The Kings Arrow | Page 5

water below. At its outlet was a tidal grist
mill, back of which a strong dam had been built. Along this latter was a
foot path which he followed, and soon reached the opposite bank. From
here a well-constructed road, lined with trees, wound up the hill to the
Fort. Dane walked somewhat slower now, and his heart beat fast. He
was at the end of his long journey, and soon he would be in the
presence of the man of whom he had heard so much. He slipped his
hand beneath his buckskin jacket and felt, as he had done so often
during the last three days, a small package hidden in an inside pocket.
In a few minutes more it would be delivered into the hands of the
owner, and his responsibility would be ended.

When part way up the hill he came to a strong barricade, where he was
suddenly confronted and challenged by a sentry, who demanded where
he was going and what he wanted.
"I have a message for the commander of the Fort," Dane told him. "I
must see him at once."
"The Major is out at present," the soldier replied. "But let me have your
message and I shall give it to him as soon as he comes back."
"I have orders to give it to the Major himself and to no one else," the
courier explained. "It is very important."
"It certainly must be," and the soldier smiled. "But the Major is very
busy to-day, so may not have time to see you. He is down at the trading
post just now looking after the wants of those people who have come in
the ships. They have upset things in general, and are making matters
pretty lively around here, let me tell you that. The Major is almost at
his wits' end."
"Who are they?" Dane eagerly asked, "and where did they come from?"
"Why, don't you know?" the soldier asked in surprise.
"No, I have not the least idea. When I heard the Fort guns roar, I
thought maybe old Crabtree had come back again."
The soldier laughed and looked curiously at the young man.
"Say, where do you hail from, anyway, that you haven't heard about the
coming of the Loyalists? Why, we've been expecting them for some
time."
"I never heard of them," Dane confessed, "and have no idea who they
are."
"They are the ones who stood by King George during the
Revolutionary War, of course. When England gave up the fight, and
peace was decided upon, the Loyalists were in a bad way. Their

property was confiscated, and they themselves treated very badly. They
would not live under the new flag of their enemies, so they got out, and
here they are."
Dane glanced out toward the ships with the light of intense interest in
his eyes. What a story he would have to tell his comrades in the
wilderness. They all knew about the war, but no word had reached
them of the coming of the Loyalists.
"Didn't you want them to come here?" he asked turning to the sentry.
"Want them? Why, we had nothing to say about the matter."
"But didn't you fire upon them? I heard the roar of the guns when out in
the hills."
The soldier threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh. He was
enjoying this conversation, as it broke the monotony of his duty.
"We weren't firing upon them," he explained. "That was only a salute
of welcome."
"What are all those people going to do?" Dane asked. "How are they to
make a living?"
"Oh, I suppose many will settle here, while others will take up land and
farm. It will be some time, though, before everything is straightened
out. Just look at that crowd down there," and he motioned to the trading
post. "I guess we'll have our hands full keeping order. I don't envy the
Major his job."
"And there are others he must handle as well," Dane replied. "I must
see him at once. Which is the best road to take?"
"You better follow that one along the side of the hill," the soldier
advised, pointing to the right. "There is a short cut down over the bank
some distance ahead. You can't miss it. There is another along the
waterfront leading to the mill-pond. That's the best one to take coming

back."
Thanking the friendly sentry, Dane hurried away, and in about fifteen
minutes came near the trading post. He walked slower now, greatly
interested in everything he beheld, from the quaint store to the people
gathered ground the building.
For years this post at Portland Point had been the Mecca for the entire
country. The owners, Simonds and White, carried on an extensive trade