep-slayer “Storm, kill her. Fasten on her -throat, Storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dog was far down the slope already. He, too -had seen the Master. Causleen might smell of home, -but Hardcastle was Logie’s self.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pedlar’s girl raced sure-footed between the wet, -gnarled hummocks, crying as she ran with a warning -that the gale caught and drove to tatters. She came -to the parting of the ways, and followed without pause -the grey track that wound upward to the caves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle’s big figure, far ahead, halted for a brief -welcome as Storm overtook him. As if she stood -beside them, she knew what went to that greeting—the -man’s joy that he had a toothed and stubborn -friend in this adventure, the dog’s that he was with -the chosen one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come back,” she cried again—so loud, it seemed to -her, that not even the wind could hinder its sharp -bidding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle did not hear. Like a man possessed he -strode forward till he reached the cave’s mouth. Then -they were swallowed by the darkness, Storm and he, -and Causleen knew at last what caring meant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She neither wavered nor had fear. Where he went -she would follow, by free-will and by right.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita watched it all from the benty lands above—saw -Hardcastle and Storm go into the trap prepared. -Then Causleen went, and was hidden by the dark. -And after that, ten frowsy men got out from the rocks -and closed about the entry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The basket-weaver took her way to Garsykes, -crooning a song of the Lost Folk—a low, stealthy -ballad, ages old, that reeked of the marshes and the -styes. And, as she came into the village, she found it -packed with men and scolding women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They snarled and jeered at her, and Long Murgatroyd’s -voice was lifted in sullen fury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here comes Nita. She sent us to fire Logie, and -then talked big about doing what we couldn’t. She’s -laughed at us too long, the hussy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She faced the answering uproar and laughed afresh -at them. “Little Nita does what she promises,” she -said, pointing to the caves above. “Hardcastle has -gone in to find his wanton, and she’s with him there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They fell back then, muttering, and her tongue -whipped them as of old.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve trapped them for you—and you whine and -skulk here asking questions. They’d be out of the -trap by now, if I hadn’t picked ten from among you to -guard the caves—ten who shaped more like men than -rabbits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Art lying, Nita, as of old?” growled Murgatroyd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again she pointed to the black mouth that gashed -the fells. And now in the keen light they saw ten of -theirs moving to and fro about the cave-front, and a -great shout went up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a moment they were racing pell-mell up the slope, -save for Nita and Widow Mathison, who kept the -Garsykes inn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re coming to see Logie’s end?” asked Nita, -looking back after she had started to follow her men -at leisure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said the widow. “I’ve too much flesh on -my bones to care for hill-climbing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A light shone in the basket-weaver’s eyes—the light -of thunder skies that ripen to full-blooded tempest. -Merciless, brooding long, her spite against Logie had -come to victory. But more than that went to this -mood of Nita’s. By mother’s milk and father’s -training she had been taught that Garsykes had -striven for centuries out of mind to tumble Logie’s -pride to ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you not come, widow?” she asked. -“There’ll be such sport as was never seen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m too fat, I tell you. I should sweat myself -to death in climbing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“More’s the pity, for you’d look on at what men long -dead in Garsykes hungered to see. It was left to -little Nita to bring Logie down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she mocked the widow’s grossness, and went -up the breast of the fells. And Widow Mathison got -heavily to a spur of the rising ground that gave her a -better outlook on the caves. She remembered how -Hardcastle had brought her lad from the wet of the -slimy marshes and given him back to her on a night -not long gone by. Nothing could ever bridge that -debt she owed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She listened to the roar of Garsykes voices, saw Nita -going tireless up the slope; and the tears ran amain -down the furrows of her plump, good-natured face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We could spare most on Logie-side,” she sobbed, -“but not its Master.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap21'>CHAPTER XXI</h1></div> - -<h3>THE POOL</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had gone into the black jaws of -the cave without pause or thought of what -ambushes might lie in wait. Causleen was -here, and nothing mattered till he reached her. What -he had suffered, since first he declined to give tribute, -was child’s play measured by the agony of question -that drove him forward. Causleen was somewhere -in the gloom ahead. He was sure of finding her—yes, -but in what evil plight? With that thought came -crimson bands of flame that danced ahead. Nita -would have found vengeance sweet almost to cloying -if she had been with him in this hour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm pressed close against him as he went with -lighted candle along the narrow track, turning his -head constantly to escape the dripping limestone -spears that menaced from the roof.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No wind stirred in the cavern. It was a breeze of -his own making that flickered the candle-glow this -way and that, throwing little, fantastic shadow-shapes -of gnomes and pixies on the rough ground beneath -his feet. He hurried forward, crying to Causleen, and a -troop of voices answered the cry, breaking it into -tangled echoes that mocked at him from roof and slimy -walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seemed to Hardcastle that a year went by before -the mockery ceased, and another voice ran echoing -through the cave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Dick, come back. Come back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He fancied himself distraught. The voice sounded -from behind—not from the shadowed track ahead, -where fancy had painted havoc unbelievable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm, whimpering with joy, left him suddenly, -and again he asked himself if it was all a nightmare. -Would he wake in his bed at Logie, with reek of smoke -in his nostrils and knowledge that the Lost Folk were -firing the house again? He longed to wake; for -Causleen would be safe behind him, and all the flames -in front.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he stood bewildered, Storm’s eager whine sounded -close, and then he came with Causleen into the sputtering -candlelight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They told me——” said Hardcastle, and could -get no further.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Nita lied—and I’m here—and, Dick, come back -before they take us both.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw a red gash across her cheek, and drew her -to him. “Garskyes did that?” he snarled, wolfish -as any of the Broken Folk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was so dark when I followed you and Storm, and -I blundered against something cold and hard—it -seemed like a knife hanging from the roof—and I went -slowly after that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She let herself shelter awhile in the roomy haven of -his arms, then withdrew restlessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s so little time if we’re to get away. Nita -went to rouse the village, and they may be coming up -already.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle brushed past her in the narrow track, -bidding her follow slowly with Storm as he hurried to -the cavern-mouth. He halted on the threshold. The -steep, empty brink-field stretched in front. No sound -came, except the hoarse cry of a hoodie crow wheeling -overhead. So then he stepped into the open. Ten -of the Wilderness People, lurking out of sight, sprang -at him in a body, and only his preparedness for some -such ambush saved him. With the alertness of one -lighter and more supple in the build, he leaped back -into the cave’s friendly dark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One from Garsykes could not check his own forward -rush, and followed willy-nilly. Hardcastle closed with -him—the roof was high enough for a tall man to -stand upright—and his grip was so prolonged and terrible -that Causleen could hear the rogue’s bones crack -one by one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle took the broken body, using it for -shield, and went out a step or two and threw his burden -among the nine who still remained.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Firstfruits,” he said, and turned as a wild uproar -rang across the slope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The barren pasture was swarming now with men. -There was no chance of escape in front, and again -Hardcastle leaped back across the threshold. A soft -hand found his, and a brave voice whispered in his -ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hurt, Dick? Are you hurt at all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; but one of Garsykes is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hand withdrew. She feared Hardcastle of -Logie—feared his exultation, the hard breathing, as of -a wild-beast that fought for love of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Outside the cavern, not ten yards from them, -a raucous din began, stilled presently by Nita’s -voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s what Hardcastle has left of Jake,” came a -quavering answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You fools. I got him caged for you. I left ten -to take one as he came out with the pedlar’s brat, -thinking they had a clear run to safety. And it’s -all miscarried at the start.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bade us take Hardcastle alive,” growled -another of the nine. “But for that, we could have -stoned him to death as if he’d been a conie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An easy death, and I’d planned otherwise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again Causleen’s hand crept into Hardcastle’s. -The bleak venom in Nita’s voice, the lousy uproar of -the mob so near them, put fierce gladness in her that -Hardcastle had gone wild-beast, too.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The low, purring voice sounded again, daunting the -uproar till it ceased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was to be sport for Garsykes. If ten had -taken one—alive, to watch the frolic—we’d have -seen how he took it when I threw Causleen to our -wolves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, in the darkness of the cave, gripped -Causleen to him; and it was a marvel to her that his -fierceness broke no bones this time. The wet roof -dripped on them. Their only hope lay in retreat -along dank, ghost-haunted passages. Yet, deep under -all, they tasted swift content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One of the ten is dead,” Nita’s voice was bitter -as mid-winter now. “The nine left shall give us sport.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still closer Causleen’s hand crept into Hardcastle’s. -This was no puppet-game they played, of food and -ease and the day’s routine. It was full life together, -with death yapping at a gate they would not yield.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A babel of question sounded from outside, asking -Nita what should be done with the nine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall drive them into the cave—to take him -there, if they can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle put Causleen behind him—roughly, and -with haste—and stooped for his fowling-piece. And -when Storm brushed against him, growling to be in the -thick of what was coming, he forced him back to guard -the mistress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A squealing followed, and Hardcastle, looking out -into the sunlight, saw the nine driven forward by their -fellows till one by one they plunged into the cave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he lifted his fowling-piece, and snapped the -trigger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two Garsykes Men in front fell riddled with shot, -blocking the narrow way, and those behind rushed out -in panic, a prey for their own fellows. What fate -befell them, Causleen could only guess; but their -shrieks and the roar of ribald oaths were so appalling -that she put both hands about her ears, striving to -keep out the din.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A lull followed, and Hardcastle spoke no word, but -stood listening to the mutterings of the enemy. Once -he turned to put his hand on Causleen’s shoulder, and -once to quieten Storm, then returned to silent waiting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita’s voice sounded again, peremptory and clear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve tasted blood, my braves, though it’s not -Logie’s. And the taste of blood makes men even out -of such poor stuff as you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They growled at her, but Hardcastle knew that she -had them at her bidding—knew, too, that she meant -each word to reach the darkness of his prison, for sapping -of his courage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“D’ye think he of Logie is built of magic, instead of -flesh and sinew? Is he a giant too big for all Garsykes -to keep in a cave, once they’ve got him there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She mocked them, cajoled, tempted what red blood -they shared between them to mount to fever heat; and -Hardcastle, listening, admitted grimly that her tongue -was a she-devil’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ten failed me, and they’ll walk Garsykes street no -more. They lost you the sport I promised—but we -still have Hardcastle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And his wanton,” hiccoughed a rough voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Long Murgatroyd spoke there,” muttered Hardcastle, -with still remembrance of meetings they had -shared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And his wanton.” Nita’s laugh was soft and -girlish. “It was not the honeymoon I’d planned, but -it does well enough. We shall keep them there till the -ghosts drive them mad—or till thirst and hunger teach -them what a little thing love is. And their flesh will -rot, Garsykes Men, till the water drips on their bare -bones at last. And so much for Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot bear it, Dick,” pleaded Causleen. “She -is so evil—so evil—and God does not strike her down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you ready, child?” asked Hardcastle, with -great gentleness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ready?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nita spoke truth. There’s no way out of this, -except by the mouth they’re guarding. We shall die, -and I’d have it that way, if needs must—and if we’re -together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say that again, Dick—<span class='it'>if we’re together</span>—and, Dick, -fear has gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Quiet absolute held outside, and Hardcastle’s mind -went back to many silences that Garsykes had put on -him. Those waiting-times at Logie had seemed chill -and harsh enough, but not as this was terrible. His -own house had been about him then, the forest and -the wind-sweet uplands, and he had liberty to come -and go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a long while no stir of life sounded from without, -till the frosty gloaming settled on what little he could -see of the brink-field. Then again he fancied himself -in a nightmare’s grip, for the two whose bodies lay -prone at the entry, blocking the lower half, began to -move backward with rough, convulsive twists and -turns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The horror of it—this watching dead men come to -life—yielded to stark common-sense as muffled curses -stole inward and he guessed that some of the Garsykes -sort had crept on hands and knees to draw out his -victims. His re-loaded gun was useless, for the living -sheltered behind the dead, and he could only wait till -the cave-mouth was clear, and all the gloaming pasture -empty save for Nita’s voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is well done. I may tire of waiting till they -die of the ghosts and hunger. The way must be -free.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle drew Causleen round the first bend of the -cave-track. His wits were keen as a razor’s edge, as he -stilled Storm’s yearning to be out and at the throats of -the besiegers. If they could not live, they three, they -must make preparations to die with seemliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s one chance left,” he said. “When dark -comes, I’ll take Storm, and together we’ll stampede -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can win out in the confusion, and home to -Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Dick. And what of you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As if that mattered, child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But if—if it mattered everything?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they came near to bitter quarrel, there as they -waited for the sunset glow to die across the hills that -seemed lost to them for ever. Then Hardcastle had his -way, taking Storm with him round the bend; and she -had her way, following with mute-footed disobedience, -till they came in sight of the cave’s mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A crimson that was not of dawn or sunset flared -through the entry. The reek of a fire built of pine-wood -and heather was blown indoors by a wet, -gusty wind, and its heat drove inward, licking the -cave-walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Across the flare and cackle, Hardcastle saw men -dancing with women of the village in frank abandonment. -Wild-beast laughter made the music for their -feet, and all that had been in Garsykes, since the first -cut-throat settled there, was loosened down the ladder -of the centuries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When for a moment they were tired of their devilry, -Nita’s voice rang clear and low across the spurting -flames.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I sing of Logie to you? Hardcastle flouted -me once, but it is my turn now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that she sang a ballad in the Garsykes tongue, -that was a bastard child of the true Romany speech, -and her people, fantastic in the fireglow, roared with -applause when it was ended. They knew its meaning, -though Hardcastle could only guess how foul and -sinister it was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita laughed at their plaudits, and was grave again. -“Why did I want the cave cleared of its dead? Because -every long while I shall persuade one of ours to go -in and see how it fares with our true lovers. Ah, you -back away at that, do you? Then two shall go—carrying -one man’s pluck between them—and they’ll -creep forward on unshod feet, making no sound. -Hardcastle will not know when to look for them, and an -hour will seem a month in yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Do as he might, fear of the waiting-time ahead was -creeping over Hardcastle like the tide of a quiet sea. -Each word of Nita’s reached him—as she meant it -should—with an overmastering sense of prophecy and -doom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took Causleen’s hand in his, and together they -went, with slow, nagging caution, along the twisting -track, Storm following. To light a candle now was to -waste what would be needed later on, and would make -them a plain mark for pursuit. They had to feel like -blind people for the rocky spears descending from the -roof. They stumbled on rubble dropped from the same -roof, and every now and then a bat brushed their faces -with a sudden, silky dread.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle halted often to ask Storm if he heard -aught behind them, and the dog gave a gruff “all’s -well.” Then, as a roar of waters sounded near ahead, -Hardcastle remembered the far-off day when he had -come, a boy, into this forbidden cave. The very thrill -of it returned—part fear, most of it eager courage—as -he lit his candle and went forward warily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a slippery crossing, child,” he said, coming with -her to a torrent that came from heaven knew where on -the high moors and dipped into this underworld with -foaming speed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She crept closer to him as she looked at the sliding -waters, at the rocky ledge above—scarce a foot’s -breadth—that was the only bridge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Courage,” said Hardcastle. “It’s a short way to -go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hand was brave in his as they made the crossing, -with one slip that nearly hurled them into the bellowing -flood below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s good so far,” he said. “We’ve put the -stream between the Garsykes Men and us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And afterwards?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Death, I fancy; but we’re together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hand tightened its grip. He was altogether -hers, and this evil road they took tested his caring at -every turn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both forgot Storm, till a whimpering came from the -far side of the stream. Fearless in a score of ways, the -look of the narrow bridge, wet in the candlelight, -daunted him. Time after time he tried to foot it and -withdrew, afraid of the cauldron underneath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle gave the flickering candle to Causleen, -and crossed the bridge again, and took Storm on his -shoulders, telling him to cease wriggling unless he -meant to overbalance both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She watched that crossing, short as it was, as if its -length reached through an eternity of suffering. -Storm’s bulk was no light burden for a man treading -slippery rocks. At every step Hardcastle blundered -and recovered—blundered so wildly over the last of the -crossing that he had to take a sheer leap across the -torrent, to land safely on the further brink.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook Storm from his shoulders, and cuffed him -soundly. “There’s no room here for fools, my lad,” -he grumbled. “Why could you not keep still?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm pressed against him with mute penitence, and -after the Master had stayed to get his breath again the -three went forward. The ground underfoot was so -broken now that Hardcastle kept the candle burning, -and by its light they saw presently that they had come -to a place of skulls—human skulls, grinning from a -tangled heap of bones. They lay in a circle to the right -of the track, where it widened for a space, and they were -no good sight for folk oppressed already with a sense -of doom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How could they harm us?” said Hardcastle, -with harsh levity. “They’ve been dead too long -for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet, while he spoke, Storm began to shiver as with -ague. His limbs refused their work, and his bristling -hide was dank with sweat. Causleen, her Highland -other-sight stirred suddenly, was next aware that they -stood in an underworld of ghosts, till Hardcastle himself -was shaken, remembering many legends that were -rife about the moorside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come away,” he said, gripping Storm by the -collar and dragging him by force beyond the peopled -silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The candle burned more wanly now. The thick, -dead air cumbered their going, and they were drenched -as with intolerable heat, though the caves were damp -and chill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have we far to go?” asked Causleen faintly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, seeing a low slab of rock that jutted -into the track, guided her to it and kept his arm -about her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d forgotten you needed rest,” he said, with grave -gentleness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cool air, now that no effort was asked, revived -her weariness. “I have no fear, Dick—except that -the journey may be too long for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a long journey for us both. There’s no hope -at all of winning out, Causleen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She touched his sleeve with a caress so soft, so all-revealing, -that his hardihood was near to breaking. -“Such dreams I’ve had—of us two, and Logie, and the -summer days to come. And now they’re over—but -you are with me, Dick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dared not break the silence. So steadfastly her -spirit marched with his, that he thought of the rough -welcome he had given her when she first came to Logie. -So close they stood together now, that suddenly death -took new shape and substance. If there were to be no -mating-days with Causleen up at Logie, they must find -them in some world beyond.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where would you have me go? I am strong again,” -she asked by and by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once more, saying no word, he took her by the hand, -and they crept through the dank, lifeless air, over the -broken ground. Here and there the light glinted on -flint arrow-heads—fashioned, maybe, by the folk -whose skulls had peered at them not long ago—and his -thoughts raced back to the day when Pedlar Donald -found the token on Logie’s gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was sick with defeat. He had carried his head -high above the Garsykes challenge, had gone through -peril of the roads by night and day. And this was the -finish of it all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s hand gripped his with instant sympathy, -answering his mood. “Logie’s honour still goes safe,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It still goes safe,” was all he answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The track wound downward now, till it turned -sharply, and Causleen gave a stifled cry. They had -come to the brink of a lake whose waters glinted smooth -and glossy in the candlelight. The silence they had -passed through seemed almost friendly, compared with -the nether dumbness of this pool, deep beyond knowledge, -windless, asleep with its living and its dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A strange beguiling came about them. Once again -they knew what Nita had meant when she spoke of -their death by hunger—or the ghosts. The pool called -them, though the silence was unbroken. Hands reached -out to draw them down, though they saw none. And -Storm stood whimpering like a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, by sheer sweat of will, drew Causleen—and -himself—from the alluring depths.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the end of our journey, when worst comes to -worst,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me, Dick. It is better I should know—just -all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ll creep on us, soon or late. And they shall -not have us, child. The pool is cleaner than the -Garsykes sort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He led her over the broad causeway bordering the -lake, and as they neared its end she looked down and -recoiled. Hardcastle, following her glance, saw a stirring -of the waters that gathered strength till wavelets -licked the rock-track, and mounted till they broke -across their feet. The flickering light showed them a -great, sinewy back that threshed itself to fury. They -glimpsed for a moment the face of something half fish, -half devil, and Hardcastle himself recoiled now, drawing -Causleen close against the wet precipice. He was -in the grip of a cavern that sheltered primeval ghosts -and age-old, living things, and the heart went out of -him for one sick moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whatever monster lurked in the bottomless waters, -it had plunged deep out of sight again, and the -back-wash of its going drenched the three of them -with chill, spumey spray. Storm cried piteously, -till Hardcastle, with a rough oath, cuffed him into -silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their candle, held high above the spray, flickered and -went out, and Hardcastle let it fall, knowing his tinder-box -was drenched and useless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is the end of all?” asked Causleen, reaching -for his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The end. Nita will send her swine—be sure of -that—and they might take you, child, after I was -beyond aiming another blow. But it’s in my heart to -kill another Garsykes Man or two before we go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her grasp tightened. He had spoken quietly, without -haste, as if he were reckoning the chances of the -weather when they mowed the hay at Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would not fear the pool, Dick—or the dark—if -we’d not seen what lurked there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better even that than Garsykes,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She crept nearer to him, and they stood there on the -brink of dread, waiting for death. The lake still lapped -and gurgled at its rocks. Storm whined fitfully, afraid -of things more terrible than his second-sight had ever -glimpsed on the wildest moorland nights. He had seen -Habatrot go by, and the Heather Dwarf, and the dog -shaggy as himself—the dog known as Guytrash, that -waited on lonely gates and frightened his own kin, who -shuddered by and would have none of usual, honest -fight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Storm, as he shared this night watch with his chosen -two, longed for the moor-winds and the sky. Nothing -he had found there—the worst of it—was like this -sick, clammy air, peopled with foul shapes of the -underworld.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is beyond?” asked Causleen by and by. -“Cannot we get further down the track?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew that she was thinking of the pool’s occupant, -was dreading its return. One hand still held his -fowling-piece above the wet. The other closed on hers -with a grip quiet and resolute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A few yards would bring us to the end.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He humoured her, and they crept forward slowly -round the bend that Hardcastle remembered from the -far-off day when he had travelled the cave’s length. -Then he had had candlelight to help. Now he had -none; and from the very lack, hope came to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he turned the bend, the darkness seemed to grow -less heavy. He crept on, feeling the way with his one -free hand, till a gentle glow began to steal between the -rocks that hemmed them in; and with a bound his -mind returned, as Storm’s had done, to the free moor’s -overhead. So it had been when he set out on stark, -mid-winter nights to cross the heath on foot—nothing -at all to see in front at the start, but presently a gleam -of grey that showed a filmy track ahead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His grip on Causleen’s hand tightened till she winced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Dick?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not know,” he said, harsh in this moment of -swift, unlooked for hope. He had had many such, and -feared to lose it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The track brought them soon to the rock-wall that -had seemed impenetrable when Hardcastle, as a lad, had -held his candle-flare to its wet face. The candle’s flame -had been stronger than the grey-blue gleams that broke -now into the blank and utter darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Down the wall’s face they ran, these gleams, in -soft, ever-moving rivulets that were narrow and -broad by turns, criss-crossing like the hurry of a -water-slide.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fearing almost to put hope to the test, Hardcastle -stretched out his hand into the grey-blue gleam where -it ran widest. His hand passed through it. His -eager fingers reached beyond the wall’s fancied -thickness and closed on it. He dragged an inch -or two of rotted stone away, and turned with -guarded triumph.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We may outwit both Garsykes and the pool,” he -said.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap22'>CHAPTER XXII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE END OF STORM</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>By her silence, by the sob that followed, Hardcastle -learned the measure of Causleen’s dread of what -lay behind them. He learned, too, the depth -of his fear for her—a terror that ate still at his heart -and goaded him to effort. The very chance of release, -the nearness of it, made him the more eager to win -through with haste, lest Garsykes came at them just -too soon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cave drives us mad,” said Causleen, light-headed -for a moment between strain of fear and stress -of hope. “How can there be little threads of light, -stealing from outside—from God’s good out of doors, -Dick? It’s night out there, except for the fire that -Nita lit, far away. Surely it was far away. We’ve -journeyed many a mile since then.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, seeing how it went with her, put a firm -hand on hers. “Would you faint at journey’s end? -And where’s your Highland pride?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He loathed himself for saying it, though it brought -her back from sickness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here, Dick,” she said, and was quiet awhile. -“Here, Dick,” she said again, her whole body quivering -with release from dread. “There are Highland pipers -stepping down the cave—and pride marches with -them. But we two are mad to dream that light -comes from out of doors. How could it? We -watched the sun go down—years since—before Nita -lit her fire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again he was compelled to rally her. She had gone -through more than should be asked of any woman; but -needs must that she kept weariness at bay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a wall to be broken down,” he said sharply. -“Take my gun, Causleen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The command steadied her again. Obediently she -took the fowling-piece and watched him tear at the -rock-wall, getting his fingers in where the grey-blue -light rippled at its widest. Piece after piece of wet-worn -rock crumbled to his grasp, till he got his arm -through at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen saw a broader stream of light break softly -through the dark. Storm, the sheep-slayer, was -pressing his rough snout against her, and somehow he, -like the Master, brought courage home again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can the light break through?” she asked, as -a child might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced back from the sweat of his toil. -“There’s a full moon on Logie-side, and we’re winning -fast to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, God be thanked,” said Causleen. “And shall -we see the hills again, Dick, and hear the winds go by?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With luck, we shall,” said Hardcastle, riving at the -wall-face afresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was checked now by a thicker and less yielding -slab of rock. Tug as he would, his grip was powerless -to widen the breach, and again the sense of desperate -haste returned. They were so near freedom, but behind -them was all the stealth of Garsykes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He felt about in the rubble at his feet till his hands -closed on a round boulder-stone, and with this he -hammered feverishly wherever a crack showed. He -was steaming now with the effort, and the slender -breeze that drifted in through the opening he had -made, did little to relieve the cavern’s dank, lifeless -air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last there was an answer to his toil. The cracks -broadened suddenly, and the next hard blow brought -a mass of splintered stones to ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle went at it with fresh, dogged hope. Slow -as the work was, he could get one shoulder through -the opening now, and the thought came, across the dull -confusion of his mind, that Causleen needed a narrower -doorway out than he. Another fall like the last, and -she could creep sideways into safety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thought was food and drink to his strength. -Once she was safe, the worst was passed; and Storm -and he, surely, could hold this narrow way till no pursuit -could reach her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once more he fell to hammering wherever the blue-grey -moonlight showed a crack, but the reward was -long in coming; and, as he rested for a moment from -sheer lack of breath, Storm broke the quiet with a low, -purring growl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No ghosts were troubling the sheep-slayer now, -So much was plain. His hide was stiff, not with dread, -but with eagerness to be at the throat of some menace -threatening from behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle quietened him with one sharp whisper, -and took the gun from Causleen’s hands. Then -he pushed his fowling-piece into the gloom, and -waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Twice Storm growled, so low that Hardcastle could -scarcely catch the note. And still they waited—bond-brothers, -side by side—for what was coming through -the stealthy dark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle felt a bulk of flesh steal against the -muzzle of his gun, and plucked the trigger. The back-throw—not -of the butt against his shoulder, but the -answering uproar of the cave’s low roof—drove him -staggering back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two had come against them, it seemed. He heard -Storm’s eager yelp, a man’s sudden scream of anguish, -and an answering howl from Storm. And then there -came a din of falling rocks, a rush of clean, cold wind -that brought a flood of moonlight with it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you safe, Causleen?” he cried through his -dizziness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A low voice answered. “That was your first -thought? Yes, I’m safe, Dick—doubly safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her touch made light of hardship. Two more of -Nita’s men were blocking the cavern behind them with -their dead, ill-kempt bodies, and there was time -enough now to hack a way through for Causleen -and himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he turned to batter at the rock-face again, he -found the work done already. The gunfire shock that -had driven him back and roared loud as an earthquake -in the narrow space, had probed into every crevice of a -barrier near to falling long ago. The way now lay open -to them, over broken rocks that showed fantastic in the -moon-glow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, exultant, was reaching for her hand, to -guide her through the wreckage, when he remembered -Storm and whistled sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A snout was pushed against his knee, and he reached -down to pat the dog’s rough hide.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re as drenched with sweat as I am, lad,” he -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Storm was, though he had no speech to tell them -that the sweat ran crimson. He had killed his man, -but in the doing had taken a knife-wound that raked -half down his body.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t whimper. Storm,” murmured Causleen. -“The cave’s full of ghosts, I know, but we’re free -of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheep-slayer whimpered no more. With extreme -pain he followed them across the broken way, till they -reached smooth going again. Storm was not sure that -they were free, and to the last edge of his strength he -meant to guard these two.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle saw now a wide arch of moonlight close -ahead. He could hazard no guess as to the corner of -Logie-land that it opened on. He did not care, -for beyond it lay the free sky and the fells; and -whatever battle waited would not be clogged by -prison walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before they had covered half the short way to liberty, -Causleen’s hand gripped his with sudden dread. Behind -them was a rumble, as of thunder, followed by a -cracking and a rending overhead. Hardcastle, it -seemed, when he first made space enough to get a -shoulder through the barrier, had loosened the frail -keystone of the roof, and they were stifled by the dust -and uproar of the falling rocks behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He drew Causleen sharply back and through the -moonlit opening, and Storm had scarcely struggled -after them when a second tumult sounded from -the cave behind, and a pile of shattered rocks came -crashing to the very mouth by which they had -escaped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hardcastle, his arm round Causleen still, drew -a deep breath and glanced in silence at the moonlight -flooding all the land in front. He had not known -how sweet and all-sufficing a night wind could be, -had never tasted until now the fullest joy in sight—sight -to see the strong free spaces of his own good -country-side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For awhile he did not care to ask where they were -standing. It was enough to remember the cave’s -unclean nightmare, and to wash in this swift moorland -air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The joy of it,” sobbed Causleen, her head against -his sleeve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now he remembered that joy was apt to be -short-lived, with Garsykes as close neighbour. For -aught he knew, Nita and the men who watched the -bonfire at the other entry might be close at hand. The -track through the cavern, long as it was, twisted so -constantly that it might have led them back within a -stone’s throw of the start.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glanced this way and that, listening. No sound -came, save the wind’s voice, till a screech-owl hooted -from somewhere far below. A raven’s sleepy croak -answered. That was all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood on a spur of pasture-land that dipped -sharply down in front, and Hardcastle went forward -in search of landmarks. Moonlight is apt to play -strange tricks with the most familiar hills and cloughs; -but he could not mistake the ravine that gaped below, -black with shadow under the radiance that lit its upper -banks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw where it narrowed at Nevison’s Leap, and -where it broadened to the mist-white flats. And, -beyond again, Pengables Hill looked out at him with -the gaze of an old and proven friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re in Drumly Ghyll, sweetheart,” he said, “and -a clear road home for us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A yelp of pain sounded from behind—so sharp, so -strong with anguish, that joy in freedom went from -them. They turned to see Storm dragging himself -forward, wincing at every step, and Hardcastle ran -back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sheep-slayer paused a moment, to gather -his failing strength. Then he got his forepaws -up to the Master’s shoulders, with a farewell that -gushed crimson, licked his face once and then fell -back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, the good brute,” said Hardcastle, with a grim, -sudden oath. “His hunting days are over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s not dead?” Causleen pleaded, knowing the -futility of what she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not hear, and her own sorrow was checked for -a moment at sight of his. In silence and in grief he -stood looking down at this lost comrade who had been -with him through the long, unequal fight of Logie -against the Wilderness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can’t leave him here to the corbie-crows,” -he growled at last—“or for the Garsykes sort to -mock at.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen’s tears were running fast as she knelt beside -the gaunt, still body. “Storm, come back,” she -whispered. “You’re too brave and dear to die like -this. We need you, Storm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle watched her in gloomy silence, till -thought of all she had gone through overmastered -him with a sharp rush of pity. He lifted her with -a strength that was persuasion, too, and held her -close.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d rather have it this way, child. He died for -Logie—not at Brant’s hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She smiled wanly through her tears. “He had -his faults—but I—I shall miss him. He used to -come to the cupboard under the stair—so wise and -penitent, Dick, so loyal—and now he’ll never come -again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He put her from him, with the same gentle -strength, and shouldered what was left of Storm. -Then he went down into Drumly Ghyll, and presently -returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you done with him?” she asked -piteously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He lies deep in Cobblers’ Gully, safe from crows and -foxes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor Storm,” she said, and was silent. Then, -“Did you send a prayer with him?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do I know of praying? He’s gone, and part -of me went with him, somehow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They said no more as they went down together -through the midnight of Drumly Ghyll—its high walls -closing round them like another cave of dread—and out -into the moonlit lowlands. It was only when they -came near to Logie Bridge and all its memories -that Causleen broke down again, remembering -Storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He lies so lonely, Dick, up there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Storm hadn’t much of a life on this side. He was -glad to go, maybe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So then Causleen knew that a prayer had gone with -the dead dog into Cobblers’ Gully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went together up the steep, winding road to -Logie—its guardian beeches comely in their winter’s -nakedness—and at the bend they encountered Rebecca—the -brindled cat snarling on her shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it your ghost, Master?” she quavered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A fairly solid ghost, Rebecca.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then God be thanked, say I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was old, and shaken by her vigil. Her hair was -driven by the breeze into grey, wispish threads; but her -eyes, even in the tempering moonlight, showed like -pools of living fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feared there’d be no home-coming for you two,” -she said, the tang returning to her voice already—“especially -when Brant and Michael Draycott came -back with the tale of what they’d seen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What should they know about the cave?” asked -Hardcastle, with tired wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What I chose to tell Brant when he stumped into -my kitchen, a half-hour after you’d gone, and grumbled -that Storm had taken another ewe of his in the night. -‘I wouldn’t worrit about that,’ says I. ‘Garsykes -has taken the Master, and I’m nigh out o’ my wits.’ -That sobered the shepherd.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She touched Hardcastle, to make sure that he was -in the flesh before her, then told, in tart, brief speech, -how Shepherd Brant had gone to raise Logie-side -against the Wilderness—how all its strapping yeomen, -except Michael Draycott, were at Skipton market—how -Michael and Brant had stolen down to the Garsykes -hollow, to see if they could put a fight up, and had -found a company of devils dancing with Nita round a -fire at the cave’s mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tired as he was, needing food and drink, and sleep’s -forgetting of the cave, the Master warmed to Rebecca’s -tale. There were two men at least who had cared to -rouse the Dale for him and all that Logie stood for.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They came back here,” said Rebecca, “for bite -and sup before they left again to meet the Logie Men -as they rode home from market. I wouldn’t daunt -their spirit by telling ’em there was a full moon, and -our men by that token would come late, with a plenty -of good ale inside them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That same full moon, Rebecca,” said Hardcastle, -with chastened humour, “showed us the way out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She listened, her lean, old body tense with eagerness, -as he told what had chanced. Then she was no longer -the woman who had waited, every fear on edge, for news -that could only be evil, so it had seemed through the -long waiting-time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Master was home again, tall and limber, though -his coat was drenched with blood. His old laugh was -in the front of hardship. He was glad, with a clean, -hard joy, to have brought Causleen safe to Logie, after -all, through moil of the Garsykes Men. And Rebecca -was glad with him—fiercely glad that the Wilderness -had been outwitted once again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every sorrow she had known, since her own man died -for Logie forty years ago, returned now to this grey -henchwoman of the house—the wedded days she should -have had, the bairns that might have been—and hate -of Garsykes swept through her like a tempest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she saw the Master and Causleen glance at each -other with such silent, all-sufficing knowledge that -jealousy chilled her to the bone. Why should they -come in their young, insolent strength, and flaunt their -caring in her face?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brindled cat was in ill-humour, too. All day he -had wandered from house to stable-yard in search of his -boon-comrade, Storm, and now the friendly reek of him -stole out from Hardcastle’s drenched coat. Jonah -leaped from Rebecca’s shoulder, and purred and -growled by turns, reaching up to sniff the scent that was -Storm’s, but with a cold, dismaying difference. Then -the cat neither growled nor purred. All the life -seemed to dwindle in him. The fur, stiff with battle, -fell limp and draggled, and he mewed with piteous -appeal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gone away, Jonah,” said Hardcastle, a queer break -in his voice. “Storm’s sleeping up the fells.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap23'>CHAPTER XXIII</h1></div> - -<h3>THE QUIET WEDDING</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The Garsykes Folk had grown tired of guarding the -cave mouth. For a night, and half the next -day, Nita’s tongue had whipped them into -watchfulness; and when they were growing out of hand -at last, she made light of what Hardcastle could do to -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get you in first, Long Murgatroyd,” she gibed. -“What with the ghosts and the silence, we’ve tamed -Hardcastle by this time. You needn’t fear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd fetched a laugh up, big as his body. -“If you’ll come with me,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The devil in her warmed to what she would find, -somewhere along the track in yonder. To see Hardcastle -distraught with fear and hunger—to have him -cringe to her for the means of safety—that was the -dream she had woven into her baskets for many a -month gone by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took Murgatroyd’s hand, with a light and eager -smile, and together they went into the cavern whose -every winding was known to the rabble that followed -with shrill, raucous jests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had candles in plenty, to scare the ghosts away; -but somehow their laughter grew afraid of itself, and -died out in eerie echoes, passed on from the wet spear-points -of rock that came straight, like arrows, from the -roof above. Then the whole cavern was filled with -rolling murmurs that passed on their oaths into the -everywhere beyond; but Nita kept them trudging -forward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They crossed the torrent. No trace of life showed, -no sign of struggle. And now they reached the lake, -and Nita paused at its brink, looking down into its -unstirred waters. Were Hardcastle and the pedlar’s -brat lying there, she wondered? But, if that had -chanced, why had two Garsykes Men not returned—the -two she had sent with knives to kill Hardcastle and -torture Causleen?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One question was answered speedily, as she and Murgatroyd -turned the bend of the track and saw two -huddled shapes blocking their way. Murgatroyd -roared with sudden terror, but Nita, laughing at him, -held her candle low above the dismaying sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man shot by Hardcastle at close quarters showed -less ghastly than his fellow, for the charge had gone -through him like a single bullet; but the other lay face -up to the roof, and Storm’s fury was plain about his -tortured throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” growled the men behind, catching -panic from Murgatroyd’s bellow of affright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two of ours that could well be spared,” said Nita, -and stepped on the fallen, and went forward for a pace -or two.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” came the uneasy question again as -they heard a sharp cry escape her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The end of Logie. Come see it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They gathered courage from the exultation; and -those who could press into the new cavern, formed to -the left hand of the track, lifted a score of candles to -what had been the end of their rock-fastness. The -straight-faced barrier they had known was now a mad -confusion of rocks broken into shapes fantastic, terrible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s their marriage-bed,” said Nita, her voice -childest in its gentleness—“Hardcastle’s and his -wanton’s. Did I say there’d be an end of Logie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man was always a bit of a fool,” growled -Murgatroyd, recovering from his panic. “I reckon he -loosed his fowling-piece on one o’ the two we trod on. -A toddling Garsykes kid could have told him what it -’ud do to pent-in walls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Nita, treading on light feet, led her men back -through the cave, and out into the sweet upland air of -afternoon, she took them straight to Widow Mathison’s -inn, and left them there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drink your fill, now Logie’s gone,” she said, and -went up into the fells.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Near dusk she returned, and called them out from the -ale that had merried them—called them into the -cobbled street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Nita wise?” she asked softly. “Did she -promise Logie’s end?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They roared an answer, and suddenly she fell to -dancing for their pleasure. The last crimson of the -sunset flared down and over from Pengables Hill, and -lit her slender paces and her slender limbs. As her -fingers wove dark magic into the baskets she sold down -and up the Dale, her whole body now snared and enticed -the men she loathed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then once more she left them, going fleet-footed as a -deer up the darkening fells, and came to her cottage -where the little fir-wood rustled in the breeze. She -slept as a tired child might, and soon after dawn went -to her bath in the pool within the wood. Then she took -the fell-track to Logie, and came to the open door of -Rebecca’s kitchen, and stood there, darkening the -wintry sunlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Master has not returned?” she asked softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca had looked for some such visit, and glanced -up from dusting the china dogs on the chimney-shelf. -“Not yet. But what is that to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He followed the pedlar’s girl into the cave, they tell -me, and neither will come back, I fear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there’s still me and the brindled cat left, and -we’ll see to Logie. Tell Garsykes from me, you basket-weaving -trollop, that I’ll comb ’em with the thick end -of a besom if they try their pranks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita could make nothing of the woman, so hard, so -unmoved by the Master’s fate. “Have you no -fear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, for such as you, once my fingers get about you. -You’d best be gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita tarried only for one last shaft before she fled -from the other’s truculence. “The Master’s gone. -And old Rebecca’s wits have gone. It’s the rarest -day that Garsykes ever saw.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe,” muttered Rebecca, as she got to her -dusting again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She knew how, after their safe return from the cave, -Hardcastle had left Causleen in her care while he went -up the moonlit road to join Shepherd Brant in his -waiting for the Logie yeomen to return from market. -She knew how he had probed under their lazy tribute-giving -by plain recital of what had happened in the cave, -and had pledged them to guard Logie whenever he -himself had need to tide abroad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now the Master had ridden over-hill to Skipton, -on an errand that she guessed; and Causleen herself -lay in the room above, in a dead sleep of weariness that -was saving life and reason after the hell she had passed -through in the cavern.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re the one spoil-sport among us, my brindled -cat,” she snapped, as Jonah mewed about her skirts. -“I loved old Storm myself; but he’s gone, and you -can’t mew him back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For an hour she went about her work, then grew as -restless as Jonah himself. It was time the Master was -home again, and he tarried. What if, at the end of his -rough journey through the cave, his horse had thrown -him somewhere between this and Skipton? Life, as -she knew it, had that apeish way of letting folk -go safe through harsh odds, only to crack thin skulls -against a moorland boulder as they rode quietly -home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Keenly as Rebecca listened for the tip-tap of hoofs -up the road, Causleen heard it first. She wakened from -a sleep befogged by peddling days, and memories of the -harsh greeting she had found once at Logie—sleep -threaded through and through by flame-red memories -of Garsykes and its cavern.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Far down the road she heard the music of her man’s -returning—<span class='it'>clickety-clack</span>, faint at first as the tread of -elfin feet. Where had he been, risking his life in these -disastrous days? And was he wounded by a stealthy -blow aimed at him by some foul lout from Garsykes -lurking in the heather?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Need to know how it fared with him drew her from -her bed. She put the frayed cloak about her—the -cloak that had been blue as hope once, but now was -like a Jacob’s coat, painted by many kinds of -weather—and went down the stair, and out to Logie’s -gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was in time to open it for Hardcastle, in time to -see the light in his eyes as he got from the saddle, and -told his horse to find his own way to stable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where have you been?” she asked, fingering his -sleeve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Skipton-in-Craven,” said Hardcastle. “I had -business there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She touched his sleeve no longer. “And left me -here—alone, except for Rebecca and a farm-lad? At -such a time—after all we’d shared, and with Garsykes -near—<span class='it'>You went on business?</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I left a body-guard. Some of our Logie Men are -in the woods—and two by Logie Brigg, to let none from -Garsykes through—except Nita, if she’s a mind to -come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took a further step away. “You might have -stayed, for all that—just to be near me, Dick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I went over-hill for the right to keep you near.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had known him taciturn and hard, known the -laughter that came rarely and was far away from joy; -but now he was a riddle, as he took her hands and would -not let them go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You left me so soon—for what?” asked Causleen -wearily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His heart spoke now. By all he said and left unsaid -she knew at last the caring that had come at the end of -their uphill, stormy wooing. Garsykes might be -broken, once for all, he told her; but the old, stealthy -siege of Logie might be renewed by slow degrees. -Either way, they’d meet the coming weather as man -and wife. The licence would be ready in three days’ -time, and it was no far ride to Skipton Kirk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was your business?” she asked, her voice brave -and vibrant. “And I chided you—and so, Dick, do -what you will with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When his will was made plain, however, that on the -fourth day from now they would be married, she was -submissive no longer, but pleaded for delay. She had -no clothes for her wedding, and would shame him in his -own market-town unless he gave her time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wear the old cloak over all,” said Hardcastle, -“and I’ll be content enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So there came a day when Rebecca watched them -ride out from Logie. The Master had not said what -their errand was, but she knew; and she scolded Jonah -till he spat at her. And then she gathered him into her -arms, and cried, and cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Love of a man sees far, when you’ve mothered -his cantrips since he was a babby,” she said by and -by, with a smile utterly forlorn. “And jealousy sees -far. But it’s hell’s own spite when the two keep -company.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen and Hardcastle guessed nothing of all this, -as they rode, in wonder and in silence, over the hill to -Skipton. They guessed nothing of it as they rode home -again, drawing rein to glance at the pride of that one -word, <span class='it'>Desormais</span>, carved high above the grey, stubborn -castle-gateway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long as he had known it—and he rode seldom from -Skipton without a glance at the message overhead—Hardcastle -had taken it as a symbol of his own grim -fight for Logie. Now that was changed. He had a -wife beside him, and the feud with Garsykes grew -doubly worth the while.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He glanced at the carved challenge, and made -English of it for her. “<span class='it'>Henceforth</span>, sweetheart,” he said, -and laughed quietly as a conqueror might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In silence they rode past the castle walls and up into -the grey, solitary fells. The track twisted this way and -that to lessen the steepness of the climb, till they -breasted the last of the hill and passed through the -rocky gap that was the gateway of the homeland -watered by Wharfe River.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They drew rein, and could only marvel at the land -stretched wide below them. The winter’s sun shone -warm and mellow over the far spaces, grey-blue with -haze. Every striding league of heath, each gully where -leafless rowans waited for the spring, showed to Hardcastle -like the map of his own heart. Pride—big -hearted, eager pride—leaped out as he pointed down -the slope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We own most of it, wife. Is it a good bridal-gift?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes filled with tears. He gave all he had, for -her to share. And he named her wife. She had not -guessed how all-sufficing the name was, how real and -warm and safe. And somehow, across the chill upland -breeze, a summer fragrance blew, as of clove-pinks and -ladslove in a wayside garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All they had gone through together returned—the -stealthy siege of Logie, the stark, long peril in the cave—and -she drew a sharp breath of thanksgiving that this -was the end of nightmare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Life is sweet to hold, Dick,” she said, smiling -through her tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They rode in another silence, rich with speech, down -the slack of Storner Bank. And now the wood-reek -from Logie’s chimneys eddied up, so near that they -could smell its savour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re home,” said Hardcastle, drawing his horse -nearer hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, as they rounded the bend, he pulled up -sharply. Nita Langrish, a bundle of withies over her -shoulder, was standing in the roadway, her glance fixed -on Logie. So intent she was on thoughts of the dead -Master who had flouted her—hidden deep with the -pedlar’s brat under the rocks in Garsykes cave—that -she heard no sound of hoofs behind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita had had her will of them both, and stood there -as in a trance. Vengeance was sweet. She was -minded to taste it to the full, looking down at masterless -Logie. Every curling wisp of smoke rose from a hearth -Hardcastle would never know again. No son of his -would grow to claim the heritage. Logie and its seven -hundred years ended with old Rebecca and a brindled -cat; and so much for pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man’s cry of warning roused her, and she turned -to see Hardcastle’s cob rearing scarcely a yard away, -his fore-feet perilously close.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita leaped aside, then stood gazing at these two who -were buried in the cave out yonder—these two, who -seemed to ride on horseback through the sunlight and -the free moorland wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle glanced once at her. It was not his way -to fight with women; but a sullen loathing came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re dead in Garsykes cavern,” he said. “It’s -only our ghosts that ride.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only your ghosts?” asked Nita eagerly, snatching -at a straw in this torrent of dread that raced -over her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Storm’s,” said Hardcastle. “He died with -us, and runs close behind, I fancy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that they rode on, and Hardcastle’s grim smile -died out as he glanced at Causleen’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re tired, wife,” he said gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was not tired at all until—until she stood there—stood -on the threshold of our home-coming.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A shadow crept, too, about Hardcastle and stayed -with him as they came indoors, Causleen and he, and -found Rebecca waiting for them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Step forrard,” said Rebecca. “It was time you -married, Hardcastle of Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How did you know?” he asked, wondering that -there was no need to break the news.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaunt and straight, Rebecca stood facing them with -a hard, roving glance. “How did I know, asks he, -when I’ve given my life to watching his ins-and-outs? -How could I help but know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one side of the threshold Nita had met them. -On the other stood this henchwoman, grief and jealousy -showing in her sombre eyes. Against their will, a -sense of doom crept out from Logie’s storied walls, -chilling their eager wedlock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I kept young for you, Master,” went on Rebecca, -“till you found a bride for Logie. And now I’ll let -myself grow old.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d have told you our errand——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She cut short his troubled words. “You would, but -for thinking of old Rebecca. The blow would fall -softer, you fancied, if you brought a full-fledged wife, -instead of letting me wait all day for a promised one. -Men, poor lambs, are not good at breaking news, and -never were.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her tart humour swept him like a moorland -breeze through the gloom she had brought about -these two.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve the bridal-supper ready, and near spoilt. You -were always late to your vituals, Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat on in the kitchen, after all was served and she -had left them to their meal; and she missed Jonah -sorely. The cat had been with her till the moment -when she went to greet the bridal-pair, and now had -vanished like her own joy in serving Hardcastle. All -had gone, it seemed, and she yielded to loneliness utter -and complete.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She threw her apron over her head, and rocked to and -fro. Grief had its way with her. The years behind -gathered their hardships to a head, and tears broke -through at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then by and by she heard the kettle singing on the -hob, and made a hefty brew of tea. And after that she -went in search of Jonah.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They heard her tramping forlornly upstairs and -down, and Causleen’s hand reached out to Hardcastle’s -across their wedding-table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s old and sorry, Dick—and we’ve so much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle found a quick new tenderness for this wife -of his. She knew, as he did, that Rebecca was bone -and fibre of his house—one by this time with its thick-set -walls, the people who lived here aforetime—one to -be cherished like a heritage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Together they went in search and found Rebecca -standing at the cupboard under the stair. The door -was open, and her candle showed the brindled cat spitting -and growling from the lair he had shared with -Storm on many a day gone by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The candlelight showed something else to Causleen, -her vision sharpened by this wild home-coming—showed -her the shape of Storm, the sheep-slayer, -with a long, brown-red gash across his filmy hide—Storm, -who was dead, returned to Logie and the -Master.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had made a bitter jest to Nita of -Storm’s following them, a ghost. And Storm was -here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What d’ye see,” asked Rebecca—“what d’ye see, -beyond that dratted cat o’ mine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A leal friend, Rebecca.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And with that she put a hand in Hardcastle’s, ready -for whatever weather came to Logie. The end of the -stark battle was not yet.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap24'>CHAPTER XXIV</h1></div> - -<h3>A GAOL DELIVERY</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The Wilderness Folk were aghast, in the days that -followed, to see dead Hardcastle riding with -Causleen, man and wife, across the uplands. -Flesh and blood they could not be, for all Garsykes -knew that they were buried in the cave. Yet flesh and -blood they were, glad of each other and the hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old superstition bred and festered in the Garsykes -hovels. It was ill-luck and always had been, to run -counter to a Hardcastle, whatever toll they took of -those farming under him. Strange tales were bandied -to and fro in Widow Mathison’s inn by greybeards of -this Lost Village under the hills—tales of the ancient -days, when one and another from Garsykes had held -up a Master of Logie on the road and brought confusion -on the settlement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ve the luck, these damned Hardcastles,” the -tale would finish always. “It’s no use trying to -meddle with Logie any more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita Langrish had shared their gospel for awhile. -Then she had rallied from the shock of seeing Hardcastle -ride home with the pedlar’s girl—the bridal-look about -their faces, and both on horseback instead of lying -under piled rocks yonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Each time she met them afterwards, her purpose -hardened. She lay awake o’ nights no longer, wondering -how they had won free of the cavern. It was -enough to know that the pedlar’s brat was mistress now -at Logie—reigning where she might have taken pride -of place, instead of weaving baskets for up-Dale folk -to buy. Through the weeks and months she waited, -striving to put some sort of courage into her slack-set -people, and telling them always that dead men of theirs -cried out for vengeance against Logie. Memory of -these deaths, and the way of them was too sharp at -first; but fear lessened by degrees, and Nita fanned -the dull embers of resentment into life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As winter stepped through March gales to springtime, -and the fells were white with lambs newborn, Hardcastle -took a lusty hold of life. The lean years had -gone out of mind. The only thought he gave Garsykes -was a warning to Causleen not to roam abroad without -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had little need. On horseback or afoot they -were together constantly; and, as he taught her the lore -of ancient lands and storied bridle-tracks, she lit his -heritage with new, fresh wonder, as of dawn after a -long night’s tempest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Closer they came together, and closer, as the spring -advanced and cowslips nodded in the meadow-grass. -Sometimes Hardcastle would fall silent, afraid almost -of his joy in living; and her hand would slip through -his arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Dick?” she would ask.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Half of me has come back,” he would answer, smiling -down at her—“the half that’s been missing all these -years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca, too, was in better heart. Jealousy yielded -by degrees to a new, enthralling hope. As she baked, -and scrubbed, and churned, a little song would creep -into her mind, and stay there. Logie might have an -heir at last. And she would dandle him on knees hard-worn -in Logie’s service.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When June was well in, and the meadows growing -strong for the scything-time, Shepherd Brant stumped -into Rebecca’s kitchen one morning and sat him down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” she snapped. “What’s wrong this time? -I’d as little expect to see thee without thy shadow, -Brant, as without a grievance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s wrong? Why, Garsykes. It’s humming -like a hornets’ nest again, they say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guessed as much. Jonah gives me less of his -company these days, and sits a lot in the under-stairs -cupboard. So I know Storm’s there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You and your ghosts, woman. I’ve no patience. -Dead men can walk—I’ve seen a few in my time—but -it’s a heathen fancy that the four-footed sort have -spirits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some o’ the four-footed have a bigger spirit than -some o’ the two-legged, and have a properer right to -walk. But, then, you were always against Storm, -poor martyr,” she added, re-opening their ancient feud. -“It wasn’t enough that he died for the Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For a sheep-killer he died fairish well. I’ll own to -as much as that,” broke in the other, tugging at his -scanty beard. “But, as for his ghost coming back to -guard the house—I thought you’d better wits than that -Rebecca.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle, hearing his shepherd’s voice, had come -down the passage; and, standing in the doorway, he -laughed suddenly. They were so much a part of Logie, -these two, with their friendly enmity and their strife of -tongues.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s no time for laughing, if all I hear be true,” said -Brant, getting to his feet with a grim salute. “The -Wilderness Folk are ripe for any sort of mischief.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aye, but it will get no further than their tongues. -I’m glad you’re here, though, Stephen. I’ve to ride -over the tops to Norbrigg, and shall go easier in -mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t ye go, Master.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I’ve been dinning at him,” shrilled -Rebecca. “When a man takes a wife to himself, he’s -no right to go pleasuring abroad, with the Garsykes -muck at large.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’re broken men, I tell you. You with a gun, -Brant, and Rebecca with her rolling-pin—you’re -enough to hold the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you’re taking the mistress into it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Taking her to the hill-winds. She’s stifled in these -Logie woods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With that he went down the corridor, buoyant and -heedless. A stable-lad was holding the two horses, -and Causleen waited for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brant’s here,” he said, as he mounted her. “It’s -as well, with Rebecca thinking fire and slaughter is -brewing up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed with him. Laughter was in their hearts, -and joy rode pick-a-back behind them down the winding -lane. The bird-cherry trees were in blossom, their -white tassels dusting the sleepy air with fragrance. -From every bush—from the high sycamores whose -leaves drowsed in the summer’s heat—birds were wild -with song. Thrushes piped high. Blackbirds sent out -their mellower note, and all the small fry joined in this -wild din of June.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Causleen,” said Hardcastle, his voice softened by -the wonder of their days together, “I was surly -when you came at first. Dear God, if I had missed -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was not meant. Was there ever a wind that -blew but brought us closer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was in this mood—sure of each other, with a high -pride in wedlock—that they reached the gate opening -on the Norbrigg road. On the top bar lay a flint arrow, -brown and smooth in the sun-glare, and Hardcastle -checked himself as he stooped to unhasp the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His glance sought Causleen’s. Both were thinking -of the first token found by Pedlar Donald, of all that -followed. They were thinking, too, with sharp revulsion, -of the arrow-heads that littered the floor of -Garsykes Cave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a moment their nightmare journey through the -cavern clouded the sunlight, chilled the eager breath of -summer. Then Hardcastle put the token into his -pocket, as he had put the earlier one, and said not a word -as they rode up into the hills. It was only when they -drew rein to breathe their horses, and Garsykes showed -below them, that he broke the silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll go through no second waiting-time, wife,” -he said—“waiting for what the Wilderness is pleased to -do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Dick?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brant would have found the Logie Men ready -enough to muster, if we’d been lost that day. They’ll -<span class='it'>have</span> to muster now, and we’ll make an end of the swine-styes -yonder, once for all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the strength of their great caring, from the -very heart of her bridal pride, joy quickened in Causleen. -Better war, savage and instant, than to go through -another stealthy siege at the hands of Garsykes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Break them outright, Dick,” she said. “For my -sake, break them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They rode up and further up into the wide-flung -spaces of the fells. No woodland birds sang here. -That lowland litany of joy was out of hearing. Instead, -there came the wheeling cries of hawk and plover, -red-shank and snipe and hoodie-crow—battle-music, -swift as a pibroch, keen as the thin, nipping wind that -fought the glaring sun-heat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Past Lone Rigg Cross they went—which marked the -graves of a lad found dead in some far-off winter’s gale—and -up raking Skircarl Rise, till they drew rein again -to give their sweating nags a rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were on the roof-top of the Dale now, Moorland -and gaunt pastures, gashed by wild ravines, raked to -the further mountains, grey-blue in the distant, shimmering -haze—a haze so drifting that it was hard to -know Pen-y-Gent’s long, sloping crest or Ingleborough’s -bluff, upstanding bulk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A good land, to live or die for,” said Hardcastle, -all his love for this far-striding homeland finding voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reluctant to go, they gathered the reins at last and -were moving forward at a lagging pace when a traveller -came up from the Norbrigg side, over the steep brink -of the hill. He was so tall and lean, so quick and yet so -stumbling in his stride, that they wondered who he was, -and how he came there. The one moving thing on this -lone, empty road, he seemed forlorn, and yet gigantic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man stopped as he neared them and touched a -greasy cap. “D’ye know a place called Garsykes?” -he asked. “It should be somewhere near by now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Hardcastle, with grim humour, “I know -a place called Garsykes. Do you want to get there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do, quick as my legs will take me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle pointed the way for him, where the lazy -track curved down to the lowlands and the curling -smoke below. Then he took the arrow-head from his -pocket and tossed it into the man’s hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell them it comes from Logie,” he said, and rode -forward with Causleen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man stared after them for a moment, then fell -again into the lopping stride that carries tired legs far. -Between the heather and the benty lands he went, and -came to Garsykes’ cobbled street, and dropped heavily -on to the stone bench outside the inn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd was sitting there with a quart -mug at his elbow, and he glanced curiously at the newcomer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And where might you be from?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stranger sat bunched-up, his sombre eyes staring -straight in front of him. “From York,” he said. -“There’s been a gaol delivery—and I’m one of the -delivered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take a pull at my mug, lad. You’ve walked a tidy -bit too far, by the look o’ you. There, that’s better. -And what did they gaol you for, if a body might -ask?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sullen grin wrinkled the man’s face. “They said -it was for robbery on the highroad; but I knew better. -It was for letting myself be fool enough to be catched at -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd nodded with rough friendliness. “Garsykes -is just the spot for you. You can do as you like, -all up and down the country-side, and nobody dare -catch you at it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I heard as much in gaol. So I stepped over and -down, and here I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd stirred uneasily as a little snatch of song -drifted down the street, and Nita Langrish came picking -her way daintily through the garbage and the litter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stopped at the sight of the stranger. Hope -never died in her that one day a strong man would come -from over the hill and help her lead her wastrels up to -Logie for the last, big fight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Murgatroyd watched her trying to weave filmy spells -about this new arrival—watched with the old, half-slumbering -lust to take her beauty by the throat and -end it—with the old, indolent zest, too, in seeing yet -another fall into her toils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The stranger was past blandishment. All that York -gaol had done to him, all the road-sores under his feet -and the drumming anguish in his brain, seemed doubled -now that the need to keep going no longer spurred -him on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He fumbled for his pipe and moleskin pouch, and -with them drew from his pocket a flint arrow-head that -tinkled on the cobble-stones. He did not heed, but -Nita saw it lying there and drew back as from a thing -she feared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where did you find it?” she asked, her voice harsh -and shrill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That?” said the vagabond, glancing down. “I’d -forgotten it. It was given me by a big chap, striding a -big horse. He told me to carry it to Garsykes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lit his pipe with shaking fingers, pulled fiercely at -it for awhile, then threw it down and lay back on the -bench. The sweat dripped from him. His lean body -was shaken as with palsy, and his face was red and -ashen-grey by turns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not done yet,” he stammered, groping for the -pipe that was his first and last stand-by. “What sort -of fool should I be to give in just when I’m free of gaol?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd snarled at Nita, the basket-weaver. -“I told you how it would go,” he said, “when you -sent three of us to take Hardcastle at the pinfold. And -now here’s the token back. He knows he’s weathered -the worst of us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Nita sharply. “There’ll be worse to -come—for Logie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lean-limbed stranger roused himself. Fever -glowed in his eyes and his voice was hoarse and wolfish. -“There’s always worse to come,” he said, and fell back, -the sweat pouring down his haggard face.</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap25'>CHAPTER XXV</h1></div> - -<h3>THE PLAGUE</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle had sent his challenge to Garsykes -by the tramping man who met them on the -Norbrigg road, and was quick to follow the new -venture. The next day he rode with Causleen from -farm to farm, and found his tenantry alert for battle. -A changed mood had come to them. They knew -how nearly these two had been lost for ever to Logie-side. -They warmed to the hardihood of their escape -from the Garsykes cavern, to their bridal-gallop over to -Skipton and back and the keen, young mating look they -carried. And shame was on them to remember how -they had paid tribute to the skulking folk out yonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last farm they came to was Michael Draycott’s, -and they found him in the patch of garden fronting the -house. He was leaning on a stick—a sick man and an -old, till Hardcastle rallied him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dying again, Michael?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I wouldn’t say as much as that—though I -fancied last night the end had come. My innards were -that wambly you’d scarce believe till I settled them -with a dose of barley-brew. And now I’m getting -about again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Suppose all Logie was for marching straight -through Garsykes street? How long should we have -to wait till you got well, Michael?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A matter of three minutes—or maybe two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re always the same, Michael.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I couldn’t be different, so long as I’m inside -my body—like a bird in a cage, as you might say. Do -we bring guns with us, Master?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other’s face hardened. “We do—and we fire -Garsykes from end to end. There’s to be no quarter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s well thought out,” said Michael. “Their -thatched roofs will be like tinder in this heat that’s -come to the moor. Years out of mind I’ve wanted -that sort of clearance, and I hope we start to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would God we could,” said Hardcastle, with -stormy recollection of the cave—“but we’ve to make -our preparations.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, there’s no harm in giving them a taste of what -they put on us. You sent Garsykes the token. Now -they can wait, asking each other what’s to come. <span class='it'>And -naught will come</span>, till they fair get the dithers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Michael’s words stayed with Hardcastle, while he -conquered his own impatience during the next days. -Nothing was overlooked in his preparations for attack. -He would have less than fifty to lead against a village -that swarmed with men entrenched in their own walls. -The more need, he told himself, to see that each of his -had his weapons in good order and knew how to use -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was tedious work, but he remembered Causleen’s -appeal. “Break them outright, Dick,” she had said. -“For my sake, break them.” And he had checked his -first impulse, to attack at once. There must be no -mistake, no hot-headed leaping against odds that might -smother them. The Lost Folk should be broken, as she -asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He drilled his men, mapped out each detail of the -coming fight. Aloof from any care except to make an -end of Garsykes—pitiless, save for the women and -children harbouring there—he lived for the one purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While they drilled, the men growing restless to be -into Garsykes street, the sun blazed each day from a sky -that showed nowhere any cloud of mercy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s drying their thatches nicely,” Michael Draycott -would growl, with a glance across the valley. “Let’s -pray that no rain comes before the Master lets us loose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now a rumour spread through the Logie country. -First it was whispered that a stranger had come into -Garsykes and died there of the plague. That was -sinister enough, but soon news followed of further -deaths, till dread took hold of all folk—a colder and a -stealthier dread than ever Garsykes brought on Logie -until now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle drilled his men relentlessly, to keep their -minds from brooding. The thicker the rumours spread, -the less he credited them. The Lost Folk, learning -somehow of the coming onslaught, had spread the news -themselves, and under its cover were preparing an -attack in force. This was what he told his people, and -by night they doubled the number of their scouts -about the hills.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>None was eager now, except the Master, to press -through Garsykes street; for the very name of plague -set each looking at another for the tell-tale blotches to -appear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a morning came when Hardcastle, looking -across the valley, saw a black shape hovering in the -molten sky. It was joined presently by another, and -yet another, and suddenly he understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We can ease our drilling, Michael,” he said. -“Garsykes has not lied this once—for the corbie-crows -are waiting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Garsykes—those still alive in it—saw the same three -crows poised above its sweltering street. Rumour at -its wildest could have pictured no scene more stark -with horror; for the stranger who had brought Hardcastle’s -challenge had brought gaol-fever, too, and it -had spread like flame throughout a village ready to -receive it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun beat down from the shelterless fells till the -cobbles of the street were hot to tread. Each festering -refuse heap bred flies beyond number, and in the roadway -lay the body of a man that none dared touch. -Gaol-fever, quick to strike, had taken him as he neared -home, and he had found no strength to journey further. -It was for him the corbies watched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As though havoc were not doing enough with them, -the Lost Folk let in another adversary—cringing and -abject fear—fear that slackened the muscles and slew -their will to live. Every other house was tenanted by -dead or dying, and those free of the plague as yet were -journeying up the fells with bundles slung over-shoulder. -It was better to go anywhere than stay in Garsykes, -where plague stalked silent through the buzzing flies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last fugitive to seek the hills was Widow Mathison, -and Nita was at her cottage-door as she came past -with her boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Afraid, like the rest?” mocked the basket-weaver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not for myself. I’d have stood by my tavern to -the last, but there’s the little lad to think of. Hardcastle -o’ Logie saved him from the bog, and ’twould be -a shame to let him die of Garsykes fever. You don’t -like Hardcastle’s name, I notice. He’s had the laugh -of us at the end of all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With flaunting, half-frightened derision, she gripped -her boy’s hand, and together they went up the track of -flight that many Garsykes Folk had taken—the track -marked here and there, as they sped further up the -wilds, by some dying man who raved in anguish, or by a -dead woman with a baby crying at her breasts for food.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nita looked down on the steamy haze of Garsykes. -Up here, where her cottage nestled in a dingle of the -highlands, the breeze blew clear and free. Death -might ride as he would through a village she despised -and loathed—but how could he touch little Nita, who -wove baskets for the Dale? She glanced far out to -Logie, its grey chimneys pushing up above the lush, -green woodlands. Hardcastle and his bride were there, -and already she was weaving snares for them, supple as -the willows that were her stock-in-trade, when a heavy -tread sounded close at hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She saw Long Murgatroyd lurching and swaying up -the road—saw him steady himself as he neared her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There were three of us left in Garsykes,” said Murgatroyd. -“And now there’s only two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How is that?” asked Nita, humouring a man in -liquor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I stepped into the widow’s for a drink of ale—hoping -she’d forget what she’d chalked on the inside o’ -the door against me. And there wasn’t a widow there. -So I helped myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No need to tell me that,” said Nita.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The widow’s gone up-fell, like the rest of the living -folk. And now there’s only you and me—and the still -ones down yonder. We’ve got all Garsykes to ourselves, -Nita, and the fever couldn’t touch us if it tried.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even as he spoke, he fell to shivering, and Nita -glanced at him with startled eyes. The widow’s ale -had less to do with his wild talk and wilder bearing than -she had fancied. Doubt grew into certainty that the -plague was on him, and yet she could not stir. She -could only watch the dreadful twisting of his body, till -the shivering passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now we’ll set up together, and own all Garsykes,” -said Murgatroyd. “It will take us a bit to shift the -dead, but they’ll not hinder—and the fever can’t touch -us——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice wandered out in senseless mutterings. -Then, as he saw her recoil, a false strength came on him. -She had played with him, flouted him; but he had -known she would be his one day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before she knew his purpose, he had crushed her into -his arms and kissed her, scarce knowing what he did. -Fighting like a wild-cat, tooth and claw, she got away -from his fast-waning strength, and fled up the hills, and -out to the hidden pool where she was used to bathe o’ -mornings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stripped with haste and plunged into the peat-brown -depths, and scarce dared leave them when her -limbs grew chill and cramped. And in her heart, deep -down, was a haunting fear that not all the waters, welling -sweet from out these pastured uplands, could -cleanse that bridal-kiss of plague.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Long Murgatroyd tottered in pursuit, then came -near to falling. He forgot Nita, forgot all but the -instinct of a wounded beast to seek its lair. Somehow -he got to his cottage, and went in, and shut the door. -A great sweat broke over him, and afterwards a chill -that nipped him to the bone. He raked the grey peats -on the hearth into a glow, and fed them with sticks -and fir-cones till the chimney roared and bellowed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still he could find no warmth, though his brain was -hot as a furnace. He piled more wood on, and more, -till the blazing heap fell over and down, and licked his -clothes, and ran here and there about the coarse matting -on the floor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca, up at Logie, had found no ease that day. -Scrub as she would, bake, or quarrel with the brindled -cat, nothing helped to stifle her restlessness. Old -griefs tugged at her memory, and would not be still. -Jealousy of Logie’s mistress rankled with new bitterness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was drawn out of doors at last. The workaday -present galled and fretted. Nothing would serve but -communion with her lover, such as she found only at -the gate down yonder—the lover who could not rest -in his grave because his death at Garsykes’ hands went -unrequited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before ever she reached the gate, a scud of thin, -harsh smoke came down the rising breeze. She glanced -in question across the valley that hid Wharfe River, -flaring under Logie Brigg—glanced up at old Pengables, -swarthy against the molten sky, and down again to the -hollow where Garsykes lay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rebecca caught her breath. Things hoped for, till -the heart grows sick, are not to be believed at first. Yet -soon she had to credit what was doing yonder. She -leaned a shoulder down for Jonah, and the cat leaped -nimbly up, spitting and growling at the wisps of -smoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“D’ye see it, lad?” she asked, pointing a skinny -finger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Where Garsykes lay, a running sheet of fire blazed up -into the sun-glare. It stayed for a moment to swallow -a cottage, then passed nimbly forward to the next. -The thatched roofs, one by one, broke upward in a -shower of wind-blown flame. And all about the land -there was the startled din of moor-birds, wheeling and -crying, afraid for their nestlings on the heights.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now God be thanked,” said Rebecca, young, happy -vigour in her voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she fell into a trance. Forty years her man -had waited, coming to the gate each night to ask if -Garsykes swine still roamed the land. And now she -felt a hand steal into hers, content at last. And she -woke, as from a marriage-bed, with throstles singing -up the new-found dawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m coming soon, my lad,”—her voice was soft and -girlish—“after I’ve settled two young lovers into Logie. -They don’t need Rebecca now.”</p> - -<div><h1 id='chap26'>CHAPTER XXVI</h1></div> - -<h3>“LOGIE’S DOUBLY SAFE”</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The weather broke that year in the middle of the -hay-harvest, and Hardcastle, riding with Causleen -to see what the past night’s rain had done -with the biggest of the upland meadows, knew that his -men could not get busy with it yet, though the sun -shone hot from a quiet and fleecy sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they gave themselves a holiday, and rode by many -a heather lane till they came at last to the moor-crest -guarded by Pengables’ rocks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A soft wind blew. Over the striding fells shadow -and sunlight chased each other like big children let -loose for play. They looked across to Weathersett, -grim even in this tender summer-time. And presently, -against their will, they glanced down at the hollow -where Garsykes once had stood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sunlight was merciless with the foul, unkempt -horror of this dead village that festered in its grave. -The ravens and the crows had taken their toll long since -of what lay in the street, and had gone to richer hunting-grounds. -No sound came from the fire-swept, -broken walls that leaned against each other like -drunkards tottering in a wild embrace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Causleen who broke the silence. “It will lie -like that for ever, Dick,” she said, with a shudder. -“They call it the plague-pit already, and none dare -enter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle roused himself from some harsh unrest. -There was an end of Garsykes, that had troubled Logie-side -for centuries out of mind. Yet he was not content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I planned to take our Logie Men, and make an -end,” he answered moodily. “There was the night -when Murgatroyd found us snow-bound in the hut. -If only for taking your name on their filthy tongues, I -wish it had been mine to kill and burn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must not—Dick, you must not think of it,” -she pleaded, her voice awed and shaken. “Is it not -enough—all that lies there? And you are safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still in a black mood, his glance wandered to the -hollow of the fells where Nita’s cottage sent up a -tranquil stream of smoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>She</span> survives,” he said grimly. “When first the -rumour spread that she had taken the plague and come -through it, I fancied they had seen a ghost. Few take -it and live on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen shivered. The day’s warmth, the joy of -their wedded lives—the news that had trembled on her -lips as they drew rein on top of swart Pengables and the -thought of what these wide-flung acres meant to -Hardcastle—all went by. It was as if they stepped -together from eager sunlight into a pine-wood where -the breeze blew chill and shrewish and there was -darkness overhead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How dare she stay so near—how dare she, Dick, -with Garsykes festering below? Has she no wit to -understand that ghosts of the dead will creep up to her -cottage-door? She was their evil spirit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let her be,” broke in Hardcastle. “She goes -abroad with her face hidden when she sells her baskets -these days. They say her wits are gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray God they are,” said Causleen, bitter with -remembrance of the day when Nita had named her -light-of-love and wanton. “She needs forgetfulness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They rode down the fells together, man and wife; -but cold was on them, as if Garsykes still had power to -spin webs of dread about their feet. All that had been -gathered close—the slow months, while the Lost Folk -were doing their worst with Logie—the stealthy peril -of the caves, and their winning through into moonlit -liberty of Drumly Ghyll—and, after that, the plague -and fire that had swept Garsykes into a death that -could not sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Causleen longed to give her man the news she had for -him, and could not, though their horses whinnied from -sheer joy of the sunlight and the roving breeze that -blew from everywhere, packed with lane-side sweets -of elder-bloom and honeysuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they rounded the corner of the road, where it -turned sharply down to Crooning Water, they saw a -shrouded figure sitting on the grey parapet. The -slender fingers, browned by sun and wind, were nimble -at the basket-weaving, as of old, and Nita was singing -as she worked—singing one of the eerie ballads handed -down in Garsykes to keep warm their hate of Logie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They drew rein, Hardcastle and Causleen, appalled -by this venom that had survived her recovery from the -plague—survived the havoc of a village left derelict till -time ended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The basket-weaver ceased her song. She drew the -hood down from her face, and laughed with dreadful -mockery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now they saw what the plague had done with her. -Her body was lissome as of old, her eyes full of nameless -witchery; but the shrunken face was grey and livid—a -dread, unsightly face best hidden from all passers-by.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My beauty’s gone, Hardcastle of Logie,” she said, -defiant to the last, “and there’s no Garsykes left. But -I still sell baskets up the Dale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, come away,” pleaded Causleen. “Dick, come -away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardcastle sat there in saddle for a moment, with -sharp recollection of other days, when Nita’s face was -a mask of eager beauty, tempting men. Then without -a word he rode on, Causleen beside him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again the chill was on them, as if they had plunged -into a pine-wood where no free air could roam or wildflowers -grow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>She still sells baskets up the Dale</span>,” said Causleen, -awed and troubled. “You heard her, Dick? It was -a threat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They had come to Logie Brigg, and drew rein -there, listening to Wharfe River as she lapped -and played about the grey arches underneath. -And suddenly, as if the river sent up a message to -him in plain words, Hardcastle knew that he was -home at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An idle threat,” he said, his voice buoyant and -secure. “Garsykes is ended at long last.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went together up the steep, winding road, -ablaze with sunlight and choired by singing birds, and -came to the gate of many memories. Twice the Garsykes -token had been laid on the topmost bar. Rebecca -had trysted her dead lover here, every night -through forty weary years. And remembrance of this -tryst gave Causleen heart to speak at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Logie and the lands are so much to you,” she said, -the words tripping over one another in their haste—“and -Rebecca could never be done with mourning -that——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, wife? She was always good at the doldrums.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That Logie had no heir—and, Dick——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great light came into Hardcastle’s face. From -under lowered eyelids she watched it glow and deepen -like dawn above Pengables Hill. He was older and -younger both, and his voice a conqueror’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now Logie’s doubly safe,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the grey-boled sycamores above them, Logie’s -guardian rooks rose in a great, chattering cloud. They -and their fore-elders had nested here for generations -out of mind; and it seemed as if they, too, understood.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;'>THE END</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>JOHN LONG, LTD., PUBLISHERS, LONDON, ENGLAND, 1925</p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Printed in Great Britain at the Athenæum Printing Works, Redhill</span></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div><h1>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been corrected. 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