[Footnote AJ: Appendix, Note A.]

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW THE LARK ENDED.

The water had risen around the demilune, covering the entire line of works except the tall towers above the two ends and on either side of the central gate. The raft was steered toward the tower at the western end. This was a dome-shaped structure wrought by bending together and lashing several leaves, which then looked like the crown of a peaked hat. The inside was neatly tapestried with silk, and on all sides of the opening, which looked downward, were strung guy ropes and cross lines.

Above the whole, was curved, like the plume of a helmet, a leaf with a long stem, whose point was bent downward and fastened to the roof.[AK]

This formed a watch tower or lookout for a sentinel who could thence scan the surrounding s.p.a.ce and give warning of approaching danger.

"Yonder is the lookout, lads!" said Twadeils as the raft swung toward the tower; "but he seems to be taking it very coolly, for although he must see us, he makes no sign of giving warning. But, we had better not trust to that; push on as fast as possible, and put him beyond the power of raising an alarm. Give way, lads, give way heartily!"

"Aye, aye, Sir!" was the answer, and the raft soon lay alongside the tower.

"Fasten the painter to one of those lines," was the next order. "Gear, you may lead the cavalrymen to the lookout, and I'll head the attack on the main tower."

"All right," said Gear; "I know the company which the fellow up there belongs to. A keen lot they are, too, as bright as the scarlet uniform that gives them the name of the 'Cardinal Company.'[AL] Come on, Brownies!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIG. 69.--Leaves Lashed or Sewed Into a Turret Den.]

He seized the tower guy ropes, and guiding his course by the stems of the leaves, began the ascent followed closely by his comrades, Saddler, Halfrick and Barnit. Up they went, hand over hand, everyone trying to beat his leader to the top, which they were not long in reaching. As they hung at the edge a moment and looked over it, they saw the Pixie watchman standing rampant at the opposite side of the lookout. His scarlet tunic shone bright in the moonlight, and the metallic green of his fangs glistened as he gnashed them together in defiance.

"Surrender!" shouted Gear.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIG. 70.--"Standing Rampant."]

Cardinalis shook one arm threateningly by way of answer. The Brownies now made a rush toward the Pixie, but before they could reach him he vaulted into the air, and pa.s.sing over his a.s.sailants' heads, lit on the opposite side of the lookout. The Brownies could not check their speed and tumbled against and over one another, as they reached the spot where the Pixie had stood.

"Well jumped," cried Gear, recovering himself, "but you shall not miss us next time." He seized the dragline, which the vaulting legionaries always stretch behind them when they jump, and gave it a stout tug as he faced about. Cardinalis cut the line with his claw, and turning sharply faced his foes, and as they approached backed quietly down the stern of the leaf to the roof of the tower.[AM]

"Foiled again," cried Gear, as the squad of Brownies scurried after the retreating Pixie, "but you can't escape us a third time." His boast was too soon made, however, for before his party could reach the tower, Cardinalis had scampered down the guy ropes to the Brownie raft. Thither he was followed by Gear and his men who were now well warmed to their work and boiling with vexation at their two failures. Halfrick was the first to reach the raft, and as he charged with poised spear, Cardinalis sprang upon him. Halfrick sank upon one knee, dropped the end of his spear to the deck, and received upon the point the force of the a.s.sault.

The spear point penetrated the Pixie's breast, but the staff was shattered, and Halfrick borne to the deck. His comrades were at his side in an instant, but before he was relieved, the dying Pixie buried his fangs in his shoulder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIG. 71.--"Well jumped!"]

"Has any one a cruse of Lily Balm?" asked Gear. No one answered. The thoughtless fellows had not counted upon accidents and wounds when they planned their lark.

"Too bad, too bad!" Gear exclaimed. "But we must do the next best thing." He tore the skirts of his coat into strips and tied a bandage tightly around the shoulder between the hurt part and the body. He then put his lips to the wound and sucked the poison into his mouth. Halfrick had already fallen into a stupor, and was laid in an easy position upon the raft, where his comrades watched him with sad countenances.

In the meanwhile how fared it with Twadeils and his party? They had little difficulty in mounting to the tower, but as they entered the leafy dome, they found themselves faced by the huge proportions of Shamrock, the tower-keeper. Near him were two Pixies belonging to the Vaulting Legion who had taken refuge from the flood within the tower, and whose bright eyes shone out of the deep shadows wherein they lay.

The Brownies had a hard task before them, for they must hang to the tapestried sides of the tower with one hand, while they kept the sword arm free. Moreover, they were to attack from beneath, and face an a.s.sault which coming from above would be much more serious. But they knew nothing of fear and little of prudence, and pushed on holding their swords above them, which thus formed a bristling circle of points against which their enemies must cast themselves if they chose to attack. The moonlight shone brightly upon objects beneath, but little got within the dome, and all above them was in shadow; only the outlines of the Pixies dimly showed against the white tapestry of the walls.

Silently and slowly, but steadily the circle of Brownie sword points moved upward into the shadow, narrowing as they rose. The affray promised to be a b.l.o.o.d.y one, and even the most reckless of the party had begun to feel the sobriety of the moment, when the advance was suddenly arrested by a voice calling from above them.

"Halt! We surrender!" It was Pixie Shamrock that spoke.

"Halt!" echoed Twadeils, although the command was scarcely needed, for his company had stopped at the first word. Yet, they suspected a Pixie trick, and every arm held the sword blade more firmly, and all eyes were more keenly on the alert.

Shamrock perceived that the Brownies distrusted him, and again spoke: "We are in earnest. No trick is intended. Descend, and we will follow you and give ourselves up. We have good reasons for our strange action.

We have been deserted and deceived by Spite the Spy and our own friends, and shall not now throw our lives away to please or profit them. You may trust my word."

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIG. 72.--Shamrock's Fernleaf Tower.]

After a brief whispered consultation, Twadeils concluded it wise policy to accept the offered surrender, and gave orders to descend. It must be confessed that he was glad to do this, for he began to fear that serious results would follow, and even that if they should be victorious, precious lives would be lost. There was no relaxing vigilance as the Brownies descended, and when they reached the raft and saw the senseless form of Halfrick stretched upon the deck, they were still better satisfied that they had found so easy an issue from their adventure.

The Pixies, true to their word for once at least, came down quietly, and let themselves be bound, after which Shamrock told the following story, which seemed strange indeed to his captors: "Our sentries were stationed last evening as usual, although it was expected that Fort Spinder would be abandoned some time during the night. 'Keep up an active patrol,'

said the Captain of the Guard. 'Show yourselves freely to the enemy's pickets, until you get orders from me to retire. Then quietly and hastily withdraw from your posts, and we will go off in the last ship load.'

"That seemed all right, and the sentinels on duty, of whom we are a part, suspected nothing when, during the night, the relief guard were ordered to headquarters under pretence of receiving some secret instructions from the Chief. But they never returned. We kept watch long after the time for changing guard; no corporal appeared. Then we sent a messenger to the fort to see what was the matter. He soon returned saying that the fort was abandoned. Not a Pixie was left except the sentinels at the posts! We had been fooled, betrayed, deserted and given over to death by our selfish Chief, who left us as decoys to keep up the appearance that the fort was occupied, in order to deceive you Brownies.

A madder lot of Pixies never was seen. If we could have gotten hold of our chiefs we would have made mincemeat of them in short order.

"But storming and swearing didn't help matters. What should we do? That was the question. We even thought of going straight to your camp and blowing on the whole mean pack, and would have done it, I think, only we feared you folks would think it a bit of Spite's strategy and cut our throats for our pains. In the midst of our deliberations a flood burst upon us from some unseen quarter. The very witches seemed to be abroad and conspiring against us. We could not imagine the source, as there was no rain. The water-pixies readily escaped to the land and are now in hiding somewhere, but the rest of us fled from point to point until at last we were cooped up in the towers. Now you can understand why, being thus betrayed, confused and mystified, we had little stomach for fighting, and preferred to surrender, if for nothing else than to get even with our miserable dog of a chief, Spite the Spy. If you'll take the trouble to go to the other towers you'll probably find all our comrades in the same mood."

Here was startling news indeed for the Brownies! What should they do? At all events, they wouldn't tell their prisoners that they were only a chance squad of runaways out on a lark! Some serious duty seemed to be before them. The suggestion to visit the other towers and bag all the Pixies therein was a strong temptation; but ought they not now to push straight to camp? An unlooked for circ.u.mstance brought the question to a swift conclusion.

The water began to subside almost as rapidly as it had risen, but the Brownies were so intent upon Shamrock's story that they failed to note the fact. The raft's bow had been tied by a short rope to the tower, and as the water ran out, the stern of the vessel gradually settled, and by the time the Pixie tale was fairly told, was quite out of water and loosely lodged upon a clump of gra.s.ses. Suddenly these gave way and the raft began to tilt into an inclined plane.

"Look out, lads!" cried Hosson, "Hold fast all! The raft's upsetting!"

The warning came just in time to allow Halfrick's attendants to seize and save him from being shot into the stream. Highjinks, finding himself slipping down, flung himself into the water by a double somersault, and several others joined him, while those who clung to the raft were flung together in a huddle, Brownies and Pixies sprawling over and clinging to one another. Wetman, who chanced to be near the bow, clambered up and cut the painter, whereupon the raft fell into the stream with a splash, and the water washing over the deck gave the crew a ducking. The incident excited the mirthfulness of the Brownies, who broke into merry laughter, and those on board began to chaff those in the stream. Some one hailed Highjinks, who was cutting lively antics in the water, and struck up a familiar doggerel, something after the fashion of modern college ditties.

I.

"Here, dear Little son, Go slow, Do not run!"

Go slow--oh--_er_!

II.

"Down town Do not stray, There dare Not to play!"

Not to play--ay--_er_!

III.

"Near here Is a well.

Poor More In it fell."

In it fell--el--_er_!

No sooner was the song started than all the crew joined in it. The strain was a dolorous one, and the refrain ended in a peculiar note on the syllable "er," combining something of a sigh, a shriek and a grunt, upon which all the singers laid the full stress of their voices, and stopped with a sudden jerk. The whole effect was comical; and the third verse seemed so pat to the case in hand that it was followed by a roar of laughter that fairly raised the night echoes.

Ferrie, who was something of a wag, saw Gear splashing and spluttering in vain efforts to ascend the raft, for he was but an indifferent swimmer, and broke into an extemporized verse:

Here, dear Little Gear, Come quick And I'll pick You out of the creek--eek--_er_!