CHAPTER VIII.

Nearly midway between Elliott's and Hartley's points,

both of which are remarkable for the low and sandy nature

of the soil, the land, rising gradually towards the

centre, assumes a more healthy and arable aspect; and,

on its highest elevation, stood a snug, well cultivated,

property, called, at the period of which we write,

Gattrie's farm. From this height, crowned on its extreme

summit by a neat and commodious farm-house, the far

reaching sands, forming the points above named, are

distinctly visible. Immediately in the rear, and commencing

beyond the orchard which surrounded the house, stretched

forestward, and to a considerable distance, a tract of

rich and cultivated soil, separated into strips by zig-zag

enclosures, and offering to the eye of the traveller, in

appropriate season, the several species of American

produce, such as Indian corn, buck wheat, &c. with here

and there a few patches of indifferent tobacco. Thus

far of the property, a more minute description of which

is unimportant. The proprietors of this neat little place

were a father and son, to the latter of whom was consigned,

for reasons which will appear presently, the sole management

of the farm. Of him we will merely say, that, at the

period of which we treat, he was a fine, strapping, dark

curly-haired, white-teethed, red-lipped, broad-shouldered,

and altogether comely and gentle tempered youth, of about

twenty, who had, although unconsciously, monopolized the

affections of almost every well favoured maiden of his

class, for miles around him--advantages of nature, from

which had resulted a union with one of the prettiest of

the fair competitors for connubial happiness.

The father we may not dismiss so hastily. He was--but,

before attempting the portraiture of his character, we

will, to the best of our ability, sketch his person.

Let the reader fancy an old man of about sixty, possessed

of that comfortable amplitude of person which is the

result rather of a mind at peace with itself, and

undisturbed by worldly care, than of any marked indulgence

in indolent habits. Let him next invest this comfortable

person in a sort of Oxford gray, coarse capote, or frock,

of capacious size, tied closely round the waist with one

of those parti-colored worsted sashes, we have, on a

former occasion described as peculiar to the bourgeois

settlers of the country. Next, suffering his eye to

descend on and admire the rotund and fleshy thigh, let

it drop gradually to the stout and muscular legs, which

he must invest in a pair of closely fitting leathern

trowsers, the wide-seamed edges of which are slit into

innumerable small strips, much after the fashion of the

American Indian. When he has completed the survey of the

lower extremities, to which he must not fail to subjoin

a foot of proportionate dimensions, tightly moccasined,

and, moreover, furnished with a pair of old English

hunting spurs, the reader must then examine the head with

which this heavy piece of animated machinery is surmounted.

From beneath a coarse felt hat, garnished with an inch-wide

band or ribbon, let him imagine he sees the yet vigorous

grey hair, descending over a forehead not altogether

wanting in a certain dignity of expression, and terminating

in a beetling brow, silvered also with the frost of years,

and shadowing a sharp, grey, intelligent eye, the vivacity

of whose expression denotes its possessor to be far in

advance, in spirit, even of his still active and powerful

frame. With these must be connected a snub nose--a double

chin, adorned with grisly honors, which are borne, like

the fleece of the lamb, only occasionally to the shears

of the shearer--and a small, and not unhandsome, mouth,

at certain periods pursed into an expression of irresistible

humour, but more frequently expressing a sense of lofty

independence. The grisly neck, little more or less bared,

as the season may demand--a kerchief loosely tied around

the collar of a checked shirt--and a knotted cudgel in

his hand,--and we think our sketch of Sampson Gattrie is

complete.

Nor must the reader picture to himself this combination

of animal properties, either standing, or lying, or

walking, or sitting; but in a measure glued, Centaur-like,

to the back of a noble stallion, vigorous, active, and

of a dark chesnut color, with silver mane and tail. In

the course of many years that Sampson had resided in the

neighbourhood, no one could remember to have seen him

stand, or lie, or walk, or sit, while away from his home,

unless absolutely compelled. Both horse and rider seemed

as though they could not exist while separated, and yet

Silvertail (thus was the stallion named) was not more

remarkable in sleekness of coat, soundness of carcase,

and fleetness of pace, than his rider was in the

characteristics of corpulency and joviality.

Sampson Gattrie had passed the greater part of his younger

days in America. He had borne arms in the revolution,

and was one of those faithful loyalists, who, preferring

rather to abandon a soil which, after all, was one of

adoption, than the flag under which they had been nurtured,

had, at the termination of that contest, passed over into

Canada. Having served in one of those irregular corps,

several of which had been employed with the Indians,

during the revolutionary contest, he had acquired much

of the language of these latter, and to this knowledge

was indebted for the situation of interpreter which he

had for years enjoyed. Unhappily for himself, however,

the salary attached to the office was sufficient to keep

him in independence, and, to the idleness consequent on

this, (for the duties of an interpreter were only

occasional,) might have been attributed the rapid growth

of a vice--an addiction to liquor--which unchecked

indulgence had now ripened into positive disease.

Great was the terror that Sampson was wont to excite in

the good people of Amherstburg. With Silvertail at his

speed, he would gallop into the town, brandishing his

cudgel, and reeling from side to side, exhibiting at one

moment the joyous character of a Silenus, at another, as

we have already shown--that of an inebriated Centaur.

Occasionally he would make his appearance, holding his

sides convulsed with laughter, as he reeled and tottered

in every direction, but without ever losing his equilibrium.

At other times he would utter a loud shout, and, brandishing

his cudgel, dart at full speed along the streets, as if

he purposed singly to carry the town by (what Middlemore

often facetiously called) a coup de main. At these moments

were to be seen mothers rushing into the street to look

for, and hurry away, their loitering offspring, while

even adults were glad to hasten their movements, in order

to escape collision with the formidable Sampson; not that

either apprehended the slightest act of personal violence

from the old man, for he was harmless of evil as a child,

but because they feared the polished hoofs of Silvertail,

which shone amid the clouds of dust they raised as he

passed, like rings of burnished silver. Even the very

Indians, with whom the streets were at this period

habitually crowded, were glad to hug the sides of the

houses, while Sampson passed; and they who, on other

occasions, would have deemed it in the highest degree

derogatory to their dignity to have stepped aside at the

approach of danger, or to have relaxed a muscle of their

stern countenances, would then open a passage with a

rapidity which in them was remarkable, and burst into

loud laughter as they fled from side to side to make way

for Sampson. Sometimes, on these occasions, the latter

would suddenly check Silvertail, while in full career,

and, in a voice that could be beard from almost every

quarter of the little town, harangue them for half an

hour together in their own language, and with an air of

authority that was ludicrous to those who witnessed

it--and must have been witnessed to be conceived.

Occasionally a guttural "ugh" would be responded in mock

approval of the speech, but more frequently a laugh, on

the part of the more youthful of his red auditors, was

the only notice taken. His lecture concluded, Sampson

would again brandish his cudgel, and vociferate another

shout; then betaking himself to the nearest store, he

would urge Silvertail upon the footway, and with a tap

of his rude cudgel against the door, summon whoever was

within, to appear with a glass of his favorite beverage.

And this would he repeat, until he had drained what he

called his stirrup cup, at every shop in the place where

the poisonous liquor was vended.

Were such a character to make his appearance in the Mother

Country, endangering, to all perception, the lives of

the Sovereign's liege subjects, he would, if in London,

be hunted to death like a wild beast, by at least one

half of the Metropolitan police; and, if in a provincial

town, would be beset by a posse of constables. No one,

however--not even the solitary constable of Amherstburg,

ever ventured to interfere with Sampson Gattrie, who was

in some degree a privileged character. Nay, strange as

it may appear, notwithstanding his confirmed habit of

inebriety, the old man stood high in the neighborhood,

not only with simple but with gentle, for there were

seasons when he evinced himself "a rational being," and

there was a dignity of manner about him, which, added to

his then quietude of demeanour, insensibly interested in

his favor, those even who were most forward to condemn

the vice to which he was invariably addicted. Not, be it

understood, that in naming seasons of rationality, we

mean seasons of positive abstemiousness; nor can this

well be, seeing that Sampson never passed a day of strict

sobriety during the last twenty years of his life. But,

it might be said, that his three divisions of day--morning,

noon and night--were characterized by three corresponding

divisions of drunkenness--namely, drunk, drunker, and

most drunk. It was, therefore, in the first stage of this

graduated scale, that Sampson appeared in his most amiable

and winning, because his least uproarious, mood. His

libations commenced at early morn, and his inebriety

became progressive to the close of the day. To one who

could ride home at night, as he invariably did, after

some twelve hours of hard and continued drinking, without

rolling from his horse, it would not be difficult to

enact the sober man in its earlier stages. As his

intoxication was relative to himself, so was his sobriety

in regard to others--and although, at mid-day, he might

have swallowed sufficient to have caused another man to

bite the dust, he looked and spoke, and acted, as if he

had been a model of temperance. If he passed a lady in

the street, or saw her at her window, Sampson Gattrie's

hat was instantly removed from his venerable head, and

his body inclined forward over his saddle-bow, with all

the easy grace of a well-born gentleman, and one accustomed

from infancy to pay deference to woman; nay, this at an

hour when he had imbibed enough of his favorite liquor

to have rendered most men insensible even to their

presence. These habits of courtesy, extended moreover to

the officers of the Garrison, and such others among the

civilians as Sampson felt to be worthy of his notice.

His tones of salutation, at these moments, were soft,

his manner respectful, even graceful; and while there

was nothing of the abashedness of the inferior, there

was also no offensive familiarity, in the occasional

conversations held by him with the different individuals,

or groups, who surrounded and accosted him.

Such was Sampson Gattrie, in the first stage of his

inebriety, no outward sign of which was visible. In the

second, his perception became more obscured, his voice

less distinct, his tones less gentle and insinuating,

and occasionally the cudgel would rise in rapid flourish,

while now and then a load halloo would burst from lungs,

which the oceans of whiskey they had imbibed had not yet,

apparently, much affected. These were infallible indices

of the more feverish stage, of which the gallopings of

Silvertail--the vociferations of his master--the increased

flourishing of the cudgel--the supposed danger of

children--and the consequent alarm of mothers, together

with the harangues to the Indian auditory, were the almost

daily results.

There was one individual, however, in the town of

Amherstburgh, of whom, despite his natural wilfulness of

character, Sampson Gattrie stood much in awe, and that

to such degree, that if he chanced to encounter him in

his mad progress, his presence had the effect of immediately

quieting him. This gentleman was the father of the

Granthams, who, although then filling a civil situation,

had formerly been a field officer in the corps in which

Sampson had served; and who had carried with him into

private life, those qualities of stern excellence for

which he had been remarkable as a soldier--qualities

which had won to him the respect and affection, not only

of the little community over which, in the capacity of

its chief magistrate, he had presided, but also of the

inhabitants of the country generally for many miles

around. Temperate to an extreme himself, Major Grantham

held the vice of drunkenness in deserved abhorrence, and

so far from sharing the general toleration extended to

the old man, whose originality (harmless as he ever was

in his intoxication) often proved a motive for

encouragement; he never failed, on encountering him, to

bestow his censure in a manner that had an immediate and

obvious effect on the culprit. If Sampson, from one end

of the street, beheld Major Grantham approaching at the

other, he was wont to turn abruptly away; but if perchance

the magistrate came so unexpectedly upon him as to preclude

the possibility of retreat, he appeared as one suddenly

sobered, and would rein in his horse, fully prepared for

the stern lecture which he was well aware would ensue.

It afforded no slight amusement to the townspeople, and

particularly the young urchins, who usually looked up to

Sampson with awe, to be witnesses of one of those

rencontres. In a moment the shouting--galloping--rampaging

cudgel-wielder was to be seen changed, as if by some

magic power, into a being of almost child-like obedience,

while he listened attentively and deferentially to the

lecture of Major Grantham, whom he both feared and loved.

On these occasions, he would hang his head upon his

chest--confess his error--and promise solemnly to amend

his course of life, although it must be needless to add

that never was that promise heeded. Not unfrequently,

after these lectures, when Major Grantham had left him,

Sampson would turn his horse, and, with his arms still

folded across his chest, suffer Silvertail to pursue his

homeward course, while he himself, silent and thoughtful,

and looking like a culprit taken in the fact, sat steadily

in his saddle, without however venturing to turn his eye

either to the right or to the left, as he passed through

the crowd, who, with faces strongly expressive of mirth,

marked their sense of the change which had been produced

in the old interpreter. Those who had seen him thus, for

the first time, might have supposed that a reformation

in one so apparently touched would have ensued; but long

experience had taught that, although a twinge of conscience,

or more probably fear of, and respect for, the magistrate,

might induce a momentary humiliation, all traces of cause

and effect would have vanished with the coming dawn.

To the sterling public virtues he boasted, Sampson Gattrie

united that of loyalty in no common degree. A more staunch

adherent to the British Crown existed nowhere in the

sovereign's dominions; and, such was his devotedness to

"King George," that, albeit he could not in all probability

have made the sacrifice of his love for whiskey, he would

willingly have suffered his left arm to be severed from

his body, had such proof of his attachment to the throne

been required. Proportioned to his love for every thing

British, arose, as a natural consequence, his dislike

for every thing anti-British; and especially for those,

who, under the guise of allegiance, had conducted themselves

in away to become objects of suspicion to the authorities.

A near neighbour of Desborough, he had watched him as

narrowly as his long indulged habits of intoxication

would permit, and he had been the means of conveying to

Major Grantham much of the information which had induced

that uncompromising magistrate to seek the expulsion of

the dangerous settler--an object which, however, had been

defeated by the perjury of the unprincipled individual,

in taking the customary oaths of allegiance. Since the

death of Major Grantham, for whom, notwithstanding his

numerous lectures, he had ever entertained that reverential

esteem which is ever the result of the ascendancy of the

powerful and virtuous mind over the weak, and not absolutely

vicious; and for whose sons he felt almost a father's

affection, old Gattrie had but indifferently troubled

himself about Desborough, who was fully aware of what he

had previously done to detect and expose him, and

consequently repaid with usury--an hostility of feeling

which, however, had never been brought to any practical

issue.

As a matter of course, Sampson was of the number of

anxious persons collected on the bank of the river, on

the morning of the capture of the American gun boat; but,

as he was only then emerging from his first stage of

intoxication, (which we have already shown to be tantamount

to perfect sobriety in any other person) there had been

no time for a display of those uproarious qualities which

characterized the last, and which, once let loose, scarcely

even the presence of the General could have restrained.

With an acuteness, however, which is often to be remarked

in habitual drunkards at moments when their intellect is

unclouded by the confusedness to which they are more

commonly subject, the hawk's eye of the old man had

detected several particulars which had escaped the general

attention, and of which he had, at a later period of the

day, retained sufficient recollection, to connect with

an accidental yet important discovery.

At the moment when the prisoners were landed, he had

remarked Desborough, who had uttered the hasty exclamation

already recorded, stealing cautiously through the

surrounding crowd, and apparently endeavouring to arrest

the attention of the younger of the American officers.

An occasional pressing of the spur into the flank of

Silvertail, enabled him to turn as the settler turned,

and thus to keep him constantly in view; until, at length,

as the latter approached the group of which General Brock

and Commodore Barclay formed the centre, he observed him

distinctly to make a sign of intelligence to the Militia

Officer, whose eye he at length attracted, and who now

bestowed upon him a glance of hasty and furtive recognition.

Curiosity induced Sampson to move Silvertail a little

more in advance, in order to be enabled to obtain a better

view of the prisoners; but the latter, turning away his

head at the moment, although apparently without design,

baffled his penetration. Still he had a confused and

indistinct idea that the person was not wholly unknown

to him.

When the prisoners had been disposed of, and the crowd

dispersed, Sampson continued to linger near the council

house, exchanging greetings with the newly arrived Chiefs,

and drinking from whatever whiskey bottle was offered to

him, until he at length gave rapid indication of arriving

at his third or grand climacteric. Then were to be heard

the loud shoutings of his voice, and the clattering of

Silvertail's hoofs, as horse and rider flew like lightning

past the fort into the town, where a more than usual

quantity of the favorite liquid was quaffed at the several

stores, in commemoration, as he said, of the victory of

his noble boy, Gerald Grantham, and to the success of

the British arms generally throughout the war.

Among the faults of Sampson Gattrie, was certainly not

that of neglecting the noble animal to whom long habit

had deeply attached him. Silvertail was equally a favorite

with the son, who had more than once ridden him in the

occasional races that took place upon the hard sands of

the lake shore, and in which he had borne every thing

away. As Sampson was ever conscious and collected about

this hour, care was duly taken by him that his horse

should be fed, without the trouble to himself of

dismounting. Even as Gattrie sat in his saddle, Silvertail

was in the daily practice of munching his corn out of a

small trough that stood in the yard of the inn where he

usually stopped, while his rider conversed with whoever

chanced to be near him--the head of his cudgel resting

on his ample thigh, and a glass of his favorite whiskey

in his other and unoccupied hand.

Now it chanced, that on this particular day, Sampson had

neglected to pay his customary visit to the inn, an

omission which was owing rather to the hurry and excitement

occasioned by the stirring events of the morning, than

to any wilful neglect of his steed. Nor was it until some

hours after dark that, seized with a sudden fit of

caressing Silvertail, whose glossy neck he patted, until

the tears of warm affection started to his eyes, he

bethought him of the omission of which he had been guilty.

Scarcely was the thought conceived, before Silvertail

was again at full career, and on his way to the inn. The

gate stood open, and, as Sampson entered, he saw two

individuals retire, as if to escape observation, within

a shed adjoining the stable. Drunk as he was, a vague

consciousness of the truth, connected as it was with his

earlier observation, flashed across the old man's mind,

and when, in answer to his loud hallooing, a factotum,

on whom devolved all the numerous offices of the inn,

from waiter down to ostler, made his appearance, Sampson

added to his loudly expressed demand for Silvertail's

corn, a whispered injunction to return with a light.

During the absence of the man he commenced trolling a

verse of "Old King Cole," a favorite ballad with him,

and with the indifference of one who believes himself to

be alone. Presently the light appeared, and, as the bearer

approached, its rays fell on the forms of two men, retired

into the furthest extremity of the shed and crouching to

the earth as if in concealment, whom Sampson recognized

at a glance. He however took no notice of the circumstance

to the ostler, or even gave the slightest indication, by

look or movement, of what he had seen.

When the man had watered Silvertail, and put his corn in

the trough, he returned to the house, and Sampson, with

his arms folded across his chest, as his horse crunched

his food, listened attentively to catch whatever

conversation might ensue between the loiterers. Not a

word however was uttered, and soon after he saw them

emerge from their concealment--step cautiously behind

him--cross the yard towards the gate by which he had

entered--and then disappear altogether. During this

movement the old man had kept himself perfectly still,

so that there could be no suspicion that he had, in any

way, observed them. Nay, he even spoke once or twice

coaxingly to Silvertail, as if conscious only of the

presence of that animal, and in short conducted himself

in a manner well worthy of the cunning of a drunken man.

The reflections to which this incident gave rise, had

the effect of calling up a desperate fit of loyalty,

which he only awaited the termination of Silvertail's

hasty meal to put into immediate activity. Another shout

to the ostler, a second glass swallowed, the reckoning

paid, Silvertail bitted, and away went Sampson once more

at his speed, through the now deserted town, the road

out of which to his own place, skirted partly the banks

of the river, and partly those of the lake.

After galloping about a mile, the old man found the feet

of Silvertail burying themselves momentarily deeper in

the sands which form the road near Elliott's Point.

Unwilling to distress him more than was necessary, he

pulled him up to a walk, and, throwing the reins upon

his neck, folded his arms as usual, rolling from side to

side at every moment, and audibly musing, in the thick

husky voice that was common to him in inebriety.

"Yes, by Jove, I am as true and loyal a subject as any

in the service of King George, God bless him, (here he

bowed his head involuntarily and with respect) and though,

as that poor dear old Grantham used to say, I do drink

a little, (hiccup) still there's no great harm in that.

It keeps a man alive. I am the boy, at all events, to

scent a rogue. That was Desborough and his son I saw just

now, and the rascals, he! he! he! the rascals thought,

I suppose, I was too drunk, (hiccup) too drunk to twig

them. We shall tell them another tale before the night

is over. D--n such skulking scoundrels, I say. Whoa!

Silvertail, whoa! what do yea see there, my boy, eh?"

Silvertail only replied by the sharp pricking of his

ears, and a side movement, which seemed to indicate a

desire to keep as much aloof as possible from a cluster

of walnut trees which, interspersed with wild grape-vines,

may be seen to this hour, resting in gloomy relief on

the white deep sands that extend considerably in that

direction.

"Never mind, my boy, we shall be at home presently,"

pursued Sampson, patting the neck of his unquiet companion.

"But no, I had forgotten; we must give chase to these

(hiccup) to these rascals. Now there's that son Bill of

mine fast asleep, I suppose, in the arms of his little

wife. They do nothing but lie in bed, while their poor

old father is obliged to be up at all hours, devising

plans for the good of the King's service, God bless him!

But I shall soon (hiccup)!--Whoa Silvertail! whoa I say.

D--n you, you brute, do you mean to throw me?"

The restlessness of Silvertail, despite of his rider's

caresses had been visibly increasing as they approached

the dark cluster of walnuts. Arrived opposite to this,

his ears and tail erect, he had evinced even more than

restlessness--alarm: and something, that did not meet

the eye of his rider, caused him to take a sideward spring

of several feet. It was this action that, nearly unseating

Sampson, had drawn from him the impatient exclamation

just recorded.

At length the thicket was passed, and Silvertail, recovered

from his alarm, moved forward once more on the bound, in

obedience to the well known whistle of his master.

"Good speed have they made," again mused Sampson, as he

approached his home; "if indeed, as I suspect, it be them

who are hiding in yonder thicket. Silvertail could not

have been more than ten minutes finishing his (hiccup)

his corn, and the sands had but little time to warm

beneath his hoofs when he did start. These Yankees are

swift footed fellows, as I have had good (hiccup) good

experience, in the old war, when I could run a little

myself after the best of them. But here we are at last.

Whoa, Silvertail, whoa! and now to turn out Bill from

his little wife. Bill, I say, hilloa! hilloa! Bill,

hilloa!"

Long habit, which had taught the old man's truly excellent

and exemplary son the utter hopelessness of his disease,

had also familiarized him with these nightly interruptions

to his slumbers. A light was speedily seen to flash across

the chamber in which he slept, and presently the principal

door of the lower building was unbarred, and unmurmuring,

and uncomplaining, the half dressed young man stood in

the presence of his father. Placing the light on the

threshold, he prepared to assist him as usual to dismount,

but Sampson, contrary to custom, rejected for a time

every offer of the kind. His rapid gallop through the

night air, added to the more than ordinary quantity of

whiskey he had that day swallowed, was now producing its

effect, and, while every feature of his countenance

manifested the extreme of animal stupidity, his apprehension

wandered and his voice became almost inarticulate. Without

the power to acquaint his son with the purpose he had in

view, and of which he himself now entertained but a very

indistinct recollection, he yet strove, impelled as he

was by his confusedness of intention to retain his seat,

but was eventually unhorsed and handed over to the care

of his pretty daughter in law, whose office it was to

dispose of him for the night, while her husband rubbed

down, fed, and otherwise attended to Silvertail.

A few hours of sound sleep restored Sampson to his voice

and his recollection, when his desire to follow the two

individuals he had seen in the yard of the inn the

preceding night, and whom he felt persuaded he must have

passed on the road, was more than ever powerfully revived.

And yet, was it not highly probable that the favorable

opportunity had been lost, and that, taking advantage of

the night, they were already departed from the country,

if such (and he doubted it not) was their intention.

"What a cursed fool," he muttered to himself, "to let a

thimbleful of liquor upset me on such an occasion; but,

at all events, here goes for another trial. With the

impatient, over-indulged Sampson, to determine on a course

of action, was to carry it into effect."

"Hilloa! Bill, I say Bill my boy," he shouted from the

chamber next to that in which his son slept. "Hilloa!

Bill, come here directly."

Bill answered not, but sounds were heard in his room as

of one stepping out of bed, and presently the noise of

flint and steel announced that a light was being struck.

In a few minutes, the rather jaded-looking youth appeared

at the bedside of his parent.

"Bill, my dear boy," said Sampson, in a more subdued

voice, "did you see any body pass last night after I came

home? Try and recollect yourself; did you see two men on

the road?"

"I did, father; just as I had locked the stable door,

and was coming in for the night, I saw two men passing

down the road. But why do you ask!"

"Did you speak to them--could you recognize them," asked

Sampson, without stating his motive for the question.

"I wished them good night, and one of them gruffly bade

me good night too; but I could not make out who they

were, though one did for a moment strike me to be

Desborough, and both were tallish sort of men."

"You're a lad of penetration, Bill; now saddle me Silvertail

as fast as you can."

"Saddle Silvertail! surely father, you are not going out

yet: it's not day-light."

"Saddle me Silvertail, Bill," repeated the old man with

the air of one whose mandate was not to be questioned.

"But where the devil are you going, sir," he added

impatiently.

"Why to saddle Silvertail, to be sure," said the youth,

who was just closing the door for that purpose.

"What, and leave me a miserable old man to get up without

a light. Oh fie, Bill. I thought you loved your poor old

father better than to neglect him so--there, that will

do: now send in Lucy to dress me."

The light was kindled, Bill went in and spoke to his

wife, then descended to the stable. A gentle tap at the

door of the old interpreter, and Lucy entered in her

pretty night dress, and, half asleep, half awake, but

without a shadow of discontent in her look, proceeded to

assist him in drawing on his stockings, &c. Sampson's

toilet was soon completed, and Silvertail being announced

as "all ready," he, without communicating a word of his

purpose, issued forth from his home, just as the day was

beginning to dawn.

Although the reflective powers of Gattrie had been in

some measure restored by sleep, it is by no means to be

assumed he was yet thoroughly sober. Uncertain in regard

to the movements of those who had so strongly excited

his loyal hostility, (and, mayhap, at the moment his

curiosity,) it occurred to him that if Desborough had

not already baffled his pursuit, a knowledge of the

movements and intentions of that individual, might be

better obtained from an observation of what was passing

on the beach in front of his hut. The object of this

reconnoissance was, therefore, only to see if the canoe

of the settler was still on the shore, and with this

object he suffered Silvertail to take the road along the

sands, while he himself, with his arms folded and his

head sunk on his chest, fell into a reverie with which

was connected the manner and the means of securing the

disloyal Desborough, should it happen that he had not

yet departed. The accidental discharge of Middlemore's

pistol, at the very moment when Silvertail had doubled

a point that kept the scene of contention from his view,

caused him to raise his eyes, and then the whole truth

flashed suddenly upon him. We have already seen how

gallantly he advanced to them, and how madly, and, in a

manner peculiarly his own, he sought to arrest the traitor

Desborough in his flight.

"Sorry I couldn't force the scoundrel back, gentlemen,"

said Sampson, as he now approached the discomfited

officers. "Not much hurt, I hope," pointing with his

own maimed and bleeding hand to the leg of Middlemore,

which that officer, seated on the sand, was preparing to

bind with a silk handkerchief. "Ah, a mere flesh wound.

I see. Henry, Henry Grantham, my poor dear boy, what

still alive after the desperate clutching of that fellow

at your throat? But now that we have routed the enemy--

must be off--drenched to the skin. No liquor on the

stomach to keep out the cold. and if I once get an ague

fit, its all over with poor old Sampson. Must gallop

home, and, while his little wife wraps a bandage round

my hand, shall send down Bill with a litter. Good morning,

Mr. Middlemore, good bye Henry, my boy." And then,

without giving time to either to reply, the old man

applied his spurs once more to the flanks of Silvertail,

who, with drooping mane and tail, resembled a half drowned

rat; and again hallooing defiance to Desborough, who lay

to at a distance, apparently watching the movements of

his enemies, he retraced his way along the sands at full

gallop, and was speedily out of sight.

Scarcely had Gattrie disappeared, when two other

individuals, evidently officers, and cloaked precisely

like the party he had just quitted, issued from the wood

near the hut upon the clearing, and thence upon the

sands--their countenances naturally expressing all the

surprise that might he supposed to arise from the picture

now offered to their view.

"What in the name of Heaven is the meaning of all this?"

asked one of the new comers, as both now rapidly advanced

to the spot where Middlemore was yet employed in coolly

binding up his leg, while Henry Grantham, who had just

risen, was gasping with almost ludicrous efforts to regain

his respiration.

"You must ask the meaning of our friend here," answered

Middlemore, with the low chuckling good-natured laugh

that was habitual to him, while he proceeded with his

bandaging. "All I know is, that I came out as a second,

and here have I been made a first--a principal, which,

by the way, is contrary to all my principle."

"Do be serious for once, Middlemore. How did you get

wounded, and who are those scoundrels who have just

quitted you? anxiously inquired Captain Molineux, for it

was he, and Lieutenant Villiers, who, (the party already

stated to have been expected,) had at length arrived.

"Two desperate fellows in their way, I can assure you,"

replied Middlemore, more amused than annoyed at the

adventure. "Ensign Paul, Emilius, Theophilus, Arnoldi,

is, I calculate, a pretty considerable strong active sort

of fellow; and, to judge by Henry Grantham's half strangled

look, his companion lacks not the same qualities. Why,

in the name of all that is precious would you persist in

poking your nose into the rascal's skins, Grantham? The

ruffians had nearly made dried skins of ours."

"Ha! is that the scoundrel who calls himself Arnoldi,"

asked Captain Molineux? "I have heard," and he glanced

at Henry Grantham as he spoke, "a long story of his

villainy from his captor within this very hour."

"Which is your apology, I suppose," said Middlemore, "for

having so far exceeded your apPOINTment, gentlemen."

"It certainly is," said Lieutenant Villiers, "but the

fault was not ours. We chanced to fall in with Gerald

Grantham, and on our way here, and that he detained us,

should be a matter of congratulation to us all."

"Congratulation!" exclaimed Middlemore, dropping his

bandage, and lifting his eyes with an expression of

indescribable humour, "Am I then to think it matter of

congratulation that, as an innocent second, I should have

had a cursed piece of lead stuck in my flesh to spoil my

next winter's dancing. And Grantham is to think it matter

of congratulation that, instead of putting a bullet

through you, Molineux, (as I intend he shall when I hare

finished dressing this confounded leg, if his nerves are

not too much shaken,) he should have felt the gripe of

that monster Desborough around his throat, until his eyes

seem ready to start from their sockets, and all this

because you did not choose to be in time. Upon my word,

I do not know that it is quite meet that we should meet

you. What say you, Grantham?"

"I hope," said Captain Molineux with a smile, "your

principal will think as you do, for should he decline

the meeting, nothing will afford more satisfaction to

myself."

Both Grantham and Middlemore looked their utter surprise

at the language thus used by Captain Molineux, but neither

of them spoke.

"If an apology the most ample for my observation of

yesterday," continued that officer, "an apology founded

on my perfect conviction of error, (that conviction

produced by certain recent explanations with your brother,)

can satisfy you, Mr. Grantham, most sincerely do I make

it. If, however, you hold me to my pledge, here am I of

course to redeem it. I may as well observe to you in the

presence of our friends, (and Villiers can corroborate

my statement,) that my original intention on leaving your

brother, was to receive your fire and then tender my

apology, but, under the circumstances in which both you

and Middlemore are placed at this moment, the idea would

be altogether absurd. Again I tender my apology, which

it will be a satisfaction to me to repeat this day at

the mess table, where I yesterday refused to drink your

brother's health. All I can add is that when you have

heard the motives for my conduct, and learnt to what

extent I have been deceived, you will readily admit that

I acted not altogether from caprice."

"Your apology I accept, Captain Molineux," said Grantham,

coming forward and unhesitatingly offering his hand.

"If you have seen my brother, I am satisfied. Let there

be no further question on the subject."

"So then I am to be the only bulleted man on this occasion,"

interrupted Middlemore, with ludicrous pathos--"the only

poor devil who is to be made to remember Hartley's point

for ever. But no matter. I am not the first instance of

a second being shot, through the awkward bungling of his

principal, and certainly Grantham you were in every sense

the principal in this affair, for had you taken my advice

you would have let the fellows go to the devil their own

way."

"What! knowing, as I did, that the traitor Desborough

had concealed in his canoe a prisoner on parole--nay,

worse, a deserter from our service--with a view of

conveying him out of the country?"

"How did you know it?"

"Because I at once recognized him, through the disguise

in which he left the hut, for what he was. That discovery

made, there remained but one course to pursue."

"Ah! and COURSE work you made of it, with a vengeance,"

said Middlemore, "first started him up like a fox from

his cover, got the mark of his teeth, and then suffered

him to escape."

"Is there no chance of following--no means of overtaking

them?" said Captain Molineux--"No, by Heaven," as he

glanced his eye from right to left, "not a single canoe

to be seen any where along the shore."

"Following!" echoed Middlemore; "faith the scoundrels

would desire nothing better: if two of us had such

indifferent play with them on terra firma, you may rely

upon it that double the number would have no better chance

in one of these rickety canoes. See there how the rascals

lie to within half musket shot, apparently hailing us."

Middlemore was right. Desborough had risen in the stern

of the canoe, and now, stretched to his full height,

called leisurely, through his closed hands, on the name

of Henry Grantham. When he observed the attention of that

officer had, in common with that of his companions, been

arrested, he proceeded at the full extent of his lungs.

"I reckon, young man, as how I shall pay you out for

this, and drot my skin, if I once twists my fingers round

your neck again, if any thing on this side hell shall

make me quit it, afore you squeaks your last squeak.

You've druv me from my home, and I'll have your curst

blood for it yet. I'll sarve you, as I sarved your old

father--You got my small bore, I expect, and if its any

good to you to know that one of its nineties to the pound,

sent the old rascal to the devil--why then you have it

from Jeremiah Desborough's own lips, and be d----d to

you."

And, with this horrible admission, the settler again

seated himself in the stem of his canoe, and making good

use of his paddle soon scudded away until his little

vessel appeared but as a speck on the lake.

Henry Grantham was petrified with astonishment and dismay

at a declaration, the full elucidation of which we must,

reserve for a future opportunity. The daring confession

rang in his ears long after the voice had ceased, and it

was not until a light vehicle had been brought for

Middlemore from Sampson's farm, that he could be induced

to quit the shore, where he still lingered, as if in

expectation of the return of the avowed MURDERER OF HIS

FATHER.