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 I 1 AM NOT EXACTLY A GUEST, HE STAMMERED." Page 4
 
 IN THE MIDST 
 OF ALARMS 
 
 By ROBERT BARR 
 
 Author of "Tekla," "A Woman Intervenes," "The Mutable 
 Many," "The Face and the Mask," "The Strong Arm, "etc. 
 
 Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 PUBLISHERS : NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, 1894, 1900, by 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
 
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 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropoli- 
 tan Grand Hotel in Buffalo, Professor Stillson 
 Renmark stood and looked about him with the 
 anxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy 
 splendour of the modern American house of enter- 
 tainment. The professor had paused halfway be- 
 tween the door and the marble counter, because he 
 began to fear that he had arrived at an inopportune 
 time, when something unusual was going on. The 
 hurry and bustle bewildered him. 
 
 An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was 
 standing at the door, its steps backed over the curb- 
 stone, and beside it was a broad, flat van, on which 
 stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron- 
 bound trunks belonging to commercial travellers, 
 and the more fragile, but not less bulky, Saratogas, 
 doubtless the property of the ladies who sat pa- 
 tiently in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had 
 just arrived was backing up to the curb, and the 
 irate driver used language suitable to the occasion ; 
 
 I
 
 2 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 for the two restive horses were not behaving exactly 
 in the way he liked. 
 
 A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and 
 mournful, voice was filling the air with the informa- 
 tion that a train was about to depart for Albany, 
 Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. 
 When he came to the words " the East," his voice 
 dropped to a sad minor key, as if the man despaired 
 of the fate of those who took their departure in 
 that direction. Every now and then a brazen gong 
 sounded sharply ; and one of the negroes who sat 
 in a row on a bench along the marble-panelled wall 
 sprang forward to the counter, took somebody's 
 handbag, and disappeared in the direction of the 
 elevator with the newly arrived guest following him. 
 Groups of men stood here and there conversing, 
 heedless of the rush of arrival and departure around 
 them. 
 
 Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows 
 sat a row of men, some talking, some reading, and 
 some gazing outside, but all with their feet on the 
 brass rail which had been apparently put there for 
 that purpose. Nearly everybody was smoking a 
 cigar. A lady of dignified mien came down the hall 
 to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to the 
 clerk, who bent his well-groomed head deferentially 
 on one side as he listened to what she had to say. 
 The men instantly made way for her. She passed 
 along among them as composedly as if she were in 
 her own drawing-room, inclining her head slightly 
 to one or other of her acquaintances, which saluta-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 3 
 
 tion was gravely acknowledged by the raising of the 
 hat and the temporary removal of the cigar from the 
 lips. 
 
 All this was very strange to the professor, and he 
 felt himself in a new world, with whose customs he 
 was not familiar. Nobody paid the slightest atten- 
 tion to him as he stood there among it all with his 
 satchel in his hand. As he timidly edged up to the 
 counter, and tried to accumulate courage enough to 
 address the clerk, a young man came forward, flung 
 his handbag on the polished top of the counter, 
 metaphorically brushed the professor aside, pulled 
 the bulky register toward him, and inscribed his 
 name on the page with a rapidity equalled only by 
 the illegibility of the result. 
 
 " Hello, Sam ! " he said to the clerk. " How's 
 things ? Get my telegram ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered the clerk; "but I can't give you 
 27. It's been taken for a week. I reserved 85 for 
 you, and had to hold on with my teeth to do that." 
 
 The reply of the young man was merely a brief 
 mention of the place of torment. 
 
 " It is hot," said the clerk blandly. " In from 
 Cleveland ? " 
 
 "Yes. Any letters for me?" 
 
 " Couple of telegrams. You'll find them up in 
 
 8 5 ." 
 
 " Oh, you were cocksure I'd take that room ? " 
 " I was cocksure you'd have to. It is either that 
 or the fifth floor. We're full. Couldn't give a bet- 
 ter room to the President if he came."
 
 4 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Oh, well, what's good enough for the President 
 I can put up with for a couple of days." 
 
 The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The 
 negro sprang forward and took the " grip." 
 
 "Eighty-five," said the clerk; and the drummer 
 and the negro disappeared. 
 
 " Is there any place where I could leave my bag 
 for a while ? " the professor at last said timidly to 
 the clerk. 
 
 "Your bag?" 
 
 The professor held it up in view. 
 
 " Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?" 
 And the clerk's hand hovered over the bell. 
 
 " No. At least, not just yet. You see, I'm 
 
 " All right. The baggage man there to the left 
 will check it for you." 
 
 " Any letters for Bond ? " said a man, pushing 
 himself in front of the professor. The clerk pulled 
 out a fat bunch of letters from the compartment 
 marked " B," and handed the whole lot to the in- 
 quirer, who went rapidly over them, selected two 
 that appeared to be addressed to him, and gave the 
 letters a shove toward the clerk, who placed them 
 where they were before. 
 
 The professor paused a moment, then, realising 
 that the clerk had forgotten him, sought the bag- 
 gage man, whom he found in a room filled with 
 trunks and valises. The room communicated with 
 the great hall by means of a square opening whose 
 lower ledge was breast high. The professor stood 
 before it, and handed the valise to the man behind
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 5 
 
 this opening, who rapidly attached one brass check 
 to the handle with a leather thong, and flung the 
 other piece of brass to the professor. The latter was 
 not sure but there was something to pay, still he 
 quite correctly assumed that if there had been the 
 somewhat brusque man would have had no hesita- 
 tion in mentioning the fact ; in which surmise his 
 natural common sense proved a sure guide among 
 strange surroundings. There was no false delicacy 
 about the baggage man. 
 
 Although the professor was to a certain extent 
 bewildered by the condition of things, there was 
 still in his nature a certain dogged persistence 
 that had before now stood him in good stead, and 
 which had enabled him to distance, in the long run, 
 much more brilliant men. He was not at all satis- 
 fied with his brief interview with the clerk. He re- 
 solved to approach that busy individual again, if he 
 could arrest his attention. It was some time before 
 he caught the speaker's eye, as it were, but when he 
 did so, he said : 
 
 " I was about to say to you that I am waiting for 
 a friend from New York who may not yet have ar- 
 rived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the " 
 
 " Oh, Dick Yates ! Certainly. He's here." 
 Turning to the negro, he said : " Go down to the 
 billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he 
 is not, look for him at the bar." 
 
 The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Ap- 
 parently not noticing the look of amazement that 
 had stolen over the professor's face, the clerk said ;
 
 6 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " If you wait in the reading-room, I'll send Yates 
 to you when he comes. The boy will find him if 
 he's in the house ; but he may be up town." 
 
 The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging 
 clerk further, did not ask him where the reading- 
 room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurrying por- 
 ter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer : 
 
 " Dining-room next floor. Reading, smoking, 
 and writing-rooms up the hall. Billiard room, bar, 
 and lavatory down-stairs." 
 
 The professor, after getting into the barber shop 
 and the cigar store, finally found his way into the 
 reading-room. Numerous daily papers were scat- 
 tered around on the table, each attached to a long, 
 clumsy cleft-holder made of wood ; while other jour- 
 nals, similarly encumbered, hung from racks against 
 the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easy 
 leather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a 
 paper, drew a thin book from his pocket, in which 
 he was soon so absorbed that he became entirely 
 unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light 
 touch on the shoulder brought him up from his book 
 into the world again, and he saw, looking down on 
 him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are 
 a guest of this house ? " 
 
 A shade of apprehension crossed the professor's 
 face as he slipped the book into his pocket. He 
 had felt vaguely that he was trespassing when he 
 first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were 
 confirmed.
 
 " I I am not exactly a guest," he stammered. 
 
 " What do you mean by not exactly a guest ? " 
 continued the other, regarding the professor with 
 a cold and scrutinising gaze. " A man is either 
 a guest or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your 
 case ? " 
 
 " I presume, technically speaking, I am not." 
 
 " Technically speaking ! More evasions. Let 
 me ask you, sir, as an ostensibly honest man, if you 
 imagine that all this luxury this this elegance 
 is maintained for nothing ? Do you think, sir, that 
 it is provided for any man who has cheek enough to 
 step out of the street and enjoy it? Is it kept up, 
 I ask, for people who are, technically speaking, not 
 guests?" 
 
 The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the 
 face of the unfortunate professor. He had nothing 
 to say. He realised that his conduct was too fla- 
 grant to admit of defence, so he attempted none. 
 Suddenly the countenance of his questioner lit up 
 with a smile, and he smote the professor on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven't changed 
 a particle in fifteen years ! You don't mean to pre- 
 tend you don't know me ? " 
 
 " You can't you can't be Richard Yates?" 
 
 " I not only can, but I can't be anybody else. I 
 know, because I have often tried. Well, well, well, 
 well ! Stilly we used to call you ; don't you re- 
 member? I'll never forget that time we sang ' Oft 
 in the stilly night ' in front of your window when
 
 8 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 you were studying for the exams. You always 
 were a quiet fellow, Stilly. I've been waiting for you 
 nearly a whole day. I was up just now with a party 
 of friends when the boy brought me your card a 
 little philanthropic gathering sort of mutual benefit 
 arrangement, you know: each of us contributed 
 what we could spare to a general fund, which was 
 given to some deserving person in the crowd." 
 
 " Yes," said the professor drily. " I heard the 
 clerk telling the boy where he would be most likely 
 to find you." 
 
 "Oh, you did, eh?" cried Yates, with a laugh. 
 " Yes, Sam generally knows where to send for me ; 
 but he needn't have been so darned public about it. 
 Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to be 
 in print and what should have the blue pencil run 
 through it. Sam is very discreet, as a general 
 thing; but then he knew, of course, the moment 
 he set eyes on you, that you were an old pal of 
 mine." 
 
 Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery 
 laugh for so evidently wicked a man. 
 
 " Come along," he said, taking the professor by 
 the arm. " We must get you located." 
 
 They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the 
 clerk's counter. 
 
 " I say, Sam," cried Yates, " can't you do some- 
 thing better for us than the fifth floor? I didn't 
 come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. No sky 
 parlours for me, if I can help it." 
 
 " I'm sorry, Dick," said the clerk ; " but I expect
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 9 
 
 the fifth floor will be gone when the Chicago express 
 gets in." 
 
 " Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?" 
 
 "I can let you have 518. That's the next room 
 to yours. Really, they're the most comfortable 
 rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout 
 over the lake. I wouldn't mind having a sight of 
 the lake myself, if I could leave the desk." 
 
 "All right. But I didn't come to look at the 
 lake, nor yet at the railroad tracks this side, nor at 
 Buffalo Creek either, beautiful and romantic as it is, 
 nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousand 
 locomotives that pass within hearing distance for 
 the delight of your guests. The fact is that, always 
 excepting Chicago, Buffalo is more like for the 
 professor's sake I'll say Hades, than any other place 
 in America." 
 
 " Oh, Buffalo's all right," said the clerk, with that 
 feeling of local loyalty which all Americans possess. 
 " Say, are you here on this Fenian snap ? " 
 
 " What Fenian snap ? " asked the newspaper man. 
 
 "Oh! don't you know about it? I thought, the 
 moment I saw you, that you were here for this 
 affair. Well, don't say I told you, but I can put 
 you on to one of the big guns if you want the par- 
 ticulars. They say they're going to take Canada. 
 I told 'em that I wouldn't have Canada as a gift, let 
 alone fight for it. I've been there." 
 
 Yates' newspaper instinct thrilled him as he 
 thought of the possible sensation. Then the light 
 slowly died out of his eyes when he looked at the
 
 10 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 professor, who had flushed somewhat and com- 
 pressed his lips as he listened to the slighting 
 remarks on his country. 
 
 " Well, Sam," said the newspaper man at last, 
 " it isn't more than once in a lifetime that you'll 
 find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but the 
 fact is I'm on my vacation just now. About the 
 first I've had for fifteen years ; so, you see, I must 
 take care of it. No, let the Argus get scooped, if it 
 wants to. They'll value my services all the more 
 when I get back. No. 518, I think you said?" 
 
 The clerk handed over the key, and the professor 
 gave the boy the check for his valise at Yates* 
 suggestion. 
 
 " Now, get a move on you," said Yates to the 
 elevator boy. " We're going right through with 
 you." 
 
 And so the two friends were shot up together to 
 the fifth floor.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE sky parlour, as Yates had termed it, certainly 
 commanded a very extensive view. Immediately 
 underneath was a wilderness of roofs. Farther along 
 were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and 
 a line of masts and propeller funnels marked the 
 windings of Buffalo Creek, along whose banks arose 
 numerous huge elevators, each marked by some 
 tremendous letter of the alphabet, done in white 
 paint against the sombre brown of the big building. 
 Still farther to the west was a more grateful and 
 comforting sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dot- 
 ted with white sails and an occasional trail of smoke, 
 lay shimmering under the broiling sun. Over the 
 water, through the distant summer haze, there could 
 be seen the dim line of the Canadian shore. 
 
 " Sit you down," cried Yates, putting both hands 
 on the other's shoulders, and pushing his friend into 
 a chair near the window. Then, placing his finger 
 on the electric button, he added : " What will you 
 drink?" 
 
 " I'll take a glass of water, if it can be had with- 
 out trouble," said Renmark. 
 
 Yates' hand dropped from the electric button hope-
 
 12 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 lessly to his side, and he looked reproachfully at the 
 professor. 
 
 " Great Heavens ! " he cried, " have something 
 mild. Don't go rashly in for Buffalo water before you 
 realize what it is made of. Work up to it gradually. 
 Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter." 
 
 " Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very 
 well for me. Order what you like for yourself." 
 
 " Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that." 
 He pushed the button, and, when the boy appeared, 
 said : " Bring up an iced cobbler, and charge it to 
 Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher 
 of ice water for Yates, No. 520. There," he con- 
 tinued gleefully, " I'm going to have all the drinks, 
 except the ice water, charged to you. I'll pay the 
 bill, but I'll keep the account to hold over your 
 head in the future. Professor Stillson Renmark, 
 debtor to Metropolitan Grand one sherry cobbler, 
 one gin sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, 
 then, Stilly, let's talk business. You're not married, 
 I take it, or you wouldn't have responded to my 
 invitation so promptly." The professor shook his 
 head. " Neither am I. You never had the courage 
 to propose to a girl; and I never had the time." 
 
 " Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the 
 old days, Richard," said Renmark quietly. 
 
 Yates laughed. " Well, it didn't hold me back 
 any, to my knowledge. Now I'll tell you how I've 
 got along since we attended old Scragmore's acad- 
 emy together, fifteen years ago. How time does 
 fly! When I left, I tried teaching for one short
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 13 
 
 month. I had some theories on the education of 
 our youth which did not seem to chime in with the 
 prejudices the school trustees had already formed 
 on the subject." 
 
 The professor was at once all attention. Touch a 
 man on his business, and he generally responds by 
 being interested. 
 
 " And what were your theories? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, I thought a teacher should look after the 
 physical as well as the mental welfare of his pupils. 
 It did not seem to me that his duty to those under 
 his charge ended with mere book learning." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said the professor 
 cordially. 
 
 "Thanks. Well, the trustees didn't. I joined 
 the boys at their games, hoping my example would 
 have an influence on their conduct on the play- 
 ground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a 
 rattling good cricket club. You may not remember 
 that I stood rather better at cricket at the academy 
 than I did in mathematics or grammar. By handi- 
 capping me with several poor players, and having 
 the best batsmen among the boys in opposition, we 
 made a pretty evenly matched team at school sec- 
 tion No. 12. One day, at noon, we began a game. 
 The grounds were in excellent condition, and the 
 opposition boys were at their best. My side was 
 getting the worst of it. I was very much interested ; 
 and, when one o'clock came, I thought it a pity to 
 call school and spoil so good and interesting a con- 
 test. The boys were unanimously of the same
 
 I 4 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 opinion. The girls were happy, picnicking under 
 the trees. So we played cricket all the afternoon." 
 
 " I think that was carrying your theory a little 
 too far," said the professor dubiously. 
 
 "Just what the trustees thought when they came 
 to hear of it. So they dismissed me ; and I think 
 my leaving was the only case on record where the 
 pupils genuinely mourned a teacher's departure. I 
 shook the dust of Canada from my feet, and have 
 never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, continu- 
 ing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello ! 
 here's your drinks at last, Stilly. I had forgotten 
 about them an unusual thing with me. That's all 
 right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hits 
 the spot on a hot day.) Well, where was I ? Oh, 
 yes, at Buffalo. I got a place on a paper here, at 
 just enough to keep life in me; but I liked the work. 
 Then I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, 
 afterward to Albany at a still bigger salary, and of 
 course Albany is only a few hours from New York, 
 and that is where all newspaper men ultimately land, 
 if they are worth their salt. I saw a small section 
 of the war as special correspondent, got hurt, and 
 rounded up in the hospital. Since then, although 
 only a reporter, I am about the top of the tree in 
 that line, and make enough money to pay my poker 
 debts and purchase iced drinks to soothe the asperi- 
 ties of the game. When there is anything big going 
 on anywhere in the country, I am there, with other 
 fellows, to do the drudgery ; I writing the picturesque 
 descriptions and interviewing the big men. My stuff
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 15 
 
 goes red-hot over the telegraph wire, and the humble 
 postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I am 
 acquainted with every hotel clerk that amounts to 
 anything from New York to San Francisco. If I 
 could save money, I should be rich, for I make 
 plenty ; but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket 
 has lost me a lot of cash, and I don't seem to be able 
 to get it mended. Now, you've listened with your 
 customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, 
 as you called it, full sway. I am grateful. I will 
 reciprocate. How about yourself ?" 
 
 The professor spoke slowly. " I have had no such 
 adventurous career," he began. " I have not shaken 
 Canadian dust from my feet, and have not made any 
 great success. I have simply plodded ; and am in 
 no danger of becoming rich, although I suppose I 
 spend as little as any man. After you were expel 
 after you left the aca " 
 
 " Don't mutilate the good old English language, 
 Stilly. You were right in the first place. I am not 
 thin-skinned. You were saying after I was expelled. 
 Go on." 
 
 " I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. 
 You remember, you were very indignant at the time, 
 and 
 
 " Of course I was and am still, for that matter. 
 It was an outrage ! " 
 
 " I thought it was proved that you helped to put 
 the pony in the principal's room." 
 
 "Oh, certainly. That. Of course. But what I 
 detested was the way the principal worked the thing.
 
 16 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 He allowed that villain Spink to turn evidence 
 against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, 
 whereas I could claim no such honour. It was Spink's 
 own project, which I fell in with, as I did with every 
 disreputable thing proposed. Of course the prin- 
 cipal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. 
 Do you happen to know if Spink has been hanged 
 yet?" 
 
 " I believe he is a very reputable business man in 
 Montreal, and much respected." 
 
 " I might have suspected that. Well, you keep 
 your eye on the respected Spink. If he doesn't fail 
 some day, and make a lot of money, I'm a Dutch- 
 man. But go on. This is digression. By the way, 
 just push that electric button. You're nearest, and 
 it is too hot to move. Thanks. After I was ex- 
 pelled 
 
 " After your departure I took a diploma, and for a 
 year or two taught a class in the academy. Then, 
 as I studied during my spare time, I got a chance as 
 master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, 
 as I think, through the recommendation of Prin- 
 cipal Scragmore. I had my degree by this time. 
 Then- 
 There was a gentle tap at the door. 
 "Come in!" shouted Yates. "Oh, it's you. 
 Just bring up another cooling cobbler, will you? 
 and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room 
 518. Yes; and then 
 
 " And then there came the opening in University 
 College, Toronto. I had the good fortune to be
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 17 
 
 appointed. There I am still, and there I suppose I 
 shall stay. I know very few people, and am better 
 acquainted with books than with men. Those whom 
 I have the privilege of knowing are mostly studious 
 persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in 
 the world of learning. I have not had your advan- 
 tage of meeting statesmen who guide the destinies 
 of a great empire." 
 
 " No ; you always were lucky, Stilly. My expe- 
 rience is that the chaps who do the guiding are more 
 anxious about their own pockets, or their own polit- 
 ical advancement, than they are of the destinies. 
 Still, the empire seems to take its course westward 
 just the same. So old Scragmore's been your friend, 
 has he?" 
 
 " He has, indeed." 
 
 " Well, he insulted me only the other day." 
 
 "You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentle- 
 manly and scholarly a man as Principal Scragmore 
 insulting anybody." 
 
 " Oh, you don't know him as I do. It was like 
 this : I wanted to find out where you were, for rea- 
 sons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgelled my 
 brains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, 
 and inclosed a stamped and addressed envelope, 
 as all unsought contributors should do. He an- 
 swered But I have his reply somewhere. You 
 
 shall read it for yourself." 
 
 Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of 
 letters, which he hurriedly fingered over, commenting 
 in a low voice as he did so : "I thought I answered 
 
 2
 
 i8 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 that. Still, no matter. Jingo ! haven't I paid that 
 bill yet? This pass is run out. Must get another." 
 Then he smiled and sighed as he looked at a letter 
 in dainty handwriting ; but apparently he could not 
 find the document he sought. 
 
 " Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I have it somewhere. 
 He returned me the prepaid envelope, and reminded 
 me that United States stamps were of no use in 
 Canada, which of course I should have remembered. 
 But he didn't pay the postage on his own letter, so 
 that I had to fork out double. Still, I don't mind 
 that, only as an indication of his meanness. He 
 went on to say that, of all the members of our class, 
 you you ! were the only one who had reflected 
 credit on it. That was the insult. The idea of his 
 making such a statement, when I had told him I was 
 on the New York Argus ! Credit to the class, in- 
 deed ! I wonder if he ever heard of Brown after he 
 was expelled. You know, of course. No ? Well, 
 Brown, by his own exertions, became president of 
 the Alum Bank in New York, wrecked it, and got 
 off to Canada with a clear half-million. Yes, sir. I 
 saw him in Quebec not six months ago. Keeps the 
 finest span and carriage in the city, and lives in a 
 palace. Could buy out old Scragmore a thousand 
 times, and never feel it. Most liberal contributor to 
 the cause of education that there is in Canada. He 
 says education made him, and he's not a man to go 
 back on education. And yet Scragmore has the 
 cheek to say that you were the only man in the class 
 who reflects credit on it ! "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 19 
 
 The professor smiled quietly as the excited jour- 
 nalist took a cooling sip of the cobbler. 
 
 "You see, Yates, people's opinions differ. A man 
 like Brown may not be Principal Scragmore's ideal. 
 The principal may be local in his estimate of a suc- 
 cessful man, or of one who reflects credit on his 
 teaching." 
 
 " Local ? You bet he's local. Too darned local 
 for me. It would do that man good to live in New 
 York for a year. But I'm going to get even with 
 him. I'm going to write him up. I'll give him a 
 column and a half ; see if I don't. I'll get his pho- 
 tograph, and publish a newspaper portrait of him. 
 If that doesn't make him quake, he's a cast-iron man. 
 Say, you haven't a photograph of old Scrag that you 
 can lend me, have you ? " 
 
 " I have ; but I won't lend it for such a purpose. 
 However, never mind the principal. Tell me your 
 plans. I am at your disposal for a couple of weeks, 
 or longer if necessary." 
 
 " Good boy ! Well, I'll tell you how it is. I want 
 rest and quiet, and the woods, for a week or two. 
 This is how it happened : I have been steadily at the 
 grindstone, except for a while in the hospital ; and 
 that, you will admit, is not much of a vacation. The 
 work interests me, and I am always in the thick of 
 it. Now, it's like this in the newspaper business: 
 Your chief is never the person to suggest that you 
 take a vacation. He is usually short of men and 
 long on things to do, so if you don't worry him into 
 letting you off, he won't lose any sleep over it. He's
 
 20 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 content to let well enough alone every time. Then 
 there is always somebody who wants to get away on 
 pressing business, grandmother's funeral, and that 
 sort of thing, so if a fellow is content to work right 
 along, his chief is quite content to let him. That's 
 the way affairs have gone for years with me. The 
 other week I went over to Washington to interview 
 a senator on the political prospects. I tell you what 
 it is, Stilly, without bragging, there are some big 
 men in the States whom no one but me can inter- 
 view. And yet old Scrag says I'm no credit to his 
 class ! Why, last year my political predictions were 
 telegraphed all over this country, and have since 
 appeared in the European press. No credit ! By 
 Jove, I would like to have old Scrag in a twenty- 
 four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, for about ten 
 minutes ! " 
 
 " I doubt if he would shine under those circum- 
 stances. But never mind him. He spoke, for once, 
 without due reflection, and with perhaps an exag- 
 gerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. 
 What happened when you went to Washington?" 
 
 " A strange thing happened. When I was admit- 
 ted to the senator's library, I saw another fellow, 
 whom I thought I knew, sitting there. I said to 
 the senator : ' I will come when you are alone.' The 
 senator looked up in surprise, and said : ' I am 
 alone.' I didn't say anything, but went on with my 
 interview ; and the other fellow took notes all the 
 time. I didn't like this, but said nothing, for the 
 senator is not a man to offend, and it is by not
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 21 
 
 offending these fellows that I can get the informa- 
 tion I do. Well, the other fellow came out with 
 me, and as I looked at him I saw that he was my- 
 self. This did not strike me as strange at the time, 
 but I argued with him all the way to New York, and 
 tried to show him that he wasn't treating me fairly. 
 I wrote up the interview, with the other fellow in- 
 terfering all the while, so I compromised, and half 
 the time put in what he suggested, and half the 
 time what I wanted in myself. When the political 
 editor went over the stuff he looked alarmed. I told 
 him frankly just how I had been interfered with, and 
 he looked none the less alarmed when I had finished. 
 He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor meta- 
 phorically took me to pieces, and then said to my 
 chief : ' This man is simply worked to death. He 
 must have a vacation, and a real one, with absolutely 
 nothing to think of, or he is going to collapse, and 
 that with a suddenness which will surprise everybody.' 
 The chief, to my astonishment, consented without a 
 murmur, and even upbraided me for not going away 
 sooner. Then the doctor said to me : ' You get 
 some companion some man with no brains, if pos- 
 sible, who will not discuss politics, who has no opin- 
 ion on anything that any sane man would care to 
 talk about, and who couldn't say a bright thing if 
 he tried for a year. Get such a man to go off to the 
 woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As 
 far away from post offices and telegraph offices as 
 possible. And, by the way, don't leave your address 
 at the Argus office.' Thus it happened, Stilly, when
 
 22 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 he described this man so graphically, I at once 
 thought of you." 
 
 " I am deeply gratified, I am sure," said the pro- 
 fessor, with the ghost of a smile, " to be so promptly 
 remembered in such a connection, and if I can be of 
 service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, 
 that you have no intention of stopping in Buffalo ? '' 
 
 " You bet I haven't. I'm in for the forest prime- 
 val, the murmuring pines and the hemlock, bearded 
 with moss and green in the something or other I 
 forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and 
 lie on my back instead, on the sward or in the ham- 
 mock. I'm going to avoid all boarding houses or 
 delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of 
 the forest." 
 
 " There ought to be some nice places along the 
 lake shore." 
 
 " No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would re- 
 mind me of the Lake Shore Railroad when it was 
 calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. No, 
 sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have 
 hired a tent and a lot of cooking things. I'm going 
 to take that tent over to Canada to-morrow ; and 
 then I propose we engage a man with a team to cart 
 it somewhere into the woods, fifteen or twenty miles 
 away. We shall have to be near a farmhouse, so 
 that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, 
 of course, is a disadvantage ; but I shall try to get 
 near some one who has never even heard of New 
 York." 
 
 " You may find that somewhat difficult."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 23 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I have great hopes of the 
 lack of intelligence in the Canadians." 
 
 ' Often the narrowest," said the professor slowly, 
 " are those who think themselves the most cosmo- 
 politan." 
 
 " Right you are," cried Yates, skimming lightly 
 over the remark, and seeing nothing applicable to 
 his case in it. " Well, I've laid in about half a ton, 
 more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty 
 
 jug." 
 
 " An empty one ? " 
 
 " Yes. Among the few things worth having that 
 the Canadians possess, is good whisky. Besides, the 
 empty jar will save trouble at the custom-house. I 
 don't suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Ken- 
 tucky article, but you and I will have to scrub along 
 on it for a while. And, talking of whisky, just press 
 the button once again." 
 
 The professor did so, saying : 
 
 " The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about 
 drinking less or smoking less, did he ? " 
 
 " In my case? Well, come to think of it, there 
 was some conversation in that direction. Don't 
 remember at the moment just what it amounted to ; 
 but all physicians have their little fads, you 
 know. It doesn't do to humour them too much. 
 Ah, boy, there you are again. Well the professor 
 wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, 
 and put plenty of ice in it ; but don't neglect the 
 gin on that account. Certainly ; charge it to room 
 518."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "WHAT'S all this tackle?" asked the burly and 
 somewhat red-faced customs officer at Fort Erie. 
 
 " This," said Yates, " is a tent, with the poles and 
 pegs appertaining thereto. These are a number of 
 packages of tobacco, on which I shall doubtless 
 have to pay something into the exchequer of her 
 Majesty. This is a jug used for the holding of 
 liquids. I beg to call your attention to the fact 
 that it is at present empty, which unfortunately 
 prevents me making a libation to the rites of good- 
 fellowship. What my friend has in that valise I 
 don't know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, and 
 would advise you to search him." 
 
 " My valise contains books principally, with some 
 articles of wearing apparel," said the professor, 
 opening his grip. 
 
 The customs officer looked with suspicion on the 
 whole outfit, and evidently did not like the tone of 
 the American. He seemed to be treating the cus- 
 toms department in a light and airy manner, and the 
 officer was too much impressed by the dignity of his 
 position not to resent flippancy. Besides, there 
 were rumours of Fenian invasion in the air, and the 
 24
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 25 
 
 officer resolved that no Fenian should get into the 
 country without paying duty. 
 
 " Where are you going with this tent ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know. Perhaps you can 
 tell us. I don't know the country about here. Say, 
 Stilly, I'm off up-town to attend to the emptiness in 
 this stone utensil. I've been empty too often my- 
 self not to sympathise with its condition. You 
 wrestle this matter out about the tent. You know 
 the ways of the country, whereas I don't." 
 
 It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations 
 in the hands of his friend. He was quick enough to 
 see that he made no headway with the officer, but 
 rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously 
 over his shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the 
 professor, and marched up the hill to the nearest 
 tavern, whistling one of the lately popular war 
 tunes. 
 
 " Now," he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar 
 tenderly on the bar, " fill that up to the nozzle with 
 the best rye you have. Fill it with the old familiar 
 juice, as the late poet Omar saith." 
 
 The bartender did as he was requested. 
 
 " Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any 
 way, so that it may be taken internally without a 
 man suspecting what he is swallowing ? " 
 
 The barkeeper smiled. " How would a cocktail 
 fill the vacancy?" 
 
 " I can suggest nothing better," replied Yates. 
 " If you are sure you know how to make it." 
 
 The man did not resent this imputation of igno-
 
 26 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ranee. He merely said, with the air of one who gives 
 an incontrovertible answer : 
 
 " I am a Kentucky man myself." 
 
 " Shake ! " cried Yates briefly, as he reached his 
 hand across the bar. " How is it you happen to be 
 here?" 
 
 " Well, I got into a little trouble in Louisville, and 
 here I am, where I can at least look at God's country." 
 
 " Hold on," protested Yates. " You're making 
 only one cocktail." 
 
 " Didn't you say one ? " asked the man, pausing 
 in the compounding. 
 
 " Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my 
 life. You are with me on this." 
 
 " Just as you say," replied the other, as he pre- 
 pared enough for two. 
 
 " Now I'll tell you my fix," said Yates confiden- 
 tially. " I've got a tent and some camp things 
 down below at the custom-house shanty, and I want 
 to get them taken into the woods, where I can camp 
 out with a friend. I want a place where we can 
 have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know the 
 country round here? Perhaps you could recom- 
 mend a spot." 
 
 " Well, for all the time I've been here, I know 
 precious little about the back country. I've been 
 down the road to Niagara Falls, but never out into 
 the woods. I suppose you want some place by the 
 lake or the river ? " 
 
 "No, I don't. I want to get clear back into the 
 forest if there is a forest."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 27 
 
 " Well, there's a man in to-day from somewhere 
 near Ridgeway, I think. He's got a hay-rack with 
 him, and that would be just the thing to take your 
 tent and poles. Wouldn't be very comfortable 
 travelling for you, but it would be all right for the 
 tent, if it's a big one." 
 
 " That will suit us exactly. We don't care a cent 
 about the comfort. Roughing it is what we came 
 for. Where will I find him ? " 
 
 " Oh, he'll be along here soon. That's his team 
 tied there on the side street. If he happens to be 
 in good humour, he'll take your things, and as like as 
 not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiranj 
 Bartlett's his name. And, talking of the old Nick 
 himself, here he is. I say, Mr. Bartlett, this gentle- 
 man was wondering if you couldn't tote out some 
 of his belongings. He's going out your way." 
 
 Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry speci- 
 men of the Canadian farmer who evidently paid 
 little attention to the subject of dress. He said 
 nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, 
 with something of contempt and suspicion in his 
 glance. 
 
 Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance 
 of all mankind. "Come in, Mr. Bartlett," he said 
 cheerily, "and try one of my friend's excellent 
 cocktails." 
 
 " I take mine straight," growled Bartlett gruffly, 
 although he stepped inside the open door. " I don't 
 want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plain whisky's 
 good enough for any man, if he is a man. I
 
 28 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 don't take no water, neither. I've got trouble 
 enough." 
 
 The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the 
 decanter over to the newcomer. 
 
 " Right you are," assented Yates cordially. 
 
 The farmer did not thaw out in the least because 
 of this prompt agreement with him, but sipped his 
 whisky gloomily, as if it were a most disagreeable 
 medicine. 
 
 " What did you want me to take out ? " he said at 
 last. 
 
 " A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of 
 jolly good tobacco." 
 
 " How much are you willing to pay ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I'm always willing to do 
 what's right. How would five dollars strike you ? " 
 
 The farmer scowled and shook his head. 
 
 "Too much," he said, as Yates was about to offer 
 more. " 'Tain't worth it. Two and a half would be 
 about the right figure. Don'no but that's too much. 
 I'll think on it going home, and charge you what it's 
 worth. I'll be ready to leave in about an hour, if 
 that suits you. That's my team on the other side 
 of the road. If it's gone when you come back, I'm 
 gone, an* you'll have to get somebody else." 
 
 With this Bartlett drew his coat-sleeve across his 
 mouth and departed. 
 
 " That's him exactly," said the barkeeper. " He's 
 the most cantankerous crank in the township. And 
 say, let me give you a pointer. If the subject of 
 1812 comes up, the war, you know, you'd bettei
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 29 
 
 admit that we got thrashed out of our boots ; that 
 is, if you want to get along with Hiram. He hates 
 Yankees like poison." 
 
 " And did we get thrashed in 1812 ?" asked Yates, 
 who was more familiar with current topics than with 
 the history of the past. 
 
 " Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told 
 him once that we got what we wanted from old 
 England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. 
 So I give you the warning, if you want to get along 
 with him." 
 
 "Thank you. I'll remember it. So long." 
 
 This friendly hint from the man in the tavern 
 offers a key to the solution of the problem of Yates' 
 success on the New York press. He could get news 
 when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as 
 he undoubtedly was, he somehow got into the inner 
 confidences of all sorts of men in a way that made 
 them give him an inkling of anything that was going 
 on for the mere love of him ; and thus Yates often 
 received valuable assistance from his acquaintances 
 which other reporters could not get for money. 
 
 The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a 
 bench by the custom-house, chatting with the officer, 
 and gazing at the rapidly flowing broad blue river in 
 front of them. 
 
 " I have got a man," said Yates, " who will take 
 us out into the wilderness in about an hour's time. 
 Suppose we explore the town. I expect nobody 
 will run away with the tent till we come back." 
 
 " I'll look after that," said the officer; and, thank-
 
 30 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ing him, the two friends strolled up the street. They 
 were a trifle late in getting back, and when they 
 reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on the 
 point of driving home. He gruffly consented to 
 take them, if they did not keep him more than five 
 minutes loading up. The tent and its belongings 
 were speedily placed on the hay-rack, and then Bart- 
 lett drove up to the tavern and waited, saying noth- 
 ing, although he had been in such a hurry a few mo- 
 ments before. Yates did not like to ask the cause 
 of the delay ; so the three sat there silently. After 
 a while Yates said as mildly as he could : 
 
 " Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett ? " 
 "Yes," answered the driver in a surly tone, " I'm 
 waiting for you to go in fur that jug. I don't sup- 
 pose you rilled it to leave it on the counter." 
 
 " By Jove ! " cried Yates, springing off, " I had 
 forgotten all about it, which shows the extraordinary 
 effect this country has on me already." The pro- 
 fessor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with 
 the jar in his hand, and Bartlett started his team. 
 They drove out of the village and up a slight hill, 
 going for a mile or two along a straight and some- 
 what sandy road. Then they turned into the Ridge 
 Road, as Bartlett called it, in answer to a question 
 by the professor, and there was no need to ask why 
 it was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather 
 stony, the road being, in places, on the bare rock. 
 It paid not the slightest attention to Euclid's defini- 
 tion of a straight line, and in this respect was rather 
 a welcome change from the average American road.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 31 
 
 Sometimes they passed along avenues of overbranch- 
 ing trees, which were evidently relics of the forest 
 that once covered all the district. The road followed 
 the ridge, and on each side were frequently to be 
 seen wide vistas of lower lying country. All along 
 the road were comfortable farmhouses ; and it was 
 evident that a prosperous community flourished 
 along the ridge. 
 
 Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the pro- 
 fessor, who sat next to him. 
 
 " You a Canadian ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where's he from ? " 
 
 " My friend is from New York," answered the in- 
 nocent professor. 
 
 " Humph ! " grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper 
 than ever, after which he became silent again. The 
 team was not going very fast, although neither the 
 load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was mutter- 
 ing a good deal to himself, and now and then brought 
 down his whip savagely on one or the other of the 
 horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals 
 quickened their pace he hauled them in roughly. 
 Nevertheless, they were going quickly enough to be 
 overtaking a young woman who was walking on 
 alone. Although she must have heard them com- 
 ing over the rocky road she did not turn her head, 
 but walked along with the free and springy step of 
 one who is not only accustomed to walking, but who 
 likes it. Bartlett paid no attention to the girl ; the 
 professor was endeavouring to read his thin book as
 
 32 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 well as a man might who is being jolted frequently; 
 but Yates, as soon as he recognised that the pedes- 
 trian was young, pulled up his collar, adjusted his 
 necktie with care, and placed his hat in a somewhat 
 more jaunty and fetching position. 
 
 " Are you going to offer that girl a ride ? " he said 
 to Bartlett. 
 
 "No, I'm not." 
 
 " I think that is rather uncivil," he added, forget- 
 ting the warning he had had. 
 
 " You do, eh ? Well, you offer her a ride. You 
 hired the team." 
 
 " By Jove ! I will," said Yates, placing his hand 
 on the outside of the rack, and springing lightly to 
 the ground. 
 
 " Likely thing," growled Bartlett to the professor, 
 " that she's going to ride with the like of him." 
 
 The professor looked for a moment at Yates, po- 
 litely taking off his hat to the apparently astonished 
 young woman, but he said nothing. 
 
 " Fur two cents," continued Bartlett, gathering up 
 the reins, " I'd whip up the horses, and let him walk 
 the rest of the way." 
 
 " From what I know of my friend," answered the 
 professor sic v.'y, " I think he would not object in 
 the slightest." 
 
 Bartlett muttered something to himself, and 
 seemed to change his mind about galloping his 
 horses. 
 
 Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his 
 hat with great politeness to the fair pedestrian, and
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 33 
 
 as he did so he noticed, with a thrill of admiration, 
 that she was very handsome. Yates always had an 
 eye for the beautiful. 
 
 " Our conveyance," he began, " is not as comfort- 
 able as it might be, yet I shall be very happy if you 
 will accept its hospitalities." 
 
 The young woman flashed a brief glance at him 
 from her dark eyes, and for a moment Yates feared 
 that his language had been rather too choice for her 
 rural understanding, but before he could amend his 
 phrase she answered briefly : 
 
 " Thank you. I prefer to walk." 
 
 "Well, I don't know that I blame you. May 
 I ask if you have come all the way from the 
 village ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That is a long distance, and you must be very 
 tired." There was no reply; so Yates continued. 
 " At least, I thought it a long distance ; but per- 
 haps that was because I was riding on Bartlett's hay- 
 rack. There is no ' downy bed of ease ' about his 
 vehicle." 
 
 As he spoke of the waggon he looked at it, and, 
 striding forward to its side, said in a husky whisper 
 to the professor : 
 
 " Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the 
 tent." 
 
 " Cover it up yourself," briefly replied the other ; 
 "it isn't mine." 
 
 Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental 
 way, threw the flap of the tent over the too con- 
 3
 
 34 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 spicuous jar. As an excuse for his action he took 
 up his walking-cane and turned toward his new ac- 
 quaintance. He was flattered to see that she was 
 loitering some distance behind the waggon, and he 
 speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight 
 ahead, now quickened her pace, and rapidly short- 
 ened the distance between herself and the vehicle. 
 Yates, with the quickness characteristic of him, 
 made up his mind that this was a case of country 
 diffidence, which was best to be met by the bring- 
 ing down of his conversation to the level of his 
 hearer's intelligence. 
 
 " Have you been marketing? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?" 
 
 " We are farmers," she answered, " and we sell 
 butter and eggs " a pause " and that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As 
 he twirled his cane he looked at his pretty com- 
 panion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward a 
 turn in the road. Her comely face was slightly 
 flushed, doubtless with the exercise of walking. 
 
 " Now, in my country," continued the New-Yorker, 
 " we idolise our women. Pretty girls don't tramp 
 miles to market with butter and eggs." 
 
 " Aren't the girls pretty in your country.? " 
 
 Yates made a mental note that there was not as 
 much rurality about this girl as he had thought at 
 first. There was a piquancy about the conversation 
 which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 35 
 
 was doubtful, for a slight line of resentment was 
 noticeable on her smooth brow. 
 
 " You bet they're pretty ! I think all American 
 girls are pretty. It seems their birthright. When 
 I say American, I mean the whole continent, of 
 course. I'm from the States myself from New 
 York." He gave an extra twirl to his cane as he 
 said this, and bore himself with that air of conscious 
 superiority which naturally pertains to a citizen of 
 the metropolis. " But over in the States we think 
 the men should do all the work and that the women 
 should well, spend the money. I must do our 
 ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly 
 to their share of the arrangement." 
 
 " It should be a delightful country to live in for 
 the women." 
 
 " They all say so. We used to have an adage to 
 the effect that America was paradise for women, 
 purgatory for men, and well, an entirely different 
 sort of place for oxen." 
 
 There was no doubt that Yates had a way of get- 
 ting along with people. As he looked at his com- 
 panion he was gratified to note just the faintest sus- 
 picion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before 
 she could answer, if she had intended to do so, there 
 was a quick clatter of hoofs on the hard road ahead, 
 and the next instant an elegant buggy, whose slen- 
 der jet-black polished spokes flashed and twinkled 
 in the sunlight, came dashing past the waggon. 
 On seeing the two walking together, the driver 
 hauled up his team with a suddenness that was
 
 36 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 evidently not relished by the spirited dappled span 
 he drove. 
 
 " Hello, Margaret ! " he cried ; " am I late ? Have 
 you walked in all the way ? " 
 
 " You are just in good time," answered the girl, 
 without looking toward Yates, who stood aimlessly 
 twirling his cane. The young woman put her foot 
 on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the 
 driver. It needed no second glance to see that he 
 was her brother, not only on account of the family 
 ressemblance between them, but also because he al- 
 lowed her to get into the buggy without offering 
 the slightest assistance, which, indeed, was not 
 needed, and graciously permitted her to place the 
 duster that covered his knees over her own lap as 
 well. The restive team trotted rapidly down the 
 road for a few rods, until they came to a wide place 
 in the highway, and then whirled round seemingly 
 within an ace of upsetting the buggy ; but the young 
 man evidently knew his business, and held them in 
 with a firm hand. The waggon was jogging along 
 where the road was very narrow, and Bartlett kept 
 his team stolidly in the centre of the way. 
 
 " Hello, there, Bartlett ! " shouted the young man 
 in the buggy ; " half the road, you know half the 
 road." 
 
 " Take it," cried Bartlett over his shoulder. 
 
 " Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I'll 
 run you down." 
 
 " You just try it. " 
 
 Bartlett either had no sense of humour or his re-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 37 
 
 scntment against his young neighbour smothered it, 
 since otherwise he would have recognised that a 
 heavy waggon was in no danger of being run into by a 
 light and expensive buggy. The young man kept his 
 temper admirably,but he knew just where to touch the 
 elder on the raw. His sister's hand was placed appeal- 
 ingly on his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. 
 
 " Come, now, you move out, or I'll have the law 
 on you." 
 
 " The law ! " roared Bartlett ; " you just try it on." 
 
 " Should think you'd had enough of it by this 
 time." 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't, Henry ! " protested the girl in 
 distress. 
 
 " There ain't no law," yelled Bartlett, " that kin 
 make a man with a load move out fur anything." 
 
 " You haven't any load, unless it's in that jug." 
 
 Yates saw with consternation that the jar had 
 been jolted out from under its covering, but the 
 happy consolation came to him that the two in the 
 buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He 
 thought, however, that this dog-in-the-manger policy 
 had gone far enough. He stepped briskly forward, 
 and said to Bartlett : 
 
 " Better drive aside a little, and let them pass." 
 
 " You 'tend to your own business," cried the 
 thoroughly enraged farmer. 
 
 " I will," said Yates shortly, striding to the 
 horses' heads. He took them by the bits and, in 
 spite of Bartlett's maledictions and pulling at the lines, 
 he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by.
 
 38 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Thank you," cried the young man. The light 
 and glittering carriage rapidly disappeared up the 
 Ridge Road. 
 
 Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of 
 baffled rage. Then he threw the reins down on the 
 backs of his patient horses, and descended. 
 
 " You take my horses by the head, do you, you 
 good-fur-nothin' Yank? You do, eh ? I like your 
 cheek. Touch my horses an' me a-holdin' the lines! 
 Now, you hear me ? Your traps comes right off 
 here on the road. You hear me ? " 
 
 " Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you." 
 
 " Kin they ? Well, off comes your pesky tent." 
 
 " No, it doesn't." 
 
 "Don't it, eh? Well, then, you'll lick me fust; 
 and that's something no Yank ever did nor kin do." 
 
 " I'll do it with pleasure." 
 
 ' Come, come," cried the professor, getting down 
 on the road, " this has gone far enough. Keep quiet, 
 Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don't mind it ; he meant 
 no disrespect." 
 
 " Don't you interfere. You're all right, an* I ain't 
 got nothin' ag'in you. But I'm goin' to thrash this 
 Yank within an inch of his life ; see if I don't. We 
 met 'em in 1812, an' we fit 'em an' we licked 'em, 
 an' we can do it ag'in. I'll learn ye to take my 
 horses by the head." 
 
 " Teach," suggested Yates tantalisingly. 
 
 Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett 
 sprang at him and grasped him round the waist. 
 
 Yates was something of a wrestler himself, but hw
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 39 
 
 skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett's 
 right leg became twisted around his with a steel-like 
 grip that speedily convinced the younger man he 
 would have to give way or a bone would break. He 
 gave way accordingly, and the next thing he knew 
 he came down on his back with a thud that seemed 
 to shake the universe. 
 
 " There, darn ye ! " cried the triumphant farmer ; 
 " that's 1812 and Queenstown Heights for ye. How 
 do you like 'em ?" 
 
 Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and 
 slowly took off his coat. 
 
 " Now, now, Yates," said the professor soothingly, 
 "let it go at this. You're not hurt, are you? " he 
 asked anxiously, as he noticed how white the young 
 man was around the lips. 
 
 " Look here, Renmark ; you're a sensible man. 
 There is a time to interfere and a time not to. 
 This is the time not to. A certain international 
 element seems to have crept into this dispute. 
 Now, you stand aside, like a good fellow, for I don't 
 want to have to thrash both of you." 
 
 The professor stood aside, for he realised that, 
 when Yates called him by his last name, matters 
 were serious. 
 
 " Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like 
 to try that again." 
 
 " I kin do it a dozen times, if ye ain't satisfied. 
 There ain't no Yank ever raised on pumpkin pie that 
 can stand ag'in that grapevine twist." 
 
 " Try the grapevine once more."
 
 40 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for 
 there was a look in the young man's face he did not 
 quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can attitude, 
 and moved stealthily in a semicircle around Yates, 
 who shifted his position constantly, so as to keep 
 facing his foe. At last Bartlett sprang forward, and 
 the next instant found himself sitting on a piece of the 
 rock of the country, with a thousand humming-birds 
 buzzing in his head, while stars and the landscape 
 around joined in a dance together. The blow was 
 sudden, well placed, and from the shoulder. 
 
 " That," said Yates, standing over him, " is 1776 
 the Revolution when, to use your own phrase, we 
 met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do you like it ? 
 Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broad- 
 er view of history than you have done. Don't con- 
 fine yourself too much to one period. Study up the 
 War of the Revolution a bit." 
 
 Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a 
 while, until the surrounding landscape assumed its 
 normal condition, he arose leisurely, without saying 
 a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the 
 horses and patted the nearest animal gently. Then 
 he mounted to his place and drove off. The pro- 
 fessor had taken his seat beside the driver, but Yates, 
 putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode 
 along in front, switching off the heads of Canada 
 thistles with his walking-stick as he proceeded.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 BARTLETT was silent for a long time, but there 
 was evidently something on his mind, for he com- 
 muned with himself, his mutterings growing louder 
 and louder, until they broke the stillness ; then he 
 struck the horses, pulled them in, and began his 
 soliloquy over again. At last he said abruptly to the 
 professor : 
 
 " What's this Revolution he talked about ? " 
 " It was the War of Independence, beginning in 
 1776." 
 
 " Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?" 
 " The colonies fought with England." 
 " What colonies ?" 
 
 " The country now called the United States." 
 " They fit with England, eh ? Which licked ? " 
 " The colonies won their independence." 
 " That means they licked us. I don't believe a 
 word of it. Tears to me I'd V heard of it ; fur I've 
 lived in these parts a long time." 
 " It was a little before your day." 
 " So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an' I never 
 heard him tell of this Revolution. He'd 'a' known, 
 I sh'd think. There's a nigger in the fence some- 
 wheres." 
 
 41
 
 42 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Well, England was rather busy at the time with 
 the French." 
 
 "Ah, that was it, was it? I'll bet England never 
 knew the Revolution was a-goin' on till it was over. 
 Old Napoleon couldn't thrash 'em, and it don't 
 stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought 
 there was some skullduggery. Why, it took the 
 Yanks four years to lick themselves. I got a book 
 at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss." 
 
 The professor did not feel called upon to defend 
 the character of Napoleon, and so silence once more 
 descended upon them. Bartlett seemed a good deal 
 disturbed by the news he had just heard of the 
 Revolution, and he growled to himself, while the 
 horses suffered more than usual from the whip and 
 the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. 
 Yates was some distance ahead, and swinging along 
 at a great rate, when the horses, apparently of their 
 own accord, turned in at an open gateway and pro- 
 ceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a 
 large barn, past a comfortable frame house with 
 a wide veranda in front. 
 
 " This is my place," said Bartlett shortly. 
 
 " I wish you had told me a few minutes ago," re- 
 plied the professor, springing off, " so that I might 
 have called to my friend." 
 
 " I'm not frettin' about him," said Bartlett, throw- 
 ing the reins to a young man who came out of the 
 house. 
 
 Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to 
 the distant Yates. Yates apparently did not hear
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 43 
 
 him, but something about the next house attracted 
 the pedestrian's attention, and after standing for a 
 moment and gazing toward the west he looked around 
 and saw the professor beckoning to him. When the 
 two men met, Yates said : 
 
 " So we have arrived, have we ? I say, Stilly, she 
 lives in the next house. I saw the buggy in the 
 yard." 
 
 "She! Who?" 
 
 " Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the 
 road. I'm going to buy our supplies at that house, 
 Stilly, if you have no objections. By the way, how 
 is my old friend 1812 ? " 
 
 " He doesn't seem to harbour any harsh feelings. 
 In fact, he was more troubled about the Revolution 
 than about the blow you gave him." 
 
 " News to him, eh ? Well, I'm glad I knocked 
 something into his head." 
 
 "You certainly did it most unscientifically." 
 
 " How do you mean unscientifically?" 
 
 " In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more 
 awkwardly delivered undercut." 
 
 Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How 
 should this calm, learned man know anything about 
 undercuts or science in blows? 
 
 " Well, you must admit I got there just the same." 
 
 "Yes, by brute force. A sledge-hammer would 
 have done as well. But you had such an opportunity 
 to do it neatly and deftly, without any display of 
 surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an open- 
 ing thrown away."
 
 44 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor 
 in a new light ! What do you teach in Toronto 
 University, anyhow? The noble art of self-de- 
 fense ? " 
 
 " Not exactly ; but if you intend to go through 
 Canada in this belligerent manner, I think it would 
 be worth your while to take a few hints from me." 
 
 "With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove ! 
 I will, Stilly." 
 
 As the two came to the house they found Bartlett 
 sitting in a wooden rocking-chair on the veranda, 
 looking grimly down the road. 
 
 " What an old tyrant that man must be in his 
 home ! " said Yates. There was no time for the pro- 
 fessor to reply before they came within ear-shot. 
 
 " The old woman's setting out supper," said the 
 farmer, gruffly, that piece of information being ap- 
 parently as near as he could get toward inviting them 
 to share his hospitality. Yates didn't know whether 
 it was meant for an invitation or not, but he answered 
 shortly : 
 
 " Thanks, we won't stay." 
 
 " Speak for yourself, please," snarled Bartlett. 
 
 " Of course I go with my friend," said Renmark ; 
 " but we are obliged for the invitation." 
 
 " Please yourselves." 
 
 " What's that ? " cried a cheery voice from the in- 
 side of the house, as a stout, rosy, and very good- 
 natured-looking woman appeared at the front door. 
 "Won't stay? Who won't stay? I'd like to see 
 anybody leave my house hungry when there's a meal
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 45 
 
 on the table ! And, young men, if you can get a 
 better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I'll 
 give you, why, you're welcome to go there next 
 time, but this meal you'll have here, inside of ten 
 minutes. Hiram, that's your fault. You always in- 
 vite a person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle 
 with him ! " 
 
 Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with some- 
 thing of mute appeal at the two men, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Never mind him," continued Mrs. Bartlett. 
 " You're at my house ; and, whatever my neighbours 
 may say ag'in me, I never heard anybody complain 
 of the lack of good victuals while I was able to do 
 the cooking. Come right in and wash yourselves, for 
 the road between here and the Fort is dusty enough, 
 even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. 
 Besides, a wash is refreshing after a hot day." 
 
 There was no denying the cordiality of this invk 
 tation, and Yates, whose natural gallantry was at 
 once aroused, responded with the readiness of a 
 courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house ; 
 but as Yates passed the farmer the latter cleared his 
 throat with an effort, and, throwing his thumb over 
 his shoulder in the direction his wife had taken, said 
 in a husky whisper : 
 
 " No call to to mention the Revolution, you 
 know." 
 
 " Certainly not," answered Yates, with a wink that 
 took in the situation. " Shall we sample the jug 
 before or after supper ? "
 
 46 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " After, if it's all the same to you ; " adding, " out 
 in the barn." 
 
 Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the 
 house. 
 
 The young men were shown into a bedroom of 
 more than ordinary size, on the upper floor. Every- 
 thing about the house was of the most dainty and 
 scrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort 
 pervaded the place. Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a 
 housekeeper to be proud of. Two large pitchers of 
 cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as had 
 been predicted, was most refreshing. 
 
 " I say," cried Yates, "it's rather cheeky to accept 
 a man's hospitality after knocking him down." 
 
 " It would be for most people, but I think you 
 underestimate your cheek, as you call it." 
 
 " Bravo, Stilly ! You're blossoming out. That's 
 rapartee, that is. With the accent on the rap, too. 
 Never you mind ; I think old 1812 and I will get on 
 all right after this. It doesn't seem to bother him 
 any, so I don't see why it should worry me. Nice 
 motherly old lady, isn't she ? " 
 
 "Who? 1812?" 
 
 " No; Mrs. 1812. I'm sorry I complimented you 
 on your repartee. You'll get conceited. Remember 
 that what in the newspaper man is clever, in a grave 
 professor is rank flippancy. Let's go down." 
 
 The table was covered with a cloth as white and 
 spotless as good linen can well be. The bread was 
 genuine home-made, a term so often misused in the 
 cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 47 
 
 as to interior. The butter, cool from the rock cellar, 
 was of a refreshing yellow hue. The sight of the 
 well-loaded table was most welcome to the eyes of 
 hungry travellers. There was, as Yates afterward 
 remarked, " abundance, and plenty of it." 
 
 " Come, father ! " cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young 
 men appeared ; they heard the rocking-chair creak 
 on the veranda in prompt answer to the sum- 
 mons. 
 
 " This is my son, gentlemen," said Mrs. Bartlett, 
 indicating the young man who stood in a non-com- 
 mittal attitude near a corner of the room. The pro- 
 fessor recognised him as the person who had taken 
 charge of the horses when his father came home. 
 There was evidently something of his father's 
 demeanour about the young man, who awkwardly 
 and silently responded to the recognition of the 
 strangers. 
 
 " And this is my daughter," continued the good 
 woman. " Now, what might your names be ?" 
 
 " My name is Yates, and this is my friend Profes- 
 sor Renmark of T'ronto," pronouncing the name of 
 the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas ! too often 
 done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially ex- 
 tended his hand to the young woman. " How do 
 you do, Miss Bartlett?" he said, "I am happy to 
 meet you." 
 
 The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped 
 they had a pleasant trip out from Fort Erie. 
 
 " Oh, we had," said Yates, looking for a moment 
 at his host, whose eyes were fixed on the table-cloth,
 
 48 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 and who appeared to be quite content to let his wife 
 run the show. " The road's a little rocky in places, 
 but it's very pleasant." 
 
 " Now, you sit down here, and you here," said 
 Mrs. Bartlett ; " and I do hope you have brought 
 good appetites with you." 
 
 The strangers took their places, and Yates had a 
 chance to look at the younger member of the fam- 
 ily, which opportunity he did not let slip. It was 
 hard to believe that she was the daughter of so 
 crusty a man as Hiram Bartlett. Her cheeks were 
 rosy, with dimples in them that constantly came and 
 went in her incessant efforts to keep from laughing. 
 Her hair, which hung about her plump shoulders, 
 was a lovely golden brown. Although her dress 
 was of the cheapest material, it was neatly cut and 
 fitted ; and her dainty white apron added that touch 
 of wholesome cleanliness which was so noticeable 
 everywhere in the house. A bit of blue ribbon at 
 her white throat, and a pretty spring flower just be- 
 low it, completed a charming picture, which a more 
 critical and less susceptible man than Yates might 
 have contemplated with pleasure. 
 
 Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, 
 and her father grimly at the other. The mother sat 
 at the side, apparently looking on that position as one 
 of vantage for commanding the whole field, and keep- 
 ing her husband and her daughter both under her 
 eye. The teapot and cups were set before the young 
 woman. She did not pour out the tea at once, but 
 seemed to be waiting instructions from her mother.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 49 
 
 That good lady was gazing with some sternness at 
 her husband, he vainly endeavouring to look at the 
 ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew his open 
 hand nervously down his face, which was of unusual 
 gravity even for him. Finally he cast an appealing 
 glance at his wife, who sat with her hands folded on 
 her lap, but her eyes were unrelenting. After a 
 moment's hopeless irresolution Bartlett bent his head 
 over his plate and murmured : 
 
 " For what we are about to receive, oh, make us 
 truly thankful. Amen." 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also 
 bowed her head when she saw surrender in the 
 troubled eyes of her husband. 
 
 Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen noth- 
 ing of this silent struggle of the eyes, being exceed- 
 ingly hungry, was making every preparation for the 
 energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent 
 most of his life in hotels and New York boarding- 
 houses, so that if he ever knew the adage, " Grace 
 before meat," he had forgotten it. In the midst of 
 his preparations came the devout words, and they 
 came upon him as a stupefying surprise. Although 
 naturally a resourceful man, he was not quick enough 
 this time to cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett's 
 golden head was bowed, but out of the corner of her 
 eye she saw Yates' look of amazed bewilderment, 
 and his sudden halt of surprise. When all heads 
 were raised, the young girl's still remained where it 
 was, while her plump shoulders quivered. Then she 
 covered her face with her apron, and the silvery 
 4
 
 50 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ripple of a laugh came like a smothered musical 
 chime trickling through her fingers. 
 
 "Why, Kitty!" cried her mother in astonish- 
 ment, " whatever is the matter with you ? " 
 
 The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. 
 " You'll have to pour out the tea, mother! " she ex- 
 claimed, as she fled from the room. 
 
 " For the land's sake ! " cried the astonished 
 mother, rising to take her frivolous daughter's place, 
 " what ails the child ? I don't see what there is to 
 laugh at." 
 
 Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently 
 also of the opinion that there was no occasion for 
 mirth. The professor was equally in the dark. 
 
 " I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett," said Yates, " that I 
 am the innocent cause of Miss Kitty's mirth. You 
 see, madam it's a pathetic thing to say, but really 
 I have had no home life. Although I attend church 
 regularly, of course," he added with jaunty men- 
 dacity, " I must confess that I haven't heard grace 
 at meals for years and years, and well, I wasn't just 
 prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhi- 
 bition of myself, which your daughter was quick to 
 see." 
 
 " It wasn't very polite," said Mrs. Bartlett with 
 some asperity. 
 
 " I know that," pleaded Yates, with contrition, 
 " but I assure you it was unintentional on my 
 part." 
 
 " Bless the man ! " cried his hostess. " I don't 
 mean you. I mean Kitty. But that girl never
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 51 
 
 could keep her face straight. She always favoured 
 me more than her father." 
 
 This statement was not difficult to believe, for 
 Hiram at that moment looked as if he had never 
 smiled in his life. He sat silent throughout the 
 meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough foi 
 two. 
 
 " Well, for my part," she said, " I don't know 
 what farming is coming to! Henry Howard and 
 Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud as 
 Punch in their new covered buggy. Things is very 
 different from what they was when I was a girl. 
 Then a farmer's daughter had to work. Now Mar- 
 garet's took her diploma at the ladies' college, and 
 Arthur he's begun at the university, and Henry's 
 sporting round in a new buggy. They have a piano 
 there, with the organ moved out into the back 
 room." 
 
 " The whole Howard lot's a stuck-up set," mut- 
 tered the farmer. 
 
 But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn't have that. Any de- 
 traction that was necessary she felt competent to 
 supply, without help from the nominal head of the 
 house. 
 
 " No, I don't go so far as to say that. Neither would 
 you, Hiram, if you hadn't lost your lawsuit about 
 the line fence ; and served you right, too, for it 
 wouldn't have been begun if I had been at home at 
 the time. Not but what Margaret's a good house- 
 keeper, for she wouldn't be her mother's daughter if 
 she wasn't that ; but it does seem to me a queer
 
 52 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 way to raise farmers' children, and I only hope they 
 can keep it up. There were no pianos nor French 
 and German in my young days." 
 
 " You ought to hear her play ! My lands ! " cried 
 young Bartlett, who spoke for the first time. His 
 admiration for her accomplishment evidently went 
 beyond his powers of expression. 
 
 Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the con- 
 versation had taken, and he looked somewhat un- 
 easily at the two strangers. The professor's coun- 
 tenance was open and frank, and he was listening 
 with respectful interest to Mrs. Bartlett's talk. 
 Yates bent over his plate with flushed face, and con- 
 fined himself strictly to the business in hand. 
 
 " I am glad," said the professor innocently to 
 Yates, " that you made the young lady's acquaint- 
 ance. I must ask you for an introduction." 
 
 For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but 
 he looked at his friend with an expression that was 
 not kindly. The latter, in answer to Mrs. Bartlett's 
 inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard 
 on the road, and how Yates, with his usual kindness 
 of heart, had offered the young woman the hospital- 
 ities of the hay-rack. Two persons at the table were 
 much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It 
 was young Hiram who brought about this boon. 
 He was interested in the tent, and he wanted to 
 know. Two things seemed to bother the boy : 
 First, he was anxious to learn what diabolical cause 
 had been at work to induce two apparently sane 
 men to give up the comforts of home and live in
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 53 
 
 this exposed manner, if they were not compelled to 
 do so. Second, he desired to find out why people 
 who had the privilege of living in large cities came 
 of their own accord into the uninteresting country, 
 anyhow. Even when explanations were offered, the 
 problem seemed still beyond him. 
 
 After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, 
 where the air was cool and the view extensive. 
 Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the young men 
 pitching the tent that night. 
 
 " Goodness knows, you will have enough of it, 
 with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty 
 of room here, and you will have one comfortable 
 night on the Ridge, at any rate. Then in the 
 morning you can find a place in the woods to suit 
 you, and my boy will take an axe and cut stakes for 
 you, and help to put up your precious tent. Only 
 remember that when it rains you are to come to the 
 house, or you will catch your deaths with cold and 
 rheumatism. It will be very nice till the novelty 
 wears off ; then you are quite welcome to the front 
 rooms upstairs, and Hiram can take the tent back 
 to Erie the first time he goes to town." 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for 
 granted. It never seemed to occur to her that any 
 of her rulings might be questioned. H iram sat gazing 
 silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. 
 
 Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of 
 the veranda, with his back against one of the pillars, 
 in such a position that he might, without turning 
 his head, look through the open doorway into the
 
 54 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 room where Miss Bartlett was busily but silently 
 clearing away the tea-things. The young man 
 caught fleeting glimpses of her as she moved airily 
 about her work. He drew a cigar from his case, 
 cut off the end with his knife, and lit a match on 
 the sole of his boot, doing this with an easy auto- 
 matic familiarity that required no attention on his 
 part ; all of which aroused the respectful envy of 
 young Hiram, who sat on a wooden chair, leaning 
 forward, eagerly watching the man from New York. 
 
 " Have a cigar? " said Yates, offering the case to 
 young Hiram. 
 
 " No, no ; thank you," gasped the boy, aghast at 
 the reckless audacity of the proposal. 
 
 "What's that?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although 
 she was talking volubly to the professor, her 
 maternal vigilance never even nodded, much less 
 slept. "A cigar? Not likely! I'll say this for 
 my husband and my boy : that, whatever else they 
 may have done, they have never smoked nor touched 
 a drop of liquor since I've known them, and, please 
 God, they never will." 
 
 " Oh, I guess it wouldn't hurt them," said Yates, 
 with a lack of tact that was not habitual. He fell 
 several degrees in the estimation of his hostess. 
 
 "Hurt 'em?" cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. 
 " I guess it won't get a chance to." She turned to 
 the professor, who was a good listener respectful 
 and deferential, with little to say for himself. She 
 rocked gently to and fro as she talked. 
 
 Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinx-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 55 
 
 like attitude that gave no outward indication of his 
 mental uneasiness. He was thinking gloomily that 
 it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlett un- 
 expectedly in the streets of Fort Erie on one of 
 those rare occasions when he was enjoying the 
 pleasures of sin for a season. He had the most pes- 
 simistic forebodings of what the future might have 
 in store for him. Sometimes, when neighbours or 
 customers " treated " him in the village, and he felt 
 he had taken all the whisky that cloves would con- 
 ceal, he took a five-cent cigar instead of a drink. 
 He did not particularly like the smoking of it, but 
 there was a certain devil-may-care recklessness in 
 going down the street with a lighted cigar in his 
 teeth, which had all the more fascination for him 
 because of its manifest danger. He felt at these 
 times that he was going the pace, and that it is well 
 our women do not know of all the wickedness there 
 is in this world. He did not fear that any neighbour 
 might tell his wife, for there were depths to which 
 no person could convince Mrs. Bartlett he would 
 descend. But he thought with horror of some com- 
 bination of circumstances that might bring his wife 
 to town unknown to him on a day when he indulged. 
 He pictured, with a shudder, meeting her unexpect- 
 edly on the uncertain plank sidewalk of Fort Erie, 
 he smoking a cigar. When this nightmare presented 
 itself to him, he resolved never to touch a cigar 
 again ; but he well knew that the best resolutions 
 fade away if a man is excited with two or three 
 glasses of liquor.
 
 $6 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with 
 the professor, Yates looked up at young Hiram and 
 winked. The boy flushed with pleasure under the 
 comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him 
 in the attractive halo of crime that enveloped the 
 fascinating personality of the man from New York. 
 It seemed to say : 
 
 " That's all right, but we are men of the world. 
 We know." 
 
 Young Hiram's devotion to the Goddess Nicotine 
 had never reached the altitude of a cigar. He had 
 surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secluded corner 
 behind the barn in days when his father was away. 
 He feared both his father and his mother, and so 
 was in an even more embarrassing situation than 
 old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to 
 tobacco by smoking cigarettes of cane made from 
 abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline was fashionable, 
 even in the country, in those days, and ribs of cane 
 were used before the metallic distenders of dresses 
 came in. One hoop-skirt, whose usefulness as an 
 article of adornment was gone, would furnish de- 
 light and smoking material for a company of boys 
 for a month. The cane smoke made the tongue 
 rather raw, but the wickedness was undeniable. 
 Yates' wink seemed to recognise young Hiram as a 
 comrade worthy to offer incense at the shrine, and 
 the boy was a firm friend of Yates from the moment 
 the eyelid of the latter drooped. 
 
 The tea-things having been cleared away, Yates 
 got no more glimpses of the girl through the open
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 57 
 
 door. He rose from his lowly seat and strolled 
 toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He 
 remembered that he had forgotten something, and 
 cudgelled his brains trying to make out what it was. 
 He gazed down the road at the house of the How- 
 ards, which naturally brought to his recollection his 
 meeting with the young girl on the road. There 
 was a pang of discomfiture in this thought when 
 he remembered the accomplishments attributed to 
 her by Mrs. Bartlett. He recalled his condescend- 
 ing tone to her, and recollected his anxiety about 
 the jar. The jar ! That was what he had forgotten. 
 He flashed a glance at old Hiram, and noted that 
 the farmer was looking at him with something like 
 reproach in his eyes. Yates moved his head almost 
 imperceptibly toward the barn, and the farmer's 
 eyes dropped to the floor of the veranda. The 
 young man nonchalantly strolled past the end of 
 the house. 
 
 " I guess I'll go to look after the horses," said the 
 farmer, rising. 
 
 "The horses are all right, father. I saw to them," 
 put in his son, but the old man frowned him down, 
 and slouched around the corner of the house. Mrs. 
 Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to 
 notice. So good a listener did not fall to her lot 
 every day. 
 
 " Here's looking at you," said Yates, strolling into 
 the barn, taking a telescopic metal cup from his 
 pocket, and clinking it into receptive shape by a jerk 
 of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to
 
 58 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Hiram, who declined any such modern improve, 
 ment. 
 
 " Help yourself in that thing. The jug's good 
 enough for me." 
 
 " Three fingers " of the liquid gurgled out into the 
 patented vessel, and the farmer took the jar, after a 
 furtive look over his shoulder. 
 
 " Well, here's luck." The newspaper man tossed 
 off the potion with the facility of long experience, 
 shutting up the dish with his thumb and finger, as if 
 it were a metallic opera hat. 
 
 The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. 
 Then he smote in the cork with his open palm. 
 
 " Better bury it in the wheat bin," he said mo- 
 rosely. " The boy might find it if you put it among 
 the oats feedin' the horses, ye know." 
 
 " Mighty good place," assented Yates, as the 
 golden grain flowed in a wave over the submerged 
 jar. " I say, old man, you know the spot ; you've 
 been here before." 
 
 Bartlett's lowering countenance indicated resent- 
 ment at the imputation, but he neither affirmed nor 
 denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, while the 
 farmer went through a small doorway that led to the 
 stable. A moment later he heard Hiram Calling loudly 
 to his son to bring the pails and water the horses. 
 
 " Evidently preparing an alibi" said Yates, srnil 
 ing to himself, as he sauntered toward the gate.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 "WHAT'S up? what's up?" cried Yates drowsily 
 next morning, as a prolonged hammering at his door 
 awakened him. 
 
 " Well, you re not, anyhow." He recognised the 
 voice of young Hiram. " I say, breakfast's ready. 
 The professor has been up an hour." 
 
 "All right; I'll be down shortly," said Yates, 
 yawning, adding to himself : " Hang the professor ! " 
 The sun was streaming in through the east window, 
 but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a 
 short distance above the horizon in the morning. 
 He pulled his watch from the pocket of his vest, 
 hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seven 
 o'clock. He placed it to his ear, thinking it had 
 stopped, but found himself mistaken. 
 
 " What an unearthly hour," he said, unable to 
 check the yawns. Yates' years on a morning news- 
 paper had made seven o'clock something like mid- 
 night to him. He had been unable to sleep until 
 after two o'clock, his usual time of turning in, and 
 now this rude awakening seemed thoughtless cruelty. 
 However, he dressed, and yawned himself down- 
 stairs. 
 
 59
 
 60 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 They were all seated at breakfast when Yates en- 
 tered the apartment, which was at once dining-room 
 and parlour. 
 
 "Waiting for you," said young Hiram humor- 
 ously, that being one of a set of jokes which suited 
 various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss 
 Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of 
 the morning. 
 
 " I hope I haven't kept you waiting long," he 
 said. 
 
 " No fear," cried Mrs. Bartlett. " If breakfast's a 
 minute later than seven o'clock, we soon hear of it 
 from the men-folks. They get precious hungry by 
 that time." 
 
 " By that time ? " echoed Yates. " Then do they 
 get up before seven ? " 
 
 " Laws ! what a farmer you would make, Mr. 
 Yates ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bartlett, laughing. " Why, 
 everything's done about the house and barn ; horses 
 fed, cows milked everything. There never was a 
 better motto made than the one you learned when 
 you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten all 
 about : 
 
 " ' Early to bed and early to rise 
 
 Makes a man healthy, wealthy and -wise.' 
 
 I'm sorry you don't believe in it, Mr. Yates." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," said Yates with some lofti- 
 ness; "but I'd like to see a man get out a morning 
 paper on such a basis. I'm healthy enough, quite 
 as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 61 
 
 admit that I'm wiser than he is ; yet I never go to 
 bed until after two o'clock, and rarely wake before 
 noon." 
 
 Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked 
 admiringly at the New Yorker, wishing he was as 
 clever. 
 
 " For the land's sake ! " cried Mrs. Bartlett, with 
 true feminine profanity. " What do you do up so 
 late as that ? " 
 
 * " Writing, writing," said Yates airily ; " articles 
 that make dynasties tremble next morning, and 
 which call forth apologies or libel suits afterward, as 
 the case may be." 
 
 Young Hiram had no patience with one's profes- 
 sion as a topic of conversation. The tent and its 
 future position was the burning question with him. 
 He mumbled something about Yates having slept 
 late in order to avoid the hearing of the words of 
 thankfulness at the beginning of the meal. What 
 his parents caught of this remark should have shown 
 them how evil communications corrupt good man- 
 ners ; for, big as he was, the boy had never before 
 ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. 
 He was darkly frowned upon by his silent father, 
 and sharply reprimanded by his voluble mother. 
 Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and 
 would like to have laughed. As it was, she con- 
 tented herself with a sly glance at Yates, who, in- 
 credible as it may seem, actually blushed at young 
 Hiram's allusion to the confusing incident of the day 
 before.
 
 62 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew 
 a herring across the scent. 
 
 " Mr. Bartlett has been good enough," said he, 
 changing the subject, " to say we may camp in the 
 woods at the back of the farm. I have been out 
 there this morning, and it certainly is a lovely 
 spot." 
 
 "We're awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett," saidYates. 
 " Of course Renmark went out there merely to show 
 the difference between the ant and the butterfly. 
 You'll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. 
 Bartlett. He looks honest ; but you wait." 
 
 " I know just the spot for the tent," cried young 
 Hiram " down in the hollow by the creek. Then 
 you won't need to haul water." 
 
 " Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague," 
 said Mrs. Bartlett. Malaria had not then been in- 
 vented. " Take my advice, and put your tent if 
 you will put it up at all on the highest ground you 
 can find. Hauling water won't hurt you." 
 
 " I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. 
 My friend uses no water you ought to have seen 
 his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have it somewhere, 
 and am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent 
 as a warning to the youth of this neighborhood and 
 what water I need I can easily carry up from the 
 creek." 
 
 The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. 
 Bartlett evidently took a large discount from all that 
 Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. 
 
 After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 63 
 
 horses were hitched to the waggon, which still con- 
 tained the tent and fittings. Young Hiram threw 
 an axe and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted 
 to his place, and drove up the lane leading to the 
 forest, followed by Yates and Renmark on foot, leav- 
 ing the farmer in his barnyard with a cheery good- 
 by, which he did not see fit to return. 
 
 First, a field of wheat ; next, an expanse of waving 
 hay that soon would be ready for the scythe ; then, 
 a pasture field, in which some young horses galloped 
 to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessed 
 horses, whinnying sympathetically, off the next with 
 flying heels wildly flung in the air, rejoicing in their 
 own contrast of liberty, standing at the farther cor- 
 ner and snorting defiance to all the world ; last, the 
 cool shade of the woods into which the lane ran, 
 losing its identity as a waggon road in diverging cow- 
 paths. Young Hiram knew the locality well, and 
 drove direct to an ideal place for camping. Yates 
 was enchanted. He included all that section of the 
 country in a sweeping wave of his hand, and burst 
 forth : 
 
 " 'This is the spot, the centre of the grove : 
 
 There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. 
 In such a place as this, at such an hour, 
 Well raise a tent to ward off sun and shower.' 
 
 Shakespeare improved." 
 
 " I think you are mistaken," said Renmark. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. Couldn't be a better camping 
 ground."
 
 64 IN 'THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Yes ; I know that. I selected it two hours ago. 
 But you were wrong in your quotation. It is not 
 by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem to think." 
 
 " Isn't it ? Some other fellow, eh ? Well, if Shake, 
 is satisfied, I am. Do you know, Renny, I calculate 
 that, line for line, I've written about ten times as 
 much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognise that 
 fact ? Not a bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, 
 Stilly." 
 
 " It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do 
 toward putting up the tent ? " 
 
 " Everything, my boy, everything. I know more 
 about putting up tents than you do about science, 
 or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you 
 cut me some stakes about two feet long stout ones. 
 Here, professor, throw off that coat and n/gligJ man- 
 ner, and grasp this spade. I want some trenches 
 dug." 
 
 Yates certainly made good his words. He under- 
 stood the putting up of tents, his experience in the 
 army being not yet remote. Young Hiram gazed 
 with growing admiration at Yates' deftness and evi- 
 dent knowledge of what he was about, while his 
 contempt for the professor's futile struggle with 
 a spade entangled in tree roots was difficult to 
 repress. 
 
 " Better give me that spade," he said at length ; 
 but there was an element of stubbornness in Ren- 
 mark's character. He struggled on. 
 
 At last the work was completed, stakes driven, 
 ropes tightened, trenches dug,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 65 
 
 Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the 
 country. 
 
 " Thus the canvas tent has risen, 
 All the slanting stakes are driven, 
 Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood : 
 Mops his brow, the tired professor ; 
 Grins with satisfaction, Hiram ; 
 Dances wildly, the reporter 
 Calls aloud for gin and water. 
 
 Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar 
 on it ! " And the frivolous Yates poked the profes- 
 sor in the ribs. 
 
 " Richard," said the latter, " I can stand only a 
 certain amount of this sort of thing. I don't wish 
 to call any man a fool, but you act remarkably like 
 one." 
 
 " Don't be mealy-mouthed, Renny ; call a spade a 
 spade. By George! young Hiram has gone off and 
 
 forgotten his And the axe, too ! Perhaps they're 
 
 left for us. He's a good fellow, is young Hiram. A 
 fool? Of course I'm a fool. That's what I came 
 for, and that's what I'm going to be for the next two 
 weeks. * A fool a fool, I met a fool i' the forest ' 
 just the spot for him. Who could be wise here 
 after years of brick and mortar ? 
 
 " Where are your eyes, Renny," he cried, " that 
 you don't grow wild when you look around you ? 
 See the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves ; 
 listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches ; 
 hear the trickle of the brook down there ; notice the 
 smooth bark of the beech and the rugged covering 
 of the oak ; smell the wholesome woodland scents.
 
 66 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Renmark, you have no soul, or you could not be so 
 unmoved. It is like paradise. It is Say, 
 Renny, by Jove, I've forgotten that jug at the 
 barn ! " 
 
 " It will be left there." 
 
 " Will it ? Oh, well, if you say so." 
 
 " I do say so. I looked around for it this morn- 
 ing to smash it, but couldn't find it." 
 
 " Why didn't you ask old Bartlett ? " 
 
 " I did ; but he didn't know where it was." 
 
 Yates threw himself down on the moss and 
 laughed, flinging his arms and legs about with the joy 
 of living. 
 
 " Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable 
 clothes with you ? Well, then, go into the tent and 
 put them on ; then come out and lie on your back 
 and look up at the leaves. You're a good fellow, 
 Renny, but decent clothes spoil you. You won't 
 know yourself when you get ancient duds on your 
 back. Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that 
 our ancestors fought for. When you come out, we'll 
 settle who's to cook and who to wash dishes. I've 
 settled it already in my own mind, but I am not so 
 selfish as to refuse to discuss the matter with you." 
 
 When the professor came out of the tent, Yates 
 roared. Renmark himself smiled ; he knew the effect 
 would appeal to Yates. 
 
 " By Jove ! old man, I ought to have included a 
 mirror in the outfit. The look of learned respecta- 
 bility, set off with the garments of a disreputable 
 tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing.
 
 67 
 
 Well, you can't spoil that suit, anyhow. Now 
 sprawl." 
 
 " I'm very comfortable standing up, thank you." 
 
 " Get down on your back. You hear me?" 
 
 " Put me there." 
 
 " You mean it ? " asked Yates, sitting up. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Say, Renny, beware. I don't want to hurt you." 
 
 " I'll forgive you for once." 
 
 " On your head be it." 
 
 " On my back, you mean." 
 
 " That's not bad, Renny," cried Yates, springing 
 to his feet. " Now, it will hurt. You have fair 
 warning. I have spoken." 
 
 The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates 
 tried to do it gently at first, but, finding he could 
 not touch his opponent, struck out more earnestly, 
 again giving a friendly warning. This went on in- 
 effectually for some time, when the professor, with 
 a quick movement, swung around his foot with the 
 airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yates 
 just behind the knee, at the same time giving him a 
 slight tap on the breast. Yates was instantly on his 
 back. 
 
 " Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn't fair. That was 
 a kick." 
 
 " No, it wasn't. It is merely a little French touch. 
 I learned it in Paris. They do kick there, you know; 
 and it is good to know how to use your feet as well 
 as your fists if you are set on by three, as I was one 
 night in the Latin Quarter."
 
 68 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Yates sat up. 
 
 " Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?" 
 
 " Several times." 
 
 Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said : 
 
 " Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never 
 saw a Bool-var in my life. You must teach me that 
 little kick." 
 
 "With pleasure," said Renmark, sitting down, 
 while the other sprawled at full length. " Teaching 
 is my business, and I shall be glad to exercise any 
 talents I may have in that line. In endeavouring to 
 instruct a New York man the first step is to convince 
 him that he doesn't know everything. That is the 
 difficult point. Afterward everything is easy." 
 
 " Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be 
 severe. Know that you are forgiven. This de- 
 licious sylvan retreat does not lend itself to acri- 
 monious dispute, or, in plain English, quarrelling. 
 Let dogs delight, if they want to ; I refuse to be 
 goaded by your querulous nature into giving any- 
 thing but the soft answer. Now to business. Noth- 
 ing is so conducive to friendship, when two people 
 are camping out, as a definition of the duties of each 
 at the beginning. Do you follow me?" 
 
 " Perfectly. What do you propose ? " 
 
 " I propose that you do the cooking and I wash 
 the dishes. We will forage for food alternate days." 
 
 " Very well. I agree to that." 
 
 Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his 
 friend with reproach in his eyes. " See here, Ren- 
 mark ; are you resolved to force on an international
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 69 
 
 complication the very first day ? That's no fair show 
 to give a man." 
 
 "What isn't?" 
 
 " Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of 
 meanness in your character, Renny, that I never 
 suspected. You know that people who camp out 
 always object to the part assigned them by their 
 fellow-campers. I counted on that. I'll do any- 
 thing but wash dishes." 
 
 "Then why didn't you say so?" 
 
 " Because any sane man would have said ' no ' when 
 I suggested cooking, merely because I suggested it. 
 There is no diplomacy about you, Renmark. A man 
 doesn't know where to find you when you act like 
 that. When you refused to do the cooking, I would 
 have said: 'Very well, then, I'll do it,' and every- 
 thing would have been lovely ; but now " 
 
 Yates lay down again in disgust. There are mo- 
 ments in life when language fails a man. 
 
 " Then it's settled that you do the cooking and I 
 wash the dishes ? " said the professor. 
 
 " Settled ? Oh, yes, if you say so ; but all the 
 pleasure of getting one's own way by the use of one's 
 brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with in that 
 objectionably civil manner." 
 
 " Well, that point being arranged, who begins the 
 foraging you or I ? " 
 
 " Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to 
 the house of the Howards, and I need an excuse for 
 the first visit ; therefore I shall forage to a limited 
 extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not
 
 ;o IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 get any, you perhaps should bring some from what- 
 ever farmhouse you choose as the scene of your 
 operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, 
 fresh or stale. When in doubt, buy more bread. 
 You can never go wrong, and the bread won't." 
 " What else should I get ? Milk, I suppose ? " 
 " Certainly ; eggs, butter anything. Mrs. Bart- 
 lett will give you hints on what to get that will be 
 more valuable than mine." 
 
 " Have you all the cooking utensils you need? " 
 " I think so. The villain from whom I hired the 
 outfit said it was complete. Doubtless he lied ; but 
 we'll manage, I think." 
 
 "Very well. If you wait until I change my 
 clothes, I'll go with you as far as the road." 
 
 " My dear fellow, be advised, and don't change. 
 You'll get everything twenty per cent, cheaper in 
 that rig-out. Besides, you are so much more pic- 
 turesque. Your costume may save us from starva- 
 tion if we run short of cash. You can get enough 
 for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, well, if 
 you insist, I'll wait. Good advice is thrown away 
 on a man like you."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MARGARET HOWARD stood at the kitchen table 
 kneading dough. The room was called the kitchen, 
 which it was not, except in winter. The stove was 
 moved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached 
 through the open door leading to the kitchen 
 veranda. 
 
 When the stove went out or came in, it marked 
 the approach or the departure of summer. It was the 
 heavy pendulum whose swing this way or that indi- 
 cated the two great changes of the year. No job 
 about the farm was so much disliked by the farmer 
 and his boys as the semi-annual removal of the stove. 
 Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged to go 
 together again ; the stove was heavy and cumber- 
 some, and many a pain in a rural back dated from 
 the journey of the stove from outhouse to kitchen. 
 
 The kitchen itself was a one-storey building, which 
 projected back from the two-storey farmhouse, giving 
 the whole a T-shape. There was a veranda on each 
 side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front 
 of the house itself. 
 
 Margaret's sleeves were turned back nearly to her 
 elbows, showing a pair of white and shapely arms.
 
 72 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Now and then she deftly dusted the kneading board 
 with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as she 
 pressed her open palms into the smooth, white, 
 spongy mass, the table groaned protestingly. She 
 cut the roll with a knife into lumps that were patted 
 into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of 
 snow, in the sheet-iron pan. 
 
 At this moment there was a rap at the open 
 kitchen door, and Margaret turned round, startled, 
 for visitors were rare at that hour of the day ; be- 
 sides, neighbours seldom made such a concession to 
 formality as to knock. The young girl flushed as 
 she recognised the man who had spoken to her the 
 day before. He stood smiling in the doorway with 
 his hat in his hand. She uttered no word of greet- 
 ing or welcome, but stood looking at him, with her 
 hand on the floury table. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Howard," said Yates 
 blithely ; " may I come in ? I have been knocking 
 for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so I took 
 the liberty of coming round." 
 
 " I did not hear you knock," answered Margaret. 
 She neglected to invite him in, but he took the per- 
 mission for granted and entered, seating himself as 
 one who had come to stay. " You must excuse me 
 for going on with my work," she added ; " bread at 
 this stage will not wait." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me inter- 
 rupt you. I have made my own bread for years, but 
 not in that way. I am glad that you are making 
 bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 73 
 
 " Really ? Perhaps I can sell you some butter 
 and eggs as well." 
 
 Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner 
 of his, which had much to do with his getting on in 
 the world. It was difficult to remain long angry 
 with so buoyant a nature. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven't forgiven 
 me for that remark. You surely could not have 
 thought I meant it. I really intended it for a 
 joke, but I am willing to admit, now that I look 
 back on it, that the joke was rather poor; but, 
 then, most of my jokes are somewhat shop- 
 worn." 
 
 " I am afraid I lack a sense of humour," 
 
 " All women do," said Yates with easy confidence. 
 "At least all I've ever met." 
 
 Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he 
 now placed at the end of the table, tilting it back 
 until his shoulders rested against the wall. His feet 
 were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and 
 forth, fanning himself, for it was warm. In this 
 position he could look up at the face of the pretty 
 girl before him, whose smooth brow was touched with 
 just the slightest indication of a faint frown. She 
 did not even glance at the self-confident young man, 
 but kept her eyes fixed resolutely on her work. In 
 the silence the table creaked as Margaret kneaded 
 the dough. Yates felt an unaccustomed sensation 
 of embarrassment creeping over him, and realised 
 that he would have to re-erect the conversation on a 
 new basis. It was manifestly absurd that a resource-
 
 74 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ful New Yorker, who had conversed unabashed with 
 presidents, senators, generals, and other great people 
 of a great nation, should be put out of countenance 
 by the unaccountable coldness of a country girl in 
 the wilds of Canada. 
 
 " I have not had an opportunity of properly intro- 
 ducing myself," he said at last, when the creaking 
 of the table, slight as it was, became insupportable. 
 " My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New 
 York. I am camping out in this neighborhood to 
 relieve, as it were, a mental strain the result of 
 years of literary work." 
 
 Yates knew from long experience that the quick- 
 est and surest road to a woman's confidence was 
 through her sympathy. " Mental strain " struck 
 him as a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and 
 the hollow eye of the devoted student. 
 
 "Is your work mental, then?" asked Margaret 
 incredulously, flashing, for the first time, a dark-eyed 
 look at him. 
 
 "Yes," Yates laughed uneasily. He had mani- 
 festly missed fire. " I notice by your tone that 
 you evidently think my equipment meagre. You 
 should not judge by appearances, Miss Howard. 
 Most of us are better than we seem, pessimists to 
 the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I was say- 
 ing, the camping company consists of two partners. 
 We are so different in every respect that we are the 
 best of friends. My partner is Mr. Stillson Ren- 
 mark, professor of something or other in University 
 College, Toronto."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 75 
 
 For the first time Margaret exhibited some inter- 
 est in the conversation. 
 
 " Professor Renmark ? I have heard of him." 
 
 " Dear me ! I had no idea the fame of the pro- 
 fessor had penetrated beyond the precincts of the 
 university if a university has precincts. He told 
 me it had all the modern improvements, but I 
 suspected at the time that was merely Renny's 
 brag." 
 
 The frown on the girl's brow deepened, and Yates 
 was quick to see that he had lost ground again, if 
 indeed he had ever gained any, which he began to 
 doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk 
 about the university. He was just about to say 
 something deferential about that institution, for he 
 was not a man who would speak disrespectfully of 
 the equator if he thought he might curry favour with 
 his auditor by doing otherwise, when it occurred to 
 him that Miss Howard's interest was centred in the 
 man, and not in the university. 
 
 " In this world, Miss Howard," he continued, " true 
 merit rarely finds its reward ; at least, the reward 
 shows some reluctance in making itself visible in 
 time for a man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a 
 man so worthy that I was rather astonished to learn 
 that you knew of him. I am glad for his sake that 
 it is so, for no man more thoroughly deserves fame 
 than he." 
 
 " I know nothing of him," said Margaret, "except 
 what my brother has written. My brother is a 
 student at the university."
 
 76 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Is he really? And what is he going in for?" 
 
 " A good education." 
 
 Yates laughed. 
 
 " Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a per- 
 son to have about him. I often wish I had had 
 a university training. Still, it is not valued in an 
 American newspaper office as much as might be. 
 Yet," he added in a tone that showed he did not 
 desire to be unfair even to a man of education, " I 
 have known some university men who became pass- 
 ably good reporters in time." 
 
 The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to 
 the work in hand. She had the rare gift of silence, 
 and these intervals of quiet abashed Yates, whose 
 most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any 
 man on earth. Opposition, or even abuse, merely 
 served as a spur to his volubility, but taciturnity 
 disconcerted him. 
 
 " Well," he cried at length, with something like 
 desperation, " let us abandon this animated discus- 
 sion on the subject of education, and take up the 
 more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, 
 Miss Howard, that I am an expert in bread- 
 making?" 
 
 " I think you said already that you made your 
 bread." 
 
 " Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the 
 sweat of my good lead pencil. Still, I have made 
 bread in my time, and I believe that some of those 
 who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The en- 
 durance of the human frame is something marvel
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 77 
 
 lous, when you come to think of it. I did the baking 
 in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the 
 contents of a sack of flour into a trough made out 
 of a log, pour in a pail or two of melted snow, and 
 mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer's 
 assistant making mortar. There was nothing small 
 or mean about my bread-making. I was in the 
 wholesale trade." 
 
 " I pity the unfortunate lumbermen." 
 " Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss 
 Howard. You ought to pity me for having to 
 pander to such appetites as those men brought in 
 from the woods with them. They never complained 
 of the quality of the bread, although there was oc- 
 casionally some grumbling about the quantity. I 
 have fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to 
 a sawmill, but their voracity was nothing to that of 
 a big lumberman just in from felling trees. Enough, 
 and plenty of it, is what he wants. No 'tabbledote' 
 for him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it 
 right away. If there is any washing necessary, he 
 is content to do it after the meal. I know nothing, 
 except a morning paper, that has such an appetite 
 for miscellaneous stuff as the man of the woods." 
 
 The girl made no remark, but Yates could see 
 that she was interested in his talk in spite of her- 
 self. The bread was now in the pans, and she had 
 drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the 
 baking-board had disappeared, and the surface of 
 the table was cleaned. With a light, deft motion of 
 her two hands she had whisked over its surface the
 
 78 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 spotlessly white cloth, which flowed in waves over 
 the table and finally settled calmly in its place like 
 the placid face of a pond in the moonlight. Yates 
 realised that the way to success lay in keeping the 
 conversation in his own hands and not depending 
 on any response. In this way a man may best dis- 
 play the store of knowledge he possesses, to the ad- 
 miration and bewilderment of his audience, even 
 though his store consists merely of samples like the 
 outfit of a commercial traveller; yet a commercial 
 traveller who knows his business can so arrange his 
 samples on the table of his room in a hotel that they 
 give the onlooker an idea of the vastness and wealth 
 of the warehouses from which they are drawn. 
 
 " Bread," said Yates with the serious air of a very 
 learned man, " is a most interesting subject. It is a 
 historical subject it is a biblical subject. As an 
 article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Bible 
 than any other. It is used in parable and to point 
 a moral. ' Ye must not live on bread alone.' " 
 
 From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his 
 listener he feared he had not quoted correctly. He 
 knew he was not now among that portion of his 
 samples with which he was most familiar, so he 
 hastened back to the historical aspect of his subject. 
 Few people could skate over thinner ice than Rich- 
 ard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused 
 him to return to more solid footing. 
 
 " Now, in this country bread has gone through 
 three distinct stages, and although I am a strong 
 believer in progress, yet, in the case of our most im-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 79 
 
 portant article of food, I hold that the bread of to- 
 day is inferior to the bread our mothers used to 
 make, or perhaps, I should say, our grandmothers. 
 This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the age of 
 machinery and machinery, while it may be quicker, 
 is certainly not so thorough as old-fashioned hand 
 work. There is a new writer in England named 
 Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He 
 would like to see it abolished at least, so he says. 
 I will send for one of his books, and show it to you, 
 if you will let me." 
 
 "You, in New York, surely do not call the author 
 of 'Modern Painters' and 'The Seven Lamps of 
 Architecture ' a new man. My father has one of his 
 books which must be nearly twenty years old." 
 
 This was the longest speech Margaret had made 
 to him, and, as he said afterward to the professor in 
 describing its effects, it took him right off his feet. 
 He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, 
 that he had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. 
 The allusion he had made to him he had heard 
 someone else use, and he had worked it into an 
 article before now with telling effect. "As Mr. 
 Ruskin says " looked well in a newspaper column, 
 giving an air of erudition and research to it. Mr. 
 Yates, however, was not at the present moment pre- 
 pared to enter into a discussion on either the age or 
 the merits of the English writer. 
 
 " Ah, well," he said, " technically speaking, of 
 course, Ruskin is not a new man. What I meant 
 was that he is looked on ah in New York as
 
 8o IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 that is you know as comparatively new com- 
 paratively new. But, as I was saying about bread, 
 the old log-house era of bread, as I might call it, 
 produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this 
 country. It was the salt-rising kind, and was baked 
 in a round, flat-bottomed iron kettle. Did you ever 
 see the baking kettle of other days?" 
 
 " I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never 
 uses it now. It was placed on the hot embers, was 
 it not?" 
 
 " Exactly," said Yates, noting with pleasure that 
 the girl was thawing, as he expressed it to himself. 
 " The hot coals were drawn out and the kettle placed 
 upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals 
 were put on the top of it. The bread was firm and 
 white and sweet inside, with the most delicious 
 golden brown crust all around. Ah, that was 
 bread ! but perhaps I appreciated it because I was 
 always hungry in those days. Then came the al- 
 leged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That 
 was the second stage in the evolution of bread in 
 this country. It also belonged to the log-house and 
 open-fireplace era. Bread baked by direct heat from 
 the fire and reflected heat from the polished tin. I 
 think our present cast-iron stove arrangement is 
 preferable to that, although not up to the old-time 
 kettle." 
 
 If Margaret had been a reader of the New York 
 Argus, she would have noticed that the facts set 
 forth by her visitor had already appeared in that 
 paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled " Our
 
 8i 
 
 Daily Bread." In the pause that ensued after Yates 
 had finished his dissertation on the staff of life the 
 stillness was broken by a long wailing cry. It began 
 with one continued, sustained note, and ended with 
 a wail half a tone below the first. The girl paid no 
 attention to it, but Yates started to his feet. 
 
 " In the name of What's that ? " 
 
 Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the 
 stillness was again broken by what appeared to be the 
 more distant notes of a bugle. 
 
 " The first," she said, " was Kitty Bartlett's voice 
 calling the men home from the field for dinner. Mrs. 
 Bartlett is a very good housekeeper, and is usually 
 a few minutes ahead of the neighbours with the meals. 
 The second was the sound of a horn farther up the 
 road. It is what you would deplore as the age of 
 tin applied to the dinner call, just as your tin oven 
 supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty's 
 call much better than the sound of the tin horn. It 
 seems to me more musical, although it appeared to 
 startle you." 
 
 " Oh, you can talk ! " cried Yates with audacious 
 admiration, at which the girl coloured slightly and 
 seemed to retire within herself again. " And you 
 can make fun of people's historical lore, too. Which 
 do you use the tin horn or the natural voice?" 
 
 " Neither. If you will look outside, you will see 
 a flag at the top of a pole. That is our signal." 
 
 It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was 
 intended as an intimation that he might see many 
 things outside to interest him. He felt that his visit
 
 82 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 had not been at all the brilliant success he had antici- 
 pated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely 
 an excuse. He had expected to be able to efface 
 the unfavourable impression he knew he had made by 
 his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the day 
 before, and he realised that his position was still the 
 same. A good deal of Yates' success in life came 
 from the fact that he never knew when he was 
 beaten. He did not admit defeat now, but he saw 
 he had, for some reason, not gained any advantage 
 in a preliminary skirmish. He concluded it would 
 be well to retire in good order, and renew the con- 
 test at some future time. He was so unused to any- 
 thing like a rebuff that all his fighting qualities were 
 up in arms, and he resolved to show this unim- 
 pressionable girl that he was not a man to be lightly 
 valued. 
 
 As he rose, the door from the main portion of the 
 house opened, and there entered a woman hardly 
 yet past middle age, who had once been undoubt- 
 edly handsome, but on whose worn and faded face 
 was the look of patient weariness which so often is 
 the result of a youth spent in helping a husband to 
 overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an American 
 bush farm. When the farm is conquered, the victor 
 is usually vanquished. It needed no second glance 
 to see that she was the mother from whom the 
 daughter had inherited her good looks. Mrs. How- 
 ard did not appear surprised to see a stranger stand- 
 ing there ; in fact, the faculty of being surprised at 
 anything seemed to have left her. Margaret in-
 
 83 
 
 troduced them quietly, and went about her prepara- 
 tion for the meal. Yates greeted Mrs. Howard with 
 effusion. He had come, he said, on a bread mission. 
 He thought he knew something about bread, but 
 he now learned he came too early in the day. He 
 hoped he might have the privilege of repeating his 
 visit. 
 
 " But you are not going now ? " said Mrs. Howard 
 with hospitable anxiety. 
 
 " I fear I have already stayed too long," answered 
 Yates lingeringly. " My partner, Professor Ren- 
 mark, is also on a foraging expedition at your neigh- 
 bours', the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp 
 long ago, and will be expecting me." 
 
 " No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let 
 anyone go when there is a meal on the way." 
 
 " I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by 
 staying. I imagine there is quite enough to do in 
 every farmhouse without entertaining any chance 
 tramp who happens along. Don't you agree with 
 me for once, Miss Howard ? " 
 
 Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish 
 to stay unless Margaret added her invitation to her 
 mother's. He felt vaguely that his reluctance did 
 him credit, and that he was improving. He could 
 not remember a time when he had not taken without 
 question whatever the gods sent, and this unaccus- 
 tomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspect that 
 there were depths in his nature hitherto unexplored. 
 It always flatters a man to realise that he is deeper 
 than he thought.
 
 84 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner be- 
 cause Yates likened himself to a tramp, and Margaret 
 said coldly : 
 
 " Mother's motto is that one more or less never 
 makes any difference." 
 
 "And what is your motto, Miss Howard ?" 
 
 " I don't think Margaret has any," said Mrs. 
 Howard, answering for her daughter. " She is like 
 her father. She reads a great deal and doesn't talk 
 much. He would read all the time, if he did not 
 have to work. I see Margaret has already invited 
 you, for she has put an extra plate on the table." 
 
 "Ah, then," said Yates, " I shall have much pleas- 
 ure in accepting both the verbal and the crockery 
 invitation. I am sorry for the professor at his lonely 
 meal by the tent ; for he is a martyr to duty, and I 
 feel sure Mrs. Bartlett will not be able to keep him." 
 
 Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in 
 to them from the outside, where Margaret was, a 
 cheery voice which Yates had no difficulty in recog- 
 nising as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. 
 
 " Hello, Margaret ! " she said. " Is he here ? " 
 
 The reply was inaudible. 
 
 " Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited 
 city fellow." 
 
 There was evidently an admonition and a warn- 
 ing. 
 
 " Well, I don't care if he does. I'll tell him so to 
 his face. It might do him good." 
 
 Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in 
 the doorway. On the fair curls, which were flying
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 85 
 
 about her shoulders, had been carelessly placed her 
 brother's straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her 
 face was flushed with running ; and of the fact that 
 she was a very lovely girl there was not the slightest 
 doubt. 
 
 "How de do?" she said to Mrs. Howard, and, 
 nodding to Yates, cried : " I knew you were here, 
 but J came over to make sure. There is going to 
 be war in our house. Mother's made a prisoner 
 of the professor already, but he doesn't know it. 
 He thinks he's going back to the tent, and she's 
 packing up the things he wanted, and doing it aw- 
 fully slow, till I get back. He said you would be 
 sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. We 
 both told him there was no fear of that. You 
 wouldn't leave a place where there was good cook- 
 ing for all the professors in the world." 
 
 "You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss 
 Bartlett," said Yates, somewhat piqued by her 
 frankness, 
 
 " Of course I am. The professor knows ever so 
 much more than you, but he doesn't know when he's 
 well off, just the same. You do. He's a quiet, 
 stubborn man." 
 
 " And which do you admire the most, Miss 
 Bartlett a quiet, stubborn man, or one who is con- 
 ceited ? " 
 
 Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest 
 trace of embarrassment. " Detest, you mean. I'm 
 sure I don't know. Margaret, which is the most 
 objectionable ? "
 
 86 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbour 
 on being thus suddenly questioned, but said noth- 
 ing. 
 
 Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, 
 dabbed a little kiss, like the peck of a bird, on each 
 cheek, cried : " Well, I must be off, or mother will 
 have to tie up the professor to keep him," and was 
 off accordingly with the speed and lightness of a 
 young fawn. 
 
 " Extraordinary girl," remarked Yates, as the 
 flutter of curls and calico dress disappeared. 
 
 " She is a good girl," cried Margaret emphat- 
 ically. 
 
 " Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But 
 don't you think she is somewhat free with her 
 opinions about other people ? " asked Yates. 
 
 " She did not know that you were within hearing 
 when she first spoke, and after that she brazened it 
 out. That's her way. But she's a kind girl and 
 good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken 
 the trouble to come over here merely because your 
 friend happened to be surly." 
 
 " Oh, Renny is. anything but surly," said Yates, 
 as quick to defend his friend as she was to stand 
 up for hers. " As I was saying a moment ago, he 
 is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the 
 camp, nothing would keep him. Now he will have 
 a good dinner in peace when he knows I am not 
 waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he 
 will get when I take to the cooking." 
 
 By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 87 
 
 done its work, and Margaret's father and brother 
 arrived from the field. They put their broad straw 
 hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking 
 water in a tin basin from the rain barrel, placed it on 
 a bench outside and proceeded to wash vigorously, 
 Mr. Howard was much more interested in his 
 guest than his daughter apparently had been. 
 Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had 
 a sympathetic audience, and he showed an easy famil- 
 iarity with the great people of this earth that was 
 fascinating to a man who had read much of them, 
 but who was, in a measure, locked out of the 
 bustling world. Yates knew many of the generals 
 in the late war, and all of the politicians. Of the 
 latter there was not an honest man among them, 
 according to the reporter ; of the former there were 
 few who had not made the most ghastly mistakes. 
 He looked on the world as a vast hoard of common- 
 place people, wherein the men of real genius were 
 buried out of sight, if there were any men of genius, 
 which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top 
 were there either through their own intrigues or 
 because they had been forced up by circum- 
 stances. His opinions sometimes caused a look of 
 pain to cross the face of the older man, who was 
 enthusiastic in his quiet way, and had his heroes. 
 He would have been a strong Republican if he had 
 lived in the States ; and he had watched the four- 
 years' struggle through the papers, with keen and 
 absorbed interest. The North had been fighting, in 
 his opinion, for the great and undying principle of
 
 88 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 human liberty, and had deservedly won. Yates 
 had no such delusion. It was a politician's war, he 
 said. Principle wasn't in it. The North would 
 have been quite willing to let slavery stand if the 
 situation had not been forced by the firing on Fort 
 Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not at 
 all meet the approval of Mr. Yates. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, " I suppose Grant will go 
 down into history as a great general. The truth is 
 that he simply knew how to subtract. That is all 
 there is in it. He had the additional boon of an 
 utter lack of imagination. We had many generals 
 who were greater than Grant, but they were 
 troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin 
 the best general in the world. Now, take yourself, 
 for example, If you were to kill a man uninten- 
 tionally, your conscience would trouble you all the 
 rest of your life. Think how you would feel, then, 
 if you were to cause the death of ten thousand men 
 all in a lump. It would break you down. The 
 mistake an ordinary man makes may result in the 
 loss of a few dollars, which can be replaced ; but if 
 a general makes a mistake, the loss can never be 
 made up, for his mistakes are estimated by the lives 
 of men. He say ' Go ' when he should have said 
 ' Come.' He says ' Attack ' when he should have 
 said ' Retreat.' What is the result ? Five, ten, or 
 fifteen thousand men, many of them better men 
 than he is, left dead on the field. Grant had noth- 
 ing of this feeling. He simply knew how to sub- 
 tract, as I said before. It is like this : You have
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 89 
 
 fifty thousand men and I have twenty-five thousand. 
 When I kill twenty-five thousand of your men and 
 you kill twenty-five thousand of my men, you have 
 twenty-five thousand left and I have none. You are 
 the victor, and the thoughtless crowd howls about 
 you, but that does not make you out the greatest 
 general by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant's 
 number, and Grant had Lee's, the result would have 
 been reversed. Grant set himself to do this little 
 sum in subtraction, and he did it did it probably 
 as quickly as any other man would have done it, 
 and he knew that when it was done the war would 
 have to stop. That's all there was to it." 
 
 The older man shook his head. " I doubt," he 
 said, " if history will take your view either of the 
 motives of those in power or of the way the war 
 was carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, 
 heroically fought by those deluded people who were 
 in the wrong, and stubbornly contested at immense 
 self-sacrifice by those who were in the right." 
 
 " What a pity it was," said young Howard to the 
 newspaper man, with a rudeness that drew a frown 
 from his father, " that you didn't get to show 'em 
 how to carry on the war." 
 
 " Well," said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in 
 his eye, " I flatter myself that I would have given 
 them some valuable pointers. Still, it is too late to 
 bemoan their neglect now." 
 
 " Oh, you may have a chance yet," continued the 
 unabashed young man. " They say the Fenians are 
 coming over here this time sure. You ought to vol-
 
 90 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 unteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how 
 a war ought to be carried on." 
 
 " Oh, there's nothing in the Fenian scare ! They 
 won't venture over. They fight with their mouths. 
 It's the safest way." 
 
 " I believe you," said the youth significantly. 
 
 Perhaps it was because the boy had been so incon- 
 siderate as to make these remarks that Yates received 
 a cordial invitation from both Mr. and Mrs. Howard 
 to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Of 
 this privilege Yates resolved to avail himself, but he 
 would have prized it more if Miss Margaret had 
 added her word which she did not, perhaps because 
 she was so busy looking after the bread. Yates 
 knew, however, that with a woman apparent progress 
 is rarely synonymous with real progress. This knowl- 
 edge soothed his disappointment. 
 
 As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his 
 own feelings with something like astonisMment. 
 The march of events was rapid even for him, who 
 was not slow in anything he undertook. 
 
 " It is the result of leisure," he said to himself. 
 " It is the first breathing time I have had for fifteen 
 years. Not two days of my vacation gone, and here 
 I am hopelessly in love ! "
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 YATES had intended to call at the Bartletts' and 
 escort Renmark back to the woods ; but when he 
 got outside he forgot the existence of the professor, 
 and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, 
 switching at the weeds that always grow in great 
 profusion along the ditches of a Canadian country 
 thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and 
 as Yates wandered on in the direction of the forest 
 he thought of many things. He had feared that he 
 would find life deadly dull so far from New York, 
 without even the consolation of a morning paper, 
 the feverish reading of which had become a sort of 
 vice with him, like smoking. He had imagined that 
 he could not exist without his morning paper, but 
 he now realised that it was not nearly so important 
 a factor in life as he had supposed ; yet he sighed 
 when he thought of it, and wished he had one with 
 him of current date. He could now, for the first 
 time in many years, read a paper without that vague 
 fear which always possessed him when he took up 
 an opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Be- 
 fore he could enjoy it his habit was to scan it over 
 rapidly to see if it contained any item of news which 
 
 9 1
 
 92 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 he himself had missed the previous day. The im- 
 pending " scoop " hangs over the head of the news- 
 paper man like the sword so often quoted. Great as 
 the joy of beating the opposition press is, it never 
 takes the poignancy of the sting away from a beat- 
 ing received. If a terrible disaster took place, and 
 another paper gave fuller particulars than the Argus 
 Yates found himself almost wishing the accident 
 had not occurred, although he recognised such a 
 wish as decidedly unprofessional. 
 
 Richard's idea of the correct spirit in a reporter 
 was exemplified by an old broken-down, out-of-work 
 morning newspaper man, who had not long before 
 committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for 
 the evening papers to get the sensational item. He 
 had sent in to the paper for which he formerly 
 worked a full account of the fatality, accurately 
 headed and sub-headed ; and, in his note to the city 
 editor, he told why he had chosen the hour of 7 P.M. 
 as the time for his departure from an unappreciative 
 world. 
 
 " Ah, well," said Yates under his breath, and sud- 
 denly pulling himself together, " I mustn't think of 
 New York if I intend to stay here for a couple of 
 weeks. I'll be city-sick the first thing I know, 
 and then I'll make a break for the metropolis. This 
 will never do. The air here is enchanting, it fills a 
 man with new life. This is the spot for me, and I'll 
 stick to it till I'm right again. Hang New York ! 
 But I mustn't think of Broadway or I'm done for." 
 
 He came to the spot in the road where he could
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 93 
 
 see the white side of the tent under the dark trees, 
 and climbed up on the rail fence, sitting there for a 
 few moments. The occasional call of a quail from a 
 neighbouring field was the only sound that broke 
 the intense stillness. The warm smell of spring was 
 in the air. The buds had but recently broken, and 
 the woods, intensely green, had a look of newness 
 and freshness that was comforting to the eye and 
 grateful to the other senses. The world seemed to 
 be but lately made. The young man breathed 
 deeply of the vivifying air, and said : " No, there's 
 nothing the matter with this place, Dick. New 
 York's a fool to it." Then, with a sigh, he added : 
 " If I can stand it for two weeks. I wonder how the 
 boys are getting on without me." 
 
 In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back 
 to the great city, although he told himself that it 
 wouldn't do. He gazed at the peaceful, spreading 
 landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw noth- 
 ing. The roar of the streets was in his ears. Sud- 
 denly his reverie was broken by a voice from the 
 forest. 
 
 " I say, Yates, where's the bread ? " 
 
 Yates looked quickly round, somewhat startled, 
 and saw the professor coming toward him. 
 
 " The bread ? I forgot all about it. No ; I didn't 
 either. They were baking that was it. I am to 
 go for it later in the day. What loot did you rake 
 in, professor?" 
 
 " Vegetables mostly." 
 
 " That's all right. Have a good dinner ? "
 
 94 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Excellent/' 
 
 " So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I 
 was just counting the farmhouses in sight. What 
 do you say to boarding round among them ? You 
 are a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. 
 Isn't education in this country encouraged by pay- 
 ing the teacher as little as possible, and letting him 
 take it out in eating his way from one house to an- 
 other ? Ever board round, Renny ? " 
 
 " Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, 
 it is out of date now." 
 
 " That's a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, 
 Renmark. We become less brave as we grow older. 
 By the way, how is old man Bartlett ? As well as 
 could be expected?" 
 
 " He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has 
 sent out two chairs to the tent ; she fears we will get 
 rheumatism if we sit on the ground." 
 
 " She is a kind woman. Renny, and a thought- 
 ful. And that reminds me: I have a hammock 
 somewhere among my belongings. I will swing 
 it up. Chairs are comfortable, but a hammock is 
 luxury." 
 
 Yates slid down from the fence top, and together 
 the two men walked to the tent. The hammock was 
 unfurled and slung between two trees. Yates tested 
 it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its rest- 
 ful folds of network. He was swaying indolently 
 several feet from the ground when he said to Ren- 
 mark : 
 
 " I call this paradise paradise regained ; but it
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 95 
 
 be paradise lost next month. Now, professor, I 
 am ready to do the cooking, but I have a fancy for 
 doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the 
 useful prosaic man executes. Where are your 
 vegetables, Renny ? Potatoes and carrots, eh ? 
 Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny ; 
 but first you must bring some water from the 
 spring." 
 
 The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. 
 Yates continued to swing in the hammock, alternat- 
 ing directions with rhapsodies on the beauties of the 
 day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said 
 but little, and attended strictly to the business in 
 hand. The vegetables finished, he took a book from 
 his valise, tilted a chair back against a tree, and 
 began to read. 
 
 " I'm depending upon you for the bread," he said 
 to the drowsy man in the hammock. 
 
 " Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not 
 misplaced. I shall presently journey down into the 
 realms of civilisation, and fill the long-felt want. I 
 shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartlett 
 homestead, but I warn you that if there is a meal on, 
 at either place, you will not have me here to test 
 your first efforts at cooking. So you may have to 
 wait until breakfast for my opinion." 
 
 Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly 
 from the hammock, and looked regretfully at it when 
 he stood once more on the ground. 
 
 " This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the 
 curse of life here below. It is what we are all after.
 
 96 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 If it were not for the necessity of bread and clothing, 
 what a good time a fellow might have ! Well, my 
 blessing, Renny. Good-bye." 
 
 Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he 
 came to the beginning of a lane which led to the 
 Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer and his son 
 at work in the back fields. From between the dis- 
 tant house and barn there arose, straight up into the 
 still air, a blue column of smoke, which, reaching a 
 certain height, spread out like a thin, hazy cloud 
 above the dwelling. At first Yates thought that 
 some of the outhouses were on fire, and he quickened 
 his pace to a run ; but a moment's reflection showed 
 him that the column was plainly visible to the work- 
 ers in the fields, and that if anything were wrong 
 they would not continue placidly at their labour. 
 When he had walked the long length of the lane, and 
 had safely rounded the corner of the barn, he saw, 
 in the open space between that building and the 
 house, a huge camp-fire blazing. From a pole, up- 
 held by two crotched supports, hung a big iron ket- 
 tle over the flames. The cauldron was full nearly to 
 the brim, and the steam was already beginning to 
 rise from its surface, although the fire had evidently 
 been but recently kindled. The smoke was not now 
 so voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with 
 a big-brimmed straw hat in her hands, fanning it 
 away from her face, while the hat at the same time 
 protected her rosy countenance from the heat. She 
 plainly was not prepared to receive visitors, and she 
 started when the young man addressed her, flushing
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 97 
 
 still more deeply, apparently annoyed at his unwel- 
 come appearance. 
 
 " Good-afternoon," he said cordially. " Preparing 
 for washing ? I thought Monday was washing-day." 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Then I have not been misinformed. And you 
 are not preparing for washing ? " 
 
 " We are." 
 
 Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of 
 herself, had to permit a smile to brighten her own 
 features. She always found it difficult to remain 
 solemn for any length of time. 
 
 " This is obviously a conundrum," said Yates, 
 ticking off the items on his four ringers. " First, 
 Monday is washing-day. Second, this is not Mon- 
 day. Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are 
 preparing for washing. I give it up, Miss Bartlett. 
 Please tell me the answer." 
 
 " The answer is that I am making soap ; soft soap, 
 if you know what that is." 
 
 " Practically, I don't know what it is ; but I have 
 heard the term used in a political connection. In 
 the States we say that if a man is very diplomatic 
 he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricating 
 qualities Sam Slick used the term ' soft sawder ' 
 in the same way ; but what sawder is, soft or hard, 
 I haven't the slightest idea." 
 
 " I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates." 
 
 " Me ? Bless you, no. I'm an humble gleaner in 
 the field of knowledge. That's why I brought a 
 Toronto professor with me. I want to learn 
 7
 
 98 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 something. Won't you teach me how to make 
 soap?" 
 
 " I'm very busy just now. When I said that we 
 were preparing for washing, I should perhaps have 
 told you there was something else we are not pre- 
 pared for to-day." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " A visitor." 
 
 " Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on 
 me. I'm not a visitor. I'm a friend of the family. 
 I want to help. You will find me a most diligent 
 student. Won't you give me a chance ? " 
 
 " All the hard work's done. But perhaps you 
 knew that before you came." 
 
 Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 " That's what it is to be a misunderstood man. 
 So you think, among other bad qualities, I have the 
 habit of shirking work ? Let me tell you, Miss Bart- 
 lett, that the reason I am here is because I have 
 worked too hard. Now, confess that you are sorry 
 for what you said trampling on an already down- 
 trodden man." 
 
 Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed 
 also, for his sense of comradeship was strong. 
 
 " You don't look as if you had ever worked in 
 your life ; I don't believe you know what work is." 
 
 " But there are different kinds of labour. Don't 
 you call writing work ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " That's just where you're mistaken. It is, and
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 99 
 
 hard work, too. I'll tell you about the newspaper 
 business if you'll tell me about soap-making. Fair 
 exchange. I wish }ou would take me as a pupil, 
 Miss Bartlett ; you would find me quick at picking 
 up things." 
 
 " Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful 
 of water." 
 
 "I'll do it," cried Yates sternly; "I'll do it, 
 though it blast me." 
 
 Yates selected a wooden pail, painted blue on 
 the outside, with a red stripe near the top for orna- 
 ment, and cream-coloured inside. It was called a 
 " patent-pail " in those days, as it was a comparatively 
 recent innovation, being cheaper, lighter, and 
 stronger than the tin pail which it was rapidly re- 
 placing. At the well was a stout pole, pinned 
 through the centre to an upright support on which 
 it swung, like the walking-beam of an engine. The 
 thick end, which rested on the ground, was loaded 
 with heavy stones ; while from the thin end, high in 
 the air, there dangled over the mouth of the well a 
 slim pole with a hook. This hook was ingeniously 
 furnished with a spring of hickory, which snapped 
 when the handle of the pail was placed on the hook, 
 and prevented the " patent " utensil from slipping 
 off when it was lowered to the surface of the water. 
 Yates speedily recognised the usefulness of this con- 
 trivance, for he found that the filling of a wooden 
 pail in a deep well was not the simple affair it 
 looked. The bucket bobbed about on the surface 
 of the water. Once he forgot the necessity of keep-
 
 ioo IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ing a stout grip on the pole, and the next instant 
 the pail came up to the sunlight with a suddenness 
 that was terrifying. Only an equally sudden back- 
 ward jump on Yates' part saved his head. Miss 
 Bartlett was pleased to look upon this incident as 
 funny. Yates was so startled by the unexpected 
 revolt of the pail that his native courtesy did not 
 get a chance to prevent Kitty from drawing up the 
 water herself. She lowered the vessel, pulling down 
 the pole in a hand-over-hand manner that the young 
 man thought decidedly fetching, and then she gave 
 an almost imperceptible twist to the arrangement 
 that resulted in instant success. The next thing 
 Yates knew the full pail was resting on the well 
 curb, and the hickory spring had given the click that 
 released the handle. 
 
 " There," said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, 
 " that's how it's done." 
 
 " I see the result, Miss Bartlett ; but I'm not sure 
 I can do the trick. These things are not so simple as 
 they seem. What is the next step ? " 
 
 " Pour the water into the leach." 
 
 " Into the what ? " 
 
 " Into the leach, I said. Where else ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'm up a tree again. I see I don't even 
 know the A B C of this business. In the old days 
 the leech was a physician. You don't mean I'm to 
 drown a doctor ? " 
 
 " This is the leach," said Kitty, pointing to a 
 large, yellowish, upright wooden cylinder, which 
 rested on some slanting boards, down the surface of
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 101 
 
 which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a 
 trough. 
 
 As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his 
 hand he saw that the cylinder was filled nearly to the 
 top with sodden wood ashes. He poured in the 
 water, and it sank quickly out of sight. 
 
 " So this is part of the soap-making equipment ? " 
 he said, stepping down ; " I thought the iron kettle 
 over the fire was the whole factory. Tell me about 
 the leach." 
 
 "That is where the hard work of soap-making 
 comes in," said Kitty, stirring the contents of the 
 iron kettle with a long stick. " Keeping the leach 
 supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the 
 ashes are dry. If you put in five more pails of 
 water, I will tell you about it." 
 
 " Right ! " cried Yates, pleased to see that the 
 girl's first objection to his presence was fast disap- 
 pearing. " Now you'll understand how energetic I 
 am. I'm a handy man about a place." 
 
 When he had completed his task, she was still 
 stirring the thickening liquid in the caldron, guard- 
 ing her face from the flames with her big straw hat. 
 Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about her 
 shoulders ; and Yates, as he put the pail in its place, 
 when it had been emptied the fifth time, thought 
 she formed a very pretty picture standing there by 
 the fire, even if she were making soft soap. 
 
 "The wicked genii has finished the task set him 
 by the fairy princess. Now for the reward. I want 
 all the particulars about the leach. In the first
 
 102 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder 
 that I have, without apparent effect, been pouring 
 water into? Is it manufactured or natural ? " 
 
 " Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree." 
 
 " Buttonwood ? I don't think I ever heard of 
 that. I know the beech and the maple, and some 
 kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why 
 the buttonwood ? " 
 
 " The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to 
 the purpose. It is a tree that is very fine to look at. 
 It seems all right, but it generally isn't. It is hollow 
 or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timber 
 made from it is of little value, as it doesn't last. Yet 
 you can't tell until you begin to chop whether it is 
 of any use or not." Kitty shot a quick glance at the 
 young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. 
 
 " Go on, Miss Bartlett ; I see what you mean. 
 There are men like the buttonwood tree. The woods 
 are full of them. I've met lots of that kind, fair to 
 look upon, but hollow. Of course you don't mean 
 anything personal ; for you must have seen my worth 
 by the way I stuck to the water hauling. But go 
 on." 
 
 " Dear me, I never thought of such a thing ; but 
 
 a guilty conscience, they say " said Kitty, with 
 
 a giggle. 
 
 " Of course they say ; but it's wrong, like most 
 other things they say. It's the man with the guilty 
 conscience who looks you straight in the eye. Now 
 that the buttonwood is chopped down, what's the 
 next thing to be done ? "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 103 
 
 " It is sawn off at the proper length, square at 
 one end and slanting at the other." 
 " Why slanting ? " 
 
 " Don't you see, the foundation of plank on which 
 it rests is inclined, so the end of the leach that is 
 down must be slantingly cut, otherwise it would not 
 stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the 
 first windstorm." 
 
 " I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up ? " 
 " Oh, dear no ; not yet. They build a fire in it 
 when it gets dry enough." 
 
 " Really ? I think I understand the comprehen- 
 sive scheme, but I slip up on the details, as when I 
 tried to submerge that wooden pail. What's the 
 fire for?" 
 
 " To burn out what remains of the soft inside 
 
 wood, so as to leave only the hard outside shell. 
 
 Then the charring of the inner surface is supposed 
 
 to make the leach better more water-tight, perhaps." 
 
 " Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and gradually filled with ashes. When it 
 
 is full, we pour the water in it, and catch the lye as 
 
 it drips out. This is put in the caldron with grease, 
 
 pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when it boils 
 
 long enough, the result is soft soap." 
 
 " And if you boil it too long, what is the result ?" 
 " Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long." 
 The conversation was here interrupted by a hiss- 
 ing in the fire, caused by the tumultuous boiling 
 over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in a basin 
 of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously.
 
 104 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " You see," she said reproachfully, " the result of 
 keeping me talking nonsense to you. Now you 
 will have to make up for it by bringing in some 
 wood and putting more water into the leach." 
 
 " With the utmost pleasure," cried Yates, spring, 
 ing to his feet. " It is a delight to atone for a fault 
 by obeying your commands." 
 
 The girl laughed. "Buttonwood," she said. 
 
 Before Yates could think of anything to say 
 in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. 
 
 " How is the soap getting on, Kitty?" she asked. 
 " Why, Mr. Yates, are you here ? " 
 
 " Am I here ? I should say I was. Very much 
 here. I'm the hired man. I'm the hewer of wood 
 and the hauler of water, or, to speak more cor- 
 rectly, I'm the hauler of both. And besides, I've 
 been learning how to make soap, Mrs. Bartlett." 
 
 " Well, it won't hurt you to know how." 
 
 " You bet it won't. When I get back to New 
 York, the first thing I shall do will be to chop 
 down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can find 
 one, and set up a leach for myself. Lye comes 
 useful in running a paper." 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett's eyes twinkled, for, although she 
 did not quite understand his nonsense, she knew it 
 was nonsense, and she had a liking for frivolous 
 persons, her own husband being so sombre-minded. 
 
 " Tea is ready," she said. " Of course you will 
 stay, Mr. Yates." 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously 
 do so. I haven't earned a meal since the last one.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 105 
 
 No ; my conscience won't let me accept, but thank 
 you all the same." 
 
 " Nonsense ; my conscience won't let you go 
 away hungry. If nobody were to eat but those 
 who earn their victuals, there would be more 
 starving people in the world than there are. Of 
 course you'll stay." 
 
 " Now, that's what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like 
 to have a chance of refusing an invitation I yearn 
 for, and then be forced to accept. That's true hos- 
 pitality." Then in a whisper he added to Kitty : 
 "If you dare to say ' buttonwood,' Miss Bartlett, 
 you and I will quarrel." 
 
 But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had 
 appeared on the scene, but industriously stirred the 
 contents of the iron kettle. 
 
 " Kitty," said the mother, " you call the men to 
 supper." 
 
 " I can't leave this," said Kitty, flushing ; " it will 
 boil over. You call, mother." 
 
 So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side 
 of her mouth, and gave the long wailing cry, which 
 was faintly answered from the fields, and Yates, 
 who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satis- 
 faction that Kitty had refused doubtless because he 
 was there.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " I TELL you what it is, Renny," said Yates, a 
 few days after the soap episode, as he swung in his 
 hammock at the camp, " I'm learning something 
 new every day." 
 
 " Not really ? " asked the professor in surprise. 
 
 "Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. 
 My chief pleasure in life, professor, is the surprising 
 of you. I sometimes wonder why it delights me ; 
 it is so easily done." 
 
 " Never mind about that. What have you been 
 learning?" 
 
 " Wisdom, my boy ; wisdom in solid chunks. In 
 the first place, I am learning to admire the resource- 
 fulness of these people around us. Practically, they 
 make everything they need. They are the most 
 self-helping people that I was ever thrown among. 
 I look upon theirs as the ideal life." 
 
 " I think you said something like that when we 
 first came here." 
 
 " I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am 
 
 talking now about farm life. Farmers eliminate 
 
 the middleman pretty effectually, and that in itself 
 
 is going a long way toward complete happiness. 
 
 1 06
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 107 
 
 Take the making of soap, that I told you about ; 
 there you have it, cheap and good. When you've 
 made it, you know what is in it, and I'll be hanged 
 if you do when you pay a big price for it in New 
 York. Here they make pretty nearly everything 
 they need except the waggon and the crockery ; and 
 I'm not sure but they made them a few years back. 
 Now, when a man with a good sharp axe and a jack- 
 knife can do anything from building his house to 
 whittling out a chair, he's the most independent 
 man on earth. Nobody lives better than these 
 people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. 
 Perhaps the country air helps ; but it seems to me I 
 never tasted such meals as Mrs. Bartlett, for in- 
 stance, gets up. They buy nothing at the stores 
 except the tea, and I confess I prefer milk myself. 
 My tastes were always simple." 
 
 " And what is the deduction ? " 
 
 " Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old 
 Hiram has an anvil and an amateur forge. He can 
 tinker up almost anything, and that eliminates the 
 blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, 
 and other tools, and that eliminates the carpenter. 
 The women eliminate the baker, the soap-boiler, 
 and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have 
 eliminated all the middlemen, then comes independ- 
 ence, and consequently complete happiness. You 
 can't keep happiness away with a shotgun then." 
 
 " But what is to become of the blacksmith, the 
 carpenter, and all the rest ? " 
 
 " Let them take up land and be happy too ; there's
 
 io8 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 plenty of land. The land is waiting for them. 
 Then look how the master is eliminated, '.'hat's 
 the most beautiful riddance of all. Even the car- 
 penter and blacksmith usually have to work under 
 a boss ; and if not, they have to depend on the men 
 who employ them. The farmer has to please no- 
 body but himself. That adds to his independence. 
 That's why old Hiram is ready to fight the first 
 comer on the slightest provocation. He doesn't 
 care whom he offends, so long as it isn't his wife. 
 These people know how to make what they want, 
 and what they can't make they do without. That's 
 the way to form a great nation. You raise, in this 
 manner, a self-sustaining, resolute, unconquerable 
 people. The reason the North conquered the South 
 was because we drew our armies mostly from the 
 self-reliant farming class, while we had to fight 
 a people accustomed for generations to having 
 things done for them." 
 
 " Why don't you buy a farm, Yates? " 
 " Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. 
 I am like the drunkard who admires a temperate life, 
 yet can't pass a ginshop. The city virus is in my 
 blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quite 
 satisfied with the tendency of farm life ; it is unfortu- 
 nately in a transition state. It is at the frame-house 
 stage, and will soon blossom into the red-brick stage. 
 The log-house era is what I yearn for. Then every, 
 thing a person needed was made on the farm. When 
 the brick-house era sets in, the middleman will be 
 rampant. I saw the other day at the Howards' a set
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 109 
 
 of ancient stones that interested me as much as an 
 Assyrian marble would interest you. They were 
 old, home-made millstones, and they have not been 
 used since the frame-house was built. The grist 
 mill at the village put them out of date. And just 
 here, notice the subtlety of the crafty middleman. 
 The farmer takes his grist to the mill, and the miller 
 does not charge him cash for grinding it. He takes 
 toll out of the bags, and the farmer has a vague idea 
 that he gets his grinding for almost nothing. The 
 old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer's 
 son won't be as happy in the brick-house which the 
 mason will build for him as his grandfather was in 
 the log-house he built for himself. And fools call 
 this change the advance of civilisation." 
 
 " There is something to be said for the old order 
 of things," admitted Renmark. " If a person could 
 unite the advantages of what we call civilisation with 
 the advantages of a pastoral life, he would inaugurate 
 a condition of things that would be truly idyllic." 
 
 " That's so, Renmark, that's so ! " cried Yates 
 enthusiastically. " A brownstone mansion on Fifth 
 Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of Lake Su- 
 perior ! That would suit me down to the ground. 
 Spend half the year in each place." 
 
 "Yes," said the professor meditatively ; "a log hut 
 on the rocks and under the trees, with the lake in 
 front, would be very nice if the hut had a good 
 library attached." 
 
 " And a daily paper. Don't forget the press." 
 
 " No. I draw the line there. The daily paper
 
 I io IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 would mean the daily steamer or the daily train. 
 The one would frighten away the fish, and the other 
 would disturb the stillness with its whistle." 
 
 Yates sighed. " I forgot about the drawbacks," 
 he said. " That's the trouble with civilisation. You 
 can't have the things you want without bringing in 
 their trail so many things you don't want. I shall 
 have to give up the daily paper." 
 
 "Then there is another objection, worse than 
 either steamer or train." 
 
 " What's that ? " 
 
 " The daily paper itself." 
 
 Yates sat up indignantly. 
 
 " Renmark ! " he cried, " that's blasphemy. For 
 Heaven's sake, man, hold something sacred. If you 
 don't respect the press, what do you respect ? Not 
 my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you 
 wouldn't talk in that flippant manner. If you speak 
 kindly of my daily paper, I'll tolerate your library." 
 
 "And that reminds me: Have you brought any 
 books with you, Yates ? I have gone through most 
 of mine already, although many of them will bear 
 going over again ; still, I have so much time on my 
 hands that I think I may indulge in a little general 
 reading. When you wrote asking me to meet you 
 in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp 
 through the country, so I did not bring as many 
 books with me as I should have done if I had known 
 you were going to camp out." 
 
 Yates sprang from the hammock. 
 
 "Books? Well, I should say so ! Perhaps you
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS in 
 
 thrnk I don't read anything but the daily papers. 
 I'd have you know that I am something of a 
 reader myself. You mustn't imagine you monopolise 
 all the culture in the township, professor." 
 
 The young man went into the tent, and shortly 
 returned with an armful of yellow-covered, paper- 
 bound small volumes, which he flung in profusion at 
 the feet of the man from Toronto. They were 
 mostly Beadle's Dime Novels, which had a great 
 sale at the time. 
 
 " There," he said, " you have quantity, quality, 
 and variety, as I have before remarked. ' The Mur- 
 derous Sioux of Kalamazoo ; ' that's a good one. A 
 hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the world. 
 The one you are looking at is a pirate story, judging 
 by the burning ship on the cover. But for first-class 
 highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. 
 That's the ' Sixteen String Jack set.' They're im- 
 mense if they do cost a quarter each. You must 
 begin at the right volume, or you'll be sorry. You 
 see, they never really end, although every volume is 
 supposed to be complete in itself. They leave off 
 at the most exciting point, and are continued in the 
 next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it's 
 rather exasperating if you begin at the last book. 
 You'll enjoy this lot. I'm glad I brought them 
 along." 
 
 " It is a blessing," said Renmark, with the ghost of 
 a smile about his lips. " I can truthfully say that 
 they are entirely new to me." 
 
 "That's all right, my boy," cried Yates loftily,
 
 H2 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 with a wave of his hand. " Use them as if they were 
 your own." 
 
 Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity 
 of the books. 
 
 " These will do excellently for lighting our morn- 
 ing camp-fire," he said. " And if you will allow me 
 to treat them as if they were my own, that is the use 
 to which I will put them. You surely do not mean 
 to say that you read such trash as this, Yates ? " 
 
 " Trash ? " exclaimed Yates indignantly. " It 
 serves me right. That's what a man gets for being 
 decent to you, Renny. Well, you're not compelled 
 to read them ; but if you put one of them in the fire, 
 your stupid treatises will follow, if they are not too 
 solid to burn. You don't know good literature when 
 you see it." 
 
 The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit 
 which comes to a man through the possession of a 
 real sheepskin diploma, granted by a university of 
 good standing, did not think it necessary to defend 
 his literary taste. He busied himself in pruning a 
 stick he had cut in the forest, and finally he got it 
 into the semblance of a walking cane. He was an 
 athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not 
 suit him as it did Yates. He tested the stick in 
 various ways when he had trimmed it to his satis- 
 faction. 
 
 "Are you ready for a ten-mile walk? "he asked 
 of the man in the hammock. 
 
 " Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking 
 here below, and he doesn't want it ten miles in
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 113 
 
 length either. I'm easily satisfied. You're off, are 
 you ? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back 
 some bread when you return to camp. It's the one 
 safe thing to do ' 
 8
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 RENMARK walked through the woods and then 
 across the fields, until he came to the road. He 
 avoided the habitations of man as much as he could, 
 for he was neither so sociably inclined nor so fre- 
 quently hungry as was his companion. He strode 
 along the road, not caring much where it led him. 
 Everyone he met gave him " Good-day," after the 
 friendly custom of the country. Those with waggons 
 or lighter vehicles going in his direction usually 
 offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that a 
 man should choose to walk when it was not com- 
 pulsory. The professor, like most silent men, found 
 himself good company, and did not feel the need of 
 companionship in his walks. He had been relieved 
 rather than disappointed when Yates refused to ac- 
 company him. And Yates, swinging drowsily in his 
 hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men 
 are firm and intimate friends, the first few days of 
 camping out is a severe strain on their regard for 
 each other. If Damon and Pythias had occupied a 
 tent together for a week, the worst enemy of either, 
 or both, might at the end of that time have ventured 
 into the camp in safety, and would have been wel- 
 come. 
 114
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 115 
 
 Renmark thought of these things as he walked 
 along. His few days' intimacy with Yates had 
 shown him how far apart they had managed to get 
 by following paths that diverged more and more 
 widely the longer they were trodden. The friend- 
 ship of their youth had turned out to be merely 
 ephemeral. Neither would now choose the other 
 as an intimate associate. Another illusion had 
 gone. 
 
 " I have surely enough self-control," said Renmark 
 to himself, as he walked on, " to stand his shallow 
 flippancy for another week, and not let him see what 
 I think of him." 
 
 Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying 
 the peaceful silence of the camp. " That man is an 
 exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faults of the 
 species abnormally developed. If I once open out 
 on him, he will learn more truth about himself in 
 ten minutes than he ever heard in his life before. 
 What an unbearable prig he has grown to be." 
 Thus ran Yates' thoughts as he swung in his ham- 
 mock, looking up at the ceiling of green leaves. 
 
 Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of 
 them thought. If it had been, then were marriage 
 not only a failure, but a practical impossibility. If 
 two men can get over the first few days in camp 
 without a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the ten- 
 sion relaxes. 
 
 Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid 
 little heed to those he met ; but one driver drew up 
 his horse and accosted him.
 
 ii6 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Good-day," he said. " How are you getting on 
 in the tent ? " 
 
 The professor was surprised at the question. Had 
 their tenting-out eccentricity gone all over the coun- 
 try? He was not a quick man at recognising people, 
 belonging, as he did, to the " I-remember-your-face- 
 but-can't-recall-your-name " fraternity. It had been 
 said of him that he never, at any one time, knew 
 the names of more than half a dozen students in his 
 class ; but this was an undergraduate libel on him. 
 The young man who had accosted him was driving 
 a single horse, attached to what he termed a " dem- 
 ocrat " a four-wheeled light waggon, not so slim and 
 elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as a 
 waggon. Renmark looked up at the driver with 
 confused unrecognition, troubled because he was 
 vaguely aware that he had met him somewhere be- 
 fore. But his surprise at being addressed speedily 
 changed into amazement as he looked from the 
 driver to the load. The " democrat " was heaped 
 with books. The larger volumes were stuck along 
 the sides with some regularity, and in this way kept 
 the miscellaneous pile from being shaken out on the 
 road. His eye glittered with a new interest as it 
 rested on the many-coloured bindings ; and he recog- 
 nised in the pile the peculiar brown covers of the 
 " Bohn " edition of classic translations, that were 
 scattered like so many turnips over the top of this 
 ridge of literature. He rubbed his eyes to make 
 sure he was not dreaming. How came a farmer's 
 boy to be driving a waggon-load of books in the
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 117 
 
 wilds of the country as nonchalantly as if they were 
 so many bushels of potatoes ? 
 
 The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for 
 the load was heavy and the sand was deep, saw that 
 the stranger not only did not recognise him, but that 
 from the moment he saw the books he had forgotten 
 everything else. It was evidently necessary to speak 
 again. 
 
 "If you are coming back, will you have a ride?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " I I think I will," said the professor, descend- 
 ing to earth again and climbing up beside the 
 boy. 
 
 " I see you don't remember me," said the latter, 
 starting his horse again. " My name is Howard. I 
 passed you in my buggy when you were coming in 
 with your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner 
 what's his name Yates, isn't it ? had dinner at 
 our house the other day." 
 
 " Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had 
 seen you before ; but it was only for a moment, you 
 know. I have a very poor memory so far as people 
 are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. 
 Are these your books ? And how do you happen to 
 have such a quantity ? " 
 
 " Oh, this is the library," said young Howard. 
 
 " The library ? " 
 
 " Yes, the township library, you know." 
 
 " Oh ! The township has a library, then ? I 
 didn't know." 
 
 " Well, it's part of it. This is a fifth part. You
 
 i rS IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 know about township libraries, don't you ? Your 
 partner said you were a college man." 
 
 Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he 
 was never reluctant to admit it. 
 
 " I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know 
 nothing of township libraries. Please tell me about 
 them." 
 
 Young Howard was eager to give information to a 
 professor, especially on the subject of books, which 
 he regarded as belonging to the province of college- 
 bred men. He was pleased also to discover that 
 city people did not know everything. He had long 
 had the idea that they did, and this belief had been 
 annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness of 
 Yates. The professor evidently was a decent fellow 
 who did not pretend to universal knowledge. This 
 was encouraging. He liked Renmark better than 
 Yates, and was glad he had offered him a ride, al- 
 though, of course, that was the custom ; still, a per- 
 son with one horse and a heavy load is exempt on a 
 sandy road. 
 
 " Well, you see," he said in explanation, " it's like 
 this : The township votes a sum of money, say a 
 hundred dollars, or two hundred, as the case may be. 
 They give notice to the Government of the amount 
 voted, and the Government adds the same amount 
 to the township money, It's like the old game : you 
 think of a number, and they double it. The Gov- 
 ernment has a depository of books, in Toronto, I 
 think, and they sell them cheaper than the book- 
 stores do. At any rate, the four hundred dollars'
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 119 
 
 worth are bought, or whatever the amount is, and 
 the books are the property of the township. Five 
 persons are picked out in the township as librarians, 
 and they have to give security. My father is libra- 
 rian for this section. The library is divided into five 
 parts, and each librarian gets a share. Once a year 
 I go to the next section and get all their books. 
 They go to the next section, again, and get all the 
 books at that place. A man comes to our house to- 
 day and takes all we have. So we get a complete 
 change every year, and in five years we get back the 
 first batch, which by that time we have forgotten all 
 about. To-day is changing day all around." 
 
 " And the books are lent to any person in each sec- 
 tion who wishes to read them ? " asked the professor. 
 
 " Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can 
 have a book out for two weeks; after that time 
 there is a fine, but Margaret never fines anyone." 
 
 " And do people have to pay to take out the 
 books?" 
 
 " Not likely ! " said Howard with fine contempt. 
 " You wouldn't expect people to pay for reading 
 books ; would you, now ? " 
 
 " No, I suppose not. And who selected the vol- 
 umes ? " 
 
 " Well, the township can select the books if it 
 likes, or it can send a committee to select them ; but 
 they didn't think it worth the trouble and expense. 
 People grumbled enough at wasting money on books 
 as it was, even if they did buy them at half price. 
 Still, others said it was a pity not to get the money
 
 120 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 out of the Government when they had the chance. 
 I don't believe any of them cared very much about 
 the books, except father and a few others. So the 
 Government chose the books. They'll do that if 
 you leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash they 
 sent, if you take my word for it. I believe they 
 shoved off on us all the things no one else would 
 buy. Even when they did pick out novels, they 
 were just as tough as the history books. ' Adam 
 Bede ' is one. They say that's a novel. I tried it, 
 but I would rather read the history of Josephus any 
 day. There's some fighting in that, if it is a history. 
 Then there's any amount of biography books. 
 They're no good. There's a ' History of Napoleon.' 
 Old Bartlett's got that, and he won't give it up. He 
 says he was taxed for the library against his will. 
 He dares them to go to law about it, and it ain't 
 worth while for one book. The other sections are 
 all asking for that book ; not that they want it, but 
 the whole country knows that old Bartlett's a-hold- 
 ing on to it, so they'd like to see some fun. Bart- 
 lett's read that book fourteen times, and it's all he 
 knows. I tell Margaret she ought to fine him, and 
 keep on fining, but she won't do it. I guess Bart- 
 lett thinks the book belongs to him by this time. 
 Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. Bartlett, so does 
 everybody, but old Bartlett's a seed. There he 
 sits now on his veranda, and it's a wonder he's not 
 reading the ' History of Napoleon.' " 
 
 They were passing the Bartlett house, and young 
 Howard raised his voice and called out:
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 121 
 
 " I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. 
 This is changing day, you know. Shall I come up 
 for it, or will you bring it down? If you fetch it to 
 the gate, I'll cart it home now." 
 
 The old man paid no heed to what was said to 
 him ; but Mrs. Bartlett, attracted by the outcry, came 
 to the door. 
 
 " You go along with your books, you young 
 rascal ! " she cried, coming down to the gate when 
 she saw the professor. " That's a nice way to carry 
 bound books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I'll 
 warrant you have lost a dozen between Mallory's and 
 here. But easy come, easy go. It's plain to be 
 seen they didn't cost you anything. I don't know 
 what the world's a-coming to when the township 
 spends its money in books, as if taxes weren't heavy 
 enough already. Won't you come in, Mr. Renmark ? 
 Tea's on the table." 
 
 " Mr. Renmark's coming with me this trip, Mrs. 
 Bartlett," young Howard said before the professor 
 had time to reply; " but I'll come over and take tea 
 if you'll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse 
 up." 
 
 " You go along with your nonsense," she said ; 
 " I know you." Then in a lower voice she asked : 
 " How is your mother, Henry and Margaret?" 
 
 " They're pretty well, thanks." 
 
 " Tell them I'm going to run over to see them 
 some day soon, but that need not keep them from 
 coming to see me. The old man's going to town 
 to-morrow," and with this hint, after again inviting
 
 122 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 the professor to a meal, she departed up the path to 
 the house. 
 
 " I think I'll get down here," said Renmark, half- 
 way between the two houses. " I am very much 
 obliged to you for the ride, and also for what you 
 told me about the books. It was very interesting." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried young Howard ; " I'm not 
 going to let you do anything of the sort. You're 
 coming home with me. You want to seethe books, 
 don't you ? Very well, then, come along. Mar- 
 garet is always impatient on changing day, she's so 
 anxious to see the books, and father generally comes 
 in early from the fields for the same reason." 
 
 As they approached the Howard homestead they 
 noticed Margaret waiting for them at the gate ; but 
 when the girl saw that a stranger was in the waggon, 
 she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, 
 seeing this retreat, regretted he had not accepted 
 Mrs. Bartlett's invitation. He was a sensitive man, 
 and did not realise that others were sometimes as 
 shy as himself. He felt he was intruding, and that 
 at a sacred moment the moment of the arrival of 
 the library. He was such a lover of books, and 
 valued so highly the privilege of being alone with 
 them, that he fancied he saw in the abrupt depart- 
 ure of Margaret the same feeling of resentment he 
 would himself have experienced if a visitor had 
 encroached upon him in his favourite nook in the fine 
 room that held the library of the university. 
 
 When the waggon stopped in the lane, Renmark 
 said hesitatingly :
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 123 
 
 "I think I'll not stay, if you don't mind. My 
 friend is waiting for me at the camp, and will be 
 wondering what has become of me." 
 
 "Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he 
 never bothers about anybody else as long as he is 
 comfortable himself. That's how I sized him up, 
 at any rate. Besides, you're never going back on 
 carrying in the books, are you? I counted on your 
 help. I don't want to do it, and it don't seem 
 the square thing to let Margaret do it all alone ; 
 does it, now? " 
 
 " Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall " 
 
 " Of course you can. Besides, I know my father 
 wants to see you, anyhow. Don't you, father? " 
 
 The old man was coming round from the back of 
 the house to meet them. 
 
 " Don't I what? " he asked. 
 
 " You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark 
 when Margaret told you what Yates had said to her 
 about him." 
 
 Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many 
 people had made him the subject of conversation, 
 rather suspecting at the same time that the boy was 
 making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out 
 his hand. 
 
 " So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very 
 pleased to see you. Yes, as Henry was saying, I 
 have been wanting to see you ever since my daugh- 
 ter spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that 
 his brother is a pupil of yours? " 
 
 "Oh! is Arthur Howard your son? " cried Ren-
 
 124 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 mark, warming up at once. " I did not know it. 
 There are many young men at the college, and I 
 have but the vaguest idea from what parts of the 
 country they all come. A teacher should have no 
 favourites, but I must confess to a strong liking for 
 your son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said 
 about every member of my class." 
 
 " Arthur was always studious, so we thought we 
 would give him a chance. I am glad to hear he be- 
 haves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, 
 and I hope my boys will have an easier time than I 
 had. But come in, come in. The missus and Mar. 
 garet will be glad to see you, and hear how the boy 
 is coming on with his studies." 
 
 So they went in together.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " HELLO ! Hello, there ! Wake up ! Break- 
 fa-a-a-st ! I thought that would fetch you. Gosh ! 
 I wish I had your job at a dollar a day ! " 
 
 Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the ham- 
 mock. At first he thought the forest was tumbling 
 down about his ears, but as he collected his wits 
 he saw that it was only young Bartlett who had 
 come crashing through the woods on the back of 
 one horse, while he led another by a strap attached 
 to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still re- 
 sounded in the depths of the woods, and rang in 
 Yates' ears as he pulled himself together. 
 
 " Did you ah make any remarks ? " asked 
 Yates quietly. 
 
 The boy admired Ijis gift of never showing 
 surprise. 
 
 " I say, don't you know that it's not healthy to 
 go to sleep in the middle of the day ? " 
 
 " Is it the middle of the day ? I thought it was 
 later. I guess I can stand it, if the middle of the 
 day can. I've a strong constitution. Now, what 
 do you mean by dashing up on two horses into a 
 
 man's bedroom in that reckless fashion ? " 
 
 125
 
 126 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 The boy laughed. 
 
 " I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I 
 knew you were alone, for I saw the professor go 
 mooning up the road a little while ago." 
 
 " Oh ! Where was he going ? " 
 
 " Hanged if I know, and he didn't look as if he 
 knew himself. He's a queer fish, ain't he?" 
 
 " He is. Everybody can't be as sensible and 
 handsome as we are, you know. Where are you 
 going with those horses, young man ? " 
 
 " To get them shod. Won't you come along ? 
 You can ride the horse I'm on. It's got a bridle. 
 I'll ride the one with the halter." 
 
 " How far away is the blacksmith's shop ? " 
 
 " Oh, a couple of miles or so ; down at the Cross 
 Roads." 
 
 " Well," said Yates, there's merit in the idea. I 
 take it your generous offer is made in good faith, 
 and not necessarily for publication." 
 
 " I don't understand. What do you mean ? " 
 
 "There is no concealed joke, is there? No get- 
 ting me on the back of one of those brutes to make 
 a public exhibition of me ? Do they bite or kick 
 or buck, or playfully roll over a person?" 
 
 " No," cried young Bartlett indignantly. " This 
 is no circus. Why, a baby could ride one of these 
 horses." 
 
 " Well, that's about the style of horse I prefer. 
 You see, I'm a trifle out of practice. I never rode 
 anything more spirited than a street car, and 1 
 haven't been on one of them for a week."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 127 
 
 " Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could 
 do most things you set your mind to." 
 
 Yates was flattered by this palpably sincere tribute 
 to his capacity, so he got out of the hammock. 
 The boy, who had been sitting on the horse with 
 both feet on one side, now straightened his back 
 and slipped to the ground. 
 
 " Wait till I throw down the fence," he said. 
 
 Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two 
 went trotting along the road. He managed to hold 
 his place with some little uncertainty, but the jog- 
 gling up and down worried him. He never seemed 
 to alight in quite the same place on the horse's 
 back, and this gave an element of chance to his 
 position which embarrassed him. He expected to 
 come down some time and find the horse wasn't 
 there. The boy laughed at his riding, but Yates 
 was too much engaged in keeping his position to 
 mind that very much. 
 
 " D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, 
 and that's what's the m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me." 
 His conversation seemed to be shaken out of him by 
 the trotting of the horse. " I say, Bartlett, I can't 
 stand this any longer. I'd rather walk." 
 
 " You're all right," said the boy ; " we'll make him 
 canter." 
 
 He struck the horse over the flank with the loose 
 end of the halter rein. 
 
 " Here ! " shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and 
 grasping the mane. " Don't make him go faster,
 
 128 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 you young fiend. I'll murder you when I get off 
 and that will be soon." 
 
 " You're all right," repeated young Bartlett, and, 
 much to his astonishment, Yates found it to be so. 
 When the horse broke into a canter, Yates thought 
 the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, and 
 as soothing as a rocking-chair. 
 
 " This is an improvement. But we've got to keep 
 it up, for if this brute suddenly changes to a trot, 
 I'm done for." 
 
 " We'll keep it up until we come in sight of the 
 Corners, then we'll slow down to a walk. There's 
 sure to be a lot of fellows at the blacksmith's shop, 
 so we'll come in on them easy like." 
 
 "You're a good fellow, Bartlett," said Yates. " I 
 suspected you of tricks at first. I'm afraid, if I had 
 got another chap in such a fix, I wouldn't have let 
 him off as easily as you have me. The temptation 
 would have been too great." 
 
 When they reached the blacksmith's shop at the 
 Corners, they found four horses in the building 
 ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, and 
 then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of 
 the smithy. The shop was built of rough boards, 
 and the inside was blackened with soot. It was not 
 well lighted, the two windows being obscured with 
 much smoke, so that they were useless as far as their 
 original purpose was concerned ; but the doorway, 
 as wide as that of a barn, allowed all the light to 
 come in that the smith needed for his work. At the 
 far end and darkest corner of the place stood the
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 129 
 
 forge, with the large bellows behind it, concealed, 
 for the most part, by the chimney. The forge was 
 perhaps six feet square and three or four feet high, 
 built of plank and filled in with earth. The top was 
 covered with cinders and coal, while in the centre 
 glowed the red core of the fire, with blue flames 
 hovering over it. The man who worked the bellows 
 chewed tobacco, and now and then projected the 
 juice with deadly accuracy right into the centre of 
 the fire, where it made a momentary hiss and dark 
 spot. All the frequenters of the smithy admired 
 Sandy's skill in expectoration, and many tried in 
 vain to emulate it. The envious said it was due to 
 the peculiar formation of his front teeth, the upper 
 row being prominent, and the two middle teeth set 
 far apart, as if one were missing. But this was jeal- 
 ousy ; Sandy's perfection in the art was due to no 
 favouritism of nature, but to constant and long-con- 
 tinued practice. Occasionally with his callous right 
 hand, never removing his left from the lever, Sandy 
 pulled an iron bar out of the fire and examined it 
 critically. The incandescent end of the bar radiated 
 a blinding white light when it was gently withdrawn, 
 and illuminated the man's head, making his beardless 
 face look, against its dark background, like the 
 smudged countenance of some cynical demon glow- 
 ing with a fire from within. The end of the bar 
 which he held must have been very hot to an ordi- 
 nary mortal, as everyone in the shop knew, all of them, 
 at their initiation to the country club, having been 
 handed a black piece of iron from Sandy's hand, 
 9
 
 130 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 which he held unflinchingly, but which the innocent 
 receiver usually dropped with a yell. This was 
 Sandy's favourite joke, and made life worth living for 
 him. It was perhaps not so good as the blacksmith's 
 own bit of humour, but public opinion was divided on 
 that point. Every great man has his own particular 
 set of admirers ; and there were some who said, 
 under their breaths, of course, that Sandy could 
 turn a horseshoe as well as Macdonald himself. 
 Experts, however, while admitting Sandy's general 
 genius, did not go so far as this. 
 
 About half a dozen members of the club were 
 present, and most of them stood leaning against 
 something with hands deep in their trousers pockets ; 
 one was sitting on the blacksmith's bench, with his 
 legs dangling down. On the bench tools were scat- 
 tered round so thickly that he had had to clear a 
 place before he could sit down ; the taking of this 
 liberty proved the man to be an old and privileged 
 member. He sat there whittling a stick, aimlessly 
 bringing it to a fine point, examining it frequently 
 with a critical air, as if he were engaged in some 
 delicate operation which required great discrimina- 
 tion. 
 
 The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to 
 one of the horses, the hind hoof of the animal, be- 
 tween his knees, resting on his leathern apron. The 
 horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, 
 not liking what was going on. Macdonald swore at 
 it fluently, and requested it to stand still, holding the 
 foot as firmly as if it were in his own iron vise,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 131 
 
 which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With 
 his right hand he held a hot horseshoe, attached to 
 an iron punch that had been driven into one of the 
 nail holes, and this he pressed against the upraised 
 hoof, as though sealing a document with a gigantic 
 seal. Smoke and flame arose from the contact of the 
 hot iron with the hoof, and the air was filled with 
 the not unpleasant odour of burning horn. The 
 smith's tool-box, with hammer, pinchers, and nails, 
 lay on the earthen floor within easy reach. The 
 sweat poured from his grimy brow ; for it was a hot 
 job, and Macdonald was in the habit of making the 
 most of his work. He was called the hardest work- 
 ing man in that part of the country, and he was 
 proud of the designation. He was a standing re- 
 proach to the loafers who frequented his shop, and 
 that fact gave him pleasure in their company. Be- 
 sides, a man must have an audience when he is an 
 expert in swearing. Macdonald's profanity was 
 largely automatic, a natural gift, as it were, and 
 he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when you 
 got him fighting angry, he always forgot to swear ; 
 but in his calm moments oaths rolled easily and 
 picturesquely from his lips, and gave fluency to his 
 conversation. Macdonald enjoyed the reputation 
 round about of being a wicked man, which he was 
 not; his language was against him, that was all. 
 This reputation had a misty halo thrown around it 
 by Macdonald's unknown doings ' down East,' from 
 which mystical region he had come. No one knew 
 just what Macdonald had done, but it was admitted
 
 132 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 on all sides that he must have had some terrible ex- 
 periences, although he was still a young man and 
 unmarried. He used to say : " When you have come 
 through what I have, you won't be so ready to pick 
 a quarrel with a man." 
 
 This must have meant something significant, but 
 the blacksmith never took anyone into his con- 
 fidence ; and " down East " is a vague place, a sort 
 of indefinite, unlocalised, no-man's-land, situated 
 anywhere between Toronto and Quebec. Almost 
 anything might have happened in such a space of 
 country. Macdonald's favourite way of crushing an 
 opponent was to say : " When you've had some of 
 my experiences, young man, you'll know better'n to 
 talk like that." All this gave a certain fascination 
 to friendship with the blacksmith ; and the farmers' 
 boys felt that they were playing with fire when in 
 his company, getting, as it were, a glimpse of the 
 dangerous side of life. As for work, the blacksmith 
 revelled in it, and made it practically his only vice. 
 He did everything with full steam on, and was, as 
 has been said, a constant reproach to loafers all over 
 the country. When there was no work to do, he 
 made work. When there was work to do, he did it 
 with a rush, sweeping the sweat from his grimy brow 
 with his hooked fore-finger, and flecking it to the 
 floor with a flirt of the right hand, loose on the wrist, 
 in a way that made his thumb and fore-finger snap 
 together like the crack of a whip. This action was 
 always accompanied with a long-drawn breath, almost 
 a sigh, that seemed to say: " I wish I had the easy
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 133 
 
 times you fellows have." In fact, since he came to 
 the neighbourhood the current phrase, " He works 
 like a steer," had given way to, " He works like Mac- 
 donald," except with the older people, who find it 
 hard to change phrases. Yet everyone liked the 
 blacksmith, and took no special offence at his untir- 
 ing industry, looking at it rather as an example to 
 others. 
 
 He did not glance up as the two newcomers en- 
 tered, but industriously pared down the hoof with a 
 curiously formed knife turned like a hook at the 
 point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, 
 and rasped the hoof into shape with a long, broad 
 file. Not till he let the foot drop on the earthen 
 floor, and slapped the impatient horse on the flank, 
 did he deign to answer young Bartlett's inquiry. 
 
 " No," he said, wringing the perspiration from his 
 forehead, " all these horses ain't ahead of you, and 
 you won't need to come next week. That's the last 
 hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to 
 my shop and go away again, while the breath of life 
 is left in me. And I don't do it, either, by sitting 
 on a bench and whittling a stick." 
 
 " That's so. That's so," said Sandy, chuckling, in 
 the admiring tone of one who intimated that, when 
 the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. " That's one 
 on you, Sam." 
 
 " I guess I can stand it, if he can," said the whittler 
 from the bench ; which was considered fair repartee. 
 
 " Sit it, you mean," said young Bartlett, laughing 
 with the others at his own joke.
 
 134 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " But," said the blacksmith severely, " we*re out 
 of shoes, and you'll have to wait till we turn some, 
 that is, if you don't want the old ones reset. Are 
 they good enough ? " 
 
 " I guess so, if you can find 'em ; but they're out 
 in the fields. Didn't think I'd bring the horses in 
 while they held on, did you ? " Then, suddenly re- 
 membering his duties, he said by way of general 
 introduction : " Gentlemen, this is my friend, Mr. 
 Yates, from New York." 
 
 The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the 
 high spirits of the crowd. They had imagined from 
 the cut of his clothes that he was a storekeeper from 
 some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, 
 these two occupations being the highest social posi- 
 tion to which a man might attain. They were pre- 
 pared to hear that he was from Welland, or perhaps 
 St. Catherine's ; but New York ! that was a crusher. 
 Macdonald, however, was not a man to be put down 
 in his own shop and before his own admirers. He 
 was not going to let his prestige slip from him merely 
 because a man from New York had happened along. 
 He could not pretend to know that city, for the 
 stranger would quickly detect the imposture, and 
 probably expose him ; but the slightly superior air 
 which Yates wore irritated him, while it abashed the 
 others. Even Sandy was silent. 
 
 " I've met some people from New York down 
 East," he said in an off-hand manner, as if, after all, 
 a man might meet a New-Yorker and still not sink 
 into the ground.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 135 
 
 " Really ? " said Yates. " I hope you liked them." 
 
 " Oh, so-so," replied the blacksmith airily. 
 " There's good and bad among them, like the rest of 
 us." 
 
 " Ah, you noticed that," said Yates. " Well, I've 
 often thought the same myself. It's a safe remark 
 to make ; there is generally no disputing it." 
 
 The condescending air of the New-Yorker was 
 maddening, and Macdonald realised that he was los- 
 ing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates' tone was 
 so exasperating to the blacksmith that he saw any 
 language at his disposal was inadequate to cope 
 withit. The time for the practical joke had arrived. 
 The conceit of this man must be taken down. He 
 would try Sandy's method, and, if that failed, it 
 would at least draw attention from himself to his 
 helper. 
 
 " Being as you're from New York, maybe you can 
 decide a little bet Sandy here wants to have with 
 somebody." 
 
 Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar 
 that always lay near enough to the fire to be uncom- 
 fortably warm. 
 
 " How much do you reckon that weighs ? " he 
 said, with critical nicety estimating its ounces in his 
 swaying hand. Sandy had never done it better. 
 There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, 
 unsophisticated countenance, and the crowd looked 
 on in breathless suspense. 
 
 Bartlett was about to step forward and save his 
 friend, but a wicked glare from Macdonald restrained
 
 136 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 him ; besides, his sympathies were with his neigh- 
 bours, and not with the stranger he had brought 
 among them. He thought resentfully that Yates 
 might have been less high and mighty. In fact, 
 when he asked him to come he had imagined his 
 brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would 
 reflect glory on himself. Now he fancied he was 
 included in the general scorn Yates took such little 
 pains to conceal. 
 
 Yates glanced at the piece of iron, and, without 
 taking his hands from his pockets, said carelessly : 
 
 " Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of 
 pounds." 
 
 " Heft it," said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out 
 to him. 
 
 " No, thank you," replied Yates with a smile. 
 " Do you think I have never picked up a hot horse- 
 shoe before ? If you are anxious to know its weight, 
 why don't you take it over to the grocery store and 
 have it weighed?" 
 
 " 'Tain't hot," said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and 
 flung the iron back on the forge. " If it was, I 
 couldn't have held it s'long." 
 
 " Oh, no," returned Yates, with a grin, " of course 
 not. I don't know what a blacksmith's hands are, 
 do I ? Try something fresh." 
 
 Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him 
 among his crowd, for they all considered themselves 
 as much involved in the failure of Sandy's trick as 
 he did himself ; but he was sure that in future some 
 man, hard pushed in argument, would fling the New-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 137 
 
 Yorker at him. In the crisis he showed the instinct 
 of a Napoleon. 
 
 " Well, boys," he cried, " fun's fun, but I've got 
 to work. I have to earn my living, anyhow." 
 
 Yates enjoyed his victory ; they wouldn't try 
 " getting at " him again, he said to himself. 
 
 Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the 
 bar of white-hot iron. He gave a scarcely percept- 
 ible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready with tobacco 
 juice, spat with great directness on the top of the 
 anvil. Macdonald placed the hot iron on the spot, 
 and quickly smote it a stalwart blow with the heavy 
 hammer. The result was appalling. An instanta- 
 neous spreading fan of apparently molten iron lit up 
 the place as if a flash of lightning had cleft the 
 sombre, smoky ceiling. There was a crash like the 
 bursting of a cannon. The shop was filled for a 
 moment with a shower of brilliant sparks, that flew 
 like meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone 
 was prepared for the explosion except Yates. He 
 sprang back with a cry, tripped, and, without having 
 time to get the use of his hands from his pockets to 
 ease his fall, tumbled and rolled to the horses' heels. 
 The animals, frightened by the report, stamped 
 round ; and Yates had to hustle on hands and knees 
 to safer quarters, exhibiting more celerity than 
 dignity. The blacksmith never smiled, but every- 
 one else roared. The reputation of the country was 
 safe. Sandy doubled himself up in his boisterous 
 mirth. 
 
 " There's no one like the old man ! " he shouted.
 
 138 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Oh, lordy ! lordy ! He's all wool, and a yard 
 wide." 
 
 Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, 
 laughing with the rest of them. 
 
 " If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten 
 it. That's one on me, as this youth in spasms said 
 a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I'll treat the 
 crowd, if there's a place handy."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 PEOPLE who have but a superficial knowledge of 
 the life and times here set down may possibly assert 
 that the grocery store, and not the blacksmith's 
 shop, used to be the real country club the place 
 where the politics of the country were discussed ; 
 where the doings of great men were commended or 
 condemned, and the government criticised. It is 
 true that the grocery store was the club of the village, 
 when a place like the Corners grew to be a village ; 
 but the blacksmith's shop was usually the first build- 
 ing erected on the spot where a village was ulti- 
 mately to stand. It was the nucleus. As a place 
 grew, and enervating luxury set in, the grocery 
 store slowly supplanted the blacksmith's shop, be- 
 cause people found a nail keg, or a box of crackers, 
 more comfortable to sit on than the limited seats at 
 their disposal in a smithy ; moreover, in winter the 
 store, with its red-hot box-stove, was a place of 
 warmth and joy, but the revelling in such an at- 
 mosphere of enjoyment meant that the members of 
 the club had to live close at hand, for no man would 
 brave the storms of a Canadian winter night, and 
 journey a mile or two through the snow, to enjoy 
 
 139
 
 140 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 even the pleasures of the store. So the grocery 
 was essentially a village club, and not a rural 
 club. 
 
 Of course, as civilisation advanced, the blacksmith 
 found it impossible to compete with the grocer. 
 He could not offer the same inducements. The 
 grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the 
 grateful epicurism of the Athenaeum, the Reform, 
 or the Carlton. It catered to the appetite of man, 
 besides supplying him with the intellectual stimulus 
 of debate. A box of soda crackers was generally 
 open, and, although such biscuits were always dry, 
 they were good to munch, if consumed slowly. The 
 barrel of hazel-nuts never had a lid on. The raisins, 
 in their square box, with blue-tinted paper, setting 
 forth the word " Malaga " under the coloured pic- 
 ture of joyous Spanish grape-pickers, stood on the 
 shelves behind the counter, at an angle suited to 
 display the contents to all comers, requiring an ex- 
 ceptionally long reach, and more than an ordinary 
 amount of cheek, before they were got at ; but the 
 barrel of Muscavado brown sugar was where any- 
 one could dip his hand in ; while the man on the 
 keg of tenpenny nails might extend his arm over 
 into the display window, where the highly coloured 
 candies exhibited themselves, although the person 
 who meddled often with them was frowned upon, 
 for it was etiquette in the club not to purloin things 
 which were expensive. The grocer himself drew 
 the line at the candies, and a second helping usually 
 brought forth the mild reproof :
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 141 
 
 " Shall I charge that, Sam ; or would you rather 
 pay for it now ? " 
 
 All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat 
 surreptitious way, and the takers generally wore an 
 absent-minded look, as if the purloining was not 
 quite intentional on their part. But they were all 
 good customers of the grocer, and the abstractions 
 were doubtless looked on by him as being in the 
 way of trade ; just as the giving of a present with a 
 pound of tea, or a watch with a suit of clothes, be- 
 came in later days. Be that as it may, he never 
 said anything unless his generosity was taken ad- 
 vantage of, which was rarely the case. 
 
 Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious 
 feast, that helped to lighten the shelves and burden 
 the till. This ordinarily took the form of a splurge 
 in cove oysters. Cove oysters, of course, came from 
 Baltimore in round tins ; they were introduced into 
 Canada long before the square tin boxes that now 
 come in winter from the same bivalvular city. Cove 
 oysters were partly cooked before being tinned, so 
 that they would, as the advertisements say, keep in 
 any climate. They did not require ice around them, 
 as do the square tins which now contain the raw 
 oysters. Someone present would say : 
 
 " What's the matter with having a feed of cove 
 oysters? " 
 
 He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so 
 from each member, and the whole was expended in 
 several cans of oysters and a few pounds of crackers. 
 The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top
 
 I 4 2 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 of the hot stove. The contents of the cans were 
 emptied into this handy dish, milk was added, and 
 broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency to 
 the result. There were always plenty of plates, for 
 the store supplied the crockery of the neighbourhood. 
 There were also plenty of spoons, for everything was 
 to be had at the grocery. What more could the 
 most exacting man need ? On a particularly reckless 
 night the feast ended with several tins of peaches, 
 which needed no cooking, but only a sprinkling of 
 sugar. The grocer was always an expert at cooking 
 cove oysters and at opening tins of peaches. 
 
 There was a general feeling among the members 
 that, by indulging in these banquets, they were going 
 the pace rather ; and some of the older heads feebly 
 protested against the indulgence of the times, but it 
 was noticed that they never refrained from doing 
 their share when it came to spoon work. 
 
 " A man has but one life to live," the younger 
 and more reckless would say, as if that excused the 
 extravagance ; for a member rarely got away with- 
 out being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when 
 they had peaches as well as oysters. 
 
 The grocery at the Corners had been but recently 
 established and as yet the blacksmith's shop had not 
 looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald was monarch 
 of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favourite 
 gathering place for miles around. The smithy was 
 also the patriotic centre of the district, as a black- 
 smith's shop must be as long as anvils can take the 
 place of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 143 
 
 of May, the Queen's birthday, celebrated locally as 
 the only day in the year, except Sundays, when 
 Macdonald's face was clean and when he did no 
 work, the firing of the anvils aroused the echoes of 
 the locality. On that great day the grocer supplied 
 the powder, which was worth three York shillings 
 a pound a York shilling being twelve and a half 
 cents. It took two men to carry an anvil, with a 
 good deal of grunting ; but Macdonald, if the crowd 
 were big enough, made nothing of picking it up, 
 hoisting it on his shoulder, and flinging it down on 
 the green in front of his shop. In the iron mass 
 there is a square hole, and when the anvil was placed 
 upside down, the hole was uppermost. It was filled 
 with powder, and a wooden plug, with a notch cut 
 in it, was pounded in with a sledge hammer. Powder 
 was sprinkled from the notch over the surface of the 
 anvil, and then the crowd stood back and held its 
 breath. It was a most exciting moment. Macdonald 
 would come running out of the shop bareheaded, 
 holding a long iron bar, the wavering, red-hot end 
 of which descended on the anvil, while the black- 
 smith shouted in a terrifying voice: "Look out, 
 there!" The loose powder hissed and spat for a 
 moment, then bang went the cannon, and a great 
 cloud of smoke rolled upward, while the rousing 
 cheers came echoing back from the surrounding 
 forests. The helper, with the powder horn, would 
 spring to the anvil and pour the black explosive into 
 the hole, while another stood ready with plug and 
 hammer. The delicious scent of burned gunpowder
 
 144 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 filled the air, and was inhaled by all the youngsters 
 with satisfaction, for now they realised what actual 
 war was. Thus the salutes were fired, and thus the 
 royal birthday was fittingly celebrated. 
 
 Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade 
 was much brisker, as then a plug was not needed. 
 The hole in the lower anvil was filled with powder, 
 and the other anvil was placed over it. This was 
 much quicker than pounding in a plug, and had 
 quite as striking and detonating an effect. The upper 
 anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain's shot-laden 
 frog, and fell over on its side. The smoke rolled up 
 as usual, and the report was equally gratifying. 
 
 Yates learned all these things as he sat in the 
 blacksmith's shop, for they were still in the month 
 of May, and the smoke of the echoing anvils had 
 hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to 
 tell him of the glory of the day. One or two were 
 good enough to express regret that he had not been 
 there to see. After the disaster which had over- 
 turned Yates things had gone on very smoothly, and 
 he had become one of the crowd, as it were. The 
 fact that he was originally a Canadian told in his 
 favour, although he had been contaminated by long 
 residence in the States. 
 
 Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horse- 
 shoes from long rods of iron. Usually an extended 
 line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackened scant- 
 ling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing 
 the shop overhead, just under the roof. These were 
 the work of Macdonald's comparatively leisure days,
 
 145 
 
 and they were ready to be fitted to the hoofs of any 
 horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion 
 there had been such a run on his stock that it was 
 exhausted, a depletion the smith seemed to regard 
 as a reproach on himself, for he told Yates several 
 times that he often had as many as three dozen shoes 
 up aloft for a rainy day. 
 
 When the sledge-hammer work was to be done, 
 one of those present stepped forward and swung the 
 heavy sledge, keeping stroke for stroke with Mac- 
 donald's one-handed hammer, all of which required 
 a nice ear for time. This assistance was supposed 
 to be rendered by Sandy ; but, as he remarked, he 
 was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his 
 skill was at liberty to do so. Sandy seemed to 
 spend most of his time at the bellows, and when he 
 was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as he 
 called him, he was commending the expertness of 
 the/r0 tern, amateur, the wielder of the sledge. It 
 was fun to the amateur, and it was an old thing with 
 Sandy, so he never protested against this interference 
 with his duty, believing in giving everyone a chance, 
 especially when it came to swinging a heavy ham- 
 mer. The whole scene brought back to Yates the 
 days of his youth, especially when Macdonald, put- 
 ting the finishing strokes to his shoe, let his hammer 
 periodically tinkle with musical clangour on the anvil, 
 ringing forth a tintinnabulation that chimed melodi- 
 ously on the ear a sort of anvil-chorus accompani- 
 ment to his mechanical skill. He was a real sleight- 
 of-hand man, and the anvil was his orchestra. 
 10
 
 146 IN THE- MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural 
 club. As the members thawed out he found them 
 all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, they were 
 appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently 
 new to them, and nothing puts a man into a genial 
 frame of mind so quickly as an attentive, sympa- 
 thetic audience. Few men could tell a story better 
 than Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of in- 
 terested hearers. He hated to have to explain the 
 points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what story-teller 
 does not ? A cold and critical man like the professor 
 froze the spring of narration at its source. Besides, 
 Renmark had an objectionable habit of tracing the 
 recital to its origin ; it annoyed Yates to tell a modern 
 yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, or some 
 other prehistoric poacher on the good things men 
 were to say, had forestalled him by a thousand 
 years or so. If a man is quick to see the point 
 of your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you 
 are apt to form a high opinion of his good sense, 
 and to value his companionship. 
 
 When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, 
 who was delighted at the impression Yates had made, 
 was preparing to go, the whole company protested 
 against the New-Yorker's departure. This was real 
 flattery. 
 
 " What's your hurry, Bartlett ? " asked the whit- 
 tier. " You can't do anything this afternoon, if you 
 do go home. It's a poor time this to mend a bad 
 day's work. If you stay, he'll stay ; won't you, Mr. 
 Yates ? Macdonald is going to set tires, and he
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 147 
 
 needs us all to look on and see that he does it right ; 
 don't you, Mac ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I get a lot of help from you while there's a 
 stick to whittle," replied the smith. 
 
 " Then there's the protracted meeting to-night at 
 the schoolhouse," put in another, anxious that all the 
 attractions of the place should be brought forward. 
 
 "That's so," said the whittler; "I had forgotten 
 about that. It's the first night, so we must all be 
 there to encourage old Benderson. You'll be on 
 hand to-night, won't you, Macdonald ? " 
 
 The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to 
 
 Sandy and asked him savagely what in and 
 
 nation he was standing gawking there for. Why 
 didn't he go outside and get things ready for the 
 tire setting? What in thunder was he paying him 
 for, anyhow? Wasn't there enough loafers round, 
 without him joining the ranks ? 
 
 Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when 
 the smith's back was turned, he shrugged his shoul- 
 ders, took afresh bite of tobacco from the plug which 
 he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others 
 as he did so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out 
 of the shop, saying in a whisper as he passed the 
 whittler : 
 
 " I wouldn't rile the old man, if I were you." 
 
 The club then adjourned to the outside, all except 
 those who sat on the bench. Yates asked : 
 
 " What's the matter with Macdonald ? Doesn't 
 he like protracted meetings? And, by the way, 
 what are protracted meetings ? "
 
 148 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " They're revival meetings religious meetings, 
 you know, for converting sinners." 
 
 " Really ? " said Yates. " But why protracted ? 
 Are they kept on for a week or two ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I suppose that's why, although, to tell the 
 truth, I never knew the reason for the name. Pro- 
 tracted meetings always stood for just the same 
 thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as mean- 
 ing that one thing, without thinking why." 
 
 " And doesn't Macdonald like them ? " 
 
 " Well, you see, it's like this : He never wants to 
 go to a protracted meeting, yet he can't keep away. 
 He's like a drunkard and the corner tavern. He 
 can't pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. 
 Macdonald's always the first one to go up to the 
 penitent bench. They rake him in every time. He 
 has religion real bad for a couple of weeks, and then 
 he backslides. He doesn't seem able to stand either 
 the converting or the backsliding. I suppose some 
 time they will gather him in finally, and he will stick 
 and become a class leader, but he hasn't stuck up to 
 date." 
 
 " Then he doesn't like to hear the subject spoken 
 of?" 
 
 " You bet he don't. It isn't safe to twit him about 
 it either. To tell the truth, I was pleased when I 
 heard him swear at Sandy ; then I knew it was all 
 right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad 
 man to tackle when he's mad. There's nobody in 
 this district can handle him. I'd sooner get a blow 
 from a sledge-hammer than meet Mac's fist when his
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 149 
 
 dander is up. But so long as he swears it's all right. 
 Say, you'll stay down for the meeting, won't you ? " 
 
 " I think I will. I'll see what young Bartlett in- 
 tends to do. It isn't very far to walk, in any case." 
 
 " There will be lots of nice girls going your way 
 to-night after the meeting. I don't know but I'll jog 
 along in that direction myself when it's over. That's 
 the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow." 
 
 The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, 
 and joined the crowd outside. Young Bartlett sat 
 on one of the horses, loath to leave while the tire 
 setting was going on. 
 
 " Are you coming, Yates ? " he shouted, as his 
 comrade appeared. 
 
 " I think I'll stay for the meeting," said Yates, 
 approaching him and patting the horse. He had no 
 desire to mount and ride away in the presence of 
 that critical assemblage. 
 
 " All right," said young Bartlett. " I guess I'll be 
 down at the meeting, too ; then I can show you the 
 way home." 
 
 " Thanks," said Yates ; " I'll be on the lookout for 
 you." 
 
 Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost 
 to sight in a cloud of dust. The others had also de- 
 parted with their shod horses ; but there were several 
 new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather 
 than diminished. They sat round on the fence, or 
 on the logs dumped down by the wayside. 
 
 Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was 
 a convenient way of using the weed, and required no
 
 matches, besides being safer for men who had to fre- 
 quent inflammable barns. 
 
 A circular fire burnt in front of the shop, oak 
 bark being the main fuel used. Iron waggon tires lay 
 hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald and Sandy 
 bustled about making preparations, their faces, more 
 hideous in the bright sunlight than in the compara- 
 tive obscurity of the shop, giving them the appear- 
 ance of two evil spirits about to attend some incan- 
 tation scene of which the circular fire was the visible 
 indication. Crosstrees, of four pieces of squared 
 timber, lay near the fire, with a tireless wheel placed 
 flat upon them, the hub in the square hole at the 
 centre. Shiftless farmers always resisted having 
 tires set until they would no longer stay on the 
 wheel. The inevitable day was postponed, time and 
 again, by a soaking of the wheels overnight in some 
 convenient puddle of water ; but as the warmer and 
 dryer weather approached, this device, supplemented 
 by wooden wedges, no longer sufficed, and the tires 
 had to be set for summer work. Frequently the tire 
 rolled off on the sandy highway, and the farmer was 
 reluctantly compelled to borrow a rail from the near- 
 est fence, and place it so as to support the axle ; he 
 then put the denuded wheel and its tire on the 
 waggon, and drove slowly to the nearest blacksmith's 
 shop, his vehicle " trailing like a wounded duck," 
 the rail leaving a snake's track behind it on the 
 dusty road. 
 
 The blacksmith had previously cut and welded 
 the tire, reducing its circumference, and when it was
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 151 
 
 hot enough, he and Sandy, each with a pair of 
 tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It 
 was pressed and hammered down on the blazing rim 
 of the wheel, and instantly Sandy and Macdonald, 
 with two pails of water that stood handy, poured the 
 cold liquid around the red-hot zone, enveloping 
 themselves in clouds of steam, the quick contraction 
 clamping the iron on the wood until the joints 
 cracked together. There could be no loitering; quick 
 work was necessary, or a spoiled wheel was the 
 result. Macdonald, alternately spluttering through 
 fire and steam, was in his element. Even Sandy 
 had to be on the keen jump, without a moment to 
 call his plug of tobacco his own. Macdonald fussed 
 and fussed, but got through an immense amount of 
 work in an incredibly short space of time, cursing 
 Sandy pretty much all the while ; yet that useful 
 man never replied in kind, contenting himself with 
 a wink at the crowd when he got the chance, and 
 saying under his breath ; 
 
 "The old man's in great fettle to-day." 
 Thus everybody enjoyed himself : Macdonald, be- 
 cause he was the centre figure in a saturnalia of work ; 
 Sandy, because no matter how hard a man has to 
 work he can chew tobacco all the time ; the crowd, 
 because the spectacle of fire, water, and steam was 
 fine, and they didn't have to do anything but sit 
 round and look on. The sun got lower and lower 
 as, one by one, the spectators departed to do their 
 chores, and prepare for the evening meeting. Yates 
 at the invitation of the whittler went home with 
 him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MARGARET had never met any man but her 
 father who was so fond of books as Professor Ren- 
 mark. The young fellows of her acquaintance read 
 scarcely anything but the weekly papers ; they went 
 with some care through the yellow almanac that 
 was given away free, with the grocer's name printed 
 on the back. The marvellous cures the almanac 
 recorded were of little interest, and were chiefly 
 read by the older folk, but the young men revelled in 
 the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, 
 their only drawback being that one could never tell 
 the stories at a paring-bee or other social gathering, 
 because every one in the company had read them. 
 A few of the young men came sheepishly round to 
 get a book out of the library, but it was evident 
 that their interest was not so much in the volume, as 
 in the librarian, and when that fact became apparent 
 to the girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought 
 to be cold and proud by the youth of the neighbour- 
 hood, or " stuck-up," as they expressed it. 
 
 To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revela- 
 tion. He could talk of other things than the 
 weather, live stock, and the prospects for the crops. 
 The conversation at first did not include Margaret, 
 152
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 153 
 
 but she listened to every word of it with interest. 
 Her father and mother were anxious to hear about 
 their boy; and from that engrossing subject the 
 talk soon drifted to university life, and the differences 
 between city and country. At last the farmer, with 
 a sigh, arose to go. There is little time for pleasant 
 talk on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret 
 remembering her duties as librarian, began to take in 
 the books from the waggon to the front room. 
 Renmark, slow in most things, was quick enough to 
 offer his assistance on this occasion ; but he reddened 
 somewhat as he did so, for he was unused to being 
 a squire of dames. 
 
 " I wish you would let me do the porterage, he 
 said. " I would like to earn the right to look at these 
 books sometimes, even though I may not have the 
 privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident 
 of the township." 
 
 " The librarian," answered Margaret with a smile, 
 seems to be at liberty to use her own discretion in 
 the matter of lending. No one has authority to 
 look-over her accounts, or to censure her if she lends 
 recklessly. So, if you wish to borrow books, all 
 you have to do is to ask for them." 
 
 " You may be sure I shall avail myself of the per- 
 mission. But my conscience would be easier if I am 
 allowed to carry them in." 
 
 " You will be permitted to help. I like carrying 
 them. There is no more delicious armful than 
 books." 
 
 As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face
 
 154 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 radiant with enthusiasm, the disconcerting thought 
 came suddenly that perhaps her statement might 
 not be accurate. No such thought had ever sug- 
 gested itself to him before, and it now filled him 
 with guilty confusion. He met the clear, honest 
 gaze of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered 
 lamely : 
 
 " I I too am very fond of books." 
 
 Together they carried in the several hundred 
 volumes, and then began to arrange them. 
 
 " Have you no catalogue ? " he asked. 
 
 " No. We never seem to need one. People come 
 and look over the library, and take out whatever 
 books they fancy." 
 
 " Yes, but still every library ought to be cata- 
 logued. Cataloguing is an art in itself. I have 
 paid a good deal of attention to it, and will show 
 you how it is done, if you care to know." 
 
 " Oh, I wish you would." 
 
 " How do you keep a record of the volumes that 
 are out ? " 
 
 " I just write the name of the person, the title, and 
 the date in this blank book. When the volume is 
 returned, I score out the record." 
 
 " I see," said Renmark dubiously. 
 
 " That isn't right, is it ? Is there a better way ? " 
 
 " Well, for a small library, that ought to do ; but 
 if you were handling many books, I think confusion 
 might result." 
 
 " Do tell me the right way. I should like to 
 know, even if it is a small library."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 155 
 
 " There are several methods, but I am by no means 
 sure your way is not the simplest, and therefore the 
 best in this instance." 
 
 " I'm not going to be put off like that," said Mar- 
 garet, laughing. " A collection of books is a collec- 
 tion of books, whether large or small, and deserves 
 respect and the best of treatment. Now, what 
 method is used in large libraries? " 
 
 " Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though 
 slips of paper would do. When any person wants to 
 take out a book, let him make out a card, giving the 
 date and the name or number of the book ; he then 
 must sign the card, and there you are. He cannot 
 deny having had the book, for you have his own 
 signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a 
 box according to dates, and when a book is returned, 
 you tear up the recording paper." 
 
 " I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt 
 it." 
 
 " Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few 
 hundred cards. We'll have them here in a day or 
 two." 
 
 " Oh, I don't want to put you to that trouble." 
 
 " It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let 
 us attack the catalogue. Have you a blank book 
 anywhere about ? We will first make an alphabeti- 
 cal list ; then we will arrange them under the heads 
 of history, biography, fiction, and so on." 
 
 Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue 
 took a long time. Both were absorbed in their 
 occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straight and
 
 156 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 narrow path, but in this instance there were so many 
 delightful side excursions that rapid progress could 
 not be expected. To a reader the mere mention of 
 a book brings up recollections. Margaret was read- 
 ing out the names ; Renmark, on slips of paper, each 
 with a letter on it, was writing them down. 
 
 " Oh, have you that book ? " he would say, look- 
 ing up as a title was mentioned. " Have you ever 
 read it?" 
 
 " No ; for, you see, this part of the library is all 
 new to me. Why, here is one of which the leaves 
 are not even cut. No one has read it. Is it good ? " 
 
 " One of the best," Renmark would say, taking the 
 volume. " Yes, I know this edition. Let me read 
 you one passage." 
 
 And Margaret would sit in the rocking-chair, while 
 he cut the leaves and found the place. One extract 
 was sure to suggest another, and time passed before 
 the title of the book found its way to the proper slip 
 of paper. These excursions into literature were 
 most interesting to both excursionists, but they in- 
 terfered with cataloguing. Renmark read and read, 
 ever and anon stopping to explain some point, or 
 quote what some one else had said on the same 
 subject, marking the place in the book, as he paused, 
 with inserted fore-finger. Margaret swayed back and 
 forth in the comfortable rocking-chair, and listened 
 intently, her large dark eyes fixed upon him so earn- 
 estly that now and then, when he met them, he 
 seemed disconcerted for a moment. But the girl did 
 not notice this. At the end of one of his disserta-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 157 
 
 tions she leaned her elbow on the arm of the chair, 
 with her cheek resting against her hand, and said : 
 
 " How very clear you make everything, Mr. Ren- 
 mark." 
 
 " Do you think so?" he said with a smile. " It's 
 my business, you know." 
 
 " I think it's a shame that girls are not allowed to 
 go to the university ; don't you ? " 
 
 " Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, 
 and I am not quite prepared to say." 
 
 " Well, I think it most unfair. The university is 
 supported by the Government, is it not ? Then why 
 should half of the population be shut out from its 
 advantages ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid it wouldn't do, you know." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " There are many reasons," he replied evasively. 
 
 "What are they? Do you think girls could not 
 
 learn, or are not as capable of hard study as well 
 > 
 
 " It isn't that," he interrupted ; " there are plenty 
 of girls' schools in the country, you know. Some 
 very good ones in Toronto itself, for that matter." 
 
 " Yes ; but why shouldn't I go to the university 
 with my brother ? There are plenty of boys' schools, 
 too, but the university is the university. I suppose 
 my father helps to support it. Why, then, should 
 one child be allowed to attend and the other not ? 
 It isn't at all just." 
 
 " It wouldn't do," said the professor more firmly, 
 the more he thought about it.
 
 158 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Would you take that as a satisfying reason from 
 one of your students? 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " The phrase, ' It wouldn't do.' " 
 
 Renmark laughed. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," he said ; " but, then, I'm very 
 exacting in class. Now, if you want to know, why 
 do you not ask your father? " 
 
 " Father and I have discussed the question often, 
 and he quite agrees with me in thinking it unfair." 
 
 " Oh, does he ? " said Renmark, taken aback ; 
 although, when he reflected, he realised that the 
 father doubtless knew as little about the dangers of 
 the city as the daughter did. 
 
 "And what does your mother say?" 
 
 " Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper 
 it is all that is required. So you will have to give 
 me a good reason, if there is one, for nobody else in 
 this house argues on your side of the question." 
 
 " Well," said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, 
 " if you don't know by the time you are twenty-five, 
 I'll promise to discuss the whole subject with you." 
 
 Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. 
 
 " Twenty-five ?" she cried, adding with the uncon- 
 scious veracity of youth : " That will be seven years 
 to wait. Thank you, but I think I'll find out before 
 that time." 
 
 " I think you will," Renmark answered. 
 
 They were interrupted by the sudden and unan- 
 nounced entrance of her brother. 
 
 " Hello, you two ! " he shouted with the rude
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 159 
 
 familiarity of a boy. " It seems the library takes a 
 longer time to arrange than usual." 
 
 Margaret rose with dignity. 
 
 " We are cataloguing," she said severely. 
 
 " Oh, that's what you call it, is it ? Can I be of 
 any assistance, or is two company when they're 
 cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it is? " 
 
 " I'm afraid I must be off," said the professor, 
 rising. " My companion in camp won't know what 
 has become of me." 
 
 " Oh, he's all right ! " said Henry. " He's down 
 at the Corners, and is going to stay there for the 
 meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a while 
 ago ; he was getting the horses shod, and your friend 
 went with him. I guess Yates can take care of him- 
 self, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, will you go to the meet- 
 ing ? I'm going. Young Bartlett's going, and so is 
 Kitty. Won't you come, too, Mr. Renmark? It's 
 great fun." 
 
 " Don't talk like that about a religious gathering, 
 Henry," said his sister, frowning. 
 
 " Well, that's what it is, anyhow." 
 
 "Is it a prayer meeting ?" asked the professor, 
 looking at the girl. 
 
 " You bet it is ! " cried Henry enthusiastically, 
 giving no one a chance to speak but himself. "It's 
 a prayer meeting, and every other kind of meeting 
 rolled into one. It's a revival meeting ; a protracted 
 meeting, that's what it is. You had better come 
 with us, Mr. Renmark, and then you can see what it 
 is like. You can walk home with Yates,"
 
 160 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 This attractive denouement did not seem to appeal 
 so strongly to the professor as the boy expected, for 
 he made no answer. 
 
 " You will come, sis ; won't you ? " urged the boy. 
 
 "Are you sure Kitty is going? " 
 
 " Of course she is. You don't think she'd miss it, 
 do you ? They'll soon be here, too ; better go and 
 get ready." 
 
 " I'll see what mother says," replied Margaret as 
 she left the room. She shortly returned, dressed 
 ready for the meeting, and the professor concluded 
 he would go also.
 
 CHAPTER XIIi 
 
 ANYONE passing the Corners that evening would 
 have seen at once that something important was on. 
 Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, drawn in 
 toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses 
 were tied. Some had evidently come from afar, for 
 the fame of the revivalist was widespread. The 
 women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, 
 which was brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The 
 men stood round ontside in groups, while many sat 
 in rows on the fences, all conversing about every 
 conceivable topic except religion. They apparently 
 acted on the theory that there would be enough 
 religion to satisfy the most exacting when they went 
 inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fence with 
 the whittler, whose guest he had been. It was get- 
 ting too dark for satisfactory whittling, so the man 
 with the jack-knife improved the time by cutting 
 notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when this 
 failed, there was always a satisfaction in opening and 
 shutting a knife that had a powerful spring at the 
 back of it, added to which was the pleasurable 
 danger of cutting his fingers. They were discussing 
 the Fenian question, which at that time was occupy- 
 ing the minds of Canadians to some extent. Yates 
 II 161
 
 162 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 was telling them what he knew of the brotherhood 
 in New York, and the strength of it, which his 
 auditors seemed inclined to underestimate. Nobody 
 believed that the Fenians would be so foolhardy as 
 to attempt an invasion of Canada ; but Yates held 
 that if they did, they would give the Canadians more 
 trouble than was expected. 
 
 " Oh, we'll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come 
 over here. They'll be glad enough to get back if 
 he tackles them." 
 
 "With his tongue," added another, 
 
 " By the way," said the whittler, " did young 
 Bartiett say he was coming to-night ? I hope he'll 
 bring his sister if he does. Didn't any of you fellows 
 ask him to bring her ? He'd never think of it if he 
 wasn't told. He has no consideration for the rest 
 of us." 
 
 " Why didn't you ask him ? I hear you have 
 taken to going in that direction yourself." 
 
 " Who ? Me ? " asked the whittler, quite uncon- 
 cerned. " I have no chance in that quarter, espe- 
 cially when the old man's around." 
 
 There was a sound of singing from the school- 
 house. The double doors were wide open, and as 
 the light streamed out the people began to stream in." 
 
 " Where's Macdonald ? " asked Yates. 
 
 11 Oh, I guess he's taken to the woods. He washes 
 his face, and then he hides. He has the sense to 
 wash his face first, for he knows he will have to 
 come. You'll see him back before they start the 
 second hymn."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 163 
 
 " Well boys ! " said one, getting down from the 
 fence and stretching his arms above his head with a 
 yawn. " I guess, if we're going in, it's about time." 
 
 One after another they got down from the fence, 
 the whittler shutting his knife with a reluctant snap, 
 and putting it in his pocket with evident regret. 
 The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to its 
 utmost capacity women on one side of the room, 
 and men on the other ; although near the door there 
 was no such division, all the occupants of the back 
 benches being men and boys. The congregation 
 was standing, singing a hymn, when Yates and his 
 comrades entered, so their quiet incoming was not 
 noticed. The teacher's desk had been moved from 
 the platform on which it usually stood, and now 
 occupied a corner on the men's side of the house. 
 It was used as a seat by two or three, who wished to 
 be near the front, and at the same time keep an eye 
 on the rest of the assemblage. The local preacher 
 stood on the edge of the platform, beating time 
 gently with his hymn book, but not singing, as he 
 had neither voice nor ear for music, and happily 
 recognised the fact. The singing was led by a man 
 in the middle of the room. 
 
 At the back of the platform, near the wall, were 
 two chairs, on one of which sat the Rev. Mr. Bender- 
 son, who was to conduct the revival. He was a 
 stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see 
 his face, for it was buried in his hands, his head 
 being bowed in silent prayer. It was generally 
 understood that he had spent a youth of fearful
 
 164 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 wickedness, and he always referred to himself as a 
 brand snatched from the burning. It was even 
 hinted that at one time he had been a card-player, 
 but no one know this for a fact. Many of the local 
 preachers had not the power of exhortation, there- 
 fore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had 
 that gift abnormally developed, was too valuable to 
 be localised ; so he spent the year going from place 
 to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, or frightening 
 into the fold those stray sheep that hovered on the 
 outskirts ; once they were within the religious ring- 
 fence the local minister was supposed to keep them 
 there. The latter, who had given out the hymn, 
 was a man of very different calibre. He was tall, 
 pale, and thin, and his long black coat hung on him 
 as if it were on a post. When the hymn was finished, 
 and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, 
 found seats as best they could at the end near the 
 door. This was the portion of the hall where the 
 scoffers assembled, but it was also the portion which 
 yielded most fruit, if the revival happened to be a 
 successful one. Yates, seeing the place so full, and 
 noticing two empty benches up at the front, asked 
 the whittler why they were not occupied. 
 
 " They'll be occupied pretty soon." 
 
 " For whom are they being kept ? " 
 
 " Perhaps for you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. 
 You never can tell. That's the penitents' bench." 
 
 The local preacher knelt on the platform and 
 offered up a prayer. He asked the Lord to bless the 
 efforts of the brother who was with them there that
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 165 
 
 night, and to crown his labours with success ; through 
 his instrumentality to call many wandering sinners 
 home. There were cries of " Amen " and " Bless 
 the Lord " from different parts of the hall as the 
 prayer was being made. On rising, another hymn 
 was given out : 
 
 " Joy to the world, the Lord is come, 
 Let earth receive her King." 
 
 The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune 
 began high and ran down to the bottom of the scale 
 by the time it reached the end of the first line. 
 When the congregation had got two-thirds of the 
 way down, they found they could go no farther, not 
 even those who sang bass. The leader, in some 
 confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, and his mis- 
 calculation was looked upon as exceedingly funny 
 by the reckless spirits at the back of the hall. The 
 door opened quietly, and they all turned expecting 
 to see Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had 
 washed his face with but indifferent success, and the 
 bulge in his cheek, like a wen, showed that he had 
 not abandoned tobacco on entering the schoolhouse. 
 He tiptoed to a place beside his friends. 
 
 " The old man's outside," he whispered to the 
 youth, who sat nearest him, holding his hand to the 
 side of his mouth, so that the sound would not 
 travel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him 
 in a friendly sort of way. 
 
 The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went 
 on, gradually recovering from the misadventure at
 
 166 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 starting. When it was finished, the preacher sat 
 down beside the revivalist. His part of the work 
 was done, as there was no formal introduction of 
 speaker to audience to be gone through. The other 
 remained as he was, with bowed head, for what ap- 
 peared to be a long time. 
 
 A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whis- 
 perings among the scoffers ceased. 
 
 At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, 
 arose, and came to the front of the platform. He had 
 a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, with the heavy 
 jaw of a stubborn man a man not easily beaten. 
 " Open the door," he said in a quiet voice. 
 
 In the last few meetings he had held he had found 
 this an effective beginning. It was new to his pres- 
 ent audience. Usually a knot of people stood out- 
 side, and if they were there, he made an appeal to 
 them, through the open door, to enter. If no one 
 was there, he had a lesson to impart, based on the 
 silence and the darkness. In this instance it was 
 hard to say which was the more surprised, the revi- 
 valist or the congregation. Sandy, being on his feet, 
 stepped to the door, and threw it open. He was 
 so astonished at what he saw that he slid behind the 
 open door out of sight. Macdonald stood there, 
 against the darkness beyond, in a crouching atti- 
 tude, as if about to spring. He had evidently been 
 trying to see what was going on through the key- 
 hole ; and being taken unawares by the sudden open- 
 ing of the door, had not had time to recover himself. 
 No retreat was now possible. He stood up with
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 167 
 
 haggard face, like a man who has been on a spree, 
 and, without a word, walked in. Those on the 
 bench in front of Yates moved together a little 
 closer, and the blacksmith sat down on the vacant 
 space left at the outside. In his confusion he drew 
 his hand across his brow, and snapped his fingers 
 loudly in the silence. A few faces at the back wore 
 a grin, and would have laughed had not Sandy, clos- 
 ing the door quietly, given them one menacing look 
 which quelled their merriment. He was not going 
 to have the " old man " made fun of in his extrem- 
 ity ; and they all had respect enough for Sandy's fist 
 not to run the risk of encountering it after the 
 meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to 
 be dreaded in a fight ; but the chances were that for 
 the next two or three weeks, if the revival were a 
 success, there would be no danger from that quarter. 
 Sandy, however, was permanently among the uncon- 
 verted, and therefore to be feared, as being always 
 ready to stand up for his employer, either with voice 
 or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson 
 had witnessed suggested no remarks at the time, so, 
 being a wise man, he said nothing. The congrega- 
 tion wondered how he had known Macdonald was at 
 the door, and none more than Macdonald himself. 
 It seemed to many that the revivalist had a gift of 
 divination denied to themselves, and this belief left 
 them in a frame of mind more than ever ready to 
 profit by the discourse they were about to hear. 
 
 Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that 
 nevertheless penetrated to every part of the room.
 
 168 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 He had a voice of peculiar quality as sweet as the 
 tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music ; now 
 and then there was a manly ring in it which thrilled 
 his listeners. " A week ago to-night," he said, " at 
 this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of one who 
 is now among the blessed. It is four years since 
 he found salvation, by the mercy of God, through 
 the humble instrumentality of the least of his 
 servants. It was my blessed privilege to see that 
 young man that boy almost pledge his soul to 
 Jesus. He was less than twenty when he gave 
 himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long life 
 were as strong as the hopes of the youngest here to- 
 night. Yet he was struck down in the early flush 
 of manhood struck down almost without warning. 
 When I heard of his brief illness, although knowing 
 nothing of its seriousness, something urged me to 
 go to him, and at once. When I reached the house, 
 they told me that he had asked to see me, and that 
 they had just sent a messenger to the telegraph 
 office with a dispatch for me. I said : ' God tele- 
 graphed to me.' They took me to the bedside of 
 my young friend, whom I had last seen as hearty 
 and strong as anyone here." 
 
 Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with 
 emotion, told the story of the deathbed scene. His 
 language was simple and touching, and it was evi- 
 dent to the most callous auditor that he spoke from 
 the heart, describing in pathetic words the event he 
 had witnessed. His unadorned eloquence went 
 straight home to every listener, and many an eye
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 169 
 
 dimmed as he put before them a graphic picture of 
 the serenity attending the end of a well-spent life. 
 
 " As I came through among you to-night," he 
 continued, " when you stood together in groups out- 
 side this building, I caught a chance expression 
 that one of you uttered. A man was speaking of 
 some neighbour who, at this busy season of the year, 
 had been unable to get help. I think the one to 
 whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy 
 man were here, and the answer was : ' No ; he has not 
 a minute to call hir, own.' The phrase has haunted 
 me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. ' Not a 
 minute to call his own ! ' I thought of it as I sat 
 before you. I thought of it as I rose to address 
 you. I think of it now. Who has a minute to 
 call his own ? " The soft tones of the preacher's 
 voice had given place to a ringing cry that echoed 
 from the roof down on their heads. " Have you ? 
 Have I ? Has any king, any prince, any president, 
 any ruler over men, a minute or a moment he can 
 call his own ? Not one. Not one of all the teeming 
 millions on this earth. The minutes that are past 
 are yours. What use have you made of them ? All 
 your efforts, all your prayers, will not change the 
 deeds done in any one of those minutes that are 
 past, and those only are yours. The chiselled stone 
 is not more fixed than are the deeds of the minutes 
 that are past. Their record is for you or against 
 you. But where now are those minutes of the 
 future those minutes that, from this time onward, 
 you will be able to call your own when they are
 
 i;o IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 spent? They are in the hand of God in His hand 
 to give or to withhold. And who can count them 
 in the hand of God? Not you, not I, not the wisest 
 man upon the earth. Man may number the miles 
 from here to the farthest visible star ; but he cannot 
 tell you, you ; I don't mean your neighbour, I mean 
 you, he cannot tell YOU whether your minutes 
 are to be one or a thousand. They are doled out 
 to you and you are responsible for them. But there 
 will come a moment, it may be to-night, it may be 
 a year hence when the hand of God will close and 
 you will have your sum. Then time will end for 
 you, and eternity begin. Are you prepared for that 
 awful moment that moment when the last is given 
 you, and the next withheld ? What if it came 
 now ? Are you prepared for it ? Are you ready to 
 welcome it, as did our brother who died at this 
 hour one short week ago? His was not the only 
 deathbed I have attended. Some scenes have been 
 so seared into my brain that I can never forget 
 them. A year ago I was called to the bedside of a 
 dying man, old in years and old in sin. Often had 
 he been called, but he put Christ away from him, 
 saying: ' At a more convenient season.' He knew 
 the path, but he walked not therein. And when at 
 last God's patience ended, and this man was stricken 
 down, he, foolish to the last, called for me, the ser- 
 vant, instead of to God, the Master. When I 
 reached his side, the stamp of death was on his face. 
 The biting finger of agony had drawn lines upon 
 his haggard brow, A great fear was upon him, and
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 171 
 
 he gripped my hand with the cold grasp of death 
 itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I 
 saw the angel of peace standing by the bed, but it 
 stood aloof, as one often offended. It seemed to 
 me at the head of the bed the demon of eternal 
 darkness bent over, whispering to him : ' It is too 
 late ! it is too late ! ' The dying man looked at me 
 oh, such a look ! May you never be called upon 
 to witness its like. He gasped : ' I have lived I 
 have lived a sinful life. Is it too late ? ' ' No,' I 
 said, trembling. 'Say you believe.' His lips 
 moved, but no sound came. He died as he had 
 lived. The one necessary minute was withheld. 
 Do you hear? It was withheld! He had not 
 the minute to call his own. Not that minute in 
 which to turn from everlasting damnation. He 
 went down into hell, dying as he had lived." 
 
 The preacher's voice rose until it sounded like a 
 trumpet blast. His eyes shone, and his face flushed 
 with the fervour of his theme. Then followed as 
 rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture 
 of hell and the day of judgment. Sobs and groans 
 were heard in every part of the room. " Come 
 now now / " he cried. " Now is the appointed 
 time, now is the day of salvation. Come now ; and 
 as you rise pray God that in his mercy he may spare 
 you strength and life to reach the penitent bench." 
 
 Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching 
 out his hands, he broke forth, with his splendid 
 tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, with its spirited 
 marching time :
 
 1/2 
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 'sin nersj 
 read - y 
 
 poor' 
 
 stands 
 
 and' 
 
 need*: 
 
 .save, yoiu 
 
 S 
 
 (Weak, 'and \ wound -ed. tick and sore? 
 \FuU of 'pit - y, love. and power? 
 
 The whole congregation joined him. Everyone 
 knew the words and the tune. It seemed a relief to 
 the pent-up feelings to sing at the top of the voice. 
 The chorus rose like a triumphal march: 
 
 Torn to the Lord, and seek', tsal- - 'va - lion. 
 
 ^Eg 
 
 
 Sound the praise 'of \HisT ''dear Name; 
 
 do - ry. hon - our, and sal .- va.-7tion, 
 
 J. J /JJU J J I 
 
 Christ .v. the Lord has come to reiepi 
 
 As the congregation sang the preacher in stentor- 
 ian tones urged sinners to seek the Lord while he 
 was yet to be found. 
 
 Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he 
 tugged at his collar, as if he were choking. He 
 could not understand the strange exaltation that had 
 come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. 
 All those round him were much moved. There 
 were now no scoffers at the back of the room. Most of
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 173 
 
 them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at the 
 other. It only needed a beginning, and the penitent 
 bench would be crowded. Many eyes were turned on 
 Macdonald. His face was livid, and great beads of 
 perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand 
 clutched the back of the seat before him, and the 
 muscles stood out on the portion of his arm that 
 was bare. He stared like a hypnotised man at the 
 preacher. His teeth were set, and he breathed hard, 
 as would a man engaged in a struggle. At last the 
 hand of the preacher seemed to be pointed directly 
 at him. He rose tremblingly to his feet and stag- 
 gered down the aisle, flinging himself on his knees, 
 with his head on his arms, beside the penitent 
 bench, groaning aloud. 
 
 " Bless the Lord ! " cried the preacher. 
 
 It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the 
 aisle, with pale faces, many with tears streaming 
 from their eyes, walked the young men and the old. 
 Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on 
 their lips, saw their sons fall prostrate before the 
 penitent bench. Soon the contrite had to kneel 
 wherever they could. The ringing salvation march 
 filled the air, mingled with cries of joy and devout 
 ejaculations. 
 
 " God ! " cried Yates, tearing off his collar, " what 
 is the matter with me ? I never felt like this before. 
 I must get into the open air." 
 
 He made for the door and escaped unnoticed in 
 the excitement of the moment. He stood for a 
 time by the fence outside breathing deeply of the
 
 174 
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly 
 to him. He clutched the fence, fearing he was 
 about to faint. Partially recovering himself at last, 
 he ran with all his might up the road, while there 
 rang in his ears the marching words : 
 
 \tj* > ^*i 
 
 Turn to the, Lord, and seek .sal. va (ion. 
 
 
 m 
 
 .Sound ihe praise c His dear Name. 
 
 
 ' ouii <and sal - va - Uon, 
 
 Tjmi
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WHEN people are thrown together, especially 
 young people, the mutual relationship existing be- 
 tween them rarely remains stationary. It drifts toward 
 like or dislike ; and cases have been known where it 
 has progressed into love or hatred. 
 
 Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became 
 at least very firm friends. Each of them would 
 have been ready to admit this much. These two 
 had a good foundation on which to build up an ac- 
 quaintance in the fact that Margaret's brother was a 
 student in the university of which the professor was 
 a worthy member. They had also a topic of differ- 
 ence, which, if it leads not to heated argument, but 
 is soberly discussed, lends itself even more to the 
 building of friendship than do subjects of agree- 
 ment. Margaret held, as has been indicated in a 
 previous chapter, that the university was wrong in 
 closing its doors to women. Renmark, up to the 
 time of their first conversation, had given the matter 
 but little thought ; yet he developed an opinion 
 contrary to that of Margaret, and was too honest a 
 man, or too little of a diplomatist, to conceal it. 
 On one occasion Yates had been present, and he 
 threw himself, with the energy that distinguished 
 
 175
 
 i;6 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 him, into the woman side of the question cordially 
 agreeing with Margaret, citing instances and holding 
 up to ridicule those who were against the admission 
 of women, taunting them with fear of feminine com- 
 petition. Margaret became silent as the champion 
 of her cause waxed the more eloquent ; but whether 
 she liked Richard Yates the better for his partisan- 
 ship who that is not versed in the ways of women 
 can say ? As the hope of winning her regard was 
 the sole basis of Yates' uncompromising views on 
 the subject, it is likely that he was successful, for 
 his experiences with the sex were large and varied. 
 Margaret was certainly attracted toward Renmark, 
 whose deep scholarship even his excessive self-de- 
 preciation could not entirely conceal ; and he, in 
 turn, had naturally a schoolmaster's enthusiasm over 
 a pupil who so earnestly desired advancement in 
 knowledge. Had he described his feelings to Yates, 
 who was an expert in many matters, he would per- 
 haps have learned that he was in love ; but Renmark 
 was a reticent man, not much given either to intro- 
 spection or to being lavish with his confidences. 
 As to Margaret, who can plummet the depth of a 
 young girl's regard until she herself gives some in- 
 dication ? All that one is able to record is that she 
 was kinder to Yates than she had been at the 
 beginning. 
 
 Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have 
 denied that she had a sincere liking for the conceited 
 young man from New York. Renmark fell into the 
 error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 177 
 
 person, whereas she was merely a girl who had an 
 inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and one who took 
 a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious 
 man. Even Yates made a slight mistake regarding 
 her on one occasion, when they were having an 
 evening walk together, with that freedom from 
 chaperonage which is the birthright of every Amer- 
 ican girl, whether she belongs to a farmhouse or to 
 the palace of a millionaire. 
 
 In describing the incident afterward to Renmark 
 (for Yates had nothing of his comrade's reserve in 
 these matters) he said : 
 
 " She left a diagram of her four fingers on my 
 cheek that felt like one of those raised maps of 
 Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap of a 
 lady's fan in admonition, but never in my life have 
 I met a gentle reproof that seemed so much like a 
 censure from the paw of our friend Tom Sayers." 
 
 Renmark said with some severity that he hoped 
 Yates would not forget that he was, in a measure, a 
 guest of his neighbours. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," said Yates. " If you have 
 any spare sympathy to bestow, keep it for me. My 
 neighbours are amply able, and more than willing, 
 to take care of themselves." 
 
 And now as to Richard Yates himself. One 
 would imagine that here, at least, a conscientious 
 relater of events would have an easy task. Alas ! 
 such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates 
 was by all odds the most complex and bewildering 
 of the four. He was deeply and truly in love with 
 
 12
 
 i;8 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so 
 rare as a young man newly engaged to an innocent 
 girl tries to make her believe. Cases have been 
 known where a chance meeting with one girl, and 
 not with another, has settled who was to be a young 
 man's companion during a long life. Yates believed 
 that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and 
 made no secret of his perplexity to his friend. He 
 complained sometimes that he got little help toward 
 the solution of the problem, but generally he was 
 quite content to sit under the trees with Renmark 
 and weigh the different advantages of each of the 
 girls. He sometimes appealed to his friend, as a 
 man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing 
 an education that extended far into conic sections 
 and algebraic formulae, to balance the lists, and give 
 him a candid and statistical opinion as to which of 
 the two he should favour with serious proposals. 
 When these appeals for help were coldly received, 
 he accused his friend of lack of sympathy with his 
 dilemma; said that he was a soulless man, and that 
 if he had a heart it had become incrusted with the 
 useless debris of a higher education, and swore to 
 confide in him no more. He would search for a 
 friend, he said, who had something human about 
 him. The search for the sympathetic friend, how- 
 ever, seemed to be unsuccessful ; for Yates always 
 returned to Renmark, to have, as he remarked, ice 
 water dashed upon his duplex-burning passion, 
 
 It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of 
 May, 1 866, and Yates was swinging idly in the ham-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 179 
 
 mock, with his hands clasped under his head, gazing 
 dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through 
 the green branches of the trees overhead, while his 
 industrious friend was unromantically peeling po- 
 tatoes near the door of the tent. 
 
 " The human heart, Renny," said the man in the 
 hammock reflectively, " is a remarkable organ, when 
 you come to think of it. I presume, from your lack 
 of interest, that you haven't given the subject much 
 study, except, perhaps, in a physiological way. At 
 the present moment it is to me the only theme 
 worthy of a man's entire attention. Perhaps that is 
 the result of spring, as the poet says ; but, anyhow, 
 it presents new aspects to me each hour. Now, I 
 have made this important discovery : that the girl I 
 am with last seems to me the most desirable. That 
 is contrary to the observation of philosophers of 
 bygone days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, 
 they say. I don't find it so. Presence is what plays 
 the very deuce with me. Now, how do you account 
 for it, Stilly?" 
 
 The professor did not attempt to account for it, 
 but silently attended to the business in hand, Yates 
 withdrew his eyes from the sky, and fixed them on 
 the professor, waiting for the answer that did not 
 come. 
 
 " Mr. Renmark," he drawled at last, " I am con- 
 vinced that your treatment of the potato is a mistake. 
 I think potatoes should not be peeled the day before, 
 and left to soak in cold water until to-morfow's din- 
 ner. Of course I admire the industry that gets work
 
 I8o IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 well over before its results are called for. Nothing 
 is more annoying than duty left untouched until the 
 last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtue 
 may be carried to excess, and a man may be too 
 previous." 
 
 " Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the avoca- 
 tion into your hands. You may perhaps remember 
 that for two days I have been doing your share as 
 well as my own." 
 
 " Oh, I am not complaining about that, at all," 
 said the hammock magnanimously. "You are ac- 
 quiring practical knowledge, Renny, that will be of 
 more use to you than all the learning taught in the 
 schools. My only desire is that your education 
 should be as complete as possible, and to this end I 
 am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire 
 for scullery work. I should suggest that, instead of 
 going to the trouble of entirely removing the cover- 
 ing of the potato in that laborious way, you should 
 merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. 
 Then, rather than cook the potatoes in the slow and 
 soggy manner that seems to delight you, you should 
 boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the water. 
 The remaining coat would then curl outward, and the 
 resulting potato would be white and dry and mealy, 
 instead of being in the condition of a wet sponge." 
 
 " The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating 
 of it. If you are not satisfied with my way of boil- 
 ing potatoes, give me a practical object lesson." 
 
 The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. 
 
 " Of coure an unimaginative person like you, Ren-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 181 
 
 mark, cannot realise the cruelty of suggesting that a 
 man as deeply in love as I am should demean him- 
 self by attending to the prosaic details of household 
 affairs. I am doubly in love, and much more, there- 
 fore, as that old bore Euclid used to say, is your 
 suggestion unkind and uncalled for." 
 
 " All right, then ; don't criticise." 
 
 " Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in 
 your curt suggestion. A man who is unable, or un- 
 willing, to labour in the vineyard should not find fault 
 with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hun- 
 dredth time of asking, add to the many obligations 
 already conferred, and tell me, like the good fellow 
 you are, what you would do if you were in my place. 
 To which of those two charming, but totally unlike, 
 girls would you give the preference?" 
 
 " Damn ! " said the professor quietly. 
 
 " Hello, Renny ! " cried Yates, raising his head. 
 " Have you cut your finger? I should have warned 
 you against using too sharp a knife." 
 
 But the professor had not cut his finger. His use 
 of the word given above is not to be defended ; still, 
 as it was spoken by him, it seemed to lose all rela- 
 tionship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, 
 and in a certain sense, innocently. He was aston- 
 ished at himself for using it, but there had been 
 moments during the past few days when the ordinary 
 expletives set down in the learned volumes of higher 
 mathematics did not fit the occasion. 
 
 Before anything more could be said there was a 
 shout from the roadway near them.
 
 182 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 "Is Richard Yates there ? " hailed the voice. 
 
 " Yes. Who wants him ? " cried Yates springing 
 out of the hammock. 
 
 " I do," said a young fellow on horseback. He 
 threw himself off a tired horse, tied the animal to a 
 sapling, which, judging by the horse's condition, 
 was an entirely unnecessary operation, jumped 
 over the rail fence, and approached through the 
 woods. The young men saw coming toward them, 
 a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. 
 
 " I'm Yates. What is it ? " 
 
 " Well," said the lad, " I've had a hunt and a half 
 for you. Here's a telegram." 
 
 " How in the world did you find out where I was? 
 Nobody has my address." 
 
 "That's just the trouble. It would have saved 
 somebody in New York a pile of money if you had 
 left it. No man ought to go to the woods without 
 leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow." 
 The young man looked at the world from a tele- 
 graphic point of view. People were good or bad 
 according to the trouble they gave a telegraph mes- 
 senger. Yates took the yellow envelope, addressed 
 in lead pencil, but, without opening it, repeated his 
 question : 
 
 " But how on earth did you find me ? " 
 
 " Well, it wasn't easy," said the boy. " My horse 
 is about done out. I'm from Buffalo. They tele- 
 graphed from New York that we were to spare no 
 expense ; and we haven't. There are seven other 
 fellows scouring the country on horseback with
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 183 
 
 duplicates of that despatch, and some more have 
 gone along the lake shore on the American side. 
 Say, no other messenger has been here before me, 
 has he ? " asked the boy with a touch of anxiety in 
 his voice. 
 
 " No ; you are the first." 
 
 " I'm glad of that. I've been 'most all over 
 Canada. I got on your trail about two hours ago, 
 and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you 
 were up here. Is there any answer ? " 
 
 Yates tore open the envelope. The despatch was 
 long, and he read it with a deepening frown. It was 
 to this effect : 
 
 " Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot ; 
 get there as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo 
 to-night. General O'Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will 
 give you every facility when you tell him who you are. When five 
 arrive, they will report to you. Place one or two with Canadian 
 troops. Get one to hold the telegraph wire, and send over all the 
 stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for cash you need ; and don't 
 spare expense." 
 
 When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke 
 forth into a line of language that astonished Ren- 
 mark, and drew forth the envious admiration of the 
 Buffalo telegraph boy. 
 
 " Heavens and earth and the lower regions ! I'm 
 here on my vacation. I'm not going to jump into 
 work for all the papers in New York. Why couldn't 
 those fools of Fenians stay at home ? The idiots 
 don't know when they're well off. The Fenians be 
 hanged ! "
 
 1 84 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Guess that's what they will be," said the tele, 
 graph boy. "Any answer, sir? " 
 
 " No. Tell 'em you couldn't find me." 
 
 " Don't expect the boy to tell a lie," said the pro- 
 fessor, speaking for the first time. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind a lie ! " exclaimed the boy, 
 " but not that one. No, sir. I've had too much 
 trouble finding you. I'm not going to pretend I'm 
 no good. I started out for to find you, and I have. 
 But I'll tell any other lie you like, Mr. Yates, if 
 it will oblige you." 
 
 Yates recognised in the boy the same emulous 
 desire to outstrip his fellows that had influenced him- 
 self when he was a young reporter, and he at once 
 admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him 
 of the fruits of his enterprise. 
 
 "No," he said, "that won't do. No; you have 
 found me, and you're a young fellow who will be 
 president of the telegraph company some day, or 
 perhaps hold the less important office of the United 
 States presidency. Who knows ? Have you a tele- 
 graph blank ? " 
 
 " Of course," said the boy, fishing out a bundle 
 from the leathern wallet by his side. Yates took 
 the paper, and flung himself down under the tree. 
 
 " Here's a pencil," said the messenger. 
 
 " A newspaper man is never without a pencil, 
 thank you," replied Yates, taking one out of his in- 
 side pocket. " Now, Renmark, I'm not going to tell 
 a lie on this occasion," he continued. 
 
 " I think the truth is better on all occasions."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 185 
 
 " Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth." 
 
 Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on 
 the telegraph blank. Suddenly he looked up and 
 said to the professor : " Say, Renmark, are you a 
 doctor ? " 
 
 " Of laws," replied his friend. 
 
 " Oh, that will do just as well." And he finished 
 his writing. 
 
 "How is this?" he cried, holding the paper at 
 arm's length : 
 
 " I/. F. SPENCER, 
 
 " Managing Editor ' Argus,' 1 New York : 
 
 " I'm flat on my back. Haven't done a hand's turn for a 
 week. Am under the constant care, night and day, of one of 
 the most eminent doctors in Canada, who even prepares my 
 food for me. Since leaving New York, trouble of the heart has 
 complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. Con- 
 sultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here 
 until present complications have yielded to treatment. 
 
 " Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence. 
 
 "YATES." 
 
 " There," said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, 
 when he had finished the reading. " What do you 
 think of that?" 
 
 The professor frowned, but did not answer. The 
 boy, who partly saw through it, but not quite, 
 grinned, and said : " Is it true ? " 
 
 " Of course it's true ! " cried Yates, indignant at 
 the unjust suspicion. " It is a great deal more true 
 than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor, there, 
 if it isn't true. Now my boy, will you give this in 
 when you get back to the office ? Tell "em to rush
 
 i86 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 it through to New York. I would mark it ' rush,' 
 only that never does any good, and always makes 
 the operator mad." 
 
 The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. 
 
 " It's to be paid for at the other end," continued 
 Yates. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," answered the messenger 
 with a certain condescension, as if he were giving 
 credit on behalf of the company. " Well, so long," 
 he added. " I hope you'll soon be better, Mr. Yates." 
 
 Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed 
 him to the fence. 
 
 " Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see 
 that. They'll perhaps question you when you get 
 back. What will you say ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'll tell 'em what a hard job I had to find 
 you, and let 'em know nobody else could 'a' done 
 it, and I'll say you're a pretty sick man. I won't 
 tell 'em you gave me a dollar ! " 
 
 " Right you are, sonny ; yotill get along. Here's 
 five dollars, all in one bill. If you meet any other 
 of the messengers, take them back with you. There's 
 no use of their wasting valuable time in this little 
 neck of the woods." 
 
 The boy stuffed the bill into his vest-pocket as 
 carelessly as if it represented cents instead of dollars, 
 mounted his tired horse, and waved his hand in 
 farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned and 
 walked slowly back to the tent. He threw himself 
 once more into the hammock. As he expected, the 
 professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 187 
 
 he had been prepared for silence, the silence irritated 
 him. He felt ill-used at having so unsympathetic a 
 companion. 
 
 " Look here, Renmark ; why don't you say some- 
 thing?" 
 
 " There is nothing to say." 
 
 " Oh, yes, there is. You don't approve of me, do 
 you?" 
 
 " I don't suppose it makes any difference whether 
 I approve or not." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the ap- 
 proval of even the humblest of his fellow-creatures. 
 Say, what will you take in cash to approve of me ? 
 People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you 
 are more uncomfortable than the most cast-iron 
 conscience any man ever had. One's own conscience 
 one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of 
 another man is beyond one's control. Now, it is 
 like this: I am here for quiet and rest. I have 
 earned both, and I think I am justified in " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap 
 philosophy on the question. I am tired of it." 
 
 " And of me, too, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, rather if you want to know." 
 
 Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first 
 time since the encounter with Bartlett on the road 
 Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. The 
 reporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, 
 hesitating. The other, his heavy brows drawn, while 
 not in an aggressive attitude, was plainly ready for 
 an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not to
 
 1 88 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 strike. This was not because he was afraid, for he 
 was far from being a coward. The reporter realised 
 that he had forced the conversation, and remembered 
 he had invited Renmark to accompany him. Al- 
 though this recollection stayed his hand, it had no 
 effect on his tongue. 
 
 " I believe," he said slowly, " that it would do you 
 good for once to hear a straight, square, unbiassed 
 opinion of yourself. You have associated so long 
 with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may 
 interest you to know what a man of the world thinks 
 of you. A few years of schoolmastering is enough 
 to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, of all the 
 
 The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the 
 fence : 
 
 " Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow 
 named Yates lives ? " 
 
 The reporter's hand dropped to his side. A look 
 of dismay came over his face, and his truculent man- 
 ner changed with a suddenness that forced a smile 
 even to the stern lips of Renmark. 
 
 Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who 
 had received an unexpected blow. 
 
 " I say, Renny," he wailed, " it's another of those 
 cursed telegraph messengers. Go, like a good fel- 
 low, and sign for the despatch. Sign it ' Dr. Ren- 
 mark, for R. Yates.' That will give it a sort of 
 official, medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought 
 of that when the other boy was here. Tell him I'm 
 lying down." He flung himself into the hammock, 
 and Renmark, after a moment's hesitation, walked
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 189 
 
 toward the boy at the fence, who had repeated his 
 question in a louder voice. In a short time he re- 
 turned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed 
 to the man in the hammock. Yates seized it savage- 
 ly, tore it into a score of pieces, and scattered the 
 fluttering bits around him on the ground. The pro- 
 fessor stood there for a few moments in silence. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said at last, "you'll be good enough 
 to go on with your remarks." 
 
 " I was merely going to say," answered Yates 
 wearily, " that you are a mighty good fellow, Renny. 
 People who camp out always have rows. That is 
 our first ; suppose we let it be the last. Camping 
 out is something like married life, I guess, and re- 
 quires some forbearance on both sides. That phil- 
 osophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I 
 am really very much worried about this newspaper 
 business. I ought, of course, to fling myself into 
 the chasm like that Roman fellow ; but, hang it ! 
 I've been flinging myself into chasms for fifteen 
 years, and what good has it done ? There's always 
 a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them to 
 understand in the Argus office that I am on my 
 vacation." 
 
 " They will be more likely to understand from the 
 telegram that you're on your deathbed." 
 
 Yates laughed. " That's so," he said ; " but, you 
 see, Renny, we New Yorkers live in such an atmos- 
 phere of exaggeration that if I did not put it strongly 
 it wouldn't have any effect. You've got to give a 
 big dose to a man who has been imbibing poison all
 
 190 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 his life. They will take off ninety per cent, from any 
 statement I make, anyhow ; so, you see, I have to 
 pile it up pretty high before the remaining ten per 
 cent, amounts to anything." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the crackling 
 of the dry twigs behind them, and Yates, who had 
 been keeping his eye nervously on the fence, turned 
 round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the 
 underbrush. His face was red ; he had evidently 
 been running. 
 
 " Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates," he panted. 
 " The fellows that brought 'em said they were im- 
 portant; so I ran out with them myself, for fear 
 they wouldn't find you. One of them's from Port 
 Colborne, the other's from Buffalo." 
 
 Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bart- 
 lett looked on the receipt of one as an event in a 
 man's life. He was astonished to see Yates receive 
 the double event with a listlessness that he could 
 not help thinking was merely assumed for effect. 
 Yates held them in his hand, and did not tear them 
 up at once out of consideration for the feelings of 
 the young man, who had had a race to deliver them. 
 
 " Here's two books they wanted you to sign. 
 They're tired out, and mother's giving them some- 
 thing to eat." 
 
 " Professor, you sign for me, won't you ? " said 
 Yates. 
 
 Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would 
 hear something of the contents of the important 
 messages ; but Yates did not even open the envelopes,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 191 
 
 although he thanked the young man heartily for 
 bringing them. 
 
 " Stuck-up cuss ! " muttered young Bartlett to 
 himself, as he shoved the signed books into his 
 pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush 
 again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the en- 
 velopes and their contents into little pieces, and 
 scattered them as before. 
 
 "Begins to look like autumn," he said, "with the 
 yellow leaves strewing the ground."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 BEFORE night three more telegraph boys found 
 Yates, and three more telegrams in sections helped 
 to carpet the floor of the forest. The usually high 
 spirits of the newspaper man went down and down 
 under the repeated visitations. At last he did not 
 even swear, which, in the case of Yates, always in- 
 dicated extreme depression. As night drew on he 
 remarked feebly to the professor that he was more 
 tired than he had ever been in going through an 
 election campaign. He went to his tent bunk early, 
 in a state of such utter dejection that Renmark was 
 sorry for him, and tried ineffectually to cheer him 
 up. 
 
 "If they would all come together," said Yates 
 bitterly, " so that one comprehensive effort of male- 
 diction would include the lot and have it over, it 
 wouldn't be so bad ; but this constant dribbling in 
 of messengers would wear out the patience of a saint." 
 
 As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his 
 bunk Renmark said that things would look brighter 
 in the morning which was a safe remark to make, 
 for the night was dark. 
 
 Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for 
 some moments. At last he said slowly : " There is 
 193
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 193 
 
 no one so obtuse as the thoroughly good man. It 
 is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He 
 is but the outward symptom of the inward trouble. 
 What you are seeing is an example of the workings 
 of conscience where you thought conscience was 
 absent. The trouble with me is that I know the 
 newspaper depends on me, and that it will be the 
 first time I have failed. It is the newspaper man's 
 instinct to be in the centre of the fray. He yearns 
 to scoop the opposition press. I will get a night's 
 sleep if I can, and to-morrow, I know, I shall capit- 
 ulate. I will hunt out General O'Neill, and inter- 
 view him on the field of slaughter. I will telegraph 
 pages. I will refurbish my military vocabulary, and 
 speak of deploying and massing and throwing out 
 advance guards, and that sort of thing. I will move 
 detachments and advance brigades, and invent strat- 
 egy. We will have desperate fighting in the columns 
 of the Argus, whatever there is on the fields of 
 Canada. But to a man who has seen real war this 
 
 optra-bouffe masquerade of fighting I don't 
 
 want to say anything harsh, but to me it is offen- 
 sive." 
 
 He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, 
 sitting on the bottom of an upturned pail, as he said 
 this. Then he reached for his hip pocket and drew 
 out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, 
 to the professor, who, not knowing his friend carried 
 such an instrument, instinctively shrank from it. 
 
 " Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation 
 and soak it with the potatoes. If another messenger 
 13
 
 194 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 comes in on me to-night, I know I shall riddle him 
 if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me 
 he is innocent, and I don't want to shed the only 
 blood that will be spilled during this awful cam- 
 paign." 
 
 How long they had been asleep they did not know, 
 as the ghost-stories have it, but both were suddenly 
 awakened by a commotion outside. It was intensely 
 dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they 
 noticed a faint moving blur of light, which made 
 itself just visible through the canvas. 
 
 " It's another of those fiendish messengers," 
 whispered Yates. " Gi' me that revolver." 
 
 " Hush ! " said the other below his breath. 
 " There's about a dozen men out there, judging by 
 the footfalls. I heard them coming." 
 
 " Let's fire into the tent and be done with it," said 
 a voice outside. 
 
 " No, no/' cried another ; " no man shoot. It 
 makes too much noise, and there must be others 
 about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed ? " 
 
 There was a murmur, apparently in the affirma- 
 tive. 
 
 " Very well, then. Murphy and O'Rourick, come 
 round to this side. You three stay where you are. 
 Tim, you go to that end ; and, Doolin, come with 
 me." 
 
 " The Fenian army, by all the gods ! " whispered 
 Yates, groping for his clothes. " Renny, give me 
 that revolver, and I'll show you more fun than a 
 funeral."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 195 
 
 " No, no. They're at least three to our oe. 
 We're in a trap here, and helpless." 
 
 " Oh, just let me jump out among 'em and begin 
 the fireworks. Those I didn't shoot would die of 
 fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woods with a 
 lantern with a lantern, Renny ! Think of that ! 
 Oh, this is pie ! Let me at 'em." 
 
 " Hush 1 Keep quiet ! They'll hear you." 
 
 " Tim, bring the lantern round to this side." The 
 blur of light moved along the canvas. " There's a 
 man with his back against the wall of the tent. Just 
 touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let 
 him know we're here." 
 
 " There may be twenty in the tent," said Murphy 
 cautiously. 
 
 " Do what I tell you," answered the man in com- 
 mand. 
 
 Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, 
 and sunk the deadly point of the weapon into the 
 bag of potatoes. 
 
 " Faith, he sleeps sound," said Murphy with a 
 tremor of fear in his voice, as there was no demon- 
 stration on the part of the bag. 
 
 The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of 
 the tent : 
 
 " What the old Harry do you fellows think you're 
 doing, anyhow ? What's the matter with you ? 
 What do you want ? " 
 
 There was a moment's silence, broken only by a 
 nervous scuffling of feet and the clicking of gun- 
 locks.
 
 196 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " How many are there of you in there ? " said the 
 stern voice of the chief. 
 
 " Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and 
 one ready to fight the lot of you if you are anxious 
 for a scrimmage." 
 
 " Come out one by one," was the next command. 
 
 " We'll come out one by one," said Yates, emerg- 
 ing in his shirt sleeves, " but you can't expect us to 
 keep it up long, as there are only two of us." 
 
 The professor next appeared, with his coat on. 
 The situation certainly did not look inviting. The 
 lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glow on the 
 severe face of the commander, as the footlights 
 might illuminate the figure of a brigand in a wood 
 on the stage. The face of the officer showed that 
 he was greatly impressed with the importance and 
 danger of his position. Yates glanced about him 
 with a smile, all his recent dejection gone now that 
 he was in the midst of a row. 
 
 "Which is Murphy," he said, "and which is 
 Doolin ? Hello, alderman ! " he cried, as his eyes 
 rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man who 
 held his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce deter- 
 mination in his countenance that might have made an 
 opponent quail. " When did you leave New York ? 
 and who's running the city now that you're gone ? " 
 
 The men had evidently a sense of humour, in spite 
 of their bloodthirsty business, for a smile flickered 
 on their faces in the lantern light, and several bay- 
 onets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard 
 face of the commander did not relax.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 197 
 
 " You are doing yourself no good by your talk," 
 he said solemnly. " What you say will be used 
 against you." 
 
 " Yes, and what you do will be used against you ; 
 and don't forget that fact. It's you who are in dan- 
 ger not I. You are, at this moment, making about 
 the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada." 
 
 " Pinion these men ! " cried the captain gruffly. 
 
 " Pinion nothing ! " shouted Yates, shaking off the 
 grasp of a man who had sprung to his side. But 
 both Yates and Renmark were speedily overpowered ; 
 and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. 
 Murphy pathetically remarked that they had no 
 rope. The captain was a man of resource. 
 
 " Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them." 
 
 " And when you're at it, Murphy," said Yates, 
 " cut off enough more to hang yourself with. You'll 
 need it before long. And remember that any dam- 
 age you do to that tent you'll have to pay for. It's 
 hired." 
 
 Yates gave them all the trouble he could while 
 they tied his elbows and wrists together, offering 
 sardonic suggestions and cursing their clumsiness. 
 Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation 
 was finished the professor said with the calm confi- 
 dence of one who has an empire behind him and 
 knows it : 
 
 " I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed 
 on British soil ; and that I, on whom it is committed, 
 am a British subject." 
 
 " Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it im-
 
 198 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 possible to keep your mouth shut, do not use the 
 word ' subject,' but ' citizen.' " 
 
 " I am satisfied with the word, and with the pro- 
 tection given to those who use it." 
 
 " Look here, Renmark ; you had better let me do 
 the talking. You will only put your foot in it. I 
 know the kind of men I have to deal with ; you evi- 
 dently don't." 
 
 In tying the professor they came upon the pistol 
 in his coat-pocket. Murphy held it up to the light. 
 
 " I thought you said you were unarmed ? " re- 
 marked the captain severely, taking the revolver in 
 his hand. 
 
 " I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the 
 professor would not let me use it. If he had, all of 
 you would be running for dear life through the 
 woods." 
 
 " You admit that you are a British subject ? " said 
 the captain to Renmark, ignoring Yates. 
 
 " He doesn't admit it, he brags of it," said the 
 latter before Renmark could speak. " You can't 
 scare him ; so quit this fooling, and let us know how 
 long we are to stand here trussed up like this." 
 
 " I propose, captain," said the red-headed man, 
 " that we shoot these men where they stand, and re- 
 port to the general. They are spies. They are 
 armed, and they denied it. It's according to the 
 rules of war, captain." 
 
 " Rules of war ? What do you know of the rules 
 of war, you red-headed Senegambian ? Rules of 
 Hoyle ! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 199 
 
 Come, captain, undo these ropes, and make up your 
 mind quickly. Trot us along to General O'Neill just 
 as fast as you can. The sooner you get us there the 
 more time you will have for being sorry over what 
 you have done." 
 
 The captain still hesitated, and looked from one 
 to the other of his men, as if to make up his mind 
 whether they would obey him if he went to extremi- 
 ties. Yates* quick eye noted that the two prisoners 
 had nothing to hope for, even from the men who 
 smiled. The shooting of two unarmed and bound 
 men seemed to them about the correct way of begin- 
 ning a great struggle for freedom. 
 
 " Well," said the captain at length, " we must do 
 it in proper form, so I suppose we should have a 
 court-martial. Are you agreed?" 
 
 They were unanimously agreed. 
 
 " Look here," cried Yates, and there was a certain 
 impressiveness in his voice in spite of his former 
 levity; " this farce has gone just as far as it is going. 
 Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat-pocket you 
 will find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two re- 
 ceived by me within the last twenty-four hours. 
 Then you will see whom you propose to shoot." 
 
 The telegram was found, and the captain read it, 
 while Tim held the lantern. He looked from under 
 his knitted brows at the newspaper man. 
 
 " Then you are one of the Argus staff." 
 
 " I am chief of the Argus staff. As you see, five 
 of my men will be with General O'Neill to-morrow. 
 The first question they will ask him will be ' Where
 
 200 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 is Yates ' ? The next thing that will happen will be 
 that you will be hanged for your stupidity, not by 
 Canada nor by the State of New York, but by your 
 general, who will curse your memory ever after. 
 You are fooling not with a subject this time, but 
 with a citizen ; and your general is not such an idiot 
 as to monkey with the United States Government ; 
 and, what is a blamed sight worse, with the great 
 American press. Come, captain, we've had enough 
 of this. Cut these cords just as quickly as you can, 
 and take us to the general. We were going to see 
 him in the morning, anyhow." 
 
 " But this man says he is a Canadian." 
 
 " That's all right. My friend is me. If you touch 
 him, you touch me. Now, hurry up, climb down 
 from your perch. I shall have enough trouble now, 
 getting the general to forgive all the blunders you 
 have made to-night, without your adding insult to 
 injury. Tell your men to untie us, and throw the 
 ropes back into the tent. It will soon be daylight. 
 Hustle, and let us be off." 
 
 " Untie them," said the captain, with a sigh. 
 
 Yates shook himself when his arms regained their 
 freedom. 
 
 " Now, Tim," he said, " run into that tent and bring 
 out my coat. It's chilly here." 
 
 Tim instantly obeyed the request, and helped 
 Yates on with his coat. 
 
 " Good boy ! " said Yates. " You've evidently 
 been porter in a hotel." 
 
 Tim grinned.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 201 
 
 " I think," said Yates meditatively, " that if you 
 look under the right-hand bunk, Tim, you will find 
 a jug. It belongs to the professor, although he has 
 hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion from 
 himself. Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not 
 as full as it was, but there's enough to go round if 
 the professor does not take more than his share." 
 
 The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipa- 
 tion, and Renmark was astonished to see the jar 
 brought forth. " You first, professor," said Yates ; 
 and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The 
 learned man shook his head. Yates laughed, and 
 took it himself. 
 
 " Well, here's to you, boys," he said. "And may 
 you all get back as safely to New York as I will." 
 The jar passed down along the line, until Tim finished 
 its contents. 
 
 " Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army," 
 cried Yates, taking Ren mark's arm ; and they began 
 their march through the woods. " Great Caesar ! 
 Stilly," he continued to his friend, " this is rest and 
 quiet with a vengeance, isn't it ? "
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE Fenians, determining to put their best foot 
 foremost in the presence of their prisoners, tried at 
 first to maintain something like military order in 
 marching through the woods. They soon found, 
 however, that this was a difficult thing to do. Cana- 
 dian forests are not as trimly kept as English parks. 
 Tim walked on ahead with the lantern, but three 
 times he tumbled over some obstruction, and dis- 
 appeared suddenly from view, uttering maledictions. 
 His final effort in this line was a triumph. He fell 
 over the lantern and smashed it. When all attempts 
 at reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in go- 
 as-you-please fashion, and found they did better 
 without the light than with it. In fact, although 
 it was not yet four o'clock, daybreak was already 
 filtering through among the trees, and the woods 
 were perceptibly lighter. 
 
 " We must be getting near the camp," said the 
 captain. 
 
 " Will I shout, sir? " asked Murphy. 
 
 " No, no ; we can't miss it. Keep on as you are 
 doing." 
 
 They were nearer the camp than they suspected. 
 As they blundered on among the crackling under- 
 brush and dry twigs the sharp report of a rifle echoed 
 202
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 203 
 
 through the forest, and a bullet whistled above their 
 heads. 
 
 " Fat the devil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch ? " 
 cried the alderman, who recognised the shooter, now 
 rapidly falling back. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, is it ? " said the sentry, stopping in 
 his flight. The captain strode angrily toward him. 
 
 " What do you mean by firing like that ? Don't 
 you know enough to ask for the countersign before 
 shooting?" 
 
 " Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, 
 then, ye see, I never can hit anything ; so it's little 
 difference it makes." 
 
 The shot had roused the camp, and there was now 
 wild commotion, everybody thinking the Canadians 
 were upon them. 
 
 A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Ren- 
 mark. Both were astonished to see the number of 
 men that O'Neill had under his command. They 
 found a motley crowd. Some tattered United States 
 uniforms were among them, but the greater number 
 were dressed as ordinary individuals, although a few 
 had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. 
 Sleeping out for a couple of nights had given the 
 gathering the unkempt appearance of a great com- 
 pany of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable 
 from the men at first, but afterward Yates noticed 
 that they, mostly in plain clothes and slouch hats, 
 had sword belts buckled around them ; and one or 
 two had swords that had evidently seen service in 
 the United States cavalry.
 
 204 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " It's all right, boys," cried the captain to the 
 excited mob. " It was only that fool Lynch who 
 fired at us. There's nobody hurt. Where's the 
 general?" 
 
 " Here he comes," said half a dozen voices at 
 once, and the crowd made way for him. 
 
 General O'Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen's 
 costume, and did not wear even a sword belt. On 
 his head of light hair was a black soft felt hat. His 
 face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked 
 more like a clerk from a grocery store than the com- 
 mander of an army. He was evidently somewhere 
 between thirty-five and forty years of age. 
 
 "Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Why are you 
 back? Any news?" 
 
 The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied : 
 
 " We took two prisoners, sir. They were en- 
 camped in a tent in the woods. One of them says 
 he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, 
 so I brought them in." 
 
 " I wish you had brought in the tent, too," said 
 the general with a wan smile. " It would be an im- 
 provement on sleeping in the open air. Are these 
 the prisoners? I don't know either of them." 
 
 " The captain makes a mistake in saying that I 
 claimed a personal acquaintance with you, general. 
 What I said was that you would recognise, some- 
 what quicker than he did, who I was, and the desir- 
 ability of treating me with reasonable decency. 
 Just show the general that telegram you took from 
 my coat-pocket, captain."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 205 
 
 The paper was produced and O'Neill read it over 
 once or twice. 
 
 " You are on the New York Argus, then ? " 
 
 " Very much so, general." 
 
 " I hope you have not been roughly used ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; merely tied up in a hard knot, and 
 threatened with shooting that's all." 
 
 " I'm very sorry to hear that. Still, you must 
 make some allowance at a time like this. If you 
 will come with me, I will write you a pass which 
 will prevent any similar mistake happening in the 
 future." The general led the way to a smouldering 
 camp-fire, where, out of a valise, he took writing 
 materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to 
 write. After he had written " Headquarters of the 
 Grand Army of the Irish Republic " he looked up, 
 and asked Yates his Christian name. Being 
 answered, he inquired the name of his friend. 
 
 " I want nothing from you," interposed Ren- 
 mark. " Don't put my name on the paper." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," said Yates. " Never mind 
 him, general. He's a learned man who doesn't 
 know when to talk and when not to. As you march 
 up to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, 
 which will explain everything. Renmark's drunk, 
 not to put too fine a point upon it ; and he imagines 
 himself a British subject." 
 
 The Fenian general looked up at the professor. 
 
 " Are you a Canadian ? " he asked. 
 
 " Certainly I am." 
 
 " Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you
 
 206 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 must give me your word that, should you fall in 
 with the enemy, you will give no information to 
 them of our position, numbers, or of anything else 
 you may have seen while with us." 
 
 " I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I 
 should fall in with the Canadian troops, I will tell 
 them where you are, that you are from eight hun- 
 dred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking 
 set of vagabonds I have ever seen out of jail." 
 
 General O'Neill frowned, and looked from one to 
 the other. 
 
 " Do you realise that you confess to being a spy, 
 and that it becomes my duty to have you taken out 
 and shot ? " 
 
 " In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fool- 
 ing. All of you that don't escape will be either in 
 jail or shot before twenty-four hours." 
 
 " Well, by the gods, it won't help you any. I'll 
 have you shot inside of ten minutes, instead of 
 twenty-four hours." 
 
 " Hold on, general, hold on ! " cried Yates, as the 
 angry man rose and confronted the two. " I admit 
 that he richly deserves shooting, if you were the 
 fool-killer, which you are not. But it won't do. I 
 will be responsible for him. Just finish that pass 
 for me, and I will take care of the professor. Shoot 
 me if you like, but don't touch him. He hasn't any 
 sense, as you can see ; but I am not to blame for 
 that, nor are you. If you take to shooting every- 
 body who is an ass, general, you won't have any 
 ammunition left with which to conquer Canada."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 207 
 
 The general smiled in spite of himself, and re- 
 sumed the writing of the pass. " There," he said, 
 handing the paper to Yates. " You see, we always 
 like to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent 
 friend, and I hope you will exercise more control 
 over him, if you meet the Canadians, than you were 
 able to exert here. Don't you think, on the whole, 
 you had better stay with us? We are going to 
 march in a couple of hours, when the men have had 
 a little rest." He added in a lower voice, so that 
 the professor could not hear : " You didn't see any- 
 thing of the Canadians, I suppose?" 
 
 " Not a sign. No, I don't think I'll stay. There 
 will be five of our fellows here some time to-day, I 
 expect, and that will be more than enough. I'm 
 really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and 
 quiet. I'm beginning to think I have made a mis- 
 take in location." 
 
 Yates bade good-bye to the commander, and 
 walked with his friend out of the camp. They 
 threaded their way among sleeping men and groups 
 of stacked guns. On the top of one of the bayonets 
 was hung a tall silk hat, which looked most incon- 
 gruous in such a place. 
 
 " I think," said Yates, " that we will make for the 
 Ridge Road, which must lie somewhere in this 
 direction. It will be easier walking than through 
 the woods ; and besides, I want to stop at one of 
 the farmhouses and get some breakfast. I'm as 
 hungry as a bear after tramping so long." 
 
 " Very well," answered the professor shortly.
 
 208 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 The two stumbled along until they reached the 
 edge of the wood ; then, crossing some open fields, 
 they came presently upon the road, near the spot 
 where the fist-fight had taken place between Yates 
 and Bartlett. The comrades, now with greater com- 
 fort, walked silently along the road toward the 
 west, with the reddening east behind them. The 
 whole scene was strangely quiet and peaceful, and 
 the recollection of the weird camp they had left in 
 the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morn- 
 ing air was sweet, and the birds were beginning to 
 sing. Yates had intended to give the professor a 
 piece of his mind regarding the lack of tact and 
 common sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, 
 but, somehow, the scarcely awakened day did not 
 lend itself to controversy, and the serene stillness 
 soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly that 
 popular war song, " Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys 
 are marching," and then broke in with the question : 
 
 " Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on 
 the bayonet ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the professor ; " and I saw five 
 others scattered around the camp." 
 
 " Jingo ! you were observant. I can imagine 
 nothing quite so ridiculous as a man going to war in 
 a tall silk hat." 
 
 The professor made no reply, and Yates changed 
 his whistling to " Rally round the flag." 
 
 " I presume," he said at length, " there is little use 
 in attempting to improve the morning hour by try- 
 ing to show you, Renmark, what a fool you made of
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 209 
 
 yourself in the camp ? Your natural diplomacy 
 seemed to be slightly off the centre." 
 
 " I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves 
 and vagabonds." 
 
 " They may be vagabonds ; but so am I, for that 
 matter. They may also be well-meaning, mistaken 
 men ; but I do not think they are thieves." 
 
 " While you were talking with the so-called gen- 
 eral, one party came in with several horses that had 
 been stolen from the neighbouring farmers, and an- 
 other party started out to get some more." 
 
 " Oh, that isn't stealing, Renmark ; that's requisi- 
 tioning. You mustn't use such reckless language. 
 I imagine the second party has been successful ; for 
 here are three of them all mounted." 
 
 The three horsemen in question stopped their 
 steeds at the sight of the two men coming round the 
 bend of the road, and awaited their approach. Like 
 so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but 
 two of them held revolvers in their hands ready for 
 action. The one who had no visible revolver moved 
 his horse up the middle of the road toward the pe- 
 destrians, the other two taking positions on each 
 side of the waggon way. 
 
 " Who are you ? Where do you come from, and 
 where are you going?" cried the foremost horse- 
 man, as the two walkers came within talking distance. 
 
 " It's all right, commodore," said Yates jauntily, 
 " and the top of the morning to you. We are 
 hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the 
 camp, and we are going to get something to eat." 
 14
 
 210 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " I must have a more satisfactory answer than 
 that." 
 
 " Well, here you have it, then," answered Yates, 
 pulling out his folded pass, and handing it up to the 
 horseman. The man read it carefully. " You find 
 that all right, I expect ? " 
 
 " Right enough to cause your immediate arrest." 
 
 " But the general said we were not to be molested 
 further. That is in his own handwriting." 
 
 " I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His 
 handwriting does not run quite as far as the Queen's 
 writ in this country yet. I arrest you in the name 
 of the Queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, 
 and shoot them down if they make any resistance." 
 So saying, the rider slipped from his horse, whipped 
 out of his pocket a pair of handcuffs joined by a 
 short, stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse stand- 
 ing, grasped Renmark's wrist. 
 
 " I'm a Canadian," said the professor, wrenching 
 his wrist away. "You mustn't put handcuffs on 
 me." 
 
 " You are in very bad company, then. I am a 
 constable of this county ; if you are what you say, 
 you will not resist arrest." 
 
 " I will go with you, but you mustn't handcuff 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, mustn't I ? " And, with a quick movement 
 indicative of long practice with resisting criminals, 
 the constable deftly slipped on one of the clasps, 
 which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a 
 burr.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 211 
 
 Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a 
 dangerous glitter in his eyes. He drew back his 
 clinched fist, in spite of the fact that the cocked 
 revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and 
 the constable held his struggling manacled hand 
 with grim determination. 
 
 " Hold on ! " cried Yates, preventing the professor 
 from striking the representative of the law. " Don't 
 shoot," he shouted to the man on horseback ; " it 
 is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. 
 You are three armed and mounted men, and we are 
 only two, unarmed and on foot. There is no need 
 of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, you are 
 more of a rebel at the present moment than O'Neill. 
 He owes no allegiance, and you do. Have you no 
 respect for the forms of law and order ? You are an 
 anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You 
 would sing ' God save the Queen ! ' in the wrong 
 place a while ago, so now be satisfied that you have 
 got her, or, rather, that she has got you. Now, 
 constable, do you want to hitch the other end of 
 that arrangement on my wrist ? or have you another 
 pair for my own special use ? " 
 
 " I'll take your wrist, if you please." 
 
 " All right ; here you are." Yates drew back his 
 coat sleeve, and presented his wrist. The dangling 
 cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The constable 
 mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for 
 him, watching him all the while with intelligent eye. 
 The two prisoners, handcuffed together, took the 
 middle of the road, with a horseman on each side of
 
 212 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 them, the constable bringing up the rear ; thus they 
 marched on, the professor gloomy from the indignity 
 put upon them, and the newspaperman as joyous as 
 the now thoroughly awakened birds. The scouts 
 concluded to go no farther toward the enemy, but 
 to return to the Canadian forces with their prisoners. 
 They marched down the road, all silent except 
 Yates, who enlivened the morning air with the sing- 
 ing of "John Brown." 
 
 ** Keep quiet," said the constable curtly. 
 
 '* All right, I will. But look here ; we shall pass 
 shortly the house of a friend. We want to go and 
 get something to eat." 
 
 " You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you 
 up to the officers of the volunteers." 
 
 " And where, may I ask, are they ? " 
 
 "You may ask, but I will not answer." 
 
 " Now, Renmark," said Yates to his companion, 
 "the tough part of this episode is that we shall 
 have to pass Bartlett's house, and feast merely on 
 the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. 
 Bartlett is always glad to bestow on the wayfarer. 
 I call that refined cruelty." 
 
 As they neared the Bartlett homestead they 
 caught sight of Miss Kitty on the veranda shading 
 her eyes from the rising sun, and gazing earnestly 
 at the approaching squad. As soon as she recog- 
 nised the group she disappeared, with a cry, into 
 the house. Presently there came out Mrs. Bartlett, 
 followed by her son, and more slowly by the old 
 man himself,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 213 
 
 They all came down to the gate and waited. 
 
 " Hello, Mrs. Bartlett ! " cried Yates cheerily. 
 " You see, the professor has got his deserts at last ; 
 and I, being in bad company, share his fate, like the 
 good dog Tray." 
 
 " What's all this about ? " cried Mrs. Bartlett. 
 
 The constable, who knew both the farmer and his 
 wife, nodded familiarly to them. " They're Fenian 
 prisoners," he said. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried Mrs. Bartlett the old man, 
 as usual, keeping his mouth grimly shut when his 
 wife was present to do the talking " they're not 
 Fenians. They've been camping on our farm for a 
 week or more." 
 
 " That may be," said the constable firmly, " but I 
 have the best of evidence against them ; and if I'm 
 not very much mistaken, they'll hang for it." 
 
 Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through 
 the door, gave a cry of anguish at this remark, and 
 disappeared again. 
 
 " We have just escaped being hanged by the 
 Fenians themselves, Mrs. Bartlett, and I hope the 
 same fate awaits us at the hands of the Canadians." 
 
 "What! hanging?" 
 
 " No, no ; just escaping. Not that I object to 
 being hanged, I hope I am not so pernickety as all 
 that, but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will sympathise with 
 me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering 
 from at this moment is the remembrance of the 
 good things to eat which I have had in your house. 
 I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this
 
 214 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask 
 you for anything." 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the 
 road in a visible state of indignation. 
 
 " Stoliker," she exclaimed, " I'm ashamed of you ! 
 You may hang a man if you like, but you have no 
 right to starve him. Come straight in with me," 
 she said to the prisoners. 
 
 " Madam," said Stoliker severely, " you must not 
 interfere with the course of the law." 
 
 " The course of stuff and nonsense ! " cried the 
 angry woman. " Do you think I am afraid of you, 
 Sam Stoliker? Haven't I chased you out of this 
 very orchard when you were a boy trying to steal 
 my apples ? Yes, and boxed your ears, too, when I 
 caught you, and then was fool enough to fill your 
 pockets with the best apples on the place, after giv- 
 ing you what you deserved. Course of the law, 
 indeed ! I'll box your ears now if you say any- 
 thing more. Get down off your horse, and have 
 something to eat yourself. I dare say you need 
 it." 
 
 " This is what I call a rescue," whispered Yates to 
 his linked companion. 
 
 What is a stern upholder of the law to do when 
 the interferer with justice is a determined and angry 
 woman accustomed to having her own way ? Sto- 
 liker looked appealingly at Hiram, as the supposed 
 head of the house, but the old man merely shrugged 
 his shoulders, as much as to say : " You see how it 
 is yourself. I am helpless."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 215 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the 
 gate and up to the house. 
 
 " All I ask of you now," said Yates, " is that you 
 will give Renmark and me seats together at the 
 table. We cannot bear to be separated, even for an 
 instant." 
 
 Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of 
 her daughter, at the same time admonishing her to 
 get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. Bartlett 
 went to the gate again. The constable was still on 
 his horse. Hiram had asked, by way of treating 
 him to a noncontroversial subject, if this was the 
 colt he had bought from old Brown, on the second 
 concession, and Stoliker had replied that it was. 
 Hiram was saying he thought he recognised the horse 
 by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke in upon them. 
 
 " Come, Sam," she said, " no sulking, you know. 
 Slip off the horse and come in. How's your 
 mother ? " 
 
 " She's pretty well, thank you," said Sam sheep 
 ishly, coming down on his feet again. 
 
 Kitty Bartlett, her gaiety gone and her eyes red, 
 waited on the prisoners, but absolutely refused to 
 serve Sam Stoliker, on whom she looked with the 
 utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact 
 that the poor young man had been merely doing his 
 duty, and doing it well. 
 
 " Take off these handcuffs, Sam," said Mrs. Bart- 
 lett, " until they have breakfast, at least." 
 
 Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the mana- 
 cles, slipping them into his pocket.
 
 216 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Ah, now ! " said Yates, looking at his red wrist, 
 " we can breathe easier ; and I, for one, will eat 
 more." 
 
 The professor said nothing. The iron had not 
 only encircled his wrist, but had entered his soul as 
 well. Although Yates tried to make the early meal 
 as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festi- 
 val. Stoliker began to feel, poor man, that the 
 paths of duty were unpopular. Old Hiram could 
 always be depended upon to add sombreness and 
 taciturnity to a wedding feast ; the professor, never 
 the liveliest of companions, sat silent, with clouded 
 brow, and vexed even the cheerful Mrs. Bartlett by 
 showing no appreciable appetite. When the hur- 
 ried meal was over, Yates noticing that Miss Kitty 
 had left the room, sprang up and walked toward the 
 kitchen door. Stoliker was on his feet in an instant, 
 and made as though to follow him. 
 
 " Sit down," said the professor sharply, speaking 
 for the first time. " He is not going to escape. 
 Don't be afraid. He has done nothing, and has no 
 fear of punishment. It is always the innocent whom 
 you stupid officials arrest. The woods all round 
 you are full of real Fenians, but you take excellent 
 care to keep out of their way, and give your atten- 
 tion to molesting perfectly inoffensive people." 
 
 " Good for you, professor ! " cried Mrs. Bartlett 
 emphatically. " That's the truth, if ever it was 
 spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods ?" 
 
 " Hundreds of them. They came on us in the 
 tent about three o'clock this morning, or at least
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 217 
 
 an advance guard did, and after talking of shooting 
 us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian 
 camp instead. Yates got a pass, written by the 
 Fenian general, so that we should not be troubled 
 again. That is the precious document which this 
 man thinks is deadly evidence. He never asked 
 us a question, but clapped the handcuffs on our 
 wrist, while the other fools held pistols to our 
 heads." 
 
 " It isn't my place to ask questions," retorted 
 Stoliker doggedly. " You can tell all this to the 
 colonel or the sheriff : if they let you go, I'll say 
 nothing against it." 
 
 Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the 
 kitchen, taking the precaution to shut the door after 
 him. Kitty Bartlett looked quickly round as the 
 door closed. Before she could speak the young 
 man caught her by the plump shoulders a thing 
 which he certainly had no right to do. 
 
 " Miss Kitty Bartlett," he said, " you've been 
 crying." 
 
 " I haven't ; and if I had, it is nothing to you." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Don't deny it. 
 For whom were you crying? The professor?" 
 
 " No, nor for you either, although I suppose you 
 have conceit enough to think so." 
 
 " Me conceited ? Anything but that. Come, now, 
 Kitty, for whom were you crying? I must know." 
 
 " Please let me go, Mr. Yates," said Kitty, with an 
 effort at dignity. 
 
 44 Dick is my name, Kit."
 
 218 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Well, mine is not Kit." 
 
 " You're quite right. Now that you mention it, 
 I will call you Kitty, which is much prettier than 
 the abbreviation." 
 
 " I did not ' mention it.' Please let me go. No- 
 body has the right to call me anything but Miss 
 Bartlett; that is, you haven't, anyhow." 
 
 " Well, Kitty, don't you think it is about time to 
 give somebody the right ? Why won't you look up 
 at me, so that I can tell for sure whether I should 
 have accused you of crying? Look up Miss 
 Bartlett." 
 
 "Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be 
 here in a minute." 
 
 " Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We'll 
 risk mother. Beside, I'm not in the least afraid of 
 her, and I don't believe you are. I think she is at 
 this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her 
 mind ; otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed 
 me. I saw it in his eye." 
 
 " I hate that man," said Kitty inconsequently. 
 
 " I like him, because he brought me here, even if 
 I was handcuffed. Kitty, why don't you look up at 
 me ? Are you afraid ? " 
 
 " What should I be afraid of ? " 'asked Kitty, giv- 
 ing him one swift glance from her pretty blue eyes. 
 " Not of you, I hope." 
 
 " Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss 
 Bartlett, do you know why I came out here ? " 
 
 " For something more to eat, very likely," said 
 the girl mischievously.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 219 
 
 " Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both 
 cruel and unkind. Besides, I had a first-rate break- 
 fast, thank you. No such motive drew me into the 
 kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it 
 from my own lips. That was the reason ! " 
 
 He suited the action to the word, and kissed her 
 before she knew what was about to happen. At 
 least, Yates, with all his experience, thought he had 
 taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in 
 little matters of this kind. Kitty pushed him with 
 apparent indignation from her, but she did not strike 
 him across the face, as she had done before, when he 
 merely attempted what he had now accomplished. 
 Perhaps this was because she had been taken so 
 completely by surprise. 
 
 " I shall call my mother," she threatened. 
 
 " Oh, no, you won't. Besides, she wouldn't 
 come." Then this frivolous young man began to 
 sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, " Here's to 
 the girl that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her 
 mother," ending with the wish that she should live 
 and die an old maid and never get another. Kitty 
 should not have smiled, but she did ; she should 
 have rebuked his levity, but she didn't. 
 
 " It is about the great and disastrous consequences 
 of living and dying an old maid that I want to speak 
 to you. I have a plan for the prevention of such a 
 catastrophe, and I would like to get your approval 
 of it." 
 
 Yates had released the girl, partly because she 
 had wrenched herself away from him, and partly be-
 
 220 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 cause he heard a movement in the dining-room, and 
 expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the 
 others. Kitty stood with her back to the table, her 
 eyes fixed on a spring flower, which she had uncon- 
 sciously taken from a vase standing on the window- 
 ledge. She smoothed the petals this way and that, 
 and seemed so much interested in botanical inves- 
 tigation that Yates wondered whether she was paying 
 attention to what he was saying or not. What his 
 plan might have been can only be guessed ; for the 
 Fates ordained that they should be interrupted at 
 this critical moment by the one person on earth who 
 could make Yates' tongue falter. 
 
 The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and 
 Margaret Howard stood on the threshold, her lovely 
 face aflame with indignation, and her dark hair down 
 over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that 
 fairly took Yates' breath away. She did not notice 
 him. 
 
 " O Kitty," she cried, " those wretches have stolen 
 all our horses ! Is your father here? " 
 
 " What wretches ? " asked Kitty, ignoring the 
 question, and startled by the sudden advent of her 
 friend. 
 
 " The Fenians. They have taken all the horses 
 that were in the fields, and your horses as well. So 
 I ran over to tell you." 
 
 " Have they taken your own horse, too ? " 
 
 " No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The 
 thieves did not come near the house. Oh, Mr. 
 Yates! I did not see you." And Margaret's hand,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 221 
 
 with the unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her 
 dishevelled hair, which Yates thought too becoming 
 ever to be put in order again. 
 
 Margaret reddened as she realised, from Kitty's 
 evident embarrassment, that she had impulsively 
 broken in upon a conference of two. 
 
 " I must tell your father about it," she said hur- 
 riedly, and before Yates could open the door she 
 had done so for herself. Again she was taken aback 
 to see so many sitting round the table. 
 
 There was a moment's silence between the two in 
 the kitchen, but the spell was broken. 
 
 " I I don't suppose there will be any trouble 
 about getting back the horses," said Yates hesitat- 
 ingly. " If you lose them, the Government will have 
 to pay." 
 
 " I presume so," answered Kitty coldly ; then : 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Yates ; I mustn't stay here any 
 longer.'' So saying, she followed Margaret into the 
 other room. 
 
 Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old 
 difficulties of preference had arisen when the outer 
 door burst open. He felt that he had had a narrow 
 escape, and began to wonder if he had really com- 
 mitted himself. Then the fear swept over him that 
 Margaret might have noticed her friend's evident 
 confusion, and surmised its cause. He wondered 
 whether this would help him or hurt him with Mar- 
 garet, if he finally made up his mind to favour her 
 with his serious attentions. Still, he reflected that, 
 after all, they were both country girls, and would
 
 222 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 no doubt be only too eager to accept a chance to 
 live in New York. Thus his mind gradually resumed 
 its normal state of self-confidence ; and he argued 
 that, whatever Margaret's suspicions were, they 
 could not but make him more precious in her eyes. 
 He knew of instances where the very danger of 
 losing a man had turned a woman's wavering mind 
 entirely in that man's favour. When he had reached 
 this point, the door from the dining-room opened, 
 and Stoliker appeared. 
 
 " We are waiting for you," said the constable. 
 
 " All right. I am ready." 
 
 As he entered the room he saw the two girls 
 standing together talking earnestly. 
 
 " I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours," 
 cried Mrs. Bartlett. " I would be hunting horse- 
 thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men." 
 
 " Come along," saidt he impassive Stoliker, taking 
 the handcuffs from his pocket. 
 
 " If you three men," continued Mrs. Bartlett, 
 " cannot take these two to camp, or to jail, or any- 
 where else, without handcuffing them, I'll go along 
 with you myself and protect you, and see that they 
 don't escape. You ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self, Sam Stoliker, if you have any manhood about 
 you which I doubt." 
 
 " I must do my duty." 
 
 The professor rose from his chair. " Mr. Stoliker," 
 he said with determination, " my friend and myself 
 will go with you quietly. We will make no attempt 
 to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 223 
 
 investigation. But I give you fair warning that if 
 you attempt to put a handcuff on my wrist again I 
 will smash you." 
 
 A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the pros- 
 pect of a fight, caused the professor to realise where 
 he was. He turned to them and said in a contrite 
 voice : 
 
 " Oh ! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg 
 your pardon." 
 
 Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried : 
 
 " Don't beg my pardon, but smash him." 
 
 Then a consciousness of what she had said over- 
 came her, and the excited girl hid her blushing face 
 on her friend's shoulder, while Kitty lovingly 
 stroked her dark, tangled hair. 
 
 Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. 
 Yates, with his usual quickness, came to the rescue, 
 and his cheery voice relieved the tension of the 
 situation. 
 
 " Come, come, Stoliker, don't be an idiot. I do 
 not object in the least to the handcuffs ; and if you 
 are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff me. It 
 hasn't struck your luminous mind that you have not 
 the first title of evidence against my friend, and 
 that, even if I were the greatest criminal in America, 
 the fact of his being with me is no crime. The truth 
 is, Stoliker, that I wouldn't be in your shoes for a 
 good many dollars. You talk a great deal about 
 doing your duty, but you have exceeded it in the 
 case of the professor. I hope you have no property ; 
 for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay
 
 224 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 sweetly for putting the handcuffs on him without a 
 warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. 
 What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?" con- 
 tinued Yates, suddenly appealing to the old man. 
 " I think it is a thousand dollars." 
 
 Hiram said gloomily that he didn't know. Stoliker 
 was hit on a tender spot, for he owned a farm. 
 
 " Better apologise to the professor and let us get 
 along. Good-bye, all. Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast 
 was the very best I ever tasted." 
 
 The good woman smiled and shook hands with 
 him. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Yates ; and I hope you will soon 
 come back to have another." 
 
 Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again 
 and mounted his horse. The girls, from the veran- 
 da, watched the procession move up the dusty road. 
 They were silent, and had even forgotten the excit- 
 ing event of the stealing of the horses.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WHEN the two prisoners, with their three cap- 
 tors, came in sight of the Canadian volunteers, they 
 beheld a scene which was much more military than 
 the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and 
 questioned by a picket before coming to the main 
 body ; the sentry knew enough not to shoot until 
 he had asked for the countersign. Passing the 
 picket, they came in full view of the Canadian force, 
 the men of which looked very spick and span in 
 uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clear 
 light of the fair June morning. The guns, topped 
 by a bristle of bayonets which glittered as the ris- 
 ing sun shone on them, were stacked with neat pre- 
 cision here and there. The men were preparing their 
 breakfast, and a temporary halt had been called for 
 that purpose. The volunteers were scattered by the 
 side of the road and in the fields. Renmark recognised 
 the colours of the regiment from his own city, and 
 noticed that there was with it a company that was 
 strange to him. Although led to the camp a pris- 
 oner, he felt a glowing pride in the regiment and the 
 trim appearance of the men a pride that was both 
 national and civic. He instinctively held himself 
 more erect as he approached. 
 15
 
 226 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Renmark," said Yates, looking at him with a 
 smile, " you are making a thoroughly British mis- 
 take." 
 
 " What do you mean ? I haven't spoken." 
 
 " No, but I see it in your eye. You are underesti- 
 mating the enemy. You think this pretty company 
 is going to walk over that body of unkempt tramps 
 we saw in the woods this morning." 
 
 " I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked 
 over which I very much doubt." 
 
 " That's just where you make a mistake. Most of 
 these are raw boys, who know all that can be learned 
 of war on a cricket field. They will be the worst 
 whipped set of young fellows before night that this 
 part of the country has ever seen. Wait till they 
 see one of their comrades fall, with the blood gush- 
 ing out of a wound in his breast. If they don't turn 
 and run, then I'm a Dutchman. I've seen raw re- 
 cruits before. They should have a company of older 
 men here who have seen service to steady them. 
 The villains we saw this morning were sleeping like 
 logs, in the damp woods, as we stepped over them. 
 They are veterans. What will be but a mere skir- 
 mish to them will seem to these boys the most 
 awful tragedy that ever happened. Why, many of 
 them look as if they might be university lads." 
 
 " They are," said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. 
 
 " Well, I can't see what your stupid government 
 means by sending them here alone. They should 
 have at least one company of regulars with them." 
 
 " Probably the regulars are on the way."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 227 
 
 " Perhaps ; but they will have to put in an appear- 
 ance mighty sudden, or the fight will be over. If 
 these boys are not in a hurry with their meal, the 
 Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If 
 there is to be a fight, it will be before a very few 
 hours before one hour passes, perhaps ; and you 
 are going to see a miniature Bull Run." 
 
 Some of the volunteers crowded round the in- 
 comers, eagerly inquiring for news of the enemy. 
 The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut all the 
 telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence 
 those in command of the companies did not even 
 know that the enemy had left that locality. The 
 volunteers were now on their way to a point where 
 they were to meet Colonel Peacocke's force of reg- 
 ular sa point which they were destined never to 
 reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up 
 his prisoners, together with the incriminating paper 
 that Yates had handed to him. The officer's decision 
 was short and sharp, as military decisions are gener- 
 ally supposed to be. He ordered the constable to 
 take both the prisoners and put them in jail at Port 
 Colborne. There was no time now for an inquiry 
 into the case, that could come afterward, and, so 
 long as the men were safe in jail, everything would 
 be all right. To this the constable mildly interposed 
 two objections. In the first place, he said, he was 
 with the volunteers not in his capacity as constable, 
 but in the position of guide and man who knew the 
 country. In the second place, there was no jail at 
 Port Colborne.
 
 228 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Where is the nearest jail ? " 
 
 " The jail of the county is at Welland, the county 
 town," replied the constable. 
 
 " Very well ; take them there." 
 
 " But I am here as guide," repeated Stoliker. 
 
 The officer hesitated for a moment. " You haven't 
 handcuffs with you, I presume ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have," said Stoliker, producing the imple- 
 ments. 
 
 " Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will 
 send one of the company over to Welland with them. 
 How far is it across country ? " 
 
 Stoliker told him. 
 
 The officer called one of the volunteers, and said 
 to him : 
 
 " You are to make your way across country to 
 Welland, and deliver these men up to the jailer 
 there. They will be handcuffed together, but you 
 take a revolver with you, and if they give you any 
 trouble, shoot them." 
 
 The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. 
 " I am not a policeman," he said. " I am a soldier." 
 
 " Very well, then, your first duty as a soldier is 
 to obey orders. I order you to take these men to 
 Welland." 
 
 The volunteers had crowded round as this discus- 
 sion went on, and a murmur rose among them at the 
 order of the officer. They evidently sympathised 
 with their comrade's objection to the duties of a 
 policeman. One of them made his way through the 
 crowd, and cried :
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 229 
 
 " Hello ! this is the professor. This is Mr. Ren- 
 mark. He's no Fenian." Two or three more of 
 the university students recognised Renmark, and, 
 pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was 
 evidently a favourite with his class. Among others 
 young Howard pressed forward. 
 
 " It is nonsense," he cried, "talking about send- 
 ing Professor Renmark to jail ! He is no more a 
 Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We'll all go 
 bail for the professor." 
 
 The officer wavered. " If you know him," he said, 
 " that is a different matter. But this other man has 
 a letter from the commander of the Fenians, recom- 
 mending him to the consideration of all friends of 
 the Fenian cause. I can't let him go free." 
 
 " Are you the chief in command here ? " asked 
 Renmark. 
 
 " No, I am not." 
 
 " Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with 
 me on his vacation. He is a New York journalist, 
 and has nothing in common with the invaders. If 
 you insist on sending him to Welland, I must de- 
 mand that we be taken before the officer in com- 
 mand. In any case, he and I stand or fall to- 
 gether. ' am exactly as guilty or innocent as he 
 is." 
 
 " We can't bother the colonel about every trivial- 
 ity." 
 
 " A man's liberty is no triviality. What, in the 
 name of common sense, are you fighting for but 
 liberty?"
 
 230 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Thanks, Renmark, thanks," said Yates ; " but I 
 don't care to see the colonel, and I shall welcome 
 Welland jail. I am tired of all this bother. I came 
 here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, 
 if I have to go to jail for them. I'm coming reluc- 
 tantly to the belief that jail's the most comfortable 
 place in Canada, anyhow." 
 
 " But this is an outrage," cried the professor in. 
 dignantly. 
 
 " Of course it is," replied Yates wearily ; " the 
 woods are full of them. There's always outrages 
 going on, especially in so-called free countries ; there- 
 fore one more or less won't make much difference. 
 Come, officer, who's going to take me to Welland ? 
 or shall I have to go by myself? I'm a Fenian from 
 'way back, and came here especially to overturn the 
 throne and take it home with me. For Heaven's 
 sake, know your own mind one way or other, and 
 let us end this conference." 
 
 The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the 
 order to Stoliker to handcuff the prisoner to himself, 
 and deliver him to the jailer at Welland. 
 
 " But I want assistance," objected Stoliker. " The 
 prisoner is a bigger man than I am." The volun- 
 teers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this self-evident 
 fact. 
 
 " If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I 
 shall give no orders." 
 
 No one volunteered to accompany the constable. 
 
 "Take this revolver with you," continued the 
 officer, " and if he attempts to escape, shoot him.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 231 
 
 Besides, you know the way to Welland, so I can't 
 send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to." 
 
 " Howard knows the way," persisted Stoliker. 
 That young man spoke up with great indignation : 
 " Yes, but Howard isn't constable, and Stoliker is. 
 I'm not going." 
 
 Renmark went up to his friend. 
 
 " Who's acting foolishly now, Yates ? " he said. 
 " Why don't you insist on seeing the colonel ? The 
 chances are ten to one that you would be allowed 
 off." 
 
 " Don't make any mistake. The colonel will very 
 likely be some fussy individual who magnifies his 
 own importance, and who will send a squad of 
 volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. 
 These officers always stick by each other ; they're 
 bound to. I want to go alone with Stoliker. I 
 have a score to settle with him." 
 
 " Now, don't do anything rash. You've done 
 nothing so far ; but if you assault an officer of the 
 law, that will be a different matter." 
 
 " Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from 
 hitting Stoliker a short time since ? " 
 
 " Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now." 
 
 " See here, Renny," whispered Yates, " you get 
 back to the tent, and see that everything's all right. 
 I'll be with you in an hour or so. Don't look so 
 frightened. I won't hurt Stoliker. But I want to 
 see this fight, and I won't get there if the colonel 
 sends an escort. I'm going to use Stoliker as a 
 shield when the bullets begin flying."
 
 232 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and 
 Stoliker very reluctantly attached one clasp of the 
 handcuff around his own left wrist, while he snapped 
 the other on the right wrist of Yates, who embar- 
 rassed him with kindly assistance. The two man- 
 acled men disappeared down the road, while the 
 volunteers rapidly fell in to continue their morning's 
 march. 
 
 Young Howard beckoned to the professor from 
 his place in the ranks. " I say, professor, how did 
 you happen to be down this way ? " 
 
 " I have been camping out here for a week or 
 more with Yates, who is an old schoolfellow of 
 mine." 
 
 " What a shame to have him led off in that way ! 
 But he seemed rather to like the idea. Jolly fellow, 
 I should say. How I wish I had known you were 
 in this neighbourhood. My folks live near here. 
 They would only have been too glad to be of assist- 
 ance to you." 
 
 " They have been of assistance to me, and ex- 
 ceedingly kind as well." 
 
 " What ? You know them ? All of them ? Have 
 you met Margaret ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the professor slowly, but his glance 
 fell as it encountered the eager eyes of the youth. 
 It was evident that Margaret was the brother's 
 favourite. 
 
 " Fall back, there ! " cried the officer to Renmark. 
 
 " May I march along with them ? or can you give 
 me a gun, and let me take part ? "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 233 
 
 " No," said the officer with some hauteur ; " this 
 is no place for civilians." Again the professor smiled 
 as he reflected that the whole company, as far as 
 martial experience went, were merely civilians 
 dressed in uniform ; but he became grave again 
 when he remembered Yates' ominous prediction re- 
 garding them. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Renmark," cried young Howard, as 
 the company moved off, " if you see any of them, 
 don't tell them I'm here especially Margaret. It 
 might make them uneasy. I'll get leave when this 
 is over, and drop in on them." 
 
 The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of 
 youth, and had evidently no premonition of how his 
 appointment would be kept. Renmark left the 
 road, and struck across country in the direction of 
 the tent. 
 
 Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along 
 the dusty road toward Welland : the captor moody 
 and silent, the prisoner talkative and entertaining' 
 indeed, Yates' conversation often went beyond en- 
 tertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He 
 discussed the affairs of both countries, showed a way 
 out of all political difficulties, gave reasons for the 
 practical use of common sense in every emergency, 
 passed opinions on the methods of agriculture 
 adopted in various parts of the country, told stories 
 of the war, gave instances of men in captivity mur- 
 dering those who were in charge of them, deduced 
 from these anecdotes the foolishness of resisting 
 lawful authority lawfully exercised, and, in general,
 
 234 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 showed that he was a man who respected power and 
 the exercise thereof. Suddenly branching to more 
 practical matters, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there be- 
 tween here and Welland ? " 
 
 Stoliker had never counted them. 
 
 " Well, that's encouraging, anyhow. If there are 
 so many that it requires an effort of the memory to 
 enumerate them, we will likely have something to 
 drink before long." 
 
 " I never drink while on duty," said Stoliker 
 curtly. 
 
 " Oh, well, don't apologize for it. Every man has 
 his failings. I'll be only too happy to give you 
 some instruction. I have acquired the useful prac- 
 tice of being able to drink both on and off duty. 
 Anything can be done, Stoliker, if you give your 
 mind to it. I don't believe in the word ' can't/ 
 either with or without the mark of elision." 
 
 Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. 
 
 "I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I'm 
 tired of walking. I've been on my feet ever since 
 three this morning." 
 
 " I have no authority to hire a buggy." 
 
 " But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to 
 move? " 
 
 " I make him move," said Stoliker shortly. 
 
 " Ah, I see. That's a good plan, and saves bills 
 at the livery stable." 
 
 They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, 
 when Yates cried :
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 235 
 
 " Let's sit down and have a rest. I'm done out. 
 The sun is hot, and the road dusty. You can let 
 me have half an hour : the day's young yet." 
 
 " I'll let you have fifteen minutes." 
 
 They sat down together. " I wish a team would 
 come along," said Yates with a sigh. 
 
 " No chance of a team, with most of the horses in 
 the neighbourhood stolen, and the troops on the 
 roads." 
 
 " That's so," assented Yates sleepily. 
 
 He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped 
 on his breast, and his eyes closed. His breathing 
 came soft and regular, and his body leaned toward 
 the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates's left arm 
 fell across the knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more 
 and more heavily against him. The constable did 
 not know whether he was shamming or not, but he 
 took no risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt 
 of the revolver. Yet, he reflected, Yates could 
 surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, for 
 he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about 
 a prisoner who escaped in exactly that way. Stol- 
 iker was suspicious of the good intentions of the man 
 he had in charge ; he was altogether too polite and 
 good-natured ; and, besides, the constable dumbly 
 felt that the prisoner was a much cleverer man 
 than he. 
 
 " Here, sit up," he said gruffly. " I'm not paid 
 to carry you, you know." 
 
 "What's that? What's that? What's that?" 
 cried Yates rapidly, blinking his eyes and straight-
 
 236 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ening up. " Oh, it's only you, Stoliker. I thought 
 it was my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep ? " 
 
 " Either that or pretending I don't know which, 
 and I don't care." 
 
 " Oh ! I must have been pretending," answered 
 Yates drowsily ; " I can't have dropped asleep. How 
 long have we been here ? " 
 
 "About five minutes." 
 
 " All right." And Yates' head began to droop again. 
 
 This time the constable felt no doubt about it. 
 No man could imitate sleep so well. Several times 
 Yates nearly fell forward, and each time saved him- 
 self with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. 
 Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his 
 revolver. Suddenly, with a greater lurch than 
 usual, Yates pitched head first down the bank, carry- 
 ing the constable with him. The steel band of the 
 handcuff nipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an 
 oath and a cry of pain, instinctively grasped the 
 links between with his right hand, to save his wrist. 
 Like a cat, Yates was upon him, showing marvellous 
 agility for a man who had just tumbled in a heap. 
 The next instant he held aloft the revolver, crying, 
 triumphantly : 
 
 " How's that, umpire? Out, I expect." 
 
 The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his 
 wounded wrist, realising the helplessness of a 
 struggle. 
 
 " Now, Stoliker," said Yates, pointing the pistol 
 at him, " what have you to say before I fire? " 
 
 " Nothing," answered the constable, " except that
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 237 
 
 you will be hanged at Welland, instead of staying 
 a few days in jail." 
 
 Yates laughed. " That's not bad, Stoliker ; and 
 I really believe there's some grit in you, if you are 
 a man-catcher. Still, you were not in very much 
 danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should 
 want this pistol again, just watch where it alights." 
 And Yates, taking the weapon by the muzzle, tossed 
 it as far as he could into the field. 
 
 Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting 
 his hand into his pocket, he took out some small 
 object and flung it as nearly as possible to the spot 
 where the revolver fell. 
 
 " Is that how you mark the place?" asked Yates; 
 " or is it some spell that will enable you to find the 
 pistol?" 
 
 " Neither," answered the constable quietly. " It 
 is the key of the handcuffs. The duplicate is at 
 Welland." 
 
 Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with 
 admiration at the little man. He saw the hopeless- 
 ness of the situation. If he attempted to search 
 for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten 
 to one that Stoliker would stumble on the pistol be- 
 fore Yates found the key, in which case the reporter 
 would be once more at the mercy of the law. 
 
 " Stoliker, you're evidently fonder of my com- 
 pany than I am of yours. That wasn't a bad 
 strategic move on your part, but it may cause you 
 some personal inconvenience before I get these 
 handcuffs filed off. I'm not going to Welland this
 
 238 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. I have 
 gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now 
 come with me." 
 
 " I shall not move," replied the constable firmly. 
 
 " Very well, stay there," said Yates, twisting his 
 hand around so as to grasp the chain that joined the 
 cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walked up the road, 
 down which they had tramped a few minutes before. 
 Stoliker set his teeth and tried to hold his ground, 
 but was forced to follow. Nothing was said by 
 either until several hundred yards were thus trav- 
 ersed. Then Yates stopped. 
 
 " Having now demonstrated to you the fact that 
 you must accompany me, I hope you will show 
 yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with 
 me quietly. It will be less exhausting for both of 
 us, and all the same in the end. You can do noth- 
 ing until you get help. I am going to see the fight, 
 which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don't 
 want to lose any more time in getting back. In 
 order to avoid meeting people, and having me ex- 
 plain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose 
 we go through the fields." 
 
 One difference between a fool and a wise man is 
 that the wise man always accepts the inevitable. 
 The constable was wise. The two crossed the rail 
 fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably 
 together Stoliker silent, as usual, with the grim 
 confidence of a man who is certain of ultimate suc- 
 cess, who has the nation behind him, with all its 
 machinery working in his favour; Yates talkative,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 239 
 
 argumentative, and instructive by turns, occasionally 
 breaking forth into song when the unresponsiveness 
 of the other rendered conversation difficult. 
 
 " Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and 
 restful are the silent, scented, spreading fields ! 
 How soothing to a spirit tired of the city's din is 
 this solitude, broken only by the singing of the 
 birds and the drowsy droning of the bee, errone- 
 ously termed ' bumble ! ' The green fields, the 
 shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, 
 untainted by city smoke, and over all the eternal 
 serenity of the blue unclouded sky how can human 
 spite and human passion exist in such a paradise ? 
 Does it all not make you feel as if you were an in- 
 nocent child again, with motives pure and conscience 
 white ? " 
 
 If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not 
 look it. With clouded brow he eagerly scanned the 
 empty fields, hoping for help. But, although the 
 constable made no reply, there was an answer that 
 electrified Yates, and put all thought of the beauty 
 of the country out of his mind. The dull report of a 
 musket, far in front of them, suddenly broke the 
 silence, followed by several scattering shots, and then 
 the roar of a volley. This was sharply answered 
 by the ring of rifles to the right. With an oath, 
 Yates broke into a run. 
 
 " They're at it ! " he cried, " and all on account of 
 your confounded obstinacy I shall miss the whole 
 show. The Fenians have opened fire, and the 
 Canadians have not been long in replying.
 
 240 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 The din of the firing now became incessant. 
 The veteran in Yates was aroused. He was like an 
 old war-horse who again sniffs the intoxicating smell 
 of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpowder shone in 
 his gleaming eye. 
 
 " Come on, you loitering idiot ! " he cried to the 
 constable, who had difficulty in keeping pace with 
 him; "come on, or, by the gods! I'll break your 
 wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron 
 from it." 
 
 The savage face of the prisoner was transformed 
 with the passion of war, and, for the first time that 
 day, Stoliker quailed before the insane glare of his 
 eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show his fear 
 to Yates. 
 
 " Come on, you ! " he shouted, springing ahead, 
 and giving a twist to the handcuffs well known to 
 those who have to deal with refractory criminals. 
 " I am as eager to see the fight as you are." 
 
 The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. 
 He laughed, and said : " That's the ticket. I'm 
 with you. Perhaps you would not be in such a 
 hurry if you knew that I am going into the thick of 
 the fight, and intend to use you as a shield from the 
 bullets." 
 
 " That's all right," answered the little constable, 
 panting. " Two sides are firing. I'll shield you on 
 one side, and you'll have to shield me on the other." 
 
 Again Yates laughed, and then they ran silently 
 together. Avoiding the houses, they came out at 
 the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above the
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 241 
 
 trees, showing where the battle was going forward 
 some distance beyond. Yates made the constable 
 cross the fence and the road, and take to the fields 
 again, bringing him around behind Bartlett's house 
 and barn. No one was visible near the house except 
 Kitty Bartlett, who stood in the back-yard watch- 
 ing, with pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, 
 now and then covering her ears with her hands 
 as the sound of an extra loud volley assailed 
 them. Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted for 
 help. 
 
 " If you do that again," cried Yates, clutching him 
 by the throat, " I'll choke you ! " 
 
 But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard 
 the cry, turned with a frightened look, and was 
 about to fly into the house when she recognised the 
 two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his 
 hand away from the constable's throat. 
 
 "Where is your father or your brother?" de- 
 manded the constable. 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Where is your mother ? " 
 
 " She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill." 
 
 " Are you all alone? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, 
 to give no assistance to this prisoner, but to do as I 
 tell you." 
 
 " And I command you, in the name of the Pres- 
 ident," cried Yates, " to keep your mouth shut, and 
 
 not to address a lady like that. Kitty," he con- 
 16
 
 242 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 tinued in a milder tone, " could you tell me where 
 to get a file, so that I may cut these wrist ornaments ? 
 Don't you get it. You are to do nothing. Just in- 
 dicate where the file is. The law mustn't have any 
 hold on you, as it seems to have on me." 
 
 " Why don't you make him unlock them ? " asked 
 Kitty. 
 
 " Because the villain threw away the key in the 
 fields." 
 
 "He couldn't have done that." 
 
 The constable caught his breath. 
 
 " But he did. I saw him." 
 
 " And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The 
 key was on the end of his watch chain. He hasn't 
 thrown that away." 
 
 She made a move to take out his watch chain but 
 Yates stopped her. 
 
 " Don't touch him. I'm playing a lone hand here." 
 He jerked out the chain, and the real key dangled 
 from it. 
 
 . " Well, Stoliker," he said, " I don't know which to 
 admire most your cleverness and pluck, my stu- 
 pidity, or Miss Bartlett's acuteness of observation. 
 Can we get into the barn, Kitty ? " 
 
 " Yes; but you mustn't hurt him." 
 
 " No fear. I think too much of him. Don't you 
 come in. I'll be out in a moment, like the medium 
 from a spiritualistic dark cabinet." 
 
 Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up 
 against the square oaken post which was part of the 
 framework of the building, and which formed one
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 243 
 
 side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top 
 of the hay-mow. 
 
 " Now, Stoliker," he said solemnly, " you realise, 
 of course, that I don't want to hurt you ; yet you 
 also realise that I must hurt you if you attempt to 
 play tricks. I can't take any risks, please remember 
 that ; and recollect that, by the time you are free 
 again, I shall be in the State of New York. So 
 don't compel me to smash your head against this 
 post." He, with some trouble, unlocked the clasp 
 on his own wrist ; then, drawing Stoliker's right hand 
 around the post, he snapped the same clasp on the 
 constable's hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate 
 man, with his cheek against the oak, was in the 
 comical position of lovingly embracing the post. 
 
 " I'll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you 
 will be more comfortable unless, like Samson, you 
 can pull down the supports. Then I must bid you 
 good-bye." 
 
 Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for 
 him. 
 
 " I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty," he 
 said, " so that poor Stoliker will get a rest." 
 
 They walked toward the house. Yates noticed 
 that the firing had ceased, except a desultory shot 
 here and there across the country. 
 
 " I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly 
 as I can," he continued. " This country is getting 
 too hot for me." 
 
 "You are much safer here," said the girl, with 
 downcast eyes. " A man has brought the news that
 
 244 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 the United States gunboats are sailing up and down 
 the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to 
 cross from this side." 
 
 " You don't say ! Well, I might have known that. 
 Then what am I to do with Stoliker ? I can't keep 
 him tied up here. Yet the moment he gets loose 
 I'm done for." 
 
 " Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do 
 anything more. Shall I go for her?" 
 
 " I don't think it would be of any use. Stoliker' s a 
 stubborn animal. He has suffered too much at my 
 hands to be in a forgiving mood. We'll bring him 
 a chair, anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on 
 him." 
 
 When the chair was placed at Stoliker's disposal, 
 he sat down upon it, still hugging the post with an 
 enforced fervency that, in spite of the solemnity of 
 the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up 
 her eyes with the mischievousness that had always 
 delighted Yates. 
 
 " How long am I to be kept here ? " asked the 
 constable. 
 
 " Oh, not long," answered Yates cheerily ; " not 
 a moment longer than is necessary. I'll telegraph 
 when I'm safe in New York State ; so you won't be 
 here more than a day or two." 
 
 This assurance did not appear to bring much 
 comfort to Stoliker. 
 
 " Look here," he said ; " I guess I know as well 
 as the next man when I'm beaten. I have been 
 thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff's
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 245 
 
 orders, and not under the orders of that officer. I 
 don't believe you've done anything, anyhow, or you 
 wouldn't have acted quite the way you did. If the 
 sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. 
 As it is, if you unlock those cuffs, I'll give you my 
 word I'll do nothing more unless I'm ordered to. 
 Like as not they've forgotten all about you by this 
 time ; and there's nothing on record, anyhow." 
 " Do you mean it ? Will you act square?" 
 " Certainly I'll act square. I don't suppose you 
 doubt that. I didn't ask any favours before, and I 
 did what I could to hold you." 
 
 " Enough said," cried Yates. " I'll risk it." 
 Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head 
 when he was released. 
 
 " I wonder," he said, now that Kitty was gone, 
 " if there is anything to eat in the house ? " 
 
 " Shake ! " cried Yates, holding out his hand to 
 him. " Another great and mutual sentiment unites 
 us, Stoliker. Let us go and see."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE man who wanted to see the fight did not 
 see it, and the man who did not want to see it saw 
 it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict when all 
 was over; Renmark found the battle raging around 
 him before he realised that things had reached a 
 crisis. 
 
 When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty 
 and torn by bullets. The fortunes of war had 
 smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewn be- 
 fore the entrance, probably by some disappointed 
 man who had tried to sample the contents and had 
 found nothing. 
 
 " Hang it all ! " said Yates to himself, " I wonder 
 what the five assistants that the Argus sent me have 
 done with themselves? If they are with the Fe- 
 nians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they are cap- 
 tured by the Canadians, they won't be able to get 
 an account of this scrimmage through to the paper. 
 Now, this is evidently the biggest item of the year 
 it's international, by George ! It may involve 
 England and the United States in a war, if both 
 sides are not extra mild and cautious. I can't run 
 the chance of the paper being left in the lurch, 
 me think a minute. Is it my tip to follow the 
 346
 
 247 
 
 Canadians or the Fenians ? I wonder which is run- 
 ning the faster? My men are evidently with the 
 Fenians, if they were on the ground at all. If I go 
 after the Irish Republic, I shall ru-n the risk of dupli- 
 cating things ; but if I follow the Canadians, they 
 may put me under arrest. Then we have more Fe- 
 nian sympathisers among our readers than Cana- 
 dians, so the account from the invasion side of the 
 fence will be the more popular. Yet a Canadian 
 version would be a good thing, if I were sure the 
 rest of the boys got in their work, and the chances 
 are that the other papers won't have any reporters 
 among the Canucks. Heavens! What is a man 
 to do ? I'll toss up for it. Heads, the Fenians." 
 
 He spun the coin in the air, aud caught it. 
 
 " Heads it is ! The Fenians are my victims. I'm 
 camping on their trail, anyhow. Beside, it's safer 
 than following the Canadians, even though Stoliker 
 has got my pass." 
 
 Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the 
 forest. The scent of a big item was in his nostrils, 
 and it stimulated him like champagne. What was 
 temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of de- 
 feating the opposition press ? 
 
 A blind man might have followed the trail of the 
 retreating army. They had thrown away, as they 
 passed through the woods, every article that im- 
 peded their progress. Once he came on a man lying 
 with his face in the dead leaves. He turned him over. 
 
 " His troubles are past, poor devil," said Yates, 
 as he pushed on.
 
 248 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 44 Halt ! Throw up your hands ! " came a cry 
 from in front of him. 
 
 Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his 
 hands, being an adaptable man. 
 
 " What's the trouble ? " he shouted. " I'm re- 
 treating, too." 
 
 " Then retreat five steps farther. I'll count the 
 steps. One." 
 
 Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that 
 a man behind a tree was covering him with a gun. 
 The next step revealed a second captor, with a huge 
 upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. 
 Both men had blackened faces, and resembled thor- 
 oughly disreputable fiends of the forest. Seated on 
 the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozen de- 
 jected prisoners. The man with the gun swore fear- 
 fully, but his comrade with the hammer was silent. 
 
 " Come," said the marksman, " you blank scoun- 
 drel, and take a seat with your fellow-scoundrels. 
 If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I'll fill you 
 full of buckshot ! " 
 
 " Oh, I'm not going to run, Sandy," cried Yates, 
 recognising him. " Why should I ? I've always en- 
 joyed your company, and Macdonald's. How are 
 you, Mac ? Is this a little private raid of your 
 own ? For which side are you fighting ? And I 
 say, Sandy, what's the weight of that old-fashioned 
 bar of iron you have in your hands ? I'd like to 
 decide a bet. Let me heft it, as you said in the 
 shop." 
 
 " Oh, it's you, is it ? " said Sandy in a disap-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 249 
 
 pointed tone, lowering his gun. " I thought we 
 had raked in another of them. The old man and I 
 want to make it an even dozen." 
 
 " Well, I don't think you'll capture any more. I 
 saw nobody as I came through the woods. What 
 are you going to do with this crowd ? " 
 
 " Brain 'em," said Macdonald laconically, speak- 
 ing for the first time. Then he added reluctantly : 
 " If any of 'em tries to escape." 
 
 The prisoners were all evidently too tired and 
 despondent to make any attempt at regaining their 
 liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald's shoulder 
 at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head 
 he seemed to indicate that he would like to have 
 some private conversation with the newspaper man. 
 
 " I'm not your prisoner, am I ? " asked Yates. 
 
 " No," said Macdonald. " You may go if you 
 like, but not in the direction the Fenians have gone." 
 
 " I guess I won't need to go any farther, if you 
 will give me permission to interview your prisoners. 
 I merely want to get some points about the fight." 
 
 " That's all right," said the blacksmith, " as long 
 as you don't try to help them. If you do, I warn 
 you there will be trouble." 
 
 Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, 
 out of hearing of the others, leaving Macdonald and 
 his sledge-hammer on guard. 
 
 When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested 
 his arms on his gun, in a pathfinder attitude. 
 
 " Say," he began anxiously, " you haven't got 
 some powder and shot on you by any chance ? "
 
 250 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " Not an ounce. Haven't you any ammunition ? w 
 
 " No, and haven't had all through the fight. You 
 see, we left the shop in such a hurry we never 
 thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man 
 on horseback came by shouting that there was a fight 
 on, the old man he grabbed his sledge, and I took 
 this gun that had been left at the shop for repairs, 
 and off we started. I'm not sure that it would shoot 
 if I had ammunition, but I'd like to try. I've scared 
 some of them Fee-neens nigh to death with it, but 
 I was always afraid one of them would pull a real 
 gun on me, and then I don't know just what I'd 'a' 
 done." 
 
 Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man 
 who saw his mistake, but was somewhat loath to ac- 
 knowledge it : " Next battle there is you won't find 
 me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I'd sooner 
 have the old man's sledge. It don't miss fire." His 
 eye brightened as he thought of Macdonald. " Say," 
 he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his 
 shoulder, " the boss is on the warpath in great style, 
 ain't he?" 
 
 " He is," said Yates, " but, for that matter, so are 
 you. You can swear nearly as well as Macdonald 
 himself. When did you take to it ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, you see," said Sandy apologetically, 
 " it don't come as natural to me as chewing, but, 
 then, somebody's got to swear. The old man's con- 
 verted, you know." 
 
 " Ah, hasn't he backslid yet? " 
 
 " No, he hasn't. I was afraid this scrimmage was
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 251 
 
 going to do for him, but it didn't ; and now I think 
 that if somebody near by does a little cussing, not 
 that anyone can cuss like the boss, he'll pull 
 through. I think he'll stick this time. You'd ought 
 to have seen him wading into them d d Fee-neens, 
 swinging his sledge, and singing ' Onward, Christian 
 soldiers.' Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now 
 and again when things got hot, he pulled through 
 the day without ripping an oath. I tell you, it was 
 a sight. He bowled 'em over like nine-pins. You 
 ought to 'a' been there." 
 
 " Yes," said Yates regretfully. " I missed it, all 
 on account of that accursed Stoliker. Well, there's 
 no use crying over spilled milk, but I'll tell you one 
 thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I'll 
 let you know what I have got. I have, in my 
 pocket, one of the best plugs of tobacco that you 
 ever put your teeth into." 
 
 Sandy's eyes glittered. " Bless you ! " was all he 
 could say, as he bit off a corner of the offered plug. 
 
 " You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this 
 life, after all ; I thought you were out." 
 
 " I haven't had a bite all day. That's the trouble 
 with leaving in a hurry." 
 
 " Well, you may keep that plug with my regards. 
 Now, I want to get back and interview those fellows. 
 There's no time to be lost." 
 
 When they reached the group, Macdonald said : 
 
 " Here's a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. 
 He claims he is a reporter, and that you will vouch 
 for him."
 
 252 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the 
 prisoners, hoping, yet fearing, to find one of his own 
 men there. He was a selfish man, and wanted the 
 glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recog- 
 nised one of the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the 
 staff of a rival daily, the New York Blade. This was 
 even worse than he had anticipated. 
 
 "Hello, Jimmy!" he said, "how did you get 
 here ? " 
 
 " I was raked in by that adjective fool with the 
 unwashed face." 
 
 " Who's a fool ? " cried Macdonald in wrath, 
 grasping his hammer. He boggled slightly as he 
 came to the "adjective," but got over it safely. It 
 was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the 
 rescue, and cursed Hawkins until even the prisoners 
 turned pale at the torrent of profanity. Macdonald 
 looked with sad approbation at his pupil, not know- 
 ing that he was under the stimulus of newly-acquired 
 tobacco, wondering how he had attained such profi- 
 ciency in malediction ; for, like all true artists, he was 
 quite unconscious of his own merit in that direction. 
 
 " Tell this hammer wielder that I'm no anvil. Tell 
 him that I'm a newspaperman, and didn't come here 
 to fight. He says that if you guarantee that I'm no 
 Fenian he'll let me go." 
 
 Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on 
 his brow. He liked to do a favour to a fellow-crea- 
 ture when the act did not inconvenience himself, but 
 he never forgot the fact that business was business. 
 
 " I can't conscientiously tell him that. Jimmy,"
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 253 
 
 said Yates soothingly. " How am I to know you 
 are not a Fenian?" 
 
 " Bosh ! " cried Hawkins angrily. " Conscien- 
 tiously? A lot you think of conscience when there 
 is an item to be had." 
 
 " We none of us live up to our better nature, 
 Jimmy," continued Yates feelingly. " We can but 
 do our best, which is not much. For reasons that 
 you might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the 
 risk of telling a lie. You appreciate my hesitation, 
 don't you, Mr. Macdonald ? You would not advise 
 me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said the blacksmith earnestly. 
 
 " You want to keep me here because you are afraid 
 of me," cried the indignant Blade man. " You know 
 very well I'm not a Fenian." 
 
 " Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the 
 kind. I even suspect myself of Fenian leanings. 
 How, then, can I be sure of you ?'' 
 
 " What's your game ? " asked Hawkins more 
 calmly, for he realised that he himseif would not be 
 slow to take advantage of a rival's dilemma. 
 
 " My game is to get a neat little account of this 
 historical episode sent over the wires to the Argus. 
 You see, Jimmy, this is my busy day. When the 
 task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and 
 will save you from being hanged, if I can ; although 
 I shall do so without prejudice, as the lawyers say, 
 for I have always held that such a fate will be the 
 ultimate end of all the Blade staff." 
 
 " Look here, Yates ; play fair. Don't run in any
 
 254 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 conscientious guff on a prisoner. You see, I have 
 known you these many years." 
 
 " Yes, and little have you profited by a noble ex- 
 ample. It is your knowledge of me that makes me 
 wonder at your expecting me to let you out of your 
 hole without due consideration." 
 
 " Are you willing to make a bargain ? " 
 
 '* Always when the balance of trade is on my 
 side." 
 
 " Well, if you give me a fair start, I'll give you 
 some exclusive information that you can't get other* 
 wise." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Oh, I wasn't born yesterday, Dick." 
 
 " That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I 
 knew it before. Haven't you something more at- 
 tractive to offer ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the 
 expedition and the fight written out, all ready to 
 send, if I could get my clutches on a telegraph wire. 
 I'll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it. 
 if you will get me out of this hole, as you call it. 
 I'll give you permission to use the information in 
 any way you choose, if you will extricate me, and all 
 I ask is a fair start in the race for a telegraph office." 
 Yates pondered over the proposition for some mo- 
 ments. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do, Jimmy," he finally said. 
 " I'll buy that account from you, and give you more 
 money than the Blade will. And when I get back 
 to New York I'll place you on the staff of the
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 255 
 
 Argus at a higher salary than the Blade gives you 
 taking your own word for the amount." 
 
 " What ! And leave my paper in the lurch ? Not 
 likely." 
 
 " Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, any- 
 how." 
 
 " Perhaps. But it won't be sold by me. I'll burn 
 my copy before I will let you have a glimpse of it. 
 That don't need to interfere with your making me 
 an offer of a better position when we get back to 
 New York ; but while my paper depends on me, I 
 won't go back on it." 
 
 " Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do 
 the same myself. I always was weak where the in- 
 terests of the Argus were concerned. You haven't 
 any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?" 
 
 " I have, but I won't lend it." 
 
 Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his 
 cuff. 
 
 " Now, Mac," he said, " tell me all you saw of this 
 fight." 
 
 The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting 
 now and then a mark on his cuff. Sandy spoke oc- 
 casionally, but it was mostly to tell of sledge-ham- 
 mer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. 
 One after another Yates interviewed the prisoners, 
 and gathered together all the materials for that ex- 
 cellent full-page account "by an eyewitness " that 
 afterward appeared in the columns of the Argus. 
 He had a wonderful memory, and simply jotted 
 down figures with which he did not care to burden
 
 256 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now and 
 then at the facts they were giving Yates, but the 
 Argus man said nothing, merely setting down in 
 shorthand some notes of the information Hawkins 
 sneered at, which Yates considered was more than 
 likely accurate and important. When he had got 
 all he wanted, he rose. 
 
 " Shall I send you help, Mac ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," said the smith ; " I think I'll take these 
 fellows to the shop, and hold them there till called 
 for. You can't vouch for Hawkins, then Mr. 
 Yates ! " 
 
 " Good Heavens, no ! I look on him as the most 
 dangerous of the lot. These half-educated criminals, 
 who have no conscientious scruples, always seem to 
 me a greater menace to society than their more 
 ignorant co-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. 
 I think you'll enjoy life down at Mac's shop. It's 
 the best place I've struck since I've been in the dis- 
 trict. Give my love to all the boys, when they come 
 to gaze at you. I'll make careful inquiries into your 
 opinions, and as soon as I am convinced that you 
 can be set free with safety to the community I'll 
 drop in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so 
 long." 
 
 Yates' one desire now was to reach a telegraph 
 office, and write his article as it was being clicked 
 off on the machine. He had his fears about the 
 speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk 
 trying to get through to Buffalo in the then excited 
 state of the country. He quickly made up his mind
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 257 
 
 to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, if the 
 Fenians had not permanently made off with them 
 all, and ride as rapidly as he could for the nearest 
 telegraph office. He soon reached the edge of the 
 woods, and made his way across the fields to the 
 house. He found young Bartlett at the barn. 
 
 " Any news of the horses yet ? " was the first 
 question he asked. 
 
 " No," said young Bartlett gloomily ; " guess 
 they've rode away with them." 
 
 " Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to 
 ride to the telegraph office. Where is the likeliest 
 place to find one ? " 
 
 " I don't know where you can get one, unless you 
 steal the telegraph boy's nag ; it's in the stable now, 
 having a feed." 
 
 "What telegraph boy?" 
 
 "Oh, didn't you see him? He went out to the 
 tent to look for you, and I thought he had found 
 you." 
 
 " No, I haven't been at the tent for ever so long. 
 Perhaps he has some news for me. I'm going to 
 the house to write, so send him in as soon as he gets 
 back. Be sure you don't let him get away before 
 I see him." 
 
 "I'll lock the stable," said Young Bartlett, "and 
 then he won't get the horse, at any rate." 
 
 Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked 
 so flurried that the girl cried anxiously : 
 
 "Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?" 
 
 " No, Kitty ; I'm after them. Say, I want all the
 
 258 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 blank paper you have in the house. Anything will 
 do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil mark." 
 
 "A copy book such as the children use in 
 school ? " 
 
 " Just the thing." 
 
 In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the 
 materials he required ready for him in the front 
 room. Yates threw off his coat, and went to work 
 as if he were in his own den in the Argus building. 
 
 " This is a of a vacation," he muttered to 
 
 himself, as he drove his pencil at lightning speed 
 over the surface of the paper. He took no note of 
 the time until he had finished ; then he roused him- 
 self and sprang to his feet. 
 
 " What in thunder has become of that telegraph 
 boy ? " he cried. " Well, it doesn't matter ; I'll take 
 the horse without his permission." 
 
 He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the 
 kitchen. He was somewhat surprised to see the boy 
 sitting there, gorging himself with the good things 
 which that kitchen always afforded. 
 
 " Hello, youngster ! how long have you been here ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't let him go in to disturb you while 
 you were writing," said Kitty, the boy's mouth be- 
 ing too full to permit of a reply. 
 
 "Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that 
 down and come in here ; I want to talk to you for 
 a minute." 
 
 The boy followed him into the front room. 
 
 " Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for 
 the rest of the day."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 259 
 
 " You can't have it," said the boy promptly. 
 
 " Can't have it ? I must have it. Why, I'll take 
 it. You don't imagine you can stop me, do you ? " 
 
 The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms 
 across his breast. 
 
 " What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I'll 
 pay you well for it." 
 
 "And what am I here for?" 
 
 " Why, to eat, of course. They'll feed you high 
 while you wait." 
 
 " Canadian telegraph office ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " It's no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians 
 couldn't telegraph all you've written in two weeks. 
 I know *em," said the boy with infinite scorn. " Be- 
 sides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, 
 and you can't get a private message through till it 
 gets over its fright." 
 
 " By George ! " cried Yates, taken aback, " I hadn't 
 thought of that. Are you sure, boy ? " 
 
 " Dead certain." 
 
 " Then what's to be done? I must get through 
 to Buffalo." 
 
 " You can't. United States troops won't let you. 
 They're stopping everybody except me," he added, 
 drawing himself up, as if he were the one individual 
 who stood in with the United States Government. 
 
 " Can you get this despatch through ? " 
 
 " You bet ! That's why I came back. I knew,
 
 260 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 as soon as I looked at you, that you would write two 
 or three columns of telegraph ; and your paper said 
 ' Spare no expense, 1 you remember. So says I to 
 myself: Til help Mr. Yates to spare no expense. 
 I'll get fifty dollars from that young man, seeing 
 I'm the only person who can get across in time.' " 
 
 " You were mighty sure of it, weren't you ? " 
 
 " You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and 
 ready, I'm fed and ready, and we're losing valuable 
 time waiting for that fifty dollars." 
 
 " Suppose you meet another newspaper man who 
 wants to get his despatch through to another paper, 
 what will you do ? " 
 
 " Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet 
 two other newspaper men, that will be one hundred 
 and fifty dollars ; but if you want to make sure that 
 I won't meet any more newspaper men, let us call it 
 one hundred dollars, and I'll take the risk of the odd 
 fifty for the ready cash ; then if I meet a dozen 
 newspaper men, I'll tell them I'm a telegraph boy 
 on a vacation." 
 
 " Quite so. I think you will be able to take care 
 of yourself in a cold and callous world. Now, look 
 here, young man ; I'll trust you if you'll trust me. 
 I'm not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay 
 by results. If you don't get this despatch through, 
 you don't get anything. I'll give you an order for a 
 hundred dollars, and as soon as I get to Buffalo I'll 
 pay you the cash. I'll have to draw on the Argus 
 when I get to Buffalo ; if my article has appeared, 
 you get your cash ; if it hasn't, you're out. See ? "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 261 
 
 " Yes, I see. It won't do, Mr. Yates." 
 
 " Why won't it do ? " 
 
 " Because I say it won't. This is a cash trans- 
 action. Money down, or you don't get the goods. 
 I'll get it through all right, but if I just miss, I'm 
 not going to lose the money." 
 
 " Very well, I'll take it to the Canadian telegraph 
 office." 
 
 " All right, Mr. Yates. I'm disappointed in you. 
 I thought you were some good. You ain't got no 
 sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at your 
 tent, there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of 
 men out of the woods. When one of them sees my 
 uniform, he sings out he'd give me twenty-five dol- 
 lars to take his stuff. I said I'd see him later, and I 
 will. Good-bye, Mr. Yates." 
 
 " Hold on, there ! You're a young villain. You'll 
 end in state's prison yet, but here's your money. 
 Now, you ride like a house a-fire." 
 
 After watching the departing boy until he was out 
 of sight Yates, with a feeling of relief, journeyed back 
 to the tent. He was worried about the interview 
 the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, 
 now that it was too late, whether, after all, he had 
 not Hawkins' manuscript in his pocket. He wished 
 he had searched him. That trouble, however, did 
 not prevent him from sleeping like the dead the mo- 
 ment he flung himself down on his cot.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE result of the struggle was similar in effect to 
 an American railway accident of the first class. One 
 officer and five privates were killed on the Canadian 
 side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. 
 The number of the Fenians killed will probably 
 never be known. Several were buried on the field 
 of battle, others were taken back by O'Neill's brig- 
 ade when they retreated. 
 
 Although the engagement ended as Yates had pre- 
 dicted, yet he was wrong in his estimate of the 
 Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underrated 
 by men of experience in military matters. The boys 
 fought well, even when they saw their ensign fall 
 dead before them. If the affair had been left en- 
 tirely in their hands, the result might have been 
 different as was shown afterward, when the volun- 
 teers, unimpeded by regulars, quickly put down a 
 much more formidable rising in the Northwest. But 
 in the present case they were hampered by their de- 
 pendence on the British troops, whose commander 
 moved them with all the ponderous slowness of real 
 war, and approached O'Neill as if he had been ap- 
 proaching Napoleon. He thus managed to get in a 
 262
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 263 
 
 day after the fair on every occasion, being too late 
 for the fight at Ridgeway, and too late to capture 
 any considerable number of the flying Fenians at 
 Fort Erie. The campaign, on the Canadian side, 
 was magnificently planned and wretchedly carried 
 out. The volunteers and regulars were to meet at a 
 point close to the spot the fight took place, but the 
 British commander delayed two hours in starting, 
 which fact the Canadian colonel did not learn until 
 too late. These blunders culminated in a ghastly 
 mistake on the field. The Canadian colonel ordered 
 his men to charge across an open field, and attack 
 the Fenian force in the woods a brilliant but fool- 
 ish move. To the command the volunteers gal- 
 lantly responded, but against stupidity the gods are 
 powerless. In the field they were appalled to hear 
 the order given to form square and receive cavalry. 
 Even the schoolboys knew the Fenians could have 
 no cavalry. 
 
 Having formed their square, the Canadians found 
 themselves the helpless targets of the Fenians in the 
 woods. If O'Neill's forces had shot with reasonable 
 precision, they must have cut the volunteers to 
 pieces. The latter were victorious, if they had only 
 known it ; but, in this hopeless square, panic seized 
 them, and it was every man for himself ; at the same 
 time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as they 
 could. This farce is known as the battle of Ridge- 
 way, and would have been comical had it not been 
 that death hovered over it. The comedy, without 
 the tragedy, was enacted a day or two before at a
 
 264 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 bloodless skirmish which took place near a hamlet 
 called Waterloo, which affray is dignified in Cana- 
 dian annals as the second battle of that name. 
 
 When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, 
 who had watched the contest with all the helpless 
 anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing the danger, but 
 having no influence upon the result, followed them, 
 making a wide detour to avoid the chance shots 
 which were still flying. He expected to come up 
 with the volunteers on the road, but failed to do so. 
 Through various miscalculations he did not succeed 
 in finding them until toward evening. At first they 
 told him that young Howard was with the company, 
 and unhurt, but further inquiry soon disclosed the 
 fact that he had not been seen since the fight. He 
 was not among those who were killed or wounded, 
 and it was nightfall before Renmark realised that 
 opposite his name on the roll would be placed the 
 ominous word " missing." Renmark remembered 
 that the boy had said he would visit his home if he 
 got leave ; but no leave had been asked for. At 
 last Renmark was convinced that young Howard 
 was either badly wounded or dead. The possibility 
 of his desertion the professor did not consider for a 
 moment, although he admitted to himself that it 
 was hard to tell what panic of fear might come over 
 a boy who, for the first time in his life, found bullets 
 flying about his ears. 
 
 With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and 
 made his way to the fatal field. He found nothing 
 on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, he
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 265 
 
 came across several bodies lying where they fell ; but 
 they were all those of strangers. Even in the dark- 
 ness he would have had no difficulty in recognising 
 the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He 
 walked down to the Howard homestead, hoping, yet 
 fearing, to hear the boy's voice the voice of a de- 
 serter. Everything was silent about the house, al- 
 though a light shone through an upper window, and 
 also through one below. He paused at the gate, 
 not knowing what to do. It was evident the boy 
 was not here, yet how to find the father or brother, 
 without alarming Margaret or her mother, puzzled 
 him. As he stood there the door opened, and he 
 recognised Mrs. Bartlett and Margaret standing in 
 the light. He moved away from the gate, and heard 
 the older woman say : 
 
 " Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now 
 that she has fallen into a nice sleep. I wouldn't 
 disturb her to-night, if I were you. It is nothing 
 but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It's 
 all over now, thank God. Good-night, Margaret." 
 
 The good woman came through the gate, and 
 then ran, with all the speed of sixteen, toward her 
 own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, listen- 
 ing to the retreating footsteps. She was pale and 
 anxious, but Renmark thought he had never seen 
 anyone so lovely ; and he was startled to find that 
 he had a most un-professor-like longing to take her 
 in his arms and comfort her. Instead of bringing 
 her consolation, he feared it would be his fate to 
 add to her anxiety ; and it was not until he saw she
 
 266 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 was about to close the door that he found courage 
 to speak. 
 
 " Margaret," he said. 
 
 The girl had never heard her name pronounced in 
 that tone before, and the cadence of it went direct 
 to her heart, frightening her with an unknown joy. 
 She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood 
 there, with wide eyes and suspended breath, gazing 
 into the darkness. Renmark stepped into the light, 
 and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue and 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Margaret," he said again, " I want to speak with 
 you a moment. Where is your brother?" 
 
 " He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can 
 find the horses. There is something wrong," she 
 continued, stepping down beside him. " I can see 
 it in your face. What is it ? " 
 
 " Is your father in the house ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me 
 what it is. It is better to tell me." 
 
 Renmark hesitated. 
 
 " Don't keep me in suspense like this," cried the 
 girl in a low but intense voice. " You have said too 
 much or too little. Has anything happened to 
 Henry ? " 
 
 " No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You 
 will not be alarmed ? " 
 
 " I am alarmed. Tell me quickly." And the girl 
 in her excitement laid her hands imploringly on his. 
 
 " Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some 
 time ago. Did you know that? "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 267 
 
 " He never told me. I understand I think so, 
 but I hope not. He was in the battle to-day. Is 
 he has he been hurt ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I'm afraid so," said Renmark 
 hurriedly, now that the truth had to come out ; he 
 realised, by the nervous tightening of the girl's un- 
 conscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. 
 " He was with the volunteers this morning. He is 
 not with them now. They don't know where he is. 
 No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and 
 that he has been left behind. I have been all over 
 the ground." 
 
 " Yes, yes ? " 
 
 " But I could not find him. I came here hoping 
 to find him." 
 
 " Take me to where the volunteers were," she 
 sobbed. " I know what has happened. Come 
 quickly." 
 
 " Will you not put something on your head ? " 
 
 " No, no. Come at once." Then, pausing, she 
 said : " Shall we need a lantern ? " 
 
 " No ; it is light enough when we get out from 
 the shadow of the house." 
 
 Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Ren- 
 mark had some trouble in keeping pace with her. 
 She turned at the side road, and sped up the 
 gentle ascent to the spot where the volunteers had 
 crossed it. 
 
 " Here is the place," said Renmark. 
 
 " He could not have been hit in the field," she 
 cried breathlessly, " for then he might have reached
 
 268 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 the house at the corner without climbing a fence. 
 If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did 
 you search this field ? " 
 
 " Every bit of it. He is not here." 
 
 " Then it must have happened after he crossed the 
 road and the second fence. Did you see the battle ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did the Fenians cross the field after the volun- 
 teers ? " 
 
 " No ; they did not leave the woods." 
 
 " Then, if he was struck, it could not have been 
 far from the other side of the second fence. He 
 would be the last to retreat ; and that is why the 
 others did not see him," said the girl, with confident 
 pride in her brother's courage. 
 
 They crossed the first fence, the road, and the 
 second fence, the girl walking ahead for a few paces. 
 She stopped, and leaned for a moment against a 
 tree. " It must have been about here," she said in a 
 voice hardly audible. " Have you searched on this 
 side?" 
 
 " Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and 
 woods." 
 
 " No, no, not there ; but down along the fence. 
 He knew every inch of this ground. If he were 
 wounded here, he would at once try to reach our 
 house. Search down along the fence. I I cannot 
 
 go-" 
 
 Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the 
 dark corners made by the zigzag of the rails ; and 
 he knew, without looking back, that Margaret, with
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 269 
 
 feminine inconsistency, was following him. Sud- 
 denly she darted past him, and flung herself down 
 in the long grass, wailing out a cry that cut Renmark 
 like a knife. 
 
 The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his 
 outstretched hand grasping the lower rail of the fence. 
 He had dragged himself this far, and reached an in- 
 surmountable obstacle. 
 
 Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and 
 rapidly ran his hand over the prostrate lad. He 
 quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy passed 
 over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. 
 
 " He is alive ! " he cried. " He will get well, 
 Margaret." A statement somewhat premature to 
 make on so hasty an examination. 
 
 He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the 
 girl he loved. He was amazed to see her eyes al- 
 most luminous in the darkness, blazing with wrath. 
 
 " When did you know he was with the volun- 
 teers?" 
 
 " This morning early," said the professor, taken 
 aback. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me ? " 
 
 " He asked me not to do so." 
 
 " He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought 
 to have a man's sense. You had no right to mind 
 what a boy said. It was my right to know, and your 
 duty to tell me. Through your negligence and 
 stupidity my brother has lain here all day per- 
 haps dying," she added with a break in her angry 
 voice.
 
 270 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " If you had known I didn't know anything was 
 wrong until I saw the volunteers. I have not lost a 
 moment since." 
 
 " I should have known he was missing, without 
 going to the volunteers." 
 
 Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, 
 from a girl whom he had made the mistake of be- 
 lieving to be without a temper of her own, that he 
 knew not what to say. He was, however, to have 
 one more example of inconsistency. 
 
 " Why do you stand there doing nothing, now 
 that I have found him ? " she demanded. 
 
 It was on his tongue to say : " I stand here be- 
 cause you stand there unjustly quarrelling with me," 
 but he did not say it. Renmark was not a ready 
 man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. 
 
 " Margaret," he said sternly, " throw down that 
 fence." 
 
 This curt command, delivered in his most school- 
 mastery manner, was instantly obeyed. Such a task 
 may seem a formidable one to set to a young woman, 
 but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts of 
 America. A rail fence lends itself readily to demo- 
 lition. Margaret tossed a rail to the right, one to 
 the left, and one to the right again, until an open 
 gap took the place of that part of the fence. The 
 professor examined the young soldier in the mean- 
 time, and found his leg had been broken by a musket 
 ball. He raised him up tenderly in his arms, and 
 was pleased to hear a groan escape his lips. He 
 walked through the open gap and along the road
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 271 
 
 toward the house, bearing the unconscious form of 
 his pupil. Margaret silently kept close to his side, 
 her fingers every now and then unconsciously caress- 
 ing the damp, curly locks of her brother. 
 
 " We shall have to get a doctor? " Her assertion 
 was half an inquiry. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " We must not disturb anyone in the house. It 
 is better that I should tell you what to do now, so 
 that we need not talk when we reach there." 
 
 " We cannot help disturbing someone." 
 
 " I do not think it will be necessary. If you will 
 stay with Arthur, I will go for the doctor, and no 
 one need know." 
 
 " I will go for the doctor." 
 
 " You do not know the way. It is five or six 
 miles. I will ride Gypsy, and will soon be back." 
 
 " But there are prowlers and stragglers all along 
 the roads. It is not safe for you to go alone." 
 
 " It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers 
 have stolen can overtake Gypsy. Now, don't say 
 anything more. It is best that I should go. I will 
 run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will 
 take the lamp to the room at the side, where the 
 window opens to the floor. Carry him around there. 
 I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show 
 you the way." 
 
 With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried 
 his burden alone. She was waiting for him at the 
 gate, and silently led the way round the house, to 
 where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn
 
 272 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 under an apple tree. The light streamed out upon 
 the grass. He placed the boy gently upon the 
 dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Ren- 
 mark whose room he was in. It was decorated with 
 those pretty little knickknacks so dear to the heart 
 of a girl in a snuggery she can call her own. 
 
 " It is not likely you will be disturbed here," she 
 whispered, " until I return. I will tap at the window 
 when I come with the doctor." 
 
 '* Don't you think it would be better and safer for 
 me to go ? I don't like the thought of your going 
 alone." 
 
 " No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You 
 do not know the way. I shall be very much quicker. 
 If Arthur should should wake he will know you, 
 and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were 
 a stranger." 
 
 Margaret was gone before he could say anything 
 more, and Renmark sat down, devoutly hoping no 
 one would rap at the door of the room while he was 
 there.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MARGARET spoke caressingly to her horse, when 
 she opened the stable door, and Gypsy replied with 
 that affectionate, low guttural whinny which the 
 Scotch graphically term "nickering." She patted 
 the little animal ; and if Gypsy was surprised at 
 being saddled and bridled at that hour of the night, 
 no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing its 
 nose lovingly up and down Margaret's sleeve as she 
 buckled the different straps. There was evidently 
 a good understanding between the two. 
 
 " No, Gyp," she whispered, " I have nothing for 
 you to-night nothing but hard work and quick 
 work. Now, you mustn't make a noise till we get 
 past the house." 
 
 On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, 
 which she always carried, but never used. Gyp had 
 never felt the indignity of the lash, and was always 
 willing to do what was required merely for a word. 
 
 Margaret opened the big gate before she mounted 
 her horse, and there was therefore no delay in get- 
 ting out upon the main road, although the passing 
 of the house was an anxious moment. She feared 
 that if her father heard the steps or the neighing of 
 18 273
 
 274 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 the horse he might come out to investigate. Half- 
 way between her own home and Bartlett's house she 
 sprang lightly into the saddle. 
 
 " Now, then, Gyp ! " 
 
 No second word was required. Away they sped 
 down the road toward the east, the mild June air 
 coming sweet and cool and fresh from the distant 
 lake, laden with the odours of the woods and the 
 fields. The stillness was intense, broken only by 
 the plaintive cry of the whip-poorwill, America's 
 one-phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and 
 eerie note of a distant loon. 
 
 The houses along the road seemed deserted ; no 
 lights were shown anywhere. The wildest rumours 
 were abroad concerning the slaughter of the day ; 
 and the population, scattered as it was, appeared to 
 have retired into its shell. A spell of silence and 
 darkness was over the land, and the rapid hoof beats 
 of the horse sounded with startling distinctness on 
 the harder portions of the road, emphasised by 
 intervals of complete stillness, when the fetlocks 
 sank in the sand and progress was more difficult for 
 the plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear 
 that Margaret experienced during her night journey 
 was when she entered the dark arch of an avenue of 
 old forest trees that bordered the road, like a great, 
 gloomy cathedral aisle, in the shadow of which any- 
 thing might be hidden. Once the horse, with a 
 jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead : 
 Margaret caught her breath as she saw, or fancied 
 she saw, several men stretched on the roadside,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 275 
 
 asleep or dead. Once in the open again she breathed 
 more freely, and if it had not been for the jump of 
 the horse, she would have accused her imagination 
 of playing her a trick. Just as she had completely 
 reassured herself, a shadow moved from the fence to 
 the middle of the road, and a sharp voice cried : 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the 
 word, planted its two front hoofs together, and slid 
 along the ground for a moment, coming so quickly 
 to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Mar- 
 garet kept her seat. She saw in front of her a 
 man holding a gun, evidently ready to fire if she 
 attempted to disobey his command. 
 
 "Who are you, and where are you going?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 " Oh, please let me pass ! " pleaded Margaret with 
 a tremour of fear in her voice. " I am going for a 
 doctor for my brother ; he is badly wounded, and 
 will perhaps die if I am delayed." 
 
 The man laughed. 
 
 " Oho ! " he cried, coming closer; " a woman, is it ? 
 and a young one, too, or I'm a heathen. Now, miss 
 or missus, you get down. I'll have to investigate 
 this. The brother business won't work with an old 
 soldier. It's your lover you're riding for at this 
 time of the night, or I'm no judge of the sex. Just 
 slip down my lady, and see if you don't like me 
 better than him ; remember that all cats are black in 
 the dark. Get down, I tell you." 
 
 " If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My
 
 276 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 brother is badly wounded. I must get to the 
 doctor." 
 
 " There's no ' must ' with a bayonet in front of 
 you. If he has been wounded, there's plenty of 
 better men killed to-day. Come down, my dear." 
 
 Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in 
 the darkness, the man saw her intention. 
 
 " You can't escape, my pretty. If you try it, 
 you'll not be hurt, but I'll kill your horse. If you 
 move, I'll put a bullet through him." 
 
 " Kill my horse?" breathed Margaret in horror, a 
 fear coming over her that she had not felt at the 
 thought of danger to herself. 
 
 " Yes, missy," said the man, approaching nearer, 
 and laying his hand on Gypsy's bridle. " But there 
 will be no need of that. Besides, it would make 
 too much noise, and might bring us company, which 
 would be inconvenieut. So come down quietly, like 
 the nice little girl you are." 
 
 " If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will 
 come back here and be your prisoner." 
 
 The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. 
 This was a good joke. 
 
 "Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn't born so recently 
 as all that. A girl in the hand is worth a dozen a 
 mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, or I'll 
 take you off. This is war time, and I'm not going 
 to waste any more pretty talk on you." 
 
 The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered 
 up at her, and something in his sinister eyes made 
 the girl quail. She had been so quiet that he appar-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 277 
 
 ently was not prepared for any sudden movement. 
 Her right hand, hanging down at her side, had 
 grasped the short riding whip, and, with a swiftness 
 that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she 
 struck him one stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, 
 and then brought down the lash on the flank of her 
 horse, drawing the animal round with her left over 
 the enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the 
 horse sprang forward, bringing man and gun down 
 to the ground with a clatter that woke the echoes ; 
 then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped 
 along the road like the wind. It was the first time 
 he had ever felt the cut of a whip, and the blow was 
 not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further obstruction 
 on the road, turned her horse's head toward the rail 
 fence, and went over it like a bird. In the field, 
 where fast going in the dark had dangers, Margaret 
 tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse would 
 not have it so. He shook his head angrily whenever 
 he thought of the indignity of that blow, while Mar- 
 garet leaned over and tried to explain and beg pardon 
 for her offence. The second fence was crossed with 
 a clean-cut leap, and only once in the next field did 
 the horse stumble, but quickly recovered and went 
 on at the same breakneck gait. The next fence, 
 gallantly vaulted, brought them to the side road 
 within half a mile of the doctor's house. Margaret 
 saw the futility of attempting a reconciliation until 
 the goal was won. There, with difficulty, the horse 
 was stopped, and the girl struck the panes of the 
 upper window, through which a light shone, with
 
 278 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 her riding whip. The window was raised, and the 
 situation speedily explained to the physician. 
 
 " I will be with you in a moment," he said. 
 
 Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her 
 arms around the neck of the trembling horse. Gypsy 
 would admit of no compromise, and sniffed the air 
 with offended dignity. 
 
 " It was a shame, Gyp," she cried, almost tearfully, 
 stroking the glossy neck of her resentful friend ; 
 " it was, it was, and I know it ; but what was I to 
 do, Gyp ? You were the only protector I had, and 
 you did bowl him over beautifully ; no other horse 
 could have done it so well. It's wicked, but I do 
 hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike you." 
 
 Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss 
 of the head that the wheedling of a woman did not 
 make up for a blow. It was the insult more than 
 the pain ; and from her there was the sting of it. 
 
 " I know I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; 
 and I don't blame you for being angry. I might 
 have spoken to you, of course, but there was no time 
 to think, and it was really him I was striking. 
 That's why it came down so hard. If I had said a 
 word, he would have got out of the way, coward 
 that he was, and then would have shot you you, 
 Gypsy ! Think of it ! " 
 
 If a man can be moulded to any shape that pleases 
 a clever woman, how can a horse expect to be ex- 
 empt from her influence ? Gypsy showed signs of 
 melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. 
 
 " And it will never happen again, Gypsy never,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 279 
 
 never. As soon as we are safe home again I will 
 burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you 
 wouldn't " 
 
 Gypsy's head rested on Margaret's shoulder, and 
 we must draw a veil over the reconciliation. Some 
 things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle 
 with. The friends were friends once more, and on 
 the altar of friendship the unoffending whip was 
 doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. 
 
 When the doctor came out, Margaret explained 
 the danger of the road, and proposed that they 
 should return by the longer and northern way the 
 Concession, as it was called. 
 
 They met no one on the silent road, and soon they 
 saw the light in the window. 
 
 The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some 
 distance from the house, and walked together to 
 the window with the stealthy steps of a pair of 
 housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at 
 the closed window, and thought she heard the low 
 murmur of conversation. She tapped lightly on the 
 pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. 
 
 " We were getting very anxious about you," he 
 whispered. 
 
 " Hello, Peggy ! " said the boy, with a wan smile, 
 raising his head slightly from the pillow and drop- 
 ping it back again. 
 
 Margaret stooped over and kissed him. 
 
 " My poor boy ! what a fright you have given 
 me!" 
 
 " Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself.
 
 280 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 I thought I was going to die within sight of the 
 house." 
 
 The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the 
 room. Renmark waited until the examination was 
 over, and then went out to find her. 
 
 She sprang forward to meet him. 
 
 " It is all right," he said. "There is nothing to 
 fear. He has been exhausted by loss of blood, but 
 a few days' quiet will set that right. Then all you 
 will have to contend against will be his impatience 
 at being kept to his room, which may be necessary 
 for some weeks." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! and and I am so much 
 obliged to you, Mr. Renmark ! " 
 
 " I have done nothing except make blunders," 
 replied the professor with a bitterness that surprised 
 and hurt her. 
 
 " How can you say that ? You have done every- 
 thing. We owe his life to you." 
 
 Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust 
 accusation in the earlier part of the night had pained 
 him deeply, and he hoped for some hint of disclaimer 
 from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did 
 not realise that the words were spoken in a state of 
 intense excitement and fear, that another woman 
 would probably have expressed her condition of 
 mind by fainting instead of talking, and that the 
 whole episode had left absolutely no trace on the 
 recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark spoke : 
 
 " I must be getting back to the tent, if it still 
 exists. I think I had an appointment there with
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 281 
 
 Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to this moment 
 I had forgotten it. Good-night." 
 
 Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and 
 wondered what she had done to offend him. He 
 stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much 
 the direction he took, but automatically going the 
 nearest way to the tent. Fatigue and the want of 
 sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were as 
 lead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull 
 ache where his heart was supposed to be, and he 
 vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of himself. 
 He entered the tent, and was startled by the voice 
 of Yates : 
 
 " Hello ! hello ! Is that you, Stoliker ? " 
 
 " No ; it is Renmark. Are you asleep ?" 
 
 " I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensa- 
 tion of the moment. Have you provided anything 
 to eat within the last twenty-four hours?" 
 
 " There's a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. 
 I haven't been near the tent since early morning." 
 
 " All right ; only don't expect a recommendation 
 from me as cook. I'm not yet hungry enough for 
 raw potatoes. What time has it got to be ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know." 
 
 " Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I'm 
 the latest edition of Rip Van Winkle, and expect to 
 find my moustache grey in the morning. I was 
 dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the 
 bunk." 
 
 " What have you done with him ? " 
 
 a I'm not wide enough awake to remember. I
 
 282 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 think I killed him, but wouldn't be sure. So many 
 of my good resolutions go wrong that very likely he 
 is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. 
 What have you been prowling after all night ? " 
 
 There was no answer. Renmark was evidently 
 asleep. 
 
 " I'll ask you in the morning," muttered Yates 
 drowsily after which there was silence in the tent.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 YATES had stubbornly refused to give up his 
 search for rest and quiet in spite of the discomfort 
 of living in a leaky and battered tent. He expressed 
 regret that he had not originally camped in the 
 middle of Broadway, as being a quieter and less 
 exciting spot than the place he had chosen ; but, 
 having made the choice, he was going to see the last 
 dog hung, he said. Renmark had become less and 
 less of a comrade. He was silent, and almost as 
 gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yates 
 tried to cheer him by showing how much worse 
 another man's position might be, Renmark generally 
 ended the talk by taking to the woods. 
 
 " Just reflect on my position," Yates would say. 
 " Here I am dead in love with two lovely girls, both 
 of whom are merely waiting for the word. To one 
 of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, 
 to a man of my temperament, inclines me somewhat 
 to the other. Here I am anxious to confide in you, 
 and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talk 
 about the complication. You have no sympathy 
 for me, Renny, when I need sympathy ; while I am 
 
 bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won't 
 
 283
 
 284 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 have it. Now, what would you do if you were in 
 my fix ? If you would take five minutes and show 
 me clearly which of the two girls I really ought to 
 marry it would help me ever so much, for then I 
 would be sure to settle on the other. It is the in- 
 decision that is slowly but surely sapping my 
 vitality." 
 
 By this time Renmark would have pulled his soft 
 felt hat over his eyes, and, muttering words that 
 would have echoed strangely in the silent halls of 
 the university building, would plunge into the forest. 
 Yates generally looked after his retreating figure 
 without anger, but with mild wonder. 
 
 " Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst," 
 he would say with a sigh. " It is sad to see the 
 temple of friendship tumble down about one's ears 
 in this way." At their last talk of this kind Yates 
 resolved not to discuss the problem again with the 
 professor, unless a crisis came. The crisis came in 
 the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the 
 latter lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a 
 thrilling romance. The camp was strewn with these 
 engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates had read 
 many of them, hoping to come across a case similar 
 to his own, but up to the time of Stoliker's visit he 
 had not succeeded. 
 
 " Hello, Stoliker ! how's things ? Got the cuffs 
 in your pocket ? Want to have another tour across 
 country with me ? " 
 
 " No. But I came to warn you. There will be 
 a warrant out to-morrow or next day, and, if I were
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 285 
 
 you, I would get over to the other side ; though you 
 need never say I told you. Of course, if they give 
 the warrant to me, I shall have to arrest you ; and 
 although nothing may be done to you, still, the 
 country is in a state of excitement, and you will at 
 least be put to some inconvenience." 
 
 " Stoliker," cried Yates, springing out of the ham- 
 mock, " you are a white man ! You're a good follow, 
 Stoliker, and I'm ever so much obliged. If you 
 ever come to New York, you call on me at the Argus 
 office, anybody will show you where it is, and I'll 
 give you the liveliest time you ever had in your life. 
 It won't cost you a cent, either." 
 
 " That's all right," said the constable. " Now, if 
 I were you, I would light out to-morrow at the 
 latest." 
 
 " I will," said Yates. 
 
 Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and 
 Yates, after a moment's thought, began energetically 
 to pack up his belongings. It was dark before he 
 had finished, and Renmark returned. 
 
 " Stilly," cried the reporter cheerily, " there's a 
 warrant out for my arrest. I shall have to go to- 
 morrow at the latest ! " 
 
 " What ! to jail ? " cried his horrified friend, his 
 conscience now troubling him, as the parting came, 
 for his lack of kindness to an old comrade. 
 
 " Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, 
 which is pretty much the same thing. Still, thank 
 goodness, I don't need to stay there long. I'll be 
 in New York before I'm many days older. I yearn
 
 286 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 to plunge into the arena once more. The still, 
 calm peacefulness of this whole vacation has made 
 me long for excitement again, and I'm glad the 
 warrant has pushed me into the turmoil." 
 
 " Well, Richard, I'm sorry you have to go under 
 such conditions. I'm afraid I have not been as 
 companionable a comrade as you should have had." 
 
 " Oh, you're all right, Renny. The trouble with 
 you is that you have drawn a little circle around 
 Toronto University, and said to yourself: 'This is 
 the world.' It isn't, you know. There is something 
 outside of all that." 
 
 " Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours 
 is around the Argus office." 
 
 " Yes, but there are special wires from that centre 
 to all the rest of the world, and soon there will be an 
 Atlantic cable." 
 
 " I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; 
 still, there is something outside of New York, 
 even." 
 
 " You bet your life there is ; and, now that you 
 are in a more sympathetic frame of mind, it is that 
 I want to talk with you about. Those two girls 
 are outside my little circle, and I want to bring one 
 of them within it. Now, Renmark, which of those 
 girls would you choose if you were me ? " 
 
 The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was 
 silent for a moment. At last he said, speaking 
 slowly : 
 
 "I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite ap- 
 preciate my point of view. As you may think I
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 287 
 
 have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will try for 
 the first and final time to explain it. I hold that 
 any man who marries a good woman gets more than 
 he deserves, no matter how worthy he may be. I 
 have a profound respect for all women, and I think 
 that your light chatter about choosing between two 
 is an insult to both of them. I think either of them 
 is infinitely too good for you or for me either." 
 
 " Oh, you do, do you ? Perhaps you think that 
 you would make a much better husband than I. If 
 that is the case, allow me to say you are entirely 
 wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill 
 her with your gloomy fits. I wouldn't go off in the 
 woods and sulk, anyhow." 
 
 "If you are referring to me, I will further inform 
 you that I had either to go off in the woods or knock 
 you down. I chose the less of two evils." 
 
 " Think you could do it, I suppose ? Renny, 
 you're conceited. You're not the first man who has 
 made such a mistake, and found he was barking up 
 the wrong tree when it was too late for anything 
 but bandages and arnica." 
 
 " I have tried to show you how I feel regarding 
 this matter. I might have known I should not suc- 
 ceed. We will end the discussion, if you please." 
 
 " Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, 
 Renny, I'll tell you what you need. You need a 
 good, sensible wife worse than any man I know. It 
 is not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. 
 You will, before long, grow a crust on you like a 
 snail, or a lobster, or any other cold-blooded animal
 
 288 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 that gets a shell on itself. Then nothing can be 
 done for you. Now, let me save you, Renny, before 
 it is too late. Here is my proposition : You choose 
 one of those girls and marry her. I'll take the other. 
 I'm not as unselfish as I may seem in this, for your 
 choice will save me the worry of making up my own 
 mind. According to your talk, either of the girls is 
 too good for you, and for once I entirely agree with 
 you. But let that pass. Now, which one is it to 
 be?" 
 
 " Good God ! man, do you think I'm going to bar- 
 gain with you about my future wife ? " 
 
 " That's right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. 
 It shows you are not yet the prig you would have 
 folks believe. There's still hope for you, professor. 
 Now, I'll go further with you. Although I cannot 
 make up my mind just what to do myself, I can tell 
 instantly which is the girl for you, and thus we solve 
 both problems at one stroke. You need a wife who 
 will take you in hand. You need one who will not 
 put up with your tantrums, who will be cheerful, and 
 who will make a man of you. Kitty Bartlett is the 
 girl. She will tyrannise over you, just as her mother 
 does over the old man. She will keep house to the 
 queen's taste, and delight in getting you good things 
 to eat. Why, everything is as plain as a pikestaff. 
 That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. You 
 marry Kitty and I'll mary Margaret. Come, let's 
 shake hands over it." Yates held up his right hand, 
 ready to slap it down on the open palm of the pro- 
 fessor, but there was no response. Yates' hand came
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 289 
 
 down to his side again, but he had not yet lost the 
 enthusiasm of his proposal. The more he thought 
 of it the more fitting it seemed. 
 
 " Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed 
 girl that, if I am as flippant as you say, she will be 
 just the wife for me. There are depths in my char- 
 acter, Renmark, that you have not suspected." 
 
 " Oh, you're deep." 
 
 " I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman 
 would develop the best that is in me. Now, what 
 do you say, Renny ? " 
 
 " I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, 
 dark as it is." 
 
 " Ah, well," said Yates with a sigh, " there's no 
 doing anything with you or for you. I've tried my 
 best ; that is one consolation. Don't go away. I'll 
 let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up." 
 
 And Yates drew a silver half-dollar from his pocket. 
 " Heads for Margaret ! " he cried. Renmark clinched 
 his fist, took a step forward, then checked himself, 
 remembering that this was his last night with the 
 man who had at least once been his friend. 
 
 Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in 
 one hand, and slapped the other over it. 
 
 " Now for the turning point in the lives of two in- 
 nocent beings." He raised the covering hand, and 
 peered at the coin in the gathering gloom. " Heads 
 it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard 
 Yates. Congratulate me, professor." 
 
 Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object 
 lesson in self-control. Yates set his hat more jaunt- 
 '9
 
 290 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ily on his head, and slipped the epoch-making coin 
 into his trousers pocket. 
 
 " Good-bye, old man," he said. " I'll see you later, 
 and tell you all the particulars." 
 
 Without waiting for the answer, for which he 
 probably knew there would have been little use in 
 delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprang over 
 it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood 
 still for some minutes, then, quietly gathering un- 
 derbrush and sticks large and small, lighted a fire, 
 and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 YATES walked merrily down the road, whistling 
 " Gayly the troubador." Perhaps there is no mo- 
 ment in a man's life when he relishes the joy of being 
 alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to 
 a girl of whose favourable answer he is reasonably 
 sure unless it be the moment he walks away an ac- 
 cepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, 
 with its soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air 
 laden with the perfumes of wood and field. The en- 
 chantment of the hour threw its spell over the young 
 man, and he resolved to live a better life, and be 
 worthy of the girl he had chosen, or, rather, that 
 fate had chosen for him. He paused a moment, 
 leaning over the fence near the Howard homestead, 
 for he had not yet settled in his own mind the de- 
 tails of the meeting. He would not go in, for in that 
 case he knew he would have to talk, perhaps for 
 hours, with everyone but the person he wished to 
 meet. If he announced himself and asked to see 
 Margaret alone, his doing so would embarrass her at 
 the very beginning. Yates was naturally too much 
 of a diplomatist to begin awkwardly. As he stood 
 there, wishing chance would bring her out of the 
 
 291
 
 292 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 house, there appeared a light in the door-window of 
 the room where he knew the convalescent boy lay. 
 Margaret's shadow formed a silhouette on the blind. 
 Yates caught up a handful of sand, and flung it 
 lightly against the pane. Its soft patter evidently 
 attracted the attention of the girl, for, after a mo- 
 ment's pause, the window opened cautiously, then 
 Margaret stepped quickly out and closed it, quietly 
 standing there. 
 
 " Margaret," whispered Yates hardly above his 
 breath. 
 
 The girl advanced towards the fence. 
 
 " Is that you f " she whispered in return, with an 
 accent on the last word that thrilled her listener. 
 The accent told plainly as speech that the word rep- 
 resented the one man on earth to her. 
 
 " Yes," answered Yates, springing over the fence 
 and approaching her. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Margaret, starting back, then check- 
 ing herself with a catch in her voice, "You you 
 startled me Mr. Yates." 
 
 " Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. 
 Margaret, I wanted to see you alone. You know 
 why I have come." He tried to grasp both her 
 hands, but she put them resolutely behind her, seem- 
 ingly wishing to retreat, yet standing her ground. 
 
 " Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it 
 is with me. I love you, Margaret, loyally and truly. 
 It seems as if I had loved you all my life. I cer- 
 tainly have since the first day I saw you." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this."
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 293 
 
 " My darling, how else can I talk to you ? It can- 
 not be a surprise to you, Margaret. You must have 
 known it long ago." 
 
 " I did not, indeed I did not if you really mean 
 it." 
 
 " Mean it ? I never meant anything as I mean 
 this. It is everything to me, and nothing else is any- 
 thing. I have knocked about the world a good deal, 
 I admit, but I never was in love before never knew 
 what love was until I met you. I tell you that " 
 
 " Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything 
 more. If it is really true, I cannot tell you how 
 sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said or done has 
 
 made you believe that that Oh, I do not know 
 
 what to say ! I never thought you could be in 
 earnest about anything." 
 
 " You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Mar- 
 garet. Others have, but I did not expect it of you. 
 You are far and away better than I am. No one 
 knows that so well as I. I do not pretend to be 
 worthy of you, but I will be a devoted husband to 
 you. Any man who gets the love of a good woman," 
 continued Yates earnestly, plagiarising Renmark, 
 " gets more than he deserves ; but surely such love 
 as mine is not given merely to be scornfully trampled 
 underfoot." 
 
 " I do not treat your you scornfully. I am only 
 sorry if what you say is true." 
 
 " Why do you say if it is true ? Don't you know 
 it is true?" 
 
 " Then I am very sorry very, very sorry, and I
 
 294 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 hope it is through no fault of mine. But you will 
 soon forget me. When you return to New 
 York " 
 
 " Margaret," said the young man bitterly, " I shall 
 never forget you. Think what you are doing before 
 it is too late. Think how much this means to me. 
 If you finally refuse me you will wreck my life. I 
 am the sort of man that a woman can make or mar. 
 Do not, I beg of you, ruin the life of the man who 
 loves you." 
 
 " I am not a missionary," cried Margaret with sud- 
 den anger. " If your life is to be wrecked, it will be 
 through your own foolishness, and not from any act 
 of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I 
 am to be held responsible. I have no wish to in- 
 fluence your future one way or another." 
 
 " Not for good, Margaret ? " asked Yates with 
 tender reproach. 
 
 " No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends 
 on any one but himself is not my ideal of a man." 
 
 " Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to 
 attain it." 
 
 Margaret was silent. 
 
 " You think it will be useless for me to try ? " 
 
 " As far as I am concerned, yes." 
 
 " Margaret, I want to ask you one more question 
 I have no right to, but I beg you to answer me. 
 Are you in love with anyone else ? " 
 
 " No ! " cried Margaret hotly. " How dare you 
 ask me such a question? " 
 
 " Qh, it is not a crime that is, being in love with
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 295 
 
 someone else is not. I'll tell you why I dare ask. 
 I swear, by all the gods, that I shall win you if not 
 this year, then next ; and if not next, then the year 
 after. I was a coward to talk as I did ; but I love you 
 more now than I did even then. All I want to know 
 is that you are not in love with another man." 
 
 " I think you are very cruel in persisting as you 
 do, when you have had your answer. I say no. 
 Never ! never ! never ! this year nor any other year. 
 Is not that enough ? " 
 
 " Not for me. A woman's ' no ' may ultimately 
 mean ' yes.' " 
 
 " That is true, Mr. Yates," replied Margaret, draw- 
 ing herself up as one who makes a final plunge. " You 
 remember the question you asked me just now? 
 whether I cared for anyone else ? I said ' no.' That 
 ' no ' meant ' yes.' " 
 
 He was standing between her and the window, so 
 she could not escape by the way she came. He saw 
 she meditated flight, and made as though he would 
 intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran 
 around the house, and he heard a door open and shut. 
 
 He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to 
 the fence, climbing slowly over where he had leaped 
 so lightly a few minutes before, and walked down the 
 road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he 
 was a coward for talking to her as he had done about 
 his wrecked life, yet he knew now that every word 
 he had spoken was true. What did the future hold 
 out to him ? Not even the incentive to live. He 
 found himself walking towards the tent, but, not
 
 296 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 wishing to meet Renmark in his present frame of 
 mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. 
 He was tired and broken, and resolved to stay in 
 camp until they arrested him. Then perhaps she 
 might have some pity on him. Who was the other 
 man she loved ? or had she merely said that to give 
 finality to her refusal ? In his present mood he pic- 
 tured the worst, and imagined her the wife of some 
 neighbouring farmer perhaps even of Stoliker. 
 These country girls, he said to himself, never believed 
 a man was worth looking at unless he owned a farm. 
 He would save his money, and buy up the whole 
 neighbourhood ; then she would realise what she had 
 missed. He climbed up on the fence beside the road, 
 and sat on the top rail, with his heels resting on the 
 lower one, so that he might enjoy his misery without 
 the fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination pic- 
 tured himself as the owner in a few years' time of a 
 large section of that part of the country, with mort- 
 gages on a good deal of the remainder, including the 
 farm owned by Margaret's husband. He saw her 
 now, a farmer's faded wife, coming to him and beg- 
 ging for further time in which to pay the seven per 
 cent. due. He knew he would act magnanimously on 
 such an occasion, and grandly give her husband all 
 the time he required. Perhaps then she would recog- 
 nise the mistake she had made in refusing him. Or 
 perhaps fame, rather than riches, would be his line. 
 His name would ring throughout the land. He might 
 become a great politician, and bankrupt Canada with 
 a rigid tariff law. The unfairness of making the
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 297 
 
 whole innocent people suffer for the inconsiderate 
 act of one of them did not occur to him at the mo- 
 ment, for he was humiliated and hurt. There is no 
 bitterness like that which assails the man who has 
 been rejected by the girl he adores while it lasts. 
 His eye wandered toward the black mass of the 
 Howard house. It was as dark as his thoughts. He 
 turned his head slowly round, and, like a bright star 
 of hope, there glimmered up the road a flickering 
 light from the Bartletts' parlor window. Although 
 time had stopped as far as he was concerned, he was 
 convinced it could not be very late, or the Bartletts 
 would have gone to bed. It is always difficult to re- 
 alise that the greatest of catastrophes are generally 
 over in a few minutes. It seemed an age since he 
 walked so hopefully away from the tent. As he 
 looked at the light the thought struck him that per- 
 haps Kitty was alone in the parlour. She at least 
 would not have treated him so badly as the other 
 girl ; and and she was pretty, too, come to think of 
 it. He always did like a blonde better than a 
 brunette. 
 
 A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used 
 in some parts of the country in such a manner as to 
 impress the sitter with the fact of its extreme dis- 
 comfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is not 
 wanted in that immediate neighbourhood. Yates 
 recollected this, with a smile, as he slid off and 
 stumbled into the ditch by the side of the road. His 
 mind had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten 
 about the ditch. As he walked along the road to-
 
 298 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 ward the star that guided him, he remembered he 
 had recklessly offered the charming Kitty to the 
 callous professor. After all, no one knew about the 
 episode of a short time before except himself and 
 Margaret, and he felt convinced she was not a girl 
 to boast of her conquests. Anyhow, it didn't matter. 
 A man is surely master of himself. 
 
 As he neared the window he looked in. People 
 are not particular about lowering the blinds in the 
 country. He was rather disappointed to see Mrs. 
 Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious 
 woman she was. Still it was consoling to note that 
 none of the men-folks were present, and that Kitty, 
 with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, sat read- 
 ing a book he had lent to her. He rapped at the 
 door, and it was opened by Mrs. Bartlett, with some 
 surprise. 
 
 " For the land's sake ! is that you, Mr. Yates? " 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Come right in. Why, what's the matter with 
 you ? You look as if you had lost your best friend. 
 Ah, I see how it is," Yates started, "you have 
 run out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry 
 as a bear." 
 
 " You've hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped 
 around to see if I could borrow a loaf of bread. We 
 don't bake till to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett laughed. 
 
 " Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I'll 
 get you a loaf in a minute. Are you sure one is 
 enough ? "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 299 
 
 " Quite enough, thank you." 
 
 The good woman bustled out to the other room 
 for the loaf, and Yates made good use of her tem- 
 porary absence. 
 
 " Kitty," he whispered, " I want to see you alone 
 for a few minutes. I'll wait for you at the gate. 
 Can you slip out ? " 
 
 Kitty blushed very red and nodded. 
 
 " They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I'm 
 off to-morrow before they can serve it. But I couldn't 
 go without seeing you. You'll come, sure ?" 
 
 Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in 
 alarm when he spoke of the warrant. Before any- 
 thing further could be said Mrs. Bartlett came in, 
 and Kitty was absorbed in her book. 
 
 " Won't you have something to eat now before 
 you go back ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the 
 professor is waiting for me." 
 
 " Let him wait, if he didn't have sense enough to 
 come." 
 
 " He didn't. I offered him the chance." 
 
 " It won't take us a moment to set the table. It 
 is not the least trouble." 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am 
 not in the slightest degree hungry now. I am merely 
 taking some thought of the morrow. No ; I must 
 be going, and thank you very much." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the 
 door, " if there's anything you want, come to me, 
 and I will let you have it if it's in the house."
 
 300 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " You are too good to me," said the young man 
 with genuine feeling, " and I don't deserve it ; but I 
 may remind you of your promise to-morrow." 
 
 " See that you do," she answered. " Good-night." 
 
 Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the 
 post, where he forgot it, much to the astonishment of 
 the donor in the morning. He did not have to wait 
 long, for Kitty came around the house somewhat 
 shrinkingly, as one who was doing the most wicked 
 thing that had been done since the world began. 
 Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one of her un- 
 resisting hands in his. 
 
 " I must be off to-morrow," he began. 
 
 " I am very sorry," answered Kitty in a whisper. 
 
 " Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. 
 But I intend to come back, if you will let me. Kitty, 
 you remember that talk we had in the kitchen, when 
 we when there was an interruption, and when I had 
 to go away with our friend Stoliker ? " 
 
 Kitty indicated that she remembered it. 
 
 " Well, of course you know what I wanted to say 
 to you. Of course you know what I want to say to 
 you now.'' 
 
 It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, 
 for Kitty had not the slightest idea, and wanted to 
 go into the house, for it was late, and her mother 
 would miss her. 
 
 " Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that 
 I love you. You must know that I have loved you 
 ever since the first day I saw you, when you laughed 
 at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 301 
 
 something of me, if that is possible. I am a worth- 
 less fellow, not half good enough for a little pet like 
 you ; but, Kitty, if you will only say ' yes,' I will 
 try, and try hard, to be a better man than I have 
 ever been before." 
 
 Kitty did not say " yes,'' but she placed her dis- 
 engaged hand, warm and soft, upon his, and Yates 
 was not the man to have any hesitation about what 
 to do next. To practical people it may seem an 
 astonishing thing that, the object of the interview 
 being happily accomplished, there should be any 
 need of prolonging it ; yet the two lingered there, 
 and he told her much of his past life, and of how 
 lonely and sordid it had been because he had no one 
 to care for him at which her pretty eyes filled with 
 tears. She felt proud and happy to think she had 
 won the first great love of a talented man's life, and 
 hoped she would make him happy, and in a measure 
 atone for the emptiness of the existence that had 
 gone before. She prayed that he might always be as 
 fond of her as he was then, and resolved to be worthy 
 of him if she could. 
 
 Strange to say, her wishes have been amply ful- 
 filled, and few wives are as happy or as proud of their 
 husbands as Kitty Yates. The one woman who might 
 have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life 
 merely kissed her tenderly when Kitty told her of the 
 intense joy that had come to her, and said she was 
 sure they would be happy ; and thus for the second 
 time Margaret told the thing that was not, but for 
 once Margaret was wrong in her fears.
 
 302 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving 
 his loaf on the gatepost behind him. Few realise 
 that it is quite as pleasant to be loved as to love. 
 The verb " to love " has many conjugations. The 
 earth he trod was like no other ground he had ever 
 walked upon. The magic of the June night was 
 never so enchanting before. He strode along with 
 his head and his thoughts in the clouds, and the 
 Providence that cares for the intoxicated looked 
 after him, and saw that the accepted lover came to 
 no harm. He leaped the fence without even putting 
 his hand to it, and then was brought to earth again 
 by the picture of a man sitting with his head in his 
 hands beside a dying fire.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 YATES stood for a moment regarding the dejected 
 attitude of his friend. 
 
 " Hello, old man ! " he cried, " you have the 
 most ' hark-from-the-tombs ' appearance I ever saw. 
 What's the matter?" 
 
 Renmark looked up. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, is it ? " 
 
 " Of course it's I. Been expecting anybody else ? " 
 
 " No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking 
 of a variety of things." 
 
 " You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my 
 boy. She's mine, and I'm hers which are two ways 
 of stating the same delightful fact. I'm up in a bal- 
 loon, Renny. I'm engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, 
 and most delightful girl there is from the Atlantic 
 to the Pacific. What d'ye think of that ? Say, Ren- 
 mark, there's nothing on earth like it. You ought 
 to reform and go in for being in love. It would 
 make a man of you. Champagne isn't to be com- 
 pared to it. Get up here and dance, and don't sit 
 there like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you com- 
 prehend that I am to be married to the darlingest 
 girl that lives ? " 
 
 " God help her!" 
 
 M
 
 304 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 " That's what I say. Every day of her life, bless 
 her ! But I don't say it quite in that tone, Ren- 
 mark. What's the matter with you ? One would 
 think you were in love with the girl yourself, if such 
 a thing were possible." 
 
 " Why is it not possible ? " 
 
 " If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first 
 time. Because you are a fossil. You are too good, 
 Renny ; therefore dull and uninteresting. Now, 
 there is nothing a woman likes so much as to re- 
 claim a man. It always annoys a woman to know 
 that the man she is interested in has a past with 
 which she has had nothing to do. If he is wicked 
 and she can sort of make him over, like an old dress, 
 she revels in the process. She flatters herself she 
 makes a new man of him, and thinks she owns that 
 new man by right of manufacture. We owe it to 
 the sex, Renny, to give 'em a chance at reforming 
 us. I have known men who hated tobacco take to 
 smoking merely to give it up joyfully for the sake of 
 the women they loved. Now, if a man is perfect to 
 begin with, what is a dear, ministering angel of a 
 woman to do with him ? Manifestly nothing. The 
 trouble with you, Renny. is that you are too evidently 
 ruled by a good and well-trained conscience, and 
 naturally all women you meet intuitively see this, 
 and have no use for you. A little wickedness would 
 be the making of you." 
 
 "You think, then, that if a man's impulse is to do 
 what his conscience tells him is wrong, he should 
 follow his impulse, and not his conscience ? "
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 305 
 
 " You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. 
 I believe that an occasional blow-out is good for a 
 man. But if you ever have an impulse of that kind, 
 I think you should give way to it for once, just to 
 see how it feels. A man who is too good gets con- 
 ceited about himself." 
 
 " I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates," said the 
 professor, rising. " I will act on your advice, and, 
 as you put it, see how it feels. My conscience tells 
 me that I should congratulate you, and wish you 
 a long and happy life with the girl you have I 
 won't say chosen, but tossed up for. The natural 
 man in me, on the other hand, urges me to break 
 every bone in your worthless body. Throw off your 
 coat, Yates." 
 
 " Oh, I say, Renmark, you're crazy." 
 
 " Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if 
 you believe it. A lunatic is sometimes dangerous." 
 
 " Oh, go away. You're dreaming. Your're talk- 
 ing in your sleep. What! Fight? To-night? 
 Nonsense ! " 
 
 " Do you want me to strike you before you are 
 ready?" 
 
 " No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. 
 I don't wish to fight at all, especially to-night. I'm 
 a reformed man, I tell you. I have no desire for a 
 black eye before bidding good-bye to my best girl 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Then stop talking, if you can, and defend your- 
 self." 
 
 " It*s impossible to fight here in the dark. Don't 
 20
 
 306 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 flatter yourself for a moment that I am afraid. You 
 just spar with yourself and get limbered up, while I 
 put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous." 
 
 Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax 
 the dying embers into a blaze. 
 
 " There," he said, " that's better. Now, let me 
 have a look at you. In the name of wonder, Renny, 
 what do you want to fight me for to-night ? " 
 
 " I refuse to give my reason." 
 
 " Then I refuse to fight. I'll run, and I can beat 
 you in a foot race any day in the week. Why, 
 you're worse than her father. He at least let me 
 know why he fought me." 
 
 " Whose father ? " 
 
 " Kitty's father, of course my future father-in- 
 law. And that's another ordeal ahead of me. I 
 haven't spoken to the old man yet, and I need all 
 my fighting grit for that." 
 
 " What are you talking about ? " 
 
 " Isn't my language plain ? It usually is." 
 
 " To whom are you engaged ? As I understand 
 your talk, it is to Miss Bartlett. Am I right ? " 
 
 " Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down 
 again. Say, can't we postpone our fracas until day- 
 light ? I don't want to gather any more wood. Be- 
 sides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, 
 and thus ruin whatever is left of our clothes. What 
 do you say ? " 
 
 " Say ? I say I am an idiot." 
 
 " Hello ! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly 
 agree with you."
 
 INTHE MIDST OF ALARMS 307 
 
 " Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar 
 to Miss Howard ? " 
 
 " Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, 
 that I am trying to forget. You remember the un- 
 fortunate toss-up ; in fact, I think you referred to it 
 a moment ago, and you were justly indignant about 
 it at the time. Well, I don't care to talk much about 
 the sequel ; but, as you know the beginning, you 
 will have to know the end, because I want to wring 
 a sacred promise from you. You are never to men- 
 tion this episode of the toss-up, or of my confession, 
 to any living soul. The telling of it might do harm, 
 and it couldn't possibly do any good. Will you 
 promise ?" 
 
 " Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish 
 to." 
 
 " I don't exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is 
 better you should understand how the land lies, so 
 you won't make any mistake. Not on my account, 
 you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty's 
 ears. Yes, I proposed to Margaret first. She 
 wouldn't look at me. Can you credit that ? " 
 
 " Well, now that you mention it, I " 
 
 " Exactly. I see you can credit it. Well, I 
 couldn't at first ; but Margaret knows her own mind, 
 there's no question about that. Say ! she's in love 
 with some other fellow. I found out that much." 
 
 " You asked her, I presume." 
 
 " Well, it's my profession to find out things ; and, 
 naturally, if I do that for my paper, it is not likely 
 I am going to be behindhand when it comes to my
 
 308 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 self. She denied it at first, but admitted it after- 
 ward, and then bolted." 
 
 " You must have used great tact and delicacy." 
 
 " See here, Renmark; I'm not going to stand any 
 of your sneering. I told you this was a sore subject 
 with me. I'm not telling you because I like to, but 
 because I have to. Don't put me in fighting humour, 
 Mr. Renmark. If /talk fight, I won't begin for no 
 reason and then back out for no reason. I'll go on." 
 
 " I'll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. 
 What else ? " 
 
 " Nothing else. Isn't that enough ? It was more 
 than enough for me at the time. I tell you, Ren- 
 mark, I spent a pretty bad half-hour sitting on the 
 fence and thinking about it." 
 
 " So long as that ? " 
 
 Yates rose from the fire indignantly. 
 
 " I take that back, too," cried the professor hastily. 
 " I didn't mean it." 
 
 " It strikes me you've become awfully funny all 
 of a sudden. Don't you think it's about time we 
 took to our bunks? It's late." 
 
 Renmark agreed with him, but did not turn in. 
 He walked to the friendly fence, laid his arms along 
 the top rail, and gazeo at the friendly stars. He had 
 not noticed before how lovely the night was with its 
 impressive stillness, as if the world had stopped, as 
 a steamer stops in mid-ocean. After quieting his 
 troubled spirit with the restful stars he climbed the 
 fence and walked down the road, taking little heed 
 of the direction. The still night was a soothing
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 309 
 
 companion. He came at last to a sleeping village 
 of wooden houses, and through the centre of the 
 town ran a single line of rails, an iron link connect- 
 ing the unknown hamlet with all civilisation. A 
 red and a green light glimmered down the line, giv- 
 ing the only indication that a train ever came that 
 way. As he went a mile or two farther the cool 
 breath of the great lake made itself felt, and after 
 crossing a field he suddenly came upon the water, 
 finding all further progress in that direction barred. 
 Huge sand dunes formed the shore, covered with 
 sighing pines. At the foot of the dunes stretched 
 a broad beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrast 
 with the darker water ; and at long intervals fell the 
 light ripple of the languid summer waves, running 
 up the beach with a half-asleep whisper, that became 
 softer and softer until it was merged in the silence 
 beyond. Far out on the dark waters a point of 
 light, like a floating star, showed where a steamer 
 was slowly making her way ; and so still was the 
 night that he felt rather than heard her pulsating 
 engines. It was the only sign of life visible from 
 that enchanted bay the bay of the silver strand. 
 Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at 
 the foot of a dune. The point of light gradually 
 worked its way to the west, following, doubtless un- 
 consciously, the star of empire, and disappeared 
 round the headland, taking with it a certain vague 
 sense of companionship. But the world is very 
 small, and a man is never quite as much alone as he 
 thinks he is. Renmark heard the low hoot of an
 
 3io IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 owl among the trees, which cry he was astonished 
 to find answered from the water. He sat up and 
 listened. Presently there grated on the sand the 
 keel of a boat, and some one stepped ashore. From 
 the woods there emerged the shadowy forms of 
 three men. Nothing was said, but they got silently 
 into the boat, which might have been Charon's craft 
 for all he could see of it. The rattle of the row 
 locks and the plash of oars followed, while a voice 
 cautioned the rowers to make less noise. It was 
 evident that some belated fugitives were eluding the 
 authorities of both countries. Renmark thought, 
 with a smile, that if Yates were in his place he 
 would at least give them a fright. A sharp com- 
 mand to an imaginary company to load and fire 
 would travel far through such a night, and would 
 give the rowers a few moments of great discomfort. 
 Renmark, however, did not shout, but treated the 
 episode as part of the mystical dream, and lay down 
 on the sand again. He noticed that the water* in 
 the east seemed to feel the approach of morning 
 even before the sky. Gradually the day dawned, a 
 slowly lightening grey at first, until the coming sun 
 spattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Ren- 
 mark watched the glory of the sunrise, took one lin- 
 gering look at the curved beauty of the bay shore, 
 shook the sand from his clothing, and started back 
 for the village and the camp beyond. 
 
 The village was astir when he reached it. He was 
 surprised to see Stoliker on horseback in front of 
 one of the taverns. Two assistants were with him,
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 311 
 
 also seated on horses. The constable seemed dis- 
 turbed by the sight of Renmark, but he was there to 
 do his duty. 
 
 " Hello ! " he cried, " you're up early. I have a 
 warrant for the arrest of your friend : I suppose you 
 won't tell me where he is ? " 
 
 " You don't expect me to give any information 
 that will get a friend into trouble, do you? espe- 
 cially as he has done nothing." 
 
 " That's as may turn out before a jury," said one 
 of the assistants gravely. 
 
 " Yes," assented Stoliker, winking quietly at the 
 professor. " That is for judge and jury to deter- 
 mine not you." 
 
 " Well," said Renmark, " I shall not inform 
 against anyone, unless I am compelled to do so, but 
 I may save you some trouble by telling where I 
 have been and what I have seen. I am on my way 
 back from the lake. If you go down there, you will 
 still see the mark of a boat's keel on the sand, and 
 probably footprints. A boat came over from the 
 other shore in the night, and a man got on board. 
 I don't say who the man was, and I had nothing to 
 do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. 
 That is all the information I have to give." 
 
 Stoliker turned to his assistants and nodded. 
 " What did I tell you ? " he asked. " We were right 
 on his track." 
 
 "You said the railroad," grumbled the man who 
 had spoken before. 
 
 " Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us
 
 3 i2 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 go down to the lake and see the traces. Then we 
 can return the warrant." 
 
 Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He 
 prepared breakfast without disturbing him. When 
 the meal was ready, he roused the reporter and told 
 him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to 
 get back to New York without delay. 
 
 Yates yawned sleepily. 
 
 " Yes," he said, "I've been dreaming it all out. 
 I'll get father-in-law to tote me out to Fort Erie to- 
 night." 
 
 " Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long ? " 
 
 " Safer than trying to get away during the day. 
 After breakfast I'm going down to the Bartlett 
 homestead. Must have a chat with the old folks, 
 you know. I'll spend the rest of the day making 
 up for that interview by talking with Kitty. Stol- 
 iker will never search for me there, and now that he 
 thinks I'm gone, he will likely make a visit to the 
 tent. Stoliker is a good fellow, but his strong point 
 is duty, you know; and if he's certain I'm gone, 
 he'll give his country the worth of its money by 
 searching. I won't be back for dinner, so you can 
 put in your time reading my Dime Novels. I make 
 no reflections on your cooking, Renny, now that the 
 vacation is over; but I have my preferences, and 
 they incline toward a final meal with the Bartletts. 
 If I were you, I'd have a nap. You look tired out." 
 
 " I am," said the professor. 
 
 Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments 
 until Yates was clear of the camp, after which he de-
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 313 
 
 termined to pay a visit ; but Nature, when she got 
 him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did 
 not hear Stoliker and his satellites search the prem- 
 ises, just as Yates had predicted they would ; and 
 when he finally awoke, he found to his astonishment 
 that it was nearly dark. But he was all the better 
 for his sleep, and he attended to his personal ap- 
 pearance with more than ordinary care. 
 
 Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with 
 the patient and grim stolidity of a man who takes a 
 blow dealt him by a Providence known to be inscru- 
 table. What he had done to deserve it, was beyond 
 his comprehension. He silently hitched up his 
 horses, and, for the first time in his life, drove into 
 Fort Erie without any reasonable excuse for going 
 there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after 
 which he sat in one of the taverns and drank strong 
 waters that had no apparent effect on him. He 
 even went so far as to smoke two native cigars ; and 
 a man who can do that, can do anything. To bring 
 up a daughter who would deliberately accept a 
 man from " the States," and to have a wife who 
 would aid and abet such an action, giving comfort 
 and support to the enemy, seemed to him traitorous 
 to all the traditions of 1812, or any other date in 
 the history of the two countries. At times wild 
 ideas of getting blind full, and going home to break 
 every breakable thing in the house, rose in his 
 mind ; but prudence whispered that he had to live 
 all the rest of his life with his wife, and he acknowl- 
 edged that this scheme of vengeance had its draw-
 
 3 i4 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 backs. Finally, he untied his patient team, after 
 paying his bill, and drove silently home, not having 
 returned, even by a nod, any of the salutations ten- 
 dered to him that day. He was somewhat relieved 
 to find no questions were asked, and that his wife 
 recognised the fact that he was passing through a 
 crisis. Nevertheless, there was a steely glitter in her 
 eye under which he uneasily quailed, for it told him 
 a line had been reached which it would not be well 
 for him to cross. She forgave, but it must not go 
 any further. 
 
 When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, 
 he asked her, with some trepidation, whether she 
 had told anyone of their engagement. 
 
 " No one but Margaret," said Kitty. 
 
 " And what did she say ? " asked Yates, as if, after 
 all, her opinion was of no importance. 
 
 " She said she was sure I should be happy and she 
 knew you would make a good husband." 
 
 " She's rather a nice girl, is Margaret," remarked 
 Yates, with the air of a man willing to concede 
 good qualities to a girl other than his own, but in- 
 dicating, after all, that there was but one on earth 
 for him. 
 
 " She is a lovely girl," cried Kitty enthusiastically. 
 " I wonder, Dick, when you knew her, why you 
 ever fell in love with me." 
 
 " The idea ! I haven't a word to say against Mar- 
 garet ; but, compared with my girl " 
 
 And he finished his sentence with a practical il- 
 lustration of his frame of mind.
 
 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 315 
 
 As he walked alone down the road he reflected 
 that Margaret had acted very handsomely, and he 
 resolved to drop in and wish her good-bye. But as 
 he approached the house his courage began to fail 
 him, and he thought it better to sit on the fence, 
 near the place where he had sat the night before, and 
 think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But 
 as he sat there it was destined that Yates should 
 receive some information which would simplify mat- 
 ters. Two persons came slowly out of the gate in 
 the gathering darkness. They strolled together up 
 the road past him, absorbed in themselves. When 
 directly opposite the reporter, Renmark put his arm 
 around Margaret's waist, and Yates nearly fell off 
 the fence. He held his breath until they were safely 
 out of hearing, then slid down and crawled along in 
 the shadow until he came to the side road, up which 
 he walked, thoughtfully pausing every few moments 
 
 to remark: "Well, I'll be " But speech seemed 
 
 to have failed him ; he could get no further. 
 
 He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, 
 gazing for the last time at the tent, glimmering white, 
 like a misshapen ghost, among the sombre trees. He 
 had no energy left to climb over. 
 
 " Well, I'm a chimpanzee," he muttered to himself 
 at last. " The highest bidder can have me, with no 
 upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn't have believed 
 it of you. You a newspaper man ? You a reporter 
 from 'way back? You up to snuff? Yates, I'm 
 ashamed to be seen in your company ! Go back to 
 New York and let the youngest reporter in from a
 
 316 IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 
 
 country newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. 
 To think that this thing has been going on right 
 under your well-developed nose, and you never saw 
 it worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it ; that 
 it was thrust at you twenty times a day nearly got 
 your stupid head smashed on account of it ; yet you 
 bleated away like the innocent little lamb that you 
 are, and never even suspected ! Dick, you're a three- 
 sheet-poster fool in coloured ink. And to think that 
 both of them know all about the first proposal! 
 Both of them ! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a 
 long way from New York." 
 
 THE END.
 
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