The Master of Merripit Farm

Auckland Star, Volume XLIV, Issue 16, 18 January 1913, Page 20

The Master of Merripit Farm

BY EDEN PHILPOTTS, {Author of "The Three Brothers;' "The Anverican Prisoner," "The Beacon," etc)

SYNOPSIS OF INSTALiIENTS I—IIL The beautiful Sarah Rowland, courted by .lobn Coole. a young farmer, and by Saul Copiestoo, the local innkeeper, promises that she will marry the man who brings to justice some highwaymen who are terrorising the whole countryside. The highwaymen attempt to break in at Walna when "both • '..pleston and Coole are there, but ride off on seeing the men. Both men are on their mettle, but Copleston is a braggart, while Coole is resourceful and ready-witted. The two men quarrel, and Saul attacks Coole. One day as Sarah Rowland Is driving to market with her grandfather, the highwaymen, two brothers. Charlie and Crabb Spring, meet them and make them "deliver op." John Coole saves Christina Rowland from t—3 attack of a bull. CHAPTER TV. THE REAL JOHN COOLE. The irregular mass of Fur Tor. loved Of the raven, haunt of the rarest flower in the West country, lies sequestered from every human home and haunt. At the heart of the Moor it lifts its mighty crags of granite above the far-flung desolation : and upon ail sides a wilderness rolfe and falls to the far horizon. Westerly of the mount. Tavy river, new come from her cradle in the footstool of " the. tor. winds onward in loops and rib- ■ bons of silver. u> great cleaves beneath Z the heights of Hare Tor. Nat Tor. and * Ger Tor, while northerly beyond many an '. undulation of shaggy heath, deep bog and broken clitter. tower the topmost peaks of Dartmoor, where Yes Tor and High Willhares ascend against the sky. Ridge upon ridge of lofty, but featureless, downs hem Fur Tor to the east, and nearest among them heaves up the huge hogged back of Cut Hill: while south of •west. Great Mis Tor. the Staples and Cocks ascend, like dim clouds above the level purple of the land. The autumnal day was one of great - stillness and peace, yet a threat of storm '.. hung heavy in the upper air and hinted

1; of possible changes. Wide wings of gen- " tie light winnowed the clouds, and sometimes the mild October sunshine broke through them and set leagues of the waste bnrnLng under the glow of the dead eagle fern. Here the light flung brightness orer some great hill; here it seemed to centre upon a glimmering bog until "■ the emerald and golden sphagna sparkled ■~ like a jewel in the midst of the dun, ~ sere spaces; here it touched twin streams. T. that leapt together afar off in a deep "X, combe and laced the purple shadows of _ the valley with threads of silver. ~ Round about Fur Tor the earth was •■" rent and scarred by storms, and the peat • lying fifteen feet thick upon tbe granite • bosom of the land, had been torn and *. flfsured to its core and swept by the torj; Tents of centuries. For here was the "J** playground of thunder storms, the faini- "~ liar target of the lightning. To-day. however, siareely a humble bee !i murmured in the last flowers of the Z furze. Peace bi >oded for a season under *' the threat of change; a bloom, greyer - than blue, —bluer than grey, wrapped the ■ hills and enfolded all things, save where, near at hand, the shattered stone the fern and heather wrought a wide and rich mosaic on which the light fell magically and the shadows, by their contrast, heightened its fleeting splendour. And here, with his back to Fur Tor and 'lis face towards the glens of Tavy. lay John Coole, with a little spy-glass to his eye. Behind him fell a gully whose bottom was soft peat, and close at hand, en * the grassy plateau of the tor, stood his * pony, tethered to a stone. ■ The far—er had come to spy and to do more than spy. His plan of action was matured; arid he designed that guile should take the place of force in his sin-gle-handed effort to win SaraAi Rowland. That danger as great attend id the one, method as the other, he recognised, ior the Gemini were as unapproachable as the constellation of that name. But the man's life posseseed no very abundant charm for him at this season. He was ; lonely and had no near relations: he huh- ; gered for change; he longed with great * longing to win Sarah, nor coveted further existence if he failed. There had come to him remarkable I news on the fingers of the King of Wallers, for Drake Dicker, working far off for a farmer in Tavy Valley, had made a discovery. The folk who employed him at a remote homestead known as Rattlebrook under Tavy Cleave, had forgotten the extent, of Dicker's a—ietions aad ap"pareirtly guessed, because he was deaf and dumb, that his eyes were also dim and his intellect clouded. But this was far from being the case, and it happened that Drake, labouring at his task of rebuilding a dry wall between Farmer Bayldon's croft and the river, peeped into a. byre at the end of the croft and saw « tharein a sight very unexpected. Two I horses stood there and sunlight through a knot hole flashed like a flame of fire on ; the red coat of one. There was diffused " light within and that showed Drake Dicker more. Clear of the horses, in the next stall, lay a man fast asleep on a bed of fresh fern. He was small trim, and powerfully built, but his limbs were J related in slumber and his face could not ' be seen. His hair was the colour of the ■ dry fern on which it rested. Dicker, who * had heard all about the adventure of « Grandfather Rowland and his grandt daughter, perceived in an instant that he J had lighted on the eyrie of the Twins. J Praying only that no eye had marked his J prying, he hastened down to the river * bed. whence came the great stones with which he worked, and waited awhile with tremulous suspense to 6ee if he was found out. But none paid any heed to him; he proceeded with his work and when presently, tramping back to the wall with a granite boulder between his shoulders, he ; passed near the byre, the man for whom he worked waved to him, attracted his * attention, and explained anon by signs that he must seek his stone at another part of the river. He obeyed, returned ■. to lierripit by way of Cut Hill on his •". pony when the day's work was done, and * duly appeared on the following morning J to continue it. J He had learnt a fact of infinite import- * ance: that the suspected succour of the highwaymen was real and that in the harsh depth of Dartmoor they had found friends and a den unguessed, whither they vanished by day, won their rest and ; food, stored their booty and hid in a * safety that had been absolute until now. J -loan Coole, the wiser for Drake's great j discovery, now sought to focus Rattlebrook from a distance of three miles. The ; farm stood like a grey stone nigh Tavy. I and might be distinguished by the naked ; eye that knew it; but John's spy-glass ; told him little and did not serve to bring - P— ttlebrook near enough to help his scru° tiny Go nearer he dared not till dusk might conceal him. His purpose was not . to alarm the Twins, but to meet them in ; J—ch a manner that no instant ill mus* : overtake himself. He desired their friend- - f—rp, and his native instincts of subtlety - j—ders—nding, and a certain power of

concealing the truth about himself, while learning the truth of others, inspired him to this method of attack. Its dangers were not hidden from him, but he was in a mood most likely to escape them; for he did not fear them and trusted his own peculiar genius to find a -way, given the opportunity. And now the opportunity came—like a thunderbolt in the moment when he was the least prepared: it confronted him suddenly; while he dreamed of no such tremendous challenge. A soft thud of hoofs in the peat gully behind him attracted his attention, and thinking a drove of ponies might be passing that way. he turned, to see two mounted men not 50yds off. It was typical of Coole that he turned again at once, lolled over at full length in his former attitude, and, having scanned the riders, paid them no further attention. But the moments that intervened before their arrival were not wasted. He dropped his little telescope over the ledge on which he was lying, and it vanished in the heath below. He would have done the same with his watch and chain, but there was no time for that. "Stand and deliver, my friend," said a voice behind him, and he stood up to confront the Twins. -You'll gain little enough by mc," he said, assuming a hang-dog look and indifferent voice. "You're the bold blackguards that be driving Dartmoor silly, no doubt. Krisshawks they call 'c—fore —for my part you look more like a brace o'cock-spar-rows." Charline Spring laughed. ' "Fork out. and don't be rude to your betters, bumpkin." he said, but still John stared contemptuously. 'Here's my watch and chain—little •rood they'll do you. If you'll take what 1 want to lose, 'twill be my life." "Ah! that's why you're so saucy," said Crabb. "You can take that for yourself if you've got the pluck and are at odds with the world." "I was thinking on it. Maybe 'twould have been done in a minute if you hadn't come along. Just a jump over here, and 'good-bye all.' " "We've put a brave chap or two out of the world." said Charlie, "and now you tell us we've kept one in it." "No brave chap neither," added his brother. "No brave chap cuts his own threat, unless the game's up." "Yerv well for men like you, that have carved your name on the foot of the gallows-trees and made the country quake—men as will be handed down to fame for ever more, like that there French Borrey, who ain't no bigger than you, by all accounts. But how be a poor chap like mc to hit back ? 'Tis beyond my power, I tell you. I ain't got a boss like that —never seed such hosses for that matter—and I ain't got the skill and nerve and cunning of the devil. You mean can make the world bend to you; but I can't; so I want to get out of it, and the sooner the better." "Let's see you jump over the. bluff, then. There's a lot of hungry carrion crows ready for you." "Shoot mc!" said Coole. "You've killed many a...*_u*ea because they come between you and whatyou'meant to have. You've —lied for need, now kill for kindness. I want to be out of it, I tell you." j "Why should we waste a charge on such trash?" said Charlie. Then he pulled a pistol out of his holster and played with it. The other highwayman was studying Coole intently. Both wore their masks. "You're not the sort to whine like this if there's anything in a face," he said. "Let's hear what's hit you so hard. A woman or a man ?"

'"Both," answered Coole. ''A man has taken my woman from mc. He's rich, I'm poor; he's strong, I'm weak. He broke my head and trampled mc in the dust. There's no power in mc to be evens with him." "I guess you're lying." said Crabb '•"Why should I lie ? What do I care for you, or your brother there 1 Men in my case ban ; t frightened of highway robbers, whatever else they may fear. You ask for my story, and I offer it. If you don't believe it, what's that to mc?" "Shut up. Crabb," said the other. "Let the man talk." But Coole was sulky. "What the hell do I care for either of you' My wrongs be known far and near, I can tell you, and if you were to make friends t'other sideo' the moor, you d soon hear about em." " What then?" asked Charlie. " Then don't call mc a liar no more— either of 'c. I may be a dead man in. a minute, and you may shoot mc where I stand, and no harm done: but I wont die with a fie on my head, whatever else __x be on it. There's a man where 1 come from that be going to sloak my girl away from mc. He's one of the ranting, roaring sort, and rich." "How rich?" . •• Vought to you. perhaps, but richest man on Dartym'oor for all that. Sheffield plate galore, and fine snuff-boxes, and a pair of silver cannel-snuffers. and a great solid silver cup—the Wrestling Championship of the West Country*' "He's a sportsman, then?" " Twas his father, not him, that won the cup. He can only bully the weak; the strong han't feared of him." "Show you ain't then. If he's beat you get back on the rogue." "I wish I could. I'd steal his goods to-morrow, but I doan't "know how to set about it. I'd revenge myself with my life—l'd use it that way—tat _there —I've no courage —else I'd kill him instead of myself. If you could put some of your devil into mc, so as I could go afore that man and make him yowl for mercy. I'd lead you against him and show* you how to "take every stiver he's gotten." Much facial action, much affected despondence and reckless gesture accompanied these speeches. " There's a price on your heads." added Coole. " I seed it stuck up to Moreton. Two hundred guineas will the man have who takes you fellows, dead or alive: but the man that pays off my score against my enemy will have the worth of a thousand peunds and maybe —ore. I never thought of that till I met you rascals. If I had, I'd have hunted you out or others like you." " We're not the sort that's found for searching," said Charles. " Devil doubt you," answered the farmer. "You be like the lightning, that strikes where none count to feel it; like the snake that's round your ankle, just when you've forgot there be such things. And I wish to God you'd strike that man and let mc see you do it. I'd die laughing then; and then the cat as throwed mc over for his money should have neither of us." "You're a funny fool," declared Crabb Spring. "You'd think to take us arm in arm and lead us to your foe and say,

' Lay on to Mm, while I listen to iris musicj and When you've done, here's his ' money-box and his fal-lals!'" "Little enough fun for him. "Ve3, I'd do that; a-nd you could lay —c out after." '• You hurt mc, daddy-long-legs," declared Charlie. " 'Pon honour one would think our business in life was to bore holes through honest men. None has lost his life through any wanton act of mine, and Crabb —tender wretch —he'd rather lc-e his dinner than shoot a man - —wouldn't you, Crabb?" " Depends on the dinner," continued the other. " And if we stand here till night's down, ours may be cold. This chap has seen too much and heard too much now. He wants to die—then let him." " As to killing," continued Coole, addressing Charlie, " I don't ask you to kill him. I only ask you to put the fear of God ani the terror of death into him, to take his treasures and snow him what he don't know yet —that he's a cussed coward. You don't do nought for fun; but if you did that, you'd have as much pelf as your bosses could carry, and staff worth the carrying. I only offer it. Ti,s no matter to mc if you don't take the offer; but I'd die easier if I'd seen that man in your hands for five minutes." "If he's rich he'll have rdentv to halp him guard his treasures." " 111 tell you nought-take it or leave It—Shoot mc or trust mc. 1 care not a rus-h For that matter you needn't trust mc, neither. Your wits will soon learn you how you can find out. without hurt to yourselves, whether I'm telling true or not." The highwayman considered and rode fifty yards away, while Coole, displaying no fear, strolled to his pon v. They knew escape was impossible for him, even if he attempted it on that small steed, and only troubled to keep him in sight while they talked between themselves. His life hung on a hair for five minutes. Crabh ■Spring desired to shoot him, put him out OI his misery and forget him. ( "It needn't even be found out.'' he said, for we've only got to scrape a hole in this soft peat and thrust him in. Tisn't once in a monVh of Sundays mortal man climbs here, ani he'll be forgot in a week, like any other frtendless thing." But Charles haa more imagination. "I believe him • at any rate I think we might carry it further. If I smelled danger in the ma n I'd say so; but there can be none, since he must do as we bid him and we need not do as he bids us." They considered this a little longer, then returned to Coole. It was Charles Spring who spoke. ''Come you here again on Friday next at ten o'clock. There's a moon to bliow the way, and if you break your neck no matter. At ten, seek the rock on which you're standing now, and lift the stone you'll find upon it. And mind, before all else, that ns you cannot harm, even if you wanted to." " Tis so—l know it—no more can you harm mc; but you can harm my enemy and reap good out of it yourselves. I don't ax you to trust me—like enough you don't believe mc neither. But I _ in your hands." "Here's your watch, then,",said Charbs returning' it, "'tis worthless but may serve you to keep the time on Friday. Be at this place at ten o'clock, and" come alone. If there's man or mouse with you or any other thing tfian your horse, you'll find nought but death." "I'll do as you bid mc," answered John. "And now „we'll see you off," said Crabb. "Get on your pony and away!" The twilight thickened and above the sinking sun a great, fiery pageant of scarlet and rose splashed with flakes and fingers of purple spread upon the sky. Without more words Coole set out. He descended to the springs of the river; then climbed up the great shoulder of Cut Hill and rode along the crest awhile before sinking down into the upper valley oi East Dart. Once or twice he turned U\> head without stopping and marked that the Twins still stood motionless where he had left them. To guess the direction that they designed to take wag, however, easy enough, for he knew what they little imagined—their hiding-place. But that knowledge Coole kept to himself. He went his way now not over-much elated, for the scene with the highwaymen had elements of the unreal as well us the real in it. His soul was dark, because he began to believe that Sarah Rowland's attitude could not come to good, and that a maiden who thus gave her heart indifferently, as a prize between two men, could have but little heart to give either. His own love suffered no abatement, but he began to fear loss in the vital quarter and knew that Sarah, whatever she might say, had not resented Copleston's assault. He felt almost as reckless as he had pretended to feel. He had planned an elaborate line of action, which embraced far more than a revenge on Copleston; but he knew that he was playing with his life. His dual problem was to pay Copleston in full and to capture the Gemini. He saw a way; but it was tortuous, and at any moment he might get his own quietus before the game was w6n. Yet he cared little now. Already the salt was gone from the adventure. He decided to approach Sarah and struggle for a closer understanding. Sines his quarrel with Copleston the situation had become unreal and he wanted either to impart a great measure of reality to it, or retire from it once for all. But well he knew that in reach of heT hand and in sight of her eye, he must succumb to her will, though even while he admitted the fact, he wondered how far his passion would take him. He looked ahead, not backward: he considered the future and forgot that he had already risked his life in the past. His life indeed, seemed a small consideration still when regarded apart from hers. (To be Continued.)