Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE PROGRESS ~ Undoubtedly the household had at least ‘one friend and sympathizer in the village. If we could only have discovered the iden- tity of that person Jack might have sent some message to Ruth. But, as it turned out, it was Ruth who first sent a message to her friend and admirer, Tinker Bunyan. It fell a day less than a week after our repulse at the kitchen door. Dismounting from my horse after a hard ride on a false scent, I observed a figure which was some- how familiar to me, standing in a kind of uncertain, hesitating attitude at the edge of the camp. At a second glance I recog- nized Master Lapham, the tinsmith. He was looking hither and thither, di- vided as to which course he should take, apparently. In his hands he nervously twisted a folded piece of paper. His eyes fell on me presently and, to my delight, he failed to recognize Bunyan’s apprentice in the trooper in cuirass and morion and grimed with the sweat and dust of the morning’s hard ride. To me, as a bird to the fowler’s net, he came, all unsuspecting of danger. ‘“‘ Good sir,” said he timorously, ‘ will ye direct me whither I may find Trooper Bun- yan who, outside of his soldiering, is a tinker by trade?” ‘“‘ Meaning,” said I, ‘“ that he is soldering when not soldiering?”’ At this play upon words Master Lap- ham’s sense of humor overcame him com- pletely. He fairly doubled up. Thinking, perhaps, that it was unseemly to laugh directly in my face, he turned his back upon me and again bent himself double with mirth. The temptation was too great for frail flesh. I let him have the whole weight and force of the “crystal chafer” within my right jackboot. He collapsed with a howl of surprise, pain and indignation. Presently, sitting on the ground, he recognized me. I will say for the man’s sense of fairness that he began laughing again and laughed until the tears came. ‘And I get up,” said he at last, “ wilt consider us quits, Master Prentice?” “ Aye—quits!” said I. ‘“ The crystal-chafer I received hath been returned. But what would ye with Master Bunyan?’”’ OF J. BUNYAN. 219 “Tf thy name is Brooke, Master Pren- tice—”’ ‘“ Aye—Hallam Brooke, smith.” “Then ’tis well met we be,” said he, scrambling to his feet and handing me the bit of folded twisted paper. ‘“ She said, and I found not Master Bunyan, his friend, Master Brooke, could be trusted. I like not myself to enter there among these men of blood,” he added, rubbing the portion of. his body where my boot had smitten him. My heart beat with expectation. She had said that I could be trusted if Bunyan was not to be found. True, I would rather it had been that Bunyan could be trusted if I—however, the paper, upon examina- tion, was addressed to Master J. Bunyan. Thanking the tinsmith, I hurried in search of Hobgoblin, whom I found in our quarters divesting himself of his cuirass. He seized the paper eagerly and studied the inscription. ‘“°Tis her own hand!” he said jubilantly. ‘‘ Whose?” I whispered. “The angel’s!”” was all the satisfaction I got, save that I was relieved to think it must be Ruth who had placed my trustwor- thiness second to Bunyan’s. And Ruth it was who had sent a message. It was written in a fair hand, and John had no difficulty in reading, for he and the maid had learned together at Bedford gram- mar school which, as you must know, was founded by a Lord Mayor of London in the time of Queen Mary. In his frank way —for Bunyan held no secrets from the world—he read out the -message to me without even glancing first over its nature: DEAR JACK: I am much troubled these days, and I feare me somme greate mysery must fall uponne thys house. I have neede of thy helpe lest further yll befalle my deare mystresse. Wilt thou, thenne, come to the summer-house which is in the garden of the manor, and watche there for me and my comyng? The houre I canne not sette, but I will come of a suretie. Keepe thys writyng a secret and telle no manne of thy comyng to the garden atte my askyng. RuTH PRYNNE. The last paragraph of this message was out before Bunyan realized that already he had betrayed the maid’s confidence. Master Tin- MICLOOOK C@