7 
 
 LIBRA 
 
GLEANER TALES 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 nt.-r<Ml ar-«-oiilin- to Act of the rarliament ot Citnaila, 
 
 ia t£ Y.'ar }m\ bv Robert HHlur, at the 
 
 DepartTneut of AgricviUure. 
 
HEML()(JK 
 
 I TALI-: or rui-: wwit <>r /,v/r 
 
 HOBKKT SKLI.AK 
 
 Moxi'in: al: i\ k. ck'aI'Ton a s<».\r 
 1 S«H> 
 
mo 
 
 55j 
 
 
 HKMIX)CK. 
 
 
 l-AOE 
 
 I. 
 
 THK Sl'V 
 
 
 1 
 
 II. 
 
 THE SlvIKMISH 
 
 • 
 
 15 
 
 111. 
 
 IV. 
 
 H KM M »C Iv'S VKNGKASCK 
 M(»KTO> IN PKKU- 
 
 ■" . 
 
 . ;;4 
 
 V. 
 
 MAiiUIK .U>UKNKVS TO OKA 
 
 
 . til' 
 
 VI. 
 
 HEMLOCK AT HIS DAK^iHTEK' 
 
 ^ Gkavk 
 
 •iT 
 
 VII. 
 
 Colonel Scott 
 
 • 
 
 IW 
 
 viu. 
 
 MOUTON RKll SKS TO Fl-V 
 
 
 . 1(W 
 
 IX. 
 
 HEMLOCK'S AI»VI(E TO THE ( 
 
 .ENEKAL 
 
 !•.>(• 
 
 X. 
 
 The Invasi<)S 
 
 
 . i;>o 
 
 XI. 
 
 HEMLOCK TELLS HlS STOUV 
 
 
 i;5i» 
 
 XI[. 
 
 The Amekk ans Bakflei> 
 
 • 
 
 . 141) 
 
 XIII 
 
 Hemlock Fai-i-s 
 
 • 
 
 Kil 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Mks Foksvth's death 
 
 
 . lJ*i 
 
 XV. 
 
 MOKTON RETL'KNS 
 
 * 
 
 IIM 
 
 AROHANiiK ANt> MAKIK, 
 
 462 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The rain of the forenoon had been followed by^ 
 an outburst of heat and the sunshine beat with, 
 fierce intensity on the narrow square that formed 
 the yard of the barracks at Montreal. There was 
 a milkiness in the atmosphere which, conjoined 
 with the low bank of black cloud that hung over 
 the St Lawrence where it rolled out of sight, indi- 
 cated a renewal of the downpour. The yard was 
 deserted. Dinner was over and the men loung- 
 ed and snoozed indoors until the sun abated his 
 fervor, always excepting the sentry, who stood in 
 the shade of the gateway, his gaze alternately 
 wandering from the refreshing motion of the blue 
 waters of St Mary's current to the cluster of log 
 houses, interspersed by stone edifices with high tin 
 roofs, which formed the Montreal of 1813. Pre- 
 sently the sound of hoofs was heard, and there 
 came galloping to the gate an orderly from the 
 general's headquarters. . Passing tlie sentry, he 
 
GLEANER TALES. 
 
 pulki] up at the door of that portion of the bar- 
 racks where the officer of the day was quartered, 
 And who, in another minute, w^as reading the de- 
 sj atch he had brought. It was an order for a 
 detachment of 20 men to report without delay at 
 headquarters. Instantly the voice of a sergeant 
 was lieard shouting the order to those who had to 
 turn out and the barracks became a bustling scene 
 of soldiers rubbing their accoutrements and pack- 
 ing their kits. In half an hour they had fallen 
 into rank and marched to the general's residence. 
 The lieutenant in charge went in to report and 
 i(Mnd General de Watte ville writing. 
 
 'You ready for the route? Ah, yes; very good, 
 Morton. I will write you one order. You will 
 escort an ammunition-train to camp La Fourche 
 and there go under command of Major Stovin." 
 
 "I hope, General, there is a prospect of our help- 
 iEg to use the cartridges w^hen we get there?" 
 
 "I cannot say. Yankee very cautious; put his 
 nose one, two, three time across the frontier and 
 then run back, like rat to his hole. Maybe Hamp- 
 ton come; we must be ready. Here is your order. 
 You will lind the train at King's Posts and use all 
 expedition." 
 
 Saluting the General, Morton withdrew and, re- 
 ■joir.ing his men, they marched down the narrow^ 
 iind crooked maze of St Paul street, attracting 
 little attention, for the sight of soldiers had be- 
 coioe familiar even to the habitant wives, who were 
 
HEMLOCK. 6 
 
 joggino; homeward in their market-carts. By the 
 time the town was cleared, and the Lachine road 
 gained, the sun was inclining to the west, and his 
 rays being more endurable, the men stepped out 
 briskly, bandying coarse jests, while the officer, 
 some paces behind, eyed with surprised delight the 
 foaming rapids, which he now saw for the first 
 time. The afternoon was calm, which made the 
 spectacle of a wide expanse of water tossed into 
 huge billows without apparent cause, all the more 
 singular. "Why," said Morton inwardly, "all the 
 rivers of the United Kingdom, with their falls and 
 cataracts, if added to this vast river, would not per- 
 ceptibly add either to its volume or its tumult." 
 
 At the head of the rapids, where the St Lawrence 
 expands into the lake named St Louis, stood the 
 King's Posts, an extensive collection of buildings, 
 with wharves in front, at which were moored a 
 large number of boats. King's Posts was the depot 
 of supplies for the country west of Montreal, and 
 therefore a place of bustle in time of war, boats 
 stemming the rapids and long trains of carts con- 
 veying to its storehouses daily the supplies brouo-ht 
 by shipping from England to Montreal, to be in 
 turn sent off as required to the numerous garrisons 
 along the upper St Lawrence and lakes Ontario and 
 Erie, while the troops, then being hurried to the 
 front, here embarked. Reporting his command, 
 Morton was informed the boat with the supplies 
 he was to guard would not be ready to sail until 
 
4 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 late in the evening, and quarters were assigned his 
 men and to himself an invitation to join the mess- 
 dinner. Thus relieved, he strolled to the water's 
 edge, and watched the shouting boatmen and the 
 swearing soldiers as they loaded the flotilla that 
 was in preparation, and was fortunate enough to 
 see a bateau arrive from Montreal, poled up against 
 the current by part of its crew while the others 
 tugged at a tow-rope, reinforced by a yoke of oxen. 
 Then he watched the sun, which, as it neared the 
 horizon, dyed the waters of the majestic river with 
 many hues. Slowly it neared the thick battalion 
 of pines behind which it would disappear, and as 
 Morton noted the broad crimson pathway that it 
 seemed to stretch across the placid lake as a 
 temptation to follow it into its chamber of glory, 
 he thought he never beheld anything more im- 
 posing. Slowly the throbbing orb descended and 
 was lost to sight, and, as if evoked by angel-spell, 
 cloudlets became revealed and were transformed 
 into plumage of scarlet and gold. The train of 
 Morton's reverie was snapped by the tread of troops 
 behind him. Turning he saw a file of soldiers 
 with a manacled man between them. When they 
 reached the head of the wharf, the order to halt 
 was given. Morton knew what it meant. The 
 tall thin man in his shirt-sleeves was a spy and 
 he was going to be shot. It was supper-time and 
 boats and wharfs were for the time no longer the 
 scene of activity, but the grimy bateau-men paused 
 
HEMLOCK. 5 
 
 in their cookery, to watch the tragedy about to be 
 enacted. Two soldiers lifted from their shoulders 
 the rough box that was to be his coffin, and the 
 doomed man stood beside it. Behind him was the 
 St Lawrence, a lake of molten glass ; in front the 
 line of soldiers who were to shoot him. There was 
 no hurry or confusion; everything being done in a 
 calm and business-like manner. The prisoner stood 
 undauntedly before his executioners; a man with a 
 sinister countenance, in which low cunning was 
 mixed with imperturable self-possession. He wav- 
 ed the bugler away when he approached to tie a 
 handkerchief over his eyes. "Guess I want ter hev 
 the use o' my eyes as long as I ken; but say, kurnel, 
 moughtn't you loose my arms. It's the last wish 
 of a dyin man." The officer gave a sign with his 
 hand, and the rope was uutied. "Prisoner, are you 
 ready?" 
 
 "Yes, kurnel." 
 
 Turning to the firing party, the officer gave the 
 successive orders — make ready, — present, — fire ! 
 Hardly had the last word been uttered, than the 
 prisoner, with surprising agility, gave a backward 
 leap into the river, and the volley swept over 
 where he stood, the bullets ricochetting on the sur- 
 face of the river behind. "The Yankee scoundrel I 
 Has he escaped? Ten pounds for him alive or 
 dead!" shouted the officer. There was a rush to 
 the edo-e of the wharf, and the soldiers fired at ran- 
 dom amid its posts, but the American was not to 
 
6 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 be seen. "It is impossible for him to escape," the 
 captain said to Morton, who had come to aid in the 
 search. "He would have been hung had we had a 
 gallows handy, and if he has escaped the bullet it is 
 only to be drowned, for the river runs here like a 
 mill-race and will carry him into the rapids." The 
 soldiers jumped on the boats and scanned wharf 
 and shore, and seeing no trace came to the con- 
 clusion that from his backward leap he had been 
 unable to recover himself and did not rise to the 
 surface. Satisfied the man was drowned, the sol- 
 diers were ordered back to the guard -room and the 
 stir and hurry in getting the flotilla ready were re- 
 sumed. 
 
 Soon afterwards Morton was seated at the mess- 
 table, which was crowded, for there were detach- 
 ments of two regiments on their way from Quebec, 
 where they had landed the week before, to Upper 
 Canada. The company was a jovial one, composed 
 of veteran campaigners who had learned to make 
 the most of life's pleasures when they could be 
 snatched, and joke and story kept the table in a 
 roar for a couple of hours, when the colonel's servant 
 whispered something in his ear. "Comrades," he 
 said, rising, "I am informed the boats are ready. 
 The best of friends must part when duty calls, and 
 the hour we have spent this evening is a pleasant 
 oasis in our long and toilsome journey through this 
 wilderness. We do not know what difficulties we 
 may have to encounter, but we who braved the sun 
 
HEMLOCK. 7 
 
 of India and stormed the Pyi-enees will not falter 
 before the obstacles Canadian flood and fore.-t may 
 present, and will carry the flag of our country to, 
 victory, as we have so often done under our glori- 
 ous chief, Wellington. We come to cross swor'ls- 
 not for conquest but to repel those invaders, who, 
 professing to be the champions of liberty, seek to 
 bolster the falling cause of the tyrant of Europe 
 by endeavoring to create a diversion in his favor 
 on this western continent. We shall drive the 
 boasters back, or else will leave our bones to be 
 bleached by Canadian snows; and we shall do more, 
 we shall vindicate the independence of this vast 
 country against the ingrates who smite, in the hour 
 of trial, the mother that reared them, and shall 
 preserve Canada to be the home of untold millions 
 who will perpetuate on the banks of these great 
 rivers and lakes the institutions and customs that 
 liave made the name of Britain renowned. Com- 
 rades, let us quit ourselves in this novel field of 
 conflict as beflts our colors, and I propose, as our 
 parting toast, Success to the defenders of Canada, 
 and confusion to the King's enemies." 
 
 With clank of sword and sabre each officer sprang 
 to his feet and the toast was drank with shout and 
 outstretched arm. Amid the outburst of enthusi- 
 asm, a broad-shouldered captain started the chorus, 
 
 *' Why, soldiers, why, should we be melancholy, boys? 
 Why, soldiers, why, whose basiaess 'tis to die?" 
 
 It was taken up with vigor until the roar wa? deaf- 
 
8 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ening, and then the colonel gave the signal to dis- 
 miss. From the heated room, Morton stepped out 
 and drew his breath at the spectacle presented. 
 The moon, full orbed, hung over the woods of La- 
 prairie and poured a flood of light upon the rapids 
 beneath, transforming them where shallow into long 
 lanes of glittering network and where the huge bil- 
 lows tossed in endless tumult, sable and silver alter- 
 nated. Above, the waters slumbered in the soft light, 
 unconscious of the ordeal towards which they were 
 drifting and scarcely ruffled by the light east breeze 
 tliat had sprung up. Directly in front were the 
 boats, loaded, and each having its complement of 
 ;Soldiers. The officers took their places among them 
 and they cast off", until over a hundred were en- 
 gaged in stemming the rapid current with aid of 
 sail and oar. After passing between Caughnawaga 
 and Lachine, indicated by their glancing spires, the 
 leading boats awaited on the bosom of the lake for 
 those that had still to overcome the river's drift. 
 When the last laggard had arrived, the flotilla was 
 marshalled b}^ the naval officers who had control 
 into three columns, some sixty yards apart, and, 
 the oars being shipped, and sails hoisted, moved 
 majestically for the head of the lake. Surely, 
 tliought Morton, as he eyed the imposing scene, 
 tlic far-searching lake embosomed by nodding for- 
 est, " This country is worth fighting for." 
 
 The air was balmy, the motion of the boats plea- 
 sant, the moonlight scene inspiring, so that the 
 
HEMLOCK. 9 
 
 men forgot their fatigues, and burst into song, and 
 chorus after chorus, joined in by the entire flotilla, 
 broke the silence. A piper, on his way to join his 
 reofiment, broke in at intervals and the colonel or- 
 dered the fife and drum corps to strike up. The 
 boat in which Morton sat brought up the rear, and 
 softened by distance and that inexpressible quality 
 which a calm stretch of water gives to music, he 
 thought he had never heard anything finer, and he 
 could not decide whether the singing of the men, 
 the weird strains of the pibroch, or the martial 
 music of the fifes and drums was to be preferred. 
 About an hour had been spent thus, when the 
 captain of the boat shouted to shift the sail, and 
 putting up the helm, the little barque fell out of 
 line and headed for an eminence on the south 
 shore, so sharp and smooth in outline, that Morton 
 took it to be a fortification. When their leaving 
 was noted, the men in the long lines of boats struck 
 up Auld Lang Syne, the fifes and drums accom- 
 panying, and when they had done, the piper suc- 
 ceeded. Morton listened to the strain as it came 
 faintly from the fast receding flotilla, it was that 
 of Lochaber no More. 
 
 As the shore was neared the boat was brought 
 closer to the wind, and lying over somewhat deeply, 
 the helmsman told those on the lee side to change 
 seats. In the movement a man rubbed against 
 Morton, and he felt that his clothes were wet. 
 Looking sharply at him, he saw he was one of the 
 
10 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 boat's crew, wlien liis resemblance to the spy he 
 had seen escape the bullets of the tiring - party 
 struck him. The more he looked the more con- 
 vinced he grew that he was correct, and, improba- 
 ble as it seemed, within an arm's length, almost, 
 sat the man he saw plunge into the river and 
 whom he, with everybody else, believed to have 
 been swept into the deadly rapids. With all a 
 soldier's detestation of a spy, he resolved he should 
 not escape, yet to attempt to seize him in the boat 
 would be to imperil all in it, for that the fellow 
 would make a desperate struggle Morton knew. 
 Prudently resolving to make no move until the 
 boat neared its moorings, he slipped his hand into 
 liis breast-pocket and grasped the stock of one of 
 his pistols. 
 
 As the -boat approached the shore the sharply- 
 cut eminence, which Morton had taken to be a 
 fortification, resolved itself into a grassy knoll, 
 destitute of glacis or rampart, and round the east- 
 ern exti-emity of which they glided into a smooth 
 narrow channel, whose margin was fretted by the 
 shadows cast by the trees which leant over from its 
 banks. The sail now flapped uselessly and the 
 order was given to get out the oars. The suspect- 
 ed spy rose with the other boatmen to get them 
 into place and stood on a cross-bench as he lifted 
 a heavy oar to its lock. It was a mere pretence. 
 In a moment his foot was on the gunwale and 
 he made a sudden spring towards the bank. 
 
HEMLOCK. 11 
 
 There was the sound of a plunge, of a few brief 
 strokes by a strong swimmer, a movement among 
 the bushes, and then silence. Morton was intensely 
 excited, he drew his pistol, rose and cocking it fired 
 at random. Turning to the captain of the boat he 
 shouted in fury, "You villain; you have assisted in 
 the escape of a King's prisoner." With stolid coun- 
 tenance the captain shifted the helm to suit the 
 windings of the channel, and answered, "Me no 
 spik Ingleese." Feeling he was powerless, Mor- 
 ton resumed his seat and in a minute or two a 
 cluster of white-washed huts came in view and the 
 boat drew alongside a landing-stage in front of 
 them. Several soldiers were standing on it await- 
 ing them, and on asking wdiere he would find the 
 commissariat officer, Morton was directed to one of 
 tlie houses, in front of which paced a sentry. En- 
 tering he perceived it consisted of two rooms, 
 divided by a board-partition. In the larger end 
 was a woman, surrounded by several children, 
 cooking at an open-fire, and in the other, the door 
 and windows of w^hich were open, for the evening 
 was sultry, were four officers in dishabille, seated 
 round a rickety table playing cards, and with a 
 pewter-measure in the middle of it. One of them 
 rose on seeing the stranger, while the others turned 
 carelessly to examine him. Assuring himself he 
 w^as addressino- the officer of the commissariat, Mor- 
 ton explained his business. "Oh, that's all right; 
 the powder-kegs must remain in the boat and in 
 
12 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 the morning I will get carts to forward them to 
 the front. There's an empty box, Lieutenant Mor- 
 ton; pull it up and join us," and hospitably handed 
 him the pewter-measure. It contained strong rum 
 o-roff, of which a mouthful sufficed Morton. Not 
 so the others, who, in listening to what he had to 
 tell of the news of Montreal and of the movements 
 of the troops, emptied it, and shouted to the woman 
 to refill it, and, at the same time, she brought in 
 the supper, consisting of fried fish and potatoes. 
 That disposed of, the cards were reproduced and 
 the four were evidently bent on making a night of 
 it. On returning from seeing how his men were 
 quartered, Morton found that the grog and the 
 excitement of the card-playing were telling on his 
 companions, who were noisy and quarrelsome. Ask- 
 ing where he should sleep, the woman pointed to 
 the ladder that reached to a trap in the roof, and 
 he quietly ascended. It was merely a loft, with a 
 small window in either gable and a few buffalo 
 robes and blankets laid on its loose flooring. The 
 place was so stiflingly hot that Morton knew sleep 
 was out of the question even if there had been no 
 noise beneath, and he seated himself by the side of 
 one of the windows through which the wind came 
 in puffs. The sky was now partially clouded and 
 the growl of distant thunder was heard. Fatigue 
 told on the young soldier and he dozed as he sat. 
 A crash of thunder awoke him. Startled he rose 
 and was astonished to find himself in utter dark- 
 
HEMLOCK. 13 
 
 ness, save for the rays that came through the 
 chinks of the flooring from the candle beneath, 
 where the oflficers were still carousing. He leant 
 out of the window and saw that the moon had 
 been blotted out by thick clouds. While gazing 
 there was a flash of lightning, revealing to him a 
 man crouched beside the window below. In the 
 brief instant of intense light, Morton recognized 
 the spy, and guessed he was listening to the ofiicers, 
 hoping to pick up information, in their drunken 
 talk, of use to his employers. "He cheated the 
 provost-marshal, he cheated me, but he shall not 
 escape again," muttered Morton, who drew his pis- 
 tols, got them ready, and, grasping one in each 
 hand, leant out of the window to await the next 
 flash that he might take aim. It came and in- 
 stantly Morton flred. The unsuspecting spy yelled, 
 jumped to his feet, and rushed to the cover of the 
 woods. Then all was darkness. A crash of thunder, 
 the sweep of the coming hurricane and the pelting 
 of rain, increased the futility of attempting to fol- 
 low. "I hope I've done for him," said Morton to 
 himself, "and that like a stricken fox he will die 
 in cover." 
 
 The pistol-shots together with the crash of the 
 elements had put a stop to the carousal downstairs 
 and Morton heard them disputing as to who should 
 go up and see what had happened. "I will not go," 
 said one with the deliberation of a stupidly drunk 
 man. "I am an officer of the Royal Engineers and 
 
14 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 have nothing to do with personal encounters. If 
 you want a line of circumvallation laid down, or 
 the plan of a mine, I am ready, hut my commission 
 says nothing about fighting with swords or pistols. 
 I know my office and how to maintain its dignity." 
 "Yes, Hughes, and the integrity of your skin. I'd 
 o-o myself (here he rose and tried to steady himself 
 by holding on to the table) but I'll be jiggered if I 
 can go up such a stair-case as that. It would take 
 a son of a sea-cook," and with these words, losing 
 his grip, the speaker toppled over and fell on the 
 floor. The third officer, a mere lad, was asleep in his 
 chair in a drunken stupor. The commissariat offi- 
 cer staggered to the foot of the ladder, and, after 
 vainly attempting to ascend, shouted, "I say you 
 there; what's all the shooting for? Are you such 
 a greenhorn as to be firing at mosquitoes or a bull- 
 frog. By George, when in company of gentlemen 
 you should behave yourself. I will report you to 
 your shuperior officer," and so he maundered on 
 for a while, receiving no answer from Morton. 
 Finally the woman of the house helped him to a 
 corner, where he lay down and snored away the 
 fumes of the liquor that had overcome him. Mean- 
 while the storm raged, and when it had passed 
 away, and the moon again calmly came forth, and 
 the frogs again raised their chorus, Morton was too 
 sleepy to think of going to look for the body of the 
 spy, and making as comfortable a bed as he could, 
 he lay down and rested until late next morning. 
 
CHAPTER ir. 
 
 On descending from his sleeping place, Morton 
 found the woman preparing breakfast, and, looking 
 into the adjoining room, saw that three of its in- 
 mates were still sleeping surrounded by the litter 
 of their night's carousal. Stepping out of doors, 
 he was surprised by the beauty of the sylvan scene. 
 The air had the freshness and the sky the deep 
 tender- blue that follows a thunder-storm, and the 
 sunshine glittered on the smooth surface of the 
 river that, in all its windings, was overhung by 
 towering 'trees, except where small openings had 
 been made by the settlers, from which peeped 
 their white shanties. The eminence whicli had ex- 
 cited his curiosity the night before, he perceived to 
 be an island, with a largish house at its base, flank- 
 ed by awind-milh At the landing, was the bateau, 
 with a group of men. Approaching them, he found 
 the captain, whose bloodshot eyes alone indicated 
 his excess of the preceding night. "Ah, Morton," 
 he exclaimed, "you were the only wise man among 
 us; you have your wits about you this morning. 
 For me, I had a few hours' pleasure I now loathe 
 
16 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 to think of and a racking headache. Come, let us 
 have a swim and then go to breakfast." 
 
 Following him to the nook he sought, Morton 
 told of his shot at the spy. The captain listened 
 attentively to the story. "I hope you winged him," 
 he said, "but he will escape. The settlers, except a 
 few Old Countrymen, are all in sympathy with the 
 Yankees, and will shelter and help him to get 
 away. We cannot make a move that word is not 
 sent to the enemy. I will warn the Indians to 
 look out for him. Had it not been for the rain, 
 they could trace him to his lair." 
 
 On returning to the house, they found their com- 
 rades trying to make themselves presentable and 
 sat down to a breakfast of fried pork and sour 
 bread, to which Morton did ample justice. The 
 commissariat officer told him he could not start for 
 some time, as carts were few and the rain would 
 have filled the holes in the track called a road. He 
 could have forwarded him more quickly by canoes, 
 but there was a risk of wetting the powder at the 
 rapids. It was noon before sufficient carts arrived 
 to enable Morton to start, when a laborious journey 
 ensued, the soldiers being called on constantly to 
 help the undaunted ponies to drag the cart-wheels 
 out of the holes in which they got mired. When 
 they had gone a few miles the carts halted and the 
 kegs were placed in boats, which conveyed them to 
 their destination. Camp La Fourche was found 
 to consist of a few temporary buildings, or rather 
 
HEMLOCK. 17 
 
 sheds, which, with the barns and shanties of the 
 settlers near by, housed a few hundred men, of 
 whom few were regulars. Morton's orders were 
 to remain and time passed heavily, the only excite- 
 ment being when a scout came in with reports of 
 the movements of the American army on the fron- 
 tier, which were generally exaggerated. The camp 
 had been purposely placed at the forks of the 
 English and Chateaugay rivers, to afford a base 
 of operations against the invader, should he ap- 
 proach either by way of the town of Cham plain 
 or of Chateaugay. Morton relieved the tedium of 
 waiting by hunting and fishing, for his proper 
 duties were slight. At first he did not venture 
 into the woods without a guide, but experience 
 quickly taught one so active and keen of observa- 
 tion sufficient bush-lore to venture alone with his 
 pocket-compass. The fishing, at that late season, 
 was only tolerable, and while he enjoyed to the 
 full the delight of skimming the glassy stretches 
 of both rivers in a birch canoe, he preferred the 
 more active motion and greater variety of travers- 
 ing the pathless woods with his gun. He had 
 been in camp over a week when he started for 
 an afternoon's exploring of the woods. After an 
 hour's tramp he struck the trail of what he be- 
 lieved to be a bear. Following it was such plea- 
 sant exercise of his ingenuity that he took no note 
 of time, and he had traversed miles of swamp and 
 ridge before prudence cried halt. The sun was 
 
18 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 sinking fast, and to retrace his track was out of 
 the question. He resolved to strike due north, 
 which he knew would take him to the Chateaugay 
 where he would find shelter for the night. The 
 flush of the sunset was dying from the sky when 
 he emerged from the woods on the banks of the 
 river, which flowed dark and silent between the 
 endless array of trees which sentinelled it on either 
 side. Threading his way downward he, in time, 
 came upon a clearing — a gap in the bush filled with 
 ripening grain and tasselled corn. The shanty, a 
 very humble one, stood at the top of the bank, with 
 the river at its feet. Gratified at the prospect of 
 rest, he paused before swinging himself over the 
 rude fence. There rose in the evening air the 
 sound of singing: it was a psalm- tune. The family 
 were at worship. Reverently the soldier uncovered 
 his head and listened. The psalm ended, he could 
 hear the voice of supplication, though not the 
 words. When Morton approached the house he 
 saw^ a heavily-built man leave the door to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Gude e'en, freen; ye're oot late. But I see ye're 
 ane o' the military and your wark caas ye at a' 
 hoors. Is there ony news o' the Yankee army?" 
 
 Morton explained he had not been on duty but 
 had got belated in hunting and craved the boon of 
 shelter until morning, for which he would pay. 
 
 "Pay! say ye. A dog wearing the King's colors 
 wad be welcome to my best. You maun be new 
 
HEMLOCK. 1 9 
 
 to this country to think the poorest settler in it 
 wad grudge to share his bite with ony passerby^ 
 Come your ways; we are richt glad to see you." 
 
 Entering the shanty Morton was astounded at 
 the contrast between the homelike tidiness of the 
 interior and the rudeness of the (*xterior, every- - 
 thing being neatly arranged and of spotless clean- 
 liness. "Truly," he thought, "it is not abundance 
 that makes comfort, but the taste and ingenuity to 
 make the best of what we have." The glow of the 
 log-tire in the open chimney was supplemented by 
 the faint light afforded by a candle made from, 
 deer-fat, which showed him a tall young woman, 
 who came forward to shake hands without the 
 slightest embarrassment, an elderly woman, evi- 
 dently the mother, who kept her seat by the lire, 
 explaining she "wasna very weel," and two stout 
 young men. 
 
 "Sit in by the fire, Mr Morton; there is a snclL 
 touch in the evening air that makes it no unplea- 
 sant, and Maggie will get ye something to eat An 
 hae ye nae news frae the lines? Does it no beat a' 
 that thae Yankees, wha mak such pretensions to 
 be the only folk i' the warld wha understan what 
 liberty is, should fail in practice? What hae we 
 done that they shud come in tae disturb us? Hae 
 we nae richt to live doucely and quietly under our 
 appointed ruler, that they should come into our ain 
 country to harry and maybe kill us? Dod, they 
 are a bonny lot! In the name o' freedom drawing 
 
'20 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 i:he sword to help the oppressor of Europe and the 
 slangliterer of thousands of God's children by crea- 
 tion, if no by adoption." 
 
 "We have the comfort," replied Morton, "that 
 they have not got Canada yet." 
 
 "An never will,' replied the settler, "there's no 
 -an Auld Countryman on the Chateaugay wha wad 
 na sooner tint life an a' than gie up his indepen- 
 dence. My sons an mysel are enrolled in Captain 
 Ogilvie's company and mair Yankees than they 
 count on will hansel it's ground afore they win oor 
 puir biggin." 
 
 "Dinna speak sae, gudeman," said his wife, "tho' 
 the Lord may chastise he w^ll not deliver us to the 
 oppressor, but, as with the Assyrian, will cause him, 
 oin he come doon on us, to hear a rumor that shall 
 make him to return to his own land. We are but 
 a feeble folk here by the river-side, but He winna 
 f ;\il them wha trust Him." 
 
 Maggie here beckoned the young officer to draw 
 to the table, and the bread and milk tasted all the 
 sweeter to him that they had been spread by so 
 winsome a damsel. After supper Morton was glad 
 to fall in with the family's custom of going early 
 to bed, and accompanying the lads, whom he found 
 to be frank, hearty fellows, to the outbuilding, slept 
 cojnfortably alongside them on top of the fragrant 
 fodder. At daylight they w^ere astir, when their 
 guest joined them in their labors, until a shout 
 from Mao-gie told of breakfast being ready. Seen 
 
HEMLOCK. 2 1 
 
 by daylio;ht the favorable impression made upon 
 ^lorton the previous evening was deepened, and he 
 did not know which most to admire, her tact wl.icli 
 never placed her at a disadvantage or the deftness 
 with Avhich she discharged her household duties. 
 Reluctantly he left, accepting readily the invitation 
 to revisit them. In a couple of hours he was in- 
 camp and reported himself. 
 
 The acquaintance thus accidentally formed was 
 cultivated by Morton, and few evenings passed 
 that his canoe did not end its journey at the foot 
 of the bank whence the settler's shanty overlooked 
 the Chateaugay. The more he knew of the family 
 the more he was attracted, and before long he was 
 on familiar terms with all its members. Tlie in- 
 action of camp-life in the backwoods ceased to be- 
 wearisome and there was a glow and a joyousness 
 in his days which he had never before known. So 
 it came, that when, one afternoon, the oi'derly- 
 sero-eant notified him the officer in command de- 
 sired to see him, the prospect of being sent avray 
 caused him a pang of vexation. His orders were 
 to be ready to start at daylight for the frontier 
 with despatclies for the Indian guard and to collect 
 what information he could with regard to the Am- 
 erican army encamped at Four Corners. "I trust 
 to your discretion," said the officer, "as to what 
 means you will use to get it, but we want to know 
 the extent of the force and the prospect of their 
 movino;-. I will mve you an Indian as a £:^uide, and 
 
'22 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 one who speaks English." Morton withdrew, pleased 
 that the order was not one of recall to his regiment 
 at Montreal, and spent the evening with the For- 
 syths. The news of his departure, on an errand 
 that involved some danger, even though it would 
 last only a few days, dampened the innocent mirth 
 of the household and the soldier was vain enough 
 to think Maggie gave his hand a warmer pressure 
 than usual when he left. He rose with the first 
 streak of daylight and had finished his breakfast 
 ^vhen he was told his guide was waiting. Hastily 
 strapping his cloak on his back and snatching up 
 liis musket, he went out and beheld an Indian 
 standing stolidly on the road. Morton noted that 
 he was taller than the average of his race, and, de- 
 spite his grizzled hair, gave every sign of unabated 
 ^'igor. He was dressed in native fashion and his 
 face was hideous with war-paint. Without utter- 
 ing a word, he led the way and they were soon 
 iDuried in the woods. The Indian's pace, consider- 
 ing the nature of the ground and the obstacles 
 presented, was marvellously rapid, and induced no 
 fatigue. Morton vigorously exerted himself to 
 keep up with him and, as he did so, admired the 
 deftness with which the Indian passed obstacles 
 which he laboriously overcame. The ease and 
 smoothness with which the red man silently slip- 
 ped tlirough thickets and fallen trees, he compared 
 to the motion of a fish, and his own awkwardness 
 to that of a blindfolded man, who stumbled at every 
 
HEMLOCK. 2'] 
 
 obstacle. They had travelled thus for over two 
 hours when suddenly the Indian halted, peered 
 carefully forward, and then signed to Morton to 
 stand still. Falling on his knees the guide crept, 
 or rather glided forward. Disregarding his sign, 
 Morton shortly followed until the object of the In- 
 dian's quest came in sight. Three deer were graz- 
 ing on a natural meadow by the side of a creek. 
 Slowly the hunter raised his gun and its report 
 was the first intimation the timid creatures had 
 that an enemy was near. The youngest and 
 plumpest had fallen; the others bounded into the 
 bush. Standing over the graceful creature, whose 
 sides still palpitated, the Indian said, "Lift." It 
 w^as the first word he had uttered. Morton drew 
 the four hoofs together and did so. "Put on your 
 shoulder," added the guide. Morton laughed and 
 set the animal down; he could lift it but to carry 
 it was out of the question. Without moving a 
 feature, the Indian grasped the deer by its legs, 
 swung it round his neck, and stepped out as if the 
 load were no burden, and which he bore until the 
 swamp was passed and a ridge was reached, when 
 he tied the hoofs together with a withe and swung 
 the carcase from as lofty a branch as he could 
 reach. Half an hour afterwards he pointed to a 
 slioht disturbance in the litter of the forest. "In- 
 dian passed here this morning." 
 
 "How do you know it was an Indian?" 
 
 " By mark of moccasin." 
 
24 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "But some white men wear moccasins." 
 "Yes, but white man steps differently. The wild 
 duck flies no more like the tame duck than the In- 
 dian walks like the pale face." 
 
 Following the trail thus struck, they were soon 
 hailed by a scout and in the midst of the camp of 
 the frontier guard they sought. Morton counted 
 seventeen- Indians lounging or sleeping about the 
 fire, and was told there were as many more lurking 
 in the bush, watching the enemy, who had, of late, 
 been sending in strong parties to make petty raids 
 upon the few settlers who lived on the Canadian 
 side of the boundary. As the captain was absent 
 and would not be back until the afternoon, Morton 
 could only await his return, and the rest was not 
 unwelcome, for the rapid journey had induced 
 some fatigue, and he was interested in watching 
 the Indians, this being his first experience witli 
 them apart from white men. They paid much 
 deference to his guide, whose name he now learned 
 w^as Hemlock, and the Indian of whom he made 
 enquiry told him the reason was that he was the 
 son of a great sachem in a tribe now destroyed, 
 and was "a big medicine." Hemlock accepted their 
 tributes to his superiority with unmoved counten- 
 ance and as a matter of course, until, after a lono- 
 pow-wow, he stretched himself on the ground, face- 
 downwards, and went to sleep. Associating the 
 Indians with gloomy moroseness, and a stolidit}^ 
 insensible alike to pain or mirth, Morton was sur- 
 
HEMLOCK. 25 
 
 prised to see how, wlien left to themselves, tliey 
 chattered like children, laughed, and played boyish 
 tricks upon one another, and regretted he could 
 not understand what they were saying. If he had, 
 he would have found their talk was the shallowest 
 of banter. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the captain returned and 
 wannly welcomed Morton. Although dressed like 
 an Indian, his only distinguishing feature being a 
 captain's scarlet sash. Captain Perrigo was a white 
 man and English in speech, his familiarity with 
 the Indians and their lanmiai^-e havinor been ac- 
 quired during his residence at Caughnawaga. He 
 was thoroughly conversant with all that was pass- 
 ing in the American camp and expressed his belief 
 that only the timidity of General Hampton pre- 
 vented a move on Canada. The force was so strong 
 and well-equipped that he believed it could not be 
 checked until the island of Montreal was readied. 
 "How can so large an army move through these 
 woods?" asked Morton; "why, even your handful of 
 Indians could cut up a regiment in half an hour." 
 
 "You forget," replied Perrigo, "that the larger 
 part of these American soldiers have been reared 
 on farms and are familiar with the bush. They 
 are at home with the axe, and have scouts as well- 
 trained to bush-fighting as our own. Worse than 
 that, many of the xlmerican settlers who left the 
 Chateaugay and the other Huntingdon settlements 
 at the declaration of war are with them as guides." 
 
26 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "I should like to see the American army," said 
 Morton. 
 
 "That is easy; we reconnoitre their camp this 
 evening and you may go with us." 
 
 By this time dinner was ready and it was more 
 appetizing than Morton looked for. Hemlock, on 
 his arrival, had told where he had left the carcase 
 of the deer, which two of the Indians went for and 
 returned with it slung between them on a pole. 
 This they had cooked along with pieces of fat pork. 
 The venison, for a wonder, proved to be tender and 
 succulent, and was eaten with biscuit, of which 
 there was an abundance. When the time came to 
 move, Perrigo gave the word, when 28 of his men 
 fell into line, Hemlock and Morton accompanying 
 them. They moved in silence in single lile, the 
 fleetest runner of their number leading about two 
 hundred yards ahead, to see that the way was clear. 
 No word was spoken except when, on gaining the 
 summit of a stony knoll, Perrigo whispered to 
 Morton that they had crossed the boundary and 
 were in the United States. As they proceeded 
 they moved more slowly, showing they were near- 
 ing the enemy, and twice their scout signalled to 
 them to halt while he reconnoitred. The second 
 time Perrigo went forward and they waited while 
 he scanned the enemy's position. On returning, 
 they moved westward, when the accustomed sound 
 of the tramp of a numerous body of troops met the 
 ear of Morton, followed by the commands of the 
 
HEMLOCK. 27 
 
 adjutant. Motioning to Morton to follow him, Per- 
 rigo cautiously crept forward to a clump of under- 
 growth, and peering through it the American camp 
 was seen. To the right stood the cluster of wooden 
 huildinors which formed the village of Four Corners, 
 and on the fields that sloped up from it southwards, 
 shone peacefully in the setting sun long rows of 
 w^hite tents. On a small field between the camp 
 and the village two regiments were being drilled ; 
 at one corner was a body of mounted officers ob- 
 serving them. The woods, in which the British 
 party lay concealed, so closely hemmed in the thin 
 line of buildings that formed the village, that the 
 parade-ground was not over 300 yards distant. 
 
 Morton scanned the troops as they went through 
 their evolutions and marked, with some complac- 
 ency, that, although tall and wiry men, they were 
 slouchy in their movements and marched like dock- 
 laborers. "Could we not give those fellows a fright?" 
 he whispered to Perrigo. 
 
 "If we were sure their patrols are not out we 
 could. If they are, they might flank us." 
 
 "No danger," interposed Hemlock, "see!" and he 
 pointed to the guard -house, where the men detailed 
 for the night's patrols were waiting. 
 
 "All rifrht," answered Perrigo, "I will send two 
 or tliree to creep round to the bush on the right to 
 cause a diversion." 
 
 "Stay," said Morton, "I want to get a closer view 
 and Hemlock will go with me." 
 
28 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 It was so decided upon, and while they picked 
 their way to the west, Perrio-o busied himself in 
 extendincT liis little force aloncr the edo^e of the 
 woods, so as to make their numbers appear formid- 
 able. The most dangerous part of Morton's move- 
 ment was crossing two roads, but Hemlock, who 
 knew the ground thoroughly, selected parts where 
 there were bends, so that they could not be seen by 
 travellers approaching either wa}^ When Hemlock 
 dropped on all fours and crept he was followed by 
 Morton, ^v]lo found he was at the edge of the Held 
 on which the drill was in progress. The troops 
 had gone through the routine movements and were 
 drawn up in line, awaiting the inspection of 'the 
 o^eneral officer, who, with his escort, was ridin^^ 
 from the lower part of the iield. A stout, elderly 
 man rode in advance on a splendid black horse. 
 Hemlock whispered it was General Hampton. As 
 they drew nearer Morton started in amaze, for 
 among his staff, despite his handsome uniform, 
 he recognized the countenance of the spy he had 
 twice shot at. His astonishment was checked by 
 a gurgling sound of anger from his companion, and 
 turning he saw that Hemlock had partly risen, 
 grasping his musket as if about to tire, his face so 
 swollen with rage that the cords of the neck stood 
 out. "Stop," said Morton, as he clutched his buck- 
 skin jacket, "if we fire now while they are in rank 
 we are lost; wait until they are dismissed and in 
 disorder." 
 
HEMLOCK. 2D 
 
 "I care not; thrice have I missed him oi' hite; 
 now he falls and Hemlock is revenged." He pulled 
 the trigger, but the flint snapped harmlessly, for 
 the priming had been lost. The disappointment 
 restored his self-possession and he drew back with 
 a scowl that made Morton's flesh creep. On the 
 cavalcade of officers came, chatting unconcernedly, 
 and wheeled within twenty yards of where Morton 
 stood. He had a good view of the spy's face, and 
 he thouo-ht he had never seen one where cunnino- 
 and selflshness were so strongly marked. "A man 
 who would kill his mother if she stood in his w^ay," 
 muttered Morton. "And for his passing pleasure 
 tear out the heart of a father," added Hemlock in 
 a bitter tone. They noticed how haughtily Gen. 
 Hampton bore himself and how superciliously he 
 glanced at the men as he passed up and down their 
 ranks. When he had finished, he put spurs to his 
 horse and galloped towards the house in the village 
 where his quarters were established, followed by 
 his escort. The troops were then dismissed and as 
 each company filed away in the early twilight to- 
 wards its respective camp, Morton said "Now is 
 our time." Hemlock rose, drew himself to his full 
 height, seemed for a few seconds to be gathering 
 strength, and then let out a screech, so piercing 
 and terrific that Morton, who had not before heard 
 the war-whoop, would not have believed a human 
 being could make such a sound. It was the signal 
 to Perrigo's men, and they answered from different 
 
30 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 parts of the bush in similar fasliion. The Ameri- 
 can soldiers, on their way to their tents, halted in 
 amaze, while from new and unexpected quarters, 
 rose the blood-curdling yell, giving the impression 
 that they were being surrounded from the north 
 and west by a horde of Indians, a foe of whom 
 they were in mortal dread. Taken by surprise, 
 they broke and ran towards the camp, and Morton 
 could see the inmates of the tents svvarminix out 
 and running to meet them, as if to find out the 
 cause of alarm. Hemlock and Morton were now 
 loading and tiring as quickly as they could, the 
 former never intermitting his ear-piercing shrieks, 
 while the edge of the bush to their left was dotted 
 with puffs of smoke from the guns of Perrigo's 
 band. "O for five hundred morel" cried Morton 
 in his excitement, "and we would rout this army of 
 cowards." The confusion and clamor in the camp 
 increased and the contradictory orders of officers 
 were paid no heed to by men who only wanted to 
 know wliere they could fly to escape the detested 
 Indians. Amid the excitement rang out a bugle, 
 and turning whence the sound came, Morton saw 
 it was from the General's headquarters and that, 
 to its summons, horsemen were urging their way. 
 ''Huh!" exclaimed Hemlock, "these are scouts; some 
 of them Indians. We must go, for they will hold 
 the roads." With a final yell he plunged into the 
 bush and Morton followed. They had not gone 
 far when Hemlock turned and grasped his shoul- 
 
HEMLOCK. 31 
 
 cler. As they stood, the hoot's of advancing horses 
 were heard. The sound came nearer and Morton 
 guessed they were riding along the east and west 
 road in front of where he stood and which they 
 had been about to cross. The troop swept past 
 and then the order "Halt!" was shouted. "Louis, 
 take five men and scour the bush from the river 
 up until you hear from the party who are search- 
 ing the bush from above. The screeching devils 
 who hid here cannot escape between you. We will 
 patrol the road and shoot them if the}^ do." The 
 motion of the men ordered to dismount was heard. 
 "Quick," whispered Hemlock, "or they will be 
 upon us/' and facing westward he led to the brink 
 of what seemed to be a precipice, from the foot of 
 which rose the sound of rushing water. Hemlock 
 slipped his gun into his belt in front of him and 
 did the same with Morton's, then, before he knew 
 what was meant, Morton was grasped in his iron 
 clutch, unable to move, his head tucked into his 
 breast, and with a wild fling over the edge of the 
 bank they went rolling and crashing downwards, 
 throuojh the bushes and shrubs that faced it. On 
 they rolled until a final bounce threw them into a 
 pool of the river. Without a moment's delay, Hem- 
 lock caught Morton's right arm and dragged him 
 a considerable distance down the narrow and shal- 
 low stream behind a clump of bushes. Breath- 
 less and excited by the rapid motion, Morton sank 
 prone on the turf, while Hemlock, laying aside the 
 
32 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 guns, which the water had rendered useless, drew 
 his tomahawk, wliich he held ready for use, while 
 he bent forward listening intently. In a few min- 
 utes Morton became conscious of men stealthily 
 approaching, and devoutly thanked God when he 
 perceived they were all on the other side of the 
 river from where they were concealed. On they 
 came, searching every place of possible conceal- 
 ment, with a rapidity that only children of the 
 woods can attain. Soon they were directly oppo- 
 site and passed on. Hemlock relaxed his strained 
 attitude, drew a long breath, and sat down beside 
 Morton. "They did not think we had time to cross 
 the river, but when they do not find us they will 
 come back on this side." 
 
 " What shall we do next?" asked Morton. 
 
 "Wait till it is dark enough to creep across the 
 road at the brido-e." 
 
 "And if they come back before then?" 
 
 "Fight them," abruptly answered Hemlock. 
 
 In the narrow gorge where they lay the gloom 
 quickly gathered, and it soon grew so dark that 
 Morton's fears as to the searching-party returning 
 were relieved. When the last streak of day had 
 disappeared. Hemlock led the way, and they crept 
 as quickly as the nature of the ground would per- 
 mit down the river, whose noisy brawl blotted out 
 the sound they made. 
 
 Coming out at a pond, where the water had been 
 dammed to drive a small mill. Hemlock stopped 
 
HEMLOCK. 3.3 
 
 and listened. The road with its bridge was directly 
 in front, and it was likely guards were there posted. 
 As they watched, the door of a house opened, and a 
 man came out with a lantern. It was the miller 
 going to the mill. As he swung the light its beams 
 shone along the road, failing to reveal a sentinel. 
 When he passed into the mill. Hemlock led the 
 way under the shade of the trees that fringed the 
 mill-pond, crossed the road, and down into the 
 rocky bed of the stream on the other side. Paus- 
 ing- to let Morton orain his breath after the run, he 
 said in his ear, " We are safe now and can wait for 
 the moon." 
 
 "Can't we rejoin Perrigo?" asked Morton. 
 
 "No; scouts in woods over there; hide tonight 
 and go back tomorrow. 
 
 The strain of excitement over, Morton stretched 
 himself on the ferns that abounded and quickly fell 
 asleep. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 When Morton opened his eyes he found the dell, 
 or rather gorge, for the sides were almost precipit- 
 ous though clad with vegetation, was lit up by the 
 moon, and Hemlock by his side, sitting Indian 
 fashion, clasping his knees. Without uttering a 
 word, he rose on perceiving the young officer w^as 
 awake and lifted his gun to move on. Morton 
 obeyed the mute sign and they began to descend 
 the bed of the stream. It was a task of some diffi- 
 culty, for it abounded in rocks and often there was 
 no foothold at the sides, the water laving the cliffs 
 that formed the banks. Had it not been that the 
 season was an unusually dry one, leaving the river 
 bed largely bare, Morton could not have kept up 
 with his companion. Chilled by his wet garments, 
 the exercise was rather grateful to him and he ex- 
 erted himself to overcome the obstacles in his path. 
 As they went on, the banks grew higher and the 
 gorge more narrow, until, turning a bend, Morton 
 perceived the river dashed down a channel cleft 
 out of a rock, which rose a pillared wall on one 
 
HEMLOCK. 35 
 
 side and on the other had been rendered concave 
 by the washing down of the debris of ages. High 
 above, shafts of moonlight struggled tliru' the foli- 
 age and, falling irregularly on the sides, brought 
 into ghastly relief the nakedness of the walls of 
 the rocky prison. Deeply impressed Morton fol- 
 lowed his guide down the gloomy chasm, whence 
 the sound of falling water came, and they passed 
 two small falls. Below the lower one, where the 
 walls drew nearer, as if they grudged the scanty 
 space the}^ had been affording the tumultuous 
 stream for its passage, the cliifs grew loftier. 
 Hemlock halted, and pointing to a water-worn re- 
 cess in the rocks, that afforded some covering, said, 
 "Sleep there." Morton lay down, but he was in 
 no humor to sleep again. The magnificence of the 
 rock-hewn chamber in which he lay, with a giant 
 cliff" bending over him, had excited his imagina- 
 tion, and his eyes wandered from the foaming falls 
 in front of him to the solemn heights, whose walls 
 were flecked with shruls and topped by spruce trees. 
 The contrast of the unceasing noise and motion of 
 the river with the eternal silence and imperturb- 
 ability of the rocks, deeply impi-essed hi in. Thus 
 time passed and when he had scanned the scene to 
 his satisfaction, his interest turned to his compan- 
 ion, who had left him and stood beneath a pillar of 
 rock higher than its fellows, where the chasm 
 narrowed into a mere tunnel. Evidently supposing" 
 that Morton was sound asleep, he was going through 
 
36 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 those motions of incantation by which Indian medi- 
 cine-nion profess to evoke the spirits. He writhed 
 until his contortions were horrible, while the work- 
 ing of his features showed he was inwardly striving 
 to induce an exalted and morbid condition of feel- 
 ing. He smote his breast resounding blows, he 
 flung himself downwards on the rock and shook 
 himself until his body jerked with involuntary 
 twitch ings, he shrieked in hollow tones and pluck- 
 ed at his hair, until the sweat rolled down his 
 cheeks. After a fit of hysterical laughter he sank 
 in a swoon, which lasted so long that Morton was 
 debating whether he should not go over to him. 
 All this time the moon had been sailing upward 
 and now stood directly over the chasm, its beams 
 transforming the foaming river into a channel of 
 milky whiteness and, where it broke into curls at 
 the falls, into streams of pearls, while the foliage 
 that tempered the stern outline of the rocks, be- 
 dew^ed by the spray that kept them constantly 
 moist, glistened as if sprinkled with diamond-dust. 
 The moonlight streamed on the prostrate body of 
 the Indian, and as he awoke from his trance and 
 slowly raised himself, Morton read in his face a 
 wonderful change — a look of calmness and of su- 
 pernatural ecstasy. With great dignity he drew 
 himself up and stepped forward a few paces until 
 he stood directly beneath the pillar of rock. Then 
 he spoke: "Spirit of the wood and stream, who 
 loves this best of all thine abodes, come to me. 
 
HEMLOCK. 37 
 
 Hemlock seeks thee to help him. The wounded 
 moose will never breathe again the morning-air, 
 the stricken pine-tree never put forth fresh shoots, 
 and Hemlock is wounded and stricken and growing 
 old. Shall the hand grow feeble before the blow 
 is dealt, the eye grow dim before mine enemy is 
 slain, and my ear grow deaf before it liears his 
 death-ofroan ? The leaves that fall rot and the 
 water that passeth returneth not ; therefore, oh 
 Spirit, grant to Hemlock his prayer, that before 
 night comes he may find whom he seeks. Again, 
 this day, has he escaped me, shielded by his medi- 
 cine. Break the spell, O Spirit; take away the 
 charm that holds my arm when I aim the blo^^■, and 
 pluck awa}^ the shield the evil ones hold over him ! 
 The eao-le has his nest on the hill and the fox his 
 lair in the valley, but Hemlock has no home. The 
 doe fondles its fawn and the tired swallow is 
 helped across the great w^ater on the wings of its 
 sons, but Hemlock has no children. The light of 
 his eyes w^as taken from him, the joy of his heart 
 was frozen. The Yankee stole his land, slew his 
 brothers, bewitched his only daughter, and drove 
 him away, and now he is a sick-struck man, whom 
 none come near. Spirit, grant the prayer of Hem- 
 lock; break the spell that binds me, that I may 
 taste the blood of mine enemy and I shall die 
 happy." 
 
 He paused and assumed a listening attitude as it 
 awaitinor an answer. That in his morbid state of 
 
38 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 mind he fancied he heard the Spirit in reply was 
 evident, for he broke out again: 
 
 "I am desolate; my heart is very bitter. The 
 smoke of the wigwams of my clan rises no more; I 
 alone am left. When the north wind tells where 
 are the leaves of last summer I will say where are 
 the wai-riors of my tribe. As the beaver the white 
 man came among us, but he crushed us like the 
 bear; the serpent sings on the rock but he bites in 
 the grass. We were deceived and robbed of the 
 lands of our fathers. Our destroyer is near, he is 
 on the war-path, his hatchet is raised against the 
 Great Father. Blind his eyes, trip his feet with 
 magic, O Oki, and take the spell from the arm of 
 Hemlock. The eagle soars to the mountain when 
 the loon keeps to the valley; the snow-bird breasts 
 tlie storm when the moose seeks the cedar-brake: 
 the wolf knows no master and the catamount wnll 
 not tl^^ so the Indian clings to his hunting-ground 
 and will not be the slave of the stranger. Spirit, 
 help to destroy the destroyer and to rob the robber, 
 Tlie hunted deer dies of his wounds in the strange 
 forest. Tlie arrows of the Indian are nigh spent 
 and he mourns alone. The glory of our nation has 
 faded as the fii-e of the forest in the morning-sun, 
 and few live to take revenge. Oki, speak, and 
 strengthen the heart of Hemlock for battle!" 
 
 The Indian fell prostrate before the gaunt pillar of 
 stone to which he spoke and lay there for some time. 
 When he rose, there was a weary look in his im- 
 
HEMLOCK. 39 
 
 passive features. "The Spirit has spoken: he tells 
 Hemlock he will answer him in a dream." Ad- 
 vancing towards Morton he lay down and fell asleep. 
 
 High above him shafts of sunlight w^ere inter- 
 woven with the foliag-e of the trees that overhuno; 
 the crest of the chasm, forming a radiant ceiling, 
 when Morton awoke. The weirdly romantic gulf 
 in which he lay, coupled with the strange scenes of 
 the night, caused him to think the past was a 
 dream, but going over the several details the sense 
 of reality was restored, and there, a few feet from 
 him, was stretched the sinewy form of the Indian. 
 "Who could fancy that a being so stolid, heav}^ 
 and matter - of - fact," asked Morton of himself, 
 "should show such keenness of feelincr and so active 
 an imagination? And, yet, how little we know of 
 w^hat sleeps in the bosoms of our fellows. Mark 
 that sullen pool above the cataract! How dead 
 and commonplace its water appears. It is swept 
 over the brink and, breaking into a hundred new 
 forms, instantly reveals there dwelt dormant be- 
 neath its placid surface a life and a beauty un- 
 dreamt of. We are not all as we seem, and so with 
 this much-tried son of the forest." 
 
 He rose to bathe his stiffened limbs in the river 
 and the motion caused Hemlock to spring to his 
 feet. He glanced at the sky, and remarked that 
 he had slept too long. While Morton bathed, 
 Hemlock busied himself in contriving a scoop of 
 withes and birch bark, with which, standing be- 
 
40 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 neatli the fall, he quickly tossed out a number of 
 trout. A flint supplied fire and on the embers the 
 fish as caught were laid to roast, and whether it 
 was so, or was due to his keen appetite, Morton 
 thought the}^ tasted sweeter than when cleaned. 
 With the biscuit in their pouches, though wet, they 
 made a fair breakfast. As they finished, a faint 
 echo of drums and fifes was wafted to them. "We 
 will stay a little while," said Hemlock, "to let the 
 scouts go back to camp, for they would search the 
 woods ao'ain this mornino^." 
 
 "And what then?" asked Morton. 
 
 "We will go back to Perrigo, who is near-by." 
 
 "Would they not fly to Canada after wliat they 
 did?" 
 
 "Indians are like the snake. When it is hunted, 
 it does not fly; it hides. They are waiting for us." 
 
 "Where were you taught to speak English so 
 well. Hemlock?" 
 
 "I did not need to be taught; I learnt it with 
 the Iroquois. I was born near an English settle- 
 ment and my choice companion was an English 
 girl, we played together, and were taught together 
 by the missionary; long after, she became my wife.'* 
 
 "But you are not a Christian?" 
 
 "No; when I saw the white man's ways I wanted 
 not his religion." 
 
 "And your wife, is she living?" 
 
 "Hemlock does not lay his heart open to the 
 stranger; he is alone in the world." 
 
HEMLOCK. 41 
 
 Respecting his reserve, and tho' curious to know 
 if the guardian-spirit of the ohasm had spoken to 
 him in his dreams, Morton changed the subject, the 
 more so as he did not wish his companion to know 
 that he had been the unwitting witness of his in- 
 vocation ceremonial. He asked about the chasm 
 in whose solemn depths they found shelter, and 
 Hemlock told how it had been known to all the 
 seven nations of the Iroquois and regarded by them 
 as a chosen abode of the spirits, the more so as its 
 origin was supernatural. There had been a very 
 rainy season and the beavers had their villages 
 Hooded and were in danger of being destroyed. 
 Two of them volunteered to visit the spirit-land 
 and beseech the help of their oki, which he pro- 
 mised. He came one dark night and with a single 
 liap of his tail smote the rock, splitting it in two 
 and allowing the waters to drain into the low 
 country beneath. Morton listened gravely, seeing 
 his companion spoke in all seriousness, and thought 
 the tale might be an Indian version of the earth- 
 quake, or other convulsion of nature, by which the 
 bed of sandstone had been rent asundei', and a 
 channel thus afforded for the surplus waters of the 
 adjoining heights. The trees and bushes which 
 had found an airy foothold in crevices, and the 
 weather-beaten and lichened faces of the cliffs, told 
 how remote that time must have been. 
 
 It was wearing on to noon before Hemlock con- 
 sidered it safe to move. The delay they spent in 
 
42 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 cleaning their arms, and Morton, to his regret, 
 found that his powder was useless from being wet. 
 The Indian, more provident, had saved some in a 
 water-proof pouch of otter skin, but he had too 
 little to do more than lend a sinHe charo^e for his 
 gun. Morton took the opportunity to clean and 
 arrano-e his uniform as he best could and when 
 ready to move felt he looked more as became an 
 officer of the King's army than when he awoke. 
 Hemlock led the way to where a cleft in the wall 
 of rocks afforded a possibility of ascent, and, with 
 the occasional aid of his outstretched arm, Morton 
 managed to reach the summit. When he had, he 
 perceived he stood on a plain of table-rock, the 
 cleavage of which formed the chasm, of whose ex- 
 istence the explorer could have no intimation until 
 he reached its brink. They had not gone far, until 
 Hemlock halted and looked intently at the ground. 
 "A party of Yankees have passed here within an 
 hour; a dozen or more of them. See the trail of 
 their muskets!" 
 
 "How do you know they have just passed?" 
 "The dew has not been dry here over an hour 
 and they passed when it was gone. They are 
 searching for us, for one went to that bush there 
 to see no one was hiding." 
 
 Morton looked perplexed, for nothing was more 
 distasteful than to be taken prisoner. "Had we 
 not," he susrsrested, "better return to the chasm and 
 wait for nifrht?" 
 
HEMLOCK. 43 
 
 "It is too late," replied Hemlock, "when they 
 come back they would see our trail and follow it. 
 We will have to go on and if we get across the 
 road we are safe," and without another word he 
 went on until the road was reached. On scanning 
 it, before making a dash across, they perceived, to 
 their dismay, a mounted sentry so posted as to 
 give a clear view of the portion of the road they 
 w^ere standing by. Hemlock gave a grunt of dis- 
 appointment and returned into the bush and after 
 a few minutes' rapid walking turned to Morton 
 with the ^vords, "You stay here, until I go and see 
 the road. Over there is the track of a short-cut 
 between Four Corners and the blockhouse, so if 
 Yankees pass they will keep to it and not see you. 
 Do not leave until I come back." 
 
 Morton threw himself on the grass to await his 
 report, and the rest was grateful, for the day was 
 hot and their short tramp fast. The minutes 
 sped \vithout sign of the Indian, who he conjec- 
 tured was finding it difficult to discover a clear 
 passage. It was now plain that the Americans 
 had discovered their tracks of the preceding even- 
 in cr and had established a cordon to ensure their 
 capture. So absolute was Morton's faith in Hem- 
 lock's skill that he felt little perturbed and was 
 confident they would be in Perrigo's camp before 
 long. Then his thoughts wandered to a subject 
 that had come of late to be pleasant to him, to the 
 household by the Chateaugay, and he saw in fancy 
 
44 . GLEANER TALES. 
 
 Maggie bustling about her daily tasks, and he smiled. 
 
 "In the name of the United States of America I 
 command you to yield as prisoner," shouted a \ oice 
 with a nasal twano^. 
 
 Morton bounded to his feet. In front of him, 
 within four yards, stood the spy, holding a musket, 
 with his fincrer on the triofo'er. 
 
 "I mout hev shot ye dead a- laying there," he 
 said, "but I mean to take game like you alive. I 
 can make more out o' your skin when you can wag 
 yer tongue. Yield peaceable, young man, and giv 
 up yer arms." 
 
 "Yield! And to a sp}^! Never!" shouted Morton 
 indignantly, and he sprang like a panther at his 
 foe. Quick as was his movement, the American 
 was not quite taken by surprise, for he fired, but 
 the bullet missed. The next moment Morton was 
 on him and they grappled. Both were strong men, 
 but the American was older and had better staying 
 power, and as they wrestled Morton felt he would 
 be th]-own, when he bethought him of a certain 
 trip he had often used successfully in his school 
 days. He made the feint, put out his foot, and the 
 American fell with a crash, underneath him. 
 
 "Villain," lie whispered hoarsely, "you twice es- 
 caped me, but will not again," and he grasped his 
 throat with one hand while he held his riofht arm 
 with the other. 
 
 "Quarter," gasped the American, who was in dan- 
 ger of being choked, "I yield." 
 
HEMLOCK. 45 
 
 "Quarter to a spy!" exclaimed Morton. 
 "I ain't no spy. I'm Major Sloeum, brevet-rank, 
 of Ginral Hampton's staff." 
 
 "Not a spy! You were to have been shot for one " 
 
 "T was on special service, when I was informed 
 
 on by an ongrateful cuss. I'm an honorable officer 
 
 and appeal to yer honor as a Britisher. Take my 
 
 sword; I yield your prisoner." 
 
 "If I let you go; will you lead me in safety 
 across your lines, and, release my guide Hemlock, 
 if he has been taken prisoner?" 
 
 "Sartainly I will; Slocum's word is as good as 
 his bond. Take your hands off me and I will set 
 you and your Injun to hum in an hour." 
 
 Morton released his grasp, and stood up, drew 
 his sword, and awaited Slocum's rising. With a 
 deft movement the American thrust his hand into 
 his belt, drew a heavy, short-bladed knife, and shot 
 it forward from his palm with an ease and dexter- 
 ity that indicated much practice. Morton's eye 
 caught the gleam of the steel and he sprang back, 
 and in so doing saved his life, for the point of the 
 blade, which would have pierced his breast, stuck 
 in his right thigh for an instant and dropped out. 
 In a towering passion of indignation, which made 
 him unconscious of the pain and flow of blood, he 
 rushed upon the American, who had sprung to his 
 feet and lifted his sword in time to foil Mor- 
 ton's thrust. "Vile wretch, you shall die as traitors 
 die!" exclaimed Morton, and the clash of steel was 
 
46 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 incessant. He was much the better swordsman, 
 but his impetuosity and anger deprived liim of the 
 advantage of his skill, and stepping backward, 
 Slocum's long sword, wielded by his long arm, kept 
 liim at bay. Morton's anger increased with the 
 difficulty in dealing a deadly thrust, until, in mak- 
 ing a lunge, he stumbled over a fallen log. Had 
 he been unwounded he would have instantly re- 
 covered himself. The wrench to his pierced leg 
 shot a thrill of agony to his heart, and the weak- 
 ened knee refused its office. In a moment Slocum 
 had him on his back and planting his foot on 
 the bleeding wound, pressed it with all his might, 
 while he placed the point of his sword on his 
 throat. A mocking leer lit up his yellow face as 
 he said composedly: "I don't see how yer mother 
 let 3^ou go out alone; you're green as garden-sass. 
 Thought Major Slocum would be your obedient 
 servant and lead you and yer infernal Injun past 
 the lines! You poor trash of a Britisher! An you 
 sucked in my talk about honor and let go yet holt 
 on my throat! You poor innocent, its like stabbing 
 a baby to put my sword through j^er gizzard. Say, 
 sonny, wouldn't you Hke to live?" 
 
 The pain of his wound was excruciating, yet 
 Morton answered composedly, "I'd die a thousand 
 times before I would beg my life of you. I am 
 not the first of His Majesty's service to liave lost 
 liis life through believing there was honor in an 
 American officer." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 47 
 
 "I'm a citizen of the great Republic and will be 
 doing a patriotic dooty in killing you, and, like 
 Washington, after hanging Andre, will take a good 
 square meal with the satisfactory feeling that there 
 is a red-coat less in the world. But there ain't no 
 comfort in killing a chick like you. Say, what will 
 ye give, if I let you go? I will take an order on Mon- 
 treal. Slocum ain't the man to refuse to earn an 
 honest dollar and do a charitable action. Yer father 
 maybe is a Lord or a Dook, and he can come down 
 handsum. Why don't yer speak? I ain't a mind 
 to do all the talking." 
 
 "If I was fool enough to believe you and spare 
 your life it is enough. Torture me not with your 
 dishonorable proposals. I can die as becomes a 
 British soldier." 
 
 "Yer can, eh? Waal, what if I don't mind to 
 kill you? Perhaps Slocum sees he can make more 
 by toting you into camp. It ain't every day a 
 British officer is caught and I mout get promotion. 
 Kurnel Slocum would sound well. Come now, 
 hadn't yer better sign a little order on your fa- 
 ther's agents for a neat little sum, payable to Major 
 Slocum for vally received? Yer wound hurts, don't 
 it?" enquired Major Slocum with a grin, as he 
 thrust the toe of his boot into it. Involuntarily, 
 Morton gave a stifled shriek of pain and lay gasping, 
 while his tormentor looked down upon him with a 
 smile, enjoying his suflerings. As Morton's eyes 
 rolled in agony, the sight of Hemlock met their 
 
48 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 gaze. He was stealing stealthily up behind Slocum, 
 who stood all unconscious of his danger, torturing 
 his victim in the hope he would purchase his re- 
 lease. Nearer the Indian came ; his arms now 
 opened out, — he stood behind Slocum, — they closed, 
 — he w^as in their grasp, and was thrown with a 
 heavy thud on the ground, when. Hemlock bound 
 his arms and legs with his sash. Then, with 
 dreadful calmness, he drew his scalping-knife and 
 knelt, one knee on the breast of the prostrate man. 
 "Many times you have escaped me, Slocum, but 
 you die now. The oki granted what I asked; the 
 spell is gone. I tracked you long, but now you 
 are mine. I will not kill you at once. You shall 
 die by inches, and have a taste, before the dark 
 cloud swallows you, of the bitterness I have drank 
 at your hands for years." 
 
 So saying, with infernal ingenuity, the heritage 
 of his tribe in the art of torture, he stripped Slocum 
 of his clothing and proceeded to draw cuts with his 
 knife on different parts of the body, nowhere mak- 
 ing an incision any deeper than requisite to cause 
 the quivering flesh to feel the full pain. The 
 wretched man plied the Indian with all manner of 
 promises to induce him to desist, and on seeing he 
 was relentless in his purpose, was about to shriek 
 in the hope of attracting aid, when Hemlock caught 
 him by the throat, and snatching up handfuls of 
 forest-litter forced them into his mouth. Then he 
 resumed his dreadful task. Morton, who had alter- 
 
HEMLOCK. 49 
 
 nated from a state of semi-stupor to that of insensi- 
 bility, looked on in his lucid intervals with sickened 
 horror, and begged Hemlock to desist. He paid not 
 the slightest heed but went on for hours, gloating 
 over the agonies of his victim, and adding a fresh 
 wound as the others dulled. Alert even in his 
 dreadful employment, a rustle in tlie bush caught 
 his ear, and he listened. "It is the Yankee picket 
 ffoinor to the blockhouse. If Hemlock could take 
 you with him he would, but you cannot travel. 
 They will make you prisoner and care for your 
 wound. And now Hemlock must finish his re- 
 venge." With one swift sweep of the knife, he cut 
 the throat of his now fainting victim, with another 
 he severed his scalp, and flourishing it above his 
 head, vanished in the woods. Immediately after- 
 wards a body of blue uniformed soldiers appeared, 
 who shouted with surprise at seeing the major, 
 naked, stiff" and scalped, and a wounded British 
 officer lying near him. Part hurried to each. As 
 those who went to the side of Morton stooped over 
 him and moved him, he fainted. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When Morton recovered consciousness he found 
 he was in a large apartment, the sides formed of 
 heavy logs, and surrounded by American soldiers, 
 who were talking excitedly of the discovery of the 
 dead body of Major Slocum. On seeing their pri- 
 soner was restored to his senses, they plied him 
 with questions, in the hope of clearing up the 
 mystery, but he felt so languid that he made no 
 reply, and simply begged for water. On the ar- 
 rival of two ox-carts, the corpse was lifted into 
 one and the wounded man into the other. On 
 being carried into the air, Morton saw that the 
 building he had been in was a small blockhouse, 
 so placed as to command the road which led to 
 Canada. The jolting of the cart during the short 
 drive was agony to him, and he was thankful when 
 the log shanties of the village of Four Corners 
 came in sight and the rows of tents of the camp. 
 The cart halted at the door of a tavern, where he 
 assumed the general must be, and soon an orderly 
 came out and directed the driver to an outhouse, 
 into which two soldiers carried him. It was a 
 small, low^-roofed stable, and in one of the stalls 
 they laid Morton. Closing the door, he was left 
 in darkness, and so remained until it reopened to 
 
HEMLOCK. 51 
 
 admit what proved to be a surgeon. He examined 
 the wound, picked it clean, put in a few stitches, 
 bound a wet-bandage round it, and had a pail oi' 
 water placed near. "You keep that cloth wet," he 
 said to Morton, "and drink all you please, it will 
 keep down the fever, and you will be well in a 
 week. You have only a flesh-cut; had it been on 
 the inside of the leg instead of the front you would 
 have been a dead man in five minutes." 
 
 "I am very weak." 
 
 "Yes; from loss of blood; I will send you some 
 w^hisky and milk." 
 
 When the attendant appeared with the stimu- 
 lant, Morton sickened at the smell of the whisky, 
 but drank the milk. The man approved of the ar- 
 rangement and disposed of the whisky. Having 
 placed clean straw below Morton, he left him, 
 barring the door. The soothing sensation of the 
 wet bandage lulled him to sleep, and he slumbered 
 soundly until awakened by the sound of voices at 
 the door. 
 
 "Now, mem, you'd better go home and leave Jim 
 alone." 
 
 "You tell me he's wounded, and who can nurse 
 him better than his old mother?" 
 
 "Be reasonable; the doctor said he was not to be 
 disturbed." 
 
 "Oh, I will see him; look what I have brought 
 him — a napkin full of the cakes he liked and this 
 bottle of syrup." 
 
52 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Leave them, my good woman, with me and he 
 'will o-et them." 
 
 "No, no, I must see my handsome boy in his uni- 
 form; my own Jimmy that never left my side until 
 lie listed the day before yesterday. The sight of 
 ane will be better than salve to his hurt." 
 
 "I can't let you in; you must go to the colonel 
 for an order." 
 
 "An order to see my own son! Jimmy, don't you 
 bear me; tell the man to let me in to you. (A 
 pause.) Are you sleeping, Jimmy? It's your mo- 
 ther has come to see you. (Here she knocked). Are 
 you much hurt? Just a scratch, they tell me; per- 
 haps they will let you go home with me till it 
 heals. O, Jimmy, I miss you sorely at home." 
 
 Again the woman knocked and placing her ear 
 to a crack in the door listened. 
 
 "He ain't movinorl Sog-er man, tell me true, is 
 any Jinmiy here?" 
 
 "He is, mem; you must go to the colonel. I can- 
 not let you in; I must obey orders." 
 
 "If Jimmy is here, then he must be worse than 
 they told me." 
 
 "Very likely, mem; it is always best to be pre- 
 pared for the worst." 
 
 "He may be dyin' for all you know. Do let me in." 
 
 "There is the captain passing; ask him." 
 
 "What's wanted, Bill?" 
 
 "This is Jimmy's mother and she wants to sec 
 liim. Come and tell her." 
 
HEMLOCK. 5 3 
 
 "That I ^Von't," answered the captain, with an 
 oath, "I want to have a liand in no scene; do as 
 you like to break it to the old woman," and on the 
 captain passed. 
 
 "What does he mean? Jimmy ain't to be pun- 
 ished, is he? He would not do wrong. It was just 
 Tuesday week he went to the pasture for the cows 
 and as he came back, there marched a lot of sogers,. 
 with flags aflying and drums and fifes play in' beau- 
 tiful. 'O, mother,' says he, 'I would like to join 
 em,' an he kept acoaxin an aworryin me until I 
 let him come up to the Corners an take the bounty, 
 which he brings back to me, dressed in his tine 
 clothes, the lovely boy." 
 
 "Now, good woman, you go home an' I will send 
 you word of him." 
 
 " That I w^on't; if Jimmy is liere I see him. Word 
 came this morning that the Injuns had sprang on 
 to the camp an' there was a soger killed, stone dead, 
 an' two taken prisoners. An', says I, lucky Jimmy 
 ain't one of them, for so tliey told me, an' I will 
 hurry up my chores an' go and see him this evenin', 
 an' here I am. An' at the camp they tells me he 
 is over here, and won't you let me see him?" 
 
 "Your Jimmy, mem, yes, your Jimmy is By 
 
 God, I can't speak the word. Here, take the key 
 and go in; you'll find him right in front o' the door." 
 
 The door opened and Morton saw a tidy little 
 woman, poorly dressed, step in. She looked won- 
 deringly around, glancing at him in her search for 
 
54 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 her son. Not seeing him, she stepped lightly to- 
 wards a heap covered with an army blanket, ot* 
 which she lifted a corner, gave a pitiful cry, and 
 fell sobbing on what lay beneath. To his horror 
 and pity, Morton perceived it was the corpse of a 
 youth, the head with a bloody patch on the crown, 
 from having been scalped. "This is what Perrigo's 
 men did," he thought, "and this is war." Here two 
 women, warned by the sentry of what was passing, 
 entered and did what they could to soothe the in- 
 consolable mother. The succeeding half hour, dur- 
 ing which preparations were made for burial, was 
 accounted by Morton the saddest in his life, and 
 when the detachment arrived with a coffin to take 
 the body away, and he saw it leave, followed by 
 the heart-broken mother, he breathed a sigh of 
 relief and took a mental oath that it would go ill 
 with him if he did not help the poor woman to the 
 day of her death. 
 
 Some biscuit were brought to him, the bucket 
 refilled with spring- water, the door closed, and 
 barred, and he was left for the night. Weakness 
 from loss of blood made him drowsy, and forget- 
 ting his miserable situation, he slept soundly until 
 next morninff, when he woke feeling more like 
 himself than he could have believed possible. His 
 wound felt easy and he was glad to find he could 
 move without much pain. Tiie doctor looked in, 
 nodded approval of his condition, and said he would 
 send him breakfast, after partaking of which Mor- 
 
HEMLOCK. 55 
 
 ton turned his attention to his personal appearance, 
 and with the aid of water, which the sentry got 
 him as wanted, improved it somewhat. The day 
 passed without incident, no one interrupting the 
 monotony of his imprisonment. From the sound 
 of wagon- wheels and the hurrying of messengers 
 to and from the tavern, he surmised the army was 
 preparing to move, and that in the bustle he was 
 forgotten. The following morning his vigor had 
 returned to such a degree that he fell to examining 
 his prison-house and so far as he could, by peeping 
 through crevices in its walls of logs, his surround- 
 ings, with a view to endeavoring to escape. He 
 had finished breakfast, when an officer appeared, 
 who introduced himself as Captain Thomas of the 
 staff* and announced that the General wished to see 
 him. By leaning rather heavily on the American, 
 who proved to be a gentlemanly fellow, Morton 
 managed to hobble the short distance to Smith's 
 tavern, and was led directly to the General's room. 
 On entering, Morton saw a fine-looking old gentle- 
 man of dignified bearing, whom he recognized as 
 the one he saw inspecting the troops on the even- 
 ing of the surprise. He sat in a rocking-chair 
 and before him stood a roucjh-lookino- farmer, with 
 whom he was speaking. Waving Morton to take 
 a seat, he went on with his conversation. 
 
 "You tell me your name is Jacob Manning and 
 that you are acquainted with every inch of the 
 country between here and Montreal. I will give 
 
56 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 you a horse from my own stud, which no Canadian 
 can come within wind of, and you will go to the 
 British camp and bring me w^ord of its strength?" 
 
 "No, sir," replied the backwoodsman. 
 
 "You wdll be richly rewarded." 
 
 "That's no inducement." 
 
 "Fellow, you forget you are my prisoner, and that 
 I can order you to be shot." 
 
 "No, I don't, but I'd rather be shot than betray 
 my country." 
 
 "Your country! You are American born. What's 
 Canada to you?" 
 
 "True enough, General, I was brought up on the 
 banks of the Hudson and would have been there 
 yet but for the infernal Whigs, who robbed us first 
 of our horses, then of our kewows, and last of all 
 of our farms, and called their thievery patriotism. 
 If we Tories hadn't had so much property, there 
 wouldn't a ben so many George Washington - Tom 
 Jefferson patriots. When we were hunted from 
 our birthplace for the crime of being loyal to the 
 oood Kinof we w^ere born under, we found shelter 
 and freedom in Canada, and, by God, sir, there 
 ain't a United Empire loyalist among us that 
 wouldn't fiofht and die for Canada." 
 
 "You rude boor," retorted Gen. Hampton hotl}^ 
 "we have come to give liberty to Canada, and our 
 armies will be welcomed by its down-trodden people 
 as their deliverers. I have reports and letters to 
 that effect from Montreal and, best of all, the per- 
 
HEMLOCK. 57 
 
 sonal report of one of my staff, now dead, sent on 
 a special mission." 
 
 "Don't trust 'em, General. We who came from 
 the States know what you mean by liberty— free- 
 dom to swallow Whigery and persecution if you 
 refuse. The Old Countrymen are stiff as hickory 
 against you, and the French— why, at heart, they 
 are against both." 
 
 "It is false, sir. I have filled up my regiments 
 since I came to this frontier with French." 
 
 "It wa'nt for love of you; it was for your 840 
 bounty." 
 
 The General rose and throwing open the shutter, 
 closed to exclude the sunshine, revealed the army 
 in review; masses of infantry moving with passable 
 precision, a long train of artillery, and a dashing 
 corps of cavalry. Proudly turning to the farmer 
 he said, 
 
 "What can stop the sweep of such an army? 
 England may well halt in her guilty career at the 
 sight of these embattled sons of liberty and loosen 
 her bloody clutch upon tliis continent of the New 
 World." 
 
 Neither the sight of the army nor the pompous 
 speech of the General appalled the stout farmer, 
 who replied, "The red-coats will make short work 
 of 'em, and if you don't want to go to Halifax 
 you'd better not cross the lines." 
 
 General Hampton made no reply, his good-sense 
 apparently checking his pride, by suggesting the 
 
58 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 folly of arguing with a backwoodsman, who had 
 chanced to be taken prisoner in a foray. Summon- 
 ing an orderly, he commanded that Manning be 
 taken back to prison and not released until the 
 army moved. 
 
 "And now. Lieutenant Morton, for so I under- 
 stand you are named, you are the latest arrival 
 from Canada; and what did they say of the Army 
 of the North when you left?" 
 
 "They were wondering when they would have 
 the pleasure of seeing it," replied Morton. 
 
 "Ha! it is well to so dissemble the terror our 
 presence on the frontier has stricken into the mer- 
 cenaries of a falling monarchy. They will see the 
 cohorts of the Republic soon enough: ere another 
 sun has risen we may have crossed the Rubicon." 
 
 "The wonder expressed at every mess-table has 
 been the cause of your tarrying here." 
 
 "So I am the topic of the conversation of your 
 military circles," said Hampton, with a pleased ex- 
 pression. "And what was their surmise as to the 
 cause of my tarrying here." 
 
 "That you were awaiting orders from General 
 Wilkinson." 
 
 The General sprung to his feet in anger and ex- 
 citement. What! Do they so insult me? Look 
 you, young man, are you telling the truth or dare 
 come here to beard me?" 
 
 "On my honor. General Hampton, I only repeat 
 what I have heard a hundred times." 
 
HEMLOCK. 59 
 
 "Then, when you hear it again, that I await the 
 orders of that impudent pill-maker who masquer- 
 ades at Oswego as a general, say it is a lie! General 
 Hampton takes no orders from him; he despises 
 him as a man and as a soldier-a soldier, quotha: 
 A political mountebank, a tippler and a poltroon. 
 Here I have been, ready to pluck up the last ves- 
 tio-e of British authority on this continent for two 
 months past, and been hindered by the government 
 entrusting the Western wing of my army to a 
 craven who refuses to recognize my authority and 
 who lets I would wait on I dare not." 
 
 "I meant no offence by my statement," said Mor- 
 ton, as the General paused in striding the room. 
 
 "It is well for you that you did not, for I brook 
 no aspersion upon my independence or my reputa- 
 tion as a veteran who has done somewhat to de- 
 serve well of his country, and that is implied in 
 alleging, I take my orders from Wilkinson. 
 
 Morton reiterated his regret at having unwit- 
 tin<.ly given offence and would assure the General 
 thaUie had entertained so high an opinion o him 
 that he did not attribute to him the harsh treatmen 
 he had received since taken prisoner. Asked ot 
 what he complained, he told of his having been 
 thrust into a miserable stable and having received 
 no such attention as is universally accorded to a 
 wounded officer in camp. 
 
 The General smiled somewhat grimly as he said: 
 "Lieut. Morton, your treatment is no criterion of 
 
60 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 our hospitality to those whom the fortunes of war 
 throw into our hands. You forget that you were 
 made prisoner under most suspicious circumstances. 
 You were found lying wounded beside the muti- 
 lated corpse of that influential citizen who, I may 
 so express it, stepped from the political into the 
 military arena, the late Major Slocum, and every- 
 thing points to your having been associated with 
 those who slew him and violated his remains. 
 Apart from that grave circumstance, the mere fact 
 of your being found on the territory of the United 
 States government would justify my ordering your 
 execution as a spy." 
 
 "Sir," indignantly interrupted Morton, "I am no 
 spy. My uniform shows I am an officer of the 
 King's army and I came upon American soil en- 
 gaged in lawful warfare, declared not by King 
 George but by your own government. I am a pri- 
 soner-of-war but no spy." 
 
 "It is undoubted that you consorted with In- 
 dians, that you were present with them in the child- 
 ish attempt to surprise my army the other e\'ening, 
 and that you were with one or more redskins 
 when Major Slocum ofl'ered up his life on the altar 
 of his country in a manner that befitted so cele- 
 brated a patriot, who to liis laurels as a statesman 
 had added those of a soldier. You must under- 
 stand, for you appear to be a man of parts and 
 education, tliat Indians and those who associate 
 with them are not recognized as entitled to tlie 
 
HEMLOCK. ^'■ 
 
 rights of war. They are shot or hung as barbar- 
 ous murderers without trial." 
 
 "If that is your law, General, how conies it that 
 you have Indians in your army?" 
 
 The General looked nonplussed for a moment. 
 "Our Indians," he answered, "are not in the same 
 cate<^ory They have embraced the allegiance ot a 
 free^crovernment; yours are wild wretches, refugees 
 from" our domain and fugitives from our justice, 
 and now the minions ot a bloody despotism. 
 
 "I do not see that if it is right for your govern- 
 ment to avail themselves of the skill of In^^ans as 
 scouts and guides that it can be wrong for His Ma- 
 jesty's oovernment to do the same. Between the 
 painted savages I perceived in your camp and those 
 in the King's service, I could distinguish no differ- 
 
 ence. 
 
 (3 
 
 "Keep your argument for the court martial which, 
 tho' I do not consider you entitled, I may grant. 
 Leaving that aside, sir, and reminding you of your 
 perilous position, I would demand whether you are 
 disposed to make compensation, so far as in your 
 power, to the government of the United States by 
 givino- information that would be useful in the pre- 
 sent crisis? As an officer, you must know much of 
 the strength and disposition of the British force 
 who stand in my onward path to Montreal. 
 
 Morton's face, pale from his recent wound and 
 confinement, flushed. "If you mean, sir, that you 
 offer rae the choice of proving traitor or of a rope, 
 
62 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 you know little of the honor of a British soldier or 
 of his sense of duty. It is in your power to hang 
 me, but not to make me false to my country and 
 my King." 
 
 "Come, come young man; do not impute dishonor 
 to a Southerner and a gentleman who bore a com- 
 mission in the Continental army. Leave me, who 
 am so much older and, before you were born, saw 
 service under the immortal Washington, to judge 
 of what is military ethics. We are alone, and as a 
 gentleman speaking to a gentleman, I demand whe- 
 ther you are going to give me information useful 
 in the movement I am about to make upon Mont- 
 real?" 
 
 "You have had my answer." 
 
 The General took up a pen, wrote a few lines, 
 and then rang a bell. Captain Thomas entered. 
 "Take this and conduct the prisoner away," said 
 the General handing him a folded paper. Morton 
 bowed and left tlie room, fully believing that the 
 missive was an order for his execution. Conducted 
 back to the stable, he threw himself on his straw- 
 heap, indignant and yet mortified at being treated 
 as a spy. He thought of his relations, of his com- 
 rades, of his impending disgraceful death, and then 
 clenched his teeth as he resolved he would not 
 plead with his captors but die without a murmur. 
 
 The marching of a body of men was heard with- 
 out. They halted and the door w%as thrown open. 
 The officer in command said he had come to escort 
 
HEMLOCK. 63 
 
 him to the court-martial. Morton gave no sign of 
 surprise and limped as firmly as he could, surround- 
 ed by the files of men, to the tent where the court 
 was awaiting him. The clerk read the charges, 
 which were, that he was a spy, that he had associ- 
 ated himself with Indian marauders in an attack 
 on the camp and, that he had been an accomplice 
 in the murder of Major Slocum. In reply to the 
 usual question of guilty or not guilty, Morton an- 
 swered that he scorned to plead to such charges, 
 that his uniform was the best reply to his being a 
 spy and if they doubted his right to wear it, he re- 
 ferred them to Major Stovin at Camp la Fourche; 
 that he had made war in a lawful way and with 
 men regularly enrolled in the British service, and, 
 before God, he protested he had no hand in the 
 killing of Major Slocum. "That," said the presid- 
 ing officer/'is equivalent to your pleading not guilty. 
 The prosecutor will now have to adduce proof of 
 the charges." 
 
 The only witnesses were the soldiers who had 
 found him lying in the bush beside the corpse of 
 Major Slocum. Morton peremptorily refused to 
 answer questions. "You place us in a painful pos- 
 ition, Lieutenant Morton, by refusing to answer, 
 for we must conclude that you can give no satis- 
 factory explanation of the circumstances under 
 which you were captured. A foul, a diabolical 
 murder has been committed, and everything points 
 to you as being, at least, a party to it. Your 
 
64 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 wound in itself is witness against you that you 
 assailed our late comrade-in-arms," 
 
 Morton rose to his feet, and holding up his hand 
 said: "Gentlemen, I stand before you expecting to 
 receive sentence of death and to be shortly in 
 presence of my Maker. At this solemn moment, I 
 repeat my declaration, that I had no part in the 
 death of Major Slocum, that I did not consent to it 
 and that if it had been in my power I would have 
 saved him." 
 
 "I submit, Mr President," said a member of the 
 court, "that the statement we have just heard is 
 tantamount to Lieutenant Morton's declaring he 
 knows how and by whom Major Slocum came to 
 his death. As one who has practised law many 
 years, I assert that the statement just made is a 
 confession of judgment, unless the defendant in- 
 forms the court who actually committed the murder 
 and declares his willinorness to srive evidence for 
 the state. If a man admits he was witness to a 
 murder and will not tell who did it, the court may 
 conclude he withholds the information for evil 
 purpose, and is justified in sentencing him as an 
 abettor at least. In this case, the wound of the 
 accused points to his being the principal. Before 
 falling. Major Slocum, in his heroic defence, deals a 
 disabling wound to this pretended British officer 
 who thereupon leaves it to his associated red-skins 
 to finish him and wreak their deviltry on the 
 corpse." 
 
HEMLOCK. 65 
 
 "The opinion you have heard," said the presid- 
 ing-offieer, '"commends itself to this board. What 
 have you to say in reply?" 
 
 "Nothing," answered Morton. 
 
 "We will give you another chance. We cannot 
 pass over the murder of a brother officer. Only 
 strict measures have prevented many citizens in 
 our ranks, who esteemed Major Slocum as one of 
 their political leaders and of popular qualities, from 
 taking summary vengeance upon you. We make 
 this offer to you: make a clean breast of it, tell us 
 who committed the murder, give us such assistance 
 as may enable us to track the perpetrator, and, on 
 his capture, we will set you free." 
 
 "And if I refuse," asked Morton, "what then?" 
 
 "You will be hanged at evening parade." 
 
 "With that alternative, so revolting to a soldier, 
 I refuse your offer. What the circumstances are 
 which bind me to silence, I cannot, as a man of 
 honor, tell, but I again affirm my innocence." 
 
 "Lieutenant Morton, what say you: the gallows 
 or your informing us of a cruel murderer: which 
 do you choose?" 
 
 "I choose neither; I alike deny your right to take 
 my life or to extort what I choose not to tell." 
 
 " Withdraw the prisoner," ordered the presiding- 
 officer, "while the court consults," and Morton was 
 led a few yards away from the tent. He could 
 hear the voice of eager debate and one speaker in 
 his warmth fairly shouted, "He must be made to 
 
 6 
 
66 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 tell; we'll squeeze it out of him," and then followed 
 a long colloquy. An hour had passed when he was 
 recalled. 
 
 "We have deliberated on the evidence in your 
 case, Lieutenant Morton; and the clerk will read 
 the finding of the court." 
 
 From a sheet of foolscap the clerk read a long 
 minute, finding the prisoner guilty on each count. 
 
 Standing up and adjusting his sword, the presid- 
 ing officer said, "It only remains to pronounce sen- 
 tence: it is, that you be hanged between the hours 
 of five and six o'clock this day." 
 
 Morton bowed and asked if the sentence had 
 been confirmed by the commanding-officer. "It 
 has been submitted and approved," was the reply. 
 
 "In the brief space of time that remains to me," 
 said Morton in a firm voice, "may I crave the treat- 
 ment that befits my rank in so far that I may be 
 furnished with facilities for writing a few letters?" 
 
 "You may remain here and when done writing, 
 the guard w411 conduct you back whence you came, 
 there to remain until execution." With these words 
 he rose, and the others followed, leaving Morton 
 alone with the clerk and the captain of his guard. 
 He wrote three letters, — to Major Stovin, to his 
 colonel, and the longest to his relatives across the 
 Atlantic, — being careful in all to say nothing about 
 Hemlock, for he suspected the Americans would 
 read them before sending. When done, he was 
 taken back to the stable, and left in darkness. He 
 
EEMLOCK. 67 
 
 had abandoned all liope: his voyage across life's 
 ocean was nearly ended, and already he thought 
 tlie mountain-tops of the unknown country he was 
 soon to set foot upon loomed dimly on his inward 
 eye. The hour which comes to all, when the things 
 of this life shrink into nothingness, was upon him, 
 and the truths of revelation became to him the 
 only actualities. The communings of that time 
 are sacred from record: enough to say, they left a 
 sobering and elevating influence on his character. 
 He was perfectly composed when he heard the 
 guard return, and quietly took his place in the 
 centre of the hollow square. On the tield used 
 as a parade ground he saw the troops drawn up in 
 double line. At one end were the preparations for 
 his execution, a noose dano^lino^ from the limb of a 
 tree and a rough box beneath to serve as his coflin. 
 There was not a whisper or a movement as he 
 passed slowly up between the lines of troops. It 
 seemed to him there was unnecessary delay in 
 completing the arrangements; and that tlie pre- 
 liminaries were drawn out to a degree that was 
 aoronizinor to him. At last, however, his arms were 
 pinioned and the noose adjusted. The officer who- 
 had presided at his trial approached "By auth- 
 ority of the General," he whispered, "I repeat the 
 offer made you: assist us to secure the murderer of 
 Major Slocum and you get your life and liberty." 
 
 Morton simply answered, "Good friend, for Jesn's 
 sake, leave me alone." 
 
(68 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 The word was not given to haul the tackle and 
 Morton stood facing the assembled ranks for what 
 .seemed to him to be an age, though it was only a 
 few minutes. The bitterness of death was passed 
 and the calmness of resignation filled his soul. 
 -Again the officer spoke, "What say you, Lieutenant 
 Morton?" Morton merely shook his head. Pres- 
 ently a horseman was seen to leave the General's 
 quarters and an orderly rode up. "By command 
 of the General, the execution is postponed." Mor- 
 ton's tirst feeling w^as that of disappointment. 
 
 As he was hurried back to the stable, the order 
 dismissing the troops was given. As they broke 
 up, a soldier remarked to his comrade, "They'd 
 sooner have him squeal than stretch his neck." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 On the afternoon of the second day after the 
 events of last chapter, Allan Forsyth returned 
 from his daily visit to Camp la Fourche excited 
 and indignant. "What think ye," he said to his 
 wife and Maggie, ''Lieutenant Morton is in the 
 liands o' the Yankees and they're gaun to hang^ 
 
 him." 
 
 Maggie paled and involuntarily stepped nearer^ 
 
 her father. 
 
 "The deils that they be; hoo did they get haud 
 o' him?' asked Mrs Forsyth. 
 
 "The story is sune tell't," replied her hushand. 
 "He was sent, as ye ken, wi' a despatch tc the 
 lines; while there he took part in a bit skirmish, 
 an' the day after was found by the Yankees lyin 
 wounded in the woods beside the body o' a Yankee 
 officer." 
 
 "Weel, they canna hang him for that. Gin the- 
 Yankees will fecht, they maun expect to be kilt." 
 
 "Ah, ye dinna understan. They say their officer 
 wasna kilt in regular coorse o' war. The body was 
 scalped and carvt in a gruesome fashion, showing- 
 plainly the hand o' the Indian, an' they hold Mr 
 Morton accountable." 
 
 "But he didna scalp the Yankee?" 
 
70 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Trne, o^udewife, but he winna tell them wha did. 
 His sword they found beside the corpse, showing 
 they had been in mortal combat." 
 
 "Is he sorely wounded?" asked Maggie. 
 
 "I canna say for that. It's no likely, for they 
 had him oot ae evening to hang him, and took a 
 ibetter thocht when he was below the gallows." 
 
 "How did you hear all this?" 
 
 "A messenger came in today with letters from 
 him, sent across the lines under a flag o' truce. It 
 w^as said in camp Major Stovin was stampin' angry 
 .and was going to w^rite back that gin a hair o' the 
 Lieutenant's head is harmed he will hang every 
 Yankee officer that fa's into his bans. I gaed ower 
 to see the messenger and he tell't me the word 
 went that Morton defied General Hampton and his 
 •officers to do their worst, that, to save his life, he 
 -wadna brings diso^race on his commission." 
 
 "Who is the messenger: has he gone back?" 
 
 "He's a young lad, a son o' ane o' the settlers in 
 Hinchinbrook. He goes back tomorrow with letters 
 from Major Stovin." 
 
 " Will he see Morton?" 
 
 "No, no: to be sure thae folk on the lines gang 
 back an' forrit, but they're no likely to let him 
 near. His letters will be taken at the outposts." 
 
 "Do you think Major Stovin's letter will save 
 him?" 
 
 "That it won't. The lad said the Yankees were 
 fair wild ower the death o' tlieir officer an' will 
 
HEMLOCK. 7l 
 
 hang puir Morton to a dead certainty gin he doesna 
 reveal to them wha did the deed." 
 
 "An' for what will he no tell?" asked Mrs For- 
 syth. 
 
 "That he kens best. Maybe gratitude to an In- 
 dian ca'd Hemlock seals his lips, for oor men be- 
 lieve he was with him at the time." 
 
 "What does Hemlock say?" interjected Maggie. 
 
 "He's no in camp. He came back three days 
 ago and left for Oka, where he bides." 
 
 Until bedtime Morton was the subject of con- 
 versation, and the more they talked of him the 
 keener their interest grew in his serious situation. 
 That one whom they had learned to like and re- 
 spect so much should die an ignominious death 
 shocked them, and even Mrs Forsyth was con- 
 strained to say, that much as she disliked Yankees, 
 "Gin I were near eneuch to walk to him, I wad 
 gang on my knees to Hampton to beg his life." 
 
 Next morning, while engaged in the stable, Mr 
 Forsyth was surprised by the appearance of his 
 daughter. 
 
 "Hey, my woman, what's garrd you to come oot 
 in the grey o' the mornin'? Time eneuch an hour 
 frae this." 
 
 "Father, I could not sleep and I wanted to speak 
 to you. If Hemlock was brought back, would he 
 not save Morton?" 
 
 "Ah, he winna come back. Doubtless he kens 
 the Yankees wad rax his neck for him. His leevin 
 
72 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 tor hame shows he is afeard o' what he has dune." 
 "Yet there's no other hope of saving Morton." 
 "Too true; gin the actual slayer o' the officer is 
 not surrendered within a few days poor Morton 
 will suffer." 
 
 "Well, then, father, you cannot go to seek for 
 Hemlock, and my brothers would not be allowed 
 to leave their duty in camp, so I will go. I can be 
 in Oka before dark and will see Hemlock." 
 
 "Dinna think o' such a thing," entreated the 
 father, "the road is lang an' the Indian wad just 
 laugh at you gin you found him, wdiich is dootful." 
 A favorite child has little difficulty in persuad- 
 ing a parent, and before many minutes Mr Forsyth 
 was won over, declaring "it w^ad be a shame gin 
 we did naething to try an' save the puir lad." It 
 was arranged she should go at once, the father un- 
 dertakino; to break the news to his wife. All her 
 other preparations having been made beforehand, 
 the slipping of a plaid over her head and shoulders 
 rendered her fit for the journey, and with a cheery 
 goodbye to her father she stepped quickly away. 
 She went to the camp at La Fourche, where slie 
 surprised her brothers and got them to search out 
 the messenger who had brought the startling tid- 
 ings. She had a talk with him, learning all lie 
 knew of Morton. Then she went to see the In- 
 dians in camp, who readily enough told what little 
 they knew of Hemlock. They believed he was at 
 Oka and did not expect him back, as he said lie 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 73 
 
 would join the force that was being assembled 
 above Cornwall to meet Wilkinson. Thus inform- 
 ed she took the road, a mere bush track, that led 
 to Anniield Mills, now known as the town of 
 Beauharnois, which she reached in the course of 
 two hours or so and walked straight to the house 
 of the only person in it who she thought could 
 lielp her. It was a log-shanty built on the angle 
 where the St Louis rushes brawling past and 
 the calm waters of the bay, and was of unusual 
 length, the front end being devoted to the pur- 
 poses of an office. The door stood open and 
 Maggie walked into a little den, in one corner of 
 wh^h stood a desk with pigeon-holes stuffed with 
 papers, and beside it were a few shelves tilled with 
 bottles and odds-and-ends, the whole dusty, dark, 
 and smelling of tobacco. At the desk sat a little 
 man, dressed in blue with large gilt buttons. 
 
 "Oh, ho, is this you, Maggie Forsyth? Often 
 have I gone to see you, but this is the first time you 
 have dropped in to see me." 
 
 "See you,you withered auld stick! I just dropped 
 in to speer a few questions at you." 
 
 "Auld stick, Mag; I'm no sae auld that I canna 
 
 loe ye." 
 
 "Maybe, but I dinna loe you." 
 
 "Look here, lassie; see this bit airn kistie; its fu 
 o' siller dollars; eneuch to varnish an auld stick an 
 keep a silken gown on yer back every day o' the 
 year." 
 
74 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "An eneuch in thae dirty bottles to pooshen me 
 when ye wad?" 
 
 "Ha, ha, my lass; see what it is to hae lear. I 
 didna gang four lang sessions to new college, Aber- 
 deen, for naething. I can heal as well as pooshen. 
 It's no every lassie has a chance to get a man o' my 
 means and learnin." 
 
 "Aye, an its no every lassie that wad want them 
 alang wi' an auld wizened body." 
 
 "Hech, Mag, ye're wit is ower sharp. When a 
 man's going down hill, ilka body gies him a jundie. 
 If ye winna, anither will, but we'll let that flee 
 stick i' the wa' for awhile. Where is your faither?" 
 
 "At hame: I just walked ower." 
 
 "Walked ower yer lane, an a' thae sogers an* In- 
 dians roun !" 
 
 "If yer ceevil ye'll meet wi' ceevilty, Mr Milne; 
 an' I'm gaun farther this day, an' just looked in for 
 yer advice." 
 
 "Oh ye maun hae a drap after your w^alk," and 
 here he pulled out a big w^atch from his fob. "Gra- 
 cious! it is 20 minutes ayont my time for a dram." 
 
 Stooping beneath the table that answered for a 
 counter, he filled a grimy tin measure, which he 
 tendered to Maggie, who shook her head. "Na, na, 
 I dinna touch it." 
 
 Finding persistence useless, he raised the vessel 
 to his mouth and with a "Here's tae ye," emptied 
 it. "Hech, that does me guid, — but no for lang. 
 Noo, lass, what can I do to serve you?" 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 75 
 
 Maggie unreservedly told him all. "An' what's 
 this young Morton to you?" 
 
 "Naething mair than ony neebur lad." 
 "Tell that to my grannie," said the old buck, "I 
 can see through a whin stane as far as onybody an' 
 noo unnerstan why ye turn yer back on a graduate 
 o' new college, Aberdeen, wi' a kist o' siller, and a' 
 for a penniless leftenant." 
 
 "Think what thochts ye may, Mr Milne, but 
 they're far astray. The lad is naething to me nor 
 me to him. 1 am going to Oka because nae man- 
 body is allowed to leave the camp, and I couldna 
 stay at hame gin it was in my power to save a 
 fellow-creature's life." 
 
 "An what can I do to help you to save him?" 
 "Help me to reach Oka and Und Hemlock." 
 " Were it no for thae stoury war-times I wad get 
 out my boat and gang mysel', and there's naebody 
 to send wi' you. My lass, gif ye'U no turn hame 
 again, ye'll have to walk the road your lane." 
 
 ''"I hae set my face to the task an' I'll no gang 
 hame." 
 
 "Weel, then, yell hae a snack wi' me an' 111 
 direct ye as well as may be." 
 
 A few imls up the St Louis, in the centre of the 
 stream, where it trickled over a series of rocky 
 shelves, stood a small mill, and on the adjoining 
 bank the house of the miller, and thither they went 
 and had something to eat. The miller's wife, a 
 good-looking woman, could not speak English, but 
 
76 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 made up her lack in lively gesticulations, while 
 Maggie helped the common understanding with 
 odd words and phrases in French. Justice done 
 to the food hurriedly spread before them, Maggie 
 walked back with Milne until they stood in front 
 of the house. 
 
 "There," he said, pointing to planks resting on 
 big stones, "you cross the St Louis and keep the 
 track until you come to the first house after you 
 pass the rapids. It is not far, but the road is 
 shockingly bad. There you will ask them to ferry 
 you to the other side, when you've a long walk to 
 the Ottawa before you. I'd advise 3^ou to turn 
 yet." Maggie shook her head decisi\'ely. "Weel, 
 weel, so be it ; he that will to Cupar maun to 
 Cupar. Here tak this," and he put in her hand 
 two silver dollars. 
 
 Maofofie winced. "I'll hae nae need o' siller." 
 
 "Ye dinna ken; ye may get into trouble that 
 money will help you out o'. Dinna fear to take 
 it; I've made (and here his voice sank to a whis- 
 per) I've made a hunner o' thae bricht lads by ae 
 guid run o' brandy kegs across the Hinchinbrook 
 line. It's Yankee sillei*." 
 
 Maggie smiled and, as if the questionable mode 
 of their acquisition justified their acceptance, clasp- 
 ed them, and nodding to the little man, tripped her 
 way to the other side of tlie river, The road, as 
 predicted, proved execrable. Walled in and shad- 
 owed by trees, neither breeze nor sunlight pene- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 trated to dry it, and it was a succession of holes 
 filled with liquid mud. So bad was it, that an 
 attempt to haul a small cannon along it had to be 
 abandoned despite the efforts of horses, oxen, and 
 a party of blue jackets. Tripping from side to 
 side, and occasionally passing an unusually deep 
 hole by turning into the bush, Maggie made all 
 haste. Once only she halted. A party of artillery- 
 men and sailors were raising a breastwork at the 
 head of the Cascade rapids, whereon to mount a 
 gun that would sweep the river, and she watched 
 them for a while. That was the only sign of life 
 along the road until the white-washed shanty of 
 the ferryman came in sight, in front of which a 
 troop of half-naked children were tumbling in 
 boisterous play, and who set up a shrill cry of 
 wonder when they saw her. Their mother, so 
 short and stout as to be shapeless, came to the 
 door in response to their cries and gazed wonder- 
 ingly at the stranger. She volubly returned Mag- 
 gie's salutation and led her into the house, the 
 interior of which was as bare as French Canadian 
 houses usually are, but clean and tidy. Her hus- 
 band was away, helping to convey stores to the 
 fort at the Coteau, and there was not, to her know- 
 ledge, a man within three miles capable of ferrying 
 her across. Could not madam paddle her over? 
 The woman's hands went up in pantomimic amaze- 
 ment. Would she tempt the good God by venturing 
 in a canoe alone with a woman? Did she not know 
 
78 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 tlie current was swift, and led to the rapids whose 
 roaring she heard! No, she must stay overnight, 
 and her gfood man would take her over in the 
 morning. Maggie could only submit and seated 
 herself behind the house, to gaze towards the other 
 bank which she was so anxious to set foot upon. 
 From where she sat, the bank abruptly sank to a 
 depth of perhaps thirty feet, where a little bay 
 gave shelter to a canoe and a large boat fitted to 
 convey a heavy load. Beyond the rocks that 
 headed the tiny inlet, which thus served as a cove 
 for the ferryman's boats, the river swept irresist- 
 ibly, and where in its channel between the shore 
 and the islands that shut out the view of the north 
 bank, any obstacle was met, the water rose in 
 billows with foaming heads. Maggie knew that 
 she was looking upon the south channel of the 
 great river, and that the main stream lay on the 
 other side of the tree-cov» red islands, which varie<l 
 in size from half a mile long to rocks barel}' large 
 enouiih to afford foothold to the tree or two whose 
 branches overhung the foaming current. The mo- 
 tion of the rushing water contrasted so finely w^itli 
 the still-life and silence of the forest that framed 
 it, and the many shaped and many colored islands 
 that diversified its surface, that the scene at once 
 soothed the anxious mind of the peasant maid and 
 inspired her with fresh energy. 
 
 "Time is passing like that mighty stream," she 
 thought, "and before another sunset help for Mor- 
 
HEMLOCK. 79 
 
 ton may be too late," and then she asked herself 
 why she, so used to the management of a canoe, 
 should not paddle herself across? She sought out 
 madam and told her what she proposed, was met 
 with energetic protestation, and then was allowed 
 to have her own way. Fortified with directions 
 which she only partially understood, Maggie took 
 her place in the canoe, and waving good-bye to 
 madam and her troop of children, who stood on 
 the landing, pushed out. Unmindful of how the 
 light skiff drifted downwards, she kept its head 
 pointed to the island that lay opposite to her and 
 paddled for dear life. Once she received a shower 
 of spray in passing too near to where the cur- 
 rent chafed and fumed over a sunken rock, but 
 she retained her presence of mind, and was glad to 
 see the island draw nearer with each stroke. Just 
 as the gravelly strand seemed within reach, the 
 drift brought her nigh to the end of the island, 
 and she paddled into the channel that lay between 
 it and the islets adjoining, which nestled so closely 
 that the tops of the trees upon them interlaced, 
 furnishing a leafy arcade to the narrow channels 
 that divided them. As Maggie paused for breath 
 after her severe exertion, a sense of the quiet 
 beauty and security of the retreat came over her, 
 and drawing the canoe on to the pebbly beach, she 
 laved her feet w^hile, idly picking from the bushes 
 and vines within reach, she formed a bouquet of 
 colored leaves. She heard the roar of the rapids 
 
80 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 beneath and she knew that a few yards farther on 
 lay the deep-flowing north channel, but her nature 
 was not one to borrow trouble and she enjoyed the 
 present to the full in her cool retreat. When she 
 again took her place in the canoe, a few dips of the 
 paddle took it outside the islands, and she saw the 
 main channel of the river— smooth except for 
 great greasy circles of slowly whirling water, as if 
 the mighty river, after its late experience of being- 
 shredded in the rapids above, had a nightmare of 
 foreboding of a repetition of the same agony in the 
 rapids to which it was hastening. With steady 
 stroke Maggie urged the canoe forward and did 
 not allow the consciousness that she was drifting 
 toward the rapids discompose her. As the canoe 
 neared the bank, the sweep of the current in- 
 creased, and her arms began to ache with the 
 violent and long-continued exertion. To her joy, 
 she saw a man standing at the landing and the 
 strokes of her paddle quickened. The canoe was 
 swept past the landing, when the man, picking up 
 a coil of rope, ran downwards to a point, and 
 watching his chance, threw it across the canoe. 
 Maggie caught an end of the rope, and in a minute 
 was hauled ashore. The man, a French Canadian 
 employed to assist the bateaux in passing between 
 lakes St Francis and St Louis, expressed his as- 
 tonishment at a woman daring so perilous a feat, 
 and his wonder increased when she told him of her 
 intention of going to Oka. "Alone! madamoiselle," 
 
HEMLOCK. 81 
 
 he exclaimed, "why you will lose your way in the 
 forest which is full of bears and Indians." She 
 smiled in answer, and receiving his directions, 
 souorht the blazed track which led to the Ottawa. 
 Familiar with the bush, she had no difficulty in 
 following the marks, for the litter of falling leaves 
 had begun to shroud the path. The tapping of 
 the woodpecker and the chirrup of the squirrel 
 cheered her, and she pressed on with a light and 
 quick step. Hours passed until the gloom that 
 pervaded the forest told her the sun had ceased to 
 touch the tree-tops and she wished the Ottawa 
 w^ould come in sight. While giving way to a feel- 
 ino- of dread that she miorht have to halt and, 
 passing the night in the woods, await daylight to 
 show her the way, the faint tinkle of a bell reached 
 her. With expectant smile she paused, and poising 
 herself drank in the grateful sound. "It is the bell 
 of the mission," she said, and cheerfully resumed her 
 journey. All at once, the lake burst upon her view 
 —a great sweep of glassy water, reflecting the hues 
 of the evening sky, and sleeping at the foot of a 
 long, low hill, covered to its double-topped sum- 
 mit with sombre - f oliaged trees. At the foot of 
 the slope of the western end of the hill, she distin- 
 guished the mission-buildings and, running above, 
 and below them, an irregular string of huts, where 
 she knew the Indians must live, and behind those 
 on the river's edge rose a singular cliff* of yellow 
 sand. The path led her to where the lake narrowed 
 
82 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 into a river and she perceived a landing-place. 
 Standing at the farthest point, she raised her hand 
 to her mouth and sent a shout across the waters, 
 long, clear, and strong, as she had often done to her 
 father and brothers, while working in the bush, to 
 tell of waiting-meals. In the dusk, she perceived 
 a movement on the opposite bank and the launch of 
 a canoe, which paddled rapidly across. It contained 
 two Indians, whose small eyes and heavy features 
 gave no indication of surprise on seeing who want- 
 ed to be ferried. Stepping lightly in, the canoe 
 swiftly skimmed the dark waters, which now failed 
 to catch a gleam from the fading glories of the 
 evening sky. The silence was overwhelming, and 
 as she viewed the wide lake, overshadowed by the 
 melancholy mountain, Maggie experienced a feel- 
 ing of awe. At that very hour she knew her father 
 would be conducting worship, and as the scene of 
 her loved home passed before her, she felt a fresh 
 impulse of security, and she murmured to herself, 
 "My father is praying for me and I shall trust in 
 the Lord." 
 
 On getting out of the canoe she was perplexed 
 what step to take next. To her enquiries, made in 
 English and imperfect French, the Indians shook 
 their heads, and merely pointed her to the mission- 
 buildings. Approaching the nearest of these, from 
 whose open door streamed the glowing light of a 
 log-fire, she paused at the threshold on seeing a 
 woman kneeling, and who, on hearing her, coolly 
 
HEMLOCK. 83 
 
 turned, surveyed her with an inquisitive and delib- 
 erate stare, and then calmly resumed her devotions. 
 When the last bead was told, the woman rose and 
 bade her welcome. Maggie told her of her errand. 
 The woman grew curious as to what she could 
 want with an Indian. Yes, she knew Hemlock, but 
 had not seen him; he is a pagan and never comes 
 near the presbytery. The father had gone into the 
 garden to repeat his office and had not returned;, 
 she would ask him when he came in. Mademoiselle 
 could have had no supper; mon Dieu, people did 
 not pick up ready-cooked suppers in the woods, 
 but she would hasten and give her of her best. It 
 was a treat to see a white woman, even if she was 
 an Anglais and, she feared, a heretic. The embers 
 on the hearth were urged into a blaze, and before 
 long a platter of pottage, made from Indian corn 
 beaten into a paste, was heated, sprinkled over 
 with maple-sugar and set down with a bowl of 
 curdled-cream on the table. Maggie had finished 
 her repast when the priest entered. He was a 
 lumpish man with protruding underlip, which hung 
 downwards, small eyes, and a half -awakened look. 
 "Ah, good-day," he said with a vacant stare. Maggie 
 rose and curtsied, while the housekeeper volubly 
 repeated all she had learned of her and her errand. 
 "Hemlock!" he exclaimed, "we must take care. He 
 is a bad Indian and this young woman cannot want 
 him for any good." 
 
 "True; I never thought of that." 
 
84 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Ah, we must keep our eyes always open. What 
 can a girl like this want with that bold man?" 
 
 "And to run after him through the woods, the 
 infatuite! We must save her." 
 
 "1 will Iiave her sent to the sisters, who will 
 save her body and soul from destruction. She 
 would make a beautiful nun." And the priest 
 rubbed his chubby hands together. 
 
 " May it please your reverence," interposed Mag- 
 de, Avho had caught the drift of their talk, "I seek 
 your aid to find Hemlock. If you will not help me, 
 I shall leave your house." 
 
 The priest gasped for a minute with astonish- 
 ment. "I thought you were English; you under- 
 stand French?" 
 
 "Enough to take care of myself, and I wish 
 ministers of your robe were taught in college to 
 have better thoughts of us poor women." 
 
 " It is for your good we are instructed ; so that 
 w^e can guard you by our advice." 
 
 " For our good you are taught to think the worst 
 of us ! I look for Hemlock that he may go and 
 o-ive evidence that will save a man condemned to 
 die. For the sake of innocency I ask your help." 
 
 The priest shrugged his shoulders, stared at her^ 
 gathered up his robe, grasped his missal with one 
 hand and a candle with the other, and saying, "I 
 leave you with Martine," passed up the open stair- 
 way to his bedroom. 
 
 "Ah, the holy father!" ejaculated the housekeeper, 
 
HEMLOCK. 85 
 
 "when we are sunk in stupid sleep, he is on his 
 knees praying for us all, and the demons dare not 
 come near. Will you not come into the true church? 
 Sister Agatha would teach you. She has had vis- 
 ions in her raptures. Mon Dieu, her knees have 
 corns from kneeling on the stone steps of the altar. 
 You will not. Ah, well, I will ask their prayers 
 for you and the scales may drop from your eyes." 
 
 "Do tell me, how I can find Hemlock?" pleaded 
 Mao-o-ie, and the current of her thoughts thus 
 changed, Martine insisted on learning why and 
 how his evidence was needed, and Maggie repeat- 
 ed as much of the story as was necessary. The 
 housekeeper grew interested and said decisively, 
 "the young brave must not die." Covering her head 
 with a blanket-like shawl, she told Maggie to fol- 
 low, and stepped out. It was a calm, clear night, 
 the glassy expanse of the lake reflecting the stars. 
 Hurrying onwards, they passed a number of huts, 
 until reaching one, they entered its open door. 
 The interior was dark save for the faint glow that 
 proceeded from the dying embers on the hearth. 
 Mao-o-ie saw the forms of several asleep on the floor 
 and seated in silence were three men. "This wo- 
 man has come to And Hemlock ; can you guide her 
 to him?" 
 
 "What seeks she with him?" 
 " She has come from the Chateaugay to tell him 
 his word is wanted to save his best friend from 
 death." 
 
86 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 The conversation went on in the gutturals of the 
 Iroquois for some time, when the housekeeper said 
 to Maggie, "It is all right; they know where Hem- 
 lock is, but it would not be safe to go to him now. 
 They will lead you to him at daybreak. Come, we 
 wdll go back and you will stay with me until morn- 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The rising of the housekeeper, whose bed she 
 shared, woke Maggie, and a glance through the 
 small window showed a faint whitening in the sky 
 that betokened the coming of day. Knowing there 
 was no time to spare, she dressed herself quickly, 
 and, joining the housekeeper in the kitchen, asked 
 if the messenger had come. She answered by 
 pointing to the open door, and Maggie saw, seated 
 on the lowest step, in silent waiting, the figure of 
 an Indian. She was for going with him at once, 
 when the housekeeper held her and, fearful of dis- 
 turbing her master, whispered to eat of the food 
 she had placed on the table. Having made a hur- 
 ried repast, Maggie drew her shawl over her head 
 and turned to bid her hostess good-bye. The good 
 soul forced into her pocket the bread that remain- 
 ed on the table, and kissed her on both cheeks. 
 When Maggie came to the door, the Indian rose 
 and, without looking at her, proceeded to lead the 
 way through the village and then past it, by a path 
 that wound to the top of the sand-hill that hems it 
 in on the north. Motioning her to stand still, the 
 Indian crept forward as if to spy out the object of 
 
88 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 their search. Glancing around her, Maggie saw 
 through the spruces the Ottawa outstretched at 
 her feet, reflecting the first rosy gleam of the ap- 
 proaching sun. A twitch at her shawl startled 
 her. It was her guide who had returned. Follow- 
 ing him, as he slowly threaded his way through 
 the grove of balsams and spruces, they soon came 
 to a halt, and the Indian pointed to a black object 
 outstretched upon the ground a few yards from 
 them. Fear overcame Maggie, and she turned to 
 grasp the arm of her guide — he was gone. Her 
 commonsense came to her aid. If this was Hem- 
 lock, she had nothing to fear, and mastering her 
 agitation she strove to discover whether the figure, 
 which the dawn only rendered perceptible amid the 
 gloom of the evergreens, was really the object of 
 her quest. Silently she peered, afraid to move a 
 hairsbreadth, for what seemed to her to be an age, 
 and she came to see clearly the outline of a man, 
 naked save for a girdle, fantastically fashioned out 
 of furs of varied colors, stretched immoveable on 
 the sod, face downward. Suddenly a groan of an- 
 guish escaped from the lips of the prostrate man 
 and the body swayed as if in convulsions. Her 
 sympathies overcame her fears, and advancing 
 Maggie cried, "Hemlock, are you ill? Can I help 
 you?" 
 
 With a terrific bound the figure leapt to its feet, 
 tlie right arm swinging a tomahawk, and, despite 
 an eflfort at control, Maggie shrieked. The light 
 
HEMLOCK. 89 
 
 was now strong enough to show the lineaments ot* 
 the Indian, whose face and body were smeared with 
 grease and soot and whose countenance wore the 
 expression of one roused from deep emotion in 
 sudden rage. 
 
 "Hemlock, do not look at me so; I am Maggie 
 Forsyth, come from the Chateaugay to seek you." 
 
 Instantly the face of the Indian softened. "Why 
 should the fawn leave the groves of the Chateau- 
 gay to seek so far the lair of the lynx?" 
 
 "Your friend Morton is doomed to die by the 
 American soldiers and you alone can save him." 
 
 "What! Did he not escape? Tell me all." 
 
 Maggie told him what she knew, he listening 
 with impassive countenance. When she had done, 
 he paused, as if reflecting, and then said curtly, "I 
 will go with you." It was now fair daylight, and 
 Maggie saw, to her dismay, that the mound upon 
 which she had found Hemlock outstretched was a 
 grave, and that, at the head of it was a stake upon 
 which hung several scalps, the topmost evidently 
 cut from a recent victim. Glancing at the radiant 
 eastward sky, the Indian started, and ignoring the 
 presence of his visitor, fell on his knees on the 
 oTave, and turning- his face so as to see the sun 
 when it should shoot its first beam over the broad 
 lake, which was reflecting the glow of the rosy 
 clouds that overhung its further point, he com- 
 muned with the dead. " I leave thee. Spotted 
 Fawn, for a while, that I may meet those who did 
 
90 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 thee hurt and bring back another scalp to satisfy 
 thy spirit. Thy father's arm is strong, but it is 
 stronger when he thinks of thee. Tarry a while 
 before you cross the river and I will finish my task 
 and join thee in the journey to the hunting-ground; 
 the arm that oft bore you when a child, will carry 
 you over the waters and rocks. Farewell! Oh, my 
 child, my daughter, how could you leave me? Tread 
 softly and slowly, for I will soon leave my lodge of 
 sorrow and see you and clasp you to my heart." 
 There was a pause, a groan of unutterable sorrow 
 escaped his lips, and he sank lifeless upon the 
 grave. Agitated with deep sympathy, Maggie 
 stepped forward and kneeling beside the Indian 
 stroked his head and shoulders as if she had been 
 soothing a child. 
 
 "Dinna tak on sae, Hemlock. Sair it is to mourn 
 the loved and lost, but we maun dae our duty in 
 this warl and try to live sae as to meet them in the 
 warl ayont. He that let the stroke fa', alane 
 can heal the hurt. Gin yer daughter is deed, it is 
 only for this life. Her voice will be the first to 
 welcome you when you cross death's threshold." 
 
 "I saw her an hour ago. It is your creed that 
 says the dead are not seen again in this life. I got 
 the medicine from my father that melts the scales 
 from our earthly eyes for a while. Last night I 
 saw my child — last night she was in these arms — 
 last night my cheek felt the warmth of her breath 
 — last night my ears joyed in the ripple of her 
 
HEMLOCK. 91 
 
 laughter. Oh, my Spotted Fawn, the joy, the life 
 of my heart, why did you stray from me?" Then, 
 his mood changing, he sprang up with the words, 
 "Cursed be the wolves that hunted you, cursed be 
 the catamount that crept near that he might rend 
 you! I will seek them out, I will track them day 
 by day, until I slay the last of them." Here he 
 orround his teeth and remained absorbed for a 
 minute, then turning sharply, with a wave of the 
 hand, he beckoned Maggie to follow, and led to the 
 verge of the cliff overhanging the Ottawa. "Stay 
 here until I come back," he whispered and, disap- 
 peared over the declivity. 
 
 The glorious landscape outstretched at her feet 
 soothed, as naught else could, the agitation of 
 Mao-o^ie's mind, for Nature's touch is ever gentle 
 and healing. The great expanse of water, here 
 narrowed into a broad river, there swelling into a 
 noble lake, was smooth as a mirror, reflecting hill 
 and tree and rock. Beyond it, was unrolled the 
 forest as a brightly colored carpet, for the glory of 
 Autumn was upon it, and a trail of smoky mist 
 hung on the horizon. An hour might have sped, 
 when Hemlock reappeared, with paint washed off 
 and dressed in his usual attire. Across his back 
 was slung his rifle; at his heel was a gaunt, ill- 
 shaped dog. "Follow," he said, and turning back- 
 ward a few paces, led to where the bank could be 
 descended without difficulty. At the foot of it, lay 
 waiting a canoe, wdth a boy in the bow. Maggie 
 
92 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 stepped lightly into the centre, and Hemlock grasp- 
 ing the paddle, shot the light skiff swiftly across 
 the stream. When the opposite bank was gained, 
 he sprang ashore and was followed by Maggie. 
 The boy, without a word, paddled back to the 
 village. 
 
 Hemlock was in no mood for conversation. The 
 exhaustion following upon his night-vigil was upon 
 him, and he strode forward through the forest 
 without speaking, Maggie following his guidance. 
 Once he halted, on seeing his dog creeping forward 
 on scenting game. Picking up a stick, he stepped 
 lightly after it, and when a covey of partridges 
 rose, threw his missile so successfully that two of 
 the birds dropped. Tying them to his belt, he re- 
 sumed his monotonous trot, and several miles were 
 passed when the sharp yelps of the dog suddenly 
 arrested their steps. The alarm came from a point 
 to their left. Hemlock, unslinging his rifle, ran in 
 the direction of the dog, whose baying was now in- 
 tense and continuous, and Maggie, afraid of losing 
 sight of him, hastened after. A short run brought 
 the Indian to the edge of a slough, in a thicket in 
 the centre of which his dog was evidently engaged 
 in mortal combat with some wild animal. With- 
 out a moment's hesitation, the Indian started to 
 pick his way across the morass; partially dried by 
 the pi-olonged drought, and had passed the centre, 
 when there was a crashing of branches and a huge 
 bear burst out, followed by the dog, which was 
 
HEMLOCK. 98 
 
 limping, from a fractured paw. Before he could 
 turn aside, Hemlock was knocked down by the lum- 
 bering brute, which gained the solid ground and 
 was hurrying forward, Avhen, seeing Maggie coming, 
 it sprang for a huge beech tree, with the intent of 
 climbing it. Before it was a yard up, the dog over- 
 took it, had fastened its teeth in its hide and pulled 
 it down. The bear, roused to utmost ferocity by 
 being thwarted, easily caught hold of the disabled 
 dog, held it in its forepaws, and standing on its 
 hind feet, with back resting against the tree, was 
 proceeding to hug its victim to death, when Hem- 
 lock came up. He had dropped his rifle in the 
 slough, and instead of waiting to pick it up, had 
 rushed forward to rescue his dog. With upraised 
 hatchet he approached the bear, and dealt it so 
 terrific a stroke, that the light weapon stuck in 
 the skull. With a growl of rage and pain, the 
 bear flung the dog down and before Hemlock could 
 recover himself after dealing the blow, fell upon 
 him, too stunned and weak, however, to do more 
 than keep him under. On catching her first 
 glimpse of the bear, Maggie's inclination was to 
 flee, but, the next moment, the instinct of self- 
 preservation gave way to a feeling of sympathy 
 for the disabled dog, followed b^^ absorbing excite- 
 ment as the contest went on. When Hemlock fell 
 underneath the brute, she gave a shriek, and rush- 
 ed to where the rifle lay. Snatching it, she ran to 
 the bear, which lay panting with outstretched 
 
94 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 tongue and half-closed eyes, and dealt him a blo'w 
 with the butt. With a groan the unwieldy animal 
 rolled over motionless, and Hemlock sprang to his 
 feet, and drew his knife. It was unnecessary; the 
 bear was dead. Maggie looked wildly at the In- 
 dian, strove to speak, tottered, and fell: the reaction 
 from the delirium of excited feeling that had sus- 
 tained her having set in. Tenderly Hemlock raised 
 her in his arms, and carrying her to the edge of the 
 swamp, scooped up sufficient water to bathe her 
 forehead. A few anxious minutes passed, when 
 the pallor began to pass away, and suddenly open- 
 ing her eyes, Maggie asked, "What of the dog?" 
 
 "Never mind Toga; are you hurt?" 
 
 "No; are you?" 
 
 "I am as well as ever, and had not my foot slipped 
 after striking the bear, would have spared you what 
 you did." 
 
 "That does not matter," said Maggie, simply, "it 
 was God that put it into my silly head to get the 
 gun and it was His strength that gave the blow — 
 not mine." 
 
 "I care not for your God," answered Hemlock in 
 a hollow voice, "I have known too many who pro- 
 fess to be His followers to believe in Him." 
 
 "Dinna speak sae," pleaded Maggie. 
 
 "Yesterday," Hemlock went on, " I met the 
 topped crow that clings to Oka while taking from 
 a squaw her last beaver-skins to say masses for her 
 dead husband, and I cursed him to his teeth as a 
 
HEMLOCK. \)o 
 
 deceiver that he may eat the corn and give back to 
 his dupes the cob." 
 
 Unheeding his words, Maggie rose and went to- 
 wards the dog, which was still alive, and began to 
 stroke its head. Its eyes, however, sought not her 
 but his master, and when Hemlock put down his 
 hand, the dying animal feebly tried to lick it. At 
 this sign of affection, the eyes of Hemlock moisten- 
 ed, and falling on his knees he alternately patted 
 the dog and shook his unhurt paw. "My Toga, my 
 old friend, my help in many a hunt, my comrade 
 when we were alone for weeks in the wilderness, 
 are you too going to leave me? You are dying, as 
 the Indian's dog should die, in the fury of the 
 hunt. A claw of the bear I shall wrap in a piece 
 of my wampum belt and put into your mouth, so 
 that Spotted Fawn may know whose dog you were, 
 and you will serve her and follow her until I join 
 you in the happy hunting-ground — and that will 
 not be long." 
 
 As if sensible of what he said the dog whimpered, 
 and with a last effort placed its head in his out- 
 stretched hands. Then it gave a kick or two, and 
 died. 
 
 The Indian rose, and selecting a knoll where 
 spruces grew thickly, kindled a fire. Wrapping 
 the two partridges tightly in wet grass and several 
 folds of green birch bark, he waited until there 
 were embers, on which he placed them, and heaped 
 fresh fuel. Asking Maggie to keep up the fire, he 
 
96 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 left and was away for some time. When he came 
 back he had the bear s pelt and several slices of 
 steak, which he proceeded to broil. On lifting the 
 partridges, their bodies came out clean from their 
 covering of feathers, and on tearing them apart the 
 entrails, dried and shrivelled, were easily drawn. 
 Maggie had eaten many a partridge, but a sweeter 
 bite than the breast of one so cooked she had never 
 tasted, and with a piece of the bread in her pocket, 
 she made a light but refreshing dinner. The bear- 
 steak she could not look upon, but like qualms did 
 not interfere with Hemlock's appetite, who ate them 
 with greater relish because part of his late enemy 
 and the slayer of his dog. He had filled his flask 
 with water from a spring near by, and Maggie re- 
 marked, if she "only had a pinch o' saut, she couldna 
 have asked for a better dinner." Trimming and 
 scraping the bear's hide, to make it light as pos- 
 ble, Hemlock wrapped it into a bundle, and strapped 
 it on his back. Then looking to the priming of his 
 rifle, he told Maggie he was ready. 
 
 "But the puir dowg; will ye no bury him?" 
 "I have buried him," answered Hemlock, "and 
 poisoned the carcase of the bear that it may sicken 
 the wolves that eat of it." 
 
 The tonofue of Hemlock was now free, and as 
 they trudged on, he kept up a constant conversa- 
 tion, surprising Maggie by the extent of his infor- 
 mation and the shrewdness of his judgment. Be- 
 coming conscious that the sun was descending, she 
 
HEMLOCK. 97 
 
 expressed a fear that she could not reach home 
 that night. "No, you cannot, and I do not mean 
 you should, but you will rest safe before sunset. I 
 am taking you to the fort at Coteau-du-lac." 
 
 "That is oot o' oor way, Hemlock." 
 
 " Not very far; it is necessary I see Colonel Scott 
 as to how to save Morton." 
 
 Maggie said no more, for that was reason enough 
 to go a hundred miles out of the way, though she 
 thought with pain of the anxiety her absence for 
 another night would give her parents. "Father 
 will think I did not find Hemlock at Oka and that 
 I am looking for him," she concluded at last, "and 
 will not borrow trouble about me." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Colonel Scott was pacing the walk in front of 
 the battery of the little fort of Coteau-dii-lac, view- 
 ing alternately lake St Francis, glittering peacefully 
 in the rays of the fast westering sun, and the swift- 
 running river into which it contracted where he 
 stood, with the surges of the rapids farther down. 
 He was tall, and his face was that of a man who 
 had intellect to conceive and will to put his con- 
 ceptions into force. To the door of a house larger 
 than any of its neighbors, and before which a 
 sentry paced, the Colonel often glanced and when 
 a lady came out, he stepped to meet her. It was 
 his wife, who joined him for an airing before 
 dinner. After admiring, as she had done every 
 day since her arrival, the contrast between the 
 lake and the river, as it went sweeping downwards 
 between forest- covered islands, she asked, "And is 
 there any news? I heard an arrival reported." 
 
 "None since the despatch of last night and it 
 said Wilkinson was still at Sackett's Harbor." 
 
 "So we may not expect his flotilla of boats this 
 week?" 
 
 "No, and were I in Sir George Prevost's place, 
 they would never leave Sackett's Harbor." 
 
HEMLOCK. 99 
 
 "Why, you have told me his Excellency has not 
 sufficient naval force to attack them." 
 
 "I would not attack the flotilla; I would render 
 its purpose abortive. What is the American plan of 
 invasion? I can give it to you in a nutshell, Helen. 
 Wilkinson is to take possession of the St Lawrence 
 with his flotilla and is to meet Hampton at the 
 mouth of the Chateaugay river, when the combined 
 forces will land on the island of Montreal and cap- 
 ture it and the city. Now, to defeat this plan, it 
 is not necessary to destroy tlie flotilla. If the line 
 of communication between Wilkinson and Hamp- 
 ton is cut, the whole scheme fails." 
 
 "And how would you cut the line?" 
 
 "Why, as I have represented time and again to 
 headquarters, by the capture of French Mills. Four 
 hundred men could take and hold that place, and 
 with it in British hands Wilkinson and Hampton 
 would be as completely prevented from acting in 
 concert as if Hampton was back to his slaves in 
 Carolina and Wilkinson to his gally-pots. It pro- 
 vokes me to see the opportunities our forces miss. 
 The war in the time of Washington was a series of 
 blunders on our side and it looks as if the second 
 was going to be a repetition." 
 
 "And you blame his Excellency?" 
 
 "Yes and his stafl*. He is brave personally, and 
 he is active to fuesiness, but he is unable to plan a 
 campaign or carry it out. Here we have the flower 
 of the British army arri\'ing by every convoy, yet 
 
100 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 our policy is a purely defensive one and changed 
 every day. Out upon such a peddling course ot* 
 action! I would teach the braggarts who lurk on 
 yonder heights that Canada is not to be invaded 
 with impunity, and that she has hearts to dare and 
 die in defence of her independence." 
 
 "Well, Norman, it may prove to be all for the 
 best. So far Canada has repulsed every attempt 
 at invasion." 
 
 "It is not for the best. I have made suggestion 
 skfter suggestion to improve the opportunities pre- 
 sented to me, and every one has been set aside, and 
 I am condemned to a course of inaction that galls 
 and frets me." 
 
 Here an orderly approached. "An Indian and 
 a young woman want to speak with you." 
 
 "I will go," said Mrs Scott. 
 
 "Do not," cried the Colonel, "what tete-a-tete 
 may I not have with the lovely squaw." 
 
 "Please, sir," said the orderly, "she is not a squaw. 
 She is white and a Scotchwoman by her speech." 
 
 "And young to boot," exclaimed Mrs Scott archly, 
 ^'I shall certainly stay and keep you from falling 
 into temptation." 
 
 "Bring them this way," said the Colonel, and the 
 orderly returned with Hemlock and Maggie. 
 
 "In truth an odd-matched pair," whispered the 
 Colonel as he saw them approach. 
 
 "Why, it's you, Hemlock. I thought you were 
 raising the war-whoop on the Huntingdon frontier. 
 
HEMLOCK. 101 
 
 And who may your companion be? Too young to 
 be your wife — too fair to be your sweetheart." 
 
 The Indian's features relaxed into the nearest 
 approach they ever came to a smile, as he answer- 
 ed, "An arrow from another bow than mine has 
 struck the doe." 
 
 " Well, Hemlock, do you bring me news from Hin- 
 chinbrook? When is Hampton going to march?" 
 
 In reply, Hemlock briefly told how he had been 
 at Oka, was sought out there by Maggie and for 
 what purpose. The Colonel listened with stern ex- 
 pression as he was told of Morton's peril, and when 
 the Indian had done, he plied Maggie with ques- 
 tions. When she had told all, the Colonel brought 
 his fist down heavily on the cannon beside which 
 he stood as he exclaimed, "I knew these Americans 
 were boasters but I did not think they were capa- 
 ble of such cruelty. Once they hung a gentleman 
 wearing His Majesty's uniform and were allowed 
 to escape under the belief that, tradesmen and 
 farmers as they were, they knew no better, but if 
 they send a second to the gallows, there is not an 
 officer in Canada who would not consider it his 
 duty to challenge every one concerned in the deed.'" 
 
 With a glance of apprehension at her husband, 
 Mrs Scott with admirable tact strove to divert him 
 from his vengeful mood by changing the subject. 
 Addressing Maggie she asked, "And what is Mr 
 Morton to you that you should risk the peril of 
 these woods to save him? Is he a brother?" 
 
102 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "He is neither kitli nor kin to me," answered 
 Mao^orie. 
 
 "The attraction is of another sort, then. Cupid 
 flies his arrows in these woods as well as the red 
 warrior." 
 
 Maggie blushed and the Colonel, forgetting his 
 anger, gallantly came to her rescue. "And if he 
 does, madam, I would say to Master Cupid, give 
 me the maiden who, like our fair Maggie, would 
 dare the dragons of the field and flood to save her 
 lover." 
 
 "Oh!" retorted Mrs Scott, "that is as much as to 
 say, I would not do that and more for you. What 
 thankless monsters you men are!" 
 
 "Nay, spare me, Helen, and as by what she has 
 told us, she has walked from Oka today, perhaps 
 you will take her with you and play the hostess." 
 
 "She has done more than walk from Oka today," 
 said Hemlock, "she killed a bear and saved my 
 life." 
 
 "What!" cried Mrs Scott in astonishment, and 
 Hemlock told the story of the encounter. When 
 he had done the Colonel stepped forward and 
 grasping Maggie's hands he said, "I honor you as 
 a brave man honors a brave woman, and if there 
 is any possibility of saving Mr Morton's life, it 
 shall be done " 
 
 Maggie was too overcome to reply, and Mrs Scott, 
 slipping her arm into hers, led her away to her hus- 
 band's quarters, leaving Hemlock and the Colonel 
 
HEMLOCK. 103 
 
 in eager converse, which lasted until daylight had 
 nearly faded and until a servant came with word 
 that dinner was waiting the Colonel. Ordering the 
 servant to call one of the sergeants, the Colonel 
 committed Hemlock to his hospitable care and then 
 entered his own quarters. Maggie spent one of the 
 most delightful evenings of her life in the company 
 of the Colonel and his wife, forgetting her weari- 
 ness and the excitement she had passed through in 
 the enjoyment of social converse of a brighter and 
 wider scope than she had been accustomed. When 
 bedtime came she was solicitous about being called 
 early so that Hemlock might not be kept waiting, 
 when the Colonel assured her he would take her res- 
 toration to her home by the Chateaugay into his own 
 hands. When she made her appearance next day, 
 she found her entertainers seated on the veranda, 
 and was concerned to learn that it was near noon 
 and that Hemlock had left at sunrise. The anxi- 
 ous look that flitted across her face, the Colonel 
 relieved by telling her that Hemlock had chosen 
 a route she could not have followed, across the 
 great swamp that lay between the St Lawrence 
 and the Chateaugay, and that he carried a letter 
 to her father, telling where she was and that she 
 would go home by the first safe opportunity. 
 
 "And now, my dear Maggie," said Mrs Scott, 
 *'You need not be concerned about those at home 
 but be my companion for a few days. Buried 
 away here in these romantic wilds, you cannot 
 
104j gleaner tales. 
 
 conceive what a treat it is to me to have your 
 society." 
 
 "You are welcome, Miss Forsyth," added the 
 Colonel, "and you will get a chance before long of 
 a convoy to Annfield, for I expect one from King- 
 ston by the end of the week." 
 
 "But they may be needing me at home, Colonel; 
 my mother is frail and if the Yankees have crossed 
 she will be sore in need of my help." 
 
 "Make yourself easy as to that," said the Colonel 
 with a smile. "General Hampton, as I know for 
 an assured fact, has not crossed the frontier and 
 will not for several days, at least — perhaps never, 
 for he has no heart in the undertaking. As to 
 Wilkinson coming, I wish he would. I am just 
 afraid he is going to deprive me of the pleasure of 
 giving him the warm reception I have gone to so 
 much trouble to prepare. After lunch, or rather 
 your breakfast, we will take the boat and see 
 that everything is in order for him." 
 
 A couple of hours later they were seated in the 
 Colonel's long boat, manned by four tars, who, 
 however, were spared the labor of rowing all the 
 way, for the wind was favorable. Heading Grande 
 Isle, they sailed down the south channel of the St 
 Lawrence to a narrow point, where, by means of 
 the trunks of huge trees anchored above where 
 rapids foamed, the passage of boats was made im- 
 possible and before these obstructions could be 
 lifted out, the Colonel pointed to his wife and 
 
HEMLOCK. 105 
 
 Maggie how a concealed battery aided by sharp- 
 shooters hid among the foliage that lined the river 
 would decimate the occupants of the boats. He 
 considered the southern channel to be so effectually 
 closed that Wilkinson would not attempt it and 
 would, therefore, have to take the northern, where 
 he would have to run the gauntlet of the fire of 
 the fort at Coteau-du-lac. "True it is," added the 
 Colonel, "that that channel is wide and the current 
 swift, yet with a fire from both banks many boats 
 must needs be crippled or sunk, and those that do 
 escape would have to face a similar ordeal at Long 
 Point, opposite the Cedars rapids, where another 
 battery has been placed." 
 
 "What if the Americans passed in the dark?"^ 
 suggested Maggie. 
 
 "Yes," added Mrs Scott, "or what if they landed 
 a part of their large force before they came within 
 range of the Coteau batteries and assailed them 
 from the land-side?" 
 
 "All that I have considered. Were they to pass 
 in the dark, they would not see to shoot the rapids 
 properly, and their angry waters would be more 
 disastrous than our shot. As to a flank movement, 
 I rely on the Indian scouts to bring me word and^ 
 fully warned of their coming, these woods are so 
 dense and cut up by swamps, that, with a hundred 
 men, I would undertake to repulse a thousand." 
 
 "So you keep constant watch?" asked Maggie. 
 
 "Unceasing," answered the Colonel. "If you 
 
106 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 take this telescope you will perceive a sail at the 
 upper end of the lake. It is one of the gunboats 
 on the watch, and which would, on appearance of 
 Wilkinson's flotilla, either make for Coteau or if 
 the wind were unfavorable send a row-boat. Then, 
 on that farthest island there is a guard of regulars, 
 who are likely to give the island a name, for al- 
 ready it is called Grenadier island. To the guard 
 on that island, scouts on the southern shore report 
 daily." 
 
 "Surely you have contrived well," exclaimed 
 Maggie, "and I just wish the Yankees would come 
 and get what you have prepared for them." 
 
 "'Their kail het through the reek, as the Scotch 
 say,'" laughed the Colonel, "well I am just afraid I 
 will not see them. Along the river, between Pres- 
 cott and Cornwall, there is such a succession of 
 points of attack, that, from all I learn of him, 
 Wilkinson is not soldier enough to overcome." 
 
 In returning, the boat landed the party in a cove 
 on Grande Isle, whence, from under the shade of 
 maples, they scanned the lake, shimmering in the 
 sun, and the islets, heavy with trees richly colored 
 by Autumn's fingers, set in it like gems. 
 
 "This is so pleasant," remarked Mrs Scott, "that 
 I do not wonder at people growing to passionately 
 love Canada. Do you prefer Canada to Scotland, 
 Maggie?" 
 
 "I never saw Scotland," replied Maggie, "but I 
 dearl}^ love Canada and can find it in my heart to 
 
HEMLOCK. 107 
 
 wish that the Colonel may wring the necks of those 
 who are trying to take it away from us." 
 
 '' Well said 1" shouted the Colonel, "and Canada is 
 so favored by nature in her line of defence and in 
 her climate, that I cannot conceive how, if her 
 people are true, she can ever come under the heel 
 of a conqueror." 
 
 The day passed happily and so did several others. 
 Accompanying Mrs Scott, Maggie visited the little 
 canals that enabled the boats, that plied between 
 Montreal and Upper Canada, to overcome the 
 rapids, to see the lockmen and their families, and 
 watch the peculiar class of men who assisted the 
 boats in passing upwards, either by poling and 
 towing or by lightening their load with the help 
 of their diminutive carts and ponies. With the 
 garrison and its daily life she became familiar, and 
 the detachment of blue jackets, drafted from the 
 men-of-war at Quebec, partly engaged in manning 
 the gunboats already afloat and in building others, 
 she never wearied in watching. Each day endeared 
 her more to Mrs Scott, who, she learned, had sacri- 
 ficed her comfort and safety, by accompanying her 
 husband on duty. Following the regiment, she 
 had been with him in India, Egypt, and Spain, 
 and, when ordered on special service to Canada, 
 had unhesitatingly followed him, leaving their two 
 children with friends in England. Maggie saw that 
 her presence was a help rather than a drag upon 
 the Colonel, whom she assisted and cared for as 
 
108 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 only a true woman can and preserved him from 
 many privations he must otherwise have under- 
 gone. While most anxious to be at home again, 
 it was not without a pang of regret that Maggie 
 learned one morning that a fleet of the King's 
 bateaux was in sight coming down the lake. An 
 hour afterwards she was on board of one, waving 
 farewell to her friends. Landed at the foot of the 
 Cascade rapids, she walked home before sunset. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The army did not begin a forward movement 
 towards Canada on the day of Morton's interview 
 with Hampton. It was only the first of several 
 abortive starts, and the autumn days were draw- 
 ing towards an end with the army still encamped 
 at Four Corners. The American public was in- 
 dignant at its inaction: much had been expected 
 of, the army, yet it had accomplished nothing, and 
 the campaigning season was near an end. The 
 denunciations of the Albany and New York news- 
 papers Hampton could not stoop to reply to: those 
 of the Washington authorities he answered by lay- 
 ing the blame upon Wilkinson. He was to move 
 on Montreal in conjunction with that general, and 
 his failure to leave Sackett's Harbor he gave as 
 the cause of his own inaction. To the critics who 
 suggested he had sufficient strength to capture 
 Montreal unaided, he represented that his orders 
 from Washington expressly required him to co- 
 operate with the flotilla that was hugging the 
 shelter of Sackett's Harbor. If he was left free 
 to act by the secretary-of-war, he would show the 
 country what he could do, but he was not free. 
 
110 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 There were those who thought his excuses were 
 the offspring of his secret wish, to get out of the 
 campaign without risking any great movement 
 In all those days of dallying, Morton lay forlorn 
 in the stable, sick of his confinement and of pro- 
 longed suspense, until the doctor, taking pity upon 
 him, asked, if the General could be induced to grant 
 him the freedom of the camp on parole, would he 
 accept it? Eager to get out of his dismal prison 
 and hopeless of escape, Morton eagerly embraced 
 the offer, and next day he was told he was at 
 liberty to leave his wretched abode during day- 
 light. The boon proved to be of less advantage 
 than he had anticipated. The officers would not 
 consort with him, professing to believe he had been 
 a party to the disfigurement and murder of their 
 late comrade, and the rank-and-file swore at him 
 as an abettor of the Indians and as a Britisher. 
 The miscarriage of the campaign had soured the 
 tempers of the troops, and they were ready to vent 
 it upon Morton or any other of the enemy who 
 came within reach of their tongues. After a few 
 hours' unpleasant experience, Morton returned to 
 his stable indignant and humiliated. Altho' thus 
 cut off from intercourse with the military, he en- 
 joyed the freedom of moving about. Even lying 
 on the grass and watching the face of nature, was 
 inexpressibly^ sweet to him. In course of time he 
 scraped acquaintance with a few civilians, and 
 especially with a storekeeper, Douglass, a Scotch- 
 
HEMLOCK. Ill 
 
 man, who showed him such kindness as he dared 
 without bringing upon himself the suspicion oi* 
 disloyalty. The weather, which had been uninter- 
 ruptedly dry and hot, underwent a sudden change, 
 to wet and cold, and from suspense as to when 
 they would march into Canada the troops began to 
 hope that orders would come from Washington to 
 retire into winter-quarters. One particularly cold, 
 rainy evening, Morton retired to rest in a mood 
 that was in keeping with his dismal surroundings, 
 and courted sleep to give him temporary relief. 
 How long he might have been lost in slumber he 
 was unconscious, when awakened by something 
 lightly passing over his face. "Keep quiet," said a 
 voice: "do not cry or you may attract the guard." 
 The darkness was intense; the patter of the rain 
 on the roof the only sound without. The voice 
 Morton recognized at once as Hemlock's. 
 
 "How did you get here? Do you not know they 
 would tear you limb from limb if they found you?" 
 
 "I know it all, but an Indian brave counts noth- 
 ing when he goes to save a friend. Get up and go 
 with me." 
 
 A momentary feeling of exultation fluttered in 
 Morton's breast at the prospect of liberty, followed 
 by the depressing recollection that he had given 
 his word not to escape. 
 
 "I cannot go with you," he said in a voice of 
 despair. 
 
 "Why? You are well of your hurt, and you can 
 
112 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 run a mile or two if we are followed. Come, my 
 -arm will help you." 
 
 "Hemlock, had you come a fortnight ago I would 
 have jumped at your call: I cannot tonight, for I 
 have given my word of honor not to escape. I am 
 a prisoner on parole." 
 
 'Honor! Did these Americans treat you as men 
 of honor, when they put the rope round your neck? 
 Your promise is nothing. Come!" 
 
 "I cannot, Hemlock. Let them be what they 
 may, it shall never be said that a British officer 
 broke his word. Leave me; get away at once, or 
 you may be caught." 
 
 "I will not leave without you. Think of the 
 fair doe that sorrows in secret by the Chateaugay 
 for you and sought me out to bring you. Come, 
 you shall be with her before another sun has set." 
 
 Morton was puzzled by this speech, but was too 
 anxious concerning Hemlock's safety to delay by 
 asking what it meant. 
 
 " Save yourself. Hemlock ; the patrol will be 
 round soon, and if you are discovered you are lost." 
 
 "I fear not: they cannot take me alive." 
 
 "For my sake, then, go; I will not leave, I will 
 keep the promise I have given. Consider this my 
 friend, if you are found here it is death to me as 
 well as you. Go." 
 
 "Not without you; I will carry you on my back, 
 whether you will or not," and he laid his hand 
 upon Morton to grasp hold of him. At that mo- 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 113 
 
 ment, the sound of the tramp of an approaching 
 detachment of soldiers was heard. "It is the pat- 
 rol, Hemlock; fly for God's sake." 
 
 Hemlock stepped to the door for an instant, then 
 turning to Morton whispered, "they have torches 
 and will see what I have done, and that will give 
 the alarm. Come, go with me." 
 
 "I cannot," said Morton decisively. 
 
 "Then, give me a token to show her who sent 
 me that I did my duty," said Hemlock. Eager for 
 his escape, Morton plucked the signet-ring from 
 his finger and pressed it into the Indian's hand 
 with a farewell grasp. Noiselessly and swiftly 
 Hemlock glided out, across the open, and was lost 
 to sight. Seeing how near the patrol were, Morton 
 closed the door and lay down upon his bed of straw. 
 He heard the tramp of the troops draw nearer, and 
 then a sharp cry of "Halt!" followed by a shout of 
 horror and a volley of curses. "The damned In- 
 dians are about!" a voice cried. "Poor Tom," said 
 another, "he died like a stuck pig." "See to the 
 Britisher," shouted a third, "he must know of it." 
 "Back to your ranks/' commanded the officer, "I 
 will see to what is to be done." Sending a messen- 
 ger to headquarters to report, he detailed three 
 others to approach the stable and bring out Mor- 
 ton. One of the three remonstrated. "The redskin 
 may be hiding there and kill us." "Obey orders," 
 yelled the officer to his men, who had peculiar ideas 
 of military obedience. "Our muskets cover you." 
 
114 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 Reluctantly they approaclied, and two simultane- 
 ously burst in the door with a rush, while the third 
 held a torch. Their only discovery was Morton 
 lying in his bed. He was roughly dragged to the 
 captain, who, with his men, stood around something 
 stretched upon the grass. 
 
 " What do you know of this, prisoner?" asked the 
 captain, and a soldier waved a torch over the ob- 
 ject. Morton, with a shudder, perceived it was the 
 body of a soldier that had been stabbed in the 
 breast, and scalped. 
 
 "This body is warm," said the captain, "the deed 
 has been done within a quarter of an hour: you lay 
 within 20 yards of its perpetration; I demand what 
 you know of the slaughter of this sentry of the 
 United States army." 
 
 Morton hesitated. He had no moral doubt that 
 Hemlock had committed the deed, and that the 
 scalp of the dead man was then dangling from his 
 belt, and in his horror of the act was about to tell 
 all, when he suddenly recollected that by doing so 
 he would show himself ungrateful to Hemlock. 
 
 "I neither saw nor heard aught of this foul mur- 
 der," answered Morton, but his hesitation in reply- 
 ing was noted by men disposed to suspect him. 
 "Let me put my bayonet through him," said one of 
 the soldiers with an oath, as he rushed upon Mor- 
 ton. There was a flash from the adjoining bush, 
 the crack of a rifle, and the soldier fell dead, with 
 a bullet in his forehead. 
 
HEMLOCK. 115 
 
 "Out with the lights," shrieked the captain in a 
 transport of fear, as he struck one torch down with 
 his sword and the others were thrown into the 
 pools of rainwater. For a minute or two they 
 listened with palpitating hearts in the darkness, 
 and then the captain whispered for them to move 
 to headquarters, the lights of which were seen near 
 by. Forgotten by them in their alarm, Morton 
 made his way back to the stable and flung himself 
 down on his pallet of straw, perplexed and agitat- 
 ed. In vain he tried to sleep and the night dragged 
 wearily on. When daylight at last began to dawn 
 upon a scene of sullen rain and sodden fields, the 
 sound of voices told him his captors were on the 
 alert. The door was violently opened and a sol- 
 dier looked in and reported to his comrades outside, 
 "The varmint is still here," to which he heard the 
 reply, "That beats me!" An hour later a scout en- 
 tered lighted a candle, and proceeded to examine the 
 floor of the stable and its contents. When he was 
 done, the door was bolted and, Morton felt assured, 
 a sentry placed outside. Breakfast time passed 
 without his caterer appearing and the forenoon 
 was well advanced before he was disturbed, when a 
 detachment of troops halted and an officer entered. 
 "I have come, Mr Morton, to take you to head- 
 quarters." 
 
 Going out, Morton was placed between files and 
 marched to the General's quarters, where he was 
 shown into a room where several officers were seat- 
 
116 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ed. Motioned to stand at the foot of the table, the 
 presiding officer, a tall, cadaverous man, asked him 
 to tell what he knew of the event of the past night. 
 
 "Is this a court-martial and am I on trial?" 
 
 "No, it is a committee of enquiry. There ain't 
 no call for trying you, seein' you are already a con- 
 demned culprit." 
 
 "Then, why should I answ^er you?" 
 
 " Wall, if you make a clean breast of it, we mought 
 recommend the General to commute your sentence." 
 
 "And should I not see fit to answer this irregular 
 tribunal?" 
 
 "I ain't going to knock round the bush with you. 
 At home, everybody knows Major Spooner as up- 
 and-down, frank and square, and I tell you, if you 
 don't spit out all you know, the rope won't be 
 taken off your neck a second time." 
 
 "What I know of last night's shocking event I 
 am ready to communicate to any gentleman who 
 approaches me in an honorable manner, but I scorn 
 to say a word under threats." 
 
 The officers here exchanged nods and winks, and 
 one said: "I knew Mister President, he wouldn't 
 tell— he dassn't. He had a hand in killing Jack- 
 son — gagged his mouth, mebbe, while the redskin 
 drew his knife." 
 
 Morton, stung to the quick, turned indignantly 
 to the speaker, "Sir, if I had my sword you would 
 either take back your words or know what cold 
 steel is." 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 117 
 
 "Pshaw," was the contemptuous retort, "I don't 
 care for anything in the shape of a Britisher." 
 
 "That's so, and you know first-rate how to rile 
 one," exclaimed the presiding officer approvingly. 
 Then addressing Morton, he added, "We ain't 
 afeared of your threats, young man, and won't 
 lose time with you— yes or no, are you going to 
 p'ive evidence?"' 
 
 "No," answered Morton firmly. 
 
 "That will do: withdraw the prisoner." 
 
 "Excuse me, Major Spooner," said a voice behind. 
 Morton turned and saw standing by the door an 
 officer whose bearing indicated he was a soldier by 
 profession and not one of a few months' standing. 
 "I came in after the examination had begun and 
 therefore did not take my seat at the board. If 
 you will allow me, I will endeavor to represent to 
 the accused how matters stand." 
 
 "Sartainly, Colonel Vanderberg; yer ken try him." 
 
 "Then, Mr Morton, the case stands thus: last 
 night one of our men on guard, posted near where 
 j^ou slept, was stabbed and scalped. I need not 
 say, I do not believe for a moment you had 
 any hand in that deed. However, this morning 
 experts were sent to discover the trail of the per- 
 petrator, and they, favored by the softness of the 
 soil, traced the steps of the moccasined feet of an 
 Indian to where the guard stood, tlience to your 
 lodging - place and finally from it to the bush 
 whence came the shot that killed one of the patrol. 
 
118 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 More than all this, I may tell you the footmarks 
 of the Indian are plain inside the stable and beside 
 the place in it where you slept are marks caused 
 by drops of blood. It is thus beyond all question 
 that the Indian visited you, and, with a view to 
 discovering him and so checking a system of bar- 
 barous warfare repulsive to all true soldiers, we 
 ask you to tell us what you know of him — ask you, 
 not under threats or taking advantage of your un- 
 fortunate position, but as a gentleman and a soldier 
 to assist us by telling what you know of the mys- 
 terious affair." 
 
 Morton bowed to the Colonel and replied he 
 had no hesitation in telling him what he knew, 
 and he recounted briefly how he had been awaken- 
 ed during the night by an Indian and urged to fly 
 with him. He was prepared to take oath that he 
 knew not of his slaying the guard, and the drops 
 of blood upon the straw that formed his bed must 
 have dripped from the scalp as the Indian stooped 
 over him and urged him to accompany him. Mor- 
 ton mentioned no name, and none of his questioners 
 seemed to think he could have known the Indian. 
 At any rate their incredulity of his story, verging 
 on disgust, rendered cross- questioning superfluous, 
 Major Spooner said he could not swallow the yarn, 
 and another officer remarked it would be easier for 
 him to go without his bitters for a month than be- 
 lieve a Britisher would not run awaj^ when he had 
 a chance, to which the others agreed. 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 119 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Morton, "do you think, after 
 giving my word of honor to your General that I 
 would not attempt to escape, that I would do so?" 
 
 "That is just what we do think, and that there 
 was something we don't know of that kept you 
 from running away with the Indian." 
 
 Morton's anger again rose and he was about to 
 say something rash, when Colonel Vanderberg gave 
 his shoulder a monitory touch. "If none of you 
 object, I will take charge of Mr Morton." 
 
 "Yer welkim to the critter," remarked Major 
 Spooner, at which the others expectorated in order 
 to laugh. "He is under sentence of death, and it 
 lies with the Generahto say when it shall be carried 
 out. If he is willing you should undertake the 
 provost-marshal's duty, this committee of enquiry 
 offer you their congratulations." 
 
 To this raillery Colonel Vanderberg said naught, 
 and taking Morton by the arm led him into a 
 vacant room. "Stay here for a minute," he said. 
 On re-entering he grasped Morton by the hand, 
 while he informed him "the General has given me 
 permission to take you with me, and will you ride 
 with me to Fort Hickory?" 
 
 "With all my heart," answered Morton, and go- 
 ing to the door found several troopers waiting the 
 Colonel, who pointed to Morton to get on the back 
 of one of three spare horses. He did so and they 
 galloped out of the village. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Maggie was busy with household duties when 
 Hemlock entered and sat down near the table at 
 which she stood. 
 
 "All away?" he asked. 
 
 "All except mother, who is having her afternoon 
 nap." 
 
 Casting a suspicious glance round, the Indian 
 drew something out of his pouch. "Do you know 
 that?" 
 
 It was a ring. Maggie examined it and as she 
 recognized whose it was, blushed. 
 
 "Is he alive?" she asked, in a low earnest tone, 
 as if fearful that it was a memorial gift. 
 
 "Yes; I was with him and spoke to him night 
 before last." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At Four Corners." 
 
 "Tell me all?" entreated Maggie, and Hemlock 
 recounted his visit, closing with the remark, "If he 
 had come with me, he would have been here now." 
 
 "But he would have broken his word to the 
 Yankees," urged Maggie in his defence. 
 
 "And perhaps they will break his neck," answered 
 
HEMLOCK. 121 
 
 Hemlock with a grunt. "Major Stovin told me 
 that Hampton's answer to his letter was that 
 he could allow no interference from outside in his 
 disposal of spies." 
 
 "Morton is not a spy," exclaimed Maggie in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 "They will punish him all the same unless I 
 give myself up," said Hemlock, "and I mean to." 
 
 "Oh, Hemlock, they would kill you." 
 
 "Maybe, but Indian would save his friend." 
 
 "He may get off when our men beat them." 
 
 The Indian's lip curled. "The owls are telling 
 the eagles what to do. When the order came to 
 the Indian bands not to fight but just watch, I left. 
 We would have hung to their sides like wasps on 
 a deer, and marked every mile they marched with 
 deeds that would have caused widows to raise the 
 funeral song from Champlain to the Ohio, but our 
 arms are held fast." 
 
 "You did not tell me how you came by this 
 ring?" faltered Maggie, as she shyly tried it on her 
 fingers. 
 
 "I asked him for a token, and he gave me that." 
 
 "A token for whom, Hemlock?" 
 
 "For you." 
 
 "Forme!" gasped Maggie, with beaming eyes, 
 while her color came and went. 
 
 Hemlock nodded and said no more. Turning 
 her head away from him, Maggie pressed the token 
 to her lips. On the Indian's rising to go, she en- 
 
122 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 treated him to stay. Her brothers were at the 
 camp, but her father was only at the rear end of 
 the lot stooking corn, and he might go and see 
 him. Hemlock, who had the dislike of his race to 
 manual labor, said he would wait, and catching up 
 the fishing-rod of her younger brother, prepared 
 it to begruile the denizens of the river that flowed 
 past the shanty, and continued fishing until the old 
 man returned, who sat down beside Hemlock and 
 got into an engrossing conversation, which was 
 ended by Maggie's calling them to supper. When 
 the meal was fairly under way, the father said: 
 
 "Hemlock wants us to leave. He says the Am- 
 ericans will be here in a day or two. He offers to 
 bring Indians with enough of canoes to take you 
 and Maggie to Montreal." 
 
 "Leave my hame for thae Yankees!" exclaimed 
 Mrs Forsyth; "no a step will I gang oot o' my way 
 for the deils." 
 
 "Hemlock says they may burn down the house 
 and insult you, an' ye wad be better oot o' their 
 way." 
 
 "I wad like to see the Yankee loon that wad try 
 to set a low to oor bit biggin; I wad ding some 
 dacency into his heid." 
 
 "Think o' Maggie, 2"uid wife." 
 
 Before her mother could speak, Maggie declared 
 "she wasna fear't an' wad bide wi' her inither, 
 thankin' Hemlock a' the same." 
 
 "You see, Hemlock, hoo wi' Scotch bodies stick 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 123 
 
 by our hames. Down to the women and bairns, 
 we will fecht to the last gasp to hand them." 
 
 Hemlock said nothing and helped himself to an- 
 other piece o£ johnny-cake. The subject, however, 
 had excited Mrs Forsyth, who mingled denunciations 
 of the invaders with regrets at leaving Scotland. 
 
 "Toots, woman, Canada is a better country for 
 the puir man than Scotlan." 
 
 "I am no deny in' that, but eh, there was a couthie 
 security there that's no here, an' for a sicht o' its 
 bonnie howes an' glens I'd gie onything. The first 
 an' the last sicht each day frae my faither's door 
 was the Pentlands, an' no trees, trees, wi' snaw an' 
 ice hauf the year." 
 
 "Ye wadna gae back, mither, for a' that." 
 "Deed would I, gin w^e a' went the gither." 
 "But ye have aften tell't me ye w^ad never cross 
 the sea again, ye were so sick in coming.''^ 
 "Na, neither I wad; nae boatie for me." 
 "Then, ye canna gang." 
 
 "Hoot, lass, what are ye sayin'; is that a' ye ken? 
 We could walk roun'." 
 
 "Providence, dear wife, has cast oor lot here an' 
 it's oor duty to be content. Please God, we will 
 help to mak o' Canada a country oor children will 
 be proud o', an as for thae Yankees, wha come to 
 rob us o' oor liberty, I am sure their conceit will 
 lead to their fa' an' that their designs upon us will 
 come to nae thing." 
 
 Hemlock rose and prepared to leave. "I will go 
 
124 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 with you," said Forsyth, "and hear what is the 
 news in the camp." 
 
 Getting into the canoe they arrived at the forks 
 in due time, and found great activity in erecting 
 buildings, while carts were arriving every few min- 
 utes from the Basin with supplies or leaving empty 
 to reload. In every direction were soldiers en- 
 camped, and the evening being cold their fires 
 crackled and blazed along the lines. The soldiers 
 were of all kinds, from habitants in homespun 
 blouses and blue tuques to regulars of the line. 
 The noisiest were the volunteer regiments, com- 
 posed of young men, lumbermen and city trades- 
 men,whose exuberant animal spirits the discomforts 
 and privations of camp failed to tame, and where 
 they were, screams, laughter, and singing resound- 
 ed. Hemlock led the way to a large, white house, 
 the home of an American settler, named Baker, 
 but taken possession of for headquarters, and pass- 
 ing the guard as a privileged character, told the 
 orderly he wanted to see the General. On enquiry, 
 the two visitors were admitted into a good-sized 
 room, in the centre of which was a large table, at 
 which sat a thick-set officer of foreign aspect, Gen. 
 deWatteville, his secretary, and Major Henry, who 
 had succeeded Stovin as local commander. They 
 were evidently engaged in examining regimental 
 reports. 
 
 "Hemlock, so you have got back? What news 
 from the lines?" asked the Major. 
 
HEMLOCK. 125 
 
 "Yankees will break camp tomorrow." 
 " How do you know? Have you any despatches 
 from our spies?" 
 
 "No, but I saw a waggon loaded with axes arrive 
 at Fort Hickory." 
 
 "Well, what about that?" 
 
 "The advance camp, nearest to here, is called Fort 
 Hickory: the axes are to chop a road from there to 
 our outposts on the Chateaugay." 
 
 De Watte ville became all attention. "How long 
 would the road be?" 
 
 "Three leagues," answered Hemlock. 
 "Pooh," remarked the General, relapsing into in- 
 difference, "they cannot cut a road that long through 
 the woods." 
 
 "You don't know Yankee axemen," said Hemlock, 
 "they will do it in a day and turn your flank." 
 
 The General simply waved his hand contemptu- 
 ously. Major Henry, knowing from past acquaint- 
 ance, Hemlock's worth and intelligence, asked in a 
 respectful tone, "What do you advise?" 
 
 "Send me with all the Indians and we will cut 
 
 them off." 
 
 DeWatteville could not withhold a gesture of 
 horror. "You would fall upon these axemen, you 
 say are coming, butcher them with your hatchets 
 and scalp them. Eh ?" 
 
 "Every one of them," answered Hemlock in an 
 exultant voice. 
 
 "Faugh, that is not war; that is murder," said 
 
126 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 the General, "we will fight the Americans in no 
 such way." 
 
 "It is how they would deal with you," said Hem- 
 lock, "but if you do not want the Indian to fight 
 in the w^ay of his fathers, he will leave you." 
 
 Henry here leant over and whispered into the 
 General's ear; who answered aloud, "No, I will not 
 hear of it: I will fight as a soldier and will have 
 no savagery." The Major was evidently discon- 
 certed, and changed the subject by asking Hemlock 
 what led him so far from the lines as to visit 
 Fort Hickory. 
 
 "I followed Morton." 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed the General, "poor fellow, what 
 of him?" 
 
 "They were going to hang him, when Colonel 
 Vanderberg took him from Four Corners." 
 
 "You see. General," said Major Henry with a 
 smile, "the savagery of the invader against whom 
 you would not use the services of Hemlock and 
 his braves in self-defence." 
 
 The General twirled his heavy grey mustache 
 and bit it nervously. "If they hang him, I will 
 let every redskin in the country loose upon them." 
 
 "It would serve Morton better to do so before 
 the rope does its work," suggested the Major. "Our 
 remonstrances addressed to General Hampton have 
 been met with combined equivocation and insolence. 
 'Give up,' he says, 'the murderer of Major Slocum 
 and I will set Morton at liberty.' As much as to 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 127 
 
 say we screen the murderer— a man I know nothing 
 of and for whose deed His Majesty's service is not 
 accountable." 
 
 Hemlock said, "Read that again?" 
 
 Taking up General Hampton's despatch in an- 
 swer to that regarding Morton's treatment, the 
 Major read it in full. The Indian listened intently 
 and made no comment, but Forsyth said quietly, he 
 was sure Mr Morton had no hand in murdering 
 anybody. 
 
 "We all know that," answered Major Henry, "a 
 more humane and yet a more gallant officer the 
 King has not got. And now, Forsyth, what are 
 you and the settlers going to do when the Ameri- 
 cans cross the frontier?" 
 
 "Ye'll excuse me for saying so, but that is a silly 
 question to ask o' men wha hae gien their sons to 
 serve as sogers and placed their horses, and a their 
 barns and cellars contain at your service." 
 
 "You don't understand me. I mean do you in- 
 tend staying in your houses should the enemy 
 come, or will you seek safety in Montreal?" 
 
 "It wad be hard to gie up to the destroyer all we 
 hae and that we hae gaithered wi' sic pains in years 
 gane by. My ain mind is, and my neebors agree, 
 that we will stand by our property an' tak chances." 
 "It is the resolve of brave men," remarked the 
 General, "but it may be in the interest of the cam- 
 paign to waste the country and leave neither sup- 
 plies nor shelter for the enemy." 
 
128 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Gin sic should prove the case," answered the 
 farmer, "there's no an Auld Countryman on the 
 river that wadna pit the lire to his biggin wi' his 
 ain hand. Gear is guid, but independence is sweet." 
 
 "I hope you will not be asked to make such a 
 sacrifice," said the Major, "we have reports here of 
 reinforcements on the way that, if they arrive in 
 time, will enable us to meet the enemy." 
 
 The General here intimated to them to retire. 
 Hemlock started as if from a reverie. Goinsr close 
 to the General, he stretched out his right hand 
 after the manner of Indian orators. "You meet 
 the Yankees as soldier meets soldier. The red 
 man meets them as the robbers of his lands, the 
 destroyers of his villages, the slayers of his race. 
 The land was ours, and they have driven us to the 
 setting sun and left us not even standing-room for 
 our lodges. You have called us savages. Who 
 made us savages? The Indian forgets no kindness 
 and forgives no wrong. The hand that has de- 
 spoiled and struck at us, we will seek late and 
 early, in light and dark, to smite. Our enemy for 
 generations, the enemy we are always at war with, 
 is your enemy today. You may make peace with 
 him tomorrow. We never will. When the Indian 
 dies, he gives his hatchet to his sons. We offer 
 you our help. Tell me to go and do what I will, 
 and the Americans will not drink of the St Law- 
 rence. Ten score Iroquois will keep up the war- 
 whoop along the frontier until they turn." 
 
HEMLOCK. 129 
 
 The General seemed annoyed and said sharply, 
 " We take you as scouts, not as comrades-in-arms. 
 I will have no barbarian warfare." 
 
 Hemlock drew himself up with dignity as he 
 said: "We are your allies, not your hirelings. Our 
 tribes declared war against the Americans before 
 you did, and if you will not accept our aid we with- 
 draw this night from your camp and shall fight on 
 our own hand." 
 
 Major Henry perceived the mistake made by the 
 General and hastened to undo it. "Kino^ Georo^e," 
 he said, "is true to the treaty made with his Indian 
 allies and I am sure you will stand by it too. The 
 General is preparing his plans for receiving the 
 Americans and the Indians will have their place 
 in it." 
 
 Without apparently heeding these words. Hem- 
 lock approached close to the General. "I warn 
 you," he said, "if you reject our aid, great soldier 
 as you may be across the sea, in the warfare of 
 these woods your light will go out like this," and 
 with a wave of his hand he put out the light of 
 one of the two candles on the table. Turning on 
 his heel, he walked with stately stride out of the 
 room. That night he and his band left the camp 
 and ceased to receive orders from headquarters. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Well, Morton, our days of inglorious idleness 
 are ended," exclaimed Col. Vanderberg. "I return 
 from headquarters with orders for an immediate 
 advance." 
 
 "Thank heavens!" ejaculated Morton. 
 
 "What! Do you rejoice at an attack on your 
 country? Come, my good friend, I see your judg- 
 ment is overcoming your feelings, and you are 
 going to cast in your lot with us — the latest con- 
 vert from monarchism to republicanism." 
 
 "No, no: you need not banter me. What I re- 
 joice at is the ending of a policy of inaction that 
 has kept you, my friend, and your humble prisoner 
 alike in wearisome suspense." 
 
 "It is ended: the die is cast, whatever the result 
 may be. After dinner squads of men begin to chop 
 out a road from Smith's, and tomorrow Izard comes 
 with reinforcements and under him we bear the 
 banner of the United States into Canada." 
 
 "And what do you propose doing with me when 
 you advance?" asked Morton. 
 
 "Hum! To leave you behind means your being 
 returned to Four Corners, with a chan3e of meeting 
 
HEMLOCK. 131 
 
 the fate you twice escaped. It is against all mili- 
 tary rule, but you must go with us. I will not 
 risk you in the hands of these legal Sons of Mars 
 — Spooner et al." 
 
 "Thank j^^ou, Colonel; again you have placed me 
 under an obligation I can never repay." 
 
 "I hope not," answered the Colonel with a smile, 
 "I'd rather not be His Majesty's prisoner even with 
 Lieutenant Morton as my custodian." 
 
 "No, never; I wish to pay my debt of gratitude 
 in no such way." 
 
 "Say no more, Morton, on that score. The hap- 
 piest days I have spent this summer have been 
 since I made your acquaintance. If I did you a 
 good turn, I have had compensation. And now to 
 work: there comes a waggon creaking under its 
 load of chopping axes." 
 
 The conversation took place at an outpost of 
 Hampton's army, close upon the frontier, styled 
 Douglas camp in official documents but known 
 familiarly among the soldiers as Fort Hickory, 
 from the character of the trees that prevailed at 
 this spot. Colonel Vanderberg, instead of placing 
 Morton in custody as he half anticipated, when he 
 dismounted after his ride from Four Corners, took 
 him into the house where he was quartered, and 
 told him in few words he was again on parole and 
 his eruest. Without further allusion to the humili- 
 ating and perilous position from which he had 
 snatched him,^Col. Vanderberg made him his friend 
 
132 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 and associate and each passing day strengthened the 
 bond between them. Each had experiences of in- 
 terest to the other. The Colonel had tales of peril 
 on the Pennsylvania and Ohio frontiers in protect- 
 ing: the settlements from Indian attacks, and Mor- 
 ton, in return, gratified his curiosity as to the 
 organization and character of the British army 
 and English life and habits. 
 
 The following morning they had breakfast by 
 candle-light, and on going out, found the camp in 
 a flurry of preparation, troopers ready to mount, 
 •engineers with their tools over their shoulders, and 
 a large squad of brawny fellows in flannel shirts 
 with axe in hand, drafted from the various corps 
 and hired from among the surrounding farmers to 
 clear a road to the Chateaugay. All was life, 
 bustle, and confusion. Jumping on horseback, the 
 Colonel speedily got each man into his place, and 
 by the time this was effected, the drum-taps, by 
 which they kept step, of Izard's column were heard, 
 and that officer gave the word to advance. Pre- 
 ceded by a squad of scouts and sharp-shooters to 
 cover them, the engineers and axemen moved on, 
 then a body of infantry, followed by the troopers, 
 a few commissariat wagons bringing up the rear. 
 The Colonel and Morton were with the troopers. 
 As the long and picturesque cavalcade scrambled 
 over the brow of a hill, the sun had gained the as- 
 cendency, and the frost that had whitened every- 
 thing now sparkled on every stem and leaf as it 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 133 
 
 melted in the sunbeams. The atmosphere was clear 
 and crisp, and the very odor that rose from the 
 fallen leaves added to its exhilarating quality. 
 When the summit of the ascent was reached, the 
 declivity was abrupt enough to afford a lookout 
 over the tree-tops, and Canada lay outstretched a 
 vast plain at their feet. Far in the distance, could 
 be seen a gleaming line, like a rapier flung across 
 a brown cloak. It was the St Lawrence. The 
 Colonel drew his horse to one side of the road, to 
 permit the troops to pass, while he scanned the in- 
 spiring scene. 
 
 "All looks peaceful," he said to Morton, "no sign 
 that under the cover of these woods an enemy 
 awaits us." 
 
 "It is a grand view of a noble country," replied 
 Morton, "and you may rely on it, there are men 
 awaiting you who will shed the last drop of their 
 blood in its defence." 
 
 The Colonel, drawing his bridle, joined in the 
 march and the glimpse of Canada was lost under 
 overhanging vistas of trees. "Do you know, Mor- 
 ton," he said, "it seems strange to me that our 
 armies should meet resistance from the Canadians. 
 We speak the same language; we are of the same 
 stock. Why should they flght to the death against 
 uniting with us as equal partners in a free govern- 
 ment?" 
 
 "You forget, Colonel, that speech and origin are 
 not the stronorest elements in national sentiment. 
 
134 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 You meet a woman with a big man supporting her 
 and bearing himself as if he were proud of her, 
 and you wonder at it, and say the man could find 
 plenty whose faces are pleasanter to look upon 
 .and which indicate more intelligence. The man 
 will admit all that, but he tells you the woman is 
 his mother, and to him she is better and more 
 beautiful than all the women in the world beside. 
 In the same way, the British government may be 
 inferior in some points to your new Kepublic, may 
 have made mistakes in the past, and might be 
 better in some regards, but then she is the mother 
 of the Canadians, and they will not desert her for 
 bouncing Miss Columbia." 
 
 "That won't do, Morton; you forget that the 
 British government was once, as you term it, our 
 mother also," 
 
 "I did not forget that, and I hope I will not 
 offend you, Colonel, by saying that for that very 
 cause the Canadians dislike Americans. You turn- 
 ed upon your mother, you strove to compass her 
 humiliation ; the very base of your patriotic feeling 
 is hatred of her." 
 
 "That is putting it strong, Morton." 
 
 "I think not; the preamble of your declaration 
 of independence is a tirade of gratuitous charges 
 against Great Britain." 
 
 "Then you think Canada will never unite with 
 the Republic?" 
 
 "I certainly think so, and those who live to see 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 135 
 
 it, will find two great English-speaking communi- 
 ties on this continent, with this radical difference 
 between them, that one reviles and seeks to injure 
 the mother-land from which they sprung and the 
 other succors and honors her." 
 
 A commotion in front stopped the conversation 
 and two scouts were seen dragging an old man be- 
 tween them towards the Colonel. 
 
 "What's this?" he asked sharply. 
 
 "We have taken a prisoner!" cried one of the men 
 in an exulting voice. 
 
 "The divil take you," interrupted the old man 
 with contentious manner. "Yees had no business 
 
 wid me." 
 
 "We found him hiding behind some brush watch- 
 ing our men. He is a spy," said the scout. 
 
 "Behind some brush! An whose brush was it? 
 Me own, bedad." 
 
 "You had no business there." 
 
 "No business to be on my own farrum! Bad scran 
 to ye, if I had yees in Wixford I'd get the constable 
 to arrist every man o' yees for trispass." 
 
 "Come, hold your tongue," said a scout roughly. 
 
 "Hould yer own whisht. Ye havn't mended yer 
 manners since I saw yer backs at Brandywine." 
 
 Col.Vanderberg smiled as he said to the scouts, 
 "I am afraid you have been too hasty. We are 
 now in Canada and must not molest its inhabitants. 
 The old man is a non-combatant, and, as he declares, 
 was on his own farm when taken." 
 
136 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "If you had seen hiin kick and scratch and wrig- 
 gle when we put hands upon him, you wouldn't say 
 he was a non-combatant, Colonel. He swore at the 
 United States and said he kept one of our flags for 
 his pocket-handkerchief." 
 
 "Tut, tut," exclaimed the Colonel, "we have not 
 come to fight old men; let him go." 
 
 "Ye'd betther," remarked the old man with a srrin, 
 "or I'll make ye sorry." 
 
 "Now, what could you do?" asked the Colonel with 
 an amused smile. 
 
 The old man sidled up beside the bridle of the 
 Colonel's horse, and in a tone of mock solemnity, 
 while his eyes sparkled with fun, whispered, "I'd 
 put the curse of Cram well an ye." 
 
 "Say, friend," said Morton, "there is something 
 about you that tells me you are an old soldier. 
 Were you ever in the army?" 
 
 "Yis, but not in yer riffraff that ye's call an army." 
 
 "You are mistaken in me," replied Morton, and 
 drawing aside his cloak showed the scarlet coat of 
 the British service. 
 
 "An how did ye fall in wid dem rebels ? A pri- 
 soner are ye, God save us ! You'll be Lef tenant 
 Morton that was to be hanged, as I heard tell. 
 Well, well, since ye wern't born to be hanged, it is 
 drownded ye may be. Av coorse I was in the army 
 an' got me discharge an' a grant of land from King 
 George, an' may the divil catch a hould o' dem that 
 don't wish him well." 
 
HEMLOCK. 137 
 
 "Are all your neighbors of the same mind ?" ask- 
 ed the Colonel. 
 
 "They are that same. Come wid me to my shanty 
 an while I sind for 'im, you will have an illigant 
 dinner of praties an' milk. There is not wan on 
 the frontier that does not say with Capt. Barron, 
 God bless the King an canfound his inimies." 
 
 "Thank you," answered the Colonel, "but I have 
 other fish to fry today. Tell me this, old man, 
 What difference would it make to you and your 
 neighbors that you should eat your potatoes and 
 milk under the Stars and Stripes instead of the 
 Union Jack?" 
 
 "Sure, that's aisy answered. The differ between 
 atin' in an inimy's house an aitin' in yer awn." 
 
 "Come, Morton, we lose time. Good-bye, old 
 man," and putting spurs to his horse the Colonel 
 galloped to regain his place in the column, followed 
 by Morton. 
 
 By noon the scouts had reached the Chateaugay, 
 which they forded without hesitation and advan- 
 cing on a shanty that stood on the bank, surprised 
 its inmates, a party of Canadian volunteers on out- 
 post duty, while taking an afternoon nap. This 
 capture was of advantage to the Americans, for it 
 delayed by several hours intelligence of their in- 
 vasion being received at the British headquarters. 
 Shortly afterwards Col. Vanderberg arrived, who, 
 without halting for refreshment, accompanied Gen. 
 Izard down the river some distance, examining the 
 
138 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 country. On returning, men were set to work to 
 prepare a camp for the main army, which he knew 
 was on the march. A thorough soldier, well train- 
 ed in bush fighting, the Colonel made his arrange- 
 ments with an acumen and decision that increased 
 Morton's regard for him. Before sunset a line of 
 scouts was established across the valley, a strongly 
 fortified post established, tents pitched, and a mes- 
 senger sent with a despatch to Hampton informing 
 him all was ready. Not until then, did the Colonel 
 divest himself of his long-boots and draw up beside 
 the log-fire of the shanty of one Spears to discuss 
 the fare his servant had provided. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On the morning after the events narrated in pre- 
 ceding chapter, General Hampton left his quarters 
 at Four Corners for the new camp. Escorted by 
 20 cavalrymen, he and his staff rode rapidly over 
 the newly-cut road, and by noon reached the Cha- 
 teaugay. Halting on the bluff that overlooks the 
 junction of the Outard with that river, and whence 
 he had full view of the camp in busy preparation 
 on the other side of the river, he awaited the ar- 
 rival of his tents. A stout man and well-advanced 
 in years, the exertion of the journey had fatigued 
 him, and he sat, or rather reclined, on a log in front 
 of a blazing fire, for the day was chilly, and group- 
 ed around him were the officers of his staff At 
 the foot of the bank and in the near distance, were 
 the troopers tending their horses and the officers' 
 servants preparing dinner. 
 
 From his elevated position, the General had a 
 full view of the opposite bank and he watched with 
 complacency the arrival at the new camp, with flut- 
 ter of flag and tuck of drum, of frequent detach- 
 ments. . „ 
 "Everything bodes favorably for our enterprise, 
 
140 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 he remarked, "the despatches that awaited me tell 
 of unprecedented success. At every point attempt- 
 ed our battalions have entered the enemy's terri- 
 tory unopposed and advanced unmolested. The 
 Rubicon has been crossed and terror-stricken the 
 foe flies before us. This afternoon a special mes- 
 senger shall bear to Albany, New York and Wash- 
 ington the tidings of our triumphant progress — of 
 our undisputed taking possession of this country 
 to which the British authorities make a pretended 
 claim." 
 
 "Your despatch will cause great rejoicing," said 
 an officer. 
 
 "Yes, it will be hailed with loud acclaim, and my 
 enemies who clamored against me, will now per- 
 ceive that what they stigmatized as inaction was 
 the profoundest strategy. Sixteen miles have we 
 marched into the enemy's territory and not a hos- 
 tile bayonet has been seen. Ha, who is this? Draw 
 your swords." 
 
 All eyes turned in the direction of the General's, 
 and a tall Indian was seen standing immovably be- 
 side a giant pine. It was Hemlock. As he remain- 
 ed motionless with folded arms, and was apparently 
 unarmed, the officers got over their alarm, and those 
 who had laid their hands upon their swords, drop- 
 ped them. 
 
 "Sirrah, what do you here? How passed you our 
 guards?" shouted the General. 
 
 "I have come to speak with you. You are ten 
 
HEMLOCK. 141 
 
 to one; your escort is within hail of you, will you 
 listen to me?" 
 
 "Go on," said Hampton. 
 
 "You have a British officer held as prisoner. 
 You wrote to Major Stovin that you would set him 
 free if the Indian who killed Slocum were given in 
 exchange. Do you stand by that offer?" 
 
 "Morton goes free when the Indian is sent in." 
 
 "Give me an order for his release; the Indian 
 goes to your camp at once." 
 
 "That will not do, Mr Redskin. The exchange 
 must be effected through the British commander. 
 Let him send an accredited officer with a flag of 
 truce and we will treat with him." 
 
 "Before that can be done, Morton may be dead. 
 If you get the Indian what care you for else? The 
 Indian who killed Slocum passes into your hands 
 the moment Morton is given liberty." 
 
 "This is altogether irregular," remarked an officer, 
 "General Hampton cannot deal with an irrespon- 
 sible redskin, who, for all he knows, has come here 
 on some scheme of deviltry. See here, was it you 
 that murdered Slocum?" 
 
 "I never murdered any man," answered Hemlock 
 proudly, "but I have killed many in war. Had you 
 the Indian who slew him,what would you do to him?" 
 
 " Well, I guess, if the General let us have our way, 
 we would hand him to the men of Slocum's old 
 regiment and they'd make him wish he had never 
 been born." 
 
142 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "The Indian might have had good cause for deal- 
 ing with SloGum as he did?" 
 
 "No, you red devil, he could have no cause. He 
 carved him up out of pure deviltry." 
 
 "You are tired, General," said Hemlock, with a 
 courteous wave of the hand, "and while you rest, 
 will you listen to me, for I have heard that Indian's 
 story? In the Mohawk valley lived an English 
 family when you Americans rose against King 
 George. A neighbor, who had come from Massa- 
 chusetts, envied their farm, and, on the Englishman 
 refusing to forswear his allegiance, had it confis- 
 cated and took possession. The Englishman had 
 to fly and went through the woods, many days' 
 journey to Canada, guided by a band of loyal 
 Oneidas. When they reached Canada, a young 
 warrior of that band stayed with them and helped 
 them to find food in the wilderness until crops 
 grew. That Indian gave up his tribe, and lived 
 with them and a daughter came to love him, and 
 they were married and were happy many years, 
 until the mist rose from the lake and she sick- 
 ened and died. The Indian so loved her that he 
 would have killed himself to follow her to the 
 spirit land, had she not left a daughter, who was 
 his joy and life. When she grew up, the Indian 
 said, She shall be the equal of the best, and he 
 took her to Albany to be taught all ladies learn. 
 A young man saw her, met her, learned of the In- 
 dian blood in her veins, and doomed her as his 
 
HEMLOCK. 143 
 
 spoil. He was aided by a companion in deceiving 
 her by a false marriage, she lived with him for a 
 while, was cast off, and her deceiver married the 
 governor's daughter. The Indian had gone on a 
 far journey; he went to seek for furs in the West 
 to get money for his daughter. In two years he 
 came to Montreal with many canoe-loads, he sold 
 them, he went to Albany, and found his child dying 
 of a broken heart. He took her away with him, 
 he nursed her by the Ottawa — he buried her there. 
 He went back to Albany, and was told the law 
 could not punish Slocum or his friend, who had 
 gone away. Then he sought Slocum and twenty 
 times he could have killed him, but he would not. 
 In his heart he said, Slocum must die not by the 
 knife or bullet, but by torture, and the chance 
 came not until a moon ago, when he met Slocum 
 face to face in the Chateaugay woods about to stab 
 Morton. The Indian took Slocum, and for hours 
 he made him feel part of the pain he had caused 
 him and his child — only a part, for you who are 
 fathers can guess what that Indian and his daugh- 
 ter suffered. Was that Indian to blame? Did he 
 do more to him than he deserved ? Will you give 
 the father over to Slocum's soldiers to be abused 
 and killed?" 
 
 "A good yarn," remarked an officer, "and a true 
 one, for I lived at Albany then and saw the girl ; 
 pretty as a picture and simple as a baby. If Major 
 Slocum had not got his hand in first, some other 
 
144 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 fellow would and she would have been made a fool 
 of anyway." 
 
 "We will have nigger fathers running after us 
 next," sneered another officer. 
 
 " Did you know Slocum?" asked Hemlock of the 
 first who had spoken, with a quaver in his voice he 
 could not control. 
 
 "Guess I did. Slocum and Spooner were chums 
 
 in those days, and by , I believe you are the 
 
 father of the young squaw you make such a bother 
 about. Won't we hold him, General?" So saying 
 he rose, as if waiting his assent to seize Hemlock. 
 Before he could take a second step, Hemlock, with 
 a quick motion, snatched his tomahawk, which he 
 had concealed in his bosom, threw it, and leapt 
 into the bush, where he was lost to siffht in a mo- 
 ment. The officer, without uttering a word, fell on 
 his back; the head of the tomahawk buried in his 
 forehead. Stunned by the event, the officers lost 
 a few minutes in giving the alarm. When search 
 was made, it was in vain; Hemlock had not left a 
 
 trace behind him. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 The evening set in dismal and rainy, with a raw 
 east wind that made the soldiers seek every avail- 
 able shelter. In the Forsyth household there was 
 the alarm natural to the knowledge that the in- 
 vaders were within a short distance, but the daily 
 routine of duty was not interrupted and everything 
 had gone on as usual. All had retired to rest ex- 
 
HEMLOCK. 145 
 
 cept Maggie, who sat before the fire, building castles 
 in the flickering flames and dying embers. While 
 so engaged, the door, never fastened, opened softly, 
 and Hemlock stepped in. Regardless of his sodden 
 garments, he crouched beside the girl, without 
 uttering a word, "Do you bring news of the com- 
 ing of the enemy?" she whispered. 
 
 "No: they are shivering in their tents." 
 "It is a cruel night to be out of doors." 
 The Indian nodded assent, and relapsed into 
 silence. "Maggie," he said suddenly, "I may have 
 to leave Morton to your care." 
 
 "Dear me, Hemlock, what can I do?" 
 "I have done everything," he went on to say, 
 "that I could. I gave him a chance to escape from 
 his prison and today I oflfered Hampton to surren- 
 der the Indian they want in exchange for him and 
 he refused. He will treat with the British General 
 alone." 
 
 "That is surely easy. Hemlock. When the Yan- 
 kees say they will give up Mr Morton for the Indian 
 they blame for murdering their officer, our General 
 will be glad to give up the Indian, provided he can 
 be got." 
 
 "No: our General refuses, saying it would be an 
 unheard of thing for the British to give up an ally 
 for an act of warfare, and he will not listen to the 
 Yankee demand." 
 
 "May be he says that because he cannot get the 
 Indian," suggested Maggie. 
 
 11 
 
146 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "I am the Indian," said Hemlock curtly, "and I 
 asked him to bind me and send me to the Ameri- 
 can camp with a flag of truce, and all he said was, 
 'He would sooner hear of Morton beins: hunof than 
 be guilty of such treachery to a faithful ally.'" 
 
 "M}^, Hemlock! What made you be so cruel? 
 That you liave a feeling heart I know, for I have 
 seen you cry over j^our daughter's " 
 
 With a quick gesture Hemlock stopped her. 
 
 "Speak no more of that. It was because of my 
 love for my child that I tortured the wretch to 
 death." Here he paused, his features working 
 with emotions that cast them into frightful con- 
 tortions. "Oh, Maggie, I thought if I could have 
 my revenge I'd be happy. I had my heart's wish 
 on the spoiler of my child and today I brained the 
 villain that helped him, and I am more miserable 
 than ever. My vengeance has done me no good. 
 My child, my daughter, oh come to me!' 
 
 The heart of Maggie melted with sympathy. 
 She rose and resting one hand on his shoulder 
 sought his with the other. "Take it not," he said 
 in a whisper, "it is the hand of blood." 
 
 "Hemlock, I dinna judge you as I would ane o' 
 oor ain folk, for the nature born with you is no 
 like oors, let alane your upbringing, but I ken you 
 to be an honest, and wronged man, with a kindly 
 heart, and I would share your sorrow that I may 
 lichten it." 
 
 The Indian was evidently touched. Grasping her 
 
HEMLOCK. 147 
 
 hand he bent over it and pressed it to his lips. 
 After a long pause, Maggie added: "If you would 
 give up your heathen ways and turn to tlie Lord. 
 your path would become clear." 
 
 "I once followed the Lord," said Hemlock, "I 
 learned of Him from my wife, and I taught my 
 dauofhter to love Jesus, but when the cloud came 
 and its darkness blinded me, I put away the white 
 man 'sGod and went back to the ways of my fathers.'** 
 
 "Leave them again?" entreated Maggie. 
 
 "Too late: I die as I am." 
 
 "But you are no going to die, Hemlock. You've 
 many years to live." 
 
 "Idle before the new liioon comes; my oki told 
 me so in a dream last night, and that is why I 
 have come to talk with you about Morton. You 
 love him?" 
 
 Too honest to utter the "no" that came to her fal- 
 tering tongue, Maggie's liead drooped and her face- 
 flushed. 
 
 "I know you do,'' Hemlock went on, "and I know 
 lie loves you, tho' his heart has not told his head yet. 
 I know not where he is; if I did, we would attack 
 his guard and rescue him this night. They took 
 him away from Fort Hickory and I have not got 
 his track yet. When they find where he is I want 
 you to give orders to my men when I am gone." 
 
 "This is beyond me, Hemlock." 
 
 "Listen: I have told my Indians they must save 
 him and to obey you." 
 
148 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 'Tell my brothers or my father." 
 
 "The Indians would not obey them: they believe 
 what I told them, that I have given you my medi- 
 cine. If Morton is not saved this week, he dies." 
 
 "If our men beat the Yankees will they not rescue 
 him ?" 
 
 "Yankees would shoot him before they would let 
 him escape, and they will hang him if they retreat. 
 They have let him live hoping to get me; when 
 they know they cannot, they will kill him." 
 
 Macro-ie shuddered. "And what am I to do?" 
 
 Hemlock answered: "The Indian has a good 
 hand but a poor head. When they come and tell 
 you they have found where Morton is kept, you 
 will order them when and how to make the attack 
 and into the messenger's hand you will press this 
 medicine, and tell him it will make success sure." 
 Here he took a pouch from his breast and select- 
 ed a small package — something sewed up in a bit 
 of bird's skin. 
 
 "I hope you will live to save your friend your- 
 self," said Maggie. 
 
 Hemlock gloomily shook his head, and rising 
 walked towards the door, which he opened and 
 stepped out into the cheerless night. Maggie fol- 
 Ibwed and looked out. She could see nothing: he 
 was o'one. That ni^ht she rested all the more com- 
 
 o o 
 
 fortably, from knowing that within hail was a 
 faithful band of Indians. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Two clays later Hemlock was one of a group 
 standinof on the north bank of the river, where it 
 broke into a short rapid, named from the settler 
 whose shanty overlooked it, Morrison's rapid. The 
 group included representatives of the different corps 
 that had been gathered together, with several set- 
 tlers. They were watching, in the fading twilight,. 
 a thin line of moving red, emerging from the bush. 
 It w^as a battalion of the Canadian Fencibles that 
 had come from Kinorston to reinforce deWatteville. 
 The newcomers were soon among them, brawny 
 Highlanders from Glengarry, French Canadian lum- 
 bermen, and a number of farmers from the English 
 settlements in the east. They w^ere greeted with 
 the earnestness men in peril welcome help, and as- 
 sistance was given in preparing such food as was 
 available, while many sought rest after their ex- 
 hausting journey in the outbuildings of Morrison 
 and in the sheds that liad been prepared for them. 
 Their commander. Col. Macdonell, a thin, wiry man, 
 with a fair complexion that gave him the name 
 of Macdonell the Red, having seen his men disposed 
 of, moved to the house. At the door Morrison^, 
 
150 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 liimself a Highlander, bade his guest welcome in 
 the purest of Argyllshire Gaelic, and produced his 
 bottle. After the glass had passed round, Mac- 
 •donell said, "We have come far to have a tilt with 
 the Yankees: will we be sure to meet them?" 
 
 "That you will," answered Morrison, "they are 
 within four miles of you and will pay us a visit, 
 fluaybe, the morn." 
 
 "Ha! That news does me more good than your 
 •dram. When there is fighting to be done, a High- 
 land man's blood runs faster. Get us some supper 
 aready, and while we wait I'll find out what has 
 been done. Is there none of the General's staff 
 here?" 
 
 "Not an officer: they are all busy at the making 
 of barricades ; but here is an Indian with a longer 
 liead than any of them, and who can speak good 
 English, which, however, is not to be compared 
 with our mother-language." 
 
 Resuming the use of the despised tongue— for he 
 ;SCorned to give English the name of language — 
 Morrison introduced Hemlock, and drawing him to 
 a corner of the hearth, Macdonell plied him with 
 questions. The Indian, using the ramrod of his 
 musket, drew a plan of the country in the ashes at 
 their feet, explaining how the Americans were en- 
 camped a few miles farther up the river and that 
 to get to Montreal they must go down the road 
 that followed its north bank. To prevent him, 
 ^General deWatteville had caused the numerous 
 
HEMLOCK. 151 
 
 gullies of creeks where they emptied into the Cha- 
 teaugay, to be protected by breastworks of fallen 
 trees, behind which the British would contest 
 their advance. Six of these gullies had been so 
 prepared. In rear of them, was the main line of 
 defence, placed where the ground was favorable, 
 and strengthened by breastworks and two small 
 cannon. 
 
 "Aye, aye!" exclaimed Macdonell, "all very well 
 if the Americans keep to the road: but what are 
 we to do should they try to flank us?" 
 
 The Indian's face darkened as he whispered, "de 
 Watteville is a good man but he is an Old World 
 soldier who knows nothing about bush-fighting. 
 He would not believe me, when I told them there 
 were bush - whackers in the Yankee army who 
 could march to his rear through the woods." 
 
 "That they could!" agreed the Colonel, "and where 
 would he be then? And what good would his six 
 lines of barricades be? My own lads today came 
 over ground where regulars would have been bog- 
 ged. Then the river can be forded opposite this 
 house. Could the Yankees get to this ford?" 
 
 Hemlock said they could, when Macdonell an- 
 swered he would see to it that preparations were 
 made to checkmate such a move. Finding Hem- 
 lock acute and thoroughly acquainted with the 
 field of operations, the Highlander's heart warmed 
 to him as one of like soldierly instincts as his own. 
 Uncontaminated by the prejudice of race common 
 
152 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 to old residents, he had no feeling against the red- 
 men, and when supper was ready he insisted on 
 Hemlock's sitting beside him, and in treating him 
 as his equal. As the evening wore on, officers from 
 the neighboring encampments dropped in to ex- 
 change greetings with the new - comers, and an 
 orderly brought instructions from the General. 
 When Hemlock left to join his band in their vigils 
 along the enemy's lines, he felt he had not passed 
 so happy an evening for a dozen of years. 
 
 The night passed quietly and in the morning the 
 enemy showed no disposition to move, so that the 
 preparations for their reception went on, and the 
 troops worked all day, the woods re-echoing the 
 sound of their axes as they felled trees to roll into 
 heaps to form rude breastworks. In the afternoon 
 General deWatteville rode up and carefully in- 
 spected all that had been done, and returned to 
 his quarters satisfied, and altogether unwitting 
 that the attack was to be made from another 
 direction in a few hours. 
 
 The day had been cloudy, cheerless, and cold, 
 and as it faded, rain began to fall. The men 
 sought such cover and warmth as they could find 
 and the officers assembled to spend the night in 
 carousing. So raw, dark, and uninviting was it 
 that not one in the British camp supposed the en- 
 emy would be astir. But they were. At sunset, 
 1500 men left the American camp, marched down 
 to the river, forded the rapids, and began their 
 
HEMLOCK. 153 
 
 march down the south bank with the intent of 
 capturing the ford at Morrison's at daylight. 
 
 Next morning, the eventful 26th October, 1813, 
 the Forsyths, unsuspicious of what was passing 
 under the woods around them, were at breakfast, 
 when the door was dashed in and Hemlock ap- 
 peared, dripping wet. "I want a messenger to go 
 to Macdonell to tell him the Americans are on 
 their way to him," he shouted. 
 
 "Confound them," exclaimed Forsyth, "I'll gang 
 at ance." 
 
 "An' leave us twa women bodies oor lane?" com- 
 plained his wife, "No, no, you maun bide, an' pro- 
 teck us." 
 
 Hemlock was disconcerted. "Maggie," he ap- 
 pealed, "won't you go? Take the canoe and you 
 w411 be at the ford in a few minutes." 
 
 "Yes," she responded, with quiet decision, "and 
 what am I to say?" 
 
 "Tell the Colonel that the Americans in strength 
 are marching through the woods on this side of 
 the river, intending to surprise him and capture 
 his position. Their advance will be on him in 
 half an hour. Say to him, to send over men to 
 meet them and I will join with my band. I go to 
 watch them." Without another word, he left and 
 rushed back into the forest. 
 
 Maggie stepped lightly to where the canoe was 
 moored, loosened the rope, and paddled down the 
 river with all the strength she had. When it 
 
154 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 struck the bank at Morrison's she was gflad to see 
 so many astir and hastened to the door. "You, 
 Maggie, at this early hour," cried Mrs Morrison, 
 "nae thing wrang I hope?" 
 
 "I must see the Colonel," she said, catching for 
 breath. 
 
 "There he is," said Mrs Morrison, pointing to an 
 officer engaged in reading a letter by the fire. 
 
 Maggie repeated Hemlock's message. Macdonell 
 listened with sparkling eyes, and when she had 
 done said, "Thank you, my bonnie lass, you have 
 done the King a service, and when the Yankees 
 come they will find us ready to gie their lang nebs 
 a smell o* oor claymores." 
 
 Hastening out, he gave his orders in quick suc- 
 cession, and with surprising alacrity for a volunteer 
 force, the men fell in. Two companies were soon 
 complete. "Now, Captain Bruyere, if your men do 
 as well as you will yourself all will be well; and 
 for you. Captain Daly, I know by long experience 
 what a loyal Irishman is. Hold your ground until 
 I get up to you with the other companies." 
 
 The men quietly descended the bank and plunged 
 into the river, which took them nearly to the middle, 
 for owing to the recent rains it was deep. Gaining 
 the opposite bank, they were swallowed up in the 
 woods. Gazing over the tree-tops, which looked 
 peaceful in the calm of a dull, moist, autumnal day, 
 Maggie wondered what was going on beneath their 
 cover — wished she could see the advancing Ameri- 
 
HEMLOCK. 155 
 
 cans and the men who had just gone to meet them. 
 There was an interval of suspense. Then, sud- 
 denly, there was a sharp volley and the quiet air 
 became filled with shouts, and yells, and cries oi* 
 frightened men. All at once there burst from the 
 bush on to the river bank, a good way up, a string 
 of habitants, flying in terror, their blue tuques 
 streaming behind them, and few of them having 
 muskets, for they had thrown them away to aid 
 their flight. "The cowardly loons," muttered Mac- 
 donell, "it would serve them riofht to ffive them a 
 taste of shot." On reaching the ford, they tumult- 
 uously dashed in. As the foremost came up the 
 bank the Colonel demanded an explanation. They 
 had been surprised by the unexpected appearance 
 of a great host of Americans and ran to save them- 
 selves. Attention, however, was now attracted from 
 the fugitives by the recommencement of the firing, 
 which was sharp and continuous, relieved by the 
 yells and whoops of the Indians. 
 
 "Hasten!" shouted Macdonell to the troops who 
 were lining up, "do you not hear the firing? Our 
 comrades need us." 
 
 The head of the column had reached the water's 
 edge, when there was a burst of cheering. " That's 
 our lads," said the Colonel, "they must have w^on 
 the day. Halt ! We will not seek to share the 
 credit of their victory." In a few minutes a body 
 of the Fencibles reappeared, with several prisoners 
 and bearing a few wounded men. Their report 
 
156 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 was that they had encountered the advance guard 
 of the American brigade, which, although elated at 
 the rout of the outpost of habitants, fled at the first 
 fire. The Colonel ordered the men to retire and 
 wait behind the breastworks that conmianded the 
 ford. "It is not likely," he remarked to his ad- 
 jutant, "that the Americans will now attack us, 
 seeing their design to surprise us has miscarried." 
 Half an hour later. Hemlock arrived with his 
 braves, at whose girdles hung several fresh scalps. 
 He told Macdonell that the Americans had given 
 up their intention of gaining the ford and had 
 gone into camp nearly two miles above, in a grove 
 beside the river. Seeing how slight was the pros- 
 pect of more fighting on that side of the river, he 
 was going to join the main-body. On hearing 
 this reassuring news, Maggie slipped away to her 
 canoe and paddled homewards. 
 
 On coming in sight of the shanty she was amazed 
 and alarmed by the change that had taken place in 
 her short absence. American soldiers were clus- 
 tered around it, and a few horses picketed. Fear- 
 ing the worst, she drew near. Seated by the fire 
 were several ofiicers warming themselves and dry- 
 inor their clothes, and with whom her mother was in 
 altercation. 
 
 "Come to free us, say ye? What wad ye free us 
 frae?" 
 
 "From the tyranny of European monarchy," an- 
 swered an officer with a smile. 
 
HEMLOCK. 157 
 
 "It maun be a licht yoke that we never felt. 
 Mak us free, dootless, like that blackamoor servant 
 that's cooking yer breakfast." 
 
 "Waal, no," said another officer, "yer a furriner, 
 ye knovr, but yer white." 
 
 "A foreigner!" exclaimed Mrs Forsyth, "hae I 
 lived to be ca'ed in my ain house, a foreigner! I be- 
 lang to nae sic trash. Manners maun be scarce 
 whaur you come frae, my man." 
 
 "That's all right, old woman; the old man will 
 understand how it is. We have come to make you 
 independent." 
 
 "Auld man! Aulcl woman! God forgie you for 
 haein' nae respeck for grey hairs. My guicl man, 
 sir, taks nae stock in ye or your fine words. Nicht 
 and mornin' does he pray for King George an' that 
 his throne may be preserved. You're a set o' land- 
 loupers, wha hae nae business here an' its my howp 
 afore nicht you may be fleein' back to whaur ye 
 cam frae." 
 
 "Canada folk are not all like you." 
 
 "Ay, that they are. There's no an' Auld Country 
 family from here to the Basin that winna gie you 
 the back o' their hand, an' no ane that wadna suner 
 lose a' than come unner yer rule." 
 
 Afraid that further controversy might result 
 unpleasantly, Maggie left her attitude of listen- 
 ing outside the door and entered. One or two of 
 the younger ofificers rose and bowed ; the others 
 stared. 
 
158 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Oh, Maggie, I wish you had stayed where you 
 were," said her mother, "you have come into the 
 lion's den, for your father is no maister here." 
 
 "I am sure, mother, these gentlemen will not 
 harm us." 
 
 "Not at all," interrupted one of the strangers, 
 "and in a few hours we will leave you alone again." 
 "The sicht o' your backs will be maist w^elcome," 
 remarked Mrs Forsyth. 
 "Where is father?" 
 
 "Helpin' thae Yankees to get a baud o' his ain 
 property. They took him oot to get fodder for 
 their horses." 
 
 There was a bustle outside and presently two 
 soldiers carried in a young lad, in lieutenant's uni- 
 form, whose white face told tliat he had been 
 wounded. They were about to lay him down in 
 front of the fire, when Mrs Forsyth darted forward: 
 "No, na; dinna pit the puir chiel on the floor; tak 
 him to my ain bed," and she helped to place him 
 there. Two surgeons took ofl" his coat and shirt, 
 when the wound appeared ; a bullet had gone 
 through the fleshy part beneath the arm-pit, caus- 
 ing some loss of blood without doing serious in- 
 jury. When the surgeons said he would recover, 
 Mrs Forsyth's face beamed and she bustled about 
 to get the requisites needed to clean and dress the 
 wound, while, under her orders, Maggie made gruel 
 to revive his strength. While thus engaged, officers 
 came and went, and the house was never without 
 
HEMLOCK. 159 
 
 several of them. There came a tall, square-built 
 man, whose shoulder-straps indicated high rank, 
 and his quiet, resolute face one accustomed to 
 command. He advanced to the bed where the 
 wounded lad lay, asked a few questions, and spoke 
 encouragingly to the sufferer. 
 
 "It is too bad that Dingley, of all our corps, 
 should have had this luck," remarked an officer. 
 
 "Yes, and to no purpose. I fear the miscarriage 
 of our plan to surprise the ford will lead to the 
 abandonment of the purpose to capture Montreal." 
 
 "There is not a man in the army that does not 
 wish we were in winter-quarters. To light in such 
 a country at this season is more than flesh and 
 blood can stand." 
 
 "Yet to cro back will disgrace us," said the su- 
 perior officer, who withdrew. 
 
 "Who is that?" asked Maggie of one of the sur- 
 geons. 
 
 "That is Col. Purdy, and if he had been in com- 
 mand we would not have spent all summer doing 
 nothing and come here in the end of October." 
 
 "Yet he failed in capturing the ford," remarked 
 Maggie, with a sparkle in her eye. 
 
 "He could not help the weather and the dark 
 night that kept us standing in the woods until 
 daybreak. After all, we would have surprised the 
 o'uard and taken the ford had it not been for some- 
 body, perhaps a traitor among ourselves, who carried 
 word of our coming." 
 
160 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Maybe," said Maggie demurely, *'biit you did 
 not get the ford and what can you do now?" 
 
 "Nothings, I am afraid. The failure of our bri- 
 gade to carry the key of the enemy's position may 
 cause the General to give up the enterprise." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 On leaving Morrison s, Hemlock hurried to the 
 front, followed by his braves. As he reached each 
 successive line of defence he paused briefly to scan 
 it, but when he came to that which had been en- 
 trusted to the Indians, and which was within sight 
 of the front, he halted to fraternize with his breth- 
 ren and'share their fare, for it was now noon. The 
 urgent requests of the chiefs, that he should stay 
 with them and aid in the threatened conflict, he 
 declined, saying he wanted to be with the first line, 
 and his dusky comrades afterwards recalled that 
 he parted with more than usual ceremony and that 
 when he and his small band gained the eminence 
 on the other side of the ravine, he looked back and 
 waved his hand in farewell. A tramp of a few 
 minutes brought him to the advance line, where he 
 found men still busy felling and rolling trees to 
 strengthen the abattis. Inquiring for the officer 
 in command he came upon him, a short, broad- 
 shouldered man, engaged in swearing at one of his 
 men for neglect of duty. On seeing the Indians 
 he turned, and with hearty gesture grasped Hem- 
 lock's extended hand. "Ha, bon camarado, have 
 you come to help?" 
 
 12 
 
162 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Will there be a fight?" asked Hemlock. 
 
 "Yes, yes; stand on this stump and you can see 
 for yourself." 
 
 With cautious movement Hemlock scanned the 
 scene. In front of the abattis there was a narrow 
 clearing that skirted the river bank as far as the 
 view extended. On the road and adjoining fields 
 were masses of American troops, with the smoke 
 rising from the fires at which they were cooking 
 dinner. "You see, Hemlock," said Colonel deSala- 
 berry, "they may make an attack any minute. 
 Those mounted oflacers looking at us from the 
 road are the General and his stafi"." 
 
 Hemlock gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Where 
 will we stand ?" he asked. 
 
 "Get into the w^oods and cover our flank," deSal- 
 aberry replied. Without another word, Hemlock 
 motioned to his men and led the way to where the 
 line of defence ended in the bush. Here he spread 
 out his men and awaited the onset. Half an hour 
 passed when the roll of drums was heard, and 
 Hemlock saw a brigade falling into rank on the 
 road. When all were in place, the column moved 
 slowly, for the road was a canal of mud intersect- 
 ed by pools of water. As they approached with 
 in range the order to deploy was shouted, and 
 the men streamed on to the clearing until a line 
 the length of the field was formed. Then they 
 faced round, and Hemlock heard the command to 
 advance, when the Americans came on, a solid wall 
 
HEMLOCK. 
 
 163 
 
 of humanity, moving- with slow and steady step. 
 Instantly, the bushy abattis, behind which the 
 British lay, silent as the grave until now, became 
 alive with the puffs of musket-shots and the shouts 
 of those who fired them. On the Americans came- 
 with even step until well within blank range, when 
 they were halted and the order given to fire by- 
 platoons. The regular roll of musketry that en- 
 sued spoke w^ell for their nerve and discipline. 
 The shower of bullets they sent streaming into 
 the bush in front of them had no effect in check- 
 ing the opposing fire, which was irregular but lively. 
 It soon bdcame apparent that firing by platoons was 
 a waste of ammunition, a mere flinging of bullets 
 into the tree-tops, and there was a movement in 
 the companies in the column next the woods, which 
 were swung forward, in order that they might 
 gain a position which would enable them to pour 
 a cross-fire into the British position. The men 
 moved steadily, all the while pouring in volleys, 
 that caused the defenders of the upper end of the 
 British line to leave and go lower dowm. It was 
 a critical moment. The British line was in danger 
 of being flanked, and Hemlock saw its peril. He 
 with his band were concealed in the woods that 
 edged the clearing, and so far had not fired a shot, 
 for Hemlock, who knew the futility of irregular 
 troops engaging in a musketry duel with a discip- 
 lined force, had determined not to show where 
 they were until the Americans came to close quar- 
 
164 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 ters. Now he saw his opportunity. Signing to his 
 men to follow, he stealthily crept until he was close 
 behind the American companies that were edging 
 to flank the British line. When near upon the 
 unsuspecting Americans, he sprang to his feet, gave 
 the war-whoop, and fired his musket, his followers 
 doing likewise. The Americans looked round in 
 terrified astonishment, and saw the Indians leaping 
 towards them with ear-piercing yells and brandish- 
 ing their tomahawks. They wavered, broke rank, 
 and fled towards their supports, who were a short 
 distance behind. Hemlock bounded among the 
 fleeing men and two had fallen under his hand, 
 when a volley of bullets from the supporting 
 column came shrieking through the air. All save 
 one passed harmlessly over the heads of the red- 
 men — that one struck Hemlock in the breast, and 
 he sank upon his right knee. Alarmed at his fall, 
 his men desisted from following the fleeing enemy, 
 and seizing hold of him hurried into the shelter of 
 the woods. They laid him down and were about 
 to loosen his jacket, for he was in a faint, when 
 there rose a burst of cheering from the British line, 
 on seeing the success of the Indians' diversion. The 
 sound caught the ear of the dying chief. His eyes 
 opened as from slumber, rolled wildly for a mo- 
 ment, and his breast heaved convulsively. He 
 staggered to his feet, and lifting aloft his toma- 
 hawk, dripping with the blood of its last victim, 
 he raised the war-whoop, suddenly stopped short, 
 
HEMLOCK. 165 
 
 rolled unsteadily, and then fell as a pine-tree falls^ 
 An Indian knelt down beside him and raised his 
 head while he pressed his hand on his forehead. 
 
 There was no responsive throb. Hemlock was dead. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "I would swear that was Hemlock's whoop," said 
 Morton to himself. He stood amid a group of cav- 
 alrymen who were watching intently what was 
 going on from a held within easy view. He had 
 followed the engagement with intelligent interest; 
 had noted how the American infantry had ad- 
 vanced, deployed, formed line, and opened fire on 
 the British position. What followed provoked him. 
 When he saw how ineffectual the British fire was 
 upon the American ranks, though standing in the 
 open and within easy range, he ground his teeth 
 in vexation. "Those militiamen could not hit a 
 barn; a hundred regulars would have decimated 
 the American column with half the ammunition 
 that has been spent," he muttered to himself. 
 When the upper end of the American line swung 
 forward, his thoughts changed. "Ah, they are 
 going to fix bayonets and carry our position by 
 assault. God help our lads." He was mistaken; 
 the movement was to gain a point whence to rake 
 the British position with an enfilading fire. As he 
 saw the Americans move forward unopposed and 
 the British tire slacken from the bush opposite, his 
 heart sank. "The day is lost: in five minutes the 
 Americans will have possession of the far end of 
 
166 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 that bushy entrenchment, and it will be untenable.'* 
 Suddenly the war-whoop of the Indians was heard, 
 then came their wild assault, and the flight of the 
 Americans. "Well done, Hemlock!" exulted Mor- 
 ton, "no other lungs than yours could have raised 
 that shriek and your timely move has certainly 
 ..checked the attempt to flank the British position. 
 What next ?" Having ascertained so unpleasantly 
 ■that the wood to their left was held by Indians, 
 the Americans did not try again to turn the British 
 .position, and the companies that had broken in dis- 
 order were reformed and placed in rear, while the 
 battalions in line continued to pour volleys into the 
 bush heaps in front of them. Hampton and his 
 stafl" were on horseback, watching the progress of 
 the contest from a bit of rising ground by the river. 
 At this juncture Morton observed him signal with 
 his hand to some one on the other side of the river, 
 and from that quarter, soon after, came the rattle 
 of musketry. It did not last long and when it died 
 away, an orderly was detached from the General's 
 stafl" and came galloping to deliver a message to 
 Izard, who instantly gave the order to cease firing. 
 The column fell back a few paces and the men 
 stood in rank, awaiting orders. To Morton's sur- 
 prise, flring from the British line also ceased, and 
 the two combatants simply looked at one another. 
 "Can it be," asked Morton, "that our General does 
 not want to provoke an engagement and would be 
 43ontent to see the Americans leave?" The brief 
 
HEMLOCK. 167 
 
 October day was drawing to an end, and still the 
 American brigade stood immovable and there was 
 not a sign of life along the British line. When the 
 grey clouds began to be tinged by the setting sun, 
 and it was apparent nothing more could be done 
 that day, Izard received the order to fall back. As 
 if on parade, the evolutions requisite were gone 
 throuo^h and the column beoran its march to the 
 camp, three miles in rear. 
 
 "Hillo, Morton, you seem stupefied. Lost in 
 amaze at the gallantry of your comrades-in-arms 
 permitting a brigade to file off under their nose 
 without an attempt to molest them. Eh?" The 
 voice was that of Colonel Vanderberg. 
 
 "I confess you interpret my thoughts," answered 
 Morton. "I am glad to see you back." 
 
 "I have had a fatiguing day's duty and am not 
 yet done. I have just left the General, who in- 
 structed me to go over and see Purdy and arrange 
 for the withdrawal of his force. Will you come 
 with me?" 
 
 "That I will; I am tired of standing here." 
 
 As they approached the river, Morton noted that 
 the bank was strongly picketted by infantry and 
 that a body of cavalry were bivouaced in a field 
 beside the road. Stepping upon a raft that had 
 been extemporized to form a ferry with the other 
 side, the Colonel and Morton were landed in the 
 midst of Purdy 's men, who were making them- 
 selves as comfortable as possible before their camp- 
 
168 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 fires. They looked tired and dejected. The Colonel 
 was told Purdy had gone to remain until morning 
 with his outposts, as a night attack upon them 
 was looked for. Accompanied by a soldier to show 
 them the way they went on, now floundering thru' 
 marshy spots and again jumping little creeks, alter- 
 nating with bits of dry bank and scrubby brush, 
 until they emerged into a clearing. Morton caught 
 his breath with astonishment. In front was the 
 shanty of the Forsyths! He had had no idea it 
 was so near. The door was open and he could see 
 it was full of officers. Around the house were 
 resting a strong body of troops. Col. Vanderberg 
 pushed in and was soon in earnest conversation 
 with Purdy, who sat smoking by the fire. Morton 
 remained at the door and scanned the interior, 
 which was filled by a cloud of tobacco-smoke and 
 reeked with the odor of cooking and of steaming 
 wet clothes. In the corner, where the bed stood, he 
 saw Maggie leaning over a recumbent youth, whose 
 white face and bandaged shoulder told of a wound. 
 Morton's heart jumped at sight of her and his lips 
 twitched. The next moment, as he saw how gently 
 she soothed the sufferer, a pang of jealousy succeed- 
 ed, and he clenched his teeth. Pullinof his cloak 
 more tightly around him he entered and drew up 
 behind Colonel Vanderberg, who was saying, "Then 
 I am to tell the General from you, that you will 
 not join him tonight." 
 
 "Yes, tell him I cannot; that the river is too deep 
 
HEMLOCK. 169 
 
 to ford and too wide to bridge and that it is out 
 of the question to cross 1500 men on rafts. At 
 daylight we will march back the way we came 
 and join him at Spears." 
 
 "It will be an unwelcome message, for he count- 
 ed on your rejoining him tonight." 
 
 "I care not," bluffly retorted Purdy, "I am a sol- 
 dier and know a soldier's duty and have to think 
 of those under me. I'll risk no lives to humor his 
 whims." 
 
 "He fears a night assault upon your brigade." 
 
 "So do I," replied Purdy, blowing a cloud of to- 
 bacco smoke, "and would fear it more if assailed 
 while on the march through these woods or in the 
 endeavor to cross the river. The General should 
 have ordered us to retire while there was daylight" 
 
 "Ah, well, I hav^e delivered my message and must 
 go back with my answer. Come, Morton." 
 
 At the sound of the familiar name Maoraie looked 
 round, and when her eyes fell on Morton, she blush- 
 ed deeply. To hide her confusion from the roomful 
 of men, she turned her back and bowed her head 
 close to the pillow whereon lay the head of the 
 patient. More nettled than ever, Morton started 
 to move quickly away, when there appeared at the 
 doorway the frail form of Mrs Forsyth. "God be 
 gude to us, if this is no Morton. Oh but I'm gled 
 to see you and sae will the gudeman. I went out 
 to look for him, an' hav'na found him, but he'll sune 
 be here an', onyway, you're going to bide wi' us." 
 
170 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot." 
 
 "But ye maun. Ye dinna ken hoo yer takin' awa' 
 concerned us and pit us aboot." 
 
 "You forget I am a prisoner." 
 
 " Prisoner ! You are nae prisoner. You're noo 
 in oor lioose an' you'll just bide here an' let thae 
 Yankees gae awa." 
 
 "I am afraid they would insist on taking me with 
 them." 
 
 "Hoots, man, I'll hand ye. Maggie, do you ken 
 Morton's come ?" 
 
 "Yes, mother; I saw him." 
 
 " Weel, come ower and mak him stay an' no gang 
 back to be bullyragged by a wheen Yankees." 
 
 Maggie made no reply, but turned to avoid the 
 gaze of the Americans attracted by the scene at 
 the door and her mother's words. Morton also felt 
 mortified at the situation. "Thank you, Mrs For- 
 syth, but I must go, and tell your husband and 
 sons I have never forgot them and never will." 
 Eluding her grasp he followed Colonel Vanderberg, 
 who stood outside the door with laughing coun- 
 tenance. He had not gone far when a swift step 
 was heard behind and his name was uttered. Turn- 
 ing he saw Maggie, who held out her right hand. 
 "Take this," she said, "I may not see you — again." 
 There was a sob as she uttered the last word. He 
 grasped what she held to him and before he could 
 say a word she had turned and fled back to the 
 house. Morton held the object up to the light 
 
HEMLOCK. 171 
 
 of the nearest camp-fire. It was his signet- ring. 
 
 More perplexed than ever, angry with Maggie 
 and angry with himself, he braced himself and fol- 
 lowed the Colonel in silence until the camp was 
 reached. Supper awaited them, and that disposed 
 of, the Colonel, wearied with his day's exertion, 
 flung himself on the ground and fell asleep. Mor- 
 ton tried in vain to do likewise. 
 
 At daybreak the army was astir and the expecta- 
 tion of the men was an order to renew the assault 
 upon the British position. No such order came, 
 and it was wearing well into the forenoon when 
 the commanding- officers were summoned to attend 
 at the General's tent to hold a council - of - war. 
 Among others Colonel Vanderberg went. Morton 
 watched eagerly his return, and when he came his 
 questioning eyes told what his tongue, from cour- 
 tesy, would not ask. "Well, Morton, you would 
 like to know what has been decided upon, and as 
 it is no secret, I will tell you. The campaign has 
 been abandoned and the army goes back to the 
 States to go into winter-quarters. We marched into 
 Canada to co-operate with Wilkinson. Last night 
 the General received a despatch that he had not 
 yet left Sackett's Harbor, while we supposed he 
 was now steering his triumphant way down the 
 St Lawrence, and might even be at the mouth of 
 the Chateaugay waiting for us. It was argued 
 that, as Wilkinson had not moved, and it was un- 
 certain if he would, nothing was to be gained by 
 
172 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 our army going on, for, without the flotilla, we 
 could not cross the St Lawrence to take Montreal." 
 
 "And what of the disg-race of retirinof before an 
 enemy whom you have burnt powder with for an 
 afternoon?' 
 
 "There you have us, Morton. I urged that, be- 
 fore we fell back, the honor of our flag required 
 our routing the enemy in front of us, but the 
 General showed that he has had all alonof com- 
 plete information of its position and strength, ob- 
 tained from spies and deserters — that there are six 
 lines of wooden breastworks, held by Indians and 
 light troops, and that only after storming them 
 would we come in face of the main position, where 
 the regulars are entrenched with cannon and com- 
 manded by Sir George Prevost in person. When 
 there was nothing to be gained, it was asked, what 
 was the use of further fio-htino-? The miscarriaore 
 of the attempt under Purdy to flank the enemy's 
 position discouraged our officers, who, altho' they 
 flo not say it, want to get away from this miser- 
 able condition of cold and wet and mud." 
 
 "So we go back whence we came?" remarked 
 Morton moodily, as he thought of the stable at 
 Chateau gay. 
 
 "My dear fellow, bear up; I will do my best to 
 have you exchanged." 
 
 Morton shook his head as he said, "I am not held 
 as a prisoner of war." 
 
 The Colonel bit his lip. "I have not told you all. 
 
HEMLOCK. l*^^ 
 
 The carrying of the decision of the council to Wilk- 
 inson was entrusted to me." 
 
 "And so you leave mel" exclaimed Morton sadly. 
 "I start after dinner, and cheer up, man; we will 
 have a good one as a farewell feast." Then, with 
 evident hesitation, the Colonel went on, as delicate- 
 ly as possible, to show Morton that he had better 
 withdraw his parole and go again under a guard. 
 Removed from his protection, it would not be 
 safe to move among men soured by an unfortu- 
 nate campaign. Morton assented and expressed his 
 thanks for advice he knew it pained the Colonel to 
 give Dinner over, the Colonel's horse was brought, 
 and with a warm grasp of the hand he bade Morton 
 good-bye, leapt into the saddle, and galloped out of 
 sio-ht. Morton saw him not again. 
 
 "in a despondent mood Morton turned away and 
 sought the guard- tent, when he gave himself up to 
 the''officer-of-the-day, who accepted his surrender 
 as a matter of course. The soldiers took little 
 notice of him, being in high spirits at the prospect 
 of goino- back to the States and busily engaged m 
 the preparations to leave. That afternoon part of 
 the bago-age-train left and went floundering along 
 the muddy road to Four Corners. As evening drew 
 nioh the rain, accompanied by a raw east wind, 
 recommenced, flooding the level clearances upon 
 which the tents were pitched and making every- 
 body miserable. The captain of the guard sought 
 shelter from the blast and the water by causing 
 
174 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 the tents he controlled to be pitched on the slope 
 of a hollow scooped out by a creek, and in one of 
 them Morton lay down along with seven soldiers. 
 Sleep soon came to relieve him of his depression in 
 mind and discomfort of body, and the hours sped 
 while he was so unconscious that he did not hear 
 when his companions left to take their turn on 
 duty and those they relieved took their places in 
 the tent. His first deep sleep was over when he 
 felt that some furtive hand was being passed over 
 the canvas to find the opening. When the flap was 
 «lrawn aside, so dark was it that he could not dis- 
 tinguish who stood there. He supposed it was 
 some belated private seeking cover from the pelt- 
 ing rain and he was about to turn and resume his 
 slumber when a flint was struck and the tent was 
 lit for a moment by its sparks. Somebody light- 
 ing a pipe, he said, too drowsy to look. A minute 
 afterwards he felt that the curtain of the tent 
 where his head lay was being cautiously lifted 
 and soon a hand reached in, touched his face, and 
 then catching the collar of his coat began pulling. 
 He made a motion to resist, when a voice whispered, 
 "Hemlock." In a flash he realized he was about to 
 be rescued, and, guided by the hand that grasped 
 him, slowly crept out. No sooner was he upon his 
 feet, than he felt men were gliding past him into 
 the tent. All at once there was a sound of strik- 
 ino^, as of knives beino^ driven into the bodies of 
 the sleeping inmates, a slight commotion, a few 
 
HEMLOCK. 175 
 
 groans, and then all was still. Morton's flesh crept, 
 as he guessed at the horrid work in which the In- 
 dians were engaged. So intensely dark was it, that 
 he could see nothing. There was a slight shuf- 
 fling of feet and he was grasped by the arm on 
 either side and hurried forward. He knew they 
 were following the course of the ravine, for he 
 could hear the wash of the creek. Suddenly his 
 conductors came to a halt and there w^as a pause, 
 until a faint chirrup was heard. Then the bank 
 was climbed and, emero^ino^ on a clearance, Morton 
 saw the tents of the American camp some distance 
 to his left, lit up b}^ the smoldering flres that burn- 
 ed dimly between the rows. Looking round, he 
 for the first time saw his companions, who were, 
 as he suspected, a band of Indians. Taking ad- 
 vantage of every available cover the Indians glided, 
 in single file, across the bit of open that intervened 
 between where they stood and the bush. When 
 its shelter was gained, they halted on a dry knoll, 
 and squatted, when they began to giggle and to 
 chatter in their native tongue, plainly exulting 
 over the success of their raid. Morton tried to 
 communicate with them, but found they could not 
 speak English, and the only word they uttered 
 which he recognized was "Hemlock," altho' that 
 o'reat chief was not anion or them. One of them 
 could speak a little French, which, however, Mor- 
 ton did not understand. When daylight began to 
 creep in upon the darkness, they became alert, and 
 
176 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 as soon as it was clear enough to see where they 
 w^ere going they started; Morton had no idea in 
 what direction. All he knew was, that their course 
 led them over a sw^ampy country intersected by 
 stony ridges, and that had it not been that the 
 leaders of the file broke a path he could never 
 have followed. The exertion was exhausting and 
 he would have succumbed at the end of the first 
 hour had it not been that the spirit of freedom 
 elated him, and the knowledge that every mile he 
 overtook increased the distance between him and 
 the hated bondage from which he had escaped 
 spurred him on. On the edge of an apparently 
 limitless swamp they paused before entering upon 
 it to have a smoke. It was apparent that they 
 carried no food. Morton sank upon a pile of leaves 
 that had drifted against a log and stretched his 
 w^earied legs. Refreshed by the rest, he faced the 
 swamp with courage, soon finding, however, that, 
 without the help of the Indians, he could have 
 made little headway. With the light step and 
 agility of cats they stepped over quaking surfaces 
 and sprang from log to log until solid land was 
 reached, and with it came the sound of rushing 
 w^ater. Escaping from the brush, a broad river, 
 dashing impetuously over a rocky channel, burst 
 in view. Following its bank in single file, Morton 
 saw it grew wider, until it expanded into a lake, 
 when he knew it was the St Lawrence. On com- 
 ing opposite the promontory that marked the inlet 
 
HEMLOCK. 177 
 
 of the river from the lake, the Indians eagerly 
 scrutinized it. Gathering some damp leaves they 
 made a smoke. The signal was seen by those op- 
 posite, for a long-boat was launched from under 
 the trees and rapidly approached them. Morton's 
 heart leapt with joy when he distinguished that 
 the steersman had a red-coat on, and as the boat 
 drew nearer and he could make out the ruddy 
 countenances of the crew, frank and open in ex- 
 pression, and catch the sound of their hearty Eng- 
 lish speech, he could not resist the impulse to swing 
 his hat and wake the echoes with a lusty cheer. 
 The Indians grinned and one clapped him on the 
 back in high approval. 
 
 The corporal in charge of the boat informed 
 Morton that he belonged to the garrison of Coteau- 
 du-lac and was, for the week, with the party on 
 the point, to guard the south channel. There were 
 so many Indians that the boat had to leave part 
 for a second trip. On landing at the point Morton 
 was warmly welcomed by the officer in charge, and 
 given the best he had, which proved to be fried 
 pork and biscuit. At noon the boat that daily 
 brought supplies from Coteau arrived, and in it 
 Morton with the Indians embarked. As soon as he 
 stepped ashore, he made for the commander's quar- 
 ters and was shown into the presence of Col. Leth- 
 bridge. On announcing who he was, the Colonel 
 welcomed him as one from the dead and impatient- 
 ly demanded to hear when and how he had escaped. 
 
 ♦ 13 
 
178 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 When he came to tell of the exploit of the preced- 
 ing night, and that the Indians who had performed 
 in it were waiting in the barrack-yard, the Colonel 
 thumped the table and swore each man of them 
 would take home all the tobacco and pork he 
 could carry. Going out to see them before they 
 left, Morton learned through an interpreter of 
 Hemlock's death and that his rescue was in fulfil- 
 ment of an order he had left. They were going to 
 Oka to join the party who were on the way from 
 the Chateaugay with his bod}^ to bury it beside 
 that of his daughter, and hold a funeral lodge. 
 Morton was deeply moved. "Faithful soul," he 
 exclaimed, "would to heaven he had lived that I 
 might have shown him my gratitude." Applying 
 to the paymaster he obtained an advance, and in 
 parting with the Indians pressed a big Mexican 
 dollar into the hand of each of them. 
 
 Colonel Lethbridge insisted on Morton's being his 
 guest, and after leaving him in his bedroom sent 
 his servant to wait upon him, and who brought a 
 fresh suit of clothes. Morton was the hero of the 
 garrison, and when he appeared at the mess-table, 
 so many complimentary speeches were made, so 
 many songs sung, and so many toasts drank that 
 it was nigh midnight when he got to bed. He rose 
 next morning intent on entering harness again, and 
 over a late breakfast discussed with Col. Lethbridge 
 as to how he could rejoin his regiment, which had 
 been called to the Niagara frontier, and it was 
 
HEMLOCK. 17& 
 
 agreed he should go by the next convoy, always 
 provided Wilkinson did not come, which, after 
 what Morton reported of Hampton's army return- 
 ing to the States, Lethbridge doubted. Each day 
 tidings of Wilkinson's leaving the shelter of Sack- 
 ett's Harbor had been looked for, and the feeling 
 was that unless he left within a week he would 
 not come at all, for the season was now well- 
 advanced, and already on several mornings had ice 
 formed round boats while lying at Coteau. Col. 
 Scott had been sent to Cornwall to superintend the 
 preparations there, and Lethbridge had taken his 
 place at the less important point. The following 
 week the unexpected happened — late one after- 
 noon a gunboat came down the lake under press 
 of canvas, with word that Wilkinson had started 
 — was descendinor the river with a flotilla of 300 
 boats bearing 7000 men. A few days of excite- 
 ment and wearing suspense succeeded, and then 
 came word of the battle of Crystler's Farm — how 
 a stronof brig-ade of Americans had landed at the 
 head of the Long Sault rapids to clear the north 
 bank of the batteries the British had planted to 
 prevent the flotilla descending and been routed by 
 General Boyd. Treading upon the heels of the 
 news of that decisive victory came the announce- 
 ment that Wilkinson had abandoned his under- 
 taking and had gone back to the United States by 
 sailing into Salmon river with his beaten army. 
 The campaign was ended for the season, and troops 
 
180 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 were ordered into winter-quarters. The day the 
 news reached Coteau of Wilkinson's flight to French 
 Mills, a string of boats came up loaded with mili- 
 tary stores for Upper Canada and a few troops. 
 To Morton's astonishment, among them was the 
 detachment he had conducted to the Chateaugay. 
 The camp there having been broken up, they were 
 on their way to join the regiment, and hoped to 
 reach it before navigation closed. Gladly Morton 
 resumed command and six days later reported at 
 Niagara. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 After a night of excitement from wild alarms, 
 the Americans left the Forsyth household at day- 
 light, leaving not one behind, for even the wounded 
 officer they carried with them in a litter. Utterly 
 worn out tlie family sought rest, and it was late in 
 the day when the father arose, and leaving the 
 others, sleeping, went out to see what of his pro- 
 perty had been left. The more closely he examined 
 the more fully the unwelcome fact was forced upon 
 him, that he was left destitute, and when he came 
 upon the black head of his cow, which the soldiers 
 had slaughtered for beef, he sat down in a despair- 
 ing mood. "It's no for mysel' I'm troubled," he 
 exclaimed, "but for my ailin' wife and puir Maggie! 
 To face a Canadian winter wi' a bare loof is awf u." 
 And he gave way to a lit of despondency. "This 
 winna do," he said with a rueful look at the devas- 
 tation around him, "a stout heart to a stey brae, 
 and wi' God's help, I'll mak the best o't" When 
 ^Maggie sometime afterwards appeared at the door 
 he was industriously laboring to bring his sur- 
 roundings into order. "Weel, lass, an' hoo are ye 
 after oor big pairty?" 
 
182 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "No SO ill; but, father, what are we to do, there's 
 no a bite in the house? The cellar is rookit as clean 
 as if a pack of wolves had visited it " 
 
 The old man approached and taking his daughter 
 by the hand drew her to the seat by the door-step. 
 ■*' Maggie, I ken ye hae a brave spirit and can bear 
 the worst. I am a ruined man. The Yankees have 
 eaten us oot o' house an' hold. The very boards o' 
 the byre hae been torn awa' to licht their fires. 
 Oor coo, the young beasts, the pigs, hae a' been 
 eaten. There's no even a chuckle left." 
 
 "O but there is," interrupted Maggie, "see to Jenny 
 Tapknot over there," pointing smilingly thro' tears 
 to a favorite chicken that had eluded the soldiers 
 find was eyeing them from a branch. 
 
 "Weel, weel, we hae one leevin' thing left us. 
 O' a' oor crop there is naething to the fore but the 
 unthreshed wheat, an' mickle o't is useless from the 
 sojers using it to lie on." 
 
 "Was it right, father, for them to take your pro- 
 perty without paying you?" 
 
 "Pay me! The thocht o' paying a subject o' the 
 King never entered their heids. Micht is richt wi' 
 them. What we are to do is no just clear to me 
 yet, but we'll trust in Him wha has never fail- 
 ed to supply oor bite an' sup. Only, Maggie, ye 
 maun for yer mither's sake put a cheerfu' face on't 
 an' mak the best o't." 
 
 "Hoot, father, what gars ye doot me? We hae 
 aye been provided for an' sae will we yet, says the 
 
HEMLOCK. 183 
 
 auld sang. You take the canoe an' go down to Mor- 
 rison's an' see what you can get there to keep us 
 going until the morn, an' while you're away I'll 
 red the house an' hae a' ready for supper gin mither 
 wakens." 
 
 With brightened face and hopeful step the old 
 man did as asked and did not return empty-handed. 
 Over the frugal meal the situation was discussed 
 and both the husband and daughter were glad to 
 see that the calamity that had overtaken them so 
 far from overwhelming Mrs Forsyth, roused her, 
 and revived the active and hopeful spirit that had 
 been a feature in her character before ailments and 
 ag-e had overtaken her. Lonor and earnest was the 
 consultation by the fireside that night, and many a 
 plan proposed to tide over the long' months that 
 must intervene before another harvest could be 
 reaped. As bed-time drew near, the father lifted 
 down the book, and after they had sung the 23rd 
 psalm, he read the 17th chapter of First Kings, and 
 poured out his heart in thanksgiving for the un- 
 numbered blessings bestowed upon him and his, 
 and, above all, for the departure of the invader. 
 
 Two days afterwards, when it had become as- 
 sured that Hampton was in leisurely retreat whence 
 he came, those of the militia, at Baker's camp, who 
 wished were o^iven leave to ero to their homes, and 
 the Forsyth lads returned. They were much ex- 
 asperated at the plundered state of their home, and 
 more provoked than before at the policy which 
 
184 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 permitted the enemy to journey back over 24 miles 
 of Canadian territory without attempt to harass 
 him. Leaving the scanty pay they had received 
 as soldiers, it was arranged they should go lumber- 
 ing for the winter, their wages to be sent home as 
 they got them. The winter proved a hard one. 
 The presence of so large a body of troops had con- 
 sumed much of the produce the settlers needed for 
 themselves, and although they had been paid what 
 they considered at the time good prices they now 
 found it difficult to procure what they wanted from 
 Montreal. The result to the Forsyths was, that 
 their neighbors were unable to give them much 
 help and had it not been that the miller at the 
 Basin gave credit, they would have been sometimes 
 in actual w^ant. Despite the bareness of the cup- 
 board, the winter was a happy one: the very effort 
 to endure and make the best of their hard lot con- 
 ducing to cheerfulness. When the snow began to 
 melt, the sons returned, and the new clearing at 
 which the father had worked all winter was made 
 ready for seed, so that more land than before was 
 put under a crop. The pinch was worst in July 
 and until the potatoes were lit to eat. After that 
 there was rude plenty and an abundant harvest 
 was reaped. 
 
 With returning comfort Mrs Forsyth began to 
 fail. Whether it was the effects of the lack of 
 usual food, or the strain to help the family having 
 been beyond her strength, signified little. With 
 
HEMLOCK. 185 
 
 the coming of the snow she began to lose strength 
 and, as her husband saw with deep sorrow, "to 
 dwine awa." She accepted her lot uncomplaining- 
 ly, studying how to give least trouble, and spending 
 her days between her bed and the easy chair by 
 the fireside, generally knitting, for she said she 
 hoped to leave them a pair of stockings apiece. 
 The New Year had passed and the days were 
 lengthening when it was plain her rest was near. 
 
 It was a beautiful day when she asked that her 
 chair be moved so that she could see out at the 
 window. The brilliant sunlight fell on the snow 
 that shrouded the winding course of the Chateau- 
 gay and flecked the trees, while a blue haze hung 
 in the distance that prophesied of coming spring. 
 "A bonnie day," she remarked. 
 
 "Ay," replied Maggie, "warm enough to be a 
 sugar day." 
 
 "It's ower fine to last and there will be storms 
 and hard frost afore the trees can be tapped," said 
 Mrs Forsyth, "an' I'll no be here to help. ' 
 
 "Dinna say that, mither; the spring weather will 
 bring you round." 
 
 "Na, na, my bairn. The robin's lilt will no wauk- 
 enme, nor will my een again see the swelling bud, 
 but through the mercy o' my God I trust they will 
 be lookin' on the everlasting spring o' the bidin' 
 place o' his people." 
 
 "Oh, mither: I canna bear the thocht o' parting 
 wi' you." 
 
186 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "It's natural to feel sae; my ain heart-strings 
 were wrung when my mither deed, an' yet I see 
 noo it was for the best. I have become a cumberer 
 o' the grund, unable to labor even for an hour a 
 day in the vineyard, and sae the Maister o't is goin' 
 to gie me the rest o' which, lang since, I got frae 
 His hand the arles. Ae thing ye maun promise me, 
 Maggie,and that is ye maun never leev your faither." 
 
 "What makes you think sae o' me, mother? I 
 hav'na even a thocht o' leevin' him." 
 
 "I ken ye hav'na a thocht the noo o' sic a thing, 
 but the day will come when you micht — when your 
 love for anither would incline you to forget your 
 duty. Sweet the drawing o' heart to heart in the 
 spring o' youth, an' the upspringing, when you least 
 expec' it, o' the flow'r o' love. The peety is, sae 
 mony are content with the flow'r an' pu' it an' let 
 the stem wither. Your faither an' I w^erna o' that 
 mind. The flow'r grew into a bauld stalk in the 
 simmer o' aflection, an' noo we reap the harvest. 
 It's no like Scotch folk to open their mous on sic 
 maitters, but I may tell you, my lassie, that sweet 
 an' warm as was oor love when your faither cam a 
 coortin', it's nae mair to be compared to oor love 
 since syne an' to this minute, than the licht o' 
 lightnin' is to the sunshine. I thocht to hae tended 
 him in his last days, to hae closed his een, an' placed 
 the last kiss on his cauld lips, but it's no to be, an' 
 ye maun promise me to perform what your mither 
 wad hae dune had she lived." 
 
HEMLOCK. 187 
 
 "I promise, mother; I promise never to leave 
 him." 
 
 " Weel does he deserve a' you can dae for him ; 
 he's puir, he's hamely in looks, he's no sae quick in 
 thocht or speech as mony; but he is what mony 
 ofreat an' rich an' smairt men are not — an honest 
 man, wha strives in a quiet way to do his duty by 
 his fellovvman an' his Maker." 
 
 "What makes you speak so, mother? I am sure 
 I never gave you cause to think I'd leave the 
 family." 
 
 "Your brothers will gang their ain gate by-and- 
 by an' their wives micht na want to hae the auld 
 man at their ingle; only o' you may I ask that 
 whither you go he shall go an' drink o' your cup 
 an' eat o' your bread. Dinna marry ony man unless 
 sure he will be kind to your faither an' let you do 
 a dochter's duty by him." 
 
 "I hav'na met ony man, mother, that will hae 
 me, except auld Milne." 
 
 "Dinna mak fun o' me, Maggie; you ken what I 
 mean. The lad Morton will come some day — " 
 
 " Wheesht, mother: he's nothing to me." 
 
 "I ken different: you loe him deep an' true an' 
 he loes you. Whether he will pit pride o' family 
 an' station aside to ask you to be his w^ife some 
 wad doot, but I div'na. He'll be back, an' when 
 he does dinna forget what I have said." 
 
 The heavy step of the father was here heard 
 outside; the door opened and he came in. Drawing 
 
188 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 a chair beside his wife he sat down, and, w^ithout 
 uttering a word, surveyed her wasted and furrowed 
 face with tender gaze. She returned his affec- 
 tionate look and placed her hand in his. As she 
 looked at them, sitting in the afternoon sunshine 
 with clasped hands, and that radiant expression of 
 mutual love, Maggie's heart, already full, was like 
 to burst. She hastened out and falling beneath a 
 
 tree wept bitterly. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Next morning when they awoke the sad truth 
 became apparent, that the mother of the family 
 had had a change for the worse in her sleep. Her 
 mind wandered and her strength had completely 
 left. The onl}^ one she recognized was her hus- 
 band, and when he spoke she smiled. The spells 
 of unconsciousness grew longer as the day wore on 
 and towards evening it could be seen her last was 
 near. As often happens in the Canadian winter, a 
 pet day had been followed by a storm. A piercing 
 blast from the west filled the air with drift and 
 sent the frozen snow rattling on the window-panes. 
 They were all gathered round her bed, when she 
 woke, and her eyes wonderingly looked upon them, 
 tried to make out what it all meant, and gave it up 
 as hopeless. "Eh, sirs, a bonnie day," she said, as 
 if speaking to herself, "the westlin win' blaws saft 
 frae the sea an' the bit lammies rin after their 
 mithers on the hill-side. Sune tlie kye will be 
 comin' hame an' after milkin' I'll snod mysel', for 
 
HEMLOCK. 189 
 
 somebody's comin' to see somebody, an' well daun- 
 ner doun e'e the gloamin' by the burn. Isna he a 
 comely lad! Stracht an' supple, and an e'e in his 
 heid that a bairn wad trust. Tak him? I'd s^angf 
 tae the warl's end wi' him... What's that! The 
 kirk bell. I didna think it was sae late. Sure 
 eneuch, there's the folk strachlin' ower the muir 
 an' the laird riding on his powny... Surely it's 
 growin' mirk. Mither, tak me in your airms an' 
 pit me to sleep. What will you sing to me? The 
 Flowers o' the Forest, the nicht, mither. Kiss me 
 noo, I'll be a better bairn the morn an' dae what 
 you tell me...Na, na, pick yer ain flowers: this 
 poesy is for my baby brither...Faither, dinna lift 
 your haun' to me: I'm sorry. I'll no dae it again. 
 Whaur am I?...Faither, dinna you hear me? Oh 
 come quick an' save me, the tide is lowpin' fast 
 ower the rock. There's the boatie rowin' to us: 
 it'll be here enow an' we'll be saved... Did you hear 
 that? It's Sandy the piper come to the toun. Let's 
 rin an' meet him... I'm tired o' daffin' an wad hae a 
 rest. Let's creep into the kirk-yaird an' sit doun 
 by granfaither's grave. Hoo sweet the merle sings, 
 an' tak tent to the corn-craik ower yonner...Weel, 
 weel, I canna understan' it. His ways are no oor 
 waj^s, but I'll lippen to Him tae the end. Maggie, 
 Maggie, whaur are ye? I'm gaun awa', an' I want 
 you to rin an' tell the goodman o' the hoose to hae 
 a chamber ready for me. What am I saying ? God 
 forgie me, my mind wanders; he's had ane waitin' 
 
190 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 for me this mony a day... I see you noo, my bairns. 
 Guid nicht, tae we meet again." 
 
 There was a long silence. The father rose, and 
 closed the drooping eyelids that would never be 
 lifted and laid down the weary head which would 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 One July morning Mr Forsyth was working in 
 the field beside the river when he saw a canoe 
 shoot in sight. It drew up to the bank and its 
 occupant walked towards him. 
 
 "Man, it is you!" he exclaimed, grasping the ex- 
 tended hand. "At the first look I didna ken yoa 
 Hoo ye hae changed since last I saw you." 
 
 "I know I have," answered Morton, "the months 
 since we parted have aged me more than half as 
 many years would in ordinary course of life. The 
 hardships of war, the strife between life and death 
 on the battle-field, develop fast what is good or bad 
 in a man." 
 
 "Ye'll hae had your share o' the fechtin?" 
 
 "Yes; our regiment took part in all the move- 
 ments in the Niagara district, and during the cam- 
 paigning season there was not a week we did not 
 exchange shots with the enemy or have to endure 
 a toilsome march to check his plans." 
 
 "And were you hurt at a ?" 
 
 "Nothing to speak of; scratches that did not keep 
 me off duty over a few days. I may be thankful 
 
192 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 to have got off so well, for many a pretty fellow 
 will never see home again." 
 
 "War's a gruesome trade." 
 
 "It is that: I have seen scenes of horror that I 
 try to banish from my memory. The carnage at 
 Lundy's Lane was sickening, and the cries of the 
 w^ounded for help heart - breaking, for, from the 
 darkness and the enemy's pressing us, we could 
 not reach them." 
 
 "That brither should butcher brither is awfu' 
 proof o' total depravity. After a', thae Yankees, 
 though their ways are not oor ways, are flesh o' 
 oor flesh, an' we should live aside ane anither in 
 peace." 
 
 "In this war, at least, Mr Forsyth, they are to 
 blame. They declared it and if ever war is justi- 
 fiable it is surely one like that we have fought 
 and won, where a people rise to defend their native 
 land against the invader." 
 
 "I dinna dispute you, but as I creep near to my 
 end, my heart softens to my fellow-men o' a' creeds 
 and races and I wish to see peace and good-fellow- 
 ship the warld ower." 
 
 "So do I, but sure and permanent peace is not 
 to be won by surrender of right. It is better for 
 all that the best blood of Canada and Britain has 
 soaked the fields within the sound of the roar of 
 Niagara, than that Canada should have become a 
 conquered addition to the United States." 
 
 "You're richt in that: the sacrifice is sair, but 
 
HEMLOCK. 193 
 
 trial bitter, but a country's independence maun be 
 maintained. Canadians will think mair o' their 
 country when they see what it has cost to defend 
 it. Noo that the war is ended, you'll be leaving 
 Canada?" 
 
 "That depends on what your daughter says. My 
 regiment sails from Quebec by the end of the 
 month." 
 
 "What mean ye, sir, by Maggie hae'in' audit to 
 dae wi' your going?" 
 
 "Simply this, that if she will take me as her 
 husband and you will give your consent, I shall sell 
 my commission and remain in Canada." 
 
 "You are surely no in earnest? What has the 
 dochter o' a backwoods farmer t' dae wi' an officer?" 
 
 "Since I landed in Canada I have had many 
 false notions rudely torn away, and one of them is, 
 that there is any connection between worth and 
 station in life. I have found more to admire in 
 the shanty than I ever did in the parlors of the 
 Old Country." 
 
 "That's repeatin' what Rabbie Burns wrote, the 
 rank is but the guinea stamp." 
 
 "I have proved it true: for the first time in my 
 life I have become intimate with those whose 
 living depends upon the labor of their hands, and 
 my Old World notions have melted away, when I 
 found them better than those whose boast it is 
 they never soiled their fingers with manual toil." 
 
 "Aye, aye ; nae guid comes o' tryin' to escape the 
 
 14 
 
1 9 i GLEANER TALES. 
 
 tirst command to fallen man, 'in the sweat of thy 
 face shalt thou eat bread.' " 
 
 "What say you?" asked Morton. 
 
 "To your askinor Maggie? Oh, dinna speak o't 
 She's my ae ewe lamb and I canna pairt wi' her." 
 
 "I do not mean you should; we would go to 
 Upper Canada together." 
 
 The old man paused and leant upon his hoe and 
 Morton stood respectfully behind him. After long 
 silence he raised his head. "I canna answer you. 
 It's no for me to put my ain selfish will against 
 lier good; gang and let her choose for hersel'." 
 
 "Thank you," said Morton with emotion. 
 
 "We have had a backward spring; frost every 
 week a maist to the middle o' June, an' sic cauld 
 winds since syne that naething grows. We hae 
 sown in hope, but I'm fearfu' there will be little to 
 reap. Sic a spring the auldest settler canna mind 
 o'. Look at thae tatties ! What poor spindly things 
 they are, an' this the first week o' July." 
 
 "It has not been so bad in the west." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it. Weel, this being the first 
 real warm day we've had, I tell't Maggie to busk 
 liersel' and gang and veesit the neebors, for she's 
 been in a sad and sorrowfu way since her mither 
 deed. She said she had nae heart to veesit, but 
 wad tak a walk alang the river and be back to 
 mak my denner. Her brithers we expect hame 
 every ^day from takin' rafts to Montreal." 
 
 "I'll Q-o and seek her," remarked Morton, as he 
 
HEMLOCK. 195- 
 
 turned, and the old man went on hoeing. Morton 
 had gone about a mile, when his eye caught the 
 H utter of the linen kerchief Maggie liad pinned 
 round her neck. She did not see him and as she 
 sauntered before him, he marked her graceful car- 
 riage, and muttered to himself, ''A woman worthy 
 to woo and win." Unwilling to startle her by 
 going too near, he cried "Miss Forsyth." 
 
 She paused, turned in astonishment, and as her- 
 color came and went said, "Is it you?" 
 
 "Yes, and surely you will not shrink from me- 
 as you did when last we met." 
 
 Slie held out her hand and as he pressed it, sim- 
 ply said, "I'm glad you're safe and well." 
 
 "Have you no warmer greeting for me?" 
 
 "What warmer do you deserve?" 
 
 "My deservings are nothing, but your own kini 
 heart might plead for me." 
 
 "Oh, dear: the conceit of some men, who think 
 they can pick up hearts on the banks of the Cha- 
 teaugay as they would acorns." 
 
 "And what of women who pitch back rings as; 
 if they stung them? ' 
 
 Maggie laughed and replied, "The gift is mea- 
 sured with the giver." 
 
 "When a gift is a token of the hour of peril, 
 what then, my lady? Is it a thing to be scorned^"' 
 
 "Somethinor to be restored to the sender when he 
 gets out of the trap, that he may bestow it on 
 somebody else." 
 
196 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "I swear I never cared for anybody else." 
 
 '•Who asked you? If you must needs confess, 
 you should have visited the fathers at the Basin 
 on your way here." 
 
 "I'm Puritan enough to desire to confess direct 
 to the one I have offended." 
 
 "So you have offended me!" 
 
 "You know I care for you." 
 
 "How should I ? From your many messages these 
 last twenty months?" 
 
 Morton felt vexed and Maggie observed and en- 
 joyed his perplexity. "Come," she said, "it is wear- 
 ino- on to dinner-time and I know what soldiers' 
 
 o 
 
 appetites are. We had some soldier visitors who 
 left us nothing. We will go home." 
 
 "Not until I have said what I want to tell you," 
 he said warioly. 
 
 "Oh, you have something to tell me! You must 
 have. Soldiers and hunters have always long 
 stories to tell about themselves. Keep them until 
 you have had some of our backwoods fare." 
 
 "Tease me no more, Maggie; my heart is yours 
 whether you accept it or not. That I have been 
 nedectful and un^rrateful I confess. How much I 
 ow^e you I did not know until some months after 
 I saw you." 
 
 "You owe me nothing." 
 
 "I owe you my life." 
 
 "You owe it to Hemlock; not to me." 
 
 "I know all, brave heart. I met Mrs Scott at 
 
HEMLOCK. 197 
 
 Kingston and she told me of your journey to Oka, 
 Imt for which Hemlock would never have known 
 of my peril. As she spoke, the smouldering love I 
 liad for you burst into flame and your image has 
 never been absent from my mind an hour since. 
 When my comrades caroused and spoke loosely, I 
 thought of you and turned away and tried to live 
 worthily of you." 
 
 "You know how to praise yourself." 
 
 "No, no, my Maggie: I speak it not in praise of 
 myself but in proof of my devotion, for how can a 
 man show his love for a woman better than by 
 forcinof himself to live as he knows she would wish 
 him to do?" 
 
 "And if you so loved this somebody of yours, 
 why did you not write her'<'" 
 
 "You forget a soldier's life is uncertain; I knew 
 not the hour when I might fall. I said to myself 
 a thousand times, if my life is spared I will seek 
 her I love and plead my cause. When the bugle 
 sounded the call to prepare for action I never failed 
 to breathe an ardent prayer that Heaven's blessing 
 might rest upon you. I have been spared, the 
 supreme hour in my life has come, and I await 
 your answer." 
 
 Maggie stood still. Her eyes fell to the ground 
 and her fingers unconsciously plucked to pieces 
 the flowers they lield. 
 
 "Will you not speak?" pleaded Morton. 
 
 In a low voice she replied, "1 cannot marry." 
 
198 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I will never leave my father." 
 
 "I do not ask you should. 1 value his honest 
 worth, and he shall be my father too, for I never 
 .saw my own, he died when I was a child. Say 
 you will make me the happiest man on the Cha- 
 iteaugay and we will never part." 
 
 "I say it is time to go and get dinner ready. 
 Father, poor man, will be starving. Mr Morton, 
 'did you ever hoe potatoes for a forenoon?" 
 
 " Nonsense; speak the word and end my anxiety." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not anxious. If you had hoed for half 
 a day you w^ould know what hunger was." 
 
 " My hunger today is of another sort." 
 
 "Ah, well, boys ought to learn to restrain their 
 .appetites." 
 
 " Play with me no more. Let me know my fate. 
 •Give me my answer." 
 
 "Won't it be time enough when the minister 
 
 .asks?" 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was not much of a dinner that Maggie cooked, 
 for she boiled the potatoes without salt and fried 
 the pork to a crisp. It did not much matter, how- 
 ever, for of the three the fathei" was the only one 
 wdio had an appetite, and he did not complain. 
 When done, he left to resume his task, and tht' 
 young couple were alone. At supper he was tok'i 
 all, when he quietly rose, gripped Morton by the 
 Jiand and said nothing. Next day the two sons 
 
HEMLOCK. 199 
 
 arrived, and, on learning the news, by way of con- 
 gratulation, slapped Maggie on the back until she 
 declared it was sore. There were long discussions 
 over Morton's plans. He told them he had ob- 
 tained promotion after Lundy's Lane, and as cap- 
 tain his commission was worth a good deal; he 
 would sell it, and then, as a retired officer, he 
 would be entitled to a grant of land in Upper Ca- 
 nada. He proposed they should all leave and go 
 with him. To this father and sons were much in- 
 clined, for the fact that the place they occupied 
 was subject to seigniorial rent they did not like. 
 It was arranged Morton should go to Quebec and 
 sell his commission and by the time he returned 
 they would be ready to join him. 
 
 Four days after he had left, Maggie received a 
 letter from him, enclosing one from Mrs Scott. He 
 said he found that Colonel Scott had arrived in 
 Montreal, and, after winding up some ordnance 
 business there, meant to sail for England with the 
 Fall fleet. Mrs Scott sent a pressing invitation to 
 Maggie to come and stay with her until Morton 
 returned from Quebec. Maggie went, expecting to 
 stay ten days or so, but her visit lengthened out to 
 the end of August. They were happy weeks, spent 
 in enjoyable society and in the delightful task of 
 the preparation that is the prelude to a happy 
 marriasce. Morton at last ffot back, and had not 
 merely the money obtained for his commission, 
 but a patent for a large tract of land on the shore 
 
200 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 of Lake Ontario, obtained by him in a personal in- 
 terview with Sir George Prevost, the gallant Gor- 
 don Drummond, his old commander, accompanying 
 him and pressing his claim to generous recognition. 
 Leavino^ Mao^aie in Montreal, he went ao^ain to the 
 Chateaugay to tell all was ready. While there, he 
 took a run up to Four Corners, his business being 
 to visit the poor widow whose only son had been 
 slain in the skirmish that led to his imprisonment. 
 He found her and not only made sure she would 
 be cared for but instituted steps to secure a pension, 
 for congress was considering the question of relief 
 to those who had suffered by the war. During his 
 stay at Four Corners, he lived with Mr Douglass, 
 and repaid with earnest gratitude the advances he 
 had made him while living in misery in the stable, 
 which sad abode he looked into with a swelling 
 heart. On the morning after his return, they were 
 ready to embark in the three canoes that were in 
 waiting to convey them and their belongings, when 
 the old man was missed. Morton, guessing where 
 he was, went to seek him, and found him kneeling 
 by the grave of his wife. Reverently approaching, 
 he whispered the boatmen were anxious to start, 
 assisted him to rise, and, leaning heavily on his 
 arm, led him to the canoe where he was to sit. 
 One last look at the shanty his hands had built 
 and the fields they had cleared, and a bend in the 
 river shut them out from his sight forever. Resum- 
 ing his wonted contented cheerfulness, he adapted 
 
HEMLOCK. 201 
 
 himself to the change, and rose still higher in Mor- 
 ton's esteem. When they reached the Basin, the 
 wind was favorable for the bateau that was wait- 
 ing to leave on her trip to Lachine, and there they 
 arrived late in the evening. The following morn- 
 ing Morton left for Montreal with Mr Forsyth, the 
 sons remaining to stow away the outfit in the 
 bateau, which done, they also journeyed to the 
 same place. That evening there was a quiet little 
 party at Colonel Scott's quarters, and next morn- 
 ing a larger assemblage, for every officer off duty 
 in the town was present, to see the army chaplain 
 unite the happy pair. When all was over and 
 Maggie had gone to prepare for the journey, Mor- 
 ton received congratulations that he knew were 
 sincere. "Why," said Major Fitzjames, "she is lit 
 to be a Duchess." 
 
 "She is fit for a more difficult position," inter- 
 jected Colonel Scott, "she has a mother-wit that 
 stands her well alike in the circles of polished so- 
 ciety and in the hour of danger and hardship." 
 
 "Who is this that is such a paragon? ' asked Mrs 
 Scott, who had just come in. 
 
 "Mrs Morton." 
 
 "Oh, say she is a true w^oman, and you say all. 
 Mr Morton you have got a treasure." 
 
 "I know it," he replied, "and I will try to be 
 worthy of her. She will be the benediction of the 
 life I owe her." 
 
 The day was fine and, for a wonder, the road 
 
202 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 was good, so that a large party, many of them on 
 horseback, escorted the newly-married pair to La- 
 chine. As they drove past King's Posts Morton 
 recalled his first visit to it, the spy, and all the 
 painful complications that had ensued, and now so 
 happily ended. As they stood on the narrow deck 
 of the bateau, and the wind, filling the huge sail, 
 bore them Siway, a cheer rose, led by Colonel 
 Scott. It was answered from the receding boat, 
 and Mao-orie waved her handkerchief. 
 
 The journey was tedious and toilsome, but when 
 they sailed into the bay on which Morton's land 
 was situated, saw its quality and fine situation, 
 they felt they had been rewarded for coming so 
 far. That Maggie proved an admirable help-mate 
 need hardly be told, but what was remarkable is, 
 that Morton became a successful farmer. Willing 
 to put his hand to whatever there was to do, under 
 his father-in-law's tuition, he quickly became pro- 
 ficient, and when there was work to be done he 
 did not say to his helpers "Go" but "Come," and 
 set them an example of cheerful and persevering 
 exertion. Having land and enough to spare, ho 
 induced a good class of immigrants to buy from 
 him, so that, before twenty years, his settlement 
 was known as one of the most prosperous on Lake 
 Ontario. Influential and public-spirited, Morton, 
 as his circumstances grew easy and did not exact 
 the same close attention to his personal afiairs, 
 took a leading part in laying the commercial and 
 
HEMLOCK. 20.'{ 
 
 political foundations of Upper Canada, and Maggie 
 was widely known in its best societ}'. That thej' 
 were a happy couple everybody knew, and their 
 descendants are among the most prominent subjects 
 of the Dominion. 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 
 
 I. — THEIR DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 During the revolutionary war a number of Aca- 
 dians left the New England States for Canada, pre- 
 ferring monarchic to republican rule. The British 
 authorities provided for these twice-exiled refugees 
 with liberality, giving them free grants of lands 
 and the necessary tools and implements, also sup- 
 plying them from the nearest military posts with 
 provisions for three years, by which time they 
 would be self-sustaining. Some half dozen fami- 
 lies asked for and received lots in the county of 
 Huntingdon and settled together on the shore of 
 the St Lawrence. Accustomed to boating and lum- 
 bering in their old Acadian homes, they found 
 profitable exercise in both pursuits in their new, 
 and after making small clearances left their culti- 
 vation to the women, while they floated rafts to 
 Montreal or manned the bateaux which carried on 
 the traffic between that place and Upper Canada. 
 The shanty of one of these Acadians, that of Joseph 
 
206 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 Caza, occupied a point that ran into the great river 
 near the mouth of the LaGuerre. 
 
 It was a sunny afternoon towards tlie end of 
 September and the lake-like expanse of the river, 
 an unruffled sheet of glassy blue, was set in a frame 
 of forest already showing the rich dyes of autumn. 
 It was a scene of intense solitude, for, save the clear- 
 ance of the hardy settler, no indication of human 
 life met the gaze. There was the lonely stretch of 
 water and the all-embracino- forest, and that was 
 all. Playing around the shanty were two sisters, 
 whose gleeful shouts evoked solemn echoes from 
 the depths of the forest, for they were engaged in 
 a game of hide-and-seek amid the rows of tall corn, 
 fast ripening in the sunshine. They were alone, 
 for their father and brothers were away boating 
 and their mother had gone to the beaver-meadow 
 where the cows pastured. Breathless with their 
 play the children sat down to rest, the head of the 
 younger falling naturally into the lap of the older. 
 
 "Archange, I know something you don't." 
 
 "What is itr" 
 
 "What we are to have for supper. Mother whis- 
 pered it to me when she went to milk. Guess?" 
 
 "Oh, tell me; I won't guess." 
 
 "Wheat flour pancakes. I wish she would come; 
 Tin hungry." 
 
 "Let us go and meet her." 
 
 The children skipped along the footpath that led 
 through the forest from the clearance to the pas- 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 207 
 
 ture and had gone a considera^ble distance before 
 their mother came in sight, bearing a pail. 
 
 "Come to meet your mother, my doves! Ah, I 
 have been long. The calves have broken the fence 
 and I looked for them but did not find them. Ar- 
 change, you will have to go or they may be lost. 
 Marie, my love, you will come home with me." 
 
 "No, mother, do let me go with sister." 
 
 "No, you will get tired; take my hand. Remem- 
 ber the pancakes." 
 
 "I won't be tired; I want to go with Archange." 
 
 "Ah, well; the calves may not have strayed far; 
 you may go. But haste, Archange, and lind them, 
 for the sun will soon set." 
 
 The children danced onwards and the mother 
 listened with a smile to their shouts and chatter 
 until the sounxls were lost in the distance. On 
 entering the house she stirred up the fire and set 
 about preparing supper. 
 
 The sun set, leaving a trail of golden glory on 
 the water, and she was still alone. The day's work 
 was done and the simple meal was ready. The 
 mother walked to the end of the cleai-ance and 
 gazed and listened; neither sight nor sound re- 
 warded her. She shouted their names at the high- 
 est pitch of her voice. There was no response, save 
 that a heron, scared from its roost, flapped its great 
 wino-s above her head and sailed over the darken- 
 ing waters for a quieter place of refuge. 
 
 "It is impossible anything can have befallen 
 
208 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 them," she said to herself; "the calves could not 
 have gone far and the path is plain. No, they 
 must be safe, and I am foolish to be the least 
 anxious. Holy mother, shield them from evil !" 
 
 Returning to the house, she threw a fresh log on 
 the fire, and placing the food where it would keep 
 warm she closed the door, casting one disconsolate 
 look across the dark water at the western sky, 
 from which the faintest glow had departed. Tak- 
 ing the path that led to the pasture, she hastened 
 with hurried step to seek her children. She gained 
 the pasture. The cows were quietly grazing; there 
 was no other sign of life. Her heart sank within 
 her. She shouted, and her cries pierced the dew- 
 laden air. There was no response. She sank upon 
 her knees and her prayer, oft repeated, was, "Mo- 
 ther of pity, have compassion on a mother's sorrow 
 and give me back my little ones !" 
 
 The thought suddenly seized her that the chil- 
 dren had failed to find the Calves and, in returning, 
 had not taken the path, but sought the house by a 
 nigh cut through the woods. She sprang to her 
 feet and hastened back. Alas ! the door had not 
 been opened, and everything was as she left it. 
 
 "My God !" she cried in the bitterness of her dis- 
 appointment, "I fear me the wolf garou has met 
 and devoured my children. What shall I do ? 
 Marie, my pretty one, wilt thou not again nestle 
 in thy mother s bosom nor press thy cheek to mine? 
 Holy Virgin, thou who hadst a babe of thine own, 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 209 
 
 look on me with compassion and give back to me 
 my innocent lambs." 
 
 Again she sought the pasture, and even ventured, 
 at her peril, to thread in the darkness the woods 
 that surrounded it, shouting, in a voice shrill with 
 agony, the names of the missing ones, but no an- 
 swering sound came. Heedless of her garments 
 wet with dew, of her weariness, her need of food 
 and sleep, she spent the night wandering back and 
 forth between house and pasture, hoping to find 
 them at either place, and always disappointed. 
 The stars melted away one by one, the twitter of 
 the birds was heard, the tree-tops reddened, and 
 the sun again looked down upon her. She re- 
 sumed the search with renewed hope, for now she 
 could see. With the native confidence of one born 
 in the bush she traversed the leafy aisles, but her 
 search was in vain. There was only a strip of 
 bush to be examined, for a great swamp bounded 
 it on one side as the St Lawrence did on the other, 
 and into the swamp she deemed it impossible the 
 children could have gone. She was more con- 
 vinced than before that a wild beast had killed 
 them and dragged their bodies to its lair in the 
 swamp. Stunned by this awful conjecture, to 
 which all the circumstances pointed, her strength 
 left her, and in deep anguish of spirit she tottered 
 homewards. On coming in sight of the shanty 
 she marked with surprise smoke rising from the 
 chimney. Her heart gave a great leap. "They 
 
 15 
 
210 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 Jiave returned !" she said joyfully. She hastened 
 to the door. A glance brought back her sorrow. 
 She saw only her husband and her eldest son." 
 
 "What ails thee? Your face is white as Christ- 
 mas snow. We came from Coteau this morning 
 and found nobody here. What is wrong?" 
 
 "Joseph," she replied in a hollow voice, "the wolf 
 o-arou hath devoured our children." 
 
 o 
 
 "Never! Thou art mad. There is no wolf o-arou." 
 
 "I leave it all with the good God: I wish there 
 was no wolf garou." Then she told him of the 
 disappearance of the children and of her vain 
 search. Husband and son listened attentively. 
 
 "Pooh!" exclaimed Caza, "they are not lost for- 
 ever to us. Get us breakfast and Jean and I will 
 track them and have them back to thee before 
 long. You do not know how to find and follow a 
 trail." 
 
 An hour later, shouldering their rifles, they set 
 forth. The day passed painfully for the poor mo- 
 ther, and it was long after sunset when they re- 
 turned. They had found no trace of the wanderers. 
 They had met the calves, which, from the mud that 
 covered them, had evidently been in the swamp and 
 floundered there long before they got back to solid 
 land at a point distant from the pasture. The 
 father's idea was that the children had been stolen 
 by Indians. Next day the search was resumed, 
 the neighbors joining in it. At nightfall all re- 
 turned baffled, perplexed and disheartened; Caza 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 211 
 
 more confident than before that the Indians were 
 to blame. After a night's rest, he set off early for 
 8t Regis, where he got no information. Leaving 
 there, he scoured the forest along Trout River and 
 the Chateaugay, finding a few hunting-camps, whose 
 dusky inmates denied all knowledge of the missing 
 girls. He pursued his toilsome way to Caughna- 
 w^aga and came back by the river St Louis without 
 «liscovering anything to throw light on the fate of 
 his children. The grief of the mother who had 
 been buoying herself with the expectation that he 
 would bring back the truants, is not to be describ- 
 ed; and she declared it would be a satisfaction to 
 her to be assured of their death rather than longer 
 endure the burden of suspense. Again the father 
 left to scour the wilderness that lies between the 
 8t Lawrence and the foot-hills of the Adirondacks, 
 hoping to find in some wigwam buried in forest- 
 depths the objects of his eager quest. On reaching 
 Lake Champlain he became convinced that the 
 captors were beyond his reach, and, footsore and 
 broken-hearted, he sought his home, to make the 
 doleful report that he had not found the slightest 
 trace. 
 
 The leaves fluttered from the trees, the snow 
 came in flurries from the north, the nio-hts or-rew 
 longer and colder, and, at last, winter set in. When 
 the wind came howling across the icy plain into 
 which the St Lawrence had been transformed, and 
 the trees around their shanty groaned and wailed,. 
 
212 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 the simple couple drew closer to the blazing logs 
 and thought sadly of their loved ones, pinched 
 with cold and hunger, in the far-away wigwams 
 of their heartless captors. 
 
 'They will grow up heathens," murmured the 
 mother. 
 
 "Xay, they were baptized," suggested the father, 
 "and that saves their souls. I hope they are dead 
 rather than living to be abused by the savages." 
 
 "Say not that, my husband; they can never for- 
 ..o-et us, and will watch a chance to come back. Ar- 
 change will sit on thy knee again, and I will once 
 more clasp my Marie to my bosom." 
 
 When bedtime came they knelt side by side, and 
 in their devotions the wanderers were not forgotten. 
 
 Time rolled on, and Caza and his wife became 
 old people. Each year added some frailty, until, 
 at a good old age, the eyes of the mother were 
 « closed without having seen what she longed for — 
 the return of her children. The husband tarried a 
 while longer, and when he was laid to rest the sad 
 and strange trial of their lives grew fainter and 
 fainter in the memories of those who succeeded 
 them, until it became a tradition known to few — 
 as a mystery that had never been solved. 
 
 II. — THEIR FATE. 
 
 Archange, holding Marie by the hand, on reach- 
 ing the pasture, followed the fence to find where 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 213 
 
 the calves had broken out, and then traced their 
 footprints, which led to the edge of the swamp. 
 Here she hesitated. "Marie, yoa stay here until I 
 come back." 
 
 "No, no; I will go with you; I can jump the wet 
 places, you know." 
 
 "Yes, and get tired before you go far. Wait; 
 I'll not be long in turning the calves back." 
 
 Marie, however, would not part from her sister, 
 and followed her steps as she picked her way over 
 the swamp; now walking a fallen tree and anon 
 leaping from one mossy tussock to another. The 
 calves were soon sighted, but the silly creatures, 
 after the manner of their kind, half in play and 
 Iialf in fright, waited until the children drew near,, 
 when they tossed up their heels and ran. In vain 
 Archange tried to head them. Cumbered by Marie, 
 who cried when she attempted to leave her, she 
 could not o-o fast enouo^h, and when it became. so 
 dark that it was difficult to see the sportive ani- 
 mals, she awakened to the fact that she must desist.^ 
 
 "Marie, we will go home and leave the calves 
 until morning." 
 
 "But if we don't get them they will have no 
 supper." 
 
 "Neither will you; let us haste home or we will 
 not see to get out of the swamp." 
 
 "There is no hurry; I am tired," and with these 
 words Marie sat down on a log, and, pouting at her 
 sister's remonstrances, waited until the deepening- 
 
214 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 gloom alarmed Archange, who, grasping the little 
 hand, began, as she supposed, to retrace the way 
 they had come. Marie was tired, and it now being- 
 dark, she slipped repeatedly into the water, until, 
 exhausted and fretful, she flung herself on the 
 broad trunk of a fallen hemlock and burst into 
 ibears. Archange was now dreadfully alarmed at 
 their situation, yet it was some time before she was 
 able to persuade her sister to resume their journey. 
 They moved on with difficulty, and, after a while, 
 the siofht of solid grreen bush risincr before them 
 gladdened their strained eyes. "We have passed 
 the swamp!" joyfully exclaimed Archange. They 
 reached the ridge and scrambled up its side. The 
 heart of the elder sister sank within her for she 
 failed to recognize, in the starlight, a single familiar 
 landmark. Could it be that, in the darkness, she 
 had pursued the reverse way, and, instead of going 
 towards home, had wandered farther away and 
 crossed an arm of the swamp ? 
 
 "Are we near home, Archange ? I'm hungry." 
 
 "My darling, I fear we will have to stay here 
 until daylight. We've lost our way." 
 
 "No, no; mother is waiting for us and supper is 
 ready; let us go.'' 
 
 "I wish I knew where to go, but I don't. Wc 
 are lost, Marie." 
 
 " Will we have no supper ?" 
 
 "Not tonight, but a nice breakfast in the morning." 
 
 "And sleep here ?" 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 215 
 
 "Yes, I will clasp you and keep you warm." 
 
 " I want my own bed, Archange," and the child 
 broke down and softly wept. 
 
 Finding a dry hemlock knoll, Archange plucked 
 some cedar brush, and lying down upon it, folded 
 Marie in her arms, who, wearied and faint, fell 
 asleep. It was broad daylight when they awoke, 
 chilled and hungry. Comforting her sister as best 
 she could, Archange descended to the swamp, con- 
 fident that they would soon be home. She had not 
 crone far, until she was bewildered. The treacher- 
 ous morass retained no mark of their footprints ot 
 the night before, and she knew not whither to go. 
 Long and painfully they struggled without meet- 
 ing an indication of home, and the fear grew in 
 Archange's breast that they were going farther and 
 farther away from it. Noon had passed when they 
 struck another long, narrow, stony ridge, w^hich 
 rose in the swamp like an island. Gladly they 
 made for it, and seeking an open space, where the 
 sunshine streamed through the interlacing foliage, 
 enjoyed the heat, as it dried their wet garments 
 and soothed their wearied limbs. 
 
 "If we only had something to eat," said Marie, 
 wistfully. 
 
 "Oh, we will get plenty of nuts here. See, yon- 
 der is a butternut tree," and running to it Archange 
 returned with a lapful, which she broke with a 
 stone as Marie ate them. They satisfied her crav- 
 ing, and laying her head on the sunny bank she 
 
216 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 fell asleep from fatigue. As soon as her breathing 
 showed that she was sleeping soundly her sister 
 stole from her side to explore the ridge and try to 
 discover some trace of the way home. She found 
 everything strange, and the conviction settled upon 
 her mind that they were lost and that their sole 
 liope of escape was in the searching-party, which 
 she knew must be out, finding them. Little did 
 she know that the morass their light steps had 
 crossed would not bear the weight of a man, and 
 that they were hopelessly lost and doomed to per- 
 ish in the wilderness. Had she been alone she 
 would have broken down; the care of her sister 
 sustained her. For her she would bear up. On re- 
 turning, she found her still asleep, and as she bent 
 over her tear-stained face and lightly kissed it, she 
 murmured, "I will take care of Marie and be her 
 little mother." 
 
 The thought of home and mother nio^h overcame 
 her. Repressing the rising lump in her throat, she 
 busied herself against her sister s waking. She in- 
 creased her store of butternuts, adding beechnuts 
 and acorns as well and broke them and arranged 
 the kernels on basswood leaves, as on plates. She 
 drew several big branches together and covered 
 them with boughs which she tore from the sur- 
 rounding cedars, and when the bower was complete 
 she strewed its floor with dried ferns. She had 
 iinished and was sitting beside Marie when the 
 little eyes opened and were greeted with a smile. 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 217 
 
 "Ob, I have been waiting ever so long for you, 
 Marie. We are going to have a party. I have 
 built a bower and laid out such a nice supper. We 
 will play at keeping house." 
 
 The child laughed gleefully on seeing the ar- 
 rangements, and the forest rang with their mirth 
 as the hours sped on. When evening approached 
 Marie grew wistful; she wanted her mother; she 
 wanted to go home, and Archange soothed her with 
 patient care. 
 
 "Look at the bower, Marie' See what a nice 
 bed; won't you lie down on it? And what stories 
 you will have to tell mother of our happy time 
 here !" 
 
 The child, charmed by the novelty, crept in, and 
 laying down her curly head fell asleep to the croon- 
 ing of her sister. The stars as they hung over the 
 tree-tops gazed downwards in pity on the little 
 girls clasped in each others' arms in the sleep of 
 innocence, and the soft south wind sighed as it 
 swept by, sorrow^ing that it could not save tliem. 
 A murmuring was heard in the pine- tops. 
 
 "Must they perish?" asked the guardian angel. 
 "They must; no help can reach them," answered 
 Nature with a sigh. "Unwittingly they have stray- 
 ed from the fold into the wilderness, these poor, 
 helpless lambs, and must suffer. Only to man is 
 given the power to help in such extremity." 
 "Can you do nothing?" pleaded the angel. 
 "Yes; I shall lighten their last hours, give them 
 
218 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 a speedy death, and prevent the tooth of ravenous 
 beast or crawling worm touching their pure bodies. 
 Think me not cruel. I cannot perform the acts 
 allotted to mankind, but am not, therefore, as some 
 deem me, cruel and stolid ; my spirit is tender, and 
 what is in my power I'll do." 
 
 Sad of countenance the angel turned and glided 
 to the side of the sleeping children. Stooping over 
 them he whispered in their ears, and they smiled 
 in their sleep and dreamt of home, of dancing on 
 their father's knee, of being tossed to the rafters 
 by their brothers, and they felt the touch of their 
 mother's hand and heard the sound of her voice, 
 and they were very happy. 
 
 '^ ^ ¥^ 4^ ^ 
 
 When they awoke the song of a belated greybird, 
 perched overhead, greeted them, and they lay and 
 listened and watched the movements of a brilliant- 
 ]y colored woodpecker, as it circled the trunk of a 
 spruce. Looking into the face of her sister, Ar- 
 change saw that it was pale and pinched and that 
 her smile was wan and feeble. 
 "Will father be here today?" 
 " I hope so, Marie ; are you tired of me ?" 
 "Oh, no; I do love you so, but I do want mother 
 and — and — a drink of warm milk and a piece of 
 bread." 
 
 "Well, perhaps you will get them soon, and we 
 will be happy until they come." 
 
 They rose and Archange busied herself in setting 
 
ARCHAXGE AND MARIE. 211) 
 
 forth breakfast, bat both, though very hungry, 
 now loathed the sight of nuts. Wandering, hand 
 in hand, to find something more acceptable, the}^ 
 found in a raspberry thicket a bush with a scant 
 crop of second -growth berries. Making a little 
 basket of the bark of the white birch they nearly 
 filled it, and returning to their bower, sat down to 
 enjoy them, fashioning out of reeds make-believe 
 spoons and asking each other if they would have 
 cream and sugar. The play went on and faint 
 laughter was heard. When the last berry was 
 o-one, the p^nawino- huncrer re-awoke and the fever- 
 ish heat of tongue and palate, which the acid juice 
 had allayed, returned. Marie would not be com- 
 forted. She wanted to go home; she wanted her 
 mother; she wanted food, and burying her face in 
 her sister's lap sobbed as if her heart would break 
 and she would not be comforted. Archange felt 
 as if she must give way to despair, but she re- 
 pressed the feeling and bore up bravely. The 
 trials and responsibilities of the past thirty -six 
 hours had aged her, and, child as she was in years, 
 she acted like a woman towards her sister, whom 
 she alternately soothed and tried to divert. While 
 leaning over her, in affected sportive mood, some- 
 thing soft brushed past her face and crept between 
 them. It was a grey squirrel. Marie opened her 
 weeping eyes, looked wonderingly for a moment, 
 and then, with delighted gesture, grasped the little 
 creature,and beaming with joy, pressed it to her lips. 
 
220 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 "It is Mignon; my own dear little Mignon! What 
 caused you. to run away from me, you naughty boy?'' 
 
 It was a tame squirrel, Marie's pet, which, a week 
 before, had scampered off to the woods. There was 
 no doubt as to his identity, for beside its evident 
 recognition of Marie, it retained the collar of color- 
 ed yarn she had braided and tied round his neck. 
 Hunofer, home and mother were forof-otten in the 
 delight of recovering her pet, for whom she busied 
 herself in getting breakfast, and he was soon sit- 
 ting before her gravely disposing of the nuts she . 
 lianded him, one by one. 
 
 "Cannot Mignon guide us home ?" slie suddenly 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes; Mignon knows the way; but we would 
 liave to follow him over the trees. I am afraid you 
 could not jump from branch to branch; I know I 
 could not." 
 
 "Oh, I will tie a string to him and make him 
 walk before us," and with pretty prattle she enter- 
 ed into a conversation with the squirrel, telling him 
 l\ow they were lost and he was to guide them home, 
 for she wanted to take dinner with mother. Mignon 
 gravely listened and nodded his head as if he under- 
 stood it all. Then lie ran up a tree or two by way 
 of exercise, frisked with another squirrel, peeped 
 at Marie from all sorts of unexpected places, and 
 ended his capers by jumping on to her shoulder 
 when she was not expecting him, and pretended he 
 was gomg to nibble her chin. Marie was delighted; 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 221 
 
 Mignon had diverted her mind from her sufferings 
 and Arehange assisted by suggesting they shouhl 
 make a little house for him. Of sticks and reeds 
 they framed it and plucking from the swamp lap- 
 fuls of ripe cat- tails they lined it with them, making 
 a nest soft as velvet. This done, they had to fill a 
 larder for him, and had a great hunting for all 
 manner of nuts, and in this part of their work 
 Mignon took great interest and pretended to assist, 
 tho', despite all warnings from Marie, he persisted 
 in clasping in his forepaws the biggest butternuts 
 and running away to bury them in out-of-the-way 
 places. When she became tired with her exertions, 
 Marie took a nap and Mignon curled himself up on 
 her breast and snoozed with one eye open. 
 
 Weak in streno^th and sick from hnnorer, Archancre, 
 no longer requiring to keep up appearances, flung 
 herself down near by and wept bitterly. Why did 
 not father come ? Were they to die there alone 
 and from want of food ? Should she not try again 
 to find the way home? She stood up, as if to con- 
 sider which way to try, when her head grew dizzy 
 and she sank down and knew no more until she was 
 aroused by Marie climbing over her and kissing 
 her. She knew by the sun that it was late in the 
 day, and rising, the sisters walked slowly and un- 
 steadily seeking berries. They found a few only 
 and they again tried to eat nuts. They could not. 
 Tracing the edge of the swamp they looked for 
 blueberries, but their season w^as past. Suddenly 
 
222 GLEANER TALES. 
 
 a low bush, dotted with red berries, caught their 
 sight. They found the berries small and of so 
 peculiar a taste that, had they not been ravenous 
 for food, the}^ could not have eaten them. They 
 picked the bush bare and went to their bower, 
 where they ate them. A feeling of satisfaction fol- 
 lowed, and Marie grew quiet and contented. 
 
 "Sing to me, Archange: do?" and the little maid 
 laid her down to rest and listen. Her sister sang 
 one after another the chansons her parents had 
 brought with them from Acadia. She ceased and 
 marked the satisfied expression that had over- 
 spread Marie's countenance. Her eyes were closed 
 and her hands folded. "Sing the Cedars' song?" 
 she whispered, in the voice of one about to sleep. 
 By tliat name was meant a hj^mn Archange had 
 lieard at Christmas tide, when for the first time to 
 her knowledge she had been in a church, having 
 accompanied her father to the small village of the 
 Cedars. She knew not the words of the hymn, 
 but had carried away the tune. High and clear 
 rose in the air and floated far away across the 
 <lesolate swamp the song in which so many genera- 
 tions of believers have expressed their love for the 
 Holy Babe — the ancient Latin hymn, Adeste Fid- 
 elis. She saner the strain over and over ao^ain until 
 a strange torpor crept upon her, and her voice grew 
 fainter until it ceased and her head sank beside 
 that of Marie's. 
 
ARCHANGE AND MARIE. 223 
 
 All nature was hushed. The remains of trees, 
 long since burned, now gaunt and white, stood in 
 the swamp as sentinels to guard the sleeping babes, 
 and the giant pines, beneath whose cover they rest- 
 ed, seemed to lift up their hands to Heaven in silent 
 pleading. Slowly yet surely the berries of the dread 
 ground-hemlock did their work; stealthily as juice 
 of mandrake or of poppy. The leaden hours of the 
 long September night passed and inky clouds blot- 
 ted out the stars, and when the sun rose he shot 
 out a shaft of purplish light, which revealed the 
 faces of the sisters, calm and cold in death, with 
 Mignon whisking his head against the whitened 
 cheek of his sweet mistress. 
 
 There was a roll of distant thunder; nearer and 
 nearer it came; it grew darker and the air was hot 
 and stifling. The forest groaned, and then there 
 was an appalling crash and a blaze of lightning 
 clad the scene in dazzling sheen. There was the 
 red glow of fire; the bolt had struck a dead pine 
 and instantly the surrounding trees, covered with 
 withered leaves, that caught like tinder, were in a 
 blaze. The storm shrieked, the thunder made the 
 earth tremble, the rain fell in torrents, but higher 
 and higher mounted the flames. It was the funeral 
 pyre of Archange and Marie, and when it died out 
 not a vestige of them was to be found. 
 
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