No Moss: or, The Career of a Rolling Stone

"Of course, the women will stay in the house," continued the governor, addressing himself to Friday; "an' when they hear you cuttin' at the door, they'll be sartin to come out an' holler at you; but that needn't scare you. Now, then, how shall we awaken the folks?"

The chief had scarcely propounded this question, when it was answered in way he had not expected. A window above him was thrown open, a head appeared, and a voice called out, "Well, I swan!"

The governor and his man did not wait to hear what the farmer had to say next. The enemy were aroused, and an opportunity was given them to try the plan Xury had suggested. Friday, who well understood the part he was expected to perform, sprang around the house out of sight; while Sam started across the field toward the beach.

"Stop there, you young rascal!" shouted the man in the window. "Josh! Bill! Wake up, an' get out there! Those robbers have come back again!"

The window came down with a crush, and Friday, who had by this time concealed himself behind a corn-crib, a short distance from the cellar door, heard a great commotion in the house. Lights flashed from the windows, men and women run about calling to each other, and presently the door opened and Josh and Bill appeared.

"There they are!" exclaimed one discovering Sam, who was by this time well on his way across the field; "hurry up there, boys. He's got a long start, and is running like a scared turkey."

These last words were addressed to the men in the house, who came out one after another, some without their hats, some bare-footed, others pulling on their coats as they ran, and all following after Bill and Josh, who were flying across the field in hot pursuit of the governor. Friday, from his hiding-place, counted them as they sprang down the steps, and when the sixth man had left the house, and was out of sight in the darkness, he straightened up and prepared for action. He listened a moment to the shrill, excited voices of the women, and clutching his ax with a firm hold, he came out from behind the corn-crib and ran toward the house. A few rapid steps brought him to the cellar door, which he attacked furiously. The first blow he struck echoed through the cellar like a peal of thunder, alarming the women up stairs; and the second brought them to the porch, where they stood watching Friday's operations in speechless amazement. The Crusoe man, intent on releasing his companions, gave no heed to what was going on around him, until a chorus of angry screams arose from the porch; then he started and trembled a little, but was not frightened from his work. He redoubled his efforts, the door began to bend and groan, and was finally forced from its fastenings, and Tom and his mate sprang out. Then the screams arose in greater volume than before, and reached the ears of the farmer and his men, who abandoned the pursuit of the governor, and returned to the house with all possible speed. But they were too late; for, long before they arrived, Tom and his companions had made good their escape. The shattered door, and the ax lying where Friday had thrown it after effecting the release of the prisoners, were all that were left to remind the farmer of the Crusoe band.

CHAPTER VII.

THE GOVERNOR STORMS THE REBELS

"Hip! hip! hurrah!" exclaimed Tom Newcombe, in an excited whisper, "I am free once more, and I'll have a chance yet to destroy that yacht. If the crew of the Storm King only knew what is going to happen, they would be sorry that I escaped."

"You can thank me for it," said Sam.

"An' me, too," chimed in Xury. "I was the one who found the ax in the cellar an' studied up the plan the governor carried out."

"I guess I had oughter have a little of the praise," observed Friday. "It aint every feller who would have stood there an' cut down that door with all them women hollerin' at him."

"We've all done well," said the chief, "all except Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard, an' they are cowards an' traitors."

The Crusoe men were gathered on the bluff at the head of the path, sweating and panting, and congratulating themselves on the success of their undertaking. The governor, especially, regarded it as something well worth boasting of, and he was in excellent spirits. His society, although it had thus far failed to accomplish the object for which it was organized, had already made for itself a brilliant record. It had performed an exploit in the village that would be talked about and wondered at as long as the military academy should stand, or the present generation of boys exist. Its members, acting under his instructions, had overpowered three times their number of students, captured their vessel, and would certainly have got out to sea with her but for the treachery of Tom Newcombe. But, great as was this achievement, it sank into insignificance when compared with the one they had just performed. The chief had succeeded in releasing the prisoners confined in the farm-house, and that, too, with the assistance of only one companion, and in the face of a mutiny that had, at one time, bid fair to break up the Crusoe band. The governor assumed the lion's share of the honor of this exploit, and, as he thought, with good reason, for he had run all the risk. He had led the men away from the house, and given Friday a chance to cut down the door. His affairs had looked desperate a little while before, but by his skill and determination he had succeeded in bringing some order out of the confusion, and the only thing that remained to be done was to punish the traitors, which was a matter he could attend to at his leisure. He believed that the rebellion had already died out, and that, when he descended into the cove, he would find the mutineers ready to accept any terms he might see fit to offer them.

"What's become of Atkins and Jack Spaniard?" asked Tom, who seemed, for the first time, to notice the absence of those worthies. "I don't see them anywhere."

"Didn't I say that they were traitors and cowards?" replied the governor. "Listen, now, an' I'll tell you all about it."

Sam then proceeded to give Tom and his mate a glowing description of the mutiny, and, during the course of his narration, he artfully aroused their indignation by dwelling upon the meanness and cowardice displayed by Atkins and Jack Spaniard in deserting the band at the very time their services were most needed, to assist in releasing the prisoners, and wound up by telling how he had secured possession of the rope and pulled down the limb, thus cutting off all chance of escape for the mutineers. Tom and Xury were highly enraged, especially the former, who denounced the faithless Crusoe men in the strongest terms. He also took occasion to impress his auditors with the fact that the society could not long exist without the hearty co-operation of all its members, and that no punishment was too severe for one who could refuse to hasten to the relief of a comrade in distress. Tom made a long speech on this subject, emphasizing his remarks by shaking his fists in the air, and stamping his feet on the ground, and all the while forgetting that, when questioned by the farmer in the house, he had been on the point of committing the very sin he was so loudly condemning. Xury remembered the circumstance, but he did not think it worth speaking about.

"I 'spose that, bein' an officer, I have a right to say something, haint I?" asked the mate, when Tom had finished his speech. "Well, I just want to tell you how I think them two fellers can be made to listen to reason. That farmer said he was goin' to take us over to the village in the mornin' an' have us put in – what kind of a house did he say that was, cap'n?"

"The House of Refuge," replied Tom.

"Yes, that's it. He said he was goin' to put us in that house fur three or four years, an' that it would be the best place in the world fur us. Now, can't we scare them two mutineers by tellin' 'em that if they don't do what's right we will give 'em up to the farmer, an' let him take 'em before the 'squire? That will bring 'em to terms, if any thing will."

"But how can we give 'em up to the farmer without bein' ketched ourselves?" asked Sam.

"We can tie 'em hand an' foot, an' take 'em up to the house some night an' leave 'em on the porch, can't we? But, of course, we don't want to do it, governor, 'cause we can't get along without 'em. We only want to make them behave themselves like men had oughter do."

"Mebbe it would be well to have a hold of some kind on 'em," said the chief, after thinking the matter over, "'cause they're spunky fellers, an' can't be easy scared. But, after all, I aint afraid to say that they've come to their senses before this time. Let's go down and see 'em."

The governor once more lighted his lantern, and, after shouldering a bag of potatoes, which he had found as he came through the field, and which had doubtless been overlooked by the farmer, he led the way down the cliff to the chasm, where he stopped, astonished at the scene presented to his view. It was evident, from the appearance of things, that Atkins and Jack Spainard were very far from being the humble, penitent fellows the governor had hoped to find them. They had discovered the trick that had been played upon them, and, being resolved that, if they could not get out of the cove, the governor should not come into it, they had fortified their side of the chasm by erecting a breastwork of bushes across the path. A fire burned brightly behind the breastwork, and beside it stood the two mutineers, engaged in stripping the branches from a couple of small trees they had just cut down. They ceased their work when they heard the chief and his men approaching, and, taking up their positions behind the breastwork, looked across the chasm at them as if waiting to hear what they had to say.

"Well, if there aint the cap'n an' Xury!" exclaimed Jack Spaniard, who seemed greatly astonished to see the governor thus re-enforced. "How did you get away?"

"Me an' Friday helped 'em, no thanks to you two cowards an' traitors," replied Sam, angrily. "What's the meanin' of all this yere?" he added, surveying the war-like preparations with some uneasiness.

"It means just this, governor," replied Atkins; "we know what you are up to, an' we aint goin' to stand no more nonsense. We're goin' to fight it out."

"Then you haven't made up your minds to do duty, an' behave yourselves?"

"No, we haint. We've got our share of the outfit, an' we're goin' home. We aint goin' to be servants fur nobody."

"I reckon you won't go home in a hurry. We have got you fastened up in there, an' we can starve you to death if we feel like it."

"You'll have a nice time doin' it, seein' that all the grub is on our side of the gully," said Jack Spaniard, with a laugh. "But you haint got us fastened up so tight as you think fur. Do you see these poles?" he added, lifting the sapling upon which he had been at work when the governor came in sight; "well, when we get the branches all off, we're goin' to make a bridge with 'em."

"Not much you aint; we've got something to say about that. Now, I'll give you five minutes to make up your minds whether or not you will come back into the band, an' behave yourselves like men had oughter do, or be delivered up to that farmer, who will take you before 'Squire Thompson, an' have you put in jail fur robbin' his potato-patch. Let's hear from you. I am listenin' with all the ears I've got."

The actions of the two mutineers afforded abundant proof that Xury knew their weak side when he suggested that the chief should threaten them with the law. The name of 'Squire Thompson was a terror to evil-doers about the village, and Atkins and his companion were very much afraid of him. They looked at each other, doubtfully, and held a council of war; while Sam employed the interval in consulting with his men, and trying to decide upon some plan to capture the mutineers, should the result of their consultation be unfavorable to him.

"We aint comin' back into the band," said Atkins, at length, "an' we aint goin' to the village as prisoners, neither. We're goin' to fight it out."

"All right," replied the governor, indifferently. "If you remember what the book says, you know that Will Atkins never made any thing by kicking up a fuss on Robinson's island, an' you will come out of the little end of the horn, just as he did. Look out for yourselves over there, now. Come with me, fellers."

The governor and his men moved up the cliffs, until a bend in the path concealed them from the view of the mutineers. They were gone so long that Atkins and his companion began to wonder what had become of them; but at the end of a quarter of an hour, Sam had completed his arrangements for an attack upon the stronghold of the rebels, and presently Friday appeared with a rope tied around his waist, and began to ascend a tree that leaned over the chasm.

"Hold on, there!" exclaimed Atkins, suddenly starting up from behind the breastwork. "You think you're smart, an' mebbe you are; but you can't put that bridge up under our very eyes. We've got a whole pile of rocks here, an' if you don't come down out of that tree to onct, we'll fire on you. Jerusalem! What's that?"

Just as the mutineer had finished threatening Friday, something whizzed through the air in unpleasant proximity to his head. It was a potato, thrown by the dextrous hand of the chief, and was followed by more missiles of the same sort, which whistled over the breastwork in a continuous shower. Atkins dropped like a flash, and picking up a stone in each hand, cautiously raised his head to look for the enemy; but the instant the crown of his hat appeared above the breastwork, it became a mark for the watchful Crusoe men, who sent the potatoes about his ears so thick and fast that Atkins was glad to drop down again.

"Keep your eyes open, men," cried the governor, "an' fire at the first one who dares to show himself. Atkins, when you get ready to surrender, just sing out. That's all you've got to do."

The mutineers were as fairly captured as if they had been bound hand and foot. They could neither retreat nor defend themselves. A cracking and rustling among the branches above, told them that Friday was engaged in putting up the bridge; and they knew that unless they could dislodge him they would soon be at closer quarters with the enemy.

"I'll give you just a half a minute to get down out of that tree," exclaimed Atkins.

"We don't want to hurt you, but we aint goin' to let you put up that bridge," said Jack Spaniard.

The rustling among the branches ceased for a moment, and Friday peeped through the leaves at the mutineers, both of whom were lying flat on their backs behind the breastwork. Seeing at a glance that he had nothing to fear from them, he went on with his work.

Atkins and his companion, finding that threats were unavailing, began to bestir themselves. They made loop-holes through the breastwork, but could not see their besiegers. Sam had posted his men on the cliff, outside the circle of light made by the fire, and consequently they were invisible to the mutineers; while the latter had built their fort in the full glare of the fire-light, and every move they made could be distinctly seen. They could not even use the loop-holes after they made them; for the governor and his men were always on the watch, and threw their potatoes so swiftly and accurately that the rebels were obliged to keep themselves well sheltered. Friday was still busy among the branches of the tree, and, when he had finished the work of putting up the bridge, he also opened fire. His shot was followed by another shower from the men posted on the cliff, who expended their ammunition without stint, sending the potatoes over and around the breastwork so thickly, that Atkins and his companion were once more obliged to throw themselves flat upon the ground to escape being hit. Suddenly the firing ceased, and a dark object came flying over the chasm into the fort. It was the governor, who, the moment he landed on his feet, began operations by pouncing upon the mutineers, throwing an arm around the neck of each, and holding them fast. How much he could have done toward conquering them it is hard to tell. The rebels were both determined fellows, and when they had sufficiently recovered from their astonishment to see that Sam was alone, they began to struggle furiously. But help for the governor was near. When he let go the rope it swung back into the hands of Xury, who was waiting to receive it, and he, too, came sailing over the breastwork, and dropped down upon Jack Spaniard, who had succeeded in freeing himself from the chief's grasp, and was rising to his feet. Tom Newcombe followed close behind, and Friday brought up the rear. They came, one after the other, as rapidly as the rope could swing back and forth; and the rebels, finding themselves overpowered, began to beg for quarter.

"Avast, there!" cried Sam, and Friday's uplifted hand sank harmlessly to his side, instead of falling upon the unprotected face of the chief mutineer. "Let 'em up. I'll answer for their good behavior now."

The rebels were quite as much astonished at the governor's clemency as were the other members of the band. They arose slowly to their feet, and gazed about them with a bewildered, suspicious air, as if half expecting to receive a kick or blow from some unlooked-for source. Atkins, in particular, scarcely knew what to make of it. He surveyed the chief from head to foot, as if he were hardly prepared to believe that he was the same old ruler of the Crusoe band who had taught him so many lessons of obedience at their cave in the village. Sam stood for a few moments enjoying his surprise, when he suddenly became aware that Atkins's eyes were not fastened upon him, but that they appeared to be looking through him, at something on the other side of the chasm. A feeling of uneasiness crept over the chief, for he saw that the expression on the face of his man was changing from astonishment to alarm. "What is it?" he whispered, not daring to look around.

Atkins, in reply, slowly raised his hand until it was on a level with his shoulder, and pointed toward the bluff across the gully; and, at the same instant, the governor nearly jumped from the ground when he heard an ejaculation that had become familiar to him that night —

"Well, I swan!"

He faced about quickly, and caught just one glimpse of a dark figure which was gliding swiftly and noiselessly up the path. All the Crusoe men saw it, and they were so astonished and dismayed by the unlooked-for interruption, that, for a moment, none of them could speak.

Tom Newcombe was the first to recover the use of his tongue. "O, now, we're caught, easy enough," he drawled. "This kills the expedition, and we might as well surrender ourselves prisoners at once. I always was the unluckiest boy in the whole world."

Just at that moment Sam Barton was of the same opinion regarding himself. His exultation at the victory he had gained over the rebels, gave way to a feeling of intense excitement and alarm. His under jaw dropped down, and he stood looking across the chasm toward the place where the spy had disappeared, as if he had suddenly been deprived of the power of action. It was no wonder that he was alarmed. His hiding-place had been discovered, and, of course, that ruined everything.

"Jerusalem!" ejaculated Will Atkins, who, now that his mutiny had been brought to an end, was quite willing to swear allegiance to the Crusoe band once more. "Did you see him, governor?"

"Well, I swan!" exclaimed Sam, unconsciously repeating the words the spy had used. "Did I see him? Have I got a pair of eyes? We're in a fix now, fellers. That ar' chap is another Bobby Jennings, an' if he gets away he'll ruin us, sure an' sartin." As the governor uttered these words they seemed to suggest a plan of operations. "Foller him up, lads," he exclaimed, excitedly. "Foller him up!"

"O, now, how do we know that he is alone?" drawled Tom. "Perhaps the farmer and all his men are with him."

"We've got to run that risk," replied Xury, seizing the rope and jumping over the chasm. "We must ketch him if we can. It's our only chance."

Tom could not help acknowledging this, and, although he trembled a little when he thought of the danger he might be about to run into, he crossed the gully with the others, and followed close behind the governor as he dashed up the path in pursuit of the spy.

CHAPTER VIII.

CROSSING THE SHOALS

"O now, I've seen some stirring times in my life, but I never before had so many adventures crowded into the short space of one night!" panted the captain of the Crusoe band, as he followed the chief up the cliff. "I would give something handsome to know what is going to happen next!"

Tom had indeed enjoyed his full share of excitement since the sun went down. He had been captured by the Philistines, and confined as a prisoner of war in the farm-house; he had taken an active part in storming the stronghold of the rebels; and was now toiling up the path in pursuit of a spy, who, if he escaped, would return with a force sufficient to surround and capture the Crusoe band. Nothing in his experience with the Night-hawks could equal the adventures of this night, and they were by no means ended. He would have been astonished had he known that they were only just begun. If the events that were to happen during the next few hours could have been revealed to him, he might have been tempted to desert the band and return to his home. The derision of his acquaintances, and the extra office duties that would, no doubt, have been imposed upon him, would have been light punishment indeed, compared with what was in store for him. The race up the cliff was a short one. The Crusoe men had a decided advantage of the fugitive, for they had traveled the path so often that they had but little difficulty in following it; while the spy's progress was delayed by the rocks and bushes, over which he stumbled in the dark, making noise sufficient to guide his enemies in the pursuit.

"He aint fur off," whispered the governor, "an' he's alone, too. If there were any fellers with him we could hear 'em. Hold on, up there! You can't escape, an' you'll fare a heap better if you surrender to onct."

But the spy was evidently not one of the kind who surrender upon demand. He held steadily on his way, although his pursuers gained at every step, and when they had accomplished about half the distance to the summit, Sam was near enough to the fugitive to seize him by the collar.

"Surrender now – no foolin'!" said he, in a very savage tone of voice. "We'll treat you like a man if you behave yourself."

Somewhat to the governor's surprise, the spy offered no resistance. The darkness was so intense that he could not see how many enemies he had to deal with, but, knowing that they were much too strong for him, he suffered himself to be led down the path to the chasm. The fire kindled by the mutineers was still burning brightly and by the aid of its light, the Crusoe men were enabled to take a good survey of their prisoner. He was a sturdy, bare-footed boy, about Tom's age, and might have been a second Xury, so self-possessed was he. He looked at his captors, one after the other, as if taking their exact measure, and finally said:

"Well, I swan! If I had known that you were boys like myself, I wouldn't have been caught so easy. I'd like to know what you are doing down here?"

"Fellers, his name is Jed," said Xury, by way of introduction. "I know, 'cause I saw him up to the house, an' I heard his dad call him Jed. He looked at me an' the cap'n mighty sassy then, but now he'll find out how it seems to be a prisoner."

"Is there any one with you?" asked Tom.

"No, I came alone," replied Jed.

"How did you find us?"

"I saw the light of that fire shining above the cliff".

Upon hearing this the governor glared so savagely at the mutineers, that those worthies, fearing that he was about to abandon his pacific policy, retreated a step or two and began to look around for something with which to defend themselves. But the wound caused by the mutiny was nearly healed, and Sam, after a moment's reflection, concluded that he could not afford to reopen it, or to stir up any new quarrels. He believed that he would soon have need of the services of all his men, and it was necessary to keep on good terms with them.

"I have lived on this farm all my life," continued Jed, "but I never knew before that there was a way to get down here."