TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6467, 22 April 1899, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

. PURSUED BY THE LAW. 1 (By J. MACLAREN COBBAN.) (Author of "The Red Sultan," "The Avenger of Blood," " Wilt Thou Save This ' Woman?" "Her Royal Highnoss's 1 Love Affair," " The Tyrants of KoolSim," " The White Kaid of the Atlas," "The Burden of Isabel," etc., etc. [All Rights Reserved.] CHAPTER XXVHI. A WAYSIDE INN. Townshend had little more than pointed out to Graham the danger in -which they : were when a turn of the road hid the two {vehicles from each other, and brought the first almost alongside of an old countryman carrying a considerable sack of something on Ills bock. " Whoa !" called Townshend \o the driver. ,Then, as the vehicle drew up, he addressed the countryman. "Old friend, you have a heavy pack. Would you like a lift to BaJa? Jump up then. Set your sack on the front seat and come up here beside nte ; you can put your arm round and keep it in its place. Ah, I see we shall bo too heavy for you now, driver. Never mind, my friend and I would like a bit of a walk. Here's your money. You can give me the change when we meet in Bala. Or you con have it for yourself if you get to Bala before that dog-cart ocming onjjehind.". : Though the driver was a dull, sleepy, kind of fellow a hazy look of doubt had come upon his face, which the possession of money dispelled. " Off you go," said Townshend, jumping down, followed by Graham. " It's coming." " All right, sir," said the driver; whipping up his horse. As Townshend and Graham pushed through the hedge and lay down behind it the clatter and crunch of the approaching vehicle could very plainly be heard, while that which they had left careered ahead, still presenting the appearance of carrying three people. But a new danger suddenly broke upon the senses of the two lying hid by the hedge. Those who know North Wales do not need to be told that the field into which they had penetrated contained a bull. Is there any field of pasture in Wales that does not have its bull? The bull of that field, a small, black, watchful beast, had noticed their invasion of his territory, and doubtless suspecting in his stupid, taurine brain that they had designs upon his cows, he threatened them with horrid war. He came, ■slowly and swaggeringly trampling towards them, bellowing angrily and tossing his lowered head and terrific horns. The two men looked at each other. "We can .only keep close to the hedgo nnd lie still," said Townshend, "till thati dogcart hns passed." i : They did,so; but the bull did not ; trust their pacific attitude. He still ad- j Vatced slowly, trampling the ground, and tossing his head, and breathing out threatening ahd slaughter. At length the dogoarfc whirled past, and clattered and crunched on to Bala, and disappeared. | " Now," said Townshend, " I think we ' need not tempt Mr Bull's attentions any longer." So they crept. back into the road. • And,' ainoo the hedge was low, and the bull, seeing them retreat appeared to have a more resolute mind than ever to attack them, even through the hedge, they stepped low, and scurried .along most pussilanimously out of his sight. Then they sat down, and Townshend took his tourist's map from •his pneket. ■ "We must get away from this as fast as we can," said he. "Suppose they have bevn chasing us to Bala— l say ' suopose ' ; the probability of that we can discern by »nd bye— then if they don't find us in our dog-cart, and hear of our getting out, they may turn back to this place at once. They might easily bo back here in less than an hour. So I propose we cut away across here: it's a rough and lonely region; I waked over it twenty years ago." He drew his finger westward along the trend of the Arennipr hills, which lie between Bala and the slate quarries of Duffws and Festiniog. "About twenty miles to Festiniog," said he, measuring the distance roughly on the map. "We can get there to-night. And they're not likely to suspect us of taking this route. What do you Say?" " Oh, yes," answered Graham, his head in his hands. "Anywhere! Anywhere! I am already sick— dead sick— of being hunted like this!" "It has .ita excitements," said Townshend, carelessly; "although it's not altogether beer and skittles. But we must get along. You'll enjoy the mountain walk, and to-night we'll have a talk and come to n decision." They set out to find the road which was mar'.rcd on the map along the Arennig. r Jhey blundered and stumbled in the byways, and at three o'clock in the afternoon they \vjiu still but a little wa^ from Bala (they could see Bala Lake below them), nnd Graham, who was still feeling tho effects of his four days' imprisonment and starvation, wUs very much exhausted. In that plight they came upon a little wayside ulc-holftc. " Something to eat and drink is what you chit-ily need," said Townshend. "And here's the very thing." Tho outer door was open. They entered jukl knocked at an inner one. It was opened by a comely young woman with a lrnhy on her arm. ''•Ciwi we have something to eat?" asked Towmhend, "as well as something ro drink ? " "The man," said she, with a pretty difficulty in uttering English, "is out — away,' but you come in, gentleman, please." "Thank you," sitid Townshend, "if you lave bread and cheese and beer, they will do very well." " What ? " said Graham, who was cheered with tho prospect of food. "An exquisite gentleman like you will surely find it hard to put up with bread and cheeso ? " "My dear fellow," said Townshend, "some of the most delightful meals I've ever had have consisted of bread and cheese and beer. And I agree with Thackeray: I pity the gourmet that cannot sometimes dne on bread and cheese and enjoy it. The best Bauco in tho world is the cheapest — and that is hunger; and I am hungry." They followed the hostess into ta large kitchen, which had an earthen floor, with hollows here and there and little puddles, «nd a great open fire of turf burning on the hearth. The comely hostess went to hoist «,' large piece of bacon from. a hook in the rafters, still holding her baby on one arm. " Let me take the baby," said Townshend stepping forward, and relieving her of the, child. " But why bacon ? I said bread ntid cheeso." 1 " The man," she repeated simply, smiling sweetly, "its out — away. I have hot English — much." And she got down the bacon and put it on the Uible and produced from a cupboard a great carving knife to cut it. •' Here, Graham," said Townshend, hurriedly, "take the baby. She is going in cut rashers an inch thick. Oh, thin, please —out them thin,'" he exclaimed to the lios'ess — "as thin as ever you can. May I do itV" His words may not have been understood, but his action was ; for he took, with a smile, tho great carving-knife from the woman's hand and began to operate upon the piece of bacon with great dexterity, shaving off pyij thin slices. Sho put some sticks on

the turf fire to make a blaze, set a fryingpan on it, and produced some eggs. " Ah," said Townshend, " eggs 1 I might make an omelette-^-a bacon omelette! But no 1 I won't he tempted. Though if there's one thing in the world I can do • "Besides disguise yourself," said lsraluun cheerfully, for he was feeling better — "Besides disguise myself," accepted ToWnshend, " it is make an omelette."

The woman made overtures to Graiiam, to relieve him of tho baby ; but he declared he liked nursing the baby, and kept it. And the woman stood by and smiled, and looked comely, and Townshend was busy over the fire frying the bacon and eggs; and thus they all were very friendly, the baby included. In this same mood of friendliness, when the food was cooked and tho womaioffered to carry it into another room, they said they preferred to remain in the kitchen. So they sat down to eat and drink at tho kitchen-table, and attempted to hold amiable conversation with tins Welshwoman, who knew "not English — much."

They were just finishing their meal wlian there entered two men — one old and the other young — wild barbarians Joy their fierce looks and shock heads of hair, and quarrymen, one would guess, by the kind of dust nnd dirt on their clothes. The younger man talked volubly in Welsh to the young woman-7- eyeing the travellers the while j he evidently was the " man " — the husband — of whom the young woman had mode mention. The situation became uncomfortable, and Townshend and Graham roso to depart. "What to pay?" asked Townshend. "Tc shilling," answered the man promptly. Ten shillings seemed a large suni for so humble an entertainment ; but the men looked fierce and suspicious, and the travellers desired neither delay nor quarrel.. They agreed, therefore, to pay the money. They discovered, however, that neither singly nor together did they possess sufficient change, and a five-pound note was tendered..

"No!" said the man, waving it aside. "No paper! Paper no good. Ten shilling !" '•My good man," said Towns-bend, we don't possess ten shillings in change; that" —tabling two shillings and ninepence— " is all the change we have ; and, to tell the truth, I think it is quite enough for our entertainment." "No!" persisted the man. "Ten shilling 1" "This is^ a most absurd and awkward situation!" exclaimed Townshend*. "To think that this should be happening in cur own England, and in. this so-cailed nineteenth century! Why haven't these idiots and savages been taught English? That,' 1 said he, very slowly and clearly, pointing to the money on the table, "is all — all— if you will not take paper of the Bank of England." ' . " No ! No Entrland paper ! persisted the 'man. " Ten shilling !" ! "Then we must go and leave it," said i Townshend to Graham. j At the sight of their attempting to depart the young man seized the big carving-knife, and 'flourished it threateningly, crying : "Ten shilling! Thief! Come Bala! Po- '■ lice I" while the old man took the heavy ! poker from the hearth and advanced to support his son, murmuring "Bula! Police! Ten shilling!" Whether that? meant they had been in Bala and had heard of them from the police, or merely that they invited them to go to Bala for the police to decide the matter, the situation was equally awkward and disconcerting. " No, no !" cried Townshend ; and both he and' Graham had to ward off the attacks of carving-knife and poker, while the young woman,* looked on with eyes filled with wonder, but otherwise apparently unmoved. The attack of the two Welshmen was so alarming that at last, steppng quickly back and thrusting Graham behind him witih a muttered command, "Open the door!" he drew a revolver from his pocket and cocked it. The Welshmen, at sight of the deadly weapon, fell back ; and by the door which Graham had opened he and Townshend whipped out of the kitchen, slammirtg the door after them.

But Graham had mistaken the door ; he had admitted himself and Townshend into a small back room from which there was no outlet, save by a small window, and that was heavily barred. At the same moment as they noted that, they heard ths door locked unon them. They wei-e prisoners ! " Here's a pretty fix," exclaimed Towns- . bend. " Now those savages will go to Bala and bring the police ! We must get out of this !" He produced his tobacco-pouch and set himself to roll a cigarette. " Have one?" he said to Graham. " No, thank you," said Graham, " I don't smoke." "That's a bad habit," said Townshend. Graham glanced at him. " I mean not to rmoke. Even if tobacco doesn't soothe the mind, the action of smoking does, it makes the mind pause and recover its equilibrium. It has a strong lock," said he, going to the door and trying it. " What we chiefly need is a screw-driver to take it off.' 1 They looked around the room again ; they examined the window hopelessly, and finally they returned to the door, by which seemed their, only way of escape. They listened; there was no sound in the kitchen; it seemed plain that the men were gone. Townshend had just drawn back to gather his strength for an attempt to break the door down,, when the longed-for, the necessary screwdriver was thrust under th© door, doubtless by the hand of the comely youn^ mother. ° Graham took .the tool, since he was likely to ba more expert than Townshend at its Application j and in a minute or more the lock, which was of the box kind, was off' and the door swung onen. The comely young woman was waiting for them with her baby at her breast. She put her finder on her lip in warning, and pointed to the ingle-corner, where the old man was asleep in a chair. Swiftly she led them out of the house, and was smiling an adieu, when Townshend spoke. " Wo are much obliged to you," said he ; " but we do not know the way. We wish to go to Festinioa;." "Festiniog," said she, and swiftly passed before them down the lane. She set them on the high-road ; and again they thanked her and said adieu, with the feeling that the sweet kindness of the woman sufficiently atoned for the rudeness and barbarity of the men. "I hope she will come to no harm for what she has done," said Graham. "Don't you understand?" said Townsnend. "She is quite clever enough 1 to deceive those boors. She will leave the screwdriver in the room and pretend we must have found it there." '

CHAPTER XXIX. BETWEEN THE DKVIL AND THE DEEP SEA. Spit© of their adventure, they were both w6ll refreshed, and they sped along at a Rood pace. Tho road was a good one. but unutterably bare and lonely. When they were once well upon it, there was not. even a fence, and the rude heath -land sloped up on their right, and sloped down on theiv left, clear and dry and hot, till they wore fain to , wonder what a hunted fugitive would do on such a road for he would be visible for miles, and there was not a bush or a rock by the wayside big enough to . hide a dog. Hour after hour they trudged on in the decreasing heat, and with the declining sun still glaring in their eyes, and never a house

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nor hovel did they pass, and no living creature did they encounter, save now and then a ; few wild ponies, shaggy and fearful, who trampled up to the roadside to look at them, and then scurried away in terror, the whites of their eyes gleaming over their shoulders.

It was almost dark when they came upon the first house in all that, weary road. It was at the beginning of the descent to Festiniog, and being consumed with thirst, they knocked and asked for a drink. But tho frowsy old woman who opened the door shut it again in their faces. So they tramped on, with thirst unmienched, over tho remaining mile or two to Festiniog, where at length they found civilised entertainment in one of the inns.. Like all of them it was tolerably thronged with tcuvists, and for that reason they retired early to their room, a double-bedded one again, ami there, while they still lingered with their candle and a drink, there aune from Townshend his promised account of his position. "Wo musk settle .to-night," said ' he, " what's to be done to-morrow. Let me point out to you first, to make it clear between us, that there are three courses open. The first is to follow up Miss Oiemance's clue and find the real criminal — if you can— and to do that there's no use tramping about Wale?. Here wo can't even communicate with Miss Clemance ; you must go back to civilisation." " And seek out evidence to bring my father's death home to Miss Bolsover? To tell you the truth," said Graham, " I don't half l;ke ,putting it on her and making her smart, even though that would save myself."

" Very well," said Townshend, . with remarkable alacrity. " Say you leave that alone. The next course is still to try for America. And that, I must confess, does not look a very promising business, with the Welsh police all warned, and the Three looking out for us as hard as they can." " Yes," said Graham, " I admit it looks desperate, if not hopeless. It does. I can't guess," he cried, helplessly, "how those men have got on our track." " If you could guess it wouldn't turn them off," said Townshend. "You admit the prospect of America looks almost helpless. Well, there's the third course : put your hand in mine, say 'I join with you freely and completely,' and to-morrow morning we clear out of Wales on the side that's open to us, and I promise you fortune and freedom ever after. Stay a moment, I know your objection, and I'm going to satisfy it." He paused to roll a cigarette, . and to take a sip from his tumbler ; and then he resumed with a smile. "I believe once, when you awked roe what I was, I told you that I was a Socialist "

" A Free Banker, you said you were,"' said Graham ; " but I neither had nor have the smallest idea what you mean. ' , "I always mean the same," answered i Townshend, " whatever I call myself, I may call myself a kind of modern* Robin Hood; and that wculd be as well applied as the other namas. I may call myself the Enemy of Society (with capital letters) and the Friend of the Poor and Oppressed (ako with capital letters), and these also would be as well applied as the other names." Graham listened with the sharpest attention to every word. "Do you mean," said he, "that you are a Freebooter? a Bandit? a Robber'/ That seems impossible." "On the contrary, • I am more than these," answered Townshend, rolling another cigarette. "I am the head of a devoted Society that wages war upon wealth and capital." I am their president, secretary, and to a great extent their treasurer. We conduct our operations in all civilised countries, in all civilised languages." "In plain English, Mr Townshend," said Graham, " you are the head of an international gang of robbers and thieves." "To establish the application of your plain English somo careful definition and argument is necessary. First, what is the meaning of ' rob ' ? " " Where is the use," said Graham, of going into that ? I think I understand yom position well enough. I am not blaming you: I can never forget how awfully kind you have been to me. I only wonder why you have thought I would be of any use as one of your people." "Really?" said Townshend. "Well your krtowledge di iron, and steel, and of all kinds of tools and mechanism would be of the greatest use." . *■ "1 see," said Graham. "I suppose I ought to feel flattered, but lam not. You mustn't be offended with me — please^ — but I prefer to remain what I call honest, and to try to lead the life of a respectable citizea of my country."

"My dear Graham," said 'Townshend, "I m afraid you don't understand your position ! You have no country ; and you can't be a respectable citizen ! You are an outlaw, and the hands of the law and police will clutch at you wherever they can find you, to cram you away out of sight, and to squeeze the soul and the life out of you ! You are not a citizen; in the eyes of the law you are scarcely a man ; you are only an escaped convict !•" spoke with unusual energy and fervour. Gralvam looked at him. for some moments, as if seeking to impregnate his mind witli the meaning of what he heard. He became very pale, and said, " I suppose you're right." \ " Of course I am right," said Townshend. "The wonder to me is that you should have any doubt about it. If you join me there will be no danger ; that I pledge my word. for. I cannot speak more definitely, unless I am sure of your becoming a partner. In two days from, now I would have you established in Paris, and on the way to make four or five thousand a year."

" No, Mr Townshend," said Graham, with strenuous passion. I must try to lead what I call an honest life ! I believe nothing but misery and disaster can come in the end of anything else ! " " Very well," said Townshend. He made v, depressed pause. " Then it's America you mean to turn your face to ?" "Yes," answered Graham. "Won't you come with me?" "I?" He shook his head. "No thank you. For several reasons ; one beinfj that I cannot leave the people I am bound to look after and keep going." " May 1 ask," said Graham, " how you ever began to lead your present life?" ."How I began? Ah," said Townshend, becoming again light and evasive, " that would take too Jong to tell. There is a story among my faithful friends that I am a nobleman kent out of my rights ; that I am really the heir to a marquisate. I don't beli'evo it. But now wo must settle our order of action for to-morrow."

"It's awfully good of you," said Graham. "But, really, why should you trouble any more alxnit me? Hadn't you better let me go on alone?" " Nonsense," said the other curtly. " I am going to see you through it." So the mysterious Townshend turned to the discussion of further ways and means for the escape of Graham. And this was the result of their discussion • In the early morning they would take the little railway down to Portmadoc, to see if there was a ship on the point of sailing to anywhere. If there was not they would turn away to the North and make for Holyhead, in" the hope that it, being little more than a railway port, might not be watched. In the morning, then, they swept round the mountain-side by the little railway down to the little seaport of Portmadoc. They could hear of no ship, nor even a fish-ing-lugger ready to sail, and therefore they immediately took the road to Beddgelert. They went on foot because it was still early, and they considered it unwise

to attract notice by hiring a vehicle in so primitive a place. They reached Beddgelert later than they had counted on, and by the time they had eaten something it was already afternoon. It was then, and therefore, that Townshend made a suggestion which proved to be fatal. "It occurs to me," said he, -"that instead of going on to Llanberis for. to-night we might climb Snowdon and spend the night in what is called the Siunmit . Hotel, which is really only a ramshackle hut or two. In Ccise the Three should be still on our track that's the last place where they would thing of looking for us."

The suggestion jumped completely with Graham's inclination, and they set forth to iace tihe ascent of Snowdon. The ascent of the mountain from Beddgelert is counted tho most difficult of all tho ascents, and a guide is commonly taken ; but Townshend had made the climb before without aid, though that was twenty years since, and he thought he could do it again; especially since they did nob wish to let it be known through the village that the summit was their destination that night. The climb was a risk, but tliey overcame it successfully, and by sunset they were viewing from the windy top of the mountain the desirable shore of Ireland, afar off on the horizon like a bank of cloud. Many a stream of Carnarvon County, shining in the setting sun like molten silver, had to be crossed, and many miles of Isea rolled between; 1 but there were the coast and hills of Wicklow charged with promise. They themselves were charged with thirst, and they slaked it with the bottled a'e of the Summit Hotel, which was as dear as wine. They lingered, drinking the ale on the shady and sheltered side of the Summit, and saw a cloud form .beneath them over the mountain tarn which looks so black and threatening as you ascend from Capel Curig ; and then they entered the hut, or hotel, to eat simper. Of all the visitors who had been on the mountain top when they- arrived, they alone had expressed a desire to remain to see the sun rise, and therefore they were alone at supper. The bacon and bread which were set before them did not .tempt them to linger over the meal, and in a little while th n y went to their bedroom. It was rather a closet than a room, being barely six feet square, and it was as close as an oven ; for the summer sun had been beating on it all day, ana its atmosphere still palpitated with the oppression of heat. Moreover, it had but one little latch-win-dow, scarcely big enough for a man to pass through. That they opened wide; but still, spite of the fatigue of their day's journeying and the drowsing effect of the ale and bacon, they could not sleep. They took turns to lean out of the little window, to catch a breath of cool air, and to dip into the charm of the night. They shuddered at first to discover that the" window opened tipon a sheer" cliff ; but afterwards they were interested in the rare and astonishing depth and extent of their view. It was the hour for darkness, yet it was not truly dark ; it was night, but every feature and exnression of the landscape' seemed singularly awake. Far below, they noted the lights of Beddgelert, arid nearer at hand, on the mountain side, moving lanterns; or where they Will-o'-the- Wisps? Suddenly they heard murmured voices in the outer room — that in which they had eaten supper — between which and theirs there was but a match-board partition. A round knot-hole in the partition was illuminated with light from the room without, and in quick suspicion Town.sht*id put his eye to that hole. The observation of a moment or two was enough.

"We're in a trap!" he whispered to Graham. "The Three are out there, with that shock-headed Welshman." " The Welshman," answered Graham, "must have brought them after us." But it scarcely mattered who had brought them. They were there, and in all probability knew that Graham and his aider •nd abettor were in that inner room. How were they to be escaped . from? Graham went to the little window and looked out into the abyss of vague horror in which Will-o'-the-Wisps still went to and fro. That seemed the only way. It was too horrible! And yet, he reflected, to be taken ! To be sent to toil as a convict for fifteen years ! He would- be forty years of age, and probably broken and imbecile, and without a hold on life! A thousand times to be preferred to that fate was the risk of death — of being dashed to pieces down, the precipice, which lay through the little window.

"I will not be taken P he whispered with fierce energy to Townshend, and he prepared to get through tfie window. " One moment," said Townshend, who seemed meditating. (To be concluded.)