The Dew of Their YouthCrockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
General
The Dew of Their Youth
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Fiction
The idea of Irma's danger on the open house-top and in the full glare of
the beacon acted on me like a charm--yet people will say that there is
nothing at all in such a relationship as ours. Why, I would not have
been half as much concerned for Agnes Anne! And as a matter of fact, I
had not been so anxious down there behind the barrels and packages in
the cellar, when Lalor Maitland and Galligaskins were coming at us.
Besides which, I knew that Irma, being unused to fire-building, would
only waste the excellent provision of kindling, and perhaps do us out of
our beacon altogether.
So having joined her, it was not long till we had the tarred cloth off,
and, through the interstices of the iron bucket, the little blue and
yellow flames began chirping and chattering. But as I pulled the basket
up to the height of its iron crane, the wind of the night sent the fire
off with a mighty roar. The tops of the nearer trees stood out, every
leaf hard and distinct, but the main body of the woods all about
Marnhoul remained dark and solid, as if you could have walked upon them
without once breaking through.
I stood there watching, with the chain still in my hand, though I had
run the ring into the hoop on the wall. We had been very clever so far,
and I was full of admiration for ourselves. But a bullet whizzing very
near my head, struck the basket with a vicious "scat," doing no harm,
of course, but extending to us an urgent invitation to get out of range,
that was not to be disregarded.
Irma was close beside me, following with her eyes the mounting crackle
of the beacon, the sudden jetting of the tall pale flames that ran
upward into the velvet sky of night. For from a pale and haunting grey
the firmament had all of a sudden turned black and solid. Middle shades
had been ruled out instantly. It was a world of ink and fire.
But that sharp dash of danger cooled admiration in my heart. I caught
Irma by the shoulders and, roughly enough, pulled her down beside me on
the platform behind the stone ramparts. For a moment I think she was
indignant, but the next thankful. For half-a-dozen balls clicked and
whizzed about, passing through the square gaps that went all round the
tower, as if the wall had had a couple of teeth knocked out at regular
distances every here and there.
Very cautiously we crawled to the stair-head, leaving our invisible
enemies cracking away at the fire basket, knocking little cascades of
sparks out of it, indeed, but doing no harm. For the beacon was
thoroughly well alight, and the chain good and strong.
As we descended the ladder I went first so as to help Irma. She was a
little upset, as indeed she might well be. For it was quite evident that
the number of our assailants had singularly increased, and we did not in
the least know whether our signal would do us any good or not.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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