The Project Gutenberg eBook, The King's Arrow, by H. A. Cody

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Title: The King's Arrow A Tale of the United Empire Loyalists

Author: H. A. Cody

Release Date: September 15, 2005 [eBook #16698]

Language: English

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING'S ARROW***

E-text prepared by Al Haines

Transcriber's note: In the original book, the 's' in "Wu-las-tukw" is actually "s-acute", or Unicode U+015B, and the first 'u' in "Pu-kut" is actually "u-breve", or Unicode U+016D. In this e-text, both characters have been rendered as their standard ASCII equivalents.

THE KING'S ARROW

A Tale of the United Empire Loyalists

by

H. A. CODY

Author of "The Frontiersman," "The Long Patrol," "Glen of the High North,"
"Jess of the Rebel Trail," etc.

McClelland and Stewart
Publishers Toronto
George H. Doran Company

1922,

To

MY ANCESTORS OF THE UNITED EMPIRE LOYALISTS

Who Came to the St. John River, May, 1783,

This Book is Gratefully Dedicated

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I WHEN THE CANNON ROARED II "COME AND TAKE IT" III CUPID'S ARROW IV THE WARNING V "TRY IT" VI WHEN THE BOW-STRING TWANGED VII OUT OF THE STORM VIII BENEATH THE SPREADING MAPLE IX LOVE'S CHARM X WHILE THE WATER FLOWS XI THE SUMMONS XII PLOTTERS IN COUNCIL XIII THE KING'S RANGERS XIV WHERE THE RANGERS LED XV THE LINE IN THE SAND XVI UNDER COVER OF NIGHT XVII THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY XVIII LOYAL FRIENDS XIX THE SMOKE SIGNAL XX TEMPERED PUNISHMENT XXI THROUGH THE WILDERNESS XXII IN DESPERATE STRAITS XXIII SIX CANDLES AND ONE XXIV TIMON OF THE WILDERNESS XXV UNMASKED XXVI BEHIND THE BOLTED DOOR XXVII THROUGH THE NIGHT AND THE STORM XXVIII WITHIN THE LONE CABIN XXIX SHELTERING ARMS XXX THE ROUND-UP XXXI PEACE AT EVENING TIME XXXII AFTER MANY DAYS XXXIII SEEDS OF EMPIRE

THE LOYALISTS

(1783)

  "Broad lands, ancestral homes, the gathered wealth
  Of patient toil and self-denying years
  Were confiscate and lost. . . .
  Not drooping like poor fugitives they came
  In exodus to our Canadian wilds,
  But full of heart and hope, with heads erect,
  And fearless eyes, victorious in defeat."

WILLIAM KIRBY

"No one will know, because none has told, all that those brave pioneers underwent for their devotion and fidelity. You will see to-day on the outskirts of the older settlements little mounds, moss-covered tombstones which record the last resting-places of the forefathers of the hamlet. They do not tell you of the brave hearts laid low by hunger and exposure, of the girlish forms washed away, of the babes and little children who perished for want of proper food and raiment. They have nothing to tell of the courageous, high-minded mothers, wives and daughters, who bore themselves as bravely as men, complaining never, toiling with men in the fields, banishing all regrets for the life they might have led had they sacrificed their loyalty. . . . No great monument is raised to their memory; none is needed; it is enshrined forever in the hearts of every Canadian and of every one who admires fidelity to principle, devotion and self-sacrifice."

"Romance of Canada," BECKLES H. WILLSON

THE KING'S ARROW

CHAPTER I

WHEN THE CANNON ROARED

A keen wind whipping in from the west swayed the tops of innumerable pines, firs, spruces, and maples. They were goodly trees, unharmed as yet by scathing fire or biting axe. Proudly they lifted their crests to the wind and the sun, while down below, their great boles were wrapped in perpetual shade and calm. Life, mysterious life, lurked within those brooding depths, and well did the friendly trees keep the many secrets of the denizens of the wild.

Through that trackless maze two wayfarers warily threaded their course on a chill May day in the year seventeen hundred and eighty-three. They were men, and their speed denoted the urgency of the business upon which they were bent. They were clad in buckskin jackets, and homespun trousers, which showed signs of hard usage. Moccasins encased their feet, and squirrel-skin caps sat lightly upon their heads. Each carried a heavy flint-lock musket in his hand, while at his side swung the inevitable powder-horn, hung low enough so as not to interfere with the small pack strapped across the shoulders.

Both travellers were peering intently forward, and when at length the glint of shimmering water glimmered through the trees their faces brightened with satisfaction. But just then the leader stopped dead in his tracks, and glanced anxiously to the left. He was an Indian of magnificent physique, and princely bearing, as straight as the trees around him. His companion, too, was standing in a listening attitude a few feet away. His keen ears had also caught a sound, and he knew its meaning. He was a white man, much younger than the Indian, although from his deeply-bronzed face he might have been mistaken for a native. He measured up nobly to the other in size and bearing, as well as in strength, woodland skill, and endurance on the trail.

"Slashers, Pete, eh?" he questioned in a low voice.

"A-ha-ha," was the reply. "No meet 'em, Dane. Too many. We go round."

Without another word he swung sharply to the right, and led the way to the water in a wide circle. Cautiously they approached the shore, and then keeping within the edge of the forest they moved slowly along, most of the time upon their hands and knees. Occasionally they paused to listen, but the only sounds they heard were the ones which had first arrested their attention, although much nearer now.

Presently they stopped and from a thicket of bushes drew forth a birch canoe, which had been cunningly hidden. It took them but a few minutes to carry it to the water, step lightly aboard, and push away from the shore. Each seized a paddle, and soon the canoe was headed for the open, with Dane squatting forward, and the Indian seated astern.

Less hardy souls would have hesitated ere venturing out upon that angry stretch of water in such a frail craft. The crooked Kennebacasis was showing its temper in no uncertain manner. Exposed to the full rake of the strong westerly wind, the waves were running high, and breaking into white-caps, threatened to engulf the reeling canoe. But the Indian was master of the situation, and steered so skilfully that only an occasional wisp of spray was flung on board.

They had gone about two