Adrift in the Ice-Fields Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  BUILDING THE ICE-HOUSES.--MATTHEW COLLINS'S GHOST.

  At daybreak the gunners arose, and without disturbing the members of thefamily, took some strong, hot coffee, prepared by the indefatigableCreamer, and ate a breakfast, or rather lunch, of cold meats and breadand butter, after which all proceeded to don their shooting costume,which, being unlike that worn in any other sport, is worthy ofdescription here.

  In ice-shooting, every color but pure white is totally inadmissible; forthe faintest shade of any other color shows black and prominent againstthe spotless background of glittering ice-field and snow-covered cliffs.Risk and his partner wore over their ordinary clothing long frocks ofwhite flannel, with white "havelocks" over their seal-skin caps, andtheir gray, homespun pants were covered to the knee by seal-skinEsquimaux boots--the best of all water-proof walking-gear for coldweather. Risk carried the single ducking-piece before mentioned, butDavies had a Blissett breech-loading double-barrel. They had chosentheir location to the north of the island, near a channel usuallyopening early in the season, but now covered with ice that would haveborne the weight of an elephant. With much banter as to who should countfirst blood, the party separated at the door; the younger Davies andCreamer, with Kennedy and La Salle, plunging into the drifted fields tothe eastward, and in Indian file, trampling a track to be daily usedhenceforward, until the snows should disappear forever. The two formerrelied on over-frocks of strong cotton, and a kind of white night-caps,while La Salle wore a heavy shooting-coat of white mole-skin, seal-skinboots reaching to the knee, and armed with "crampets," or small ironspikes, to prevent slipping, while a white cover slipped over hisAstrachan cap, completed his _outre_ costume. Kennedy, however, outshoneall others in the strangeness of his shooting apparel. Huge "arctics"were strapped on his feet, from which seemed to spring, as from massiveroots, his small, thin form, clad in a scanty _robe de chambre_ ofcotton flannel, surmounted by a broad sou'wester, carefully covered by avoluminous white pocket handkerchief. The general effect was that of agigantic mushroom carrying a heavy gun, and wearing a huge pair of bluegoggles.

  La Salle alone of the four carried a huge single gun of number sixgauge, and carrying a quarter of a pound of heavy shot to tremendousdistances. The others used heavy muzzle-loading double-barrels. A briskwalk of fifteen minutes brought them to the extremity of the island, andfrom a low promontory they saw before them the Bay, and the East Bar,the scene of their future labors.

  Below them the Bar, marked by a low ridge, rising above the level of thelower shallows,--for the tide was at ebb,--trended away nearly a leagueinto the spacious bay, covered everywhere with ice, level, smooth, andglittering in the rising sun, save where, here and there, a huge whitehummock or lofty pinnacle, the fragments of some disintegrated berg,drifted from Greenland or Labrador, rose along the Bar, where the earlywinter gales had stranded them. Leaping down upon the ice-foot, theparty hastened to their respective stands, nearly a mile out on theBar--Davies being some four hundred yards from that of La Salle.

  The "stand" of the former was a water-tight box of pine, painted white,and about six feet square by four deep, which was quickly sunk into thesnow-covered ice to about half its depth; the snow and ice removed bythe shovel, being afterwards piled against the sides, beaten hard andsmooth, and finally cemented by the use of water, which in a few momentsfroze the whole into the semblance of one of the thousands of hummocks,which marked the presence of crusted snow-drifts on the level ice.

  La Salle, however, had provided better for comfort and the vicissitudesof sea-fowl shooting; occupying a broad, flat-bottomed boat, furnishedwith steel-shod runners, and "half-decked" fore-and-aft, furtherdefended from the sea and spray by weather-boards, which left open asmall well, capable of seating four persons. Four movable boards,fastened by metal hooks, raised the sides of the well to a height ofnearly three feet, and a fifth board over the top formed a completehousing to the whole fabric. La Salle and Kennedy swung the boat untilher bow pointed due east, leaving her broadsides bearing north andsouth; and then, excavating a deeper furrow in the hollow between twohummocks, the boat was slid into her berth, and the broken masses of icysnow piled against and over her, until nothing but her covering-boardwas visible.

  A huge pile of decoys stood near, of which about two dozen were of wood,such as the Micmac Indian whittles out with his curved _waghon_, orsingle-handed draw-knife, in the long winter evenings. He has littlecash to spend for paint, and less skill in its use, but scorches thesmooth, rounded blocks to the proper shade of grayish brown, and, with alittle lampblack and white lead, using his fore-finger in lieu of abrush, manages to imitate the dusky head and neck with its snowy ring,and the white feathers of breast and tail.

  These rude imitations, with some more artistic ones, painted in profileon sheet-iron shapes, of life-size, and a few cork-and-canvas"floaters," were quickly placed in a long line heading to the wind,which was north-west, and tailing down around the boat, the southernmost"stools" being scarce half a gun-shot from the stands.

  By the time these arrangements were completed it was nearly midday, andthe sky, so clear in the morning, had become clouded and threatening.The chilly north-west breeze, which had made the shelter of their boatsvery desirable, had died away, and a calm, broken only by variable puffsof wind, succeeded.

  "We shall have rain or snow to-night," remarked La Salle to Kennedy,who, after a few moments of watching, had curled himself down in the drystraw, and begun to peruse a copy of the Daily Tribune, his inseparablecompanion.

  "Yes, I dare say. Greeley says--"

  What Greeley said was never known, for at that moment a distant soundrung like a trumpet-call on the ear of La Salle, and amid the gatheringvapors of the leaden eastern sky, his quick eye marked the wedge-likephalanx of the distant geese, whose leader had already marked the longlines of decoys, which promised so much of needed rest and welcomecompanionship, but concealed in their treacherous array nothing butterror and death.

  "There they are, Kennedy! Throw your everlasting paper down, and getyour gun ready. Put your ammunition where you can get at it quick; ifyou want to reload. Ah, here comes the wind in good earnest!"

  A gust of wind out of the north-east whistled across the floes, and thenext moment a thick snow-squall shut out the distant shores, thelowering icebergs, the decoys of their friends, in fact, everything ahundred yards away.

  "Where are the geese?" asked Kennedy, as, with their backs to the wind,the two peered eagerly into the impenetrable _pouderie_ to leeward.

  "They were about two miles away, in line of that hummock, when thesquall set in. I'll try a call, and see if we can get an answer."

  "Huk! huk!" There was a long silence, unbroken save by the whistle ofthe blasts and the metallic rattle of the sleety snow:

  "Ah-huk! ah-huk! ah--"

  "There they are to windward. Down, close; keep cool, and fire at thehead of the flock, when I say fire!" said La Salle, hurriedly, forscarce sixty yards to windward, with outstretched necks and widespreadpinions, headed by their huge and wary leader, the weary birds, eager toalight, but apprehensive of unseen danger, swung round to thesouth-west, and then, setting their wings, with confused cries, "scaled"slowly up against the storm to the hindmost decoy.

  "Hu-uk! hu-uk!" called La Salle, slowly and more softly.

  "Huk! hu-uk!" answered the huge leader, not a score of yards away, andscarce ten feet from the ice.

  "Let them come until you see their eyes. Keep cool! aim at the leader!Ready!--fire!"

  Bang! bang! roared the heavy double-barrel, as the white snow-cloud waslit up for an instant with the crimson tongues of levin-fire, and thehuge leader, with a broken wing, fell on the limp body of his dead mate.Bang! growled the ponderous boat-gun, as it poured a sheet of deadlyflame into the very eyes of the startled rearguard.

  A mingled and confused clamor followed, as the demoralized flockdisappeared in the direction of the next ice-house, from which, a fewseconds later, a double volley told t
hat Davies and Creamer had beenpassed, at close range, by the scattered and frightened birds.

  La Salle reloaded, and then leaped upon the ice, and gave chase to thegander, which he soon despatched, and returning, picked up Kennedy'sother bird, with three which lay where "the Baby" had hurled her fourounces of "treble B's." Composing the dead bodies in the attitude ofrest among the other decoys, he returned to the boat, and for the firsttime perceived that the geese were not the only bipeds which hadsuffered in the late bombardment.

  Leaning over the side-boards of the boat, the fastenings of which werebroken or unfastened, appeared Kennedy, apparently engaged in deepmeditation, for his head was bowed until the broad rim of hispreposterous head-covering effectually concealed his face from view.

  "Here, Kennedy, both your birds are dead, and noble ones they are."

  "I'm glad of it, for I'm nearly dead, too," came in a melancholy snufflefrom the successful shot, at whose feet La Salle for the first timeperceived a huge pool of blood.

  "Good Heavens! are you hurt? Did your gun burst?" asked La Salle,anxiously.

  "No, I've nothin' but the nose-bleed and a broken shoulder, I reckon.Braced my back against that board so as to get good aim, and I guess thepesky gun was overloaded; and when she went off it felt like a horse hadkicked me in the face, and the wheel had run over my shoulder."

  "Didn't you know better than to put your shoulder between the butt of agun like that and a half ton of ice?" asked La Salle. "Why, you'vebroken two brass hooks, and knocked down all the ice-blocks on thatside. Can't I do anything to stop that bleeding? Lay down, face upward,on the ice. Hold an icicle to the back of your neck."

  "No, thank you; I guess it will soon stop of itself. A little while agoI cut some directions for curing nose-bleed out of the Tribune, and Iguess they're in my pocket-book. Yes, here they are: 'Stuff the nostrilswith pulverized dried beef, or insert a small plug of cotton-wool,moistened with brandy, and rolled in alum.' I'll carry some brandy andalum the next time I go goose-shooting."

  "Or provide a lunch of dried beef," laughed La Salle; "but you hadbetter keep your shoulder free after this, and you'll have no trouble.There, the bleeding has stopped, and you'd better load up, while I cleanaway this blood, and cover the boards with clean ice."

  In a short time the marks of the disaster were removed, and the huntersagain took shelter from the increasing storm, which had set in harderthan ever. The snow, however, inconvenienced the friends but little, andas Kennedy could not read, they talked over the cause of his littleaccident.

  "I had no idea that a gun could kick with such force. I shan't dare tofire her again, if another flock puts in an appearance," said thedisabled goose-shooter.

  "Had your shoulder been free, you would not have felt the recoil, which,even in a heavy, well-made gun, is equal to the fall of a weight fiftyto sixty pounds from a height of one foot, and in overloaded ordefective guns, exceeds twice and even three times that. It is a wonderthat your shoulder was not broken, and a still greater wonder that youkilled your birds."

  At this moment a hail came from the direction of the other boat, whichwas answered by La Salle, and in a few moments, after several halloosand replies, two human forms were seen through the scud, and Ben andCreamer made their appearance, gun in hand. A brace of geese, held bythe necks, dangled by the side of the latter, and showed that theirshots had not been thrown away.

  "This storm will last all night," said Davies, anxiously, "and we'reonly an hour to sundown. Creamer, here, started a little while ago tofind out what you had shot. He lost his way, and was going right out tosea past me, when I called to him, and I thought we had better try toget ashore before it gets any darker."

  "Does any one know in just what direction the Point lies?" askedCreamer, with that "dazed" expression peculiar to persons who have been"lost."

  "Our boat lies nearly in a direct line east and west, and a lineintersecting her stem and stern will fall a few rods inside of theisland. We are about three quarters of a mile from the house, and bycounting thirteen hundred and twenty paces in that direction, we shouldfind ourselves near the shore, just below the house, if our course wascorrect," said La Salle.

  "Yes," said Creamer, "but no man can keep a straight line in a stormlike this, when one hummock looks just like another, and there isn't astar to lay one's course by."

  "I once saw in the Tribune," said Kennedy, eagerly, "a way to lay afarm-line by poles stuck in the ground. It also recommended 'blazing'trees in the woods for the same purpose."

  "To blazes with yer poles and blazed trees, Mr. Kennedy, saving yerpresence; all the newspapers in Boston can't teach me anything in layinga straight line where I can have or make marks that can be seen; butthere are no poles here, and we couldn't see them if we had them."

  "Creamer, don't get so desperate. Kennedy has furnished the idea, and Ithink I can get the party ashore without any trouble. Now let all getready to start, and I'll lay the course for the others."

  In a few moments the decoys were stacked to prevent drifting, and theboat covered so that no snow could penetrate. A pair of small oars werefirst, however, removed, which were set upright at either extremity ofthe boat, and in direct line with the keel.

  "There is our proper direction," said La Salle. "Now, Creamer, take yourbirds, gun, and one decoy, and align yourself with these oars when youhave counted one hundred paces. When you have done so, face about andturn the beak of the decoy towards the boat. Now, Ben," continued he,when this was done, "walk up within twenty yards of Creamer, and let mealign you; Kennedy will go with you, and, counting one hundred pacesbeyond Creamer, will be aligned by you. You will then be relieved by me,and placing yourself behind Kennedy, will direct Creamer to the rightposition, when he has paced one hundred yards farther. At every otherhundred yards an iron decoy must be placed, pointing towards the boat."

  The plan thus conceived was carried out until thirteen hundred paces hadbeen counted, when La Salle, begging all to keep their places, hurriedto the front. It was now nearly dark, and nothing but driving snow wasanywhere visible. Creamer was at the lead, but disconsolate andterrified, having utterly lost his reckoning.

  "We're astray, sir, completely," he said, hopelessly. "Mother ofHeaven!" he ejaculated, as a dim radiance shone through the scud alittle to their rear, "there's the 'Packet Light,' and we are lost men."

  Buffeted by the heavy gusts and sharp sleet which froze on the face asit fell, La Salle felt for a moment a thrill of the superstitious fearwhich had overcome the usually stout nerves of his companion; but hiscooler nature reasserted itself, although he knew that no house stood inthe direction of the mysterious light, which seemed at times almost todisappear, and then to shine with renewed radiance.

  "There is nothing earthly about that thing, sir. Macquarrie's house is along piece from the shore, and Lund's is hidden by the woods. See; lookthere, sir, for the love of Heaven!" and the stout sailor trembled likea child as the light, describing a sharp curve, rose ten or twelve feethigher into the air, where it seemed to oscillate violently for a fewseconds, and then to be at rest.

  "Let us hail it, any way," said La Salle; "perhaps we have made somehouse on the opposite shore."

  "We haven't gone a mile, sir; and as for hailing _that_, sir, I'd assoon speak the Flying Dutchman, and ask her captain aboard to dinner."

  "Well, I'll try it, anyhow.--'Halloo! Light, ahoy!'" he shouted, placinghis hands so as to aid the sound against the wind, which blew across theline of direction between them and the mysterious light. Again and againthe hail was repeated, but no answer followed.

  "You may call until doomsday, but they who have lit that lamp will neveranswer mortal hail again. They died thirty falls ago, amid frost andfalling snow, ay, and foaming breakers, on this very bar, and the men onshore saw the light shiver, and swing, and disappear, as we saw it justnow."

  "Well, I don't believe in that kind of light, and I, for one, am goingto see what it is. Now, don't move from your place, but watch the light,and i
f you hear the report, or see the flash, of my gun, answer it oncewith both barrels, counting three between the first and second shots. IfI fire a second time, call all hands and come ashore."

  "Well, Master Charley, I wouldn't venture it for all on the face of theearth; but we must do something, and the Lord be between ye and harm.See, now," he added, in a lower tone, "you're a heretic, I know, theVirgin pardon ye; but I'll say a Pater and two Aves, and if you nevercome back--"

  "There, there, Hughie, old fellow, don't go mad with your foolish fears.Pray for yourself and us, if you please, for it is a terrible night, andwe may well stand in need of prayer; but do your duty like a man. Standin your place until I summon you, and then come, if a score of ghostsstand in the way."

  The next second Hughie stood alone, watching the tremulous radiance ofthe mysterious beacon, which La Salle rapidly approached, not withoutfear, it may be, but with a settled determination superior to theweakness which he felt, for the danger, exposure, and settled fears ofhis companion had almost transmitted their contagion to his own mind. Ashe drew nearer, however, the apparition resolved itself into a largereflecting lantern, suspended from a pole, in the hands of Captain Lund,who had headed a party to assist their friends to find the shore. Theapproach of our hero was not at first noticed, as he came up the bank alittle to the rear of the party.

  "I'm sure, gentlemen, I don't know what to advise; and yet we can't letthem perish on the floes. We had better get the guns, and build abonfire on the cape below; perhaps they may see it; but it wasn't fornothing that I saw those men the other night. Poor La Salle laughed atit, but if he was here now--"

  CAPT. LUND HEADED A PARTY TO ASSIST THEIR FRIENDS. Page32.]

  "He is here, captain, thanks to your lantern, although Hughie, who isout on the ice yonder, shivering with fright and fear, vowed that it wasthe 'Packet Light,' and would scarcely let me come to see what it was.But this is no time to tell long stories; so I'll give the signal atonce."

  Creamer, fearfully watching the luminous spot, saw suddenly beside a jetof red flame, as the heavy gun roared the welcome signal that all waswell; and scarcely a half moment later a still heavier report called theperplexed and wearied party to the shore, where they found themselvesbut about ten minutes' walk from the house.

  Half an hour later, the bustling housewife summoned them to the spacioustable, which was crowded with a profusion of smoking-hot viands, amongwhich two huge geese, roasted to a turn, attracted the attention of all.Mr. Risk saw the inquiring looks of the others, and "rose to explain."

  "Davies and I claim 'first blood,' as you see, having killed this pair,which, early in the morning, flew in from the westward, and were justlighting among our decoys, when we each dropped our bird. We came inearly, seeing the storm brewing, and, being warned by Indian Peter, weescaped much inconvenience, if not danger, and were able to supply abrace of hot geese for supper. We shall expect a similar contribution tothe general comfort from each party in rotation, in accordance with theancient usage of professors of our venerable and honorable mystery.

  "Well, Lund," he continued, "the omen is not yet verified, although theparty was nearly lost, and would have been altogether, if Hughie herehad had his way, when he took your lantern for a ghost."

  "Well, it does seem foolish, now that it is all over; but I have seenthe 'Packet Light' myself too often not to believe in it, and so I wasas simply frightened at the captain's lantern as the people of Loughreawere at Matthew Collins's ghost."

  La Salle noted the look of annoyance which clouded the usually placidbrow of their host, and hastened to allay the threatened storm. Risingfrom his seat, he begged the attention of the company.

  "As we are to spend our evenings together for some weeks, it seems to methat it would not be a bad plan to require of each of our company, inrotation, some tale of wonder or personal adventure. Hughie has justreferred to what must be an interesting and little known local legend ofhis mother isle. I move that we adjourn to the kitchen, and pass an hourin listening to it."

  The proposition met with general favor, and rising, the company passedinto the unplastered kitchen, through whose thin walls and poorlyseasoned sashes came occasional little puffs of the furious wind, whichwhistled and howled like a demon without. The gunners seated themselvesaround the huge fireplace, in which a pile of dried gnarled rootsfilled the room with light and warmth, and lighting pipe or cigar, asfancy dictated, gave a respectful attention to the promised story.

  As will be gathered from the preceding conversation, Creamer spokeexcellent English, but as is often the case when excited, he lapsed attimes into a rich brogue. This he did to a considerable degree inrelating what he was pleased to call the story of

  MATTHEW COLLINS'S GHOST.

  "I was only a babe in arms when my father crossed the ocean to settledown on the Fane estate as one of the number of settlers, called for bythe terms of the original grant. His father was a _warm_ houlder inErrigle-Trough, and had my father been patient and industhrious, hewould in a few years have rinted as good an hundhred acres as there wasin that section. But the agent tould of land at a shillin' an acre, withwood in plenty, and trees that grew sugar, and game and fish for everyone, and my father thought that he was provided for for life, when, withhis lease in his pocket and a free passage, he stepped on board the ouldship that bore us to this little island.

  "He wasn't far wrong, for he died when I was fifteen, worn out withclearin' woodland, and working all winter in the deep snow at lumbering,to keep us in bread and herrin'. He was a disappointed, worn-out old manat forty, and it was only when he told of the good old times of hisyouth that I ever seen him smile at all, at all.

  "Matthew Collins was a well-to-do farmer of the neighboring parish ofErrigle-Keeran, and had a snug cottage and barn, with a good team ofplough-horses, a cow, two goats, and a pig, beside poulthry enough tokeep him in egg-milk, and even an occasional fowl or two on a birthday,or holy feast. He married Katty Bane, one of the prettiest girls andgreatest coquettes in the whole parish. She, however, made him a goodwife and careful manager, until the events of my sthory.

  "One day, late in the fall, Matthew harnessed his horses in ahay-riggin', and drove off to the bog, five miles away, to haul in hiswinter's firin'. He wrought all day, getting the dried turfs into apile, and had just half loaded his team, when a stranger, decentlydressed, came up to him, and asked if his name was Matthew Collins.

  "'That, indeed, is the name that's on me,' said Matthew; 'and what mightyou be wantin' of me?'

  "'I've sorrowful news for you, Mat,' said the stranger. 'Your sisterRose, that married my poor cousin Tim Mulloy, beyant the mountains, isdead, and I'm sint to bid ye to the berryin' to-morrow.'

  "For a few moments Matthew gave way to a natural feeling of grief at theloss of his sister; but he soon bethought himself that he was five milesfrom home, and that a circuitous road of at least twenty miles laybetween his house and the parish of his sister's husband.

  "'I can never do it, that's certain,' said he to the stranger. 'It'sfive miles home, and there's changin' my clothes, and a twenty-miledrive over a road that it's timptin' Providence to attimpt in the dark.'

  "'It's a great bother, intirely," said the stranger, reflectively.'Musha! I have it. Take my clothes, and take the short cut across theDevil's Nose. In three hours you'll be at the wake, and I'll dhrive theteam home and tell the good woman, and be round with a saddle-horsebefore mornin'.'

  "'Faith it's yourself that's the dacent thing, any how; and I'm sorrythat I can't be at home to thrate you with a bottle of the rale poteen.Never mind; tell Nancy it's in the thatch above the dure; and you'rewelcome to it all the same as if I were there myself.'

  "'We won't part without a glass, any how,' said the stranger,laughingly. 'I've a pint bottle of the rale stuff, and some boiled eggs,and we'll soon have a couple of the shells emptied, in the shake of alamb's tail, and thin we'll change clothes and dhrink to your safejourney.'

  "Accordingly the two exchanged clothes, a
nd sat for half an hour, whilethe stranger described the last illness of the deceased, and the respectshown her memory by the people of her parish.

  "'Divil a whole head will be left in the parish, if they dhrink all thewhiskey; and there's stacks of pipes, and lashin's of tobacky, with tayand cakes, and the house in a blaze with mould candles. Is the road azyto find?' continued he. 'For I'm goin', mylone, where I never wasafore.'

  "'It's as plain as a pikestaff to the very door. Only take tent of thebridge at the slough, two miles beyant; for there's a broken balk thatmay upset ye.'

  "'I'll warrant I'll look out for that. Have one more noggin. _Here's asafe journey and a dacint berrin' to us both._'

  "With this rather Irish toast, the two separated, Matthew seeing thestranger safe off the moss, and then commencing his short but fatiguingjourney over the narrow mountain path which lay between him and hisdestination.

  "Long before sunset, the careful Katty had had the delph teapotsimmering among the hot peat ashes; and the well-browned bacon and mealypotatoes, carefully covered to retain the heat, only awaited the returnof 'the master' from the distant bog. They had no children; but Andy,Katty's brother (a _gossoon_ of thirteen), eyed the simple supperanxiously, going from time to time to the door to see if he could seethe well-known gray horses coming by the old buckthorn, where the littlelane joined the main road.

  "The sunset, the night, came on, and Katty became hungry and out oftemper.

  "'Andy, _alannah_,' said she, 'run to the hill beyant, and try can yousee aught of the masther; for I'm tired wid the day's spinnin', andhungry, and wake.'

  "The boy went, but returned, saying that no team was in sight.

  "'Thin, Andy, jewel, we'll have our supper anyhow; for the tay'll beblack wid thrawin', and the bacon and praties spilt intirely.'

  "Accordingly the two sat down and finished their evening meal, expectingevery moment to hear the cheery voice of Matthew as he urged his_garrons_ with their heavy load up the steep lane beside the cottage.

  "About nine o'clock, the wife became alarmed, and with Andy went to aneighbor's. Tim O'Connell, the village blacksmith, had just fallenasleep after a hard day's work, and woke in no very amiable frame ofmind as Katty rapped at the door.

  "'Who's there at all at this time of night?' said he, gruffly.

  "'Only meself, Katty Collins, and Andy,' said Katty, rather dolorously,for she was now thoroughly alarmed.

  "'Alice, _colleen_, up and unbar the dure. Come in, neighbor, and tellus what is the matther at all.'

  "'O, Tim! Matthew's been gone all day to the bog, and isn't home yet.Could ye go wid the lad down the road, and see if anything has happenedto himself or the bastes, the craters?'

  "It was not like Tim O'Connell to refuse, and, calling his assistant inthe forge, young Larry Callaghan, he lighted a tallow candle, which heplaced in a battered tin lantern, and hastened out on his neighborlyerrand, while Katty was easily persuaded by Mrs. O'Connell to 'stay bythe fire' until the men returned.

  "The party saw nothing of the team or its owner until the dangerous roadled into a narrow but deep ravine, at whose bottom an ill-made causewayled across a dangerous slough.

  "'Holy Virgin, boys, but he's been upset! There's the cart across theroad, and one of the bastes in the wather; but where's the masther atall? Come on, b'ys; we'll thry and save the _garrons_ any way.'

  "They found the cart upset as described, and one of the horses exhaustedwith struggling under the pole. The other, saved only from drowning bythe fact that its collar had held its head against the bank, hadevidently kicked and splashed until the water was thick with the blackmuck stirred up from the bottom.

  "It was only the work of a few moments to free the horse in the road,and then the three proceeded to unloose the other, and draw him to aless steep part of the embankment, where, making a sudden effort, with amighty plunge, he gained the road, and stood trembling and shakingbeside his companion.

  "'Well done, our side,' said Tim, exultingly. 'Now for the masther.They've run away I doubt, and he's.--What's the matter with you, Andy,at all? What do you see? Mother of Heaven! it's himself, sure enough!'

  "Tossed up from the shallows by the convulsive plunge of the steed,whose heavy hoofs, in his first mad struggles, had beaten the head outof all shape of humanity, in the narrow lane of light cast through thedoor of the open lantern, lay the dead farmer, with his worn frieze coattorn and blackened, and his black hair knotted with pond weeds, andclotted with gore.

  "It was scarce an hour later that the emptied cart, slowly drawn by itsexhausted span, bore to the little cottage a dead body, amid the wailsof scores of the simple peasants, and the hysterical and passionategrief of the bereaved wife. It was with the greatest difficulty that shewas induced to refrain from looking at the dead body; although soterribly was it mangled that the coroner's jury performed their dutieswith the greatest reluctance, and the obsequies were ordered for thevery next day.

  "The body was accordingly placed in a coffin, above which deals,supported on trestles, and covered by white sheets, bore candles, platesof cut tobacco, pipes, and whiskey. Although but little of the nightremained after the coroner had performed his duties, yet so quickly didthe news of the accident spread that hundreds of the neighbors came inbefore morning 'to the wake of poor Matthew! God rest his sowl.'

  "The following evening, an unusually large procession followed theremains to their last resting-place. Nothing could have been moreheart-broken than the bearing of the widow. Tears, sobs, and criesproclaimed her anguish incessantly, notwithstanding the attempts offriends to assuage her sorrow.

  "As they drew near the graveyard, one Lanty Casey, an old flame ofKatty's, tried to comfort her in his rough way.

  "'Katty, _avourneen_, don't cry so, _avillish_. There's may be happinessfor you yet, and there's them left that will love ye as well as himthat's gone--if they'd be let.'

  "Lanty was a noted lad at fair and pattern, but he got a box on the earthat made his head ring until the body was safely deposited in thegrave.

  "'Who are ye that talks love to a broken-hearted woman at the verygrave? O, Matthew, Matthew, that I should live to see this day! _Ochone,ochone!_ are you dead? are you dead?'

  "On her way home to her solitary hearth, Katty saw ahead of her thehapless Lanty, and hastened to overtake him.

  "'Lanty, _avick_," said she, sweetly, 'what were you saying therebeyant, a while agone?'

  "'What I'm not likely to say again. I'm not fond of such ansthers as yegev me; an' if ye don't know when you're well off--'

  "'There, there, Lanty, dear; I'm sorry for that same, but what wud thepeople say, an' my husband not berrid? But I mustn't be seen talkin'more wid you. I'll be alone to-night when the _gossoon_ is asleep, andye can dhrap in, and tell me what ye like, av ye plaze.'

  "At about ten o'clock that night, the Rev. Patrick Mulcahy, whiletalking over the funeral, and the sad events which had led to it, wasasked for by the young lad, Katty's brother.

  "'Well, Andy, lad, what's wanting now? Is your sister feeling better,_avick_?'

  "'Yes, sir; and she sint me, your riverence, to see wud ye come down andmarry her to Lanty Casey the night.'

  "'Are your wits gone _ashaughran_, ye _gomeral_? Or is Katty run madaltogether?'

  "'It's just as I say, your riverence; and she says she'll pay you apound English for that same.'

  "'And I say that if I go down there to-night, that I'll take my whipwith me to the shameless hussy. The Jezabel, and she nearly dyin' withgrief this evening.'

  "'An' you won't marry them, sir?'

  "A staggering box on the ear with a heavy slipper flung from across theroom sent the unfortunate messenger whimpering out of the door; whilethe priest, honest man, stormed up and down the room until thehousekeeper entered with a waiter, on which were arrayed a decanter,some tumblers, a lemon, and a large tumbler full of loaf sugar.

  "'Come, Peter,' said he, more calmly, 'reach the kettle from the hob,and we'll let the jade go. Perhaps she's
out of her head, poor thing!and will forget all about what she says to-night by to-morrow morning.What are you grinning at there?'

  "'Do you remimber the coult ye won from me whin I bet that ye couldn'tlight your pipe wid the sun?'

  "'Yis, Pether. Ah, I had ye thin, sharp as you count yourself!'

  "'Well, now, I'll bet the very moral of him against himself thatKatty'll send up again--if she don't come herself.'

  "'Done! for twice as much if you will. She doesn't dare--'

  "'Good evening, your riverence,' said a woman's voice. And in thedoorway stood Lanty Casey and Katty Collins.

  "'We've come up, your riverence, to see if you'd plaze to marry us thisnight. They tould us you wor angry, sur, and, indade, I don't blame you;for you don't know all. The man who lies dead beyant was able to give mea home, and to keep a roof over the heads of my poor father and mother,and I gave up Lanty here for him. Now, sir, if you'll marry us, I'llgive you the pig down below--and a finer's not in the parish; and ifnot--'

  "The speaker paused, and, touching the arm of her companion, whoevidently feared to speak, retreated into the kitchen to await thedecision of Father Patrick, who was almost bursting with chagrin at theloss of his wager, and anger at the boldness of his parishioner.

  "Peter laughed, silently enjoying his brother's discomfiture, and thensuddenly broke out,--

  "'Now, what's the use, sir, of spitin' yourself? You've lost the coult,and the woman is bound to have her way. Sure, an' if you don't tie theknot, all they're to do is to sind over to Father Cahill--'

  "'The hedge priest--is it? No, I'll marry them. Let them come in, Mrs.Hartigan, but no blessin' can come on such a rite as this.'

  "Without a word of congratulation, the priest performed the service ofhis church, and in silence the pair proceeded to the cottage of thebride, where they fastened the doors and windows securely, and retired.The rising moon lighted up the surrounding scenery, and the priest andhis brother sat later than usual over their 'night-caps' of hot Irishwhiskey.

  "'Peter,' said Father Mulcahy, 'sind young Costigan down for the pig.Perhaps to-morrow Katty will rue her bargain, and we won't get thecrathur.'

  "Costigan (a tight little lad of fourteen), roused from the settle-bedby the kitchen fire, soon procured a short cord and a whip, and set offon his rather untimely errand.

  "A few moments before, a man dressed in holyday garb tried the doorsand windows of the cottage, and, finding them securely fastened,murmured,--

  "''Tis frighted she is, an' I away, an' tired, too, wid spinnin', I'llbe bound. Well, I'll not rise her now. There's clane sthraw in the barn,an' I'll slape there till mornin'.'

  "The tired traveller had hardly laid himself down, with his head on asheaf of oats, when he saw a youth enter the barn, and, deliberatelytaking a cord from his pocket, proceed to affix it to one of the hindlegs of his much-prized pig, which resented the insult with a tremendoussquealing.

  "Matthew rose quietly, and lowered himself to the floor, catching abridle rein, and getting between the trespasser and the wall.

  "'I don't know what thievish crew claims ye, but I'll lay they'll seethe marks of my hand-write under your shirt to-morrow,' said Matthew,savagely; but to his surprise the lad gave a single shriek, and sankdown as if in a fit. A dash of water from the stable bucket recoveredhim somewhat, although his mind seemed to wander.

  "'Holy angels be about us!--an' him dead and berrid--his very self--comeback again!' And broken sentences of similar import were hurriedlymurmured with closed eyes, as if to shut out some hideous sight; and theangry farmer was disarmed completely by the evident terror of the boy,who at last rose, fearfully opened his eyes, and looked around.

  "'Yes, ye little thafe of the world, I've come in time--'

  "With a meaningless yell, or rather shriek of terror, the boy rushed outof the door, fell on the frosty roadway, tearing his clothes and cuttingthrough the skin of both knees; and heeding nothing but the terrorbehind, sprang again to his feet, and rushed down the lane and along themoonlit road, until, panting, bleeding, and breathless, he rushed intothe priest's dining-room.

  "'O, yer riverince, he's come back!' was all that the boy could findbreath to say for a moment; and Peter, who was rather irascible, took upthe discourse at once.

  "'It's yourself that's come back in a fine plight, you graceless,rioting, fighting, thaving young scullion. Whose cottage have ye beenskylarkin' round now? And where's the pig ye was sint for, at all, atall?'

  "'Peace, Pether, and let me discoorse him. Don't ye know that when Isent ye for the dues of the church, ye was engaged in its sarvice,--inholy ordhers, as it were? And how comes it, then, that you come backwithout the pig, and looking as frighted as if Matthew Collins himselfhad come back?'

  "'And so he has masther, dear,' said the poor boy. 'O, _wirra_, _wirra_,but afther this night I'll never be out mylone again. I shall alwaysthink that I see him forninst me, as I met him beyant, the night.'

  "'Met Matthew Collins? The gossoon's crazy,' said the priest.

  "'The young devil is lying, more likely. The dead don't come back tofrighten honest folk, who want only their own,' said Peter, scornfully.

  "'Now, Costigan, go back at wanst, and fetch the pig,' said FatherMulcahy, firmly, but kindly. 'Ye'll be ready enough to ate him thiswinther.'

  "'O, masther, don't send me again! Ate that pig? An' if the pope himselfsaid grace, I'd sooner starve than ate a collop of the crater. Why,either his sperit, or the devil in his shape, kapes watch over it; andall the money in Dublin wouldn't timpt me there agin after dark.'

  "'Well, sir,' said Peter, savagely, 'the boy's frikened at somethin',that's certin'; and we shan't get the crather up here the night at all,unless it's done soon. It's only a stip just, and I'll go and get thepig, and find out what frighted the lad--a loose horse or cow, I'll bebound.'

  "Accordingly, Peter set off on his errand, accompanied by Costigan, whowent only on condition that he should not enter the barn, and onlyconsented to go at all under threat of a tremendous thrashing if herefused.

  "Scarcely an hour, therefore, had elapsed before Matthew was againawakened from sleep by the intrusion of a second midnight visitor.

  "'Where is the baste, any way?' asked the man, in gruff, angry tones.

  "'He's right at the ind of the haggard, in the right hand corner,'tremulously answered a boyish voice from the distance of a few rods.

  "'Faith, but the villains is intent on my pig, any how,' muttered theperplexed but angry Matthew, as he saw the struggles of his favoritewhen the robber attempted to secure a cord to her hind leg, which heseemed to find a difficult task.

  "'The curse of Crom'll upon ye for an unaisy brute, any how, Ned! NedCostigan, I say, come, ye little divil, and help me tie the knot, yefrikened _omadhaun_. There's nothing here to be afraid of, barrin' thegray horses an' the ould cow. Come, I say.--The Vargin and St. Patherpresarve me! Are ye come back?'

  "'Yes, I've come back, and ye'll go back to whoever sint ye, with mymark on yer shoulthers,' said Matthew, grimly, as, suiting the action tothe word, he drew a stout stick from his sleeping-place, and brought itdown with emphasis upon the head and shoulders of the priest's brother,who, though ordinarily considered 'as good a man' as there was in theparish, could scarcely persuade himself that he was not the victim of aterrible dream. Although he mechanically grappled and strove with hisfearful antagonist, he felt the fierce breath of a demon, as his breastpressed against that of the dead, and the fierce eyes of a fiend, or anavenging ghost, glared into his, as they fought and wrestled, now inthe dark shadows, and now in the narrow lane of moonlight, which peeredthrough the open door. It was no wonder that even the instinct ofself-preservation failed to nerve him to meet such a foe, and thatMatthew found it a surprisingly easy matter to give him a terriblebeating.

  "Fifteen minutes later, Peter, wan and covered with cuts and bruises,entered the priest's house, and swooned on the threshold. It was nearlydaylight before he recovered himself sufficiently to corroborate thes
tory of the lad, that the ghost of Matthew Collins jealously watchedover his favorite pig.

  "'An' why didn't he watch his wife too, Peter?' asked the priest,archly.

  "'Faix! an' I dunno. But the same man set great store by that samebaste--bad scran to her! I wish you had been wid us to discoorse theshpirit, and sind him back to _his place_.'

  "'Faith, and only that it's daylight now, an' near time for matins, I'djust step over, and show ye the powers that are delegated to the clargy,avick. I'd like to see if Matthew Collins would dare to face me aftherI've buried him dacently.'

  "'An' married his wife again,' said Peter, with a feeble attempt atpleasantry.

  "'I've doubts if I did wisely there, Peter. Sure and if theungratefulness of those they love is enough to keep the dead fromresting quietly, Matthew Collins should be one of the first to comeback and haunt his dishonored homestead.'

  "'But if all the dead min that lave wifes aisily consoled for theirloss, were to come back, there'd be plinty of haunted houses,' saidPeter, pithily.

  "'Well, we'll watch there the night, and try to find out the mysthery,'said the priest. 'But I'm off to matins. Be sure and see that Mrs.Hartigan has the breakfast ready when I return.'

  "The bell calling the peasantry to their morning service awoke Matthew,who hastened to his cottage, which he found as closely barred and boltedas the night before.

  "'She's gone to chapel long before this. Well, I'll have a wash at thespring, and away to church.' Saying which, he carefully picked the strawfrom his coat, cleaned his dusty shoes with a wisp of dry grass, andafter a thorough washing of face and hands, he took up the worn felt hatof the stranger, and set off down the lane.

  "As he got nearly to the main road, a group of neighbors passed along;but instead of answering his cheerful greeting, they crossed themselves,and hastened on with longer strides, turning from time to time, andlooking at him in a most puzzling manner.

  "'Sure, the folks are mad,' muttered poor Matthew, 'or else 'tis late weare--that must be it. Well, we can run, any way.' And suiting the actionto the word, he began to run after his neighbors, who, terriblyfrightened, strove with all their might to preserve undiminished thedistance between them.

  "'Faix, half the people is late--or is it a fire is ragin'? Well, Idunno, but I'll be on hand any how.' And Matthew, taking a long breath,pressed on after the flying crowd, which grew larger each moment, asgroup after group of staid and devout worshipers recognized the featuresof their dead neighbor, and joined the panting crowd, which, crossingand blessing themselves, and shrieking and praying with terror, soughtthe protection of the church, and having, as they deemed, found a refugefrom the apparition, sank exhausted into their seats, to thank God for aplace of safety.

  "But they had reckoned without their host, for the next moment the deadman strode through the arched door, and deliberately glided towards hisaccustomed seat. In speechless horror the people, with one accord, aroseand rushed to the altar for protection, while many rushed out throughthe rear entrances, to carry the terrible news far and wide.

  "Pale, but resolute, attended by two trembling altar boys with bell andcenser, Father Mulcahy advanced in front of the astonished cause of thisunwonted disturbance.

  "'In the name of the Blessed Thrinity, I command you to retire from thisblissid an' sacred church to the place from whence you came.'

  "'An' why wud I go back, your riverince? Shure, the body's buried, an'I've no call there now.'

  "'Why, then, can you find no rest in the grave?'

  "This last question 'broke the camel's back.'

  "'H---- to my--There, the Lord forgive me for cursin', and in thisblessed an' howly place. But are all the people mad--prastes and clarks,payrents and childher? Or am I losin' my sinses, or enchanted by thefairies?'

  "'Matthew,' said the priest, solemnly, 'are you alive an' well?'

  "'Yis, your riverence, if I know meself I am.'

  "'Will you go to the font an' thrink a taste of the holy wather?'

  "'Yes, your riverince, an it's plasin' to ye.'

  "It was with much doubt that Father Mulcahy awaited the result of histest; but Matthew drank about a pint of the consecrated water, and ashort conversation made all plain to the priest, and to poor Matthew, towhom the various events were far from being a matter of mirth.

  "Accompanied by the priest, he went home, to the unutterable horror ofthe newly-married pair, which was little lessened when they found thattheir unwelcome visitor was not from another world.

  "'I am dead to you, Katty,' said he, with a gentle sadness, so differentfrom the burst of passion which the priest had feared, that he knew thathis heart was broken. 'All the happiness I had was in your love, andthat was false. Go with your new love where I may see you no more.'

  "Matthew died years after, a soured and misanthropic man; but fewlegends are better known in his native district than the story ofMatthew Collins's ghost."

  * * * * *

  As the story ended, Risk thanked the narrator in behalf of the auditory,adding, "The storm will probably change to a thaw before morning, and ifit does we must be on hand bright and early, for it will bring the mainbody of 'the first flight.'"

  As the company rose to retire, Ben approached La Salle. "Will you tellme why you made us leave decoys at every hundred yards?"

  "To help us find the way back, should we fail to reach the shore. Wecould have lived out a night like this in my ice-boat, but we shouldlong since have been sleeping our last sleep beneath the snow-wreaths,had we lost our way upon the floes."

  At daybreak La Salle awoke, but turned again to his pillow, as he notedthe snow-flakes form in tiny drifts against the lower window panes; andit was nine o'clock before the tired sportsmen completed their hastytoilet, and seated themselves around the breakfast table.