Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 December 1895 — modern Knight Errantry. [ARTICLE]

modern Knight Errantry.

She was bewitchingly pretty, and her name was Ethel Fontaine. Ted Eccles pronounced her a little fairy, far too good for this rude work-a-day world. And he longed to have her all to himself, her earthly dross notwithstanding. He saw no reason why his suit should not be successful If “that ass, Jack Bowles, who never seemed to see that he was not wanted, would only take himself out of the road, and not be such an unmitigated nuisance.” Jack Bowles, the gentleman referred to. also thought her a jolly nice girl. His thoughts ran on lines more prosaic than sentimental. He gave them vent in a frequently-muttered desire to punch the devoted head of Mr. Eccles for presuming to interfere between himself and the affections of Miss Fontaine. The conversation one evening was apropos of poetry in general and one of Mr. Ted Eccles’ effusions in particular. He had composed a pastoral idyl after the most approved classical models, with the reading of which he entertained the company. “You know, I think we are living in most degenerate days.” Ethel remarked to Maud Eccles, who was seated at her side; “men do nothing nowadays to justify the extravagant expressions they make of undying affections, and all that sort of bosh.” “Surely, Miss Ethel, you do not class us all as hypocrites?” pleaded Ted, with a slight accent on the word “all." as if he felt that the remark might not be without some justification in the case of his rival. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure." she responded arclily. “You’re all pretty much alike. When there’s any talking to be done, each strives to outdo ills neighbor; but there’s no great hurry to put all these fine speeches into practice*” “1 don’t quite understand what you mean,” interposed Jack Bowles, evidently much interested. “Well, I think my meaning plain enough. A poet, or, for the matter of that, any person in love, or who imagines himself to be in love, throws himself into a dramatic attitude and exclaims that he is ready to do anything, go anywhere, for the object of his devotion, and, if need be. sacrifice his life for her sake; while, as a matter of fact, he wouldn't even go without his dinner for one day.” This fragment of conversation left a great impression on the minds of Ted Eccles and Jack Bowles. They each regretted that the days of knighthood were passed; that no joust or tournament could afford them the opportunity of covering themselves with gore and glory In honor of Miss Fontaine. Ted’s fervid imagination pictured himself, as the hero of a hundred combats, kneeling at her feet to receive the laurel crown of victory. Jack entertained the conviction no less that he would have vanquished whole armies in such a cause.

Ted dwelt long on the agreeable theme. And there came to him a happy inspiration, upon which he proceeded to act. “Bob,” said he to Mr. Fontaine’s coachman, a night or two later, “is that brown mare of yours restive?” “Quiet as a lamb,” was the response. “But still, she could kick if you vexed her?” “I dare say,” was Bob’s cautious rejoinder. “Well, look here, Bob,” said Ted, confidentially. “1 want you to do me a favor.” Here Bob's fingers closed over half-a-crowu. “1 want you to assist me to carry out a little scheme of mine. Miss Ethel will be going out for a drive to-morrow afternoon, and if you could manage”—a wink—“er—manage to seem like as if the horse was—er—running away, and I was on the spot to stop her, I’d give you half-a-sovereign. Bob.” Ted hurried over the latter part of his explanation somewhat nervously, and awaited the reply with apprehension. Bob looked mystified, as, indeed, he was. Ted explained again. “You see. Bob. I don’t want Miss Ethel to run any danger," he added, “but I’d like her to see me ready to risk my life for her. It wouldn’t take much to make believe the horse was running away, and you could shout and yell, and I'd be ready to rush forward and stop the blamed thing.” It took Bob some time to see the affair in all its bearings. At last, however. after much persuasion, he consented, for the sake of a sovereign, to vary out a runaway incident with as little danger as possible to Miss Fontaine, and as much glory as possible to Mr. Eccles. The next afteroon the latter was strolling, to all appearances accidentally, along a country lane, when he saw a carriage coming in his direction at a very unusual speed. The coachman on the box seemed to have taken temporary leave of his senses. He was gesticulating like a lunatic, and

yelling at the top of his voice for help. A young lady clung, white and terrified, to the carriage back. Ted braced himself together for a heroic effort. He jammed his hat firmly down on his brow. and. as the mare dashed up, breathless and foaming. spurred to unusual exertions by the erratic outcries of the son of Nimshl. he bounded forward, and, flinging his arms round the astonished animal's head, sjieedily brought her to a standstill. Then he rushed to the carriage door and assisted the agitated Miss Fontaine fl# alight. Bob had done his work so well that she sank trembling into his arms. A great longing came over him to stoop down and kiss her. But while he hesitated she recovered. Her color rapidly returned, and gently disengaging herself, she lifted a jKiir of grateful eyes upon him and exclaimed: "Oh, Ted! how good and brave you have been! What would have become of us if you had not stopped us?” "We should ha' lieen smashed to smithereens," said Bob. solemnly. A week later Miss Fontaine was directing her steps along the self-same pathway across the fields which she had so lately traveled in the company of Mr. Eccles. She was attended only by Tommy, a strapping lad of 15, who performed odd domestic jobs in the Fontaine household. Miss Fontaine had an old pensioner, a bedridden woman. whose cottage she had been in the habit of visiting periodically. On these occasions Tommy carried a basket containing jellies and other deli-cacies-for the invalid. The pathway was solitary, and in one part skirted the edge of a thicket. It was just at this point that Miss Fontaine found herself, to her dismay, suddenly confronted by six sturdy ruffians, armed with cudgels, who demanded charity in tones as plausible as their gestures were menacing. Tommy, not by any means a brave youth, dropped his basket and fled across the empty fields, shrieking for help. The thought of pursuit lent wings to his feet, and he tumbled headlong over the first stile into a dry ditch, where he lay breathless and too frightened to move.

Miss Fontaine was by nature timid, but, left alone in the face of imminent danger, she did not lose her presence of mind. As calmly as possible she handed her purse to the men and sought, not without much inward trepidation, to pursue her way. A dozen hands were instantly laid upon her. and— At this moment Mr. Jack Bowles came tearing along the path at his utmost speed. He dashed headlong into the group, upset one man with the impetus of his charge, drove his fists into the faces of the second and third, and then, thrusting Miss Fontaine aside, commenced a vigorous onslaught on the remaining three. A severe struggle lasted for several minutes, in which blows and muttered curses succeeded one another without intermission. Then, just as it seemed as if Jack would have to yield to .superior numbers, the whole body of ruffians suddenly took to flight, leaving him master of the field, with a torn coat and a generally disordered attire. The victor turned to Miss Fontaine, who had been anxiously awaiting the issue of the doubtful conflict. He took her tenderly by the arms, and, with eyes full of concern, inquired if she had been hurt. Poor Ethel was too overcome to make any reply. Her breath came and went in fitful sobs, and she was evidently on the verge of an hysterical attack. Jack drew her to his side and soothed her, as only a devoted lover could. Then, as she.grew calmer, she poured forth her thanks in such broken and grateful language that he felt himself a disgraceful brute for having caused her so much distress. Ted’s exploit was now put altogether in the shade, and he was highly wroth in consequence. Miss Ethel’s lady friends all agreed that the encounter with the six ruffians and their defeat single-handed was a far more heroic performance than the stopping of a runaway horse. Jack was set. up on the pedestal lately occupied by Ted. and Miss Ethel's favors veered round in the direction of her late deliverer.

But Ted was not going to let matters rest here. His fertile imagination speedily evolved another exploit to recover his lost glory. During the next few weeks Miss Ethel led a most exciting and precarious existence. She seemed to be under a perpetual sword of Damocles. Hardly a day passed but she was in some perilous situation. from which she was only rescued in the nick of time by the prowess of one or other of her lovers. A burglarious entry into her father's house was discovered and checked by Eccles. A midnight fire, whose origin was a mystery, gave Bowles the opportunity of mounting to her bedroom and carrying her off, amid clouds of smoke and shouts of applause. Eccles drugged her from under the feet of a cab horse, whose reckless driver was certainly not above the suspicion of having tracked her along the streets for several days. Bowles was just in time to prevent her from being gored by an infuriated bull while crossing the fields. And so, turn by turn, each rival constituted himself her guardian angel at some critical juncture. And each adventure became more alarming than the last. Miss Ethel’s latest escape was the general topic of conversation. People wondered at her extraordinary career. Insurance agents looked askance on her father's prudent efforts to take out a policy on her life. She herself began to find life a very uncertain quantity and far too exciting to be enjoyable. Matters came to a crisis at last. The competition could not possibly go on forever, and Ted Eccles determined to make one decisive stroke which should “settle the hash of that ass, Bowles,” once and for all. There was to be a picnic on the river in a few‘days. Ted's ready invention gave birth to the idea of a thrilling rescue of Ethel from a watery grave. He thought the matter carefully over, and laid down a scheme as feasible as possible. He then strolled down to see Jim, the boatman. Jim was the owner of some light river craft, and he had undertaken the duties of pilot and oarsman in the forthcoming excursion. Very cautiously Ted explained to him the object of his mission. Nevertheless, Jim was considerably astounded at the audacity of a proposal

to upset a whole boatload of people into the water. It took him several minutes to grasp the fact of Ted’s sanity. He shook bis head very determinedly. “Nay. nay. sir. thee’s not going to get me bung for murder.” Ted pleaded and persisted. He offered bribe after bribe on an increasing s ale. Jim was obdurate. Still Ted waxed mon* importunate. With the offer of a £lO note Jim wavered. It was a sum not lightly to be rejected. He reflected a minute or two and then remarked tentatively: "It’s only Miss Ethel as you wants to rescy ?” "Thar’s all. Jim." “Well, what about th’ others?” This was a ]s>ser. Ted had not troubled himself alwiut the fate of the remainder of the party. “Oh. they'll manage to scramble out some way or other.” he said, offhandedly. “Look here, sir." said Jim. thoughtfully; “seeing as it’s only Miss Ethel as you wants to rescy. it's no use upsetting the whole Itoatload. Besides, that ud be too big a job. Mow’d it be if Miss Ethel was persuaded to go tor a bit of a row after the others had got out; and then, seeing you wish it pertlckler, I might manage to tip her in, nice and quiet like, close agen the side, so there ud be no danger?” "The very thing!” exclaimed Ted, grasping Jim's horny hand in his enthusiasm. It was arranged then for the sum of £lO (£5 down and £5 on the competition of contract), that Jim was to offer to indulge Miss Fontaine’s well-known penchant for rowing, and by this means take her further up the river than the rest of the party: and then, having reached tin* selected spot, to sink or overturn the boat, so that Mr. Eccles, who would be at hand, might plunge in and obtain all the credit of her rescue. Ted took his leave. Scarcely an hour elapsed before Jack Bowles popped into Jim's workshop. He also had a communication to make to the astonished boatman. It was none other than the identical scheme of ids previous visitor. Jim stared at first. He wondered if everybody was going crazy. Then he decided to keep his own counsel. He listened attentively to Jack's exposition of the plot, raised various objections, and finally allowed himself to be persuaded into an arrangement with him on tile same terms as with Ted Eccles.

As Jack closed the door behind hit!’, Jim remarked sententiously: “Tlie work’s well paid as is twice paid. Well, I’ve no objection to twenty quid. As for them, they can fight it out who has her—it's none of my business." The day of the picnic was a glorious one. as all days should be. The river flowed clear and limpid, dreamily reflecting the panorama of foliage extending along its luniks. The party set out in the best of spirits for the day's enjoyment. Ted Eccles took his station behind a tree, close to the river’s brim. He was not aware that Jack Bowles had ensconsed himself behind a similar tree on the opposite bank. Neither was Jack conscious of the proximity of his rival At length the boat drew abreast of the chosen spot. Ted and Jack scarcely breathed as they saw Jim, unnoticed by Ethel, skilfully withdraw a plug from the bottom of the boat. There was a moment's intense silence. Jim had resumed his oars. Then the dreamy look suddenly vanished from Ethel’s face, and she started to her feet. “O, Jim! quick! the boat's sprung a leak. Jim leaped up. too, and, in doing so, caused the boat to lose its equilibrium. It overturned both its occupants into the water. Now was the moment. Both rivals plunged into the water witli one impulse. Both were excellent swimmers, and reached the overturned boat in a few vigorous strokes. Then, for the first time, they became aware of each other’s presence. Ted, with his arm round Ethel's waist, glared with astonishment and anger at Jack. The latter reciprocated witli interest. Ted felt that he was being defrauded out of his legitimate laurels. Jack felt that his pet scheme I was being frustrated by the malignity |of his foe. Angry blood surged through their veins.

Ted was for bearing the clinging Ethel to his side of the river: Jack had the intention no less of taking her to his side, in spite of Ted Eccles or any other mortal. He caught her by the arm. "Let go!" spluttered Ted. “She's mine. I got her first”’ "You be hanged!” ejaculated Jack, fired with indignation. “Let go, I tell you!"* screamed Ted. “I’ll smash your head for you,” was the response. “Let go! you scoundrel!” “Go to blazes, you idiot!” Ted raised his arm and struck Jack violently in the face. In doing so, lie lost his hold of Ethel, who, shrieking with fright, drifted away down the stream. Fortunately Jim was at hand. He overtok her before she had gone far and conveyed her safely to shore, more frightened than hurt. Meanwhile, the fight waxed furious. The blow maddened Jack; the looks of Ethel infuriated Ted. Closely interlocked, they floundered about in the water, now one uppermost, now the other, striking, parrying, splashing, blowing, plunging aud spluttering, like a couple of great fish in mortal combat. Ethel’s shrieks had attracted the attention of the picnic party, and the banks were soon lined with interested spectators. Jack and Ted. heedless of everything save each other’s existence, fought on like maniacs. In vain the crowd shouted to them; they neither heard nor cared. The duel must have continued until one or the other of them was hors de combat, had not Jim, in a moment of inspiration, procured a boathook from an adjoining cottage, with which he hooked the combatant who first floundered within reach. This happened to be Ted, and he was fished out of the water by main force, amid the cheers and laughter of the onlookers. Jack had no alternative but to follow sheepishly. The curtain must now in charity be drawn upon the crestfallen rivals. They both lost Ethel. She. to put an end to her perilous adventures, married another fellow.