CHAPTER III

THE SIEGE OF THE COTTAGE

"MY children, I have bad news for you from Klingengolf; your father will not be home for some time. He has had a fall, and has broken his right arm badly, so that now he is in the hospital, and must stay there till the bone is set. These sad tidings came by a man who was passing through Carfoos on business, and your father sent me the message by him, begging me also to come at once and tell you, my little ones."

Tonie and Blonda were eating their supper on the third evening after Grubert's departure when Pastor Oshart came in with his bad news, which made the children very down-hearted, for they had been looking forward with gladness to Grubert's return that night, and they grieved too over the suffering which they knew such an accident must cause him.

When the good pastor had answered all the questions that were put to him, so far as it was in his power to do so, Tonie said,—

"Well then, since we are likely to be alone for some time longer, and Master Rolf Bresser is not yet ready to claim his property, were it not wise, dear pastor, for you to take it back to your house? Would it not be safer there than here?"

"Nay, my boy, nay," replied the old man. "One or other of those fellows may well be lurking about my house still. Rolf Bresser is known to have been there more than once, so the money would be supposed to be there too. No, Tonie, since so far there seems no sign of the hiding-place of the bag having been discovered, better let it rest where it is. Where have you put it, my children?"

"Upstairs, under Blonda's bed," replied Tonie.

"Good, then leave it there. And now goodbye. I will try and run over to see you to-morrow, so that, in writing to the father at Klingengolf, I may give him the latest news of his dear ones. Forget not, Tonie, to use all care and diligence in shutting up the house; and once shut, see that thou open the door to none. In this lonely place, even when we look not for danger, it is well to take all possible precautions."

The old pastor trudged off homewards; he would gladly have remained and spent the night with the children at the woodcutter's cottage, for he did not like their being alone, but he knew that his old housekeeper at home would almost no die of fear if he did not return. And he felt now as if the cottage—even though the money was there—was safer from intruders than his own house, since he fondly believed that no one had a suspicion whither the bag had been conveyed.

As for Tonie and Blonda Reuss, they were tired and sleepy, for they had been out nearly all day, so they went to bed early. And by the time the night fairly closed in, they were both sound asleep—Tonie in his slip of a room screened off from the kitchen, and Blonda in her little bed-chamber upstairs.

Tonie had been asleep for about three hours or so when he was roused by a loud knock at the front door of the cottage, the door that faced the forest, from which the house was separated only by the road. Startled, breathless, he sat up in bed, hardly knowing as yet whether he was awake or dreaming. Then came the knock again, and he sprang out of bed, hurried on some clothes, and by a sort of natural instinct was running to open the door, when he remembered the pastor's words, "When the door is once shut, open to none."

"But what if some one should be ill or in trouble, or have lost his way?" said Tonie to himself. "Surely in such case it were cruelty not to open!"

And so thinking, he paused at the door, and called through it, "Who knocks? Who is there?"

"Open to us; we would speak with thee," said a gruff voice, which Tonie did not recognise.

"That may not be," replied the boy. "My father is from home, and we are only children here; go your way, I cannot open to you."

"Alas!" said another voice, shrill and sharp, which Tonie thought sounded like that of Hervitz Valden. "My companion here hath cut himself grievously with an axe, and is faint with loss of blood. He would fain lie down for an hour or two. Let us in, and suffer him to rest on a bed for a while, and after that we will go on our way."

Just at that moment, Blonda came down, roused by the noise, and stood at her brother's elbow, wrapped in an old dark cloak.

"A man wounded with an axe; shall I let him and the other in? How thinkest thou, Blonda?" said Tonie.

"No, brother, we can but obey the commands given to us by those who are wiser than we," replied the little girl. "If harm should come of our opening, we should be blamed, and rightly. If what the man says is true, that his fellow is wounded, and would fain lie down, that what doth hinder him from lying on the moss under the trees? It is warm weather, and the ground is not damp."

"Ay, Blonda, thou art right," said Tonie.

Then he called through the door once more—"Pass on, travellers; we cannot open to you."

"Now listen, thou young imp," said another voice, which Tonie knew could belong to none other than Dorlat Valden. "We have lately been robbed of a bag of coin, and we would get back our own. We have some reason to think that the money has found its way to this cottage. Let us in quietly, and we will take our own and depart. Refuse to admit us, and thou must take the consequences. We know that thy father is disabled and in the hospital at Klingengolf. There is not a soul within miles of this place, and therefore think not that you children will have help. And, moreover, we have an old grudge against thy father, Tonie, seeing that he is a friend of that meddling old pastor, Bertholm Oshart, and if thou do not our bidding, we are ready for revenge. But I waste time in parleying with thee. Once more, wilt thou open to us?"

"We have orders to open to none to-night, and we cannot choose but obey," replied Tonie firmly.

"It is so," said Blonda; "we are but children, and we cannot choose but obey."

There was the sound of a muttered oath from Dorlat, and an impatient exclamation from Hervitz. Then the latter said,—

"By fair means or foul, ye obstinate brats, we purpose to enter; so understand this once for all. If you let us in without hindrance, no harm shall come to either of you, or to your father's goods; but if we have to break in and help ourselves, then beware, for in truth we will not spare you."

To this Tonie was about to reply, but Blonda whispered, "Answer him not; let us rather think what we shall do if the men find means to enter. The money must be saved at all costs."

"Ay, but how? There is not a place here in which we could hide it where the men will not search if once they get in. No; we must get it away somehow."

"Could we not run to Carfoos with it?" suggested Blonda anxiously.

"Too far," rejoined Tonie; "besides, we might be overtaken and robbed. Yes; that cannot be thought of, but, perhaps—"

Just then came a thundering knock with an axe upon the door. The wood cracked; the iron of the lock rang again.

The children stood staring at each other, seeming rooted to the floor in their terror.

"The lock is broken," whispered Tonie. "If now the bolt hold not, they will be in directly."

"I will run up and fetch the bag," said Blonda, and she flew upstairs and was back again, with the bag in her hand, in a moment.

Meanwhile another heavy blow had fallen, which would have split the door in two had not the long bolt held it together.

"Oh, if but our dear father were here; he would tell us what to do!" sobbed Tonie, wringing his hands in an agony of fear.

"The Heavenly Father is near us, Tonie; He heareth ever. See, the bolt holds yet, and we will cry to God to help us, so that we may not betray our trust."

Amid the noise of the rude, angry voices and the heavy blows of the axe, Blonda's clear voice sounded strangely calm and sweet.

"Great Father, Thou knowest that we are in fear, and are sore beset this night. Our other father is away, and the evil men would steal this treasure, which is not ours, but meant only for Thy poor and hungry ones. We cry to Thee for help. Show us what to do; send Thine angel to deliver us; take care of us, and likewise of this bag, for Christ's sake, Amen."

As the children rose from their knees, a great crash of glass was heard. It seemed to come from Blonda's room upstairs.

"What is that?" cried Tonie. "Surely the men have not got in through thy window?"

But the words were scarcely spoken when flying down the steep, narrow staircase came the lithe form of Freskel Valden.

"Question me not," he muttered hoarsely. "We have but a moment. Hast thou got the money, Blonda? It is well; then follow me. If but we can win forth out of these four walls, Nature shall keep the treasure for us."

So saying, Freskel led the way to the back door, and, stooping, listened intently with his ear to the key-hole.

"Good," said he, "no one is there; come, let us go."

Tonie turned the key softly in the lock, removed the wooden bar that strengthened the defences of the door, and in an instant Freskel glided out, followed by the children. As Tonie drew the back door to behind him, a great crash and shout in the house announced that the front door had at last given way.

"Quick! In among the trees with you, or we may be seen from the windows!" said Freskel, in low, hissing tones. "Dorlat has eyes like a cat, and finding you not, he may come out to look for you in the open."

The children darted into the deep shadows of the pines, and in a minute or two had reached the margin of the lake, and crouched down behind a boulder.

"Shall we hide the bag under one of these stones, Freskel?" whispered Tonie.

"Nay, nay, that were a fool's corner indeed!" replied Freskel. "Rather let it make a voyage across the lake to the island, and there shall the ghosts guard it safely for us till the pastor ask for it again."

"Then, if thou wilt convey it thither, Freskel," said Blonda, "take the raft; Tonie can paddle it for thee."

"Nay, little one, see how the moon shines! The harvest moon too; and if she turned her big yellow face on yon raft, she would betray us. Nay, I go indeed—but it must be as the fish goes. Give me the bag, Blonda; see, I will sling it by this kerchief to my neck! So—now it is safe, and the sooner I go the better. Hide, both of you, but watch too, lest the enemy come upon you unawares even here. Kiss me for luck, little Blonda, for I am going—nay—I am gone!"

And, as the lad spoke, he joined his hands above his head, and dived down into the still, black water, and when the children next caught a glimpse of his dark head, he was well on his way towards the rocky, bush-grown shore of the Isle of Ghosts.

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