The Benson signal., 1917-02-17


momentary glare David caught sight
Of his face, struck out against the su,'-
rounding shadows, like q face which
some dead master of the brush had
painted-dark, cruel, weak, contemp-
tuous. But his reply was never spo-
ken.
The cold chill of the stones on
which he lay had sunk deeper and
deeper into David's bones. With the
grip of desperation, he strove to hold
his teeth together, but in spite Of
himself suddenly there burst from his
lips, with the staggering unexpected
ness of thunderclap, paroxysm of
coughing.
With a single leap, Girty had
reached the spot where David lay.
David's head had vanished with an
even greater speed. But Girty's only
thought was to seize the wooden
bucket and dash it's contents on the
fire, plunging the room into instant
darkness. David heard the sharp
whisper of Scull's command.
"We are watched. Go out at once.
Captain Girty, you will be the first.
Mr.. Cranmer, second, if you please.
will follow"
The thing which David did then was
probably his salvation. 1t occurred
to him that his chance of meeting
Scull single-handed was greater if he
should return to the pitch-dark shop
than if he remained in the street.
And this he did.
When he had crawled soundlessly
back into the smithy, kicking off his
shoes outside, he was just in time to
see the door opened and the figure of
the first man, Girty, family outlined
in the aperture. Unseen, unheard,
David stole forward. Then the door
opened wider to allow the heavy fig
ure of Cranmer to emerge. And then
Scull, the third man, went out. With
at his heels.
He had picked up a heavy horse
shoe on the floor of the smithy, the
first weapon that had come to hand.
The tall figure was just before him.
His arm rose; and even as the, heavy
weapon hung in the air, Scull pushed
open the door of a cabin that stood
next the smithy and vanished.
David heard the door close again
and the heavy wooden bar dropped
across it on the inside. For a mo-
ment he stood dumfounded. Girty
and Cranmer had disappeared. David
walked on slowly, brooding over plans
for the morning, and found himself at
the river, talking to itself in the night.
He became aware that he still held
down, beheld the horseshoe. He
tossed it into the stream and went
back to the tavern.
For many days after that his rag
ged, discarded shoes lay unnoticed at
the lew aperture of Israel'S smithy.
David awOke in the morning as
fresh as the day. But day brought
with it the demand that he take up
his new work; and he crossed the
square to Colonel Posey's store. scan
ming the village sharply as he went.
He hurried to the cabin by the
blacksmith's shop. An honest-faced
woman, with brood of babies cling
ing to her skirts. answered his knock.
"Scull?" she replied to his query,
'no, nobuddy by thet name livin' here.
My man is Israel Butt, thar at tn
FORGE" She was positive that no
such person as Scull lived in the vii
lage; her husband was equally at
loss to remember the name; and Da-
vid, confident as he had been, was
forced to turn away, baffled by their
honest perplexity. The man had dis
appeared as completely as though
he had been swallowed up in the
earth.
Stupefed, David made his way to
Cranmer's lodgings. He had no idea
what he would say to the man, but
his steps took him mechanically to
the door. And there he received a
second shock. Cranmer was gone,
his daughter with him!
Whittier?
His question brought the reply that
they had said they were going to Vim
cennes. David's friend, John Upton,
the hunter and militiaman, was there
he would send Johnny a letter to
warn him and Governor Harrison
against Cranmer, Girty and Scull, and
telling Of their talk Of an Indian up
rising.
He returned to his store, wrote the
letter, sent it on by post. That done,
he could do no more, except wait in
patience for Cranmer's return.
CHAPTER v.