,' 
 
Clornell Hnineraitti SItbracg 
 
 W.A.Haffimond 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 9298.R64R2 1894 
 
 The raid from Beausejour and How the Ca 
 
 3 1924 013 515 022 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 351 5022 
 
The family were gathered in the kitchen. — Seepage iS. 
 
THE 
 
 Raid from Beausejour 
 
 AND 
 
 How THE Carter Boys 
 Lifted the Mortgage 
 
 TWO STORIES OF ACADIE 
 
 KY 
 
 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 i.i. ,, 
 
 NEW YORK : HUNT & EATON 
 CINCINNATI: CRANSTON L (tURTSi ;^ ;; | 'y y 
 
 u 
 
Copyright by 
 
 HUNT & EATON, 
 
 1894. 
 
 Composition, elect retyping, 
 
 printing, and binding by 
 
 Hunt & Eaton, 
 
 150 Fifth Ave., New York. 
 
 
CONTEMTS. 
 
 « 
 
 I. THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Beaubassin Must Go ! " 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Pierre Visits the English Lines 25 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 French and English 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Preparing for the Raid 57 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Midnight March 70 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Surprise 86 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Pierre's Little One 107 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The New Englanders 121 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 II. HOW THE CARTER BOYS LIFTED 
 THE MORTGAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 Catching a Tartar , 145 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 The Hand of the Law 163 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 A Piece of Engineering 179 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A Rescue and a Battle 197 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Transfer of the Mortgage 212 
 
 ♦ ♦ ♦ 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 « 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Beaubassin Must Go! " Frontispiece, 
 
 The family were gathered in the kitchen. 
 
 The Raid from Beausejour 47 
 
 " They sped rapidly across the marsh.*' 
 
 Mr. Hand 144 
 
 " When he reached the door he knocked imperiously." 
 
THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 "Beaubassin Must Go!" 
 
 ON the hill of Beausejour, one April 
 morning in the year 1750 A. D., a 
 little group of French soldiers stood 
 watching, with gestures of anger and 
 alarm, the approach of several small 
 ships across the yellow waters of Chig- 
 necto Bay. The ships were flying 
 British colors. Presently they came to 
 anchor near the mouth of the Missa- 
 guash, a narrow tidal river about two 
 miles to the southeast of Beausejour. 
 There the ships lay swinging at their 
 cables, and all seemed quiet on board. 
 The group on Beausejour knew that the 
 British would attempt no landing for 
 some hours, as the tide was scarce past 
 the ebb, and half a mile of red mire lay 
 
8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSBJOUR. 
 
 between the water and the firm green 
 edges of the marsh. 
 
 The French soldiers were talking in 
 loud, excited tones. As they spoke a 
 tallish lad drew near and listened 
 eagerly. The boy, who was apparently 
 about sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
 was clad in the rough, yellow-gray home- 
 spun cloth of the Acadians. His name 
 was Pierre Lecorbeau, and he had just 
 come from the village of Beaubassin to 
 ciarry eggs, milk, and cheeses to the 
 camp on Beausejour. The words he 
 now heard seemed to concern him 
 deeply, for his dark face paled anxiously 
 as he listened. 
 
 "Yes, I tell you," one of the soldiers 
 was saying, " Beaubassin must go. Mon- 
 sieur the abbe has said so. You know, 
 he came into camp this morning about 
 daybreak, and has been shut up with the 
 colonel ever since. But he talks so loud 
 when he's angry that Jacques has got 
 hold of all his plans. His Reverence has 
 brought two score of his Micmacs with 
 
" BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! " 9 
 
 him from Cobequid, and has left 'em 
 over in the woods behind Beaubassin. 
 He swears that sooner than let the 
 English estabhsh themselves in the 
 village and make friends with those 
 mutton-head Acadians, he will burn the 
 whole place to the ground." 
 
 " And he'll do it, too, will the terrible 
 father ! " interjected another soldier. 
 
 " When will the fun begin ? " asked a 
 third. 
 
 " O ! " responded the first speaker, "if 
 the villagers make no fuss, and are ready 
 to cross the river and come and settle 
 over here with us, they shall have all the 
 time they want for removing their stuff 
 — all day, in fact. But if they are stub- 
 born, and would like to stay where they 
 are, arid knuckle down to the English, 
 they will see their roofs blazing over 
 their heads just about the time the first 
 English boat puts off for shore. If any 
 one kicks, why, as like as not, one of His 
 Reverence's red skinswill lift his hair for 
 him." 
 
lO THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJGUR. 
 
 A chorus of exclamations, with much 
 shrugging of shoulders, went round the 
 group at this ; and one said thought- 
 fully : " When my fighting days are 
 over, and I get back to France, I shall 
 pray all the saints to keep Father Le 
 Loutre in Acadie. With such fierce 
 priests in old France I should be afraid 
 to go to mass ! " 
 
 Pierre listened to all this with a sink- 
 ing heart. Not waiting to hear more, 
 he turned away, with the one thought of 
 getting home as soon as possible to 
 warn his father of the destruction hang- 
 ing over their happy home. At this 
 moment the soldier who had been doing 
 ntost of the talking caught sight of him, 
 and called out : 
 
 " Hullo, youngster, come here a min- 
 ute ! " 
 
 Pierre turned back with obvious re- 
 luctance, and the speaker continued : 
 
 " Your father, now, the good Antoine 
 — whom may the saints preserve, for his 
 butter and his cheeses are right excel- 
 
"BEAUBASSIN must go!" II 
 
 lent — does he greatly love this gentle 
 abb6 of yours ?" 
 
 The boy looked about him apprehen- 
 sively, and blurted out, " No, monsieur! " 
 A flush mounted to his cheek, and he 
 continued, in a voice of bitterness, " We 
 hate him ! " Then, as if terrified with 
 having spoken his true thought, the lad 
 darted away down the slope, and was 
 soon seen speeding at a long trot across 
 the young grass of the marsh to the ford 
 of the Missaguash. 
 
 At the time when our story opens, 
 events in Acadie were fast ripening to 
 that unhappy issue known as " the ex- 
 pulsion of the Acadians," which furnished 
 Longfellow with the theme of " Evange- 
 line." The Acadian peninsula, now 
 Nova Scotia, had been ceded by France 
 to England. The dividing line between 
 French and English territory was the 
 Missaguash stream, winding through the 
 marshes of the isthmus of Chignecto 
 which connects Acadie with the main- 
 land. The Acadians had become British 
 
12 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 
 
 subjects in name, but all the secret efforts 
 of France were devoted to preventing 
 them from becoming so in sentiment. 
 What is now New Brunswick was stMl 
 French territory, as were also Prince 
 Edward Island and Cape Breton. It 
 was the hope of the French king, Louis 
 XV, that if the Acadians could be kept 
 thoroughly French at heart Acadie 
 might yet be won back to shine on the 
 front of New France. 
 
 As the two nations were now at peace, 
 any tampering with the allegiance of the 
 Acadians could only be carried on in 
 secret. In the hands of the French 
 there remained just two forces to be 
 employed — persuasion and intimidation ; 
 and their religion was the medium 
 through which these forces were applied. 
 The Acadians had their own priests. 
 Such of these as would lend themselves 
 to the schemes of the government were 
 left in their respective parishes ; others, 
 more conscientious, were transferred to 
 posts where their scruples would be less 
 
" BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! " 1 3 
 
 inconvenient. If any Acadian began to 
 show signs of wishing to live his own 
 life quietly, careless as to whether a 
 Louis or a George reigned over him, he 
 was promptly brought to terms by the 
 threat that the Micmacs, who remained 
 actively French, would be turned loose 
 upon him. Under such a threat the un- 
 happy Acadian made all haste to forget 
 his partiality for the lenient British 
 rule. 
 
 The right hand of French influence in 
 Acadie at this time was the famous 
 Abb6 Le Loutre, missionary to the 
 Micmac Indians at Cobequid. To this 
 man's charge may well be laid the larger 
 part of the misfortunes which befell the 
 Acadian people. He was violent in his 
 hatred of the English, unscrupulous in 
 his methods, and utterly pitiless in the 
 carrying out of his project. His energy 
 and his vindictiveness were alike untir- 
 ing; and his ascendency over his savage 
 flock, who had been Christianized in 
 name only, gave a terrible weapon into 
 
14 THE RAID FROM BEAUSBJOUR. 
 
 his hands. Liberal were the rewards 
 this fierce priest drew from the coffers of 
 Quebec and of Versailles. 
 
 In order to keep the symbol of French 
 power and authority ever before Acadian 
 eyes, and to hinder the spread of Eng- 
 lish influence, a force had been sent from 
 Quebec, under the officers La Corne and 
 Boishebert, to hold the hill of Beaus6- 
 jour, which was practically the gate of 
 Acadie. From Beausejour the flourish- 
 ing settlement of Beaubassin, on the 
 English side of the Missaguash, was over- 
 awed and kept to the French allegiance. 
 The design of the French was to induce 
 all those Acadians whom they could ab-i- 
 solutely depend upon to remain in their 
 homes within the English lines, as a 
 means whereby to confound the English 
 counsels. Those, however, who were sus- 
 pected of leaning to the British, either 
 from sloth or policy, were to be bullied, 
 coaxed, frightened, or compelled by Le 
 Loutre and his braves into forsaking 
 their comfortable homes and moving 
 
" BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! " 15 
 
 into new settlements on the French side 
 of the boundary. 
 
 But the English authorities at Halifax, 
 after long and astonishing forbearance, 
 had begun to develop a scheme of their 
 own ; and the fleet which, on this April 
 morning, excited such consternation 
 among the watchers on Beausejour, 
 formed a part of it. Lord Cornwallis 
 had decided that an English force estab- 
 lished in Beaubassin would be the most 
 effective check upon the influence of 
 Beausejour ; and the vessels now at 
 anchor off the mouth of the red and 
 winding Missaguash contained a little 
 army of four hundred British troops, 
 under command of Major Lawrence. 
 This expedition had been sent out from 
 Halifax with a commendable secrecy, 
 but neither its approach nor its purpose 
 could be kept hidden from the ever-alert 
 Le Loutre. Since Beaubassin was on 
 British soil, no armed opposition could 
 be made to the landing of the British 
 force ; and the troops on Beausejour 
 
1 6 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 could only gnaw their mustaches and 
 gaze in angry silence. But Le Loutre 
 was resolved that on the arrival of the 
 British there should be no more Beau- 
 bassin. The villagers were not to re- 
 main in such bad company ! 
 
 Pierre Lecorbeau was swift of foot. 
 As he sped across the gray-green levels, 
 at this season of the year spongy with 
 rains, he glanced over his shoulder and 
 saw the abbe, with his companions, just 
 quitting the log cabin which served as 
 the quarters of Boish^bert. The boy's 
 brow took on a yet darker shadow. 
 When he reached the top of the dike 
 that bordered the MissaguasK, he paused 
 an instant and gazed seaward. Pierre 
 was eagerly French at heart, loving 
 France, as he hated Le Loutre, with a 
 fresh and young enthusiasm ; and as his 
 eyes rested on the crimson folds, the 
 red, blue, and white crosses that streamed 
 from the topmasts of the English ships, 
 his eyes flashed with keen hostility. 
 Then he vanished over the dike, and 
 
"BEAUBASSIN MUST GO.'" I 7 
 
 was soon splashing through the muddy 
 shallows of the ford. The water was 
 fast deepening, and he thought to him- 
 self, " If Monsieur the abbe doesn't 
 hurry, he will have to swim where I am 
 walking but knee-deep ! " 
 
 There was another stretch of marsh 
 for Pierre to cros's ere reaching the gentle 
 and fruitful slopes on which the village 
 was outspread. On the very edge of the 
 village, halfway up a low hill jutting out 
 into the Missaguash marsh, stood the 
 cabin of Pierre's father amid its orchards. 
 There was little work to do on the farm 
 at this season. The stock had all been 
 tended, and the family were gathered in 
 the kitchen when Pierre, breathless and 
 gasping, burst in with his evil tidings. 
 
 Now in the household of Antoine Le- 
 corbeau, and in Beaubassin generally, not 
 less than among the garrison of Beaus6- 
 jour, the coming of the English fleet had 
 produced a commotion. But in the heart 
 of Lecorbeau there was less anxiety than 
 curiosity. This temperate and sagacious 
 
1 8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 farmer had preserved an appearance of 
 unimpeachable fidelity to the French, but 
 in his inmost soul he appreciated the tol- 
 erance of the British rule, and longed to 
 see it strengthened. If the visitors were 
 coming to stay, as was rumored to be 
 the case, then, to Antoine Lecorbeau's 
 thinking, the day was a lucky one for 
 Beaubassin. He thought how he would 
 snap his fingers at Le Loutre and his 
 Micmacs. But he was beginning to exult 
 too soon. 
 
 When Pierre told his story, and the 
 family realized that their kindly home was 
 doomed, the little dark kitchen, with its 
 wooden ceiling, was filled with lamenta- 
 tions. Such of the children as were big 
 enough to understand the calamity wept 
 aloud, and the littler ones cried from sym- 
 pathy. Pierre's father for a moment ap- 
 peared bowed down beneath the stroke, 
 but the mother, a stout, dark, gentle-faced 
 woman, suddenly stopped her sobs and 
 cried out in a shrill voice, with her queer 
 Breton accent : 
 
" BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! " I9 
 
 " Antoine, Antoine, we will defy the 
 wicked, cruel abbe, and pray the English 
 to protect us from him. Did not Father 
 Xavier, just before he was sent away, tell 
 us that the English were just, and that it 
 was our duty to be faithful to them ? 
 How can we go out into this rough spring 
 weather with no longer a roof to cover 
 us?" 
 
 This appeal roused the Acadian. His 
 shrewd sense and knowledge of those 
 with whom he had to deal came at once 
 to his aid. 
 
 "Nay, nay, mother!" said he, rising 
 and passing his gnarled hand over his 
 forehead, " it is even as Pierre has said. 
 We must be the first to do the bidding of 
 the abbe, and must seem to do it of our 
 own accord. It will be hours yet ere the 
 English be among us, and long ere Le 
 Loutre will have had time to work his 
 will upon those who refuse to do his bid- 
 ding. Do thou get the stuff together. 
 This night we must sleep on the shore of 
 the stream and find us a new home at 
 
20 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 Beausejour. To the sheds, Pierre, and 
 yoke the cattle. Hurry, boy, hurry, for 
 there is everything to do and small time 
 for the doing of it." 
 
 From Lecorbeau's cottage the news of 
 Le Loutre's decree spread like wildfire 
 through the settlement. Some half dozen 
 reckless characters declared at once in the 
 abbe's favor, and set out across the 
 marsh to welcome him and offer their aid. 
 A few more, a very few, set themselves 
 reluctantly to follow the example of An- 
 toine Lecorbeau, who bore a great name 
 in the village for his wise counsels. But 
 most of the villagers got stubborn, and 
 vowed that they would stay by their 
 homes, whether it was Indians or English 
 bid them move. The resolution of these 
 poor souls was perhaps a little shaken as 
 a long line of painted and befeathered 
 Micmacs, appearing from the direction 
 of the wooded hills of Jolicceur, drew 
 stealthily near and squatted down in the 
 outermost skirts of the village. But 
 Beaubassin had not had the experience 
 
" BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! " 21 
 
 with Le Loutre that had fallen to the 
 lot of other settlements, and the unwise 
 ones hardened their hearts in their de- 
 cision. 
 
 As Le Loutre, with his little party, en- 
 tered the village, he met Antoine Lecor- 
 beau setting out for Beausejour with a 
 huge cartload of household goods, drawn 
 by a yoke of oxen. The abbe's fierce, 
 close-set eyes gleamed with approval, 
 and he accosted the old man in a cordial 
 voice. 
 
 " This is indeed well done, Antoine. 
 I love thy zeal for the grand cause. The 
 saints will assuredly reward thee, and I 
 will myself do for thee the little that lies 
 in my poor power ! But why so heavy 
 of cheer, man ? " 
 
 " Alas, father ! " returned Lecorbeau, 
 sadly, " this is a sorrowful day. It is a 
 grievous hardship to forsake one's hearth, 
 and these fruitful fields, and this well bear- 
 ing orchard that I have planted with my 
 own hands. . But better this than to live 
 in humiliation and in jeopardy every hour; 
 
22 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 
 
 for I learn that these EngHsh are coming 
 to take possession and to dwell among us!" 
 
 The abbe, as Lecorbeau intended, quite 
 failed to catch the double meaning in this 
 speech, which he interpreted in accord- 
 ance with his own feelings. Like many 
 another unscrupulous deceiver, Le Loutre 
 was himself not difificult to deceive. 
 
 " Well, cheer up, Antoine ! " he replied, 
 " for thou shalt have good lands on the 
 other side of the hill ; and thou wilt count 
 thyself blest when thou seest what shall 
 happen to some of these slow beasts here, 
 who care neither for France nor the 
 Church so long as they be let alone to 
 sleep and fill their bellies." 
 
 As the great cart went creaking on, 
 Lecorbeau looked over his shoulder, with 
 an inscrutable gaze, and watched the re- 
 treating figure of the priest. 
 
 " Thou mayst be a good servant to 
 France," he murmured, "but it is an ill 
 service, a sorry service, thou dost the 
 Church ! " 
 
 Within the next few hours, while An- 
 
" BEAUBASSIN MUST GO ! " 23 
 
 toine and his family had been getting 
 nearly all their possessions across the 
 Missaguash, first by the fords, and then 
 by the aid of the great scow which served 
 for a ferry at high tide, the tireless abb6 
 had managed to coax or threaten nearly 
 every inhabitant of the village. His In- 
 dians stalked after him, apparently heed- 
 less of everything. His few allies among 
 the Acadians, who had assumed the In- 
 dian garb for the occasion, scattered them- 
 selves over the settlement repeating the 
 abbe's exhortations ; but the villagers, 
 though with anxious hearts, held to their 
 cabins, refusing to stir, and watching for 
 the English boats to come ashore. They 
 did not realize how intensely in earnest 
 and how merciless the abb6 could be, for 
 they had nothing but hearsay and his 
 angry face to judge b}'. But their awak- 
 ening was soon to come. 
 
 Early in the afternoon the tide was nigh 
 the full. At a signal from the masthead 
 of the largest ship there spread a sudden 
 activity throughout the fleet, and imme- 
 
24 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 
 
 diately a number of boats were lowered. 
 For this the abbe had been waiting. 
 Snatching a blazing splinter of pine from 
 the hearth of a cottage close to the church, 
 he rushed iip to the homely but sacred 
 building about which clustered the warm- 
 est affections of the villagers. At the 
 same moment several of his followers ap- 
 peared with armfuls of straw from a 
 neighboring barn. This inflammable stuff, 
 with some dry brush, was piled into the 
 porch and fired by the abbe's own hand. 
 The structure was dry as tinder, and al- 
 most instantly a volume of smoke rolled 
 up, followed by long tongues of eager flame, 
 which looked strangely pallid and cruel 
 in the afternoon sunshine. A yell broke 
 from the Indians, and then there fell a 
 silence, broken only by the crackling of 
 the flames. The English troops, realiz- 
 ing in a moment what was to occur, bent 
 to their oars with redoubled vigor, think- 
 ing to put a stop to the shameless work. 
 And the name of Le Loutre was straight- 
 way on their lips. ' 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Pierre Visits the English Lines. 
 
 ' I ""HE ships were a mile from shore, 
 ■^ and the shore nearly a league from 
 the doomed village. When that column 
 of smoke and flame rolled up over their 
 beloved church the unhappy Acadian 
 villagers knew, too late, the character of 
 the man with whom they had to deal. It 
 was no time "for them to look to the ships 
 for help. They began with trembling 
 haste to pack their movables, while Le 
 Loutre and a few of his supporters went 
 from house to house with great coolness, 
 deaf to all entreaties, and behind the 
 feet of each sprang up a flame. A few 
 of the more stolid or more courageous 
 of the villagers still held out, refusing to 
 move even at the threat of the firebrand; 
 but these gave way -when the Indians 
 came up, yelling and brandishing their 
 tomahawks. Le Loutre proclaimed that 
 anyone refusing to cross the lines and 
 
26 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:^JOUR. 
 
 take refuge at Beaus6jour should be 
 scalped. The rest, he said, might retain 
 possession of just so much of their stuff 
 as they could rescue from the general 
 conflagration. The English, he swore, 
 should find nothing of Beaubassin except 
 its ashes. 
 
 Presently the thin procession of teams, 
 winding its gloomy way across the plains 
 of the Missaguash toward Beausejour, be- 
 came a hurrying throng of astonished and 
 wailing villagers, each one carrying witJi 
 him on his back or in his rude ox cart 
 the most precious of his movable posses- 
 sions; while the women, with loud sob- 
 bing, dragged along by their hands the 
 frightened and reluctant little ones. By 
 another road, leading into the wooded 
 hills where the villagers were wont to cut 
 their winter firewood, a few of the more 
 hardy and impetuous of the Acadians, 
 disdaining to bend to the authority of Le 
 Loutre, fled away into the wilds with 
 their muskets and a little bread ; and 
 these the Indians dared not try to stop. 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 27 
 
 The English boats, driven furiously, 
 dashed high up the slippery beach, and 
 the troops swarmed over the brown and 
 sticky dikes. Major Lawrence led the 
 way at a run across the marshes ; but the 
 soft soil clogged their steps, and a wide 
 bog forced them far to one side. When 
 they reached the outskirts of the village 
 the sorrowful dusk of the April evening 
 was falling over the further plains and the 
 full tide behind them, but the sky in front 
 was ablaze. There was little wind, and 
 the flames shot straight aloft, and the 
 smoke hung on the scene in dense cur- 
 tains, doubling the height of the hill be- 
 hind the village, and reflecting back alike 
 the fierce heat and the dreadful glare. At 
 one side, skulking behind some outlying 
 barns just bursting into flame, a few In- 
 dians were sighted and pursued. The 
 savages fired once on their pursuers, and 
 then, with a yell of derision and defiance, 
 disappeared behind the smoke. The Eng- 
 lish force went into camp with the con- 
 flagration covering its rear, and phil- 
 
28 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 osophically built its camp fires and cooked 
 its evening meal with the aid of the burn- 
 ing sheds and hayricks. 
 
 As Pierre Lecorbeau drove his ox cart 
 up the slope of Beaus6jour toward the 
 commandant's cabin, where his father 
 was awaiting him, he halted and looked 
 back while the blowinof oxen took 
 breath. His mother, who had stayed to 
 the last, was sitting in the cart on a pile 
 of her treasures. The children had been 
 taken to a place of safety by their 
 father, who had left the final stripping 
 of the home to his wife and boy, while 
 he went ahead to arrange for the night's 
 shelter. Antoine Lecorbeau had lost his 
 home, his farm, his barns, his orchards, 
 and his easy satisfaction with life; but 
 thanks to Pierre's promptitude and his 
 own shrewdness he had saved all his 
 household stuff, his cattle, his hay and 
 grain, and the little store of gold coin 
 which had been hidden under the great 
 kitchen hearth. His hottse was the last 
 to be fired, and even now, as Pierre and 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 29 
 
 his mother stood watching, long red 
 horns of flame were pushed forth, writh- 
 ing, from the low gables. The two were 
 silent, save for the woman's occasional 
 heavy sobs. Presently the roof fell in, 
 and then the boy's wet eyes flashed. A 
 body of the English troops could be 
 seen pitching tents in the orchard. 
 " Mother ! " said the boy, " what if we 
 had stayed at home and waited for these 
 English to protect us 7 They are our 
 enemies, these English ; and the abb6 
 is our enemy ; and the Indians are our 
 enemies ; and our only friends ar^ — 
 yonder ! " 
 
 As Pierre spoke he turne'd his back 
 on the lurid sky and pointed to the 
 crest of Beaus^jour. There, in long, 
 dark lines, stood nearly a thousand 
 French troops, drawn up on parade. 
 The light from the ruined village 
 gleamed in blood-red flashes from their 
 steel, and over them the banner of 
 France flapped idly with its lilies. 
 
 That night, because Antoine Lecor- 
 
30 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 beau was a leader among the villagers 
 of Beaubassin, he and his family had 
 shelter in a small but warm stable where 
 some of the officers' horses were quar- 
 tered. Their goods were stacked and 
 huddled together in the open air, and 
 Pierre and his father cut boughs and 
 spread blankets to cover them from the 
 weather. In the warm straw of the 
 stable, hungry and homesick, the chil- 
 dren clung about their mother and wept 
 themselves to sleep. But they were 
 fortunate compared with many of their 
 acquaintances, whom Pierre could see 
 crowded roofless about their fires, in 
 sheltered hollows and under the little 
 hillside copses. The night was raw and 
 showery, and there was not houseroom 
 in Beaus6jour for a tenth part of the 
 homeless Acadians. 
 
 By dawn Pierre was astir. He rose 
 from his cramped position under a 
 manger, stretched himself, shook the 
 chaff and dust from his thick black hair, 
 and stepped out into the chilly morning. 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 3 I 
 
 The cattle had been hobbled and allowed 
 to feed at large, but the boy's eye soon 
 detected that his pet yoke had disap- 
 peared. Nowhere on Beausejour could 
 they be found, and he concluded they 
 must have freed themselves completely 
 and wandered back home. Pierre had 
 no reason to fear the English, but he 
 dreaded lest the troops should take a 
 fancy to make beef out of his fat oxen ; 
 so, after a word to his father, he set out 
 for the burned village. Early as it was, 
 however, Beausejour was all astir when 
 he left, and he wondered what the 
 soldiers were so busy about. 
 
 As Pierre approached the smoldering 
 ruins of his home, an English soldier, 
 standing on guard before the tents in the 
 orchard, ordered him to halt. Pierre 
 didn't understand the word, but he com- 
 prehended the tone in which it was 
 uttered. He saw his beloved oxen 
 standing with bowed heads by the water 
 trough, and he tried to make the soldier 
 understand that he had come for those 
 
32 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 oxen, which belonged to him. On this 
 point Pierre spoke very emphatically, as 
 if to make his French more intelligi- 
 ble to the Englishman. But his strug- 
 gles were all in vain. The soldier 
 looked first puzzled, then vacuously 
 wise ; then he knit his brows and looked 
 at the oxen. Finally he laughed, took 
 Pierre by the elbow, and led him toward 
 one of the tents. At this moment a 
 pleasant-faced young officer came out of 
 the tent, and, taking in the situation at a 
 glance, addressed Pierre in French: 
 
 " Well, my boy," said he, kindly, " what 
 are you doing here so early .? " 
 
 Pierre became polite at once ; so surely 
 does courtesy find courtesy. 
 
 " Sir," said he, taking off his hat, " I 
 have come after my father's oxen, those 
 beasts yonder, which strayed back here in 
 the night. This was our home yesterday." 
 
 Pierre's voice quivered as he spoke 
 these last words. 
 
 The officer looked very much inter- 
 ested. 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 33 
 
 " Certainly," said he, " you shall have 
 your oxen. We don't take anything 
 that doesn't belong to us. But tell me, 
 why is not this your home to-day ? 
 Why have you all burnt down your 
 houses and run away ? We are the true 
 friends of all the Acadians. What had 
 you to fear.?" 
 
 . " We didn't do it I " replied the boy. 
 "It was monsieur the abbe and his 
 Indians ; and they threatened to scalp 
 us all if we didn't leave before you 
 came ! " 
 
 The young officer's face grew very 
 stern at the mention of the abb6, whom 
 he knew to mean Le Loutre. 
 
 " Ah! " he muttered, " I see it all now! 
 We might have expected as much from 
 that snake ! But tell me," he continued 
 to Pierre, " what is going on over on the 
 hill this morning ? They are not going 
 to attack us, are they ? We are on 
 English soil here. They know that!" 
 
 " I don't know," said Pierre, looking 
 about him, and over at Beaus^jour. 
 
34 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 " They were very busy getting things 
 ready for something when I left. But I 
 wanted my oxen, and I didn't wait to ask. 
 May I take them away now, monsieur } " 
 
 " Very well," answered the officer, and 
 he offered Pierre a shilling. To his 
 astonishment Pierre' drew himself up 
 and wouldn't touch it. The young man 
 still held it out to him, saying: " Why, it 
 is only a little memento ! See, it has a 
 hole in it, and you can keep it to re- 
 member Captain Howe by. I have 
 many friends among your people ! " 
 
 " My heart is French," replied Pierre, 
 with resolution. " I cannot take money 
 from an enemy." 
 
 " But we English are no^ your enemies. 
 We wish to do you good, to win your 
 love. It is that wicked Le Loutre who 
 is your enemy." 
 
 " Yes," assented Pierre, very heartily. 
 ''We all hate him. And many of us 
 love the English, and would be friends 
 if we dared ; but / do not love any but 
 the Holy Saints and the French. I love 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 35 
 
 France ! " and the boy's voice rang with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 A slight shade of sadness passed over 
 the young captain's earnest face. Ed- 
 ward Howe was known throughout 
 Acadia as a lover of the Acadians, and 
 as one who had more than once stood 
 between them and certain well-deserved 
 restraint. He was attracted by Pierre's 
 intelligence of face and respectful fear- 
 lessness of demeanor, and he determined 
 to give the young enthusiast something 
 to think about. 
 
 " Do you not know," said he, " that 
 your beloved France is at the back of all 
 this misery.?" And he pointed to the 
 smoking ruins of the village. " Do you 
 not know that it is the gold of the 
 French king that pays Le Loutre and 
 his savages ? Do you not know that 
 while King Louis instructs his agents in 
 Quebec and Louisburg, and yonder at 
 Beausejour, to excite the Indians, and 
 certain of your own people too, to all 
 sorts of outrages against peaceful Eng- 
 
36 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 lish settlers, he at the same time puts all 
 the blame upon your people,, and swears 
 that he does his utmost to restrain you? 
 O, you are so sorely deceived, and some 
 day you will open your eyes to it, but 
 perhaps too late ! My heart bleeds for 
 your unhappy people." 
 
 The young man turned back into his 
 tent, after a word to the sentry who had 
 brought Pierre in. The boy stood a few 
 moments in irresolution, wanting to 
 speak again to the young officer, whose 
 frank eyes and winning manner had 
 made a deep impression upon him. But 
 his faith in the France of his imagination 
 was not daunted. Presently, speaking to 
 his oxen in a tone of command, he drove 
 the submissive brutes away across the 
 marsh. 
 
 As he left the English camp a bugle 
 rang out shrilly behind him, and a great 
 stir arose in the lines. He glanced 
 about him, and continued his way. 
 Then he observed that the slopes of 
 Beausejour were dark with battalions on 
 
PIERRE VISITS THE ENGLISH LINES. 37 
 
 the march, and he realized with a thrill 
 that the lilies were advancing to give 
 battle. In another moment, looking be- 
 hind him, he saw the scarlet lines of the 
 English already under arms, and a sig- 
 nal gun boomed from the ships. 
 
 Trembling with excitement, and de- 
 termined to carry 9. musket in the com- 
 ing fray, Pierre urged his oxen into a 
 gallop, and made a detour to get around 
 the French army. By the time he got 
 back to his stable, and possessed himself 
 of his father's musket, and started down 
 the hill at a run, expecting every mo- 
 ment to hear his father's voice calling 
 him to return, the soldiers of France had 
 reached the river. But here they halted, 
 making no move to cross into English 
 territory. To have done so would have 
 been a violation of the existing treaty 
 between France and England. 
 
 Major Lawrence, however, did not 
 suspect that the French movement was 
 merely what is known as a demonstra- 
 tion. He took it for granted that the 
 
38 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 French were waiting only for some 
 favorable condition of the tide in order 
 to cross over and attack him in his posi- 
 tion. He saw that the French force 
 three or four times outnumbered his 
 own ; and as his mission was one of 
 pacification, he decided not to shed 
 blood uselessly. He ordered a retreat 
 to the ship. The men went very re- 
 luctantly, hating to seem overawed ; 
 but Major Lawrence explained the 
 situation, and declared that, Beaubas- 
 sin being burned, there was no special 
 object in remaining. He further prom- 
 ised that later in the summer he 
 would come again, with a force that 
 would be large enough for the undertak- 
 ing, and would build a strong fort on the 
 hill at whose foot they were now en- 
 camped. Then the red files marched 
 sullenly back to their boats ; while a 
 body of Indians, reappearing from the 
 woods, yelled and danced their defiance, 
 and the Fi^ench across the river shouted 
 their mocking ballads. 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 39 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 French and English. 
 
 A ^7 HEN it was seen that the Eng- 
 lish were actually reembarking, a 
 fierce indignation broke out against Le 
 Loutre for the useless cruelty and pre- 
 cipitancy of his action. The French 
 troops had ,some little feeling for the 
 houseless villagers, and they were 
 angered at being deprived of their chief 
 and most convenient source of supplies. 
 The fierce abb6 insisted that the move- 
 ment of the English was a ruse of some 
 sort ; but when the ships got actually 
 under way, with a brisk breeze in their 
 sails, he withdrew in deep chagrin, and 
 returned with his Micmacs to his village 
 on the muddy Shubenacadie. Relieved 
 of his dreaded presence the Acadians set 
 bravely to work building cabins on the 
 new lands which were allotted them back 
 of Beausejour, and along the Missaguash, 
 Au Lac, and Tantramar streams. A few 
 
40 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 were rash- enough to return to their 
 former holdings in Beaubassin, rebuilding 
 among the ashes ; but not so Antoine 
 Lecorbeau. On the northwest slope of 
 Beaasejour, where a fertile stretch of 
 uplands skirts the commencement of the 
 Great Tantramar marsh, he obtained an 
 allotment, and laid his hearthstone anew. 
 The burning of Beaubassin had not 
 made him love France the more, but it 
 had cooled his liking for the English. 
 The words of Captain Howe, nevertheless, 
 which Pierre had repeated to him faith- 
 fully, lay rankling in his heart, and he har- 
 bored a bitter suspicion as to the good 
 faith of the French authorities. He saw 
 that they professed disapproval of the. 
 methods of Le Loutre, but he began to 
 doubt the sincerity of this disapproval. 
 Pierre, however, was troubled by no 
 such misgivings. 
 
 The summer, though a laborious one, 
 slipped by not at all unpleasantly. 
 Mother Lecorbeau soon had a roof to 
 shelter her little brood of swarthy roist- 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 41 
 
 erers ; a rough shed, built over a hill- 
 side spring in a group of willows, served 
 as the dairy wherein she made the butter 
 and cheese so appreciated by the war- 
 riors on Beaus^jour. Lecorbeau got in 
 crops both on his new lands and on the 
 old farm, and saw the apples ripening 
 abundantly around the ruins of his home 
 in Beaubassin. As for Pierre, in his 
 scanty hours of leisure he was always to 
 be found on the hill, where an old color 
 sergeant, pleased with his intelligence 
 and his ambition to become a soldier of 
 France, was teaching him to read and 
 write. This friendly veteran was, in his 
 comrades' eyes, a marvel of clerkly skill, 
 for in those days the ability to read and 
 write was by no means a universal pos- 
 session among the soldiers of France. 
 
 One evening in the first of the autumn, 
 when here and there on the dark Minudie 
 hills could be seen the scarlet gleam of 
 an early-turning maple, just as the bay 
 had become a sheet of glowing copper 
 under the sunset, a rosy sail appeared on 
 
42 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 / 
 
 the horizon. The pacing sentry on 
 the brow of Beausejour stopped to 
 watch it. Presently another rose into 
 view, and another, and another ; and 
 then Beausejour knew that the English 
 fleet had returned. Before the light 
 faded out the watchers had counted 
 seventeen ships ; and when the next 
 morning broke the whole squadron was 
 lying at anchor about three miles from 
 the .shore. 
 
 With the first of daylight Pierre and 
 his father hastened up the hill to find 
 out what was to be done. To their 
 astonishment they learned that the 
 troops on Beaus6jour would do just 
 nothing, unless the English should at- 
 tempt to land on the French side of the 
 Missaguash. They had received from 
 Quebec a caution not to transgress 
 openly any treaty obligations. To An- 
 toine Lecorbeau this news seemed not 
 unwelcome. He was for quiet gener- 
 ally. But Pierre showed in his face, 
 and, indeed, proclaimed aloud, his disap- 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 43 
 
 pointment. The old sergeant laughed 
 at his eager pupil, and remarked : 
 
 " O, my young fire eater, you shall 
 have a chance at the beefeaters if you 
 like ! His Reverence the abb6 arrived in 
 Beausejour last night about midnight, 
 and he's going to fight, if we can't. 
 Treaties don't bother him much. He's 
 got all his Micmacs with him, I guess. 
 There they go now — the other side of 
 the stream. In a bit you'll see them at 
 work strengthening the line of the dike. 
 They're going to give it to the beefeaters 
 pretty hot when they try to come 
 ashore. There's your chance now for a 
 brush. _ His Reverence will take you, fast 
 enough." 
 
 " Pierre shall do nothing of the sort, 
 whether he wants to or not," interrupted 
 Lecorbeau, with sharp emphasis. 
 
 " I wouldn't fight under him ! " ejacu- 
 lated the boy, with a ring of scorn in his 
 voice. 
 
 The old sergeant shrugged his shoul- 
 ders. 
 
44 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 " O, very well," said he. "I'm of the 
 same way of thinking myself But all 
 your people are not so particular. Look 
 now, over at the dike. Did you ever 
 see an Indian that could handle the 
 shovel as those fellows are doing. I 
 tell you, half those Indians are just your 
 folks dressed up, and painted red and 
 black, and with feathers stuck in their 
 hair. The abb6 ropes a lot of you into 
 this business, and you're lucky, Antoine 
 Lecorbeau, that he hasn't called on you 
 or Pierre yet." 
 
 At this suggestion Lecorbeau looked 
 grim, but troubled. As for Pierre, how- 
 ever, with a boy's confiden'ce, he ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Just let him call. I think I see him 
 getting us ! " 
 
 Yet, for all his bitterness against Le 
 Loutre, Pierre felt the fever of battle stir 
 within him as he watched the prepara- 
 tions behind the long, red Missagua'sh 
 dike. His father, seeing the excitement 
 in his flashing eyes and flushed counte- 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 45 
 
 nance, exacted from him then and there 
 a promise that he would take no part in 
 the approaching conflict. 
 
 On that September day the tide was full 
 about noon, and with the tide came in the 
 English ships. Knowing the anchorage, 
 they came right into the river's mouth, in 
 a long, ominously silent line. The mixed 
 rabble of Le Loutre crowded low behind 
 their breastworks ; and hundreds of eager 
 eyes on Beausejour strained their sight 
 to catch the first flash of the battle. 
 
 " Do you see that little knoll j'onder 
 with the poplars on it ? " said Pierre to 
 his father and the sergeant. " Let's go 
 over there and hide in the bushes, and 
 we can see twice as well as we can from 
 here. There's a little creek makes round 
 it on the far side, and we'll be just as safe 
 as here ! " 
 
 " Yes," responded the sergeant, " it's a 
 fine advanced post. We'll just slip down 
 round the foot of the hill as if we were 
 bound for the dikes, so there won't be a 
 crowd following us." 
 
46 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 As the three sped rapidly across the 
 marsh, Antoine Lecorbeau said signifi- 
 cantly to his son : 
 
 " Do you see how these English spare 
 our people ? They haven't fired a single 
 big gun, yet with the metal on board their 
 ships they could knock those breastworks 
 and the men behind them into splinters. 
 They could batter down the dike, and let 
 the tide right in on them." 
 
 " Aye ! aye ! " assented the old sergeant, 
 " they're a brave foe, and I would we could 
 have a brush with them. They're landing 
 now without firing a shot ! " 
 
 At this moment the irregular firing from 
 the breastwork grew more rapid and sus- 
 tained, and our three adventurers hurried 
 on to the knoll, eager for a better view. 
 They found the post already occupied by 
 half a dozen interested villagers, who paid 
 no attention to the new arrivals. 
 
 By this time the English boats had 
 reached the water's edge. On this occasion 
 Major Lawrence had nearly eight hundred 
 men at his command, and was resolved to 
 
' They sped rapidly across the marsh." — See page 4b. 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 49 
 
 carry his enterprise to a successful issue. 
 The troops did not wait to form, under 
 the now galling fire from the breastwork, 
 but swarmed up the red slope in loose 
 skirmishing order, pouring in a hot drop- 
 ping fire as they ran. As they reached the 
 dike a ringing cheer broke out, and they 
 dashed at the awkward and slippery steep. 
 
 A few reached the top, and for a mo- 
 ment the English colors crowned the em- 
 bankment. But at the same time the 
 painted defenders rose with a yell, and 
 beat back their assailants with gunstock 
 and hatchet. The red flag was seized by 
 a tall savage, and Pierre gave a little cry 
 of excitement as he thought the enemies' 
 colors .were captured. But his enthusiasm 
 was premature. The stripling who car- 
 ried the colors, finding no chance to use 
 his sword, grasped the Indian about the 
 waist and dragged him off the dike, when 
 he was promptly made captive. 
 
 Now the English withdrew a few paces, 
 held back with difficulty by their officers, 
 and one, whom the watchers on the knoll 
 
 4 
 
50 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 took for Lawrence himself, was seen giv- 
 ing orders, standing with his back half 
 turned to the breastwork, as undisturbed 
 as if the shower of Micmac bullets were 
 a snowstorm. Presently the redcoats 
 charged again, this time slowly and si- 
 lently, in long, regular lines. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the sergeant under 
 his breath, " they'll go through this time. 
 That advance means business ! " 
 
 In fact, they did go through. At the 
 very foot of the dike a single volley flashed 
 forth along the whole line, momentarily 
 clearing the top of the barrier. The next 
 instant the dike was covered with scarlet 
 figures. Along its crest there was a brief 
 struggle, hand to hand, and then the 
 braves of Le Loutre were seen fleeing 
 through the smoke. 
 
 The Missaguash is a stream with as 
 many windings as the storied Meander, 
 and about half a mile beyond the lines 
 which the English had just carried the 
 contortions of the channel brought an- 
 other and almost parallel ridge of dike. 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH. 5 1 
 
 Over this the flying rout of Micmacs and 
 Acadians clambered with alacrity, while 
 the English forces halted where they 
 found themselves. 
 
 To the little knot of watchers on the 
 knoll the contest had seemed too brief, the 
 defeat of their people most inglorious. 
 
 " As a fighting man monsieur the abb6 
 makes rather a poor show, however good 
 he may be at burning people's houses ! " 
 exclaimed Pierre, in a voice that trembled 
 with a mixture of enthusiasm for the 
 cause, and scorn for him who had it in 
 charge. 
 
 " You will find, my son," said Lecor- 
 beau, sententiously, "that the cruel and 
 pitiless are often without real courage ! " 
 
 " O ! " laughed the old sergeant, " I'll 
 wager my boots that His Reverence is 
 not in the fight at all. It's likely one of 
 his understrappers. Father Germain, per- 
 haps, or that cutthroat half-breed, Etienne 
 Le B4tard, or Father Laberne, or the big 
 Chief Cope himself, is leading the fight 
 and carrying out the saintly abbe's orders." 
 
52 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 " Fools ! Fools and revilers ! " exclaimed 
 a deep and cutting voice behind them ; 
 and turning with a start they saw the 
 dreaded Le Loutre standing in their midst. 
 Lecorbeau and Pierre became pale with 
 apprehension and superstitious awe, while 
 the old sergeant laughed awkwardly, 
 abashed though not dismayed. 
 
 The abbe's sallow face worked with 
 anger, and for a moment his narrow eyes 
 blazed upon Lecorbeau and seemed to 
 read his very soul. Then, as he glanced 
 across the marsh, his countenance changed. 
 A fanatic zeal illumined it, taking away 
 half its repulsiveness. 
 
 "Nay!" he cried, "I am not there in 
 the battle. France and the Church need 
 me, and what am I that I should risk, to 
 be thought bold, a life that I must rather 
 hold sacred. Should a chance ball strike 
 me down which of you traitors and self- 
 seekers is there that could do my work .? 
 Which of you could govern my fierce 
 flock.?" 
 
 To this tirade, which showed them their 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH, 53 
 
 tormentor in a new light, Pierre and his 
 father could say nothing. Wondering, 
 but not believing, they exchanged stolen 
 glances. It is probable that the abb6, in 
 his present mood, was sincere ; for in a 
 fanatic one must allow for the wildest in- 
 consistencies. The old sergeant, more 
 skeptical than the Acadians, was, at the 
 same time more polite. He hastened to 
 murmur, apologetically : 
 
 " Pardon me, Reverend Father ! I see 
 that I misunderstood you ! " 
 
 Le Loutre made no answer, for now 
 events on the battlefield were enchaining 
 every eye. 
 
 Behind the second line of dikes the 
 Micmacs and Acadians had again in- 
 trenched themselves. Major Lawrence, 
 perceiving this, at once ordered another 
 charge. Then the Indians resolved on a 
 bold and perilous stroke. 
 
 The right of their position was nearest 
 the attacking force. At this point, acting 
 under a sudden inspiration, they began to 
 cut the dike. Almost instantly a breach 
 
54 THE RAID FROM BEAUSBJOUR. 
 
 began to appear, under the attack of a 
 dozen diking spades wielded with fever- 
 ish energy. 
 
 An involuntary cry of consternation 
 went up from the group of Acadians on 
 the knoll, but the grim abb6 shouted, 
 " Well done ! Well done ! my brave, my 
 true Laberne ! " And he rushed from his 
 hiding place on some new errand, leaving 
 the air lighter for his absence. 
 
 The English detected at once the ma- 
 neuver of their opponents. They broke 
 into a fierce rush, determined to stop the 
 work of destruction before it should be 
 too late. From his left Major Lawrence 
 threw out a few skilled marksmen, who 
 concentrated a telling fire upon the dig- 
 gers, delaying but not putting an end to 
 the furious energy of their efiforts. Already 
 a stream of turbid water was stealing 
 through. Presently it gathered force and 
 volume, spreading out swiftly across the 
 marsh, and at the same time the crest of 
 the dike was fringed with smoke and the 
 pale flashes of the muskets. 
 
FRENCH AND ENGLISH, 55 
 
 The tide was now on the ebb, and a 
 current set strongly against the point of 
 dike where the diggers were at work. 
 This fact tended to make the results of 
 their work the more immediately appar- 
 ent, rendering mighty assistance to every 
 stroke of the spade. At the same time, 
 however, it told heavily in favor of the 
 English, for, in order to counteract the 
 special stream, the dike at this point was 
 of great additional strength. Moreover, 
 in the tidal rivers of that region the ebb 
 and flow are so vast and so swift, that the 
 English hoped the tide would be below a 
 dangerous level before the destruction of 
 the dike could be^accomplished. 
 
 In this hope they were right. Ere they 
 had more than half crossed the stretch of 
 marsh the waters of the Missaguash were 
 oozing about their ankles. But as they 
 neared the dike it had grown no deeper. 
 They saw the diggers throw down their 
 spades, pick up their muskets, and fall in 
 with their comrades behind the dike. The 
 fire from the top of the barrier ceased, 
 
56 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 and in silence, with loaded weapons, the 
 Indians awaited the assault. From this 
 it was plain to Major Lawrence that the 
 defense was in the hands of a European. 
 He straightened out his lines before the 
 charge. 
 
PREPARING FOR THE RAID, 57 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Preparing for the Raid. 
 
 "nPHANK heaven!" ejaculated An- 
 -■- toine Lecorbeau, "they have saved 
 the dike ! " 
 
 In Acadian eyes to tamper with the 
 dikes was sacrilege. 
 
 " Well ! " said the sergeant, with a some- 
 what cynical chuckle, " at least the Eng- 
 lish have got their feet wet ! " 
 
 Pierre broke off his laugh in the middle, 
 for at this moment the red lines charged. 
 The deadly volley which rang out along 
 the summit for an instant staggered the 
 assailants' ; but they rallied and went over 
 the barrier like a scarlet wave. The dike 
 was much easier to scale when thus ap- 
 proached on the landward side. 
 
 And now ensued a fierce hand-to-hand 
 struggle. The spectators could hardly 
 contain their excitement as they saw their 
 party, fighting doggedly, forced back step 
 by step to the edge of the water. Some, 
 
58 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 slipping in the ooze of the retreating tide, 
 fell and were carried down by the current. 
 These soon swam ashore — discreetly land- 
 ing on the further side of the river. The 
 rest seeing the struggle hopeless, now, 
 broke and fled with a celerity that the Eng- 
 lish could not hope to rival. Along the 
 flats, for perhaps a mile, a detachment of 
 the English pursued them till a bugle 
 sounded their recall. Then Major Law- 
 rence, finding himself master of the field, 
 directed his march to that low hill where 
 he had encamped the previous spring, 
 and a fatigue party was set to repair the 
 dike. 
 
 On this hill the English proceeded to 
 erect a fortified post, which they called 
 Fort Lawrence ; and in an incredibly 
 short time the red flag was waving from 
 its battlements, not three miles distant 
 from Beausejour, and an abiding provoca- 
 tion to the hot-headed soldiery of France. 
 As for Le Loutre, after his disastrous re- 
 pulse, he yielded to the inevitable, and 
 gave up all thought of preventing the 
 
PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 59 
 
 establishment of Fort Lawrence. But 
 he was not discouraged ; he was merely 
 changing his tactics. 
 
 The Missaguash being the dividing 
 line between the two powers, he caused 
 his Acadian and Indian followers to en- 
 rage the English by petty depredations, 
 by violations of the frontier, by attacks 
 and ambuscades. Soon the English were 
 provoked into retaliations ; whereupon 
 the regulars of Beausejour found an 
 excuse for taking part, and the turbid 
 Missaguash became the scene of such 
 perpetual skirmishes that its waters ran 
 redder than ever. 
 
 Even then there might have been ere- 
 long an attempt at reconciliation, to which 
 end the efforts of Captain Howe were 
 ceaselessly directed. But Le Loutre 
 made this forever impossible by an out- 
 rage so fiendish as to call forth the ex- 
 ecration of even his unscrupulous ern- 
 ployers. One morning the sentries on 
 Fort Lawrence were somewhat surprised 
 to see one who was apparently an officer 
 
6o THE RAID FROM BEAUSllJOUR. 
 
 from the garrison of Beausejour, with 
 several followers, approaching the banks 
 of the Missaguash with a flag of truce. 
 The party reached the dike, and the 
 bearer of the flag waved it as if desiring 
 to hold a parley. His followers remained 
 behind at a respectful distance, standing 
 knee-deep in the heavy aftermath of the 
 fertile marsh. 
 
 In prompt response to this advance 
 Captain Howe and several companions, 
 under a white flag, set out from Fort Law- 
 rence to see what was wanted. When 
 Howe reached the river he detected some- 
 thing in the supposed officer's dress and 
 language' which excited his suspicions of 
 the man's good faith, and he turned 
 away as if to retrace his steps. Instantly 
 there flashed out a volley of musketry 
 from behind the dike on the further shore, 
 and the beloved young captain fell mor- 
 tally wounded. The pretended officer 
 was one of Le Loutre's supporters, the 
 Micmac chief, Jean Baptiste Cope, and 
 the fatal volley came from a band of Mic- 
 
PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 6 1 
 
 macs who had, under cover of darkness, 
 concealed themselves behind the dike. 
 
 The assassins kept up a sharp fire on 
 the rest of the English party, but failed to 
 prevent them from carrying off their dy- 
 ing captain to the fort. The scene had 
 been witnessed with horror by the French 
 forces on Beaus^jour, and their officers 
 sent to Fort Lawrence to express their 
 angry reprobation of the atrocious deed. 
 They openly laid it to the charge of Le 
 Loutre, declaring that such a man was 
 capable of anything ; and for a few weeks 
 Le Loutre did not care to show himself at 
 Beausejour. At last he came, and met 
 the accusations of the French officers with 
 the most solemn declaration that the 
 whole thing had been done without his 
 knowledge or sanction. The Indians, he 
 swore, had done it by reason of their mis- 
 guided but fervent religious zeal, to take 
 vengeance on Howe for something he was 
 reported to have said injurious and disre- 
 spectful to the Church. " The zeal of my 
 flock," said he, solemnly, " is, perhaps, 
 
62 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 
 
 something too rash, but it springs from 
 ardent and simple natures ! " 
 
 " Aye ! aye ! " said the old sergeant to 
 his companions-in-arms, when he heard of 
 the abbe's explanations, " but I happened 
 to recognize His Reverence myself in the 
 party that did the murder." 
 
 There were many more on Beausejour 
 whose eyes had revealed to them the same 
 truth as that so bluntly stated by the ser- 
 geant. But the abbe was most useful — 
 was, in fact, necessary, to do those deeds 
 which no one else would stoop to ; and, 
 therefore, his explanation was accepted. 
 At this time, moreover, there was a work 
 to be done at Beausejour requiring the 
 assistance of the abbe's methods. Or- 
 ders had been sent from Quebec that a 
 strong fort should straightway be built 
 at Beausejour, as an offset to Fort Law- 
 rence. And this fort was to be built by 
 the ill-fated Acadians. 
 
 The labor of the Acadians was sup- 
 posed to be voluntary. That is, they 
 were invited to assist, without pay other 
 
PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 63 
 
 than daily rations ; and those who ap- 
 peared reluctant were presently inter- 
 viewed by the indefatigable and invaluable 
 Le Loutre. His persuasions, with blood- 
 thirsty Indians in the background, invari- 
 ably produced their effect. To be sure, 
 there was money sent from Quebec for 
 payment of the laborers ; but the author- 
 ities of Beausejour having Le Loutre to 
 depend upon, found it more satisfactory 
 to put this money in their own pockets. 
 
 With his customary foresight, Antoine 
 Lecorbeau had promptly evinced his 
 willingness to take part in the building. 
 Either he or Pierre was continually to be 
 found upon the spot, working diligently 
 and without complaint- — which was a dis- 
 appointment to'Le Loutre. The abb6 
 had not forgotten the remark of Antoine 
 which he had caught the day of the bat- 
 tle on the Missaguash. He was seeking 
 his opportunity to punish him for the 
 rash utterance. For the present, how- 
 ever, there was nothing to do but com- 
 mend the prudent Acadian for his zeal. 
 
64 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 Upon Pierre and his father this fort 
 building fell not heavily. They had a tight 
 roof and a warm hearth close, by. But 
 their hearts ached to see hundreds of their 
 fellow-countrymen toiling half-clad in the 
 bitter weather, with no reward but their 
 meager daily bread. These poor peasants 
 had many of them been the owners of 
 happy homes, whence the merciless fiat 
 of Le Loutre had banished them. The 
 hill of Beausejour lies open to the four 
 winds of heaven, one or the other of which 
 is pretty sure to be blowing at all sea- 
 sons ; and some of the dispirited toilers 
 had not even rawhide moccasins to pro- 
 tect their feet from the biting frost Le 
 Loutre was continually among them 
 working, in his shirt sleeves, and urging 
 everyone to his utmost exertions. But 
 as the winter dragged on the Acadians 
 became so weak and heartless that even 
 the threats of the abbe lost their effect, 
 and the fort grew but slowly. Upon this 
 it became necessarj'^ to increase the rations 
 and even to give a small weekly wage. The 
 
PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 65 
 
 effect of this was magical, and in the fol- 
 lowing spring the fortress of Beausejour 
 was ready for its garrison. Its strong 
 earthworks overlooked the whole sur- 
 rounding country, and in the eyes that 
 watched it from Fort Lawrence formed 
 no agreeable addition to the landscape. 
 Across the tawny Missaguash and the 
 stretches of bright green marsh the red 
 flag and the white flapped each other a 
 ceaseless defiance. 
 
 Elated at the completion of the fort, 
 Le Loutre concluded the times were ripe 
 for a raid upon the English settlements. 
 On the banks of the Kenneticook there 
 was a tiny settlement which had been an 
 eyesore to the abbe ever since its estab- 
 lishment some three years before. There 
 were only a half dozen houses in the col- 
 ony, and against these Le Loutre decided 
 to strike. In the enterprise he saw an 
 opportunity of making Lecorbeau feel 
 his power. He would make the careful 
 Acadian take part in the expedition. To 
 assume the disguise of an Indian would, 
 5 
 
66 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 he well knew, be hateful to every instinct 
 of the law-abiding Lecorbeau. As the 
 abbe took his way to the Acadian's rude 
 cabin his grim face wore a sinister gleam. 
 
 It was about sunset, and the family 
 were at their frugal meal. All rose to 
 their feet as the dreaded visitor entered, 
 and the children betook themselves in 
 terror to the darkest corners they could 
 find. The abb6 sat down by the hearth 
 and motioned his hosts to follow his ex- 
 ample. After a word or two of inquiry 
 as to the welfare of the household, he re- 
 marked abruptly : 
 
 "You are a true man, Antoine — a 
 faithful servant of the Holy Church and 
 of France ! " 
 
 His keen eyes, as he spoke, burned 
 upon the dark face of the Acadian. 
 
 Lecorbeau did not flinch. He returned 
 the piercing gaze calmly and respectfully, 
 saying : 
 
 " Have I not proved it. Reverend 
 Father ? " 
 
 A phantom of a smile went over the 
 
PREPARING FOR THE RAID. 67 
 
 priest's thin lips, leaving his eyes unlight- 
 ened. 
 
 "It is well ! You shall have yet an- 
 other chance to prove it. It is jiist such 
 men as you whose help I want in my next 
 venture. I have business on hand which 
 my faithful flock at Cobequid are not suf- 
 ficient for, unaided. You and certain 
 others whom I need not name shall join 
 them for a little. I will bring you such 
 dress, equipment, and so forth, as you 
 will need to become as one of them. Be 
 ready to-morrow night." 
 
 As he spoke he studied intently the 
 face of Lecorbeau. But the sagacious 
 Acadian was a match for him. Lecor- 
 beau's heart sank in his breast. He was 
 a prey to the most violent feeling of hatred 
 toward his guest, and of loathing for the 
 task required of him. He saw in it, also, 
 the probability of his own ruin, for he 
 believed the complete triumph of the 
 English was at hand. Notwithstanding, 
 his face remained perfectly untroubled, 
 while Pierre flushed hotly, clenching his 
 
68 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 hands, and Mother Lecorbeau let a sharp 
 cry escape her. 
 
 " Be not a child, Jeanne !" said Lecor- 
 beau, rebuking her with his glance. Then 
 he answered to the demand of Le Loutre. 
 
 " In truth, Reverend Abbe, I should 
 like to prove my zeal in some easier 
 way. X Have I not obeyed you with all 
 diligence and cheerfulness, nor com- 
 plained when your wisdom seemed hard 
 to many ? Surely, you will keep such 
 harassing service for younger men, men 
 who have not a family to care for! Will 
 you not deal a little gently with an old 
 and obedient servant 7 I pray you, let 
 young men go on such enterprises, and 
 let me serve you at home ! " 
 
 " I am too lenient to such as you," cried 
 the priest, in a voice grown suddenly 
 high and terrible. " I know you. I have 
 long suspected you. Your heart is with 
 the English. You shall steep your hands 
 in the blood of those accursed, or I will 
 make you and yours as if you had never 
 been ! " 
 
PREPARtNG FOR THE RAID. 69 
 
 Antoine Lecorbeau held his counte- 
 nance unmoved and bowed his head. " It 
 shall be as you will, father," he said, 
 quietly. " But is this the way you reward 
 obedience ? " 
 
 The abbe's reply was interrupted by 
 Pierre, who stepped forward with flash- 
 ing eyes and almost shouted : 
 
 " Our hearts are no^ with the English ! 
 We are the childreu of France !" 
 
 The abbe, strange to say, seemed not 
 offended by this hot contradiction. The 
 outburst rather pleased him. Rethought 
 he saw in Pierre the making of an effective 
 partisan. Diverted by this thought, and 
 feeling sure of Antoine after the threat 
 he had uttered, he rose abruptly, blessed 
 the household, all unconscious of the 
 irony of the act, and stepped out into the 
 raw evening. There was silence in the 
 cabin for some minutes after his going 
 forth. The blow had fallen, even that 
 which Lecorbeau had most dreaded. 
 
70 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:6jOUR. 
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Midnight March. 
 
 HE children crept forth from their 
 corners and looked wonderingly at 
 their sobbing mother. 
 
 "O, you will certainly be killed," 
 wailed the good woman, thoroughly 
 frightened. 
 
 " There is little danger of that" re- 
 joined Lecorbeau. "The abbe prefers to 
 ■ strike where there is small likelihood of 
 a return blow. There will be as little of 
 peril as there will be of glory in attack- 
 ing a few sleeping villagers ajid perhaps 
 murdering them in their beds. The 
 thought of such cold-blooded butchery Is 
 terrible, but anything is better than that 
 you and the little ones should be. ex- 
 posed to the rage of those savages. It 
 may mean ruin for us, however, for the 
 English governor at Halifax is likely to 
 hear of me being concerned in the raid ; 
 and, you remember, I was one of those 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 71 
 
 that took the oath when I was a lad. I 
 shall be an outlaw, that's all ! " 
 
 Reassured as to the immediate phys- 
 ical peril of the enterprise, the good wife 
 dried her eyes. The scruples that 
 troubled her husband were too remote 
 to give her much concern. 
 
 " Well, if you must go," said she, " I 
 suppose you must ! Do try and please 
 that hard-hearted priest ; and you must 
 put on warm clothes, for you'll be sleep- 
 ing out at night, won't you ? " 
 
 "But, father!" began Pierre — and then 
 he stopped suddenly. " I wonder if I 
 foddered the steers," he went on. As 
 he spoke he rose from the bench where- 
 on he was sitting, and went out to the 
 barn. 
 
 Pierre had been on the point of saying 
 that he was the one to go on the raid, as 
 he had not taken any oath of allegiance 
 to the English. It had occurred to him, 
 however, that his father would probably 
 forbid him thinking of such a thing, and 
 he knew that in such a case he would be 
 
72 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 unable to put his plan in execution, as 
 he had not learned in that simple neigh- 
 borhood the lesson of disobedience to 
 parents. He saw that if he went on the 
 raid the requirements of Le Loutre were 
 likely to be satisfied, while at the same 
 time his father would be delivered from 
 the danger of an accusation of treason. 
 It was quite certain in Pierre's mind 
 that his design would commend itself to 
 the clear wisdom of his father, but he 
 felt that the latter would forbid it be- 
 cause of his mother's terrors. He de- 
 cided to act at once, and he turned his 
 steps toward the fort. Certain misgiv- 
 ings troubled his conscience at first, but 
 he soon became convinced that he was 
 doing right. 
 
 While good wife Lecorbeau was won- 
 dering what kept Pierre so long at the 
 barn, Pierre was at the commandant's 
 quarters talking to the abbe. The 
 latter greeted the boy kindly, and asked 
 at once what brought him. 
 
 " I came to speak about to-morrow 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 73 
 
 night, Reverend Father ! " began the boy, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Well, what of it .? " snarled the priest, 
 in a harsh voice, his brow darkening. 
 " Your father isn't trying to beg off, is 
 he ? " 
 
 " O, no, no !" Pierre hastened to reply. 
 " He's getting ready, and he doesn't know 
 I've come to see you. He'd have for- 
 bidden me had he known, so I stole 
 away. But / want to go instead of him. 
 See, I'm young and strong ; and I love 
 fighting, while he loves peace ; and he 
 has pains in his joints, and would, may- 
 be, get laid up on the march, whereas I 
 can be of more use to the cause. Be- 
 sides, he can be of more use to the cause 
 by staying home, which I can't be. Take 
 me instead — ! " 
 
 Pierre broke off abruptly, breathless in 
 his eagerness. For a moment his hopes 
 died within him, for the abbe's face re- 
 mained dark and severe. That active 
 brain reviewed the situation rapidly, and 
 at length approved the proposal of 
 
74 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 Pierre. It was obvious that Pierre, 
 ardent and impetuous, wpuld be more 
 effective than Antoine in such a venture ; 
 and it occurred to Le Loutre that in 
 taking the boy he was inflicting a 
 sharper punishment upon the father. 
 
 "You are a right brave youth," he 
 said, presently^ " and it shall be as you 
 ask. You shall see that I do well by 
 those that are faithful. As for the trait- 
 ors, let them beware, for my arm is 
 longer than they dream. I reach to 
 Annapolis and Fort St. John and Louis- 
 burg as easily as to Minas or Mem- 
 ramcook." Here the abbe paused and 
 was turning away. Looking back over 
 his shoulder he added, but in a low 
 voice : 
 
 " Come hither at dusk to-morrow. I 
 will send a messenger to your father in 
 the morning, saying that I release him 
 from the expedition. See that you say 
 nought to him, or to any living soul, of 
 that which is to be done ! " 
 
 When Pierre returned to the cabin 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 75 
 
 his mother began to question him. He 
 answered simply that he had to go up to 
 the fort. " What for ? " inquired his 
 mother persistently. But Lecorbeau in- 
 terposed. 
 
 " Pierre is as tall as his father," he 
 said, smiling at the youth. " See how 
 broad his shoulders are. Is he not old 
 enough, anxious mother, to be out alone 
 after dark .? " 
 
 The good woman, assenting, gazed at 
 her son proudly. And Pierre felt a 
 pang at the thought of what his mother's 
 grief would be on learning that he had 
 gone on the abba's expedition. His heart 
 smote him bitterly to think he should 
 have to leave without a word of explana- 
 tion or farewell ; but he knew that if his 
 mother should get so much as a hint of 
 his undertaking, her fears would ruin all. 
 He crept to his bed, but lay tossing for 
 hours, wide-eyed in the dark, before 
 sleep put an end to the wearying con- 
 flict of his thoughts. 
 
 The following morning brought unex- 
 
76 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 pected joy to the cabin at the foot of 
 Beausejour. Antoine Lecorbeau could 
 hardly believe his ears when a mes- 
 senger came to tell him that the abbe, in 
 consideration of faithful services already 
 rendered, would release him from the 
 duty required of him. A load rolled off 
 the Acadian's prudent soul, though he 
 remained in a state of anxious per- 
 plexity. Had he known our Shake- 
 speare he would have said, in the strict 
 privacy of his inward meditations, " I 
 like not fair terms and a villain's mind." 
 But as for his good wife, she was radiant, 
 and reproached herself volubly for the 
 evil thought she had harbored against 
 the good abbe. Pierre himself, seeing 
 that Le Loutre was sticking to his 
 promise, found a good word to say for 
 him, for the first time that he c\)uld re- 
 member. 
 
 That same evening, supper being over 
 about dusk, Pierre said he would go up 
 to the fort and see the old sergeant. As 
 he got to the cabin door he turned and 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. ']'] 
 
 threw a kiss to the dear ones he was 
 leaving. Had the Hght been stronger 
 his mother could not but have noticed 
 his set mouth and the moisture in his 
 eyes. He dared not trust himself to 
 speak. 
 
 " Bring us back what news you can of 
 the expedition, lad ! " cried Lecorbeau 
 after him ; and it was with a mighty 
 effort that Pierre strained his voice to 
 answer " All right ! " 
 
 At the fort everything was very quiet. 
 Le Loutre was at the commandant's 
 quarters with a half dozen befeathered 
 and bepainted braves, in each of whom 
 Pierre presently recognized a fellow- 
 Acadian skillfully disguised. In fact, 
 there was not an Indian among them. 
 The real Indians were awaiting their 
 leader and spiritual father in the woods 
 beyond Fort Lawrence. 
 
 Pierre was warmly greeted by his 
 fellow-villagers, all of whom had evi- 
 dently worked themselves up into some- 
 thing like enthusiasm for their under- 
 
■j8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 taking. Of the regular French soldiery 
 there were none about. Not even a 
 sentry was to be seen. The command- 
 ant was on hand, helping to complete 
 the disguises of the Acadians, and he 
 did not choose that any of his men 
 should be able to say they had seen 
 him give personal countenance to a 
 violation of the treaty. 
 
 The commandant was • very well dis- 
 posed to the family of Antoine Lecor- 
 beau, from whom he bought farm prod- 
 uce at ridiculously low terms, to sell it 
 again in Louisburg at a profit of one 
 or two hundred per cent. He spoke 
 good humoredly to Pierre, and even 
 helped him with his paint and feathers. 
 Unscrupulous and heartless where his 
 own interests were at stake, in small 
 matters he was rather amiable than 
 otherwise. 
 
 " Won't your father and mother be 
 terribly anxious about you, when you 
 fail to put in an appearance to-night ? 
 The good abbe tells me they are not to 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 79 
 
 know of your whereabouts ! " said the 
 officer to Pierre, in a low voice. 
 
 " What, sir ! " cried Pierre, aghast at 
 the thought. "Won't they be told where 
 I've gone } " 
 
 " H is Reverence says not," replied the of- 
 ficer. " H is Reverence is very considerate !" 
 
 Pierre was almost beside himself He 
 knew not what to do. His hands 
 dropped to his side, and he could only 
 look imploringly at the commandant. 
 
 "Well, well, lad!" continued the lat- 
 ter, presently, " 77/ let them know as 
 soon as the expedition is safely out of 
 this. This priest is quite too merciless 
 for me. I'll explain the whole thing to 
 your father and mother, and will assure 
 them that there's- no danger ; as, in- 
 deed, is the truth, for it is pretty safe 
 and easy work to shoot a man when he's 
 not more than half awake. Now, be 
 easy in your mind, and leave the hard 
 work and any little fighting there may 
 be to those red heathens that His Rev- 
 erence talks so much about." 
 
80 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 With these words, which relieved 
 Pierre's mind, the commandant turned 
 away, and left the youth to perfect his 
 transformation into a Micmac brave. 
 
 It was drawing toward midnight when 
 the abbe's imitation Micmacs, after a 
 hearty supper of meat, took their way 
 from Beausejour. They saw no sentry 
 as they stole forth. Le Loutre was with 
 them, and himself led the way. The night 
 was raw and gusty, with rain threatening. 
 As they descended the hill they could 
 hear the stream of the Missaguash 
 brawling over the stones of the mid- 
 channel, for the tide was out. Across 
 the solitary marshes could be seen the 
 lights of Fort Lawrence gleaming from 
 their hilltop. Overhead was the weird 
 cry of flocks of wild geese voyaging 
 north. The gusts made Pierre draw his 
 blanket closer about him, and the 
 strangeness of his surroundings, with 
 the dreadful character of the venture on 
 which he was bound, filled his soul with 
 awe. He was determined, however, to 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 8 1 
 
 produce a good impression on the 
 dreaded abbe. He stalked on with a 
 long, energetic stride, keeping well to the 
 front and maintaining a stoical silence. 
 
 Le Loutre led the way far up the Mis- 
 saguash, so giving Fort Lawrence a wide 
 berth. Once beyond the fort he turned 
 south, skirting the further edge of what 
 had been peaceful Beaubassin. At this 
 point he led his party into the woods, 
 and for perhaps half an hour the jour- 
 ney was most painful and exhausting. 
 Pierre was running against trees and 
 stumbling over branches, and at the 
 same time, in spite of his discomfort and 
 the novelty of the situation, growing 
 more and more sleepy. The journey 
 began to seem to him like a dismal 
 nightmare, from which he would soon 
 awaken to find himself in his narrow 
 but cosy bunk at home. 
 
 Suddenly he was startled by the half- 
 human cry of the panther, which sounded 
 as if in the treetops right overhead. 
 " Is that a signal } " inquired one of the 
 6 
 
82 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 Startled travelers, while Pierre drew 
 closer to his nearest comrade. 
 
 " It's a signal that Monsieur Loup 
 Cervier wants his supper, and would be 
 quite willing to make it off a fat Acad- 
 ian ! " replied the abbe with a grim 
 laugh. 
 
 The party upon this began to talk and 
 laugh aloud, which probably daunted the 
 animal, for nothing more was heard of 
 him. In the course of another ten min- 
 utes a light was seen glowing through 
 the trees, and immediately the abbe 
 hooted thrice, imitating perfectly ^he 
 note of the little Acadian owl. This 
 signal was answered from the neighbor- 
 hood of the fire, whereupon the abbe 
 gave the strange, resonant cry of the 
 bittern. A few moments more and 
 Pierre found himself by a canip fire 
 which blazed cheerfully in the recess of a 
 sheltered ravine. Around the fire were 
 gathered some twoscore of Micmacs in 
 their war dress, who merely grunted as 
 the abbe and his little party joined them. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 83 
 
 Here, wrapped in his blanket, his feet 
 to the fire and his head on an armful of 
 hemlock boughs, Pierre slept as sweet a 
 sleep as if in his bed at home. At dawn 
 ■ he woke with a start, just as the abbe 
 drew near to arouse him. For a moment 
 he was bewildered ; then gathering his 
 wits he sprang quickly to his feet, look- 
 ing ready for an instant departure. Le 
 Loutre was content and turned away. 
 Not many minutes were consumed in 
 breakfasting, and the raiders Were under 
 way by the time the sun was up. 
 
 All that day the stealthy band crept 
 on, avoiding the trails by which commu- 
 nication was kept up between the settle- 
 ments. Early in the evening Le Loutre 
 called a hg.lt, and Pierre, exhausted, fell 
 asleep the moment he had satisfied his 
 hunger. Next morning the sun was high 
 ere the party resumed its march, and not 
 long after midday Le Loutre declared 
 they had gone far enough as they were 
 now near the settlement of Kenneti- 
 cook. There was now nothing to be 
 
84 THE RAID FROM BEAUSllJOUR. 
 
 done but wait for night. A scout was 
 sent forward to reconnoiter, and came 
 back in a couple of hours with word that 
 all was quiet in the little village, and no 
 danger suspected. 
 
 About nine o'clock the abbe gave his 
 orders. Not a soul in the village was to 
 be spared, and not a house left standing.* 
 The enemy were to be destroyed, root 
 and branch, and the English were to re- 
 ceive a lesson that would drive them in 
 terror within the shelter of the Halifax 
 stockades. In a few minutes the party 
 was on the march, and moving now with 
 the greatest secrecy and care. 
 
 During that silent march, every mi- 
 nutest detail of which stamped itself in- 
 delibly on Pierre's memory, the lad clung 
 desperately to the thought of all the in- 
 juries, real or pretended, which the Eng- 
 lish had inflicted upon his people. He 
 dared not let himself think of the un- 
 offending settlers trustfully sleeping in 
 their homes. He strove to work himself 
 up to some sort of martial ardor that 
 
THE MIDNIGHT MARCH. 85 
 
 might prevent him feeling like an assas- 
 sin. Presently the rippling of the Ken- 
 neticook made itself heard on the quiet 
 night, and then the dim outlines of the 
 lonely and doomed hamlet rose into 
 view. 
 
86 THE RAID FROM BEAUS£jOUR. 
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Sutpnsc 
 
 HE midnight murderers were at tlie 
 very doors before even a dog gave 
 warning. Then several curs raised a 
 shrill alarm, and a great mastiff", chained 
 to his kennel in the yard of the largest 
 house, snapped his chain and sprang upon 
 the raiders. The dog bore an Indian to 
 the ground, and then fell dead, with a 
 tomahawk buried in his skull. At the 
 same moment the long, strident yell of 
 the Micmacs rang through the hamlet, 
 and a half dozen hatchets beat in every 
 door. There was no time for resistance. 
 The butchers were at the bedsides of 
 their victims almost ere the latter were 
 awake. Here and there a settler found 
 time to snatch his rifle, or a andiron, 
 or a heavy chair, and so to make a des- 
 perate though brief defense ; and in this 
 way three Micmacs and one Acadian 
 were killed. The yells of the raiders 
 
THE SURPRISE. 87 
 
 were mingled with the shrieks of the 
 victims, and almost instantly the scene 
 of horror was lighted up by the flames of 
 the burning ricks. 
 
 Pierre, with rather a 'vague idea of 
 what he was going to do, had rushed to 
 the attack among the foremost, and had 
 plunged headlong over the body of the 
 dead mastiff. In the fall he dropped his 
 rifle, but clung to his hatchet, and in a 
 moment he found himself in the hallway 
 ofthe chief house. His perception of what 
 took place was confused. He felt him- 
 self carried up the stairs with a rush. A 
 faint light was glimmering into existence 
 in the large room, in the middle of which 
 he saw a man standing rifle in hand. 
 There was a deafening report, and every- 
 thing was wrapped in a cloud of smoke. 
 Then a sudden glare filled the room as 
 a barn outside blazed to heaven ; and 
 the man, clubbing his rifle, sprang at his 
 assailants. Pierre did not wait to see his 
 fate, but darted past him into a room be- 
 yond. 
 
88 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:fijOUR. 
 
 This was plainly the children's bed- 
 room. Pierre's eye fell on a small, yel- 
 low-haired child, who was sitting up 
 amid her bedclothes, her round eyes 
 wild with terror. She shrieked at the 
 sight of Pierre's painted visage, but the 
 lad's heart went out to her with passion- 
 ate pity as he thought of the little folk 
 at home. Pie would save her at all 
 hazards. He was followed into the room 
 by three or four of the fiercest of his 
 party. • Pierre sprang with a yell upon 
 the child's bed, throwing her upon her 
 face with one hand while he buried his 
 hatchet in the pillows where she had 
 lain. In an instant the little one was 
 hidden under a heap of bedclothes, and 
 too frightened to make an outcry. Some- 
 where in the room the butchers had 
 evidently found another victim in hid- 
 ing, for their triumphant yell was fol- 
 lowed by a gasping groan, which smote 
 Pierre to the heart, and filled him with 
 an avenging fury. 
 
 A cloud of smoke blown past the 
 
THE SURPRISE. 89 
 
 window, for a moment darkened the 
 room. An Indian ran against Pierre 
 and grunted, " Ugli ! All gone } " 
 
 " All gone ! " replied the lad, and he 
 saw the murderers glide forth to seek 
 their prey. But one remained, delaying 
 to remove a victim's scalp. The room 
 again became bright, and as the Indian 
 passed Pierre his quick eye caught a 
 motion in the heap of bedclothes. His 
 eyes gleamed, and he jerked the cover- 
 ings aside. Pierre thrust him back 
 violently and angrily, just as the child 
 sat up with a shrill cry. The savage 
 hesitated, impressed by Pierre's uncom- 
 promising attitude, then turned with a 
 grunt to seek satisfaction elsewhere. 
 
 The child was apparently five or six 
 years old, but a tiny, fairylike creature. 
 
 " Sh-sh-sh ! " said Pierre, soothingly, 
 taking it for granted that she would not 
 understand French. The child compre- 
 hended the sign, and stopped her cries, 
 realizing that the strange and dreadful- 
 looking being was her protector. Pierre, 
 
go THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 knowing that the house would soon be 
 in flames, made haste to wrap the child 
 in a thick blanket. He saw that beneath 
 the window there was a shed with a 
 sloping roof, by which he could easily 
 reach the ground. He waited a few 
 moments, with the child in his arms, 
 covered as much as possible 'by his 
 blanket, and so held as to look like a 
 roll of booty. When the smoke once 
 more blew in a stifling volume past the 
 window, Pierre stepped out upon the 
 roof with his precious burden, dropped 
 to the ground, and made haste away in 
 the direction of the least glare and 
 tumult. 
 
 As he was stealing past a small cot- 
 tage just burst into blaze, two of the 
 raiders stepped in front of him. Pierre's 
 heart sank, but he grasped his hatchet, 
 and a sort of hunted but deadly look 
 gleamed in his eyes. The men didn't 
 offer to stop him, but one cried : 
 
 " What have you there ? " " 
 
 As he. spoke Pierre recognized them 
 
THE SURPRISE. 9 1 
 
 for two of the Acadians, and his fears 
 ceased. 
 
 " It's a child I'm saving," he whispered. 
 " Don't say anything about it." 
 
 " Good boy ! " chuckled the singular 
 marauflers; and Pierre hastened on, 
 maVmg for a "wood near by. 
 
 Ere he could reach that shelter, how- 
 ever. Fate once more confronted him 
 in the shape of a tall Micmac, whom 
 Pierre recognized as one of the subchiefs 
 of the tribe, a nephew of Cope. The 
 chief, supposing Pierre was carrying off 
 something very rich in the way of booty, 
 stopped him and demanded a share. 
 Pierre protested, declaring it was all his. 
 When he spoke the savage recognized 
 him, and having a lofty contempt for one 
 who was both an Acadian and a mere 
 boy, coolly attempted to snatch the 
 bundle from his arms. 
 
 Pierre's eyes blazed, as he grasped the 
 Indian's wrist and wrenched the cruel 
 grip ■ loose. He looked the savage 
 straight in the eye. 
 
92 THE RAID FROM BEAUSBJOUR. 
 
 " That's mine / " said he steadily. 
 " Keep your hands off ! " 
 
 The Indian snatched again at the 
 bundle, this time ineffectually ; and then 
 he drew his knife as if to attack Pierre. 
 The latter jumped back, laid his burden 
 on the ground, and stood before it, hatchet 
 in hand. Seeing he was not to be in- 
 timidated, and willing to avoid a hand- 
 to-hand struggle with one who seemed so 
 ready for it, the savage withdrew grum- 
 bling, at the same time resolving that he 
 would force Pierre later on to divide his 
 booty. As soon as he was gone Pierre 
 snatched up his charge and sped away 
 exultant. 
 
 The boy's design was to follow the 
 Kenneticook to its mouth, and thence to 
 ascend the Piziquid to the Acadian set- 
 tlement, which he knew stood some- 
 where on its banks. He did not dare to 
 try and find his way back to Beausejour. 
 He knew that if he followed the trail of 
 his party he would be captured and the 
 child killed ; and he was equally certain 
 
THE SURPRISE. 93 
 
 that if he deserted the trail he should be 
 lost inevitably. Once at Piziquid, how- 
 ever, he counted on getting a fisherman 
 to take him to Beausejour by water. 
 
 After toiling through the woods for 
 perhaps an hour, keeping ever within 
 hearing of the stream, Pierre set his 
 burden on the ground and threw himself 
 down beside her to snatch a moment's 
 rest. The little one was in her bare 
 feet, so it was impossible for her to walk 
 in that rough and difficult region. In. 
 deed, she had nothing on but a woolen 
 nightdress, and Pierre had to keep her 
 well wrapped up in the blanket he had 
 brought from her bed. The little one 
 had been contentedly sleeping in her 
 deliverer's arms, all unconscious of the 
 awful fate that had befallen those whom 
 Pierre supposed to be her people. She 
 remained asleep while Pierre was resting, 
 nor woke till it was clear dawn. 
 
 Long ere this Pierre had found easier 
 traveling, having come out upon a series 
 of natural meadows skirting the stream. 
 
94 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 Beyond these meadows were wide flats, 
 covered at high tide, and Pierre, with an 
 Acadian's instinct, thought how fine it 
 would be to dike them in. He had little 
 fear now of being followed. His party 
 would take it for granted, not finding 
 him or his body, that he had fallen in the 
 attack and been burnt in the conflagra- 
 tion. He felt that they would not 
 greatly trouble themselves. As for 
 those four who had seen him with his 
 prize, two at least would not tell on him 
 and he had strong hopes that the two 
 Micmacs whom he had encountered 
 would forget his prize in the confusion of 
 the hour. Beside a rivulet, in the gray 
 of dawn, he stopped to wash himself, that 
 his appearance might not frighten the 
 child on her awaking.^ 
 
 When the little one opened her eyes 
 she looked about her in astonishment, 
 which became delight as she saw the 
 glittering brook close beside her and the . 
 many-colored sky overhead. She crept 
 out of her blanket and stood with her 
 
THE SURPRISE. 95 
 
 little white feet shining in the short 
 spring grass. Then she stepped into 
 the brook, but finding it too cold for her 
 she came out again at once. Then she 
 stood shivering till Pierre, after drying 
 her feet on his blanket, once more 
 wrapped her up and seated her on a 
 fallen tree beside him. The child kept up 
 a continual prattle, of which, of course, 
 Pierre understood not a word. He 
 could only smile and stroke the little 
 fair head. When he spoke to her in his 
 own language the child gazed at him in 
 wide-eyed wonder, and at last laughed 
 gleefully and began to pat his face, 
 talking a lot of baby gibberish, such as 
 she imagined Pierre was addressing to 
 her. 
 
 By and by Pierre remembered he 
 was hungry. Taking some barley bread 
 and dried meat out of the bag he carried 
 at his waist, he offered the choicest bits 
 to his tiny companion, and the two made 
 a good breakfast. Out of a strip of 
 birchbark the lad twisted a cup and gave 
 
96 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 the child to drink. Then, lifting her to 
 his shoulder, he resumed his journey. 
 
 As the sun rose and the day grew 
 warm Pierre let the child walk by his 
 side ; but the tender little feet were not 
 used to such work, and almost imme- 
 diately she cried to be taken up again. 
 On this Pierre improvised her a clumsy 
 pair of moccasins, made of strips of his 
 blanket. 
 
 These the little one regarded at first 
 with lofty contempt, but when she found 
 they enabled her to run by her pro- 
 tector's side she was delighted. It was 
 necessary to stop often and rest long, so 
 our travelers made slow progress ; but 
 at noon, climbing a bluff which over- 
 looked the river for miles in either direc- 
 tion, Pierre was delighted to find himself 
 within two or three miles of the mouth. 
 He marked, moreover, a short cut by 
 which, taking advantage of the curve in 
 the main river, he could cut off five or 
 six miles and strike the banks of the 
 Piziquid without difficulty or risk. 
 
THE SURPRISE. 97 
 
 " By this time to-morrow, if all goes 
 well, we'll be safe in Piziquid, cherie ! " 
 he cried joyously to the child, who re- 
 sponded with a mirthful stream of babble. 
 Pierre's conversation she regarded as a 
 huge and perpetual joke. 
 
 That night Pierre built a rough leen-to 
 under the shelter of a great white plaster- 
 rock, and there in a heap of fragrant 
 branches, the child wrapped closely in 
 the lad's arms, the lonely pair slept warm 
 and secure. The next day was mild and 
 our travelers found their path easy. Ere 
 noon they arrived within sight of Piz- 
 iquid. 
 
 They were on a hill with the Acadian 
 village stretched out before them far be- 
 low, but a broad river rolling between 
 them and their destination. Pierre had 
 forgotten about the St. Croix, but he recog- 
 nized it now from description. He saw, 
 to his disappointment, that he would have 
 to make a long detour to pass this ob- 
 stacle, so he sat down on the hill to rest 
 
 and refresh his little companion. The 
 
 7 
 
98 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 little one was now so tired that she fell 
 instantly to sleep, and Pierre thought it 
 wise to let her sleep a good half hour. 
 Even he himself appreciated well the de- 
 lay ; and the view that unrolled beneath 
 him was magnificent. 
 
 Right ahead, in the corner of land be- 
 tween the Piziquid River and the St. Croix, 
 rose a rounded hill crowned with the Eng- 
 lish post of Fort Edward. Beyond to 
 right and left expanded plains of vivid 
 emerald, with a line of undulating up- 
 lands running back from Fort Edward 
 and dividing the marshes of the St. Croix 
 from those of the Piziquid. The scene 
 was one of plenty and content. Pierre 
 concluded that it would be necessary for 
 him to avoid being seen by the garrison 
 of the fort, lest he should be suspected of 
 being one of the raiders. He decided to 
 seek one of the outermost houses of the 
 settlement about nightfall and there to 
 tell his story, relying upon the good faith 
 of one Acadian toward another. The 
 child, he made up his mind, must stay in 
 
THE SURPRISE. 99 
 
 his care an'd go with him to Beaus^jour. 
 Having risked and suffered so much for 
 her, he already began to regard her with 
 jealous devotion and to imagine she was 
 indeed his own. 
 
 The child woke as joyous as a bird. 
 Hand in hand the quaint-looking pair — 
 a seeming Indian with a little white- 
 skinned child in a flannel nightgown — 
 trudged patiently up the stream, till in the 
 middle of the afternoon they came to a 
 spot where Pierre thought it safe to wade 
 across. By this time the little one's feet 
 were so sore that she had to be carried 
 all the time ; and it was well after sunset 
 when Pierre set his armful down at the 
 door of an outlying cottage of Piziquid, 
 well away from the surveillance of the 
 fort. 
 
 In answer to Pierre's knock there came 
 a woman to the door, who started back 
 in alarm. With a laughing salutation, 
 however, Pierre followed her into the 
 blaze of firelight which poured from the 
 heaped-up hearth. In spite of his dis- 
 
lOO THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 guise he was at once recognized by the 
 man of the house as an Acadian, and the 
 wanderers found an instant and hearty 
 welcome. Over a hot supper (in the 
 midst of which the tired child fell asleep 
 with her head in her plate, and was car- 
 ried to bed by the motherly good wife) 
 Pierre told all his story. 
 
 " We shall have to keep you hidden 
 till we get you away ! " said the villager, 
 one Jean Breboeuf by name. " You see, 
 their eyes are open at the fort. They 
 got word at Halifax, somehow, that our 
 precious abb6 (whom may the saints con- 
 found !) was planning some deviltry, and 
 messages we're sent to the different posts 
 to guard the outlying settlements. It's a 
 wonder you didn't find English soldiers 
 at Kenneticook, for a company started 
 thither. However, if the English catch 
 you in this dress they won't take long de- 
 ciding what to do with you." 
 
 Pierre was greatly alarmed. 
 
 " Can't you give me something to 
 wear ? " he cried. 
 
THE SURPRISE. lOI 
 
 " O, yes ! " answered the host, " we'll 
 fix you all right in the morning so no- 
 body will ever suspect you. Then I'll 
 get Marin — he's got a good boat — to 
 start right off and sail you round to 
 Beausejour. But what about the little 
 one ? " 
 
 " O, she goes wherever I go ! " said 
 Pierre, decidedly. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! But she's got to be kept 
 out of sight," replied Brebceuf. " She 
 looks English, every inch of her ; and if 
 the people at the fort get eyes on her 
 there'll be an investigation sure ! " 
 
 "Can you speak English?" queried 
 Pierre. 
 
 " Well enough ! " replied his host. 
 
 " There'll be no trouble then," con- 
 tinued Pierre. " You can tell her to 
 keep quiet and keep covered up when 
 we're taking her to the boat. She'll 
 mind, I'll answer you. And then, if 
 Madame Brebceuf can give her a little 
 homespun frock and cap, we'll pass her 
 off all right should anyone see her. And 
 
I02 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 
 
 when we get to Beausejour my father 
 will make it all right for the clothes." 
 
 " He won't do anything of the sort," 
 answered both Breboeuf and his wife in 
 one breath. " We all know Antoine 
 Lecorbeau, and we're proud to do his 
 son a service. If we poor Acadians 
 did o-ot help each other, I'd like to know 
 who'd help us, anyway ! " 
 
 It was with a light heart that Pierre 
 slept that night, and joyfully in the 
 morning he put away the last trace of 
 his hated disguise. His little charge 
 showed plainly that she considered the 
 change an improvement. The child told 
 Breboeuf (whom she understood with 
 difficulty) that her name was Edie 
 Howe. At this Breboeuf was surprised, 
 for, as he said to Pierre, there were no 
 Howes at Kenneticook. When the 
 Acadian tried to question Edie more 
 closely, her answers became irrelevant, 
 which was probably due to the deficien- 
 cies of Monsieur Breboeuf's English. 
 
 Pierre kept indoors most of the morn- 
 
THE SURPRISE. I03 
 
 ing, as the little one would not let him 
 out of her sight, and he dared not be 
 seen with her. Soon after noon the tide 
 was all ready for a departure, and not 
 behindhand was the fisherman, Marin, 
 with his stanch Minas craft. Marin 
 had brought his boat up the St. Croix 
 and into a little creek at some distance 
 from the fort, because at the regular 
 landing place, there were always some 
 English soldiers strolling about for lack 
 of anything better to do. It was with 
 some trepidation that Pierre set out for 
 the creek. The little girl walked be- 
 tween her dear protector and their host, 
 holding a hand of each, and chattering 
 about everything she saw, till with great 
 effort Brebceuf got her to understand that 
 if she didn't keep quite quiet, and not say 
 a word to anybody till they got safely 
 away in the boat, something dreadful 
 might happen to her Pierre. She was 
 dressed like any of the little Acadian 
 maidens of Piziquid, and her blue cap of 
 quilted linen was so tied on as to hide her 
 
I04 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUTl. 
 
 sunny hair and much of her face ; but the 
 danger was that she might betray herself 
 by her speech. 
 
 Before the party reached the boat 
 they had a narroAV escape from detection. 
 They were met by three or four soldiers 
 who were strolling across the marsh. In 
 passing they gave Breboeuf a hearty 
 good-day in English, and one of them 
 called Edie his " little sweetheart." The 
 child looked up with a laugh, and cried, 
 coquettishly, " Not yours ! I'm Pierre's." 
 Then, as Brebceuf squeezed her hand 
 sharply, she remembered his caution and 
 said no more, though her small heart was 
 filled with wonder to think she might 
 not talk to the nice soldiers. 
 
 " Why, where did the baby learn her 
 English ? " asked the soldier in a tone 
 of surprise. " You never taught her, I'll 
 be bound." 
 
 " Her mother taught her. Her mother 
 speaks the English better than you your- 
 self," was Brebqeuf's ready reply. Later 
 in the day that soldier suddenly remem- 
 
THE SURPRISE. I05 
 
 bered that the good wife Breboeuf did 
 not speak a word of Enghsh, and he was 
 properly mystified. By that time, how- 
 ever, Pierre and the little one were far 
 from Piziquid. With a merry breeze be- 
 hind them they were racing under the 
 beetling front of Blomidon. 
 
 On the day following they caught the 
 flood tide up Chignecto Bay, and sailed 
 into the mouth of the Au Lac stream, 
 almost under the willows of Lecorbeau's 
 cottage. The joy of Pierre's father and 
 mother on seeing the lad so soon re- 
 turned was mingled with astonishment 
 at seeing him arrive by water, and with 
 a little English child in his care. The 
 little one, with her exciting experiences 
 behind her, did not dream of being shy, 
 but was made happy at once with a kind 
 welcome ; while Pierre, the center of a 
 wondering and exclaiming circle, narrated 
 the wild adventures of the past few days, 
 which had, indeed, developed him all at 
 once from boyhood to manhood. As he 
 described the massacre, and the manner 
 
I06 THE RAID FROM BEAUSfijOUR. 
 
 in which he had rescued the yellow-haired 
 lassie, his mother drew the little one into 
 her arms and cried over her from sym- 
 pathy and excitement ; and the child 
 wiped her eyes with her own quilted 
 sunbonnet. At the conclusion of the 
 vivid narrative Lecorbeau was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 " Nobly have you done, my dear son," 
 he cried, with warm emotion. " But now, 
 where are your companions of that 
 dreadful expedition ? Not one has yet 
 arrived at Beausejour ! " 
 
T 
 
 PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. I07 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Pierre's Little One. 
 
 HIS question which Lecorbeau 
 asked, all Beausejour was asking in 
 an hour or two. That night an Indian, 
 sent from Le Loutre, who was lying in 
 exhaustion at Cobequid, arrived at the 
 fort and told the fate of the expedition. 
 
 As already stated, the English authori- 
 ties in Halifax had been warned of the 
 movements of the Indians — though they 
 could only guess the part that Le Loutre 
 had in them. Without delay they had 
 sent small bands of troops to each of the 
 exposed settlements, but that dispatched 
 to Kenneticook arrived, as we have seen, 
 too late. When the breathless soldiers, 
 lighted through the woods by the glare of 
 the burning village, reached the scene of 
 ruin, of all who had that night lain down 
 to fearless sleep in Kenneticook there re- 
 mained alive but one, the little child 
 whom Pierre had snatched from death. 
 
Io8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 
 
 When the English emerged from the 
 woods and saw the extent of the disaster, 
 they knew they were too late. Not a 
 house, not a building of any kind, but 
 was already wrapped in a roaring torrent 
 of flame, and against the broad illumi- 
 nation could be seen the figures of the 
 savages, fantastically dancing. The Eng- 
 lish captain formed his line with pru- 
 dent deliberation, and then led the attack 
 at a run. 
 
 Never dreaming of so rude an inter- 
 ruption, the raiders were taken utterly 
 by surprise and made no effective resist- 
 ance. A number fell at the first volley, 
 which the English poured in upon them 
 in charging. Then followed a hand-to- 
 hand fight, fierce but brief, which Le Lou- 
 tre didn't see, as he had wisely retired 
 on the instant of the Englishmen's ar- 
 rival. He was followed by two of the 
 Acadians, and two or three of the more 
 prudent of the Micmacs ; but the rest of 
 his party, fired with blind fury by the 
 liquor which they had found among the 
 
PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. IO9 
 
 village stores, remained to fight with a 
 drunken recklessness and fell to a man 
 beneath the steel of the avengers. 
 
 Left masters of the field, the rescue 
 party gazed with horror on the ruin they 
 had come too late to avert. With a 
 grim, poetic justice they cast the bodies 
 of their slain foes into the fires which 
 had already consumed the victims of 
 their ferocity. While this was going on 
 the leader of the party, a young lieuten- 
 ant, stood apart in deepest dejection. 
 
 "What's the matter with the general.?" 
 inquired a soldier, pointing with his 
 thumb in the direction of his sorrowing 
 chief 
 
 " I'm afeard as how that little niece of 
 his'n, as you've seed him a-danderin' 
 many a time in Halifax, was visitin' folks 
 here. If so be what I've hearn be true, 
 them yellin' butchers has done for her, 
 sure pop. I tell ye, Bill, she was a little 
 beauty, an' darter of the cap'n they mur- 
 dered last September down to Fort Law- 
 rence." 
 
I lO THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 " I ricklecs the child well," replied Bill, 
 shaking his head slowly. "It was a 
 purty one, an' 710 mistake ! An' Cap'n 
 Howe's darter, too. I swan!" 
 
 In a little while the careless-hearted 
 soldiers were asleep amid the ashes of 
 Kenneticook village, while the young 
 lieutenant lay awake, his heart aching 
 for his golden-haired pet, his widowed 
 sister's child. The next day he gave 
 his men a long rest, for they had done 
 some severe forced marching. When 
 at length he reached Piziquid he little 
 dreamed that the child whose death he 
 mourned was at that very moment sail- 
 ing down the river bound for Beausejour 
 and a long sojourn among her people's 
 enemies. 
 
 In the house of Antoine Lecorbeau 
 things went on more pleasantly than with 
 most of his fellow-Acadians. With the 
 good will of Vergor, the commandant of 
 Beausejour, who made enormous profits 
 out of the Acadian's tireless diligence, Le- 
 corbeau became once more fairly prosper- 
 
PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. 1 1 1 
 
 ous ; and Le Loutre had grown again 
 friendly. But most of the Acadians 
 found themselves in a truly pitiable plight. 
 There were not lands enough to supply 
 them all, and they pined for the farms of 
 Acadie which Le Loutre had forced them 
 to forsake. Threatened with excommu- 
 nication and the scalping knife if they 
 should return to their allegiance, and with 
 starvation if they obeyed the commands 
 of their heartless superiors at Quebec, 
 they were girt about on all sides with 
 pain and peril. Vacillating, unable to 
 think boldly for themselves, they were 
 doubtless much to blame, but their mis- 
 eries were infinitely more than they de- 
 served. The punishments that fell upon 
 them fell upon the wrong shoulders. The 
 English, who treated them for a long 
 time with the most patient forbearance, 
 were compelled at length, in self-defense, 
 to adopt an attitude of rigorous severity ; 
 and by the French, in whose cause they 
 suffered everything, they were regarded 
 as mere tools, to be used till destroyed. 
 
112 THE RAID FROM BEAUS£jOUR. 
 
 At the door of the corrupt officials of 
 France may be laid all their miseries. 
 
 After the affair at Kenneticook Le 
 Loutre found that Cobequid was no longer 
 the place for him. He needed the shelter 
 of Beaus6jour. There, by force of his 
 fanatic zeal, his ability, and his power 
 overthe Acadians, he divided the author- 
 ity of the fort with its corrupt command- 
 ant. He never dreamed of the part 
 Pierre had played that dreadful night on 
 the Kenneticook. He knew Lecorbeau 
 had somewhere picked up an English 
 child. But a child was in his eyes quite 
 too trivial a matter to call for any com- 
 ment. 
 
 As time went on Pierre's little one, as 
 she was generally called — "la p'tite de 
 Pierre " — picked up the French of her 
 new Acadian home, and went far to for- 
 getting her English. In the eyes of 
 Lecorbeau and his wife she came to seem 
 like one of their own, and she was a 
 favorite with the whole family ; but to 
 Pierre she clung as if he were her father 
 
PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. II3 
 
 and mother in one. As soon as she had 
 learned a little French she was questioned 
 minutely as to her parents and her home. 
 Her name, Edie Howe, had at once been 
 -associated with that of the lamented 
 captain. 
 
 " Edie," good wife Lecorbeau would 
 say to her, " where is your mother ? " 
 
 At this the child would shake her head 
 sorrowfully for a moment, and pointing 
 over the hills, would answer : 
 
 " Away off there !" — and sometimes she 
 would add, " Poor mamma's sick ! " 
 
 At last one day she seemed suddenly 
 to remember, and cried as if she were an- 
 nouncing a great discovery, " Why, mam- 
 ma's in Halifax." 
 
 Mother Lecorbeau was not a little tri- 
 umphant at having elicited this definite 
 information. 
 
 On the subject of her father the little 
 one had not much to say. When ques- 
 tioned about him she merely said that she 
 was his little girl, and that he had gone 
 away somewhere, and some bad people 
 
I 14 THE RAID FROM BEAUS^JOUR. 
 
 wouldn't let him come back again. She 
 said her mamma had cried a great deal 
 while telling her that papa would never 
 come back — and from this it was clear at 
 once that the father was dead. To get 
 any definite idea from the child as to the 
 time of his death proved a vain eiideavor ; 
 she was not very clear in her ideas of time. 
 But she said he was a tall man and a 
 soldier. She further declared that he 
 hadn't a lot of hair on his face, like father 
 Lecorbeau.but was nice and smooth, like 
 her Pierre, only with a rnustache. All 
 this tallied with a description of Captain 
 Howe, so Lecorbeau concluded that she 
 was Howe's child. As for the people 
 with whom she had been visiting in the 
 hapless village of Kenneticook, they were 
 evidently old servants of her father's 
 family. 
 
 " I was staying at nurse's," she used to 
 say. " Uncle Willie sent me there be- 
 cause my mamma was sick." Of this 
 Uncle Willie she talked so much and so 
 often that Pierre said he was jealous. 
 
PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. II5 
 
 While several years rolled by, bringing 
 no great event to the cabin in the willows 
 at the foot of Beausejour, a cloud was 
 slowly gathering over the fortressed hill. 
 The relations between France and Eng- 
 land in Acadie were growing more and 
 more strained. It was plain that a rup- 
 ture must ,soon come. In the cabin, by 
 the light of fire or candle, after the day's 
 work was done, Pierre and his father, 
 with sometimes the old sergeant from the 
 fort, used to talk over the condition of 
 affairs. To Pierre and the sergeant it 
 was -obvious that France must win back 
 Acadie, and that soon ; and they paid 
 little heed to Lecorbeau's sagacious com- 
 parisons between the French and English 
 methods of conducting the government. 
 Lecorbeau, naturally did not feel like 
 arguing his points with much determi- 
 nation ; but across the well-scrubbed 
 deal table he uttered several predictions 
 which Pierre recalled when he saw them 
 brought to pass. 
 
 " Here's about how it stands," re- 
 
Il6 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 
 
 marked the sergeant one night, shaking 
 the ashes of his pipe into the hollow of 
 his hand, " there's hundreds upon hun- 
 dreds now of your Acadians shifting round 
 loose, waiting for a chance to get back to 
 their old farms. They don't dare go back 
 while the English hold possession, for fear 
 of His Reverence yonder — signifying, of 
 course, Le Loutre — " so they're all ready 
 to fight just as soon as France gives the 
 word. They don't care much for France, 
 maybe — not much more than for the 
 English — but they do just hanker after 
 their old farms. When the government 
 thinks it the right time, and sends us 
 gome troops from Quebec and Louis- 
 burg, all the Acadians out of Acadie 
 will walk in to take possession, and the 
 Acadians in Acadie will bid good day to 
 King George and help us kick the Eng- 
 lish out of Halifax. It's bound to come, 
 sure as fate ; and pretty soon, I'm think- 
 ing." 
 
 "I believe you're right!" assented 
 Pierre, enthusiastically. 
 
PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. II7 
 
 " What would you think, now," said 
 Lecorbeau, suggestively, " if the English 
 should take it into their slow heads not 
 to wait for all this to happen ? What 
 would you do up there in the fort if some 
 ships were to sail up to-morrow and land 
 a little English army under Beausejour? 
 You've got a priest and a greedy old 
 woman (begging Monsieur Vergor's 
 pardon) to lead you. How long would 
 Beausejour hold out ? And suppose 
 Beausejour was taken, where would the 
 settlements be — Ouestkawk and Mem- 
 ramcook, and even the fort on the St. 
 John ? Wouldn't it rather knock on the 
 head this rising of the Acadians, thiff 
 ' walking in and taking possession ' of 
 which you feel so confident ? " 
 
 " But we won't give the English a 
 chance!" cried the warlike pair, in al- 
 most the same breath. " We'll strike 
 first. You'll see ! " 
 
 Meanwhile the English were making 
 ready to do just what Lecorbeau said they 
 might do. At the same time the French 
 
Il8 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 at Quebec, at Louisburg, at Beausejour, 
 though talking briskly about the great 
 stroke by which Acadie was to be recap- 
 tured, were too busy plundering the 
 treasury to take any immediate steps. 
 Following the distinguished example of 
 the notorious intendant, Bigot, almost 
 every official in New France had his 
 fingers in the public purse. They were 
 in no haste for the fray. 
 
 The English, however, seeing what the 
 French might do, naturally supposed they 
 would try and do it. To prevent this, 
 they were planning the capture of Beau- 
 sejour. Governor Lawrence, in Halifax, 
 andGovernor Shirley, in Boston, were pre- 
 paring to join forces for the undertaking. 
 In New England Shirley raised a regi- 
 ment of two thousand volunteers, who 
 mustered, in April of the year 1755, amid 
 the quaint streets of Boston. This regi- 
 ment was divided into two battalions, one 
 of which was commanded by Colonel 
 John Winslow, and the other by John 
 Scott. After a month's delay, waiting for 
 
PIERRE S LITTLE ONE. I I9 
 
 muskets, the little army set sail for Beau- 
 sejour. The chief command was in the 
 hands of Colonel Moncton, who had been 
 sent to Boston by Lawrence to arrange 
 the expedition. 
 
 On the night when Lecorbeau, Pierre, 
 and the old sergeant were holding the 
 conversation of which I have recorded a 
 fragment, the fleet containing the Mas- 
 sachusetts volunteers were already at 
 Annapolis. A day or two later they were 
 sailing up the restless tide of Fundy. On 
 the first day of June they were sighted 
 from the cloud-topped mountain of 
 Chepody, or " Chapeati Dieu!' As the 
 sun went down the fleet cast anchor under 
 the high bluffs of Far Ouestkawk, not 
 three leagues from Beausejour. As the 
 next dawn was breaking over the Minudie 
 hills there arrived at the fort a little party 
 of wearied Acadians, who had hastened 
 up from Chepody to give warning. In- 
 stantly all Beausejour became a scene of 
 excitement. There was much to be done 
 in the way of strengthening the earth- 
 
I20 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 works. Urgent messengers were sent 
 out to implore reinforcements from 
 Louisburg, while others called together 
 all the Acadians of the neighborhood, to 
 the number of fourteen hundred fighting 
 men. As Pierre and his father were 
 taking the rest of the family, with some 
 supplies, to a little wooded semi-island 
 beside the Tantramar, some miles from 
 the fort, Lecorbeau said to his son : 
 
 " I rather like the idea of that bold 
 stroke of yours and the sergeant's ! 
 When do you think it will be carried 
 out ? " 
 
 Pierre looked somewhat crestfallen, but 
 he mustered up spirit to reply : 
 
 " Just wait till we've beaten off those 
 fellows. Then you'll see what we'll do." 
 
 "Well," said his father, "I'll wait as 
 patiently as possible ! " 
 
 After placing the mother and children 
 in their refuge, which was already 
 thronged, our two Acadians, with a tear- 
 ful farewell, hastened back to take their 
 part in the defense of Beausejour. 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 121 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The New Englanders. 
 
 T^HE refuge of good wife Lecorbeau, 
 -^ and the children, and " Pierre's little 
 one," was a wooded bit of rising ground 
 which, before the diking-in of the Tan- 
 tramar marshes, had been an island at 
 high water. It was still called Isle au 
 Tantramar. Among the trees, under rude 
 lean-to tents and improvised shelters of 
 all sorts, were gathered the women and 
 children of Beausejour, out of range of 
 the cannon balls that they knew would 
 soon be flying over their homes. The 
 weather was balmy, and their situation 
 not Immediately painful, but their hearts 
 were a prey to the wildest anxieties. 
 
 By this time the New Englanders had 
 landed over against Fort Lawrence, and 
 had joined their forces with those of the 
 English at the fort. The numbers of the 
 attacking army filled the Acadians with 
 
122 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:^JOUR. 
 
 apprehension of defeat. Many of them, 
 like Lecorbeau, had in the past taken 
 oath of allegiance to King George, and 
 these feared lest, in the probable event of 
 the English being victorious, they should 
 be put to death as traitors. This difficulty 
 was solved.and their fears much mitigated, 
 in a thoroughly novel way. The com- 
 mandant assured them solemnly that if 
 they refused to join in the defense of the 
 fort he would shoot them down like dogs. 
 Upon this the Acadians conceived them- 
 selves released from all responsibility in 
 the matter, and went quite cheerfully to 
 work. Even Lecorbeau feeling himself 
 secured by Vergor's menace, was quietly 
 andfearlessly interested in theapproaching 
 struggle. Lecorbeau, was no faint-heart, 
 though his far-seeing sagacity often made 
 him appear so in the eyes of those who did 
 not know him well. As for Pierre, he was 
 now in his element, sniffing the battle like 
 a young warhorse, and forgetful of the 
 odds against him. Le Loutre was every- 
 where at once, tireless, seeing everything, 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 23 
 
 spurring the work, and worth a hundred 
 Vergors in such a crisis as this. 
 
 Beausejour was a strong post, a penta- 
 gon with heavy ramparts of earth, with 
 two bombproofs, so called, and mounting 
 twenty-five pieces of artillery. Some of 
 the guns were heavy metal for those days 
 and that remote defense. I have seen them 
 used as gateposts by the more aristocratic 
 of Beausejour's presentinhabitants. With- 
 in the fort was a garrison of one hundred 
 and sixty regulars. Three hundred Aca- 
 dians were added to this garrison — among 
 them being Pierre and his father. The 
 rest of the Acadians spread themselves in 
 bands through the woods and uplands, in 
 order to carry on a system of harassing 
 attacks. 
 
 Across the Missaguash, some distance 
 from its mouth, there was a bridge called 
 Pont-A-Buot, and thither, after a day or 
 two of reconnoitering, Colonel Moncton 
 led his forces from Fort Lawrence. They 
 marched in long column up the Missa- 
 guash shore, wading through the rich 
 
124 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 young grasses. As they approached they 
 saw that the bridge had been broken 
 down, and the fragments used to build a 
 breastwork on the opposite shore. This 
 breastwork, as far as they could see, was 
 unoccupied. 
 
 Appearances in this case were deceptive. 
 Hidden behind the breastwork was a 
 body of troops from Beausejour. There 
 were nearly four hundred of them — Aca- 
 dians and Indians, with a few regulars to 
 give them steadiness. Pierre, as might 
 have been expected, was among the band, 
 beside his instructor, the old sergeant. 
 
 Trembling with excitement, though 
 outwardly calm enough, Pierre watched, 
 through the chinks of the breastwork, the 
 approach of the hostile column. Just as 
 it reached the point opposite, where the 
 bridge had been broken away, he heard a 
 sharp command from an officer just be- 
 hind him. Instantly, he hardly knew how, 
 he foundhimself on hisfeet,yellingfiercely, 
 and firing as fast as he could reload his 
 musket. Through the rifts of the smoke 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 25 
 
 he could see that the hot fire was doing 
 execution in the English ranks. Presently 
 he heard the old sergeant remark : 
 
 " There come the guns ! Now look out 
 for a squall !" — and he saw two fieldpieces 
 being hurriedly dragged into position. 
 The next thing he knew there was a roar 
 — the breastwork on one side of him flew 
 into fragments, and he saw a score of his 
 comrades dead about him. The roar was 
 repeated several times, but his blood was 
 up, and he went on loading and firing as 
 before, without a thought of fear. At 
 length the sergeant grabbed him by the 
 arm. 
 
 " We've got to skip out of this and cut 
 for cover in those bushes yonder. We'll 
 do more good there, and this breastwork, 
 or what's left of it, is no longer worth 
 holding." 
 
 Pierre looked about him astonished, 
 and found they were almost alone. He 
 shouldered his musket and strode sullenly 
 into cover, the old sergeant laughingly 
 slapping him on the back. 
 
126 THE RAID FROM BEAUSijOUR. 
 
 Firing irregularly from the woods, the 
 French succeeded in making it very un- 
 pleasant for the English in their work of 
 laying a new bridge. But, notwithstand- 
 ing, the bridge grew before their eyes. 
 Pierre was disgusted. 
 
 " We're beaten, it seems, already," he 
 cried to the sergeant. 
 
 " Not at all ! " responded the latter, 
 cheerfully. " All this small force could 
 be expected to do has been already 
 done. We have suffered but slightly, 
 while we have caused the enemy consid- 
 erable loss. That's all we set out to do. 
 We're not strong enough to stand up to 
 them ; we're only trying to weaken them 
 all we can. See, now they're crossing — 
 and it's about time we were out of, this!" 
 
 It was indeed so. The bridge was 
 laid, the column was hastening across. 
 A bugle rang out the signal for retreat, 
 and the fire from the bushes ceased. In 
 a moment the Acadian force had dis- 
 solved, scattering like a cloud of mist 
 before the sun. Pierre found himself, 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. I 27 
 
 with a handful of his comrades, speeding 
 back to the fort. Others sought their 
 proper rendezvous. There was nothing 
 for the English to chase, so they kept 
 their column unbroken. As Pierre en- 
 tered the fort he saw the enemy estab- 
 lishing themselves in t|he uplands, about 
 a mile and a half from Beausejour. 
 
 When night fell the heavens were lit 
 up with a glare that carried terror to 
 the women and children on Isle au Tan- 
 tramar. Vergor had set fire to the 
 chapel, and to all the houses of Beause- 
 jour that might shelter an approach to 
 the ramparts. " Alas," cried the un- 
 happy mother Lecorbeau to the children 
 about her, " we are once more homeless, 
 without a roof to shelter us!" and she 
 and all the women broke into loud 
 lamentations. The children, however, 
 seemed rather to enjoy the scene, and 
 Edie told an interested audience about 
 the great blaze there was, and how red 
 the sky looked, the night her dear Pierre 
 carried her away from Kenneticook. 
 
I 28 THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR. 
 
 For several days the English made no 
 further advance, and to Pierre and his 
 fellow-Acadians in the fort the suspense 
 became very trying. The regulars took 
 the delay most philosophically, seeming 
 content to wait just as long as the enemy 
 would permit them, Pierre began to 
 wish he was with one of the guerilla 
 parties outside, for these were busy all 
 the time, making little raids, cutting off 
 foraging parties, skirmishing with pickets, 
 and retreating nimbly to the hills when- 
 ever attacked in force. At length there 
 came a change. A battalion of New 
 Englanders, about five hundred strong, 
 advanced to within easy range of the 
 fort, and occupied a stony ridge well 
 adapted for their purpose. 
 
 A braggart among the French officers, 
 one Vannes by name, begged to be al- 
 lowed to sally forth with a couple of 
 hundred men and rout the audacious 
 provincials. Vergor sanctioned the en- 
 terprise, and "the boaster marched 
 proudly forth with his company. Arriv- 
 
THE NEW BNGLANDERS. 1 29 
 
 ing in front of the New Englanders he 
 astounded the latter, and suppHed his 
 comrades in the fort with food for end- 
 less mirth, by facing the right about and 
 leading his shame-faced files quietly 
 back to Beausejour. Pierre was pro- 
 foundly thankful to the old sergeant for 
 having dissuaded him from joining in 
 the sally. Covering Vannes's humiliation 
 the fort opened a determined fire, which 
 after a time disabled one of the small 
 mortars which the assailants had placed in 
 position. Gradually the English brought 
 up the rest of their guns, and on the fol- 
 lowing day a sharp artillery duel was car- 
 ried on between the fort and the ridge. 
 
 Within the ramparts things went but 
 ill, and Pierre became despondent as his 
 eyes were opened to the almost universal 
 corruption about him. Enlightened by 
 the shrewd comments of the old ser- 
 geant, the quiet penetration of his father's 
 glance, which saw everything, he soon 
 realized that fraud and self-seeking were 
 become the ruling impulse in Beaus6- 
 
130 THE RAID FROM BEAUSBJOUR. 
 
 jour. " Like master, like man " was a 
 proverb which he saw daily fulfilled. 
 Vergor thought more of robbing than 
 of serving his country, and from him 
 his subordinates took their cue. Le 
 Loutre, with his fiery fanaticism, went 
 up, by contrast, in the estimation of the 
 honest-hearted boy. As the siege dragged 
 on some of the Acadians became home- 
 sick, or anxious about their families. 
 These begged leave to go home ; which 
 was of course refused. Others quietly 
 went without asking. An air of hope- 
 lessness stole over the garrison, which 
 was deepened to despair when news 
 came from Louisburg that no help 
 could be expected from that quarter, the 
 town being strictly blockaded by the 
 English. 
 
 At length, in an ignoble way, came the 
 crisis. In one of the two vaulted cham- 
 bers of masonry which were dignified 
 with the title of " bombproofs," a party 
 of French officers, with a captive English 
 lieutenant, were sitting at breakfast. A 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 131 
 
 shell from the English mortars dropped 
 through the ceiling, exploded, and killed 
 seven of the company. Vergor, with 
 other officers and Le Loutre, was in the 
 second bombproof. His martial spirit 
 was confounded at the thought that the 
 one retreat might turn out to be no 
 more "bomb-proof" than the other. Most 
 of his subordinate officers shared his 
 feelings, and in a few minutes, to the 
 pleasant astonishment of the English, 
 and in spite of the furious protests of Le 
 Loutre and of two or three officers who 
 were not lost to all sense of manhood, a 
 white flag was hoisted on Beausejour. 
 The firing straightway ceased, on both 
 sides, and an officer was sent forth to 
 negotiate a capitulation. 
 
 Pierre threw down his musket, and 
 looked at his father, who stood watching 
 the proceedings with a smile of grim 
 contempt. Then he turned to the ser- 
 geant, who was smoking philosophically. 
 
 "Is this the best France can do ? " he 
 cried, in a sharp voice. 
 
132 THE RAID FROM BEAUSiiJOUR. 
 
 "The English do certainly show to 
 rather the better advantage," interposed 
 Lecorbeau ; but the old sergeant hastened 
 to answer, in a tone of sober grief: 
 
 "You must'nt judge la belle France by 
 the men she has been sending out to 
 Canada and Acadie these late years, my 
 Pierre. These are the creatures of Bigot, 
 the notorious. It is he and they that 
 are dragging our honor in the dust ! " 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Pierre, " I shall stay 
 and see this thing through ; but as there 
 is no more fighting to be done, you, 
 father, had better go and take care of 
 mother and the children. There is 
 nothing to be gained, but a good deal to 
 be risked, by staying here and being 
 taken prisoner. The English may not 
 think much of the powers of compulsion 
 of a man that can't fight any better than 
 our commandant." 
 
 " You're right, my boy," said Lecor- 
 beau, cheerfully. " My situation just 
 now is a delicate one, to say the least of 
 it. Well, good-bye for the present. By 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 33 
 
 this time to-morrow, if all goes as ex- 
 peditiously as it has hitherto, we shall 
 meet in our own cabin again." 
 
 With these words Le^orbeau walked 
 coolly forth, on the side of the fort op- 
 posite to the besiegers, and strolled across 
 the marshes toward Isle au Tantramar. 
 Two or three more, who were in the same 
 awkward position as Lecorbeau, proceed- 
 ed to follow his example. The rest, con- 
 sidering that for them there was now no 
 danger, the fighting being done, stayed to 
 see the end, and to pick up what they 
 could in the way of spoils. As for Le 
 Loutre, realizing that his cause was lost 
 and his neck in the utmost jeopardy, he 
 hid himself in a skillful disguise and fled 
 in haste for Quebec. 
 
 The same evening, at seven o'clock, 
 the garrison marched out of Beausejour 
 with the honors of war ; whereupon a 
 body of New Englanders marched in, 
 hoisted the flag of England, and fired a 
 royal salute from the ramparts of the fort. 
 By the terms of the capitulation the gar- 
 
134 THE RAID FROM BEAUS:6jOUR. 
 
 rison was to be sent at once to Louisburg, 
 and those Acadianswho in taking part in 
 the defense had violated their oath of 
 allegiance to King George were to be par- 
 doned as having done it under compulsion. 
 All such matters of detail having been 
 arranged satisfactorily, Vergor gave a- 
 
 ^ grand dinner to the English and French 
 officers in the stronghold of which his 
 
 ' cowardice had robbed his country. The 
 fort was rechristened " Fort Cumber- 
 land," and the curiously assorted guests 
 all joined most cordially in drinking to the 
 new title. 
 
 On the followingday Lecorbeau brought 
 his wife and family back to the cottage 
 under the willows, and Pierre was re- 
 united to his beloved " petite." Isle au 
 Tantramar was soon deserted, for the 
 families whose homes at Beausejour had 
 just been burnt returned to camp amid 
 the ashes and erected rude temporary 
 shelters. They were all overjoyed at 
 the leniency of the English ; but a blow 
 more terrible than any that had yet bcr 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 35 
 
 fallen them was hanging over this most 
 unhappy people. 
 
 Among the English officers encamped 
 at Beausejour was the slim young lieuten- 
 ant who had led the band of avengers at 
 Kenneticook. He spoke French ; he was 
 interested in the Acadian people ; and he 
 moved about among them inquiring into, 
 their minds and troubles. Thecabinunder 
 the willows, almost the only house left 
 standing in Beausejour village, at once 
 attracted him, and he sauntered down the 
 hill to visit it. 
 
 The household was in a bustle getting 
 things once more to rights ; and a 
 group of children played chattering 
 about the low, red, ocher-washed door. 
 As the lieutenant approached, Lecorbeau 
 came forth to meet and greet him. The 
 Englishman was just on the pointof grasp- 
 ing theAcadian's outstretched hand, when 
 a shrill cry of " Uncle Willie " rang in his 
 ears, and he found one of the children 
 clinging to him rapturously. For an in- 
 stant he was utterly bewildered, gazing 
 
136 THE RAID FROM BEAUSilJOUR. 
 
 down on the sunburned fair little face up- 
 turned to his. Then he snatched the child 
 to his heart, exclaiming passionately, 
 " My Edie, my darling ! " To Lecorbeau, 
 and to his wife and Pierre, who now ap- 
 peared, the scene was clear in an instant ; 
 and a weight of misery rolled down upon 
 the heart of Pierre as he realized that now 
 he should lose the little one he loved so 
 well. 
 
 For a few moments the child and her 
 new-found uncle were entirely absorbed 
 in each other. But presently the little 
 one looked around and pointed to Pierre. 
 
 " Here's my Pierre !" she explained in 
 her quaint French — " and there's papa 
 -Lecorbeau, and mamma Lecorbeau, and 
 there's little Jacques, and Bibi, and Vergie, 
 and Tiste. Won't you come and live with 
 us, too ? " 
 
 Her uncle covered her face anew with 
 his kisses. " My darling," he said, "you 
 will come with me to Halifax, to mam- 
 ma!" 
 
 "And leave Pierre ?" she cried, her eyes 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 37 
 
 filling, " I can't leave my Pierre, who 
 saved me from the cruel Indians." 
 
 This recalled the young man's thoughts 
 to the mystery of the little one's presence 
 at Beausejour. Lecorbeau gave him a 
 bench, and sitting down beside him told 
 the story, while Edie sat with one hand in 
 her uncle's clasp and the other in that of 
 Pierre. TheyoungEnglishmanwasdeeply 
 moved. Having heard all, and questioned 
 of the matter minutely, he rose and shook 
 Pierre by the hand, thanking him in 
 few words, indeed, but in a voice that 
 spoke his emotion. Then he poured 
 out his gratitude to Lecorbeau and his 
 wife for their goodness to this child of 
 their foes ; and little by little he gathered 
 the Acadian 's feelings toward the English, 
 and the part he had played throughout. 
 At length he said : 
 
 " Can you allow me to quarter myself 
 here for the present ? I cannot take Edie 
 into the camp, and she would not be will- 
 ing if I could. I see from her love for you 
 how truly kind she has found you. I want 
 
138 THE RAID FROM BEAUSfijOUR. 
 
 to be with the little one as much as pos- 
 sible ; and, moreover, my presence here 
 may prove of use to you in the near 
 future." 
 
 The significance of these last words 
 Lecorbeau did not care to question, but 
 after a glance at his wife, who looked 
 dumfounded at the proposition, he said : 
 
 " You may well realize, monsieur, that 
 with this small cabin and this large family 
 we can give you but poor accommodation. 
 But such as it is, you are more than wel- 
 come to it. Your coming will be to us an 
 honor and a pleasure, and a most valued 
 protection." 
 
 Thelieutenantat once took up hisabode 
 in Lecorbeau's cabin. When, a few weeks 
 later, the first scenes were enacted in the 
 tragedy known as the " Expulsion of the 
 Acadians," the friendship of the young 
 lieutenant and of Edie stood Lecorbeau 
 in good stead. This storm which scattered 
 to the four winds the remnant of the Aca- 
 dians, passed harmlessly over the cabin 
 beneath the willows of Beaus^jour. When 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDERS. 1 39 
 
 Acadicwas once more quiet, and Edie and 
 her uncle went to Halifax, Lecorbeau 
 added fertile acres to his farm ; while 
 Pierre accompanied his " petite " to the 
 city, where his own abilities, and the 
 lieutenant's steadfast friendship, won him 
 advancement and success. 
 
HOW THE CARTER BOYS LIFTED 
 THE MORTGAGE. 
 
' When he reached the door he knocked imperiously. ' ' — See fage rsg. 
 
HOW THE CARTER BOYS LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 
 
 A 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Catching a Tartar. 
 
 S long as they could remember, the 
 roaring flow and rippling ebb of 
 the great tides had been the most con- 
 spicuous and companionable sounds in 
 the ears of Will and Ted Carter. The 
 deep, red channel of the creek that swept 
 past their house to meet the Tantramar, 
 a half mile further on, was marked on 
 the old maps, dating from the days of 
 Acadian occupation, by the name of the 
 Petit Canard. But to the boys, as to all 
 the villagers of quiet Frosty Hollow, it 
 was known as " the Crick." 
 
 To " the Crick " the Carters owed 
 their little farm. Mrs. Carter was a sea 
 captain's widow, living with her two 
 
 boys. Will and Ted, in a small yellow 
 10 
 
146 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 cottage on the crest of a green hill by 
 the water. Behind the cottage, framing 
 the barn and the garden and the orchard, 
 and cutting off the north wind, was a 
 thick grove of half- grown fir trees. 
 From the water, however, these were 
 scarcely visible, and the yellow Jiouse 
 twinkled against the broad blue of the 
 sky like the golden eye of a great forget- 
 me-not. 
 
 I have said that the Carters owed 
 their little farm to the creek. That is to 
 say, their farm was made up chiefly of 
 marsh, or diked meadow, which had been 
 slowly deposited by the waters of the 
 creek at high tide, then captured and 
 broken into the service of man by 
 the aid of long, imprisoned ramparts of 
 sodded clay. This marsh land was inex- 
 haustibly fertile, deep with grass, purple 
 in patches with vetch blossoms, pink and 
 crimson, along the ditches with beds of 
 wild roses. Outside the dikes the tawny 
 current of the creek clamored almost 
 ceaselessly, quiet only for a little while 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 47 
 
 at high water. When the tide was low, 
 or nearly so, the creek was a shining, 
 slippery, red gash, twisting hither and 
 thither through stretches of red-brown, 
 sun-cracked flats, whitened here and 
 there with deposited salt. Where the 
 creek joined the Tantramar, its parent 
 stream, the abyss of coppery and gleam- 
 ing ooze revealed at ebb tide made a 
 picture never to be forgotten ; for the 
 tidal Tantramar does not conform to 
 conventional ideas of what a river should 
 be. 
 
 Had the creek been their only creditor 
 the Carters would have been fortunate. 
 As it was, the little farm was mortgaged 
 up to its full value. When Captain 
 Carter died of yellow fever on the voy- 
 age home from Brazil, he left the family 
 little besides the farm. To be sure, 
 there was a share in the ship, besides ; 
 but this Mrs. Carter made haste to sell, 
 though shipping was at the time away 
 down, and she realized almost nothing 
 from the sale. Had she held on to the 
 
148 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 property a year longer she would have 
 found herself almost comfortable, for 
 there came a sudden activity in the 
 carrying trade, and shipowners made 
 their fortunes rapidly. But Mrs. Carter 
 cared little for business considerations 
 where a sentiment was concerned ; and 
 being descended from one of the oldest 
 and most distinguished families of the 
 country, she had a lofty confidence that 
 the country owed her a living, and would 
 be at pains to meet the obligation. In 
 this confidence she was sadly disap- 
 pointed ; and so it came about that, 
 while Will and Ted were yet but small 
 lads, the farm was mortgaged to Mr. 
 Israel Hand, who greatly desired to add 
 it to his own adjoining property. 
 
 It happened one summer afternoon, 
 when Will was nearly eighteen years of 
 age, and Ted fifteen, that the boys were 
 raking hay in the meadow, while Mr. 
 Israel Hand was toiling up the long hill 
 that led from Frosty Hollow to the 
 yellow cottage. The figure of Mr. Hand 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 49 
 
 was hidden from the boys' view by the 
 dense foliage of the maples and birch 
 trees bordering the road. Toward the 
 top of the hill, however, the line of trees 
 was broken, and in the gap towered a 
 superb elm. Immediately beneath the 
 elm, half inclosed in a luxuriant thicket 
 of cinnamon, rose, and clematis, stood an 
 inviting rustic seat which commanded a 
 view of the marshes, and the windings 
 of the Tantramar, and the far-off waters 
 of the bay, and the historic heights of 
 ramparted Beausejour. 
 
 Toward the seat beneath the elm 
 tree Ted kept casting eager but furtive 
 glances. This presently attracted Will's 
 attention. 
 
 " What have you, young one, been up 
 to now } " he queried, in a tone half 
 amused and half rebuking. 
 
 Ted's eyes sparkled mischievously. 
 
 " O, nothing much ! " said he, bending 
 his curly head over the remains of a 
 bird's egg, which he suddenly discovered 
 in the grass. But his denial was not in- 
 
150 HOW THE CARTER BOVS 
 
 tended to deny so much as to provoke 
 further inquiry. He was a persistent, 
 and sometimes troublesome practical 
 joker ; but he usually wanted Will to 
 know of his pranks beforehand, that 
 Will's steady good sense might keep him 
 from anything too extravagant in the 
 way of trickery. 
 
 " O, come off now, Ted," exclaimed 
 Will, grinning. " Tell me what it is, or 
 I'll go and find out, and spoil the fun." 
 
 " It's just a little trap I've set for a 
 fellow I want to catch," replied Ted, thus 
 adjured. 
 
 " Well ? " said Will, expectantly. 
 
 "Well!" continued the joker. "I've 
 set a tub of ' crick ' water — with lots of 
 mud in it — right under the seat up there, 
 and fixed the bushes and vines round it 
 so that it hardly shows. I've sawed the 
 seat almost through, from underneath, so 
 that when a fellow sits down on it — and 
 after climbing the hill, you know, he 
 always sits down hard — well, you can 
 see just what's going to happen." 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 151 
 
 " O, yes," grumbled the elder boy, " I 
 see just what's going to happen. Fll 
 have to fix a new seat there to-morrow ; 
 for you can't make a decent job- of it. 
 But, look here, I don't think much of 
 that for a trick. There's nothing clever 
 about it, and you may catch the wrong 
 person. I think you'd better go and fix 
 it, before you do something you'll be 
 sorry for." 
 
 " Don't you worry your old head ! " 
 answered Ted, determinedly. " I'm 
 watching to see who comes aleng. Do 
 you suppose I'd let Mrs. Burton, or the 
 rector tumble into the tub 1 What d'you 
 take me for, you old duffer .? " 
 
 " Well," said Will, good-humoredly, 
 " whom do you expect to catch .? " 
 
 " Is your head so taken up with 
 scientific musings that you haven't 
 noticed how, lately. Will Hen Baizley 
 has taken to going home this way every 
 afternoon, instead of by the short cut 
 over the back road } I expect he's got a 
 girl down at the corners, or he wouldn't 
 
152 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 be coming such a long way round. Any- 
 way, when he gets to the top of the hill 
 he always sits down on our seat, and fills 
 •up his pipe. I've been looking for a 
 chance at him this long while ! " 
 
 Will Hen Baizley was the most ob- 
 jectionable " tough " that Frosty Hollow 
 could boast. He was a bad-tempered 
 bully, cruel in his propensities, and de- 
 lighting to interfere in all the innocent 
 amusements of the village youngsters. 
 He was a loutish tyrant, and Ted had 
 suffered various petty annoyances at his 
 hands for several years. In fact, the boy 
 was looking forward to the day when he 
 might, without presumption, undertake 
 to give the bully a thrashing and deliver 
 the neighborhood from his thraldom. As 
 Will Hen, however, was about twenty 
 years of age, large, and not unskillful with 
 his fists, Ted saw some years of waiting 
 yet ahead of him. Such suspense he 
 could not endure. He preferred to begin 
 now, and trust to fate — and his brother 
 Will — to pull him through. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. I 53 
 
 Will raked the hay thoughtfully for a 
 few minutes without replying. He was 
 a clear-headed youth, and he speedily 
 caught the drift of Ted's ideas. 
 
 " It'll be good enough for him," said 
 Will, at length, " but you've got a good 
 deal of gall, it seems to me, young one ! 
 Why, Will Hen 'II pound you for it, sure. 
 He'll know it's your doing." 
 
 " Let him pound,- the brute ! " an- 
 swered Ted, defiantly. " Anyway, I don't 
 suppose you are going to let him handle 
 me too rough ! I dare say he won't 
 actually punch me, for fear of getting 
 into a row with you — though" (and 
 here a wicked twinkle came into Ted's 
 eye, for be knew the pugnacity that 
 lurked in his big brother's scientific 
 nature), "though he does say he can 
 particularly knock the stuffing out of 
 you ! " 
 
 " Dear me," murmured Will, grinning 
 thoughtfully. " If he talks to you about 
 it, tell him there isn't any stuffing in me 
 to speak of" 
 
154 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 During this conversation the boys 
 had both, for a few minutes, forgotten 
 to watch the seat under the elm tree. 
 Suddenly Ted glanced up, a thrill of 
 mingled apprehension and delight went 
 through him as he saw Mr. Israel Hand 
 approaching the fatal spot. 
 
 " Look, quick !" he exclaimed, in a 
 gleeful whisper. 
 
 Will looked. But Will was not 
 amused. 
 
 "Hi! there! Dont sit down, Mr. 
 Hand! Don't!" He yelled, jumping 
 into the air and waving his hay rake to 
 attract additional attention. 
 
 But it was too late ! 
 
 Mr. Israel Hand was tired and hot 
 from his walk up the hill. He was 
 vexed, too, at the prospect of a disagree- 
 able interview with Mrs. Carter, who 
 would not understand business matters. 
 The seat beneath the elm was a most 
 inviting place. From it he could see the 
 whole farm which he meant presently to 
 annex to his own broad acres. He was 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 55 
 
 on the point of seating himself when he 
 heard Will's yell. He had a vague 
 consciousness that the boys did not love 
 him, to say the least of it. He con- 
 cluded they were now making game of 
 him. Why shouldn't he sit down 7 If 
 it was their seat now, it would soon be 
 his, anyway. 
 
 "Impudent young scoundrels!" he 
 muttered, and sat down firmly. 
 
 As the boys saw him crash through, 
 and disappear, all but his head and heels, 
 in a great splash of leaves and blossoms 
 and muddy water, Ted fairly shrieked 
 with uncontrollable mirth. But as for 
 Will, he was too angry to see the fun of 
 the situation. 
 
 " There," he exclaimed, bitterly, with a 
 ring in his voice that checked Ted's 
 laughter on the instant, " your tomfool- 
 ery has fixed us at last. Out we'll go 
 next spring, as sure as you want a lick- 
 ing. Hand '11 foreclose now, for sure; 
 and I can't say I'll blame him. No use 
 me trying to stave him off now ! " 
 
156 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 Ted hung his head, feeHng miserable 
 enough, and casting about vainly for an 
 excuse. 
 
 " But I never — " 
 
 " O, don't wriggle, now," retorted 
 Will, sternly. " You know you saw him 
 in time to warn him. You wanted to 
 get him into it. You just come along 
 with me, and apologize. If he is an old 
 skinflint, you've got to remember he 
 could have sold us out last year, only I 
 succeeded in begging off. MotKer's high 
 and mighty airs to him made the job 
 twice as hard as it might have been ; but 
 you've made it impossible to do anything 
 more. Now he'll have us out in a twelve- 
 month — and I was just getting things so 
 into shape that with two years more I 
 could have saved the old place ! " 
 
 As the boys climbed the hillside 
 Will's face was very white, and his 
 mouth twitched nervously. He had 
 taken hold of affairs about two years 
 before, stopped a number of leaks, and 
 displayed great tact in neutralizing the 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 57 
 
 effects of Mrs. Carter's aristocratic and 
 exclusive notions. Mrs. Carter was a 
 woman of untiring industry, most ca- 
 pable in all household matters, but 
 superbly uncommercial. Having got the 
 management into his own hands, and 
 having entirely won his mother's confi- 
 dence, Will was beginning to see a 
 gleam of light ahead of him. If he 
 could keep Mr. Israel Hand pacified for 
 two years more, and yet prevent the 
 schemer from imagining that the 
 mortgage was going to be paid in the 
 end, he felt that victory was his. Mr. 
 Hand wanted the farm — but if he could 
 win a reputation for forbearance, and get 
 the farm not less surely in the long run, 
 he would be all the better satisfied. It 
 was thus Will had guaged him. The 
 boy's ambition was to clear off the debt, 
 and then earn something wherewith to 
 finish his own education and Ted's. 
 Now, seeing the whole scheme nipped in 
 the fair bud by Ted's recklessness, small 
 wonder if his heart grew hard. Pres- 
 
158 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 ently, however, catching sight of Ted's 
 face of misery, stained with one or two 
 furtive tears, his wrath began to melt. 
 
 " Well, Ted," said he, " never mind 
 now. It's no use crying over spilt milk. 
 You hadn't much time to think, I know 
 you wouldn't have had it happen for a 
 good deal if you'd had time to think. 
 Brace up, and maybe we'll find some way 
 out of the scrape ! " 
 
 At this Ted's face brightened a little, 
 and he ejaculated fervently : 
 
 " I wish I wasn't such an idiot ! " 
 
 "Don't fret!" replied Will, and the 
 two trudged on to the little white gate in 
 front of the yellow cottage, carrying 
 grievous apprehensions in their hearts. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Israel Hand had ex- 
 tricated himself from the tub. He was 
 not hurt saving as regards his dignity. 
 But his heart was absolutely bursting 
 with righteous rage. And yet, and yet, 
 ft was sweet to think of the revenge 
 that lay so close within his grasp. No 
 one now could accuse him of being too 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 159 
 
 severe. Public feeling would justify his 
 course— and Mr. Israel Hand had a 
 good deal of respect for public feeling. 
 
 He did not pause to remove one 
 atom of the sticky creek mud that 
 plastered grotesquely his rusty but 
 solemn suit of black. Drenched and de- 
 filed, he felt himself an object of sym- 
 pathy. He would not even remove the 
 occasional green leaves and rosebuds 
 that clung to him here and there with a 
 most ludicrous effect, making one think 
 of a too festive picnicker. Mr. Hand 
 was quite lacking in a sense of the 
 ridiculous. 
 
 When he reached the door he knocked 
 imperiously, and after a second, rapped 
 again. Mrs. Carter was busy in the 
 kitchen. She resented the hastiness of 
 the summons. Under no circumstances 
 would she let herself be seen in the role 
 of kitchen girl. She clung to appear- 
 ances with a tenacity that nothing could 
 shake. Long practice in this sort of 
 thing, however, had made her very 
 
l6o HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 expert; and by the time Mr. Hand had 
 thundered at the knocker four or five 
 times, his wrath getting hotter as his 
 damp clothes got more chilly, Mrs. 
 Carter had made herself presentable and 
 was ready to open the door. 
 
 Severe and stately in her widow's i 
 garments, cool of countenance as if she 
 had been but sitting in expectancy of 
 callers, she opened the door and con- 
 fronted Mr. Hand. Recognizing her 
 unwelcome visitor, she drew herself up 
 to her full height, and the little, drip- 
 ping, old man looked the more grotesque 
 and mean by contrast. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Mr. Hand," she 
 began in tones of ice ; " can I do any- 
 thing" — but at this point she took in 
 the full absurdity of his appearance. 
 With all her stateliness she had a keen 
 appreciation of the ridiculous, and it was 
 from her that Ted derived his excess of 
 humor and his love of mischief Pas- 
 sionately as she scorned Mr. Hand, she 
 could forget herself so far as to let him 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. l6l 
 
 amuse her. Her large face melted into 
 a smile. She struggled to keep from 
 open laughter. 
 
 " Look at me, just look at me, at my 
 condition!" burst forth Mr. Hand. 
 " This is some of the work of your two 
 brats of boys, madam. I'll horsewhip 
 them, I'll have them horsewhipped ! " 
 
 By this time Mrs. Carter was laughing 
 unreservedly. She was consumed with 
 mirth, as Mr. Hand continued : 
 
 " O, yes ! I don't doubt you put 
 
 them up to it ! I don't doubt you 
 
 think it is a great joke ; a great joke, 
 
 madam. But I'll make you smart for 
 
 it ! You think there's no one in Frosty 
 
 Hollow fit to associate with you, eh ! 
 
 You're a pauper, and your brats are 
 
 paupers ! That's what you are. I'll 
 
 foreclose that mortgage at once, and out 
 
 you'll go, just as quickly as the course 
 
 of law will permit. This time next year 
 
 you'll have no roof over your head, and 
 
 everyone in the village will say I have 
 
 done quite right by you ! I — " 
 11 
 
1 62 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 "Really, Mr. Hand," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Carter, interrupting, " you have no right 
 to appear before me in such a shocking 
 condition. If you wish to talk to me 
 you must call again, and in more suita- 
 ble attire. Excuse me ! " And she shut 
 the door in his face? 
 
 Mr, Hand shook his fist at the big 
 brass knocker, then turned to go. The 
 boys were just opening the little white 
 gate. Mr. Hand paused between the 
 beds of sweet williams and canterbury 
 bells. He was in doubt as to the atti- 
 tude he had better assume to Will and 
 Ted. Glancing along the road he saw 
 the figure of Will Hen Baizley inspecting 
 curiously the ruins of the seat beneath 
 the elm. Here was an ally if need 
 should arise. He decided on prompt 
 retribution, and seized his stick in a 
 firmer grasp. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 63 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Hand of the Law. 
 
 "V7"OU pauper brats," began Mr. 
 -■■ Hand, advancing along the gar- 
 den path, " I'll teach you to play your 
 dirty tricks on me ! " And he raised his 
 heavy cane. 
 
 With a quick movement of his arm, 
 Will had the stick firmly in his grip so 
 that Mr. Hand could not stir it. 
 
 "Stop that, Mr. Hand!" said Will, 
 quietly. "You mustn't do that, sir. It 
 was never intended you should fall into 
 that trap, sir. It was set for another 
 person altogether. You know, sir, you 
 heard me yell to you not to sit down on 
 it!" 
 
 " Let go of my stick, you young 
 scoundrel ! " exclaimed Mr. Hand, some- 
 what less outrageously than he had 
 spoken before. The firmness of Will's 
 grasp and the steadiness of his glahce 
 
164 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 had a quieting effect on the money 
 lender's temper. 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Will, releasing 
 the cane. '' Only don't do anything 
 foolish. I don't wonder you are angry, 
 very angry indeed. But I tried to stop 
 you. And now we want to apologize 
 and tell you how sorry we — " 
 
 " Indeed, indeed we are sorry, sir," 
 burst in Ted, impetuously. " We 
 wouldn't have had it happen for worlds, 
 Mr. Hand ! " 
 
 " Very likely not — not for a farm, in 
 fact," retorted Mr. Hand with elaborate 
 sarcasm. 
 
 " But it was only 1 did it, and I'm the 
 only one to blame, sir," urged Ted, 
 desperately, catching the full meaning 
 of the last remark. 
 
 By this time Will Hen Baizley had 
 approached. He paused in the middle 
 of the road, filled with curiosity. Catch- 
 ing sight of Mr. Hand's absurd appear- 
 ance, he understood what had happened- 
 He saw the whole thing, as he thought. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 65 
 
 and he relished the joke hugely. Shak- 
 ing and cackling with laughter, he came 
 over and leaned against the picket fence. 
 His ridicule exasperated Mr. Hand, who 
 suddenly resolved that he did not want 
 Mr. Baizley's assistance. He scowled 
 menacingly at the young rufifian, and 
 then replied to Ted's beseeching plea : 
 
 " You needn't talk to me, and think 
 you're going to come round me with 
 your soft soap. You're all alike, the 
 whole lot of you. You play a disgrace- 
 ful trick on me, and then your mother 
 slams the door in my face. You're a 
 pack of fools. When you're just paupers, 
 at my mercy for the roof that covers 
 )70u, one'd think, even if you hadn't any 
 decency, you might know what side your 
 bread was buttered on. I reckon you 
 expect everyone to lick your shoes be- 
 cause your name's Carter ! Well, your 
 name's mud now. I'm going to fore- 
 close right off, and out you'll go next 
 spring. And I don't want to hear no 
 talk about it." 
 
1 66 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 Ted's face got very red, and it was 
 with difficulty he kept back the tears 
 of shame and bitterness, as he realized 
 the consequences of his folly. But Will 
 Hen Baizley was there, so he held him- 
 self manfully erect, and glared defiantly 
 at the tough who was grinning over the 
 fence. Mr. Hand pushed past and was 
 about to open the gate, when Will spoke : 
 
 "That's all right, Mr. Hand," said the 
 tactful youth, soothingly. " Of course I 
 can't blame you. Don't think I blame 
 you. Business is business, and you 
 might have honestly enough turned us 
 out a year ago. We are grateful to you, 
 Ted and I, for having been so forbearing 
 in the past. We won't complain a bit. 
 And as for mother, why, sir, you mustn't 
 think hard of her if she complains, be- 
 cause you know she doesn't understand 
 business. And then, she's had such a 
 lot of trouble it has made her a little 
 quick tempered to some people." 
 
 These remarks were very gratifying 
 to Mr. Israel Hand. They did not 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 67 
 
 alter his determination in the slightest 
 degree, but they soothed his sense of 
 injury. They largely removed his desire 
 for revenge, and left nothing but his 
 desire to possess the farm as soon as 
 possible. The astute Will rightly judged 
 that an opponent with two motives for 
 hostility would be more difficult to 
 handle than one with but a single mo- 
 tive. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Hand, "you know 
 now exactly what I'm going to do. You 
 seem to be a very sensible young man, 
 William, and please remember it was 
 only on your representations and at 
 your earnest request that I waited so 
 long as I have. I look to you to pre- 
 vent unnecessary fuss. You must yield 
 to the inevitable. So don't let your 
 mother raise any useless trouble. It 
 won't do any good." 
 
 With a sense of satisfaction that quite 
 outweighed the humiliations he had 
 suffered, Mr. Hand strode off down the 
 hill, ignoring Will Hen Baizley, and for- 
 
1 68 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 getful of the mud and rose leaves on his 
 raiment. 
 
 " Haw ! " exclaimed Will Hen Baizley. 
 " That's a good un ! You done that 
 slick ! An' the old fellow b'lieved yer, 
 too ! Couldn't 'a lied out'n it slicker'n 
 that myself!" 
 
 " There was no lying about it," an- 
 swered Ted, fiercely, flushing redder 
 than ever. But Will replied more 
 calmly : 
 
 "What we told Mr. Hand was the 
 exact truth. Will Hen. You can just 
 bet we didn't want to let him in for that. 
 No, sir-ee ! It was another lad alto- 
 gether that little surprise party was in- 
 tended for ! " 
 
 And Will grinned mysteriously. 
 
 " Mebbe 'twas me you was after ! " 
 suggested Will Hen Baizley, with a 
 snarl. 
 
 " I wouldn't bother my head about who 
 it was intended for, if I were you," said 
 Will, in a good-natured voice. 
 
 " Ef 't had been me stidder old Hand, 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 69 
 
 I'd 'a' broke every bone in yer carkus," 
 growled Baizley. 
 
 " It wasn't Will that fixed the trap, 
 anyway," said Ted. "It was me, and 
 Will never saw it till he came up the 
 hill just now ! " 
 
 " O, 'twas you, was it ! " remarked 
 Will Hen Baizley. " / see, I see ! 
 Thought yer'd git square, eh } So it 
 was me you expected to see flounderin' 
 in that there old tub ! I've 'most a mind 
 to lick you fur it right now ! " 
 
 Ted laughed ; and the tough made a 
 motion to spring over the fence. 
 
 " Baizley ! " said Will. And the fellow 
 paused. 
 
 " Go slow, now ! " continued Will, with 
 an amiable smile, but with a significant 
 look in his eye. " I dare say you'd sooner 
 fight than eat, but you'd better go home 
 to your supper just now. Anyway, you 
 mustn't come in here, for I don't want to 
 be bothered ! " 
 
 " Do you want to fight?" queried Will 
 Hen Baizley, defiantly, but at the same 
 
170 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 time withdrawing from the fence. " I 
 can lick you out o' yer skin!" 
 
 " But I don't want to be licked out of 
 my skin, thank you, not this evening ! " 
 responded Will, sweetly. 
 
 " Yer dars'n't come out here an' stand 
 up to me," said the tough. 
 
 " O, go along. Will Hen, and quit 
 talking to your hat," laughed Will, pick- 
 ing up the hoe and beginning to attack 
 some weeds. " Do you suppose I've 
 nothing better to do than punching your 
 soft head? Maybe I'll fight you some 
 day when there's something to fight 
 about, and then you won't be half as 
 eager. Bye-bye ! " 
 
 At this Ted tittered with delight. As 
 for Will Hen Baizley, he was impressed 
 by Will's confidence and coolness so 
 much that he did not really wish just 
 then to try conclusions with him. 
 Therefore he contented himself with re- 
 peating his taunt of " you dars'n't ! " and 
 swaggered slowly away. The boys went 
 into the house. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 171 
 
 They found their mother in high good 
 humor. She felt that she had come off 
 victorious in the encounter with Mr 
 Hand, and she gave the boys a spirited 
 account of the interview. This was re- 
 ceived by Ted with unfeigned relish, but 
 Will smiled rather grimly. 
 
 " And what was the impertinent old 
 man saying to you out in the garden ? " 
 inquired the lady at length. 
 
 "O, nothing more than we expected 
 to hear, mother," replied Will "He 
 merely gave us formal notice that he 
 could let matters run on no longer, but 
 would foreclose instantly." 
 
 " By all means let him foreclose, as he 
 calls it ! " said Mrs. Carter, loftily. 
 
 "We've got to let him, as we can do 
 nothinsf else, " answered Will. " But it's 
 a little tough to think we'll have to leave 
 the old place next spring ! " 
 
 " Leave this place ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Carter, warmly. " Indeed, we won't do 
 anything of the sort. I should like to 
 see him try to turn us out ! Old Hand, 
 
172 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 whose father used to blacken your poor 
 grandfather's boots, turn us out of our 
 own house ! You don't know what you 
 are talking about, Willie!" 
 
 To this Will made no reply. He 
 merely smiled very slightly, and thrust 
 his chin forward with an expression of 
 mingled doggedness and good humor. 
 His mother felt that he was not con- 
 vinced. 
 
 " But, mother," began Ted, " Will does 
 know all about it. Old Hand is going 
 to—" 
 
 " You hush at once, Teddie," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Carter. " You are only a 
 little boy. As for Hand, if he attempts 
 to interfere with me I will drive over 
 to Barchester and see the Hon. Mr. 
 Germain about it. I will go to law, if 
 necessary, to defend our rights ! " 
 
 " The trouble is, mother, in this matter 
 we haven't any rights left to speak of 
 It is the rights of Mr. Hand that the 
 law will think of, " said Will, gently. 
 
 " Willie," said his mother with severity^ 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. I 73 
 
 " I don't want to hear any more non- 
 sense. I'm sure it was not so when / 
 was young, that the law would allow our 
 domestics to trample upon us. The 
 judges in those days were all gentle- 
 men. I'm sure, Willie, I don't know 
 where you get those low, radical ideas. 
 I fear I have been foolish not to look 
 more closely into the kind of books you 
 read ! " 
 
 " Now, mother," began Ted, pugna- 
 ciously, fired as usual with indiscreet zeal 
 to make his mother see things with 
 Will's eyes. 
 
 But Will interrupted him. " Come off, 
 Ted," said he, " mother's right. The very 
 best thing she can do is to go and see 
 Mr. Germain. Come along now, it's time 
 the cattle were tended." 
 
 " Hurry in again, then," said Mrs. Car- 
 ter, mollified. " I'm going to have pan- 
 cakes for you to-night, because you've 
 been working so hard." 
 
 " Bully for you, muz ! " cried Ted, joy- 
 ously, regardless of his mother's aversion 
 
174 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 to slang. And Will smiled back his grat- 
 ification as they started for the barn. 
 
 In a- few minutes the cow stable was 
 musical with the recurrent bubbling 
 swish of the streams of milk which the 
 boys' skilled hands were directing into 
 their tin pails. 
 
 " Say, Ted," exclaimed Will, from 
 under the red and white flank of his 
 cow. 
 
 " What's up now ? " inquired Ted. 
 
 " I've just got hold of a brilliant idea," 
 continued Will. " We may escape old 
 Hand yet, and come out of this scrape 
 fairly and creditably." 
 
 " But you are a clever old beggar ! " 
 responded Ted, in a .voice of admira- 
 tion. "You've got the brains of the 
 family ! What is it ? " 
 
 " Come down to the crick with me 
 after tea, and I'll explain," said Will. 
 " But don't say anything to mother. It's 
 no use worrying her, and she's got enough 
 to attend to ! " 
 
 " Now don't keep me dying with curi- 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 75 
 
 osity," urged Ted, pausing in his milking 
 and turning round. " Just give me a 
 hint, to keep me from ' bursting,' so to 
 speak ! " 
 
 " Well," answered Will, " it's new marsh 
 I'm after. Some more dike. See 1 Now 
 wait till we're on the spot. I'm think- 
 ing." 
 
 " By all means, let it think if it can 
 think like that," exclaimed Ted, jubilant- 
 ly, and went on with his milking. Already 
 he saw the mortgage lifted, and all their 
 difficulties at an end, so unbounded was 
 his confidence in Will's resources. 
 
 After tea Will led his brother down 
 to the marsh. Along the breezy top of 
 the dike the boys walked rapidly, one 
 behind the other, the dike top being 
 narrow. It was near low tide, and the 
 creek clamored cheerfully along the bot- 
 tom of its naked red channel. A crisp, 
 salty fragrance came from the moist 
 slopes and gullies ; and here and there 
 a little pond, left behind by the ebb, 
 gleamed like flames in the low sunset. 
 
I 76 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 Toward the upper end of the Carter 
 farm the dike curved sharply inland till 
 it joined the steep slope of their pasture 
 lot. Here was a spacious cove, inclosed 
 by the Carter's pasture lot on the south 
 and west, by their dike on the east, and 
 on the north by the channel of the creek. 
 At the time the dike was built the 
 channel had lain close in along the foot 
 of the upland, but it had gradually moved 
 out to a straight course as the cove 
 filled up with sediment. Of this change 
 the dike itself had been the main cause. 
 Now the cove appeared at high water as 
 a bay or lagoon ; but verj' early in the 
 ebb its whole surface was uncovered, 
 and, except along the outermost edge, 
 thin patches of salt grass were already 
 beginning to appeair. 
 
 To this spot the boys betook them- 
 selves, treading the way gingerly over the 
 tenacious but slippery surface. Will 
 pointed to a half barrel sunk level in the 
 ooze. It was full to the brim with fine 
 silt. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. I 77 
 
 " What do you think of that? " in- 
 quired Will, mysteriously. 
 
 Ted racked his brain for a suitable re- 
 ply. He could gather no clew to Will's 
 purpose, so he remarked : 
 
 " Very nice, healthy looking mud. 
 seems to me ? Going to sell it for brown 
 paint?" 
 
 " Paint ! " exclaimed Will, scornfully. 
 " But how long do you suppose that tub 
 has been there ? " 
 
 " Looks as if it had been there from 
 the year one," replied Ted, still hope- 
 lessly adrift. 
 
 " / put it there just three weeks ago ! " 
 said Will, watching his brother's face. 
 
 "You did!" said Ted, blankly. Then 
 a light dawned upon him. " But that's 
 mighty quick work!" he continued. 
 " You don't mean to tell me that all that 
 mud was deposited by the tide in three 
 weeks ! " 
 
 "Every bit of it !" averred Will. "You 
 see the Tantramar water is just loaded 
 with silt. It has so much that the 
 12 
 
178 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 moment it stops to rest it throws down 
 as much of the load as it can. When it 
 gets moving, regularly under way, it has 
 to pick it up again. But the longer it 
 stops the more it throws down ; and the 
 slower it moves the less it picks up 
 again. Inside the tub it is always slack 
 water, so whatever falls there stays 
 there. That's why the tub has filled up 
 so quick. Nearly a foot and a half in 
 three weeks ! Why, Ted, a raise of a foot 
 and a half along the outer slope of this 
 cove, and we could dike in the whole 
 cove. See } " 
 
 Ted's eyes grew round and triumphant 
 at the suggestion. 
 
 " But how can it be done ? " he asked. 
 " Won't we have to wait till the tide does 
 it for us?" and his tone dropped gradu- 
 ally from elation to dejection. 
 
 " Not much ! " said Will, turning back 
 to the dike. "Just look here a minute!" 
 
 Seating himself on the dike top, he 
 took a book from his pocket and began 
 making rough diagrams on the fly leaf. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. I 79 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A Piece of Engineering. 
 
 ' I "ED craned his neck eagerly to 
 -*■ watch the movements of Will's 
 pencil. 
 
 "You know," began Will, with his 
 head on one side, " in some parts of the 
 world, when they want to make the tide 
 work for them, they use things they 
 call 'warping dikes.' These run on a 
 slant out from the shore toward the 
 channel. They generally slope up 
 stream pretty sharply. The tide comes 
 in, loaded right up with fine mud, flows 
 over and into and around the long lines 
 of warping dike, then stops and begins 
 to unload. Now, you see, when there 
 are no warping dikes, the current has 
 nothing to delay it, so it soan gets going 
 on the ebb so fast that it washes away 
 pretty near all it has deposited. But 
 these warping dikes bring in a new state 
 of affairs. They so hinder the ebb that 
 
l8o HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 there is more silt deposited, and at-the 
 same time there is less current on the 
 flats to carry the mud away. As the 
 engineers say, there is not so much 
 ' scouring ' — a first-rate word to express 
 it. Haven't you noticed how, in some 
 spots, the current seems to scour away 
 all the mud and leave naked stones and 
 pebbles .? " 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed Ted, " I get hold of 
 the idea now. And when the warping 
 dikes have got their work in, what then ?" 
 
 " Why, we'll dike the whole cove in. 
 A short bit of dike from that corner 
 straight across to the point will do it. 
 We'll be able to get at it in a coupje of 
 months ; and then, if you and I can't put 
 the job through before the ground gets 
 frozen, why, I'll hire help, that's all !" 
 
 " But it's a pretty big contract you're 
 giving us, isn't it ? " queried Ted, doubt- 
 fully. " Those warping dikes you're 
 talking of look to me like an all sum- 
 mer's job. What'll they be like, any- 
 way ? " 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. l8l 
 
 " O, they'll be very slight. We can 
 run them, with the help of old Jerry to 
 haul for us, in less than no time, working 
 evenings and wet days. We'll just lay 
 lines of brush a foot high, and pile heavy 
 stones along the top to keep it in place. 
 Then we can raise them a little higher 
 as the place fills up ! " 
 
 " O ! " murmured Ted, greatly re- 
 lieved. " I thought we'd have to dig 
 them all, like the other dikes." 
 
 After this the boys' talk was of 
 nothing but deposits and warping dikes 
 and scouring. Their evenings and rainy 
 days, usually spent in their mother's 
 company and in study, were now devoted 
 to the labor of hauling stones and brush 
 down to the shore of the cove. To Mrs. 
 Carter they explained the scheme, but 
 without reference to its connection with 
 Mr. Israel Hand. She grasped its 
 possibilities at once, being clear-headed 
 except where her prejudices were in- 
 volved. 
 
 " How many acres do you expect to 
 
1 82 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 reclaim ? " she inquired, after praising 
 Will's sagacity warmly. 
 
 " Well," said Will, " of course we won't 
 have it surveyed till the work's done 
 and we are sure of the property ; but I 
 have an idea it will go a good ten acres, 
 or maybe twelve." 
 
 " And good diked land, or ma'sh as 
 these people call it, is worth about two 
 hundred dollars an acre, isn't it.? "went 
 on Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " This will be, in two or three years, 
 anyway," answered Will, " for it will be 
 deep marsh, alluvial to the bottom and 
 permanently fertile." 
 
 "And what do you, suppose it ought 
 to be worth next year, as soon as it's 
 diked in ? " asked Ted. 
 
 " O," said Will, carelessly, " maybe a 
 hundred and fifty, or ten better, perhaps ! " 
 
 "Dear boys," said Mrs. Carter, "if 
 all goes well you'll both be able to get 
 through college, perhaps. I must keep 
 on steadily with Ted's Latin this fall and 
 winter. Dear me, I'm so sorry I let 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 83 
 
 them laugh me out of my desire to study 
 Greek when I was a girl. I could be so 
 useful to you both now if I'd learnt it!" 
 
 "Don't you worry about that, muz," 
 said Ted, jumping up to kiss her. " If 
 you plug me up in my Latin, we'll find 
 some way to manage about the Greek 
 time enough ! " 
 
 When haying was over there was a 
 slack time on the farm for a few weeks, 
 and these few weeks sufficed the boys, 
 working with eager energy, to get all 
 the warping dikes laid down. To avoid 
 the nuisance of neighbors' questionings, 
 the idea occurred to Ted of sticking up 
 stakes at intervals along the rows of 
 brush and stone. When these stakes 
 were connected at the tops by binders, 
 they looked like the framework of a 
 long and elaborate series of fish weirs. 
 Gaspereaux were fairly abundant in the 
 creek at certain seasons, so there was 
 nothing unreasonable in the supposition. 
 But the dwellers in Frosty Hollow 
 laughed hugely. 
 
184 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 " Them Carter boys thinks they knows 
 everything," was the universal comment, 
 " but they don't know the first thing 
 about how to run a fish weir. Why, 
 them there weirs '11 shet every gas- 
 pereaux aout o' the cove, 'n 'tain't much 
 of a place fiir gaspereaux, anyways ! " 
 
 When such remarks were tendered to 
 the boys they would merely reply, " You 
 just wait till you see how our way works. 
 If it doesn't work the way we expect; then 
 maybe it'll be time enough to try, your 
 way ! " The experiment interested the 
 village for a few Weeks, and at length 
 died out of notice. 
 
 It was utterly eclipsed, indeed, by a 
 topic of profounder interest. The village 
 learned that Mr. Hand was foreclosing 
 his mortgage, and that the Carters were 
 to be sold out the ensuing spring. Some 
 of the people were sympathetic, but 
 others, resenting Mrs. Carter's proud 
 exclusiveness, took a malicious delight 
 in the near prospect of her humiliation. 
 
 Roused at last to a sense of the 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 85 
 
 reality of the danger, Mrs. Carter, who 
 was quite too busy at her buttermaking 
 and other indoor farmwork to spare time 
 for her threatened visit to Barchester, 
 wrote urgently to the Hon. Mr. Germain. 
 The boys posted her letter, from which 
 they knew nothing could come, and then 
 went to comfort themselves with a sight 
 of the way the silt was piling up inside 
 their warping dikes. 
 
 The growth of the deposit had ex- 
 ceeded their most sanguine expectations. 
 Early in August they decided that it 
 was time to begin the permanent dike, 
 the " running dike," as it was called in 
 local parlance. That same day came a 
 letter from Mr. Germain. When the 
 boys came in to tea they found their 
 mother in tears of indignation and 
 despair. 
 
 " There s what he says ! " exclaimed 
 she, pointing to the open letter, which 
 she had laid on Will's plate. " I do think 
 things have come to a strange pass in 
 these days. I certainly never dreamed 
 
1 86 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 that Charles Germain could change like 
 the rest ! " 
 
 " Never mind, mother dear," said Will, 
 soothingly. " We're not in our last 
 ditch yet. Trust me ! " 
 
 And taking up the letter he read 
 aloud for Ted's benefit : 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Carter : Believe me, 
 it gives me great grief to learn of the 
 difficulties you are in, and to feel myself 
 so powerless to render you assistance. I 
 feel bound to tell you that Mr. Hand, if 
 I understand your letter, is entirely 
 within his rights. You would have not 
 a shadow of a case against him in the 
 courts. There is but one way of escape 
 from the penalty, and that is by payment 
 of your indebtedness to him. In this, 
 alas ! I cannot help you at all -adequately, 
 as I have lately suffered such losses that 
 I am just now financially embarrassed. 
 Even had you good security to offer I 
 could not lend you the sum you need, as 
 my own borrowing powers (this strictly 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 87 
 
 between ourselves) are just now taxed 
 to their utmost. I think I can, however, 
 offer one of your boys a position in my 
 office on a small salary ; and for the 
 other I could, perhaps, within the next 
 few months, obtain a situation in the 
 Exchange Bank of this town. This, 
 perhaps, would relieve your most press- 
 ing anxieties, and it would be a great 
 pleasure to me to serve you. 
 
 '' Yours, with sincerest regards and 
 sympathy, Charles Germain." 
 
 " That's a jolly nice letter ! " exclaimed 
 Ted. 
 
 "Yes, mother," said Will, handing it 
 back to her, " I don't see anything the 
 matter with that." 
 
 Mrs. Carter drew herself up proudly. 
 " Don't you see," said she, " that he puts 
 me off ! I asked him to extricate me 
 from this difficulty, to defend for me my 
 rights! In reply he offers me, as if I 
 were a beggar, employment for my sons. 
 Practically, he takes the part of old 
 
l88 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 Hand. O, I've no patience with such 
 men! I'm serious!" 
 
 " Well, mother, you must allow," said 
 Will, " that if Mr. Germain says so, it's 
 no use thinking of going to law against 
 old Hand, is it? As for Mr. Germain's 
 kind offer to find places for Ted and me, 
 why, if the worst comes to the worst, 
 that wouldn't be too bad. We could live 
 pretty comfortably in Barchester with 
 our little salaries and your clever house- 
 keeping. But "maybe we won't have 
 to leave here after all ! That's what Ted 
 and I have been up to all summer. We 
 anticipated that Mr. Germain would dis- 
 appoint you ; but we wouldn't say so. 
 Our plan is to sell the new marsh, when 
 we get it diked in, and with the proceeds 
 pay off Hand's mortgage with all the 
 arrears of interest. There ought to be 
 something left over, too ! " 
 
 " But I was proposing — I wanted to 
 deed that piece of marsh to you boys ! " 
 objected Mrs. Carter, in a voice of 
 mingled gratification and doubt. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 89 
 
 " O, muz ! " answered Will, putting his 
 arm around her, " what do we want of it ? 
 The whole farm is ours, in that it's 
 yours. That's all we want the new 
 marsh for — just to clear off the mortgage. 
 And we're going to do it, too ! We 
 begin work on the running dike to- 
 morrow." 
 
 '' You are two dear, good boys ! " ex- 
 claimed their mother, tenderly. " If 
 only your poor father could have lived ! 
 How proud he would have been of both 
 of you ! " And her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Next day Will and Ted armed them- 
 selves with diking spades, and set to 
 work determinedly. They had the old 
 horse, Jerry, on the spot, harnessed to a 
 light cart, ready to haul material as 
 wanted. They began at the lower end 
 of the cove, building upward from the 
 corner of the old dike. Their purpose in 
 this was to keep the scouring in ch-eck. 
 By this method of procedure they would- 
 have the final outlet (usually so difficult 
 to close) located at the shallowest part 
 
I go HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 of the cove. There would thus, as soon 
 as the (dike extended a little distance, be 
 some water left behind after every flood 
 tide, and there would be so much less to 
 make violent escape with the ebb. If 
 there should be left, finally, more im- 
 prisoned water than the sun could well 
 evaporate that autumn. Will explained 
 to Ted that it would be a simple matter 
 to drain it off and close up the outlet be- 
 tween tides. 
 
 At the end of the first day's work 
 Mrs. Carter came down to note progress, 
 and was shown several feet of sound, 
 shapely dike, with planks and large 
 stones laid on the exposed end as a 
 protection against the tide. A little 
 calculation showed that it would be 
 quite feasible, with perhaps a week or so 
 of hired help toward the last, to finish 
 the dike before hard weather should 
 set in. 
 
 Everybody now at the yellow cottage 
 on the hill was cheerful in the hope 
 of speedy success. To their ears the 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 191 
 
 clamor of the ebbing and flowing tides 
 was a jubilant music. Their loved 
 " crick " was becoming their friend-in- 
 need. It's unctuous red flats acquired 
 a new beauty in their eyes, and the 
 mighty, sweeping tides they came to re- 
 gard as the embodiment of their good 
 genius. 
 
 With the rapidly growing dike all 
 went swimmingly for a time. But the 
 neighbors were now completely unde- 
 ceived. Though nettled at their former 
 dullness, they could not but applaud the 
 ingenuity of the scheme ; and they rather 
 approved the reticence which the boys 
 had observed in the matter. 
 
 Among the villagers, however, there 
 was one who did not like the turn affairs 
 were taking. Mr. Hand perceived that 
 he might yet be defeated in his effort to 
 gain possession of the Carters' farm. 
 He was an astute old man, if he didiit 
 at first understand the warping dikes. 
 
 His first step was to threaten Will 
 with proceedings to stop the work. He 
 
192 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 owned the marsh on the opposite side 
 of the creek, and he claimed that the 
 building of the new dike would so alter 
 the channel that his property would be 
 endangered. Will presently proved to 
 him, beyond cavil, that the slight deflec- 
 tion of the currents would only throw 
 the scouring force of the stream against 
 a point of rocky upland, some hundreds 
 of yards below his marsh, where it could 
 not possibly do any harm. Then Mr. 
 Hand professed himself entirely satisfied, 
 and departed to devise other weapons. 
 
 By the middle of September the dike 
 extended more than halfway across the 
 mouth of the cove, and the work was 
 daily growing easier. The facing of the 
 water front, of course, was being left to 
 do afterwards, when the weather should 
 be unfit for digging. 
 
 One, morning, 'after a very high tide, 
 the boys came down to find a good ten 
 feet or more of their work washed away. 
 They were terribly cast down. 
 
 " How on earth did it happen ? " 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 93 
 
 groaned Ted. " Do you suppose we 
 didn't protect the end properly ? " 
 
 " I don't see any other explanation," 
 said Will, gloomily. 
 
 " But if the stones were swe/>i off by 
 the tide," exclaimed Ted, with sudden 
 significance, " wouldn't they be lying to 
 one side or the other? These look as 
 if they had been pulled off!" 
 
 " By the great horn spoon, you've hit- 
 it, young one ! " cried Will, excited be- 
 yond his wont. " Good for you ! The 
 tide never did it ! Some one has been 
 helping the tide ! " 
 
 " Will Hen Baizley ! " declared Ted. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder a bit ! " said Will. 
 " Well, Ted, there's nothing to do but go 
 to work and build it up again. And to- 
 night, why, we'll ' lay for him,' that's all !" 
 
 Doggedly and wrathfully the boys 
 toiled all day. At tea they told their 
 mother what had occurred. Mrs, Carter 
 was furious. But when Will declared 
 their intention of watching that night 
 for the depredator, her anger vanished 
 13 
 
194 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 in fear. At first she forbid positively 
 all thought of such a thing. Will de- 
 clared that he must do it — it simply had 
 to be done. Thereupon she said she 
 would forbid Ted going. At this Ted 
 burst forth indignantly. 
 
 " What, mother, would you have me 
 leave Will all alone out there?" An 
 idea which was, of course, to Mrs. Carter 
 intolerable. She forget to be imperative; 
 she became appealing. 
 
 " But, muz," said Will, reassuringly, 
 " there is no danger at all. You can 
 trust me, can't you .? Ted and I will 
 each take a good, big club, and if, as we 
 think, it is Will Hen Baizley, we'll give 
 him a pounding that will keep him civil 
 for a while." 
 
 " But what if he should have some 
 ruffians with him .? " urged the mother. 
 
 " Well, just to be safe, /'// take my 
 gun, so as to be able to give them a 
 scare, you know. But Ted is so impetu- 
 ous and bloodthirsty that he'd better 
 not take anything but a club ! " 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 95 
 
 " O, dear me ! I suppose you will go ! " 
 said Mrs. Carter. " But at least you must 
 wrap up warm and take something in 
 your pockets to eat ! " 
 
 Just about dark the boys betook 
 themselves to the lower corner of the 
 new dike. Under the shelter of the old 
 dike they fixed themselves a hiding 
 place of brush and grass. From this 
 point they could see distinctly the figure 
 of anyone approaching across the marsh. 
 When they were comfortably established 
 Ted inquired:- 
 
 " Say, old fellow, have you got your 
 gun loaded .? " 
 
 "No!" whispered Will. 
 
 "Why not.?" asked Ted, anxiously. 
 
 " You don't suppose I want to shoot 
 anybody, do you.?" said Will. " I've got 
 both barrels loaded with powder and 
 wadding, so I can scare them out of 
 their wits. And I've some bird shot in 
 my pocket, to pepper their legs with if 
 I should have to ! " 
 
 "0!"said Ted. 
 
196 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 The boys talked for perhaps an hour, 
 in a cautious undertone, not audible ten 
 feet off by reason of the rushing and 
 hissing and clamoring of the incoming 
 tide. Then they were silent for a while. 
 At length Ted murmured : 
 
 " O, I say, but I'm getting sleepy. 
 Can't you let me go to sleep for a bit? 
 Wake me in an hour, and I'll let you 
 snooze." 
 
 " S't ! " whispered Will, laying his hand 
 on his brother's arm. " I heard some- 
 thing splash in that pool yonder ! " 
 
 The boys noiselessly raised their eyes 
 to a level with the top of the dike. At 
 first they could see nothing. Then they 
 detected a shadowy figure making for 
 the place where they had last been at 
 work. 
 
u 
 
 LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. I97 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A Rescue and a Battle. 
 
 T T E 'S alone ! " whispered Ted. 
 
 '-•*■" Shall we jump on him ? " 
 
 " Hold on ; wait till he gets to work," 
 said Will. " Then-, if we catch him in 
 the act, he can't make any excuse, but 
 just take his medicine like a man ! " 
 
 " It's Baizley, eh ? " murmured Ted. 
 
 At this moment they heard the stones 
 and planks being pulled off the end of 
 the dike. Then came the sound of a 
 spade thrust into the clay with violence. 
 
 "Now," exclaimed Will, "let's onto 
 him ! let me get hold of him first, and 
 then you take a hand in." 
 
 Grasping their clubs, and leaving the 
 gun lying by their nest, the boys slipped 
 over the dike and dashed upon the ma- 
 rauder. So occupied was the latter with 
 his nefarious task that he heard nothing 
 till the boys were within ten feet of him. 
 
198 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 Then he started up, and raised his spade 
 threateningly. 
 
 "Drop that, Baizley, or I'll blow a hole 
 in you 1 " cried Will, springing at his 
 neck. 
 
 At this instant the silent figure flung 
 itself adroitly off the dike, dropping the 
 spade and eluding Will's grasp. It started ' 
 swiftly across the muddy flat, the two 
 boys close on its heels. 
 
 For a few yards the boys just held 
 their own. Then Ted, being the swifter, 
 forged ahead. In a few seconds more he 
 overtook the fugitive, sprang upon his 
 neck, and bore him headlong to the 
 ground. The next moment, before 
 either could recover. Will had come up, 
 and his iron grip was on the stranger's 
 throat. 
 
 " No nonsense, now," said Will, in a 
 voice that carried conviction, at the same 
 time tapping the fellow's cranium lightly 
 with his club. "If you don't want the 
 life half pounded out of you, keep still ! " 
 
 The fellow lay quiet, only gasping: 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 1 99 
 
 " Don't choke me ! " 
 
 Will relaxed his grip, and then ex- 
 claimed to Ted, in astonishment : 
 
 " Why, it ain't Baizley ! " 
 
 " Course, it ain't ! " growled the fallen 
 one, sullenly, appearing indignant at the 
 imputation. 
 
 " Sit up, and let's look at the fellow 
 that goes round nights cutting people's 
 dikes ! " commanded Will. 
 
 The fellow turned over on his face. 
 
 " Sit up ! " repeated Will, in a cold 
 voice, which sounded as if he was in 
 earnest. 
 
 "Why," exclaimed Ted. " If it isn't 
 Jim Hutchings !" 
 
 " Old Hand's man, eh ? I begin to 
 smell a mouse," said Will, sarcastically. 
 
 "It's as plain as a pikestaff!" almost 
 shouted Ted. "It's old Hand that 
 ought to get the licking we were going 
 to give you. But we'll have to pound 
 you a little for his sake and your own 
 too ! " 
 
 " No, Hutchings," said Will, after a 
 
200 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 moment's thought. " You deserve a lick- 
 ing, but we'll let you off. Only take 
 warning. I'll blame old Hand this time, 
 and you can let him know he's likely to 
 hear from us about this, and about last 
 night's work. But as for you, if we catch 
 you fooling round this dike again, you'll 
 be sorry as long as you live. We're on 
 the watch for you and the likes of you. 
 And over yonder I've got my gun, in 
 case there were more than one of you in 
 the scrape." 
 
 " We've loaded her up, both barrels," 
 said Ted, maliciously, " with big charges 
 of bird shot, so she'll scatter well and 
 everybody get his share ! " 
 
 By this time Jim Hutchings was on 
 his feet. 
 
 " Now clear out ! " was Will's peremp- 
 tory direction. 
 
 Hutchings started back toward the 
 dike to get his spade. 
 
 " No, you don't," laughed Ted. " That's 
 confiscated ! " 
 
 " Never mind the spade ! " said Will, 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 201 
 
 firmly, as Hutchings hesitated. We'll 
 keep it and try and find some use for it ! '' 
 
 The fellow would have liked to contest 
 the point, but he remembered the feeling 
 of Will's grip. With an oath he turned 
 on his heel and made for the uplands. 
 Then the boys went back to the dike, 
 possessed themselves of the spade, and 
 repaired the slight damage that had 
 been done. 
 
 " Shall we stay any longer ? " asked 
 Ted, again getting sleepy. 
 
 " No, I fancy we won't be bothered 
 this way any more ! " answered Will. 
 "At all events, Jim Hutchings won't 
 come back ! " And he chuckled to him- 
 self. 
 
 Will proved right. The dike was no 
 more molested. By the middle of Octo- 
 ber it was within two or three yards of 
 completion. At the gap the ground was 
 high, so that at ordinary tides there was 
 small outflow and inflow. Two or three 
 days more of satisfactory work, and the 
 new marsh would be an accomplished 
 
202 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 fact. Will and Ted were in a fever 
 of anxiety, day and night, lest some- 
 thing should happen at the last to 
 mar their plans. Above all, they had 
 a vague dread of some sinister move on 
 the part of Mr. Hand. 
 
 Just at this time it happened that old 
 Jerry lost a shoe. Ted was away in the 
 woods looking for a stray cow, so Will 
 had to take the horse down into the 
 village to the blacksmith. 
 
 On his return, about the middle of the 
 forenoon, he passed a field in which Will 
 Hen Baizley was at work digging a 
 ditch. Along the foot of the field ran a 
 clear trout brook, into which it was 
 evidently the intention to drain a little 
 swamp which lay further up the slope. 
 Near where Baizley was digging, the 
 brook widened out into a sandy-bot- 
 tomed, sunny pool, in which the minnows 
 were always darting and flickering. 
 
 Not far off stood the house of Mr. 
 Israel Hand, where he guarded the one 
 being he was supposed to love, his little 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 203 
 
 four-year-old orphan grandson. Whether 
 or not he cared for anyone else, it would 
 be hard to say ; but there was no ques- 
 tioning the fact that he absolutely wor- 
 shiped Toddles, as the baby was called. 
 The little one was a blue-eyed, chubby, 
 handsome lad, with long yellow curls 
 and an unlimited capacity for mischief. 
 
 As Will passed along the road he saw 
 Toddles playing in the field where Baiz- 
 ley was digging. Presently he was tickled 
 to observe that the child had discovered 
 Baizley's tin dinner pail, hidden in a 
 clump of raspberry bushes. The mis- 
 chievous little rascal promptly emptied 
 the contents out upon the sward, and 
 then, with his chubby hands full of cheese 
 and pumpkin pie, scampered over to the 
 edge of the pool. 
 
 " Pitty pishies ! give pishies 'eir dinner ! 
 Pishies ! Pishies ! " cried the gleeful little 
 voice ; and splash into the pool went the 
 cheese and pumpkin pie, frightening the 
 '' pishies " nearly out of their wits. 
 
 Will exploded with laughter ; and at 
 
204 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 the same moment Baizley, looking up 
 from his work, discovered the fate that 
 had befallen his dinner. 
 
 Now Will Hen Baizley was in an un- 
 usually bad temper. Digging ditches 
 was not a labor he was accustomed to, 
 and it made his back ache. In his best 
 of humors he was a coarse and heartless 
 bully. On this occasion he was filled 
 with rage against the baby depredator. 
 Toddles had annoyed him on several 
 previous occasions, and just now Will's 
 laughter was the one thing best calcu- 
 lated to sting his annoyance into fury. 
 With a roar that frightened Toddles 
 into instant silence, he rushed forward 
 and grabbed the child, giving him a 
 violent cuff on the side of the head. 
 
 It happened that Mr. Hand was look- 
 ing out of the window of his house on 
 the hillside and'- saw all that happened. 
 With a hoarse cry of rage and terror he 
 rushed out to the rescue. But the house 
 was three or four hundred yards away, 
 and his old knees trembled beneath him 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 205 
 
 as he thought of what the little one might 
 suffer before he could get there. 
 
 The poor little fellow was dazed by 
 the blow, and could not get his breath to 
 scream. The next moment Baizley had 
 seized him by the legs and soused him 
 in the pool. When he came out again 
 he found his voice, and a long shriek 
 of pain and terror went through Mr. 
 Hand's heart like a knife. 
 
 All this had happened so quickly 
 that Will was unable to hinder it. He 
 was choking with indignant pity, and 
 found himself on the fence and half way 
 across the field before he could yell : 
 
 " Drop that, you brute ! " 
 
 Baizley was too much occupied to 
 hear or heed. He was just about to 
 duck the little one a second time when 
 Will arrived. 
 
 With one hand Will seized the child 
 by. the petticoats, and with the other 
 dealt the ruffian a blow in the mouth 
 that staggered him and made him release 
 his victim. Will had just time to drop 
 
2o6 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 the little fellow to one side and put up 
 his guard when Baizley was upon him 
 with a curse. 
 
 The blow was a mighty one, and so 
 sudden that Will parried it with diffi- 
 culty, at the same time almost stagger- 
 ing upon Toddles, who lay on his face 
 wailing piteously. Afraid lest the child 
 should get injured in the conflict, Will 
 dodged aside and ran off a few paces. 
 Ascribing this movement to fear, Baizley 
 followed him up impetuously, with oaths 
 and taunts. 
 
 On a bit of level, dry turf Will faced 
 his big antagonist. Baizley was heavy 
 of build, strong of arm, and not with- 
 out some knowledge of the .pugilistic 
 art. He was also, a little taller than 
 Will. To the casual glance the latter 
 appeared no match for him. Fair- 
 skinned, slender, and with something of 
 a studious stoop to his shoulders. Will's 
 appearance gave small indication of the 
 strength that lurked in his well-corded 
 sinews. Under his pale skin he con- 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 207 
 
 cealed almost as much sheer lifting 
 power as Baizley's big frame could mus- 
 ter ; and the steel-like elasticity of his 
 compact muscles gave his blows swift- 
 ness and precision. 
 
 Keen of eye, and with a cool, pro- 
 voking, indulgent smile hovering faintly 
 about his mouth at times, he successfully 
 parried several terrific lunges. He spoke 
 not a word, husbanding his wind pru- 
 dently, while Baizley, on the other hand, 
 kept interjecting bursts of fragmentary 
 profanity. About this time Mr. Hand 
 arrived upon the scene, panting heav- 
 ily, and seating himself on the ground, 
 gathered the sobbing Toddles into his 
 arms. 
 
 Will's first intention was to act on the 
 defensive till he should weary his oppo- 
 nent ; but his opponent's sledge-hammer 
 fists were not easily warded off. He 
 got one heavy blow on the chest that 
 made him gasp for breath ; then he tried 
 dodging, and giving ground nimbly and 
 unexpectedly. At length he saw an 
 
208 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 opening, and quicker than "thought he 
 struck heavily with his left fist on Baiz- 
 ley's eye. At the same instant in came a 
 terrific blow which made his head ring 
 and the stars chase themselves before 
 his eyes. 
 
 For a moment the two combatants 
 lurched apart. Will was the first to re- 
 cover himself. A white rage surged up 
 within him, and he felt his veins prickle, 
 his sinews tighten. A new access of 
 nervous energy seemed to flow into him, 
 and he imagined his strength had been 
 suddenly doubled. The ruffian's hands 
 struck out both together wildly. 
 
 Will's chance had come, and he 
 grasped it. The bully reeled under a 
 blow between the eyes, and fell head^ 
 long. 
 
 For a moment he did not stir. Then 
 he began to gather himself up. 
 
 " Have you had enough ? " inquired 
 Will. 
 
 "Yes, I've quit !" growled Baizley. 
 
 "You are a contemptible, cowardly 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 2O9 
 
 brute," continued Will, " and it's in jail 
 you ought to be. Mind you, now, if I 
 catch you, or hear of you abusing a 
 youngster again, it's in jail you'll cer- 
 tainly be ! " 
 
 As Baizley slunk away, Mr. Hand 
 came up with Toddles in his arms. The 
 little one was still shaking with sobs, and 
 his tear-stained face looked so white and 
 pitiful that Will felt like going after 
 Baizley and giving him another thrash- 
 ing. 
 
 " Poor little kid ! " he said, compassion- 
 ately, taking no notice whatever of Mr. 
 Hand. 
 
 But Mr. Hand positively refused to be 
 ignored. 
 
 " God bless you, God bless you, Wil- 
 liam ! " he exclaimed, with the ring of 
 sincere feeling in his voice. "You're a 
 noble young man, a noble young man. 
 I can't thank you ; words can't express 
 what I — what I feel toward you for 
 this." 
 
 Here he kissed passionately the yel- 
 14 
 
2IO HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 low head of Toddles as it lay on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Don't speak of it, Mr. Hand," said 
 Will, wiping his bleeding face. " Any 
 other fellow would have done the same 
 if he'd had the chance. That cowardly 
 brute ! I wish I hadn't let him off so 
 easy ! 
 
 " I'll have him arrested to-morrow," 
 burst out Mr. Hand, his voice quavering 
 and shrill with anger. " But as for you, 
 William," he continued more quietly, 
 "what you've done for my Toddles I 
 never can forget. You sha'n't have no 
 cause to say I'm ungrateful to one that's 
 been a friend to Toddles ! " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hand," said Will, return- 
 ing to his wagon, " all I can say is I'm 
 mighty glad I happened along just when 
 I did. Toddles is a great boy, and I've 
 always liked him, whatever I may have 
 had against his grandfather since that 
 night on the dike ! I hope Toddles 
 won't be a bit the worse now ! " 
 
 " Don't talk about that dike," pleaded 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 211 
 
 Mr. Hand, nervously. "Don'i mention it 
 again !"~ Don't, William ! And, William, 
 you will hear from me in a day or two 
 about business matters. Or, I'll be in to 
 see you ! " 
 
212 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A Transfer of the Mortgage. 
 
 "I17HEN Will reached home Ted 
 
 ' ' met him at the gate with a cry of 
 surprise and commiseration. 
 
 " What in the world have^ you been 
 doing to your face ? " he questioned. 
 
 " Thrashing Baizley! " said Will, tersely. 
 
 Ted's exclamations had brought Mrs. 
 Carter to the door in time to hear 
 Will's reply. She was alarmed at the 
 sight of Will's swollen and discolored 
 features ; and her alarm made her 
 angry. 
 
 " I'm ash3.med of you, Willie," she cried,, 
 " stooping to brawl with a low fellow 
 like that. It serves you right if you 
 have got hurt. Come, run in and get 
 your face bathed in hot water. Why, 
 it's dreadful ! Go right up stairs and 
 get me the arnica, Teddie ! " 
 
 As Mrs. Carter bathed the swollen 
 face in hot water, Ted standing by with 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 213 
 
 the arnica bottle, Will managed to get 
 out a somewhat grimly jocose account of 
 the affray. Ted, of course, was jubilant. 
 From time to time he sprang up and 
 shouted. At length, clapping Will on 
 the back so violently that his mother 
 spilled the hot water, he cried : 
 
 " Good boy ! Good boy ! O, if I'd only 
 been there ! " 
 
 As for Mrs. Carter, her assumed vex- 
 ation had quickly disappeared. She 
 listened proudly and in silence. At the 
 end she merely said : 
 
 " Dear boy, that was fine of you. It 
 was just what your poor father would 
 have expected of you ! " 
 
 Will spluttered some discolored water 
 out of his mouth before replying, and 
 twisted his features into a lugubrious at- 
 tempt at a smile. 
 
 " I felt pretty big, myself, just after it 
 was over," he said at length, " but now 
 it's sort of different. A fellow can't feel 
 heroic with his face bunged up like this. 
 But say, muz, old Hand can't be as bad 
 
214 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 as they make out when he's so wrapped 
 up in Toddles. He just worships the 
 youngster !" 
 
 There was a pause, and in through the 
 window came the rushing clamor of the^ 
 creek. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Carter, rather re- 
 luctantly, " Mr. Hand has probably his 
 redeeming qualities. At least, he ap- 
 preciated your courage. By your 
 account he did speak quite nicely." 
 
 " What do you suppose he meant by 
 saying you would hear from him in a day 
 or two ? " queried Ted. 
 
 " O," said Will, " I think the old fellow 
 is grateful ; and I think he's mighty 
 ashamed of what he got Hutchings to 
 do to our dike that time. I shouldn't 
 wonder if he'd offer us more time, and 
 withdraw proceedings against us !" 
 
 "I should think so!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Carter, indignantly. "He could hardly 
 have the face to sell us out now ! But I 
 don't wish to be under any obligation to 
 him, that's certain. When the new 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 215 
 
 marsh is sold we can be entirely inde- 
 pendent of him ! " 
 
 "Yes, muz, that's so," said Will, "but 
 do let me arrange with him ! You say 
 you wanted to deed that new marsh to 
 Ted and me ! Now I make a request of 
 you. Don't talk business at all with 
 Mr. Hand till I've had a talk with him 
 myself. I promise you I'll consider your 
 wishes in the matter ! " 
 
 "Well, since you wish it so much, it 
 shall be as you say ! " said Mrs. Carter, 
 rather unwillingly, at length. 
 
 " And also, muz," continued Will, re- 
 moving the big, wet sponge from his 
 eyes to make the more potent appeal ; 
 " if Mr. Hand should come to see me 
 when I'm out, do promise to be nice to 
 him ! " 
 
 Mrs. Carter made no reply. 
 
 " Ted wishes it as much as I do, don't 
 you, Ted? "added Will. 
 
 " You're just right," responded Ted, fer- 
 vently. " So much depends on little 
 things just now ! " 
 
2l6 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 Still Mrs. Carter kept silence. Mr. 
 Hand was her most cordial detestation. 
 
 " And you know, muz," went on Will, 
 coaxingly, " you can be so fetching when 
 you want to be, and when you want to be 
 otherwise, well "(and here Will chuckled). 
 " I don't exactly wonder that old Hand 
 doesn't love you much. But no one can 
 smooth him down like you, if you only 
 will. Do it, muz, just for us boys ! All 
 you'll have to do will be just smile on 
 him, and talk about the weather ! " 
 
 " O, you dreadful flatterer," laughed 
 Mrs. Carter. "Do you think it's right 
 to try and soft soap your mother this 
 Way ? Well, I'll promise to be polite 
 and nice to Mr. Hand if he should call ! 
 Will that do.?" 
 
 " Thank you, muz ! " said both the 
 boys together. 
 
 The copious use of hot water and arnica 
 soon brought Will's face into something 
 like shape, and work on the dike was not 
 greatly hindered. In less than three 
 days more the gap was closed, and the 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE, 21 7 
 
 tides finally shut out from the new 
 marsh. The expanse of reddish-brown 
 mud, dotted with pools of muddy water 
 and patches of yellow-green salt grass, 
 was not exactly fair to look upon ; but 
 the boys' hearts swelled with triumph 
 as they surveyed it, leaning on their 
 victorious spades. There was yet the 
 dike front to be faced, and much ditch- 
 ing to be done besides, ere the land 
 would become productive. 
 
 " But it's good for a hundred and 
 fifty an acre, just as it stands," declared 
 Will, his voice trembling a little with 
 exultation. 
 
 " Lay it there, old man ! " exclaimed 
 Ted, holding out his hand. And the 
 two boys clasped hands in a grip that 
 was full of love and trust, and a pledge 
 of mutual support all through the 
 future. 
 
 " Now," said Will, " in a day or two 
 I'd better go and see Mr. Germain and 
 get his advice as to the best way of 
 selling." 
 
2l8 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 "That's a good plan," answered Ted. 
 '' You take mother with you, she'll enjoy 
 the drive. And I'll stay and look after 
 things." 
 
 " As for old Hand," went on Will, " I 
 shouldn't wonder a bit if he would offer 
 to knock off that two hundred and fif- 
 teen dollars arrears of interest f " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Ted. " It would be 
 decent of him." 
 
 That afternoon, as the Carters were 
 sitting down to tea, Jim Hutchings 
 arrived with a note from Mr. Hand. 
 The man looked very uncomfortable as 
 Ted came to the kitchen door. He 
 said he would wait for an answer; but 
 he surlily refused to come in. 
 
 Mr. Hand's note was to Will, asking 
 if he would be at home that evening. 
 Will answered that he would, and would 
 be glad to see Mr. Hand. 
 
 About eight o'clock Mr. Hand ap- 
 peared, and was ushered by Ted into 
 the sitting room where Will and his 
 mother were talking over the matter of 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 219 
 
 the new marsh. Mrs. Carter greeted 
 Mr. Hand quite graciously, as Will 
 brought forward a chair. Then she 
 started to leave the room. 
 
 But Mr. Hand, flattered by her 
 politeness, begged her to remain. 
 
 " I thought," said Mrs. Carter, " that 
 if you had business with my son Will, 
 Ted and I might perhaps be in your 
 way ! " and returning to her chair she 
 took up a piece of sewing. Ted hovered 
 over her, too anxious and excited to sit 
 down. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Hand, " my business 
 is entirely with William; but I should 
 be glad to hear that you approve of it." 
 
 Mr. Hand had rather dreaded the 
 possible attitude of Mrs. Carter. It had 
 been his intention not to let the warm 
 regard he felt for Will interfere with 
 the stiffness of his demeanor to Will's 
 mother. But Mrs. Carter's affability 
 had flattered him in spite of himself. 
 At the same time, he glowed with the 
 consciousness that he was going to per- 
 
220 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 form an act of really distinguished 
 generosity. He was, by second nature, 
 just what he got the credit of being, 
 hard, unscrupulous, avaricious. But his 
 unselfish devotion to his little grandson 
 was gradually opening up a warm and 
 wholesome spot in his heart, where 
 flourished anew the capabilities for good 
 which had not been lacking to him in 
 his youth. 
 
 As he gazed about the cozy room, and 
 felt his presence not distasteful, he began 
 to feel very much at ease. The luxury 
 of benefaction was a new one to him, and 
 he wondered at the keenness of its 
 flavor. He began to forget what he had 
 intended to say. 
 
 " And how is Toddles, Mr. Hand.?" in- 
 ; quired Will, presently. 
 
 " None the worse, none the worse at 
 all," said Mr. Hand, recalling himself. 
 "He said he wanted to come and see 
 you, William. He was anxious to give 
 you a kiss ; and he's got a lot of peb- 
 bles and his favorite jackknife stowed 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 221 
 
 away in a little box, to give you when he 
 sees you!" And Mr. Hand laughed 
 genially. He was prepared to talk all 
 night on the subject of Toddles. 
 
 " And what has become of that ruffian 
 Baizley?" asked Mrs. Carter. "I never 
 could have imagined anyone being such 
 a fiend as to treat an innocent baby that 
 way. I hope you have had him ar- 
 rested." 
 
 " He got away. He left on a ship 
 that night," replied Mr. Hand. " But, 
 madam, you should be very proud of 
 your son William." 
 
 "I am," laughed Mrs. Carter. "I am 
 very proud of both my sons." 
 
 " But William, if you will allow me to 
 say so, is a very unusual young man," 
 persisted Mr. Hand. " Edward, of course, 
 is younger, and I don't know him so 
 well. But I never saw anything like the 
 courage with which William attacked 
 that ferocious Baizley, who must have 
 been twice his weight. And the way 
 he handled him, too ! It was truly 
 
222 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 wonderful, madam. Baizley was just 
 nowhere. I never could have believed it 
 if I had'nt seen it with my own eyes ! " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Hand, you'll make me vain, 
 if you don't stop," laughed Will. 
 
 " You wouldn't think Baizley was just 
 nowhere if you could have seen Will's 
 face when he came home that morning," 
 interrupted Ted. 
 
 But Mr. Hand was now on the track 
 he had laid down for himself, and would 
 not be switched off. 
 
 " And, moreover," he continued, " you 
 are a judicious young man, William, and 
 you seem to have an excellent head for 
 business. I admire good business abili- 
 ties. In fact, I may say that for a long 
 time I have felt well disposed toward 
 you. Now, however, allow me to say 
 that I feel the very highest esteem and 
 regard for you ; and as a little mark of 
 my gratitude, and in the name of my 
 grandson, I beg that you will accept 
 what is enclosed in this envelope." 
 
 He drew from his pocket a long, 
 
LIP*TED THE MORTGAGE. 223 
 
 official-looking envelope, and handed it 
 to Will with a ceremonious bow. 
 
 Will hardly knew what to say. He 
 could not guess what was in it, and all 
 he could do was to stammer a few con- 
 fused words of thanks. The envelope 
 had a very important look, and he was 
 both impressed and mystified. Ted 
 could not repress his eager curiosity, and 
 came around to Will's side. Even Mrs. 
 Carter was intensely interested, and for- 
 got to refrain from showing it. Mr. Hand 
 looked on with a swelling sense of benev- 
 olence. He had anticipated no such 
 delightful sensations. 
 
 With his pocketknife Will opened the 
 envelope very carefully along the end. 
 With nervous fingers he drew out a 
 legal document, with red seals and several 
 smaller documents attached. 
 
 For a moment the legal verbiage of 
 the instruments bewildered him. Then 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, it's the mortgage ! I don't ex- 
 actly understand ! O, Mr. Hand, this is 
 
224 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 too good of you. You relinquish the 
 mortgage, the whole debt, for nothing. 
 That is too generous, really ! " 
 
 Mrs. Carter was a little overwhelmed. 
 She rose to try and mingle thanks and 
 protestations, but Mr. Hand cut her 
 short. 
 
 " O no, William," he explained,^ " you 
 have not read all the papers ! You will 
 see that I have not released the mortgage 
 at all. I have made it over to another 
 person, to you, that's all. This farm is 
 still under mortgage, but you, William, 
 are now the mortgagee, I have nothing 
 more to do with the matter at all. The 
 claim is all yours, with some two hun- 
 dred and fifteen dollars arrears of inter- 
 est, which you must collect for yourself 
 the best way you can. But if I may, I 
 would like to intercede for your good 
 mother now, and beg you not to be too 
 severe ! " 
 
 Mr. Hand chuckled, as he gazed on the 
 mystified faces about him. Then Will 
 sprang forward and grasped his hand. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 225 
 
 He could not find words to express his 
 gratitude. They simply would not come. 
 
 " Then we're not going to be sold 
 out ? " cried Ted. 
 
 " Not unless William sells you out for 
 the amount of the mortgage. Ask him," 
 replied Mr. Hand. 
 
 Such an act of generosity on the part 
 of " old Hand " deprived even the impet- 
 uous Ted of his powers of expression. 
 But Mrs. Carter found words. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Hand," she said,- and her 
 voice trembled with deep feeling. " I 
 wish I could make you see how we ap- 
 preciate your noble generosity. I wish 
 you could see how bitterly I reproach 
 myself for the injustice I have done you 
 in the past. However hard and merci- 
 less you may have seemed to me, I must 
 have grossly misunderstood you ; for 
 only a good and generous heart could 
 prompt you to such an action as this. 
 Neither I nor my sons can even pretend 
 to thank you. We feel your kindness too 
 deeply." 
 15 - 
 
226 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 ;' Mother hits it exactly. That's what I 
 wanted to say, only somehow I couldn't, 
 Mr. Hand," said Will. 
 
 " But will you not let us hope we may 
 be honored with your friendship in the 
 future?" continued Mrs. Carter. "You 
 must often be lonely at home, and I 
 should be so pleased to see your little 
 grandson here whenever you can manage 
 to bring him." 
 
 " That's so," exclaimed Ted. " I want 
 to see the young hero that fed Will Hen 
 Baizley's dinner to the fishes. He's the 
 one we have to thank for the present 
 jolly state of affairs ! " 
 
 Mr. Hand was overflowing with good 
 will. Moreover, he was hugely flattered 
 by Mrs. Carter's words and manner. In 
 his heart he attached an extravagant im- 
 portance to the accidents of pedigree. 
 He was struggling to utter his apprecia- 
 tion of Mrs. Carter's proffered friendship, 
 when there came a knock at the front 
 door. It was Jim Hutchings, whom Mr. 
 Hand had left outside to hold the horse. 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 227 
 
 " There's somebuddya-goin' to set your 
 barn afire," he whispered eagerly. " Come 
 quiet, an' we'll ketch him in the act ! " 
 
 " Fetch a pail of water, Ted," said 
 Will, with prompt presence of mind, run- 
 ning upstairs for his gun. 
 
 While he was gone Mr. Hand asked 
 Hutchings how he knew of it. 
 
 " I thought I seen a chap slide behind 
 the barn, so I jest hitched the hoss an' 
 crep' over to see what he was up ter," 
 explained Hutchings. 
 
 As the boys and Hutchings, followed 
 discreetly by Mrs. Carter and Mr. Hand, 
 emerged from the back door, a glimmer 
 of flame appeared behind the stable. 
 There was a swift rush, and Ted dashed 
 out the growing flame with his bucket of 
 water. At the same moment Will and 
 Jim Hutchings threw themselves upon a 
 man who was just fanning the flame into 
 vigor. 
 
 The stranger spra,ng up, and a revol- 
 ver shot rang out upon the night. On 
 the instant a blow from Will's gunstock 
 
228 HOW THE CARTER BOYS 
 
 brought him to the ground, and Hutch- 
 ings grabbed the revolver. " Now keep 
 still, or it'll be the worse for you," said 
 Will. " Ted, bring a rope." 
 
 Partly stunned, or realizing that resist- 
 ance was useless, the stranger lay still 
 with one arm over his face. Presently 
 Ted came back with the rope and a lan- 
 tern. 
 
 "If it isn't Will Hen Baizley back 
 again ! " exclaimed Hutchings, 
 
 " Thought you'd get even with me be- 
 fore the ship sailed, eh ? " inquired Will, 
 amiably. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Hand, " I'll see that 
 he is taken care of for a good while in 
 the penitentiary. Tie him up so he 
 can't make trouble, and we'll drive him 
 right over to the jail now." 
 
 Baizley could not be induced to utter 
 a word, so he was put into the 'wagon, 
 where Hutchings held him while Mr. 
 Hand took the reins. As he bid good 
 night, Mr. Hand said to Will : 
 
 " By the way, William, if you decide 
 
LIFTED THE MORTGAGE. 229 
 
 to sell your mother out, you had better 
 see the sheriff pretty soon. There'll 
 be some costs, and fees, and so forth, 
 that you'll have to pay, you know." 
 
 " All right," laughed Will, happily. " I 
 guess I can - manage. I'm pretty rich 
 now, you know." 
 
 The boys stood at the garden gate 
 with their arms linked to their mother's 
 and listened to the wagon as it clattered 
 away. Then the rushing of the flood 
 tide, washing up to their dikes, attracted 
 their attention. 
 
 The tide's coming in for us, dear boys," 
 said Mrs. Carter. "How lovely the 
 creek sounds to-night ! Surely God has 
 been very good to us, and the prospect, 
 that was so dark a while ago, has become 
 very bright and happy." 
 
 " Fifteen hundred dollars' worth of new 
 marsh at least," said Will, joyously, "and 
 no debt on the farm, no foreclosure, no 
 sheriff's sale ! You, muz and Ted, I verily 
 believe I'll have to sell you out after all, 
 to keep you from getting too big ! " 
 
230 HOW THE MORTGAGE WAS LIFTED. 
 
 "Say, old man, let's yell!" exclaimed 
 Ted. 
 
 "All right!" began Will; but their 
 mother laid her hands over their mouths. 
 
 "O, no! no!" she pleaded. "What 
 would the neighbors think — and Mr. 
 Hand?" 
 
 THE END.