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Wallace D. Wattles Ultimate Collection — Chapter-61: Hellfire Harrison Chapter Five
- Source: /library/Wallace D. Wattles Ultimate Collection/source-file.pdf
- PDF pages: 235–239
- Pages without text: 237
- Note: Work: Hellfire Harrison, section 5 of 8.
Chapter Five Table of Contents JUST at sundown on that same evening, Richard left Sladden's house and started toward Farnham village and the Blue Goose Inn. He was on foot, and he walked briskly along the highway, whistling a merry tune. He had just passed the gates of Hackthorn Hall when up from the grass where they had been sitting, rose Andrew Hogg and the bloody three, and sauntered out in front of him in such a way as to bar his progress; and they stood looking at him in evil fashion. Young Richard saw murder in their eyes, and he sent one swift glance up and down the road, thinking of his father whereat black Andrew laughed aloud. “Useless to look for father to protect you, little man,” he mocked. “He's many a long mile on his way to Saltire Castle. So you must fight your own battle for once.” “I have no doubt that he is gone, Hogg,” said Richard coolly, “else you four would not dare show your heads abroad. Say what you want, you cutthroat scoundrel, or get out of my way.” “Oh!” said Hogg. “Now hear him try to roar, this puppy who is pretending to be a lion's cub! Why, this is what I want, my dear young friend. I want you to go back to London, and never come near Farnham, or see Mistress Mary Chester again.” “And what if I refuse your very reasonable request?” “We'll run you through the body, and leave you lying here for the carrion crows to peck at.” “Do you want Mistress Mary yourself, Hogg?»
“Ay, and mean to have her.” “If you were not such an infernal coward,” said Richard, as if considering, “how easily you and I might settle this whole matter.” “What do you mean, whelp?” “Let your three thieves sit down again while you and I fight it out without interference, and let the best man have her. If you can best me fairly, I will go back to London as you say.” “Good!” roared Andrew, drawing his sword. “Sit down, men, and watch me clip this young cock's spurs. On guard, boy, and you shall howl for quarter, or I'll run you through.” The other three sat down upon the grass, and the two men in the road crossed swords. We have said that Andrew Hogg was a good swordsman; but he was not long in learning that young Richard was a better one. The youth had been carefully trained by his father, and had a fair share of the latter's marvellous skill. It was but a few moments until Hogg was bleeding from a wound in the shoulder, and was looking greatly worried and amazed. Richard pressed the fighting, for he hoped to disable his adversary and take to his heels before the other three could come upon him., knowing that he had no chance against all of them; but this opportunity was not to be given him, for Andrew, hard pressed, called for help and the other three rushed to his assistance. Richard defended himself gallantly, but without hope. Attacked on all sides, he was soon wounded in the sword arm and disarmed, and two of his enemies grasped him by the wrists while a third, kneeling behind him, clasped him about the knees. Andrew stood in front, furious with his defeat and the pain of his wounded shoulder. “I'll finish you now!” he shouted, presenting his sword's point for a thrust. Young Richard saw his deadly purpose in his eye, and his own glance wavered for a single instant; he was young, and he loved, and it was hard to die. Then his look grew steady again, and he stood very straight with his eye on Hogg's, and smiled while the cowardly villain ran him through the body. His knees gave way and he sank in the dust of the highway, but as he went down he swayed forward and spit in Andrew's face.
“For her!” he whispered, as his eyes closed. Hogg, frothing with fury, raised his sword for another thrust; but just at that instant there came a strange moaning howl from a thicket beside the road, and he held his hand and stood glaring into the shadows, for it was growing dusk. The four drew close together around the body of their victim, and stood trembling; they were all superstitious, and moreover, the dread of Hell-fire Harrison was coming heavily upon them. “Let be!” said Trainor, tremulously, grasping Hogg's arm as he raised it again. “He's dead enough. Come on,” and the four started off toward the Hall. As soon as they were out of sight, Dicky Dirk came from the thicket, lurching from side to side in desperate haste. He bent over the prostrate body for a moment, and then, by exercising all the strength of his powerful arms, hoisted it upon his shoulders and staggered off toward Farnham Court. It was quite dark when he kicked open the great door and shambled into the entrance-hall with his bloody burden. Lady Alicia chanced to be at hand, giving her servants some directions for the night. When she saw what Dicky carried she screamed aloud, for Richard's arms hung limp on either side of his bearer's neck, and his blood was dripping from his own and Dicky's clothing; so she was justified in thinking him quite dead. She. turned upon one of her two footmen, like a fury. “Take the best horse in the stable,” said she, “and ride toward Saltire Castle. Kill your horse, if need be, but overtake Gerald Harrison and tell him Andrew Hogg has killed his son! “And the man ran out instantly. They carried Richard into Lady Alicia's own room, and sent the other footman for a physician; and meanwhile the lady and Dicky Dirk, who had spoken not a word since coming into the house, worked together to stanch the flow of blood. Presently the Farnham apothecary came, and relieved them of their task. He was well-skilled in dealing with wounds, as were most of the surgeons of that day, and he worked long and patiently before Richard's condition was to his liking. It was ten o'clock when he turned to Lady Alicia and said: “No vital part was touched, my Lady; it was almost a miracle. With the best of nursing, the lad will live.” “Thank God!” the lady gasped, but Dicky, turning in silence, left the house and
went swaying off across the fields toward Sladden's farm. Notwithstanding his disability he got over the ground rapidly, and it was less than an hour later when, under his hand, the heavy iron knocker woke the sleeping echoes of the farmhouse. He knocked continuously until he heard footsteps within, and then stood waiting.