much as i hated and distrusted cornelius gleazen,—and in the months since i first saw him sitting on the tavern porch in topham he had given me reason for both,—i continually wondered at his reckless nonchalance.
as coolly as if he were in our village store, with a codfish swinging above the table, instead of a skeleton leaning against it, and with a boy's dart trembling in a beam, instead of an arrow thrust half through the wall—with just such a grand gesture as he had used to overawe the good people of topham, he stepped to the door and brushed his hair back from his forehead. the diamond still flashed on his finger; his bearing was as impressive as ever.
"well, lads," he said,—and little as i liked him, his calmness was somehow reassuring,—"there may be a hundred of 'em out there, but again there may be only one. first of all, we'll need water. i'll fetch it."
from a peg on the wall he took down a bucket and, returning to the door, stepped out.
in the clearing, where the hot sun was shining, i could see no sign of life.
pausing on the doorstone, gleazen shrugged his great shoulders and stretched himself and moved his fingers so that the diamond in his ring flashed a score of colors. he was a handsome man in his big, rakehell way; and in spite of all i knew against him, i could but admire his bravado as he turned from us.
boldly, deliberately, he stepped down into the grass,[pg 226] while we crowded in the door and watched him. after all, it seemed that there was really nothing to be afraid of. the rest of us were startled and angry when o'hara suddenly called out, "come back, you blithering fool! come back! you don't know them, neil; i say, you don't know them. come back, i say!"
with a scornful smile gleazen turned again and airily waved his hand—i saw the diamond catch the sunlight as he did so. then he gave a groan and dropped the bucket and cried out in pain and stumbled back over the threshold.
with muskets we sprang to guard door and window. but outside the hut there was no living thing to be seen. there was not even wind enough to move the leaves of the trees, which hung motionless in the sunlight.
it was as if we were in the midst of a nightmare from which shortly we should wake up. the whole ghastly incident seemed so utterly unreal! but when we looked at gleazen, we knew that it was no mere nightmare. it was terrible reality. blood was dripping from his left hand and running down on his shoe.
through his hand, half on one side of it, half on the other, was thrust an arrow. a second arrow had passed just under the skin of his leg.
from the door i could see the bucket lying in the grass where he had dropped it; but except for a pair of parrots, which were flying from tree to tree, there still was no living thing in sight.
the vine-hung walls of the forest, which reached out long tendrils and straggling clumps of undergrowth as if to seize upon and consume the space of open ground, stood tall and green and silent. the deep grass waved in the faintest of breezes. above a single big rock the hot air swayed and trembled.
[pg 227]
without even wincing, gleazen drew the arrow from his hand and, refusing assistance, bound the wound himself.
turning from the door, arnold went to the table and touched an arm of the skeleton, which fell toward the body and collapsed inside the sleeve with a low rattle.
o'hara raised his hand with an angry gesture.
"i mean no irreverence," said arnold.
for a moment the two stood at gaze, then, letting his hand fall, o'hara stepped over beside arnold, and they lifted the bones, which for the most part fell together in the dead man's clothes, and laid them by the north wall.
"and what," asked matterson, curiously, "are you two doing now?"
without answering, arnold coolly swept the stones on the table together between his hands into a more compact pile.
"hands off, my boy," said gleazen, quietly.
"well?" gleazen's words had brought a flush to arnold's cheeks. he himself was nearly as old as gleazen and was quick to resent the patronizing tone, and his very quietness was more threatening than the loudest bluster.
"hands off," gleazen repeated; and raising his musket, he cocked it and tapped the muzzle on the opposite side of the table. "this says 'hands off,' too." he glanced around so that we could see that he meant us all. "matterson, ain't there a sack somewhere hereabouts?" but for the blood on his shoe and the stained cloth round his hand, he gave no sign of having been wounded.
from under the table matterson picked up a bag such as might have been used for salt, but which was made of strong canvas and was grimy from much handling.
"he was always a careful man," gleazen remarked with a glance at the skeleton heaped up in the shadow of the wall. "i thought he would have provided a bag."
[pg 228]
gleazen and matterson then, with pains not to miss a single one, picked up the stones by handfuls and let them rattle into the bag like shot.
"and now," said gleazen, when the last one was in and the neck of the bag was tied, "once more: hands off!"
laying the bag beside the skeleton, he took his stand in front of it, with matterson and o'hara on his right and left.
so far as the three of them were concerned, we might have been killed a dozen times over, had anyone seen fit to attack us. but abe and i, all the time keeping one eye on the strange scene inside the cabin, had kept watch also for trouble from without, and all the time not a thing had stirred in the clearing.
"what," matterson again asked, still watching arnold curiously, "what are you going to do now?"
tipping the table up on one side and wrenching off one of the boards that formed the top of it, arnold placed it across a window, so that there was a slit at the bottom through which we could watch or shoot.
"now, there's an idea!" gleazen exclaimed. but he never stirred from in front of the skeleton and the bag.
"there are nails in the table," said arnold.
matterson smiled, and taking the board in one hand, tapped a nail against the table to start it, and with the thumb and forefinger of the other hand drew it out as easily as if it had been stuck in putty. "for a hammer," he said lightly, "use the butt of a musket."
"look!" my uncle exclaimed: he was pointing at a good claw-hammer, which hung over the door.
the hut fell far short of the duke's mansion that its luckless builder had promised o'hara, but it had a window in each of three walls, and the door in the fourth, so that, by cutting a hole through the door, we were able, after we[pg 229] had barricaded the windows, to guard against surprise from any quarter without exposing ourselves to a chance shot; and as we had brought four muskets, we were able to give each sentry one well loaded.
the silence deepened. the air was fairly alive with suspicion. when uncle seth nervously moistened his lips, we all heard him; and when he flushed and shifted his feet, the creaking of a board seemed harsh and loud.
"well," said gleazen, slowly, "i'll stand in one watch and matterson here will stand in the other. for the rest, suit yourselves."
another long, uncomfortable silence fell upon us.
"then," said arnold, at last, "since no one else suggests an arrangement, i would suggest that mr. matterson, o'hara, mr. upham, and i stand the first watch; that mr. gleazen, joe woods, and abe guptil stand second watch; and in order to put four men in each watch in turn, since we must have four to guard against surprise from any direction, i suggest that each man, turn and turn about, stands a double watch of eight hours. i myself will take the double watch first."
"that is good as far as it goes," matterson interposed in his light voice. "but a single watch of two hours, with the double watch of four, is long enough. a man grows sleepy sooner with his eye at a knothole than if he is walking the deck."
arnold nodded, "we agree to that," he replied.
"lads," said gleazen, quite unexpectedly, "let's have an end of hard looks and hard words. come, joe,—come, arnold,—don't take sides against us and good seth upham. we're all in this fix together, and, by heaven! unless we stand together and come out together, not one of us'll come out alive."
the man now seemed so frank, and in the face of our[pg 230] common danger so genial, that, if i had not still felt the sting of the flattery by which he had deceived me so outrageously in the old days in topham, i should have been convinced that he was sincere in every word he uttered. as it was, sincere or false, i knew that for the moment he was honest. however his attitude toward us might change when our troubles were past, for the time being we did share a common danger, and it was imperative that we stand together. but to speak of my poor uncle as if he were hand in glove with the three of them and on equal terms exasperated me.
seth upham's face was drawn and anxious. it was plain that his spirit was broken, and i believed, when i looked at him, that never again would he make a show of standing up to the man who had virtually robbed him of all he possessed.
"sir," said arnold lamont, thoughtfully and with that quaint, almost indefinable touch of foreign accent, "that is true. we might say that we don't know what you mean by offering us a truce. we might pretend that we have always been, and always shall be, on the friendliest of terms with you. but we know, as well as you, that it is not so. since we share a common danger and since our safety depends on our mutual loyalty, we, sir, agree to your offer. a truce it shall be while our danger lasts, and here's my hand that it will be an honest truce."
it was easy to see that gleazen and matterson were not altogether pleased by his words. they would have liked, i think, to have us apprehend the situation less clearly. but there was nothing to do but make the best of matters; so gleazen shook arnold's hand, and we took an inventory of our provisions, which were quite too few to last through a siege of any length.
"to-morrow night, surely we can run for it," said[pg 231] o'hara. "to-night they'll watch us like hawks, but to-morrow night—"
plainly it was that for which we must wait.
we divided our food into equal portions, each to serve for one meal,—the meals, we saw, were to be very few,—ate one portion on the spot and settled ourselves to watch and sleep. but before i fell asleep i heard something that still further enlightened me.
"now, why," asked gleazen, sourly, as he faced the other two in the darkness, "couldn't one of you ha' stayed with bull, even if the other was fool enough to go a-wandering?"
matterson quietly smiled. "bud, here, swore he'd never leave him."
"we-e-ell," o'hara drawled, irritably, "you was both of you too long gone and bull was set in his ways. it was 'step this side,' and 'step that!' and 'those stones are yourn and those are mine and those are for the company.' says i at last, 'them that you've laid out for me, i'll take to the coast. keep the rest of them if you wish.' says he, 'you'll leave me here to rot.' 'not so,' says i. 'by hook or by crook neil will get the vessel surely, and molly will arrange the market surely, for they're good men and not to be turned lightly off. do you clean the pocket, and build the house. surely the pocket that has sent neil home like a gentleman, and has sent molly west like a man of business, will provide us at least the wherewithal to buy one cargo. and with a cargo under our own hatches,' says i, 'four fortunes will soon be made.' 'do you go,' says he, 'and i'll build a house like a duke's mansion to live in, and dig the pocket out and make friends with the niggers, which eventually we will catch, and four fortunes we will make.' so i come away, and you two surely would 'a' done the same if you'd been in my[pg 232] breeches instead of me; and then he went and built his house on the king's grave!"
as i lay on the floor, not three feet from the skeleton and from the round bag of quartz-like stones, through half-closed eyes i saw against the door, beyond which the sun was shining with intense heat, the great black shadow that i knew was matterson, with a musket across his knees; then, so exhausted was i, that i forgot the grim object within arm's length of where i lay, forgot our feud with matterson and gleazen and o'hara, forgot every ominous event that had happened since the adventure had set sail four days before and moved down the river toward the open sea, and, falling asleep, dreamed of someone whom, strangely, i could not forget.
the sun had set and the moon was up when my turn came to go on guard. taking matterson's musket and his place by the open door where i could see all that went on without, but where no one outside could see me in the dark of the hut, i settled myself with my back against the jamb. in matterson's motions as he handed me the musket and went over by the skeleton and lay down, there was the same lithe strength that he had revealed when he lifted himself to the taffrail and boarded the adventure in havana harbor. i marveled that he could endure so much with so little drain on his physical powers.
"watch sharply, joe, there's a brave lad," he said in his light voice.
as he crossed the hut and laid his great body on the floor, so slowly yet so lightly, i thought to myself that i had never seen a lazier man. what a power he might have been at sea or ashore, had he had but a tithe of gleazen's bold effrontery! although he had shown none of gleazen's passionate recklessness, he had given no sign of fear under any circumstances that we had yet encountered. i wondered[pg 233] if it were not likely that the man's very quietness, the complete absence of such petulance as gleazen sometimes showed, sprang from a deep, well-proved confidence in his own might.
i was glad that it had fallen to me to guard the door rather than a window. whereas from the windows one could see only a short space of rough open park and then the intermatted tangle of vines, from the door the vista ran far down the hill to the open glade where, hidden in deep grass, the spring lay. but though i sat with the musket beside me for hours, and though the moon rose higher and higher, revealing every tree and bush, in all my watch i did not see one thing astir outside the hut.
i must repeat that we seemed to be living in a dream. we had seen no enemy, heard no enemy. for all the signs and sights that those walls of tangled creepers revealed to us, there might have been no human being within a hundred miles. yet from behind those walls had come three arrows, and for the time being those three arrows locked us in the hut as fast as if they had been bolts and chains and padlocks.
as i watched, i heard someone get up and walk around the hut; and when i glanced over my shoulder, i saw that it was my uncle. to my surprise he was talking in a low voice. now what, i wondered, possessed him to stay awake when he might be sleeping.
"i must be getting home," i heard him say as he came nearer; and his voice startled me because, although it spoke softly, it was the old sharp, domineering voice that i had known so long and so well in topham; "i must be getting home. i don't know when i've stayed so late at the store."
