Dawn. S. Fowler Wright
and some seemed to go mad…and there was quarrelling from the first…and there was no law.”
“There was God’s law.”
“Well, they didn’t worry much about that. Not all of them, anyway. They just saw that they could do anything if they were strong enough…and then they found ways to get food, if they didn’t trouble about tomorrow. We found a lot at Linkworth that wasn’t burnt. That’s why we haven’t come much this way. And some of them got arms.” Muriel glanced at the rifle, which lay across his knee as he talked, and he answered the unspoken comment. “Yes, we found some sporting-guns in a country house. I’m glad we did. It gave us a chance, or I mightn’t be here now…. But the quarrels got worse. You see, it” mostly men that are left, and the women made trouble.”
(Yes. It was an old tale. Women do make trouble. Muriel had observed that rather frequently.)
And then there was the drink. Butcher’s got enough up at Helford Grange to keep them all drunk for a month, and he doesn’t care who gets it if they pay what he wants. That’s made the trouble worse.”
(Yes. Drink does make trouble. Muriel knew that too. But she had not known how much trouble can be made either by women or drink when there are about four men to every woman, and there is no dread either of the annoying certainty of civilized law, or the deterrent severity of the administration of a savage chief.)
“So there’s been a fair row,” Jack concluded briefly. “And we’ve turned Jim Rattray out.” (Muriel recollected the name, and then the man. She did not doubt that there had been good reason for his expulsion.) “And a lot of men have gone with him. They’re somewhere down this way…. And Tom Aldworth said he’d seen two women here, and we’d better look you up.”
Muriel said, “You say Jim Rattray’s near here. Do you know where I could find him?”
Jack Tolley, who was not easy to startle, looked his surprise at the unexpected query, and an expression of vague bewilderment spread over the vacuity of Bill Horton’s countenance.
“You’d be sorry if you did. There’s some of the worst toughs you ever met in that lot. You wouldn’t be safe with them if there were a squad of police in the next street.”
Muriel looked unimpressed. Her experiences of the toughs of various races during the last twenty years, and of the best methods of dealing with them, had been rather numerous.
“It might do good, and it couldn’t do any harm,” she said thoughtfully. “But if you don’t know where he is…?”
“I wouldn’t say if I did.”
“I’m sure you’d tell me if I really wanted to know.” Muriel smiled “But I suppose there won’t be any more trouble, unless Rattray makes it, if you’ve turned him out.”
It occurred to her that she might carry out her intention without seeking the lawless one through the wilderness. She had an attractive vision of two hostile camps, and of herself as an envoy of peace between them.
Suddenly she decided that she would accept the invitation which she had received. It was what she would have been doing, in any case, in a few days. She had only put it off from day to day because there had always been something left over for the next morning’s occupation.
“But I’m not coming tonight,” she added. “I’ll come tomorrow. And I shall want a cart. I know you’ve got one. Oh, yes, I’ve seen the wheel-marks. Are your people in need?”
“Yes, the flour’ll be useful.”
Muriel looked at him, and he felt the error of the “the.” He realized that she knew at once that they had explored her stores in her absence. His respect for Miss Temple’s capacity was increasing rapidly.
“If we bring a cart we shall have to bring enough men to guard it. We don’t want them to collar everything you’ve collected here. But I wish you’d come with us tonight. It’s not safe here alone.”
“Oh, I shall be safe enough,” she answered easily. “I’ve got Gumbo, and some good bolts.”
Jack had the sense to see that it was waste of words to argue further. “Well,” he said, “you’ll see us again tomorrow.”
He got up to go.
When they were out of sight of the church he stopped.
“Bill,” he said, “I think I’ll stay here tonight. It’s the safest way. Tell Madge I shall be back tomorrow. And ask Tom Aldworth to bring Steve’s cart, and about a dozen men, with the rifles. Tell him to come early; there’s a fair lot to load up.”
Jack went back to the orchard. When it was dark, and he judged that Muriel would be sleeping, he returned to the church porch, where he made himself as comfortable as circumstances permitted. He did not trouble to keep awake. He calculated that the dog would give sufficient notice of any approaching stranger, as he had rightly calculated that he would not disturb his mistress to announce the movements of one who had been recognized as a friend a few hours earlier.
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