The man took a step forward, his breath seeming to hiss between his teeth; then his sword flashed out of its scabbard. But at the same instant Ezra's long holster pistol came into play. The afternoon light gleamed dully upon the steel barrel, as he supported it in the hollow of his left arm.

"Before you display any of your deftness with the sword blade," spoke the young New Englander, coolly, "listen to a few words of disinterested advice. I say disinterested, because it makes no difference to me how you take it. But it would, perhaps, be a great deal better for you if you reconsidered this matter. A gentleman of your confessed military experience can no doubt play the sword with accuracy. But don't forget that a bullet travels faster-and don't compel me to start this one on its travels."

The young stranger listened to this quietly-spoken warning with varying expressions of face. At first it seemed that he would defy the pistol; indeed he drew back his arm for a blow. Then he paused, baffled; at last a comical look came upon his face, his point touched the ground and he stepped back with a ringing laugh.

"For your advice I offer many thanks." He took off his hat as he spoke and its plume swept the earth. "And I will take it," driving his blade back in its sheath. "I have made a grave military blunder. In what you call my contempt for colonials I overlooked the possibility of your being armed. I admit defeat and pray you mercy."

The situation was so quaint a one that Ezra also laughed. But he did not take his eyes from the other, neither did his pistol go back to its place in the holster.

"The situation remains as it was when I came up," said the boy. "Here you stand beside your fallen horse and off I go on my way to Chelmsford."

He touched the bay with the spur; but it had only taken a few steps when Gilbert Scarlett once more lifted his voice. Ezra drew rein and the man advanced.

"You are going toward Chelmsford?" inquired he.

"Yes," returned Ezra.

"By this road?"

"If I can."

"It always shows good quality in a soldier to be generous to a defeated foe," smiled the young man. He paused a moment and studied Ezra carefully; and as he did so the latter noted an odd light dancing in his eyes. "As I have said," Scarlett resumed, "I have urgent affairs that under other circ.u.mstances would require me to press on. And as I can't do this, I would ask you to grant me a favor."

"What is it?" asked Ezra.

"At Cambridge I was entrusted with a mission of more or less importance," spoke Scarlett easily. "And as the gentleman who so entrusted me was most genial and generous, though to speak the truth I did not know him from Adam's elder brother, I would like to see the matter carried through as contracted."

He drew from his belt a packet of papers sealed with black wax.

"I was required to take this way and ride until I came to a certain bridge," said Scarlett. "Not far from this I was to come upon a house where I was to stop and ask for a man by the name of Abdallah. When I saw him I was to hand over these," and the speaker held up the packet.

At sight of the packet and Scarlett's announcement that he had been bidden to come that way, Ezra's attention became fixed. The two farmers had spoken of unknown riders who came and went to their mysterious neighbor's. But when the other mentioned the bridge and the house not far from it, the boy's eyes snapped with expectation. However, when he spoke his voice was unconcerned enough.

"And now, I suppose, you want me to undertake to finish what you have begun?" said he.

"If you will be so kind," replied Scarlett, with a little bow. "It will not take you out of your way, since you are going by this road, and it will greatly relieve my mind."

Ezra bent forward and took the papers in his left hand. Thrusting them into the breast of his coat, he said with a laugh:

"It would show a sad lack of charity on my part to leave you in a disturbed state of mind. A disabled horse and a long road are calamities enough for any man."

"I thank you," said Scarlett. He tugged at his moustache with one hand; the thumb of the other was stuck in his sword belt, his legs were very wide apart, and the plumed hat was set well back upon his head. "You are a ready youth and a generous one. Perhaps your wit is not all that it will be in the years to come. Nevertheless, I say that you are a ready youth. And further, I will add that you have the makings in you of a most excellent soldier."

Once more the long plume swept the ground as Ezra, with a wave of the hand, rode away; and the last the boy saw of him he was stripping the saddle from the fallen horse and apparently railing against his ill luck in a most hearty fashion.

CHAPTER III

TELLS HOW EZRA ENTERED THE HOUSE OF ABDALLAH

"Rather an odd character, I should think," mused the young New Englander as he rode along. "A soldier of fortune from his own account; and from my own observations, one ready enough to provide himself with anything that he lacked. But he seemed rather a good sort, for all," with a laugh, "even if he did draw his blade on me and afterward cast reflections upon my wit. I'm sure if I saw more of him I'd come to like him."

The pace was slow on account of the bad condition of the road; and gradually the sun slipped downward in the west. At length, in a gloomy, sunken place, Ezra came upon a forbidding-looking stream flowing into a shattered dam.

A treacherous-looking bridge of unstripped timber crossed it; and a little to the left was an abandoned mill with staring, empty windows; its broken roof was covered with green moss, a wheel hanging rotten and silent at its side.

"And some little way along I am to find a house by the roadside, am I?"

said the lad as he looked about upon this sullen picture. "Well, it takes different tastes to make a world, of course; but I'd never have thought that any one would select a spot like this for a dwelling-place."

Gingerly the bay picked its way across the bridge; the aged timbers swayed and groaned; through the open seams between the planks, the dark water could be seen flowing sluggishly along.

Just beyond the bridge the road took an abrupt bend; and as Ezra rounded this he found himself in sight of the house.

He had only time to note that it was two stories in height and that heavy shutters guarded all the windows, when there came a most tremendous barking of dogs. Lion-like, three enormous mastiffs leaped the low fence that ran about the house and rushed at horse and rider.

The bay reared, his nostrils widening and his eyes shining with fright.

Ezra tightened the rein, spoke soothingly to him and at the same time reached for his holster pistol. With wide jaws the great beasts bounded forward; then came a sharp whistle and instantly they paused, growling, indeed, and with savage eyes, but advancing no farther.

From around one corner of the house came a man of commanding stature and remarkable appearance. He was attired in a long, loose, robe-like garment such as Ezra had seen in pictures of Eastern peoples. His head was entirely bald, though the face was smooth, unlined and gave few signs of age. His complexion was swarthy and his eyes singularly large, dark and gentle-looking.

"I ask your pardon, young sir," said this strange-looking personage smoothly. "My poor beasts are a trifle unruly at times. But,"

rea.s.suringly, "believe me, there is no harm in them."

Ezra looked down into the bloodshot eyes and formidable jaws of the brutes. He said nothing in answer to the man's statement; but he held to his own opinion, nevertheless.

The man advanced to the fence, and Ezra noted that he wore no shoes. His feet were bound in sandals; also he was belted with a thick cord into which was stuck an ancient-looking, leather-covered book.

But the stranger's most striking and noticeable feature was his soft gentleness of manner. Ezra felt this the moment his eyes rested upon the swarthy face; it were as though nothing could excite its owner to anger or intolerance. And yet, for all that, as the boy gazed at the strangely-clad one, that distinct feeling of repulsion came upon him which we feel in the presence of those whom we naturally distrust.

Here the man spoke to the dogs which still stood near at hand, growling and casting savage looks at Ezra.

"Blood," said he, gently, "go in, brave dog. Death, away with you.

Bones, be gone."

The voice was soft, even purring; but the grisly names of the brutes caused Ezra to shudder.

Obediently the animals turned and leaped into the enclosure once more.

And as they pa.s.sed their master, Ezra noted that they crouched and fawned.

"Only beaten dogs do that," thought the boy. Then, as he surveyed the man carefully, "I wonder just how much of this gentleness is real and how much a.s.sumed?"

As the mastiffs vanished behind the house, the man turned to Ezra once more.

"The road is seldom frequented," said he, apologetically; "and so, poor beasts, they are not accustomed to travelers." The soft, dark eyes examined Ezra with much attention; then the speaker went on, "I sincerely trust that you have taken neither harm nor offense."