QUEENIE'S ADVENTURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7202, 13 September 1901, Page 4

QUEENIE'S ADVENTURE.

% (By EVERETT-GREEN.) -y&Kbof of "Sir. Reginald's Word."' "Miss iv^Earjorie of Silvermead," " Odeyne's \ v " A Clerk of Oxford," - ; - L Etc., Etc. ; -y. % Queenie's tenth birthday, and she ihad 4>oaen for her especial treat a solitary tide mo Bryanmouth, Avith her two faithful bloodhounds, Bruce and Wallace, in atto pay "sundry visits to humble friandsby the way, and to spend the whole j>r. at any rate a part ; of her god-mother's fiyerpound note, just exactly as she pleased ! "' Queenie had 1 ridden, 'her Exmoor pony from earliest childhood. She knew every inch ol the road. She had traversed it and ihe. moorland short cuts a thousand times, * and. the dogs were absolutely faithful as guards. • Nobody was the least anxious about the little maiden, or grudged her her pleasure. Everybody knew hen and her Companions, and though she had never be- ■ (fore ridden into the town alone, it only •mused her parents when she asserted her independence by declaring her wish to do co. Heu father called her his "little New Woman," laughing heartily the while, and tier mother only stipulated that When she {put up her pony she should do so at the '(Royal Hotel," where she was known, by everybody, and Tidier* she would be kindly looked after if she wanted any refreshment mhsa .her shopping was done. : And so Queenie was iv high feather, -one •was always living in a dreamland of her own. $ho was always playing imaginary wanes, -wherein she enacted the part of {heroine to* quite a crowd of bold knights, gay cavaliers, or hapless captives -and slaves, -whom she befriended and released, someiiines at risk of her own life. But when ehe rode in company, and was in the midst of the- most exciting scenes, some cheery question' fr,om her father, or his laughing exclamation, "A penny for your thoughts, Jittle daughter," would send the shattered dream flying, and Queenie began to fear that the presence of grownf-ups was fatal to the ■development of a real adventure. And "this was one reason why she always looked forward to the time when she should : be old enough to ride all over the wild moorland alone. 'Sha-^as in. the middle of a delightful imaginary adventure. She Shad done very valiantly, bit was in sore peril of her life et the hands of bloodthirsty foes ; yet she just ibegan to hear in the distance the Ufaunider of the approaching true knight, •who, on his milk-white steed, was gallopfeig with frantio hast* to her rescue. ■ She was giving herself up heart and soul to, the' delirous excitement of 'the supreme moment when, he would clasp her in his arms, and -with one sweep of his shining blade clear- a path for them through the ranks ©f their howling and raging foes, when she was startled to the realities of life by the «idder> and fierce baying of the two big bloodhounds ; and tfhe next moment a cry rang out— a real human cry of startled (horror and despair, and there was something so searching and piercing in its note, that Queenie turned suddenly cold and chill irith excitement. ' "Come back, dogs! Come back!" she cried, setting her pony's head straight "to•jrards the little hollow whence all th& noise proceeded. " How dare you frighten anybody ! 'Come back, or I'll wtfiip you both." She knew that people were often frightenedf«Dt sight of her two huge playmates, hut she also knew that she had them under absolute control. In a second they had drawn back from whatever it was at which libey were snuffing, and in an instant up sprang' a man — a gaunt, haggard' man, dressed in the oddest clothes, but- looking co fearfully wan and ill and wretched that Queenie's heart went out to him at onoe, for the. sight of suffering always moved her to a passion of pity. • "'Pon't be frightened, poor man," she fcaid gewtjy, "'I won't let anybody hurt you. .The dogs were only surprised to find you lying there so well hidden." "I thought they haid' tracked me down'!" gasped the man, " I 'though* it was all over■wr&n me. I was not a coward 1 always, my little lady, but to be torn to pieces by tbofe brutes — !" :': He shuddered, and passed his hands across J)is sunken eyes. Into Queenie's there ihad leapt a sudden eager light. y "Oh, main," . she cried, with bated ireath^JVre you a fugitive?" - "A 'fugitive indeed, hopeless almost, ab my last gasp. I thought when I lay down an that hollow at dawn that I should, mever find strength to rise again !" "Are you hungry?" asked l the child eagerly, ais she opened' <the basket that was fastened to her saddle. An almost wolfish steam sprang into .the man's eyes as she Sanded M™> out a* .great packet of homemade plum buns. She gazed at him in a species of fascination as he lell upon them. Be must certainly he a real starving fugitive, for never had buns disappeared in fluch a fashion before. Even Bruce and Wallace could not have made shorter work of them. She plunged into her basket for a second; packet, and! handed ib to him, saying : "I am so glad: that I brought them. They ■were for some children in the cottages over the moor, but they must wait for another day. lam so glad I met you. 1 have co wanted! to see a real fugitive, and to help one. I am- so glad I came this' way, and that nobody else is with ane. Things always happen! nicest when one is alone. When you have done ea'bing you shall tell me where you want to go, ftno* I will help you. I have a sort of vow always to ihelp and succour the distressed. Mamma said I might moke it, and she gives me things to taike to people who are , poor and: in want ; but I never had a fugitive to help before. Are your wicked enemies pursuing you, do you think?" He shuddered a little. He was eating hungrily still, but not with that first ravenous eagerness. His face looked just a lifctle less haggard and ghastly. Queenie began to see thaib there was something attractive in that face, and when he spoke 6he knew by his voice that he wag not a common man. He spoke like the people she was accustomed to associate with ; nob like the peasants or fisher folk of moor and seaport. She wondered why he Avore eueh very queer clothes, and why they Avere covered with marks rather like an arroAv. "They are certainly pursuing, but I think I have shaken them off for aAvhile at least. When I was a boy I knew «A-ery inch of the moor. I use to play ab escaped con — escaping fugitives Avitih my brother." He stopped ,short, and another shudder shook him from head to foot. . " I could get to Bryanmouth noAV and slink on board some outgoing vessel if ib Avere Pot for these accursed clothes." "Oh, I know!" cried Queenie. "It's a galley-slave's dress, and they might knoAv you by it and betray you. But if you had some other clothes— if I vrere, to bring you a fisherman's suit and one of 'those funny hats, would you be able to get away then?" He seemed to stagger as he stood, and Steadied himself by putting a hand upon . the pony's neck. "Child, child, do you mean it?" he cried. " Ato you a human child, or a dream phantom come to mock me. Or are you ono Of God's angels come doAvn from Heaven to succour the oppressed and distressed?" .Queepie's face: was wreathed in smiles. This fugitive was delightful. He said just jthe right sort.of tjhiings, and he played up 8o splendidly ; J "yet"undsrlying all the illusions with which she surrounded the situation, was a stirring sense of conviction that at was all desperate reality to him, and that ihere was.-'her chance of doing something which ,wdJB not a make-believe act ofchai'ity, but might be the saving of a fellow-cicatuvo from deaitth — or worse. "I am only a little girl," she answered, "but there is my vow; and, besides, I like, you, aaid you are one of the prisoners and captives avb ahvays pray for in church, and so I know God avouM like me to help ' you. And I can to-day, because it is my forbhday. I have a. whole five-pound note "to spend. I shaJL^o and get you some clotlvea "first of v '«ll, and then, Avhem you are quite properly disguised in them, you shalFihov© all the rest of the money to put in ytiur pocket, and you can get away in one of the coaling boats' or fishing -smacks i and , your enemies will never find you."- j

He ha.fl taken her hand between his and I carried it to his lips. They felt cold to her I warm skin, and she felt that they quiver- J cd. His voice, too, shook, as he exclaimed: "Child, child, you are indeed an angei — a messenger from God. See ! Ido not fear to take that norn? upon my lips, and here I swear to you by His Holy Name that I am an innocent- man, condemned for the sin of > another, and that if you help me to escape ; tbat fate worse than death winch they have doomed me to, you help one who has been unjustly condemned, although he had no power to prove himself the victim of some evil plot. Can you believe that, my little deliverer?" She looked into his eyes ; they wsre very blue, and very, very sad, but they met hers fearlessly and fully, and for 81 moment lost that hunted look they had worn till 'now. She put oub her little hand frankly and fearlessly, and answered : "I believe you, man; and I will help you. They shall not get ycu away again. if I ca>n' help it. Come with me, arid I will . show you such a. hiding-place. The dogs j found it, and nobody else knows it, Bruce i shall stay ■with you and guard you, so that you can sleep in peace. He won't Ist a mouse come near if I tell him to watch. There is a. beautiful spring of water, and I i have another packet of buns, a.nd you enn ; > rest and eat and drink whilst. lam gone ; | j and then when you are dressed in the saili ors clothes and' have some money in your pocket, you can escape quite n>:cely." She showed him the way to the hidingplace; and, indeed, without her aid, he could never have found the cunningly hid- - den burrow in. a dip of the Tolling down, through which. a> little brook ran. itrickling : and gurgling. The exhausted fugitive sank down upon, the bed of dried' leaves almost overcome with the revulsion of his feelings, and Qusenie, after having made all possible j arrangements for his comfort, and set Bruce on guard, mounted her pony once again by the help of the other hound's broad back, amd cantered merrily towards the town, her mind so full of thoughts and her brain, in such a whirl of excitomenS that she had to pull herself together as she neared' inhabited districts, lest people should guess something of the wonderful secret sh© carried about with her. "He is such a nice fugitive/ she whispered to herself. "He says just exactly the right things ; and I'm quite, quite sure he is iniiiocent. I could see it in his tyes ; and it was nice of him to tell me, because it makes it all so. much ni'ore romantic. 1 believe I would have helped him even, if he had been naughty. I am often naughty myself, and it must be so dreadful to be shut up always in a- dark dungeon, and to; ; have chains on one's feet, and perhaps b^| starved and beaten. Oh, I know I should .. be a fugitive if I could. I am so glad the dogs found him. If I can or.ly get him a disguise, and he gets safely away, I shall be' so- happy. It is a real birthday adventure!" * Queenie put Tip her pony at the hotel, and walked gravely about the town maMng her purchases. The little lady from the big house five miles away was very well known, and her purchase of a man's- sailor suit, with instructions (taken "last thing from the togitiv© himself) about the size and length of the garments, excited no surprise. Queenie was pleased and surprised at the low price of the garments, and thought how nice the fugitive would look in the blue guernsey with its red anchor, and the wide trousers and strong sea boots. She got him «a woollen. Tam-o'-Shanter cap, as well. as the sou-wester with its waterproof curtain, and after 'having ordered all these things to be sent at once to the hotel, she went another little prowl about some most attractive shops by the whairf, and bought 'a big clasp knife, -two cr three large handkerchiefs with startling designs upon them, a flannel shirt, a woollen comforter and a. ,big wallet,- which, she presently filled with bread, and meat and an apple pasty, and a flask containing some whisky.. These treasures she insisted on carrying herself, and arrived .at the hotel flushed and radiant, with two' sovereigns and quite a lot of silver still in her pocket. It was a little tiresome that the kindly people were so anxious to be allowed 1 to send at least the larger parcels home by the carrier's cart for her, but Queenie was used to getting her own way, and* she was- not to be persuaded, i • " I want to take them and give them as I go home. .They are presents," she exclaimed; and when it appeared that Wallace was willing to have a bale) strapped upon his broad back, the difficulties of transport vanished. Queenie stuffed her saddle basket as full as it would hold, tied the sou-wester to it, with the shirt and the comforter inside, and the larger parcel was , entrusted to Wallace, who had played a i part in too many games of desert islands ', and hair-breadth escapes of all kinds, to reBent being turned into a beast of burden at his little mistress's wish. The September sun was westering when ; Queenie rode down into the hollow where ; was the fugitive's hiding-place, and summoned Bruce by a soft call. He came springing out, and on giving the preconcerted signal, she was rewarded by seeing the fugitive looking oautiously - forth from the almost invisible opening of his lair. . " It. jx; all safe ! I have bought everything you asked for, and a few more things, that I thought of my own self .' l've read about so many escapes that I think Iknow what people want." % ' iiS *" The fugitive came slowly forth. Bfemust have spent part of his time ha.vinjs, a good wash, Queenie decided, for he looked so much cleaner and fresher in every, way, and he confessed that he had had a long, sound sleep after she left him, and' felt " like a giant refreshed." She gave him all the things, and then said, smiling confidingly : "I want to stay till you are dressed, and see what you look like ; and whether anybody would know you again. I hope you will like what I have chosen. I told \ the. man exactly what you said about the size they were to be." So Queenie waited about, looking at the shining of the sun over the ' distant sea, and the long, long shadows that played ever the moor. She made up her mind to ride home very fast when once she had seen her fugitive safely started, and wondered whether she had better tell them at home of her adventure, or whether sho ' should keep it quite a .secret. I Her 3asfc purchase after her lunch, had been a sheet of notepape-r, an envelope and a stamp, and she had written her own name arid address upon the envelope in her clear round hand. She took this out of her pocket and Avas gazing at it, when she suddenly gave a little jump, because the fugitive had come springing out-— and oh, what a different fugitive he was! His eyes were bright; his step was free and elastic ; the hunted look had almost passed out of his eyes. He- looked like a handsome young fisherman in a new suit j of working' clothes, and she fairly clapped her hands at; sight of him. "Oh, you do look nice! But 'how different it makfcs you! I don't think anybody would take you for a fugitive now!" "I must not forget that I am one, i though, my little preserver," he paid, with a look of" seriousness passing across his smiling face, "I .shall be watched fcr, I expect. But the- dusk will soon be, here,

and at least I have now a splendid chance ! [ rit-cd not ."link about out of sight of every S man— a marked and hunted fugitive. With • ordinary caution and care I ought now to I contrive, to elude pursuit. .Thank Heaven, 1 can talk broad Devonshire with any man. And I can pull an oar, and «i!-l and steer with the best rf them. I was not brought !up on the weft coast for nothing! Oh, i I ought to make good my escape now. ! And for you, my child, my little guardian angel, what can I say to you? How can I thank you?" She looked into his face, smiihng shyly and happily. She had not. felt shy of him when he was a 'hunted : °fugitivfc. 'but- now -that he looked so brave -and -handsome and strong she felt a little childish timidity. : They seemed in one way such friends, and. in another such stranger?! " Oh, I don't want-to be thanked. I nan so very, very pleased about- it! It has been a beautiful birthday adventure ; i and I have so wanted to have a real adI venture all by myself, with nobody to say j ' don't ' to any thing. If there had been 1 grown-ups here to-day, perhaps they would i have sa.id ' Don't,' and spoilt everything." | " I think that highly probable-," said the ! fugitive, grimly ; and theft 'his face soft- | ened. and" he took her hands in his, and gazed down with a, v ery strange expression j into her ' earnest, upturned face.

I "But, little one, do not be too much afraid of the grown-ups and their ' don't.* Perhaps if I- had had that word spoken more to me in my youth it would , have been better. Godwin Heaven knows that I am innocent of what' they laM to my charge, and what brought me into the hands of the. law ; but perhaps had I been less reckless and wild in my youth, there would have been more to believe and stand '■' by me when this came upon me, and things jl would not have appeared so black against ..me. There is much to be raid on. the side of those who say 'don't' to us in our youth." . '"■'''. , , , Qu«enie partly understood ; and she would understand mere as she grew older and thought about it. But she was there had been nobody to say " Don't " to•^Here is a purse with the rest of the money," she said after a little pause. "Oh, please you must take it— ydu really must. I shall be so unhappy if you don-t. . Indeed, it's my birthday money, and 1 said to- mother when I got it— indeed I did— T don't anything more myself— look at all my presents, mummy. I shall try and make people happy with this. Truly I did. And so you must please have ]* to get away with. Fugitives always find money useful. Indeed, I know a good deal about it— more than you do, perhaps; and please you must!" He took her hands, purse and all, and carried them to his lips ; and she herself slipped' the pur?e into, one of his pockets, he making no further resistance. " And now I must really go home," she ; said ; " but please will you write to me to • say -when you get eaiely away ? At least you need not write,- if that perhaps might be dangerous, but please post this blank: shte: of paper when you are quite, quite safe'; and when I get it I shall say to myself, 'My fugitive has -got safe away over the seas.' Will you promise, please?" He took the paper, folded it carefully a-nd thrust it into his pocket. "I promise J" he said', a littlfe huskily. v The sun's rhn. was almost touching the horizon line as he lifted the child upon, her pony and put her lifctle foot in the stirrup. "G-od bless a-nd keep you always, my child'," he said, in a very low voice, "and may you never lack a iriend in need should any trouble or affliction- fall upon your, fair head in life's journey — which God forbid !" She looked up into his iace, and she was certain that there were tears in, his eyes. Sh« held up her rosy lips with perfect simplicity and sweetness. "Good-bye, dear fugitive : I shall ask God every day to -take care of you and fcdp you "to get away quite safely, and to make you always a good man." j He bent 'his head as' a man, who worships, and kissed' her on the mouth. " And I will pray to Him again, m faith, ; for myself and for one "who has comei to me as "an ahg«l from Him, and has brought back to me the faith in Him which. I cad well-nigh lost." } She rode away in the soft glow of the sinking gun, waving her hand at intervals till the ridge of tne moor shut him out from view. ' Then setting her pony at a gallop she rode merrily home, to find her mother on the look-out for her, just begin- ' ning to be anxious to get her darling safe back. " I have had a lovely day, mummy darling, and have spent' all my money, and yenv yen v en all the things away. Some day 111 tell you every word about it ; but I want it to be/a secret for. a little while." And as Queenie was famous for her little secrets and mysteries, nobody was astonished at her reticence as to her day's proceedings. She looked too happy and blooming for any_ anxiety to be raised.. Three days later the little onslaught a scrap of conversation between her. parents. "He seems to have got clean away. There has been, no capture. Well, poor fellow, I feel almost relieved myself. I remember reading the case Trhen it came on,; I used to know some of the Eastcourts in my youth, and it was that family. I know the forgery was not proved completely to the Fatisfaotion of the public, but the lad had been wild and reckless, and it went against him. I often think that the doom of a convict must be almost worse than death — except for the hope of release, j I suppose if taken 3ie -would have had a j worse time of it ; but they seem to think he has got clean off? ai >d' he will know better than to fall into 'the hands of the law again." Queenie, behind the curtain, listened with bated breath and a beating heart. Werethey indeed speaking of her fugitive? She spoke not a word, and slipped away ; but fihe hugged her conviction that so it was, and that her parents were glad ho hacl escaped. It was about a fortnight la,ter when sh© received her envelope, and though she knew it was hers by the writing it had such a, funny stamp upon it, not a bit like hers, and her father as he gave it to her asked, smilingly, "Why, whatever, little friend Jiave you writing from Las Palinas?"' "Where is Las Palmas?" asked Queenie, with a rosy face and a beating heart. " It is the Grand Canary ; an- island belonging to Spain. I was once there a few horn's coming from the Cape. Bub who can be writing it© you from there ?" "It isn't a letter," m said Queenie. as sha opened it and saw her blank sheet of paper inside, "it's only from a man who sailed! from Bryanmouth on my birthday. 1 ga.ve fhim some things for his outfit, «nd he was to post this letter when he had got away sa f e — got there safe, I mean." Her parents looked at- her and at each other. Ib was on Queenie's birthday that the papers had notified the escape of a convict from Dartmoor, during « heavy fog the previous day. Her mother drew her towards lier and said : " Tell us all about it, darling. We shall not scold you." And so Queenie told all the story of her birthday adventure with the fugitive, her parents listening with an excitement almost prjual to her own. When she had gone to her nureery her* j father leaned back in his chair* and ibis

gravity

gavo way to a ringing peal of

laughter. " The New Woman ! the New Woman ! To 'think that the. first time the child should <ro to any distance alone she should contvive" and carry through am adventure like 'that ! What are our daughter* coming But the mother smiled tenderly as she replied : " Nothing very new about it, I think, my dear, but only as old as some old, old words, 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy !' " On Queenie's next, birthday, in addition to her other presents she received a wonderful pendant of Spamish topaz set in ancient silver — a treasure that made her mother's eyes sparkle. There- was nothing to denote, who had been the sender, save a few words pencilled on a sheet of blank paper: — "In. token- of an everlasting gratitude."

" It is from my. fugitive," said Queenie ; and she looked at her treasure with sparkling eyes. " Now I know that he is safe, and that they did not catch him." And^ later on she confided to her dogs : "You dear creatures, you deserve to have a birthday present yourselves, for it was you Avho found him, and you helped me all the way through. But anyhow we did haive a real adventure, and though I've promised not to do things like that again without telling somebotfy grown up, I shall always be very, very glad about it, and that our fugitive did get safe away!"