The Fighting-Slogan E-Book

H. A. Cody

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

This is a rare genre, namely historical fiction. You will learn what role the Fenians played in New Brunswick’s determination to become part of the Confederation of Canada. This book has become a revelation for many people. And she revealed the secrets of historical events.

Leseprobe

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 1

IN THE JAWS

The jaws of the steel trap leaped together, caught and held Drum Rowan’s left hand as if in a vise. With a startled groan he staggered back, and then exerted the entire weight of his free hand and right foot upon the springs, thus forcing the jaws to release their savage grip.

“It’s lucky I had my mitt on,” he muttered. “My! how my hand hurts.” He pulled off the mitten and looked at the red streak across the back of his fingers. “I wonder what made that trap spring, anyway. Such a thing never happened to me before. Hettie would say it’s a sign of bad luck, but I don’t believe such nonsense.”

His manner, however, somewhat belied his words, for he glanced a little anxiously around, and then up at the high hills surrounding him. He was standing in a wooded valley at a spot where two brooks meet. To the right the land rises abruptly until it terminates in a long curved peak, thickly wooded. There is a similar formation on the left of the valley, and owing to this peculiarity the place was commonly known as “The Jaws.” Indian tradition told of titanic deeds enacted there in ages past, when the mighty Glooscap, pursuing his enemies, had rent the earth asunder and made a way for himself to the noble river beyond. Even in later days many looked upon the place with a superstitious dread, and related tales ofweird sounds heard there at night. Once a man was found dead in the valley in mid-winter, and this naturally increased the fear surrounding the locality.

With these Drum Rowan was well acquainted, and although not superstitious by nature, he was aware of a strange sensation creeping over him as he recalled some of the stories. This soon vanished, however, as he bent to his task of re-setting the trap. He was more careful this time, keeping his hands clear of the pan when sprinkling it lightly with a thin layer of snow. This accomplished, he picked up his gun, which was standing against a tree, turned to the left and moved swiftly forward.

The afternoon of the short winter day was drawing to a close, and shades of evening were stealing slowly over the valley as Drum made his way up the little brook toward a clearing beyond. The walking was not difficult, as a recent rain, followed by a cold snap, had settled and hardened the snow. Several times he stopped to examine tracks of wild animals, especially those of a sliding otter, and then the expression upon his face revealed his satisfaction.

“I’ll show Tom and Bill Daggert a thing or two,” he mused. “They are always talking about the ill-luck of this valley, and telling scare-yarns. I was foolish to have paid any heed to them, and should have set traps here long ago. Why this is a natural run-way, and I should get something big before long. I’ll have the laugh on Tom and Bill yet, see if I don’t.”

Pressing onward, he came in a few minutes to a rough narrow wood-road. This surprised him, for he had no idea that anyone did any lumbering in the valley where the trees were of little value. But here was a road with old marks showing that a sled had passed over it. There were also human footprints, evidently made some time before the last thaw. At this spot the road touched the little brook and then swerved off to the right, straight toward the steep bank beyond.

Drum’s curiosity was now thoroughly aroused. What reason could there be for a road in such a rough place? He must see where it led, and if possible solve the mystery. Hastening along, it look him but a short time to come close to a great ledge of rocks which rose abruptly from the valley to an irregular height of from twenty to forty feet. A heavy thicket of trees surrounded the base, through which the road wound. Drum noted that a number of trees had been recently cut and their tops left lying upon the ground. This at first led him to believe that someone had been lumbering there, the Daggert brothers, perhaps, who needed those trees for some special purpose. He changed his mind, however, when he noticed that the trees had been dragged toward the ledge instead of away from it. That was certainly remarkable, as there was no possible outlet for the logs ahead.

A few rods beyond he came in sight of the flinty wall, and instead of the road ending there it turned sharply to the right. Following this, he ere long saw something which caused his eyes to open wide in amazement. It was a cabin, cosily situated in an opening in the ledge. Rocks formed part of the two sides upon which several small logs had been laid to increase the height. The roof was made of poles, well covered with large strips of birch bark to shed the rain. Stout portions of logs, about eight feet long, placed on end, enclosed the front of the building. Here was a door, made of sawn boards, fastened on the outside with a wooden latch.

Drum examined this structure most carefully before venturing near. He was more puzzled now than ever. He had never heard of anyone camping here, and he knew the woods and the country for many miles around. It was a wonder that the Daggert brothers had never mentioned it, as the ledge was so near their house. But perhaps they knew nothing about it, and if so it was strange for there was little that escaped their ferret-like eyes.Drum smiled as he pictured their astonishment when he told them of his discovery.

Seeing no one near the cabin, he slowly, and warily advanced until he reached the building. Lifting the latch, he opened the door and peered in. All was dark inside, with no sign of life. Drawing forth a piece of candle from a pocket in his jacket, he lighted it, and then stepped cautiously within. A small stove and a rough table surrounded by several blocks of wood to serve as seats were all the articles the cabin contained. There was no floor, merely the bare ground, while at one side were some old fir and spruce boughs which evidently had been used for a bed. He searched carefully, but could find no clue whatsoever as to the occupants of the place.

Drum’s curiosity was now fully aroused. There was something strange about this cabin situated in such a concealed spot. What did it mean? he asked himself. Stepping outside, he noticed that the road he had followed did not end here, but continued along the foot of the rocky ledge. Extinguishing the candle, he hurried forward, hoping to find some solution to the mystery. Perhaps, after all, the road might wind around to the brook farther down, and had been used by some nearby farmer. But why would anyone in the parish need such a cabin as the one but a short distance away? It was all very puzzling.

Rounding at length a sharp bend where an exceptionally large mass of rugged rocks jutted forth, the road suddenly ended. Drum stopped and peered in every direction, but for a minute or two he looked in vain for any enlightenment to the problem. No one had been lumbering there, for the trees which crowded almost up to the base of the ledge were untouched. There was merely the narrow bare space close to the cliff which the road followed.

Drum was about to return for another more thorough search of the cabin, but before doing so he stepped tothe extreme end of the road. As he did so, his eyes caught sight of old footprints in the snow in a deep crevice between two large overhanging rocks. Here was something needing investigation, so leaving the road, he scrambled up over a heap of stones from which the thaw had melted the snow. The footprints beyond were plainly visible and led to the left around a sharp point of rock. A few steps brought him in view of something which arrested his immediate attention. It was the thick top of a green spruce tree lying close to the base of the ledge. It was strange for this to be in such a position as it could not have fallen so far from any tree on the opposite side of the road. It must have been dragged there for some definite purpose. Just what that was Drum could not tell until he had pulled it aside, when an opening of several feet in extent was exposed, leading right into the wall of rock. Drum gave a low whistle of surprise, certain now that he had come upon something of real importance. That this hole led into a cave he felt sure, so stooping, he peered within. But nothing could he see, for all was in darkness. Again lighting his candle, he crawled in through the opening on his hands and knees, keeping the candle well in front of him. When inside, he stopped, squatted on the ground and peered around. His gun he held in readiness, not knowing what to expect next. The roof of the cave was only about five feet high and seven wide, but how long he could not tell. A creepy feeling possessed him as he crept cautiously forward. The air was oppressive and he longed to turn back. But he did want to find out what lay beyond, and also the size of this rocky tunnel. When he had advanced about five yards, he noticed a number of objects lined along the right wall. By the light of the candle, he soon noticed that they were powder kegs, and a large number of them, at that. Stooping, he was enabled to see the letters “P” upon some and “B” upon others.

“Powder and bullets!” he exclaimed. “Now, what intime are they doing here? Who can have any use for so much ammunition? I wonder how many kegs there are?”

He began to count, but had not proceeded far when a piece of torn paper lying near one of the kegs attracted his attention. This he at once picked up, held it close to the candle and began to read. As he did so, he understood the meaning of that rough road, the cabin among the rocks, and the ammunition concealed in the cave.

“To the People of America,” so ran the writing. “We come among you as the foes of the British. We have taken up the sword to strike down the oppressor’s rod, to deliver Ireland from the tyrant, the robber. We have registered our oaths upon the altar of our country in the full view of heaven, and sent up our vows to the Throne of Him who inspired them. Then, looking about us for an enemy, we find him here, here in your midst where he is most accessible and convenient to our strength, etc.

“The spirit of our organization is running like an electric current in the east, north, and west where hundreds of thousands warn England that her tyranny over our native country must end.”

Drum’s hands trembled with excitement, and his eyes blazed with anger. The whole mystery was now solved. Strange that he had not thought of it sooner. He knew of the anxiety throughout the country caused by the threatened Fenian Raid from across the Border. It was household talk, and everywhere soldiers were being drilled to repel the invaders. So the storing of these kegs of powder and bullets was but a part of the preparation in the general scheme of attack. Unexpectedly he had come across this cave, and how was he to use the knowledge in his possession? To whom should he take that piece of paper? He looked at it again, and his eyes rested uponthe words, in big letters, “On to Canada,” followed by the doggerel lines,

“We are a Fenian Brotherhood, skilled in the arts of war, And we’re going to fight for Ireland, the land that we adore, Many battles we have fought, along with the boys in blue, And we’ll go and capture Canada, for we’ve nothing else to do.”

Here the paper was so torn that Drum could read no further. But this was enough for his purpose. He knew that he had made an important discovery, and the sooner he acted the better it would be.

Leaving the cave, he replaced the tree-top and then went back to the road. Here he stood and looked around, hoping that some of the enemy who threatened his country would suddenly make an appearance. And truly Drum Rowan would have made a formidable opponent. Strong and supple as a wild cat, inured to life in the open, and trained to great endurance, all who reckoned with him would have been forced to contend with one hundred and seventy pounds of hard spare flesh, bones and sinewy muscles. He was greatly stirred now by the discovery he had just made. So the Fenians were planning to capture Canada, were they? Perhaps even now they had numerous caves all over the country where they had ammunition stored ready for the time of invasion. Could he frustrate their plans? Would this one hiding-place be the clue to others? To whom should he first impart his information? There was one he longed to tell, for he knew how interested she would be, and he pictured her sparkling eyes and animated face as she listened to his story. But, no, he would not speak to her now, as she could give him no advice as to the course he should pursue. Some person in authority must be consulted, one who would be ableto take immediate action. And where could he find such a man? Ah, he knew one in the city, and he would go to him at once.

Drum walked swiftly back over the road until he came to the cabin. He looked upon it in a new light now. It was the stopping-place of the plotters. But how had they managed to erect that abode and bring in so much ammunition without any of the neighbours knowing anything about it? They must have been working there for some time, and it was strange that no word of their doings had been reported throughout the country. The more Drum thought about this as he hurried onward the more puzzled he became. Anyway, he had made a great discovery, the thought of which thrilled his entire being.

CHAPTER 2

THE DIVIDING LINE

The Valley of The Jaws lay shrouded in darkness as Drum Rowan stood on the summit of the hill above and looked back over the route he had just travelled. The spear-like points of innumerable pines, firs, and spruces were still faintly visible in the deepening gloom. A slight breath of wind winging up from the river caused them to tremble, which seemed to the watcher like an involuntary shudder. Perhaps it was a sigh drawn by that great lung of Nature. Anyway, it smote him in an ominous manner. The pain in his hand reminded him of the gripping jaws of the deadly steel trap. Was there a meaning in that accident? He thought of the rough cabin, and the cave with its store of ammunition. The entire valley, dark and silent, assumed a sinister aspect. There also came to his mind the weird stories told by Indians and old people of the neighbourhood. Was there something in such ideas, after all? He could not believe there was, and yet a peculiar sensation affected him such as he had never experienced before. It made him angry at himself, so with one more sweeping glance down over the valley, he left the ridge and plunged into the forest behind.

He walked rapidly, in keeping with the agitated state of his mind, until he reached an open space where wood-choppers had been at work. Here he stopped and looked around.

“Tom and Bill haven’t done much of late, it seems to me,” he remarked aloud. “Why, they haven’t a cord of wood cut. We’ll never get the boat loaded at this rate.”

“I’m going to see what’s the matter with them. Hettie may be able to do something for my hand. She’ll have liniment, anyway.”

Crossing to the opposite side of the little clearing, he entered upon a well-beaten wood-road. This he followed, and ere long came in sight of a small house nestling close to the edge of the forest. Smoke was pouring forth from the one chimney, and a feeble glimmer of light struggled through the only window on the northern side of the building. Nearby was a barn, in front of which was a sled loaded with cordwood.

It took Drum but a few minutes to reach the house, and in response to his rap, the door was slowly opened and a girl peered forth. Seeing the young man standing there, her eyes brightened, and a smile overspread her thin face. She pulled the door wide open, and stepped aside.

“Oh, it’s you, Drum, is it?” she accosted.

“Yes, that’s who it is, Hettie, and I hope supper is ready.”

“It’s a’most. I’ve jist got some more pancakes to fry. But, come in an’ walk careful on that line.”

She pointed to the floor, and Drum noticed a chalk mark extending from the door right up to the middle of the large open fire-place. The surprised expression upon his face caused the girl to laugh outright.

“Ye wonder what it’s thar fer, I s’pose?”

“I certainly do, Hettie. Have you been learning to draw?”

“Should say not. Dad done it. Him an’ Unc have fit, an’ that line’s thar to keep ’em apart.”

“Het, what are ye yangin’ ‘bout?” an angry voice from near the fire asked. “Shet the door; us is freezin’.”

Drum at once stepped inside, and the door was closed.

“Keep on the line,” the girl reminded as he started to go forward. “Dad or Unc’ll be mad; one or t’other, if ye don’t."

Drum laughed as he obeyed and carefully watched his steps. He stopped when almost near the fire-place and looked at the two Daggert brothers, Bill seated on the left and Tom on the right. They were a queer looking pair, startling and ghoulish in appearance, with their long hair, unkempt beards, and black, bead-like eyes peering out from under great bushy eyebrows. Drum was never sure of the reception he would receive from these odd men. Sometimes they were effusive in their welcome, and again sullen and silent. But so accustomed was he to their varying moods that he treated them almost like children. He knew that they were always glad to see him, for with the exception of Andy Dooner, the shoemaker, known up and down the land as the “cat-whipper,” he was the only visitor to their house. From him they heard some of the latest news of the parish for which they were always eager. This new freak of dividing the house by means of the chalk line was very amusing to Drum. He pretended to be most anxious lest he should make a mistake, so when he stopped, he looked first at Tom and then at Bill. As neither spoke, he turned to the girl who was following him.

“Bring me a chair, Hettie,” he ordered. “I am going to stay right on this line and act as a judge between your father and uncle. You might also pull up that little table so I can eat my supper here.”

When Hettie had complied with this request, she disappeared into an adjoining room, leaving Drum alone with the two brothers. His hand was hurting him, so pulling off his mitten, he examined the red mark caused by the jaws of the trap. The fingers were swollen, and these he rubbed with his right hand. The brothers watched him intently, but neither spoke. Their curiosity, however, was aroused, and this Drum knew.

“Have you any liniment?” he presently asked, turning to Tom. “I’ve hurt my hand."

“Lin’min? Yaas, got little,” was the slow, drawling reply. “Het,” he called, “where’s that bot’ lin’min?”

In another minute the girl reappeared. She wore a clean apron now, and her hastily-combed hair was adorned with a bright-red ribband. There was a slight flush in her white cheeks as she placed a bottle upon the table.

“My! you look fine, Hettie,” Drum complimented. “Expecting your young man to-night?” he asked, as he pulled out the cork and bathed his injured hand.

“How did ye hurt it, Drum?” the girl inquired, while the flush on her cheeks deepened.

“Oh, caught it in a trap I was setting over there in the Jaws. I never did such a thing before.”

A sudden expression of fear appeared in the girl’s eyes, and her hands trembled, although she said nothing. She turned quickly away and began to stir some batter in a pan. Drum did not notice her peculiar manner, but continued rubbing his fingers.

“What’s the matter with you men, anyway?” he asked looking straight at Tom.

“Us have fit,” was the reply. “Us can’t agree, so us part.”

“What have you been fighting about?”

“Work. Bill won’t do nuthin’ but set in the house all the time.”

“Tom’s a liar,” Bill retorted. “Tom won’t work, so us fit.”

The two men relapsed into silence and glared at each other across the room. Drum did not know what to say. He watched Hettie holding the griddle over the hot coals, and noticed how deftly she turned the pancakes by giving them a slight toss into the air.

“You do that well, Hettie,” he remarked. “I suppose you get plenty of practice.”

“Lots of it, Drum. Too much, I guess. But Dad an’ Unc kin do their own cookin’ after this if they don’tbehave theirselves. I’m sick of so much fightin’. They’re jist like two babies.”

“Het, you shet up,” her father sternly ordered.

“I won’t shet up, Dad. I’ve shet up too long a’ready, an’ now I’m goin’ to have my say.”

The girl had risen from her stooping position and was standing in a defiant attitude with her back to the fire. She held the hot griddle in her right hand which she waved in a threatening manner.

“Be careful, Hettie, or you’ll lose that pancake,” Drum warned. “I’m as hungry as a bear, so don’t quit before you give me something to eat.”

“I’ll give you yer supper, Drum,” and a softer light came into the girl’s eyes as she spoke. “But I don’t care if Dad an’ Unc gits any or not. It’s a good starvin’ they need.”

Drum was not surprised at these words, for he was well aware of Hettie’s temper and sharp tongue. He had heard her make similar threats before, but they had never amounted to anything. What did give him cause for wonder, though, was the little that her father said in reply, while Bill never opened his mouth. This was unusual, for when Hettie became excited there was generally a regular babel of words, until the three ceased for want of breath. Then when the blow-out ended they seemed to be perfectly satisfied, and forgot all about their squabble. But now it was different. Tom and Bill were not inclined to talk. They ate their supper in silence, keeping, however, a keen watch upon each other. When through they filled and lighted their black clay pipes, and appeared to pay no more heed to their visitor.

Drum enjoyed the pancakes, and Hettie reserved the largest and the well-browned ones for him. Although the molasses was black and not of the best quality, and the tea very strong, he ate with a hearty relish, and when he had finished he thanked the girl for the meal.

“If I’d a knowed ye was comin’, Drum, I’d had somemoose steak fer supper,” she informed him. “But I didn’t want to git it jist fer Dad an’ Unc. They never thank me. All they do is scold.”

The girl was seated now opposite the young man, with her elbows resting upon the table, and her hands supporting her chin. She was looking into Drum’s face, and her inmost soul was expressed in her large dark eyes. Those eyes she had inherited from her mother, and they were the only marks of outward beauty that Hettie Daggert possessed.

Drum, however, was not thinking about the girl at all, although he was looking straight at her face. He was thinking how he might arouse Tom and Bill from their moody silence. He longed to tell them of the discovery he had made in the valley. That surely would excite them. But he was determined not to divulge the secret until he had reached the city and consulted with the one man upon whom he felt he could rely for sound practical advice. He wondered if he could scare these men into conversation. He would try, anyway. Rising to his feet, he turned to Tom.

“I must be going now before it gets too dark,” he announced. “Some of those Fenians might be prowling around, and no one can tell what might happen. They are getting very lively across the Border, so I hear. Now, I don’t like the appearance of that valley to-night, and wouldn’t be a bit surprised if some of the Fenians come that way. It’s always been a spooky place to me, but never so much as to-night. It was shivering and shuddering just like a frightened creature.”

These words had the desired effect, for the two brothers at once left their chairs and came up close to the chalk line. Hettie also rose and stood leaning against the table, her body trembling violently and her face white with fear.

“Did ye say the Fenyuns are in the valley?” Tom asked in a voice that was little more than a hoarse whisper. “Did ye see ’em? Was ’em comin’ this way?"

“Now, don’t get frightened,” Drum advised, amused at the excitement his words had caused. “I didn’t say that the Fenians are there, remember. I only meant that it was a likely route for them to take when they attack us.”

“Will ’em attack us?” Bill asked. “Will us have to fight ’em?”

“I cannot say, but it is just as well to be prepared. Have you any guns?”

“Yaas, us has three guns an’ an ol’ pistol,” Tom replied. “But us have big fists, an’ us hit hard.” He waved his clenched hands in the air to give emphasis to his words.

“That’s good, Tom. But you and Bill had better use your fists against the Fenians instead of against each other.”

“Tom hit first,” Bill declared, touching his right eye which was somewhat swollen.

“And then you two went at it. Who won?”

“Us both fit an’ us both won,” Tom replied.

“They fit until they couldn’t fight any longer,” Hettie explained. “I had to pull ’em apart. It was right out thar by the barn. They’re both fools, that’s what they are.”

“So the chalk line was made there to keep them apart, eh? Look here, why don’t you men quit such nonsense?” Drum suggested. “Rub out that line and be friends again. The sooner you unite and get ready to fight the Fenians, the better it will be.”

“Us kin fight jist as well as us be,” Tom replied. “If us be friends an’ the Fenyuns don’t come, us’ll have to fight, anyway. Us couldn’t live without fightin’. Us have fit ever since us was babies, an’ it comes nat’ral.”

“What a glorious time you must have, Tom.”

“Yaas, it does liven things up a bit. Then when Het takes a hand thar’s somethin’ doin’, a’right. Het’s got claws like a cat when it comes to scratchin’."

“What a happy family, Tom. How proud you must be of yourselves.”

Drum looked upon the three standing near him, and his heart stirred with anger at the two creatures in the forms of men. For the girl he had only sympathy, knowing full well the hardness of her lot.

“When do you expect to get busy cutting that cordwood?” he abruptly asked. “You haven’t delivered any for three days. The boat will never be loaded at that rate.”

“Us’ll never get the wood cut,” Tom sullenly replied. “Bill won’t work.”

“Tom won’t work,” Bill growled, glaring over at his brother. “Us’ll never do nuthin’.”

“But you agreed with us to cut the wood, and we are supplying you with provisions. You get what you want at the store, don’t you?”

“‘Deed we do,” Hettie declared. “An’ I tote everything we eat. I go twice a week, while Dad an’ Unc jist set in the house. If they ain’t fightin’ with their fists, they’re fightin’ with their tongues. I’m sick of ’em both.”

“Perhaps the Fenians will stir them up, Hettie. I guess it will need some shock like that to make any change. I’m going now, but let me tell you men this, that you will get nothing more at the store through us until you hurry up and deliver that wood as fast as you can. My father will agree with me in this, for he has lost all patience with you.”

Drum turned and walked to the door. He did not try to follow the line now, for he was greatly annoyed. Much depended upon getting the boat loaded while the hauling was good, and now the two men upon whom they relied were falling down on the job. Hettie followed him, and when outside, she shut the door behind her, and laid her right hand lightly upon his arm.

“Don’t go ‘way mad, Drum,” she pleaded.

“And who wouldn’t be mad, Hettie, at such men?"

“I know it, Drum, I know it. But ye’ll come ag’in, won’t ye? It’s awful lonesome here.”

“Perhaps so.”

“An’, Drum–”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Keep away from The Jaws. Don’t go thar, oh, don’t!”

“Why?”

“‘Cause ‘tain’t safe. Something might happen thar.”

Drum laughed at these words, but the girl clutched his arm with a firmer grip, and looked up into his face.

“The cranes had their nests thar last summer, Drum, an’ that means bad luck.”

“That’s all nonsense.”

“‘Tain’t, Drum, I tell ye. The summer afore ma died the cranes was thar. They didn’t come ag’in until the year Joe Slater shot himself when huntin’. An’ they was thar last summer. Oh, I know it means bad luck, so stay away.”

“What makes you think that anything will happen to me if I go there, Hettie?”

“I can’t tell ye, Drum. But keep ‘way from The Jaws.”

Her hand dropped from his arm, she shivered, and with a partly-suppressed sob, she darted back into the house and closed the door.

CHAPTER 3

THE MAN AND THE VISION

The morning sun beamed in through the frost-covered window and rested upon the head of a man bent over an open book lying upon the table. He was reading aloud the words “His dominion shall be from one sea to another.” He repeated this line several times, with his attention especially centred upon the word “dominion.” Then he raised his head, and the light upon his strong intellectual face was more than that caused by the rays of the sun. It was the outward expression of a great idea that was thrilling his soul by the words he had just read. His eyes resting upon the frosted window kindled with animation. He was a lover of the beautiful, but now in the scene before him he saw a meaning such as he had never noticed before. He beheld there the work of a mystic unseen artist, who with a touch lighter than the softest down had traced upon each common window pane pictures of matchless beauty. Forms he saw, fancies rich and rare, and visions such as old masters of renown had often sought to capture, but had always sought in vain. These fairy traceries, touched by the benignant sun, glowed and sparkled with an entrancing glory. They held spellbound the lone watcher, for to him they were symbols of wonderful things which he hoped would shortly come to pass.

Samuel Leonard Tilley was a worthy leader in a great Cause, but so far he had met with discouraging defeat. The land of his birth, stretching three thousand miles from sea to sea, was divided. Canada was not at unitywith itself, for each province managed its own affairs, and cared little or nothing about its nearest neighbour. Such a condition was not conducive to the strength and prosperity of the entire body, nor of the various parts, and of this Mr. Tilley was well aware. He, together with a band of noble far-seeing men, desired to bring about a lasting union, so that the land would be one from the Atlantic Ocean on the east to the Pacific on the west, and from the Border line on the south to the unknown and mysterious regions of the north. For such a country to have one main government, with each province having its own rights and privileges, but all under one flag, and all firmly united to the Motherland across the sea, was the vision which inspired the minds and souls of the leaders of this great movement. Thus the union of Canada, or “Confederation” as it was generally termed, became the vital issue during the early sixties. Only the eastern provinces were involved in the struggle, for the vast sweeping prairies, and the Pacific slope beyond the Rocky Mountains were but little known.

After many meetings had been held, and much eloquence poured forth by numerous speakers, the Province of New Brunswick was chosen for the testing out of the scheme. The election was held in 1865 when the hope of union was crushed by an overwhelming majority. To many this seemed the death of the movement. But Mr. Tilley, the dauntless leader, was of a different mind. He reorganized his broken and scattered ranks, and started forth upon a new campaign of the entire province. He did not spare himself in the least degree, but gave addresses in cities, towns, and villages in his efforts to instruct the people. But nearly everywhere he met with strong opposition, and sometimes downright hostility. Notwithstanding his abounding optimism, he was almost forced to acknowledge that he could never win the battle for Confederation in his native province.

Such was the state of his mind as he sat in his studylooking upon the frosted window. He had returned the previous evening from one of his trying lecture tours in the country, and he was unusually tired. But he had been greatly inspired by some words he had read that morning in the seventy-second psalm. There had been discussion for several years as to the name of the country should union come to pass. Various names had been suggested, an outstanding one being the “Kingdom of Canada.” This, as well as the others, did not meet with general approval. Mr. Tilley had given the matter very earnest consideration, so when he came across the word “dominion” in the line he had just read, he knew that the question was solved so far as he was concerned. The “Dominion of Canada.” It sounded well, and so appropriate–”His Dominion shall be from one sea to the other.” And the great land must be His dominion, built upon true foundations, and filled with a God-fearing people.

And following this came the scene upon that frost-bespangled window. There he beheld beauty and harmony, section upon section, separated by delicate lines, and yet all wonderfully interwoven, with no discord to mar the complete perfection of the whole. It suggested to him the vision of what Canada should be, a land filled with people, all actively engaged in various pursuits, and yet all working in such a spirit of harmony and good-will that the dividing-lines would be as slight and as evanescent as the frosty filaments upon the glass before him. Such was Mr. Tilley’s lofty ideal. But how could he bring it before the people of the province? So antagonistic were they that their eyes were blinded to their own good. Speeches such as had been given, seemed to have little effect. Arguments were all in vain. Something else was needed to arouse them, and to cause their eyes to be opened. What could be done? What further argument could he offer that would induce them to rise as one, rush forward and embrace the Cause that would lead to a glorious victory? He must have some new slogan, and where could he find one?

He rose to his feet and paced up and down the room. He was a fighter of no mean mettle, as his enemies had learned to their sorrow in his great battle against the liquor traffic a few years before. He naturally thought of that now, and the keen interest that had been aroused on all sides. He had a banner then, and a mighty slogan, which had proved most effective. But now he had apparently nothing to stem the tide of opposition. His opponents had raised the cry of “ruin and treachery.” They had charged him with betraying and selling his country for eighty cents, the price of a sheepskin, and this ran like wildfire up and down the country. What could he do to counteract their lies and misrepresentations?

He returned to the table, sat down and buried his face in his hands. He had only a few minutes to spare in his quiet study ere leaving for his busy office down town. Here he could think and plan as nowhere else. But now he felt helpless. A knock upon the door aroused him. It was the maid who announced a visitor.

“Who is it?” Mr. Tilley inquired.

“I don’t know, sir. He’s a young man, and says he must see you at once.”

“Some office-seeker, I suppose. But I can do nothing now. Anyway, send him in.”

The next minute Drum Rowan entered, and walked at once across the room. Always courteous, Mr. Tilley rose to his feet and held out his hand. It was no formal grip that he gave, but a handshake that was an inspiration in itself.

“You don’t know me, sir,” Drum began, smiling at the keen searching expression in his leader’s eyes. “I am Captain Rowan’s son, Drum.”

“Ah, now I remember,” and Mr. Tilley’s face brightened. “You have grown greatly since I saw you last. Pull up that chair and tell me about your father. He hasbeen a good friend to me, and I wish I had more like him. Interested as ever, I suppose, in ships? It’s too bad he is forced to stay on land when his heart is on the sea.”

“Yes, my father does miss the water,” Drum replied. “But he gets some pleasure in summer watching the boats upon the river, and in winter talking about his old sailing days. Just now, though, he is much taken up with the coming election. He is a great Confederation man, you know.”

“Indeed I know it, my boy, and I wish there were more men of his stamp along the river. It is going to be a hard fight, and sometimes I am almost in despair of ever winning. I have spoken in all the cities and towns in the province and in many of the country places, but something more is needed to arouse the people. I am at my wit’s end.”

“They are more aroused, sir, over the Fenian scare than they are about Confederation,” Drum declared. “Why, I know a number of people who can talk of nothing else. They expect the Fenians to burst upon them at any time. And I guess there is good reason for their fright. Read that,” and Drum laid the piece of torn paper he had drawn from a pocket of his jacket upon the table.

Picking it up, Mr. Tilley began to read, and as he did so his eyes opened wide in amazement. His hands trembled with excitement, and when he had finished, he turned to his visitor.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded. “What have you done with the rest of the paper?”

As briefly as possible Drum told of the discovery he had made in the Valley of The Jaws, of the cabin, and the ammunition hidden in the cave in the rocky ledge.

“It was there I found that piece of paper,” he said in conclusion. “I have brought it to you, thinking you might like to see it.”

“You did perfectly right, young man. There is muchtalk, I know, about a threatened invasion of Canada, but I believed such a thing was ridiculous. Your discovery, however, and this scrap of paper, cause me to consider the matter in a new light. I knew that the Fenians had many of their Circles formed in this land, but I had no idea that they have gone so far in their preparations. Their boldness astonishes me. How do you suppose they managed to get so much ammunition there without the people in your neighbourhood knowing something about it?”

“It’s a lonely place, sir, and seldom anyone goes there,” Drum explained. “There is an old lumber-road down the valley to the river, and they must have brought in the ammunition over it. If the people up there knew about those supplies in the cave wouldn’t they be scared. I believe that Tom and Bill Daggert would clear out at once. They are terribly afraid of the Fenians. I guess everybody will have to stop quarrelling about Confederation and unite to defend their country.”

At these closing words Mr. Tilley jerked back his chair, rose quickly to his feet, and laid a firm right hand upon Drum’s shoulder. He was unusually excited.

“You have suggested an idea to me, young man, of the greatest importance,” he said. “I have been groping for some kind of a slogan to arouse the people of this province. And now I have it. They must unite to drive back the Fenians and save their country. And they will need the assistance of the other provinces. This threatened attack may fizzle out, as I sincerely hope it will. But it will be a warning to all that in order to defend Canada in case of any future trouble, there must be unity, and that will mean Confederation for which I have been striving. Young man, you have done a great thing to-day. You have given me a fighting-slogan.”

His hand dropped from Drum’s shoulder, and he paced rapidly up and down the room. His animated face, and the glow in his eyes told of his intense interest.

“Yes,” he continued, more to himself than to his visitor, “this slogan of the Fenian raid will do more good than all the many speeches that have been given. It will open the eyes of all to the great necessity of union. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia will need the aid of Upper and Lower Canada as they will need ours. But without unity little can be done. I shall put it to the test, anyway, in the coming election.”

He returned to the table, and sat for a few minutes lost in deep thought.

“Did you come down river this morning, Drum?” he at length questioned.

“Yes, on the ice. The skating is good.”

“Have you told anyone about your discovery?”

“You are the first one, sir.”