Jess of the Rebel Trail by H. A. Cody

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JESS OF THE REBEL TRAIL

BY

H. A. CODY

AUTHOR OF "THE FRONTIERSMAN," "THE LONG PATROL," "THE CHIEF OF THE
RANGES," "THE FOURTH WATCH," "GLEN OF THE HIGH NORTH," ETC.

McCLELLAND AND STEWART

PUBLISHERS : : TORONTO

1921,

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To

MY UNCLE AND NAMESAKE

HIRAM CODY

Long Since Passed Within the Vail

This Book is Dedicated

In Grateful and Loving Remembrance

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I THE HOLD-UP
II REBELLION
III THE "EB AN' FLO"
IV UNDER COVER
V CAPTAIN SAMUEL GOES SHOPPING
VI EBEN MAKES A DISCOVERY
VII GIVING MARTHA THE GO-BY
VIII WHAT THE COW DID
IX MARTHA TAKES A HAND
X UNWELCOME VISITORS
XI IN PERIL OF DEATH
XII CORNERED
XIII A TRICKY PASSENGER
XIV ANOTHER VICTIM
XV TWO WOMEN'S TROUBLES
XVI MORE THAN A DREAM
XVII CAPTAIN SAM'L GOES HOME
XVIII HARD LUCK
XIX THE CAPTAIN GIVES ADVICE
XX MRS. GRIMSBY'S MISSION
XXI EBEN COMES ASHORE
XXII ON THE REBEL TRAIL
XXIII STRAIGHT TALK
XXIV EBEN ATTENDS TO GRIMSBY
XXV THE FOREST FIRE
XXVI IN THE RING OF DEATH
XXVII IN THE NICK OF TIME
XXVIII IN URGENT NEED
XXIX CONFESSION
XXX JOY AT EVENTIDE

"I have no other but a woman's reason;
I think him so, because I think him so."

SHAKESPEARE

"When all other rights are taken away,
the right of rebellion is made perfect."

THOMAS PAINE

"Women are never stronger than when they
arm themselves with their weakness."

MADAME DU DEFFAND

JESS OF THE REBEL TRAIL

CHAPTER I

THE HOLD-UP

The glowing coals in the spacious grate seemed to fascinate the woman
as she sat huddled in a big luxurious chair. The book she had been
reading was lying open and unheeded on her lap. Her surroundings were
by no means in keeping with her dejected manner. The room was cosy and
lavishly furnished, while the shaded electric reading-lamp cast its
gentle radiance upon the woman's white hair and soft evening-gown. It
was a rough night, and the wind howling outside beat furiously against
the closely-blinded windows.

It was a night such as this, nearly twenty years before, of which the
woman was thinking. She was once again in a room in a private
hospital, lying weak and helpless from the ordeal through which she had
passed. It all came back to her now with a stinging intensity, causing
her white hands to clench hard, and her eyes to widen with a nameless
fear.

A maid entered and announced a visitor.

"I can't see anyone to-night," the woman before the fire declared,
without even turning her head.

"But----" the maid began.

"That is all, Maggie. You need not say anything more. I wish to be
left entirely alone."

The maid hesitated a few seconds before obeying the imperious command.
Then she slowly turned, and had almost reached the door when it was
suddenly pushed open and a man entered. Without a word, he stepped
past her and glided across the room toward the fire. His unexpected
appearance startled the woman crouching there. She straightened
quickly up and stared at the intruder in amazement.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "How dare you come here? Maggie, put
this man out."

But Maggie had disappeared, so the woman was left to face the man alone.

"I won't harm you, madame," he smilingly informed her, as he moved
closer to the fire and stretched put his hands. "I'm as harmless as a
kitten."

"Keep back," the woman ordered. "Don't come so close."

"Oh, I'm all right. Don't you worry about me."

Again the man smiled as he rubbed his hands together.

"I wasn't worrying about you," the woman retorted. "I would like to
see you burn yourself for your impudence."

Her fear had now vanished, and she was angry. She carefully noted the
man's slight figure, and threadbare clothes. But his face was what
attracted her most of all. It was somewhat chubby, and when the mouth
was expanded by the almost incessant smile the cheeks were wrinkled
like corrugated iron. His head was bald, save for a few tufts of hair
above the ears. His bulging eyes twinkled with good humour, causing an
observer to feel that their owner was well satisfied with himself and
the entire world.

"Who are you?" the woman again demanded. "How dare you come uninvited
into my room?"

The man straightened, himself up, and standing with his back to the
fire brought forth a package of cigarettes, selected one, and
deliberately lighted it.

"You don't mind if I have a smoke, do you?" he asked. "It's good for
the nerves."

"Indeed I do," the woman replied. "I hate smoking. I never allow it
in this room."

"I'm sorry, madame, but you'll soon forget all about it. I have come
to see you to-night on very important business, and when I tell you
what it is you won't think any more about the smoke."

"Important business! With me? Why, I never saw you before, and I have
not the slightest idea who you are. What do you want, anyway?"

"Yes, it's important business, as I have just said, and when I learned
that you would see no one to-night I was compelled to force myself upon
your presence."

"How did you know that I would see no one to-night? Were you listening
at the door?"

"Madame, when you get to know me better you will learn that I am able
to read people's thoughts, though doors may intervene. Words are
unnecessary to me. I know all."

The man blew a cloud of smoke into the air, and smiled. "Yes," he
continued, "I even read your thoughts to-night as you sat before this
fire."

"You did!" The woman's eyes grew wide with fear and amazement. "Who
are you, anyway?"

"I am merely a stand-between; that has been my business for years."

"A stand-between?"

"Yes, I stand between people and ignorance. I supply them with mental
food, books of the first-water. They all know me, and look upon me as
a public benefactor."

"So you are a book-agent, then? And you want to sell me some books, I
suppose? Is that your business here to-night?"

The man waved his hand haughtily, and flicked the ashes from his
cigarette into the fire.

"No, madame, it is not. Business is somewhat dull these days, I must
confess. People are not as anxious as formerly for pure literature.
There are too many counter attractions. This being so, I find it is
becoming more difficult to stand between my family and poverty.
Therefore, I am here to-night."

"So you want me to give you some money; is that it?"

"Ah, now I see you understand," and the man's face beamed. "But
remember, I come not as a beggar, neither as a suppliant, but merely to
receive payment for a favor."

"Payment for a favor!" the woman exclaimed. "What do you mean? I owe
you nothing. I never saw you before. What favor?"

"The favor of silence. I know what you were thinking about to-night as
you sat here. Your thoughts were in the past, to another night such as
this. You were in a private hospital, and----"

He was interrupted by a startled cry from the woman. She was sitting
bolt upright, her hands gripping hard the arms of the chair, and her
face ghastly white.

"W-what do you know?" she gasped.

"Calm yourself, madame. Although I know all, you have no need to fear."

For a few seconds the woman stared at the man before her. Then she
gave an hysterical laugh and sank back in her chair. What did this
stranger know? she wondered. Perhaps nothing, and she had made a fool
of herself by showing her agitation.

"My nerves are somewhat shaken to-night," she confessed. "I have not
been well of late, so your sudden appearance and strange words have
rather unsettled me. What do you mean by referring to another night
such as this, and to a private hospital? What have they to do with me?"

"A great deal, I should say, madame. If you doubt my knowledge, it is
only necessary to mention the name of Hettie Rawlins, now my wife, Mrs.
Gabriel Grimsby."

"Hettie Rawlins!" the woman's face showed her perplexity.

"Yes, Hettie Rawlins, the girl who exchanged the babies. Don't you
remember her?"

But the woman did not reply. She sat staring at the man before her.

"There is no doubt now about my knowledge is there?" the stranger asked
with a smile.

"Heavens, no!" the unhappy woman groaned. "And to think that after all
these years I should be thus confronted in my own house, and by a
complete stranger. And so your wife told you all?"

"Everything, although she kept the secret for a long time. She told me
how you bribed her to exchange your little baby boy for a girl which
was born in the hospital on the same day, and the amount you gave the
baby's mother for making the exchange."

"Stop, stop," the woman pleaded. "You will kill me."

"But you know it all, madame. You were thinking about it to-night,
were you not?"

"I was, I was," and the woman buried her face in her hands.

Presently she lifted her head.

"Where is the boy?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. "Is he alive?"

"And so you are interested in him, madame?"

"Interested? Why, he is with me night and day. Though he must be a
young man now, yet I always see him as the little babe I held to my
breast. If you know where he is, tell me. I must see him somehow,
though he must never know who I am."

"What about the girl, your daughter?" the man questioned. "She must be
a comfort to you now, and well takes the place of--of your son."

"Nothing can ever take his place," the woman vehemently declared. I
thought so once, fool that I was. But I know better now when it is too
late. Where is he? For God's sake, tell me!"

"And you have had no word from him?" the man asked.

"Nothing. I do not even know the woman's name who took him. I thought
I would never want to know."

"Then, madame, it is better for you to remain in ignorance. It would
do you no good now to learn anything about him. I, at any rate, shall
not enlighten you."

"You won't?"

"No, not now."

"Then why have you come here to-night to inflict this torture upon me?
What good can it do to increase the agony of my tormented soul? Surely
I have endured enough already."

"I come, madame, merely as a stand-between. Business with me has been
dull of late, as I have just told you. Therefore, when one door closes
another opens. I am not a man to let a good opportunity of earning a
few honest dollars slip. I know your story, and, accordingly, am here
to receive payment."

"Payment! For what?" the woman asked in amazement.

"For silence. I suppose you don't want this matter known?"

"Good heavens, no! What would my husband and daughter think? Why, I
could never face the world again."

"Very well, madame. I am pleased to know that you realise the
situation," and the man smiled blandly upon his victim. He was
succeeding much better than he had expected. "I shall see that this
matter is kept a profound secret."

"Oh, will you?" and the woman looked her relief.

"Indeed I will, providing you make it worth while. I am always open
for business."

The woman looked keenly at the man.

"Do I understand that you want to be paid for keeping silent?" she at
length found voice to ask.

"Certainly. That's what I'm here for. Business is business, remember,
and if I cannot make a living at my regular profession, I must turn to
the next best thing that offers."

"But this is a hold-up. Are you not afraid to do such a thing?"

"Afraid! Of what?"

The sudden flush that mantled the woman's face plainly showed that she
understood. The man noted it, and smiled.

"You realise the situation, madame, I see. That is very fortunate. I
have nothing to fear, as you would do almost anything rather than let
your secret be known."

"But suppose I do not accede to your demand, what then?"

"That would remain for you to find out, madame. Are you willing to run
the risk?"

"Heavens, no! It must not be. What is your price? Tell me quick, and
let us get through with this painful interview."

"Willingly, madame. I am as anxious to get through as you are. My
price is very moderate, considering the favor I am bestowing upon you.
I want five hundred dollars."

"Five hundred dollars!" The woman gasped as she stared at her visitor.
"Why, you are a scoundrel, and nothing less."

Grimsby smiled, and rubbed his hands. He felt sure of his quarry, and
it mattered little to him what he was called. It was all in the way of
business, so he told himself. Then he picked up his hat from the floor
where he had deposited it, and made as though he was about to leave.

"Very well, then," he casually remarked. "If you think it is too much
I am sorry. Next week, perhaps, you will consider it very cheap, and
would be willing to give far more. But it may be too late then.
However, if you are unwilling to meet my moderate demand, it is no use
for me to remain longer."

He started to leave the fire-place, but the woman detained him.

"Don't go just yet," she ordered. "I realise that I must give you
something. But isn't your price exorbitant?"

"It might be for some, but not for you, Mrs. Randall. I understand
that you are one of the largest tax-payers in this city, and in your
own name at that. Why, I am astonished at myself for my moderation in
asking for so little from such a rich woman. I might have made it a
thousand at least."

For a few minutes the woman remained in deep thought. Grimsby never
took his eyes from her face. He was quite elated with himself, for he
felt sure of success.

At length the woman gave a weary sigh, rose slowly from her chair, and
crossing the room, sat down before a handsome writing-table. When she
at last came back to the fire-place she was holding a cheque in her
hand. Eagerly the man reached out to receive it. But the woman waved
him back.

"Just a minute," she told him. "Before I give you this I want you to
promise upon your word of honour that you will never ask me for any
more money."

"I promise, madame," Grimsby replied, bowing, and placing his right
hand upon his heart in a dramatic manner. "I shall make myself as
scarce as I always do when my creditors are after me. What more can I
say?"

"And you will never breathe a word of this to anyone?"

"Trust me to keep the secret, madame, I shall not even tell my wife."

The woman was about to say something more, but a startled look came
into her eyes, as she turned apprehensively toward the door. Nervously
she thrust the cheque into the man's hand.

"Here, take this," she ordered, "and leave the house at once. Somebody
is coming."

Without a word Grimsby seized his hat, sped across the room, opened the
door and disappeared. Trembling violently, the woman sank down in the
chair and buried her face in her hands, a veritable picture of abject
misery and despair.

CHAPTER II

REBELLION

The man had been gone but a few minutes when the door was again opened
and a girl entered. She was a vision fair to behold as she paused for
an instant while her eyes rested upon the woman crouched before the
fire. She evidently had just come in out of the night, for she wore
her out-of-door cloak, and her hair was somewhat tossed by the violence
of the wind. The rich colour of her cheeks betokened the healthy
exercise of one who had walked some distance. An expression of anxiety
came into her dark-brown eyes as she crossed the room, and bent over
the woman in the chair.

"Mother, mother, what is the matter?" she demanded. "Are you ill?"

"Oh, it's you, Jess, is it?" the woman languidly asked as she lifted
her head. "I thought it was Maggie. I was not expecting you so soon.
What brought you home so early?"

"It must have been my guiding angel," the girl smilingly replied. "So
you were lonely without me? Was that the trouble?"

"Yes, I suppose that had something to do with it. But I am not feeling
well to-night. This room seems very oppressive."

"You are too warm," and the girl glanced down at the fire. Her eyes at
once rested upon the stub of the cigarette lying upon the grate where
Grimsby had thrown it. She also smelled the smoke of tobacco and
instantly surmised that something out of the ordinary had happened to
agitate her usually self-possessed mother.

"Somebody has been here annoying you," she cried, turning impulsively
to the woman. "Was it Tom asking for more money?"

Again the woman bowed her head, and made no immediate answer. Her
thoughts were active, and she was glad of any excuse.

"How did you know he was here?" she at length asked, without looking up.

"I met a man hurrying from the door as I came in. It was too dark to
see who he was, and he did not seem to notice me at all. Tom knows my
opinion of him, and so he is not anxious to meet me. I did not think
of Tom, though, until I found you so upset. And he was smoking too,
for there is the stub of his cigarette. Why can't he leave you alone?"

"He never will, Jess. He is just like Will and Dick. They are always
bothering me about money, as if I haven't been giving to them for
years. They are just like helpless children."

"Worse, mother. They are three useless men. It is well that I am a
girl, for I might be tempted to follow their miserable example. Are
you not glad that you have only three sons instead of four?"

Receiving no reply, the girl took off her hat, laid aside her wraps,
and rang for the maid. Then she drew up a chair and sat down by her
mother's side.

"My, this fire is pleasant," she remarked, as she leaned back and gazed
into the glowing coals. "I am glad after all that I came home."

"Why didn't Mr. Donaster come in, Jess? I have not seen him for some
time."

"Neither have I, mother." The girl's face flushed, and there was a
challenge in her voice.

"You haven't! Why, I thought you were with him to-night."

"Indeed I was not. You know as well as I do that I wish to have
nothing to do with that man. I have told you so over and over again."

This sudden outburst aroused the woman from her crouching position.
She sat upright, and the expression in her eyes told how deeply she was
offended.

"Now, look here, Jess," she began, "I want no more of this nonsense. I
have made up my mind that you are to marry Mr. Donaster, and marry him
you shall."

"Would you force me to marry such a man as that?" the girl asked.

"And why not?"

"Because I detest him, and hate the very sight of him."

"But he is of a fine family, and his father, Lord Donaster, is
immensely rich. Burton is his only son, and he will inherit the
estate, so you will be Lady Donaster. It is very seldom a girl meets
with such an opportunity in this province."

The girl gave her head a slight toss, and her face flushed more than
ever.

"I can hardly believe it possible that you are willing to barter your
only daughter for such baubles," she indignantly replied. "It is
unnatural."

The presence of the maid with tea and toast interrupted the
conversation for a few minutes. Jess poured the tea for her mother,
but took none herself.

"Are you not going to have any tea?" her mother asked.

"No, I do not care for any now, as I had some at Mrs. Merton's."

"So that's where you were, eh? Why didn't you go to the play?"

"I didn't want to. I preferred to spend a quiet hour or two with Mrs.
Merton. She is a woman who does things of some importance instead of
spending her time upon a giddy butterfly-life. She is a regular tonic,
and always inspires me to be up and doing."

"You are silly, Jess." Her mother was visibly annoyed. "Why should
you talk about being up and doing? Haven't you everything that you
desire, with the prospect of a brilliant career before you?"

"What career?"

"As Lady Donaster, of course. To what else should I refer?"

"And you call that a career, mother? Slavery is the right word to use.
I wish to be of some benefit to the world and not to drift through life
like a wretched puppet."

"If this is what you have learned from Mrs. Merton you must not go
there any more. I have always known that she held peculiar views, but
I had no idea that she would try to unsettle the minds of young girls."

"But I am not a young girl, remember, mother. I am nearly twenty now,
and should be able to think somewhat for myself. Mrs. Merton's views
were mine even before I met her. For several years I have been
dissatisfied with a life that held out little or no promise of anything
definite. I want to make my own way in the world."

"But you have not been trained for that, so what can you expect to do?"

"I know it only too well, mother," was the bitter reply. "You brought
me up to shine in society and nothing else. But I have youth on my
side, with an abundance of health, and strength, so I am not afraid."

"This is all nonsense, Jess. You are talking like an irresponsible
child. You know not what it means to earn your own living. And think
what a disgrace it would be to have our only daughter working as a
common girl. Imagine Jess Randall as a clerk in a drygoods store or in
an office. The idea is preposterous! You must give it up at once."

"I can't see anything disgraceful about it, mother. I am sure it is
far better to earn one's own living than to be always depending upon
others. But I shall not disgrace you, so you need not worry about
that."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I have several things in view, and I know that daddy will provide me
with money to carry them out."

"He will do nothing of the sort. His mind is as fully made up as mine
that you are to marry Mr. Donaster. Don't you think that we are more
capable of judging for your good than you?"

"I have very serious doubts about that. I know you will consider me
ungrateful for saying so, but you ask me, and so I am forced to tell
the truth."

"Well, I declare!" and Mrs. Randall looked her astonishment. "What has
come over you, Jess? I never knew you to talk like this before. You
seem to have lost all confidence in your parents' judgment."

"Not all, mother. But I know how you interfered with the boys'
welfare, and look how they have turned out. There was a time when they
wished to go to work and win their own way in the world. But you would
not let them, and spoiled their lives by giving them too much money to
spend, and telling them that it was not dignified to work. And look
what they are now; helpless to do anything for themselves, and a burden
to you. Daddy agreed with everything you said, and see what has
happened. You made a sad mistake with them, and I am determined that
it shall not be so with me."

The girl was trembling violently as she finished, and she had risen to
her feet. The colour had fled from her face, and her hands were firmly
clasped before her. Her mother also rose, and confronted her daughter.

"You are a rebellious and an ungrateful girl," she charged. "To think
of your saying such things after all we have done for you. What do you
mean?"

"Just what I have said, as you will find out. It is about time for me
to assert myself when you are determined to shackle me to a creature I
detest."

"Mr. Donaster is a gentleman, and the son of a gentleman, so you must
not refer to him in such an offensive manner. I absolutely forbid it."

"He may be a gentleman according to the standard of some, but not
according to mine. He is nothing but an unbearable cad, and with no
more character than a jelly-fish. And to think of my having to put up
with a thing like that for the rest of my life. Why, I would rather be
dead."

"It would be almost a relief to me if you were," and Mrs. Randall gave
a deep sigh of despair. "A daughter as wilful as you will only bring
disgrace upon her parents."

"I am surprised at your saying such a thing," the girl replied. "One
would almost imagine you are not my mother at all, you are so
heartless. Would a real mother be willing to sacrifice her only
daughter?"

Mrs. Randall gave a sudden start, and looked keenly into the eyes of
the girl standing so defiantly before her. "Does she suspect
anything?" she asked herself. Then she gave a nervous laugh, and
resumed her seat.

"Leave me alone now," she ordered. "I see it is no use talking to you
any more to-night, you are so unreasonable and headstrong. Your father
will have to take you in hand. He will soon knock this nonsense out of
your head. He is determined that you shall marry Mr. Donaster, and you
might as well make up your mind to that first as last."

"Mother, I shall go now. But let me tell you, as I shall tell daddy,
that nothing on earth can make me marry the man I do not love."

"Tut, tut. Love has nothing to do with marriages these days," Mrs.
Randall impatiently replied. "There is no such a thing as love in
marriage, it is merely a matter of convenience."

"If I believed that, I should never marry, mother."

"And don't you?"

"Indeed I do not."

"What do you know about love?"

"I know, perhaps, more than you think." The girl's face was now deeply
flushed, and this her mother noted.

"Jess, what is the meaning of this? Is there someone else in whom you
are interested besides Mr. Donaster? Tell me. I must know the truth
at once. It is no use trying to conceal it from me."

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