"Forward!" at the same moment shouted Rodney, and the signal flag flew to its place.

The ships moved out under a favoring breeze, and opened full broadsides upon the Stygian vessels. Ensign Lawe, once more at the head of his gallant troopers, led across the inlet and dashed at once upon the retreating Pixies. The footmen poured out of the gates of Fort Home and marched away to join the attack.

The Governor had now reached the bank of the inlet, and as he swung his scythe merrily, and bowed to the good work, he was greeted with three times three from forts and ships:

"Wille, Dido and Victory! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"

Wille paused a moment and swung his hat above his head, while Dido waved her handkerchief in recognition of the Brownie cheers. Then the Governor turned, and mowed down the lawn, throwing off at each swing of the scythe a bunch of gra.s.s mingled with the ruins of Pixie tents and huts, whose inmates lay struggling beneath the wreck of their homes, or fled to the standing gra.s.s, or burrowed and hid around the roots. The Brownies followed them up, searched them out, dispersed or slew them. It was a complete destruction and rout. In a few hours the fragrant gra.s.s lay curling in the sun, and not a Pixie tent was left upon the lawn.

Spite and Heady made a strong effort to rally their soldiers, and succeeded in forming a line of battle. But the Pixies were so demoralized that the troops broke and fled before the Brownie charges.

Many found hiding places in holes and dens of the earth; some escaped in the small boats of the smugglers and pirates; numbers were taken aboard the Stygian ships, and were borne down the lake, closely pursued by the Natties.

Lieutenant Heady lay dead upon the field. What had become of Spite? When we last saw him he was sitting alone upon the cliff, filled with rage and wonder at the Brownie rejoicings over the rescue of Faith and Sophia, and waiting in the moonlight for the return of the scouts whom he had sent out to get the news. Not a whisper of tidings could he hear.

Bruce had ordered the Brownie pickets to keep the matter from their foes, and no breath of the good news could be gathered from them. For good and sufficient reasons Raft the smuggler had held his knowledge secret, and had kept away from Spite's presence. His yacht, the Fringe, was now anch.o.r.ed just under the cliff, hidden from view by the overhanging gra.s.s. Raft had heard for some time the commotion on the lawn, but gave little heed to it. It drew nearer. The singing swish of the scythe against the gra.s.s, the cheers of the Brownies and Governor Wille excited his interest. He climbed up the cliff and reconnoitered.

He took in the situation at a glance, then turned his eyes toward the inlet. Thereaway the Nattie fleet was under way, and bearing down straight toward the cliff.

"It's all up with Pixiedom!" he cried, "for one good long while at least. Good-bye to the lawn! I'm off with the Fringe to safe quarters; I wouldn't lose her to save the whole nation. Every fellow for himself, and deil take the hindmost! That's good Pixie doctrine, so here's cut and away!"

He spun out a drag-line, Pixie fashion, and fastening it to a rock, thereby swung himself down the cliff to the gra.s.s at the water's edge.

Thence he boarded the Fringe, set his sail, pulled up anchor, and was just about leaving the harbor, when a shower of sand and small pebbles rolled upon him. He looked up, and saw a Pixie officer lowering himself down the side of the cliff by blades of gra.s.s and ferns. The form seemed familiar; he looked more closely. Yes, it was Spite the Spy.

"Hold on,--hold!" cried Spite.

"Aye, aye!" answered Raft. "This way now--down that tall rush--so! Now swing upon the mast. There,--you're safe. All right!" He unmoored the yacht, and pushing against the cliff sent her out with one vigorous shove into clear water. The wind caught the sails, and the Fringe flew merrily over the surface of Lake Katrine. Raft now had leisure to give some attention to his chief. Spite had thrown himself upon the deck, and was fairly panting with fatigue, and livid and trembling with pa.s.sion.

Wrath, terror, disappointment, shame were in turn and in quick succession reflected from his face. The smuggler had little love for the chief, but he pitied him now, and in his rough way tried to comfort him.

"Better luck next time, Cap'n," he said. "We've had many a backset before, and have come out all right again. Cheer up!"

"Backset, indeed!" growled Spite. "It's annihilation! There's not enough left of Pixiedom to make a decent funeral. But--" and he rolled out a string of oaths--"I shall have such revenge as they little dream of!

I'll tear the accursed Nurses limb from limb and fling the pieces into the Brownie camp! Say! what are you putting her head down the lake for?"

he shouted, suddenly starting to his feet.

"That's the way of safety, Sir," answered Raft. "We must make for the outlet or Orchard Cave at once. Look there at the Natties hard upon the wake of our fleet. We must get out of their way, Sir!"

"Curse the Natties!" answered Spite fiercely; "and confound you for a coward! Put her toward Ellen's Isle, I say! I will land there if the whole Nattie fleet were following us. But they'll not bother us now; they have better game at present than the Fringe."

Raft's cheeks burned at the word "coward," and he could hardly refrain from tossing Spite overboard. But even the worst of Pixies have some reverence for a chief, and Raft was one of the best. Besides, he really pitied Spite, and was willing to allow for his bitter disappointment. He saw that he had not yet heard of the escape of the Nurses, and resolved that he would tell him now, so that he might be persuaded to give up the trip to Ellen's Isle. It was pretty hard to get started, however, with the story. Raft hemmed, stammered, and at last began:

"Cap'n, there's no use going to the island now. All's up, there, as well--"

Spite interrupted him. "No use? What is that to you? Do as you are bidden, and do not dare to question or comment upon my orders. Change her course at once, or--or--" he fairly screamed these words, and stopped suddenly in the midst of his threat, choked by pa.s.sion.

Raft trembled with anger. He dropped the helm, laid hold upon a marline-spike and advanced toward the chief. Then he suddenly changed his mind, and retraced his steps.

"Very good," he answered quietly. "You shall have your own sweet way, my dear! Ellen's Isle it is!" He pressed his tiller and shifted the sail; the Fringe swung around, and in a few moments was quietly riding in one of the secluded harbors with which the smuggler was familiar, at the head of the island, and not far from the cave of Tigrina and Aranea Hall.

"Wait here until I return," said Spite leaping ash.o.r.e. "I shall be back soon."

There was a strange look in Raft's eye, that caught the chief's attention, for in a moment he turned back, and shaking his clenched hand at the smuggler, said:

"If you fail me, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth and drink your heart's blood! If you prove true you shall be Admiral of the fleet.

Beware!" He turned again and was soon out of sight.

"Admiral!" sneered Raft, when Spite had disappeared. "Admiral, indeed!

That sounds grand, verily. But I wouldn't stand the fury of his wrath and disappointment to be the chief himself. That is, even if--" Raft shook his head, and glanced toward the cave. "However, he would have his own way, and he may find out for himself how much better it is than the one Raft advised." He pushed the Fringe out of the harbor, and spreading full sail ran rapidly toward the outlet.

Let us follow Spite. He came to the door of the cave without noting any signs of the Brownies' recent camp in the neighborhood. He found the door fastened on the outside. What could that mean?

"Curses on the old hag Tigrina," he cried, "she is out on some expedition, and has left the Nurses locked within. Well, they're safe enough under these fastenings," he muttered, as he cut away the thongs, "and I'll have the Brownie beauties all to myself. But I'll flay the vile hag alive for this disobedience. It's time that I were rid of her, at any rate."

The strong fastenings which the Brownies had put upon the door were at length removed, and Spite entered the cave. All was as still as the grave. Not a sound from the bright and busy world without fell inside those silent halls. He pushed on. The fox-fire lights had burned out. He was well used to groping in the dark, but he could scarcely make out the objects before him.

"h.e.l.lo!" he called.

The echoes of his voice rolled back upon him again and again from either end of the cave. A strange sensation came over him. His heart began to quicken; a cold chill seized him. He threw off the feeling. He cursed his timidity and superst.i.tion. "On, on!" he cried. "Revenge is near." He reached the silken curtain that formed the door of the fairies' room. He drew it aside, gloating over the thought of the terror which his sudden appearance would excite. A single lantern burned upon the wall, and by its light he saw that the room was empty! Signs of confusion were everywhere. The stand lay just where it had fallen, and under it the "Wisdom of the Pixies" was outspread upon the floor.

"Faith! Sophia!" he shouted. The voice died away among the arches. There was a faint noise at his side. He turned quickly. There stood Tigrina.

Her face was gaunt, her cheeks hollow, her eyes burned like b.a.l.l.s of fire.

"Hag! fiend! wretch!" yelled Spite. "What have you done with the Nurses?" He drew his sword and took a step toward the old Pixinee.

"Oho!" said Tigrina, uttering a harsh cackling laugh. "You have come at last, have you? The pretty Nurses! Where are they? Ha, ha, ha! That is good--good! You didn't know that the Brownies had been here, hey? Didn't know that Faith and Sophia are safe in the Brownie camp, hey? Oh, no!

that is very good--very! You didn't know that I had been left here sealed up in the cave--oh, no, not you!"

Spite stopped, then staggered backward as though he had been struck a violent blow. The whole truth flashed upon him. He understood now the mysterious outburst of joy in Brownie camp and fleet. Faith and Sophia were gone,--safe from his power and revenge among their own friends!

Fortune had again failed him. His breast was torn by a tempest of pa.s.sions. This last defeat was even worse than the loss of his camp and the rout of his army. He broke forth into wild, blasphemous reproaches of Tigrina for failing to keep the fairies in her charge. Again he lifted his sword and again he started toward the Pixinee.

There was something in the att.i.tude of Tigrina which caused him suddenly to pause. Her eyes shone in the dim light of the cave; her sharp, long fangs swayed back and forth, touching each other with a grating sound; her back curved; she sank into a stooping posture. Spite felt her hot breath strike his face as it hissed through her clattering teeth. He knew too well what all this meant. The "blind fury" had seized the Pixinee!

Fly, Spite, fly! It is for your life!

He turns, flees! Too late! The rush of Tigrina's form is heard as she springs upon the doomed chief. Her fangs are fastened in his throat. He is borne down to the floor, and without a struggle and without a cry he yields up his life. The enraged and hungry Pixinee drank up his blood, and left the dry carca.s.s hung against the wall by broken strands of web-work, to moulder into dust with the silken ornaments of Aranea Hall.

Summer pa.s.sed. Autumn came and hung her gaily colored banners upon the trees and shrubbery of Hillside. The Brownies dwelt in peace upon the lawn, and Governor Wille and Dido held the Mansion with happier hearts than ever. The winds blew more and more keenly around the hills. The Fall had well nigh merged into Winter. Thanksgiving day came. Great preparations had been making at the Mansion, and now the family meeting was being held. Gray-haired sires, strong men and matrons, and fair-haired children, down to crowing baby Paul, all were there. How the halls rang with merry-making! What a happy, hearty company sat down to the Thanksgiving dinner!

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIG. 149.--A Dead Orbweaver Hanging by Broken Strands of Web-work.]

It was a bright crisp day, and when dinner was over, all went out upon the lawn and gathered around the great Rose Bush. There was a quadruple wedding in Brownieland: Lieutenant MacWhirlie and Agatha, Adjutant Blythe and Faith, Sergeant True and Sophia, Ensign Lawe and Grace, all stood up together, and were joined in holy wedlock according to the simple rites of the Brownies. Then, amid shouts of the children, cheers of the older folk, and the wildest hurrahs of Brownie soldiers, sailors and people all, the eight happy fairies rode away, escorted by a gaily uniformed troop, to the Lone Aspen, where Madam Breeze had prepared for them a grand reception. Fairy Dew and Dewpoint were there, and the four sister Cloud Elves, and Whisk, Keener and Whirlit, and before the merrymaking ended, even Elf Frost looked in, quite happy to be once more free to roam abroad.

As the evening was fine, and the moon full, Commodore Rodney and Pipe the Boatswain arranged to give the party a reception on the Emma and a moonlight sail upon the lake. The sailors had beautifully decorated the ship; fox-fire lanterns gleamed from every part of the forts, and shone all along the sh.o.r.e. Our old friends Captain Ask, Help, Clearview, Mate Angel, Howard, Hope, Rise, Shine, the Twadeils and many others were aboard. The wind was fresh and the lake was a little rough, but that only made matters all the merrier. How the ship did scud along!

It was pa.s.sing the Point of Ellen's Isle, when suddenly a small vessel pushed out from the brown gra.s.ses at the water's edge, crossed the wake of the Emma within a stone's throw, and stood away toward the sh.o.r.e.

"Sophie, Sophie!" cried Faith, "look yonder! Do you know that yacht?"

Sophia glanced a moment at the beautiful vessel as it rose and fell on the waves and sped swiftly through the moonlight.

"It is the Fringe!" she cried. "And there--see! There is Raft the Smuggler. He has raised his hat! He is waving it. Hurrah! hurrah!"

Perhaps had she stopped a moment to ask whether or not such conduct were orthodox in a Brownie bride, she would not have done it, but she simply gave way to the impulse of her heart; she plucked her bridal veil from her head and, quite unconscious of what she did, waved it again and again at the fast flying yacht.