Tom Tufton's Travels by Evelyn Everett-Green (freda ebook reader .TXT) 📕

of the victim of the mare's anger, but he was in time to strike up the pistol which another of the soldiers had pointed at her, in the trembling hope of saving his comrade.

"If you fire you will drive her to madness, and she will kill every man of you," said Lord Claud coolly. "She has a devil in her, and is bullet proof; you had better leave meddling with both the beasts."

The men crossed themselves in pious horror, and were glad enough to back out of the place, carrying their dead and maimed companions with them. Tom and Lord Claud did not linger longer than the time needful for saddling the horses. They knew that the people of the inn must be in collusion with the soldiers, and the sooner they quitted the place the better.

They had long since left behind them the level plains, and were now in a country that became increasingly mountainous and difficult. After the long, flat plains of Holland, Tom had thought the Baden territory sufficiently mountainous; but now he was to make acquaintance with the snow-topped peaks and ranges of Switzerland, and his eyes dilated with awe and wonder when first he beheld the dazzling white peaks standing out clear against a sunny sky.

He was not a youth of much imagination or poetry, but he did feel a strange thrilling of the pulses as he looked upon this wonderful sight.

But Lord Claud's face was cool and impassive as usual, and his remark was:

"Very fine to look at, good Tom, but ugly customers to tackle. A snowstorm up amongst those mountain peaks may well be the death of either or both of us, and the snow will be our winding sheet."

"Have we to cross those snows, my lord? to scale those lofty peaks?"

"We shall have plenty of snow, Tom, without scaling the peaks. At this season the passes will be deep in snow. We shall have to trust to a guide to take us safely over; and the very guide may be a spy and a traitor himself."

"But, my lord, I thought you knew the way? I thought you had crossed the pass once?"

"So I have, Tom; but these snow fields are treacherous places, and the track shifts and changes with every winter's snow. You will see, when you get amongst them, what a savage scene they present. In summer it is none so bad; but we are yet in the grip of winter, and though the foothold is harder and better on the ice slopes, the cold is keen and cruel, and the snowfalls frequent and dangerous."

"And the horses, my lord?"

"Those we must needs leave behind us for a while, Tom. I do not say that we could not get them over, for, methinks, Hannibal must needs have brought his horsemen across in days of yore, and where any other horse has been, there could Lucifer and Nell Gwynne travel. But I fear the poor beasts would suffer sorely; and I misdoubt me if they would not be more care than use to us. They have done their work gallantly, so far; and they will take us back as gallantly, I doubt not, when our task is done. Meantime, I know a pleasant and sheltered valley, where dwell some honest folk with whom I tarried in bygone days, to heal me of a fever I had caught in the hot Italian plains. There we will leave them; and there, Tom, if we lose sight of each other, will we meet when our appointed tasks be done.

"There are two places where we may find a safe asylum in this wild land. One is the valley to which we are now bending our steps, which nestles not far from the foot of the great mountain men call the St. Bernard; the other is at the hospice upon the Great St. Bernard itself, where is a colony of devout and kindly monks, who give their succour to travellers of every nationality and creed, and where a safe shelter may always be found. Moreover, the monks have a certain intercourse with the inhabitants of the valleys round and about, and we could thus have news of each other were one of us there and the other here below.

"But we will not part company save for urgent need; yet 'tis well always to be prepared."

Travelling was becoming increasingly difficult and trying as they mounted into higher regions, and the roads became mere bridle paths, often encumbered with snow drifts, and difficult to traverse.

Fortunately it was fine overhead, and the season was a favourable one. The sun had already attained some height in the sky, and could shine with power at midday, for February was well advanced by this time. But the cold at nights was intense, and the state of the roads often made travelling difficult for the horses. The mountain torrents were swelled to brawling rivers, and the ordinary bridges broken down, so that the travellers had much ado to get across them.

It seemed a savage country to Tom, although the excitement and peril made travelling a delight. Moreover, the people were kind and friendly, although they spoke such a barbarous patois that it was difficult to hold communication with them.

At last they reached the sheltered little valley of which Tom had heard, and here they found friends of a kind; for at the little inn Lord Claud was remembered and hailed with joy. He had plainly won the affections of the simple folks whilst lying there sick, and they were ready and willing to give the travellers of their best, and furnish them with guides for the passage of the mountain range, which seemed now to tower above their heads into the clouds.

Travellers and horses were alike pretty well worn out by this time, and the thought of spending a few days in this hospitable valley was grateful even to Tom's stalwart frame. As for the horses, they testified their satisfaction in many ways. They even made friends with the goatherd who was told off to attend to them, and attempted none of their tricks upon him; which was a source of considerable satisfaction to Tom, who had been afraid the people might decline to be left alone with such charges.

After seeing them safely stabled, bedded, and fed, Tom was glad enough of a good meal himself; after which he retired to bed, and slept for hard upon thirty-six hours, as he found to his amaze upon awakening. And, indeed, it was small wonder that he did so; for he had not been used to such strenuous exercise so constantly continued, nor to the clear, bracing air of the mountains.

He woke as hungry as a hunter; and it was only after he had satisfied the cravings of nature that he had time to observe the thoughtful shadow which had gathered upon the face of his comrade.

"Is aught amiss?" he asked presently, leaning his elbows on the table, and heaving a sigh of satisfaction.

"Well, Tom, that is as you like to think it; but what I feared might be the case has come to pass. We shall not reach the plains of Italy without being sore beset by danger."

Tom's eyes flashed keenly under their dark brows.

"What have you learned, my lord?"

"That the pass is being closely watched, Tom, by spies, or whatever you choose to call them, from the French army. The Duke of Savoy is, as I have told you before, completely hemmed in by the armies of the great Vendome, one of the ablest generals France possesses. His capital is in danger, and it is of the first importance that he should receive the despatches and messages with which I am charged by Marlborough, and which will give him heart and courage to prolong the contest till the promised help, which is now on its way, shall reach him. Doubtless it is equally the policy of the enemy to keep him in ignorance of what they themselves now know or fear, so that he may surrender to the French arms before he hears what is being done for his succour.

"That, in brief, is the situation we have to grapple with. I suspect that Sir James is one of those who are watching for messengers from England, and that we shall have to measure our wits against his. Tom, I must get through the pass. I must carry my despatches into Turin. I am not one whit afraid of the French lines. I can disguise myself, and pass through them if needs be without a qualm of fear. I can speak French against any Frenchman living, for I was cradled in that land. But the first problem we have to face is this--how can we cross the pass unseen? How can we put the spies on a false scent?"

Tom drew his brows together and scratched his head in the effort to think matters out.

"Do they know that strangers are here in this valley? Are we watched?"

"I suspect so," answered Lord Claud. "It is not easy to be certain, because the people here are friendly to us, and distrust the French, who have given them small cause to love them. But I am convinced that so astute a man as Sir James Montacute would cause a close watch to be kept upon this valley. Most likely our presence here is known, and we are being watched for."

"And is there no other way of crossing the mountains into Italy?"

"Yes, there is one other route; for historians disagree as to the one taken by Hannibal, albeit most believe that it was this of the Little St. Bernard. There is another way, which doubtless could be found; but if we were to strike aside after it, the spies would be upon our heels at once."

"I was thinking," said Tom slowly, "that we might perchance part company, one take one route and the other the other, and so arrange matters that the spies should follow hot-foot upon the scent of the wrong man."

A gleam came into Lord Claud's eyes. He spoke very quietly.

"In truth, Tom, some such thought has come into mine own head; but it is not easy to make up one's mind to act upon it, for I fear it means certain death to the wrong man who must be followed."

Tom's face set itself in grim lines. There was a vein of reckless bravery and hardihood about him which imparted to the situation a species of stern delight, and sent the blood tingling once more through his veins.

"I will take the risk of that," he said; "I shall take some killing, I think. And killing is a game that more than one can play at! If I have to sell my life, I will make it cost the French King dear."

"Right, Tom; but that will not give back a gallant servant to Her Majesty of England!"

"I am not dead yet," answered Tom, with a grim laugh. "Tell me the plan which you have worked out in your head, my lord; for your wits are seven-fold keener than mine."

Then Lord Claud unfolded the plan which had been working in his busy brain during the day that Tom had been sleeping, after he had heard news which made him sure that his mission was suspected, and that he would be stopped and robbed if possible.

Higher up the mountain side, just where the snow line lay, above which there was everlasting ice and snow, was a little rough hostel, where travellers rested and slept before they tried the pass itself. An old half-witted man and his goitred wife kept the place, and provided rough food and bedding for travellers, though interesting themselves in no wise with their concerns. In that rude place several men were now stopping, and had been stopping for some days.

That fact in itself was almost sufficient for Lord Claud; but somebody had found a scrap of torn paper with some French words upon it, and this had made assurance doubly sure. Moreover, Lord Claud believed it to be the writing of the man he had duelled with beneath Barns Elms.

To this inn (if such it could be called) he and Tom must journey, with a peasant for a guide to take them across the pass. Upon reaching the place, his idea now was that he should appear sorely smitten by the cold, as some travellers were; so ill and unfit for further journeying, that he should have perforce to send Tom on alone with the guide, whilst he returned to the valley. All this they should discuss in their room at night, assured that they would be overlooked and overheard; and when quite certain that eyes were watching them, Lord Claud was to unrip his doublet and take thence a packet of papers, sealed with the signet of the Duke of Marlborough, and sew this same packet firmly into Tom's coat.

In reality this tempting-looking packet with the Duke's seal contained nothing