I could bring him down easily, muttered the watcher. He shall not play with me and break her heart.
Nay, he growled, the next minute, it would be cowardly, and he is a brave strong lad. But he shall not trifle with either of us, and I will not have him here.
Shall I fire? he said, holding the heavy piece hesitatingly; and the long barrel shook in his hand.
The hesitation was not for long. With a sigh of annoyance he placed the matchlock in the corner, and, going downstairs, he went out softly by the back, and came right round by the front of the house, as if meaning to interrupt the meeting now in progress, but instead of so doing he went down to the great mill-wheel, and crossed the water by means of its spokes and paddles. Then stealing
softly along by the far edge of the deep stream, he crossed it by the bridge, and by putting a long lever in motion swung the bridge right round, leaving the way perfectly open, so that any one coming from the house would, in place of going across the bridge, walk in the darkness right into the deep water, and, however strong a swimmer he might be, he would be carried down by the force of the stream right amidst the woodwork of the wheel, perhaps past it, and down into the lower fall amongst the rocks beneath.
He wont drown, muttered the founder; and it will be a lesson to him teach him that I dont mean play.
Walking softly back to the mill-wheel he crossed again, made his way into the house, and then to the window, where he once more took up his position, and began to watch the dimly-seen crossing, waiting to see the disturber, as he termed him, of his daughters peace, fall headlong into the channel.
Hardly had he settled himself, though, to watch, when a change came over him.
No, hang it, he muttered, it is a dirty, mean trick; and Gil Carr is too good a man to treat in such a way. Ive been hard enough upon him, and there is no need for this. Ill go and put it back.
The founder went down stairs once more, and out into the darkness with the full intent of replacing the bridge; but he was too late. Before he could reach the rough framework by which he had crossed, there was a step away to the right, a cry, a tremendous splash, and, as for a few moments he stood paralysed by the rushing stream, he caught a glimpse of a white face amidst the black water, and then it disappeared.
The founders repentance seemed to have come too late, and his trap had apparently acted but too well. For the first time, perhaps, he realised that a mans chance of life in those rushing waters was very small. He had once helped to draw out the body of one who had been drowned in the great pool, and who had gradually been drawn down to get entangled in the mill-wheel, but he had never seen any one fall directly into the race, and he was startled at the velocity with which the figure passed.
My poor lad! he groaned. What have I done? Of all the passionate fools!
Here he was interrupted by a couple of figures approaching out of the darkness, one on either side of the stream, and a voice that made him start exclaimed, Has he passed you?
Setting a trap is one thing, catching the right bird you set it for quite another affair.
In this case Jeremiah Cobbe had calculated pretty well, but he had not foreseen all the possibilities, and the consequence was that the man for whose benefit the bridge had been drawn aside had not fallen into the stream.
For no sooner had the founder entered the house and closed the door than a tall, gaunt figure rose up from behind the thick hedge which sheltered the garden, and uttered a low peculiar signal, somewhat like the cry of a sea-bird. This he repeated twice without effect, and he was about to risk being heard in replacing the swing-bridge when a sound from another direction made him shrink back to his hiding-place, after giving another signal exactly like the seamews cry.
The sound he heard was a footstep, and the watcher knew in an instant that it was not Gils, both by its peculiarity and by its coming in a fresh direction from that in which he had heard the answer to his last signal.
Its Cobbe come back to slew round the bridge, he muttered to himself, as he crouched down; and hardly had he uttered the remark than there was a slip, a loud ejaculation, and then a sharp cry and a splash.
Then it wasnt Cobbe, exclaimed the watcher, as he sprang up, and, repeating his signal, he soon heard his leaders footsteps hastily approaching. Dont try to cross, he said; the bridge has gone and some one has fallen in. Run to the wheel, or whoever it is will be there first, and take a dowser into the lower bole.
Gil ran along the side of the swift channel, and, directly after encountering the dimly-seen form of the founder, he exclaimed, Has he passed you?
Yes; quick, cried the old man, as he tried hard to recover from the shock he had received; we may stop him by the wheel here. Who was it?
Heaven knows, cried Gil; dont stop to talk.
As he spoke he was already down on his knees beside the wheel, and made a snatch at something which was hitched on to one of the broad slimy paddles; but even as he stretched out his hand the shape glided away, and went over the fall with a shoot into the black water down below.