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work that kept him clicking for an hour. We were handsomely taken in by
Warren Potter, a pioneer and an active and intelligent factor in the
business of that region, in whose tasteful home we for the first time
in a month sat down and ate in Christian fashion under a civilized
roof. Having lost a week in the farther wilderness, we decided to take
the rail to Minneapolis, that we might enjoy the beautiful river thence
to Lake Pepin, yet reach our homes within the appointed time. Half a
day was enjoyed at Brainerd, the junction of the Northern Pacific main
line with the St. Paul branch, and the most important town between Lake
Superior and the Missouri. It is beautifully built and picturesquely
scattered among the pines upon the Mississippi's eastern bank, not far
above Crow Wing River. Thence we were carried over the splendid
railway, passing the now abandoned Fort Ripley, winding along or near
to the river and across the wheat-fields, through the busy and
beautiful city of mills, below St. Anthony's roar and down the dancing
rapids to a pleasant island-camp between the green-and-gray bluffs that
bind Minneapolis to Minnehaha - the first really fine scenery this side
of Itasca's solitude. A delightful paddle under a bright morning sun
and over swift, clear water carried us to the little brook whose
laughter, three-quarters of a mile up a deep ravine, has been sent by
Longfellow rippling outward to all the world. We rounded the great
white-faced sand-rock that marks the outlet, paddled as far as we might
up the quiet stream, beached the canoes under the shade of the willows,
walked a little way up the brook, past a deserted mill, under cool
shadows of rock and wood, and enjoyed for half an hour the simple,
seductive charms of the "Laughing Water." Then we tramped back to our
boats, floated down under the old walls of Fort Snelling and between
the chalk-white cliffs which line the broadening river, until we came
in sight of St. Paul's roofs and spires, and soon were enjoying the
thoughtful care and generous hospitality of the Minnesota Boat Club.
Another day's close brought us to Red Wing, backgrounded by the green
bluffs and reddened cliffs of its bold hills. One more pull down the
now broad and islanded stream carried us to Lake Pepin, one of the
loveliest mirrors that reflects the sun, and to Frontenac's white
beach. The keels of the Fritz, the Betsy and the Hattie crunched the
sands at the end of their long journey, the boats were shunted back
upon the railway, and their weary owners were soon dozing in restful
forgetfulness upon the couches of the unsurpassed Chicago, Milwaukee
and St. Paul line.

[Illustration: END OF VOYAGE (FRONTENAC, LAKE PEPIN).]

Beyond reasonable doubt, our party is the only one that ever pushed its
way by boat up the entire course of the farther-most Mississippi.
Beyond any question, our canoes were the first wooden boats that ever
traversed those waters. Schoolcraft, in 1832, came all the way down the
upper river without portages, but he had very high water and many
helpers, in spite of which one of his birch canoes was wrecked. The
correspondent of a New York newspaper claimed the complete trip in his
canoe some five years ago, but his own guide and others told us that
his Dolly Varden never was above Brainerd, and that his portages above
were frequent. So we may well feel an honest pride in our Rushton-built
Rob Roys and our hard knocks, and may remember with pardonable
gratification that upon our own feet and keels we have penetrated the
solitudes lying around the source of the world's most remarkable river,
where no men live and where, probably, not more than two-score white
men have ever been. - A.H. SIEGFRIED.




ADAM AND EVE.



CHAPTER XXVI.


By the time Reuben May entered the little town of Looe he had come to a
decision about his movements and how he should carry out his plan of
getting back to London. Not by going with Captain Triggs, for the
monotonous inaction of a sailing voyage would now be insupportable to
him, but by walking as far as he could, and now and then, whenever it
was possible, endeavoring to get a cheap lift on the road. His first
step must therefore be to inform Triggs of his decision, and to do this
he must get back to Plymouth, a distance from Looe of some fifteen or
sixteen miles.

In going through Looe that morning he had stopped for a few minutes at
a small inn which stood not far from the beach; and having now crossed
the river which divides West from East Looe, he began looking about for
this house, intending to get some refreshments, to rest for an hour or
so, and then proceed on his journey.

Already the town-clock was striking six, and Reuben calculated that if
he started between nine and ten he should have time to take another
good rest on the road - which he had already once that day
traversed - and reach Plymouth Barbican, where the Mary Jane lay, by
daybreak.

The inn found, he ordered his meal and informed the landlady of his
intention.

"Why, do 'ee stop here till mornin', then," exclaimed the large-hearted
Cornish woman. "If 'tis the matter o' the money," she added, eying him
critically, "that's hinderin' 'ee from it, it needn't to, for I'll see
us don't have no quarrel 'bout the price o' the bed."

Reuben assured her that choice, not necessity, impelled his onward
footsteps; and, thus satisfied, she bade him "Take and lie down on the
settle there inside the bar-parlor; for," she added, "'less 'tis the
sergeant over fra Liskeard 'tain't likely you'll be disturbed no ways;
and I shall be in and out to see you'm all right."

Reuben stretched himself out, and, overcome by the excitement and
fatigue of the day, was soon asleep and dreaming of those happier times
when he and Eve had walked as friends together. Suddenly some one
seemed to speak her name, and though the name at once wove itself into
the movement of the dream, the external sound had aroused the sleeper,
and he opened his eyes to see three men sitting near talking over their
grog.

With just enough consciousness to allow of his noticing that one was a
soldier and the other two were sailors, Reuben looked for a minute,
then closed his eyes, and was again sinking back into sleep when the
name of Eve was repeated, and this time with such effect that all
Reuben's senses seemed to quicken into life, and, cautiously opening
his eyes, so as to look without being observed, he saw that it was the
soldier who was speaking.

"Young chap, thinks I," he was saying, "you little fancy there's one so
near who's got your sweetheart's seal dangling to his fob;" and with an
air of self-satisfied vanity he held out for inspection a curious
little seal which Reuben at once recognized as the same which he
himself had given to Eve.

The unexpected sight came upon him with such surprise that, had not the
height of the little table served as a screen to shelter him from view,
his sudden movement must have betrayed his wakefulness.

"He's a nice one for any woman to be tied to, he is!" replied the
younger of the two sailors. "Why, the only time as I ever had what you
may call a fair look at un was one night in to the King o' Proosia's,
and there he was dealing out his soft sawder to little Nancy Lagassick
as if he couldn't live a minute out o' her sight."

"That's about it," laughed the soldier. "He's one of your own sort
there: you Jacks are all alike, with a wife in every port. However," he
added - and as he spoke he gave a complacent stroke to his good-looking
face - "he may thank his stars that a matter of seven miles or so lays
between his pretty Eve and Captain Van Courtland's troop, or there'd
have been a cutting-out expedition that, saving the presence of those I
speak before" - and he gave a most exasperating wink - "might have proved
a trifle more successful than such things have of late."

"Here, I say," said the sailor, flaming up at this ill-timed
jocularity, "p'ra'ps you'll tell me what 'tis you're drivin' at; for
I've got to hear of it if you, or any o' your cloth either, ever made a
find yet. You're mighty 'cute 'bout other folks, though when the
spirits was under yer very noses, and you searched the houses through
'twas knowed to be stowed in, you couldn't lay hold on a single cask.
'Tis true we mayn't have nabbed the men, but by jingo if 't has come to
us bein' made fools of by the women!"

"There, now, stash it there!" said his older comrade, who had no wish
to see a quarrel ensue. "So far as I can see, there's no cause for
bounce 'twixt either o' us; though only you give us a chance of getting
near to them, sergeant," he said, turning to the soldier, "and I'll
promise you shall make it all square with this pretty lass you fancy
while her lover's cutting capers under Tyburn tree."

"'A chance?'" repeated his companion, despondingly: "where's it to come
from, and the only one we'd got cut away from under us by those Hart
chaps?"

"How so? where's the Hart off to, then?" asked the sergeant.

"Off to Port Mellint," said the man addressed. "Nothing but a hoax, I
fancy, but still she was bound to go;" and so saying he tossed off the
remainder of his grog and began making a movement, saying, as he did
so, to his somewhat quarrelsomely-disposed shipmate, "Here, I say,
Bill, come 'long down to the rendezvoos with me, and if there's nothin'
up for to-night what d'ye say to stepping round to Paddy Burke's? He's
asked us to come ever so many times, you know."

"Paddy Burke?" said the sergeant. "What! do you know him? Why, if
you're going there, I'll step so far with you."

"Well, we're bound for the rendezvoos first," said the sailor.

"All right! I can find plenty to do while you're in there."

"Then come along;" and, only stopping to exchange a few words in
passing with the landlady, out they all went, and Reuben was left
alone, a prey to the thoughts which now came crowding into his mind.

For a few minutes he sat with his arms resting on the table as if
communing with himself: then, starting up as if filled with a sudden
resolve, he went out and asked the landlady a few commonplace
questions, and finally inquired whereabouts and in what direction did
the rendezvous lie.

"Close down by the bridge, the first house after you pass the second
turning. Why?" she said: "be 'ee wanting to see anybody there?"

"No," said Reuben: "I only heard the fellows that came in there talking
about the rendezvous, and I wondered whether I'd passed it."

"Why, iss, o' course you did, comin' in. 'Tis the house with the flag
stream-in' over the doorways."

Reuben waited for no further information. He said something about not
knowing it was so late, bade the landlady a rather abrupt farewell, and
went his way.

Down the narrow street he hurried, turned a corner, and found himself
in front of the house indicated, outside which all was dark. Nobody
near, and, with the exception of himself, not a soul to be seen.
Inside, he could hear voices, and the more plainly from the top sash of
the window being a little way open. By the help of the iron stanchion
driven in to support the flagstaff he managed to get up, steady himself
on the window-sill and take a survey of the room. Several men were in
it, and among them the two he had already seen, one of whom was
speaking to a person whom, from his uniform, Reuben took to be an
officer.

The sight apparently decided what he had before hesitated about, and
getting; down he took from his pocket a slip of paper - one he had
provided in case he should want to leave a message for Eve - and rapidly
wrote on it these words: "The Lottery is expected at Polperro tonight.
They will land at Down End as soon as the tide will let them get near."

Folding this, he once more mounted the window-sill, tossed the paper
into the room, lingered for but an instant to see that it was picked
up, then jumped down, ran with all speed, and was soon lost amid the
darkness which surrounded him.

As he hurried from the house an echo seemed to carry to his ears the
shout which greeted this surprise - a surprise which set every one
talking at once, each one speaking and no one listening. Some were for
going, some for staying away, some for treating it as a serious matter,
others for taking it as a joke.

At length the officer called "Silence!" and after a pause, addressing
the men present in a few words, he said that however it might turn out
he considered that he should only be doing his duty by ordering the
boats to proceed to the place named and see what amount of truth there
was in this somewhat mysterious manoeuvre. If it was nothing but a hoax
they must bear to have the laugh once more turned against them; but
should it turn out the truth! The buzz which greeted this bare
supposition showed how favorably his decision was regarded, and the
absent men were ordered to be summoned without delay. Everything was
got ready as quickly as possible, and in a little over an hour two
boats started, fully equipped and manned, to lie in ambush near the
coast midway between Looe and Polperro.

While Fate, in the shape of Reuben May, had been hastening events
toward a disastrous climax, the course of circumstances in Polperro had
not gone altogether smoothly. To Eve's vexation, because of the
impossibility of speaking of her late encounter with Reuben May, she
found on her return home that during her absence Mrs. Tucker had
arrived, with the rare and unappreciated announcement that she had come
to stop and have her tea with them. The example set by Mrs. Tucker was
followed by an invitation to two or three other elderly friends, so
that between her hospitality and her excitement Joan had no opportunity
of noticing any undue change in Eve's manner or appearance. Two or
three remarks were made on her pale face and abstracted air, but this
more by the way of teasing than anything else; while Joan, remembering
the suppressed anxiety she was most probably trying to subdue,
endeavored to come to her aid and assist in turning away this
over-scrutiny of her tell-tale appearance.

The opportunity thus afforded by silence gave time for reflection, and
Eve, who had never been quite straightforward or very explicit about
herself and Reuben May, now began to hesitate. Perhaps, after all, it
would be better to say nothing, for Joan was certain to ask questions
which, without betraying the annoyance she had undergone, Eve hardly
saw her way to answering. Again, it was not impossible but that
Reuben's anger might relent, and if so he would most probably seek
another interview, in which to beg her pardon.

In her heart Eve hoped and believed this would be the case; for,
indignantly as she had defied Reuben's scorn and flung back his
reproaches, they had been each a separate sting to her, and she longed
for the chance to be afforded Reuben of seeing how immeasurably above
the general run of men was the one she had chosen.

"Here, I say, Eve!" exclaimed Joan, as she came in-doors from bidding
good-bye to the last departure: "come bear a hand and let's set the
place all straight: I can't abide the men's coming home to find us all
in a muddle."

Eve turned to with a good will, and the girls soon had the satisfaction
of seeing the room look as bright and cheery as they desired.

"Let's see - ten minutes past 'leben," said Joan, looking at the clock.
"I don't see how 'tis possible for 'em to venture in 'fore wan, 'less
'tis to Yallow Rock, and they'd hardly try that. What do 'ee say, Eve?
Shall we run up out to cliff, top o' Talland lane, and see if us can
see any signs of 'em?"

"Oh do, Joan!"

And, throwing their cloaks over them, off they set.

"Here, give me your hand," said Joan as they reached the gate and
entered upon the path which Eve had last trod with Adam by her side. "I
knaw the path better than you, and 'tis a bit narrow for a pitch-dark
night like this. Take care: we'm come to the watter. That's right. Now
up we goes till we get atop, and then we'll have a good look round us."

Thus instructed, Eve managed to get on, and, stumbling up by Joan's
side, they quickly reached the narrow line of level which seemed to
overhang the depths below.

"We couldn't see them if they were there," said Eve, turning to Joan,
who was still peering into the darkness.

"No, 'tis blacker than I thought," said Joan cheerily: "that's ever so
much help to 'em, and - Hooray! the fires is out! Do 'ee see, Eve? There
ain't a spark o' nothin' nowheres. Ole Jonathan's hoaxed 'em fine this
time: the gawpuses have sooked it all in, and, I'll be bound, raced off
so fast as wind and tide 'ud carry 'em."

"Then they're sure to come now?" said Eve excitedly.

"Certain," said Joan. "They've seed the fires put out, and knaw it
means the bait's swallowed and the cruiser is off. I shouldn't wonder a
bit if they'm close in shore, only waitin' for the tide to give 'em a
proper draw o' water, so that they may send the kegs over."

"Should we go on a bit farther," said Eve, "and get down the hill by
the Warren stile? We might meet some of 'em, perhaps."

"Better not," said Joan. "To tell 'ee the truth, 'tis best to make our
way home so quick as can, for I wudn't say us 'ull have 'em back
quicker than I thought."

"Then let's make haste," exclaimed Eve, giving her hand to Joan, while
she turned her head to take a farewell glance in the direction where it
was probable the vessel was now waiting. "Oh, Joan! what's that?" For a
fiery arrow had seemed to shoot along the darkness, and in quick
succession came another and another.

Joan did not answer, but she seemed to catch her breath, and, clutching
hold of Eve, she made a spring up on to the wall over which they had
before been looking. And now a succession of sharp cracks were heard,
then the tongues of fire darted through the air, and again all was
gloom.

"O Lord!" groaned Joan, "I hope 'tain't nothin's gone wrong with 'em."

In an instant Eve had scrambled up by her side: "What can it be? what
could go wrong, Joan?"

But Joan's whole attention seemed now centred on the opposite cliff,
from where, a little below Hard Head, after a few minutes' watching,
Eve saw a blue light burning: this was answered by another lower down,
then a rocket was sent up, at sight of which Joan clasped her hands and
cried, "Awn, 'tis they! 'tis they! Lord save 'em! Lord help 'em! They
cursed hounds have surely played 'em false."

"What! not taken them, Joan?"

"They won't be taken," she said fiercely. "Do you think, unless 'twas
over their dead bodies, they'd ever let king's men stand masters on the
Lottery's deck?"

Eve's heart died within her, and with one rush every detail of the
lawless life seemed to come before her.

"There they go again!" cried Joan; and this time, by the sound, she
knew their position was altered to the westward and somewhat nearer to
land. "Lord send they mayn't knaw their course!" she continued: "'tis
but a point or two on, and they'll surely touch the Steeple Reef. - Awh,
you blidthirsty cowards! I wish I'd the pitchin' of every man of 'ee
overboards: 'tis precious little mercy you'd get from me. And the
blessed sawls to be caught in yer snarin' traps close into home,
anighst their very doors, too! - Eve, I must go and see what they means
to do for 'em. They'll never suffer to see 'em butchered whilst there's
a man in Polperro to go out and help 'em."

Forgetting in her terror all the difficulties she had before seen in
the path, Eve managed to keep up with Joan, whose flying footsteps
never stayed until she found herself in front of a long building close
under shelter of the Peak which had been named as a sort of
assembling-place in case of danger.

"'Tis they?" Joan called out in breathless agony, pushing her way
through the crowd of men now hastening up from all directions toward
the captain of the Cleopatra.

"I'm feared so;" and his grave face bespoke how fraught with anxiety
his fears were.

"What can it be, d'ee think?"

"Can't tell noways. They who brought us word saw the Hart sail, and
steady watch has been kept up, so that us knaws her ain't back."

"You manes to do somethin' for 'em?" said Joan.

"Never fear but us'll do what us can, though that's mighty little, I
can tell 'ee, Joan."

Joan gave an impatient groan. Her thorough comprehension of their
danger and its possible consequences lent activity to her distress,
while Eve, with nothing more tangible than the knowledge that a
terrible danger was near, seemed the prey to indefinite horrors which
took away from her every sense but the sense of suffering.

By this time the whole place was astir, people running to this point
and that, asking questions, listening to rumors, hazarding a hundred
conjectures, each more wild than the other. A couple of boats had been
manned, ready to row round by the cliff. One party had gone toward the
Warren, another to Yellow Rock. All were filled with the keenest desire
not only to aid their comrades, but to be revenged on those who had
snared them into this cunningly-devised pitfall. But amid all this zeal
arose the question, What could they do?

Absolutely nothing, for by this time the firing had ceased, the contest
was apparently over, and around them impenetrable darkness again
reigned supreme. To show any lights by which some point of land should
be discovered might only serve as a beacon to the enemy. To send out a
boat might be to run it into their very jaws, for surely, were
assistance needed, those on board the Lottery would know that by this
time trusty friends were anxiously watching, waiting for but the
slightest signal to be given to risk life and limb in their service.

The wisest thing to be done was to put everything in order for a sudden
call, and then sit down and patiently abide the result. This decision
being put into effect, the excited crowd began to thin, and before
long, with the exception of those who could render assistance, very few
lookers-on remained. Joan had lingered till the last, and then, urged
by the possibility that many of her house-comforts might be needed, she
hurried home to join Eve, who had gone before her.

With their minds running upon all the varied accidents of a fight, the
girls, without exchanging a word of their separate fears, got ready
what each fancied might prove the best remedy, until, nothing more
being left to do, they sat down, one on each side of the fire, and
counted the minutes by which time dragged out this weary watching into
hours.

"Couldn't 'ee say a few hymns or somethin', Eve?" Joan said at length,
with a hope of breaking this dreadful monotony.

Eve shook her head.

"No?" said Joan disappointedly. "I thought you might ha' knowed o'
some." Then, after another pause, struck by a happier suggestion, she
said, "S'pose us was to get down the big Bible and read a bit, eh? What
do 'ee say?"

But Eve only shook her head again. "No," she said, in a hard, dry
voice: "I couldn't read the Bible now."

"Couldn't 'ee?" sighed Joan. "Then, after all, it don't seem that
religion and that's much of a comfort. By what I'd heard," she added,
"I thought 'twas made o' purpose for folks to lay hold on in times o'
trouble."




CHAPTER XXVII.


It was close upon three o'clock: Joan had fallen into an uneasy doze
and Eve was beginning to nod, when a rattle of the latch made them both
start up.

"It can't be! Iss, it is, though!" screamed Joan, rushing forward to
meet Adam, who caught both the girls in a close embrace.

"Uncle? uncle?" Joan cried.

"All safe," said Adam, releasing her while he strained Eve closer to
his heart. "We're all back safe and sound, and, saving Tom Braddon and
Israel Rickard, without a scratch 'pon any of us."

"Thank God!" sighed Eve, while Joan, verily jumping for joy, cried,
"But where be they to, eh, Adam? I must rin, wherever 'tis, and see
'em, and make sure of it with my awn eyes."

"I left them down to quay with the rest: they're all together there,"
said Adam, unwilling to lose the opportunity of securing a few minutes
alone with Eve, and yet unable to command his voice so that it should
sound in its ordinary tone.

The jar in it caught Joan's quick ear, and, turning, she said, "Why,
whatever have 'ee bin about, then? What's the manin' of it all? Did
they play 'ee false, or how?"

Adam gave a puzzled shake of the head. "You know quite as much about it
as I do," he said. "We started, and got on fair and right enough so far
as Down End, and I was for at once dropping out the kegs, as had been
agreed upon to do, at Sandy Bottom - "

"Well?" said Joan.

"Yes, 'twould ha' been well if we'd done it. Instead of which, no


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