The San Francisco call. [volume], December 06, 1903, Image 4

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

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THE FIJNDAY C AIjIj.
(Concluded Next Sunday.)
since morning dubiously lost in the som
ber trackless forest, when an elflsfi cry
rose, as it would seem, from beneath the
very hoofs of my horse,
"God save the king!"
The bay shied suddenly, standing with
nostrils a-qulver; and I had to look
closely to make out the little brown dot
of humanity, clad In russet homespun,
crouching in the path, lta childish eyes
wide with fear and its lips parted to
shrill again: "God save the king!"
I threw a stiff leg over the cantle and
swung down to go on one knee to my
stout challenger. I can never make you
understand, my dears, how the s»ght of
this helpless waif appearing thur unac
countably in the heart of the great for
est mellowed and softened me. 'Twas a
little maid, not above three or four years
old,/ and with a face that Master Ra
phael-might have taken as a pattern for
one of < his seraphs.
"What know you of the king-, little
one?" I asked. —
"Gran'dad told me." she. lisped. "If I
was to see a soldier-man I must say.
quick,' 'God save the king.' or 'haps he'd
eat me. Is — is you hungry, Mister Sol
dier-man?"
"Truly I am that sweetheart: but I
don't eat little maids. Where is your
grandfather?"
. "Ain't got any gran'favver; I said
'gran'dad'."
"Well, your gran'dad, then; can you
take me to him?"
"I don't know. 'Haps you'd eat him."
"No fear of that, my dear. Do I look
as if I ate people 7*
She gave me a long scrutiny out of
the innocent eyes and then put up two
little brown hands to be taken. "I tired."
she said; and my sore heart went warm
within me when I took her in my arms
and cuddled her. After a long-drawn
sigh of contentment, she said: "My
name Polly; what's yours?"
"You may call me Jack. If you please—
Captain Jack, if that comes the easier.
And now will you let me take you to
your gran'dad 7*
She nodded, and I spoke to the bay and
mounted, still holding her closely in my
arms.
"Tell me quickly which way to go,
P.olly," I said; for besides being, as I
would fear, far out of the way to Gilbert
Town, the last hilltop to the rear had
given me another sight of my shadowing'
pursuers riding hard as if they meant to
overtake me. x
The little maid sat up straight on the
saddle horn and looked about her as If to
get her bearings.
"That way." she said, pointing short to
the right; and I wheeled the horse into a
blind path that wound in and out among
the trees for a long half mile, to end at
a little clearing on the banks of a small
stream.
In the midst of the clearing was a
rude log cabin; and in the open doorway
stood a man bent and aged, a patriarchal
figure with white hair falling to his
shoulders and a snowy beard i«uch as
Aaron might have worn. At sight of me
the old watcher disappeared within the
house, but a moment later he was out
again, fingering the lock of an ancient
Queen's-arm.
I drew rein quickly, and the little maid
sat up and saw the musket
' "Don't shoot, gran'dad!" she cried
"He's Captain Jack, and he doesn't eat
folks es."
At this th« old man came to meet us,
though still with the clumsy musket held
at the ready.
•These be parlous times, sir," he said
half in apology, I thought And then:
"You have made friends with my little
maid, and I owe you somewhat for
bringing her safe home."
"Nay." said I; "the debt is mine, in
asmuch as I have the little on« for my
friend. 'Tis long since I hav« held a
trusting child in my arms, I do assure
you, sir."
He bowed as grandly as any courtier.
"I hope he* trust is not misplaced, sir;
though for the matter of that we have
little enough now to take or leave."
"You have given It all to the Klng7'
said I, feeling my way as I had need to-.
that I might have a chance to exchange
a word with my dear lady; might ask
her forgiveness, or, failing so much
grace of her,*, might "at least have an
other sight of her sweet face.
But even this poor boon was denied
nw. I was scarce out of the saddle when
an aide came to conduct me to the gen
eral, and I saw no one in the house save
my lord himself.
As you would guess, ray instructions
conformed exactly to the plan outlined
by Lord Cornwallis in the council. I was
intrusted with a sealed packet for deliv
ery to Major Ferguson, and. for safety's
sake, as my lord explained. I was given
the meat of. the message to deliver ver
bally should the need arise. Ferguson
was to be ordered to come In instantly
by forced marches, If necessary, and he
was on no account to risk a battle with
the over-mountain men.
You may be sure, my desrrs, that I
scarce drew breath till I was ahorse and
out of the to»n and galloping hard on
the road to that ford of Master Mac
gowan's which afterward became famous
in -our history under the misspelling
"Cowan's Ford." 'Twas too good to be
true, that I should be thrust thus into
the very gaping mouthNof opportunity,
and now and again I would feel the
packet buttoned tight beneath my hussar
Jacket to mako sure 'twas not a dream
to vanish at a touch.
.In- the mad Joy of it the spirit of
prophecy came upon me, and I saw as if
the thing were done, how at last I held
the fate of the patriot cause. In all our
west country in the hollow >qf my hand.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
OF WHAT BEFELL AT KING'S CREEK.
Skipping lightly over the happenings
of the two days following my departure
from | Charlotte on the king's errand, I
may say that after passing the, British
outposts at the crossing of the Catawba,
I met neither friend nor foe and -from
noon on I rode, to the westward through
a pitiless, drizzling rain, splashed to the
belt with the mire of the road, and hav
ing little chance to Inquire my way.
This last lack grew with the pawing
hours to the size of a threatening hazard.
As -you may have guessed. I knew no
more than a blind man the route 1
should take; knew no more of the"where
abouts of Gilbert Town and Major Fer
guson's rendezvous than that both were
some eighty miles to the westward.
At the outset I had thought to feel out
the way in general by cautious inquiry
along the road; but when I came to con
sider of this, the risk of betraying my
ignorance to those who followed me was
too great to let me turn aside to any of
the wayside houses; and as for chance
passers-by, there were none — the rain
kept all within doors.
So I was constrained to gallop on
without pause; and throughout that com
fortless afternoon and the scarce less
mtserable day which followed there were
no Incidents' to break the dull monotony
of the blind', race save these two; that
once the clouds lifted enough to give me
a glimpse of my pursuers in a far reach
to the eastward; and once again I had a
sight of an awkward horseman in the
road before me — saw him and tried to
overtake him. and could not. for all his
clumsy riding.
Now I was curious about this lone
horseman ahead for more reasons than
one. but chiefly because my glimpse of
him seemed to show me the back of a
man whom I made sure I had left safe
behind In the British guardhouse in
Charlotte, to wit, the scoundrelly little
pettifogger.
At first I scoffed the Idea. Saying he
were free to leave Charlotte, how should
he be riding post on my haphazard road
to the westward? 'Twas against all rea
son, and yet the tittuping figure of
which I- had but a rain- veiled glimpse
named Itself Owen Pengarvin in spite of
all the reasons I could bring to bear.
'Twas close on eventide of the second
day. the early evening gloaming of a
chill autumnal rain-day, and I had been
ent ¦ In the meantime in this matter of
reaching Ferguson we may make good
use of him."
"In what manner, . your lordship?"
asked one whose voice I did not recog
nize. .' .,' .-¦'' . .
"He has come straight from Major
Ferguson, as I say; and. loyalist or rebel,
he can flnd his way back to Gilbert
Town." • *
"But you'll never: be trusting him with
dispatches!" said Lord Rawdon. j
"There's no need to, trust him. He can
be given the dispatches i with some hint
of their purport, : and of how much the
klng?s cause. will profit by their safe de
livery." . " '
Again a silence fell upon the group
around the lawyers' table, and then some
one — 'twas Major Hanger, as I thought —
said: "'Tis an unread riddle for me as
yet, my lord." I ; ';'-¦'/ •, 1 .,
Cornwallis laughed. "Where are your
wits this morning, gentlemen? If he be
loyal, and true, the 'dispatches will go
safe enough. If, on the other hand, he
be a rebel and a spy, he will doubtless
tamper with them; but In that case he
will none the less ride straight enough
to Major Ferguson's 1 headquarters in the
west." ""."•• • '•¦ ¦
"H'm; your lordship is still too deep
for me." said Tarleton's second in com
mand. "If he be a rebel and a spy. why,
in God's name. 'Bhould he carry your
lordship's letters to any but some rag
tag colonel of his own kidney?"
My lord laughed again. "Truly, major,
you should go to a dame's school and
learn diplomacy. If we' tell him before
hand what our object is, how could any
rebel of them all defeat it more surely
than by going to Ferguson with a gar
bled message that would make him stand
and fight a losing battle?" ;
"But, my lord — the risk!" cut in the
commissary general.
"There need be none. An. hour after he
sets out we shall send "a mounted detail
after him with an Indian tracker to nose
out his trail. The lieutenant In command
will carry duplicate dispatches. At the
worst, Ireton will guide these followers
to Ferguson's rendezvous; and. so far as
we know, he is the only man who knows
exactly where to find the major."
I had heard enough. Under cover of
the chorus of bravos raised" by Lord
Cornwallis' explication of a plot within
a plot, I lifted the, trap' door and made
my exit as noiselessly as I had come.
Guessing that no time would be lost in
putting the plan into -action, I made
haste to be found inquiring hither and
yon for the commander in chief when my
lord and his suite came down the outer
stair; and when we were met I was
quickly told of my assignment to courier
duty. . . .
"Make your preparations to take the
road within the hour, and report to me at
Friend Stair's," said my lord,, most affa
bly. ."We shall put your new-found loy- .
alty to the test. Cap tain\ Ireton, by in
trusting you with a most important mis
sion. Go with the commissary general
and he will find you your mount and
equipment"
Thus dismissed, I went with Stedman,
and was accorded a more gentlemanly
welcome than my , . overhearings had
given- me leave to expect.
On the way, to the horse paddock the
commissary general told me' of a plan of
his to write a history of the campaign; a
bit of confidence, which set me laughing
inwardly and. wondering if he would put
one John Ireton, sometime of the Scots
Blues and late . captain in her Apostolic
Majesty's Hussars, between the covers
of his book'. 'Tis small wonder that he
did not.'; I have ajnee had the pleasure of
readlng%his history of the great war, and
I flnd it curiously lacking in those.inci
dents which did not redound to the honor
and glory of the king's cause and army
in the field. : ..
Not to digress, however, my makeshift
mount. was soon exchanged for a better;
I was allowed to draw what I would of
accouterments and provender from the
king's stores; and so. to cut it short. I
was presently, at the door of my lord's
headquarters fully equipped and ready
for the road.
-I did hope in those last few moments
ton " she said coldly and then with still
more of the frost of unwelcome in her
voice: "To what may we be Indebted for
this honor?" lA " J . '
Now, chilling a« these words were,
they thrilled me to sny finger-tips, for
they were the first shjs had spoken to me
since the night of ray In the
black gorge of the faf-oft! western moun
tains. None the less: they were blankly
unanswerable, and hjtd the v door been
open I should doubtless have vanished as
I had come. Of all *he houses In the
town this was surely the last I should
have run to for refuse had I known the
name of its master, and it was some up
flashing of this thought that helped me
flnd my tongue. r
."I never guessed this was your-fath
er's house," I stammered, bowing low to
match her curtsy. > "I beg you will par
don me and let me go as I came." ,
She laid a hand on the door-knob. ."Is
— is there any one here whom you would
see?" she asked; and "now her .eyes did
not meet mine, and ;I -would think the
chill had melted a little.
"No. I was begging a night's lodging
of a friend whose house is full. . He sent
me here with a note to — ah — to your
father, as I suppose, though in his haste
he did not mention tl)e name." $
She held out her hand. "Give me the
letter." . -/¦•-..
"Nay." said I; "tl. at would be but
thankless work. Knowing me, 1 your
father must needs conceive It his duty
to denounce me." V •.
"Give it me!" she Insisted: this with
an impatient little stamp of the foot and
an upglance of the compelling eyes that
would have constrained me to do a far
fool isher thing had fi-he asked it.
... , So I gave her thi letter and stood
aside, hat In hand, 'while she .read it
There were candles \h their sconces. over
the mantel and she moved nearer to have
the better light. Then suddenlyvthe
beautiful eyes were- alight and warm
and pleading eloquent.
"Oh, why did you' come? Are you —
are you what they" said you were?"'
"A spy? If I am you would- scarce
expect me to confess it even to you."
"'Tis dishonorable — most - dishonor
able!" she cried. "I could respect a brave
soldier enemy; but a spy — "
There was a clattering of hoofs In. the
street and a jingle of sword-scabbards
in the doorstone. I Wheeled to face the
newcomers, determined now to front' it
boldly as a desperate man at bay. But
before the fumbling hands without could
find the door-knob Margery was beside
me, all aflutter in a trembling* fit. of ex
citement.
"Up the stair quickly, pour l'amour de
Dleu! The town is agog with news of
your coming." she whispered, and we
were at the clock landing when the great
door opened and some half dozen king's
officers came in. On the moment I be
held the skulking black figure of the lit
tle pettifogging lawyer and made after
him, but he vanished in the darkness,
leaving me face to fact at an open door
that held my Lord Cornwallis himself.
Ho knew me at a glance.
"Ah. Captain Ireton, 'tis you. is It? We
are well met at last They told me you
were gone to Join the rebels, did they
not'"
Here was an opening for a bold matv
and I took it. A He Is a He be it spoken*
in never mo good a cause, and with my
Lady Madge hating me for It I took it
and, wonder of wonders, concluded my
story to the tune of an appointment to
no less than my lord's personal staff.
An hour later when I again sought
Margery where I was now quartered a3
an honored Austrian officer and where I
had thought to find but an Insecure hid
ing place, she left me in a fury, and I
in hot resentment of her behavior must
(\RPh forth in reckless disregard of the
danger that still lurked about me. I
would take a soldier's chance to acquit
myself or forfeit all else I held dear.
In the market place I heard news of a
star chamber meeting of my Lord Corn
wallis and his staff. Here -was my
chance, if I could but strike one good
blow for the cause.
The old courthouse of. our ; greater.
Mecklenburg- was such [ as some .of you'
may remember; a stout wooden building
raised upon brick pillars to leave a story,
underneath. In the time of the British
occupation this lower story served as a
market house and the public entrance to
the courtroom above was reached -by
steps on the outside. In my boyhood days
this outer stair was the only, one; but
now in wandering aimlessly through the
market place beneath I found another
flight in a corner; the "jury stair,"- they
called it, since it provided the means of,
egress from the Jury box above.
.: The sight of this • Inner stair set me
plotting. Could I make use of it to
come unseen into the council chamber of
Lord Cornwallis and his officers?
The market place was well thronged
with venders and soldier buyers, the pa
triotic Mecklenburgers were not averse
to the turning of an honest penny upon
the needs of their oppressors, as it
seemed. I watched my ohance, and when
there were no prying eyes tq mark it
made the dash up the steps. ;
Happily for the success of the adven
ture there was an angle in the narrow
stair to hide me while I lifted the trap
door in the courtroom floor a scant half
inch and got my bearings. As I had
hoped, the trap opened behind the Jury
box, and I was able to raise it cautiously
and so to draw myself up into the room
above, unseen and unheard.
A peep around the corner of the hig
jury stalls showed me my lord and his
suite gathered about the lawyers' table
.in front of the bar. Of the staff I recog
nized only Stedman, the commissary gen
eral; Tarleton, looking somewhat the
worse for his late illness; Major Hanger,
his -second in command, and the young
Irishman, Lord Rawdon. I
At the moment of my espial, Cornwal
lis was speaking and I drew back to Its
ten, well enough content to be in ear
shot. For if my good angel had timed
my coming I could not have arrived at a
more opportune moment
"What we have to consider, now is how
best to reach Ferguson with an express
Instantly," his lordship was saying.
' Thi : rising of the over-mountain men
is likely to prove a serious matter — not
only for the major, but for the king's
cause in the two provinces. Lacking
posiuve orders to the contrary, Ferguson
will fight — we all know, that; and if he
should be defeated 'twill hopelessly undo
his work among the border loyalists and
set us back another twelvemonth." '
"Then your lordship will order him to
come in with what he has?" said a voice
which I knew for Colonel Tarleton's.
"Instanter, had I a sure man to send."
"Pshaw 1 I can flnd you a hundred
among/ the late royalist recruits."
'Twas young Lord Rawdon who aald
this. V ; •
."Damn them!" said. his lordship short
ly; "I would sooner trust this new aid of
mine. He comes straight from the > ma
jor and can flnd. his way back again."
• • Tarleton laughed. "I fear we shall
never agree upon him,- my lord. I know
not how he has made his peace with you,
but I do assure you he is as great a ras
cal as ever went unhung. 'Tis true, as
you say, I did not *, go into the particu
lars; but , were Captain Stuart or Sir
Francis Falconnet here, either of them
would convince your lordship In a twink
ling." , ;.. ; v • • . . ••. :•, - : ;
- There . was ; silence for : a little space
following the colonel's denunciation
of me, and then my,, lord broke it to
say: "I may not be as credulous as you
think, j colonel. : Rebel .spy, or } true-blue
loyalist, he Is safe enough for the pres-
had me fast gripped by the arms, whilst
a third made sure of the horre.
"A dispatch rider," said the vilKger of
the two who pinioned me. "Seaich him.
Martin, lad, whilst I hold him; then we'll
pay him out for Tarleton's hanging of
poor Sandy McOuire."
I held my 'peace and let them search,
taking the threat for a bit of soldier
bullyragging meant to keep me quiet.
But when they had turned the pockets
of my. borrowed ; coat inside out and
ripped the lining and made it other
wise as much the worse for thi'lr mis
handling as it was for wear, the third
man fetched a rope.
"Did you mean that, friend?— about
the hanging?" I asked, wondering If this
should be my loophole of escape from
the life grown hateful.
"Sure enough," Bald - the bi« man,
coolly. "You'd besfbe saying your pray
ers." ¦
I laughed. "Were you wearing my
coat and I yours, you might hang me
and welcome; in truth, you may an it is.
Which tree will you have me at?"
The man stared at me as at one de
mented. Then he burst out in a ituffaw.
"Damme, if you bean't a cool plucked
one! I've a mind to .take you to the
colonel."
"Don't do it. my friend. Though I am
something loth to be snuffed out by the
men of my own side, we need not haggle
over the niceties. Point out yom tree."
"No, by ,God! you're too willing.
What's at the back of all this?"
"Nothing save a decent reluctance to
spoil your sport. Have at it, man, and
let's be done with It"
"Xot If you beg me on your knees.
You'll go to the colonel, I say. and he
may hang you if he sees fit You must
be a most damnable villain to want to
die by the first rope you lay eyes on."
"That is as may be. Who is your
colonel?"
"Nay. rather, who are you?"
I gave my name and circumstance and
was loosed of the hand-grip, thoup.ti the
third xpan dropped the cord and stepped
back to hold me covered with his rifle.
"An Ireton, you say? Not little Jock,
surely!"
"No, big Jock; big enough to lay you
on your back, though you have a hand
as thick as a ham."
He Ignored the ohallenge and stuck to
his text "I never thought to see the son
of old Mad-bull Rodger wearing a red
coat," he said.
"That Is nothing. Many as good a"
Whig as I am has been forced to wear
a red coat ere t^ls, or go barebacked.
But why don't you knot the halter? In
common Justice you should either hang
me or feed me. 'Tis hard upon nooi,, and
I breakfasted early."
"Fall in!", said the big man: and so
I was marched quickly aside from the
road and into the denser thicket) ng of
the wood. -Here my captors blindfolded
me, and after spinning me around to
make me lose the compass points, hur
ried, me away to their encampment,
which was inland from the stream,
tbough not far, for I could still hear, the
dlstance-mlnlshed splashing oi the
water.
When the kerchief was pulled from my
eyes I was standing In the midst of a
mounted riflemen's halt-camp, face to
face with a young officer wearing the
uniform of the colonelcy In the North
Carolina home troops. He was a hand
some young fellow, with curling hair and
trim side whiskers to frame a facfe fine
lined and eager— the face of a gentleman
well born and well bred.
"Captain Ireton?" he said; by which I
guessed that one of my captors h?.d, run
on ahead to make report /.' \ ;,
"The same." .1 replied.
"And you are the son of Mr. Justice
Roger Ireton of Appleby Hundred?"
"I have that honor." /
He gave me his hand most cordially.
"You are verv welcome, captain; Davie
is mv name. I trust we may come to
know each other better. You ar« in dis
guise, as I take it; do you bring news of
the army?" , .
"On the contrary, I am thirsting for
news," I rejoined. "I and three others
have but now returned from pursuing a
British and Indian powder convoy into
the mountains to the westward. We
have been out five weeks and more.
He looked at me curiously. "You and
three others?" he queried. "Come apart
and tell me about it whilst Poihpey is
broiling the venison. I scent v whole
Iliad in that word of yours, captain Ire
ton." J 0
"One thing first, if you please. Colonel
Davie," I begged. "My companions are
faring forward on the road to Queens
borough. They know naught of my de
tention. Will you send a. man to over
take them with a note from meT
The colonel indulged, me in the most
gentlemanly manner and when^my note
to Jennifer was dispatched we sat to
gether at the roots of a great oak and
I told him all that had befallen our lit
tle rescue party. , He heard me through
patiently, and when the tale was ended
was good enough to say that I had earn*
ed a commission for my part in the af
fair.
-Our spies are thick in Cornwallis'
camp." he said, "but what is needed Is
some master spirit who can plot as. well
as spy for us. Major Ferguson moves
as Cornwallis pulls the strings. Could
we know the major's instructions and de-
Blgns we might cut him off, bring the
Tory uprising to the groand and so
hearten the country beyond measure. I
say we might cut him off, though I know
not where the men would come from to
do it"
"Well?" said I when he paused.
"The preliminary is some better infor
mation than our spies can give us. Now
you have been an ofllcer in the British
service, and — "
¦ I smiled. "Truly; and I have the
honor. If you please to call it so. of his
lordship's acquaintance. Also I have
that of Colonel Tarleton and the mem
bers of his staff, the same having tried
and condemned me as a spy at Appleby
Hundred some few weeks before this
chase I have told you of." -
His face fell. "Then, of course, it is
out of the question for you to show
yourself in Cornwallis' headquarters."
I rose and buttoned my borrowed coat.
"On the contrary. Colonel Davie, I am
more than ever at your service. Let me
have a cut of your venison and a feed
for my horse and I shall be at my lord's
headquarters as soon as the nag can
carry me there."
CHAPTER XXXII.
This adventure In the very lion's
mouth, undertaken In sheer recklessness
of love's despair, was destined to be
passing strange Indeed. Fortified with
a letter from Colonel Davie to a %f riend
In Charlotte, who unhappily was all
overcrowded and had passed me on to a
friend of .his in turn. I now stood on the
doorstone of a familiar mansion but one
remove from the corner of the Court
house green. I thought my Huzzax dis
guise complete, but since the street was
busily astir with redcoat officers and
men coming and going, and any squad of
these might be the questioners to doubt
my threadbare courier tale, I - lost . no
time in running up the steps and' ham
mering a peal with the heavy knocker.
Through the sidelights I could see, that
the wide entrance hall was for the mo
ment unoccupied, but at the knocker lift
ing I had a flitting glimpse of some one
— a little man all in sober black — com
ing down the- stair. There was no im
mediate answer to my. peal, but when I'
would have knocked again the door was
swung back and I stepped quickly within
to find myself face to face with — Mar
gery. ¦ .- ; .
I know not which of the two of us
.was the more dumfounded, but this I
do know that I was still speechless and
fair witless when she swept me a low
dipped curtsy and gave me my greeting.
"I bid you good evening, Captain Ire-
the opposite side, and when the dawn be
gan to gray In the sky ahead we were
well out of the broken mountain region
and into the opener forest of the hill
country.
The sun was yet below the eastern
horizon when we came to the fording or
a larger stream than any we had crossed
In the night. Its course was toward the
sunrise, hence I took it ror some tribu
tary of the Catawba or the Broad.
"Tis the Broad itself," said Ephraim
Teates. In answer to my esking; "and yit
It ain't; leastwise. It ain't the one you
know. *Tls the one the Parleyvoos
claimed in the old war. and they call it
the Frinch Broad."
"But that flows north and westward, If
I remember aright," said I.
"So It do, so it do — in glneral. But
hereabouts 'twill run all ways for Sun
day, by spells."
"If this be the French Broad we are
not yet out of the Tuckasege country, as
I take it"
"Mighty n!gh to it; nigh enough to
make camp for a resting spell. I reckon
ye're a-needlng that same pretty tole'ble
bad. ain't ye, little gal?" this to Mar
gery.
Weary as was, she smiled upon
him brightly, as though he had been her
grandslre and so free to name her how
he pleased.
"I shall sleep well when we are out of
danger. But you must not stop for me,
or for Jeanne, till 'tis safe to do so."
"Safe? Lord love ye, child! 'safe' is a
word beyond us yit, and will be till we
sot you down on your daddy's doorstone.
But we'll make out to give ye a bite and
sup and forty winks o' sleep lmmejltly,
It not sooner, now."
So. on the farther side of the stream
the hunter led the way aside, and when
we were come to a small meadow glade
with good grazing for the horses, he
called a halt, lifted the women from
their saddles and came to help me ease
Dick down. The poor lad was stiff and
sore, having no more use of his joints
than If he were a bandaged mummy; but
the fever- delirium had passed and he
was able to laugh feebly at the tree-limb
contrivance rigged to hold him In the
saddle.
"How did we come out of it. Jack?" he
asked, when we had let him. feel the
comfort of lying flat upon his back on
the soft sward.
"As you see. " We are all here and all
in fair fettle, saving yourself. You're
the heaviest loser."
He smiled, and his eyes languid with
the fever sought out Margery, who
would not come a-nigh while I was with
him.
"That remains to be seen. Jack. If my
dream comes true, I shall be the richest
gainer."
"What did you dream?"
He beckoned me to bend lower over
him. "I dreamed I was sore hurt, and
that she was binding up my bruises and
crying over me."
"'Twas no dream," I said; and with
that I went to help Teates make a bough
shelter for the women, while Uncanoola
was grinding the maize for the breakfast
cakes.
'Tis" not my purpose to weary you with
a day-by-day accounting for all that be
fell us on the way back to Mecklenburg.
Sufflce It to say that we ate and slept
and rose to mount and ride again; thia
for five days and nights, during which
Jennifer's fever grew upon-hlm steadily.
At the close of the fifth day our night
halt was In a deserted log cabin at the
edge of an unfinished clearing in the
heart of the forest. Here Richard's
sickness anchored us. *nd for three full
weeks the Journey paused.
We nursed the lad as best we could for
a fortnight, dosing him with stewings of
such roots and herbs as the Catawba
could find in the wood. Then, when we
were at our wits* ends, and Teates and
I were casting about how we could com
pass the bringing of a doctor from the
settlements, the fever took a turn for
the better— of Its own accord, or for Un
canoola's physickings, we knew not
which— and at the end of the third week
Dick was up and able to ride again, this
time without the forked stick to hold
him in the saddle.
After this we went on without mishap,
and with no hardship greater than that
of living solely upon the meat victual
provided by the hunter's rifle; and you
who know this plough-dressed region at
this later day will wonder when I write
It down that in all that long faring, or
rather to the last day's stage of it, we
saw never a face of any of our kind, or
of the Catawba's.
You may be sure the month or more
v.e spent thus In the heart of the wild
wood was but a sorry time for me.
While the excitement of the pursuit and
rescue lasted, and later, when anxiety
for Richard filled the hours of the long
days and nights. I was held a little back
from slipping into that pit of despair
which I had digged for myself.
But when the strain was off and Dick
was up and fit again, the misery of it si I
came back with added goadings. I ha4
never dreamed how cutting sharp
'twould be to see these two together day
by day; to see her loving, tender care of
him, and to hear him babble of his love
for her in his feverish vaporlngs. Yet
all this I must endure, and with it a
thing even harder. For, to make it worse,
if worse could be, the shadow of com
plete estrangement had fallen between
Margery and me. True to her word,
given in that moment when I had be
sought her not to speak aloud for her
own safety's- sake, she had never opened
her lips to me: and for aught she said or
did I might hare been a deaf-mute slave
beneath her notice. . -
And as she drew' away from me, she
seemed to draw the closer to Richard
Jennifer, nursing, him alive when he was
at his worst, and giving him all the
womanly care and sympathy a sick man
longs for. And later, when he was fit to
ride again, she had him always at her
side in the onward faring.
As I have said before, this was all as I
would have it. Yet It made me sick In
my soul's soul; and at times I must needs
fall behind to rave it out in solitude,
cursing the day when I was born, and
that other more unfortunate day when I
had reared the barrier impassable be
tween these two.
What wonder, then, that, as we neared
the fighting field of the great war, I grew
more set upon seizing the first chance that
might offer an honorable , escape from
all there heartburnings? 'Twas a
weakness, if you 'choose; I set down
here naught but the simple fact, which
had by now gone as far beyond ex
cusings as the underlying cause of it
was beyond fergtveness.
'Twas on the final day, the day when
we were riding tantivy to reach Queens
borough by evening, that my deliverance
came.' I say deliverance because at the
moment it had the look of a short shrift
and a ready halter.
We had crossed our own Catawba and
were putting our horses at the steep
bank on the outcoming side, when my
saddle slipped. Dismounting to tighten
the girth, I called to the others to press
on, saying I should overtake them
shortly. ,
The promise was never kept I scarce
had my head under the saddle flap be
fore a couple of stout knaves in home
spun, appearing from I know not where,
4
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